Winter's Refuge

Chapter One Hundred Forty

LOM

I should be tired, but the end of Heyes' letter energized me. I checked the train schedule. We'll have to go through Cheyenne to Bridgeport and rent a wagon…no, a buggy to go from there to Phoenix. Or maybe I should go straight to Three Birds if Heyes hasn't told those at Phoenix where the Kid was. I'll send him a telegram in the morning. Worried, I cleaned the kitchen and made the dinner I had skipped reading the letter. And made some sandwiches for tomorrow and wrapped them up tight. I need to talk to the Bickson boys to make sure they cover all my duties.

I know the Kid well. But prison did change him, maybe more than it changed Heyes. He's stronger in body and will. And his vow to take care of his family has been his guide. And that family expanded from Heyes to include all of Phoenix and beyond…and I count myself and Wayne blessed to be in that group.

Traveling with a baby is new to me. I'll need someplace to make his formula in Cheyenne…and diapers, so many diapers and no place to wash them. I started to pack his bag; it ended up bigger than mine. I couldn't sleep but I laid down, closed my eyes, and tried to rest. I must have slept some because the sun was starting to rise when I opened my eyes. I still didn't know what I would say to the Kid.

While I was making final preparations to leave, a telegram was delivered reminding me that the visit with Preacher would be scheduled for four weeks from now. The warden sends me regular updates and this one came at an opportune time. I'll remind the Kid of our pact with Preacher. I've kept my part. I haven't touched alcohol since that day. Some days it's hard. Some days it's easier. But every day I look at Wayne and am glad this is the path I have chosen. The Kid wrote that he took his kids to church so I can talk about what good the pact has done.

HEYES

My plan worked. Shaw was gone. Three Birds was saved. The saloon was rebuilt. But none of that matters if I lose the Kid. I have to help him, but Frank won't let me in to see him until tomorrow. I can't control the shaking so I'm walking around the outside of Frank's house. It's a big square. I think I figured out where those basement windows are. But they were covered on the inside with black curtains so I can't tell for sure. But it's getting dark, and my old fears are returning. I thought I had conquered them but they returned without the Kid somewhere backing me up. My feet stopped moving and I fell to my knees. I need to get to the Kid. He needs me but the dark is overwhelming me. Someone is bending over me, but it's not my cousin.

"Heyes! Heyes, you okay?" It was Frank's voice. I pushed him away and stumbled to my feet on my own.

"You're going to send the Kid back to prison," I screamed.

"I don't want to. He's lost in his depression. I missed the signs. This has been coming on for a while. We need your help to make him see himself the way we all see him…before he takes his life."

"What signs?" I asked, and Frank told me about his perfect older brother Floyd and how he took his life. While he was talking, he put his arm around me and guided me over to Dr. Arden's office. I'm ashamed to admit that when the night turned black, I grabbed onto him for support. Still, I had the strength to demand, "I…I w…want to s…s…see the K…K…K." I couldn't get his name out.

"Tomorrow, Heyes. I promise, tomorrow."

Dr. Arden welcomed me into his office and Miss Denise settled me into the upstairs bedroom where the Kid had kept watch over Three Birds. Sheriff Birde returned to his house, the house with the dark cell in the basement.

"T…take care of the K…Kid," I told him.

"That's what I'm trying to do."

JED 'KID' CURRY

I deserve to be here. I deserve to go back to prison. I've just been masqueradin' as good person. I wanted to kill myself last night after Sheriff Birde locked me in here. Thought it was the best thing for everyone. But I couldn't do that to my kids. I vowed I would always protect my family…and I love each one of them so much. So much so that I think it would be better for them not to be growin' up with my name, with the stigma of havin' an outlaw for a pa, with people wonderin' if Phoenix was built with money stolen from banks and trains. The twins aren't quite old enough to understand what people say about me behind my back. I need to think of a way for them to start over again without me…somewhere I can watch over them from a distance.

Sheriff Birde says he's trying to help me. I don't understand how. I'm guilty. I met with Preacher in my blacksmith shop and I talked to Johnny McWinters in Three Birds…without turning them in. But I did not kill Irving Price; Johnny did. I told the sheriff that, but he doesn't believe me anymore. Why should he? I'm an outlaw, a gunfighter, and an ex-con. I'm someone that Monsignor Lance said was unredeemable. And maybe death by hangin' for killin' someone is how my life should end. I am guilty of breakin' that commandment more than once.

It's cold in here and as black as the dark cell in the Wyoming Territorial Prison. There's not even a cot, but there are blankets and quilts. Up high I think there are windows. The darkness is not quite as dark up there. I wonder if they are to keep me from seeing out or others from looking in. Heyes will be looking for me. But he doesn't need me anymore, he's just fine. I hope he's so busy taking the congratulations from all the town folk that he doesn't notice I'm not there. I'm proud of him. His plan to get rid of Shaw worked well…and he's thinking about all the little details again. Like the saloon being rebuilt and recovering all the money from the robberies…and having the bad guys in the custody of a US Marshal. Soon that will be me.

He'll get the reward money for those men. I don't remember if I showed him where in the forge I hid the other reward money. Well, if the sheriff lets me see him, I'll tell him.

I thought about Shaw and Jim Plummer. They tried to do about the same thing. Still, I feel guilty that Heyes plan sent Shaw to his death…well, not too guilty. He deserved it.

I'm tired…so tired. I don't think I've really slept since our little girl died. It's so quiet here and the darkness forces my eyes to close. I pulled the quilt around me and laid down on the blankets and slept, a deep and dreamless sleep.

HEYES

Doctor Arden must have put something in the tea he gave me last night because I slept later than I had planned. I dressed quickly and went downstairs expecting to see him.

"The doctor left at first light, Heyes. He said you were to wait here until he returned. If you protest, I'm supposed to tell you it's doctor's orders," Miss Denise said, while frying up some eggs for my breakfast.

"Thanks, but I'm not hungry," I said, looking at the frying pan.

"Sorry, doctor says you must have breakfast. You don't eat enough. So, unless you're going to insult my cooking, sit down and eat," Miss Denise said. I smiled at how far she had come from the abused wife I found as a prisoner in Devil's Hole to now.

Obediently, I began eating my breakfast.

Dr. Arden came in slamming the front door. Looking at me, he half yelled, "That cousin of yours is stubborn…and much more lost in his depression than I thought." He sat down at the table and covered his face with his hands. "He's my friend. And I'm a doctor that specialized in things like this. Yet, somehow, I missed every sign that he was feeling worthless." He took a deep breath. "He's resigned himself to going back to prison…even called me sir."

"Can I see him now?" I asked, glad that my words weren't failing me.

"Father Patrick is talking to him now. When you finish eating, we can go over. I need to talk to Frank. But you have to wait until Father is finished before you see him." He thought for a moment. "I'll make sure there are multiple lamps down there when you talk to him."

And I remembered the Kid was not only locked up but locked in the dark…and the trembling in my hands returned. I tried to hide it, but Miss Denise saw. She put her hands over mine, saying, "He'll be alright, Heyes. This whole town will make sure of that."

"Finished," I said firmly as I pushed my plate away. I needed to get to the Kid. No one commented on the half-eaten eggs on my plate."

JED 'KID' CURRY

Startled awake by the noise of the door at the top of the stairs openin', I struggled to find the shreds of the leavin' dream. Then I remembered where I am, in a holdin' cell waitin' to return to prison. There will be a trial. I'll plead guilty to the aidin' and abettin' charge and probably not guilty to murder.

"Jed, wake up."

I heard Frank's voice through the darkness. And saw him as the light from his lamp reached me. I was right, though, about the high windows. I could tell the sun was shinin' outside. They kept it dark but not black.

Cold, I wrapped the quilt around me and sat up. "Yes, sir."

Frank looked angry. "You have never called me sir before."

"Yes, sir," I answered, sittin' up and lookin' down in proper prison protocol. I was surprised how quickly it came back. When something has been beaten into you, it's always there no matter how you fight it.

"If you want this food, stand up and look me in the eyes."

"Yes, sir." I stood up, droppin' the quilt. I felt self-conscious in just my long johns, but there was nothin' I could do about it.

Frank handed me a sandwich through the bars. "No silverware until I'm sure you're not going to try anything."

It was not a question. Prisoners can only answer questions, so I didn't say anything. I ate the breakfast quickly and handed him back the wrapper. Again, I folded my hands in front of me, looked down, and waited.

I heard Frank sigh. "Jed, when you are with me, please look me in the eyes." He hesitated as if makin' a decision. Then he added, "I'm doing this for your own good."

I felt anger risin' in my chest. How could sendin' me back to prison be helpin' me? I held the anger inside but didn't move. Maybe it's better he captures me than someone who might kill me. Am I wanted dead or alive again? I don't know what reaction he expected, but that wasn't it.

He picked up his lamp. "I'll be back down soon. You have a visitor."

I wanted to ask 'Heyes?' But he hadn't asked a question.

When it was dark again, I focused on those high windows that the sun outside made a bit lighter than the rest of the basement. I need to prepare myself for life in prison. I'm not as tough as I was. I don't know what to say to Heyes. But he's so much stronger now…look at how he pulled off his Hannibal Heyes plan to stop Shaw. Every detail was successful.

The door scraped open again. I stood up straight, looked down and waited. But when the light first hit my cell, I looked around quickly, not seein' what I needed.

Sheriff Birde led the way down, this time with two lamps. The room was still kinda dark and the lamps, although they made it brighter, also created shadows in the corners of the room. Those will scare Heyes. But I can't speak to a guard unless he asks a question. I don't know what to do.

"Jed, you remember Father Patrick, don't you?" Frank asked.

"Yes, sir," I answered, without lookin' up.

Frank took that same deep breath as before. "Jed, look at me." I did. "I'm going to leave you two alone to talk." He studied me for a moment. "What's wrong?"

Finally, he asked me a question. "Got to pee."

Frank half laughed. "Wasn't planning this. Was so upset I forgot. You're probably thirsty. too. You should have said something.".

Not a question so I couldn't answer. Frank doesn't have a billy club that I can see, but I don't want to step out of line.

"Father, please wait upstairs for a few minutes," Frank said.

"I'm sorry, Jed." He unlocked the cell without askin' me to stand back. But I belong here. I'm not gonna try to escape. When he gave me a chamber pot, he locked the cell and went upstairs. He left the lamps lit so I could see my surroundings after I had done what I needed to do. He escorted Father Patrick down again before long. He was carryin' a bucket of water and Father was carryin' a three-legged stool.

"Jed, stand in the back corner." This time the sheriff remembered to tell me that.

"Yes, sir."

He put the water near the door and picked up the chamber pot. "If I leave you this stool to sit on, will you only use it to sit on?"

I knew he was thinkin' of my belt that I had managed to fasten on the bars on the ceiling. But I decided I can't do that to my kids. "I will only sit on it, sir."

Something about my answer made the sheriff grunt but he left me alone with Father Patrick.

"Jed, I think we need to talk," Father Patrick said, pullin' a hard backed chair from the corner and putting it next to my cell.

I was still standin'. "Yes, sir."

"Jed, relax, sit down. And stop calling me sir. You always called me Father."

"Yes, sir…Father," I answered. The habit I had tried too hard to break came back easily. I've resigned myself to prison but didn't understand why Father was here. I pulled the three-footed stool near him.

"Jed, I understand that you were raised Catholic," he started.

"Born Catholic. Haven't practiced since I was young."

He smiled. "You understand what confession is?"

I nodded. "It's been a long time, but I remember the basics. I've never been involved in the church here. Attending on Sunday is about all I do."

"Well, I need to confess something to you," Father Patrick said as he looked away from me. I had no idea what to say. This made me nervous. I respect this man and he helped Luke. He had my complete attention. "When I told my superiors I wished to take six weeks off and visit my family in Illinois, I was surprised and overjoyed when I learned that a monsignor was going to replace me here. I wondered why a monsignor would want to come to a little town like Three Birds, but I never questioned it. I don't question my superiors." He stood and walked to the stairs and back. "Your town here is very protective of you, Jed Curry."

"Protective of me?"

"My superiors received an unprecedented number of complaints about Monsignor Lance and his 'targeted' sermons, as the complaints were called. I know you only went to the first two. You might want to know that less than ten people attended the third week. Lance was furious and his fire and brimstone sermon went on, and on, and on. The next week no one attended. The telegrams and letters my superiors received were upset that he was preaching that their community leader, you, was told there was no redemption for him. That he was doomed to go to hell." He paused.

I spoke softly, "Yeah, and he convinced me. Shouldn't have been talkin' like that in front of kids though, even if it is true. Heyes figured it out. I faced the monsignor's brother in a gunfight. He was cheatin' at cards. I called him on it, and he challenged me to a gunfight. I could have killed him, but I never aim to kill. I aimed for his hand and gun. He twisted when he shot and took my bullet in the leg. Me and Heyes went in and paid his doctor bill and learned he would never walk again. Figure this was God's way of lettin' me know I was wrong."

"It was not the Lord's doing in any way, shape, or words. This was the monsignor's inappropriate way of getting revenge for his brother. He has been disciplined."

"Why are you tellin' me this?"

"Because the Lord offers forgiveness to everyone for every sin.. He is a God of mercy." I must have looked confused. Because he reached through the bars and touched my hand. "Jed, I've known you since you bought your ranch, and you are one of the best men I know. And from the letters my superiors received, this town feels the same way."

"Father Patrick, I've killed. Lance said that is the one sin against God that can't be forgiven."

"He was wrong and, if you're feeling that way, he accomplished what he wanted to do."

I was thinkin' about that when he said that. "Jed, you know that if you confess your sins, a priest can give you absolution, er, forgiveness, for them in God's name. Will you let me hear your confession?"

I leaned back as far as I could on the stool and thought for a moment. Hearin' that Lance was wrong in what he said was hard to believe. But I could hear my ma and Gramma Curry's voices in my mind talkin' about God's boundless forgiveness.

"I feel guilty about the killin', well, all except one," I said. I was still goin' to prison but maybe this was a chance, just a chance, that I might see my darlin' Trinity Rose in heaven one day.

"We'll talk about that. And Jed, Frank said you told him that losing Trinity Rose was a punishment of the Lord for all the things you've done."

I sat up straighter. "Yes, her death was my fault and a punishment."

"IT WAS NOT! Didn't you hear me at her funeral. There are some souls that the Lord wants close to him, and Trinity Rose is one of them. He is not a vengeful God."

"I want to believe that," I confessed. "Let's do this confession thing."

Heyes always said that when I was talkin' to Sister Julia, I would have told her everything about us if he hadn't stopped me. Well, it was the same with Father Patrick and Heyes was not here to stop my talkin'. I told him everything. It was good to talk about it and he is a very good listener. He often asked if I repented for this sin or the other and I admitted that I wasn't sorry for some things, like robbin' banks that were cheatin' people and killin' Danny Bilson. I shared the water in my bucket with him. He didn't seem to mind drinkin' out of the same tin cup as me.

When I was finished, he said, "Jed, the time you spent in prison was your earthly penance. You have broken commandments since then, but like in Brown River, you killed as a last resort. Like I said before, you are one of the best men I have ever met. You care about everyone. You help everyone. You are raising your children with love and strong morals, and you've welcomed many people into your family at Phoenix. I believe God forgave your transgressions, er, sins, long ago and in his name, I forgive them, too."

Didn't know what to say so I said, "Thank you."

"I'd like to come back and talk to you again tomorrow. Is that alright?" he asked, and I remembered where I was…in a holdin' cell on my way to prison.

"If Sheriff Birde allows it,'' I answered.

"Jed, he's trying to help you," he said.

"Yes, sir," I answered. I did feel better after talkin' it out with him, but it didn't change the fact that I had done those things and was a killer and an ex-con.

The door had scraped open then closed more than a few times durin' our talk. I don't know how long he had been down here. This time when it opened, he yelled up, "Frank, we're done for now."