Winter's Refuge

Chapter Two Hundred and One

JED 'KID' CURRY

"In his last letter, Preacher said the one in the cabin now called Ribs Jackson is a good man who had a bad break and is a hard worker," I said to Heyes as we rode the train to Yuma.

"That's all well and good, but Preacher said he was young. What if he don't want to make boots?" Heyes answered. He's been quiet this trip but I didn't see fear in his eyes. The more time that passes from our prison time the better he is.

"Well, when we get there, we'll ask them to stay at the cabin while we visit Preacher and ask more about him," I told him.

Ridin' the old train on the last leg to Yuma Prison still freezes my heart. Half the baggage car where we rode today was filled with sacks of flour, coffee, and sugar. There were boxes of vegetables rottin' in the heat that I knew would end up in the evenin' stews. And there were stacks of tin plates and cups in another box that rattled somethin' awful. While Heyes sat quietly on a bale of hay and pretended to read his book, I pushed the door open and stood where I could feel the breezes of freedom blow over me. I only come here for Preacher.

Visitin' the two men at our cabin on the hill overlookin' the prison, I knew why the dark-haired man was called Ribs. He weren't as tall as me and Heyes, but he was so skinny. The two men currently livin' there proudly showed us around. Each group of men here had kept their word and maintained the cabin and the garden. Some did more than that. Ribs was one of them.

Enterin' the Yuma prison the next mornin', I steeled myself against the waves of fear, pain, and confinement that I knew would hit me. Heyes usually loses his words for a few minutes when we enter so I know he feels it too. It's hot and dry outside but in here it's unbearable.

"You will meet with Convict Jewell in a meeting room," the guard told us firmly as he led the way, not lookin' back.

I was drawn to the dark cell again, but resisted the urge to walk in that black entrance. I had called down into that darkness from above this mornin' and heard no sound from below.

Heyes hadn't been in this part of the prison before. It was one of the few places that didn't have windows for ventilation. There were slits open through the ceilin' that allowed a small amount of fresh air into the room, but it was not enough to breath easily. Reachin' out, Heyes touched my elbow and I slowed my pace to walk next to him. His brown eyes betrayed his fear and confusion.

"Why is he not in the chapel?" I asked. I saw the warden standin' outside the buildin' with the meetin' room.

"Mr. Curry, Mr. Heyes," he said reachin' out to shake our hands. I took his hand, but Heyes turned away, lookin' at the men in the cells yellin' out to me. Even after all these years, I'm a legend around here and it amazes him. The warden dropped his hand when Heyes looked away. "I know the guard told you that your visit will be in here today. I apologize for the extreme heat in here but this is the Arizona desert. Convict Jewell was found drunk before service two Sundays ago. He spent some time in the dark cell and now is assigned to the quarry, confined to his cell when not working. He has refused to tell us where the alcohol came from and will not resume his religious duties until he does." The warden spoke firmly but I heard the warnin' behind them. Preacher needed to tell him where his bottle came from.

In ankle shackles, still Preacher stood to greet us when we entered. I waited until the guard left and then lifted him, shackles and all, into a bear hug. He grimaced. Liftin' his shirt, I saw the new whip marks on his back. "Oh Preacher," I said.

He simply shrugged his shoulders.

"Preacher, can you tell the warden where the alcohol came from without gettin' someone else in trouble?" I asked to start. I know his life in here will continue to get worse if the warden doesn't get what he wants.

He smiled a weak smile. He's lost weight he couldn't afford to lose. "I found it in a secret place in the back chapel wall," he told me.

"Who put it there?" I asked.

"Don't know for sure. It was just there," he answered. I know the man well enough to know then he's not tellin' me the whole truth.

"Did you tell the warden that?" I pressed.

"He wouldn't believe me."

"He would if I led him to the secret spot," I said using one finger to raise his head so he looked me in the eyes.

I held his eyes for a moment longer. "Don't know if it will help, but go ahead," he finally told me.

"Thank you," I told him sincerely. "Now we have a question for you about Ribs Jackson."

I told him about the position at Ken's Shoe Emporium and the need for a helper. Preacher was quiet for too long and I worried he was retreatin' into himself. I think he did for those minutes but returned to reality quickly and gave us a strong recommendation for Ribs. And then started talkin' about a couple of our old train and bank robberies. "Heyes, no one could plan every detail of a robbery like you. And we never shot anyone. You know that saved me from serving an even longer sentence." Preacher was happy reminiscing so I let him talk until it was time to go.

When the guard knocked on the door, I asked to speak to the warden, stealin' myself to bargain with him and wishin' for Heyes' silver tongue.

"Yes, Mr. Curry." The warden met me and Heyes standin' outside of the meetin' room.

I took a breath and was surprised when Heyes started talkin'. "Warden, Preacher said you want to know where the alcohol came from," Heyes started.

"That's right," the warden said, suspicious.

"If you find out where it came from, Convict Jewell will be allowed to resume his religious duties?" Heyes continued.

"Yes. Did he tell you?" the warden demanded. I thought Heyes might be intimidated until I realized he was pretendin' he was the Heyes that led the Devil's Hole Gang, the leader that Preacher had just been talkin' about. This was one of the ways that Aiden had taught Heyes to cope.

Heyes didn't answer the warden, instead he asked another question. "And he will be reassigned to his counselor work with the prisoners instead of the quarry?"

"Yes, yes. Do you know where it came from?" The warden was gettin' irate at Heyes.

"We can show you," Heyes answered, confidently puttin' his arm around the warden's shoulder. It was a familiar move he would do as the leader of the Devil's Hole Gang. I smiled at that. He let me take the lead toward the chapel. I stopped outside the locked door.

"There's no one in there," the warden insisted.

"Please, sir, open the door," Heyes asked.

With a huff, the man found his keys and opened the door. "I told you there's no one in here," he said firmly. "Now let's go."

But I pushed by him and walked to the pulpit. It took a second but I found the loose brick in the wall. I stood aside. There was another unopened bottle of whiskey sittin' in the wall. The warden reached in and took it out. "It's unopened. This couldn't be the one Convict Jewell had."

"Who has keys to this place?" Heyes demanded strongly.

The warden at first looked defensive, then tipped his head to the side as he answered, "I do, of course, and there are two sets of guards' keys that include the chapel and supply entrance. They're not used too often and hang on nails outside my office. Are you suggesting that one of my guards put that alcohol there?"

Heyes didn't answer and that made the warden uncomfortable and he turned away from us. "Yes, your right…and Convict Jewell found it and his old demons returned and he was unable to resist the lure of the demon alcohol," the warden answered, dramatically.

When we looked at him in surprise, he added, "So many good men I know have been felled by whiskey. I hate that stuff."

"So, warden," Heyes broke in. "Since you know where the alcohol is, when will you do as you said, and reinstate Convict Jewell as a counselor?"

"Yes, yes of course, tonight." He put the alcohol back where it was hidden. "Can you two stay in here for a few hours?" he asked.

"Locked in here?" Heyes asked.

The warden became the strict authority figure again. "Yes, if you want your friend reinstated. I will announce to my guards that Convict Jewell will resume his work assignment as counselor. I'm hoping that the guard who is using the chapel as his private saloon will come here to retrieve his alcohol. And you two will catch him."

"Do we have to be l…l...locked in?" Heyes asked, all traces of the confident outlaw leader gone. The warden didn't notice. He was already headin' out the door and lockin' it. "What now, Kid?"

I looked around. I was uncomfortable as soon as I heard the lock click on the door. There was a small alcove off the pulpit area with a desk, two chairs, and a view of the secret alcohol hidin' place. It must be where Preacher does his counselin'. "We wait there."

Heyes paced in a small circle but we didn't have to wait too long. In less than an hour, we heard the loud click of the door unlockin'. Duckin' behind the desk, we waited and watched. We heard the door bein' locked again. Then a broad-shouldered guard walked down the center aisle and toward the hidin' spot. He put his rifle and billy club on the front pew and started to enjoy his hidden stash as he sat on the steps near the pulpit and lit a cigarette.

I moved slowly and quietly crawled along the second pew. Standin' suddenly, I grabbed the rifle and pointed it at the guard.

"Let's go see the warden," I growled at him. "And bring your bottle."

HEYES

Feelin' proud of ourselves, back at the cabin, the Kid got Ribs alone and offered him the job with Ken. He immediately accepted. But first he needed to complete the job he was doing here for us and with his partner return the horse and wagon to the Yuma sheriff. And he wanted to take some time and visit his pa and grandmother in northern Arizona. He thanked us and said he's looking forward to working for us and learning a trade. We'd see him in about three months. We both felt he was sincere and agreed. I know the Kid slipped him some travel money and told him not to say anything to his partner.

Something had been bothering me all day, but I waited until after dinner when me and the Kid were rocking on the front porch of the cabin. "Kid?"

"Yeah, Heyes?"

Those last three robberies, a bank and two trains that Preacher was talking about, were they successful?" I asked.

"Some of the easiest money we have made. Why?" the Kid answered.

"Was I there?"

"Heyes, you planned every detail of each one. You sat at the table in the Devil's Hole bunkhouse and told the gang. I stood by the door to back you up. You led us on each one. You opened the safes. Don't you remember?" the Kid asked. Concerned, he caught my gaze and held it.

"Don't remember anything about them. They're gone. Not even a trace of a memory," I confessed.

"Heyes, do you remember the rest of our jobs? Our life at Devil's Hole?"

"I remember some jobs. Blowing some safes. Kyle getting the dynamite wet when we were going to blow a train safe. You getting shot and the trip back to Devil's Hole riding double on my horse. Just not those three." I couldn't keep the worry out of my voice.

"Memory holes. Tell you the truth, I didn't remember that train robbery until Preacher started talkin' about it," he told me.

"But once he brought it up, you remembered?" I looked away from him.

"Yeah. It's alright, partner. Aiden said you had some memory holes. If you're gonna forget somethin', it's good to forget our robbin'," the Kid said.

"It worries me Kid. I might have forgotten something, or someone, important. And the problem is I don't remember what I've forgotten."