THE DAY THEY HANGED HANNIBAL HEYES - Chapter Five
Heyes watched the doctor's every movement as he redressed Kid's shoulder wound. He gathered the bloody wraps and put them back into his bag, hoping to reuse them after a good wash.
Doc Hardin was not happy after being awakened in the middle of the night and especially who needed the doctoring. He wished they would both die, then justice would be served. If it hadn't been for that damn Marshall he would have refused to treat either one of them when they were first brought in.
Doc closed his bag with an angry snap, as Deputy Wallace unlocked the cell door and held it open for him.
Heyes waited anxiously in his cell with his hands on the bars. He followed the doctor from one side of his cell to the front expecting the doctor to stop and speak to him, pausing to give him some information on Kid, but he walked past with his head down purposely avoiding his anxious look. Heyes tried to speak but the words came out garbled. In frustration his hand darted through the bars and grabbed the man by the arm and tried to pull him closer. The doctor yelped in surprise and fear, yanking his arm free, as the deputy's gun was shoved through the bars and into Heyes' face.
"Move to the back of your cell NOW!"
"Murderers," the doctor hissed as quickly exited through the door
Heyes' eyes followed the doctor out the door to the office. His hands were clenched tightly by his sides with anger. The deputy lowered his gun, "That was awfully stupid…" He stopped when he saw Heyes' face. "Just don't try that again, " he said quickly and hurried away.
Heyes stood unmoving. He was breathing so hard, his breaths sounded like a low whistle as they traveled through his damaged throat. He blinked several times and slowed his breathing. Heyes looked towards his partner, and pushed his cot so it was next to Kid's. He took a seat and started to pull his legs up but stopped when he felt them begin to cramp. His legs ached, especially his calves from standing in his saddle trying to save himself from the rope. The night was hot with little air coming through the single windows for each cell. The windows were narrow and set high, protected with iron bars. There was no rear door to the jail. He could feel the sweat moving down his face, to the tattered bandages and the raw flesh of his neck which itched and stung at the same time. He raised a hand to scratch, but any touch especially to his larynx caused almost unbearable pain.
Heyes reached for the cup of broth, taking in a mouthful, momentarily holding it before he slowly swallowed. It burned and soothed as it ran down his throat. He forced himself to drink more, until he gagged and set the almost empty cup down on the floor by the cot. He took the blanket and bunched it up behind his back with the pillow, and stretched full length on the cot. Heyes snaked a hand through the bars and carefully laid a gentle hand on his partner's bare shoulder.
He sighed and closed eyes apologizing to Kid for the mess he had gotten them into. He should have listened.
"Sorry" he mouthed to his unconscious friend.
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No matter how hard Kid tried to will his eyes, they refused to open. All his thoughts were jumbled together, making him unable to draw them into any kind of coherent shape or understanding. He tried to quiet his mind and sort through images that fleetingly flashed through his mind. What was his last memory? He strained to remember the last image to go along with the sensation of feeling intense pain and the sense of failure.
He sucked in a quick breath, before he started surfacing through the pain. The pain caused his breath to come out in rapid but shallow pants, anything deeper caused unbearable pain.
Kid finally struggled through the layers of pain until he reached a point where he could hear voices.
Not words, just the noise of voices.
Neither were Heyes.
He mentally started inventorying the pain and their location, but quickly decided it was easier to focus on where it didn't hurt as he hurt all over to various degrees. The only exception was his left shoulder. He could feel pressure on it but not a pain or unpleasant sensation.
The last image came exploding back. It was Heyes with rope tightly around his neck. He would never forget the sheer panic and terror he saw in his friend's face. It was like nothing he had ever seen before or ever wanted to see again.
"HEYES!?" He wanted to yell but it came out more as an urgent whisper. There was no response. He sucked in more air and tried to summon another call for his partner. "Heyes?" Kid started to raise his right hand up, but the pain was too great and it fell back down. He bent his left elbow and folded his arm towards the pressure on his shoulder. He breathed a sigh of relief as he recognized Heyes' familiar touch. The hand stirred and squeezed, then softly patted it.
When Kid slowly lowered his arm it brushed into something cold and hard. Metallic. Definitely iron bars.
"Where?" Kid managed to choke out.
There was no answer but another reassuring squeeze. He could hear the harsh vibrating breathing from the adjoining cell.
When his eyes finally opened, he saw the tattered bandage around Heyes' neck. The skin not covered was swollen, horribly bruised with an angry red ligature mark that ran from beneath the bandage to behind his right ear.
Heyes looked exhausted, his eyes appeared bloody with the broken blood vessels in his eyes from the hanging. He didn't dare close his eyes or risk sleep, for fear the same terrifying dream would invade it. It was mostly a sensation of not being able to breath, and that automatically triggered a primal response of panic and desperation to do whatever was necessary to get air as he felt himself being slowly strangled.
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Bliss felt his breakfast do a slow roll in his stomach, as the smell of death hit him. The undertaker was at the end of town, but the wind was just right and blowing towards the center of town. With angry strides it started towards the direction of the foul odor, but decided to stop for fear he was going to lose his food right there on main street. If he had continued on he would have seen the bodies laying in open wooden coffins, covered with flies. They were bloated and their skin colored a deep bluish black. The cut nooses still hung from their necks. The eyes that remained open were a milky white initially tinged red now pink from the broken blood vessels in their eyes. The once protruding eyeballs had sunken deep into their skulls.
Marshall Bliss threw the door open to the sheriff's office and jail, before unleashing a tirade of curses as he hurried through kicking it closed with the heel of his boot. He was tired of running the gauntlet through angry people and he was close to start locking some up for their own good and his. Problem was there weren't nearly enough cells to accommodate them all. Guess it could always have a pit jail dug…
He turned angry eyes towards Sheriff Pryor.
"Did I or did I not tell you to make sure they put those damn men in the ground?"
"Leland said he ain't never done ten at one time and he…he's having a hard time getting folks to do the digging. They say putting them in the ground is too good for 'em. Folks ain't willing to put in the effort for those murderers."
Bliss gave the sheriff an incredulous look. "They rather stink up their streets with rottin' flesh…" Bliss shook his head, disgusted. "You got yourself a real fucked up town. Seems to me I passed a church when I rode in. Appears it must have been for show. Soothing people's conscience that they are good Christian folk. Well hell I ain't been in a church since I was a pup and I got more…" He shook his head again. " …that scares the hell out of me…not knowing what these so-called God-fearing people are capable of doing."
He set the basket of food down on the desk with a stack of wanted posters he had gone through the previous night at the hotel. "Son of a bitch," he grumbled. "How's them prisoners?"
Sheriff Pryor looked at Deputy Wallace before responding, "Had to call Doc in for Curry."
"Doc come? He okay?"
"Yeah…I guess. He's still alive." Sheriff Pryor said slowly.
"Ya' have to stick a gun in ol' Doc's face for some extra proddin'?"
"He was kinda reluctant." Deputy Wallace admitted.
"I bet," he said with a snort.
Bliss walked back to the cells. Heyes looked to be asleep, slumped against the bars with his hand on his partner's shoulder.
Bliss loudly cleared his throat. Heyes' raised his head looking exhausted.
"Ya up for some food?"
Heyes nodded although he was more interested in something to drink no matter how much it hurt to try. His throat was raw and burned every time he swallowed. He looked to Kid and back to Bliss.
Bliss read his mind. "If I have your word…"
Heyes nodded again.
"Deputy! Grab them keys and move Mr. Heyes in with Mr. Curry and bring that food. There's some sassafras tea with honey. Should help soothe ya throat."
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Kid reached a hand out towards Heyes' neck. His eyes were clouded with concern. Heyes caught his wrist, and slowly lowered his arm.
"Don't worry ... " Heyes had to stop. His hoarse grating voice was almost unrecognizable as he continued "…about me." He paused to swallow, as briefly squeezed his eyes shut with pain. He reopened them and tried to give Kid a reassuring smile, which failed miserably.
Heyes placed another pillow under Kid's head carefully to not over elevate it. He slipped a hand under it, and raised it slightly to help him try to get some fluid into him.
He drank more than he wanted for Heyes' benefit, before he turned his head away telling him he had enough.
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Bliss handed Sheriff Pryor a handwritten note, as he quickly fished through his pockets for some change. He pressed the note and coins into the sheriff's outstretched hand.
"Stop and send this before ya head home. It's a request for reinforcements from Fort Thorn. Appears our prisoners are going to make it so…I'd like to keep it that way until the Circuit Judge arrives at the end of the month. I will remind all of ya again, that no one is to know who our prisoners really are. I mean no one…that includes wives."
The men obediently nodded.
There had been explicit instructions that the men's true identities were not to be made common knowledge. Even if he tried to explain to them about the amnesties, he was confident they would not listen nor believe him. He knew he was the most hated man in town…well maybe the third.
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Once Sheriff Pryor left the telegraph office, the man pushed the curtain aside and watched him ride off. Satisfied that he was gone, the man quickly flipped the sign to CLOSED and locked the door before hurrying across the street towards the local cafe.
"Bliss is asking for reinforcements from Fort Thorn." He said excitedly, as he waved the note in the air.
Another man snatched it from his hand. "That don't give us much time."
"This is going to get bloody."
"It's already bloody….and 'bout to get a lot bloodier."
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