Winter's Refuge

Chapter One Hundred Sixty-Four

LOM

Took me a second, but I recognized the two-shot greeting we used when returning to Devil's Hole. I hope Preacher heard and recognized it. The Kid was smiling, as he unhooked his gun belt and handed it to a big, burly guard with a serious face. I did the same.

I started to introduce us to the guard at the door, "Sheriff Lom Trevors, Jedediah Curry, and Patrick…"

"Mahoney," Paddy added.

"Here to see Josiah Jewell," I continued, as we walked into the prison. I watched as our guns were put into a locked box by the door and the box of goodies we brought Preacher opened and searched. They searched the Kid's cane thoroughly, even trying to see if it was hollow. They reluctantly returned it.

"Wait there." Another guard pointed to a room with one chair and a view of the prison from its lone window. He locked the door behind us. The Kid stood with his back to the window and crossed his arms across his chest, staring at the door. Anyone who didn't know him well would think he didn't have a care in the world. But I've learned now to look at him closer. His eyes are a steely gray blue, and his movements are controlled, not relaxed. He doesn't like being confined in this small room.

Motioning to Father Paddy to take the chair, I said, "Sure we won't be here for long." It was meant more for the Kid, even though I was looking at the priest, who had never been in a prison before.

I needed to break the Kid's thoughts. "Liked the Devil's Hole greeting shots when we got off the train. That was a good idea." My words did the trick.

He looked at me with a small grin. "Thought you'd recognize that."

And then the door opened, and the guard ordered, "Follow me."

The Kid bowed his head and I think he was about to say, "Yes, sir," but stood up straight and instead turned and said, "After you, Paddy."

I was proud of him. He's fighting against this place. Last time we were here, he started taking small steps as if he were shackled. Today, barely leaning on his cane, he's taking deliberate long strides.

The guard led us into the bright sun in the area between the rows of cells, all facing the dry blowing hot dirt in the center. He was heading to the small chapel where we had met Preacher the last time we were here. But when I turned around, the Kid wasn't following us.

HEYES

Mike and Mikey Loveland were waiting for us at the livery when we got to Bridgeport. "Got your tickets right here. Thought I'd get them before you got here so we could visit longer. Your train leaves in 70 minutes," Mike said.

Mikey stood right in front of me and smiled, waiting for me to notice him. He's going to be tall, which is good. Nobody will question that he's Mike's son.

"Got something for you, Uncle Heyes," Mikey said, then looked down suddenly shy.

Mike groaned and looked up. "Not sure you're going to recognize yourself," he whispered.

"I drew you and Uncle Kid." Mikey handed me a paper with two stick figures, both wearing what looked like gun belts.

"This is me." I said, pointing at the one with the black hat. "And this one has to be Uncle Kid."

Mikey smiled a wide smile that reminded me of the Kid's Michael's smile. They were cousins after all. "I know you would know that was you," he said.

"Of course, you're a good artist. But what is that?" I pointed at something that looked like a horse-sized dog with a huge tail.

"That's the dragon from the gold mine you fought in the book Miss Faith read to me," Mikey explained. "See, shiny eyes." I looked at the picture again but was figuring that Mikey must be almost five now. He pushed the picture into my hand. "It's for you to take home."

"Why, thank you, Mikey," I said and handed the picture to Chrissy. As Mikey was describing the picture to her, I turned to his pa. "You let him read those dime novels?" I half growled.

"Came home and his babysitter, Miss Faith, was reading it to him. Mikey was drawn to all the pictures," Mike said, shaking his head. "She won't bring any more of them into the newspaper office or our home, but I can't coax that one away from my son. He's decided Uncle Kid and Uncle Heyes are his heroes."

I just shook my head. We're never going to escape the shadow of those books.

JED 'KID' CURRY

I tried. I really tried, but the heat of the sun took my resolve and my steps shortened as the feelin' of shackled returned. Leanin' heavily on my cane, I started to follow the guard and my friends, but I couldn't take their fast steps. Stoppin, I took a breath, and repeated, "I don't belong here. I don't belong here anymore." I didn't' believe my words.

Findin' myself outside the long entrance to dark cell, my scorchin' days and freezin' nights caged in there rushed back. They mixed with new memories of the cell in Frank's basement…and the depression. I slowly entered and limped down the entrance way toward the metal cage in the middle of the cave. Right under the hole that allowed the unrelentless sun to shine down and make the metal cage too hot to touch, a man was huddled. I approached him slowly, he raised his head at my approach. His eyes was pleadin', beggin', but I had no key to the padlock of his cage. Seein' a bucket of water in the cooler shadows where he could see it but not reach, I went and ladled some water into a tin cup there. I smelled it and then took a cautious drink, rememberin' the poisoned water in my dark cell at the Wyoming Territorial prison. Convinced it was fine, I offered him the cup.

His eyes searched the entrance for a guard before he grabbed the cup and started drinkin' the water. "Who are you?" he asked.

"Jed Curry," I answered, takin' the cup and refillin' it. "Don't drink it so fast. Sip it or it will come back up."

He looked at me over the top of the cup as he did what I said, savorin' small sips of water as he said, "Jed Curry? Kid Curry?"

I nodded.

"You're the one that caught the snakes as they fell through that hole and flung them out through the bars, aren't you? Heard you was a legend. Maybe I'm dreamin' and you're an angel," he said. "How'd you do it?"

"I was just tryin' to survive," I told the truth. I need to say somethin' positive. "I'm not a legend or an angel, just a man determined to survive." I gave him another cup of water as I heard footsteps comin' toward us. "Just concentrate on survivin' one minute to the next."

"The prisoner is not allowed visitors and no water until nightfall," the guard reprimanded me.

But this caged man had reminded me that I had survived this cage and other restraints, and I told myself with more force, "I don't belong here."

I think the guard expected me to say somethin' like "sorry, sir" but I told him, "Man was thirsty. Withholdin' water ain't gonna reform him."

A voice from behind said, "Jed."

I turned as I felt Father Patrick's hand on my shoulder. It was shakin' as he stared at the man who had huddled himself in the middle of the cage, so no metal touched him.

"Paddy, I was just givin' this man some water. I remember my thirst when I was in here," I said. "We can go now." He's not used to sights like this of men caged and chained and treated worse than animals.

"God bless you," Paddy whispered to me so no one else could hear. He came to help me out of here, but it's me leadin' him out.

"You THE Kid Curry? The one who caught two snakes that fell through the hole?" yelled the guard after us.

"It's Mr. Jed Curry now. And it weren't two snakes, it was three, and they didn't all fall. Two were dropped," I snarled at him, as I pushed Paddy back into the sunlight where Lom and our escort guard had just come back to find us.

Lom gave me a questionin' look and I gave him a half smile and a nod that I was doin' alright.

"Warden waitin' to see you before you see Convict Jewell. Can you keep up with me with that cane?" the guard asked.

"Right behind you," I said.

Father Patrick had my arm and leaned close to my ear. "Easy for the demons to come out and find one in that cave, isn't it?"

HEYES

Our train left Bridgeport on time. Chrissy held my arm tight as we got on and kept her hold on it as we sat together in the railcar facing Aiden. He's been nervous about working in the prison again, even if just for a few days. Looking from me to Chrissy, he asked, "You alright?"

I nodded. "So far, so good. Have you seen the picture little Mikey drew for me?" I took the paper out of my pocket, unfolded it, and handed it to the doctor. Then I looked at Chrissy. She hadn't heard him. She was staring near the top of the window but not looking out of it. I know where she is, and I can't let her stay there. "Chrissy, aren't the mountains majestic?"

No response. Her grip on my arm remained strong. I gently turned her head to look at me. "Did I see Josiah smiling at the Kid when he was home?"

No response, but her eyes found mine and she was seeing me. She blinked. "Josiah smile and Diane smile and laugh, but only for their pa."

I heard Aiden let out a breath of relief. I hadn't realized he was watching us.

"The Kid always had a way with kids. Knew he would be a good pa," I answered. I need to keep her talking, focused on the now, not the prison. "Heard Ruth Ann say 'ma' and 'Joy' the other day and her fingers never stop signing. What are her newest signs?"

And that did it. We talked about her little girls until we found we were in Cheyenne.

Oliver was supposed to meet us with a buggy and, true to his word, he was there waiting. We hurried to his buggy and headed off with him telling us stories of Stephanie and Steven. If I didn't know where we were heading, this would be like a Sunday jaunt for a picnic.

Until a little over halfway there, when we followed a long curve in the road and the world darkened as the prison came into view. Just a small black square at first, that grew larger every minute and seemed to reach even further. I looked to the trees on the right but my dark memories couldn't be avoided. My heart beat faster as fear gripped me and I thought of how that place almost defeated me, almost made me take my own life. I felt like jumping out of the buggy and running. Aiden was sitting in the front seat still listening to his brother talk about Stephanie and Steven and Miss Nancy, but I couldn't hear them anymore. I only hear the unrelenting pounding of my heart.

Chrissy had taken my arm again and now squeezed it tighter. "Heyes tell Chrissy about Nettie," she said softly. And she broke the spell of the dark demons reaching out for me.

I squeezed her hand on my arm and gave her a small smile of thanks. "Nettie's cuddly and happy and loves to be thrown in the air," I started. I continued looking at Chrissy and telling her about my daughter, my source of goodness and light, until I couldn't ignore that we were pulling up the long drive to the prison.

Aiden turned around again and asked, "Alright?"

I need to be the strong one now for Chrissy. I can't let her see how terrified I am of this place. I used one of Aiden's words back at him. "Coping just fine, sir."

I stopped. I had called him 'sir', the subservient prison word. He gave me a strong look but then noticed Oliver wasn't taking the buggy to the front door. "Oliver, we going in the side door? Something wrong?"

I could tell by the hesitation in Dr; Oliver's voice that something indeed was wrong. He didn't look at any of us as he answered, "Warden just asked that I bring you in the side door. We'll be going to that first office on the right. It's vacant."

"Matt's hurt," Chrissy whispered to me.

"Your brother is not injured," the doctor answered.

"Matt dead?" she asked.

"Trustee McWinters was very much alive and unhurt when I left him this morning. And it is the warden's intention to keep him that way." Oliver pulled into the empty stall closest to the prison door and secured our horse himself. There was no one around. No trustees attending to the horses or cleaning the stall. The only noise was the rustle of horses in response to our buggy entering their space.

Aiden got out and put his hand out to help Chrissy out of the buggy.

"Promise Matt okay?" she asked, her voice pleading.

"Heyes, leave your gun in the buggy. No one will come near it," Oliver said. I looked at him suspiciously but did as he said. I didn't know what was going on, but I didn't like it. He didn't bother to watch me as he hurried to the outer door and unlocked it. "Any other weapons on you leave them, too," he called back.

Chrissy reached into her bag and removed her gun. I smiled my approval that she had brought it, but the two doctors looked surprised. Putting it on the floor of the buggy, she picked up the box for Matt.

"What's that?" asked Dr. Oliver. He had the outer door opened and was searching his ring of keys for the next one.

"For Matt," she answered. "Sweets and a book."

"Hadn't thought about that. Well, bring it in. Quickly now. Quickly."

With a quick look back at our untended guns, I followed the others inside and the dark, quiet walls started to close in on me as soon as Dr Oliver closed the door behind me and locked it.

There was no guard outside the first office on the right, so I knew Matt was not in there. Was he in trouble? Was it too late to stop us from coming and we were to be told that we couldn't see him? No, Dr. Oliver would have delayed us in Cheyenne if that was the case. I willed my feet to walk into the black evil I felt in the hallway and followed Chrissy and Aiden into the first office.

And was greeted with a bright room. Matt, in ankle shackles, sat in a chair next to the warden with a guard in the far corner of the room, who was watching us as closely as he was the prisoner.