Chapter Three
Sentry duty in this small Calvary Fort was dull and boring. This area of Southwest Wyoming was sparsely populated. What few Indians remained in the area have been peacefully coexisting with the settlers and were tolerated in the town around the fort. The men assigned to the task made a show of going through the motions even if their minds weren't fully focused, mainly watching and socializing with the light traffic in and around the town and fort.
Two privates were sitting on the side of the guardhouse, tossing playing cards into one of their hats.
"It's getting dark. You want to light the lantern."
"Nah, there's nothin' out there and not likely anyone comin' in now."
"No? Ain't you forgettin' that the message we got when we relieved the duty before us was that a marshal and a sheriff are bringin' in Heyes and Curry?"
"Oh yeah, but they didn't say anthin' else and we know that they were hangin' Kid Curry over in Lonetree today. Bet that was quite a show. I heard that the Lonetree Sheriff and Mayor were real proud of the swift trial they arranged and planned a slow death for the Kid. They were wanted dead or alive for years and nobody could ever catch them. I also heard that Curry didn't even fire a shot."
"That's just it, for outlaws, they were kinda a good sort. You know, they never shot anybody during all their robberies and didn't take nothin' from ordinary folks."
"Kid Curry shot and killed the mayor's daughter. Maybe they got desperate and had to resort to regular outlaw ways. I mean you haven't heard of them doin' anythin' for a couple of years and then bang a woman and her unborn child are dead. I wonder what they did with the money 'cause it wasn't on them? And they couldn't hardly spend it all in the days it took to find them out in no man's land."
"I don't know, it sure doesn't seem like Heyes and Curry really did it."
"You've read too many of them dime novels. And to think the hangin' was even in our little corner of Wyoming and here we sit. Besides, why would they be bringin' in a dead gunslinger and his partner, Hannibal Heyes, to the fort. Heyes should be on his way to prison in Laramie and that's east. Who cares if the good citizens in Lonetree decide to have a lynchin' party.
"Well, someone does, 'cause we were told to keep a look out for them and notify the captain and the doc when they were spotted coming in."
"If you say so. Like we're told often enough, I'm just a small cog in the army's wheel and just follow the orders. I don't have to know where we're goin' or why all the time." Private Paulson smirked as his eight he tossed landed perfectly in hat.
Private Carter idly glanced down the road coming from the south. He did a double take and dropped his handful of playing cards in the dirt. Reaching for his rifle leaning against the folding chair the private stood up and peered intently into the rapidly deepening shadows.
"You see somethin'?"
"Yeah. A small party of riders are comin' in. Light the darn lantern."
Private Paulson hung the lit lantern on the hook of the guardhouse, grabbed his own rifle, and came to stand next to his comrade in arms. The two men stood motionless for several moments, watching the approaching party.
Carter half turned towards his friend while keeping an eye down the road. "Paulson, you better get hoofing and let the company commander and the doc know that the people they were expectin' appear to be here. Someone's ridin' double and the guy leanin' against the rider behind is probably Curry. Maybe he's still alive and the other one's gotta be Heyes. If the Kid were dead, wouldn't they sling him over the horse?"
"Yeah, they would. And they don't seem to under guard or tied up, either. What went on in Lonetree?" Paulson had a perplexed look on his face as he glanced back and forth between his friend and the road.
"We'll find soon enough but now you better get goin'. I'm gonna send them on in, like we were ordered to. You better hot foot it back to meet them and take them to the infirmary so they don't get lost. I can't leave our post until we're relieved."
Paulson took one last long look, turned and started a fast jog into the fort proper.
~~~~~~~~~~ASJ~~~~~~~~~~~
"Kid? Kid, we're finally here. Hold on, just a little longer." Heyes murmured into his partner's right ear. His hold tightened around the battered blond keeping him upright and flush against his chest. The Kid's hands slightly tightening on the saddle horn was the only indication that the injured man understood. Brown eyes scanned the waiting men, trying to ascertain who was who.
Two men stepped forward to greet the incomers in front of the infirmary while four other uniformed men hung back. "John, I received Marshal Storz's telegram. I must say most times we meet; you bring a little excitement to our little corner of Wyoming, but this matter is damn unusual."
"Don't I know it." Marshal John Waters shook Captain Holman's offered hand. "Captain Holman, Doctor Matthews, I have Sheriff Lom Trevors, Hannibal Heyes and Jedidiah "Kid" Curry with me. The Kid needs immediate medical attention."
Doctor Matthews had stepped up to the chestnut with the injured man by the time the marshal had finished speaking. He waved a hand for men bearing a stretcher to move forward, keen eyes already assessing his patient. It took several minutes of awkward maneuvering to transfer Curry from Heyes' firm hold to the stretcher. As soon as the transfer was complete the medical team hurried into the infirmary with Heyes and Lom Trevors hot on their heels. The doctor glanced at the collection of concerned faces all darting looks between the injured man and him.
"Is this man in custody?" The question was directed at the badge wearing men as the doctor was arranging his supplies and instruments on a movable cart.
"No. Kid Curry and Hannibal Heyes were granted an amnesty by the Governor of Wyoming." Lom hastened to reply. Marshal Walters nodded in agreement.
"Why doc? Don't you take care of outlaws? Or maybe you do but let's not be too fussy or worry about any pain?" Heyes spoke over Lom, his tone a mixture of acrimony and resignation.
Captain Holman stiffened and opened his mouth to speak but was stopped by open palm gesture by the doctor. Matthews turned and looked closely at Hannibal Heyes. "I asked because I need to know who is the decision maker for care and who to direct my comments to."
"Me. Talk to me, doc."
"I'm…..here…..hear….you," croaked Curry as he was being lifted from the stretcher.
"Yeah, Kid. You are but if you need to pass out, I'll still be here."
"Fine, Mr. Heyes…"
"Heyes, just Heyes."
"Okay Heyes." The well-built, fiftyish salt and pepper-haired Matthews meet the eyes of all the onlookers before focusing on the wide opened, bloodshot blue eyes of his patient. The man was struggling to breath and hiding his panic well. "Gentleman, I took an oath to do no harm and to heal all who need my knowledge and talents. Back during the war, I didn't care if the men wore the blue or the gray. I don't care now if the skin color is white, brown, red or even yellow. I don't care who you are or what you've done. Now let me get to work."
Lom put a hand on Heyes's arm and pulled him slightly out of the physician's way. He thought Heyes looked somewhat mollified but was still walking a fine line on the edge of self-control.
"Paulson, take the horses to the stables then return to sentry duty." Captain Holman ordered. He then turned to his aide. "Help the Marshal stow their things in the guest quarters assigned to them and return here."
Dr. Matthews had his patient placed in a large wooden exam chair that had a high headrest and a footrest. He worked the rachet mechanism and tilted the chair back slightly. Kid Curry was weakly fighting to sit up straight, resisting the efforts to lay him back slightly.
"Doc, do you really need him back?" Heyes asked anxiously, while his hands were supporting Kid's shoulders into a more vertical position.
"Yes, just for a few moments. I need to get a good look at his airway. That sound you hear is called stridor. He's moving air but from the sound of his breathing the upper airway is constricted. I need to know how much."
One of the medical corpsmen stepped up and tried to elbow Heyes out of the way. Heyes stood firm but repositioned his hands to gently apply a downward pressure on the Kid's shoulders. "Let me, Mr. Heyes. You try to keep him calm." Brown eyes shifted to the young man in blue before returning to his partner's face. "I can do both." The medical aide shrugged his shoulders at the doc and stepped back, waiting for direction.
"Here, go fill this bag with ice shavings from the icehouse. We need to get the swelling down. The ice will help with the fever also." The doctor thrust an oilskin bag at the corpsman.
The other corpsmen brought a lighted lamp with a concave mirror attachment up to within a few inches of Curry's face. The doctor leaned over the patient's chest and gently tilted the chin back, held the tongue down with a metal instrument and peered intently into the oral cavity. "Hmmm… You can sit up straight now, it's easier to breath that way." He took a soft tape measure from his pocket and threaded it around Kid's neck, calling out the measurement to be recorded by his helper.
Curry stiffened at the touch of the fabric. His eyes darkened and he grimaced in an involuntary response. Heyes noticed and gently patted Kid's shoulder soothingly.
"If the ice works, we should be able to avoid a tracheostomy. That is if the upper airway is too narrowed, I can cut a hole in the windpipe below the voice box to provide a temporary alternative pathway." The doctor remarked almost absently as his hands and eyes traveled to the top of his patient's head.
Panic was now clear in the turbulent blue of the Kid's eyes as they met equal concertation evident in Heyes' brown orbs. Heyes' patting sped up.
Lom shuddered at the thought of cutting a hole in his friend's neck. Even the Captain who had witnessed the procedure done in the past turned slightly green.
The initial examination began in earnest. Sensitive gentle fingers palpated, percussed, and ghosted over areas of interest. Heyes hovered and the doctor worked around him. Lom Trevors and Captain Holman stood an arm's length away and followed the progress of the exam closely. Marshal Walters returned and silently observed from the side of the room.
"There's matted bloody hair hiding a significant laceration on the back of the head. It wasn't cleaned. When did that happen?"
"He hit his head on a rock when he fell after the Lonetree Sheriff shot him in the thigh. Then his head got bashed a couple of times when the posse members were pummeling him on the ground." Dangerous harsh anger came through loud and clear in Heyes' response.
"Did he lose consciousness?"
"No"
"Complain about any burred or double vision, nausea, dizziness, or slurred speech?"
"No. But the Kid never complains about serious stuff."
"He hung by the neck?"
Lom stepped closer to Heyes and answered. "Yes."
"How far was the drop?"
"Not far, about a foot and half to two feet."
"The law made a point of letting us know that they wanted him to suffer," Heyes informed the room in a low controlled tone that promised revenge.
Marshal Walters straightened up from his lean against the wall. Sharp eyes studied the older outlaw. His job was to protect the two amnestied men in the immediate aftermath of the overturned conviction. That it might entrail protecting them from themselves crossed his mind.
Lom narrowed his eyes and wondered how he would keep Heyes from jeopardizing his newfound and hard-won amnesty. He knew that both partners had suffered and if he was a betting man, he would place his bet that Kid would deal with the experience and put it behind him before Heyes would.
Curry reached for his partner's hand. He weakly tugged it, causing Heyes to lean closer. He swallowed hard and tried to whisper but only a weak high-pitched bark like sound came out. He pulled Heyes closer and looked deep into his partner's dark anguished eyes, using their legendary silent communication skills. The hard determined lines of the older man softened slightly as he nodded once in acknowledgment that the Kid was still among the living when they thought they had reached the end of the line.
The doctor paused for a moment. He spoke compassionately. "Their cruelty was not in any way just. But it ultimately worked in your favor. Mr. Curry survived and not only did he survive but he seems to have escaped serious permanent physical harm. There doesn't appear to be any spinal trauma that resulted in nerve damage or paralysis of the limbs or facial nerves. Matthews offered a small conciliatory smile before his face dropped into his professional mask. "No permanent physical harm but damage to their mental health remains to be seen," he added silently to himself.
"Was any of his weight supported in any way."
"No"
"How long did he hang?"
"Two to three minutes. I guess." Lom sounded unsure. "Time seemed to move in slow motion."
Walters spoke up. "That's right. It took me no more than two minutes to cut through the rope."
"Was he conscious?"
Heyes hands started to shake and he grasped them together, intent on listening to the answers while he darted glances at his partner and Lom Trevors. He wanted to cover the Kid's ears and didn't trust himself to maintain eye contact with his best friend. They didn't need to relive the horror.
"No. He wasn't breathing. The rope was high and tight around his neck. It took me longer than it should have to loosen the noose." Self-recrimination and misery were heavy in the sheriff's quiet voice.
Walters took over. "Doc, it was only a couple of seconds until Trevors got the noose and hood off once Curry was down. He wasn't breathing but he had a slow faint heartbeat. It was maybe another thirty seconds to a minute before the Kid started breathing. Seemed like forever, though. When he regained consciousness, he knew where he was and what happened."
Matthews placed two fingers of each hand on each side of Curry's barely distinguishable Adams apple. He looked down at his patient. "Can you swallow for me."
"Hurts."
"I know. The ice when it comes will help with that too."
Kid Curry swallowed slowly and painfully.
The doctor paused in his exam of the facial and neck structures. He touched Heyes' upper arm to get his attention. He explained, "The ligature stopped the blood flow in the neck. It caused increased pressure in the head, which is why you see all the broken capillaries around and, in the eyes, mouth and across the nose. The pressure of the rope on the carotid sinus body slows the heart. The lack of oxygen causes unconsciousness. From what I can tell, he wasn't without oxygen long enough to cause brain damage but I'll have to do some tests later to make sure. The rope constricted above the voice box so there's no actual damage to the cartilage. There's soft tissue swelling and bruising of the neck and throat but no rope burns" He resumed his exam, the hands traveling to the chest.
Lom muttered, "They put a black hood on with the noose over the hood."
An indecipherable cry of distress rose up from the exam chair. The blond rasped," Didn't…want…hood."
"That helped prevent rope burns. You won't have any scarring. It was a good thing." Back to business. "Did he lose control of his bladder or bowels?"
"No"
"Vomit?"
"Yes, we had him on his side and he retched yellow-green liquid."
"Help me get this shirt off. I have to listen to his chest to see if he aspirated any bile into his lungs. Aspiration pneumonia is something we would need to treat aggressively." This was directed to Heyes who immediately started to pull off Curry's torn dirty blue shirt. The Kid tried to help but his movements were becoming increasingly sluggish and uncoordinated. Heyes got the shirt off and flung it behind him.
"I hear congestion in the bottom of the right lung. That could be from the bile or it could be from the bruised ribs. These bruises, was this from when you were arrested? Or later?"
"Doc, they got me on my horse and tied my hands to the saddle horn at gunpoint. We didn't resist arrest. They handcuffed the Kid's hands behind his back with the one pair of cuffs the sheriff had. Shot him in the leg while he was standing there. Then everyone who wanted to, which was most of the posse, fourteen men, got a few punches and kicks in while he was on the ground. All the cuts, and bruises were from then."
"Did they get a doctor to look at anything. Because it doesn't look like he was treated."
Heyes' eyes turned hard as flint and his voice dropped to a low menacing growl tinged with bitterness. "They got a doctor to come after we were convicted and sentenced in their sham of a court. The sheriff didn't like blood all over his jail floor and the mayor didn't want the Kid to die before they could hang him. The doc dug the bullet out, cauterized the wound with no laudanum, no liquor, no nothing but two deputies holding him down. The Kid didn't let out a peep and despite the tremendous pain he didn't pass out. And that's all that doc did and told us we were lucky he even did that."
Doctor Matthews shook his head in disgust. "One of these ribs is most likely cracked but the rest I think are just bruised. That isn't helping his breathing any either. We definitely will have to watch out for pneumonia."
The corpsman returned with the bag of ice shavings. Doctor Matthews wrapped the bag in a thin layer of muslin and wrapped it around his patient's neck.
Curry, who was tiring, his eyelids drooped almost closed, and the stiff posture slumped suddenly shot straight upright with eyes wide open. His hands clawed at his neck trying to free it from the ice bag.
Heyes and Lom grabbed at Kids wrists and hung on. Heyes leaned in close and got nose to nose. "Kid! Kid, listen to me. I'm here and not leaving. The ice is necessary to help get the swelling and fever down. We won't make it tight but it needs to stay. Do you understand. Don't try to talk. Blink once for yes."
The two partners were locked into each other's eyes for several moments. Curry blinked once and then his heavy eyelids dropped closed. Heyes' shoulders rounded in relief as the Kid's arms relaxed into his lap. Lom stepped back behind Heyes who had remained at his partner's side.
The doctor reached for a pair of heavy shears and made short work of Curry's pants, which the corpsman pulled off in pieces to add to the pile of discarded clothing. The smelly soiled bandage was cut off from the thigh, revealing an ugly reddened open wound with jagged edges and a swath of dark eschar*. Matthews' frown deepened and his brow furrowed as he poked at the infected thigh wound. "Mmmm, not good. Not good at all." He looked up and noticed the dark-haired ex outlaw scrutinizing his every move.
"This is infected. We'll clean it superficially tonight, but I'll need to open it up, cut away the dead tissue, and see what we got tomorrow morning if Kid Curry is breathing better. Right now, his airway is too compromised to use any kind of anesthetic and have him keep breathing. If we do it now with just holding him down the stress and tension it would cause could cut his air off completely and finish what the hanging started. We can't wait any longer though or he could lose his leg or his life."
"We'll wait until morning doc." Heyes insisted. His already haggard appearance became paler.
Mathews nodded and continued with his head-to-toe assessment.
The captain, the captain's aide and the marshal were quietly talking along the side of the examining room. Lom wandered over to join in on the conversation while keeping one eye on Heyes. He thought the Kid was in good hands with this no-nonsense and thorough army physician. He would try to relieve Heyes on his vigil at Kid's side but doubted his success on getting the ex-outlaw leader to rest until Curry was out of danger.
Private Paulson had returned in a quick march to the infirmary and stood at attention before the Fort's Commander, waiting to be recognized.
"Report, Paulson."
"Sir. There is a group of fourteen men from Lonetree being detained at the guardhouse by Private Carter. They're insistin' that Kid Curry and Hannibal Heyes were convicted in a court of law and they are here demandin' that the sentence is carried out in the name of justice. The Governor be damned. They don't seem especially peaceful, Sir."
"Thank you Private, keep them there until a guard detail arrives." Captain Holman half turned towards his aide to give his orders, while his gaze drifted briefly to the men under his protection. "Send a guard detail to escort the visiting civilians to the mess tent and corral them there. Someone can see to their horses. They will spend the night there, be served morning mess, and sent back to Lonetree in the morning. Kid Curry and Hannibal Heyes are under our protection and as Commander of Fort Bridger I am the local authority is these parts. I'll address their concerns in person shortly."
Walters turned towards the Captain and Lom Trevors. "I guess I better join that guard detail, Captain, and earn my salary dealing with an angry mob. We appreciate your support. Lom, you stay here with your friends, and I'll see you back in our quarters later."
~~~~~~~~~~ASJ~~~~~~~~~~
Dawn had broken, reveille had sounded, and the fort was waking to start the day. Inside the infirmary the doctor rose from the cot in his office. He was used to working long hours at a stretch and had perfected the ability to fall deep asleep quickly and wake refreshed after a cat nap. Matthews' mission for the day was to use the latrine, grab a quick bite to eat and then deal with the serious leg wound of his civilian patient and the looming collapse from mental and physical exhaustion of his patient's infamous partner.
The bugle call of the fort startled Heyes out of the stupor he had fallen into. The damp wet cloth he had been using to cool the Kid slipped from his fingers and plopped on the floor. He sat up in the straight-backed chair at the side of the narrow iron infirmary bed. He bent to pick up the cloth and dumped it into the basin of now tepid melted ice water placed on the low bedside table. One hand laid across his partner's flushed face and gently swiped the damp curls off the hot forehead. A corpsman appeared with a newly ice shaving filled oilskin bag to replace the barely cool one currently laying across the patient's neck. Kid Curry pulled his eyes open into slits at the cold touch and closed them after they shifted slightly to locate Heyes.
Matthews appeared at the bedside. Measuring the neck circumference, he nodded in satisfaction at the marked reduction of swelling despite the deepening red and purple of the bruising. The alarming stridor upon inspiration of last night was significantly less audible. The doctor lifted the left wrist and counted a pulse, then using a stethoscope and sphygmomanometer measured his patient's blood pressure. The stethoscope moved to the chest and traveled to specific points for a moment or two as the physician evaluated the breath sounds. Finally, Matthews lifted the sheet and peered closely at the right leg, his bushy brows drawing into a V.
"Mr. Curry?"
Kid's eyes fluttered but didn't open. The doctor pinched Curry's earlobe hard, causing him to sluggishly move his head to the side on the mound of pillows behind him.
Heyes spotted Lom and Marshall Walters enter the infirmary over Matthews shoulder.
"Our unwelcome visitors are on their way back to Lonetree. Marshal Walters and Captain Holman had them moved out early" Lom informed his friend.
"I'll send a telegram to Marshal Storz with an update on Curry and find out if he progressed in his investigation into the real robbers and murderers." Walters added.
Heyes gave a brief nod of acknowledgment to the two men before once again focusing his piercing gaze on the physician.
"Well doc?"
"Did you get any sleep, Heyes?" Matthews glanced at the pristine bed on the other side of his patient.
"Neither one of us had gotten any sleep for days. You can't call what the Kid is doing now sleep either." Heyes ignored the implied concern and let a hint of demand into his repeat question. "Well, how is he."
Matthews sighed, "The immediate danger to the airway is passed. He will have some residual hoarseness, dysphagia, that is difficulty swallowing, and general soreness in the area for a while but your constant efforts to keep his neck cold paid off better than I would have reasonably expected." The doctor frowned as attention switched from Heyes to Curry.
"But?"
"Yes, there is a but."
"Just tell me doc. I can see he's weaker, the fever is higher and what isn't purple is paler." The older ex-outlaw snapped.
The physician turned to the day corpsmen who were hovering nearby. "Get the surgery room ready. We can't wait any longer." He started to roll up his dark blue duty work shirt as he talked and moved about the sick man's bed completing his assessment. "I'm worried about sepsis, what you would call blood poisoning. His fever is higher even though we've been cooling him all night. You can see that new small bruises are showing up from broken blood vessels that have nothing to do with the hanging. His heart is beating too fast, his right lung is sounding wetter, and his breathing is rapid and shallow. His blood pressure is too low. He is barely arousable, which all point to the infection is getting out of control. I need to operate now. And I can't use much ether in the condition he's in either."
Heyes stood up, swayed a little before regaining his balance. A hand went to his head as if to hold it steady. "I'll help."
"You can help by helping yourself. Sheriff Trevors, Marshal Walters take this man to the mess. Make him eat something. Then have him lie down for a few hours. Sit on him if you need to." Matthews called over his shoulder at the nearby lawmen.
"No! I have to be there."
"You don't trust easy? Do you, son.?" Matthews peered up from his bent over position. He straightened up, looking Hannibal Heyes in the eyes.
Heyes' stance squared. He laid one hand on Kid's sweaty shoulder the other on his hip and stared back at the physician. "I trust the Kid completely and he's the only one. Nobody ever gave me a reason to feel differently about that."
Affront, sadness, and guilt passed over Trevors face. The sheriff hoped that he had earned the partners' trust but realized that considering the past week neither partner was thinking clearly and objectively. When they were attacked, they drew closer and faced the world as one. He would support them in hopes that the past trust he had earned would be shared again.
"I hope to earn a small bit of trust in that I'm taking care of your friend to the best of my ability. But I need to concentrate on what I'm doing without an anxious exhausted partner breathing down my neck. I promise, Heyes, as soon as I'm done, I'll either send for you or come and give you the progress report on the surgery."
"I'll wait right outside the surgery door."
Doc Matthews stood his ground and stated matter-of-factly, "Trevors, get him out of here. I can call for guards if necessary." His tone and posture conveyed that he was used to being obeyed and expected compliance from the civilians under his care.
The ex-outlaw leader drew up to his full height, took a deep breath and held it for a moment. Dark eyes flashed in annoyance as Heyes' inherent distrust and resistance of authority figures kicked in. Lom hastened to play the part of bargaining peacemaker.
"No need for guards. Heyes, you could use some strong coffee and food in your stomach. You know that when the Kid wakes up, he's going to ask if you've eaten and slept at all. You don't want to upset him. He'll be able to tell if you're lying. Come on, just for a little while."
Heyes turned, glared at everyone in the room, and then stiffly marched out the door with a straight back and determined purpose. He stopped a few feet from the door, realizing that he had no idea of where the mess hall or their quarters were located. When Lom laid a hand lightly on the dark-haired ex outlaw's back, Heyes turned. His eyes drifted back to the door of the infirmary before dropping to study the ground at his feet.
"I thought I lost him forever. I very nearly did. I still might lose him," came out in a choked whisper.
"I know Heyes. It was too damn close. I'm sorry. What happened? How were you caught? You've only told us bits and pieces of how badly the two of you were treated and how fast you were railroaded."
Brown eyes flicked up. He studied his sheriff mentor. Lom's mustache seemed exceptionally droopy and reflected the weariness and true concern in the Porterville sheriff's visage.
"You know the Kid and me don't like amnesty jobs in Wyoming, especially southern Wyoming. Western and Southern Wyoming were the Devil's Hole Gangs territory. We roamed further out, of course, but we robbed all over that part of the territory. God only knows how many people know us by sight since it seems the trains were fuller than we ever realized."
Lom nodded. He knew, in fact he had been on a few of the very early jobs during his short stint in the gang before the Kid joined and during the transition from Jim Santana to Heyes and then Kid and Heyes as gang leader. He also appreciated that Porterville was avoided only because he was the sheriff. " He cutted his eyes sideways. "Go on." Heyes needed to get the story off his chest.
Marshal Walters joined the two men. He stood quietly to the side, listening.
"We objected to this last job, but it was always the same old story. Do this one job. It's a friend of the Governor. The Governor will look more favorably on your amnesty blah, blah, blah. And the amnesty never comes." A challenging look was thrown Lom's way.
Lom didn't protest. Heyes was right.
"This last job was protecting a family for a few weeks who was having trouble defending their water rights until the legal issues were settled. You know, water rights are a flash point. What they wanted was a hired gun in Kid Curry and Kid doesn't hire out his gun. On top of everything else we had robbed the bank in the nearest town in the past. You know this but still we went and tried to lay low, not leave the ranch and still do what we were sent to do." Heyes took out his anger on a small stone in the pathway that he sent ricocheting into the building with a swift kick of his boot.
"Kid kept the other ranch's hired guns in check. We took a big chance on being recognized 'cause he did have to draw to keep the family's fool older son from getting shot and darn near got shot himself since there were three of them. If he wasn't who he is, he'd be dead and so would the son."
"But he is Kid Curry," muttered the marshal under his breath.
"The deed copy finally got delivered and we could leave, which we did pronto before anyone put a blond gunman outdrawing three professionals and some pretty fancy shooting with Kid Curry who with his dark-haired partner, Hannibal Heyes, robbed their bank some years ago. The fastest way out of Wyoming led us straight south into Utah. We were on our way and staying off the roads, crossing the back country.
After several days of traveling, we reached the river. Hadn't seen a soul for days, hadn't read a newspaper for even longer so we didn't know about any bank robbery in the area. Kid was in the middle of the river, washing up, his gun on the bank. I was downriver a little, washing some of our clothes, when we heard horses. We're always a little bit jumpy in southern Wyoming so that got our attention. They were coming in at a slow walk from around the bend in the river. We weren't near our horses. Kid wasn't wearing his gun. That Colt is rarely out of his reach, and it was our bad luck that this time, for once, it was. In that situation, it's best to play it cool and give the Smith and Jones routine if we need to. After all, everyone traveling in the area makes for the river crossing for water. Only, it was the posse from Lonetree, who were returning empty handed after being gone apparently for several days. Just our luck that one of the posse members was bartender from Harristown who bought a saloon in Lonetree. He recognized us right away. We didn't resist, figuring we'd escape from jail. Only, they shot the Kid. The mayor rounded up a judge that afternoon. We wanted a lawyer and there were only two layers in town, brothers. One prosecuted the case the other reluctantly acted as our defense attorney in name only 'cause he didn't listen to a word we said neither. The jury had us convicted before they even sat down. The sheriff deputized half the male population in that stupid town, who made themselves feel real important by never leaving us alone and constantly coming in to taunt us. I've told you the rest." Heyes ire simmered for a moment before a general near overwhelming weariness swelled over his body. His eyes blinked slowly and he swayed before widening his stance to catch himself.
Lom put a hand out, which hovered several inches from his friend for assistance should it be required. He thought that the partners had grounds for a strong appeal if the governor didn't appease his guilty conscience. Lom dropped his hand as he realized it wouldn't have mattered to the Kid, he would be dead.
"Come on you two, I need some strong army coffee," Walter's who had moved several yards in the direction of the mess called out over his shoulder.
Walters ate a hearty breakfast, Lom picked at his eggs and biscuit, and Heyes swallowed the strong black bitter coffee. After lingering in the mess hall for a while the two lawmen escorted a protesting Heyes to the visitor quarters. Lom threatened to handcuff Heyes to the bed and when Marshal John Walters backed him up, Heyes acquiesced to their demand as he wasn't entirely sure it wasn't a bluff.
After two hours of forced unsettled rest found Heyes up and pacing the small room. He opened the door, peered out and didn't see anybody. The dark-haired ex-outlaw used his talents as a skilled thief to steal noiselessly out of the quarters. He had the infirmary in sight when running footsteps sounded loudly behind him. Heyes sped up. A firm hand grabbed him by the arm and spun Heyes around to come face to face with a red-faced Marshal. Lom Trevors huffing not too far behind.
"It's obvious where you're going. Did the doctor send for you?" Walters demanded
Heyes shook his arm loose and ignored the marshal. He took a few steps toward his destination.
"Heyes, we can go to the infirmary, but we stay outside until someone comes out to get us. Okay?"
"Why? He's my partner, I need to be there for him."
Lom intervened, "You will Heyes. I'll make sure that as soon as the Kid is aware you'll be at his side."
Walters had always heard that Heyes and Curry were close. That was part of their legend. He had been told of Hannibal Heyes' intelligence, thoroughness, and bold vison. He assumed Curry supplied the threat and enforcement to the partnership. Now, after closely observing Lom Trevors and Hannibal Heyes, he wondered if he was underestimating the Kid. He guided the two anxious friends of Kid Curry to the bench along the outside wall of the infirmary building and sat down. The sheriff sat beside him, and the newly amnestied outlaw leader started to pace in the hard packed red Wyoming dirt.
Walters tentatively spoke up. He wanted to keep the two men talking and was genuinely curious. "Can you tell me about Jedidiah Curry? I mean I can understand why the governor gave you, Heyes, amnesty after playing it straight for years. I can understand the stay of execution of a man who was innocent of that murder but…"
"Innocent of any murder." Heyes' tone left no room for argument of that point as he shot a glare at the marshal.
"Yes, the charges against Kid Curry don't include murder."
Lom interjected, "The Kid has only killed to preserve life, his own or someone he cares about. And he has never drawn first."
"But I still don't get why an outlaw gunnie got amnesty. There's got to more to the man than some romanticized dime novel character. How would you describe him? And I don't mean five foot eleven inches, one hundred and sixty-five pounds with dark blond hair, blue eyes, medium build and youthful features. I've read the wanted poster."
Heyes chuckled despite himself because the wanted poster description was exactly how he was going to answer the question. He glanced at the door and the chuckle died and furrows appeared in his forehead.
Lom looked thoughtful. It was a fair question. One that the public who only read newspaper accounts of the robberies would be asking as well. He started softly, hoping to get Heyes talking, "Heyes is known as an enigma, the complicated one who is hard to know. And that's true. People who meet the Kid or Thaddeus Jones believe he's the embodiment of what you see is what you get. And that's not true. The Kid, in his own way, is just as complicated as Heyes. I would describe him as a paradox, a man of contrasts."
"How so?"
"For a thief the Kid has a strong moral code. One he lives by. You'd think that outlaws don't have morals. I guess most don't but we do and that sets us and the Devil's Hole Gang apart. He has never sold his gun. If he wanted, he could make a lot of money with his skills. The thing is that he hates bullies and is a sucker for the underdog. I make a joke about him helping the needy. It's no joke. Like this last job, the one we never should have taken. Once that family told their story and the woman started crying, he was all in. Only, it's the same story all over the west and you can't take on everyone's problems. We have enough of our own." Heyes spun around on one his passes. He stopped in front of Walters and looked down into the benign curious face and scowled. He had said more than he intended.
"Jed Curry is a naturally gentle man who has a hard edge to him. A non-violent man in a violent profession. He can be open, friendly, and laughs readily but he's also quiet, a keen observer, a different kind of smart than Heyes, and a realist with a optimistic streak. He's stubborn, can't be pushed, impulsive, and, yes, he does have that temper he's reputed to possess. But he's also merciful, patient, and chivalrous." Lom slowly added as Heyes resumed his pacing. The sheriff took a deep breath and opened his mouth to continue. It snapped shut before he uttered a word.
The door to the infirmary opened and a corpsman strode out to come face to face with Hannibal Heyes who had whipped around at the sound of the door.
"Oh, you're here already. I've been sent to find you all…" his voice trailed off as Heyes pushed past him. Lom hurried in. Marshal Walters shrugged his shoulders in apology as he passed the medical aid on his way into the building.
Curry was being transported back to the bed in the main infirmary room as his friends entered. Heyes peered around, looking for the army surgeon. He spotted the doctor doffing a soiled cotton over gown and cap in what must be the operating room through the open door at one end of the infirmary. The faintly metallic smell of blood and the pungent sour stink of pus permeated the air, causing the men's' nostrils to wrinkle and to breath shallowly through their mouths.
"That was quick. We've only just finished. You must have been right outside. Did you get any rest, Heyes?" Matthews astute eyes fastened upon the dark-haired outlaw as he walked over to the little group.
"Yes. I did. How's the Kid?" Heyes leaned closer to the physician.
The doctor's dark eyes flashed with genuine outrage. "I should report that physician who saw him in Lonetree. Your friend almost would have better off not being treated at all."
"He only had to live long enough for them to kill him." Heyes huffed with great umbrage.
"Will he keep his leg, doc? Will he be okay," Lom gave concerned voice to the questions that were at the forefront of his and Heyes' mind.
"You understand that I can't promise anything, but I'll do my best." The doctor wiped his forehead with the back of his hand.
"You can be sure of that. Doctor Matthews is one of the best I've had the pleasure to work with. We are lucky to have him here." Captain Holman had been alerted that the surgery had finished and joined the group around Curry's bed.
"That's true," Marshal Walters affirmed. "He saved one of our deputy marshals lives when everyone, including the deputy, thought he was a goner."
"Glad to hear it. So how is he?" Heyes inquired impatiently as he tapped his foot unconsciously.
"If he's a fighter, the odds are in his favor now."
"Oh, he's a fighter, doc." The dark-haired partner asserted.
"Good, he's going to need to be. The wound was not cleaned out at all. I found bits of cloth and dirt in the wound that caused an abscess to form. It looked like the bullet was dug out without much finesse and then a hot knife was laid across the wound to stop any bleeding, sealing dirt and debris deep in the muscle to fester. It must have been very painful." Matthews shook his head, disgusted at the treatment rendered by a fellow physician to any human being. In his opinion doctors should leave moral judgement out of the picture. He glanced down at his patient with sympathy plain on his face. Turning back to the group he continued, "The good news is that the major blood vessels, nerve, and the femur were not involved. The bad news is that the abscess was deep inside the muscle and the infection was spreading. He will have to work hard to regain his strength in that leg if he survives the wound fever."
"Survives?" Lom's voice trembled slightly to think that Curry could survive being hanged only to pass away due a vengeful sheriff's bullet and a judgmental doctor's nonaction.
"He's in the beginning stages of sepsis. If it progresses to septic shock that would be fatal. I attempted to arrest the progress by packing the wound with clean cotton soaked in carbolic acid to kill the germs. I've also left the incision open so that any contaminated serum and or purulent matter can drain instead of collecting in the body. Honey was applied in a thin layer over the affected tissue surrounding the incision. This means that wound care will have to be meticulous with frequent dressing changes, and regrettably painful."
"I'll help. Just tell me what I must do." Insisted Heyes.
Matthews smiled kindly at the earnest friend. "If you are going to be in my way all day, I will certainly enlist your help. Now gentlemen, I'm going to get cleaned up. You can visit with Mr. Curry, but he may not know you're here right now."
"He'll know doc. Take my work for it." Heyes sat down on the bedside chair and took hold of his too warm best friend's hand.
Lom Trevors, stated to know one in particular before dragging an additional chair over, "He's right, the Kid'll know."
At that moment a cavalryman entered the infirmary. He had two telegrams in his hand and a folded note paper, which he handed to the captain. Holman unfolded the note, frowned, and then peered at the telegrams. He handed one of the telegrams to Walters.
"Marshal Storz may have a lead in the Lonetree murder and robbery. He's requested another man from the marshal's office in Cheyanne to take my place here. This southern corner of Wyoming is my usual territory, Storz is mainly based further north, so I know the area a little better." Walters informed the watching men.
Captain Holman glanced at Marshal Walters then back at the ex-outlaws, "Heyes, reporters are starting to show up in Fort Bridger. Do you want to speak with them?"
Heyes stood and faced the calvary captain and marshal. He brought his hands up and pressed the palms into his eyes for a moment before heaving a huge sigh. "Do I have to?"
TBC
Notes:
Stridor is a high-pitched sound originating from the upper airway and occurring on inspiration. It is distinguished from other sounds by its intensity in the neck more so than the chest, timing (inspiratory), and pitch (high). Like wheezes, stridor is produced by airway narrowing, but only in the upper airways.
*Eschar - is dead tissue that falls off (sheds) from healthy skin. It is caused by a burn or cauterization (destroying tissue with heat or cold, or another method). A scab is a collection of dried blood cells and serum and sits on top of the skin surface. Eschar is a collection of dead tissue within the wound that is flush with skin surface.
References:
Non-Fatal Strangulation – Strangulation Assessment, Documentation, and Evidence Collection, retrieved from page/STAssessment/
Pressure around the neck can result in the closure of blood vessels and/or air passages. Injury and death from strangulation occur from one or more mechanisms. The first mechanism is venous obstruction, whereby occlusion of the jugular veins results in congestion of the blood vessels and increased venous and intracranial pressure. The second mechanism is carotid artery obstruction, which stops blood flow and impedes oxygen delivery to the brain. The third mechanism is pressure on the carotid sinus that can cause acute bradycardia and/or cardiac arrest. Strangulation can result in injuries to the soft tissues of the neck, esophagus, larynx, trachea, cervical spine, and the laryngeal and facial nerves. (Hawley, McClane, & Strack, 2001; Shields, Corey, Weakley-Jones, & Stewart, 2010; Smith, Mills, & Taliaferro, 2001; Taliaferro, Hawley, McClane, & Strack, 2009).
2. Strangulation Injury – Emergency Management. Retrieved from management/strangulation-injury-emergency-management
Consequences of compressive forces are applied to the neck
Loss of consciousness occurs due to obstruction of the carotid arteries preventing oxygenated blood flow to the brain
Obstruction of the larynx producing asphyxia
As short as 10 seconds of strangulation can cause loss of consciousness; brain death can occur in 4-5 minutes
Much less pressure is required to obstruct the vessels than the trachea
Wound Care -Joseph Lister, a Professor of Surgery in London, recognized that antisepsis could prevent infection. Lister placed carbolic acid into open fractures to sterilize the wound and prevent sepsis. Changes were also made to sterilize the surroundings of a wounded patient. Hand washing prior to care along with sterilization of instruments as well as wearing of gowns, masks and gloves began in 1880s. In 1890, Robert Wood Johnson, co-founder of Johnson & Johnson, began using the Lister Antiseptic System to develop gauze and wound dressings sterilized with dry heat, steam, and pressure. In 1886, Ernst von Bergmann introduced heat sterilization of surgical instruments, which marked the beginning of aseptic surgery and significantly reduced the frequency of infections
Honey was utilized for its antibacterial properties that helped heal infected wounds. Moreover, honey was used as a topical ointment. Other than sugar, honey also contains a variety of trace amounts of many different vitamins and proteins.
J. Shah. (2011) The History of Wound Care retrieved at . .gov/pmc/articles/PMC3601883/