WINTER'S REFUGE

by Kattayl

Every author writes a Curry and Heyes prison story. This is mine.

6. Winter's Refuge Chapter 6

Winter's Refuge

Chapter Six

Lom

"Where we headin', Lom?" the Kid asked, we had rode the short distance toward the Yuma railroad station in silence. He had been lost in himself, with self-contained thoughts I was not privy to. I was lost in my thoughts, too; thoughts about the conversations we needed to have before we got to Canon City, Colorado. It wasn't that long a ride to Yuma and I had rented a hotel room for us for the night. I was sure the Kid would appreciate a real mattress and clean sheets.

"Colorado. Kid, I haven't seen you in two years. Your letters said little. What happened to you with the railroad?" I needed to hear what he had experienced before I could tell him about Heyes and Chrissy McWinters.

I didn't think he was going to answer me. He let silence fall between us for ten minutes before he started to talk. And when he started, he didn't stop until we checked into the hotel and went to dinner. As soon as we got back to the hotel room after dinner he continued and we talked almost all night. .

ASJ****ASJ

Jed 'Kid' Curry

"Lom, I don't remember much from the time I fell off my horse until me and Heyes were standin' in that courtroom. My brain was scrambled; I couldn't keep thoughts straight. Doctor later told me I had a concussion, a bad one, and he wasn't sure I was goin' to ever recover. Then the prison doctor said I'd have symptoms for up to a year. I had symptoms alright, but I didn't understand that anger, an instant temper, impatience and not sleeping were the symptoms he meant. Heyes took care of me durin' the trial as good as he could.

I did understand when the jury said we were guilty. Me and Heyes knew that was comin', no argument there. We talked about it the night before. We were goin' try and stay outta trouble and watch each other's back, wait for you to convince the governor to sign the papers. But when he said we were goin' to serve our sentences in different prisons, my brain went crazy. All those symptoms came out in me. We said goodbye with just a look. They hustled us out different doors.

The Wyoming prison wagon was waitin' for me out the side door of the courtroom but only took us to the train station. The guards gave me water and I drank it all. Think it must have been drugged because when I opened my eyes again, we was on the train and almost to Canon City, Colorado.

"Stand up, convict." the guard ordered but I sat where I was.

"Gotta pee."

I remember the guard sighing. He led me to the water closet in the back of the car and I went inside. I tried to loosen the restraints but they held tight.

When I came out I was hustled out the far back car of the train and onto another. I sat straight in the seat, refusing the water they offered as I thought they might drug me again. Finally thirst overcame my resolve and I took the offered cup of water. When I woke up we were getting off in Arizona and the Yuma prison wagon was waiting for us.

When I thought about it later, I don't think they meant to shackle me in that prison wagon, just lock me in the back. But I was mad now and hittin' out at anything that moved and I know I was screamin' for Heyes, so they shackled me. Long trip in that hot black wagon. When we stopped, two guards helped me down the steps to go do my business and give me water and food. First time I threw the water and food back at them and tried to fight the bigger guard, even though I was shackled. The other one hit me in the back of the knee with that billy club. The pain shot up to my head and everything went black. I remember thinkin' if this was what the next twenty years was gonna be like without Heyes, death would be better.

Woke up in pain and thirsty, laying on the floor of the wagon, not knowin' where I was. My head throbbed and my vision refused to clear. Knees hurt and the iron shackles were so hot they were burning my ankles. I know I was hollering 'cause the guard ridin' in the back with me told me so.

"Stop your yelling, Curry, and I'll get you some water."

The mention of water got my attention and I struggled to sit up. I used my hands to help me crawl onto the seat. It weren't easy with shackles and the way that wagon was bouncin'.

"Drink, slowly. You can have all you want."

His words were scrambled when I heard them, and I greedily emptied the ladle of water. It came back up as quick as it went down. I hadn't eaten in more than a day so it was just the water, still I made a mess in the wagon. When I heaved, my right ankle came in full contact with the heat of the shackle. "Owww!" I howled.

The guard, later found out his name was Stanley Neilson, knocked on the front wall of the wagon to get the driver's attention. His brother is the guard that came out with you, Lom. They aint't bad fellows but they are trained prison guards, and I took out my anger on every guard near me the first few weeks. I bent over to move the shackle and burnt my hand.

When the wagon stopped and the back door was unlocked from the outside, Stanley got out. "Take off your shirt and clean up that mess. I'm not smelling that all the way to Yuma." He held his rifle across his body and the driver had come around, billy club out. They took the barrel of water out with them and drank while I wiped the floor with my shirt. When I was done, I threw it out the open door. I knew I'd get a striped one when we got there and until then a shirt only made me sweat.

"You want water, Curry?" the guard asked.

I were too tired to argue and just nodded at him.

"You going to drink it slowly this time? You can follow instructions, can't you, convict?"

When I heard that word, my thoughts swirled dark. Convict. I was a convict. I took the water and slowly sipped it. I thought about throwin' the ladle back at them but the anger in me had quieted for a time.

"More?" I asked.

"You will say, 'More, sir,' when addressing a guard."

"More, sir?" For now, I was resigned to my fate. I was hot, makin' the poundin' in my head louder. My vision in my left eye was cloudy. My knees were unsteady from the blow of the billy club and my ankle and hand were burned. I wanted to give up. To say leave me alone but I didn't. I just took the ladle offered and drank the water slowly.

"That's better, convict. Now that you're behaving, I'll take the shackles off when we're locked in again. They get to burnin' quickly out here. And don't think about running away. Look around. Nothing but desert for miles any way you look."

The rest of the ride I balanced on the skinny bench seat, closed my eyes and tried to think. But I couldn't think. Thoughts wouldn't string together. And by the time we got to the prison, my anger was simmerin', just waitin' to explode.

ASJ*****ASJ

Lookin' over at Lom sitting on the bed across from me, I knew I was not explainin' the 'anger' right to him. It was very, very different.

"Lom, the word anger don't really tell what I was feelin'."

"Kid? We've all been angry. You had a reason."

"No, Lom, not like this. It weren't normal anger. The prison doctor said it come from the injury to my brain. Said the anger was a 'savage compulsion'. I couldn't control it even if I'd tried. You ever seen Heyes when he is more than angry? So angry that his eyes are flashin' black?"

"Just once, up at the Hole," he answered.

I remembered the time he was thinkin' about and it was a good example. "It was like that. It's more than anger. It consumes you and takes what you are away. All that's left is a violent fever and that fills you up. And you know the only way it will go away is to fight with violence, destroy something, or someone."

"Time I'm thinking, Kid, you talked Heyes down."

"Heyes had flashes like that since we were kids at the Home. I learned how to best talk him out of it. I learned not to let folks push Heyes' buttons to get him that angry. And I learned to watch his back."

I didn't know if Lom understood what I was tryin' to say until he said, "And there was no one there to talk you down in prison."

I thought about that, and he was right.

Lom looked at me expectin' to continue but I took a while to get my memories back in order before I continued.

I fought everyone - guard and prisoner. If my hands were free, I attacked. Got lashes, more each time. Thing about lashes and that anger, though, I didn't feel no pain, just the uncontrollable urge to fight, to hurt someone. Finally, I ended up in the infirmary, naked, tied hand and feet to a bed. That doctor there understood. Said he had seen this before, that the anger wasn't my fault, the head injury was causin' it. He said there was blood pushin' on my thoughts. It would go away. Slowly, but it would go away, and I would feel the difference. But until then, he had me put into solitary.

I slept for what seemed like days. Nothin' much in solitary to do except sleep and think and it hurt, really hurt to think. Tried pullin' on the iron bars but they was firm. It was a 12 by 12 cell in the middle of a cave dug out of a mountain. Hot in the day. Cold at night. Shared the cell with two scorpions. The rage in my head served me well with them. Took me two days of no sleep, but the anger and need for violence kept me awake. Finally, I lured them into the center of the cell with some dry biscuit and stomped on them one at a time. The prison shoes had thin soles, but I had so much mean force in me that they did not stand a chance.

I know you heard the story about the snake fallin' through the hole; it's true. Happened twice. First time I think that snake just fell through the hole by accident. Second time, I heard footsteps up there, so I had a warnin'. Some guards dropped that big ole snake out of a pillowcase down on me and watched while I caught it before it hit the ground and flung it out of that cell and down the entrance hallway. I looked up at the hole and yelled, "This time I ain't stayin' awake to tell you where that snake is hidin'."

I meant those words at the time, but that night I knew I couldn't let any man get snake bit if I could help it, even a guard. So, when the guards came in with water, they had a light and a proddin' stick and were walkin' really slowly.

I yelled out at them. "He's way back curled up in a crevice near the corner on your left."

They looked up at me startled and lifted the light to shine in my face. Blinded me for a while. But they believed me and got that snake outta there before anyone got bit.

"Thanks, Curry." I couldn't see but recognized the voice as Stanley Neilson, the guard who rode in the wagon with me. He had shown me kindness in takin' off the shackles when he didn't have to, so I was glad I had alerted him. And I had made a friend, well as much of a friend as a convict and a guard could be.

Lom was listenin' closely. He walked over and sat at the table.

Those first weeks, I was more in that solitary cell than not. I'd get out and someone would challenge Kid Curry. Everyone wanted to fight me, and I obliged every one of them.

My memories of that time are blurry and painful and brutal. But the doctor was right on two things. First, I got better slowly. Daily I didn't feel better but as a week would pass, I'd feel improvement. I wasn't as angry. The rage quieted. And second, being in the solitary cell, as harsh as it was, helped me heal. I slept and the darkness didn't hurt my eyes or my brain. By the time you came to visit me that first time, my mind had started to settle.

I never before in my life cared to fight anyone just to fight. Heyes always said I tried to help every lost person I found, and I guess I did. But now I was the lost person and Heyes wasn't around to help me.

As my thoughts became my own, I worked on bein' the good prisoner that Heyes had proposed. He said that would make it easier for the governor to give us that pardon. With the anger dyin' out it wasn't hard then to follow the rules and do as I was told. I never cared about bein' a leader and I can be a good follower. So, I worked in the quarry and tried to ignore the men in there who felt they needed to challenge the fastest gun in the West, who no longer wore a gun. Still had a fight or two. Always won them and word got around that whoever I fought got the worst of the fight. The men started to leave me alone and I started to think.

I never really thought about makin' a plan for the future I want. Heyes would be proud of me, I figured out what was important to me. Then figured how I could get there. Never had to worry about details before, but I worked them out wishin' all the time Heyes was there to help me. You know what I did.

I saw Lom study my face but knew my thoughts weren't shown there. "I thought you were making a mistake letting yourself be contracted out. High number of those prisoners are injured or die."

"I knew that."

"The railroad guards who watch the prisoners aren't professionals."

"I found that out."

First, I was a servant apprentice to a drunken blacksmith. Made me call him Master Haegle. He didn't want to teach me because the railroad had fired him. And they were replacin' him with a convict, me. He resented me but the inspector the railroad sent knew how to blacksmith and he put the fear of the Lord into Master Haegle.

Haegle taught me well and I learned even more by watchin' him. Drunk or sober, he was a good blacksmith. Wondered what he had done to get fired. Found out later, the guards took away his alcohol and his water. Told him he'd get water when the horses were shod. He refused. The guards were stubborn, and Master Haegle almost died. The railroad had no tolerance for refusal. He was fired, but hired and paid well to train me.

I think he had some of that same anger in him. He was a drunk and a mean drunk. Got pleasure out of givin' lashes and watchin' people flinch. Never knew what I'd done wrong to get the lashes. Now lashes were something I knew. The Valparaiso Home for Wayward Boys believed 'spare the lash and spoil the child'. They used it as the first punishment for everything. We were so young we learned to think about other things and ignore the pain. I did that with Master Haegele. He'd wake me with a lash across the back. If I did something right or wrong, I was rewarded with lashes. His place was about ten miles north of the prison on the Colorado River. Not much around there. It was hot so I'd work without a shirt. He had gloves but told me I needed to earn them, but one day he threw an old pair of his with holes at me.

Didn't know but one day soon after that the prison inspector that knew blacksmithin' snuck up outside the forge. Master Haegle was drunk. Singin' bawdy songs and swingin' that whip. I had a horse in there that I was supposed to be shoein' but instead he had me fixin' a special tool for one of his customers. Not a railroad customer, one of his special customers that paid him well. This procedure was new to me so I was concentratin' hard on what I was doing, ignorin' the lashes as best as I could. But then he aimed the whip at the horse, and my furious anger returned. I grabbed the whip and felt it through the holes in the glove. I pulled it from him and spun on him. Don't know what I yelled but I was ready to use the whip on him. It's one thing whippin' me, a convict, but a horse ain't never done nothin' to him.

Well, that inspector came out of hidin' just about then and the surprise at seein' him got rid of my need to hurt Haegele. He fired Master Haegle right there, on the spot. Seemed the prison owned that house, horse, and forge.

Inspector's name was Joseph Manners. I started callin' him Master Manners, but he said Mr. Manners fit him better. He was a master blacksmith, though, and a fair man. We never forgot that I was indentured to him, yet he taught me a lot. In the evening, I'd watch him make delicate things of different metals, like jewelry and locks. Wouldn't teach me how to do it but if I see it done, I can teach myself.

ASJ*****ASJ

A knock on the door interrupted my story. Lom opened the door and two men were standing there with a bathtub and buckets of hot water.

"Figured sooner or later you'd want a bath." Lom said with a grin and I realized how I must look and smell.

"Thanks," I said to his back as he went into the hall and gave me time to myself. Time without a guard watchin' me. I had gotten used to that constant presence and found a way to be alone inside myself despite it. I wondered how Heyes, a much more private person except around me, was findin' a way to live with it.

I took a lot of cleaning to scrub the black of the smithy off but I did a decent job. I got out and dressed determined to get answers about Heyes from Lom but found him still gone. He came back with some sandwiches and a pitcher of lemonade. "Figured you'd be hungry, Kid. Important we get to Colorado by Wednesday morning. Tell me what happened when you got to the railroad camp."

I knew he was delayin' telling me something, but I let him have his way for now and told him what happened to me next as I took a half sandwich from the plate. So much food looked like a plate of riches to me.

Well. Manners gave me that blacksmith certificate when we took that same train you came on to the camp. When I joined this work crew, it was a hard transition, even after my servitude to Master Haegel.

I looked over at Lom and smiled. "Those are Heyes type words, too. Told you I read every book you sent. Some of them twice. Took some of my earnings here and had a guard buy me a dictionary. Don't feel so dumb now when people talk with long words.

"Would have sent you a dictionary, if you'd asked," Lom told me. "Or if I thought about it."

Anyway, at the railroad camp there were ten other prisoners, four guards and the railroad overseer came at least once a week. The two senior guards were in charge the other days. I worked the forge every mornin' startin' at sunup, no later or it was too hot to finish later.

"Hot work!" Lom commented.

I just stared back at him. He didn't know what hot could be. I just continued without answerin' him.

Two old plow horses live there. They pull the rails from the train to our camp in a wagon. Fell to me to take care of them, not just shoeing them, but feedin' them and given' them water. There we were never no more than a mile from the river yet every one of us, horses included, were desperate for more water. Each mornin' after their breakfast, two of the guards would take a bucket, maybe two, to the river and get water. Usually, it was one bucket cause the railroad rules were they had to have their rifle with them at all times. The other two guards did the same thing when their shift ended in late afternoon. Guards drank all the water they wanted at the river and washed up. They didn't really care how much spilled carryin' it back. And what made it back is what we had for eleven prisoners, four guards, and two horses for the day.

Prisoners got one cup at breakfast. Our breakfast was usually jerky and a hard roll. Guards ate better.

We got one small ladle of water during a ten-minute mid-morning break and a cup at lunch and another at a ten-minute break midafternoon. We got a cup at dinner, if there was any left. That was it. No water to really quench your thirst, to wash the sweat off of your face, or the sand from your eyes.

T'wasn't enough to keep a man goin' in that heat, much less run the forge. I also needed water to cool the metals, but I made due and only changed it when it was so black and greasy that it ruined any metal I put in it.

I was quiet as I poured some lemonade for Lom thinkin' about how it had been and how I'd left it. I thought of my ma. I can still hear her in my head saying 'always try and leave things better than you found them'. Guess I did that there.

I went back to my story. The second day the railroad company overseer made his weekly visit. He met with the senior guard named Mays in the guard tent. It was next to the stables where I was brushin' the horses and I overheard them talkin'. I hadn't thought about it before that, but these guards weren't trained prison guards. Saw that for myself later when one was too quick to shoot one of the men who fell. They lacked the professional guard's confidence and the ability to read convicts.

Anyway, heard that these guards got paid weekly by the overseer and he would give them the required number of miles of track they had to lay the next week.

"Gentlemen, headquarters and I are very displeased that you did not hit your track goal this week…again," the inspector said.

"Well, sir, we didn't have a blacksmith and our load of crushed stone was late." Sounded to me like the guard was whinin' excuses. Not what I was taught a man does but it got me thinkin'.

"Not sure why you need the blacksmith; you nearly killed the last one."

"He was a drunkard," the guard returned.

"Nevertheless, we provide the rails and spikes." The overseer had no time for excuses.

"The horses need tendin' and new shoes often. Tools need replacin' often and sometimes he makes bent spikes usable." The guard was speaking louder now.

The talking stopped and I heard papers rustle.

"This is your goal for this week. I expect you to meet it." The voice was firm, no nonsense.

"Yes, sir."

"Don't know why I even give this to you, but if you exceed this number, a twenty percent bonus will be added to your pay."

ASJ*****ASJ

You know, Lom, this was different for me. Except for a while when we was young, I always had Heyes around to come up with a plan or take an idea of mine and make a plan around it. When we parted once , I was young. Didn't think about plannin' past supper. I drifted from job to job, town to town and didn't end up with anything 'cept a reputation. Then we got back together and we was partners. Still are.

In prison, I didn't have Heyes around anymore to watch my back. He didn't even answer my letters. Only news I heard of him was through your letter and I know you wasn't tellin' me everythin'. I looked over at Lom, intendin' to back my words with a glare, but he was staring straight forward. Instead, I kept tellin' him my story with more words than I had said in three years. Still, it felt good to be talkin' to a friend.

ASJ*****ASJ

For the next week, I worked hard, built a mighty thirst I thought would never be satisfied, and watched. In the forge, I saw how spikes had been mishit and bent. I figured out how to fix them and even make them stronger. The men noticed and the guards noticed at the end of the week when they took inventory.

"Convict Curry, what have you been doing with the bent and ruined spikes? There aren't many here. You ain't been throwing them out, have you?"

"No, sir."

"I have to inventory them and send them back to headquarters. They ain't too happy you convicts ruin so many."

"I repaired the ones I can, sir." I was careful not to look him in the eyes. I had observed he didn't care for that much. I saw him turn right surly when his authority was challenged. I thought he might consider any look from a famous outlaw as a challenge to his authority.

"Show me one."

I gave him a repaired one and a new one. Wantin' to find something wrong, he turned them over and over, and tried to bend them on the edge of the table.

"Can't tell the difference, convict. Keep it up."

That was as close as a convict was goin' to get to a compliment or a thank you from a guard.

When the overseer came the next mornin', I again went to the horses to overhear the conversation.

"Better, but still not to your goal. If you don't start meeting it, your pay will be docked."

I couldn't hear if the guard answered.

"I see that there are significantly less than half the number of spikes ruined. Are your men learning to strike them solid?" I heard the sarcasm dripping from the overseer's tone.

"No, sir. The blacksmith repaired them."

"That gunfighter really a blacksmith? Choose him because it would be little loss if you worked him to death." The sarcasm was replaced by a calculated laugh.

"He's a real good blacksmith, sir."

"Be that as it may, he gets punished with the rest of them. Make it more severe this time, not just no dinner. And make sure he puts in his time laying track. Here's your goal for this week."

"But this is higher than last week."

"Same goal as last week plus the shortage of this week. Hit it or everyone's pay will be docked."

"Yes, sir. We'll try, sir."

"Do it! Don't know why I bother but here is your goal for the bonus."

"Thank you, sir. Here's the requisition for this week."

I hurried back to the forge and watched the overseer leave on the train. The guards started gathering all the prisoners and lined us up in the sun. I noticed the other men looked resigned, scared, nervous.

"Take off your shirts," one of the junior guards behind us ordered and I turned and saw both junior guards had whips in their hands.

Each man received three lashes, not easy lashes, but hard tearin' lashes. When they came to me the guard looked at my back, healin' from Master Heagel. He mumbled, "Sorry," as the whip struck me, openin' up healin' wounds.

There was little water to clean our backs. I woke up an hour earlier than my usual early time knowin' Senior Guard Mays was on duty.

"Sir?" I asked, again careful not to look in his eyes. I sat up; my feet still shackled to the bed.

"You starting work early?"

"No, sir. With your permission, I'd like to take two men and bring water from the river. I repaired that barrel in the eatin' tent with some strong metal straps to hold it."

"You want to carry the water?"

"Extra water, sir. If we have time, two trips worth. Men will work better if they have all the water they want and can drink it anytime they want."

This time the senior guard forced eye contact with me. I tried hard to keep my voice polite, helpful. "We both know that you ain't hittin' your track layin' goal. Water will help."

He studied me like I've never been studied before. He scrutinized me. That's a Heyes kinda word I learned from readin' books.

"The convicts will carry all this extra water before the start of their day?"

"Yes, sir, under supervision, of course."

"The guards will still bring their two buckets after breakfast and two in the afternoon?" the senior guard asked, and I knew he was goin' to approve this plan.

"Yes, sir. That should give us enough for everyone, even the horses."

I swear I could see him thinkin' it through.

"Okay. We'll try it for one week."

I motioned to two of the men I had already asked. They had listened to our conversation. The senior guard unlocked me from the bed and shackled my ankles together. He did the same to the two other men.

"Sir?" I asked him softly. I was this far and didn't want to upset him or have him regret his decision.

"Huh?"

"What is our goal for this week?"

He thought before answerin', "Two and a half miles."

With nearly unlimited water, the men were motivated. They knew next week's water depended on that two and a half miles. Even with lashes on our backs, havin' water anytime we needed it helped us move faster. I kept repairin' the spikes and joined the prisoners to work earlier each day. I told you I was goin' to get stronger and carryin' fifteen foot, nearly two hundred pound rails fit into that plan. By the end of the first month, I could manage one by myself.

That freed the other men to lay the wood supports and drive in the stakes. When the railroad overseer came the next week, I again listened in.

"Senior Guard, you surprised me; you hit your goal this week.

"Yes, sir.

"What punishments did you use to force the men to work harder?"

"Nothing that I haven't been given permission to use." I admired the man's sidesteppin' the direct question.

"And your ruined spike number continues to be low."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir." He made no mention of the extra water, takin' the praise for the results as if from his own efforts.

"Here's your numbers for this week."

"Sir, there is some mistake. This target is the same as last week. We had no shortage to account for."

"Ah, but Mays, you proved you could do two and a half in a week so that's your goal."

I had never heard the Senior Guard raise his voice or talk back to the overseer. I had never seen him angry, but he was angry now. "So, two and a half miles ensures you get your bonus each week, am I right?"

The arrogant answer was accompanied by an arrogant chuckle. "Yes, I get my bonus at two and a half miles. Make up for all the weeks I got no bonus because you couldn't get the convicts to work. You and your men will get a bonus at three miles."

I went back to the forge and watched the inspector leave. I motioned the Senior Guard over to the forge. "Sir?" I said motioning my head to the guard sittin' outside the forge as far away as he could to avoid the severe heat. None of them ever entered my steamin' hellhole.

"Our goal for the week?" I asked. I kept workin' on the spike I was repairin'.

"Two and a half miles again."

"Did it once, we can do it again. That water makes a big difference." I tossed the repaired spike into a pile of others that would be used tomorrow and turned to pick up another.

"Water? Not the lashes?"

"The lashes slowed us down. You own us. Can do whatever you want, but it's hard to get the work done when bendin' over is painful and drivin' in a spike tears up your back. We're healin' now. We'll make the two and a half miles."

ASJ*****ASJ