The Keys to the Kingdom

By Rae1013

Stepping back Hannibal Heyes ran a critical eye over his partner, pausing to brush some dirt off Kid Curry’s leather vest. Kid looked expectantly at Heyes. With a nod, he gave him his approval. He took off his battered black hat, and quickly smoothed his hair down, before replacing it back on his head carefully adjusting so it sat just right.

“Really wish you had another hat.” Kid grumbled.

Heyes cut him off, “Ain't like we had a lot of time.”

Kid nodded sadly.

“You ready?”

“Heyes, your silver tongue better be…”

Heyes’ look stopped Kid from continuing.

“Believe me I know it's our eternal futures at stake.”

Both men turned and looked forward, drew in a deep breath and slowly exhaled, before starting up the path in perfect synchronized stride.

Kid suddenly stopped and grabbed Heyes roughly by the arm. There was a panicked look on his face.

“Heyes, I've killed someone,” he said in a hushed whisper, “You ain't…What if they won't let us both in? What if…”

Heyes saw the desperation and terror grow in his partner’s eyes as the thought of being separated for eternity seemed to be a real possibility.

“Kid, if they don't take us both, believe me I got ways of joining you. Some I've even dreamt of…starting at the Wyoming Governor's mansion.” Heyes said with a smile and a wink. He hoped Kid didn't realize since he was dead too, there wasn't much he could do to a Governor. Guess he could try and scare him to death.

Kid sighed with relief, but then his face darkened, “It ain't fair for you to have to suffer too.”

Heyes gently laid a hand on his noble partner’s arm, “Not being together…now I can't think of anything worse. Let's get this over with and see where we're headed.”

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Their steps unconsciously slowed as they approached the tall white wrought iron gates. They could hear their hearts pounding loudly in their ears. Beads of sweat appeared on their brows. From far above behind the tall podium, a white bearded Saint Peter peered over his enormous ledger. Respectfully, both men pulled their hats from their heads and held them tightly clutched in their hands.

“Names.”

There was a brief hesitation before Heyes said "Joshua Smith,” and with a nod towards his partner, “Thaddeus Jones.”

Kid stiffened and gave Heyes a hard side glance. He hoped Heyes knew what he was doing.

Saint Peter wet his finger and began flipping through the pages. He shook his head. “No. No Smith or Jones.”

Now who was the liar, thought Heyes. There had to be plenty of Smiths and Joneses.

“Carl Grant and Fred Gaines?”

Kid closed his eyes and shuddered.

This was Heyes’ plan?!

Saint Peter gave Heyes a small knowing smile, as he pretended to look.

“Any other names?”

“Rembacker and Hotchkiss?” Heyes’ voice was beginning to falter as his confidence evaporated.

Saint Peter didn't bother looking. “Mister Heyes…You do know lying is a sin?”

Mister Heyes?!

 

“So, you know who we are?”

“Of course I do…Hannibal Heyes and Jedidiah Curry.”

“If you really know who we are, why are we having this discussion?”

“Because if we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness. Are you ready to confess?”

“All of them?!” They said in unison. Both men gulped and stared wide-eyed up at Saint Peter.

Heyes cautiously started, “If lying is a sin…there was the time I bluffed with a two high pair. Guess bluffing is kind of like lying.”

“I told a whore she was the prettiest woman I'd ever seen.” Kid admitted. “Oh…and I loved her,” he quickly added.

Saint Peter sighed and dropped his head onto the ledger. He finally raised it.

“At this rate we could be here for eternity. I'm thinking of a bit more serious sins. The ones that land you in jail.”

“Well we robbed a lot of trains and banks…not trying to be boastful.” The twinkle in Heyes’ eyes as he reminisced, quickly faded as he saw Saint Peter’s expression. “I mean…” Heyes stammered, “I don't rightly recall…being there were…so many,” he added. His final words were barely audible.

“Tell me about Danny Bilson, Mister Curry.”

Kid's face took on a hardened look as his blue eyes darkened and his jaw tightened.

“Ain't much to tell. He started something and I finished it. Plain and simple.”

“You should know Seth is here.”

Both men turned to each other and smiled. Their old friend had found peace.

“Danny ain't…” Kid turned questioning eyes towards Saint Peter.

“HELL NO!”  The old saint’s cheeks blushed, “Heavens no” he said, quickly correcting himself. “Mister Bilson was destined for the Netherworld long before your paths crossed. One of the most unsavory despicable men I've encountered. He tried to talk his way in, but I could see through that smile.”

Wish we had, Kid thought wistfully.

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Saint Peter, sitting beside the two cowboys, stretched his legs out and rested his back against the tall gate. His sandaled feet peeked out from beneath his white robe.

“You call these...ci…cigars?”

Kid nodded, then smiled at his partner. Saint Peter drew in a deep breath and exhaled. He tilted his head and watched the smoke curl slowly and sensually upward. 

“Wonderful.”

Kid and Heyes with backs against the gate, quietly watched and smoked.

When he finished with a sigh, Saint Peter got to his feet and smoothed his robe with several long swipes of his hand. He looked at the ever-growing line, sighed again before returning to his seat above.

Kid and Heyes waited expectantly by the gate. Heyes rested one hand on it, in anticipation of its opening.

“I'm sorry,” Saint Peter said with genuine sorrow. “I can't let you in.”

Heyes’ and Kid’s heads jerked up. There was confusion that quickly transformed to anger on their faces.

“BUT…BUT WHY?!” Heyes managed to stammer out. His eyes locked on the gate. He knew he could have that lock picked and the gate opened before Saint Peter knew what happened.

“That ain't right,” said Kid, making no effort to hide his anger. “That ain't fair!” His hand unconsciously dropped to his holster.

Saint Peter held up a hand, so he could speak.

“I like you. I like both of you. You are two…well…relatively good men who have done some…okay…a lot of questionable things. But since it's solely up to me…”

“THEN LET US IN!” Heyes yelled. “The Kid here…” he nodded his head towards his partner. “He don't do well in the heat. Hell, I mean heck, I mean…Good God” he said, trying to find the words that would gain them entrance. “He couldn't even stand the weather in Santa Marta. What's he going to do in…well you know where?”

Heyes was breathing heavily, his eyes wide.

“I want you both to know…your families are here too.”

Heyes and Kid looked at each other, dumbfounded. Why hadn't that occurred to them? Their pasts had been buried so deep and their faith lost, the thought that they would ever be reunited never crossed their minds.

Both men’s expressions were of uncontrollable rage.

“Why would you tell us that?!” Heyes snarled. “After you just told us we ain't welcome?”

“Motivation…and because…,” Saint Peter said with a smile, “You gentlemen, are not dead.”

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Earlier …

The woman’s screams of anguish and horror pierced the winter air.

The men looked towards the source and saw a woman running frantically around the edge of the frozen lake.

A set of small footprints, visible in the light dusting of snow, lead to a break in the ice.

Heyes and Kid raced towards the woman, throwing themselves from their saddles. Each shed their heavy winter jackets, hats and weapons as they hurried towards the hole. A child’s head bobbed up and down, then disappeared. Ignoring their own safety, and the unmistakable crack of the ice under each step, they raced towards the drowning boy. The child's head appeared briefly as Kid threw himself stomach first and slid to the opening. He caught the collar of the boy’s coat with one hand before the ice gave way and plunged him into the frigid water. The cold stole his breath and almost paralyzed him. He fumbled underwater for the child’s arm, forcing his frozen fingers to bend. Kid saw a hand in the water from above and pushed the child towards it. Once the child was pulled to safety, the hand returned. Kid grasped it and felt himself being pulled towards the surface. He tried to use his legs, but they were heavy and useless in the wet clothing.

Heyes could feel Kid's hand start to slip out of his. Lying on his stomach, he didn't have enough leverage to pull his partner to safety. He grabbed with his other hand but missed. Heyes tried to shift his weight and readjust his position but before he could, the ice gave way. The frigid water shocked his body and sucked the breath from him. Kid yanked free of Heyes’ hand, fearing he was dragging his partner down. They tried to claw their way to the surface, but their wet clothes were heavy and their frozen limbs uncooperative.

Drowning was one hell of a way to die….

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Feeling the murky bottom of the lake, Kid’s knees buckled but he managed to gather all his last remaining strength and forced his arms above his head, then pushed with his feet as hard as he could. Suddenly his arms and head bobbed above the water, and he sucked in what he was certain would be his final breath. He didn’t feel the rope tighten about his chest and was only vaguely aware of being slowly pulled from the water toward land. Nor did he feel two nearly frozen hands clench the cuffs of his jeans. Neither Kid nor Heyes heard the ice crackle and threaten to break as they were slowly pulled toward the shore. Once back on land, both rolled on their sides, coughed and spewed water from their lungs before passing out.

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Hours later Heyes and Kid found themselves lying in a warm bed, layered in quilts, and wearing warm nightshirts and wool socks. A blazing fire in the fireplace filled the room with heat and the familiar scent of burning wood.

“Kid, you awake?” Heyes asked.

“Yeah. You?”

“We ain’t dead,” Heyes assured him.

“Better still, we ain’t in hell. So, what happened?”

Before Heyes could answer, the door to the room opened and a man walked in with a woman carrying two bowls of steaming hot soup.

“Got you outsides warm. This should take care of your innards,” the woman told them.

Kid and Heyes gingerly sat up in the bed and gratefully accepted the bowls of soup.

“What happened?” Heyes asked.

“You saved our boy from drowning,” the man’s voice choked with emotion. Tears started to well up in his wife’s eyes.

“But what happened to us?” Kid asked.

“We thought we’d lost you both, but God had other ideas about your fate.” The woman said softly.

“But we did die,” Heyes insisted. “We talked to Saint Peter right there at the Pearly Gates.”

The couple looked at each other skeptically. “Peter is our son’s name,” the man said slowly. “Maybe you were talking to him?”

“But….”

“Let it go, Thaddeus,” Heyes said. “Maybe now’s not the time to figure this out. Maybe…. Maybe we should just think on this a while.”

“Why?”

Heyes pointed across the room. “Look at that needlepoint on the wall. It says ‘Be still and know that I am God.’ Maybe it really isn’t our time and….”

“And never look a gift horse in the mouth?” Kid asked.

“Not sure that’s in the Good Book but yeah. We got a second chance so let’s use it better than the first.”

Kid nodded in agreement.

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