NOT LIKE IT IS IN THE DIME NOVELS

By Calico

PROLOGUE 22nd February 1883 Butte

The winter sun failed to deliver any warmth to the railway platform. Cleared snow was heaped in muddy piles around the edge of a rough path leading to a waiting carriage. The stable hand, not wanting the horses to become chilled, led them back and forth a few hundred yards along the mud and stone street.

Four men, stamping their feet every so often in the cold, watched the train first steam into view, then slow to a prolonged halt. Two – railway employees - scurried forward to the baggage car. Further up the line a door opened. Out stepped a tall, broad shouldered, individual. He surveyed his reception party of two blandly, then smiled. The expression, on his still handsome face, was confident, but below the smile, lurked a hint of wily calculation. Turning, he reached up his hand to help down the slight figure of a woman, well swathed in furs to keep out the Montana cold.

The younger of the two men on the platform stepped up to her.

"Mrs. Carleton?" he confirmed, touching his hat, "My name is Christopher Lloyd, your brother's partner. I hope, ma-am – I hope you received my wire?"

She looked up at him, cast a nervous glance at the man by her side, then nodded.

"May I offer you my condolences, ma-am?" he said.

"If only we could have been here just a few days sooner," answered the assured tones of the new arrival, "I know Louis wanted so much to see my wife before – the end." He shook his head sadly, "But travelling in winter – you understand – we were delayed."

He looked enquiringly at the second man.

Christopher Lloyd spoke up, "This is Mr. Walford, from Helena."

This man too, touched his hat.

"I represent the firm of Walford, Walford and McKeever, ma-am. Your family lawyers in Boston appointed us as proxies to handle your brother's will – and now to transfer the estate." A pause. "My condolences, too, Mrs. Carleton on your loss."

A very small voice emerged from the fur hood.

"Thank you."

"My wife is tired by the journey," declared Carleton. "I'd like to get her home – to our new home that is – as soon as possible. You understand, she is in – a – a delicate situation."

The woman lowered her eyes, shyly.

"Please accompany us, Mr. Walford;" went on Carleton, "I am sure I can help with anything you need to take care of – while Lydia rests."

Taking her arm, he led the quiet woman, to the waiting carriage; followed by the lawyer, then – after a moments pause – by the uninvited Christopher Lloyd.

---oooOOOOOOOooo---

CHAPTER ONE Four months later - Monday 11th June 1883

Heyes and Curry, saddlebags swung across their shoulders, strode down the station platform. They scanned the crowded coaches, searching not only for unwanted familiar faces, but also for the best chance of empty window seats and enough quiet for one partner to indulge in a nap whilst the other watched for trouble.

At the conductor's warning cry of "All Aboard", the partners abandoned dwindling hopes for the luxury of solitude and swung aboard.

They moved slowly down the coach; patiently waiting as other passengers stowed bags and settled into their seats. Judging by appearances their fellow travellers boasted a high proportion of miners, a tiny minority accompanied by wife and children, a sprinkling of cowboys and the occasional suited clerk.

Heyes nudged Curry and directed his eyes towards a solitary young woman at the far end of the coach. The seats opposite her were empty of human occupation, but loaded with two valises and what at first glance seemed a jumble of about twenty dime novels. The woman herself, impervious to the buzz of movement around her, was scribbling fluently on sheet after sheet of thin foolscap. Occasionally, she paused, pencil lodged temporarily behind her ear, to consult a cheap novel folded open by her side.

Approaching her, Heyes gave a polite cough. No response.

"Ma-am," A little louder, "Excuse us, ma-am."

She looked up, surprised grey eyes under untidy mouse-brown bangs.

"These seats free, ma-am?" asked Kid.

She glanced up and down the car, suddenly aware how it had filled up over the last few stops. Her eyes returned guiltily to her belongings strewn opposite and she gave the partners an apologetic smile.

"Of course. I'm so sorry - I hadn't realised. I practically had the car to myself when I set out."

"Must have set out a good way back," smiled Heyes.

She paused in the act of reaching to move the valises. Her eyes widened expressively and she gave an exaggerated shudder.

"It feels like weeks ago, though I suppose it was really only daybreak." She smiled a "thank you" at Kid, as he took the valises from her and swung them into the overhead rack. "I've been travelling west for over a week now. Even when I'm in a hotel bed, I still hear the wheels going chu-chugga, chu-chugga, chu-chugga, chu-chugga."

On first seeing her, both Heyes and Curry thought her plain. However, her mobile little face had an appeal of its own as she spoke.

Heyes had been stacking the jumbled dime novels. Flipping through the titles before placing the pile on the one remaining free seat, he glanced up surprised.

"You've kinda got a taste for readin' 'bout Robin Hood, ma-am?"

She smiled broadly and shook her head decidedly.

"Absolutely not. If I never read another word about those raucous and annoyingly merrie men, it'll be too soon." She patted the manuscript in her lap, "This is the last of a dozen I'm contracted for this year. Once it's done my publisher has promised I can have a change."

Kid blinked in surprise, "You write dime novels?"

She assumed an expression of mock affront, "Dime novels, sir! How dare you? Can't you see the cover price is clearly given as twenty-five cents? These novellas are aimed at ladies craving a little romance, not adolescent boys."

Heyes smiled.

Nodding at the illustrated cover topping the pile, he asked, "So you're Rosamond Fayre - Maid of Sherwood?"

"When I'm doing medieval England. Sometimes I'm Mam'zelle Toinette, recounting the dashing adventures of seventeenth century swordsmen at the court of King Louis."

"The Three Musketeers, huh?"

"Not Dumas' Musketeers obviously. Three other fellows who just happen to bear a strong resemblance."

This drew an appreciative laugh from Heyes.

"And just occasionally, as a special treat, I'm allowed into this century, onto this side of the Atlantic and can dispense with the love scenes as Allan Chevalier - celebrated New York detective."

With a charming smile, Heyes asked, "And when you're on a train heading up to Montana, with two gentlemen asking for the pleasure of an introduction?"

She held out her hand, "Margaret Spencer, Meg to my friends. How do you do?"

Heyes shook the proffered hand, with an inclination of his head.

"Joshua Smith an' this is my partner, Thaddeus Jones."

"Where are you both headed?" she asked.

"Far as Helena, then on to Butte. You know - the minin' town not long sprung up," said Kid.

A delighted smile wreathed Meg's face, "That's where I'm headed!"

The ex-outlaws exchanged surprised glances; and looked back at her curiously.

With a cough, Heyes said, "Butte's likely to be pretty rough, ma-am. What takes you there?"

She drew herself up proudly, "I'm going to be assistant editor of the Butte Weekly Herald."

She frowned at the disbelieving expressions facing her.

"What's wrong with that?" she asked with dignity. "I write these - "her hand flapped the manuscript in her lap, "for the money. But really I'm an investigative journalist."

Her travelling companions exchanged a look, which suggested she had not convinced them.

"I am," she insisted. "I've worked on the Boston Weekly Enquirer for over two years!"

Heyes gazed at her.

"And some editor in Butte has offered you a job?" Heyes said, with a smile that was friendly, but still carried an implicit "Oh yeah?"

Kid was frowning in concern.

"Does he know that you're a…. You're…" he broke off.

"I'm what?" she asked, sitting yet straighter in her seat as she swelled in preparation for a burst of injured pride.

With an exasperated sigh, Kid abandoned his search for a tactful way to put it.

"For a start, does he know you're a girl? An' only 'bout, what - twenty three, twenty four?" Meg looked ready to explode with an angry retort, but Kid forestalled her, "An' it's not right for a lady on her own to be allowed anywhere near the lowlifes that'll be swarmin' in Butte."

Meg turned from Kid, to the still smiling Heyes, who merely raised an enquiring eyebrow. Suddenly the affronted dignity left Meg's face.

Leaning forward with a confiding smile, she said, "Well, maybe the way I put it isn't quite the whole story. I am going to assist the editors of the Butte Weekly Herald, but they won't exactly be paying me because it doesn't exactly make enough money yet. So I don't know if you'd count that as being offered a job?"

Heyes grinned, "I think we'd count that, ma-am. Thaddeus an' I recall a few jobs which didn't involve gettin' paid."

Kid chimed in, "Course - we didn't usually plan it in advance, the way you have."

With a smile, Meg continued, "Kate Thornton - Kate Connor now - is my one of my best friends in the whole world. We roomed together in college. She married last year. Emerson, that's her husband and I worked together on the Boston Enquirer. That's how they met. They moved out West to set up and run their own paper." She drew breath, "And when I say I'm an investigative journalist - I would be if I got a chance. Most of the time I have to report on weddings and social events and …" she shuddered, "… profiles of debutantes." Meg settled back in her seat, "Emerson and Kate wrote saying could I help out, take over some of Kate's work and be with her. She's expecting a - a happy event in November." Meg looked at Kid and gave a wry smile, "So, you can relax from that gallant worrying. I'll be safely lodged with a respectable married woman to chaperone me."

After a short pause, Meg looked from one partner to the other.

"What about you?" she asked. "What takes you to Butte? Are you miners?" She grinned mischievously, "Or do you plan to swarm amongst the lowlife?"

"Not miners, ma-am," said Heyes, "That kinda work bein' a little hard on the back. We're in what you might call security work."

She looked inquiringly from one to the other.

"Security?" she prompted.

In spite of his better judgment, Kid could not resist the wide questioning eyes.

In a low voice, he said, "The bank's hired us to guard the company's payroll out to the mine."

"Guarding a payroll!" her voice rose with excitement.

Heyes shifted in his seat and glanced round, "A little louder, ma-am. I don't think them three mean lookin' fellas at the far end, heard you."

She subsided, mouthing - "Sorry."

Then leaning forward, she hissed conspiratorially, "If you're guarding a payroll shouldn't you stay with it - in the freight car, or somewhere?"

Heyes leant forward till his lips were only inches from her ear and breathed in return, "That'd probably be the best idea ma-am, but it'd be a mite premature. We don't pick up the money till we reach the bank at Helena."

"Oh!"

Gray eyes met deep brown. Meg realised she was gently being made fun of. She grinned ruefully and settled back. After a moment or two of silence, she began, once again to scribble at her story, nibbling at her pencil end when inspiration failed.

A thought struck her. Looking up she gave the partners an appealing look, "Mr. Smith, Mr. Jones, if you are experts on security -?"

The partners exchanged a look, then, in unison, nodded for her to continue.

"Could you possibly help me with a few plot ideas?" She smiled persuasively, "It'd help pass the time and I'd be happy to buy you dinner in Helena to say 'thank you'."

Cautiously Kid asked, "What kinda thing you got in mind, ma-am?"

"Well," she leaned forward and assumed a business like tone. "The sheriff has captured Will Scarlett and has him in a closely guarded cell deep beneath the castle. There's a moat, barred gates and guards before you even reach the dungeons. Will is to be watched day and night." Her eyes took on a hopeful look, "Any thoughts on a nice, innovative way for Robin to break his partner out of jail?"

Curry rolled his eyes as a broad grin lit up Heyes' face. Watching his partner take a blank sheet of paper and the pencil from Meg's fingers, Kid settled well back into his seat tipping his hat forward over his eyes.

Preparing to try for a nap, Kid heard Heyes' voice.

"Let's just sketch the layout, ma-am. We'll consider any weak spots. Then we'll think 'bout the routine of the guards - when they change, any habits that can be exploited. An' you need to consider distraction tactics, drawin' away attention from your real plan ..."