"Get out the way!"
An irate-looking man swerved his wagon around the three boys before disappearing among the horses, carts and carriages already competing for space on the wide street.
The towns they had lived in or passed through in both Kansas and Missouri were relatively small; you could walk the length of the main street in less than five minutes. Denver, on the other hand, was a bustling metropolis.
Surprisingly, Billy was the first to find his voice. "Look at all them horses!"
"Mister O'Sullivan is gonna be real hard to find in a place like this," groaned Jed. His chest hurt after all the running and the thought of walking endless streets looking for one particular house did not appeal.
Han frowned at his cousin's negativity. "I've got the address right here," he said, pulling a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket. "Just gotta ask for directions, is all. We need somebody who looks like they know the place real well."
Having quickly identified a likely looking individual Han approached a man who was casually leaning against a shop front smoking a quirley. "Howdy mister, I—"
"Whatever it is you're sellin', boy, I ain't buyin'."
"Oh, I'm not sell—."
The man stepped forward aggressively and cut him off with a loud, "I ain't interested, now get!"
"Folk here don't seem too friendly," Jed remarked under his breath as he watched his cousin back away.
Unperturbed at the rebuff Han walked over to a shopkeeper who was busily sweeping his small section of the boardwalk.
"'Scuse me, mister, can you tell me where I can find..." he referred to the piece of paper, "... Tremont Place?"
The man leaned on his broom and asked, "Whatcha wanna know that for?"
Hannibal Heyes straightened his back and stated importantly. "I've got an appointment."
The shopkeeper let out a loud guffaw. "An appointment, you say! Who you dealing with there?"
"A Mister O'Sullivan."
"You've got an appointment with Silky O'Sullivan?" asked the man, dubiously.
Before his brain could go to work on a plausible lie Han remembered Isabella once referring to an 'Uncle Silky'. Guessing it was the same man, he replied, "Yep, good ol' Silky's expecting me, so I'd be obliged if you can tell me how to get there?"
The man slowly stroked his moustache while considering whether or not he should give this young fellow directions. Eventually he shrugged to himself and pointed along the street. "Keep goin' along here for a couple o' blocks then turn right and follow that street for about a half mile. Tremont Place is up there."
"Thanks, mister." Han held out a silver dollar. During his quest to find Jed he had become accustomed to paying for information.
The shopkeeper waved the proffered coin away. "Keep your money, son. If it really is Silky O'Sullivan you're dealin' with, you're gonna need every penny you got."
Dodging in and out of the morning melee the boys followed the road then turned right only to see another long, wide street stretching ahead of them into the distance.
"Keep your eyes open for a sign saying Tremont Place," instructed Han. Then, noticing that Billy did not appear to be paying attention, he nudged him. "Got it?"
At the boy's worried expression Han asked, "What's the matter?"
Silently, Billy stared down at his boots so Han gently took hold of the boy's arm. "Whatever it is, I ain't gonna be mad at ya."
"Never had much learnin'," confessed Billy, his eyes fearfully searching Han's face for the slightest sign of anger.
Now that he understood what the problem was Han drew a large T in the dirt with the toe of his boot. "We're looking for this on a road sign. It's the letter T and it'll be at the beginning of the writing. Okay?"
Billy studied the shape then nodded.
They walked for some distance, inspecting every road sign, until Billy yelled, "There! That's it, ain't it, Han?" He proudly pointed at the first letter.
Han grinned. "That's it, sure enough." He checked the slip of paper once more. "We want number 75."
75 Tremont Place was an imposing two storey brick house. A roof of slick blue slate sloped down to meet yellow-painted, carved wooden eaves and each floor was graced by tall sash windows. From a gate, set in the middle of a line of ornamental iron railings, was a path splitting the neatly cut lawn in two and ending at a porch with matching yellow eaves. The porch stretched across the front of the house and sheltered a polished mahogany front door.
Standing at the gate Jed sighed wearily, "This can't be right."
"This is it, sure enough," Han declared, relieved that they were here at last and his cousin would be able to rest. It appeared he was struggling to breathe with every step he took.
The two younger boys stayed rooted to the spot watching Han confidently push the gate open and start up the path. Sensing he wasn't being followed he turned and beckoned. "Whatcha waiting for? C'mon."
ooooo-OOO-ooooo
In the laundry room Maisie Conlon pulled her chapped, wrinkled hands from the soapy water and dried them on her long white apron
"I'm coming! Have some patience," she called, pushing strands of grey hair away from her face and tutting in irritation as the loud knocking persisted. It was time she had another word with the proprietor of Miller's Mercantile about that delivery boy of his. No matter how many times she told him, he never seemed to learn: deliveries were received at the rear of the house.
"Mickey Doolan, I swear by all that's holy, I'll—" she said as she flung open the door to see three boys standing on the porch instead of the one she expected. Unconsciously she took a step back as the breeze introduced more than a whiff of eau de boxcar to her sensitive nostrils.
"Mornin', ma'am." Hannibal Heyes quickly pulled off his hat. " We—"
"No panhandlers here," stated Maisie, brusquely. "Be off with you!"
Han put his hand out just in time to prevent her slamming the door on them. "Oh, we're not beggars, ma'am. We're here to see Mister O'Sullivan."
"Mister O'Sullivan isn't partial to callers."
"Oh, he's expecting us," Han persisted. "We've travelled all the way from Missouri."
The earnest look on Han's face gave Maisie Conlon pause. Anyone from Denver knew of Silky O'Sullivan's aversion to visitors and usually left him alone.
"Have you now?" she said, dubiously. "Well, I haven't been informed of any visitors today."
"There should have been a telegraph, about a week ago, saying we were coming."
"And who sent this telegraph? You?"
"No, ma'am. Mister Tweedie."
Maisie's frowning face turned to one of cautious surprise. "Tweedie, you say?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"JT sent you?" Maisie queried again.
Now that he'd finally said something this woman might believe Han's face broke into a grin. "He sure did. You see, things weren't going well for us back in Missouri, so JT suggested we come here. He said Mister O'Sullivan would have some work for us."
Casting an appraising eye over the three scruffy individuals, noting their muddy boots and the occasional strand of straw which dropped from their clothes onto her freshly swept porch, Maisie asked, "Do you three have names?"
"Ma'am, I'm Hannibal Heyes and this is Jedediah Curry. He's my blood cousin."
"I'm called Kid. Kid Curry," Jed corrected.
Maisie couldn't help but smile at the blond, curly headed boy with striking blue eyes wrapped in an overcoat two sizes too big for him. She pointed at Billy. "Who's this, another cousin?"
Jed and Billy both looked to Han whose instincts about people told him he had better answer truthfully. He had a hunch it would be in their best interests to stay on the right side of this lady.
"No, ma'am. He's a friend. His name's Billy."
"Well, Hannibal Heyes," sighed Maisie. "Mister O' Sullivan's not here right now, but I suppose if you're expected..."
As the three eagerly moved forward she quickly raised a hand to stop them. "Oh no, you're not coming indoors in that state. Round the back with you."
ooooo-OOO-ooooo
"What's gonna happen now?" asked Billy apprehensively as they waited on the rear porch.
"Well, hopefully she'll give us some food, maybe even a change of clothes and a room we can bed down in together," suggested Han, optimistically.
"I sure could do with somethin' to eat," said Jed, wearily lowering himself onto the top step.
With a loud squeak the screen door opened and Maisie Conlon stepped outside, a pile of towels in her arms topped off with a large bar of soap which she placed on an old rocking chair.
"Strip off those dirty clothes and I'll get them washed. The copper is lit so there's plenty of hot water. I'll bring out a bucketful in a minute so you can get cleaned up. And don't forget to use this." She held out the bar of soap.
Jed and Billy eyed the soap with obvious distaste, while Han was more concerned with practicalities.
"Uh ma'am, these are the only clothes we have," he pointed out.
"I'll go and find something for you to put on 'til your clothes are dry." She clapped her hands briskly in the direction of the two younger boys. "Hurry now! I don't want to have that copper heating all day!"
As Jed pulled Han's coat from his shoulders Maisie caught sight of Fox Flanagan's old Remington revolver tucked into the top of his pants.
"Oh dear," she said. "That'll have to go. Mister O'Sullivan doesn't hold with firearms. He won't have them in the house."
Jed's face took on a belligerent look. "I ain't gettin' rid of it."
Not wishing to risk starting off on the wrong foot with their new benefactor, and at the same time realising that removing his shirt meant he would need somewhere to stash the bundles of dollar bills concealed within it, Han smiled sweetly. "Is there someplace I can hide the gun, ma'am? Jed's real attached — it being a family heirloom an' all," he lied.
Maisie sighed. "Alright. There's an old shed over there beyond the outhouse. Just make sure you put it somewhere out of sight."
Hannibal hastily plucked the revolver from Jed's pants and ran off in the direction of the shed.
"Come on you two. The sooner you get those clothes off the sooner they can be washed. It's a good drying day today so you won't be without them for long." Maisie shuddered. "They smell of... Well, I don't want to say what they smell of. Where in Heaven's name have you been?"
"On a train," said Billy, dutifully undoing his shirt buttons.
"In a boxcar," clarified Jed, carefully easing off his shirt so he wouldn't have to twist.
"Gracious! What happened to you?" Maisie exclaimed, having clapped eyes on Jed's numerous bruises. She had assumed the marks on his face were dirt, but now she realised they must be bruises too. "And you," she said, noting the variety of colours on Billy's torso from injuries old and new. "Did he do this?" she enquired sternly, tilting her head in the direction Hannibal had taken.
"Oh, no, ma'am. Han wouldn't hurt nobody," Jed quickly assured her. "He's real peaceable."
"Is that the truth?"
Both boys nodded vigorously.
The housekeeper opened the porch door. "I'll fetch some liniment. Once you're clean, come on inside."
ooooo-OOO-ooooo
A half hour later Hannibal Heyes tipped the bucket of water over his head to rinse the soap from his hair and proceeded to rub himself dry with one of the towels. Feeling and smelling fresher than he had in quite some time, he added his dirty clothes to the pile already on the porch, wrapped the towel around his waist and let himself into the warm, homely kitchen.
Billy and Jed were already seated at the scrubbed pine table. They both wore what looked to be large calico nightshirts rolled down to their waists and were suffering Mrs Conlon's ministrations as she applied a greasy salve to their bruises.
"Put that on young man, and sit yourself down." Maisie indicated a vacant seat on which lay another neatly folded nightshirt. "Do you need some of this too?" She held up a small, dark-coloured pot.
Han smiled. "No thank you, ma'am. I ain't hurt."
"Han's a bona-fide hero," announced Jed. "He rescued us; almost got hisself shot doin' it."
"Shot by you, with that gun?" asked Maisie, frowning.
"I wouldn't shoot nobody less'n I had a mind to," Jed informed her before stating proudly, "I'm a good shot; Deputy Whitman said—."
Before Jed could say too much Han cut him off. "It's all part of that trouble we ran into, ma'am," was the only explanation he felt was needed for now. Until he knew exactly where they stood with Mister O'Sullivan he didn't think it wise to reveal too much, so while Maisie washed her greasy hands at the sink he fired a stern look at the two younger boys as a reminder.
"Button up those nightshirts, boys, don't want you catching a chill," the housekeeper said.
Neither Billy nor Jed could imagine how that would be possible. Compared to what they had been subjected to over the past six months the kitchen felt like a furnace.
"Now you're clean I suspect you'd like something to eat?" Maisie already knew the answer to her question and she smiled at the emphatic, "Yes, ma'am," that they chorused back. Growing boys were always hungry.
Having first carved thick slices off a boiled joint of bacon, she set about making sandwiches with bread cut from a freshly baked loaf and spread liberally with butter. Placing these on individual plates she added a hard-boiled egg to each one before pushing them across the table to the waiting boys.
Han eagerly picked up his sandwich and was preparing to take a bite when he noticed the other two just sitting and staring at the food in front of them.
"Whatcha waiting for? Somebody to say 'go'?" he asked flippantly.
Two pairs of uncertain eyes turned his way confirming that was exactly what they were waiting for. Anger threatened to dull Han's appetite as he realised Fox Flanagan's abuse must have been both physical and mental.
"They can eat; can't they, ma'am?"
"I'd be mighty offended if they didn't," affirmed Maisie as she poured out three glassfuls of milk. "That's a 'yes', boys. Eat!"
With a concerned fascination Han and Maisie watched Billy and Jed first grab the eggs which they cracked, quickly peeled away the shell, then stuffed almost whole into their hungry mouths.
Hannibal chewed his way through his sandwich savouring every mouthful. He'd had a chicken supper on the day of their escape from Trail Town, but exactly when the others had last eaten a proper meal, he had no idea.
Eventually he sat back in his seat with a satisfied sigh. "That sure was good."
Jed added his approval with a loud burp.