A Kindred Spirit part 1

by Akeays

Heyes and Curry expect to spend a quiet winter working a line cabin, until some unexpected visitors show up.

A Kindred Spirit

Part One

A comforting fire brought warmth, light, and a hot supper, to the two tired men.

Breaking up ice in the creek for the range cattle, had left the fellas wondering if taking on this job for the winter had been such a good idea.

But once done with their work day, tucked up cozy and well-fed, the fifty dollars a month they were earning, each, to tend to the Bar over Diamond Ranch's cattle, made it all worthwhile.

Heyes, sitting back against the pillows on his bunk, stockinged feet stretched out and crossed at the ankles, looked up from his book and glanced over at his partner.

"Aren't you bored, laying there doing nothing?"

Kid Curry, startled awake from his doze, sent Hannibal Heyes a frown.

"Bored? I'm warm, I'm well-fed, I have a nice, comfy bunk inside a sturdy, well-stocked cabin. Ain't no need ta be bored. Besides, we worked hard today, and I'm tired."

"Yeah." Heyes closed his book. "It probably is time to call it a night." He looked at the solid door of their abode as a strong gust of wind battered into it. "Good thing we got done before this blizzard hit. We may be spending all day tomorrow unburying some cattle."

Curry groaned. "What did ya hav'ta bring that up for?" He brightened and beamed a smile. "Maybe this blizzard will still be blowin' in the mornin', and we'll be cooped up in here for the duration. Now that's an easy fifty bucks a month if I ever heard of one."

"Naw," Heyes burst the bubble. "We'd still have to dig ourselves out to feed the horses. Can't leave them to starve to death."

Big sigh from the other bunk. "Yeah, I suppose."

"And besides," Heyes set his book on the floor, "we'd both go stir-crazy being stuck in here for a week, let alone the whole winter, and you know it."

"Hmm, yeah." Curry pushed himself up and reached for the coffee pot. "Ya wanna another cup? It's still hot."

"No, I'm good."

Curry poured himself a cup and settled back.

"We did kinda luck out with this job," he said. "We got this nice cabin, miles away from civilization, all the grub we need, and we're makin' money instead a spendin' it. Not a bad deal."

"Yup." Heyes stretched then put his hands behind his head. Leaning back, he smiled with contentment. "Don't have to worry about any lawmen or bounty hunters sneaking up on us, either. I'd say it's a pretty good bet the only living things we'll see are of the four-legged variety."

A pounding on the door caused both men to tense and look toward the barricade.

"Do ya think it was just the wind?" Curry asked.

Another set of uniformed thumps on the wood belied that query.

Both men were instantly on their feet.

Curry snatched his well-oiled Colt Peacemaker from his holster hanging off the headboard, while Heyes padded across the room. His holster was hanging off a peg beside the entrance, and he slipped the Schofield out as he passed by it.

He stepped to the hinge side of the door more out of habit than anything else. Chances of a bullet making it through the solid structure, even at this close range, were unlikely.

"Who's out there?" Heyes called loud enough to be heard over the wind. "What's your business?"

"Name's Matt Jenkins," came the muffled reply. "I'm a marshal out of Sheridan County. One of my deputies fell into the creek. We didn't realize the ice had been broken up. He and his horse are in a bad way. We gotta get 'em into shelter or they're gonna freeze to death."

Heyes sent an incredulous look to Curry, who simply rolled his eyes.

"What do ya think?" Heyes whispered.

"It could be a trap," Curry said. "How do we know one of 'em fell into the creek?"

"Yeah, but how do we know he didn't?" Heyes reasoned. "We did break up the ice out there. It would be a death sentence if we turn them away."

"But it could be a death sentence for us if we let 'em in." Curry pointed out.

Heyes sighed, his brain racing to come up with a solution.

Another set of muffled thumps on the door brought him back to the immediate problem.

"C'mon!" the marshal insisted. "It's a death sentence to leave us out here."

Curry groaned, running a hand through his curls. "Yeah, let 'em in. Even if that fella didn't fall in the creek, we can't leave 'em out there in this storm."

Heyes pursed his lips, then nodded.

"Okay!" he agreed through the door, "we'll let you in. But, just in case you aren't lawmen . . ." Curry snorted. ". . . we're gonna ask you to surrender your firearms as soon as you cross the threshold."

There was a moment of silence as the visitors likely conversed.

Then, "Okay. But only if you set your guns aside, too."

Heyes again looked at Curry for his opinion.

Curry shrugged and nodded.

"Fine," Heyes agreed. He nipped across to the peg and slipped the Schofield back into its holster, knowing full well that the Kid would not surrender his Colt just yet.

Heyes returned to the door and lifted the two x four out of its cradles and set it aside. Flipping the latch, he opened the door.

Two shapes stood on the porch.

Wind and snow bellowed into the room, as Heyes squinted through the weather to try and make out who was there. In the gathering darkness and swirling snow, it could have been two bears standing on their hind legs, their heavy winter coats covered in a thick blanket of white.

Heyes shoved that foolish impression aside, knowing that bears would be in hibernation this time of year.

"How many are you?" he called out over the wind.

"Four!" the voice fought its way out through the layers of the first bear.

Heyes stood back and opened the door further. "Hurry up, before we lose the heat."

The first snow-covered shape shuffled through. He stepped aside to allow room for three more shapes to also come inside. One of the bulky forms was being supported by the other two, and Heyes surmised that this was the man who had fallen into the river.

Heyes closed the door and secured it, then, after a glance at the Kid, he turned to the group gathered at the door.

"Here, let me help you get these coats off," he offered.

He grabbed the collar of the coat nearest to him and helped the man shrug out of it. He hung that coat on a peg by the door, then returned to help the others.

"These things are heavy," he commented as he helped one of the other men out of it.

Snow dumped to the floor, followed by melting ice dripping into puddles.

"Yeah, but they kept us warm. Kind of," one of the deputies answered, as he turned to his barely conscious companion. "We gotta get Bob out of his wet clothes though. Warm coats ain't doing anything for him."

"Yeah, yeah," Heyes agreed. "Here, give me your coats, and I'll hang them up there to dry. Set your firearms on the table."

Matt looked at the Kid and the gun pointing at them.

"You, too. That was the deal."

"I've already put mine away," Heyes told him. "He'll do the same once you fellas are settled."

The marshal squinted at Heyes. "Do we have a stand-off here?"

Heyes flashed a smile. "I don't think you have a choice."

The marshal's brow twitched as he scrutinized the man standing before him.

Heyes silently cursed himself. Had his dimple given him away yet again? Was it the situation, or sudden recognition, that caused the lawman to hesitate?

"C'mon, Matt," one of the deputies supporting his friend, complained. "Just do it, will ya? Bob ain't movin' no more."

The marshal's attention was diverted back to the matter at hand.

"Yeah, yeah, Clint. You're right. Let's get Bob settled. We can deal with semantics later."

"What about the horses?" Clint asked, who, by his own admittance, cared more for animals than he did people. "I noticed the end of a rope tied to the post on the porch. Does that lead to a shelter?"

"Yeah," Heyes said, as he stepped up to help with the freezing man. "The one furthest from the door leads to the outhouse, the first one goes to the barn. There's plenty of room in it for your horses. Lots of hay in the loft, too. There are blankets in the chest here, and burlap sacks in the barn. If you dry off that horse who fell in the creek, then tie one of those blankets on him, hopefully he'll survive the night."

Clint nodded, recognizing a kindred spirit. "Thanks, mister."

The deputy opened the chest and grabbed a blanket, then turned back to the door to face the elements one more time.

"There's only four bunks here," Heyes informed them. "But there's a couple of rolled up mattresses in the store room and, like I said, plenty of blankets."

The marshal nodded as he and his third deputy settled Bob onto Heyes's bunk.

Heyes was about to protest, but then realized that the freezing man should have the bunk closest to the hearth. The fire did a good job of warming up the cabin, so it wasn't like he would be uncomfortable on the bunk that was set on the other side of the Kid.

"I'll get some coffee goin' for you fellas," the Kid said. "I bet you could do with a cup. We even got some whiskey in the pantry ta take the chill off."

"That's mighty kind of you," the marshal said, as he pulled his deputy's boots off. "If we can get Bob here to wake up, he could probably do with some of that whiskey, too."

"Sure."

The Kid put a fresh pot of coffee onto the grill to perk, then disappeared into the pantry to retrieve the whiskey. Picking up the rifle that was leaning against a sack of flower, he did a quick check to ensure it was loaded. Then he set it up on the highest shelf where it was out of sight to casual eyes.

He grabbed one of the whiskey bottles and returned to the group. Heyes sent him a look, and he responded with the most subtle of nods.

Heyes then ladled out three more servings of stew from the big, cast-iron pot hanging from its hook over the fire.

"Here you are, fellas. I'm sure you must be hungry after all that."

The deputy sitting at the table snatched a bowl along with some bread that had also migrated over.

"It's about time. Damn, I hate bein' cold."

The marshal accepted his bowl and bread. "He means 'thank you, kindly', Don't ya, George."

"Humph," was all he got out of George as the disgruntled man continued to eat.

The door opened again, bringing with it more cold, swirling snow.

The walking bear quickly closed it, and he shrugged out of his thick coat.

"The horses are settled in," he announced. "Even Casper is lookin' content. He's actually eating some hay, so he can't be feelin' too poorly. Oh, stew!"

He hung up his coat, pulled off his boots and settled in at the table.

Heyes slid a bowl and some bread to him. "Here you go, Deputy. We've got coffee perking, and there'll be whiskey to help it down with."

Clint's eyes lit up. "Wow. A real banquet. Thank ya' kindly."

The marshal sent a pointed look to George, but that man ignored him.

After the three men had eaten their fill, coffee and whiskey made the rounds.

"I hope everyone got enough to eat," Heyes said, as he laced up his beverage.

"Oh yeah," Clint leaned back and rubbed his skinny belly. "That was good."

George didn't say anything.

"That was plenty," the marshal said. "Besides, we don't want to eat up all your stores. We could be stuck here for a while."

"Naw, there's plenty," Heyes assured him. "Besides, my friend here is a pretty good shot and we've seen a lot of game around here."

The marshal's eyes flicked to the Kid. "Oh yeah? Good shot, are ya?"

"I'm fair," the Kid answered. "I'm sure you fellas could do just as well."

"Uh huh." The marshal turned his attention back to Heyes. "We might as well get acquainted," he said. "Like I told ya, I'm Matt Jenkins. These here are my deputies: George Bradford there, the animal lover is Clint Wylie, and the one who went into the creek is Bob Wilkins."

"Good to meet you," Heyes lied. "I'm Joshua . . . Harden, and my friend here is Thaddeus Jones."

"Howdy," the Kid nodded to the group while wondering why Heyes had changed his alias.

"What are you fellas doing up here?" Heyes asked. "We figured we'd be all on our lonesome until spring."

"It's a long story," the marshal said as he poured whiskey into his coffee. "We have a base camp a few miles from here, but when this blizzard came on, we started to head back. The visibility was so bad, we lost our track and were coming across the creek without even knowing we were on ice. Until Bob there fell in. It sure was a relief to see the lights of this cabin. We'd a been in real trouble, otherwise."

"Yeah," George grumbled as he cast a squinted look at the partners, "As long as this ain't the cabin we been lookin' for."

"You were actually looking for this cabin?" Heyes asked, and he sensed the Kid tensing beside him.

The marshal sent his deputy an irritated look, then shook his head. "There's some cattle rustlers who have been active in these hills. In the good weather, they move around a lot, always changing their base camp. But they hunker down for the winter. We know they're around this area, and must have a cabin stocked to see them through."

"Okay. And you think it's us?"

"Well, cattle rustling isn't really your game, is it?"

Heyes frowned. "What does that mean, Marshal?"

"Just that I know what a rustler's cabin is likely to have on hand. Looking around here, I don't see anything that would indicate that kind of work." He flashed a smile at his other deputy. "And Clint here did a thorough search of the barn while he was tending to the horses. He didn't find anything out there, either. Did you, Clint?"

"Nope," Clint grinned. "Just the usual stuff for a line cabin. No runnin' irons or nothin'."

"That's good to hear," Heyes looked the marshal in the eye. "I wouldn't want you thinking you'd stumbled across a nest of outlaws."

Marshal Jenkins simply smiled.

"What was that all about?" the Kid asked, as he pitched a load of manure into the wheelbarrow. "How come ya switched up your alias?"

"I donno," Heyes admitted, as his contribution to the barrow closely followed the Kid's. "I've heard of Matt Jenkins; the man is no fool. If I gave him Smith AND Jones as our aliases, that just might tip him off."

"Yeah," the Kid was doubtful, "but what if he gets down below and checks us out with Mr. Hardbuckle. He'll know you lied to him. Then where will we be?"

"Long gone from here, I hope. With this blizzard still blowing the way it is, it looks like we could have company for a while. Let's just hunker down and make the best of it."

"Uh huh. Well, I'm still keepin' my gun close at hand, just in case."

Heyes grinned as another helping of manure flew through the air. "I knew you would."

Following the rope back to the cabin, Heyes and the Kid stepped onto the porch underneath the awning. They stomped most of the snow off their boots, and then helped each other brush more of the white stuff off their shoulders. The wind still blew, but not with the same ferocity it had during the night. Hopefully, this blizzard would die out soon.

Coming in through the door, they were both hit with the warmth from the cook fire, and the smell of frying corned beef twitched their noses.

"Hey, Deputy Bob," Heyes greeted the man sitting at the table, nursing a coffee while still bundled up in a cocoon of blankets. "How are you feeling this morning?"

"Like I still ain't thawed out."

"I bet."

Coats and boots were taken off and, while the coats were hung on pegs to dry, boots were carried over to the hearth and set down to warm.

The Kid glanced over the cook fire to check out the menu. Three large cast-iron skillets were set on the grill. Their noses hadn't lied, as the first skillet was filled with shredded corned beef. The second held cut up potatoes, while the third was heating canned tomatoes.

"It looks like you're puttin together quite a feast."

Clint grinned up at the Kid. "You bet. You fellas weren't kidding about that larder. There's enough food in there ta keep us all well-fed through the winter."

"You plan on stayin' through the winter?"

Clint shrugged as he stirred the frying potatoes. "The way that snow's piling up out there, we could be here for a while. This is a good base camp though. Better 'n the one we set up. Once this storm clears, maybe we can find our camp and bring the stores back here." Clint straightened up from tending to breakfast. "How about that, Matt? We bring our stores back here and use this as our base camp while we look for them rustlers."

"That's not a bad idea," Matt agreed, then looked at the partners. "As long as we're welcome, that is."

Heyes grinned, trying not to show his disappointment. "The more the marrier."

George cursed. He slapped the table and scraped back his chair as he stood up.

"I'm goin' to the outhouse," he grumbled as he grabbed his coat. "Breakfast better be ready by the time I get back."

All heads turned to watch him as he stomped out of the cabin.

"What's with him?" Curry asked.

"Aww, don't mind 'im," Clint said as he flipped the corned beef. "He don't like the snow."

By the time they were done with the hearty breakfast, the wind had died down, and though snow still fell, it was little more than a dusting.

The day was spent clearing away the paths to the various outbuildings, and melting snow for drinking water. The ropes were all checked, and the livestock taken care of. Anything they came across in the outbuildings that could be of use in the cabin was moved over there and found a space.

It was hard, heavy work, but by the time late afternoon settle upon them, they were confident they would survive being snowed in for a while.

It was George's turn to cook, and he had beef steaks laid out on the grill, and one of the skillets was put to work again re-heating the mixture of tomatoes and spuds.

"Nothin' like comin' home to a warm cabin and hot food," the Kid announced, as they all trooped into the room. "What are you fellas gonna eat?"

"Ha!" Clint gave the Kid a pat on the back. "I'd fight two men and a boy for one 'a them steaks. Maybe even a couple of 'em."

"No need to come to blows," the marshal reasoned. "Looks like there's plenty there."

"Oh, I don't know," Heyes joined in. "My friend amazes me with how much food he can put away. Best get in there and grab your share before it's all gone."

"Dammnit," George groused from the hearth. "If I didn't make enough grub for everybody, I'll muck the barn for a week."

"There you go, Thaddeus, you've been challenged."

"I sure don't mind a week off from muckin' the barn," the Kid grinned. "Let me at it."

And with that, he grabbed a plate and piled it high with supper.

George won his bet though. By the time the last of the food was cleaned up, they all sat back in their chairs and patted full tummies.

"That was some cookin'," Bob said. "That spice I found in the pantry sure did add a kick to the meat. That's gotta be the best steak I ever et."

"Yeah." George was still grumbling. "I should'a made that a real bet though. I cooked up enough for everyone and then some."

"Tell ya what," the Kid said. "You're right, it was a bet, and you did win. I'm plum stuffed. I'll do the cleanin' up after supper for the next week. How's that?"

The first smile anyone had seen out of George spread across his face. "You got a deal."

Heyes sighed as he looked up at the dark ceiling. He had fallen asleep fast enough, but he had awakened in the very wee hours of the morning, and now, that desired sleep alluded him. The soft snoring coming from the other occupants of the cabin didn't help.

Having been through this ritual before, he knew that laying there, wishing for sleep, was not going to make it happen. With another resigned sigh, he pushed off the blanket and sat up. He shivered with the chill, so he pulled on his wool socks and sweater then went to the hearth and stoked up the fire.

He grabbed his blanket and his book and settled into the arm chair. He lit the lamp, but kept it on a low flame so he wouldn't disturb the other sleepers, then opened his book to read.

He couldn't have been more than two paragraphs into it when he felt the presence of someone else standing beside him.

"Marshal," he greeted the blanket-clad form. "Couldn't sleep?" Heyes recognized the frustrated sigh that came in answer. He smiled. "No, me neither. Pull up a chair."

Matt brought over one of the chairs from the table and sat down. He stretched out his long legs toward the fire, then settled more snuggly into his blanket.

"I often can't sleep," he admitted. "Too much going on up here." And he tapped his own temple. "Sure wish I knew how to shut it down."

Heyes nodded. "I know what you mean." He glanced over at the row of snoring men. "They don't seem to have any trouble."

"Well, they're not the ones in charge, are they? They're not the leaders."

"I can see that with your situation," Heyes said, though a small apprehension niggled at him. "You're a marshal, and that makes you responsible for the men who work for you. Now, me and Thaddeus, we're equal part—"

"Let's drop the pretense, shall we?" the marshal cut in. "It looks like we could all be cooped up here for the duration. Pretending to be someone you're not can get wearing after a while."

Heyes considered keeping up the act, but he knew that wasn't going to work with this man.

He stared into the fire and signed. "How long have you known?"

"Well, I kind of suspected it when we first got here. Do you think that coffee is still hot?"

"Yeah, it should be. I expect it will be pretty strong by now, though."

"That's fine. Do you want a cup?"

"Yeah. I think I might need it."

The marshal went over to the hearth and drained what was left in the pot into two cups. He returned and handed one cup to his companion then settled back into his chair.

Heyes blew on the beverage, then took a fortifying sip. He waited.

The marshal also tested his coffee. "Hmm, just right. Now, as I was saying, I suspected at first. We weren't after you fellas, but a good lawman always keeps his ears and eyes open. You two were spotted over by Medicine Bow a while back, then you simply up and disappeared. I figured you had dug in somewhere for the winter. I knew it wouldn't be Devil's Hole since you seem to have abandoned that hide out. What's that all about? It seems to me, you fellas had it pretty good there. Why did you up and leave it?"

"That's a long story, Marshal. There are times when I don't even understand why we did it."

"Well, maybe you can tell me about it sometime."

"Hmm. Maybe."

The marshal sat and quietly scrutinized the man sitting beside him. He felt a connection to this outlaw for some reason. A kindred spirit, in a way, and he didn't really understand it. But he knew there was more going on beneath the surface. Not only with this current situation, but with the man himself.

What were these two outlaws doing, taking a thankless job in a line cabin, when they had a comfortable and secure hideout to spend the winter in? Dissention in the ranks? Had Wheat Carlson recruited the other members and pulled off a coup?

No, that couldn't be it.

Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry had established a strong leadership, and the gang had thrived with Heyes's uncanny ability to organize, plan, and execute some of the biggest heists the territory had ever suffered.

He let it go, figuring he'd find out sooner or later.

"I was after other game," the marshal continued. "So, I didn't give your whereabouts any more thought. Until we ended up on your door step. You really do need to find a way to hide that dimple."

Heyes groaned. "Yeah. It's been a blessing and a curse."

"Hmm. I bet. Still, I wasn't sure, and we needed a place to hole up. I figured I'd give it some time. Watch your mannerisms, your tendencies, and your relationship with one another.

"It didn't take long to get you figured out. You're the talker, Heyes, you're the front man. You bring everyone's focus onto you. You dig for information in a way that seems like idle chit chat. You put everyone at their ease. You flash that dimple of yours and comradery follows.

"Now, the Kid, he sits back and doesn't say much of anything. He's there, but you attract all the attention. But he's listening to everything and judging the situation. He's watching your back and has already formulated a plan of action in case things go bad.

"He's a gunman, even now, when he doesn't have a gun on him. A good lawman can tell and will notice him, even when he's keeping himself in the background. And don't think I don't know he's got a loaded gun hidden somewhere close at hand. I don't know where, but he does. There is no way Kid Curry is going to be without a weapon when he's sharing a cabin with a marshal and three deputies."

Heyes nodded agreement. "Do the others know?"

"Oh well, the younger generation, eh? They don't really pay attention to the clues. Clint is the only one who might turn into a decent lawman. I think he suspects something, but we haven't conferred on that yet. Bob is just filling in until something better comes along. Falling into the creek has likely put him off this job. And George, well George didn't want to come along in the first place. He had plans to ask his gal, on Christmas day, to marry him, and getting stuck out here has put the kibosh on that."

Heyes frowned. "Christmas Day?"

"Yeah. This is the week. Didn't you know?"

"No." Heyes shrugged. "Being out here, we kind of lost track."

"Hmm hm. George hasn't lost track. Nor does he lose any opportunity to let me know about it, too."

The two men sat quietly for a moment, sipping their coffee while Heyes took time to consider their new situation.

"Well, now that you've declared yourself, what do you intend to do about it?"

The marshal pressed his lips and stared into the fire for a moment.

"I've been thinking about that," he finally admitted. "Considering our situation, it would be pointless to arrest you now. It also strikes me as being ungracious. You did let us in, even though you knew we were the law."

"We could hardly keep the door shut on you with that blizzard going on. You all would have frozen to death out there, not just Bob."

"True. But I know plenty of outlaws who wouldn't have cared. Probably would have opened that door with guns blazing."

"Well, we aren't like 'plenty of outlaws'."

"Yeah, I noticed."

"So," Heyes stretched and sat up straighter. "We know who you are, and you know who we are, and we just play nice until spring. Then what?"

"Then we part ways. My report will state that we got lost in a blizzard, and two cowboys, working the line cabin for Mr. Hardbuckle, took us in."

Heyes's dimple dug deep. "That's it?"

"Oh, there is one more thing you can do to make my life a bit easier."

"Yeah? What's that?"

"You and your partner cook up a Christmas dinner for tomorrow. I noticed some grouse and a couple of wild turkeys hanging in the larder. How you cook them, and what you cook with them, I will leave up to your very active imagination."

"That's it?"

"Yup. Do a good job and get George off my back, then we'll be square."

"You've got yourself a deal, Matt. I'll let the Kid know in the morning."

"Oh, I don't think you need to worry about that," Matt commented, as he glanced over at the appropriate bunk. "I expect Kid Curry has been awake all along and is listening to every word we say."