Winter's Refuge
Chapter Fifteen
JED 'KID' CURRY
Lom left early. Told me he had a meetin' with the governor about the members of the Devil's Hole Gang in the Wyoming Territorial Prison with Heyes. We told Chrissy about his leavin' over and over. I know she heard us. I didn't know if she understood. I had worked more hours in the blacksmith shop while he was here to help with the ranch and the horses, so I had caught up with my work and stocked up even more on horseshoes.. In the evenings, I worked to duplicate the curved window latch I had seen in Dr. Arden's office at the prison. Seemed out of place there but would dress up a livin' room window in a house real nice.
I had a set of four of them made. They had a more gentle curve than the one I was copyin'. I thought they were pretty. The next day I went into Three Birds to get supplies and showed them to the owner of the mercantile. Birde Mercantile, of course. He bought them on the spot and asked me if I could make more. I studied him to see if I was chargin' enough. I had used scrap iron melted down, so it was just my time. Watchin' his eyes for a clue, I wasn't sure if he liked me or not, but he did like my work.
"My blacksmithin' comes first, then my horses. I just make these at night when I have time."
"I understand. I think I can promise you a continuing order of at least a set a week." He fingered the set he just bought. "Think my wife will like these, but I'll leave them here to show others."
"They take time and I ain't got much extra iron right now. Don't know when I'd have a second set finished." I decided to be honest with him.
"These show fine workmanship and originality. My grandpa was a blacksmith, I know. I'll provide the iron. You keep track of your hours on the next ones." He looked down at the ones he had just bought. "Don't think I paid you enough for this set." He gave me another two dollars. "Don't undervalue your time. You have enough metal for one more set? Each one should be a little different so they're an original." The man studied it closer. "You should design a mark, some way to sign them. My grandpa made a few marks for people, like a very small branding iron. His was a tiny tree with a W in front of it. Name was Wyatt. Wasn't more than a quarter of an inch all told."
I thanked him. It felt good to have money I earned in my pocket. Passed the Bank of Three Birds on my way home with my supplies. I thought about openin' an account, then laughed at myself. I could protect my money better than any bank. I studied it closer. I'd have to remember to tell Sheriff Birde how easy their bank would be to rob.
I did stop by the telegraph office. Either Juan or I checked there almost every day. I'd given the telegraph operator a hefty tip to deliver anythin' he felt was important to the ranch. There was one from Lom.
Jed Curry
Three Birds, Nebraska
Status quo. STOP Gov approved lights and oil donation. STOP See you on regular schedule.
Lom
I sighed when I read it and turned around and went back to the mercantile to buy a dictionary wishin' I hadn't left mine in Arizona.
HEYES
Dr. Arden comes to see me more often now. He said it's to keep me on the straight and narrow. Even when we was going for amnesty, I wasn't always on the straight and narrow. But I'm tryin'. I let myself sleep a little the last few nights. There's more light in the hall. Two lamps on the wall across from my cell. Bright lights that they don't turn down at night. I might not scream out at night if I have light. Dr. Arden said he ordered it. But I know he didn't have nothing to do with it. Lom sent me a letter and the warden let me get it even though it wasn't Letter Day.
It said: 'Heyes, enjoy the lights, courtesy of the Kid, the governor and me. Lom'
The Kid comes in three more days. Need to talk to him. Maybe Lom, too. Without Dr. Arden listening.
Talked to Dr. Arden about my thoughts. I think a lot. My thoughts feel like I can use my silver tongue again. I think in complete thoughts, long thoughts. But when I try to talk, I can't say more than a few words at a time, sometimes only one. Have to choose them carefully, concentrate to get them out. He told me I said a lot when the Kid and Lom were here the first time. I didn't stop to think then. But Kid got mad, no disappointed, at my words, my apology and I started having trouble getting the thoughts turned into words again. He keeps pushing for me to tell him what the Kid is mad about. He thinks I know. Thinks the Kid told me when we talked alone. Me and Kid just agreed to deal with it later. The Kid still has my back. Trust him more than anyone, even more than I trust myself. I'd never do anything to hurt him. But Dr. Arden pushes.
He gives me a lockpick to use to play with Kid's lock. I think I figured out which keyhole is next.
Need to tell the Kid what happened two days ago. My gut was right. It's not in my head. When I went into dinner, I picked up my tray. I keep my head down. Don't want to make eye contact with anyone. Want to stay out of trouble. Want to stay in general population. Don't want to disappoint the Kid. Not as many guards around because almost everyone here's got measles, guards too. At first, I thought the man behind me had tripped. But he was just pretending. I felt a shiv go into my back, past my shoulder and twisted away. I was quick and he didn't finish pushing it in. Thought I was gonna pass out from the pain. I reached around and couldn't quite reach it but grabbed at what I could with my hand before he could push it in anymore. Blade broke off in my hand. He musta still had the handle with part of the blade. I stumbled and turned around but couldn't tell who did it. I sat down. I had a long john top Clem sent me under my prison top and twisted and pushed it into the wound. And pushed some of my shirt too. Didn't want anyone to see the blood. I decided to look around and saw three men smiling at me. After a look at the guard, one of them waved the broken handle at me. I gave them my best scowl.
I needed to get rid of the piece of the blade quickly. My thoughts jumped from planning ways to hide it to spending the rest of my life in the dark cell for having it. If I go back there, I'll never find my thoughts again.
As hungry as I was, I slipped the blade into my watery stew. It sank and was covered completely. The pain was bad, but my fear made it tolerable. I picked up my plate. I'm often not hungry. The guards don't care if we eat as long as they can say they fed us. I dumped my stew into the large kettle that collected all the remains of dinner. Blade slid in there undetected. I waited at the door for the next guard to escort prisoners back to their cells. Once there, I poured as little as I could of my water into the basin. Took off my long johns and got them wet. The water turned red. I tore it up. My heart kept beating fast. If I was caught there would be too many questions. I'd never get out of here. The Kid would be more disappointed. I took my shirt off and washed the part that had covered the cut. Thankfully my long johns had soaked up most of the blood. I put it on my bed to dry while I wrapped the strips I had made around my body. The bleeding had slowed down, but I couldn't quite reach the whole cut to put pressure on it. Then before the guards walked by my cell, I slipped my striped top over the bandage. I threw the bloody water in the piss pot. Sometimes I have to empty the piss pots. There is often blood in them. No one will notice. No one cares about convicts bleeding. What's left of the strips from my long johns, I press into several of my books. No one touches my books.
When the Kid comes, I will show him the wound. I thought about telling Dr. Arden, but he always says the danger is in my head. He asks if I try to hurt myself. I'm going to be out in five months. Why would I hurt myself? The Kid will believe me. Lom will believe me if the Kid does.. For now, I hurt. Trying to sleep on my stomach but I can't sleep that way. Didn't have time to read more of Kid's accounting books that night. Glad for the hall lights. I can see if anyone else is coming for me.
Lom
It was quiet at the ranch. Everybody still calls it the old Cummings Place. Got to remind the Kid this place needs a new name for their new start. I fell asleep while reading a book but was jolted awake by cries down the hall. My first thought was Chrissy, but the voice was lower, desperate, forlorn.
I picked up my gun and headed down the hall. As I passed by Chrissy's room, I saw her sitting up in bed. She was staring at the wall. The painful groans weren't hers.
The Kid's door was closed as usual. But his moans could be heard through the door, and I could make out words now. "No, no more. Can't take no more lashes!" His voice was a low cry for help, but I knew no help had come for him.
Then I felt Chrissy next to me, finger to her lips. She quietly turned the handle and pushed the door wide open. She wasn't looking at me or the Kid. She seemed to be looking out the window in his bedroom. Even from the side, I could see tears filling her eyes.
"Oww!" In his sleep he grabbed his arm where I had noticed a healing burn. "Can't stop. Heyes where are you? Get to the Hole, I'll meet you there. Get yourself safe. Go. Go!"
He rolled from his side to his back and groaned loudly as he quickly turned back on his side. "Lord, it hurts. Hurts so bad. Heyes, where are you? Help me!" His moan turned into a low groan and he was quiet.
I hesitated for a moment; if he'd fallen back to a deep sleep, I didn't want to wake him. He moaned again, "Gotta protect Chrissy. Gotta help Heyes. Can't stop. Work to do." He was stirring and I could tell he might roll on his back again. I felt Chrissy's gentle touch on my elbow.
The Kid cried out in pain but did not quite roll over. Chrissy walked into the room quietly. Approaching the bed, she gently pushed the Kid further over until he was almost sleeping on his stomach. Then she brushed the short curls with her fingers softly, repeatedly. When the Kid's breathing became deep and even, she left, walking by me without really noticing I was there.
I hadn't seen the Kid's back since we were at the prison camp in Arizona. Even then there was so much going on I didn't look closely. Scars covered his back and upper arms. Lashes had been layered onto lashes. Not all of them were healing. Now I understood Heyes' reaction when he had seen the Kid's back last time we visited.
Some of the lacerations were open, red, infected. The railroad camp had no doctor and I bet the Kid didn't see a doctor since he came to Three Birds. At least two of the wounds, one on the back of his left shoulder and another high and in the middle of his back looked the worst but I thought others were infected too and should have had stitches. I knew I couldn't tell him what I'd seen and heard tonight but I had to find a way for him to see a doctor.
Jed 'Kid' Curry
I slept better when Lom is there. Feet like I have someone to watch my back a little. Not like Heyes, but somethin'. Chrissy couldn't and Juan wouldn't. Each night I've tried to make sense of the day's receipts and the money we spent and keep the records from the blacksmith, the house and the ranch separate. But I'm too tired. I hoped Heyes was goin' have an easy fix to help me some until he came here. Like Lom, I worry even more about Heyes now. I was proud of him for not fightin', I hope he understood that. Sometimes even when we's lookin' at each other, I know we ain't communicatin' like we used to.
This week was busy, seemed like every horse in the county needed shoes or a bit for a bridle repaired or replaced. Each mornin' I offered Chrissy my hand to walk together to the shop. Each mornin' she ignored it and stood unmovin' until I left, then followed me down. She always entered through the back room. She was a big help checkin' in the horses that needed shoein'. I trusted her evaluation of what was needed, and she hadn't been wrong yet. I keep an eye on her when she's doin' this though. Any different question and she will freeze or run to the back room if I don't hear it and answer for her. She has her routine. She needs to stay in her routine. She feels safe in her routine.
I kept remindin' myself of her progress. She reads to me each night after dinner when I return to the forge. She always starts over from the beginnin' of Black Beauty so I never hear the whole story, but I truly love the sound of her voice. I find myself noddin' off while I'm workin' just listenin' to her. That's not a good thing for a man workin' with red hot metals.
The day before I was to leave for Cheyenne again, I finished the second set of ornate window latches. I needed to pick up blacksmith supplies, so I figured I'd be the one to go into town today. First, I was goin' to unpack the boxes Lom had sent.
Lom had indeed carefully saved everything from our saddlebags. It was somehow comfortin' to see familiar objects. I took Heyes gun and cleaned it. Then I cleaned it again. I rubbed some oil into the leather holster. I hung it on the right side of the headboard in his room. I liked to see it there, waitin' for him. I'd had some shirts in my bag that looked awfully small now. I washed them and put them in the dresser for Heyes. I left his old beat-up black hat on the bed. He still had five more months in prison, but I had to believe he'd make it.
Since all my shirts, even my long johns were too small now, I'd ordered some new ones through the catalog in Birde Mercantile. The store was busy when I got there so I looked around some. Felt a little out of place, but I looked at the clothes for Chrissy. I decided that I'd know better her sizes if I look at the labels inside her clothes when I get home.
"Mr. Curry!" the owner called me over. Hadn't thought about it before, but he looked like a Birde to me.
"It's Jed."
"Jed, I got another dollar for you. Your hinges sold for even more than I thought."
"You keep it, Mr…"
"I'm Jeff Birde, my pa started this store. I run it for the family."
I tried to hide my smile. There were Birdes everywhere in this town.
"Mr. Birde, you keep the extra dollar. You paid me fair for my work."
I needed to keep this relationship cordial and fair. Cordial that's another word Heyes would be proud I know. When I showed him the second set of window latches, he smiled and whistled.
"Beautiful, Mr. Curry…er, Jed. You are getting to be an artist with metal."
"Thanks, Mr. Birde. Just foolin' around with…"
"It's Jeff. Mr. Birde is my father…or one of my uncles. And your work is special." He examined each one. "I see you came up with your mark." His smile told me he knew who I was and understood my brand. It was a small gun with a C in front of it. It was tiny. You had to look real close to see the details. It had taken me more time to make the tiny hot iron than the six window latches...and I had more fun doin' it.
I picked up a telegram from Lom before I left town and answered it right away. Then I decided to wait and see if there was a reply.
Jed Curry
Three Birds Nebraska
Did you and or Heyes ever have the measles?
Lom
Lom Trevors
Porterville, Wyoming
Both had it. STOP I was six. STOP He was eight.
Jed
I looked at the salon across the street, The Three Birds. I had refused any alcohol since I was pardoned. Not sure why. It was always how me and Heyes relaxed and killed time. Out of habit, when I entered, I stepped to the side. While my eyes adjusted to the dim light, I sized up the barkeep and every man in there. I've heard, old habits die hard. This habit's saved me and Heyes many times. But today, I just saw four men playin' poker and drinkin'. Three of them had been customers at my shop. The fourth was Sheriff Birde.
"Jed, we got an extra seat iffin' you play poker." One of the men pulled out the chair next to him.
Figured it might be nice to relax a bit, so I ordered a beer and sat down. Felt good to sit and play poker but I felt naked without Heyes beside me. Kept orderin' beers and a round for the table until a boy came in with my telegram. Tipped him and picked up my winnings. I had played not to win too much, but I still was two dollars and seven cents ahead.
Was a bit dizzy when I stood up and enjoyed the feelin'. Nothin' seemed to be a burden. For the moment I was carefree. The five beers were enough to make me smile easier as I read the return telegram.
Jed Curry
Three Birds, Nebraska
Good. STOP Meet you as scheduled. STOP Measles outbreak in prison.
Lom
Glad that our visit was still on, I sang as I drove the wagon home. Stoppin' at my shop, I unloaded the supplies needed there, singin' louder. When I drove the wagon up the hill, I sang a loud chorus and it felt good not holdin' myself so tightly in control.
Chrissy was on the porch in the chair readin'. She was starin' at me, and I was so happy because I could tell she was really seein' me. Stoppin' the wagon, I waved up to Chrissy sayin', "Hi, darlin'!" Jumpin' up on the porch in one leap, I was thinkin' about givin' her a kiss on the cheek. Her eyes stopped me. I saw a flash of fear, followed by a flash of resignation, then nothin'. She tensed up. The book fell to the ground. She leaned far back in her chair and began pulling her dress up and spreading her legs, turning her head to the side with a blank expression.
"NO!" I know I screamed but it just came out. I pulled her dress out of her hands and over her legs. "No," I repeated more in control of my tone but my heart beat wildly at what had happened. "No one's goin' take you again like that, I promise."
She didn't move, just looked at the wall of the house, seldom blinkin'.
"Chrissy, darlin', I'm sorry. Don't go away." I tripped a bit and caught myself with the porch stair's railin'.
I knelt in front of her chair. "Chrissy? I'm sorry. Stay with me. I need you." I backed away feelin' as broken as she was.
I wasn't sure what I was apologizin' for except for causin' her to retreat again. She only saw the wall. Those mountain green eyes that I loved held no expression. I realized my mistake too late. I'd moved too fast. Changed our routine without warnin', added an endearment to her name. I'd wanted to kiss her, to hold her. But that's not what she read in my actions. I remembered Lom's words, "She's fragile." I had forgotten in my tipsy state.
Sadness overwhelmed me. All my burdens landed heavy back on my shoulders. I tried to stand up straight but the pain of the old lashin's came back. Usually, I could ignore it. Now, they ached and burned. As I turned to unload a box, I bent over it, tears threatenin' to leave my eyes. I straightened up with the box and did stand up tall. Chrissy's chair was empty.
I had gained control of my emotions. I put the box on the steps and reached for another. I could handle all this. I had a choice and I had chosen my family. I would always take care of them, Chrissy, Heyes… the baby.
"Mr. Curry, I saw the wagon and thought you'd need some help…" Juan put his hand on my back. "You okay?"
I looked at him. He didn't realize his touch hurt my back and I didn't let him know.
"Mr. Curry, you have a drink or two in town today?"
I felt myself get defensive, but I no longer made excuses for anything. Playin' poker and drinkin' had been my choice. "Yeah." I didn't quite make eye contact with him. Didn't want to see his disapproval.
"You deserve to have some fun, sir. You work very hard all day long."
I looked at him suddenly and saw compassion, not an accusation.
"Best you go in and drink lots of water and maybe take a nap. You goin' to Cheyenne tomorrow and don't want a headache."
"Thanks, Juan, thanks," I said as I reached for the last box.
"You go inside. I'll put the supplies away. The ones outside the smithy, too. Don't sleep too long; you'll want to wash before you take the train tomorrow.
ASJ*****ASJ
Tried to think on the train to Cheyenne, but the hangover lingered, and I fell asleep. I used to drink twice that much and still be sober. Decided to stay away from drinkin' until Heyes can watch my back again. Juan had been right. Even with drinkin' a lot of water and sleepin' a bit, I still had a hangover when I went down to the stream to get clean. I kept lookin', but Chrissy didn't follow me. After I had turned back to unload the wagon, she disappeared. Saw her in her room in her chair, starin' at the water pitcher on her dresser. She had left Black Beauty on the ground where she dropped it. Juan had picked it up and closed it gently unbendin' the pages that folded in the fall. If the water and the nap hadn't sobered me up, her blank eyes lookin' at nothin' did. Funny thing was Juan seemed almost friendly to me.
"Hi, Kid." Lom greeted me as I got off the train in Cheyenne.
"Lom, good to see you." I shook his hand. I was tryin' to study him to see if there was somethin' he needed to tell me…or somethin' he was hidin'. I didn't see anything but concern.
"Your eyes are red, Kid. You work late last night?" Lom asked and I was glad the concern I saw was for me and not for Heyes.
"Ah…no…ah…had a couple of beers yesterday and…"
He laughed and started to clap me on the back but stopped before touchin' me and instead hit me lightly on my arm. I'd never told him the scars on my back were still healin' and hurt when touched. I know when he had slapped me on the back these last few weeks it was out of friendship, comradery. I treasured both. Somehow, he had figured out that it hurt. I hoped I hadn't flinched and given it away.
"Good. Glad to hear it."
I smiled. "Why's everyone so glad I drank too much? Juan said about the same thing."
"You work too hard, Kid, worry too much. You're always pushin' yourself. You need some fun, too."
I was uncomfortable talkin' about me. I changed the subject. Not sure what to say. I didn't want to talk about Chrissy yet. I was workin' out how to make it up to her. "News on Heyes?"
"Eighty percent of the prison has measles - guards, prisoners, staff, the warden. Measles hasn't gone through this part of Wyoming in twenty years."
"So Heyes?"
"Is fine, as far as I know. So is Dr. Arden. Let's get out there. We're meeting them at ten thirty."