Winter's Refuge
Chapter One Hundred Seventy-Two
JED 'KID' CURRY
Me and Heyes decided not to wait until the mornin' and to ride into Bridgeport that afternoon. We'll catch the seven 'o three mornin' train to Cheyenne. Ridin' through Three Birds we sent telegrams to Dr. Oliver and Mike Loveland of our plans. We rode in silence until we were almost there and needed to stop to give Winter's Glory and Fall's Bells rest and water.
"Heyes, all kinds of bad things are runnin' through my head. Can we talk about it?" I asked.
"Same things are probably taking all my thoughts," he answered. "Probably be best if we talk about them before they fester."
He sat on a flat boulder and watched the horses drink from the creek. He's cradlin' that arm that felt the bite of the billy club. Aiden said it wasn't broken, just badly bruised but Heyes' refuses to admit it hurts…unless I catch him unawares like now. When the horses finished drinkin', I picked up small rocks and skipped them across the water. Watchin' them splash, I tried to think of the words to start. But they didn't come.
"Kid, trying to figure out what Dr. Oliver wants to talk to us about before we meet with Warden Mays," Heyes wondered out loud.
"As I see it, can't be good. He wants to prepare us for whatever bad news Mays has to say," I told him. "Can't think of anything else," I told him.
"Thinking along those same lines. We can only guess what trouble Rocky got in, so I think we just got to wait until we talk to the doctor." Heyes was tryin' to make his voice calm and sensible, but I know him too well.
"Don't stop me from guessin'. Worried the doctor will tell us he's been hurt bad…or dead," I answered.
"Thought about that, too. I don't know, Kid, and it doesn't help to think the worst. Let's talk about something else," Heyes told me.
I gave him a long look. We locked eyes. We're both worried what the Wyoming Territorial Prison did to Rocky. What were we gonna find when we got there? But he was right, we need to think about somethin' else or despair and darkness would start to invade our thoughts. But I couldn't think of anything else.
But Heyes could. "Remember that dime novel the family read aloud with the gunfight part Sletten stole from your fight with Harrison in the barn?"
"Couldn't believe he wrote that. He promised not to write about the hostages," I answered.
"Well, he changed the names but that's about all. I gave the book to Aiden. And the other copy we had in the library. And I found three other copies that were in the box for us to sign. The doctor wasn't there with the hostages, but he helped Denise work through her trauma after. He knew pretty much what happened. Now he knows it all."
On our horses again, Heyes continued, "Aiden had the sense to check the mercantile and there were two more copies there. He bought them and I told Jeff not to order that title again."
"He tell Jeff why?" I asked.
"No, just that it was worse than the others in a personal way. Jeff didn't ask anymore. We threw all but one of the books in the fireplace in Aiden's living room and watched them burn to ashes. That was a good feeling. Aiden's going to talk to Mr. Kolmand tomorrow to see what legal action can be taken against Sletten," Heyes answered.
"For all the books that he used our names when he promised not to?" I asked.
"No, just that one…and any other that might embarrass one of the hostages," Heyes answered. "Means that between me and you and Arnie, we need to read all of the ones we have here. Maybe we can get Pappy to read some, too. Has to be someone who was there," Heyes answered. "Brought along two we can read on the train ride."
And when I looked up, we were approachin' Bridgeport.
HEYES
I'm angry at Sletten for writing about Denise like that, even if he did change her name to Penelope. If you know her, the description is most definitely Miss Denise. Both me and the Kid got riled about it, but then the Kid pointed out that Sletten visited him at Frank's house at the lowest point in his life. He'd never mentioned those visits before, but he said they allowed a sliver of light into his soul that was drowning in darkness.
By the time we got to Bridgeport, we'd decided that all copies of 'Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry ride the Trail the Couldn't be Ridden' needed to disappear forever.
Mike welcomed us as we rode into the livery. He's a good man and a good friend. Hands full of our dinner that he'd just picked up from the diner, he headed towards his house. The Kid stopped him.
"Mike, you go on," the Kid told him. "Me and Heyes got somethin' to do at the mercantile. Still only the one in town?"
Proudly Mike answered, "Bridgeport's growing. There's a second one across the tracks on Dirty Street."
"Dirty Street?" I asked.
"Well, that was what everybody called it, even though it had an official name after some flower. Since everyone knew it as Dirty Street, the mayor made that its name now."
I looked at the Kid and I could tell from the look on his face we were going to visit both mercantiles.
"Just let me drop this food off and I'll come along. I haven't been to the new store since its grand opening," Mike said.
ASJ*****ASJ
Kid had been to the mercantile in Bridgeport a couple of times before. He walked in like a man with a mission, which is exactly what he was. We left in a hurry and he didn't bring his cane. He doesn't use it much anymore and claims he's healed. But I know the riding with his feet in the stirrups today put a lot of strain and force on his ankles because he's trying to hide his limping now. Still he went straight to the book rack and picked up five copies of 'The Trail that Couldn't be Ridden.' He dropped them on the counter saying, "I'll take these. You got any more in the back?"
I'd judge that the clerk was in his fifties, heavy with pale skin that told me he spent most daylight hours in this store. "There's a box of them dime novels in the back. Don't know which titles. Can't keep the shelves stocked. They sell so fast, especially to people taking the train. You'd be surprised as many women buy them as men," he answered, not really looking at us.
"Are there any more of THIS title in that box?" the Kid asked.
"Wouldn't know," the man answered. "Mister, you know you got five of the same book here?"
The Kid was tired and stressed. "I know they're the same. And I want to buy any more of them you have." I felt rather than heard the Kid's anger rising. His emotions are close to the surface. And his right hand was resting just above his gun.
"WHY do you want all the copies? That don't leave any for the other customers," the clerk answered. "This is a popular title."
I moved my shoulder slightly in front of the Kid so I could face the clerk. I need to make sure this is peaceful. "Perhaps, sir, you would let us look through the box to see if there are any more of these in it. We will be happy to buy them all," I said, smiling at the man.
"I don't know…" he started.
"Let me introduce myself. My name is Hannibal Heyes, and this man here is Jed Curry," I said, keeping up the conciliatory tone.
For the first time the man looked at us, really looked at us, and then at Mike Loveland behind us. "Mike, that right? Sure look like they could be those outlaws to me."
"Ira, these are my friends Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry. They've had amnesty for over three years now. Now could they see that box of books in the back?"
The clerk was still deciding so I added, "Tell you what, if you let us see the ones in the back, you can pick out a couple of your favorites and the Kid and I will autograph them to you."
"Sounds alright, but what's so special about this title?" he asked, as he led us to the back storeroom.
"It's personal," growled the Kid. I swear the clerk shook in his shoes and he left us there to search while he scooted back into the store. We found two more copies. The Kid bought them all and we signed two books for the man.
"Can you write 'to my friend, Ira'?" he asked.
"If you can guarantee me you won't order any more copies of 'The Trail that Couldn't be Ridden'," the Kid said. It wasn't a growl this time, but a voice that carries the message you better agree with me …or else.
"I promise, sir, no more of that title, ever."
Mike had the Kid drop the copies off before we went to the second mercantile. "Jed, think I've got a copy of that one around here somewhere. You can have that one, too. Why do you want these?" Mike asked.
In a much gentle voice, the Kid answered, "It's personal. Author broke a promise to me and Heyes and this book could embarrass a good lady and her husband."
As we walked across the track to Dirty Street, Mike said, "What are you doing about it, besides buying up every copy you find?"
"Got a lawyer trying to make the author stop publishing that title," I answered, as we entered the new mercantile.
I understood why the residents call this Dirty Street. It's just that - dirty, unpaved, and situated so the wind blows every loose paper and leaf and such right down the middle. This was obviously the poorer side of town. The boys playing in the street recognized the Kid immediately. It was easy if you read any of Hauser Sletten's books. His descriptions of me and the Kid were pretty much perfect. Glad the law didn't read them when we were still running. Mike kept the boys outside while the Kid repeated his actions from the other store. But when we asked to buy those in stock in the back, the clerk doubled his price and the Kid's gun was in his hand before I knew it. If I was wondering if he was still as fast as even, this proved it.
I stepped in and the Kid holstered his Colt. I said we would pay for them all at the cover price but would sign a couple of the others for him. I don't think my words changed his mind. I think it was Kid Curry's fast draw. Another case of Kid Curry hero worship. He agreed to my suggestion adding, "Wait until the guys at the saloon hear Kid Curry drew on me. Never seen anyone half as fast, no, I haven't." The Kid brought a bag of peppermints and gave them to the boys in the street.
Later that night after Mikey had gone to sleep, we sat in the rooms in the back of the newspaper office and Mike asked, "Jed, what are you going to do with all those books you bought?"
The Kid looked at the flames in the fireplace and threw one of the books in there. "Burn them to ashes. Would have done it earlier but didn't want Mikey see me burning books."
"Appreciate that. You know there must be a lot of copies of the title here in Bridgeport?" Mike asked.
Watching the Kid throw another book into the fire, I answered, "We know. Nothing we can do about that."
"What if my newspaper ran an announcement that anyone who brings 'The Trail that Couldn't be Ridden' to this office can trade it for another title…signed by Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry themselves? I have a stack of them novels in the back. Miss Faith, Mikey's babysitter, reads them and leaves them for me because her parents don't like her to read 'that trash' as they call them. You can sign those."
Finally, the Kid smiled. "Thanks, Mike. We'd appreciate that."
JED 'KID' CURRY
Buyin' the offensive dime novels and burnin' them was a good diversion, but both me and Heyes still had Rocky on our minds. It helped us both to watch them books turn to ashes. My ankle pains me some but I tried not to let Heyes see. I went to bed, but sleep came in short bursts, always endin' with a vision of the prison. Heyes didn't even try to lay down. He paced then settled into Mike's overstuffed chair and read Curry and Heyes dime novels. I left him asleep in the chair in the mornin' when I joined Mikey for breakfast. Mike was already at work settin' type for the newspaper.
We had purchased our train tickets last night, still we were waitin' on the platform for the train a half hour early, Heyes pacin' while I tried to laze on the bench. I was tryin' to watch the people. My thoughts kept returnin' to Rocky in shackles gettin' into the black prison wagon.
I felt a slap on my leg. "Come on, Kid, train's almost here. Grab your bag," Heyes said.
ASJ*****ASJ
The train ride seemed endless and too quick at the same time. I was worried about Rocky and worried about what I'd hear from Dr. Oliver. Our walk to the Arden house didn't take long. It was flat and even and that was easier on my ankle. Soon me and Heyes were sittin' in his livin' room with glasses of iced tea in our hands. Miss Nancy excused herself and went upstairs…and Colin Apperson walked in from the kitchen. My heart dropped. The boy must be dead and they're afraid that I'll fall into despair. I looked at Heyes and saw the same panic that must be in my eyes in his.
"Colin?" I asked.
"Rocky's dead?" Heyes asked but it sounded like a statement.
"No, no. He's injured but quite alive," Colin was quick to reassure us.
I looked from the doctor to Colin. Both were nervous about tellin' us somethin'. Me and Heyes stayed quiet. We've learned that's the best way to get someone talkin'. People don't like silence.
Dr. Oliver looked at Colin, who started talkin'. "Convict Rocke had been a model prisoner, quiet, obedient, staying out of trouble…until two days ago. Warden Mays was taking the governor and me on an oversight tour of the prison. We were watching from the guard's walkway high on the wall. The prisoners from Convict Rocke's block were in the exercise field. He was keeping to himself, as usual, and the warden pointed him out to us." Colin took a breath.
I feared what was comin' next was not gonna be good. At least I knew Rocky was alive.
Colin continued, "Three of the older prisoners started hazing and hitting another prisoner no older than Convict Rocke, probably younger. The yard grew quiet. Mays told us the guards will handle it. But they didn't. They kept the other prisoners back and let the three start to beat the young boy. And then we saw that two of them had homemade shivs and circled the boy who was now down on his knees, covering his head. We heard him crying to them to stop."
"And the guards did nothing. That's typical," Heyes said knowingly.
"I should hope not," Colin answered firmly. Then he saw the stance Heyes had taken when challenged. "May we talk about that later? Perhaps this is a chance to reform a small part of prison life."
Heyes nodded. "Please continue. What does this have to do with Rocky?"
"Well, Convict Rocke has some Jed Curry in him and couldn't stand to see the boy gettin' beat up. He jumped right into the middle of the fight before the guards could hold him back. He knocked one of the shivs out of the attacker's hand and kicked it over in front of a guard. Pulling the other younger prisoner to his feet, he said, "Gotta fight together to survive." That was enough to get him fighting and together they started fighting the three men aggressively."
"And the guards still didn't try to stop it?" I asked.
"They took a couple of steps closer to the fight, forcing the combatants closer together. Convict Rocke fought like a wildcat. That boy is strong. He knocked out one man but the other one stabbed the young boy in the belly with his shiv. When he fell, Rocke went crazy and took on both men. He would have beaten them both if it weren't for the shiv that his opponent pulled out of the boy's belly and thrust into Rocke's shoulder. Then, finally, Mays yelled, "What's going on down there?" Everyone in the exercise yard froze and looked up. And the guards used their billy clubs on Convict Rocke and his two opponents that were still standing."
"Why didn't Mays stop it earlier?" Heyes demanded.
"He said he wanted us to see prison life in action. The governor was furious. He had another meeting but had me stay and see it through. He has ordered Warden Mays to a meeting with him and the prison oversight board next week." I could hear the frustration in Colin's voice. "It happened quicker, much quicker than I can even tell you about it. The whole thing was only a couple of minutes."
"And Rocky?" I asked, usin' a tone that I used to keep the gang in line.
"I cleaned out the wound to his shoulder. It bled a lot but he twisted so it wasn't as deep as it could have been," Dr. Oliver answered, not lookin' at us.
And I was afraid to ask my next question, "And the other young prisoner?"
"The shiv was more in his side than his belly. But when his attacker yanked the shiv out, the bleeding started. He's in the infirmary. He's lost a lot of blood. His chances are fifty-fifty," the doctor answered.
"Colin, is Rocky still getting released today?" asked Heyes. I was surprised at his conversational tone, until I looked at my partner and saw the fake smile disguisin'' the anger in his eyes.
When Colin didn't answer right away, I demanded, "Colin, where's Rocky?"
Takin' a deep breath, Colin answered, "Prison law is all combatants must be punished with time in the dark cell. And Mays was determined to follow that law and required the punishments exactly. But Convict Rocke was given his choice. Two weeks in solitary or five lashes and a night in the dark cell. When I said he was like you, Jed, I meant it. He chose the latter. He will be released from the dark cell at twelve noon and paroled to you."
I panicked. I'd told Rocky a lot of things, but not about the poisoned food and water in the dark cell. Yet, Heyes had spent months in the dark cell and was never poisoned.
Colin must have known what I was thinkin'. "I have Mays' word, and his position is on the line here, that Convict's Rocke's water will be fresh and clean. But as part of his punishment, he was not to receive dinner last night or breakfast today."
I nodded and started to think about what happened. "Colin, I appreciate you makin' the time to tell us this before we get to the prison. Not sure what version we would have got there."
For the first time since we arrived, Colin smiled. "That's why I'll be going with you. And we'll be there when the dark cell door is opened. Hoping we can get the paperwork done before noon so all Rocky needs to do is sign one paper and he's paroled to you and free to leave."
"And I'll be there, too," Dr. Oliver told us.
"Thank you both. And I know part of this meetin' now was because you were worried about me. The darkness will probably come when we get to the prison, but right now I'm angry at the guards and Mays and grateful to the two of you. Thank you for your help, my friends." I shook each of their hands. "Shall we head to the prison?"
"If you two will rent horses, I will drive my four-seat buggy and take Colin. That way we'll have room to accommodate Rocky, no matter what condition he's in."
I was feelin' confident that we had things under control, and I was honest when I said I didn't feel the darkness or despair. And I tried to convince myself that what happened to Rocky was not my fault. "Let's get goin'," I said, movin' toward the door.
I might be conquerin' the prison demons, but one look at Heyes and I knew they were eatin' him up. "Heyes, if you want, you can wait for us here at the doctor's house and send a telegram to Phoenix that we will be spendin' the night here before headin' home."