Omens and Premonitions
Hannibal Heyes stood so close to his partner that their sleeves brushed lightly against the other's. Both stood a few feet from the open grave, their hats respectfully in their hands as they stood in solemn silence as the minister spoke the eulogy. With the last Amen spoken, a few people approached the open grave to cast a flower.
Kid took two steps to the edge of the grave, the stem of a white rose held between his fingers. Just as he bent down to cast the rose, Kid saw that the lid of the casket was not present, the body and face of the man still visible. No one around him seemed to notice or if they did, it did not strike them as unusual.
Just as Kid moved his arm to drop the flower into the grave, someone gently tossed a brown, wide rim hat with a band of silver square conchos into the grave. A slight wind swept under the hat and carried it gently down into the grave toward the deceased man's head.
"Heyes, who is that?" Kid asked referring to the man in the grave.
"Don't you recognize him, Kid? Why it's you, of course."
Kid glanced at the deceased man's face, and realized he was looking at himself. An instant later the hat came to rest atop the man's face for all eternity. Kid dropped the unopened white rose into the grave just as the first shovel of dirt was tossed and fell directly on the body...
Kid Currys eyes flew open and he jolted up in the bed, his breath catching as he tried to suck in the hot, dry air of the windowless room.
"You alright?" Heyes asked, his voice floating across the room completely void of light.
"Yeah," Kid managed to whisper.
"That dream again?"
Kid nodded and in the darkness and Heyes took Kid's silence as a yes.
Kid Curry had been having that same nightmare for nearly twenty years. The face in the grave changed and aged just as Kid's own face changed and aged. When it began, just a few months after the deaths of his family, the nightmare of a child was more vague and the face was difficult to discern. But as years passed the dream had become more frequent and far more vivid, and the face of the body lying exposed to the dirt had become clearly apparent as being that of Kid's own face.
Kid dropped back to his elbows, then let his body fall back on the mattress and his head to the pillow.
"You want a light on?" Heyes asked.
"Uh? No."
"Kid, it don't mean nothing. It's just a dream, a nightmare I'll admit, but it's just your mind playing tricks on you in your sleep."
Kid didn't reply.
"It ain't an omen or a premonition, Kid. Just a dream."
"Sure...Heyes." Kid said, though he knew better.
Kid knew he would not sleep the rest of the night. He never slept after awaking from this nightmare. Throughout the years they had both always assumed the origin of the nightmare was that Bloody Kansas day when only quilts had been used to cover the bodies the two boys had laid in the graves they themselves had dug.
But over the years, new details emerged in those slumber filled thoughts. As a boy, Kid himself had bore no flower. It was well into their outlaw years when the hat began floating softly into the grave. But once a new detail made it's presence, it became permanent and neither Kid nor Heyes had any logical reasoning to offer.
The boarding house where they had spent the night had actually been as full as the hotel. But the owner had taken pity on them and offered them a tightly cramped room she usually reserved for her grandchildren's infrequent visits. Without a window, the room was hot and stuffy and daylight was hidden from their view.
Hours after Kid's awakening, Heyes lit the only lamp in the room and reached for his pocket watch resting on the table wedged between the narrow space of the two single beds.
"Four-thirty," Heyes announced. "She said breakfast starts at five. We can eat and still get an early start this morning, Kid."
"Kay," Kid replied and lifted the sheet to swing his legs off the side of the mattress as he reached for his pants draped across the foot end of the bed.
A few minutes later they opened the door, then snuffed the lamp and made their way to the dining room.
"There's coffee on the table," the owner called from the kitchen.
"Thank you, Ma'am," Heyes called back in return as he and Kid sat down at the table and poured themselves some coffee.
Heyes looked at his somber partner. Always following the occurrence of the nightmare, Kid was somehow withdrawn, self searching for the ever eluded meaning and symbolism of the dream neither could fully explain.
Mrs. Havershaw appeared from the kitchen carefully balancing a large bowl of scrambled eggs, a platter of bacon, and a plate piled high with fried potatoes.
Kid and Heyes respectfully stood and reached for a bowl or a platter to ease her burden. Three other guests entered the dining room just as the food was placed on the table.
"There's more in the kitchen if we run out," she told the guests before returning to the kitchen for her own breakfast.
"By the appearance of your clothing, the two of your are cowboys?" a wiry man in his mid forties and dressed in a pin stripped suit asked as he scooped some eggs onto his plate.
Heyes smiled. "I suppose you could call us that," Heyes replied. "We'll do most any job available, as long as it's not too hard on the back. And what do you do Mister...?
"Hendricks. William Hendricks. I, gentlemen, am a traveling salesman."
"Got a wagon full of wares, do you?" Heyes asked.
"Of sorts. I carry sample items, models of larger items such as stoves and ice boxes. I occasionally sell such items door to door, but primarily I visit Mercantile shops and General or Hardware stores and sell items at wholesale rates that the owners can then sell at retail prices."
"Sounds like an interesting way to make a living," Heyes replied.
"I don't believe I caught your names," Mr. Hendricks said.
"I'm Joshua Smith and my still sleepy friend here is Thaddeus Jones. How about you other fellows?"
"Tom Perkins. I own a Mercantile in Kingsburg Mr. Hendricks. If you are ever out that way, you might stop and show me some of your wares."
Mr. Hendricks smiled. "I will do that Sir. Thank you."
"And you?' Heyes asked of the only man other than Kid who had yet to speak.
"Frank Gilman. I'm a Texas Ranger."
Heyes looked at Kid, then laughed nervously. "Might far from home, I'd say."
"On my way back as a matter of fact. Taking the seven a.m. Stage as far as Rawling where I will travel the rest of the way by train."
"Train will be a bit more comfortable, I'm sure."
Mrs. Havershaw returned with replenished bowls of food. She was well aware of the hearty appetites of most men.
"And where are the two of you headed?' Mr. Hendricks asked.
"Oh, we'll make our destination by noon tomorrow," Heyes replied. "We're headed to Porterville," Heyes lied. "The Sheriff there, Lom Trevors, is a friend of ours.
"Mr. Jones, I don't believe you have said a word this morning," Mr. Hendricks said.
"Oh, well, like Mr. Smith said, I don't wake up too quickly, especially this early in the morning," Kid replied.
0-0-0-0-0-0
"Heyes, why did you lie to Gilman about us going to Porterville?" Kid asked as he tightened the cinch on the Chestnut.
"Texas Ranger, Kid. Just didn't want to take any unnecessary chances."
Kid nodded, certainly seeing the logic in his partner's statement.
After loading and securing their bedrolls and saddle bags, Heyes and Curry mounted their horses and turned south toward Denver.
Traveling was easy. The day was warm, the sky a bright blue with just a scattering of slowly moving clouds. A warm soft breeze offset the slowly rising temperatures and the surrounding picturesque mountains framed the landscape. They rode slowly, enjoying the luxury of the day and conversations were simple and jovial.
Heyes was grateful that Kid seemed to have been able to set aside the dream he had the night before and by late afternoon, when they came upon a rapidly flowing mountain stream, they decided to make camp and spend a couple of hours fishing with makeshift poles like they had done so often as boys back in Kansas.
Kid sat barefooted on a rock in the middle of the stream, his pant legs rolled up to his knees, his fishing line carried about by the current. Heyes sat on the same rock in similar fashion, the two men facing back to back.
"Heyes, you believe in omens?" Kid asked
Heyes frowned and was grateful Kid could not see his expression. "Only good ones, Kid."
"Hmm... Heyes, you think I'm seeing my own death in that dream?"
"No," Heyes said without hesitation and hoping he sounded convincing. "It just ain't possible for a person to see his own death, Kid."
"What about a premonition? People claim to have premonitions."
"How long have you been having that dream?"
"Started at the orphanage so... almost twenty years."
"Twenty years is a long time so, I don't think that qualifies as a premonition. Why would someone have a twenty year warning about something? No, Kid, that dream ain't an omen or a premonition."
"Then what is it?"
Heyes sighed and chewed his lip as he chose his words. "I think it's just a painful reminder of something horrible that a boy too young to fully grasp had to find a way to cope with."
Kid remained silent. He could see that being true when he was a child but didn't think that would hold true today.
"Maybe," Kid said and let the conversation fall away with the current.
0-0-0-0-0-0-0
As they walked across the dusty Denver street, Kid swiped the back of his hand against Heyes' shoulder and Heyes looked about to see what Kid was drawing his attention to. Seeing nothing alarming or dangerous, Heyes stopped in the street.
"What is it?"
Kid pointed to the small wooden sign hanging above the door of a small, narrow business sandwiched between a barbershop and a tattoo parlor.
"A fortune teller? Kid, you're not serious?"
"Might be able to explain that dream, Heyes. If I knew what it meant, it might not be so bothersome."
"They're fakes, Kid. They make all that stuff up, tell people what they want to hear, or what they want to tell em."
"You say that about seances, too Heyes, but President Lincoln attended seances."
Just to humor his wife so she wouldn't be nagging him and he could concentrate on the important matters of his job."
Kid slipped his thumb and first finger into his vest pocket to confirm the presence of coins.
"I'm doing it, Heyes. I'm going in there. You coming with me?"
"Yep, I'll come. But only to prove to you that this is all a big con job."
"Heyes, not one word outta you while we're in there. You understand? Not one word."
"You got my word, Kid. Not one word."
Kid opened the door and they stepped inside to a softly lit room with large and finely woven tapestries of pale blues and grays decorating the walls, each depicting a foggy, wooded scene with gentle wisps of light emanating through delicate leaves and branches.
"Kind of spooky, Kid." Heyes whispered.
"Not a word, Heyes," Kid reminded him.
An elderly woman with stooped shoulders and a hunched back that was covered with a well worn crochet shawl appeared from a doorway covered with a dark green silk cloth. She walked with a cane. Her thin gray hair was drawn back in a severe fashion and knotted at the back of her neck. She looked first at Heyes who offered a polite nod of his head, then at Kid whose intense blue eyes immediately caught her attention.
"You," she said directly to Kid as multiple wrinkles spread across her brow. "Have come seeking answers."
"I have to be honest with you Ma'am, I don't know that I really believe in this sort of thing," Kid replied politely.
"A true belief will bring spirits closer," she said as her own eyes squinted with concern and she stared into Kid's eyes. "But your burden is already heavy with many dark truths. Come, follow me."
The old woman turned and pulled back the silk curtain. Kid gave Heyes a questioning look, then followed the woman into the back room. Heyes followed closely behind. With a grand sweep of her hand, the woman gestured for Kid to take a seat at the wide, round, cloth covered table. Heyes moved himself against a back wall and stood quietly.
In the center of the table was a crystal ball that absorbed a dull yellow hue from the three wall lamps casting a dark yellow glow throughout the room. With both arms stretched out toward the center of the table, the woman grasped the crystal ball and drew it close while her right hand gently caressed the orb.
Kid glanced up at Heyes but Heyes refused to make eye contact and the old woman drew Kid's attention back with her own instructions. "You must keep your eyes on the globe. Focus all your attention, all your thoughts on the crystal. The truth lies therein."
The room was silent for several minutes before the old woman finally began to speak.
"There is much violence and death," she said as she carefully studied the ball, turning it slowly in her hands.
"In the past or the future?' Kid asked.
His question went unanswered for quite some time.
"The violence is shrouded in a haze I cannot penetrate. Beyond the haze, far into the distance, there is a bright light and fields of gold swaying in the wind. But the violence itself is hidden as though...masked from the world and known only to you and …. perhaps another."
The light emanating from the globe suddenly vanished and each of the wall lamps went dark. Reaching into her pocket, the old woman withdrew a box of matches and lit the solitary candle that sat on the table next to her.
"The spirits have gone quiet," she told Kid.
Kid remained silent but slowly his head turned to look up at his partner.
"What do we owe you, Ma'am?" Heyes asked.
With a sad and worried expression, the woman looked at Kid but spoke to Heyes. "One dollar," she replied.
Heyes reached into his pocket and tossed a dollar coin on the table. Then he walked over and took Kid's arm.
"Come on. Let's go," Heyes said, gently pulling Kid from the table.
Kid stood and turned back to the old woman. "Thank you," he said, uncertain if he truly was grateful.
"There is more to be told," she called to him as they walked out the door and back into the sunshine.
"See Kid, just a lot of hocus pocus from a little old lady pulling a very old con."
"I don't know, Heyes..."
"You mean you believed her?" Heyes asked with astonishment.
"I just thought her wording was a might..."
"Peculiar?"
"Coincidental," Kid replied.
"What are you talking about?"
"All this violence obscured by a haze, Heyes...Haze and ...Heyes? Just sounds like the choice of words was a might coincidental, and not something she was aware of."
"Uh uh. But that's all it was, Kid, a coincidence."
Kid didn't try to argue any further.
"How about a beer?" Heyes suggested and, on this, Kid could agree.
"So what did she mean by there being more to be told?" Kid asked, returning to the touchy subject as he sipped at his beer.
"Means she saw an opportunity to sucker you out of another dollar."
"Maybe I ought to remind you Heyes, she ain't suckered me out of no money."
Heyes sighed heavily. There was no way to argue this logically because there was no logic to be found.
Kid picked up his beer and walked over to a table and waited for Heyes to join him before sitting down. This was not a subject he wanted to discuss at the bar where it could be easily overheard.
"Heyes, the thing that bothers me is that the man in that grave... he ages just like me. That dream is trying to warn me about something that ain't happened...something that's gonna happen...Something that might put me down there in the ground with people shoveling dirt on top of me... Something shrouded in...Heyes."
Heyes could see the genuine concern in Kid's eyes. He'd been tormented by this dream for so long that it really was starting to affect his thinking. Heyes sighed heavily.
"Alright Kid, tell me what the key components of the dream are. The symbols that are the most significant."
"Well, the fact that the casket ain't closed, that the body is just there in plain view, under a pile of dirt for all eternity."
"And you think that body is you?"
"I know it is."
"So, not putting a lid on the casket means... you're afraid of being exposed for something. Now I would guess the obvious exposure fear is your real identity. So, the open casket means you're afraid someone one, somewhere is going to discover who you really are."
Kid gave that some thought. It did make sense to him and he slowly nodded his head.
"And the hat drifting down is an attempt to keep that identity under cover," Kid replied.
Heyes smiled, relieved that Kid was not only catching on to this analytical thinking, but actually seeing some benefit to it.
"Okay, what's another symbol?"
"The white rose?" Kid suggested a little hesitantly.
Heyes smiled. "That one is easy, Kid. A white rose indicates a new beginning and the fact that the flower ain't opened yet means your new beginning is just about to blossom."
Kid smiled. He liked that idea as well.
"But what about that lady today, Heyes? What about her talking about all this violence obscured by haze, or Heyes?"
"Well, I'm not saying for a minute that I believe even one word that she said. But, for the sake of argument, let's assume she was referring to some vague moment of violence, and let's assume she did mean me and not some foggy haze."
"Alright, so what did she mean?"
"I think the vague moment of violence already happened, it was that bloody day in Kansas. I think that was the day that started these dreams in the first place."
"And by you... keeping us together all them years, building the bond between us... Keeping me safe, and fed, and warm..."
Heyes smiled. "The violence was obscured by Heyes," he said proudly."Maybe she did know what she was talking about."
Heyes motioned to the bartender for another couple of beers as Kid gave contemplative thought to this analysis.
"Heyes," Kid said with a smile. "I think the two of us have figured this out. I might still have that dream once in a while, but, strange as it is, it's more of a reassuring dream than a nightmare now, ain't it?"
"I think that is the true intention of it, Kid."
"Funny how one thing can be seen in so many different ways, ain't it. I mean, it's been a nightmare for years and now... Now it's a comfort. The very same thoughts, the very same images, are something good instead of something bad."
"It sure is."
"Heyes, you ought to become a fortune teller," Kid said jokingly.
"Oh, I can't predict the future Kid. But like everybody else, If I'm willing to pay attention, I can learn from the past."