LOST & FOUND - PART IX

Chapter 85

Memories

The usual crowd was still gathered around the long kitchen table later that evening and numerous, lively conversations were going on at once. Hoss was listening with only one ear to his wife and sister-in-law discussing everything baby-related under the sun until something to the right caught his attention. Turning only his eyes in that direction, he watched Mike quietly slip out the back door and hurry toward the barn.

The curly-haired deputy had been subdued all afternoon and Hoss could have sworn he had seen the quick shine of suppressed tears in the other man's eyes more than once. He was still thinking deeply about the enigmatic young man when the clock struck nine and the group began to disperse, so on impulse he took advantage of all the activity to follow.

When he entered the round barn he paused as usual to admire the unusual, but efficient design of the structure. Then he grinned, remembering the constant ribbing Adam had endured ever since he had first revealed his building plans.

Yellow lantern-light spilled from the large loose box to his right and he could hear crunching noises that almost drowned out the deputy's voice speaking softly. Hoss continued down the curved aisle and his grin widened into a smile when he reached the box. He propped his forearms on top of the half-height front wall and waited.

"Hey Hoss," Mike said low without turning around, broke another carrot in half, and then offered a piece to each pony on a flat palm.

"How'd you know it was me?"

"Believe it or not, you have a very distinctive walk."

"Really?" The big man chuckled, his bright blue eyes smiling at the younger man as Mike came to lean one shoulder against the front wall.

"Why'd you come out? Did Adam send you after me?"

"Nope," Hoss shook his head, "I was just wonderin' if somethin' was wrong." He paused for a moment while taking in the other man's downcast expression and bowed shoulders. "What's weighin' so heavy on your mind?"

The deputy didn't respond at first and Hoss carefully watched the play of emotions flash across his face until he relaxed and smiled slightly. "I was just thinking about Jerry a lot today," he shrugged his free shoulder before looking up, "his gravestone says 'James,' but he'll always be 'Jerry' to me."

"You know, I never did hear the whole story 'bout that..."

Mike looked away and Hoss waited, silent and patient, knowing his young friend badly needed to confide in someone.

"When John and I were hired by Pinkerton, Jerry had already been with the agency for a year and he kinda looked out for us, if you know what I mean."

"Yep...I do."

"Then Adam and Nate joined and everything changed almost overnight," Mike shook his head. "Like Jerry used to say, Adam jumped in with all four feet and the next thing I knew we were a team and he was our fearless leader." Hoss chuckled.

"Now that sounds like my brother was still himself, even though he didn't know who he was." Laughing, Mike folded his arms across his chest and nodded.

"Very well said, Hoss!" The big man's eyes sparkled with good humor and he smiled, but didn't reply.

"Well, it wasn't very long after that when your brother found out John had a law degree, but had never taken the bar exam. Of course that just wouldn't do, so he started dragging John home with him after work almost every day to study."

"He CAN be kinda pushy."

"Yes sir, and don't I know it!" Mike agreed. "I started tagging along and eventually Jerry showed up too."

"So that's how you all became family," Hoss said, stating a fact, not asking a question.

"Yeah, and what's funny is it happened so fast. Right from the beginning those two welcomed us with open arms, just like they did with Nate and I have to admit it felt pretty damn good not to be alone anymore."

"I bet," was Hoss's quick answer. "Have you always been on your own?"

"No," Mike said low as he dropped his gaze to the stall floor. "My family is still in Ireland and they think I'm dead. I won't ever be seeing them again."

"Now that's just downright awful!"

"Not really...it's actually better that they think I'm dead rather then know I'm rotting away in prison." He chuckled and Hoss's brows rose in surprise then Mike laughed.

"I'm not laughing about my family thinking I'm dead, it's just that it was SO easy Hoss! So easy you wouldn't believe it!" He shook his head, "It wasn't until I was on my way here that I realized I managed to get away with it because I understand how the criminal mind works, and that is something absolutely vital for any lawman to have."

The big man's expression plainly said he didn't like what he was hearing and Mike's smile widened even more. "Look, I was accused of something I didn't do, but considering that my accuser was a rich Englishman I knew I hadn't a hope in hell of being acquitted," his smile faded and he sighed. "Things are a lot different over there..."

"So I've heard," Hoss answered his tone quietly sympathetic now.

"You'd be surprised at how many of us have had a close call with the law or been victims of crime," Mike raised one hand to count off examples. "Me being falsely accused, the dust up over Nate's father's death, Dylan's childhood career as a con-man's apprentice, John's scandalous almost trial, and Adam's attempted murder."

"And Jerry changing his name so nobody would know he was a Confederate," Hoss added, his gaze narrowing as he already began to mull over the startling facts just revealed.

"Yeah," Mike agreed and the two men fell silent for a while, each lost in their own thoughts until Hoss took a deep breath and straightened up.

"Well, I better be getting' back inside before Dora comes lookin' for me."

"G'night Hoss" Mike said softly, "and thanks for listening."

"Anytime, and don't worry I won't be sayin' a word to anybody."

The deputy let out a small chuff of amusement. "I know...I never doubted that for a second..."

Nodding, the big man reached over the half wall and gave Mike a quick, firm shoulder squeeze before turning and slowly making his way back to the house.

The kitchen was mostly in shadow, but someone had left a small lamp burning on the long table. Hoss only stopped long enough to make sure it was out, and then went upstairs to the room he and Dora usually stayed in when spending the night.

Dora was already in bed, lying on her side with her back to him. He thought she was deeply asleep when he carefully got into bed, but she rolled over to fling one arm across his chest and snuggled up against him.

"Where were you?" she yawned.

"In the barn," he answered and then chuckled softly when the child pressed against his side moved restlessly and kicked him.

"Ow!" Dora laughingly complained as they both rolled onto their right sides and Hoss pressed up against her from behind. He started to gently rub her distended belly with one large hand and the child immediately stopped moving. She sighed with pleasure.

"Mmm...you went out to the barn to talk with Mike, didn't you?"

"Yep."

"Is he alright? I noticed he seemed...uh...I can't think of the English phrase..."

"Kinda down?"

"Yes! That's it."

"He's fine...just needed someone to listen for a while."

"Oh good," she yawned again then giggled. "Hoss, what are you doing?"

"Nothin'."

"Well whatever that nothin' you're doing is, don't stop!"

Their softly mingled laughter drifted out the partially open window and Mike couldn't help but smile at the sound as he took a shortcut through the side yard, his shoulders hunched against the now cold air.

He crossed the street and wearily trudged up the outside stairs to the second floor door over the Sage Brush. His room was the first one the left and he only sat down long enough to pull off his boots and drop his gun belt before stretching out on the bed, on top of the covers.

Sighing, he stacked his hands behind his head, his heart feeling incredibly heavy with loneliness as he looked inward and remembered the day he had learned the whole truth about Jerry's past.

Almost all of the offices in the Pinkerton Agency building were dark and empty when Mike decided to call it a day and go home. He went down the main upstairs hall quietly and had just started down the stairs when he stopped in surprise to see Jerry slipping into the central files office.

Realizing he couldn't walk away from this unexpected violation of agency regulations, he was about to follow when the door opened again and Jerry poked his head out to look up and down the hall carefully. Mike retreated as quietly as he could and hid behind an office door.

Jerry's heavy tread come up the stairs and continued down the hall to the left - toward his office. As soon as he heard the familiar creaking sounds as the other man settled into his desk chair, Mike came out to silently move down the hall. When he reached the right office, he flattened himself against the wall and edged closer to the doorway to look in.

The man in question was sitting at his desk and holding a large sheet of paper in both hands – a lit table lamp with its chimney removed sat near a large brass ashtray on the desktop to his left. Mike's eyes narrowed.

Sighing deeply, the man behind the desk folded the paper in half, folded it in half again, and was just about to touch a corner of it to the lamp flame when Mike stepped into the doorway. Jerry immediately froze, yet didn't seem to be at all surprised.

The two stared at each other for a few tense moments until Jerry cleared his throat. "I guess I've always known I'd be found out someday..." he said with a rusty laugh as Mike came up to the desk and held out one hand. Jerry immediately handed the paper over.

"You know, the only thing I can say in my defense is we had no idea that train was packed full of civilians and not munitions." He laughed that rusty laugh again. "I swear that's the truth, Mike, I never would have blown up that bridge if I'd known."

His words almost echoed in the large room while his friend carefully studied the sketch on the "wanted" poster.

"Captain James Caldwell, eh?" he said quietly and Jerry nodded before bowing his head to stare at the desktop. In a few moments, Mike finished reading and folded the paper in half, and continued to fold it until it was about the size of his palm. Then he carefully held a corner to the lamp flame, making sure it was burning well before dropping it into the ashtray.

They watched the paper quickly turn to ash and Mike leaned across the desk until he was almost nose-to-nose with the older man. "There's a reason why they call it 'war' Jerry," he said firmly, but low, and then straightened up. His dark brown, steady gaze met his friend's troubled gray for a second then he turned away and was gone without another word.

Jerry closed his eyes, dropped his head into his hands, and continued to sit there in that small oasis of light in a dark building as he wrestled with the many ghosts of his past.

A gaunt black figure slowly emerged from the woods, his hatless head bent into the cold night wind. The full moon cast a crooked, faint shadow on the frosted grass as he stiffly made his way toward the side gate to the cemetery and his many layers of clothing fluttered around him in the swirling air.

He trudged steadily up the rise and didn't stop until he reached the little-used gate to catch his breath. The stiff hinges squealed in protest when he shoved against the wrought-iron bars and it took almost everything he had to open it far enough to slip through. He didn't hear the sound of cloth tearing as he squeezed through the narrow opening, his gaze intently fastened on the largest monument in the Cartwright plot, two stalwart angels facing each other, their wings folded, their hands clasped, and their heads bowed.

Wiping at his watering eyes with both hands, he trudged on, moving faster now that he was on level ground. He didn't stop again until he was standing next to the double plot and in the moon-cast shadow of the mourning angels. His breath plumed in the frosty air and he had to wipe his eyes again to read the inscription for the first time that was deeply incised on the base under the angels' sandaled feet.

"Step softly,
Many hearts that beat
Lie wanting here.

Speak quietly,
Many souls that loved
Lie sleeping here.

Sing gently,
Many dreams that waned
Lie waiting here."

By the time he was finished he was choking on the familiar, impotent fury that always rose in his throat at the mere thought of Adam's name. But this time something strange happened – that fury drained away, leaving his heart cold and filled with shame.

A gut-wrenching sob shook his entire body, knocking him to his knees, and he fell face-first across the frozen mound, lying there limply and crying like a lost child.

"Ma...I'm sorry..."