Winter's Refuge
Chapter Three
LOM
Still feeling guilty at not even getting the governor to publicly admit there had been an amnesty offer, I returned to Porterville. Sending telegrams and writing letters, I was determined to find a way to get Heyes and the Kid released from prison. I had seen their shocked, no devastated, expressions when they learned they were going to serve their time in separate prisons. Those boys have been together all their lives, never separated for too long, and I could not imagine them surviving well on their own.
Legally, I couldn't visit them or get a report on how they were doing for their first two months in prison. But being a sheriff, I had certain connections that allowed me some information. Heyes seemed to be the model prisoner, avoiding trouble, actually avoiding all his fellow prisoners. He kept his head down and did whatever job he was assigned without showing any emotion. He was obedient and polite to the guards, but they felt there was something behind his eyes that he knew something that they didn't. Still, I had no problem making an appointment for a visit on the eighth Saturday of his confinement.
His appearance shocked me. He had always been skinny; now he was rail thin. With a shaved head, his brown eyes were more prominent. He shuffled into the visitor's room, shackled hand and foot. Sitting down awkwardly, he looked to the guard for permission to speak.
"Hi'ya, Heyes. How're you doing?" I started, not knowing what to say.
Only then did he look up at me. For a moment, I caught the unbridled defiance behind his eyes. It was only for a moment, but I knew he had answered my question.
"Lom," he said. Then he stopped as if surprised at the dry rasp in his voice. "Thanks for coming."
"Brought you a book and a deck of cards," I told him. "Cleared it with the warden first, of course."
Heyes looked at the guard, who stood silently until this time. "It will be on your bed after it is inspected," he said, then returned to his silent vigil.
"The Kid?" Heyes asked the question I had dreaded.
"Well, the doctor that was taking care of him in Cheyenne sent specific instructions for his head injury. Said his depressive anger was because of that and would decrease over the next year."
I had sidestepped his question. Heyes was not fooled. "How's the Kid?" he asked, letting that defiant look return to his eyes.
"Haven't seen him yet. He's been in some trouble, mostly fighting. Mostly his fault."
Waiting quietly but not patiently, Heyes kept his eyes fixed on mine, trying to read what I was not saying. Whether it was respect to the gang leader he had been, or the furious temper I had seen him exhibit when he discovered a lie, I have never lied to Heyes. I was not about to start with this. "He's beat up. He held his own against one opponent but the last fight it was one against four. Kid lost. Got hit in the head again. Lost consciousness."
Seeing the worry in Heyes' eyes, I watched him lean towards me, anxious to hear more. Still, he said nothing.
"Doctor there treated him and he's recovering as far as I know. I'm depending on some friends to get information on him. He's in solitary for another two weeks."
"Dark cell?" asked Heyes. I heard a hint of hidden fear in his voice. I knew he avoided small dark spaces, some remnants of his childhood.
"No, just solitary but it's Arizona and hot as hell anyway. I have a time scheduled to visit with him in two weeks...if he stays out of trouble."
As Heyes processed all that I had told him, I saw him relax his shoulders. "You still talking to the governor, Lom?"
"Twice a month, Heyes. I keep reminding him of his deal." My answer seemed to surprise him.
"And?"
"He talks about granting it in the future. Says you two are too hot politically right now. But he doesn't say no."
He nodded. "Tell the Kid that. And to stop fighting. I ain't there to watch his back."
"Thought it was the other way around, he watched your back," I answered.
"Worked both ways. Got a favor to ask you, Lom, as a friend."
I dreaded his next words, anticipating what he was going to ask.
"There's a girl, a woman, that's real special to the me and the Kid. Last time we saw her, we gave her your address to contact us.
"She knows who you are?" I asked, knowing soon in this conversation I was going to tell my first lie to him.
"She does…met her in Devil's Hole when we were in charge there. Her name's Chrissy McWinters."
I have a good poker face, but Heyes is excellent at reading people. I was thankful that the guard coughed at that moment to get our attention that our time was almost up. I used that time to steady my expression.
"As in the McWinters Gang?" I asked him, preparing to stand up and leave.
"Her brothers. But she's a fine woman. If she contacts you, take good care of her, okay?" His tone had turned pleading.
"I'll do that if I hear from her," I lied too quickly, hoping he wouldn't notice and changed the subject. "Want another book? Anything else?"
"Paper and ink. I'd like to write to the Kid."
The guard gave a subtle nod. "Okay, Heyes, try and eat more; you're getting too skinny. I'll be back in four weeks. I'll try and send the paper and ink before that." I stood.
Heyes remained in the seat. "Lom, thank you." No longer guarded, his eyes showed his true appreciation. "It means a lot that you're here."
Unsettled, I didn't fall asleep on the train back to Porterville. There was something disturbing about Heyes and it wasn't just his shaved head, weight loss, or his respect for the guard. It was like he was wound tight, holding everything inside before exploding. I'd seen him explode at people at the height of his outlaw days. He'd lose control and it was terrifying. Only the Kid could talk him down from his rage. And the Kid wasn't here; Heyes was alone. I hoped his years of living a law-abiding life had toned down his temper. I hoped that, but after visiting him, I didn't believe it.
ASJ*****ASJ
When I got back home, I sent Heyes paper and ink as promised. As an afterthought I went to the cafe and bought four dozen cookies, two for Heyes and two for the Kid. I had no idea what kind of cookie Heyes preferred or even if he liked cookies. I couldn't remember ever seeing him eat one. The Kid, on the other hand, enjoyed food, including cookies.
ASJ*****ASJ
My initial visit with the Kid was delayed another week due to his behavior. I had told Heyes the truth. Curry wasn't in a dark cell. In the Yuma Prison, the solitary cell was built into the side of the mountain. It was a cell with iron bars built into a large cave-like room. Light came from high above through a hole cut up into the mountain. Sunlight pounded down into the center of the cell, raising the daytime temperatures to nearly unbearable. Moonlight, when there was a moon, shone down, pushing back the darkness of the night. Sunlight and moonlight were not the only things to come through the hole. There were also snakes.
I had heard a story of Kid Curry in solitary that had already passed into legend. I was told that one day a snake came through the hole. The Kid's reflexes were so fast that he caught the snake as it fell and threw it out into the surrounding room through the iron bars before it could bite, stunning it against the wall. Typical of the Kid I knew; he had remained vigilant until the guard brought food the next morning and warned him about the snake. If it was true, I hoped it earned him some leniency with the guards.
After seeing the changes in Heyes, I tried to prepare myself for the ones in Curry. I knew he'd look different without those wild, blond curls but didn't know what else to expect. Like Heyes, he was escorted into the visitor's room shackled hand and foot. But there was something in the way he moved that ignored their constraints, not arrogance but an innate confidence.
He gave me a lopsided, warm smile when he saw who was visiting. His lip had visible stitches and bruising that appeared more prominent on his pale skin. He waved his shackled hand at me in greeting, and I saw bruises healing on his knuckles. His head had indeed been shaved but was now covered with a light fuzz doing its best to curl. An ugly scar had formed across the back of his head. The cut over his left eye that he'd received when arrested, still had stitches. On closer look, the first cut had healed some and a new one included some of the first and extended it past his hairline. The purple red bruising allowed his eye to only open a slit.
"Hey, Lom, good to see you! I wondered who had come to visit me," he greeted me in a warm voice.
"Hi, Kid, heard you were having a hard time settling in. Looks like it, too."
Again, the lopsided smile showed through the bruises. "Yeah, everyone wants a piece of Kid Curry and I try to accommodate them."
"Kid…"
"No lectures, Lom. I know what you're gonna say. Doctor says my head injury makes me angry and loosens my control of my temper." He looked down at the floor. "Didn't believe him at first but as time has passed, I feel it. Getting less angry, more control. Workin' on fightin' less and getting better."
It was one of the longest speeches I had heard the Kid ever give except when he was reviewing an upcoming job back at Devil's Hole. And I believed him.
"How's Heyes?"
"Model prisoner, no trouble, does what he's told and sticks to himself," I answered, but forgot the Kid was as good as Heyes as reading people, maybe better.
"But?" he asked.
I wasn't going to lie about this. The lie to Heyes still bothered me, even if it was for his own good. "He's skinny, rail thin, in fact. He's too calm. Heyes needs to be moving, thinking, planning, pacing. He's keeping everything inside."
"And you're afraid he's gonna explode like back at the Hole?" Curry understood what I was saying. Thinking for a moment, he continued, "Tell Heyes, I'll stop fightin' if he starts eatin' and starts plannin' our life when we get out of here as free men."
"I will."
"You still see the governor, Lom?" Then that same smile. "Still the same governor?"
"Same man; still meet with him twice a month. He hasn't said yes, but he mentions a future yes."
Curry looked at the ceiling, quiet. "Hope then," he said quietly.
"Anything you want, Kid? Anything you need?"
His uninjured eye got a sparkle. "Cookies were good. Shared them around. More are always welcome. And a book. Always let Heyes read aloud to me but now I gotta do it for myself. Ain't got library privileges no more. Ain't really got any privileges no more. Lost them all." He sighed. "Workin' on makin' some plans like Heyes, some changes for my future."
I was surprised at the optimistic attitude of the battered, shackled man before me.
"Lom, need to ask you a favor, though." He looked at me as if I would refuse any request.
"What, Kid? If I can do it, I will."
'There's a lady special to me and Heyes named Chrissy McWinters. We told her all about us, real names, the amnesty and all. We gave her your name and address to contact if she needed anything."
And now I was going to lie to the Kid. "McWinters? Like the McWinters Gang?" I asked, trying to sound innocent of the lady and her family.
"Her brothers. I heard the oldest, Matt, is in prison up there in Wyoming with Heyes. But she ain't like them. Tried to keep them on the straight and narrow."
"Matt McWinters is in there with Heyes? He know him?"
"We've known all the McWinters kids since they was boys. They stayed at the Hole when they were young and later were a part of the Devil's Hole Gang until Heyes kicked Mark out of the gang. The others left with him, but came back from time to time."
I listened to Kid explain but was thinking about Heyes and the unpleasant complications that might raise their head.
"Will you help her if she needs help, Lom? Chrissy's real important to me and Heyes." The sincerity in the Kid's voice made me feel guilty about my secret and the lie I was about to tell to cover it up.
"Yeah, Kid. If she contacts me, I'll help her." There the lie was complete, told to both cousins, two men who trusted me.
The Kid looked satisfied, and I was again surprised about his presence. Even in chains, he acted as if he was in control of his destiny and knew it.
"So, cookies and books? I'll send paper and ink, too. Heyes requested some to write to you."
"Tell him to take care of himself. I want him healthy and full of plans for our life when we finally get out of here." Again, the Curry optimism was showing through.
"And you stop fighting everyone who looks at you sideways," I told him.
"Stopped already. Took the last beatin' because I refused to fight." Grinning, he looked at the guard in the corner who nodded back.
"Next time we'll try and break up any fight quicker," the guard answered with a familiarity that made me remember the snake rumor.
"Kid, what's this story about you catching a falling snake?"
Motioning to the door, the guard told me firmly, "That's a story for another day."
"Bye, Kid."
"Bye, Lom. Enjoyed our visit," the Kid said as the door closed on me leaving Curry to his fate inside.
On the long train ride back to Porterville, I thought about my first of many visits with Hannibal Heyes and Jed "Kid" Curry. Planning on what I was going to report to the governor in our next meeting, I pulled the best from each visit and began to prepare my speech for their amnesty.