Winter's Refuge

Chapter Two Hundred Sixteen

LOM

We rode for a couple of hours after we left Thunder, then found a hotel with clean sheets. I asked for a room overlooking the street. The Kid and Heyes are not wanted anymore, but the Kid still stays alert when he travels. I never forgot there may be a third gunman paid to kill him. He doesn't either.

I was tired from riding. Mostly my new job keeps me at home reading newspapers and studying maps, not riding horses. I felt good that Black Brook and his gang were caught. Since marshals can't accept rewards, all of this money went to the Kid. I was in too much pain to be hungry but the Kid was, of course. We ate a quick meal in the restaurant of our hotel. He was happy with a steak and green beans; I just had soup. In our room, the Kid sat at the table and cleaned our guns while watching the quiet street out the window. His sore leg was propped up on another chair. I got ready for bed.

I unwrapped my knee, careful to roll the bandage so I could put it on again tomorrow morning.

"Need help?" the Kid asked, as I took the jar of cream out of my bag.

"I got it," I told him, looking at the jar and grinning. "Look."

The jar reading "AUNTIE"S PAIN CREAM" got a grin from the Kid, too. "Aiden told me that the cream has gotten very popular," he said.

HEYES

Charles McNamara was not happy to have been ripped from his tiny rented room in the priest's rectory and hustled to the train by THAT doctor man. He told us all loudly as he sat in one of the chairs in the doctor' waiting room and crossed his arms with a stormy look on his face.

The Kid has quite a temper and I remember being more scared of his ma's temper than my pa's. And the look on McNamara's face reminds me of her instant fury when the Kid and I and his older sister, Sophie, stole her cooling pie from her kitchen windowsill. After that, I was real careful she never caught me doing anything wrong.

Knowing I had to do something to defuse the old man's temper, I started, "We're happy to have you here, Mr. McNamara. We…"

I was interrupted by Ruth Ann as she, trailed by her interpreter, Nettie, marched up and stood in front of him.

"Are you my grandfather?" Ruth Ann signed, and Nettie said. Neither seemed to notice the stormy expression on his face.

"What? No, of course not," he answered briskly, then his face and words softened. "I guess I'm your father's uncle."

When his words became friendly, Ruth Ann climbed on his lap. "Unc?" she said.

"She means uncle," said Nettie.

He nodded as he put his arm around Ruth Ann, so she was more secure on his lap. "Yes, your great Uncle Charles."

"Papa, how do I sign Charles?" Nettie asked.

"We'll have to ask your ma. Right now, how about she calls him great uncle?" I answered.

And so eventually he became Great Uncle to all of us. But that took a while.

"No need for the physical, son. Are you old enough to be a doctor?" Great Uncle asked Dr. Crehan when he came out with a cane for the old man to use and declared it was time for his physical.

Nettie took the cane and gave it to Great Uncle. "Doctors are our friends," she said so sweetly the old man's face melted into a smile.

"And who are you, little lady?" he asked as he took the cane and started to stand up.

"Nettie. He's my pa," she answered, pointing at me.

"Mr. McNamara, if you are ready," Dr. Crehan said.

"I'm coming," the gruff voice came back. "You, Hannibal, get me some trousers from the mercantile, would you?"

JED 'KID' CURRY

We arrived in Cheyenne and rode straight to the Wyoming Territorial Prison. I pushed Lom to ride straight through. I didn't tell him, but the pain in my thigh was gettin' worse with each mile we rode. I was afraid if I got off the horse, it would not support my weight. Lom had telegraphed ahead that we would be there for a visit with Matt on Sunday, so we were on the acceptance list.

The throbbin' pain in my thigh didn't let the darkness of approachin' the prison overwhelm me totally. Still, I felt the shadows of that place takin' over my thoughts. I kept Chrissy's smile in my mind, but her face turned angry when I thought of what she'd do when she saw my injury.

"Kid, you doing alright?" Lom asked me.

I thought about lyin' to him but decided on the truth. He'd find out anyway when we get to the prison. "In considerable pain today, Lom, but don't want to stop. Want to get this visit done so I can get back home."

"And face Chrissy's wrath that you got injured?" He chuckled. "Maybe the doc there can help you. Doesn't Matt work as his trustee?"

"Thought about that. Been tryin' to meet this Dr. Polia he works for…and maybe he can do somethin' for the pain on my leg and that knee of yours," I answered. And then I realized we were ridin' up to the front steps of the prison, and I went cold inside with fear.

A trustee took the reins of our horses from us. "Thank you," I told him and got a grin and a nod in response. He's not allowed to talk unless asked a direct question and I'm not gonna do anything to get him into trouble.

I turned to Lom starin' at the flight of stairs in front of us. He put his hand on my nearest shoulder. I did the same to him. "Seems like we need to lean on each other to get up these stairs," he said.

When we were on the third step, the prison door suddenly banged opened. It never opens until you knock. Why did it open now? What had I done wrong? Then the guard stepped out with his rifle in his hands and stared as we limped up the stairs. My heart beat faster. I tried to think of anything I had done wrong. I was one of the people that killed Black Brook along with Lom and Marshal Lyons…but I was one of the good guys this time, fightin' on the side of the law, wasn't I?

"Get in here," the guard growled. "The warden wants to see you in his office."

Without thinkin', I tightened my grip on Lom's shoulder.

"Kid, you alright?" I heard him whisper.

I was so scared of the dark buildin' in front of me, I couldn't speak, but I forced my legs to work and took emotion off of my face and climbed the last stairs.

"Marshall Lom Tr…" Lom started.

"I know who you are. Guns in the box," barked the guard, as we walked through the door.

"You got it," answered Lom.

I held my tongue before I said, "Yes, sir." I never have to call a guard 'sir' again, I reminded myself. I stayed silent and nodded instead.

Before he closed the door, he looked out and scanned all the roads leading to the prison.

"This way. In there," the guard instructed curtly.

Lom opened the door to the warden's waiting room. I've been here before. I remember Chrissy, with child, sittin' in the upholstered chair...and I started to worry about her.

"Wait here." The guard closed the door. I tried to listen if he locked it, but there were voices in the hall. They quieted quickly and I heard another door close. I know that there are two doors leadin' into the warden's big office. I've used both.

My thigh was burnin' with pain. I knew the ridin' today had inflamed it. I could just barely stand the touch of my pants on the wound. Lom limped to the upholstered chair and pulled over another to put his leg up on. I tried to sit down but it's hard without touchin' my wound to the chair. So, I stood and went to the window but couldn't bring myself to look out. This window overlooks the post where I was whipped with the warden and judge watchin'. The memories are intense…as are the nightmares.

A young man came out of the warden's office. "Gentlemen, the warden has been expecting you. Please go in."

I wasn't sure if this was the warden's secretary or a trustee…or maybe both. Without his askin', I helped Lom stand up. Then I stood with my back straight and ignored the pain in my leg and the fear in my chest and went into the warden's office.

HEYES

Stephanie was still there taking care of the Arden kids and watching over Auntie.

"How's Auntie? I asked.

"Sleeping, the doctor has her under observation," she answered. "I'll watch the girls while you go get the old man some pants. Quite bossy, isn't he?" she said.

"Papa, we want to go pick out his pants with you. May we?" asked my daughter Nettie so sweetly I couldn't say no.

Going to the mercantile with two little girls is always challenging, but if you just relax and try and see things through their eyes, it can be fun. They're only going to be this age once and for once I'm not in a hurry. Right inside the front door the display of books caught their attention…and the table was low enough that they could reach them.

Ruth Ann picked up 'Alice's Adventures in Wonderland' and smiled at the picture on the cover. "Unc, pease," she verbalized as she handed me the book.

"Let me ask Mr. Birde if this is for kids," I signed to her. I walked toward Jeff Birde behind the counter. "Jeff, this book good for kids their age?" I asked.

"Yeah, it's a children's book, but some of the nonsensical poems and words confused Frank's Junior," he answered.

Ruth Ann had followed me, and I handed her the book with a smile. "We'll buy it and start reading it tonight at bedtime," I signed. It's a ritual that we read a book at night. Usually, Chrissy reads but sometimes it's me or the Kid. Angie signs it as it is read. I paged through it, and it even has pictures…not sure what it's about as one of the pictures has an upright rabbit in a black hat.

"And Papa, this book, too?" Nettie said, handing me a paperback. "It has my name on it, see? H-E-Y-E-S and Ruth Ann's name, too, C-U-R-R-Y."

I took a deep breath to calm myself as I took the copy of 'Kid Curry and Hannibal Heyes and the Outlaw's Child' from my daughter. "Jeff, what's this doing here?" I demanded.

He rolled over and took the book from me. "This is not a book for little girls," he patiently explained to Nettie and Ruth Ann. "That one is better." He pointed to 'Alice's Adventures in Wonderland'. "Why don't you go look at the candies and you can each pick out one?"

Those were magic words, and the dime novel was forgotten as the girls ran to the jars of candy. But I was upset. And I was angry. "Why do you sell these dime novels about me and the Kid?" I demanded.

"They're sold everywhere, Heyes. If I don't sell them, someone else will," Jeff explained.

"They make life harder for me and the Kid, you know," I told him.

He nodded. "Tell you what, when the ones I have sell out, I won't order any more."

"Papa, we know what candy we want," Nettie said, skipping back to me. "Can we get ones for Stephanie, Ajay, and Joyce, too?"

"Yes, yes, of course," I answered, still upset about the dime novels on display in the front of the store. There is no need to remind people who we were.

"Did you, Papa?" Nettie was asking me, but I hadn't been listening. I still get lost in my thoughts sometimes when something bothers me. And this bothers me.

"What Nettie?"

"Did you buy the old uncle pants?" she reminded me.

ASJ*ASJ

When we returned to the doctor's office, Great Uncle Charles McNamara was still being examined. We could hear his objections from the waiting room.

"Young man, stop poking me and moving my limbs around. Yes, it hurts when you do that. I'm an old man who is done with your examination. Do you understand?"

"Just let me check a couple of other things, sir," Dr. Crehan said. "Would you open your mouth, please?"

McNamara replied crankily, "No! What do you want to do, count my teeth? They're all there except the one on the right on the bottom that I lost in a fight when I was thirteen. Now leave me alone! Are they back with my pants yet?"

ASJ*ASJ

I tried to check in on the new mother, but Aiden said Miss Denise wasn't up to visitors, but their new daughter was just fine.

"Miss Denise is alright, isn't she?" I asked.

"Her recovery is taking longer than I like. Yes, I hope she will be just fine," Aiden said, but his words didn't convince me. And the worry in his eyes and the set of his jaw told a different story.

"Tell her we're thinking about her and I'm sure the ladies are praying for her," I said, not knowing what else to say. I started to leave when he called me back.

"Heyes, how's Chrissy? Crehan said Martha delivered the baby. I'll be out to see them later today…as soon as Denise is sleeping," he told me.

"The baby, he's real small. We're all worried about him, but Dr Crehan gave us some things to do. Chrissy hardly lets him out of her arms," I told him.

"When are we getting out of here and going to see my nephew?" McNamara yelled at me, stamping his cane.

"Right now, sir," I answered. I think the Kid will forgive me for calling this grumpy old man sir.

By the time we were ready to go, I was exhausted. Dealing with Great Uncle Charles McNamara was harder than dealing with a passel of kids. Aiden must be a saint to be with him all the way from Philadelphia. First, he complained that the wagon seat was too high for him to climb up on. He wanted to get in the bed of the wagon and climb over the two-board backrest into the front seat.

"Sir, you can lean on me, and I'll help you up into the seat," I offered.

"No, I will do it myself. I am not an invalid!" he insisted. "Stand back."

The little girls were anxious to get into the wagon, but I made them stay on the sidewalk as we watched McNamara try to first climb up the wheel into the driver's seat, then attempt to climb into the back of the wagon. I didn't say anything. I think he's the kind that you can't help until he asks for it. He was drawing a quiet crowd of onlookers.

Louis Maday, our apothecary, came towards us, watched for a second then saying, "This is ridiculous," picked up the old man and placed him on the driver's bench.

Giving a sigh of relief, I lifted the girls into the back of the wagon. "Sit down and stay seated," I told them. I climbed up next to McNamara and picked up the reins.

He didn't thank Maday. In fact, he quite ignored him. He put his head down and mumbled, "Getting helped makes me feel very old."