Through wayward strands of dark hair Han peered at the battered old pocket watch clasped in his hand. Three a.m.
"We shouldha heard something by now," he said.
Jenny pushed her game of solitaire to one side; she couldn't concentrate anyhow. Gazing into the sad brown eyes, red-rimmed from fatigue and worry, she said, "You need to come along with me."
"You heard Silky, I ain't allowed to go nowhere," Han mumbled sullenly.
"I'm going to put some coffee on. We could both do with a cup."
The smell of freshly brewed coffee soon filled the small kitchen. Han sat on a bench, his elbows on the table and his chin in his hands, staring into the open fire; his dark mood and the sight of the crackling flames resurrecting images nobody of his tender years should ever have to recall.
"Jed's all I've got," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
Jenny placed a motherly arm around his shoulders. "Give it time, they'll find him," she said, hoping that she sounded more positive than she felt.
"We've been through so much together, y' know. It's been hard."
"That boy's tough," stated Jenny. "He's almost an adult."
"I know."
Wondering whether she had detected a note of disappointment in Han's voice Jenny said kindly, "Grown up or not, he's still gonna need you. You'll always be a big part of Jed's life, Hannibal, no matter what. You share the same blood and that's a bond that can't be broken."
Roughly Han brushed away a tear that was threatening to fall. "Thanks. I needed to hear that."
"Anytime, honey, anytime."
A sudden rap on the back door made them both stiffen. Then a series of louder knocks had them leaping to their feet. Han was first to the door. Yanking it open he looked at the person standing there and exclaimed, "What the devil do you want?"
His chest heaving, Tucker leaned forward resting his hands on his knees.
"Kid... 'n Billy...," he panted, "...hurt."
"Where are they?"
"Boys... bring... bringin' 'em in now."
Han jumped down the steps into the alley and peered into the darkness. The waning moon had almost abandoned the night sky, but there still remained some small patches of moonlight among the shadows. Seeing one flicker, he ran toward it.
By the time he reached Tucker's gang Jenny was catching up fast, a lighted lantern dangling from her hand. Holding it high she illuminated four dirty, sweating faces, but it was not these that shocked her, it was the burdens they carried between them.
"Oh Lordy," she cried. "Hannibal, you carry Jed, I'll take Billy. We need to get them inside. You, hold this." Even though he was out of breath and felt near to collapse, Tolly took hold of the lantern thrust his way.
Struggling a little under the dead weight of the unconscious boys, Han and Jenny made their way as fast as they could toward the light spilling across the alley from the open kitchen door. Immediately heading through the bar to the stairs, Jenny hollered, "Lyla! Lizzie! Make up that free bed. We've got injured here." The thud of bare feet on the floorboards above indicated that neither of the girls had been asleep or entertaining anyone, and were doing as they were bid.
So intent was he on getting him inside that Han hadn't even stopped to check whether his cousin was alive or dead; it was only as he stepped into kitchen that he glanced down at the blond head lolling against his left shoulder. Jed's face was deathly pale. Forcing himself to breathe he followed Jenny upstairs.
"Hurry now," Jenny urged as the two working girls stretched clean linen across the mattress and stuffed pillows into pillowcases. "Lyla, see if you can find some bandages. If you can't, tear up the other sheet. Lizzie, bring that lamp over here, then go get some water boiling."
Having gently placed Billy on the bed Jenny gasped at the state of the boy's face. Along with countless bruises, both his eyes were swollen shut, his lips split and swollen and crusted with dry blood from his mouth. There was a nasty cut above one eye which had left rivulets of red down his face, joining that which had obviously poured from a potentially broken nose.
Han eased past her and placed Jed alongside his friend. It was only then that he noticed a red stain on his sleeve where Jed's head had been.
"He's bleeding," he exclaimed, ruffling through Jed's curls to locate the injury. "The back of his head's busted open."
"Better fetch the doc," instructed Jenny. "Meantime, the girls and me will start cleaning them up."
Reluctant to leave, Han hesitated.
"We'll take good care of him," Jenny assured him. "Now go!"
After one more glance at Jed, Han sped out of the room and down the staircase, his boots making scant contact with any of the steps.
In their hurry to get the boys upstairs, neither he nor Jenny had closed the back door, so by the time Han reached the kitchen Tucker and three members of his gang were sitting at the table hungrily munching on some cookies from a large tin they had found inside a cupboard, while Digger guzzled water straight from the pump.
"How they doin'?" Tucker asked, liberally spitting crumbs with each word.
"They need a doctor," declared Han. "I'm heading out now to get Doc Coleman."
"Go along with 'em," Tucker aimed this instruction at Digger. At Han's questioning look he explained, "Don't want anythin' happenin' ta you too."
Han nodded his thanks. He didn't want anything happening to him either.
"Mister O'Sullivan, Monty and Alonzo are still out there searching," he said.
Tucker stood up, and stuffing a few extra cookies into his pockets, declared, "The rest of us'll head out. See if we can find 'em."
"Thanks. Appreciate that," said Han before he and Digger took off at a lick down the alley.
ooooo-OOO-ooooo
"Will they live?" Silky voiced the question on everyone's lips the minute Doc Coleman stepped off the bottom stair.
The medic regarded the anxious faces assembled at the bar. "Too soon to tell, I'm afraid."
Alonzo poured the remainder from what, only a half hour ago had been a full bottle of whiskey, into a shot glass. The doc downed it in one gulp.
"I've stitched Kid's head wound, and bound up those ribs again, although I don't think they're busted this time," he stated. "If I knew how long he's been unconscious I could give you a better idea of his chances, but the longer he's out, well... "
"And Billy?" asked Silky.
"Well, that young 'un's taken a real beating. It'll be a long time before he's himself again," answered Doc Coleman. Turning to Han, who earlier had been ejected from the bedroom for getting under the doctor's feet, he asked, "Could the feller who hurt them before have done this?"
Han's heart almost stopped. So intent was he on blaming the Flyte brothers that this was something he had not even considered. Fox Flanagan would have been fit to be tied over Jed and Billy's rescue, but he couldn't have followed them here, could he? How would he even know they had gone to Denver? A terrible thought then occurred to him. What if Flanagan had caught up with JT and Bella and beaten the information out of them? Unfortunately, this last question had his imagination conjure up a vivid, gut-wrenching image of their blood-stained bodies lying in a ditch somewhere. Forcing it out of his mind, he swallowed down the rising bile in his throat, and croaked, "It's possible, I guess."
"Well, I've seen some beat up kids in my time..." Doc Coleman shook his head in dismay. "Looks to me like someone was set on killin' 'em. The law should be informed, Silky."
Silky O'Sullivan frowned to himself. There was little doubt in his mind who was responsible for this, and even though he wanted them to get the punishment they deserved, he didn't much like the idea of an investigation revealing the illegal gambling he was involved in.
At Silky's continued silence Doc Coleman shrugged his shoulders. "Well, if the marshal wants a statement about their injuries, you know where to find me." He tipped his hat. "'Night folks."
ooooo-OOO-ooooo
The strong smell of carbolic acid assailed Hannibal Heyes' nostrils from the moment he entered the bedroom. A lamp burned low on the dresser throwing a soft yellow light over the bed's two occupants. Jenny perched on the edge of a chair alongside Billy, worriedly winding a tear-dampened handkerchief through her fingers.
Kneeling down on the floor on the opposite side of the bed Han took his cousin's hand in his. He could see the split skin and bruising on his knuckles and was proud to think that Jed had made a good attempt at defending himself. However, the bandage around his head was testament to the fact that he had come off worse in the end.
"Digger told me they happened on them alongside the railroad tracks," he told Jenny, quietly. "Must be a good half mile from the Pike. What do you suppose they were doing there?"
Jenny's blonde curls shook; she simply had no words. Billy's battered face, along with the extensive bruising on his arms and torso, made her feel sick. From her perspective it was as if she had travelled back in time and was once again looking upon her dying son. Bowing her head she said a prayer, hoping this time it might actually do some good.
What little was left of the night passed without any change in the boys' condition, but as the first light of dawn leaked through a gap in the heavy drapes, Jed's breathing quickened and he began to stir. Han scrambled to his feet and the second his cousin's eyelids began to flicker he leaned over him. "Jed. Jed, can you hear me? It's me, Han."
Two blue eyes sprang open but didn't register the familiar face. Instead they stared fearfully at something, or someone, in his mind's eye. "Billy!"
"Billy's right beside you, darlin'," Jenny cooed. "You're both safe."
"Safe...," murmured Jed drowsily.
"That's right," confirmed Han. "Billy's beat up, but... Jed? Jed!" Alarmed at the sight of his cousin's eyes closing again so soon, Han shook him gently, but when there was still no response he asked hoarsely, "Is he...dead?"
Reaching across the bed Jenny pressed two fingers against the boy's neck and after a few seconds declared, "I can feel a pulse. He's just unconscious again. Gus said they may drift in and out for a while."
With his trembling hands raking through his hair Han took a couple of steps back from the bed. "What if he don't wake up again?" he groaned. "Hell, he could die, and it's all my fault."
"You didn't do this to him," Jenny assured him.
"Yes, I did," wailed Han. "I'm supposed to look after him. It was me who brought him here to Denver. I've killed him. I've killed them both."
"You did not do this." Jenny emphasised each word in the hope of making Han realise he was not responsible for what had befallen them. "Jed'll wake up again, you'll see."
A look of desperation filled Han's brown eyes. "You really think so?"
"I do, honey. You've just got to have a little faith."
Jed did indeed come to again, but was asleep when, a few hours later, Doc Coleman paid his young patients another visit.
"How have they been?" he enquired of Han who was keeping vigil alone while Jenny went downstairs to fetch them both some coffee.
"Jed's been awake, but only for a half hour or so."
"That's a good sign."
"It is?" Han wished he shared the medic's optimism.
"Sure. He's probably only sleeping now. Has he had anything to eat or drink?"
"Just a little water."
"And Billy?"
Worriedly, Han shook his head. "We've been here all night. He's not come round."
"I think it's about time for a little intervention," Doc Coleman declared as he opened his medical bag and held up a small cut-glass bottle with a cork stopper. "Smelling salts. I don't like to use 'em; jolts 'em awake a bit to sudden like, but Billy's been out too long."
The pungent whiff of ammonia caught both their throats as the doctor pulled out the stopper and placed the bottle under Billy's nose. Involuntarily the boy jerked his head away, then a few seconds later he prised open one swollen eyelid.
"Wh-where... am... I?"
"You're at the Slipper, son," replied the doctor. "You hurtin' anyplace in particular?"
"All over."
"Well, you lie still now."
"Sleepy," murmured Billy.
Doc Coleman turned to Han. "That's normal," he said, and was about to explain further when the boy leaned over the side of the bed and vomited on the floor. The doc gave a wry smile. "So's that."
Billy's face contorted with pain, his stomach's sudden heave having destabilised his broken ribs even more. Groaning, he rolled onto his back just as the door opened and Jenny stepped into the room carrying a tray upon which were two steaming cups of coffee and two shots of whiskey.
"Oh, darlin' boy, you're awake!" she exclaimed, hastily setting the tray down on the nightstand.
"Doc woke him up," explained Han, "but watch the floor there. He's just spit up."
"They'll both be giddy and nauseous," explained Doc Coleman, "confused even, but it should pass. Keep 'em quiet and still. Plenty of water, maybe a little broth, but nothin' solid 'til they can hold down the broth. If they're in pain brew a tea from this." Triumphantly he retrieved a small paper bag from his pocket and handed it to Jenny. "Willow bark — arrived on the first stage this mornin'. Now that's what I call good timin'."