This is my own personal back story for how life began for Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry.
CHAPTER ONE
THE DISCOVERY
"Han! Hey Hannibal! I got another one!"
Hannibal looked up from the book he was hunched over. He looked at the smaller, curly-headed boy a few yards downstream from where he was sitting. As he watched, smiling, Jedediah struggled with his too-large pole, trying to land the fish dancing on the other end. Finally, Hannibal laid his book down and went over to help. The two of them working together brought the silvery glistening trout out of the water. It landed with a wet plop on the spongy ground next to their feet.
"How many does that make, Han?" Jed asked as he watched his friend add the wriggling fish to the ones already on the stringer.
"That's four for me and eight for you, Jed." Hannibal knew he had caught more than four fish but that was enough for him to take home for a meal. After all, it was just his ma and pa and him.
Jed was the youngest of five brothers. Eight fish probably wouldn't even come close to feeding that bunch but it was getting late. They'd been here at the creek since early morning. His mom would be expecting him home soon, so he encouraged Jed to pack up and start back.
"Aw, Han. Let's stay just a little longer. I wanna catch one more. You got any more of them sanwiches?"
Hannibal looked at Jed, amused and amazed once again at how much food such a little kid could eat. "You already had two earlier. Doesn't your ma ever feed you at home?" he asked, already rummaging through his knapsack for the last sandwich. "Here, this is the last one. We'll stay long enough for you to eat it and then we better get back. Our folks will be worried."
"Naw, my ma won't be worried. She knows I'm with you." Jed dropped his line back into the water and sat down with his sandwich. "Your ma is a great cook, you know that, Han?"
"Ummm…I guess so."
"Han, can I tell you somethin'?" Jed asked hesitantly.
"Sure. What is it?"
"There ain't nothin' I'd rather do than spend the day here by the creek, fishing with you. You're a lot more fun than my brothers…" Jed picked at the blades of grass on the soft ground beneath him. "I hate my brothers," he said, scowling fiercely.
Heyes grinned, "What did they do this time?' He knew that Jed often got the brunt of his older brothers' rowdy clowning and it made the boy madder than a wet hen for a while.
"Aw, nuthin'. They're just mean. Sometimes I wish you were my brother and I lived over at your place. How come your ma and pa never had anymore kids, anyways?"
Hannibal shrugged. "Don't know. I heard gramma and ma talking about it once though. I reckon they just couldn't after me. Gramma said I was a hard delivery."
"Don'cha ever wish you had some brothers?"
"Oh, I don't know. I might end up with some like yours," he grinned mischievously. "Hey, I got an idea. Maybe we should be blood brothers."
"Blood brothers? What's that?"
"Well, it's something I heard Jimmy Brown and Tom Jacobson talking about at school last week. They made themselves blood brothers by mixing their blood together. Forms a bond between two fellers that can never be broken they told me, stronger than actual brothers even."
"How do you go about doin' that, Han?"
"Well…we'd have to get some of our blood out. Do you think you wanna do that?" Han looked at Jed, dark eyes studying his face for signs of reluctance or fear. And Jed was scared, just a little, but not enough to admit that to Han.
"Sure, I do. I ain't scared of a little blood. How we gonna do it though?"
Hannibal dug into his knapsack once more, feeling around until his fingers found what they were seeking. He pulled out an old, rusty fishing knife. Walking to the creek, he bent down and rinsed the knife off. Jed watched his every move, never taking his eyes off the old knife. When Han turned around, he smiled at Jed. "Are you sure, Jed?"
Jed wasn't really sure about the knife, but he was sure he wanted to be Han's blood brother more than anything. Blue eyes wide and staring, he swallowed once before saying, "Let's do it."
Hannibal went back over and sat down in the grass next to Jed. He frowned and said uncertainly, "This won't hurt too much, I don't reckon. You want me to go first?"
"No, you better do me first. Otherwise, you might not be able to hold the knife good enough." Jed gamely thrust his hand out towards his friend, palm up. When Han reached out to take the hand, still chubby with baby fat, Jed did not flinch. After studying the younger boy's face a while longer, Heyes turned his attention to the small hand held within his own. Holding his breath, he set the tip of the blade against the soft skin of Jed's palm, pressing on it just enough to make an indentation at first and then pressing a little harder, until he drew blood.
Jed was holding his own breath, clenching his teeth together, his lips set in a grimace. Han worked quickly though and it was done before he could reconsider. A fine line of blood appeared in his palm.
"Squeeze some more out, Jed, while I get some of mine." Hannibal quickly opened the skin of his own palm with the knife until a matching line appeared in his palm. Setting the knife down, he worked the skin around the cut, forcing more blood to the surface. Jed did the same.
"Alright, that seems like enough. Now we just mix it together so you get some of my blood and I get some of yours. That makes us blood brothers, OK?"
"Sure Han."
Hannibal held his hand out in front of him, palm facing toward Jed. Jed mirrored his position so that the boys' hands were flat against each other. Instinctively, they intertwined their fingers. Unsure of what to do next, Han said, "Maybe we ought to say something."
"OK," Jed agreed, waiting expectantly for Hannibal to speak.
Han frowned slightly, thinking about it for a second before continuing, "This makes us blood brothers—a bond that can never be broken, no matter what. For the rest of our natural lives, we solemnly swear that we will look out for the other one—even more than we look out for ourselves. Say 'I swear', Jed."
"I swear."
"OK, it's done then. Now don't wash off that blood. Just let it wear off, even if your ma wants you to wash before supper, don't wash it off. That's important."
"OK, Han."
"Now you really gotta pack up. My ma is gonna kill me if I miss supper again."
He sat back down, leaning against a tree, and watched as his friend gathered up his things. Physically, they didn't have much in common. Hannibal was taller and leaner, with intense dark features; quick moving and quick thinking with a love for learning.
Jed, on the other hand, was rather small, even for the average nine year old, but solid as a tree trunk. His cornflower blue eyes, delicate features, and curly blond locks gave him an angelic look that already melted girl's hearts. He loved to talk and was smart as a whip but Hannibal couldn't ever remember seeing him pick up a book that hadn't been assigned by the teacher and even then he wasn't sure Jed actually read any of it.
But they had been together since they were little and Han knew that they had a special friendship. As an only child, Hannibal had been lonely on the farm. Jed had his brothers, but Han had heard his ma refer to Jed as an 'after-thought', as in "I never thought I'd have another after…" There were quite a few years between Jeremiah, his next older brother, and Jed.
So it had been natural for the two of them to gravitate towards each other. What was remarkable about it was how well they got along. Not that they didn't have their occasional arguments just like any other kids, but they just seemed to be in synch, almost like one could tell what the other was thinking without actually saying it…stuff like that.
Han was pulled out of his thoughts by Jed's voice. "OK. See you tomorrow, Han?"
"Yeah, sure. Come over after your chores are done. You can help me muck out the barn," Hannibal grinned. Jed pinched the end of his nose together and grimaced, making Han laugh outright.
The boys went their separate ways, each trailing a stringer of shiny, scaly fish over their shoulder. They didn't live far from each other; just a mile or so plus a copse of trees lay between their farmhouses.
Walking the wooded path towards home, Hannibal was seized by an unsettled feeling. There wasn't anything he could put his finger on immediately; there was just a wrongness in the air surrounding him. Slowly, he realized that the woods were unnaturally silent. The sounds that normally filled the forest with life—birds singing, squirrels chattering and running from tree to tree—were missing. Even the cicadas were silent. Han wondered if there might be a storm in the making.
He stopped to listen and have a look around. When he looked up, his view of the sky was blocked by massive branches overhead so he could get no clue as to what weather might be coming.
He stood there a moment longer, in the shadowy sunlight, holding his breath so as not to disturb the quiet. The only sound he could hear was the gentle rustle of the leaves in the afternoon breeze.
The beauty of the silence was not lost on the boy, who held within his young body a deeply sensitive soul. But the beauty was overlaid with another, more disturbing, aura. Han suddenly knew he had dawdled in the woods for too long today. Fear, like hundreds of tiny spiders, sent a prickly chill down his neck; but fear of what, he wasn't sure.
Han's pace quickened as he reached the edge of the forest. He could just make out his home on the far horizon. On first glance, nothing seemed amiss and his breathing, which had become somewhat labored in his anxiety, started to settle down.
He walked a little slower, his eyes fixed on his final destination. The smoke from the chimney told Han that his mother was busy fixing dinner over the fire. But there was something that didn't seem quite right—the smoke was too heavy and too widely disbursed.
Han stopped in his tracks, squinting into the distance. Suddenly his pulse quickened again and he started to run—faster than he could ever remember running. The sound of his own heart pulsed in his ears. The stringer of fish he had been carrying slipped out of his hand to the ground, forgotten in his fear and anxiety.
Time seemed to slow down as he ran towards his home. An eternity passed before he reached the narrow wagon path that led to his house. Han's mind refused to comprehend what his eyes were seeing. He didn't feel the tears that tracked their way down his cheeks or smell the acrid foulness of the smoke-filled air around him.
He could hear an unfamiliar voice yelling, almost screaming, "Ma! Pa!" Han thought the voice sounded strangely feral and was shocked to suddenly realize that the sound was coming from his own throat. He choked back a sob that threatened to break forth. If he started to cry, he feared he would never be able to stop.
Staring at his home now half-burned and smoking, Han slowly turned to survey the wreckage of what had been the Heyes' farm. The barn and stable had also been set afire. Han noted that the door of the stable was ajar and silently prayed that the horses that lived there had been set free before fire consumed their stalls. Their wagon was a few dozen yards from the house lying on its side, one wheel spinning lazily in the breeze.
Other than the pop and snap of still burning wood, and a soft squeak that the wheel made as it turned, all was silent. Han could see no sign of his ma or his pa. He felt rise within him the hope that they had escaped unharmed from the devastation that surrounded him and that they would be looking for him soon; all he needed to do was wait for them.
Hannibal walked closer to his house, looking for clues to help him understand what had happened. Had Indians attacked his family? There had been some trouble in the area from the natives in the past but things had settled down in recent months. Han remembered hearing his pa telling his ma about the raids being made in this part of Kansas by a group of guerilla fighters out of Missouri called the Bushwhackers. He wondered bitterly if they were responsible for destroying his home.
Han was wandering, lost in his thoughts, looking for some sign of where his folks were. From the corner of his eye, he thought he saw something familiar just beyond the edge of the overturned wagon. With dread, he walked closer. Now the tears ran unchecked down his dirt-stained face. His worst fears were coming true, pushing all hope for a happy reunion with his parents away forever.
Lying behind the wagon, staring unblinkingly at the late afternoon sky, was his mother. Han rushed to her side and dropped to his knees next to her lifeless body. The only evidence of the violence she must have suffered was a bloody stain on the bodice of her dress, spreading out from a ragged hole torn through the fabric. Han put his head to her chest, listening for any sign of life, but there was none. Through his tears, he studied her face for a moment before reaching out to close the lids of her eyes. Then he took one of her hands in his and held it.
It was only then that he saw his father, lying just a few feet away on Han's other side. Han had been so transfixed on his mother, he hadn't noticed the second body right away, even though it was very close to him. His pa was lying facedown, sprawled in the dirt. Han knew without a doubt that he was dead too. He reached out to touch his father's shoulder, still holding his mother's hand in his other hand. Then he just sat there for a long time.
The afternoon shadows lengthened and deepened. Han sat silently between his parents, reluctant to move as if by his staying there, maybe he could make things right. But he knew things were never going to be right ever again. He had lost the two people in the world who were important to him. What was he to do now? There was nothing left for him except to just sit there forever.
Then, from behind him, Hannibal heard a stealthy sound. Suddenly convinced that his parents' murderers had returned, he spun around on his hands and knees to face the intruder, tensed to attack and gain revenge against the bastards who had killed his ma and pa. His eyes glinted with malice and rage as he turned but he was unprepared for what he saw.
Jed was moving towards him, walking slowly as if under water, still dragging the stringer of now filthy and inedible fish behind him in the dirt. His blue eyes, usually so full of life and mischief, seemed washed of color as he stared at Han, slack jawed. Han wasn't sure that the boy even recognized him, but he knew by Jed's appearance that his home wasn't the only one attacked today.
The tension drained from Han's body, leaving him feeling weak and dizzy. He got to his feet unsteadily and walked over to Jed, putting his arm around the younger boy. Jed stood stiff as a board, not responding to his friend's touch. Han spoke to him gently, "C'mon Jed. It's gonna be all right. I'll take care of you."
Jed didn't speak. With apparent difficulty, he looked up at Han and stared deep into his brown eyes without blinking, wanting to believe the assurances his friend was offering. Han gave him a small, sorrow-filled smile and said, "You don't worry none, you hear? Remember we swore to watch out for each other, didn't we?"
Jed nodded once, barely enough to be seen. "Well, that's what we're gonna do. We're brothers now." Taking the younger boy's hand in his, he lead him away, not knowing where they were going or what they would do once they got there; just knowing that whatever it was, they would do it together.