Winter's Refuge
Chapter Two Hundred Twenty-Three
HEYES
I convinced McNamara to let the Kid rest. Then I watched as my cousin finished his beef stew. "Heyes, help me lay down with this splint on my leg. I'm sleepy," he said.
"Sure, Kid," I said.
When he was laying down again, he tried to turn on his side. It was awkward with the splint and he groaned quietly. "Guess I got to still sleep on my back," he muttered as he closed his eyes.
Sighing, I went back to the desk and opened the next letter. Chrissy is so good at this part and writes long, chatty letters back to the breeders. I'm trying to do the same, but I find it tedious. My concentration was disturbed by the clop, clop, clop of a cane coming down the hall. I braced myself for Great Uncle's visit. I told myself I was going to talk to him gently and not get angry.
"Heyes," Great Uncle said as he entered the room.
"Shh, whisper. The Kid is sleeping," I said quietly.
He lifted his cane and limped over to my chair without it. "These letters came in the mail today. Thought I'd give them to you. What are they?"
"Letters from people who want to breed their mares to our studs. Chrissy usually does this and writes real nice letters to the ones we accept and equally polite denial letters. But she can't this year with the baby. Here's the breeding calendar schedule," I told him.
He picked up one of the opened letters on my desk and read it. He looked at the stacks of opened and unopened letters on my desk. "Would it help if I opened the letters and made a chart of the owners and the mare's names?" he asked. "I worked all my life writing letters and I'm familiar with setting schedules."
"The letter from Father O'Brian said you have a small railroad pension?"
McNamara nodded. "Yes, I worked for them for forty-five years before they retired me. I worked in our regional offices. They moved me quite often and I was away from home for weeks at a time. I wrote letters to unhappy travelers and I set the railroad schedules and got the reports if they were on time or late and where the delays happened." He gave me a grin that reminded me he was related to the Kid. "I must say some of the delays through Wyoming and Colorado were accredited to the Devil's Hole Gang led by the infamous Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry."
I didn't know how to respond. I shrugged my shoulders, looked away from him, and whispered, "Sorry."
"Don't be sorry. That's where I first saw Jedediah's name and started reading everything I could about you in the newspapers…and, I have to admit, some dime novels. My sister, Jedidiah's ma, used to write to me faithfully every month. I could rely that her letter would arrive by the tenth of each month. My wife and I looked forward to them. Then they just stopped. I kept waiting for one that said 'sorry I couldn't write for a while' but nothing else ever came. I read in one of the newspaper articles that it was rumored that Heyes and Curry were cousins who lost their families at an early age. And that gave me part of the answer to why Keara's letters had stopped so abruptly." Great Uncle wiped tears from his eyes before they could roll down his cheeks. I pulled a chair over to the desk and motioned him to sit. "One of the dime novels said you lost your parents to Quantrill's Raiders. Is that correct?"
The Kid's breathing changed. I knew he was awake and listening. I picked up a letter before saying, "Yes."
Great Uncle grabbed the letter from me. "They were all killed? Keara wrote to me often of your parents and you as well as her family. I know that her son James was killed in the war."
"John died in the war, too. All the rest of them and my parents were murdered one afternoon by the raiders." I still find it hard to choke out those words. Me and the Kid buried a lot of those memories deep. I had to close my eyes just to say them.
"And you two survived," he said. It was a statement. Not a question. "Well, that explains why her letters stopped. I had hoped she was just mad at something I wrote and you were all still living life happily on your Kansas farm. But as time went by, I feared the worst. He wiped his eyes and took a deep breath. "Now, I'd be happy to assist you. I could open the letters and make a list of owners and horses."
I took a blank piece of paper. "I would need the owner and the name of the ranch. Also, columns for the mare's name and the foreman and if they are requesting a specific stud or time. Is that too much to ask?" I finished thinking I was giving him a lot of work.
'No, no, I'm glad to be of help. I heard you tell your daughter that everyone has to do their part around here. Maybe this can be part of mine."
LOM
Wayne seemed reluctant to leave for home with me. I didn't really blame him. He's an only child and I'm sure it's fun to have other kids around all the time. Our home will seem lonely to him. We walked together down to Ken's Boot and Shoe Emporium. My son was quiet, kicking a rock with the toe of his shoe. I remembered how he had been asking for boots and thought that just might be the way to get back into his good graces.
"Hi Ken," I called, as we walked in. A bell at the top of the door tinkled softly. That's new.
"Lom! Welcome back. I heard that your trip was successful," Ken said. He wore a cobbler's apron and had a smile for us.
"Kenny here?" asked Wayne.
"No, he's home with his ma today," Ken answered. "I'll tell him you were asking about him."
"Thanks," the boy said as he started walking around the place studying everything.
"Don't touch anything, son," I warned him but his mind was imagining what all the tools were for.
"Ken, do you know when Ribs will be back? Don't want to tell headquarters that the telegraph is available until he's back to work here," I asked.
"He's on his way. Should be here in a day or two," Ken answered.
"That's good." I looked around the room and saw my son looking at a pair of shoes being repaired. "Wayne, come over here, please," I asked.
He gave me a look but obeyed. "Now Mr. Josephs, I was wondering if you could make this growing boy his first boots?"
"Really, Pa?" Wayne said, reaching up for a hug. I picked him up.
"Really. Mrs. Heyes told me you were a very good boy while I was gone. I think you're old enough for new boots." I love the boy's hugs. I'll miss them when he gets older and wants to just shake my hand.
"Can they be black, Mr. Josephs, just like Pa's?" Wayne asked
HEYES
"Heyes, some of these letters refer to the studs by color and not by name. Can you help me with that?" Great Uncle asked. He's been opening the breeding letters since yesterday without a peep. The thump of his cane on the floor doesn't seem as angry.
"Tell you what. Let me call the little kids and all of us can go out and meet them," I told him.
"Yes, I did tell them they could show me the horses. I'll still take notes. I've never really been around horses, except in a carriage," he answered.
So, we walked to the stables together. Great Uncle was flanked by Nettie and Ruth Ann. I carried Catherine and Diane Francis and Josiah ran in front of me.
"This is Fall's Legend," Nettie explained as she pointed to the majestic brown horse that had helped start our business. Before I had my words back, I had made a wooden plaque with his name and it hung over his stall.
"And this is Fall's Destiny?" Great Uncle said, reading the sign on the next stall.
Quiet fell. Ruth Ann said out loud, "No." Then she started signing. I read her signs out loud. "He died under a tree in the big…" She stopped and made a twirling motion with her finger.
"Tornado," I finished. I'll have to ask Angie how to sign tornado. Everyone looked sad.
"We should have taken that sign down," I said. "This is actually Fall's Whisper. He's a very dark brown with two white socks in the back…and very popular with the mares and their owners."
We passed two empty stalls. "And this is Summer's Song," I said.
"We call her Black Beauty," Josiah added.
"They are all magnificent animals," Great Uncle said.
Ruth Ann pulled him over to another stall and nudged Nettie. "This is Uncle Jed's horse, Fall's Glory, and pa's horse, Fall's Bells, is right next to him," my daughter explained.
I could see Great Uncle was getting overwhelmed. "Fall's Legend, Summer's Song, and Fall's Whisper are our three studs. That's all you need to remember. Well, we might let one of our young studs give breeding a try." Walking over to the next aisle, I stopped in front of a stall with an all-black horse with one white foot. "This is Aengus's Summer. He was born here almost three years ago."
"Gus!" said Catherine, reaching out from my arms to the horse. I put her down and lightly tapped her bottom. "Everyone into the house. Aunt Angie is waiting for you."
ASJ*ASJ
Father Patrick, Frank Birde, and Aiden came just before supper. I left the room so the doctor could examine the Kid in privacy. In truth, I didn't want to be there for the Kid's arguments if Aiden didn't take off the splint. I took Father and Frank in to visit with Chrissy and the still unnamed baby boy who was looking pinker.
Great Uncle came to her downstairs bedroom door. "I heard the Sheriff is here," he yelled.
"I'm Sheriff Frank Birde. You must be Jed's uncle. Nice to meet you," Frank said, offering his hand.
McNamara ignored it. "Sheriff, I want you to arrest Dr. Aiden Arden for kidnapping,' he said, stomping his cane to give his words more force.
"And just who did he kidnap, may I ask," Frank answered calmly.
"ME!" McNamara declared loudly.
Looking at the old man, everyone was surprised by his statement. I started to talk at the same time as Father and Frank, but Chrissy's soft voice silenced us all.
"No kidnap, Great Uncle. Aiden bring you to us, your family. We love you,' she said. "Kids need older generation to teach them."
McNamara didn't look convinced. "Well, he left my clothes and things and Father O'Brian has probably sold them by now. That's theft. Arrest him for that!"
"Mr. McNamara, I'm Father Patrick Mahoney. I'm the pastor in Three Birds. I do hope we will be seeing you at services on Sunday. I've been in contact with Father O'Brian. The Currys have paid to have all your belongings shipped to you. But there seems to be some problem."
"They did, did they. Well, Mrs. Curry, I'll pay you back for that expense," said McNamara.
"Chrissy, not Mrs. Curry. We're family," she answered.
McNamara's expression softened. "Yes, we are," he said as he turned and left.
"Guess I won't be arresting Aiden after all," Frank said. Handing Chrissy a present he said, "Beverly sent this for the little one."
"And what name will he be baptized with?" asked Father Patrick.
Chrissy smiled.
I think she's chosen a name but wants to discuss it with the Kid. So, I answered for her. "Still deciding on the name, Father."
Angie appeared at the door and nodded toward the kitchen. Chrissy nodded back. "The baby is tired. I think Angie has coffee and cookies ready in the kitchen," she said.
As we were leaving, we heard noise in the hall. The Kid, on crutches and still with the splint on his thigh, was working his way down the hall.
"Just came to say hi to Frank and Father and visit with my wife," he said.
JED 'KID' CURRY
It felt good to be out of bed and good to walk, even with Aiden walking a step behind, hands outstretched to catch me if I fell. I wasn't about to let myself fall. I've had enough of that bed. I worked my way to the chair next to Chrissy's bed.
"Doctor says he's gained a little weight," she told me as she handed the baby to me.
"Hi, little one. I'm your pa and I love you very much," I told him.
"I have name, maybe," Chrissy said.
"You do? What is it? If you like it, I'm sure I will," I told her, not taking my eyes off the sweet face in my arms as he yawned.
"He need strong name. He's the youngest. Doctor says no more," she continued.
"He told me. We don't need anymore. We have a beautiful family with a lot of unique personalities. Yes, a strong name. What are you thinking?"
"A family name," she answered.
"Not Jedediah," I said.
"No, not Jedediah. Charles Jedediah," she said, proud of herself.
I smiled. "Well, hello, Charles Jedediah," I said to our son, who had grabbed onto my thumb.