The Aftermath
Most childhood stories have the younger of the two boys quite dependent on his older cousin. This story levels the playing field and looks at the strength they each derive from the other, thus forming an equal partnership.
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Hannibal Heyes opened his eyes and studied the cracks in the ceiling. The moonlight filtering through the windowpanes provided just enough dull gray light in the room to make out the two long rows of thirteen narrow, single beds, each occupied by a boy who, like Heyes himself, had earned the bed by surviving the cruel hardships of an approaching war and the devastating loss of the lives of family.
Wakeful nights had become a patterned ritual for Hannibal Heyes since he arrived at the Valparaiso School for Waywards, an elaborate name for the orphanage now housing many of the indigent orphans of pre-war skirmishes and raids. Most of those children had witnessed the atrocities of events that had left them homeless, penniless, and all alone in the world.
Still on his back in the bed, Heyes turned his head to the right to dispel the nighttime terror that plagued him by confirming that his younger cousin, Jed Curry, was not among the dead, but was sleeping soundly in the bed beside him. It was a confirmation he sought nearly every night.
While the Lawrence, Kansas massacre was now eight months and thirteen days behind them, twelve-year-old Hannibal Heyes was fraught nightly with the memories of the nightmarish scenes he had witnessed and endured. These vivid memories kept him from sleeping every night, and on those rare occasions when he was able to fall asleep, he'd waken in the darkness to find himself drenched in a cold sweat. This was true for many of the boys, but apart from a few nights immediately following the raid and massacre, nothing seemed to interfere with Jed's nighttime slumber.
The affirmation that he was not alone in the world was both calming and grounding to Heyes. Being the older of the two boys, Heyes felt that he carried the weight of responsibility for looking after his younger cousin. He didn't see this responsibility as a burden, but rather as the fulfilment of an unspoken post-mortem promise to the parents and godparents of their family who had perished before their eyes.
Heyes tossed back his blanket and sat on the edge of his bed with his bare feet firmly planted on the cold, hard floor. He gathered the blanket in one hand and picked up the book on the nightstand, then padded across the room to a large window where the moonlight was bright enough to provide youthful eyes the comfort of reading. Sitting on the windowsill, Heyes wrapped himself in the warmth of the wool blanket and opened the book.
Hours later the rooster crowed, signaling the impending sunrise and waking all the boys in the large dormitory room. Still wrapped in the blanket, Heyes returned to his own small, allotted space and dropped the blanket on the bed and the book back on the nightstand. Sitting back down on the edge of the bed, Heyes saw blue eyes and a tuft of curly blond hair poking out of the blanket in the bed beside him.
"You sleep Kid?"
Jed Curry nodded and brought the blanket down to his shoulders. He raised his arms above his head and stretched through a long yawn. "You?"
Heyes shrugged. "Some."
This simple conversation that they repeated every morning answered far more questions than were actually asked, and both boys now focused their attention on dressing and gathering their schoolbooks so as not to be late for breakfast.
The Valparaiso School for Waywards was located in southwestern Kansas and sat on a hundred acres of farmland ten miles east of the nearest town. The rules were strict, and each boy had assigned chores that might include the milking of cows, the cleaning of stalls and the pitching of hay, or the emptying of the slop pots each morning before breakfast and the start of classes. Every boy was expected to work two hours after classes in one of three fields of crops that supplied the school with potatoes, corn, and beans. In late autumn classes were cancelled for two weeks while the boys, under the supervision of teachers and the headmaster, harvested the vegetables that would help feed them throughout the winter months.
Being farm boys, both Heyes and Jed welcomed the familiarity of the chores and found those hours to be the most relaxing and comforting hours of each day. Except for the time spent in classes, the two boys were never out of eyesight or earshot of the other. But while one also relished the time in class and the challenge of expanding his education, the other by far preferred the breaking of ground and the hands-on manual labor of farming.
"You ever gonna take your nose outta that book?" Jed found himself asking on a daily basis, usually at night as he and the other boys readied themselves for bed.
Always Heyes would slap the book closed and toss it onto the nightstand, then wait patiently for his cousin to douse the light and climb into his own bed for a few minutes of whispered conversation before all the lights were doused in keeping with the strict rule of the nine pm curfew.
"I just started a book I think you'd like, Jed. It's called 'Hans Brinker.' It's about a boy growing up in Holland and he enters a race where the first prize is a pair of silver ice skates."
"Pure silver?" Jed asked. "Cuz if they're pure silver he could sell em for a lot of money."
"He don't want to sell them. Silver blades glide along ice like a knife slices through a piece of cake."
Jed grew silent for long moment. "I miss my ma's cake," he said quietly.
Heyes silently chided himself for making a comparison that would evoke memories of home.
"Heyes, would you read me some of that book?" Kid asked.
Heyes was thankful for the darkness in the room, knowing Kid couldn't see the small, sad smile on his face. "Sure Kid. I'll start tomorrow night."
Again, Kid was quiet and still for some time. "You ever think about em?" he whispered.
"Almost all the time. Do you?"
Kid nodded, forgetting that his cousin could not see his response. "I hear you talking to em in your sleep sometimes."
Heyes winced. The last thing he wanted was for his cousin to ever think there might be a chink in his protective armor. But they had always been honest with each other and knowing Jed very rarely spoke of the past, Heyes was not about to squelch a candid moment.
"I dream about them a lot," he confessed.
"That's why you don't sleep much."
"S'pose so. Do you dream about them?"
The question was met with silence as Jed again responded with a short shake of his head.
"I miss em something fierce," Heyes said, knowing he was giving words to his cousin's thoughts.
"Me too," came the whispered confession.
The dormitory door opened casting a long ray of lamplight across the floor. "All lights out," Mr. Saxton, the Headmaster announced despite the fact the room was dark. Without another word or well-wish for a good night's sleep, the door closed, and the lamp light vanished.
Heyes scooted down in his bed and pulled the blanket up to his shoulders. "Good night, Kid."
"I hope you get some sleep tonight, Heyes."
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For Heyes and Jed, life at the orphanage had begun with them both still dazed with thoughts unfocused, and nerves frayed. Suddenly being thrust into a life of strict conformity and sharing all their waking and sleeping hours in the company of twenty-four strangers ranging in age from six to sixteen and supervised by nine stern teachers, was a stark difference from life on their family's Kansas homesteads. They had always shared a close bond but now one was seldom seen without the other. Though each had found a few friends among the other boys, their trust rested solely between themselves.
By the time they had reached the milestone of one year at Valparaiso School for Waywards, Hannibal Heyes had turned thirteen. Jed was now eleven and was adding inches to his height and some weight to his body and the two boys stood nearly shoulder to shoulder with Heyes claiming just a half an inch advantage.
Jed's quiet demeanor was often misinterpreted as aloofness or even sullenness, but the truth was that he had discovered he could often learn more about another person's character by watching and listening, rather than by he himself doing much talking. Since arriving at the Valparaiso school, Jed had discovered that people often tossed words about without conviction and made idle promises they had no intention of honoring. He had quickly learned to trust no one except his cousin and to never make a promise he did not intend to keep.
Jed had a natural charm, a warm smile, and an empathetic ear. He was respectful to all, kind to the downtrodden, and always a supporter of the underdog. Hannibal Heyes both admired and envied Jed's natural charm and likability. Whereas Jed appeared calm and easy-going, Heyes was always planning and plotting and coming up with mischievous schemes that often attracted the interest of the other boys, and equally often resulted in detentions or other such punishments. But once Heyes realized that his cousin's charm coupled with his own quick thinking and silver tongue rhetoric made the duo a very formidable partnership, their futures had unknowingly been cast.
"Kid," Heyes whispered as they lay in their beds one dark, moonless night. "You ever think about leaving here?"
One sleepy blue eye opened and Jed turned his head in the direction of his partner. "Only all the time," he replied. "You got a plan?"
"No, but I'll have come up with one when the time is right."
"It's gonna take some money. You got any ideas on that subject?" Jed asked.
"You remember that book of rules we got when we arrived here?"
"You mean that one I never read?"
Heyes' smile went unseen in the darkness. "Yeah, that one. I read it cover to cover and at the age of fourteen, the school allows students to take a job in town so long as it don't interfere with chores and schoolwork. Well, when I turn fourteen, I plan to do just that, and we'll save every penny till we have enough to go."
"That don't give me a chance to contribute to the cause," Jed reminded his partner.
"No, but once we're out, there's nothing stopping you from working. Maybe we can hire ourselves out to a farmer or a rancher. Either way, I think when the time's right, we'll manage just fine on our own."
"Fourteen is still months away for you. This idea of yours ain't gonna happen anytime soon, is it?"
"Grandpa Curry always said that anything worth doing is worth doing right and waiting till we've got some money, gives us the time to plan this out right," Heyes replied.
"Heyes, you really do have a silver tongue. You can count me in. But for now, I'm going to sleep."
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Ten months passed until Heyes reached the milestone birthday of fourteen years old. The day began as any other, but after finishing his morning chores and eating a hearty breakfast, Heyes forewent classes and instead slipped away and headed for town. Ten miles took nearly two hours to walk, and it was nearly noon by the time he reached the little town of Richfield.
Near the southern border of Kansas, Richfield had a population of nearly two-hundred people and served as a supply source for those traveling west toward Colorado, or south toward Oklahoma and Texas. The town consisted of a large mercantile, a well-stocked livery, a blacksmith shop, the Lonesome Trail saloon, a small bank, and a small church that could not financially support a Pastor. It would be five years before the town would boom with a vast influx of destitute former soldiers and slaves alike, and another ten years before it would be platted.
But when fourteen-year-old Hannibal Heyes walked down the dusty street for the first time, all he saw was a wealth of opportunities and the first step toward freedom and independence. With nary a sou in his pocket, Heyes marched into the first place of business he came to which happened to be the Lonesome Trail Saloon.
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"Did you get a job?" Jed asked from his bed that night.
"Friday and Saturday nights sweeping the floor and doing odd jobs at the Lonesome Trail Saloon," Heyes whispered.
"How much you getting" paid?"
"Fifty cents a night, but there's a catch."
"What kind of catch?" Kid asked.
"The job starts at four in the afternoon and runs till four in the morning. I ain't gonna be able to do my evening chores here."
Jed was silent for a moment as they both knew what Heyes was expecting. "Gonna cost you twenty-five cents a night," Kid replied.
"That's half my pay!" Heyes whispered angrily.
"Don't worry, I ain't gonna spend it. But this way we're equal partners with the money we're saving."
Heyes smiled. "Deal."
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On Friday afternoon at exactly four o'clock, Hannibal Heyes walked into the Lonesome Trail Saloon, eager to begin earning a wage that would one day give him and his cousin independence.
"Right on time," Henry Dobbs, the saloon owner and bartender said. "You can start by carting the buckets out the back door to clean and empty."
Hoping the buckets were anything but a saloon version of a slop pot, Heyes looked about the room to see just where these buckets were located. He saw what looked like a paint can on the floor at each end of the bar.
It quickly became obvious to Henry that his new hire had no idea what he was being asked to do.
"In the back alley is a rain barrel. Slop some water from the barrel into each bucket, one at a time," Henry explained. "Swish the water around in the bucket and then empty the contents in the alley. There's two buckets at the bar and another one under every table."
"Yes sir," Heyes replied and picked up the two buckets at the bar and headed for the back door.
Outside Heyes poured a ladle of rainwater into each of the two buckets, wincing and turning up his nose at the smell that filled his nostrils. Swirling the water around in the first bucket, he tossed the slimy, brown liquid into the alley and immediately began gagging at the sight and smell of the diluted contents, a mixture of brown tobacco juice and spittle. He set the empty bucket on the ground and walked several steps away before taking deep breaths of fresh air to clear his nostrils.
Hearing loud chuckles from behind him, Heyes turned to see Henry standing in the doorway with his arms folded across his chest.
"Hold your breath when you empty the buckets and look the other way. After a while you won't even notice the stink."
"Yes sir, I'll try that," Heyes replied with a doubtful nod of his head.
"When you're done here, the floor needs swept before the night crowd starts fillin' up the place," Henry said before heading back into the saloon.
An hour later with the buckets emptied and returned to their proper places, and the floor swept, Henry called Heyes behind the bar to explain his general duties for the night.
"Keep a constant eye on the room and keep it clean. There's a barrel of sawdust in the storage room. If some cowboy overindulges on spirits and expels his stomach contents on the floor, you fill the sawdust bucket and pour it over the mess. Let it sit a few minutes so the sawdust can do your work for you, then scoop it up and dump it in the trash out in the alley."
Heyes sucked in a deep breath and nodded.
"If the girls are busy, you can gather empty glasses from the tables."
Heyes smiled. He liked the idea of a task that did not involve bodily fluids.
"Now this is important," Henry said with a hand on Heyes' shoulder. "If things get rough, like a brawl or some drunk cowboy calls out a dealer, you get behind the bar here and crouch down, or you get outside quick. Things like that don't happen often but when they do, it can get ugly fast. Last thing I want is a child getting killed in my establishment."
"Yes sir. I'll take cover."
"And one more thing," Henry added. "You're young and coming from the orphanage, you're likely not too worldly as yet. Until you've got money to pay, these girls are off limits. They'll do their best to entice a young boy like you, but you're a paying customer just like everybody else when it comes to the ladies. So even if they offer you a free ride, you just say no."
"Oh, don't worry sir, I don't need a free ride. I can get wherever I'm going on my own two feet."
Henry uttered a hearty laugh. "You just keep that in mind, son."
When the saloon closed its doors at three in the morning, Heyes gave the floor a final sweeping before starting back to the school on foot. He arrived just in time for breakfast and was surprised to find Kid sitting on the steps of the porch waiting for him.
"You're up early for a Saturday."
Kid smiled and pulled himself to his feet and followed Heyes inside to the dining hall.
"How did it go?" Kid asked while carrying his breakfast plate to an empty table.
"A room full of drunk cowboys who don't know or don't care that there's a limit to how much alcohol a stomach can hold makes for a lot of cleaning up work, but the worst was having to clean out the spit pots."
"The what?" Kid asked while shoveling a large spoonful of scrambled eggs into his mouth.
"You remember having to gather cow pies?" Heyes asked and Kid nodded. "And cleaning out a stall after a mare drops a foal?"
Again, Kid nodded while adding a strip of bacon to the eggs he was chewing.
"Well, put all that in a bucket and add some water to make it all soupy. That's what the inside of a spit pot looks and smells like."
Kid dropped his fork onto his plate. "You couldn't wait to describe that after I ate?"
Heyes grinned. "Sorry. You managed alright with all my chores?"
"Took me a while to get it all done but I'll manage just fine."
"Good, and I'm sure things will get easier for the both of us once we get into some kind of a routine. In the meantime, I'm going to bed. If I'm not up by noon, wake me."
Jed watched Heyes head out of the room. He looked down at his still full plate and thought of the cow pies and afterbirth that Heyes had describe and with a frown, he pushed his plate away and sighed.
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The weeks passed and at the end of the month they had four dollars saved. For two boys who had never had more than ten cents between, four dollars seemed like a fortune. Heyes took to wearing a bandanna around his neck when he went to work, and he pulled it up over his mouth and nose when he cleaned the spit pots. The working girls did taunt him with suggestive innuendos, but after some initial embarrassment, Heyes quickly learned to take the banter in the jovial fashion it was intended. Within a few months, even the patrons thought of him as a central part of the saloon and would shout out their drink orders to him almost as often as to the girls.
On a slow night, some of the regulars would invite Heyes to sit in on a game of poker. Each player would spot him a few cents to bet. His quick mind caught onto the game in a short time and once in a while he would go home with a few extra cents in his pocket.
When the cold weather set in, Dobbs was concerned about the boy walking ten miles in the dead of night. "I live three miles outta town on the same road you take to get back to the orphanage," he told Heyes on blistery cold Friday night. "I can't do nonthin' to ease your hardship coming to work on Friday afternoon, but if you've a mind to, you can come home with me and sleep in the loft of my barn. I'll give you a ride to work on Saturday and I'll drive you all the way back to the school after work on Saturday nights."
"I'd very much have a mind to Mr. Dobbs. Thank you," Heyes replied."
Jed was not exactly pleased when Heyes told him of Mr. Dobb's offer. In fact, he was rather envious of his cousin's newfound freedom, but he saw the logic of the offer and did not try to persuade Heyes to reconsider.
Kid was, however, very interested in learning the game of poker and, as it turned out, so were several of the other boys. So, Sunday afternoons, a small group of the older boys would slip away to the barn where Heyes would instruct them on the rudiments of the game. They used matchsticks in place of money and several of the boys, including Kid and Heyes, actually developed some skill of the game.
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By the time Spring returned to Kansas, Heyes and Kid had saved thirty-six dollars and fifty-seven cents that they kept in a small leather pouch beneath two floorboards in the corner stall in the barn. Every Sunday morning, in the wee hours of the night, Jed would meet Heyes at a rear door of the school when Heyes returned from work. Heyes would hand over his dollar which was always paid to him in cash. While Heyes headed off to bed, Jed would slip into the barn, clear the straw and pry up the floorboards to make their weekly deposit. He would then carefully replace and secure the boards and kick the straw about before returning to his bed.
Jed and Heyes spent most Sunday evenings in the school library, a small room on the first floor with shelves of books and six study tables. There both boys would first do their weekend homework and then whisper in hushed tones about their plans for one day setting off on their own.
Finishing the last math problem, Heyes closed his book and leaned back in his chair. Looking across the table, he watched Jed as he sat with his cheek resting on the back of one hand while tapping his pencil on a blank sheet of paper.
"You daydreaming or actually trying to come up with an idea?" Heyes asked.
Kid didn't move but raised his eyes to look across the table. "I gotta write a paper for History Class. It ain't due for over a week so I've got time to think on it a while."
"What's the topic?"
"How reconstruction is reuniting the country for the better."
"You want some ideas?"
Jed shook his head. "I know Mr. Cantrell wants us all to talk about the economy and the expansion of commerce and how much life is improving for everyone, and that's probably what I'll end up writing."
"But?"
"But I think he's overlooking the fact that for a lot of people, life ain't getting better."
"Are you talking about the freed slaves?" Heyes asked.
"I'm talking about a lot of folks, including slaves and soldiers that have lost an arm or a leg and can't work like they could before the war, and I don't think the war didn't change a lot of people's way of thinking. Killin' President Lincoln is proof of that. And with all the fighting and the raids, there's a lot of families torn apart. They can't farm burned out fields or land turned into burial grounds. They can't sell livestock that the soldiers stole to feed the troops. Why sow a field if there ain't no one left to harvest it?"
"You raise some valid points and if I was Mr. Cantrell, I think I would be very interested in reading different points of view," Heyes replied.
"So, you're saying that's what I should write?"
"I think there's a lot to consider about the whole process of Reconstruction and your ideas are bringing some of those points to light. I've always found Mr. Cantrell to be intellectually open-minded and he'd likely use some of those opinions to engage a class discussion. You'll probably be surprised just how many varying opinions there are right there in the classroom."
Kid nodded. "You know, the war might be officially over, but sometimes I think it's never really gonna end cause lettin' go is sometimes just too hard to do."
Heyes knew that Jed's words were a reflection of their own lives and all they had sacrificed. Over the course of the few years they had navigated together, they rarely put words to the atrocities they themselves had survived, and he found himself realizing just how grateful he was that they had each other.
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With Hannibal Heyes at work, Jed spent Saturday afternoon in the library determined to write his essay on how Reconstruction was building a united country. He'd been struggling with the assignment all week and was certain his personal thoughts on the matter were not aligned with the views of his teacher. Torn between writing the paper that he thought was expected or writing the paper that reflected his own views, Jed finally decided to follow his conscience.
Three hours later, Jed glanced at the clock and saw that it was time for dinner. He had hoped to have the paper completed, but once he put pencil to paper, his thoughts moved faster than his fingers could write. He put his pencil down and closed his tablet and placed it on top of his books with a plan to return to the library after he'd had dinner and had completed his and Heyes' evening chores.
Jed returned to the library as the sun was setting, determined to finish the paper so he'd be free for the Sunday afternoon poker game in the barn. Two of the oldest boys in the school, Bill Wilkes and Tom Henshaw were sitting at the table with Jed's notebook in front of them.
Jed walked over to the table and reached for his notebook, but Tom slammed his hand on top of the papers, daring Jed to lay claim.
"Give that to me. It's mine," Jed said calmly but fearlessly.
"You write this?" Tom replied without moving his hand from the notebook. "Mr. Cantrell's gonna get a good laugh outta some little pipsqueak that thinks southern sympathizers are still trying to pour salt in the wounds of a broken country."
"I said give that to me," Jed said with some menace creeping into his voice.
"Kansas got what it deserved. You're orphaned because Kansans ain't nothing more than milksop who couldn't take a side and couldn't defend what was theirs."
"You take that back, Henshaw," Jed growled.
"Or what? You gonna show me what a Kansas boy is made of?"
Jed reached for his notebook a second time, but Tom snatched it from the table and held it tight in his hand. Seeing no choice but to forcibly retrieve what belonged to him, Jed reached for the back of Tom's chair and yanked it back, knocking both the chair and Tom to the floor. The notebook flew out of Tom's hand and across the room, coming to a stop when it slammed against a bookshelf and dropped to the floor.
Jed jumped on Tom and slammed his fist hard into Tom's chin just as Bill leaped on top of Jed, knocking him flat on the floor. Jed kicked hard and threw his fists but was no match for the two older boys and minutes later, Tom and Bill stood over the crumpled boy, momentarily unable to pull himself to his feet.
"Come on, Bill. Let's get outta here," Tom said as he stepped over Jed and he and Bill headed for the door.
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Sunday morning Heyes returned from his job and walked into the dormitory where he saw that Kid's bed had not been slept in. "Where's Jed?" he asked with growing concern.
He was met with silence as most of the boys stopped dressing and avoided eye contact, thus convincing Heyes that something was amiss. Heyes walked down the aisle between the two rows of beds and carefully watched how each boy reacted. Most dropped their chins, but a few gave quick glances toward the only two boys who were continuing to dress. Heyes Stopped at the space between the foot of the beds belonging to these two boys.
"What's happened to Jed?" Heyes said in a low but commanding voice.
"Ain't seen him," Bill Wilkes replied.
"That ain't what I asked," Heyes replied.
Bill's eyes darted toward Tom Henshaw, the second of the two boys, and Heyes turned his attention to Tom. "Where is he?"
"Don't know," Tom said nervously.
Before Heyes could respond, the door to the dormitory opened and Mr. Cantrell, the History teacher stepped into the room.
"Mr. Heyes, come with me," he said softly but with the authority of a seasoned teacher.
Bill saw Heyes' hand ball into a fist. "This isn't over," he hissed, then turned and followed Mr. Cantrell out the door and down the stairs.
"Is Jed alright?" Heyes asked as Mr. Cantrell led him down a hall toward the office of the headmaster.
Robert Saxton stood in the hall outside his office. Across the hall was another room with a closed door.
"Where's Jed? Is he hurt?" Heyes asked.
Saxton glanced toward the closed door. "A few bruises is all, Mr. Heyes," Saxton replied. "We've moved a bed into this room for him to sleep tonight."
"Did Tom and Bill pick a fight with him?"
Mr. Saxton opened the door to his office and ushered Heyes and Mr. Cantrell inside. He offered chairs, but Heyes remained standing.
"So, are Bill and Tom the two Jed done battle with?" Heyes asked.
"They are, and Jed readily admits to being the one to render the first punch. Bill and Tom both deny any knowledge as to what provoked Jed and I'm afraid Jed is refusing to answer that question entirely. I thought perhaps you might know or might be able to ascertain that information from Jed?"
"Well, I can tell you in all honesty that I don't know, but I ain't gonna try to prod it outta Jed, neither. If he wants me to know, he'll tell me, and if he don't, he won't."
"Without a full explanation, I'm afraid any disciplinary action will solely befall Jed being as he admits to rendering the first punch. It would be to his advantage to explain, Hannibal."
"Jed's twelve so he's old enough to make his own decision on the matter. I won't try to persuade him. Have you told him what you've told me?"
Mr. Sextan nodded. "I have."
"What sort of discipline are you talking about?" Heyes asked.
"Without a better understanding of what provoked this incident, and to ensure the safety of all, Jed will be isolated from the other boys. This room across the hall will be his quarters for a month. He will sit away from the other boys, including you in both the classrooms and the dining room."
"And he knows this?"
Yes, he's aware of the consequences of his actions."
"Mr. Saxton, you've known Jed for almost three years. You know he ain't prone to fighting and he wouldn't ever try to hit me."
"I'm sorry Hannibal, but the rules apply to all the students, you included. Our isolation policy does not keep him from attending classes or doing his chores, but it does severely limit his interactions with his peers."
"Can I go talk to him now, before you evoke this punnishment?"
"Yes, but bear in mind what I have said about the disciplinary action. If he chooses not to explain the provocation, this will be your last conversation with him for a month." Mr. Saxton told him.
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Heyes tapped lightly on the door across the hall but did not wait for a response. Instead, he opened the door just far enough to slip inside and he quickly shut the door behind him.
Jed was lying on his side with his back facing the door and offered no indication that he was aware of his cousin's presence. The morning light streamed in through the open window and birds could be heard chirping outside.
"You might as well turn around and let me see the damage," Heyes said. "I know better than to think you're sleeping."
Kid slowly shifted to his other side and, with his head still on the pillow, opened his right eye; the left being too swollen and bruised to open without some effort.
Heyes' eyes widened at the sigh of Kid's bruised face and swollen cheek. "You might have gotten in the first punch, but I bet that's the only one you managed. Bill and Tom barely have a mark on em."
"For now, maybe."
Heyes sighed and dragged a chair across the room to sit beside the bed. "I'm guessing you had a pretty good reason?"
Kid nodded. "I guess I ain't a born fighter," he sheepishly admitted.
"I'd say that's a safe bet. Mr. Saxton said the punishment would be lighter if you were to tell him just what this was all about."
Kid shook his head. "It don't concern him.
"Bill and Tom ain't talking neither," Heyes assured him. "And I trust you had a good reason."
"I did," Jed replied and swung his legs over the side of the bed so he was face to face with his cousin. "Heyes, I've given this a lot of thought. I wanna gun."
Heyes looked stunned. "What's gotten into you? A gun's not the answer to anger!"
"I don't wanna use it on nobody if that's what you're thinking."
"Then what do you need a gun for?"
"Because I ain't a fighter."
"So, you want to be a shootist? What kind of sense does that make?"
Kid sighed, and gave his next words some thought before speaking. "I don't want to be a shootist. I just want to be able to protect us if it's ever necessary."
"Protect us from what? What could possibly be so bad that you need a gun to protect us?"
Kid was silent for some time, then looked Heyes in the eyes. "Tom and Bill said… that Kansans got what they deserved and that what happened in Lawrence should serve as an example to the whole country. I couldn't let them get away with saying something like that… that our folks deserved to get killed and that you and me deserved to be…." Kid's voice trailed off before completing his thought aloud.
Heyes suddenly understood just why Kid threw the first punch as he felt a dark anger take hold inside himself. "You did what you had to do, Jed. I would have done the same, and you're right, Mr. Saxton don't need to know what provoked you."
"So, you won't tell him?"
Heyes shook his head. "I won't tell him."
"I'll take the punishment Mr. Saxton doles out. I had to fight. You understand that?"
Heyes nodded. "It's a matter of honor to you. I'll respect that."
"And I mean it, Heyes. I want a gun. You know Pa taught me how to handle a gun proper, and I'll practice and get real good with it. And I'll never use it for revenge, just protection. You got my word."
"Your word is good enough for me, Jed. When we get enough money saved up, we'll talk about this again."
"It don't need more talkin.' One way or another, I'm getting' a gun before we leave here. We ain't gonna run away without protection. Agreed?"
Heyes nodded. "Agreed."
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Jed was granted a few days absence from classes while the bruises and sore muscles began to fade and heal. As promised, he was assigned the small room across the hall from the headmaster's office, coming out only for meals and classes, and even then, sat away from the other students who had been advised to maintain their distance.
Mr. Cantrell taught History and ran a formal classroom, addressing each student with a 'Mister' before his surname. He had four classes of students each day with two consecutive grades of students in each class. Jed was in the seventh and eighth grade class and Heyes was in the nineth and tenth grade class. This put Heyes in the same class as Tom and Bill.
Mr. Cantrell was a tall, slender man with a passion for history and had a way of bringing the past to life in the classroom. He'd been teaching for almost twenty years and brought a personal touch to people and events of America's few hundred-year-old history. He maintained an active correspondence with Robert E. Lee. Matthew Brady, and several infantry level soldiers who had fought on the battlefields of Gettysburg, Antietam, and Vicksburg, and often shared excerpts of these letters with his students to give them a better understanding of the hopes and dreams and goals of the men who fought a war that divided both the country and individual families.
Walking into the nineth and tenth grade History class, Mr. Cantrell carried a notebook that Tom, Bill, and Heyes immediately recognized. Without saying a word, Mr. Cantrell dropped the notebook on his desk, in plain view of all the students. Everyone had heard about the fight and of Jed's month-long retribution. Mr. Cantrell made no reference to the notebook and instead, sat down on a front corner of the desk and folded his arms across his chest and waited for the classroom to quickly grow silent.
"Who can tell me about George Santayana?" Mr. Cantrell asked and watched the exchange of nervous looks among the eight students sitting in front of him.
Heyes raised his hand and Mr. Cantrell smiled. Knowing this student's love of books, it did not surprise Mr. Cantrell that Heyes would know. "Mr. Heyes?"
"He's a philosopher, sir."
"That's right, Mr. Heyes. And just what makes a person a philosopher?" Mr. Cantrell asked, addressing all the students.
When no one volunteered an explanation, Mr. Cantrell unfolded his arms and rested both hands on the edge of the desk.
"A philosopher is someone who can look at a situation or an event, or a relationship and see beyond the surface to the very core of the matter and bring light to the root of the complicated darkness. By doing this, he, or she for that matter, can enlighten the world to the most basic simplicities of emotion, motivation, and basic human drive. Henry David Thoreau, Jean-Paul Sarte, Socrates are a few such examples."
Mr. Cantrell pushed himself gently away from the desk and stood in the center of the classroom and watched as all eyes focused on him.
"George Santayana said, and I quote, 'those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.' Now, in light of the subject matter we have been discussing for the past two weeks, what makes this observation so important?"
The room remained silent, and the students watched as Mr. Cantrell picked up the tattered notebook from his desk.
"Every teacher, every student in this school is aware of the incident that occurred here just a few days ago," Mr. Cantrell said, holding the notebook now in both hands. "Your assignment, which is due tomorrow, is an essay relating that incident to the wisdom of George Santayana. Class is dismissed."
0-0-0-0-0
Heyes woke, dressed, and slipped out of the dormitory room an hour before anyone else would be stirring. He made his way down the stairs and out the front door, disappearing into the still dark night. Moments later Jed heard pebbles striking the windowpane and he tossed back the covers and quickly opened the window when he saw Heyes face illuminated by the moonlight.
"You gonna be in classes today?" Heyes asked.
Jed shook his head. "Tomorrow," he replied.
"What happened to your books?"
"Mr. Saxton brought em back to me. He said Mr. Cantrell found them in the library. Why?"
Heyes shrugged. "Just didn't want you falling behind on your schoolwork."
"That ain't likely to happen. I've got a lot of spare time on my hands for the next month. Mr. Saxton's got Tom and Bill doing all my chores, even the extra ones I've been doing for you. He said he changed his mind about not holding them accountable for some of our skirmish."
"He ain't mad about you doing my chores too?" Heyes asked nervously.
"Nope. In fact, when I told him you was paying me to do your chores, he said he was pleased that we understood the value of a dollar. He says that shows a good work ethic and says the two of us are growing into fine, responsible adults."
Heyes grinned. "I'm sure he'll change his tune when we run away from here, but it's good to know he thinks that way about us now."
"I guess he ain't a bad sort after all," Jed replied.
"I'd better get back before anyone realizes I'm gone. Kid, is there anything you need?"
"My notebook is missing, and my history essay was in it. Other than that, there's nothin."
"I'll see if I can find it and if not, I'll bring you a new one. I'll just slip it in through the window if you leave it open."
Jed nodded and watched Heyes disappear into the night.
An hour later, Heyes sat at a long dining table with eight or ten other students and saw Jed come in through a side door and take a seat alone at a small square table that had been set up well away from the other students. The two instinctively sat so they were facing each other and, though unable to communicate verbally, the two boys exchanged numerous glances in the other's direction, often accompanied by a quick smile or wink.
But Jed's attention was diverted when Mr. Cantrell approached his table with a tray of food and, after exchanging a few words with the boy, he handed Jed the breakfast tray and sat down at the table for a quiet conversation. Heyes watched the interaction intensely. And saw Jed nod his head or speak a few indiscernible words a few times before Mr. Cantrell stood and walked out of the room. When Heyes was finally able to catch Jed's eye, his younger cousin gave him a quick 'OK' sign with this thumb and two fingers as Mr. Santon announced it was time for the students to go to their classes.
0-0-0-0-0
As the students filed into the final History class of the day, Mr. Cantrell sat as his desk and watch each student slide into a desk seat. Bill and Tom both took back row desks and Mr. Cantrell noted with some amusement that Hannibal Heyes took the seat directly across the aisle, appearing as intimidating as he could.
"Pass your essays to the front," he told the class.
Mr. Cantrell gathered the papers and slipped them into his top desk drawer. He then walked to the front of the desk and sat down. "Who can name the state that had the highest fatal casualties of any Union state?"
Eyes darted about as the boys waited anxiously for someone else to answer. Just one hand rose.
"Mr. Heyes?"
"Kansas had the highest Union fatalities."
"And why is that do you suppose, being as Kansas was initially considered an undecided state?"
"For that very reason, sir. Both sides wanted Kansas to declare support for their side and being a boarder state, Kansans suffered from the likes of Quantrill's Raiders who believed force could convince the Kansas legislature to support the South and approve slavery."
"That's correct. Thank you, Mr. Heyes. Now, jumping ahead to just after the war, in what ways was Reconstruction beneficial?"
Two hands rose this time.
"Mr. Weller?"
"Reconstruction began the healing process in the south with a rebuilding of the states and reparation paid by the Federal Government."
"And just who was paid reparation?" Mr. Cantrell asked.
"The plantation owners," Michael Weller replied. "They lost free labor, so the government helped to alleviate that financial loss."
Mr. Cantrell walked the width of the classroom. "How did Reconstruction benefit the former slaves?" he asked.
Once again only one hand rose. "Mr. Heyes?"
"The thirteenth, fourteenth, and fifteenth amendments were written to give the former slaves the same rights as the white folks. Unfortunately, adhering to those amendments didn't come easy to a lot of white folks, a fact that is still true today and likely will be for years, maybe even generations to come."
"A sad but very true point, Mr. Heyes," Mr. Cantrell replied and glanced at the clock on the wall. "Your assignment, gentlemen, is another essay to be handed in tomorrow. Chose one point of failure of the Reconstruction and offer suggestions as to how to correct the failure. Class dismissed."
Heyes was the last to leave and Mr. Cantrell stopped him, in an informal manner.
"Hannibal."
Heyes stopped and turned back, and Mr. Cantrell gestured to him to approach the desk.
"I found this in the library," he said and pulled the notebook from the desk drawer. "Would you be kind enough to return it to Jedediah?"
"I thought…."
"I've spoken to Mr. Saxton and he's granted permission provided you let him know when you are returning it."
Heyes took the notebook and smiled. "Thank you, Mr. Cantrell. I'll do that."
0-0-0-0-0
After stopping by the headmaster's office and confirming the approved visit, Heyes crossed the hall and knocked on the door of Jed's room.
Jed was hesitant about opening the door or even vocally acknowledging the person on the other side as his instructions had been no verbal contact with any of the other students.
"Jed, it's Heyes. Let me in," Heyes said loud enough for Jed to know he was not trying to be unheard.
"It's open," Kid called to him.
Heyes glanced down the hall to be sure no other students were watching, then turned the knob and slipped inside the room, quickly closing the door behind him.
"You ain't supposed to be here and I don't want you getting into trouble on my account," Jed told him.
"It's alright. I got it approved by Mr. Saxton. He even said I could stay till it's time for supper. I think he's feeling guilty cause he knows you didn't start the fight and you was just defending yourself."
Kid grinned. "If I had known that fighting would get me my own private room, I'd have been starting fights since the day I arrived here."
"It's that good, is it?"
"I can stay up as late as I want cause I ain't botherin' nobody and I can go to sleep as early as I want cause there ain't nobody botherin' me."
Heyes smiled, relieved that his cousin was not the least bit remorseful for standing up for himself.
"Oh, I almost forgot," Heyes said while tossing Kid's notebook on the bed. "Mr. Cantrell found this in the library."
Kid picked up the notebook and sat down on the edge of the bed. "Heyes, I had a lot of time to be thinking…."
"And?"
"And, you know my pa was teaching' me how to use a handgun, but do you know why he was teaching me?"
Heyes sat down beside his cousin, expecting a story about how dangerous Kansas was during the time of the pre-war raids. "Why?"
"Because he seen your pa teaching you behind your barn."
Heyes recalled the memory. "We spent months practicing every day," Heyes said.
"My pa knew you'd been practicing for a long time. One day he saw you shootin' at tin cans and when he came home, he walked in the door and announced he was teachin' me startin' that very day."
"Because he saw the value of two skilled shooters?"
Kid looked down at the notebook in his hands and shook his head slowly. "Cause after months of practice, you was still missin' nearly every can. He said one of us should be skilled at using a gun and after watching you, he knew that responsibility would befall me."
"He really said that?" Heyes asked indignantly.
Kid turned his head and raised his eyes to look at his cousin. "He said you had other skills, and that the partnership of our skills would take us far in the world."
"He said that?" Heyes asked a second time, his attitude quickly shifting to one of pride.
"Getting a gun is important, Heyes. Pa said I had a gift that would serve us both well."
"I'll talk to Mr. Hobbs. He might know where we can get a secondhand one, Kid."
0-0-0-0-0
Mister Cantrell stood near the window with his arms folded across his chest as the students in the final class of the day filed into the room and took their seats. As usual, Bill and Tom took seats in the back row and, also as usual, Heyes took the seat directly across the aisle from these two boys. The three boys seldom spoke, but Heyes' close presence had the intended intimidating effect on Tom and BIll.
Once the boys were all seated, Mr. Cantrell moved across the room and stood in front of his desk to face the class.
"I have your essays graded and I must say, some of you offered some very sound and innovated ideas regarding Reconstruction and the means of unifying the country. As you know, each of my classes have been studying this most recent war. The depth of study, the cause and effect, was all age related to each child's stage of learning, and all but the first and second grade class wrote essays on the basic subject of Reconstruction. "
Mr. Cantrell paused and walked slowly down an aisle, coming to a stop near the center of the room.
"Most, if not all the students here at Valparaiso hail from Kansas and most, if not all have experienced the ravages of this war. But one essay stood out among all the others. It was a short essay and very much to the point."
Mr. Cantrell returned to his desk and picked up a sheet of paper, the edges of which had obviously been torn from a notebook. He paused for a moment to garner the full attention of the students before reading an excerpt of the essay aloud.
"There are many valid reasons for a country to go to war, but there are just as many invalid reasons and historically, this country has chosen the latter. War, for the purpose of gaining land or power only exemplifies the political greed of a country and the obvious disregard for the lives of those sent into the battlefields."
Mr. Cantrell paused and looked about the class and was pleased that each student appeared to be listening intently.
"The definition of the word Civil is 'of or relating to the state or its citizenry,' and is befitting the reason for the war between the states. While there were certainly economic factors that played a major political and economic role, it was the humanitarian aspect that brought the common folk to arms, and it will be the blood of the common folk that establish a stronger, united country where everyone of all colors and economic backgrounds can earn a living, own land, and be proud of who they are and what they've done."
Again Mr. Cantrell paused to let the students absorb what he had just read.
"The word Reconstruction misrepresents the aftermath of this war. No one wants to replicate the past or repeat a history that led to so many deaths, so many families destroyed, so many people left alone. We are all human and therefore capable of being humanitarian."
Mr. Cantrell laid the paper on his desk. "Any comments?" he asked.
The room remained silent, and Mr. Cantrell walked around his desk and sat down without uttering another word. The boys all remained silent for the few remaining minutes of the class. When Mr. Cantrell dismissed the class, the boys filed out of the room quietly.
"Mr. Heyes," Mr. Cantrell called out as Heyes neared the door.
Heyes stepped back inside the classroom and waited until all the other boys had left. Mr. Cantrell then picked up the essay paper and held it out to Heyes.
"Would you see that this is returned to Mr. Curry? I have cleared another brief visit before dinner. Just make sure Mr. Saxton is aware of your visit."
"Yes sir."
"Please tell him that was one of the most powerful essays I have ever had the privilege of reading."
0-0-0-0-0
The weeks passed and by the weekend before Jed's detention was complete, Heyes had yet to broach the subject of obtaining a gun with his employer. Determined to have an answer for Jed when he returned to the dormitory the next day, Heyes finally mustered the courage on the ride back to the orphanage early Sunday morning.
"Mr. Dobbs, I was wondering if you would know of anyone wanting to sell a Colt .45?"
Henry Dobbs gave his passenger a quick sideways glance, then gave the reins a shake while he contemplated his reply.
"You in some sort of trouble, Heyes?"
"Oh, no sir. No trouble. My cousin has a birthday coming up and I just thought that would make a fine gift," he lied.
"I thought you didn't have no family," Dobbs replied.
"I just got my cousin. He lives at the orphanage, too."
"How old's he gonna be?"
"Thirteen, and his pa was teaching him how to shoot before… before we came to Valparaiso."
Reading between the lines, Dobbs suspected the boys had a plan in the making. "I doubt the school allows any of you boys to have a gun, son. You never know what some hot-headed boy might do if someone was to rile his temper."
"Jed would never do nothin' like you're suggesting. He's got more respect for guns than anyone I've ever known. His pa taught him good and… well, practicing with his pa is the strongest memory he's got of his pa. I thought that him having an old Colt would kinda keep that memory strong for him."
Dobbs turned his head and looked at Heyes in the moonlight. "I tell you what, when you boys decided to leave that orphanage, you stop by and see me, and I'll see what I can do for you. But I wanna get a gander at your cousin to see for myself just what kinda of man he's growing into. A gun can save a life, but it can also take one, and I've got to be sure that a couple of young boys on their own are old enough to understand that responsibility. If I think your cousin is ready to take on that kind of responsibility, I'll see what I can do."
"Thank you, Mr. Dobbs. I'll see if I can bring Jed along with me next weekend if you don't mind him sleeping in your loft one night."
"I left my home when I was sixteen," Dobbs recounted aloud. "Being out on your own is an eye-opener and it takes some planning and an understanding of people. You've gotta know how to read people and I think you've been picking up on that fact. I've seen it when you play poker and the couple of times you've come up against a surly drunk in the saloon. You know how to talk yourself outta a situation. You've got what I like to call a silver tongue."
Heyes smiled at Dobbs, proud of the compliment bestowed on him.
Dobbs brought the wagon to a stop at the gates to the orphanage and Heyes climbed out of the wagon.
"Thanks for the ride, Mr. Dobbs. Jed and me will see you next weekend."
0-0-0-0-0
Henry Dobbs was behind the bar unpacking wooden crates of bottled whiskey and gin when he saw Heyes and another boy walking on the street towards the saloon. Heyes had once told him that his cousin was two years younger than he, but the two boys stood shoulder to shoulder with footsteps taken in unison. Though younger than Heyes, Jed carried a solid twenty pounds more weight than the wiry boy who had been working at the saloon for nearly a year.
Dobbs pulled the last two bottles from the crate and set them on the bar, then heaved the crate toward the growing pile of empty crates accumulating near the back door.
"Mr. Dobbs, this is my cousin, Jed Curry," Heyes announced as the two boys entered the saloon and came to a stop on the customer side of the bar.
The curly haired blond gave Dobbs a polite nod of his head.
"I suppose you go by your last name, too?" Dobbs asked.
Kid shook his head. "I generally go by Jed," he replied.
"Well, you might as well earn your keep and help Heyes cart them crates out the back door and break em down. When you're done with that, you boys can lug them kegs of beer inside and line em against the north wall in the back room."
"Yes sir," the two boys said in unison and quickly began carrying the empty crates out to the back alley.
After the crates had been torn apart and the beer kegs had been moved from the alley to the storage room, the boys returned to the saloon and Heyes proceeded to include Jed with the completion of his chores. They cleaned the spittoons, wept the floor and picked up empty glasses when the girls were busy serving drinks or preoccupied upstairs. Heyes had warned Jed that the girls would likely tease and toy with him but, despite the fact that more than a few comments did cause Jed to blush, he enjoyed the banter almost as much as the ladies.
At the end of the night, after the last customer had wobbled out of the saloon and all the cleanup tasks were finished, Heyes and Jed climbed into the back of Mr. Dobbs wagon for the ride to his place and a bed of straw in the barn loft.
The boys were awakened the next morning to the sounds of Mr. Dobbs in the barn preparing to milk the cow.
"Martha's got a hot breakfast waiting for you two in the house," Dobbs told them when he saw them climbing down the ladder from the loft.
"I could milk the cow for you if you'd like," Jed offered.
"Emma's a might persnickety about who does her milkin,'" Dobbs replied. "But when I'm done, I'm gonna do a little target practice out back behind the barn, and you boys are welcome to join me."
Dobbs saw Jed's eyes light up at the thought of target practice. "It's been a long time since I've done any shootin,'" Jed replied. "But I'd sure like to try my hand at it, Mr. Dobbs."
"Then you'd best get in the house and fill your belly," Dobbs said with a grin and the two boys hurried off to the house.
0-0-0
After a hot meal of home cooking that Kid had not tasted in nearly three years, the two boys raced back to the barn, nearly tripping over the pail on warm milk that was sitting on the porch to cool and allow the cream to rise to the top.
Mr. Dobbs was behind the barn setting empty cans along the top rail of the wooden fence. He had two Winchester rifles loaded and leaning against the wall of the barn and two empty handguns sitting on a tree stump along with a box of bullets and a box of rifle shells.
"Either of you handy with a rifle?" Dobbs asked.
"We both used to go hunting with our pas," Heyes said confidently.
Dobbs walked over to the rifles and picked up one and handed it to Heyes. "Let's see what you can do."
Though Heyes was the one shooting at the cans, it was Jed that Dobbs kept a careful eye on. Kid maintained a safe distance behind his cousin and folded his arms and leaned against the barn wall, quiet as a mouse but focused on Heyes' every move. Heyes took careful aim and fired a shot, then recocked the rifle and stared down the rifle sight before firing a second time. When he was finished, two cans lay twenty feet away on the ground.
"That's fine shooting from someone who claims to be a bit rusty," Dobbs replied. "Now let's see what your cousin can do," he said with a nod to Jed.
Heyes handed over the rifle and Jed pulled two shells from the box and loaded the rifle before walking over to the spot where Heyes had stood.
"I'm better with a handgun" Jed explained before taking aim and firing. The can flew into the air and fell to the ground twenty feet away.
After firing, Kid positioned the butt of the rifle under his arm, so the barrel was pointed directly to the ground before turning away from the targets. "Cans are a might easier than a rabbit," he said modestly.
Dobbs smile. "I expect they are. Now let's see how you do with a handgun."
Dobbs reached for the rifle and emptied the remaining shell. "I've got a Colt and a Belgian. Take your pick."
Dobbs watched Jed walk over to the handguns and pick one up and then the other, noting that the boy felt the balance and weight of each gun and visually checked the accuracy of the sights. He saw him open and roll the chamber and test the feel of the grip in his hand. Jed set the Belgian back down on the tree stump and again felt the balance of the Colt.
"I'd like to try this one, sir," Jed said with an air of reverence in his voice.
"Then load it up and we'll see what you can do."
"Beggin' your pardon, but would you happen to have a holster?" Jed asked.
"Got one hanging in the barn as you first walk in," Dobbs replied and with a nod of his head in Heyes' direction, Heyes ran around to the front of the barn and returned with a less than pristine holster that he handed to Jed.
Dobbs watched as Jed strapped on the holster and tied the strap to his thigh, then ran his hand gently over the weather-beaten leather. Jed then loaded the chamber of the gun with six bullets and snapped it shut. He slipped the Colt into the holster and let his hand hover to check that the gun and holster were at the most optimal position. Then he moved to a spot twenty feet from the row of cans still standing on the fencepost.
"Any time you're ready," Dobbs said.
Jed assumed the stance his father had taught him. He could hear his father's whispered voice advising him to flex his fingers and visually eye the line of fire.
In an instant the gun was in his hand and five of the six shots fired in rapid succession struck their target. Dobbs was both surprised and amazed at Jed's fast and accurate draw.
"Shouldda done better, but it's been a while since I've practiced," Jed said as a simple observation and without a hint of self-admonition.
"You're a fine shot," Dobbs said, without trying to mask the awe in his voice. "How long's it been since you've shot a handgun?"
"Goin' on three years, so I'm a bit rusty."
"Well, you wanna practice a bit more, you just reload and Heyes and me will reset the cans."
Jed smiled. "Thank, sir. I believe I will, and if you've got the supplies, I'll clean the gun for you when we're done."
"I'd be obliged," Dobbs replied.
0-0-0-0-0
Not yet being fourteen years old, Jed was not permitted by the school to hold a job, but there was no restriction to his accompanying Heyes on an occasional weekend, provided the headmaster granted permission. Once a month Jed would accompany his cousin into Richfield and would help Heyes with his duties at the saloon. Jed was agreeable to this as he felt he was contributing to their slowly building savings and it gave he and Heyes time together away from the confines of the orphanage.
When Heyes was just three months away from his sixteenth birthday, the two boys decided that the sixty-five dollars they had managed to accumulate, was enough to last them at least three months on their own and they finalized their plans for running away in the privacy of Mr. Dobbs barn loft one warm summer night in June.
"There's a westbound freight train through Richfield on Friday nights just after midnight," Jed informed his cousin as the two boys lay in a thick bed of straw in the wee hours of a Saturday morning.
"So, next month we can set out like we we're going to my job, but we'll hop a freight car instead and no one at Valparaiso will even miss us till sometime Sunday, and we'll we well into Wyoming by then."
"I still think we should have a gun, Heyes. At the very least, a gun will keep food in our stomachs, and you never know who or what we might come up against."
"Even a used gun is gonna set us back at least fifteen dollars. That'll put a definite crimp in our budget."
"Could also save our lives one day and like I said, it'll put a rabbit on the skewer when we're hungry."
Heyes couldn't disagree with Jed's logic. "Alright. I'll talk to Mr. Dobbs again before we leave. I don't wanna ask too soon 'cause I don't wanna raise his suspicions about what we're doing."
"I think maybe I should be the one that talks to him," Jed replied.
"Why?"
"He's seen me shoot. He knows how good I am and how dedicated I am to improving. He also knows just how responsible I am with a gun. I think I can persuade him to sell me his old Colt .45."
Heyes had to agree that Jed's logic was reasonable and sound. "Alright, you have a talk with him tomorrow and after you've done that, I'll let him know that I'll be quitting at the end of next weekend.
"And I can offer him as much as fifteen dollars for a gun?"
Heyes nodded while wishing his silver tongue would be handling the bartering end of the deal.
0-0-0-0-0
The ride from Dobbs cabin into Richfield was a quiet one and Dobbs knew the boys had something on their minds, but he didn't try to question or pressure them as he knew they would open up when they felt the time was right.
Arriving at the saloon, Heyes went to work immediately sweeping the floor but Kid, not actually being an employee, followed Dobbs behind the bar and offered to clean last night's glasses.
"I appreciate the help, son," Dobbs told him while knowing the boy was trying to establish an opportune moment for a serious discussion of some sort.
Kid put water on the stove to heat then moved the glasses to a spot beside the sink. "When you have some free time Mr. Dobbs, there's something I'd like to talk to you about," Kid told him.
"In case you haven't noticed, there's no such thing as free time when you run a saloon unless you make a point of setting some time aside. Dobbs told him.
But Dobbs also knew something was weighing heavily on Kid's mind. "Sheila," he called to one of the working girls. "Come tend the bar for me." Dobbs then turned his attention to Jed. "Let's go into my office where it's quiet."
Jed nodded and followed Dobbs into his office.
"So, what's on your mind, Jed?" Dobbs asked as he closed the door behind him.
"Well sir, Heyes and me will be leaving Richfield one of these days and…."
"Is Heyes graduating early?" Dobbs asked.
"No sir. It's just that, well we've given this a lot of thought and…. Well, we was raised in good, hard-working families and we both feel that we're old enough to start making something of ourselves. We want to make our folks proud and…."
"Wouldn't a good education do that, at least for a start?" Dobbs asked.
"Yes sir, I s'pect it would but we wanna prove, maybe just to ourselves but… we wanna prove we can stand on our own two feet. We wanna make a name for ourselves, and we don't see an opportunity for that here in Richfield."
"Did Heyes ask you to tell me he's quitting?" Dobbs asked.
"No sir. He's planning on talkin' to you himself. I'm here about… about another matter."
"I see, and just what is this other matter?"
"Well, you've been as good as my pa was about lettin' me practice with your Colt and teachin' me all you know about shootin' and handlin' a gun…."
"You haven't required much teachin' Jed. Your father obviously did a fine job with that."
"Thank you, sir. The fact is, I sometimes wonder if things might have turned out different that day if I had had his gun with me."
"Jed don't spend your life wondering about what might have been. The past is the past and you can't change it, and dwelling on it will just chip away at you till there's nothing left. I know about such things because I did that for a good many years until one day, I realized I didn't want to live in the past cause there wasn't a life for me there."
Jed nodded. "I think that's part of why Heyes and me want to get on with our lives instead of spending another couple of years at the orphanage."
"Which brings us back to what you've got on your mind."
"Yes sir. I was wondering if you'd be willing to sell me your Colt .45. I just think with Heyes and me being out on our own… well, I ain't planning on using it for nothing more than makin' sure we don't go hungry, but at the same time… well, I think it would be a useful thing to have. I'd be willin' to pay you as much as fifteen dollars."
"Well, I know you can't have it at the orphanage so, how soon would you be wanting it?" Dobbs asked.
"I'll leave that up to Heyes, sir."
"I think we can work something out," Dobbs told him. "But I don't want your fifteen dollars. You've been helping out here once in awhile and I think that old gun would be a fair payment for the work you've done."
Jed looked up at him with a relieved smile on his face. "Thank you, Mr. Dobbs. I won't forget this."
"When the two of you are ready to set out on your own, you come by and see me, and I'll give you the gun and some ammunition then. And tell Heyes I want at least a week's notice."
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Having given Mr. Dobbs the weeks' notice he had wanted, Kid and Heyes spent what they anticipated to be their final week at the orphanage trying to appear to be going about their business as usual. They attended classes, turned in their homework on time, and completed their assigned chores. But in the wee hours of the night, they were each quietly wrapping their few pieces of clothing and personal items in a large, square bandanna and drawing the four corners into a secure, tight knot. Once they were free from the bonds of the orphanage, they would each attach their bandanna to a stick they could sling over their shoulders.
On the night before their departure, they slipped into the barn to collect their small bag of money stored safely beneath the floorboards of the last stall. Heyes carefully tucked the small bag of money into his bandanna bag before the two boys climbed into the loft and buried their makeshift satchels in a large stack of straw.
The following afternoon, after their final class of the day, the two boys walked out of the confines of the orphanage for the last time and started down the road toward Richfield. But instead of going to the saloon, they hid in the nearby woods until dark, then snuck back into the barn and retrieved their belongings. Giving the hallowed walls of the orphanage one final glance, they left a second time and ran as fast as they could toward Richfield and their long-awaited independence.
They arrived at the saloon near nine in the evening, both tired and panting to catch their breath. Mr. Dobbs had been expecting them and, knowing their intentions, had a hot meal waiting for them, along with a bag of sandwiches and the Colt .45 and well-worn holster.
"I expect you to keep your word," Dobbs told Kid as he slid the gun and holster across the table to him. "If I ever hear that you used this for anything other than what we agreed on it will make be regret this decision for the rest of my life."
"I'll stand by our agreement Mr. Dobbs," Kid replied.
"And I'll help see that he does," Heyes promised.
Dobbs smiled. "I've got a feeling the two of you will definitely make your marks in the world. The two of you have a sound combination of brains and knowhow and together, you're as fine a fit as a well-worn leather glove. If you ever do run into trouble, there'll always be a job here for you both. Remember that."
"We will Mr. Dobbs, and it's been a real pleasure knowing you," Heyes replied. "I'm confident Kid and me will do just fine, but we'll keep your offer on the backburner."
"And maybe one day our paths will cross again," Kid added.
"I hope they do," Dobbs replied. "I'd like to know how the two of you end up. I'm sure it will be an interesting story to tell your grandchildren," he said with a chuckle.
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Minutes before midnight a distant train whistle announced the train's approaching arrival. Heyes and Jed crouched low in the overgrown grass that edged the tracks just yards beyond the train station. The engine, and seven of the nine cars it pulled, moved slowly past the station's loading dock and grinded to a stop. Two men jumped down from the caboose and climbed onto the station platform where a half a dozen crates stood stacked and waiting to be loaded into the eighth car.
Heyes and Kid had carefully eyed each car as it had slowly passed by. The sliding door of the fifth car was slightly ajar. The boys waited anxiously as the two men loaded the crates into the eighth car, then heaved the sliding door closed, threw the latch, and returned to the warmth of the caboose.
Heyes and Kid waited until they saw the wave of a lantern from the caboose signal to the engineer that the loading of the crates was complete, and the train could continue on its way. With the loud sound of the bogies being pulled into the action, the train began to creep along the tracks.
Both boys jumped into action. Neither had ever jumped a train before and knew their only chance of success was to scramble through the slightly open door of the car before the train gained much momentum. Lean and nimble, Heyes got both hands on the edge of the car and took a flying leap inside. He jumped to his feet and spun around to catch the two bundles of all their worldly possessions and a paper bag of sandwiches being hurled toward him. Tossing the bags aside, Heyes offered an outstretched hand to his cousin who managed to scramble into the car on his own accord.
Filled with the adrenalin of success, both boys smiled and panted to catch their breath.
"So, whatta we got here, a couple of runaways?"
Heyes and Kid froze at the sound of a stranger's voice, and each shot a sideways glance at the other. Slowly they each straightened and turned toward their unwelcome traveling companion.
Sitting in a pile of straw and leaning against the front wall of the freight car was a short man with a thick salt and pepper beard and moustache and bushy salt and pepper eyebrows. His clothes were stained with dirt but free of holes and tears. Slightly frayed brown suspenders were draped over a dirty grey Henley and fastened to the waist of his pants. His gray-blue eyes and heavily wrinkled, sun-beaten face aged his appearance beyond his actual years.
"We ain't runaways. Much like yourself, we're just a might shy on cash," Heyes explained with a forced and nervous smile.
"Not run-aways, uh? So, you always carry your spare clothes wrapped in a bandanna and tied to a stick? Lying ain't the way to gain someone's trust and if you think it is, you boys have got a lot to learn about being on the run."
Heyes and Kid looked wary as their eyes met for a silent and decisive moment.
"Alright, so we're on the run," Kid confessed. "What's it to you?" he asked defensively.
"How old are you boys?" the man asked.
"Sixteen," Heyes lied for the both of them.
The man looked at each boy with a scrutinizing eye. "You maybe, but if the other one is sixteen, I'm a handsome, debonaire man of culture and wealth."
A smile crossed Heyes' face which evoked a boisterous laugh from the man.
"The name's Artie. Find yourself a comfortable spot in the straw and settle in. These box cars get cold at night and sweltering hot in the daytime."
Again, the boys exchanged a communicative glance, then moved toward the straw and sat down and dropped their sacks of clothing down beside them.
"So, what do I call the two of you?" Artie asked.
"The name's Heyes, and this is the Kid."
"Easy to see how you picked up that moniker," Artie told Jed. "Where you running away from. home?"
"The orphanage," Kid replied.
"Oh, so you really are on your own. You got your escape all planned out?" Artie asked.
Heyes nodded.
"So, where you headed?"
"As far away as we can get."
"Not exactly a genius plan," Artie quipped. "I'm headed to Wyoming myself."
"Why Wyoming?' Kid asked.
"Why not Wyoming?" Artie replied. "There's a lot of places in Wyoming to lay low till the law, or the school officials stop lookin' for you."
A wry grin crossed Heyes' face. "Kid, I think we could learn a thing or two from this fella."
Artie nodded. "I could teach the two of you a thing or two if I was a mind to. It's a tough world out there and a couple of greenhorns like yourselves ain't gonna fair well out there on your own and without a plan. Two impressionable boys like yourselves could fall in with the wrong kind of people."
"And I suppose you're the right kind of people" Heyes asked.
"Well, I can teach you things like how to live high on the hog when you ain't got a red cent to your name, and how to barter down the price of a good horse, or empty a cash drawer right under the nose of the store owner."
Kid glanced at Heyes dubiously.
"Don't go getting all sanctimonious on me. You boys are way too young to know what path you'll be following in life. You go without a meal for a few days, and you'll be thanking me for teaching you such things. Now, I got me a little place outside of Buffalo. It ain't much, just a hunting shack in the Little Big Horns, but it'll keep you warm and outta sight till that orphanage forgets they ever knew ya."
"And what's in it for you, Artie?" Heyes asked.
"For the time being, just one of them sandwiches I can smell in the sack your friend is clutching like a bank heist full of money," Artie replied.
Heyes smiled and gave Kid a nod and Kid offered the bag to the stranger. Artie reached into the bag and pulled out a sandwich wrapped in waxed paper, then tossed the bag back to the Kid.
"What else is in it for you?" Kid asked skeptically.
Artie laughed. "The satisfaction of helping a couple of waywards, and who knows, maybe you'll be able to return the favor someday."
Heyes liked the man's direct approach. "You got a last name, Artie?" he asked.
"Sure do, but before I tell you that, you gotta tell me your names."
"I'm Heyes, Hannibal Heyes, and this is my… partner, Jed Curry."
Artie eyed the quiet, blue eyed, blond boy. "You ain't more than a Kid and I'm guessin' you've been slapped with that moniker more than a few times."
Kid grinned and nodded. "I've answered to it now and again."
"Well, you want me to help you two out or not? You give me six months of your time and I'll have you both ready to take on the world."
"I've got a feeling our take on the world is about to change," Heyes said with a grin.
"So, you boys want my help?" Artie asked again.
"Kid, I think we've got ourselves a plan."
"And one that's foolproof, absolutely foolproof," Artie exclaimed and bit into his sandwich. "Hey, you to don't got any whiskey, do you?"
"Sorry Artie, we're plumb outta whiskey, and yeah, we want your help."
"You sure about this, Heyes?" Kid asked quietly.
Heyes studied Artie as he ate his sandwich with the urgency of someone who hadn't eaten for some time.
"I think we're about to learn a lot of things that just might come in handy one day and might help us avoid a few hard knocks along the way," Heyes replied.
Kid understood the message hidden in Heyes' words and cringed.
"And what could possibly go wrong?" Kid muttered.
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Author's Notes: The purpose of this story was not to come to a satisfactory end, but rather to show that Heyes and Kid were equal partners from the very start of their lives without the support of family. It was intentionally left somewhat open-ended.
The town of Richfield, Kansas was not platted until 1885, but the name seemed appropriate to the aspirations of two orphaned boys.
George Santayana, a Spanish Philosopher, was born December 16, 1863 so he obviously had not yet made his now famous statement about remembering the past at the time of this story. Sometimes a few liberties must be taken for the wanted ebb and flow of a story.
Bogies are the frames of a freight or passenger car that support the cars.