The Bond
(The story of one night, shared thoughts, and a few days that followed.)
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Kid Curry sat in a rocking chair on the porch of a small cabin in the woods just outside of Denver and watched the top of the hill where the road forked to the east and the winding lane to the cabin forked to the west. He sat patiently, waiting for his partner to appear astride his sorrel at the crest of the hill. The handmade log rocker nearly engulfed his thin frame and he kept the chair motionless as the rocking exacerbated the now chronic nausea.
"Johnny," Kid called, his voice strained for volume.
A man perhaps ten years younger than Kid appeared behind the screen door. He was dressed in white pants and a white shirt customary of his position as caretaker. The screen door whined when he pushed the door open and stepped out onto the porch. "Yes, Mr. Curry?' he asked.
"There's a bottle of whiskey on the top shelf in the cupboard. When Heyes gets here, would you bring it out here along with two shot glasses?"
"Of course," the man replied. "Would you like anything else, a blanket perhaps?"
Kid shook his head and thin fingers reached up to pull the over sized sherpa tighter about his shoulders. "No. Thank you. I'm fine," Kid replied.
As the man returned to the cabin, Kid caught sight of Heyes at the top of the hill. Leaning forward in his chair, Kid smiled and watched Heyes pull his sorrel to the right and slowly descend the hill as he followed the winding lane.
Instead of standing to greet his partner, Kid leaned back in the chair and watched Heyes tether his horse to the post and take confident strides up the path to the steps of the cabin. Years of poker had honed Heyes' poker face and the casual observer would not have noted the subtle changes in Heyes' eyes and expression as he took in Kid's declining appearance, the weary posture, the thin body, the dull blue eyes.
"I can see by your expression you weren't exactly expecting...this," Kid said with a short, sweeping gesture with his thin, bony hand.
"Only person I ever knew that could see right through my best poker face. How are you?' Heyes replied with as much nonchalance as he could muster.
Kid's mouth gave a shrug. "Doctor's say they've done all they can."
Kid had been plagued with respiratory issues since childhood. A case of the croup or grippe was an annual winter event to him nearly all his life. Three years ago he developed a cough, a fever, and a tightness in his chest, and sought the aid of a doctor. He was not surprised that this time the diagnosis was tuberculosis, and he spent nearly a year hospitalized until he was well enough for discharge. He's been advised to isolate himself in a location where fresh air was plentiful and was told that high altitudes actually slowed the spreading of the disease through the lungs. He knew the disease was a slow death sentence and at the time of his discharge, the doctors had told him he had seven to ten years to live. He kept none of this a secret from his partner and he and Heyes had come to the mutual agreement that, for Heyes' well being, they had no choice but to split up. But they kept in close contact through letters and frequent outdoor visits in which Kid always had his nose and mouth covered with a bandanna.
But eighteen months ago, Kid contracted a cold which changed things almost overnight. The doctor called it Galloping Consumption and the prognosis suddenly changed from years to weeks or months. He suffered from a productive cough with thick, bloody mucus, a chronic though fluctuating fever , night sweats, and a chronic and heavy pressure in his chest.
Unable to care for himself, Kid had been referred to an agency where he could hire a caretaker trained in the medical skills necessary to care for people with contagious diseases and conditions. Heyes had been instrumental in finding just the right person to fill that need and Johnny was that person.
"Johnny," Kid called, the strain again obvious in his voice.
As Heyes sat down in one of the two unoccupied rocking chairs, a table carefully arranged between them to distance them, Johnny again appeared in the doorway.
"Would you bring that bottle and shot glasses out here?' Kid asked.
Johnny disappeared back into the cabin again and returned with the bottle and two shot glasses that he set on the table between Kid and Heyes.
"Would there be anything else?' Johnny asked.
Kid turned to Heyes. "You hungry?"
"No," Heyes replied.
"I guess that's everything," Kid said and Johnny retreated again to the cabin, leaving the two men to their privacy.
"Would you mind pouring, Heyes?'
"You sure you should be drinking this?"
"Doc says anything I can hold down and for some strange reason, whiskey stays down," Kid said, the corners of his mouth turning up exposing thin wrinkles on his cheeks and under his eyes. "It settles the cough some, too."
Heyes poured them each a glass and handed one to Kid who smiled a sad smile and raised his glass. "To partners," he said.
"Partners," Heyes repeated and each took a sip of his drink.
Kid rested his hands in his lap and gazed into the golden brown liquid in his shot glass. "When they tell you your time's limited, it forces you to make some hard decisions. I'm gonna need your help, Heyes."
"Anything," Heyes replied.
"You remember that little stream behind the cabin at Devil's Hole?"
Heyes smiled. "We use to go fishing there," he replied.
"You remember where it took a little bend?"
Heyes remembered the spot well. There was a small clearing in the woods there and it was peaceful with the gurgling of the stream and sometimes a soft breeze whispered through the trees.
"In the morning, the sun hits the water and it sparkles and dances across the stream and the reflection of the trees in the water makes em look like the they're dressed in shiny little lights," Kid mused. "I wanna be buried right there, Heyes."
"Not Kansas?' Heyes asked.
Kid closed his eyes and gave his head a gentle shake. "I wouldda been a disappointment to them, Heyes. I don't want to disgrace them for all eternity."
Under different circumstances, Heyes would have disputed Kid's comment, but he knew that time had long passed.
"It's funny, Kid. I always sort of had that same plan in mind for me, that spot at Devil's Hole."
Again Kid smiled sadly. "I don't want you to go rushing things, but I'd be honored to share that spot with you someday, Heyes."
"Me too, Kid."
"And now a favor..."
"Anything."
"I'd like to visit that place again, to see it one last time."
"You can't ride that far..."
"I can't ride at all no more."
"A stage or a wagon would be pretty rough. We'll hafta take the train."
A feeling of relief rushed over Kid and he smiled. "I knew you'd come up with something, Heyes."
"How soon do you want to leave?"
"Gotta go soon. There ain't much time. Johnny's agreed to come to take some of the burden off of you."
"I'll ride into town this afternoon and buy three tickets. I'll get you a lower level sleeping birth so you've got a place to rest."
Kid nodded, feeling like his life would soon be coming full circle.
Two days later the three men stood in the clearing near the stream at Devil's Hole. Heyes held tight to Kid's frail arm and Johnny stepped back but stayed near enough to help if Kid's stamina should falter.
"Looks just like I remember it," Kid said softly.
"Me too. Feels like home, don't it?"
Kid raised an arm and pointed to a tall pine tree with long branches that shrouded the ground. "Right there, Heyes. I want to be laid to rest right there with a blanket of pine needles over me and the sun shinning down."
"It's a fine place Kid."
Kid nodded. "It's settled... I'm ready now."
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The door opened and a stream of light came into the room from the hospital corridor. From the chair near the head of the bed, Heyes raised his head and an exhausted sigh escaped him when he saw Lom standing in the doorway, not daring to venture further into the room. "Any change?"
"He's fading," Heyes whispered.
"You haven't left this room in weeks, Heyes. Why don't you go get some rest, something to eat? I'll stay here with Kid."
Heyes kept his hand wrapped about Kid's wrist and shook his head. "Doctor says even in a coma, he can likely hear, so he might know I'm here. If that's the case, I can't leave him."
Lom nodded, then a look of surprise spread across his face. "Heyes look, his eyes are open."
Heyes looked at Kid but was not surprised by what he saw. "Doc says that's normal sometimes when a person's in a coma. It don't mean they're awake or aware of nothing. It's more like being in a lighter sleep. See, they're already closed again."
"Oh. I thought for a minute...I'll go get you something to eat."
Heyes nodded and watched Lom leave, shutting the door behind him and returning the darkness to the room. He shifted his chair so it was facing the bed and moved his hand from Kid's wrist so he was now holding his partner's cold, limp hand in his own.
"Doc says you might be able to hear me Kid. I was thinking about some things last night and it felt like you was right there making decisions and telling me what you wanted done and, well I don't think I ever told you this, but you remember that stream up behind the cabin at Devil's Hole? Well I've always thought I'd like to be buried there some day and last night I got the feeling that you might like that, too. Maybe under that big pine tree in that little clearing near the bend. What do you think, Kid? Would you like that?"
The door opened again when a nurse stopped by to check on the both of them. With the door open, the stream of light returned. "Do you need anything?" she asked.
Heyes looked at the nurse and smiled but shook his head. "We're fine," he whispered.
Just as she was leaving, Heyes turned his attention back to his partner. Sitting in the chair, Heyes was almost eye level with Kid and it startled him that Kid's eyes were again open. But this time, though glossy and unfocused, Kid seemed to be looking directly at his partner and Heyes knew Kid had somehow managed to break through the shroud of death for one final, silent communication and he suddenly knew that throughout the night, in their own separate ways, they had made plans together. They had made one final pact together. Without words, they had finalized their partnership for all eternity.
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Kid had died in the Denver hospital room early that morning and one week later Heyes drove the wagon carrying Kid's wooden casket up the winding path to Devil's Hole, past the cabin they had shared during their outlaw days, and down a narrow path to the clearing near the bend along the stream.
"Heyes," a voice said softly from behind the wagon.
"Preacher?' Heyes said as he turned to see the slender, scruffy man dressed all in black and holding a tattered Bible tucked under his arm and a shovel in his hand.
"I read about Kid in the paper and figured you'd be bringing him here."
"How did you know?"
"Lord works in mysterious ways," Preacher said with a sly smile. "I thought you might want Kid to have a proper service."
Heyes' lower lip began to quiver as the last of his stoic reserve began to wane. "Thank you for coming, Preacher. It means a lot to me."
"Had no choice, Heyes. When the good Lord tells you to do something, you do it."
Three hours later, the funeral complete, Heyes and Preacher sat on the steps of the leader's cabin sharing a pint of whiskey that Preacher was seldom without, and Heyes told him about the hours before Kid's death, the realization that this was the place that Kid was to be buried, the eye to eye communication that Heyes was convinced was real and not a random wakeful period of the coma.
"Don't surprise me none," Preacher said with a smile. "The two of you were equal parts that made a whole. Neither one of you is gonna let something like death come between you."
"You really think that's possible, Preacher?" Heyes asked.
"Hell Heyes, I'd be willing to bet even money that the Kid was having them same thoughts at the same time you was. You two always knew exactly what the other was thinking. It didn't even take words. All you had to do was look at each other. Sounds to me that's exactly what you two did, and it told the Kid it was alright to leave, cause you both understood that you'd never really be apart."
"How did you get so wise, Preacher?"
Preacher smiled. "Being wise ain't got nothing to do with it, Heyes. It's pure blind faith. That's what you and Kid shared. Hell, you still do. I s'pect you always will."
"Blind faith," Heyes repeated softly. "You hear that, Kid?"
"He saying yes to you?" Preacher asked.
Heyes nodded as a tear streaked down his face.
Preacher held the bottle in the air. "Here's to the Kid," he said and took a final swig before handing the bottle to Heyes.
"And to eternal partners," Heyes added.