************************HH*KC*JS*TJ************************
It was more than Friday night on the mind of Heyes. Curry saw the stares into nothing at the poker table, the long looks out the bedroom window at the movement on the street below, people going about their business like little ants around the mound. He knew Heyes wanted to get back to Devil's Hole, missed that life and his friends there and Curry didn't have a problem with that. It was the old fear that always niggled Curry. Had the time come when his cousin was tired of him, too? Had he outgrown the need to be together? Had he moved on and made himself a life with no little cousin dogging his heels or his conscience?
The thought, or the feeling of being without Heyes cut deep inside like a cold, sharp wind. He had come to the realization as a teenager in the cavalry when letters from Heyes were scarce that second year, that he very well might have to make his way alone in the world. But going it alone wasn't his choice. Like Heyes, he had always worked for the other.
He saw the ants on the street, too. He saw the results of Heyes's life; the clothing, the bottomless billfold, the confidence of a man who did what he did best and profited from it. For himself, it was a life of working for others toward a dream that now seemed... to have evaporated into thin air. It was gone. And the cold wind cut.
Heyes saw. He always knew what his cousin was feeling no matter the face he presented. He saw Curry looking out the window and knew they felt the same thing. He saw Curry subconsciously pull his shearling jacket together and shiver, though the room was comfortably warmed by the steam radiator.
"Want to go down and work the room?"
Curry shook his head from inside the heavy shearling lapels. "Heyes."
"Yeah?" Hearing no reply, he left the front window and sat at the table facing Curry.
"Kid, I know it's hard, but it's hard for both of us."
"You don't look to be doin' so bad. Me, everything I wear came from you. Everything in my pockets I won at poker after you spotted me last week. An' you break out in a grin just thinkin' about gettin' back to Devil's Hole. I don't know, but Heyes, I really think Mister Dennehy ain't gonna give me my job back after all what happened, so I'll be lookin' for another rancher, another job, another line shack to flop in."
"Think I live in an ivory castle? It ain't no picnic in Devil's Hole, either."
"You don't look to be doin' so bad. Did you know I near froze myself to death last winter roundin' up some strays? If it hadn't been for the McCally's. Cattle, that's what I see in my sleep."
"Kid, you got to get yourself a woman."
Blue eyes narrowed. "Very funny. I get out with plenty girls. There's always a social or a hop somewhere. Heyes, you do what you do best. There's got to be more I can do, besides what I been failin' at."
"You ain't a failure, Jeddie. It just happens to be that life is hard."
"You don't look to be doin' so bad."
He was ready to bolt. Heyes knew it and there was nothing he could do to stop him, if that's what he chose. And if he did, it will mean a short life for a man as fast as Jedidiah Curry in the outlaw world without his cousin controlling circumstances.
Finally happened. The one thing he couldn't control, Jeddie's free will, came into play. He sighed and faced the floor, hands clasped, then raised his head to his cousin.
"You got to clear your name in three weeks. Let's stay with the plan of holin' up here til then, huh? We'll make other plans if we need to after your court appearance. Sound good?"
Curry assented, mostly because it was the first time Heyes didn't flat out say "No".
His slight hope would be thrown into serious jeopardy come Friday night.
************************HH*KC*JS*TJ************************
"Well, I never!" Jenny walked out from behind her Blackjack table and clasped her hands together over her heart. "Never in all my days have I seen two more handsome men!"
Curry and Heyes, heads shyly lowered, shifted their weight and grinned at her. They had donned their new suits purchased from Marks and Myers, derby hats, boots, overcoats draped across their arms, all ready for their night of romance with Francine and Genevieve.
"Thought we should take the ladies out in style. Will this do?" Heyes held out his arms.
"All the ladies will be puddles on the sight of you two! Jasper has the cabriolet ready. Have a grand evening, boys!"
Their dates were picked up at Mrs. Enright's Boarding House for Ladies where they shared a room with two other barmaids from Blacky's. With Heyes at the lines and Genevieve next to him in front, Curry and Francine in the second seat, buffalo furs over four laps, they rode to Dyer's Hotel and French Restaurant for their fine selection of oyster cuisine.
The conversation was lively, the food exquisite, the newly refurbished restaurant sparkling with richness. Heyes raised his glass before his companions. "To Dyer's French Restaurant, the boss!"
"The boss!" the other three joined in and the staff clapped in gratitude.
But the ladies asked to join the fun at the open hop in Recreation Hall. What they really wanted was to show off their men. Even the bruise on Curry's eye, now fully open, would make their friends green with envy of the woman fortunate to tend to him.
The hall was packed, the music was jumping, the din deafening, the room temperature rapidly rising, the windows steaming up. After two dances, Genevieve asked Heyes to walk her home. Curry and Francine would stay for several more dances and meet back at Missus Enright's.
The cabriolet stopped in front of the boarding house. Curry assisted Francine down and they began the walk to the door, lit by a lantern on the porch wall.
"I had the most wonderful evening, Jedediah. Thank you." She stopped in the shadow of a large and rare cottonwood tree, saved from the ax when the streets were laid out in the fledgling town.
Curry held his hand at her back as they talked. "Pleasure was all mine, Francine." He measured the look in her eye and was leaning forward anticipating a kiss, when...
"WHO D'YE HAVE IN THERE, YOUNG LADY? OPEN THIS DOOR! IM-ME-JET-LY!"
Curry and Francine watched the action on the second floor as the window was thrown open, Heyes dove through with lace curtains fluttering in his wake, landed on the porch roof, picked himself up, ran to the edge and, hanging onto the eaves trough, lowered himself to the ground, the drop broken by the bushes.
"Ow!"
Muffled shouting in the house as Missus Enright stomped her flat-soled booties down the staircase threatening any and every man who violated her rules of the house, Genevieve on her heels denying any culpability and swearing on the grave of her sainted grandmother, God rest her soul, in Mercoeur, France, she would never break the rules!
A dark hat poked up from the bushes and Curry waved frantically to his cousin! Heyes raced for the cab, diving underneath the back side panel and curling up on the floor just as Missus Enright threw open the front door waving a shotgun about and hollering threats in every direction.
"Who's that there in the shadows? Speak up!"
Curry and Francine stiffened. "It's me, Missus Enright, Francine! Don't shoot!"
"Francine? That your young suitor wit ye, Curry?"
"Yes, Missus Enright. We were just walking to the door when you came out. Is something wrong?"
"Did ye see a great, skulking man creepin' about 'round here?" She turned left and right, the shotgun waving at shadows.
"No, Missus Enright, it's just the two of us."
"Eh, well, ye best get in now."
Francine smiled up at Curry and took a step, but Curry held her arm in front of her, facing Missus Enright.
"Beggin' your pardon, Ma'am. I don't let a lady walk to the door unescorted." He took Francine's arm and they walked confidently onto the porch, Missus Enright forced to step aside.
He removed his hat. "Thank you, Francine. I'd like to take you out again, if I could."
"I'd love to, Jedediah. Good night. And, thank you, again."
Curry used his hat to shield their faces and planted a not-so-short kiss on her mouth. She smiled and entered the house.
Curry replaced his hat, touched the brim to Missus Enright and gave her a polite "Ma'am."
And he sauntered down the front walk and jumped into the cab, all the while whistling, for his cousin's consideration, "The Girl I Left Behind Me".
************************HH*KC*JS*TJ************************
How had it come to this? How had the evening of enjoyable company and good food turned to, this? And who is this angry man grasping his arm and throwing threats about?
They'd laughed the entire cab ride from Missus Enright's to the Callanish Saloon, too high-spirited to call it a night. Not usual for the Boys to step inside another gambling house, as Blacky's was safer when Heyes was in town, but they threw caution to the wind. They strapped on the gun belts they'd stored in the cab and sauntered in for a beer and a few hands of poker. Faro tables drew the largest crowds of men, men of all backgrounds; ranchers and their hands, teamsters, fur trappers, coal miners, rails, soldiers on leave from Fort Russel and Camp Carlin.
They found a ready poker table for both near the bar and the players, two teamsters and a French fur trapper whose beard and style of hat made him appear right out of the previous century, were passable enough as table companions, none was over-turning the bottle, stakes were generally low. There was the odd teamster among them, a tall and broad-chested man with a mass of coal black, unruly hair, who didn't engage with the rest much. He had an accent they couldn't place, a conglomeration of the frequently heard accents of the territory. He seemed to watch Heyes with a wary eye and Heyes noticed.
Curry also noticed. Don't overload him with the dimples, Heyes. He didn't, but that made no difference to another sore loser.
"Yuh seem tuh have a lucky star tuh-night, partner." The teamster's half grin held no sincerity.
Heyes smiled sweetly as he gathered in the pot. "Another hand, boys?"
"I'll sit this one out." Curry walked to the bar.
"I wahrn't doin' too bad 'til yew and yer sweet faced friend set down. Two a yuh bin takin' the winnin's more 'n the other t'ree of us. Now, how's dat possuhble?"
"Perhaps you're not as good a poker player as you thought. At least tonight." Heyes riffled the deck, smiling. "Like you said, I'm under a lucky star tonight."
The teamster took the dimples as a mockery of himself and his abilities at poker.
"Yeah? Well mebbie yer luck's about tuh chainche. I say yew bin cheatin'."
Curry tried placating the man, speaking in an easy tone as he leaned his back against the bar, full mug in hand. "Listen, friend, we're just here for a few friendly games and some beers, that's all."
"I ain't yer friend. And I say yew bin cheatin'." He pointed at Heyes, who looked to the man's companions for help. They looked away.
Heyes tried again. "Alright, he's not your friend and neither am I. Let's just call it a night, we'll be on our way." He leaned back in his chair to rise.
"Not wit my pay yuh ain't. I say yew bin cheatin' since yew set down."
"Listen..."
"Yer a cheat!" He rose while pushing back his chair, eyes set on Heyes. "Dat fancy suit cain't hide deh yeller stripe of a card charp cheat." His right arm pushed back his jacket, his pistol showing in his belt in front.
Heyes set his eyes on the teamster while removing the holster strap on his Remington. He leaned forward to stand and meet the challenge.
The cold wind cut through Curry. He quickly set down the beer mug. "You got a lot of things to say to my friend tonight, neighbor, but I think you ought to know, he ain't no cheat. Don't have to be a cheat to come away the winner at this table. You play poker like a walk-off."
Heyes, angry-faced, rolled his eyes at the long-familiar phrase from their boyhood days at Valparaiso.
The teamster had never heard of a walk-off but was certain he'd just been insulted.
"Yew lookin' tuh be next, boy?"
"Oh. Did I say 'like a walk-off'? I meant to say 'like a loser'. 'Cause that's what you are. A loser."
Heyes sat in his chair, dark eyes set straight ahead, his fists clenched tightly and his face red with fury.
The teamster stepped to face Curry. The room cleared behind the contestants.
Heyes closed his eyes, heard a movement by the teamster, the click of Curry's Colt being cocked, the room gasping as one. He opened his eyes to see the loser's astonished face and Curry's placid face, Colt in his right hand and beer mug in his left. Broke by Heyes and beaten by Curry, the teamster quickly turned and stomped away, rumbling the wooden floor as he left. Heyes watched Curry twirl his Colt and re-holster it and lean back against the bar, and the place went back to business as usual.
The loud bam! of Heyes's fist on the table caught Curry's attention. He looked over his beer mug to see an enraged Heyes heading straight for him, eyes almost black, fists at the ready. He stopped inches from Curry's face, shoulders heaving with anger, speaking tight-mouthed with barely controlled rage.
"You ever do that again, I'll knock you back to Sunday."
"What? Save your life?"
Heyes grasped Curry's left upper arm and squeezed it tightly, jerking it for emphasis as he spoke. "You do that again and things will be different between us. You hearin' me?"
For a second, Curry didn't recognize him. Not the voice, the words, the eyes, the man. He aggressively yanked his arm free and pulled back, anger rising for the treatment he was receiving. He squared off with his cousin, nose to nose.
"Don't threaten me. An' don't try throwin' me around, either."
"You ain't been listening."
"You got that right. Come up with somethin' sensible an' maybe I'll hear ya. 'Til then, you'd best take a step back, friend." He gave the glare as good as he got it.
"Man's got a good idea. Been a pleasant evening, overall. Let's keep it that way." The bartender's right hand was below the bar, unmoving.
The dark glare finally broke. Heyes returned to the table, picked up his winnings, tossed some coins onto the table, then nodded to the players. When he looked up, Curry was gone.
************************HH*KC*JS*TJ************************
He walked through town peering into every saloon, cheeks and ears reddening from the chilly wind that was working up, finally accepting, or hoping, that Curry had gone back to Blacky's. He drove the cabriolet to the stable and opened the doors.
"I got it, Mith-tew Cuwwy!" Jasper scampered down from the loft and backed the horse and buggy into the stable.
"You're up late tonight, Jasper."
"Figuwd you'd be comin' back after Mith-tew Cuwwy... walked in eawli-ew."
"Got his Irish up, does he?"
Jasper rolled his eyes and shook his head. Heyes handed him a silver dollar piece. "Thanks, Jasper. Good night."
In her emerald green evening robe, Jenny curled up on the parlor sofa, warmed by the small fire crackling in her fireplace, burgundy quilted satin mules on the floor, open book in her hands, obviously just waking as Heyes entered. She took in the trousers with dried mud on the knees and rip in the thigh.
"Have a pleasant evening with your lady friends?"
Heyes gave her a half grin. "Got his side of it?"
"Is there another?"
"Jenny, I try so hard for him, always have, but there are times I just don't understand how his mind works."
"Or is it, you don't understand why he doesn't understand you at times?"
Heyes poured himself a cognac and swallowed more than the acceptable sip, closing his eyes as the alcohol burned his throat pleasantly and chased the chill from his body. He sighed and nodded. "That's just what happened tonight, by the look on his face. Don't know where I go wrong with him." He turned to Jenny with hands held out, explaining his side of the altercation.
"He knows I been the fastest draw here til he joined us." Jenny nodded. "He knows I can handle myself with a pistol and most men." Jenny nodded. "He knows I can judge the challenge for myself and I can either meet it or talk my way out of it."
"Does he? How would he know you can judge the other man? Do you have confidence he can do the same, every time? Don't you shrivel inside each time he stands to the challenge? Don't you think he felt the same way inside himself tonight?"
"Well... alright, sure, he feels the same thing. But that challenge was to me." He pointed to his chest. "An' he butts in like I got no ability at all. What have I been doin' for six years but standin' up for myself in the outlaw world?"
He refilled his glass. "I don't take the challenge away from him."
Jenny raised both eyebrows. "You don't? Hannibal, what have you have been doing these past three years if not that very thing? You made an arrangement to keep him out of Devil's Hole to protect him from the greater threat of death or injury, so you said. You have protected him from the world while telling yourself he's better off in the world."
Heyes walked to the fireplace and laid his forearm on the mantle, watching the flames jump. If she only knew how signing his cousin over to the cavalry affected him for three entire years, each day wondering if he'd receive notice of Jeddie's death by violent means. He closed his eyes tightly. Not goin' back to that, not ever!
"Why do you think that arrangement has worked, for the most part?"
Heyes replied in all sincerity. "It's a good idea."
"Just a smidgen of arrogance there, sweetie." He grinned self-assuredly. Jenny continued.
"Jeddie is his own man. He makes his own decisions. Your silver tongue is put to the task every time for the simple reason you need to convince him of your good ideas. With all that dripping arrogance, why does he listen to you, hm? What makes Jeddie different from your Devil's Hole gang when they need convincing?"
Heyes knew he couldn't play the 'good idea' card again, though it was his best. But he had a feeling Jenny's insights were headed where he didn't want to tread. Some things are better left unsaid.
Jenny took a breath and sat upright. "He listens to you because he trusts you. So does the Devil's Hole gang, because you've proven yourself to them." She leaned forward.
"But Jeddie. Jeddie trusts you because he loves you."
Brown eyes misted over as Heyes stood with his arm on the mantle, fingers rubbing the cognac glass. Jenny held his gaze.
"He's the only one in the world who trusts you innately."
Heyes sighed deeply and ran his fingers through his hair. He finished the drink and sat on the wing-back chair next to the fireplace, leaning forward with elbows on his thighs and hands clasped as he gazed down at the carpet.
"That's a terrible big responsibility, Jenny. I don't think any man's up to it."
"Hannibal, sweetie. He knows you're not invincible, you two have been through mistakes before. But you handle it together. You come out on top, together. You're both at your best, together."
She slipped into the mules and rose. "I'm late for my beauty sleep. Put out the lights before you go up, please." She cupped his chin and kissed the top of his head. "Good night, sweetie."
************************HH*KC*JS*TJ************************
Heyes remained in the wing-back chair watching the logs slowly turning to embers in the fireplace. The wind had picked up to near-gale force, cold rain now pelting the windowpanes, the wooden building creaking as it withstood the onslaught, eerie high-pitched wails sounding as gusts found their way around window frames and into the room.
Heyes always hated the "banshee storm".
As a boy, he wouldn't admit it to his younger cousin but he always slept better when they were together during a banshee storm. Grandda Curry said the banshees are calling the names of those they have come for.
"Are they sayin' my name, Grandda?" Jeddie's blue eyes were big as saucers as he nestled up to his elder cousin sleeping with him, laying his arm over Hannie's chest and clutching his nightshirt. Hannie would be nine in five months and had just pronounced himself too big to be frightened anymore by the banshee storm. But his brown eyes were as big as Jeddie's as his arm held him closer.
"Hush, hush, mo leanbh. No banshee ever called any O'Curry before his time. Or any O'Hayes before his time."
The old man held up his right hand. "I have it on the aut'ority of Monsignor McInerney in County Clare, a relation by way of marriage in me own grandda's day. A time when the banshees were terrible powerful." He petted the heads.
"No, no, the time of our leavin' is up to the Good Lord an' His eternal will. So, say yir prayers, now, me boy-o's, an' the angels will watch o'er ye asleep."
Grandda bowed his head as the boys prayed, then kissed them on the forehead, set the blanket to their chins, and crept out of the room, leaving the door open a crack.
The aroma of a match strike and pipe tobacco wafting into the bedroom made Heyes feel safe knowing someone who loved him was at the watch.
Added to his feeling of security was the wooden pistol Jeddie brought out from under his pillow. It wasn't for lack of trust in his grandfather that Jeddie laid the pistol across his cousin's chest. "Purely in case of a ren'gade banshee," the small voice explained. And he clutched his big cousin's nightshirt again.
Heyes jumped as a loud and long wail slipped through the window behind him, fluttering the lace curtain as it entered the cooled and darkening room. Back off, will ya!
He laughed at himself. Yelling at the wind? You've lost it, Heyes. Might as well tell the sun not to shine. He settled back into the chair. Might as well tell Jeddie not to protect me...
He bowed his head as his harsh words tonight echoed and struck at his heart. What a fool he'd been to demand his cousin change his very nature. Curry's chivalrous nature defines him to his soul. No, it emanates from his very soul. So many times he'd praised his younger cousin for it, been amazed and proud of him for it. And just hours ago, he lost his temper, threatened to cut close ties with Curry because of it. Heyes was ashamed of himself. He'd given more importance to his self-pride as an outlaw than to his bond with his cousin whom he loved.
"You figured it out yet?"
Curry stood in his long johns and stockings, his new blue shirt used as a robe, turning half way to the fireplace as if uninterested in the answer to his question. He piled the logs over each other with the poker bringing the flames back to life and warmth to the room.
"Figured what?"
"The sensible thing you wanted to tell me tonight."
Heyes ran fingers through his hair and sighed deeply. "Yeah, I figured it out." He rose and stood next to Curry at the fireplace, looking him in the eyes.
"I apologize for how I treated you tonight. An' I apologize for what I said."
Curry turned his face to the fire, embarrassed at the directness of the words. Heyes took him by the shoulders until they faced each other again.
"Jeddie, I didn't mean it, what I said. I could never do that to you any more than you could stop protecting me." Heyes looked earnestly and hopefully at Curry's blue eyes, sparkling in the firelight, and he saw the forgiveness in his cousin's heart.
Curry smiled and nodded his head, still a bit embarrassed. He felt the warmth of his cousin's hand on his neck as Heyes pulled in his big-brother fashion, brown eyes lit with firelight and dimples dancing.
"I wasn't tryin' to undercut you, Hannie. It's just, when it started happening I got a feelin' like I never had before an'..." He suddenly realized that what he had felt was the very same that ran through Heyes's mind and heart watching him in a challenge. And though Curry was new to it this very night, his cousin had gone through it a number of times.
Heyes understood. "I know, I know." He walked to the side bar and poured a glass of cordial for Curry. "It's the world we live in."
Curry nodded swallowing the burning liquid. "Does it get any easier?"
"No." Heyes refilled their glasses.
"Our world." Curry raised his glass and they somberly toasted the frontier way. Heyes's pointer finger raised.
"But, that don't mean this will happen again. There's got to be an understanding between us."
"How so?"
"I got to live in my world, Jeddie, have my reputation to keep up, and if I'm gonna live in the west, I got to live my way."
"That goes for me, too, you know."
"Yeah. Yeah, true." Heyes reached for the mantle and lowered his head. He was so tempted to bring his cousin to Devil's Hole with him rather than letting him enter the outlaw world on his own. He was well aware how great the dangers are for a man like himself in the violent gangs, let alone for a man as fast as Jeddie. Even if they rode together under Santana, Curry would be better off than he is now on his own.
"Mind your little cousin, boy-o."
Heyes looked directly into the blue eyes. "I don't ever make the challenge, Jeddie."
"I'm ain't aimin' for any reputation, either, Hannie. It's just askin' for boot hill."
Heyes slapped Curry's shoulder. "We got to let each other make up our minds, then. That's first. An' when you rise to a challenge, I won't take it from you."
"An' if you rise to a challenge..." Curry took a deep breath and sighed. "... I won't take it from you."
"That don't mean we ain't gonna try stoppin' the sore loser!"
"Talkin' our way out is always best."
"An' it don't mean I ain't gonna try stoppin' you before."
"Fair enough."
They clinked their glasses together and drank to the arrangement that would take them through a lifetime of friendship.
Curry set down his glass on the side bar and yawned. "I've had it. We'll probably be on the roof nailin' down shingles after this storm's passed. I'm goin' to bed."
"I'll put out the fire an' be right up."
Curry stopped at the parlor door and turned back with an impish grin. "Take the stairs, not the window."
"Very funny."
"You at least get a kiss for all that?" He leaned against the door frame, arms crossed and head back with that grin. Heyes replied with a sarcastic smile.
Shaking his head in mock sorrow, Curry was turning toward the stairs and puckering his lips to whistle, dimples even appearing, when his cousin cut him off.
"An' no whistlin' bawdy tunes, either!"
He had to endure the chucking that Curry couldn't suppress as he ascended the staircase.
"Smart ass," Heyes muttered while poking the cinders to separate them. Arms crossed and looking down on the dying fire, his dimples danced as he relived the events of the evening.
Blame Curry for putting the tune in his head, but he couldn't help singing a verse while heading upstairs, the baritone voice carrying down the hallway ahead of him.
"Oh, she jumped in bed and she covered up her head,
and she swore I couldn't find her.
But I knew damn well that she lied like hell..."
He opened the door of Room Four and Curry, towel in hand at the washstand, joined him in boisterously belting out the last line.
"SO I JUMPED RIGHT IN AND F..."
"Good night, Boys."
They hadn't heard the door open around the corner and down the hallway.
Quiet ensued, briefly. The tenor voice sang lightly.
"...found her."
Schoolboy snickers intermingled with shushing. Then loud whispering, "This way, quick!" A window was opened and slammed shut. Stifled laughter and boots stomping, more shushing, then quiet.
"G'night, Jenny!" they politely said in unison and Heyes quickly shut the door.
The door down the hallway closed on soft, feminine laughter.
************************HH*KC*JS*TJ************************
mo leanbh (muh lyan-iv). Irish, "my child".
banshee, Anglicized version of the Irish 'ban sí', "fairy woman".
(ban = woman. sí = fairy folk)