Winter's Refuge

Chapter Twelve

Second Visit with Heyes

JED 'KID' CURRY

My life without Lom and Jose was busier. I rose early; after workin' on the railroad smithy I had become used to risin' at dawn when it was the coolest. Now, I opened the smithy each mornin'. Word had gotten around that there was a new blacksmith shop. Often there was a line before I arrived. I was determined to help with our horses and the ranch at least by eleven, so I took the first in line and talked to the others. I only promised the ones I knew I could handle. A few left somethin' to fix and came back in a few days to pick it up. I fixed those each night in the forge. Not everyone was happy with my limited hours. I just introduced myself as Jed, no one had asked for more…yet. Lom was right. I was hidin'. I wanted to be left alone. While I was servin' my time, I was guarded, watched every hour of every day. There was always a guard nearby. Now, I prized my privacy, even from Lom, Juan and Chrissy.

Chrissy had become my distant shadow. When I opened my bedroom door each mornin', she was waitin' just outside. Like I did with her, she never entered my room itself, but she looked inside, sometimes showin' interest. Talkin' little and interactin' even less, she was always hoverin' nearby. She followed me to the blacksmith shop each mornin'. Each day I offered her my hand. Each day it was ignored. She sat in the room behind the shed afraid of the customers. When the customers were gone, while I worked, she walked around nearby, sometimes pickin' flowers, sometimes weeds. I watched her and thought of the vibrant woman who had ridden into Devil's Hole to get her brothers and stood up to Hannibal Heyes. I hoped that woman was still inside her. I had the patience to wait. And when she recovered, I had the patience to wait until she told me about her and Heyes.

I had opened my bedroom door early the last few days and let her watch me brush my short, short hair and wash my face hopin' she would do the same. Her brown hair was no longer in the two brown braids I remembered. It was way too short for that. The prison had cut it short but had not shaved her head as I saw them do to the woman in the Yuma prison. Problem was she wasn't takin' care of herself and I didn't want to do it for her. I had Juan buy her a pretty brush and mirror and he left them on her bed for her. I had found a delicate, matchin' basin and pitcher in the third bedroom, Heyes future bedroom. Lom used it now when he stayed.

Juan filled the pitcher with fresh water and placed both on a side table in her bedroom. He left a pretty smellin' soap I'd had him buy next to the basin. Chrissy didn't use any of them or the mirror or brush. Today I was goin' to try somethin' different.

"Good mornin', Chrissy," I said as I said every day as I finished washin' my face. But today I was doin' more. "Why don't you go wash your face and brush your hair while I shave?" I had never asked her to do anythin' to get ready before.

There was no immediate response, but I'd grown to expect her responses to be delayed. This was somethin' new. If she didn't respond, I would try again tomorrow. I turned my back on her and started to lather up my face.

"Yes, sir."

When I turned around, holdin' in my anger at the hated word she used to address me, she was gone. I finished shavin' and ran my fingers through my hair. It was growin' out slowly, and I was startin' to have curls stickin' out of my head. It didn't matter here on the ranch. I took a clean bandana and wrapped it around my head, my standard blacksmithin' headgear.

Curious, I stopped by Chrissy's open door. Her face was wet and she had smoothed soap over her chin like I do for shavin', but she just stood there lettin' it drip down her face onto her clothes. "Chrissy!" I yelled. But I didn't mean to yell. She had tried. That was progress. My harsh tone must have scared her. She jumped back, still facin' forward. I broke my rule and entered her room, feelin' her blank eyes watchin' me. Pickin' up a towel, I wet a corner of it and started to wipe off the remainder of the soap. She didn't look at what I was doin' but at the bandana on my head. She saw it every day. It was nothin' new. I wet the towel in the basin again and lifted her hand, givin' her the towel. I took a dry dress out of her dresser and laid it on her bed. Her drawer was so empty. I needed to buy her more clothes.

I left her starin' at the towel in her hand and headed to the kitchen. Juan, and Jose when he was here, slept in the guest rooms built over the stables. Juan was not an early riser. At first, before Chrissy started followin' me, I made coffee and headed to the smithy, leavin' breakfast to Juan and Chrissy. But I felt an obligation to feed Chrissy. Since we got the cow and the chickens, she was responsive to the questions, "Milk?" and "Eggs." When asked, she went out and milked the cow and gathered eggs, but she wouldn't do it if not asked. Heyes did most of our cookin' but I can cook eggs. Juan can make stews and biscuits. It was a plain diet, but the food was plentiful and seemed like a feast each day to me after prison,

I started the coffee. Since Chrissy was still cleanin' up, I started out to milk our cow. Chrissy found me balancin' on the tiny milkin' stool finishin' up. She surprised me by takin' the pail from me. I handed it to her and patted the cow for a job well done.

"Thank you," I said as I awkwardly stood up, the low stool fallin' over behind me.

Chrissy giggled. She actually giggled. I looked at her and a grin briefly graced her face before the giggle and the grin were gone, replaced again by her faraway look.

I was so distracted by her help and her giggle that I didn't really look at her. Her dress was buttoned wrong, and she had wrapped a bandana around her head to mimic mine. But her face was washed, and she had tried. I was grateful for each small step..

I saw her cross to the chicken coop so I went inside and gathered what I would need for that mornin' in the forge. I knew now to take some coins to make change. In lieu of cash, another Heyes type word, I had taken more chickens and a goat in trade. I had spent over an hour last night tryin' to record what I did and the price I charged and make it balance with the money in my pocket. I went to bed frustrated. Heyes would have done it in ten minutes when he finished lecturin' me about sloppy business practices.

I saw Chrissy at the kitchen door, so I took the basket of eggs and pail of milk from her and left them on the table. Juan would make his own breakfast and use them in the biscuits. His cookin' was serviceable which was all I needed. Chrissy stood in place where she was when I took the food. Gone was the brief glimpse I had seen of her in the barn. But it was enough for me to know she was able to giggle.

When I walked down the hill that day to the forge, she followed lookin' down, walkin' slowly. There were four or five customers in line today and another sittin' in a buggy. As I opened up the sides of the forge and started the coal fire, I sized them up. Two horses to be shoes. With the horseshoes I made in advance, each of those would take up to an hour dependin' on how many shoes they needed. A young man, maybe a farmer, had what looked like a broken chisel or somethin' similar in his hand. I'd ask him to leave that for me to work on later. I saw Chrissy go round the back and into the private room.

"Good mornin'," I told those waitin' tryin' to be friendly. I got a few quiet 'good mornin's' and nods in return.

I went to the man first in line. "How many shoes he need?" I asked walkin' to the horse he was leadin'.

"One, maybe two?" He seemed uncertain. I realized everyone in line kept lookin' at the lady in the buggy.

I walked around the horse, pattin' him and liftin' each leg. "Just needs one new one. And another just needs a new nail," I told him. "Tie him up over there and he'll be done by eleven."

"How…how much?"

"Price list right there." I pointed to the sign on the wall. I saw him nod and relax, meanin' he could afford my prices.

"Eleven you said?"

"Maybe sooner. No later."

As he left, I went to the young man. "Blade broke, sir. Pa had me bring it to fix."

"Not sir, just Jed," I told him with a smile. "Leave it. Two days okay?"

"Yes, sir…I mean yes, Jed. I'll be back in two days." He took off at a trot and I imagined he had a day of hard work ahead.

I moved to the next men in line. Another horse.

"Blacksmith. I am Mrs. Beverly Birde," called the lady from the buggy without gettin' out.

"Mornin', ma'am. You next in line?" I asked her.

The man with the horse backed up but shook his head no.

"A Birde does NOT wait in any line," she replied and I think I saw her nose tilt into the air.

I wasn't sure who the Birdes were, but the nearby town was called Three Birds. Still, fair is fair. "I think this man was next," I told her.

In my pre-prison days, I would have had patience with her. But my patience with people who think they're entitled to give me orders has run out. I turned back to the man with the horse. "How many shoes he need?"

His eyes grew wide, and he looked sideways at Mrs. Birde as he answered, "Just two, I think."

I slowly walked around the horse and again lifted each leg and studied the shoe. Takin' more time than necessary, I started to lecture myself. Makes no sense to anger the people who consider themselves better than others in the town we choose to make our home. I wanted peace, not antagonism.

"You're right, just needs two. Tie him up over there and he'll be ready by eleven."

I turned to the buggy. "Now, ma'am, how can I help you?"

"Boy, do you know who I am?" It had been a long time since I had been a boy and I resented the label now. But I remembered she was a customer.

"A customer," I answered her and thought I saw the hint of a smile

"Well, yes. And I am the wife of Sheriff Birde," she said with emphasis.

I looked at her to keep talkin' before I realized she expected me to respond to her now. I wasn't sure what to say.

"What do you need done?" I asked.

Her expression was surprised, insulted, but then she hid it well, sittin' up straight and adoptin' an authoritative tone. "I need you to repair the bird on the gate in the back."

"The bird?" I asked.

She didn't get out, just turned and pointed to the rear of the buggy.

I kept remindin' myself that Heyes would tell me she was a customer. And a customer that appeared to have money, no payment in chickens from her. I walked around the buggy and lifted the gate from the back. It once had three birds in the center. Now it only had two and a half birds. The bird on the right had lost a wing and a beak. It was a simple design, and I was already thinkin' of the tools I would use to repair it. It would take two or three hours one evenin' but it was doable and kinda fun. I wouldn't have had anythin' like this to do in prison.

"Yes, I can fix it."

"By tonight?"

"No, ma'am," I answered, thinkin' of the two horses to shoe and the chisel to fix. Those jobs were needed for the people to work, earn money. This was just fluff.

"Well, why not," she demanded.

"A payin' customer," I could hear Heyes voice in my head. "An important payin' customer." I smiled my best smile at her and looked her in the eyes. I think she blushed a little. "Well, ma'am, this is mighty detailed work and I want to make sure it gets done right. This your front gate?"

"Well, that makes sense. See that it is delivered and installed in three days. We are having a dinner party that evening and I want it perfect by then."

I started to tell her we don't deliver, to send someone to pick it up, but she had clicked at her horse and was ridin' away. Well, this was goin' to pay well. Juan and I could deliver and install it. Then I thought of Chrissy. She couldn't stay here alone. She would have to come to town with us…maybe that'd be a chance to get her some new clothes.

I got the first horse and entered the forge, tyin' him at the post I had made just for the horse I was workin' on. I looked to the side and saw Chrissy standin' there, dress still misbuttoned and bandana coverin' her head. She didn't usually come near the forge, so I walked over to her.

"Chrissy, you all right, darlin'?"

She didn't look at me but held out a paper. I took it and smiled. I read it out loud.

1 hors – 1 shoe 1 nail

1 cisel fix

1 hors – 2 shoe

1 bird

Chrissy could read and write better than Heyes and her spellin' was usually perfect. But this list she had tried to write meant more to me than any beautiful, correctly spelled letter.

"You did this for me? You were listenin'?" I was happy. She had tried to help without bein' asked. Last night, she had silently read her book while I got frustrated with my accounts at the kitchen table and now she had tried to help me.

Her eyes met mine and she seemed glad I was happy, but was unable to join in. There was a barrier there. I had told Heyes once that prison breaks people. It had tried to break Chrissy, but I think she hid away behind a mental barrier she created. If I could get her to tear down that barrier, maybe my Chrissy would come back. I saw today as another step forward.

ASJ*****ASJ

I have to admit I enjoyed fixin' the bird on the gate. With one of the books Lom had sent me as reference, I practiced a bit and then did the repair after dinner one night. I felt Chrissy come out of the back room as I lifted the gate off my table and leaned it against the anvil stand. While I shut down the forge and started to clean my tools, she squatted down in front of the gate and stayed there. I swept up the metal bits and soot on the floor as best I could, then tried to wash my hands in the basin. I wore gloves when heatin' the metal. But with some things like nailin' the horseshoes on and fixing the bird's wing, the gloves got in my way. I scrubbed them with a pumice stone, but the black was down in my callouses and under my nails to stay for now.

Juan had ridden by the Birde house on his last trip to town and decided he could install the repaired gate by himself if I could put new hinges on it. Looking at the current state of the hinges, I saw they were rusty and the metal growing thin. Now it was ready, new hinges and all. Juan would deliver it tomorrow. I had made out an invoice for Mrs. Birde, including 'two hinges, no charge.'

When I started to pull down the walls of the shop, Chrissy stood up. She reached back down to the gate and said, "Bird good."

I wanted to jump and pick her up in my arms but restrained myself and said, "Thank you, Chrissy." I was disappointed she didn't respond, just headed up the hill to the house.

ASJ*****ASJ

Juan returned from town the next day and immediately came to the forge before taking the supplies to the house. I could tell he was upset, but also reticent to tell me something. Reticent is another word I learned from readin'. Heyes would be proud of me if he heard my vocabulary now. I smiled at the thought of my partner, but sadness and worry pushed it off my face.

"Mr. Curry!"

"What's wrong, Juan? Was there something wrong with the gate?"

"No, no. Mrs. Birde was very happy with it. She even paid you extra for the shiny hinges." He reached in his pants pocket and handed me some folded dollar bills. "But I made a mistake. I'm sorry."

"A mistake when you hung the gate? We can fix it whatever it is."

"No. sir. Mrs. Birde was very happy when it was hung. She said to tell you you do beautiful work."

"Well, that's a good thing," I said.

"Yes, but I said, 'I'll be sure and tell Mr. Curry that.'"

He heard me take a deep breath.

"She thanked me again and walked away saying, 'Jed Curry. Kid Curry.'" He looked at me trying to decide how angry I was. I was more angry because Chrissy's safety might be put in jeopardy. But what's done is done.

"Nothing we can do about it now. Didn't try to hide it but didn't go yellin' it out either. Ain't ashamed of my name. Goin' make it a name to be proud of again."

"Thank you, Mr. Curry."

"Will you start callin' me Jed, again?"

Juan's brown eyes drilled into me. "I'm here for Miss Chrissy, not you."

I confirmed what I had suspected. The Ortiz family blamed me and Heyes for what happened to Chrissy. I did, too. It sat like a lump always near my heart. It was done. I had changed. I was strong and nothing was ever going to hurt her again.

"I understand how you feel, Juan. I appreciate you helpin' us here. Mr. Curry is fine, just not sir."

"You're taking good care of her, Mr. Curry. I can see her getting better." Juan's words sounded sincere. It felt good that he and his family thought I was takin' good care of her.

ASJ*****ASJ

With the business at the blacksmith shop increasin' as word got around there was a smithy nearby, I was also takin' on more work with our horses. Two mares had come and gone with owners happily anticipatin' pregnancy. Two more followed those with the same, we hoped, successful outcomes. Our own mare, Summer's Solstice, was showin' signs of pregnancy and we were givin' her extra oats at mealtime.

The time was approachin' to leave for Cheyenne for my second visit with Heyes. Lom had sent a telegram simply sayin' all was well and he would meet me there in Dr. Arden's office at ten. As planned, no mention of prison or Heyes was in the telegram. I prepared a CLOSED sign for the forge and Juan would watch over Chrissy. I kept repeatin' to her that I was leavin' for a few days like before but would come back. I don't know if she understood.

My immediate problem was getting' clean. Before dinner, Chrissy went into her room with her book. She only had one. I don't know if she was readin' it or took comfort in the familiar act of holdin' it. When I was with her at Winter's Refuge, she read every night. She and Heyes would talk and argue about the books. I felt left out. When she left Devil's Hole the first time we met, Heyes gave her a book to take with her. For him, that meant he truly enjoyed her.

But now I was dirty, filthy and needed to be clean for my trip. Juan had found an old copper tub in the barn, but with the amount of black fire scale and grime I needed to get off, I would have needed to take ten baths. So, I opted for the stream about a quarter mile in back of the barn. I had bought some Borax soap. Occasionally some of that soap came in shipments when I worked in the railroad camp. I had learned that usin' it with a pumice stone was the only way to get clean. So I put my soap and pumice stone in my bag with towels for scrubbin'. I added a nail I had pounded flat rather than pointed that I used under my fingernails. I took a big towel to wrap around me when I got out. I would dry as I walked back to the house.

Checkin' that Chrissy was starin' at her book, I signaled Juan and walked to the stream. I took my grimy pants, shirt, and long johns off and laid them by the side of the water. I would soak them after I got clean. I hadn't realized how covered with black dust I was until I saw my arms next to my white stomach. I jumped into the water and welcomed the shivers that went through me. I will forever prize water as a gift. I carried the two scrubbin, towels, Borax soap, pumice stone, and nail file to a large boulder and rested them there. Lookin' behind me, I'd left a trail of black in the water. I started scrubbin' my arms, stoppin' every few minutes to dunk my whole body under the water. The water felt good. I enjoyed it flowin' over me. Every time I rubbed the soap on my arm, another layer of black grime came off. When I came up, I thought I heard something. My eyes searched the trees and bush, but I didn't see anything. A light breeze moved the leaves high in the trees, but all was quiet on the shore.

Takin' my nail, I started to loosen the dirt under my fingernails. When I reached onto the boulder I saw Chrissy standin' on it, higher up. Eyes fixed on me.

"Chrissy," I started to say but she turned and ran back toward the house.

I started up the side, but only as far as my privates remained underwater. I looked around but couldn't see her. I let myself fall back into the water, arms out, enjoyin' getting' clean and bein' free. I used the flat end of the nail to work the dirt out from under my nails. I felt the water move when I was underwater. Chrissy had jumped in leavin' her dress on the shore.

I still loved her I still dreamed about bein' with her. But I would never take advantage of her. I hoped the time would come when we could be together as man and wife, but that was not today. She was still healin'. After that, I needed her to tell me the truth.

She placed the nice smelly soap we had got her on the boulder and submerged her body. She popped up spittin' out water and smilin'.

"Feels good getting' clean, don't it?" I said to her, lookin' away. In response, I heard her duck under the water again. She grabbed her soap and was scrubbin' her hair. I was surprised how much black soot came out. She stayed in the back of the forge and had taken to wearin' a bandana over her hair, yet still it was covered with soot.

I went back to washin' my body with the harsh soap and followed it with the pumice stone. I found if I left the soap on my skin and then hit it with the pumice, gradually the dirt gave way to red, rubbed raw skin. Chrissy had moved upstream a bit. Probably to escape the swirlin' dirt around me. I ducked under the water and started to untangle the soot from my hair. Short as it was, the black fire scale stuck to it. The borax soap seemed to have little effect on cleanin' my hair.

"Here." I turned to see Chrissy, dressed, sitting on the boulder. She was holdin' out her soap to me. She mimed rubbin' it on her head.

"That's for you."

"Here," she said again, and her tone was frustrated, trying to make herself understood.

"Curls." She held the soap out to me.

"Okay. Thank you for sharin' your soap."

She sat on the boulder quietly watchin'. I dropped under the water to wet my hair. I lathered her soap on my hands and rubbed it on my hair. I repeated that until I could feel the soap in my hair. Then I added handfuls of water until the lather covered my hair and ran down my face.

I turned away from her as I ducked under the water again. I came up near enough to the boulder to grab my towel. But I felt Chrissy's hand on my head and felt lather run into my eyes.

"Dirty," she told me and kept addin' soap and water to the top and back of my head. She stopped when she felt the scar across the back of my head from fallin' off my horse when we were captured. I stood still as she splashed water on my hair, then gently pushed it aside to see the scar. I felt her run her hand over its length then push my hair back in place. I felt her hand touching my back. I stayed lookin' away, waitin' for her to continue, but felt nothing'. When I turned, she was gone, and I caught a glimpse of her headin' toward the ranch house

I finished up and wrapped the towel around my waist. I scrubbed some of the soap into my pants and shirt, but the black grime was in the stitches and seams. I decided I would put them into soak after dinner. I wouldn't need them until I came back from Cheyenne.

It felt good to be clean, although I doubted I would ever be free of the black scum. I thought about Chrissy's actions. She had made the decision to take a bath. She had gone back and got her soap and she had tried to help me wash my hair. My hope for her recovery was justified. She was improving slowly, but improving.