The weak early winter sun shone through the open door of the barn but cast no warmth on two shirtless boys.
A collection of raised voices barely penetrated the fighters' consciousness as they vied for a gap in the other's defences. Jedediah 'Kid' Curry concentrated on his goal and kept his eyes fixed firmly on his opponent. Ed was nimble, much lighter on his feet than Jack or Scrapper, so Jed had to be alert or he would be outmanoeuvred.
At last Ed made a move, jabbing with his right. Keeping his knees bent and his chin tucked in was now becoming second nature to Jed and he ducked his head out of reach while deftly aiming a quick counterpunch at the other boy's jaw. He made contact and a few of the watchers cheered. Ignoring the sudden stab of pain in his hand and wrist Jed jumped backwards easily blocking or staying out of reach of Ed's next few punches.
The daily run around the corral over the last few weeks had resulted in stronger legs as well as improving Jed's overall stamina and lung capacity. Although he didn't have a lot of muscle to show for his efforts, he was a lot fitter, the ritual with the sacks not making his arms feel quite so much like jelly any more.
Suddenly, Ed changed his approach which his opponent didn't read so well and a solid cross connected with the base of Jed's ribcage. Despite attempting to tighten his body he didn't quite get the timing right and the strike left him gasping for air. Ed now saw his opening and took full advantage, landing a quick hook to the side of the blond boy's head and knocking him to the ground.
Fox Flanagan had always stressed that it was the punch you didn't see coming which did the most damage and right then Jed agreed with him wholeheartedly.
"C'mon, Kid," he heard somebody yell through the buzzing in his ears. "Get up. Don't stay down there in the dirt!"
Jed twisted onto all fours in order to try and stand but the second he moved he felt dizzy and was sure he was going to be sick. All he was able to do was flop onto his back as his head continued to spin.
"Alright, that's enough," said Fox. "Who's next?"
Two pairs of hands pulled Jed along the ground until he was clear of the ring then the shouting resumed as Tom and Ben began sparring.
Jed felt someone encouraging him to sit up. He opened one eye to see Billy offering him a canteen. Without thinking Jed shook his head and instantly regretted it as the barn spun wildly.
"Real dizzy. Think I'm gonna be sick."
"Drink some water. The dizziness don't last — unless you're hurt real bad."
"What?!" Jed managed to gasp. "I could stay like this?"
Billy smiled. "Ed just caught ya on the side of the head. He don't hit hard."
Jed gave a derisory snort and mumbled, "Felt real hard to me."
"You'll feel better in a minute. Honest." All of a sudden, Billy's smile disappeared and he pushed the canteen into Jed's hands with greater urgency, whispering, "Mister Flanagan's lookin', Kid. C'mon, drink some water and try to stand up. He won't like it if you're sat here on the floor too long."
Hearing the fear in the other boy's voice Jed reluctantly took a few sips from the canteen and, with his friend for support, got to his feet. The barn still spun but not as bad as before so he took another drink and allowed Billy to help him over to join the others at the ringside.
When training was over for the day everyone trooped back to the farmhouse for their midday meal, all except Jed, who was pulled to one side by Fox Flanagan. Finding himself in the stall he had once occupied Jed wondered whether Fox was going to hit him for losing his fight today. With a growing feeling of trepidation he watched as the man silently rolled down his shirtsleeves and put on his long black coat.
Since that first time, Jed hadn't actually witnessed Fox strike Billy again but the boy occasionally displayed one or two unexplained bruises leading him to fear that the mistreatment was continuing. Billy's explanation for the abuse had made Jed's already simmering anger worse. Night after night he had lain awake staring at the ceiling, his eyes as hard as flint, promising himself that he would find a way to get back at this man for abducting him, for taking him away from Han and his new-found home. And, although Billy didn't know it yet, Jed had every intention of making sure the other boy came with him the day he finally made his escape.
"Sit down, Kid."
Keeping his eyes on Flanagan Jed lowered himself onto a straw bale. Approaching him, the man seized Jed's jaw. "Let me take a look at where he hit you."
Fox frowned as he examined the bruise that was starting to form just above Jed's temple. "Hmmm, get Trip to look at that, it might need a compress. Is the place still spinning?"
"No, sir."
"Good, but if you start feeling dizzy again or you're sick, tell Trip."
"Yessir."
Fox sat down alongside Jed. "So, Kid, how did your first knock-down feel?"
Jed took a moment to consider his answer before he said, "Bad," then added stoically, "But he ain't gonna do it again."
Fox grinned. "That's the right answer! It ain't pleasant but it happens to every fighter. You need to remember that you will always get dizzy when your head gets hit real hard. If you don't go down, your legs will probably feel strange like they're gonna give way beneath ya. You just have to stay calm and keep breathing. That way you have a good chance of staying on your feet. You've gotta remember, whatever happens don't hold your breath."
"Yessir, I'll remember that."
Fox reached into his pocket. "Can you read?" When the boy nodded he handed him a folded piece of paper.
Jed opened the flyer, it read:
FLANAGAN'S FIGHT NITE
Saturday at Ringsters Ranch
Try your luck against the Brawling Boys
Cash Prizes
All bets honoured
Admission from 6pm $1.00
Jed read it through twice then looked blankly at Fox.
"Another week and I figure you'll be ready to take to the ring for a real fight," said Fox. "We'll put you in and see how you do. You've mastered most of the moves now except for when that fast right hand of yours should throw the big punch. We're gonna work on that this week."
"But...but...I got knocked down today," Jed protested.
"Aw, Ed got lucky. He's quick alright but he don't always keep his mind on what he's doing. Lots of people are like that — they get distracted real easy. Watch for your opponent losing his concentration; it'll show in his eyes. In the meantime, what you need to figure out is how you gave him an opening to get that punch in. We'll do some more work on that too."
Fox chuckled at Jed's look of dismay.
"Don't worry, Kid, the sodbusters around here may be good at scrappin' in a saloon but in a ring...now, that's a different kinda fightin' altogether."
Swallowing hard, Jed remembered not to hold his breath. "Yessir," he choked out, his mouth suddenly dry.
ooooo-OOO-ooooo
The open jacket made an inviting target and bumping into the wearer was the simplest thing in the world. Slender fingers located the billfold and... he found his wrist held in a vice-like grip.
"Aw, Jeez!"
"Felt it again, Hannibal." JT plucked the billfold from Han's fingers and returned it to his pocket.
Han groaned. He had been working on the same manoeuvre, over and over again, every afternoon for the past week and couldn't understand how JT was still insisting he could feel when his fingers dipped inside the pocket.
"Isabella, again please." JT removed his jacket and held it out to the vexed youth who, in a show of irritation, forcefully thrust his arms into the sleeves.
"Oh, pardon me, sir," lisped Bella as she brushed against Han and walked on before turning around to present him with the billfold.
"Aaaarrgh!" Clenched knuckles ran through chestnut-brown hair.
"See, she barely touched you," explained JT. "Her fingers were already in the right position as she approached, like she was playing with a button on her gown. Your hand movements are still too big, Hannibal. They can be seen as well as felt."
Han tried to rein in his mounting frustration as he considered a new approach. "Okay, okay, let me try again."
Josiah Tweedie once more donned the jacket.
Deciding on a different ruse, this time Han staggered up to him as if he was drunk, almost falling into the flimflam man's arms. Playing his part JT tutted and indignantly pushed him away. Han staggered on, only to turn grinning from ear to ear and waving the wallet in the air.
"You did it!" laughed Bella, excitedly clapping her hands before flinging her arms around Han's neck and planting a noisy kiss on his lips.
Han joyfully picked her up and swung her round, "I sure did!"
With the sensation of her kiss still lingering, Han set down a breathless Bella and regarded her father carefully hoping that his daughter's impulsive behaviour wasn't going to get her into trouble, but Tweedie didn't appear to have noticed.
"That was very good, Hannibal, very good. I didn't feel a thing," complimented JT. "You must keep practicing, of course, but that drunken routine will suffice until you can master something a little more subtle. And master it, you will. I am sure of it."
Although the fare was humble, their meal that evening had a slightly festive air and JT even poured out a glass of Total Tonic for each of them to toast Han's success. After supper, JT went to his bedroom and returned with a pack of playing cards. "Care to partake in a little diversion, Hannibal?" he enquired as he sat down at the table and began to shuffle.
Han shook his head. "I don't know how, sir. Some of the boys back at the Home used to play a little poker but they had to be careful not to get caught or else they'd have got a real good lickin'. Gambling was against the rules, even if it was only for matches.
"I mostly kept to myself which was easy 'cause I like to read. The others got used to seeing me with a book so they stopped askin'. Reading kinda took me away from that place too — when I wasn't looking out for Jed, that is." He smiled to himself at the recollection. "That boy had the look of an angel but he was always getting into scrapes or, worse still, fighting. Fighting also got you a lickin'."
"You grew up in a Home?"
"The Valparaiso School for Waywards."
"I see." JT sat back in his chair. "Do you know, Hannibal, that's the most you've said about yourself all the time you've been with us?"
Feeling a little self-conscious at his sudden disclosure of personal information, Han averted his eyes.
"Anyway," continued JT lightly, "I think it may be wise for you to learn how to play poker, blackjack too. An intelligent gambler can make a good living, so long as he stays out of trouble."
"Trouble?"
"Well, some folks don't use the brains the good Lord gave them, especially when they play poker. They have no idea how to figure the odds as to whether they might have the winning hand. So, in order to ensure they win, they cheat. Now, cheating at a card table is a fool's game and something I wouldn't recommend unless you want to be staring down the barrel of a six-gun. Figuring out the odds shouldn't be too difficult for a smart fella like yourself. How are you with numbers?"
"Pretty good, I reckon."
JT raised an enquiring eyebrow. "So, do you want to play, m' boy? We've got a lot of winter evenings to get through and I've only got...oh, half a dozen books..."
Han grinned and tapped the table in front of him. "Deal me in."
"Me too." Bella sat down in her place having finished the dishes. "Women play poker too you know," she said defensively, in response to Han's look of surprise.
ooooo-OOO-ooooo
Jed had never known seven days go by so fast — too fast, in fact.
He had trained really hard all week and had faced each of the other boys at least once in practice bouts, so much so that his hands hurt and his wrists ached. But, no matter what Fox Flanagan said, he still did not feel prepared to take to the ring for a bona-fide fight.
The previous Saturday Trip had taken Billy and Ed into the nearest town where they pinned up as many fliers as they could, handed some out to passers-by and left a stack on the bar in the saloon. Whilst there they had also taken the opportunity to stock up with supplies for winter and the box wagon was eventually loaded high with sacks and boxes together with a couple of barrels of beer. A Fight Nite was not deemed to be a success if those attending couldn't buy a few beers.
Once the day of the Fight Nite had finally arrived the place was abuzz with activity. Colourful bunting was tacked across the front of the barn and inside a wide plank of wood was set across two large empty barrels in the entrance to one of the stalls to serve as a bar. Kerosene lamps, filled to capacity, were lined up all ready to be lit as soon as dusk fell and hung from hooks overhead. Two buckets of water with dippers hanging from their sides were brought in together with a bottle of whiskey and a large tub of lanolin.
In the centre of the barn four wooden posts had been hammered into the ground and two lengths of rope wrapped around them to form a more authentic-looking boxing ring. It was here that Fox Flanagan found Jed alone and shadow boxing later that afternoon.
"Come on in and get yourself something to eat, Kid."
At the sound of the man's voice Jed dropped his fists and climbed through the ropes. "I'm not hungry."
"You'll need all the energy you can muster. It's surprising how much your first fight can take out of you." Fox put his hand on Jed's shoulder and steered him out into the yard. "I know you don't feel hungry, but you're gonna eat anyway. It's alright to be nervous, Kid. Just remember your training and you will be fine."
Jed let out a shuddering breath which showed white in the rapidly cooling air.
A couple of hours later and the sound of harnesses and hooves coming down the track announced the arrival of a number of carriages, buckboards and riders on horseback. The boys ran out to tend to the animals while Fox Flanagan enthusiastically greeted the spectators and weighed up any prospective challengers. Trip took their money at the barn door and Biff poured beer into tin mugs for a nickel each.
Anticipation rippled through the crowd when, at last, the boys paraded in and stood in a line at the back of the barn. Fox Flanagan stepped into the ring holding his hands aloft to shush the spectators.
"Gentlemen, welcome! Thank you for coming to our Fight Nite. Tonight there will be two bouts featuring the Brawling Boys and then my lads will take on whoever would like to try their luck. There will be a cash prize for the winner of each challenger bout."
This last statement produced a cheer from the lively crowd.
"Many of you, I am sure, already know the rules but I will remind you all the same." There was a groan from a few of the spectators. "Each round will last until a man goes down. If that happens there will be a half a minute break until the start of the next round. The fighters then have a few seconds only in which to come to the scratch line. Here." He drew his foot through the dirt marking a line in the centre of the ring. "A man is only beat when he can't stand up no more or don't make back it to this line to continue the fight. There will be no biting. No gouging. No head-butting. And, no hitting below the coloured sash. Is that clear?!"
"Get on with it!" shouted a young farmhand, good naturedly. "We wanna win some money," he added waving a handful of dollar bills in the air, no doubt his hard-earned wages.
Fox grinned and beckoned to two of the boys. "Okay, okay! Our first bout is between Tom in the red sash and Ed, who'll be wearing the blue. My man over there will take your bets," he said, indicating Trip who was now standing on an overturned bucket holding a handful of scraps of paper and a pencil.
Once all bets were placed the crowd's attention was once again on the ring. Fox stood with his feet either side of the scratch line, a hand on each of Tom and Ed's shoulders as they faced each other.
"Is everybody ready?!" he shouted, quickly looking over at Trip who looked back at him pointedly scratching his head before stepping down from the bucket.
There was a resounding cheer from the crowd.
Fox firmly squeezed Tom's shoulder before taking a step back and barking, "Fight!"
Jed was disappointed that, from where he stood, there were too many bodies in the way for him to see the fight but, from the shouts and jeers of the crowd, it appeared that Ed was getting the better of Tom. While he was pleased that Fox hadn't put him in first Jed had a feeling lurking in the pit of his stomach that he was not going to be fighting any of the other boys. He was sure that his bout would be against one of the challengers and his eyes nervously searched the crowd for likely opponents.
After about five minutes Ed launched a combination of punches which floored Tom. Fox stopped the fight and both boys were given some water. Tom staggered to his feet shaking his head and after the requisite thirty seconds the two boys faced each other again at the scratch line. At Fox's cry of "Fight!" they continued their bout. This round ended when Tom landed a few well-chosen body-blows and Ed collapsed to his knees, winded.
Thirty seconds later they resumed. Ed was a little unsteady on his feet and still breathing heavily, so Tom began dancing around his weakened opponent, throwing the odd punch and looking every part the victor until, without warning Ed threw a hook, rather like the one he had laid Jed out with the other day, and Tom hit the dirt. Ed's limited number of supporters cheered enthusiastically while everyone waited to see if Tom would get up. When it appeared unlikely to happen any time soon, Fox Flanagan grasped Ed's wrist and held his arm aloft declaring him the winner.
"There will be a short recess for you gentlemen to get some refreshment and to claim your winnings," declared Fox to a crowd who, for the most part, appeared to be a little aggrieved that they had lost their bets.
Meanwhile, Biff dragged Tom out of the ring and sat him up against the wall of the barn. Jed and the other boys crowded round watching anxiously until Tom slowly opened his eyes.
Ed crouched down beside him. "Sorry, Tom. Didn't mean to hit ya so hard," he whispered.
"Nuthin' I can't handle," replied the groggy youth.
Ed had just begun to grumble, "Guess it'll be my turn next t—" when Fox Flanagan appeared, loudly announcing, "Jack. Scrapper. You're up next." Grasping each boy by the back of the neck he added in an undertone, "Keep your wits about you, now. I don't want another shambles like the last time, y' hear?"
"Yessir," they mumbled and entered the ring.
The fight lasted for four rounds, the eventual victor being Jack; a result the crowd seemed a little more content with.
Jed was just beginning to enjoy the atmosphere when Flanagan announced that it was now time for anyone who fancied their chances to step up and declare their intention to challenge one of his fighters. A group of young farmhands had been goading each other to volunteer right from the start and he was therefore not surprised to see three of them step forward. Fox shook each man firmly by the hand all the while appraising their possible abilities with a professional eye.
He chose a short, stocky, ginger-haired fellow by the name of Jarvis Toof to go first. Then, he beckoned to his new recruit. Jed's heart skipped a beat and he took a deep breath. Trying to look confident he climbed into the ring.
"This will be the first of our challenger bouts between young 'Red' here, " Fox announced to a mixture of cat-calls and cheers while he slapped Jarvis good-naturedly on the back, "and our new young fighter, Kid Curry."
While they tied on their coloured sashes Jarvis looked the blond, blue-eyed boy up and down and grinned confidently before turning to his friends and raising his arms as if he was already the winner.
"Are you ready? Good luck, gentlemen. Fight!"
Jed was on his toes straight from the off and just managed to move out of the way as Jarvis opened with a quick early right. Then they circled each other; Jed doing exactly as he had been taught, keeping his guard up while sizing up the young farmhand, and Jarvis launching random punches, none of which made an impact.
Eventually Jed threw a left but it was easily blocked by the larger man who quickly countered it, making contact with a cheekbone. Jed took a couple of steps backward but didn't go down. With his ears buzzing he tried to concentrate but was hit again and sat down heavily in the dirt.
Fox brought the round to a halt and pulled Jed back to the ropes asking testily, "Are you ever gonna hit him, Kid?! He's given you enough openings. You should be able to spot them by now."
Jed swallowed a mouthful of water, nodded solemnly and made his way again to the scratch line.
The second round began in much the same way as the first until Jed saw one of the openings that Fox had mentioned. Each time Jarvis led with his right, his left hand dropped just enough to leave his head unguarded. When Jarvis next did this Jed was ready and directed a right hook to the side of his head. Jarvis dropped to the floor and was about to stagger to his feet when Fox called a halt.
Sitting against the ropes, sipping some water, Jed could feel one of the blows to his right cheekbone starting to swell and he hoped his eye wasn't going to start to close up in the same way he'd seen Tom's do. As he stood up, he took a few deep breaths and tried to focus all his attention on Jarvis.
"This is gonna be the last round, kid." Jarvis glared at Jed as they once more circled each other. "You ain't gonna sucker punch me again you baby-faced whelp."
Just the mention of the word 'baby' and Jed could feel the anger that he had tried so hard to control, start to bubble up. As he dodged the man's random jabs even his stratagem of trying to think about candy didn't seem to be working; too many things were assailing his senses at once right now — the dust, the pain, the noise of the crowd, not to mention the sneering face of his opponent.
Seeing Jed screw up his eyes as he tried hard to focus on what he should be doing, Jarvis pouted, "Oh no, don't tell me the mamma's-boy is gonna cry."
That was all it took.
Rage almost blinding him, Jed rained a barrage of punches on Jarvis taking him completely by surprise before launching a ferocious right hook to the side of his head. Jarvis Toof dropped like a stone. When he didn't get up Fox raised Jed's arm declaring him the winner.
"Good work, Kid," smiled Fox as he escorted Jed from the ring. "You go get cleaned up."
Still breathing heavily Jedediah Curry had only just sank down onto a pile of straw when Billy appeared at his side with a bucket of water and a cloth. "That musta been some punch. He's still out cold!" he exclaimed. "They've had to take him outside to the trough to bring him round."
Jed flinched as Billy pressed the cool, water-soaked cloth against his cheek. Prodding the inside of his mouth with his tongue he groaned at the salty taste.
"Your cheek ain't split, on the outside anyways," Billy reassured him. "You taste blood?"
"A little." He spat into the straw.
Billy continued, "I'm guessin' nearly every bet was on that other fella to win so Mister Flanagan will have made a real killing." Whist he was pleased for his friend Billy couldn't help but add, bleakly, "I guess you won't be gettin' punched anytime soon."
"You ain't had to fight today so neither will you," Jed replied smiling faintly. He then looked down at his hands. All his knuckles appeared to be bleeding and his right hand hurt like a mule had stood on it for a week.
Billy followed his gaze. "Sore, huh? Put them in there." He indicated the bucket. "I'll be back."
Jed dipped both his hands in the cold water and in a few seconds Billy returned with the whiskey and lanolin. Pulling Jed's hands from the water he proceeded to pour some of the whiskey over his split knuckles inducing a sharp hiss as the alcohol made contact with raw flesh. Jed took some slow, deep breaths as Billy smeared lanolin over the open wounds.
"Ya look a bit pale, Kid."
"Can you help me to the door, Billy? I think I need some air."
As he stood at the open barn door an icy gust of wind came from the east and Jed looked up toward the sky to see a few tiny snowflakes begin to fall.