THE GRACE OF GOD
by: Goldie
Kid Curry and Hannibal Heyes never saw it coming.
The searing pain in his shoulder was the first thing the Kid was aware of as he struggled to regain consciousness. It ran down his right arm and seemed to continue all the way into his hip. When he tried to open his eyes he experienced pain of yet another kind – this one only the harmless surprise of bright sunlight. In a small way, the Kid welcomed it. The daytime was preferable to the darkness. He knew now that he had been 'out' for a while. It had been morning when the explosion occurred. Now, by the sun, it seemed to be afternoon. The time of day was the second thing the Kid made himself aware of.
The third thing was Hannibal Heyes. Heyes had been riding behind him. Now the Kid did not know where his partner was and tried to summon up the strength to yell for him. That strength eluded him. The pain was still too strong. The Kid knew his voice was not gone since he heard himself groaning. But his lungs would not cooperate with his brain.
"Heyes!" he whispered. "Where are you? Heyes!" In his current position, the Kid could only see the road he had been traveling on earlier, now filled with rocks. He was lying on his back, painfully perched on some stones in the middle of the road. His partner was not in his sight. The Kid attempted to move from his uncomfortable position. His right arm, actually his entire right side including his leg, did not respond as he would have liked. Each tiny movement reminded him anew of the pain. Several times he gasped as he attempted to pull himself into an upright position. The most he could manage was to lean on his left elbow. He still had no sign of his partner. But from that position he could see the damage that had been done to his own body. He was shocked at the amount of blood that he saw. His own blood, caked all along his arm and the right side of his body. His jacket and shirt had been torn in the – explosion? – and rocks and debris had done their damage to his fragile body. His gaze continued on down his other leg and he was gratified to see that there was no blood there. The pain and the inability to reposition this leg came from a boulder that had pinned his foot.
Kid Curry took a deep breath and shoved the boulder with his good hand. He pushed as forcefully as he could for a short time and was able to dislodge the stone from its precarious perch atop his leg. But the sudden blood flow provided a new world of pain for the Kid. He resisted the desire to scream and collapsed down on his back, willing with all his heart for the agony to stop.
He lay there for a while, panting and working hard to even his breathing. It was several minutes before the pain subsided and he could even begin thinking again.
Once again he pulled himself up on his good elbow. This time he did not have the boulder as an impediment to his movement. The Kid was mildly surprised at his new flexibility. He pushed himself all the way into a sitting position and then cradled his right arm. Quickly he re-assessed the damage. His arm and much of his right side had been pelted with flying rocks. An explosion of some kind . . . He had been hit in the head as well. He concentrated on sounds and realized he could hear the wind, albeit with a ringing sensation. The explosion had been loud, he remembered, but the amount of ringing in his ears had subsided greatly. Perhaps it had been several hours ago.
Heyes! Where was his partner? This sudden thought caused him to involuntarily jerk around and thus experience pain anew through his battered body. He gasped loudly and returned to his original position, but not without a hint of satisfaction. Out of the corner of his eye he had seen something lying nearby. A man? A horse? He couldn't be sure. "Heyes!" he yelled, this time much louder. No answer.
Kid Curry leaned fully on his good elbow and tried to pull himself onto his hands and knees. He soon learned that it would not be possible to get his legs to cooperate. The right one had numerous open wounds and the left one had been broken by the boulder. It was possible the right was broken as well; the amount of pain made it seem plausible. He collapsed back down, but this time he was on his stomach and facing in the opposite direction. He closed his eyes and clenched his teeth against the pain. In a moment he had the courage to open his eyes.
He was looking at Hannibal Heyes!
Heyes was on the ground, on his back, still clearly unconscious. Or dead, thought the Kid drearily. There was a great deal of blood around him. It was obvious he had been injured by the debris from the explosion as well. But Hannibal Heyes had an additional problem. His horse had been killed, and lay near its owner with its powerful neck entrapping Heyes's legs.
Heyes was only a few yards away. The Kid assessed the distance and his ability to reach his partner. He tried to pull himself into a standing position, but with one bad arm and one broken leg and one wounded leg, he had no success at all. The only thing that mattered right then was his need to get to Heyes, so Kid Curry used his good elbow as a fulcrum and painfully pulled and dragged his body closer to his partner's. Wounds that had been starting to heal opened up again as he pulled himself over the rocks, but he did not care. Heyes had not answered any of his calls and he was very worried.
The progress was laborious but consistent. In a few minutes, the Kid had reached his partner. He was horrified almost to the point of illness at the amount of blood he saw. Leaning on his good elbow, he bent down to listen for breathing. He heard and felt Heyes's weak breaths against his ear and he almost sobbed with relief. Heyes was alive! Just barely, but he was alive. The Kid then tried to determine the weight that the dead animal was placing over his partner's body. It was only the neck and head of Heyes's horse, but it was very heavy. It masked the man's injuries, which could not be determined with the horse in the way.
The Kid re-positioned himself for a futile attempt to remove the horse's head with his one good arm. Only a moment of trying told him it would not work. He crawled around to the other side of the horse and grabbed the reins. Bracing his injured body around a boulder, he pulled the reins with all his strength, using his one good hand. He tugged repeatedly until the horse had pulled clear of Heyes's body. Then he tugged again to pull it further away. When the Kid was satisfied that he had moved the dead horse's head out of the way, he crawled back to his partner. Glancing at the animal, he saw numerous insects flying around. He knew they could carry disease; he had to remove Heyes from the situation.
But how?
The acts of moving the horse's head and crawling back to Heyes had exhausted the Kid. He sat next to his partner and bent forward to catch his breath. As soon as he was able to do so, he turned his attention to Heyes. Once again he leaned down to listen for breathing and once again he was rewarded with the sound of shallow but consistent breaths. For now, it was enough. With a heart full of gratitude, the Kid rested his forehead on his partner's shoulder while he thought through his next moves.
While resting, his eyes wandered over his partner's body, battered and torn. There was blood everywhere. It suddenly occurred to the Kid that Heyes did not have many open wounds. The blood most likely had come from the horse. This thought bolstered his emotional state and seemed to give him strength. With his useless arm lying painfully at his side, he used his good arm to check his partner, opening his jacket and shirt, feeling his limbs, checking as well as he could for injuries. Heyes's general condition was tolerable. But he was unconscious and breathing superficially. The Kid crawled around to his friend's head and gently, very gently, lifted it up. His head had been dashed against some rocks and there was a big gash in the back of his neck. The blood had stopped flowing for the most part and had begun to coagulate.
The sight was gruesome and turned the Kid's stomach, but he knew he was the only hope Heyes had at the moment. He crawled as quickly as possible to the canteen tied to the horse's saddle and removed it. He returned to his unconscious partner and used some of the water to cleanse the wound. Gently pushing his friend's hair to the side, he examined the wound. The large tear in the skin would leave a scar, thought the Kid, hoping to God that Heyes would live long enough to see the scar. The Kid did not
know much about head wounds but a gash this deep surely caused some damage.
He spent a few minutes fussing with the water and using his neckerchief to wash the wound. He then sat back and placed Heyes's head very gently on his lap. He had attended to the most serious wound, but he was well aware that both he and Heyes had a number of physical conditions that needed to be addressed. He did not possess the wherewithal, or the strength, to do much more. The Kid leaned back against a large rock and tried to sleep.
Hours earlier, almost at the very moment of the explosion, a herd of longhorn cattle had broken from their range and were charging toward a nearby town. This was a very dangerous situation, for stampeding cattle know no bounds. Several cowboys worked hard to turn the cattle away from the town. One in particular, an energetic young man, was successful. At the last moment, he managed to scare them enough to turn them in a different direction. That young man saved many lives that day, but, unfortunately, he was thrown from his horse and trampled.
Sleep eluded Kid Curry. But dreams did not. His semi-wakeful state did not provide him with the solace he desired. Thoughts and dreams filled his head, sometimes at lightning speed. He shook his head several times to stop them. They were undesirable – thoughts of death and blood and torture and gunfights and even memories of being in jail. Although he did not know it, Kid Curry was drifting in and out of consciousness. His blood loss had been tremendous.
At one point, he forced himself to open his eyes and stay awake. It was his belief that he would have to do everything in his power to save his friend while they were both still alive. There was a dead horse nearby, and it would attract all kinds of predators, especially when night arrived. The Kid reached for his gun and found his gunbelt missing, apparently blown away in the explosion. But he noticed Heyes's gun was still in his holster, so the Kid removed it and checked it for bullets. He wasn't as fast or as accurate a shot with his left hand, but it was all they had. He knew that if his horse was still around that he could somehow manage to get the two of them in the saddle and ride for help. But his horse obviously was long gone.
Heyes groaned but never regained consciousness. The Kid leaned down to test his friend's breathing once again. It was getting shallower. He was very pale. The Kid put the canteen to his friend's lips but the water merely filtered down his neck. The Kid wished with all his heart that he could do more for his partner, but he could barely move. His own body was broken and wracked with pain. And he knew Heyes was in bad shape. The Kid wondered idly if they had ever been in a worse spot. It was becoming increasingly more difficult for him to concentrate.
He decided he needed to stay awake. To do this, Kid Curry concentrated on the pain of his broken legs. He shielded his eyes from the unyielding sun and watched buzzards circle. He was only partially awake when they started to land.
Not far away, on the other side of the hill, three men were also watching the buzzards, wondering what they might be closing in on.
"Looks like the dynamite got a coyote or something," said one of them.
"Nah, too many birds for a small animal. Must've been something bigger – a bear, maybe. Maybe a steer wandered into the area. Bison."
"Someone gets a free supper tonight," said the third man.
They were linemen, working for the railroad, in the area to speculate on the best place to position tracks. Part of their job involved dynamiting small hills or crests to level the rock. They did not believe there were any people nearby and were unaware of the plight they had caused Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry.
"Hey! Why should the birds be the only ones eating?" asked the first man.
"Dave's got a point! It's almost time to call it a day, anyhow. Let's ride over there first and see if we can bring back something for Mrs. Flaherty to cook for supper."
The third man looked at the buzzards again and then gauged the amount of sunlight left for their ride back to town. "All right," he said. They loaded their mule with their equipment and rode to the explosion area.
Kid Curry woke suddenly to a sharp pain on his forehead. "Hey!" he yelled, flailing his good arm about. When he opened his eyes, he saw some startled buzzards hopping away from him. The Kid swore loudly to disperse them. Some were discouraged but most stayed. "Damn it!"
He realized he had drifted off to sleep and decided he could not allow that to happen again. He hadn't expected them to attack so quickly. The Kid looked down at Heyes, whose head he was still cradling in his lap. Apparently the buzzards had not bothered him yet. The Kid realized thankfully that he had awakened just in time. He rubbed his head where they had been pecking at him. He tried shooing them away again, but they sat and waited.
He knew what they were waiting for.
The dead horse was too compelling and so was the possibility of two humans; the buzzards did not leave. The Kid grimaced as he reached for the gun. With one hand, he painfully spun the chamber and counted the bullets. Six. There were even fewer extra bullets in the belt. The Kid didn't have to count the birds. There were dozens, he knew. He fired one shot into the air. As he expected, the birds scattered.
In a few minutes, they were back. He hadn't expected that.
The railroad employees heard the gunshot as they were casually riding around the hill. They knew where it had come from. They looked at each other and wondered. Wordlessly, they picked up the pace.
The Kid tried to move his body in such a way that it would work as a shield for Heyes against the birds. He was generally unsuccessful as his ability to move was limited. Neither of his legs would respond any longer, nor would his right arm. His left arm worked but he was exhausted just from the small movement he had made. He knew he needed help and he believed Heyes was in worse shape than he was.
Kid Curry knew they were dying.
To make matters worse, he felt he had let his partner down. The shortcut through the mountain pass had been his idea. The Kid had said it would save time; he knew the pass, it was fairly flat. Heyes had wanted to keep to the road but had acquiesced. They would almost certainly not be going through this now if the Kid had listened to his partner. For one terrible moment, the Kid actually hated himself. But he allowed the emotion to pass. Somehow he knew his limited energy had to be focused on protecting his friend.
"I'm sorry, Heyes," he whispered. "I'm so sorry." He wanted to do something, anything. He wanted to be able to aim his gun at the birds. He wanted to be able to check the wound on his partner's head. He wanted both of them to be able to jump on their horses and ride out of there. None of this would happen. He was too weak. His strength was vanishing. He settled for resting his left hand on Heyes's chest. "Good-bye, old friend," was all he was able to whisper. The words he spoke silently amounted to a prayer that Heyes, at least, would survive.
In a moment, Kid Curry lost consciousness.
Not long thereafter, Hannibal Heyes stirred from his unconscious state. Like the Kid, he became aware of the pain first and the sunlight second. The back of his head hurt the most and when Heyes put his hand back there to feel around, he was surprised to find his head cradled in his friend's lap. Heyes sat up slowly, allowing his body to gradually align itself. He saw the Kid in a sitting position, leaning against some rocks, with his body turned to the side as if to shield something.
"Kid! Hey, Kid, wake up!" Heyes gently shook his partner, but the Kid did not respond. When he listened, he was rewarded with a faint heartbeat.
Heyes slowly raised himself to his hands and knees and then to a wobbly standing position. He had not been hurt nearly as badly as the Kid, although his head wound had been serious. His body had been battered by the flying stones, but he was in generally good shape. He wondered vaguely how his jacket and shirt had become undone. He thought back to the time of the explosion and tried to remember everything he could. His ears were still ringing so he knew it had to have been an explosion, but he did not remember it well. Just a sudden noise and a vibration and falling from his mount. At that point, his eyes came upon his horse, lying dead on the ground with a great deal of blood nearby. Heyes was physically sick over the sight and dropped to his knees again.
When he recovered he leaned back against the Kid. Heyes allowed himself to rest for only a moment. He felt badly for his horse and realized that the animal's body must have absorbed the bulk of the blast and sheltered him. Heyes immediately switched his thoughts to his partner, bending down to listen to his heart again. The Kid was badly injured and needed help. Heyes knew he himself needed help as well, but his only real concern was with his head wound; the Kid clearly had two broken legs and maybe a broken arm, as well as numerous other unknown injuries. Heyes listened to the Kid's heart once more and felt his breath. He knew his partner was strong, strong enough to initially survive this assault on his body, but he also knew he would need to be helped soon if he were to survive.
Heyes stood slowly and unsteadily. He did not feel secure on his feet. Looking around, he realized dismally that they were utterly alone. There was no sign of life anywhere. Even the trail had been mostly obliterated. He tried to awaken the Kid again with no success. He knew that it was not a good idea for the Kid to be unconscious for so long.
He had to go for help. And he had to leave the Kid alone.
And then he saw the buzzards, who had taken to circling again when he had stood. Heyes knew what that meant.
He looked around for some kind of shelter. He spied a craggy outcropping nearby, a primitive rocky roof about five feet off the ground. This would provide a shelter of sorts for the Kid, for it would shield his body from the sight of the birds. It would buy him some time.
Heyes forced himself to return to his horse. He unbuckled the saddle cinch and slid the saddle to the ground. He then removed the blanket which was underneath. It was partially soaked in blood, but the blood had mostly dried. The sight of the poor animal continued to make him nauseous but he had a mission and did not want to let down his friend.
The blanket was then placed on the ground next to the Kid. Heyes whispered an apology to his partner for the pain he knew he would be causing and then gently rolled the Kid's body onto the blanket. He heard his friend groan and he apologized again. There was nothing else he could do; he was being as gentle as possible. The idea was to tote the Kid to the rocky outcropping and place him underneath. Heyes tried lugging the blanket but the Kid was too heavy for his limited strength. He suddenly became dizzy and sat heavily down on the ground. After a moment the dizziness passed, but it had given him an idea. In a sitting position, he lugged the blanket with its beloved cargo, using his legs for leverage and digging his heels into the ground. He was successful! Over and over he pushed off with his heels, repositioning his body each time. In a few moments, he had managed to move the Kid and place him underneath the shelter.
For the sake of comfort, Heyes left his friend lying on the blanket. Although Heyes was tired, it was essential that he push on. He then retrieved the gun and the canteen and placed them near the Kid's good hand after first drinking some water himself. "There's no food, Kid. This'll have to do," he said. He put his hand on the Kid's face, partly to feel for breath and partly to have some simple contact with his partner. This made him feel better. Shielding his eyes from the sun, he glanced skyward and saw the vultures continuing to circle. But Heyes had a plan to protect his friend, and he was only half done.
After resting in a sitting position for a moment, Heyes took a deep breath and got up again. He began dragging rocks to the craggy outcropping. He piled them up around the Kid, being careful that none of them actually touched him. He continued to enclose the Kid with the rocks. It was hard work for someone of his limited strength, but it wasn't long before he had completed the job to his satisfaction. Before putting the last stone in place, he looked longingly one last time at his partner. The Kid was groaning, so he was still alive. Heyes believed he had made him as comfortable and safe as possible.
Rubbing his face with his hands and then checking the wound on the back of his skull for fresh blood, he began the long walk back to town. His heart sank when he realized that the circling buzzards had not abandoned the spot where the Kid was. He saw the dead horse and hoped that that was all they were interested in. The sight once again made him physically sick and caused him to fall. Heyes did not think he would have the strength to walk all the way back to town. He lay on the ground and tried to bring himself to a standing position. Thoughts of hopelessness filled his head. He fell again.
Once again, Hannibal Heyes lost consciousness.
The sight that greeted the railroad employees was shocking. A horse lay on the ground, bloody and obviously dead, its saddle uncinched and its blanket missing. Nearby lay the man who had been its rider, either dead or unconscious. The back of his head, which was all they could see from their angle, was also bloody.
The circling vultures had lead them right to the horse and man. Some of the birds had begun to land and the men shooed them away. The men lost no time. They checked to make sure Heyes was still alive. Then they hoisted him into the saddle of one of their mounts and its rider got up behind and held Heyes in place. They looked around for other horses or riders but saw none. They scoured the area because they had heard a gunshot but no gun was present. They did not see the hiding place that Heyes had prepared for the Kid.
With another of the men riding close by in order to assist the man who was holding Heyes in the saddle, the railroad employees then left to return to town, at the fastest clip they felt was safe for Heyes.
When he finally awoke, Hannibal Heyes felt something tight on his forehead. He reached up and touched a bandage tied around his head. It had fallen slightly into his eyes so he pushed it up.
When he opened his eyes he was very surprised at what he saw. The last thing he remembered, he was attempting to return to town on foot to get help for the Kid. He remembered hiding the Kid from predators. He remembered the Kid needed medical help. The rest was a blank.
But now he was in a house. A bedroom, perhaps. Heyes sat up suddenly in bed, holding his head against the sudden dizziness. In a moment, he was aware of a young man sitting near him. He was wearing dirty clothes and his head was leaning at an odd angle, but he was personable enough.
"Take it easy," said the man in a soft caring voice. "You've been out for a while. You were very sick." He touched Heyes's bandage with an exceptionally light touch.
Heyes suddenly felt the light-headedness disappear. He felt his strength beginning to return. "Where am I? Where's the Kid?" he asked.
"You're at Doc Miller's house," the man replied. "You almost died. You'll be all right now. The doctor and his wife have taken care of you. She's a nurse. They're both the best there is."
Heyes realized with an ache that the Kid would not be here. "I've got to find my friend!"
"He'll be fine. You should rest," said the young man. "My name is Jess. I've been watching over you while the doc and his wife are busy. They're in the next room. You're going to be all right now, but you've got to rest." And he touched Heyes's forehead again lightly.
The gentle touch was clearly intended to have a settling effect, but Heyes was too upset. "We've got to find my friend!" Heyes repeated in agitation. "Where's the doc?"
"They'll be right here," said the man, and he left with no further explanation.
"Hey!" Heyes yelled, surprised at the volume of his own voice.
Instantly he heard footsteps. A lady and a gentleman entered the room and crossed to his side. The man, apparently a doctor, worked immediately to remove Heyes's bandage and examine the wound. The lady took his hand, to be friendly, he thought, but actually to measure his pulse. Heyes noticed that the lady looked as though she had been crying earlier.
"How are you feeling?" they both asked him, almost simultaneously. They seemed like very caring folks.
"I've got to find my friend!" said Heyes anxiously.
"Who's that?" the doctor asked idly, paying more attention to the wound.
The lady said to the doctor, "It's fast." Then to Heyes, she said, "What friend are you talking about, young man?"
"My friend. Thaddeus. He's hurt. Bad. Is he here?"
The doctor and his assistant looked at each other. "No, son," said the doctor. "You were the only one the linemen brought in."
Linemen? What on earth was he talking about? Heyes swallowed. His head hurt, and the doctor poking around up there didn't help. And not knowing how the Kid was didn't help either. Heyes suddenly felt like lying down again. The kindly doctor noticed it and helped him. "Tell me about your friend," he said. "Whatever you can remember."
"How long have I been here?" Heyes asked feebly.
The lady was just as nice. "Not long," she said. "My husband here is Doctor Miller and we began tending to you as soon as the railroad men brought you in. That must have been about an hour ago."
"You'll be all right, son," said the doctor. "You just have to rest for a while. I've taken care of that head wound. The men said you were hurt in an explosion. The rest of your wounds are superficial. Mostly bruises."
Agitated, Heyes struggled to sit up again. The doctor and his wife assisted him. "No! You don't understand! My friend is still up there." He gasped and put a hand to his head – the light-headedness was back. He did not want to get sick now. Too much was at stake.
"Tell me," said the doctor in a tone of voice that said he understood the emergency but he still wanted his patient to calm down. He and his wife still had hold of Heyes's shoulders. Heyes was very agitated and struggled against them to stand up.
"I left him there. His horse threw him and ran off, I guess. I laid him near the cliff and laid stones around him so the birds couldn't get him. We've got to get back to him!"
"Is he . . . Is he . . . ?" ventured Mrs. Miller cautiously.
They felt Heyes's shoulders relax beneath their hands. His entire body seemed to slump. "He's hurt bad." Heyes wanted to say more but a lump caught in his throat.
The doctor took only a moment to digest the information before springing into action. "Mary, go back to the railroad office and tell them to send the men back over here with their wagon. Then get my bag ready and pack some water and food."
Mrs. Miller was apparently used to taking orders from her husband the doctor and acted expediently. She disappeared.
"All right, now, son, we'll find out about your friend," the doctor told Heyes. "I'll have the men who found you go back and I'll go along. I'll see that we have enough men with us in case we have to dig him out. I'll be there to tend to him right away. Now, for you, let me show you how to rest your head so as not to aggravate the wound." He helped Heyes lie back down and gently turned his head a bit to the side while asking him to relax his neck, which Heyes was willing to do. Although deeply fearful for the Kid's life, Heyes now knew that help would soon be on the way. The Kid would have a chance! The head wound was causing Heyes continuous nausea and difficulty with speech, and his fears for his friend aggravated the situation. Now some of the tension was being released. In spite of himself, Heyes felt hot tears escape his eyes and melt into the pillow.
"What did you say your friend's name was?"
"Thaddeus," whispered Heyes, unable to speak in his normal voice. If the doctor noticed Heyes crying, he pretended not to. He covered his patient with a warm quilt, checking the head bandage one more time. "Mrs. Miller will tend to you in my absence." He patted Heyes kindly on the shoulder. "You'll be fine. And so will your friend, so stop worrying," he added in a gentle voice. Then he left.
In a few minutes, Heyes could see the search party through his window. One man, one of the railroad men, came in and asked Heyes the approximate area where he had left the Kid. The sketchy information Heyes was able to give would have to suffice. The railroad man shook his head; he understood. He joined the search party and they left quickly. There were a number of them, all with torches to light the night. The railroad employees were part of the group and were driving a wagon. The wagon carried pillows and blankets and the doctor's case. Heyes saw the doctor riding alongside.
There was hope riding with that group. Heyes knew it, but he did not feel it. To him, the night felt cold and hopeless. The doctor had said that the Kid would be 'fine.' Heyes was not naïve enough to believe it, although he wanted to with all his heart. He knew there was a very good chance the Kid was not fine at all. The Kid was injured and unconscious. And the night was cold. He may be dead.
The doctor's wife checked on Heyes periodically and talked with him if he felt like it, advising him to relax and try to sleep. But sleep was elusive for Hannibal Heyes that night. His sense of foreboding was too deep. He was restless and frightened for the Kid.
Heyes was grateful for the attentions of Mrs. Miller but just as glad when she left his room and allowed him to be alone with his thoughts. He heard her talking in the next room and realized that there was probably another patient she was tending to. He knew this selfless woman would not get any sleep that night. For some reason, his heart went out to her. In the early hours of the morning Heyes sat up and then struggled to stand. He was successful, leaning against the bureau as he tottered to the window. He sat on the window sill and looked outside. There was a large moon – maybe full – and he had no trouble seeing the landscape. This gave him some hope for the ability of the search party to find the Kid's hiding place.
The comforting low voice of Mrs. Miller drew him to the door. He could see into the next room and observed her sitting on a chair near a bed similar to his own. She appeared to be holding vigil over a patient except for one thing – there was no patient in the bed! Mrs. Miller was continuing to talk in a soothing voice. Heyes realized that the tone Mrs. Miller was using was intended to be comforting to a severely injured patient. Once again, Heyes realized how important Mrs. Miller was to her husband's practice.
And to him.
Heyes began walking slowly toward her.
She started when she heard him in the doorway. "Goodness!" she cried. "You should be resting!" She crossed to him quickly and attempted to grab him to assist his walk, but a look from him stopped her dead in her tracks.
"Who were you talking to?" Heyes asked.
She seemed glad that Heyes was interested, but avoided looking at him as she answered. "I hope I didn't bother you. No one. Myself, I suppose. If my son was here, I would be talking to him. Yesterday I was." She looked up at Heyes with tears in her eyes. Her distress was clear.
Heyes grasped the situation immediately and felt suddenly faint and ill-equipped to deal with it. But he knew that the doctor was gone and he was the only one she had to talk to. "What happened?" he whispered.
Her tears began to fall and her voice faltered. "He died right in this bed yesterday. He was a rancher and turned a stampeding herd headed for town. He . . . fell from his horse . . . " She couldn't go on.
Heyes got the picture and it turned his stomach. The image of cattle stampeding and trampling one of the hands was appalling and somehow reminded him of the trouble the Kid was in. The sense of helplessness and grief was overpowering and Heyes forced himself to replace this emotion with a strong empathy for her. He helped her to sit down on the chair she had originally meant for him. Heyes uttered, "I'm sorry" automatically. But this momentary respite from his forebodings about his friend Kid Curry disappeared at his verbal reminder of the fragility of life. The fears suddenly came back to him in force. The Kid might be dead even as he was thinking about him. He put his arm around her and held her to his chest, partly to allay his own heartache.
She cried for only a moment, allowing him to hold her, and then she pushed away from him. She wiped at her eyes with her handkerchief. Heyes noticed it was already wet. "Please forgive me," she said and then she laughed a small mirthless laugh. "How can I take care of you if you're taking care of me?" She made a motion to push him back to his bed, but he anticipated her and forced her to sit in the chair instead.
"I'm fine," Heyes said. "You have a lot on your mind. Don't worry about me."
She looked up at him longingly. "Oh, we almost lost you! You don't remember, but you were very sick when you came in here. You almost died; then – miraculously – you rallied and came around. We almost lost you." Her voice trailed off at the end as her thoughts returned to her son. It was clear to Heyes that she was trying hard to be a good nurse to him but her grief kept getting in the way. He watched her eyes as they drifted off in the distance, and waited until she seemed to have forgotten he was there. In a moment, Heyes hobbled back to his room and resumed his vigil by the window. His head hurt, but he thought it was less from the injury than from the heartache. His thoughts returned exclusively to his partner. He was beginning to expect the worst – that either the search party would not be able to find him, or the Kid would already be dead if they did find him. With thoughts like these filling his head, Heyes could not sit still. He paced the room, peering anxiously out the window every few seconds. Heyes could think of nothing but the Kid.
In a while, Mrs. Miller came back in to check on him. She could see the state he was in and knew he needed help. She had regained control of her emotions. Her voice was low and soothing when she said, "Let me help you back to bed." She took his arm and he obediently allowed her to sit him on the bed. She sat next to him. She seemed to be reading his mind. In a moment, she said, "You mustn't fret. Those are good men who went to find your friend. They won't fail you."
Heyes could not look at her when he spoke. There was a lump in his throat. "It's not that," he said. "It's just . . . "
She looked at him. "I know," she said. "Never give up hope." She put her arm around him. Heyes knew that he needed her thoughtfulness more than anything else in the world right then. He laid his head on her shoulder and squeezed his eyes tight to keep from crying. She allowed him to stay like that as long as he wanted. Eventually he ran his hands over his face and pulled away. She stood and told him it would be best for him to try to rest. Sensing that he wanted to be alone, she left.
Once again, Heyes was alone with his thoughts, and they were not happy ones. For distraction, he leaned against the headboard and allowed himself to drift in and out of sleep. But his dreams were filled with the horrors of bloody bodies being trampled by cattle and attacked by vultures. He saw a woman running toward a body, screaming. He heard more screaming and then awoke, realizing it was the sound of his own voice. When he opened his eyes, he saw Mrs. Miller had run in from the other room, apparently startled. He wanted to say "sorry" but couldn't bring himself to talk and realized from the look on her face that it probably wasn't necessary. She looked as if she had once again been crying. He watched her, mesmerized, as she gently pulled the quilt up to his neck and said some soothing things to help him back to sleep. He felt eternally grateful as she pulled up a chair and sat down next to the bed. He followed her gaze out the window into the cold night. When she looked back at him, she smiled sweetly. Feeling magically less anxious, Heyes fell into a quiet sleep.
It was daylight when a commotion in the house awoke Hannibal Heyes. The sleep had done him some good; he felt better and stronger. He felt the bandage on the back of his head. Although there was still pain, it had greatly lessened. He quickly checked some of his other bruises. They had turned colors but he felt that he was on the road to recovery. Instantly, Heyes was ashamed of himself for thinking about anything else before thinking about the Kid. He jumped out of bed and hurried into the hallway. The commotion that had awakened him was the sound of the search party returning and the doctor entering the house. Mrs. Miller was standing near the door, anxiously awaiting news. Heyes entered the room and leaned against the wall, too frightened and apprehensive to talk. He heard Mrs. Miller voice his own fears: "Did you find him? Is he all right?"
"Yes, he'll be fine."
Yes, he'll be fine! The doctor said more, but this is all Heyes heard. The doctor instructed some men to bring the Kid into the parlor and lay him gently on the divan. Mrs. Miller told them to lay him on Heyes's bed instead, since her patient was much better. Dr. Miller hugged his wife.
Yes, he'll be fine! The most exquisite words ever heard!
At his first sight of the Kid, Heyes was overcome. The lump in his throat was gone, but the tears were back. "Kid," he whispered, following the men as they carried the Kid to the bed and chiding them to be gentle, as was the doctor. The Kid opened his eyes and smiled at Heyes. The heaviness in Heyes's heart disappeared.
The chair was still next to the bed where Mrs. Miller had left it. The doctor sat down and began to examine the Kid by the light of the window. He had apparently worked on the Kid in the wagon on the way in, and the bandages were already in place. The Kid was fully conscious and raised his hand slightly.
Heyes felt himself swooning a bit as he reached for the Kid's hand. Doctor Miller saw this and said, "Here, you need this chair more than me." He led Heyes to the chair. Although neither Heyes nor the Kid said anything, their eyes spoke volumes. The doctor gave them a minute alone and went into the other room to be with his wife. The men who had brought the Kid back also left. Heyes held the Kid's hand and squeezed his fingers. The Kid responded in kind.
"The doc said you'll be all right," Heyes said after a moment.
The Kid smiled slightly, grateful to be in a comfortable bed. Grateful to be alive. Grateful to find his friend alive. Not wanting to get too physical, Heyes simply gave the Kid a small wistful smile. When he saw the Kid's eyes mist over, Heyes leaned down and touched the Kid's forehead. Their hearts were full. Against the odds, they were both alive.
After a moment, Heyes sat back and relaxed; it was finally safe to relax.
"Looks like we made it," said the Kid in a voice stronger than Heyes had expected.
"I'm told there was an explosion. New railroad line. How are you feeling?"
"Never mind me. How are you?"
"Bump on the head is all. I'm fine."
The Kid chuckled softly. "Last time I saw you, you weren't so fine. Doc said you almost died."
Heyes laughed with him. "Well, you know how hard my head is."
"Yeah."
They were quiet again. After a while, Doctor Miller returned. This time, he examined Heyes's wounds. Satisfied with what he saw, he told Heyes, "You can go if you want, young man. Or you can stay if you prefer. I want Thaddeus to stay here a couple of days before I'll let him be moved again."
"I'll stay, Doc," said Heyes. "I can help."
"Thanks. I was hoping you'd say that. I'd like to spend some time with my wife." The doctor sighed and ran his hands over his face. He looked older than Heyes remembered. He told Heyes what he could do to help with Thaddeus. Heyes was happy to oblige, finally feeling some control returning to his life.
Doctor Miller left and closed the bedroom door behind him.
The Kid hadn't said much, but Heyes knew he was just happy to be alive. A small new fear occurred to Heyes, who hoped to God that the Kid had not awakened until the doctor was with him. It would have been very frightening for him to have awakened to the sight of rocks closing him in.
As if by magic, the Kid interrupted his thoughts with, "They found me behind a rock barricade."
"So . . . you don't remember it, then?"
"Yeah, I do. That sounds like something you'd do – bury me alive with rocks." The Kid smiled.
Heyes smiled, too. "Hey, what are friends for?" Then he added, "I hope it wasn't too . . . I don't know."
"It wasn't. I knew help would be on the way. Strange, but I felt calm, even though I couldn't move."
They were both quiet for another minute, pondering that. The Kid seemed very pensive.
Heyes looked down momentarily. "I was worried about you. Almost got on a horse and came looking. The Doc's wife talked me out of it. She said they'd find you and she was right. She helped me a lot."
Through the door, they could hear voices in the next room. But they paid no attention. Right then, they were focused on each other.
The Kid said, "Thanks for what you did, Heyes. I don't know what I would have done without your help." There was a moment of silence as Heyes smiled a little and looked down. Then the Kid said, "It's too bad their son died."
Heyes suddenly remembered his conversation with Mrs. Miller about her son dying the day before. He berated himself for not offering his condolences to the doctor when he had seen him.
Heyes had always suspected there was no justice in the world, but now he knew for sure. "Their son just died. Saving other people. Where is the justice here?" he asked the Kid.
The Kid looked away in anger. "There's no justice, Heyes. There's only the things that happen to people like you and me. Like being in the wrong place at the wrong time." He looked at his bandaged legs and sniffed in contempt.
"He's dead, Kid. Their son is dead! We're still alive! Why are we still alive? Why are they caring for us when they should be grieving for their own?"
The Kid allowed his anger to ebb and raised his eyes to his partner. But by then Heyes had walked to the window to look out. He leaned his head against the cool glass and closed his eyes.
The Kid watched him and followed his train of thought. After a moment, he became wistful. "On the way back to town, the Doc took good care of me. He talked to me, too. Told me that his son had been killed. His son tried to keep a herd of longhorns from stampeding through the town. He managed to turn them but he got trampled in the process. Broken neck. But, like you said, he probably saved lots of lives." The Kid looked up at Heyes. His partner appeared to be suffering and the Kid felt he needed to do something to help him. "Heyes?"
Heyes's concentration was broken. "What?"
"Are you all right?"
The Kid's answer came in the form of a strangled look from Heyes. After a long moment, Heyes appeared to relax and said, "Yeah, I'm going to be all right and so are you. You look a lot better than when I saw you last. Stronger. That's one hell of a doctor." Heyes returned to the chair.
The Kid looked pensive again. "You know, there's something strange. When the men came, I heard them and called out to them to find me. One of them got to me before the others. I'll never forget him. He moved the rocks aside like it was no effort at all and he saw me and told me right away that I would be fine. And – suddenly I did feel fine. The pain was gone. Just like he said."
He had caught Heyes's interest. "Then what happened?"
"Nothing, really. He just stared at me and kept telling me I'd be fine and I believed him. He had a . . . way about him that calmed me down and made the pain go away. I looked for him on the way back to town but he wasn't riding with us. I asked one of the men about him, but he didn't know who I was talking about."
"That is strange. What did he look like?"
"I don't remember exactly. His clothes were dirty and had some blood on them. I remember he held his head at a strange angle."
An image of the young man who had been at Heyes's bedside when he awakened returned to Heyes. It sounded like the same person – dirty clothes, head held at an angle. It had to be him. "Kid . . ." Heyes whispered stealthily. "I saw him, too. Same as you. He was there when I woke up."
"The same guy?" The Kid tried to sit up in bed.
"He was here, Kid. He was sitting . . ." Heyes jumped up suddenly. " . . . right here in this chair!" He looked around wildly. "What was his name again? What was it? Jess! His name was Jess!"
"Well, who is he? Where is he?"
"That's a good question! Where is he? And how did he get back here so fast?"
"Come to think of it, how did he make so much of my pain go away?" The Kid looked puzzled but, somehow, unworried.
Heyes was pacing again. He, unlike the Kid, felt troubled. "Who is this guy, Kid? What happened to him? Why did we both feel better after talking to him? He made your pain go away – he made my pain go away. He made you stop fretting, just by his presence. But he couldn't make me stop worrying about you. He couldn't do that for me. What kind of special powers does this guy have, or not have?"
"Maybe he's a doctor, too. Some people can make you forget your troubles just by talking to you," the Kid suggested hopefully.
"No, that's not it. No doctor would be that dirty. They worry about germs and things. You're right, though, about some people. Mrs. Miller made me feel better just by being nearby." He stopped pacing and headed for the door. "This is driving me crazy. I'm going to go ask the doc if he knows who this Jess guy is. He must since he was in the doc's house." He opened the bedroom door and walked into the hall.
"Wait a minute, Heyes," called the Kid. "Don't you think this is a bad time to bother them?"
The Kid's words were loud and clear and made perfect sense, but Heyes did not hear them. He was staring at the table in the hall, upon which was a photograph. A photograph of Jess.
With his head not held at an angle.
Heyes gingerly picked up the photograph in the lavish frame. He looked closely but did not need to. This was clearly the same young man, smiling for the camera as he had smiled for Heyes several hours earlier. Heyes slowly, very slowly, returned to the chair, cradling the photograph in his hands.
"What is it?" asked the Kid. "You look like you've seen a ghost."
Still staring at the photograph, Heyes turned it for the Kid to see. Then slowly and deliberately Heyes raised his face to stare at the Kid. A great deal of meaning was exchanged in their looks. "That's him," whispered the Kid. Heyes shook his head slowly in agreement.
Just then, Doctor Miller knocked softly on the doorframe and joined them. "My poor wife is finally able to rest. I thought I would check on . . . " He stopped abruptly when he spied the picture. He removed it gently from Heyes's hands and lovingly ran his fingers along the frame. Heyes and the Kid both quietly watched as he then clutched the photograph to his chest. There were tears in his eyes.
After exchanging a look with his partner, Heyes waited a respectable moment, then said, "We've both met him and like him. We're wondering who Jess is, sir."
"Jess was our son."
Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry never saw it coming.
Epilogue
To the townspeople, Jess was a hero. The funeral the following day was attended by everyone able to come, including Heyes. Jess had been a fine young man in life and would be remembered so in death. He had saved many lives that day through his heroic actions.
In the future, Jess was never a comfortable subject for discussion between Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry. But, individually, they thought of him often. There were some unanswered questions, it's true, but mainly they remembered his miraculous ability to heal, to end their pain. To allow them to live. They never questioned that.
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. Any original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
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