"Here come de gimp,…here come de gimp."

The key ring rattled, the lock clicked its release and the jail door squeaked open. The guard walked with a limp, injured from an inmate melee years ago. The words of one now became a chorus.

"HERE COME DE GIMP,…HERE COME DE GIMP."

"QUIET!" yelled the guard, as he banged a chain against jail bars. "Jerrod Conners, git up! You're outta here. Now!"

The inmates at the prison in Fort Leavenworth, Kansas, quieted quickly. Jerrod Conners rolled over in his bunk and winced as pain stabbed in the old wound in his shoulder. He looked up in disbelief. There were six more years on his sentence for killing an express agent during a train robbery in 1870. The men cheered as Jerrod was manacled and led from his prison cell out the locked doors towards the warden's office.

"Mr. Conners, it is not my decision; I believe your deeds deserve full term. However the Governor has seen fit to issue an order of clemency," said Warden Tibbetts. A small balding man of pale complexion and dour expression, the Warden explained, " Your term is reduced and the remaining 6 years are forgiven. You are hereby released. Sergeant, take this man for release processing."

Jerrod stepped through the opened gate onto the street in front of the Leavenworth prison, free for the first time in nine years. He squinted as the bright sun glared into his face, holding his hand to shade his eyes. Government issued shoes were tight, and the shirt and pants were baggy and loose. But, on the free side of those walls, the sun shown brighter and the morning air was clearer, cooler. Jerrod wandered idly, and then found himself stepping through the batwing doors of a saloon.

"Whiskey," he said as he stepped up to the bar.

Conversation stopped. Others looked on knowingly, a con, just out of the pen. The bartender poured slowly, and gestured for money first before sliding the drink across the bar. The first one burned his throat, but ooh, that felt good. By the second, a plan was set. He thought, "I'm the only one who survived the shoot-out. Piece of lead still in my shoulder, but I know where the stash was hidden." Jerrod needed to catch a stage up to Lincoln, then, take a train on to Cheyenne.

The stage for Lincoln left at One PM. A woman with a young boy boarded at the last minute, and the boy kept staring at Jerrod.

"Johnny, stop staring. It's not polite."

"Yes'm."

"G'd afternoon ma'am, son. It's no problem ma'am," said Jerrod.

"He's a prisoner, just released, ma'am, Best leave'm be," said the other passenger, a man with a pin striped suit, white shirt and string tie.

Damn, thought Jerrod, as he glared hard at the man. It's like I got brand on my forehead. I gotta get me that gold, and get some decent duds, get a little respect!

In Lincoln, Jerrod bought his ticket for the trip to Cheyenne, but the train didn't leave till the next day. With a couple of dollars left in his pocket, he found a saloon to slack his thirst. Come midnight, as the saloon cleared out and his money was gone, he realized that he had no place to stay. A drunken cowboy stumbled past Jerrod, and bumped his sore shoulder. Jerrod started to swing, but held back as he saw the six shooter dangling from the cowboy's belt.

The cowboy stumbled down one street and then cut through a back alley stopping behind the livery stable to take a leak. When the cowboy was done, Jerrod stepped from behind a nearby tree, and swung a broken tree limb like it was an axe, knocking the drunk out cold.

"I'll just borrow these," said Jerrod as he unhooked the drunk's gun belt and colt. He found a few coins in the man's pocket. "And by the way, thanks for the drinks you bought tonight."

Jerrod made his way to the edge of town, and slumped down next to a spreading oak tree to rest his weary body. The next thing he knew, sparrows twittered excitedly in a nearby juniper, and the sun was rising in the east. His stomach growled and his head ached from last night's whiskey. Jerrod found an out of the way spot where he could stay hidden and watch the approach of the train; he would board the train at the last minute.

The train ride was uneventful, and Jerrod slept most of the way. One time he stirred, and he thought he saw the man in the suit walking through the train car. Upon arriving in Cheyenne, Jerrod went to the Four-Bits Saloon, hoping to find an old friend.

"I'll have a whiskey. Say, does a sweet young thing name of Katy still sing and play the pianny here?"

"Who? Katy? Don't know no Katy. Pay up, mister." The bartender wanted the money first. Jerrod was still wearing the prison issued duds. "Try the Shave-Tail Saloon, down by the tracks.

Jerrod found the Shave-Tail and stepped in. It was dark, dirty, with a rough crowd, causing Jerrod to flash back to prison yard at Leavenworth. In a back room he saw a flash of red hair in the dim light, and stepped quickly in that direction.

"Katy! Katy! It's me…."

"Jerrod? Oh Jerry, ah, I didn't know you were out."

"HEY RED! GIT TO WORK. YOU GOT PAYIN CUSTOMERS!" The bartender looked like an ox, a neck the size of a tree trunk, arms like rain barrels. Jerrod instinctively stepped back.

"Jerry, come by tonight. Back door. I get off at twelve."

Jerrod walked away, glancing back at Katy. She seemed older, worn, tired. Katy had been his sweetheart. He was gonna ask her to get married after the big score. He'd do it now. He'll get the gold from the stash and take her away. Maybe go to Californy or Oregon.

Jerrod waited anxiously in the back alley at midnight. Inside he heard the bawdy laughter of men and alcohol, and an occasional feminine squeal, a squeal that sounded like Katy. Finally, at about one, she came quickly out the backdoor and down the steps, followed by a drunken miner. Jerrod stepped up pushed the drunk who stumbled back onto the stairs. Jerrod took Katy by the hand and led her away. Later, they were cuddled in the straw in the loft of a stable.

"I don't like you working there. Bad people there, treat you awful."

"You know I love you, Jerry." She snuggled closer and kissed him softly. "But you was sent away,…a girl's gotta earn her keep."

"I'm gonna take you away from all this." Jerrod touched her chin, and looked into her eyes. "I . . . I got money now. Take you to Californy."

"Just leave? Just like that? You promise?" Katy's eyes moistened. A tear dripped down her cheek.

"I've got the gold from the train robbery. I know where it's hidden. Tomorrow, tomorrow night at midnight. Meet me in the alley again."

That night, Jerrod walked the silent streets of Cheyenne, his mind racing, too excited to sleep. He needed a horse. No, he needed two horses, but the prison release money was all gone. He'd go up into the mountains, to the stash, get some gold so he could buy the needed supplies. But it would take all night if he climbed the mountain on foot. If, only…

"Go home and sleep it off!" The bartender threw a drunk cowboy onto the street in front of the Four-Bits Saloon. The cowboy struggled up to his feet and stumbled to a horse standing at the tie in front of the saloon. The drunk stumbled into the horse, causing it to whinny and step back nervously.

"Here, let me help," said Jerrod as he loosened the reins from the tie while staying hidden on the other side of the horse. In an instant, Jerrod leapt up into the saddle, jerked the reins and kicked the animal's flanks, and the horse bolted away. The drunk fell backwards, laying in the street. Even though it was well past midnight, a partial moon provided some light, and Jerrod guided the horse up a familiar trail to his stash in a cave by the creek several miles up into the hills.

By morning, Jerrod was back into town. The stolen horse was tied a short ways back in the woods out of sight. He stopped first at the livery stable to buy a horse, saddle and bridle for Katy. Then he started walking down Central Avenue towards the general store. At mid day, Jerrod stepped out of the general store onto the avenue, a new man, sporting store bought trousers, shirt, bolo tie, tailored jacket, boots, and broad brim hat. His pockets jingled with gold and coins as he strutted down the avenue towards the Four-Bits Saloon. He'd show them. Now they'd respect him. Heads turned as he walked through the batwing door; conversation stopped.

"Bottle of your finest whiskey. Now, my man, I'm thirsty."

"Yessir. Tennessee Bourbon." The bartender put out a glass and the bottle; it was the same man who had insisted on payment first the day before.

Jerrod shifted his weight impatiently, and glared. After a moment's hesitation, the bartender poured the whiskey into the glass. Then Jerrod placed a twenty-dollar gold piece on the bar. After several drinks, his cheeks were flushed and his courage was bolstered. Jerrod marched out of the bar, down the street to the Shave-Tail. He stepped in, and looked around until he saw Katy.

Katy stood in a back corner at a small table cleaning bar glasses. Jerrod marched over, took her by the elbow and turned towards the door. Glassware fell and broke.

"Let's go, Katy."

"Wha . . . Jerry?"

"Hey Red! Where ya goin'? Git back here!"

Jerrod, with Katy at his arm, strode through town. Heads turned, people on the street stopped to watch. Although attired in a tattered dress of a hireling, Katy held her head high, running on her toes to keep up with Jerrod's long strides. They reached the horse tethered at the stable, mounted together, and rode out of town towards the hills.

"The stash is right up here, Katy; in a cave around the bend. Bought you new clothes, too." They were on the two horses now. As they approached the cave, a man stepped out.

"Looking for this?" It was the man in the suit with the string tie; the man from the stage and then the train. He was standing over the wooden chest of gold, gun in hand. He quickly raised the pistol towards Jerrod's chest. "We been looking for it too. Appreciate your cooperation in leading us to it."

"You're under arrest, young man." The local sheriff stepped forward. "Apologize, ma'am. Gonna have to postpone your trip."

"But . . . but, I done my time. Uh, I just found this here stash," Jerrod stammered in disbelief.

"Us Pinkertons get our man," said the man in the suit. "You left a trail of crime, assault, robbery, and horse thievery. Then flashing your riches around town today. Why, I'd call this fool's gold."