The lush green countryside of western Pennsylvania and Ohio went by outside the train window while Jed Curry sat. This was turning into the longest train ride of his life, and he wasn't even west of the Mississippi yet. He was pointedly ignoring the notes on his pad about deputies he might ask to serve with him. He had no high hopes for any of them. On the seat beside him, Matthias Peale Jed sat on the train west, studying his physics journal. Curry finally got so restless that he couldn't just sit quiet. There were simply too many questions on his mind, and he couldn't answer any of them. So he asked the easiest of them, "Matthias, what are you doing on the line from Pittsburgh? I thought from New York City you'd go straight across to Ohio and west from there."
Peale looked up from his journal in some irritation. "Before this, I had an interview at Drexel, in Philadelphia. I'm coming from there, so this is the most direct line." He looked back down at some engrossing article.
Curry thought for a moment. "Drexel. Hm. Didn't Neal George take classes there before he went to Columbia?"
Peale looked up again, a little surprised that Curry would know that. "Yeah. He put in a good word for me with an old professor, who said he'd pass it on to the Dean of Science. But I don't think it did any good. The science dean was against me from the first moment. As soon as he heard my accent, it was over. He's got a down on Westerners. It's not rare in East coast schools. Heyes and I would know: there was one professor at Columbia who couldn't believe that anybody born west of the Mississippi could be anything but an ignoramus." Peale sounded understandably bitter.
Curry reacted with anger on behalf of his fellow westerner. "That's not fair! You have to put up with that because of where you were born? You're such a smart guy! Heyes says you're the best."
"The world isn't fair, Jed. You ought to know that as well as anyone."
Curry nodded. His voice was more thoughtful. "Do you think Heyes is gonna have to deal with guys like that - when he's better and starts getting interviews?"
Peale looked at Curry with worry in his eyes and some bitterness in his voice. "Yes, of course, if he gets better." Seeing the distress in Curry's blue eyes, he moderated his tone. "I guess we'd better say when he gets better. We'd better stay on the bright side. You bet he'll run into prejudice, Jed. With his name? A thousand times worse than what I'm getting. The fits you've got with sheriffs, he's gonna have with academics. He studied with the professor at Columbia I was talking about. That man made Heyes' life miserable. And that was before he knew Joshua Smith was really Hannibal Heyes!" Peale dropped his voice, well aware that this wasn't information that would be good to entrust to the average train travelers around them.
"You sure you ain't borrowing trouble, Peale? Heyes never said anything to me about it." Curry didn't like what he was hearing.
Peale's normally genial voice grew hard. "I'm sure, Curry. I'm telling you, I just ran into it. You know Heyes – he wouldn't want to worry you about it. And the dean I was interviewing with didn't even know about my pa being with the Devil's Hole Gang before I was born. I hate to think what he would've said to . . ."
"Heyes can handle it. And so can you." The Kid said stoutly.
"I do my best," said Peale. "And so will Heyes. But right now, I need to read. I have to stay up on my field. This is complex stuff. See all those equations?" He held up the journal for Curry to see. "You want to leave me alone so I can read through this article?"
"Look, Peale, if you want me to sit someplace else, I will." Curry started to get up.
Peale stood up, too. "I'm sorry, Curry. I don't mean to be rude. But whether or not you meant to do it, you might have destroyed my partner's career and even his life. My thesis partner. Might not be the same way he's your partner, but to me, it counts."
Curry flared up for a moment. "You don't think I feel bad about it? I sure didn't get much sleep last night. But alright. I'll go find another seat. Leave you in peace." The new sheriff reined himself back in.
Peale finally started to see the other side of this. "No, Jed. That's alright. I know you're worried, too. We might as well worry together. About both of you."
"Until you get a spot, do you need us to worry about you?" asked the Kid.
"No. I'll be fine. Are you going to send a telegram to Beth when we get to a station stop?"
Curry gave Peale a little smile. "Yeah, I will. And I hope they've sent one to me with news about Heyes. The doctor said he could get better fast. Maybe he's already on the mend. And I need to send word ahead to some sheriffs I'm gonna to visit. If they let me come."
"Can you give my best to Heyes and both of your wives, please?" Peale was trying not to be rude any longer – in fact, he did his best to be polite and respectful of the man who used to be one of his biggest heroes.
The kindly Curry quickly gave in and grew friendly again. "Sure, Peale. I'll tell them about your interview, if you like. I mean the one you're going out to at – what's the school in California?"
"Stanford. This is going to be their first year. I'm betting they'll be a good school." Peale smiled. Curry thought how much his smile was like Heyes'. The two thesis partners had a lot in common in their love of academic work.
Curry leaned forward wearily, with his head on one hand. "And Peale, I wish you wouldn't tell folks about Heyes. About what happened. How bad he is right now."
Peale was ruffled again. "Why not? You want me to keep it from his friends at Columbia?"
"Yeah, if you would. Sending it in telegrams might not be real private. He could be fine any day. I don't want the word getting out if it don't have to. Could make it harder on him interviewing, when he's all better. Don't want any more doubts following him than already are."
Peale couldn't quite understand this. "But Curry, those are his friends! And mine. They need to know the truth. If you want to me cover up what you did, you've got the wrong man. Maybe I'd better change seats."
"Peale, it's not about me. I guess – I don't know how things work for you academic types. The way we used to make a living, you didn't dare show weakness. Even guys in your own gang, if it was a rough one, if you were hurt or sick, they could tear into you like a pack of wolves. Trying to take advantage, you know? I thought you'd know things like that, from your pa."
"My pa tries not to tell me too much about his . . . his bad years, you know?" Peale hated to think of what his father had been through in those dark years before his parents had married.
Curry looked his young friend full in the eye. "I figure you're all grown up and you can cope with it. After what Heyes told me about some of those professors, and what you just told me, sounds like academic guys aren't always all that different. Maybe they won't hurt you with a gun or their fists, but they might make life real hard in other ways. Like jobs. I know his friends wouldn't hurt him, but if the word got out – if somebody else read those telegrams – like they might – it could really hurt him." Curry remembered all too well the time he had sent open telegrams that had nearly wound up costing his partner and himself their lives. He wouldn't make the mistake again.
Peale could see a bitter memory was there, though he hadn't known the partners when it had happened. "You could be right, Curry. I'll keep it under my hat until I see the Columbia boys in person. Then I'll tell them to keep it quiet – for Heyes, not for you."
Curry raised his hands as if Peale was a hostile sheriff. "Fine. I just don't want to cause more trouble for him."
The two men fell silent again until they got to a long train stop in Ohio. Peale went back to reading and Jed Curry went back to worrying. When the train stopped, Curry excused himself and hurried up to the telegram kiosk. He said to the man behind the counter. "My name is Jed Curry. Any telegrams for me?"
The man thumbed through a pile of slips of paper. "Yeah, two of them. Here you are, Mr. Curry."
"Thanks," said Curry and flipped the man a nickel for his trouble. Jed leaned up again a column on the platform to look at the messages. He put aside one from Deadwood, South Dakota in favor of the one from the Green Tree Hotel in Cheat, West Virginia. Curry heard Peale come up beside him.
"What's the news, Jed?" asked the young man from Montana.
Curry read eagerly and conveyed the intelligence with a voice in which gladness and sorrow alternated as the news he read warranted. "Heyes - he's getting better. That's fast! He can use some gestures to get stuff across, though he can't understand or read or talk yet. But wow, it says here he can write just fine – but not numbers. That's hard. Heyes said – wrote, I guess - to tell me good luck with the deputies and don't worry about him. He's feeling better fast. He's sure he'll be fine. I hope he's right! I'm going to write back. You want me to send a different message, now that you've heard the news?"
"That's so good that he's writing!" Peale was in a much better mood, now, but still very worried. "But no numbers really is bad. That has to bother him, not knowing if or when he'll get the numbers back. Maybe you'd better not tell him about my interview. Might make him feel worse that he can't do anything about his own right now."
Curry was miffed that Peale would think such a thing of his partner, though he had his own internal misgivings. "Oh, it would not. Heyes ain't like that and you know it. He'll be happy for you."
Matthias gave in reluctantly. "Well, alright, tell Beth and Cat about the interview, Jed. They can't tell Heyes about it yet, anyway, if he can't read or understand speech. No gestures are gonna tell him about an interview. Maybe by tomorrow or the next day, he'll be able to read the message for himself or understand when they read it to him. And give Heyes and the girls my best."
Jed looked restlessly down at the other slip of paper, so Peale added, "I see you've got another message. Must be none of my business. I'll go and let you read it. Don't forget to get dinner, Jed! I'll be looking for you in the restaurant over there. Might not be elegant, but it's close. The train goes in less than an hour, remember."
From where Peale sat in the modest depot restaurant eating his stew, he could watch Jed Curry reading the message. Curry had been smiling a little from the relatively good news about Heyes, but now his face fell and then clouded with anger. He wadded up the slip of paper and stuffed it into his pocket. Peale looked away, conscious that he was invading his friend's privacy. He didn't watch as Curry went to the telegraph counter and sent a couple of messages. Curry walked into the restaurant and sat down across from Peale, who politely pretended that he didn't know the new sheriff had gotten more bad news.
Curry sat staring silently into space. When a grey-haired waitress came and asked him what he wanted, he hadn't even looked at the menu. "Beef stew is good, Jed," said Peale. "I recommend it."
"Fine. Beef stew. And a beer," said Curry to the waitress, sounding like he just didn't want to be bothered.
When the waitress was gone Peale asked, "You alright, Jed?"
"I'm fine, Peale. Leave me . . . no, can't hurt to tell you. One more deputy told me no. Used pretty colorful language. Didn't know Western Union would send stuff like that. Must have bribed the telegrapher." Curry laughed at his own misfortune. What else could he do?
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After the doctor left, Heyes remained lying down as he had been ordered to do. But he motioned for Beth to bring the pad and pencil back. He had many hours' worth of things to tell her and ask her about. First of all, he wrote. "I love you, Beth. If I have to go through this again, at least I have you with me this time." His wife didn't need words to reply to that. She leaned over the bed to kiss her husband passionately.
But soon Heyes had the pad and pencil back in hand. "Did Jed go on West?" Beth nodded.
"I sure am sorry to put you all through this," wrote Heyes, with his eyes closed until he was done. Seeing what looked like total nonsense under his pencil was unnerving. He looked up at Beth, whose mouth came opened with all the things she wanted to say in hot reply to that, but couldn't. She knew her husband wouldn't understand a word of it and there were no gestures to express how much she blamed Jed Curry, not her husband. But he could figure it out.
"It's not just Jed's fault," Heyes wrote, his face showing his anger at himself. "It was mine, too. I should have gone with him no matter what. I still could, if only my head was working."
Beth shook her head firmly. She felt that her husband was missing the whole point of what had happened to him. They looked into each other's eyes.
Heyes had to start to admit the painful truth. "I guess I just have to be honest about it; I can't do the stuff we used to do all the time without thinking about it. It really would be stupid for me to go out there and try to take on the outlaws. The Kid can still do it; I can't. It's scary to be so fragile."
Beth nodded sadly as she put an arm around his husband; now Heyes was starting to get it. He had a hard lesson to learn. Heyes sighed miserably. He hated to give up being the invulnerable hero of his younger days. Beth hated it, too, but she knew it was the truth. Heyes was far more vulnerable now than he had been six years before. She gently stroked his hair, trying to help him to feel secure, or at least loved. She hoped so fervently that her husband would soon be in a position to take advantage of the areas where he had gained so much in strength – in his knowledge and understanding.
Heyes turned to his sense of humor to get through this. "A silent deputy who couldn't even understand orders wouldn't do Jed much good. I can see me writing out 'Hands up' and showing the note to some thief or murderer. He'd probably turn out to be illiterate. He'd sure laugh." The pair laughed together and kissed again. If Beth needed to keep saying "I love you" the only way she could, she would.
Heyes finally drew back. "I've got to stop now, honey. My head is aching like mad. But don't worry – it's not one of the really bad aphasia headaches. Just the leftover from the concussion, I guess. I'm going to try to take a nap. You know I didn't sleep real well. I was kind of upset. Honestly, I still am. But I'm starting to get too tired to care. If the doctor wants me to stay in bed, I might as well try to sleep." Heyes yawned.
Beth nodded and kissed Heyes gently on the forehead. She left her husband to sleep. His eyes were already closed. She put the pad and paper by the bed so he could write if he needed to. There was a little brass bell that Heyes could ring if he needed help. Barbara had brought it to him the night before.
Beth went down stairs to find her sister and Cat waiting for her. "The doctor says he can write!" cried Cat excitedly.
Beth was more subdued. "Yes, but he still can't read or understand or talk. From his point of view, it's like the rest of the world has aphasia. Only he can express himself and nobody else can communicate back. He can write anything he likes and I can only gesture and nod."
Curtis asked, "How is Uncle Heyes doing? Can I see him?
"He's doing better, Curtis," said Beth. "But you'll have to wait to see him. The doctor told him to stay in bed. He's trying to sleep. He's got a bad headache and he's very tired. And try to understand, honey, it's very hard for him to have people see him like this."
"The man with the silver tongue?" asked Curtis, who had read that description of his uncle often.
Beth's face was filled with concern. "Please don't ever use that phrase around your Uncle Heyes, even if he gets perfectly well. I think the Kid used to use it on him to get Heyes to do hard stuff talking people into things. It sure didn't always work. Heyes still feels guilty about it. So please don't even joke about the silver tongue around him. It would hurt him very badly."
"I'm sorry, Aunt Beth. I wouldn't want to hurt him." Curtis was very upset at the thought.
Beth smiled sadly. "I know that. And you won't. I'll let you know when you can see him."
Barbara was coming out of the kitchen. "Curtis, honey, run along and do your chores."
"Yes, Ma."
Corey's face was very serious as he sat at the desk in the lobby, doing hotel bookkeeping when he wasn't helping his customers. He had tried very hard to keep the guests from knowing Heyes and Curry were visiting. After the fight, that had become impossible. Corey knew that he would face challenges from every one of the few families and individuals occupying the commercial rooms of the hotel. Dunham had tried his best to keep guests and family apart; now this was for the sake of both sides. He hated to think what might happen to Heyes, or even to Beth, or to Cat, if some frightened guest confronted them. But, as an inn keeper, he also had to look after the interests of the guests and to try to keep them happy.
Now, Corey faced one of the most self-important of his guests. Mr. Benton was a tall, distinguished man who had come from Washington, D.C., to enjoy the fishing and the country quiet with his wife and their little son. They had eaten elsewhere the night before. Now the Bentons were back. Mr. Benton strode crisply up to the desk and asked, "Mr. Dunham, is it true that the men who were fighting yesterday on the front porch were the outlaws Kid Curry and Hannibal Heyes?"
"Yes, sir, it was. And before you complain, Mr. Benton, about outlaws staying here – they both went straight years ago and they have amnesty. It was granted by four state governors. They are perfectly law-abiding citizens."
"Indeed? But what are people with such unsavory histories doing here?" Asked Benton haughtily.
Corey held himself proudly, determined not to seem ashamed of his new relations, however much he might feel that way at the moment. "They are on vacation, just like yourselves. In fact, they are on their honeymoons. Mr. Curry has, by the way, left to take a job on the side of the law."
"If they are such upstanding citizens, what were they doing brawling like the common criminals they used to be?"
Corey battled to keep from giving any sign of his anger at the question – or at the behavior that had motivated it. "I don't know, sir. They couldn't tell you themselves, I think. They're like brothers – with both the good and the bad of that."
Benton's blue eyes blazed. "I don't care, Dunham. Just keep that dirty outlaw who's still here away from me and my family. If I have to deal with that man, we'll leave here."
Corey kept his professional courtesy, no matter how badly his blood was boiling inside. "Don't worry, sir. Mr. Heyes will be keeping to his room. He isn't well. But he is law-abiding." Benton was implacable. "I don't care. I don't want to see him."
"We'll do our best, Mr. Benton, but honestly, he wouldn't hurt anyone." Benton gave Corey a hard look; then he gestured to call his wife and son to join him. They went off to find a guide and go fishing. As the family vanished out the door, Corey Dunham wiped his brow. This wouldn't be the last he would see of this kind of problem. Nor was it. He had three similar conversations before noon.
Not long before noon, Curtis walked over to the post office to pick up the hotel's mail. He ran back home with a bundle of letters in his hands. When he got to the hotel's front room, he ran to where Aunt Beth sat reading the weekly paper. "Aunt Beth!" cried Curtis. "There are four letters for Uncle Heyes! Two of them are . . ."
Beth put her finger to her lips. "Quietly, Curtis! Your uncle's business is private. He might not be able to understand what you say, but he can still hear your voice, and so can your guests. I don't want him to know about those letters. He can't do anything about them until he's better, so it's best not to worry him while he's healing. Time enough for him to know when he can read them for himself. At least we know he'll be able to write back."
"Yes, ma'am," said Curtis, quietly. "But look – two of them . . ."
Curtis stopped talking with his mouth opened. Heyes had appeared at the top of the stairs, holding tight to the railing to keep himself steady. Curtis glanced back and forth between his uncle and his aunt. Heyes silently gestured for Curtis to come up the stairs. When Curtis tried to hand the four letters to Beth, Heyes shook his head. He mimed picking up something – obviously the letters – and in that way asked Curtis to bring them to him. Curtis looked puzzled – what could his uncle do with letters?
Beth sighed. "Go ahead, Curtis. I should have known it was no use hiding things from your uncle. He always knows what's going on. He knows when you pick up the mail every day. He was just waiting and he knows what letters he's expecting. Take him the letters. Maybe he's already able to read? That would be wonderful."
Heyes returned to his sick room, gesturing for Curtis to follow him. Heyes sat on the bed, rubbing his still very sore head. "Uncle Heyes?" said Curtis, then stopped, remembering that his uncle couldn't understand him. But Heyes was still listening carefully, hoping to regain understanding soon.
Heyes patted the bed. Curtis sat down there next to Heyes and handed his uncle the four letters. Heyes studied the envelopes, one at a time. Then he wrote on his pad and showed it to Curtis. "So – one from the Governor of Colorado, one from the Governor of Wyoming, one from my friend Paul Huxtable, and one from a college or university that I don't recognize – someplace in Texas. Right?"
Curtis nodded with his eyes wide in amazement. Heyes replied in writing. "No, I can't read writing yet and I can't read minds, either. I think maybe I'll be reading soon, but not yet. But I can recognize the coats of arms of the states stamped on the envelopes – the same as on my amnesty documents. And, of course, I know my friend's handwriting and stationary. And the picture of Texas on the coat of arms of the school is obvious. So there you go – it's easy. But I can't read them or do anything about them yet. Or I can't without help. Will you please read the ones from the governors, Curtis? It should be about permission for me to take Joshua as my middle name. I just need to know if they say yes, or no, or maybe something else."
As the two spoke, Beth came and stood in the doorway. She wanted to know the news, too. And she had thought to bring a letter opener. Heyes smiled wanly at her. Curtis grandly opened the officially sealed envelope from the Governor of Wyoming while his elders watched. He read through the contents of the letter silently and quickly. Curtis looked and smiled at Heyes and nodded. Heyes smiled a little more sincerely than had before – now he had two of the four endorsements he would need to legally take Joshua as his middle name.
Curtis took a little longer reading the letter from the Governor of Colorado. Beth grew more and more curious. Finally Curtis smiled again. Another yes! The letter from Paul Huxtable, Beth took. It would remain unopened until its intended recipient could read. The last letter from the Texas school, Beth reached for. "Can I read that one, Curtis? Telling Heyes what this one says might take a little of the sign language that he and I know. Or then again I might not even be able to get the meaning across."
Beth opened the letter and read carefully through it. Heyes studied her face, wondering what the letter said. It almost had to be about a position. It was hard for him to tell, from his wife's subtle, mixed expressions, what the letter might say. After all, the offer of an interview was no unmixed blessing for a man who couldn't respond to any such offer for an indefinite time.
Finally, Beth finished and looked up at Heyes. He arched his eyebrows in question. Beth sighed in frustration. This was more complex than a yes or no. Heyes would have to do some guessing.
Heyes took up the familiar yellow pad, turning back pages to a blank one that he showed to Beth as he wrote each brief bit of question. "I know the school's in Texas from the coat of arms on the envelope," he wrote. "Is it a school you know?" Beth shook her head. "Is it a newly founded one?" Beth nodded. 1891 was proving to be a big year for founding schools as 1890 had as well. "University?" Beth shook her said. "So, a college." Beth nodded. "They want to interview me? Even when I haven't applied?" Beth nodded. "There must have been a recommendation of some kind – does it say who recommended me?" Beth nodded. "Charlie?" Beth nodded. That hadn't been hard to guess – his own advisor would be the top possibility. "This is turning into a game of 20 questions!" Heyes joked in handwriting, for Curtis's benefit.
Then Heyes went on more seriously. "But there's something else bothering you about that letter. Does Curtis need to leave? It is that private?" Beth shook her head. There was no reason that Curtis shouldn't know this. Curtis peeked at the letter and could easily see the problem. His anxiety showed on his face for Heyes to read. But the boy he wasn't sure how to get it across to his uncle. "It must be something at the top of the letter, or Curtis wouldn't know it that fast. Is it my name?" Curtis and Beth exchanged a surprised look. "I can see the address has been corrected and forwarded – I'm guessing from Columbia University. Did they address me as Joshua Smith?" Beth exhaled hard and nodded. Heyes nodded back.
"Well, that is a problem. That isn't going to be fun to explain my way out of. And anyhow, I can't do anything about it until I can read what the Texas school said to get the details that you can't communicate to me. I don't want you to answer that letter on my behalf, Beth. That would give be the scent of blood to the wolves, having me in such bad shape that you have to write for me. It's true, but I sure don't want everyone out there to know it. I really do feel like reading, talking, understanding, are all lurking around in my mind. They're hiding, like animals when you hunt them, but I can feel them in there. Now and then a word comes clear, and then the rest of it vanishes for a while. So maybe I'll be able to answer in a few days. We can just hope."
Beth leaned over and kissed her husband. Then she said, "Please get up and let your uncle lie down, Curtis. The doctor wants him to stay in that bed, even if he doesn't want to do it." As Curtis stood up, Beth gestured for Heyes to lie down. The retired outlaw tamely followed instructions, yawning. He still needed some sleep as his concussion healed. However forced, this was his first real rest in a long, long time after some very stressful few months. So the rest of the day passed in enforced quiet.
That night after dinner, Beth and Heyes observed an early bed time. She gave him a soothing back rub that had his him relaxing under her skilled hands. But then he reached for his trusty pad and the pencil Beth had sharpened for him. "Honey, have you gotten in touch with Dr. Leutze about my condition?" Beth nodded. "Does he really think the losses might go away soon?" Beth nodded emphatically. "He isn't coming to see me, is he?" Beth signed in relief. At last Heyes had asked the right question so she could tell him this vital news – she nodded. "He is coming?" Beth nodded again. "Oh gee, I feel so ashamed to have let this happen – to have him see me this way. To need his help again. To need his help, and your help, and Corey and Barbara's help, and even Curtis's help. It's driving me nuts, Beth, to be stuck here being dependent. It's really making me crazy. I can't just sit here, doing nothing useful, being dependent again. I can't bear it!" Beth read this and started the back rub again. Her husband was getting very upset, breathing hard, and his muscles were all going tense.
Heyes wrote on, letting out his frustrations and misery. "I have to get past this. I have to get moving! I have to get a job – any job – and start paying back all those crushing debts I owe. And I don't just mean the money - though that's bad enough. That's a small thing compared to the moral debts. It's like a safe full of gold on my back, crushing the life out of me. The debts I owe to all my friends, to you, to this country – they're are killing me, Beth. I'm pretty sure I'm going to get my language use back soon. I'd better! If I can just get started on the applications again, if I can just start trying for work, it will be such a relief. It I can do something, anything. But if I can't . . ."
Beth pulled the pencil out of her husband's hand and threw it across the room. She tossed the pad onto the floor. She blew out the lamp and proceeded with the kind of communication that no one could take away from either one of them. Beth knew that the doctor wanted Heyes to take it easy, but somehow she thought this kind of exertion might do him far more good than harm. Making love was certainly far better for her husband than morbidly speculating on his worst possible future.
