Amnesty, But First Penance

by Kattayl

This is a series of interwoven stories but many are also stand alone. Curry and Heyes receive their amnesty but it comes with a condition of penance.

27. Amnesty - A Friend in Need part 3

Amnesty but First Penance

A Friend in Need - Part Three

Watching Heyes and Lom ride away, Curry stood as if rooted to the ground. They had been out of sight for ten minutes before he averted his eyes and realized that Mr. and Mrs. Leon were standing, quietly, a few feet behind him. Facing them, he wiped away two errant tears quickly embarrassed they saw him cry.

"Jed, I'm sure he's innocent." Mr. Leon rested a comforting arm around his shoulder. "He'll be back before we know it."

"Come up to the house, boy, I have a peach pie just about to come out of the oven. We'll have it now, no need to wait until supper." Mrs. Leon knew that Curry never turned down food and especially pie.

Needing to calm his emotions, Curry shook his head at the kind couple. "Thank you both but no pie…not right now. I need to get back to the plantin'. There's still a lot of work to do and… only me." Looking down the empty road again, Curry pushed his anger to a corner of his mind, veiled for the moment but always threatening to erupt.

Turning back to the Leons, he smiled but his sky-blue eyes were clouded with sadness. He closed his eyes for a beat before speaking. "I need to get out there and work. I can't help him right now, but I can help you. I need to be alone."

"We understand, Jed." Mr. Leon's voice was sad but sympathetic as he put his arm around his wife's waist and started walking toward their home. "If you need to talk, we're here."

Almost brought to tears with their kindness, Curry felt guilty at his abrupt words. "I didn't mean to…"

"Don't worry, boy, we do understand." Mrs. Leon took his hand. "When you are ready or if you need anything, we just want you to know that…that."

Curry raised her hand to his mouth and gave it a gentle kiss. "Thank you. I'm goin' to work until sundown, and I'll be lookin' forward to a piece of your wonderful peach pie."

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Still days away from the full moon, there was enough light for the black prison wagon to continue to travel after dark, although the writing U.S, Marshal Wyoming Territory could not be read. Heyes kept thinking, three weeks, twenty one days.. I can do anything for three weeks. Keeping his mind busy devising a humble persona that he could assume when the wagon doors opened, he continued to stare at the floor. Ignoring the swerving, bouncing transportation taking him to prison in Laramie, he tried not to think about the Kid.

Abruptly, the wagon jerked to a stop. Feeling fear as he had never felt before, he raised his eyes to the guard across from him. "I'm innocent," he pleaded.

"You and everyone else in here." The guard laughed as he unlocked Heyes' ankle manacle from the ring on the floor.

Awkwardly, Heyes tried to stand on legs that had not moved for hours. Stumbling forward, he tried to reach out to the guard to stabilize himself. With an evil grin, the guard slid down the bench allowing Heyes to slam his head against the barred window of the wagon. Blood spurted from a cut over his right eye as Heyes tried to regain his feet. He tried to put his hand to his head but could not raise it with his wrists chained to his ankles. Leaning his head forward to his hand, his balance became precarious just as the guard gave him a shove from behind.

"Out, prisoner!"

Heyes wobbled for a moment before missing the step out and falling forward into the waiting guard.

The guard pushed back hard in disgust against Heyes. Handicapped by the manacles connecting his ankles, he lurched sideways and fell heavily on his side. Feeling pain in his left shoulder and a throbbing over the cut on his head, he decided to just lay there for a moment.

"Up, Heyes!" yelled the guard, grabbing the chain between his hands and forcing him to his feet.

The pain in his shoulder erupted. "OW, my shoulder!"

"Quiet, convict. Follow me."

Heyes looked up at the large guard's expression, as hard as the brick entry and forbidding solid door. Seeing bars on every window sent a cold shiver of desperation through him as if the metal bars taking his freedom were closing in on his heart. He couldn't run. He was trapped. The persona he had carefully planned on the ride melted from his mind. Heart racing, he followed the guard through the entry door. The guard from the wagon walked closely behind. As the guard turned right into the processing room with Heyes following him, the door on the left opened.

"Mr. Josephs, please bring the prisoner to me first."

"Yes, Warden."

With difficulty, Heyes spun around and entered the Warden's office. The quick change in direction made the throbbing behind his eyes morph into dizziness then nothingness.

"Hannibal Heyes!"

Heyes realized someone was saying his name, but the voice was far away in his spinning world. With the spinning going faster, his world went black again.

Awakening slowly, Heyes kept his eyes closed and listened. The dizziness still ruled his brain, and he knew if he opened his eyes the world would turn.

"He awake yet, Doc?" Heyes heard a disinterested voice ask.

"He's stirring. Soon. But with that head injury, he's going to be disoriented."

"Don't matter. The warden wants him processed and in a cell as soon as he wakes up, even if he has to be dragged."

Heyes kept his eyes shut tight and drifted off into a sleep of dizzy dreams.

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Jed Curry devoured his second piece of peach pie while the Leon's looked on and smiled. The normal evening dinner conversations had been absent, but Jed's appetite had returned.

Embarrassed, Curry looked up from his eating and smiled at the couple. While the smile was small, it cheered the heart of the Leons. "Best peach pie I've tasted in a long time, ma'am. And the chicken and cornbread was as good as my ma's."

"Glad to see you enjoying it, Jed."

Their dessert was interrupted by the sound of a horse approaching the house. A firm knock on the door followed. Hoping for Heyes, Curry could not hide his disappointment to see Reverend Spencer.

"I'm here to see Jedidiah Curry."

Mr. Leon stepped aside as Curry came forward.

"Reverend Spencer?" Curry tried to look past the reverend to see if perhaps Heyes was still outside.

Giving Curry a half smile, Spencer held out his hand. "Mr. Jones, good to see you again."

"It's Jed, sir."

"Somehow you will always be Mr. Jones to me, the man who gave me the courage to change my life. But Jed it will be." He turned to Mr. Leon and held out his hand. "Reverend Spencer. I'm here to help with your planting."

The words took Curry by surprise, but he still asked what had been his constant thought.

"How is he?"

"Is there a place we can sit and talk?"

Curry's heart fell at those words. Wordlessly, he motioned Spencer to the table.

Mrs. Leon fussed over them removing the dirty dinner dishes. "Pie and coffee, Reverend?"

Spencer was watching Curry. He knew that a temper slept behind his controlled exterior restraint. "No, ma'am."

Waiting for the Leons to leave the room, Curry sat as far away from the newcomer as the table allowed. "HOW is he?" he repeated.

"He was fine last time I saw him. I met them on their way to Silver Springs."

Curry studied people. He always watched their eyes. He knew there was more to say from Spencer's eyes; Curry stayed quiet and waited.

"Mr Jones..er…Mr. Curry."

"As I said, Jed's fine."

"Jed, by now Mr. Heyes is on his way to the Wyoming Territorial Prison." Spencer kept his voice low.

Slamming his chair back so hard it hit the wall, Curry stood and approached the bearer of bad news. "WHAT?"

"Jed, sit down, please." Spencer tried to hide his fear of the angry ex outlaw. He could understand how he had kept an entire outlaw gang in line.

Seeing the Leons peeking around the corner from the next room, Curry did what he knew how to do to calm himself before a gunfight. He stood still. He controlled his breathing. That slowed his heart rate. Stopping inches in front of Spencer, he lowered his hands to where his holster sat. But today he was not armed so he rested his hands on his belt. Knowing he needed to listen calmly to what Spencer had to say, he took a step back, pulled out a chair and sat down. Placing his elbows on the table, he rested his forehead in his hands.

"What happened, Spencer? He have a trial?"

When the Leons saw the restraint Curry was capable of, they withdrew to their room.

"Somehow, Sheriff Williams knew your amnesty papers very well. You know you admitted your guilt when you signed them. In exchange, you were awarded amnesty,"

Spencer stopped when he heard Curry taking in a sudden deep breath. Curry calmed himself, startled that they had admitted guilt. They had been so anxious to sign the papers, even Heyes had not read them thoroughly.

Again, Curry said nothing, so Spencer continued, "Maderas and I were going to meet Heyes and Lom when they got to the town, but found out Williams was sending him straight to the prison. We rode out to meet them and warned Lom. Homer is going to make sure Heyes gets a trial and is going to get all the information from him he can before he is sent to prison."

When Curry raised his head, the hurt in his eyes cut straight to the reverend's heart. "In three weeks, Heyes should be back for trial. Maderas and Homer are going to try and find out how Heyes' lockpicks got into a bible sent to Preacher before then."

"Heyes complained he lost those."

"Tell me what else Heyes said to you and I'll telegraph Homer tomorrow. Meanwhile, I'm here to help you finish the planting and accompany you on your next penance."

"A penance alone? Without Heyes? Can't it wait?" Despair and loneliness filled Curry's words as he again stared at the table.

Wishing he had the right words to ease Curry's pain, Spencer settled for trying to calm his anger. "We leave in three days."

Curry took two lamps from the house and went out the back door. In a few minutes, the Leons and Reverend Spencer heard the rhythmic routine of Kid Curry practicing his shooting. Bang, Bang, Bang, Bang, Bang, Bang. Reset the cans and reload. Bang, Bang, Bang, Bang, Bang, Bang. Curry was still practicing by lamp and moonlight when the Leons fell asleep.

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Stanley Homer Pokora was worried. Maderas and Lom had been gone for three days, each following a separate lead, with no word. They had not responded to his telegrams, in fact no one, not even Spencer, had responded to his telegrams. He had discovered something he could not put in a telegram and needed help. Even telegraphing the Denver law firm where he worked, had provided no response. Frustrated, he made the decision to take things in his own hands. Walking to the telegraph office for the third time that morning, he sent a telegraph to Thaddeus Jones in Timme about twelve miles away. He waited while the telegraph operator sat down at his desk and sent it. It read:

Thaddeus Jones,

Need help in Silver Springs. STOP Please come today ready for a fight. STOP Send response to me here.

S. Homer Pokora, Esq.

Quickly, Homer walked to the livery, got his horse and raced to Timme.

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Finished with the planting, Curry and Spencer bid the Leons a fond ado. Mr. Leon pressed an envelope into Curry's hand with determination. "Don't say no, boy. It's ours to give and we want you to have it. California is a long way, even by train and you might have a need," he said firmly.

Looking at them through threatening tears, Curry hugged them both to him. "You have both been so kind to me, I don't deserve your kindness. I haven't even said two words to you in the last few days.

Patting Curry on the back before breaking his hold, Mr. Leon smiled sadly. "You've had other things on your mind."

"Remember, Jed, there is no spot on this earth where the Lord is not. He's with you and he's with Heyes, too. Remember that." Mrs. Leon was crying as she spoke.

Reverend Spencer suddenly remembered Heyes' message. "Oh, Jed, I'm sorry. Heyes said to give you a strange message and I forgot."

"A strange message?"

"Yeah, he said, 'Catch a falling star.'"

For the first time in days, Curry smiled a little. Heyes was reminding him to have hope.

After riding for an hour, they were approaching the train station. Drained by the quiet fear in his mind, Curry broke the silence. "Heyes won't survive long in prison. I'm not there to watch his back."

"You'd prefer you were in there with him?" Spencer's tone was harsh. "That's not what he wants for you." Instantly he regretted the words and the tone and admonished himself that one of the reasons he was here was to help Curry.

Again, silence fell over the riders.

"Here, you go buy two tickets through to Carson City." Spencer handed Curry money for the fare.

"Steerage? US Marshals paying for this?"

"Second class, it's a long trip and our legs are long. We'll buy horses in Carson City and ride the rest of the way to Convict Lake," finished Spencer as he walked away. "Need to check on a telegram I sent. Meet you on the platform."

"Wait, Carson City? CONVICT Lake? What's the penance?"

Spencer smiled to himself realizing that for the first time in days Curry's main thought was not of Heyes.

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Hours later, after they had eaten in the dining car and settled into their train seats, Spencer handed Curry the letter for the next penance. The letter was printed in big childish letters, some of which were written backwards. Curry had no problem reading it.

Dear Sheriff Lom Trevors,

I saw the penance thing in the Mammoth Times. My name is Scott Andrews. I am seven years old. My sister's name is Janice Ann. She is twelve. I want Kid Curry to come with his gun and kill our stepfather.

Curry stopped reading and looked questioningly at Spencer. "I don't hire my gun out for anyone."

"Not asking you to, Jed. Finish the letter."

Our stepfather's name is Ron Fish. He is a bad man. Ma died and we live with him. Every night he hurts Janice Ann and she cries. Now he makes her sleep in his bed. He hit her, I saw the bruises. I heard him say she has to sleep there or he will hurt me. She cries all the time and told me not to tell anyone. He hits me with his belt. We do not go to school anymore.

I have read all of Kid Curry's books. He is a good guy. He saves people. Please have him save my sister. If Mr. Fish is dead, we can take care of ourselves.

Scott Andrews

Convict Lake, California

Curry took his time to think before refolding the letter and putting it back in the envelope. "Maderas tell you my background?"

Seeing Curry's controlled exterior composure in his eyes, Reverend decided to tease him. "Like how you're the fastest gun in the west?"

"Think that reputation follows me everywhere. No."

Spencer saw a serious cloud envelope Curry before he continued, "Only Heyes and Maderas know this." Curry's voice was low, barely above a whisper. "I understand what the Andrews kids are going through. When we were at The Home, well…well..."

Spencer turned to the man sitting next to him. The man he had come to know as a man willing to turn the other cheek before fighting….and a man with an abrupt cold temper and a lightning-fast gun who had let him know loudly that he was no saint. Spencer thought of him as a mixture of light and shadows. Figuring he was about to hear of one of those shadows, he gently urged Curry to continue. "What happened at the Home, Jed?"

Words were not coming to Curry, but he needed to tell Spencer that he understood what the Andrews kids were going through. "At the Home, the headmaster FAVORED blonde boys with blue eyes…." He struggled for more words.

Shocked, Spencer steadied his features. It was almost impossible for him to think of the self-confident former gunfighter sitting next to him as an abused boy. He grabbed the arm nearest him. "You needn't say more, Jed."

"I won't murder Mr. Fish, but I won't say I don't want to make him suffer with a well-placed bullet."

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Riding quickly, Homer arrived in Timme. Going straight to the telegraph office, he asked if there was a telegram there for Thaddeus Jones or Homer Pokora.

"I don't think so but let me check again to be sure. Sometimes when I'm busy, I don't remember them all." He thumbed through a stack of telegrams. "No nothing for either one. If one comes in, where will you be?"

Getting the answer he suspected, Homer knew that none of his telegrams had been sent from Silver Springs. "For now, I'll be right here. I have quite a number of telegrams to send. I'll be waiting for replies."

Homer's first telegrams were to Lom and Maderas, who were following leads and tracking the High Mountain Gang. Then he sent one hoping to catch Reverend Spencer in Carson City. Then he telegrammed his law office and said he would not be returning for another month. Now that he had confirmed his telegrams weren't being sent, he sent a test telegram back to Silver Springs.

To: Stanley Homer Pokora, Esq

Silver City Hotel

Urgent! STOP Heard Heyes needs help. Just tell me what is needed and it will be done. STOP Waiting for your prompt reply.

W

Paying for the last telegram, Homer heard the telegraph start to click.

"Just a minute." The clerk scurried behind his desk and wrote down the incoming message. "DId you say you were looking for a telegram for Homer Pokora? Well, I got one now." He handed him the telegram addressed to him.

Pokora,

No luck. STOP Returning to Silver Springs. STOP.

Maderas

After reading it, Homer nodded to himself.

"Answer, mister?"

"Yes, please." Homer scribbled his reply.

Maderas,

Saw gunbelt and hat. STOP Need assistance. STOP Return to Timme not Silver Springs.

Homer

"I'll be in the saloon if any more answers arrive," Homer said leaving the office when a new thought occurred to him. "I'd like to send one more telegram before I go."

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Contemplating his traveling companion, Reverend Spencer listened to Curry snore in rhythm to the click clacking of the train wheels. Praying he was right that he could bring out the remarkable humble constraint he had seen in West Bend. The plan depended on Curry keeping his temper and contempt in control and presenting a friendly demeanor.

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Even after renting horses in Carson City, Curry kept his thoughts to himself, and those thoughts were uncontrollably dark. Harsh memories of life at The Home flashed into his mind mixed with images of a seven-year-old boy writing a letter while looking at the cover of the dime novel Kid Curry Saves the Day. His pain, humiliation, fear and anger transferred in his mind to Scott Andrews sending a letter in desperation to his hero.

He had never hired his fast draw out for money, and he took pride in that. He had honed his skill to protect himself and his cousin. He needed to be the best to avoid killing. But could he consider killing to save two children? Long buried memories of his older sisters laughing burst into his mind superseded by Janice Ann Andrews crying forced to sleep in her stepfather's bed. Her stepfather transformed into the laughing face of Headmaster Mikols, warning him that if he didn't let him have his way, Hannibal would be hurt.

So lost in his dark thoughts, Curry was only vaguely aware of their surroundings. They had been steadily climbing for days. When they had stopped quickly an hour ago, he saw the dry aspen trees. But the ugly, dark images in his mind stole his focus again.

"Unbelievable!" Curry heard Spencer's voice and became aware that he had stopped. Pulling his horse next to him he looked at the vista ahead of them. Then the pure, calm beauty of the land filled his senses. "The Lord surely blessed this spot," Spencer continued and then was quiet.

Before them, the sun sparkled off a beautiful turquoise-blue long oval lake in a box canyon. The unusual light-colored granite of the box canyon seemed to fold and flow over the landscape. Curry raised his eyes to a powerful, rugged mountain range with majestic high peaks. Stunned, he had no words. He had no thoughts. He stared in an awed silence that pushed his darkness to the side. Without any effort from him, the beauty of his surroundings reached to calm his troubled soul.

Curry didn't know how long they stayed quiet, two men and two horses, letting nature embrace them.

Finally, Spencer broke the silence. "Convict Lake and that tallest peak is Mount Morrison. We'll camp ove by that spring tonight."

Nodding, Curry said nothing. The water, the box canyon, the multicolored mountains captured his full attention. Then, remembering why they were here, he held back tears. "How can such ugliness exist with such beauty?"

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