WINTER'S REFUGE

by Kattayl

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

42. Winter's Refuge Chapter 42

Winter's Refuge

Chapter 42

HEYES

I know now that the Kid wants me to stay. He needs me to stay. We're partners. He never wanted me to leave. About once a day I forget that and remember he told me to leave, but I wrote down 'he wants me to stay' on my list and when I read it, I remember. I'm trying hard to do good and stay. He broke down with me when he came home. It was terrifying to hear his fears in prison and even more terrifying to know he did that for me. I wanted to run or hide inside my mind but I didn't, I listened. I had to listen so I could help him. I hurt him by thinking he wanted me to leave. I didn't try to hurt him, but he said that was the most hurtful thing I ever said to him, to think that he'd want me to leave. He helps everyone. I will try harder to help him. Chrissy helps him, too.

When he finished talking, he stood resolutely.

"Let's go."

I didn't know where we were going and didn't have the word 'where' yet, so I nodded and followed. We went out to where he and Chrissy planted a garden of sorts. I recognized the potato plants like Gramma Curry's garden. The tops of the plants had turned yellow and fallen over. They looked dead to me. I hadn't watered them while they were gone.

The Kid bent over and studied them without touching. "Looks like Chrissy did a good job of hilling the plants."

I must have looked confused. Was he expecting potatoes from these plants that had fallen over?

"Remember Gramma Curry showed us how to keep pilin' the dirt around the plant as it grew? That's hillin'," he said. "Grandpa used to pull the whole plant and all the praties out all at once. It must take a lot of strength; Gramma couldn't do it."

He reached down to where the dirt started and wrapped a hand around the plant. I watched him take a deep breath and pull. At first, I didn't think anything was happening, but then, suddenly the dirt fell away and the Kid stumbled back with the whole plant, five potatoes attached, in his hand. He caught himself before he fell and laughed out loud with joy. I couldn't help but laugh, too.

I reached down and tried, with two hands, to pull out the next plant. Even with all my strength, all that happened was the stem broke off in my hand and I fell back on my bottom. Still laughing, the Kid offered me a hand up.

"Gonna have to dig the tubers up on that one," he said.

I started for the barn.

"Heyes, you ain't going help?" He sounded hurt. I pretended I was digging with a shovel.

"No, Heyes, either we pull up the whole plant or we dig with our hands."

And then I remembered being about eight years old, kneeling in the potato patch with the Kid's older brothers. We were digging out the potatoes by hand while the five-year-old Kid played nearby in the empty holes, sometimes laughing with joy as he found a stray potato. The potatoes could be anywhere from where the seed was planted up to the dirt level. It was a happy memory among so many sad ones.

I shrugged my shoulders, but I couldn't help but join the Kid in smiling. It was good to see him so happy.

"Chrissy darling help?"

The Kid showed her the plant full of potatoes and Chrissy giggled. "Wash?"

"NO!" the Kid said loudly then looked sheepish. He lowered his voice and continued, "Get a towel and a bucket. They'll last longer if we keep them dry. Wipe them off and put them in the bucket."

"AAAKA!" I made a terrible sound when I meant it to be happy. When the others looked at me, I raised the potato I had found. They didn't care about the sound I made.

The Kid danced around. "We did it." He picked Chrissy up and swung her around in a circle. I could see the pain it cost him, but the smile never lost his face. He kissed her on the hair when he put her down. He dropped to his knees beside me, groaning, and then started throwing dirt out of the hole like a dog. "Found two more!"

The Kid managed to pull two more straight out of the ground. All three of us dug the rest out while laughing. It was just what we all needed, fun. We stored the potatoes in the dark basement of the house for now.

The flowers that Chrissy planted didn't grow. I think she may have drowned the seeds or washed them away, but she found carrot plants with the orange part showing on the surface. The Kid got a pitchfork and loosened the dirt around them and pulled them out in handfuls. Chrissy backed up and watched with interest then started staring past us in horror. I turned around to see what she was looking at, but there was nothing unusual there.

I stood as quietly as she did. I didn't know what to do. She was scaring me. But I didn't have the words to ask what was wrong and my chalkboard was in the house. I watched her staring at nothing. Should I be afraid? Was there danger out there? I looked to the Kid.

As always, the Kid knew what to do. As soon as he saw the horror enter her eyes, he walked over to her and put the bunch of carrots in her arms. "Good job, darlin'!"

Slowly, she looked up at him. There were tears in her eyes. I don't like it when people in my family cry. Chrissy is family. I saw the letters she signed Mrs. Jed Curry. I still don't remember their wedding but I'm trying to. I like to see them together. She gets her strength from the Kid. So do I. I worry that he does not have enough strength left for himself.

She looked away again but this time she spoke. Not to me or the Kid, just out loud to herself. "Chrissy work garden in prison. Harvest carrots but break them or snap off tops. Punished. Bad girl!" She slapped herself on her bottom. "Bad girl!"

"No one is ever going to beat you like that again, darlin'. You're safe here."

She fell into his arms sobbing. She believed him. I believed that he would have said the same to me. And I would believe him.

JED 'KID' CURRY

Heyes ain't gonna like what I did today. He doesn't like it when I take in animals in trade for horseshoes or other work. He says it messes up his accountin' and I undervalue what I do. It's kind of nice when he scolds me like that. I think he's tippin' to recovery.

It has been a hard first week back. I tried to hide my bald head under the bandana, but the injuries on my temple and the back of my head are red and raw, even though they are healin'. The heat from the forge makes them more red. The gashes on my back hurt and burn when I move or bend over the forge. Those injuries I can hide as well as the pain they cause.

My neighbors were starin' at me but didn't say anything. A few complained and asked where I had been for a week when I was needed there. I had left a sign sayin' I would reopen on Saturday. Heyes had enough presence of mind to make a new sign sayin' my return was to be determined.

Some of my customers seemed just glad to see me. They made me feel better. The Blakes were one of those families. I'd shoed their horse before. Now they needed two of their pitchforks repaired. When Mrs. Blake took their two boys over to see the horses waitin' to be shoed, Mr. Blake asked me for credit. They had been welcomin' to me today. I often extend credit, another thing that Heyes doesn't like.

"Thank you." Mr. Blake reached out his hand as I extended the credit he requested and gave him a discount. I wiped my hands clean on my apron before I shook his hand. "Or maybe you would like a puppy in exchange for some of the bill?" He seemed embarrassed to ask. I don't want anyone to be embarrassed in my shop. If something needs to be done, I'll do it and not worry about gettin' paid. These are my neighbors, my community.

"Been thinkin' about gettin' a dog to keep the horses company," I answered. Lom had suggested a barkin' dog would alert us to intruders.

Mr. Blake smiled and waved me over to the wagon. His wife and sons joined us there. He pulled a blanket off of a crate there to reveal five fluffy brown and white puppies.

"Would you go get Miss Chrissy for me?" I asked the younger boy. He nodded and ran over to her. She had seen the family enough at the smithy not to be afraid of the child.

Chrissy followed him back, lookin' at me with questions on her face until she saw my smile. "Jed?"

I pointed to the puppies. "Darlin', would you like a puppy?"

She reached into the crate and petted each one in turn. "For Chrissy darling?"

"If you want one."

Her smile made me smile. Without waitin', she climbed into the back of the wagon and talked softly to the dogs.

"How old are they?" I asked as drawn to the dogs as she was. We never had a dog growin' up, although the Heyes family always did.

"Six months or so. Tried to keep them all, but too many for us. We have their parents, too. I promised the boys we could keep a couple. Going into town to see if we can find some of them good homes."

Chrissy had taken one out of the box and he was climbin' all over her, wigglin' and lickin' her face. Lookin' in the crate, she picked up the runt of the little and rubbed noses with him.

"Two?" she asked, lookin' at me.

I can't really deny her anything that makes her happy. "Okay, two." I looked at Mr. Blake. "If that's alright with you?"

"It's perfect. They are pack animals, better together."

"Good." Chrissy handed the bigger puppy out of the wagon to the older Blake boy. "Joe!" she announced her name for the puppy.

"Joe it is," I said and dropped back into the smithy. I picked up the Blake's bill and wrote 'paid in full' across it. I put it in his hand when we shook hands to say goodbye. Chrissy was holdin' both puppies. I took the smaller one from her. "Have you named her?"

"Not Joe," she said.

"Right, you're holdin' Joe."

"And Jed hold NotJoe."

"You mean her name is Not Joe?"

She smiled, lookin' very proud of herself. "Yes."

So, this evenin' I have to explain to Heyes the price I charged to fix two pitchforks was two puppies. I can hear the sigh he's gonna give me and see the annoyed look as he rolls his eyes.

HEYES

I go down to the blacksmith shop each morning with the Kid and Chrissy. She's back to milking the cow and gathering the eggs each morning. She talks while she does it. I think she's talking to the animals, not herself. And now we have two dogs, puppies. I used to like dogs. We always had a dog or two when I was young. They weren't supposed to come in the house, but I always let them in, even let them sleep on my bed. I don't want to become close to these dogs. Chrissy lets them in the house and feeds them. They like all of us. I do not like to look at them. When I do, I remember the day I found my parents dead. Those raiders even shot my dogs and left them to bleed to death. We buried them next to my parents.

I'm telling myself this is not Kansas. There are no border wars. But there are bad men who want to collect the illegal bounty on Chrissy, and somebody wants the Kid dead. Last night one of the dogs, I don't remember her name, sat next to me on the couch while I was reading. She laid her head on my lap. I found myself scratching her behind the ears without thinking about it. Then the memory of my dead dogs stole my thoughts, and I stopped petting her. She looked so sad I went to the kitchen and got her a little piece of chicken as a treat. The dogs are good for the Kid. Joe seems to have made the Kid his favorite. He follows him around and sleeps on his bed. Both dogs like the horses and they stay in the stable and paddocks most of the day. Winter's Glory and Joe are inseparable during the day, but as soon as the Kid comes home, Joe's following him. Whether they are inside or out, they bark when they hear noises. Every morning they bark at Russell and the construction workers. The Kid doesn't try to stop them. He says it is good that they bark.

I help the Kid open the sides of the blacksmith shop each day, but I'm not allowed near the forge or the bellows. I go to the back room. Chrissy checks in any horses to be shoed; she knows what she is doing. I hide from the people. She doesn't, but I watch the Kid. He is always listening to how people talk to her. As the week goes on, I can tell how tired he is by his eyes. It's always shown in his eyes; they turn blue gray. He fights it. I don't know if others can tell, maybe Chrissy, maybe Juan.

When I'm sure everything is good there, I go and help Juan with the horses. When Juan was with the Kid in Cheyenne, I enjoyed really getting to know all of our horses and our visiting mares. I like horses better than most people. Becky's Baby is the only mare here for a few weeks. She's timid but warms up when you give her an apple or a carrot.

Then I go to my room and work on my plan. I like everything to be precise. Details made our robberies successful and prevented gunplay. This is the same. I analyzed all the details I got from the four articles in Three Birds. But I need more. The older newspapers are at the newspaper office in Bridgeport. I want to ask the Kid if I can stay an extra night there when we come back from my next parole hearing. I looked on the map again and made sure it is in Cheyenne County. I am allowed to be there. I need to read those papers, but the Kid will have to stay with me. I don't have the words to say what I need to ask at the newspaper office. I'll ask him tonight. But I don't want to add to his burdens. He's already so tired.

JED 'KID' CURRY

I can't believe it is time to go back to Cheyenne for Heyes' next parole hearin'. It seems like we were there yesterday but also a lifetime ago. Before he left, Lom told me all the things that happened while I was gone, good and bad. We also discussed what Dr. Arden called tippin' points for Heyes. I had hoped Aiden would be a help with Heyes when he came to the ranch with me but instead, he is whiny and demandin'. Chrissy quickly tired of waitin' on his every whim, tellin' him, "You no hurt, you lazy." I think she was part right. He's healin' but I don't think he's lazy. I think he's scared. His testimony got the warden and three guards fired.

"Good doctor, today you have lunch ready for us," Chrissy told him before we left for the blacksmith.

"I…I don't know how to cook," Dr. Arden whined, lookin' to me for support.

Juan walked over to the kitchen and pulled out the stack of recipes that William Knight had left for us. I know Juan is irritated with the good doctor's demands. "You're educated. You can read. Find something in there to make." He threw the papers down on the table in front of Aiden.

He looked at the top one. "Chicken? All the chickens are alive!"

Chrissy giggled and me and Juan laughed out loud at the revulsion on the doctor's face. Chrissy took pity on him. "Juan have plucked chicken ready for stew already."

"Then I guess you got everything you need. You ready to go, Chrissy darlin'?" She was still gigglin'. Takin' my arm, she used her other arm to point at the recipes. "Make lunch," she said firmly.

HEYES

Not quite sure what it was Dr. Arden made for lunch, but I recognized the chicken in there. It was seasoned too much but he seemed very proud of it. The bland mush in prison makes spices taste very strong now. The others ate it and asked for seconds. They said it was something William Knight had cooked for them, but they had never made it for themselves. I don't remember who William Knight is but they acted like I should. I'm not going to ask. I don't want them mad at me.

"Good lunch. You make lunch every day," Chrissy told the doctor. "Now you clean kitchen."

I looked around. The pans and dishes he had used to prepare our lunch were stacked on the counter. The bins of spices were left open, and spills were left where they fell. Dr. Arden, who had looked so proud of himself for cooking the meal, now looked aghast at the mess.

Chrissy pointed at the mess, went to the sink, washed her plate and fork, and put them away. "Good doctor clean now!"

As she walked down the hallway to her room she called back, "Make lunch tomorrow, too."

The Kid was grinning. I needed to talk to him, and I couldn't wait any longer. "Kid." I waved to him to follow me to my room. I needed my chalkboard to communicate.

He followed me but seemed worried about something. "Heyes, you decided if you want to keep this room or move upstairs?" he asked. I ignored the question. I need to focus on my question, or I will forget what I need to ask. I don't want to make the Kid mad. This might make him mad.

I sat on my bed and found my chalkboard. He pulled my chair over and sat across from me. I was nervous so my words came slower. He was patient, looked away and waited. He knows when he watches, I get flustered and write slower.

"Kid," I said and handed him the board. "Need old newspapers Bridgeport. Stay more day?"

It wasn't written as correctly as I wanted, but it was the best I could do.

He thought about it for a moment. "You askin' if we can stay another night in Bridgeport after your parole meetin'?"

I nodded. He didn't seem angry, but I can't always tell anymore.

"I know you looked at the papers in Three Birds. Lom said you found what you wanted."

I wrote, "Need more."

"Can you tell me what you are lookin' for? There's a lot of years of dusty papers there, I'm sure."

I thought he might ask that. He knows I'd tell him the truth. The Kid said that there were no secrets between us. I do have a secret. I don't tell him how frightened I am almost all the time. But now I'll tell him what I'm doing. Last time I was doing this, he almost broke my jaw.

I erased my board. I balanced it on my knee; it wobbles a lot, but I'm used to it. "Need articles on DHG."

JED 'KID' CURRY

It made sense. Heyes was bein' Heyes. He saw a problem and was devisin' a Hannibal Heyes plan to solve it. This was a good thing. I didn't know if he could still do that, but I was gonna give him all the help he needed.

"You plannin' on catchin' the McWInter boys somewhere other than Devils Hole?"

He grinned and nodded.

"And you're lookin' for articles about their robberies?"

He nodded again and wrote, "Need more. Figure out next."

"You're tryin' to figure out where they'll strike next. Any ideas."

"Yes. No."

"Glad you're usin' words, Heyes."

I heard Juan callin', tellin' us he was goin' to the stables. There was a lot of work to do if we were leavin' for Heyes' next parole hearin' soon. I hoped Dr Arden would be leavin' with us and stay in Cheyenne. Now we were goin' to be gone an extra day. But I saw how important this was to Heyes and if he was successful, it would solve a lot of problems.

"Heyes, gotta go help Juan, but yes. We can stay the extra night in Bridgeport and I'll help you go through the newspapers. You need to make a list of what exactly you want to know from the articles."

He wrote, "You find. I read."

ASJ*****ASJ

I asked Aiden to help Heyes with some words every day. It's good for both of them. Heyes seems annoyed at him time away from his plannin' but does as I ask without question. That's too close to submissive behavior for me but I don't say anything to him. But I asked the doctor to help him with his confidence too.

I was trying not to think about the parole hearin'. I had thought the last meetin' was gonna be as easy as the first one. I won't make that mistake again. I have a new nightmare now. I'm standin' with Heyes and Lom in front of the parole board. They don't listen that Heyes did everything right this month. They put us all in shackles and take us to separate prisons, forever. I know it won't happen, but I have it every night now. Sometimes I wake up and when I go back to sleep it starts again. I can't let Heyes see that I'm nervous and scared. I know he is already anxious and fearful. I know how to keep that fear inside me. No one will know.

HEYES

Tomorrow is my third parole hearing. I'm scared and nervous. My last hearing ended badly. Even though he shouldn't be, the Kid returned to his normal routine of cooking breakfast, working in the smithy all morning, and helping with the ranch and the horses all afternoon. He meets with every customer when they drop off their mares. I know he doesn't like it, but he smiles when they call him Kid. They ask him about how many men he's faced and killed. I can see the shadows dim his blue eyes for a moment as dark memories return. But he's always gracious to them. I don't know how he does it.

He's still in a lot of pain. When no one is looking, he rubs his shoulder. He tries to hide the pains in his back when he leans over the forge and strikes the anvil. I can see the pain in him. He was just starting to heal when he came home from the hospital I know him well. Somewhere his temper is hiding inside. He has a bad temper, and I don't want to be around when he loses his tight control. Or maybe I do. Maybe I can help him. I know Chrissy still goes into his room at night; she puts the salve on his back. She goes back in there and helps him through his nightmares. Some mornings I find her sitting in a chair watching over him or sleeping on the cot in his room.

After dinner he gives me any receipts and money that ended up in his pocket. He's forgetful that way when he gets busy. Then he goes back to the shop and works some more. I've seen him stock up on horseshoes then or work on his special projects, like the candlesticks and belt buckles I saw in Three Birds. He's very precise and creative in his work. I think he enjoys this part the best.

I know when his day has been very hard by the slump in his shoulders when he thinks no one is watching. I try to watch his back all the time. That was always my job and I want it back, again. After those hard days, I just go down and pull a chair into the smithy and sit with him. We don't talk but I'm there for him.

Lom and Sheriff Birde told him about the boys drinking in his back room. He laughed a deep laugh that showed in his eyes. He said it sounded like something we would have done. It's good to hear him laugh. But then he got serious and asked if the boys had homes. We didn't at that age.

He checked with me yesterday to make sure my white shirt and good pants were clean. And he gave me a new chalkboard with a fine metal frame. He showed me his mark in the corner, a C and a tiny gun. It's perfect. He's talented, even if he doesn't think he is. I didn't see him working on this. It was a surprise. I will take care of this one. I threw the other one and broke it.

I can't get to sleep. We need to leave early to get to Bridgeport and catch the train. I can't stop pacing my room. I'm so worried about the hearing. When I'm worried or scared, my words leave me. I've been working with Dr. Arden on getting a few of them back like 'Yes', 'No', and 'Thanks'. I said 'What' once to the Kid without even trying. I hope I can use them tomorrow. The Kid stayed late in his shop. I don't know if he locked the back door when he left. That's my job. It's dark now. I'm going to check all the doors and windows here in the house. Chrissy's not in her room. Sometimes she sleeps on the cot in the Kid's room when he's moaning. She comforts him by reading.

She's not in the Kid's room either and his bed is empty. Did I lock them out? No, Chrissy buried a key in the backyard. Found them sitting on the couch in the living room, sleeping sitting up, leaning on each other. They look happy. I don't want to disturb them, but they aren't supposed to sleep out here. We have assigned bedrooms. I don't know what to do, so I think about it. We don't have a rule that we have to sleep in our bedrooms, so I think I'll let them sleep. I'm careful not to break any of the rules here. I want the Kid to let me stay here. I'm trying to be good and work hard. I moved in back of the couch and put a quilt over their shoulders. They didn't wake up.

All the doors and windows are locked and there's still hours before I need to wake up, but I can't sleep. I'm thinking of any of the rules I could have broken. Even though the Kid was proud of me, I won't tell on myself again. But I will try and get the Kid to tell on me.

Finally, I hear people waking up. The Kid and Juan tried to make this morning seem like a regular morning. I know that's 'cause they know I'm scared of today. I tremble when I think about going. But it isn't a regular morning. It's the day of my third parole hearing. What if I did something wrong? There are so many parole rules to remember. But I know I haven't touched a gun, not even the one the foreman of the Circle E ranch was holding on Lom. I hit his wrist and made sure not to touch any part of his gun. Today, I'm leaving my knife in my bedroom. Even though Lom said it, I don't remember the governor telling me I could carry it.

LOM

My train was about ten minutes late getting into Cheyenne. I should still be there twenty minutes at least before the Kid and Heyes. After what happened last time, I sent a telegram to the Kid three days ago.

Jed Curry

Three Birds, NE

Any surprises this time?

Lom Trevors

Porterville, WY

I was relieved when I got the answer, although I had to look up the word in the dictionary at the library. The Kid read every book I sent him and some others from the guards for all his years in prison. His vocabulary was expansive now and he took pride in his new words.

Lom Trevors

Porterville, WY

Everything is copacetic.

Jed Curry

Three Birds, NE

The Kid exited the train first. He didn't see me and I got a quick glimpse of fear on his face. Then it was gone, controlled. His easy smile seemed genuine, but I had seen the fear, the same fear that attacked him each time we rode to the Wyoming Territorial Prison to visit Heyes. I can't imagine how that fear multiplied last month when he rode there in the prison wagon to be incarcerated. I was going to watch him closely these next two days. Dr. Arden was staying at the ranch with them. I hoped he was helping the Kid through this.

Heyes followed him down the railway car stairs and stopped, looking bewildered by the crowds rushing on and off the train. The Kid stepped back, blocking a group of women trying to get to the steps. He didn't care, he cleared a path for Heyes to find me. When Heyes had walked by, the Kid tipped his hat and smiled at the women. By the time he said, "My apologies, ladies," they were all smiling back at him, and the slight was forgotten.

"Got time to drop our bags at the hotel?" he asked by way of a greeting as he headed in that direction.

Heyes gave me a nervous grin and said, "Hi, Lom."

Keeping an eye on the Kid's retreating back, I smiled at Heyes and shook his hand. "Hi, Heyes. Nice to hear your voice."

He turned and pointed to the Kid, and we hurried after him.

There was no time to talk, and the Kid was not in the mood for questions. We got to the meeting room first. Heyes and I sat in the front row. The Kid stood staring out the window, even when the board entered the room.

I saw the governor's eyes go to the Kid and I saw sympathy in his face and respect.

The Kid turned from the window suddenly and, for a moment, I saw a defiant Kid Curry standing there.

Colin Apperson, the governor's former aide, now assistant warden, started the meeting promptly. He, too, was watching the Kid as he spoke.

"Will Hannibal Heyes, Jedediah Curry, and Lom Trevors please step forward."

We did as we asked, but I worried because the Kid was in his gunfighter stance, even though we were unarmed. Heyes sensed something, too, because he put his hand on his partner's shoulder. I think I'm the only other one that heard him whisper, "Good?"

The Kid nodded as Colin started to speak. "Hannibal Heyes, have you been in compliance with every condition of your parole for the last month?"

"Y…yes," he answered, although I could tell he was frightened. The Kid needed him today to lean on instead of the other way around. I tried to step up and let them both lean on me.

"Mr. Curry, Sheriff Trevors, are you aware of any infractions?"

"No, we are not," I said firmly. I glanced sideways to see who the Kid was glaring at, but couldn't tell. I think it was the whole board in general. I hope he remembered all the things the governor and Colin had done for us.

"Good, good," said Colin, looking at the other members of the board appearing to ask if they had any questions. When no one did, he continued, "This parole meeting is complete and will reconvene in one month. May I ask Warden Lyle Kelly to stay with the governor and me? We would like to address Mr. Curry."

The other board members seemed happy to be released with no drama this month. When they were gone, Colin looked at me and said, "Sheriff Trevors, Mr Heyes, you may take your seats. We would like to address Mr. Curry. You may leave if you want to."

Heyes moved to his cousin's shoulder, so the Kid now stood between us. He stood close to him, so their shoulders touched. I could feel fear and anger coming from the Kid. I hoped the people on the other side of the table did not.

"Mr. Curry, we wanted to apologize, not for your incarceration, but for the brutal beating and the attempted murder you experienced at the hands of former Warden Fitzjohn."

The Kid didn't move. He didn't accept the apology. He remained calm on the outside like he does before the draw of a gunfight, but I knew he was far from calm. He was ready to explode at the drop of the wrong word. I couldn't do anything but stand next to him and try to speak where I might help.

I was surprised to hear Heyes say, "Thanks." He knows the Kid better than I do…or he did. The Kid is a much more internal, controlled man now. He's more mature, yes, but he's not healed from his time in prison. Last month opened up a lot of wounds for him.

Colin and the governor looked at each other and smiled at Heyes' word.

Now the governor spoke as if an attorney at a trial. I bristled at this. The Kid was not on trial here. He had been assured his amnesty and pardon had been returned.

"Mr. Curry, do you know a lady by the name of Priscilla Carson?"

"Never heard of her," the Kid's voice was a growl. Heyes moved to stand almost in front of him and look him in the eyes. I've always marveled how these two communicate without words. I thought maybe the years apart in prison might have broken that connection, but it didn't. I think it takes longer than it used to, but Heyes managed to get the Kid to relax his shoulders some. But he stayed on alert.

"Mr. Heyes, since you have chosen to remain standing before us, I want to ask you the same question. Do you know Priscilla Carson?"

He wrote his answer on his chalkboard. "Never heard her. Why?"

I was surprised he was bold enough to ask the question we were wondering.

The governor looked at Colin who said, "That will be explained later. Mr. Curry, when was the last time you were in Kentucky?"

"Never been there. You used to call me Jed, what changed? What do you think I did?" Suspicion dominated his voice, I saw Heyes looking at the entrance. I hoped they trusted these men enough not to run.

"Mr. Heyes, can you vouch that Mr. Curry has never been in Kentucky?"

I saw a quick look pass between them. The Kid believes in truth and taking responsibility for his actions. Heyes had heard him many times and saw him live up to it last month when he admitted not reporting Heyes' violation…and suffering the consequences.

Heyes slowly erased his board and started writing. The Kid wasn't watching him write, he was working on his self-control because he was angry. He was being accused of something and no one would tell him what.

Heyes gave his board to Colin who read it out loud. "Only times apart when he was 17. He Texas, in papers and when you put us in separate prisons."

I thought Colin would be defensive, but instead he smiled at the governor. "Good, you proved our theory. We didn't believe it was you."

Now I was getting tired of their riddles. "You believe he is innocent of what?"

Interim Warden Kelly had been quiet up to this point but spoke now. "Mr. Curry, I believe I found evidence that Warden Fitzjohn was indeed trying to "legally" kill you in retribution for the death of his stepdaughter Priscilla Carson. He didn't have time to take his personal journal with him when the governor's men went to arrest him. He escaped through a side door before they took him into custody."

"Still never heard of her and never been to Kentucky, and I ain't never killed a woman." I couldn't see the Kid's eyes, but I would have hated to be the men he was looking at, staring down, challenging.

The governor placed a journal on the table. "Fitzjohn was a very unstable man. I wish I knew that when I appointed him." He wasn't able to return the Kid's stare. Few men can.

Colin finished for him. "According to the journal, when his stepdaughter was fourteen, she became pregnant by a man that she claimed was Kid Curry traveling through Kentucky. It was a very strict, religious town and she was scorned and became an outcast. The shame the townspeople laid on her forced her to run away, but she didn't go far. In a neighbor's barn, she hung herself. Fitzjohn was the one who found her. His wife was so distraught their doctor prescribed a steady course of laudanum. Within a week her grief at losing her only child overcame her, and she drowned herself."

No one in the room said anything. Losing a child, then a wife was heart wrenching, but it has happened to others who learned to survive.

"And he blamed me for her death," the Kid spoke slowly, sadness measuring his words.

"Yes, but I would really like Dr Arden to read the whole journal," the governor said, rubbing his hand over the cover of the book. "Colin has a theory that Fitzjohn may have fathered the child."

In shock at the turn this meeting had taken, I still spoke up. "Dr. Arden didn't feel up to returning to Cheyenne and his position at the prison yet. Perhaps in a week or two."

"Sooner rather than later," said Colin. "Fitzjohn was never arrested. The US Marshals have put out a warrant for his arrest. It may be safer for you two and Miss McWinters to come into Cheyenne and let me provide protection for you."

Heyes grabbed his board and scribbled, "No Breaks parole rules!"

I could see the governor was going to say that he would waive that condition, but the Kid stood up even straighter, and said firmly, "Thank you, sir, but I can take care of my family. We'll stay where we are."

"Then I insist on sending two men with you. Their cover will be ranch hands and I will be expecting them to be WORKING ranch hands. I believe that Fitzjohn is not the only threat to your family." The governor spoke softly, but there was no doubt that this was an order not an offer of help.

"Long as they stay out of my way," he growled.