SquidgeWorld Archive

Dark Reflections of a Familiar Stranger

Chapter 1

The day was hot as the ramshackle buckboard rolled over the uneven path. It was hard enough for the woman to keep the wheels on the road. Barely a passable road on horseback let alone any type of wagon. Dutifully, her gray-muzzled dog of questionable background sat at her side, doing its best to stay upright and on the seat. Without warning, the dog looked out at the horizon and growled, then began to bark wildly. The woman pushed her broad-brimmed straw hat back on her head and looked out at what the dog was barking at, but found nothing. She turned the dog’s face toward hers and looked at the wizened, old, brown eyes of the Collie mix.

“What’s up, Lizzie?” She asked the deaf dog.
The dog continued to bark at the horizon.

Carefully, the woman steered the wagon up the rocky hill and over to where the dog had been barking. There, just over the rise she saw a black mare; saddle slumped to one side and a young man hanging from one side, his foot caught in the stirrup. As she got closer, she could see the horse had blood coming from its left, rear flank, and the cowpoke’s leg seemed to be broken. The horse must have dragged him some, too. His face was bloodied and swollen, his clothes torn; dust and blood-encrusted. The dog leapt from the wagon and continued to bark at the frightened horse.

‘Hush, Lizzie!” The woman waved at the dog and made a shhh signal. The dog seemed to understand and stopped her barking.

The woman jumped from the wagon and quickly checked to see if the young man was still alive: He was, barely. Cautiously she unhooked the man’s leg from the stirrup and heaved him up into the wagon. It took some doing, as he was a good foot taller than she and of muscular build. The horse, skittish from her wounds, tried to run, but the woman caught the reins and tied them to the back of the wagon. She motioned for the dog to hop back onto the wagon and she was off, even more slowly than before.

The sun was just beginning to slip behind the mountains as the woman steadily pulled the wagon up to a small cabin nestled in a wooded, mountain box canyon. A waterfall bounced down a rock cropping behind the cabin and a well-tended garden spread out along the side and back of the dwelling. There were several outbuildings and a small, coved stable. The dog jumped down, aware that she was home, and barked again at the horse.

“Elizabeth Jean!” The woman admonished her dog. “Must you be so noisy?” She wagged her finger at the dog and then handed her down the reins of the horse and pointed to the barn. “You can’t hear yourself, but lordy, everyone else can.” The dog grabbed the reins in her mouth and led the horse to the covered stable area. She trotted like a proud puppy.

“I’ll tend to the mare in a bit. I’ve just got to figure out what I’m going to do with her rider!’’ The woman pushed the hat from her head, slapped her hips, and looked around her windswept spread. She opened her door, walked back to her bed, and pulled back the covers. She grabbed the young man by his one, good leg and tugged him off the supply-laden wagon until she could plop him over her shoulder like a sack of grain. He only made a slight noise as she rolled him into the soft, feather bed. She wiped the sweat from her brow and looked at the man, out cold in her bed.

“Oh Rhea, what have you done now?” She asked herself. She wiped her hands on her dress, looked up at the ceiling, then down at the gun belt strapped low on the mans hip. “Maybe I should have left you out there. Maybe you are trouble... Maybe I should stop talking to myself!” She started to unhook the gun belt. There was no way she was going to get the man’s clothes off without cutting them loose. They were already torn, so she began to cut away at the mangled clothing. The more she cut, the more abhorred she became. He was bruised around his ribs and heart area. It looked like he had a rope around his neck and it chaffed him red. His knuckles were bloodied and scrapped as well, as if he had been in the fight of his life. The broken leg even got worse. As she pulled the crusted pant leg away, she saw the remnants that a bullet had pierced his leg. The break was not all from the fall from the horse. By the time she was done, he was down to just a modest covering of his lower long johns.

“Oh, this just keeps getting better!” She looked at the dog, which cocked her head to one side, and then yelped one, high-pitched bark. “Oh, I know, I know. What do you want me to do, throw him back?”

Rhea waved the dog away and pumped a kettle full of water and put it in the fireplace to heat up. She grabbed some clean rags and began to tear them into strips. She went to a pantry and pulled some leaves and barks from a jar and a good portion of honey and put them in a teapot. All along, the dog watched her master scurry from one end of the small cabin to the other. She watched as she cleaned up the young man. “Why look, Lizzie”, Rhea turned to the dog, and “he’s a blonde!”

There was a deep gash in his forehead, and she closed it up the best she could, and a large bump on his forehead and the back of his head, along with another deep split. The leg and bullet were going to be another thing altogether. She dug down into the flesh and got the bloodied shrapnel from its resting point, then set the leg with straight limbs and leftover board siding. She cleaned up the other scrapes and scratches the young man had, then set a pot of cured beef boiling into the fire pot.

“I don’t know about you, Liz, but I’m hungry.”

The dog barked.

“While he’s resting and that’s cooking, lets take a look at that mare, shall we?” Rhea gathered up some more rags and a bowl of water.

The sun had set long ago, so she lit up a few oil lamps in the stable. The horse, still wary, whinnied and backed away from the woman. “Oh, don’t be like that…” the woman admonished the horse as she wiped away the dried blood from the horse’s flank. Thankfully, it was only a graze, probably the same bullet that hit the young cowpoke in the leg. “You’ll be fine, girl.” Rhea patted the horse down and finally took of the saddle and bridle, then walked out into the cool, clear, star-filled night. Her breath whirled out around her face as she let out a heavy sigh. She looked over to her buckboard and her own two horses still hooked up and the supplies still waiting to be unloaded.

“And I don’t even get my own bed.” She shook her head and started to unhook the team.

Over an hour later she plopped the last sack of grain into her pantry and closed the door. She stepped back and saw the young cowpoke’s gun and belt curled up next to the bed. Silently she picked up the piece, reopened the pantry, and shoved it into the back shelf, out of sight. She looked into her soup pot and found the water had all boiled away. All that was left was a dried out hunk of beef and its bone. She deftly pulled it out and threw it on the floor near the dog. “Here, girl. At least you’ve got something.” The old dog gnawed on it with relish. Sullenly, she pulled a portion of hardtack from her cupboard, sank down on her only vestige of civilization; a fainting couch, and nibbled at the tasteless, hard cracker. “When will I learn not to take in strays?” She sighed and the dog whimpered. “Oh, that you heard?” She threw a couple of logs onto the fire, pulled a blanket from a high shelf, and nestled down for the night on the chaise. Happily, the dog curled in front of the warm blaze, her bone not far away.

Chapter 2

All Heyes knew is that he hurt in just about every place a man could hurt, he was cold and hungry and it was dark. It was so dark he couldn’t see his hand in front of his face. He pulled himself up and felt around the small, cramped, dank cell. He could tell the floor was dirt and the walls were brick. He found the heavy, wooden door and pounded on it.

“Hey!” He yelled with all his strength. “Hey, let me outta here!” His throat burned, and his hands hurt, like he’d been in a fistfight. He sank to the floor when no one answered. He was in a fight. He and Kid were fighting. It was some silly argument. It was the amnesty thing again. Kid wanting to give up, but Heyes not letting him. It had been so long. The governor kept changing his deal, always saying the political climate wasn’t right. Kid’s argument was he was always going to be saying that, and they’d be on the run for the rest of their lives. He was ready to head to South America when a troop of men caught them off guard. Heyes and Curry turned their aggression on their attackers. They were outnumbered, and not doing too well in defending themselves, so they both got on their horses and rode like the devil himself was chasing them. He saw Kid fall. One of the men lassoed him and pulled him from his horse. It was around his neck, but Kid got up and got away. He got away… “Kid got away.” The other man got Heyes around his arms so he couldn’t get free. He wrenched him to the ground with a resounding thud and continued his assault on Heyes. Blow after blow went to Heyes’ face, ribs, and back; any exposed vital area by the group of men. Mercifully, he slipped into the blackness of unconsciousness. Now, here he was in this dark, empty box all alone. He touched his cheek and felt the pain of an open wound and bruising. He was stiff and weak, his breath barely passed through his lungs and yet the pain was nearly unendurable. Kid would be here to get him out. He’ll be all right. Kid would be here shortly.

It was hours before a thread of light made its way into the darkened cubicle. Heyes moved stiffly and watched as shadows of feet walked back-and-forth in front of his door. A small slit in the door opened and a bowl of something was slid at him.

“Hey,” he yelled, “what’s the meaning of this?”

“Shut up, Heyes and eat.” A gruff voice returned.

“Heyes?” he returned. “I think you’ve made a mistake. My name’s Smith, Joshua Smith.”

“Always joking ain’t you?” The man’s voice was faintly familiar. “Ain’t gonna work, Heyes. I know who you are!”

“I can’t eat this slop!” The dark-haired outlaw’s hackles were now up, and he felt fight coming back to him.

“Suit yourself.” The voice returned, muffled through the thick, oaken door. “You’re worth the same to me dead or alive. Don’t matter much to me how I get the $10 thousand, long as I get it!”

Heyes tried to get the foul-smelling gruel to his lips, but it made him gag. He threw the bowl up against the wall, and heard it break with a sickening plop sound. “You had better hurry, Curry.” He whispered to himself. “And get me outta here.”

“He ain’t comin…” Came the unexpected reply. “If he ain’t dead from them bullets I put in him, he’s close to it now!” The man threw his weight up against the door; his tone was cold and menacing. “Like I said, don’t matter to me if you’re dead or alive. I got me one dead outlaw all ready. Just makes it easier to haul you boys in.”

“Paulson!” Heyes finally screamed the unseen man’s name! “You couldn’t get the drop on the Kid if he stood in front of you in his long johns!”

“You figured it out, huh Heyes?”

“You can’t walk into any sheriff’s office easier than I can. He’ll chuck you in a cell next to mind and throw away the key. Keep the rewards on both of us himself.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Heyes.” You could hear the satisfaction in the man’s voice. “I did my time….Five, long years, thanks to you and the Kid. I got out six months ago. Imagine my surprise when my men and I came upon you and Curry havin’ a tussle.”

“Yeah, we were fightin’ over how stupid ol’ Benny Paulson was. That he barely had brains enough to put one foot in front of the other.”

“You keep talking, Heyes. It’s what you’re good at.” The door opened and Kid’s hat flew in and landed at his feet. “You might be able to talk yourself outta how I got this, if Kid ain’t dead.”

The door slammed shut as quickly as it opened. Heyes bent down and scooped the dusty, blood-encrusted hat. It was Kid’s all right; it even had the tarnish stain on the one silver medallion that looked like a derringer. No doubt, it was Kid’s. Heyes slumped down against the wall and cradled the hat in his arms. Even in the dimmed light, he could see the hat had two, fresh blood stains on it: One in the front, one in back. He crushed the hat into his chest as he let out a silent keen. He did not want his captor to know his pain. Yet he was sure he already knew.

Chapter 3

Rhea had gotten up early, and had gotten a good fire going. She knew needed to get something into the cowpoke if he was going to make it. She started a chicken broth, this time in a larger pot of water.

She checked on him while he slept and cleaned up the spots she’d missed the night before. She held his hands. They were nice hands, despite the raw knuckles and fresh scrapes. He had no calluses, something a ranch hand would have. She figured he used that gun of his to get what he wanted. Shame, handsome young man like that resorting to gunplay. She shook her head and thought silently.

She dribbled what little water she could into his inflamed lips. His eyes were still swollen shut, and the tears had specks of blood mingled in them. She placed a cool compress on them, he murmured slightly.

“What color eyes do you think he has, girl?” She asked the dog, who barked a quick, high-pitched bark.

“Brown?” She shook here head. “You think everybody’s are brown.” She patted the old dog’s head. “You still think my eyes are brown!” She smiled and turned back to the young man still so unresponsive on her bed. “Blue, maybe. Possibly green. No his complexion says blue.”

She was behind in her canning, the short days of September already passing her by, as she slipped fresh carrots, onions and potatoes into the chicken broth she had simmering over the fireplace. “The rest of you….” She slid he root vegetables into a burlap sack. “are going to the root cellar.”

The last rays of sun slipped behind her mountain retreat and the smell of all her canning plus the chicken soup filled the crisp, night air. It was then, that Rhea first heard the encouraging signs. Her young man was coming around. He tossed and turned, then let out an excruciating cry.

“Settle back…” Rhea swept to his side and ran her comforting hands over his brow.

“I hurt…” he barely spoke. His hand tried to reach up, but it fell limply back onto the bed.

“I don’t doubt it.” She tried to calm the man. She set some tea to his lips and pressed him to take a few sips. “It’s willow bark tea, not too tasty, but it will calm the pain some.”

The young man eagerly sipped down the liquid, more from his intense thirst than its promised healing powers. “More…” his raspy voice pleaded, and the woman obliged. It was good he was getting in fluids. Finally, after three cupfuls, he settled back into the soft pillows. “Thank you”, brushed past his lips.

“You’re welcome.” Rhea plumped up the pillows and tucked him back under the blankets. “I’m Rhiannon Evans, and you’re safe.” She pushed back his golden hair with a cooling cloth, her voice soft and soothing.” I found you out on the trail, half-dead, but you’ll be all right, now.”

“Thanks, I’m.” he stopped to think. “I’m….I’m…. I don’t know, I can’t remember my name.” The young man’s voice began to tremble.

“Now, now.” She tried to calm him. “You’ve been through a lot. Settle back, get some food into you, and I’m sure it’ll come back to you in no time.”

Chapter 4

Heyes was getting weaker from the lack of food. His resolve was ebbing, especially since Kid was gone. However, something wasn’t making any sense to him, and he couldn’t figure it out. He was having trouble thinking. He leaned up against the door as he tried to hear any sound of life. The bowls of gruel, nasty as they were, were still something, and those were becoming less and less. Then, to his surprise, a bowl of chili, bread, and even coffee slid into his room. He wolfed it down, but was wary of his gift. He pressed his ear against the door. Years of listening for tumblers to fall made his hearing finely honed.

“You said we’d have some of the money by now.” A woman’s angry voice filtered through the considerable door. “You said once you found that hat, that his body would be easy to find!”

“He got away, somehow.” Paulson’s voice was lower, but Heyes could still hear him. “Someone must’a found him, ‘cuz his trail goes cold about 20 or so miles from the lowland, near Fox Run….or Cotton Creek.”

Heyes could hear pacing back-and-forth until Paulson spoke up again, and spoke to another man in the room. “I figger we keep Heyes alive, for now. If Kid is still alive, then we got us a bargaining chip. If he’s dead, then Kid’ll have every cause to come after us.”

“So we lure Curry back with Heyes?” The other man sounded intrigued, then his voice went cold. “Suppose someone just found him and buried him, then what”

“We can’t think that way….” Paulson sounded nervous. “Ye gotta remember who he is.” There was another pause. “Krieger, you stay here with Evie, he might come back this way for Heyes ”

Heyes’ determination was getting stronger, but now he needed to think of a way to get out of his present incarceration. He could hear the commotion of Paulson leaving. He knew he had to work fast, or he may lose any hope of finding Kid alive.

In the dimness, Heyes caught the glint of his spoon in the shadows. Quickly he snapped the bowl end off, and started filing it on the rough, stone walls. He had to work hurriedly, as he knew his captors would notice the missing utensil. The point sharpened, Heyes slid it into the rusted lock and maneuvered it back-and-forth until he heard a distinctive click. He smiled to himself and guardedly pushed the door open the smallest crack.

The bright light burned his eyes as he peered around the corner. He could see the movement of the two in the fireplace mirror and began to think on his next move. He was fairly weak from his lack of food, but his eminent freedom and the possibility of finding Kid alive was bolstering his energy.

Like a loosened cougar, Heyes leapt at the unprepared man and knocked him to the ground with one, easy punch. The woman, shocked into motionlessness, stood and watched as Heyes easily knocked the other man out and threw him into a heap. He pulled the man’s gun from its holster and spun on the woman. He wanted to kill, but these two weren’t worth him hanging.

“Tie him up!” Heyes ordered the still-stunned woman. Obediently she complied, and tied the still unconscious man to a sturdy, kitchen chair. “”Now you!” Heyes waved the gun at the other chair. “Sit down.” His voice was cold and menacing. Angrily he tied the woman to the other chair, yanking at the knots to make sure they were good and tight.

“Ow, you’re hurting me!” She exclaimed.

“You’re lucky you’re not dead.” Heyes leaned in next to her ear and spat the words in an ominous tone.

“You can’t leave us like this” She whimpered.

“You just don’t get it, do you?” Heyes turned quickly, his gun still poised to shoot. “I have a mind to leave you both dead, but neither of you are worth it.” He cinched the ropes tighter with a jerk.

“I may regret leaving you both alive.” He spoke as he saw Krieger shake his head and become aware of his surroundings. “Just know this. I’m going to be watching for you. And if I see any sign of you trying to follow me, I won’t think twice about using this.” He waved the pistol at their faces.

“You ain’t got the guts, Heyes.” Krieger snarled. “You ain’t never shot no one in your whole life!”

“There’s always a first time.” Heyes rammed the gun into the man’s throat and went nose-to-nose with him. His eyes were as dark and cold as his voice. “There’s only so much one man can take before he breaks, and I’m near that point now. You wanna see how much farther you can push?” Heyes plunged the gun into the man’s neck with every word for emphasis. The man just slowly shook his head. “Where’d Paulson go?” He demanded, but no one spoke.

“West…” the woman spoke timidly. “ That’s all we know… I think he lost the trail around Cotton Creek, near Fox Run so I guess that’s where he’d start.”

“Shut up, old woman!” Krieger barked at the trembling woman.

Heyes took the butt of his gun and sliced it across the man’s chin. “No, you shut up!” He spat, and then crammed a gag into the man’s mouth. He did the same to the woman.

Hurriedly he scooped up the rest of the bread and wolfed down the rest of the chili from the table. He went back to his cell and gathered up his and Curry’s hat. He took what he could from these people: cash, food, water; anything he thought he could use. He found his own gun and holster as well, then rode off into the setting sun. It wasn’t a good time to start a journey, but Heyes knew he could waste no time. The thought of leaving the two behind gnawed at his mind. It wasn’t the smartest thing he had ever done. Now, he’d have to concentrate on finding Kid and keep a watchful eye out for Paulson’s men, who would most assuredly be following him before too long.

The first thing Heyes did was to find a town and a paper. He needed to know how long he’d been held captive by these two. Cautiously he rode into Cotton Creek, knowing Paulson may be near. He got a room facing the street and picked up a paper. He was surprised to see it was already the middle of September. If Kid had headed west, like Paulson had said, he needed to act quickly. Snows would be falling in the mountains before too long and any hope of finding Kid, dead or alive, would greatly diminish.

Chapter 5

The night was pierced by the by screams of terror coming from Rhea’s back bedroom. She bolted upright and ran back to find the young cowpoke drenched in sweat, his body flailing about. She tried to calm him, as he could tear open any of his still-fresh wounds and do more damage to himself. She grabbed a towel next to the bed and dipped it into the bowl of water that rested on the commode next to it. She wrapped his head in the cooling cloth and tried to calm him.

“Run” The young cowpoke murmured,”Run...” She watched as his hand went for his imagined gun and he fired several envisioned rounds.

“Shhh….” Rhea spoke into his ear. “Step away from the fear, and tell me what you see. Nothing can hurt you, you’re safe. Just tell me what you see….”

“A dark man with a gun.”

“Do you know him?” Rhea prodded.

“I… I…think I do?”

“Do you know his name?” she asked.

“What?” the young man was confused. “I don’t know…

“Shooting…people are shooting at me…I’ve got to hide…run….” Kid clawed at his neck and started to gasp for breath. “I can’t breathe….chocking…”

Rhea held his hands gently but firmly and continued to speak to him in a steady, soft manner. “Step away, you’re safe, nothing can hurt you..”

The cowpoke began to sob as his hands dropped to his sides. Rhea settled in the bed next to him and cradled his head on her shoulder. He trembled like a small child, and clutched on to her as if life itself was depended upon her.

When morning broke, Rhea was still cradling him in her arms. She stiffened, then gently placed him back on his pillows. The movement made him stir. Rhea held her breath while he struggled to wakefulness.

“Good morning…” She spoke tentatively.

“Mornin’?” He seemed confused.

“Yes..” Rhea tried not to sound too nervous, but the night terrors had her a bit worried. “How did you sleep?”

“I guess, okay..”

“You don’t remember any dreams?” She prompted.

“Dreams?” He cocked his head to face her voice. He could tell she was frightened. “Not that I remember…Did I have one that scared you?”

“No”, she stepped back toward him. “I had just hoped I could have found out a bit about you.

“I’d like to find a name for you… You still don’t have any idea who you are, do you?”

The young man sheepishly shook his head. “No, ma’am, I don’t.”

“Well,” Rhea tried to sound reassuring, “you’re still pretty banged up, I’m sure it’s just a matter of time…In the meantime, I have to call you something….How about Poke?”
“Poke?” The young man questioned.

“Hmm, hmmm. Short for cowpoke.”

“Poke?” He smiled. “Well, I guess it’s better than no name at all…”

She then brightened back to her normal self. “How about some breakfast. I can’t expect you to do anything before breakfast, now can I?”

Poke smiled, and a flash of something familiar sparked like a lit match, then quickly faded.

By the end of the day, he’d eaten large amounts of Rhea’s soup and even nibbled on biscuits. His eyes, however, were still swollen and bruised shut. His leg seemed to be doing well. The area around where the bullet had gone in and where the break was, were all healing nicely. Rhea slathered on a new coat of sticky honey to the wound and stood back to assess the man.

A few days after the dream scare, Rhea was up early and working on her last of her canning. The fun stuff, she liked to call it. It was the spiced apples and pears that she took into town to trade for supplies and whatever else she needed. The cabin was heady with the smell of cinnamon, cloves, and apples when the young, blonde man stirred.

“Smells great in here.” Poke spoke.

“Oh!” Rhea was startled, as she barely heard him from the other room. She then smiled as she wiped her hands on her apron as she ran back to her bedroom. “How are you doing this morning?” She asked as she brushed his curls from his brow and felt his forehead.

“Better.” The man smiled. “I can almost see some light.”

“Oh, really!” Rhea was happy to hear that. “Well, the swelling has a bit to go, but any progress is good progress.” She smiled to herself, as he felt cool to the touch. It seemed he had avoided any infections.

“Are you hungry?” She asked, knowing the answer. He was always hungry.

“You bet!” His smile was bright. “Ahhh, but I need to, umm. Well, I have to.”

“Oh.” Rhea chuckled. “Chamber pot is in the commode next to you. I’ll get it and….” She stopped realizing the young man could neither see the commode nor stand to use the chamber pot. “Do you want me to help you?”

Poke blushed, but he knew he couldn’t do it alone. Amazingly, the woman knew how to help without making it an embarrassing endeavor.

Task completed, Rhea looked into the young man’s still swollen eyes. “Do you think you could manage to sit in a chair for awhile?” She was concerned.

“I could try.” Poke spoke quietly. “It would be a welcome change to the bed.”

Carefully, Rhea helped him to an overstuffed rocker and settled him in and covered him with an afghan. She propped his leg on an ottoman and set back to the bed.

“I can get these linens changed for you and wash them up in the morning.” She hurried to strip the bed. “If the weather holds out as nicely as it has, maybe you can set a spell on the porch.” She hustled to change the bedclothes.

“I’d like that, ma’am.” His words were still low and halted. He ran his hands down the arms of the comfortable rocker. He could tell that the padded arms went into carved wooden handles. His hands studied the impressions. They felt like the arms curled into graceful swan necks. He smiled to himself as a shadow of a memory flashed in his head. He tried to grasp hold of the familiarity of it, but it was gone just as soon as it had come.

“Are you doing all right, there?” The woman’s voice asked him. He could hear here pounding at the feather pillows. “Would you like to try and eat some supper in the chair?”

“If that would be all right.”

He heard he footfalls move around to his side. He felt the brush of the blanket slip off his leg. He tried to catch it, but her hand gently stopped his. “I’m making sure this hasn’t done you any harm. Don’t be alarmed.”

Her voice calmed him in ways he couldn’t describe. The internal terror he felt not knowing who he was assuaged by her composed tones.

“Fine.” He took in a deep breath as her hand soothingly caressed his injury.

“Looks all right to me.” Her voice was bright and reassuring. “You seem to be a fast healer.” She moved to the stove and scooped a big bowl of soup and grabbed a warm biscuit from the warming oven and placed it on a table next to the young man. He could smell the richness of the broth and the sweetness of the yeast in the biscuit. Another short-lived memory raced through his mind as she held the steaming soupspoon to his lips.

Chapter 6

Heyes had taken his supper in his room. He didn’t feel like being in the company of anyone. He needed to map out a plan. He needed to think, and his room, alone was the only place he figured would be safe. Besides, he needed to nurse his bruised face. It wasn’t unusual to see any given cowboy with a cut or two to his face, but now Heyes’ started to get a bit infected. He couldn’t risk a doctor, so he did what he could with the hotel’s soap and water. If Paulson was here, he didn’t want him to know he’d escaped. He was sure someone had let him know by now. Krieger and Evie could have made it to a telegraph station by now.

He’d made sure his room faced the street. A habit both he and the Kid had gotten into from their early days. He wasn’t sure why he still felt compelled to keep an eye on the bank and the street, but he was glad he did when he heard a commotion outside his window. He stood behind the curtain and watched as Paulson’s silhouetted form scuttled across the street to the sheriff’s office. His mouth went dry and his heart began to race when he saw them both exit and point toward his window. He knew it wasn’t good. He ducked behind the heavy drapes, scooped up his belongings, and headed out the back way.

Years of being one step ahead of the law had taught him how to saddle his horse quickly. Within what seemed to be seconds, Heyes had dug his heels into his mount and slapped its flanks with his reins. The chestnut beast reared and obeyed its rider and darted down the dusty street at full gallop.

Heyes only guessed that Paulson had let the sheriff know Hannibal Heyes was in their town. This made it impossible for Heyes to ride into any town for food, rest, or information. He was on his own. Paulson was on his tail. Now he needed to be one step ahead.

Then a sound he knew all too well echoed in his ears. A posse had formed and was closing in on him. He pushed his horse harder as the pulsating sound of hooves grew closer and closer. Rifle and pistol reports reverberated in his ears. He ducked low on his horse to avoid being hit, but a bullet found its mark and pierced his upper, left arm. He let out a yelp of pain, but continued to compel his ride onward. Still at full gallop, he pulled his bandana from around his neck and attempted to tie a tourniquet. He used his teeth to tighten the knot, but the wound continued to bleed.

Heyes rode his horse at top speed, even when he found a stream to hide his tracks. The spray from the horse’s hooves kept him from passing out, but the icy water chilled him to the bone and soaked his heavy, black coat.

The sound of the relentless posse subsided and Heyes slowed his pace. His horse was lathered and steam issued from his snorts. Unable to keep his head from spinning any longer, Heyes slipped into dizzying blackness and fell from his saddle and into the frigid stream. The cold and wet brought him back, as he coughed the water from his lungs. The pain in his arm burned like a hot poker, and he pulled himself to the nearby shelter of the rocks and underbrush. There was no comfort. He shivered under his soaked clothes. His arm hurt. He had never felt such despair, not even when his parents were killed. He had Jed there. They had each other. He was alone, and for all he knew, Kid had died alone in the desert. Heyes broke down and sobbed until his chest hurt. He could barely breathe: the cold, the pain, and the emotional torment he was feeling all took their toll on the weakened man. Hannibal Heyes slipped into unconsciousness on the frosty riverbank.

Chapter 7

The morning sun splashed across Poke’s face. It felt warm, and he smiled in his half-sleep. He roused himself a bit and took in a deep breath. Familiar smells mingled around him… He could smell bacon and eggs, the biscuits, too. Then there was the smell of bleach and naphtha; so clean and fresh. He tried to move, but there was still too much pain. He winced and let out a cry and fell back into the yielding feather bed. He was startled at the yelp of the dog, but it brought in the sound of light footfalls and a bustling skirt.

“So, you’re up, sleepyhead?’ Rhea hurried to his side.

He felt immediate comfort at the sound of her voice and he smiled toward the direction of it. Her hand felt cool on his forehead, and the pungent smell of the bleach and naphtha filled his senses. She said she’d be doing laundry in the morning… that fleeting awareness of something familiar rushed by him again.

“What time is it?” He asked and tried to sit up.

“Nearly nine.” Her gentle voice returned. “Sun comes up so late these days, it makes it hard to do anything early on.

“Weather’s nice, though.” She continued. “Are you up for that set on the porch? Got it all set up for you, if you’re able.”

He nodded.

“I’m up for some more coffee. Gonna make a fresh pot.” She helped him with his morning ritual, talking all along to ease his continuing embarrassment. “Kept some bacon and biscuits warm for you, would you like some breakfast?”

He nodded again as she directed him to the basin on the commode next to him. “It sure smells good, Ma’am.” He leaned on her more than he thought she could bear, but she held him strong and got him into the bent-wood chair. He still only wore the tattered remains of his long johns, and the sun felt good and warm on his unprotected chest. He felt her prop his leg up onto a sturdy crate, then slip the afghan over his legs.

“Lizzie!” She pointed a finger toward the dog. “You stay and watch over our young man.”

“Lizzie?” Poke questioned, then felt the warmth of sun-kissed fur slide under his hand. He pulled back his hand at first, then smiled as he patted the soft coat. He could feel her hot breath against his leg as she panted. Her wagging tail kicked up a slight breeze at his feet.

Before long, Poke felt Rhea nearby. She placed a heaping plate of eggs, bacon, and biscuits at his side. The strong smell of ‘laundry day’ still wafted about. “Do you think you can feed yourself?” She asked as she placed the fork in his hand. “There’s a bit more work in those sheets of yours. They’re quite a mess”,

“Oh, I’m sorry!” Poke’s smile sank. “I didn’t mean to be such..”

“Hush, now...” Rhea put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “That’s not at all what I meant.

“You just eat up… Oh, and don’t let Liz steal from you. She’s quite the beggar!”

Poke reached over and picked up the plate and began to dig into the mound of scrambled eggs and devour the bacon. Rhea was right. Although he still couldn’t see, he felt the warm chin of the old dog rest on his leg. He could almost see her eyes darting back and forth as he hefted one more forkful. “I don’t think there’s going to be enough left for you, girl.” Poke stuffed the last of his biscuit into his mouth, then coyly put the plate down for the dog to lick.

“I see she’s managed to corrupt you, too, and you can’t even see those pleading brown eyes of hers.” Rhea only sounded a little upset.

“Sorry”. Poke smiled a crooked smile.

“You know I can’t let that go unpunished.” Rhea held a devious tone in her voice, and before Poke could respond, a warm bucket of water was dumped on his head! “Time to get you cleaned!” She laughed.

It was a shock, but the warm water that poured over him felt good and invigorating. Rhea had a sponge and a basin next to him. She carefully washed his hair, and took precautions to check the wounds and clean them more thoroughly. She washed his back, and left the other parts to him. She found some old clothes in her cedar chest and laid them next to him. She had split the one pant leg along the seam on blue denim pants she had found so he could still slip his leg in without any problems. Later, she could re-sew them so he’d have a complete pair.

“There’s a bucket of warm water to your left to rinse with.” She instructed her guest. But be mindful that your towel and dry…clean clothes are on the table to your right.”
Poke nodded.

“You’ll be alone for a while.” She stated. “I’m going to the falls to get cleaned up. It’s been so nice, I’m going to take advantage of it while I can.”

It had been a good, long time and Poke was getting a little anxious. He’d managed to get himself clean, and it felt good, after such a long time. Directly, he heard footsteps coming near. He cocked his head to one side, and the rustle of a skirt echoed in his ear.

“Well”, She spoke and Poke beamed at the sound of her voice. “Don’t you shine up like a new penny?” He could hear her as she pulled the dried bedclothes from the line, and smelled their freshness as she passed him. “I’m going to remake your bed up with these. I don’t want you, all fresh and clean on dirty sheets!”

“I don’t want to be a bother.” Poke called over his shoulder. “You just changed those yesterday.”

“You’re not a bother.” Rhea’s voice came from inside the cabin. “Stop trying to apologize for something you didn’t do.” She came back outside and stood next to him and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“I’m beginning to see more things.” Poke looked up at the shadow that was Rhea. “It’s not much, just dark spots in-between light areas, now.”

“ Better and better, every day.” She looked at her young guest and smiled. His shirt was tight about his shoulders and couldn’t be buttoned and the pants, although a bit baggy, only got to just above his ankles.

“It seems you’re bigger in some areas and smaller in others than the last owner of these clothes.” She bent to help him from his chair. “But they’ll have to do for now.” She strained as she supported Poke on her hip.

The two of them carefully walked into the cabin and into the small room that held the bed. Poke could smell the freshness again, and he felt the cool sheets against his one, exposed leg. The bed enveloped him. He held on to Rhea’s neck as she situated the pillows behind his neck. He took in a deep breath. She smelled like the air after a lightning storm. Her still-damp hair brushed his cheek. Impulsively he grabbed her and kissed her. At first she tried to push away, then Poke felt her mouth turn into a big grin… She began to chuckle under her breath. She gently pushed him away and patted him on his shoulder.

“When those eyes of yours are working properly, you’ll see just how flattered I am, and how embarrassed you’ll be.” She pulled the covers up over his legs and then turned to leave.

Poke felt confused as she went about making the night’s dinner.

Chapter 8

The frosty night spilled into a balmy, sunny day. Heyes could feel the warmth of the morning sun on his face. Nevertheless, not even the sun could push away the pain he felt. His arm throbbed and his cheek felt swollen and re-injured. Now he felt a chill, even under the heat of his heavy coat.

Heyes rolled up onto his right arm. He was stiff, and pain shot through him like a searing knife. The gentle gurgling of the stream sounded more like a cannon roar. He held his good hand up to his ear and tried to keep his pounding headache at bay.

He dug his heels into the soft, sandy soil and propped himself against nearby boulder. His fingers felt rigid and they didn’t yield easily as he tried to untie his makeshift tourniquet. As the knot loosened, Heyes felt the warmth of his own blood stream down his arm. Tentatively he slid his coat sleeve from his left shoulder. It still felt damp, so he shook off the rest of the waterlogged vestige.

That straightforward act wore him down. His chest heaved as he labored to get oxygen into his constricted lungs. Sweat poured from his brow, not from just his exhaustion, but from the sweltering sun. His mouth, parched as he gasped for breath, his lips failed to part easily for more air.

He tore at his shirtsleeve and exposed his bloodied arm, and then crawled to the stream’s edge and splashed the bitter water over his wound. It shocked his fevered skin and his body shuddered. He crumpled to the ground on his weakened side and moaned pitifully as tears poured down his flushed cheeks. He girded himself against the pain and leaned back toward the water’s edge, and rinsed out his blood-soaked kerchief. He could feel where the bullet was lodged; inside the fleshy part of his left arm. It was in the back, and he couldn’t remove it by himself. Heyes was going to have to rely on someone else. Someone in a nearby town, or he wasn’t going to make it to the next day.

Laboriously, he pulled himself up onto the rocks and into half-standing position. He looked up at his horse, which stood nearby and watched the whole drama in front of her. He stumbled toward her, using the boulders and shrubbery for support.

“Good girl.” He patted the horse’s neck and stiffly pulled the reins around. “You stayed here.” He draped his heavy coat over the saddle horn.

He found Curry’s hat, crumpled under where he’d been sleeping, and put that up on his horse, too. He re-tied his makeshift tourniquet around his arm, and then slowly, agonizingly he pulled himself up into the saddle and rode off.

He rode for hours, his empty stomach complained, drown out only by the pain in his arm and the confusion in his head. Heyes knew he needed medical help, and food if he was going to survive. Then, he thought, “Why do I need to go on? I don’t have Kid to back me up anymore.

“Even amnesty wouldn’t be the same if I didn’t have the Kid to share it with…” He looked down at the hat that rolled back-and-forth on his leg as his horse loped unhurriedly along. He had to believe Kid was still alive, and if he was, he was going to find him.

Heyes stopped at the top of a butte that looked down into a small town. If he kept at his same pace, he’d make it by nightfall. He gripped at the saddle horn and drew in a deep, sorrowful breath. His face was pale under his dusty, black hat. His eyes were sunk in deep, and rimmed with red and gray. Beads of sweat dotted his forehead and upper lip. With and unsteady hand, Heyes picked up his hat and wiped his face with his sleeve, then ran his hand through his hair and replaced his hat. He drew in another stinging breath and nudged the horse onward.

Chapter 9

It was nightfall when Heyes got into the town. The saloon was full of light and commotion. He pictured an easy game of poker and a couple of beers. He hadn’t eaten since he fled Cotton Creek, and he needed food with what was left of his meager funds. He needed to get his arm taken care of, or he’d soon bleed to death.

Warily, he walked the back streets of the unknown town, and up to the back door of the doctor’s office. He pulled his gun from its holster and cocked the hammer back. He used the butt of it to knock on the door. No one came at his first summon, so he pounded harder. Presently a bent, gray-haired man stepped up and opened the door.

“You the doc?” Heyes pushed his face between the door jam and the door.

“Yes, I am.” The old man smiled at Heyes.

Heyes then pushed in the door with his shoulder and pointed the gun at the stunned man. “Don’t make any noise..” Heyes threatened as he waved the man into the room and closed the door behind him.

“You don’t mean to use that gun, now. Do you?” The old man seemed unafraid.

“I mean to use it whenever I like!” Heyes was atypically cruel as he forced the man farther into the dwelling.

“Young man”, the doctor’s steely gray eyes looked right into Heyes’ with fearless calm. “If you shoot me, I can’t help you.”

Heyes pursed his lips and lowered his eyes. He released the hammer and spun his gun back into its holster. “Don’t do anything stupid, Doc. I know how to use it.”

“Yes, Son, I’m sure you do. It’s probably how you got yourself into this mess.” The doctor slid his glasses down on his nose and stepped toward Heyes’ bloodied arm and tugged at the makeshift bandage. He looked concerned as the blood squeezed out of the ragged puncture. His gaze then went to the festering sore under his right eye. This young man was indeed in very sorry shape.

“When did this happen?” The doctor pulled him to a chair and began gathering strips of clean rags from a nearby cabinet.

“Ummmm…”Heyes was disoriented and shook his head slowly as he tried to remember”. Day… day before yesterday…two days, three… I don’t know?”

“Well, young man…” The doctor began to clean the wounds and assemble his surgical equipment. “You’ve lost a lot of blood. I don’ t know how you’re still standing, let alone talking to me. But… I’ll get this out of you… get you something to eat, and you should be just as right as rain in no time...”

The doctor worked at Heyes’ arm and easily pulled the slug from his arm. With all his movement, it had made its way closer to the skin. He then moved to the slice under his eye. He took a hot poker and let the puss ooze from its engorged pouch.

“How’d this happen, Son?” The doctor spoke calmly to Heyes.

“A case of mistaken identity.” Heyes spoke in half-truths. “I look like an outlaw, and the guy who did this didn’t want to discuss the matter…” Heyes winced as the doctor poured sulfa on the bullet wound, then cauterized it and wrapped a clean bandage around his arm.

“So, you’re not an outlaw?” The doctor was not convinced.

“Would it matter?” Heyes groaned. After all, he had not been in that profession for quite some time. So, no…at this time, he was not an outlaw.

“No.” The old man shook his head and smiled a knowing smile.

Heyes tried to leave, but the doctor held him back. “You need rest, Son.” The doctor’s eyes gazed up into Heyes’ pain-filled ones. There was more than the physical pain, and the doctor could read it easily from the younger man. “Where’s your horse? I’ll put him in my private stable.” He led Heyes to a back room and a comfortable bed. “No one will know you’re here; whomever…. whatever you are, you’re safe in here.”

“Tied up in the alley…” Heyes moaned as his head hit the soft pillow. He was too weak to fight even this frail, old man.

The aged man shuffled off out into the night and returned presently, Kid’s hat tucked under his arm. He walked toward Heyes and checked his sweat-beaded forehead. He tried to take his gun, but Heyes still reacted quickly and held fast to the holstered piece.

“You don’t trust much, do you Son?”

“Used to…” Heyes’ voice was low and rasping. “Trusted me a bunch of people; some good, some not.” He took in a deep, thoughtful breath. “It’s them few that turned, made it tough to trust again…”

“This one”, the doctor brushed Kid’s bloodied hat. “this one you trust?”

“Only one, now.” Heyes started to lose consciousness. “I just hope he’s still around to let him know…” He was out, but his hand still gripped tight to the ivory gun butt.

Chapter 10

Poke rolled over on his side. For the first time in a long time, he felt little pain. He propped himself up on one arm and looked around the room. He could see! Everything was a bit blurry, but he could see. The room was papered in a soft, blue floral print, and there was a small, potbellied stove in the corner. He was in a huge, feathered, brass bed, with bright white sheets and a colorful quilt across him. A brisk breezed kicked up, and he turned toward the window behind him. Lacy curtains ruffled in the morning’s brightness. Through the window, Poke could see a plump woman chopping firewood. Her hair was dark auburn and piled on top of her head in a lazy bun. Streamers of silver and gold tumbled around her flushed, round face. A black, white and tan collie mix trotted up next to her, her gate was a bit unsteady. Then the woman threw a stick, and the old dog was after the toy like a new pup. Poke smiled. He looked out of his door into the main living area. He could see a huge oaken table with four chairs neatly gathered around it. There was a doily precisely centered on the table and huge oil lamp on top of that. The walls in the main room were papered, too. There were pictures on the wall, fall flowers on the mantle and canning jars everywhere. He could see the rocker in which he sat. It was of a creamy background with rich hues of gold, maroon, greens, and browns needlepointed in huge medallions. And yes, the arms were carved into graceful swan’s necks.

Next, the smells flooded his mind. The sweet smell of baked goods; apples and cinnamon swirled in his head. The cleanliness of bleach and naphtha, of sun-baked dirt, and rose water and lavender mingled with all the scents and made him think…. HOME…

Unsteady on his still-painful leg and throbbing head, Poke made it to the doorway. His eyes continued to drink in the sights of these somewhat familiar surroundings. A huge, black kettle simmered something in the fireplace, and he could feel the heat from the cast-iron stove in the corner. Poke smiled to himself, and then frowned. The fact that he could see now, frightened him even more. He hobbled over to the oval mirror by the front door and stared intently at the reflection that greeted him. There were still negligible signs of the bruising on his face, but still, he didn’t know the face that stared back at him. He let out a whimper and put his hand on the reflection, as if trying to make a connection. Who was he, did he have a family, and who would do this to him…and why?

He was pulled from his reverie when a cold nose nudged him in the leg. He looked down to see the old, gray dog wagging her tail and dancing at his feet.

“Lizzie?” He spoke to the dog, then looked up at the approaching form a woman. “Rhea?” He steadied himself on the doorjamb.

“Well, well, well”, The round woman spoke pleasantly as she approached. She wiped her hands on a dusty apron, then pulled it off and draped it on the porch rail. “Look at you, all up and about with no help!” She tried to push back the strands of gray that fell onto her face, but the stubborn tresses refused to obey. The morning sun caught her face as she smiled up at Poke. Lines creased around her eyes and mouth, but her skin was still soft and pink. Her eyes held wisdom, yet sparkled like a hillside meadow in spring. She was youth and age all rolled up in one, compact package. She was stout and round, and held her hip against Poke’s as he started to falter.

“Rhea?” he repeated at her as her arm wrapped firmly around his waist.

“Yes, dear…we’ve established that fact.” She continued to smile and helped him into the dining area.

“I…ummm… I never imagined…”Poke was stuck for words.

“Yes, Son.” She smiled again and urged him into the room and onto a dining chair. “Hungry?” She patted his back and helped to the table. “How about some breakfast?”

“Breakfast?” Poke looked at the grain lines of the table and ran his hands over their smoothness. “Can’t do without breakfast…” He looked up at Rhea, his face full of questions.

“Still can’t remember, can you, Son?” She gently ran her hands through is long, sun-kissed curls, then held his chin in her hand.

“No, no I can’t.” He shook his head sorrowfully.

“We’re in no hurry…We’ll work this out, don’t you worry.”

Poke just nodded his head in uncertainty and smiled at the woman, who now was busying herself with the task of breakfast. Lizzie’s warm muzzle rested on his leg, her brown eyes stared up at him, as if she too were trying to comfort him. “The strange thing is…” he spoke haltingly. “ This almost feels like home, you could almost be my mother.”

“I remind you of your mother?” Rhea’s voice held a bit of sadness, yet she smiled at the perceived complement.

Poke’s blue eyes gazed up at the woman and studied her face, her smile. He dropped his head in overpowering emotion. “I don’t know…. I’m sorry I said that….I don’t have a memory of my mother…”

“Maybe it’s a start.” She rushed to him and placed his head in her hands. “We’ll take this as a good sign, okay?” Poke nodded, and she went back to her task of making him breakfast. He didn’t see the tear in her eye.

Chapter 11

Heyes huddled in the small outcropping of stone. His belly was starting to feel empty, he’d only had the meal the doc gave him many hours before. He also found a few coins in his vest pocket. Coins he knew he didn’t have before. He smiled a sorrowful smile. “A trust.” He tossed the coins in the air, caught them, and slipped them back into his pocket.

His fire was low and provided little warmth. Paulson was only steps behind him, and a blazing fire would send a message to where he was just as easily as if he sent him a telegraph. The prairie chicken that he had shot was old and tough, and had very little flavor, yet it was something. His shoulder was better, but the cold, night air made it stiff. The pain was nearly intolerable. His face felt better. The swelling had gone down and he was nearly back to normal.

A persistent wind whipped at the fire, threatening its demise. The horse whinnied against the cold and tried to huddle into the fire as well. Heyes looked soulfully into the dark, night sky and marveled at the stars. He then scooped up Kid’s hat and held it to him. The fact that Paulson was so dogged after him made him believe that Kid was alive. He just had to find him before Paulson did, or in truth, he would be dead.

“ I wish I had your tracking skills, Kid.” He finally spoke to the wind. “They’d sure come in handy now…” he rocked back and forth, still cradling the battered, brown hat.

Again, his emotions overtook him and he burst into tears. Heyes wasn’t prone to weeping, he didn’t even cry when his parents were killed. Now, with so much pain and uncertainty in his life, he felt overwhelmed. He wasn’t in control. His mind wavered back and forth between believing Kid was dead, then alive, then dead again. He beat on his temples with his fists trying to make all the negative thoughts go away. He was ashamed of his inability to figure out a plan. He was almost glad Kid didn’t see him like this. Finally, exhaustion overtook him and he fell into a fitful sleep, only to wake a few hours later to resume his mission.

Chapter 12

A few days had passed. Poke was stronger and was even beginning to help a bit around the farm. He woke on a gloomy, rainy day. A chill settled in the house. It looked as though the luck of good weather was about to end. He couldn’t quite put his finger on something else. He stood in the doorway and saw Rhea in the far corner huddled over an old chest, a book of some sort in her lap. He could tell she was crying.

Quietly he limped to her side. She jumped as she felt him over her shoulder. She tried to hide her tears as she slammed the book closed. He could see it was a photo album.

“Silly me.” She wiped her tears with her apron and tried to rise.

“Did I do this?” Poke asked, concerned.

“No, no..” Rhea tried to slough off her tears. “Well,” she admitted. “Your comment about me reminding me of our mother; it got me in a melancholy mood”. She slowly opened the photo album to show a number of tintypes of a young boy.

“He’d be about your age, now… if…” He voice trailed off as she caressed the pictures.

“My son..” Rhea looked into Poke’s eyes, her own brimmed with tears.

“We lived in a battle zone back East. From one day to the next, you didn’t know if you were in North or South territory. Our home became a hospital for whatever soldier needed our help.

“I can’t tell you how many young men I saw die, the pain as I sawed off limbs or dug out shrapnel the size of your fist. It was a brutal, brutal time.”

She pulled one picture from its mounting and held it to her chest. “Thaddeus Hugh Bay-Jones Evans.” She laughed through her tears. “Such a big name for such a little boy. We just called him Tad….Our little Tad-pole”

Poke smiled, and a one of those familiar feelings raced in his mind, then disappeared again.

“It had been quiet for some time, and he ached to play in the sun. He had to stay in for so long. All he wanted to do was play with his drum and run in the sunshine.” Her voice became hoarse and her tears ran freely. “One shot. One horrible, deadly shot and my boy was gone!” She sobbed uncontrollably now. “How could a seven year-old little boy be mistaken for a soldier? He was seven years old!” She clutched the faded portrait tighter to her chest.

“Drummer boys were that young.” Poke uttered quietly. That he could remember! “I’m sorry..” He spoke quickly. “I don’t mean to diminish your pain.”

“You’re right…and you remembered something…” She quickly slid the picture back into its holder, closed the book, and slid it back into the heavy chest. “Enough of this!”

She stood and held him out at arms’ length. “Look at you!” She sniffled and her bright smile was back. “You’re walking so much better now!

“I feel better, but Rhea, the boy…”

“No! It was stupid of me to even do that. It was so long ago…

“I need to get you some real clothes!”

“What?” Poke was puzzled by her quick turn-around.

“We’ve been so lucky, but now it’s getting colder. I can’t have you walking around half-clothed this winter, especially if I need you to help bring in wood, or milk the cow…let alone your trips to the outhouse!”

Poke just nodded numbly at her comments.

“I just hope I haven’t waited too long. This weather has turned nasty.

“You are able to get along by yourself for a few days, right?” She quickly turned to face him, her demeanor back to her old, familiar self.

“Yeah…” The young man nodded. “Why?”

Well, it takes me a good three days to get back and forth to town in the wagon. I figure if I can use your horse… I can use her, can’t I?”

Poke nodded again.

“Well, I could be there and back in half the time.

“I have some jellies I can trade for now, so I should be able to get you some trousers and a shirt….Don’t think I’ll have enough for a hat, though.” She bustled around the house and began to gather up the things she needed for her trip.

She carefully slipped her jellies and the spiced apples into Poke’s saddle bags and hurried out to the stable to saddle the horse. Before she got into the saddle, she stopped. A pensive look fell across her face.

“What’s wrong?” Poke asked.

Rhea held a finger up and motioned for him to follow her back into the house and back to the pantry. Apprehension filled her as she pulled the hidden gun from its hiding place and handed it to Poke.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“This is yours. I wasn’t sure of your intentions, so I’ve kept I hidden. I don’t think anything will happen while I’m gone. But just in case…” her voice trailed off.

Poke gazed at the weapon for a long moment and studied it. Then, without a second thought he buckled the gun belt low on his hip, tied the holster down and easily spun the gun out, twirled it a few times and then dropped it back in its holster. Rhea’s uneasiness increased, but she smiled and nodded to the young man as she stepped back outside.

“You know how to ride?” Poke was a bit skeptical.

“Oh, yes!” Rhea smiled nervously. “I haven’t done it in years, but I’m sure I’ll be fine!” She pulled the cinch tight, the threw her leg up and over the black mare. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.” She kicked the horse’s flanks and they took off with a start. “Keep your fingers crossed that the snow holds off!” Her voice trailed off as she disappeared over the ridge.

Chapter 13

Heyes rode sharp-eyed into Eagle Ridge, always wary that Paulson was one step away from catching him again. He pulled his hat low over his eyes as he made his way into the mountain-side town. He scanned the faces of the people as he rode up to the saloon. He barely had enough for a beer, and there were no poker games going on. He sat in the back of the saloon and nursed the last of what he may have in quite some time, his eyes watched the street outside.

His beer gone, and his money, Heyes stepped outside into the chill of the mountain evening. As the sun began to set, he noticed a rider lope into town. There was something familiar about the horse, so he carefully walked past. The rider was a heavy-set female, but the horse…the horse looked like it was Kid’s. The only difference, a scar on its flank. He walked past and swiped a hand along the horse’s neck.

“Nice horse.” He spoke to the woman.

“Thanks..” she spoke out of breath, and limped to the general store. “She’s not mine, I’m just borrowing her.” She slipped into the store, the shopkeeper was just closing up. Heyes followed close behind her and pretended to look at the merchandise.

“Rhea!” The shopkeeper was surprised to see her. “What brings you into town now?”

“Ahhh!” She plopped down the jars of jellies and apples. She was clearly exhausted from her ride. “I have a young hand helping me out at the farm, and his clothes were torn. I need some trousers and a shirt, or the poor boy will freeze this winter!”

“You’re taken an awful risk coming into to town this time of year. Why couldn’t you get here sooner?”

“The boy took a tumble. I couldn’t leave him ‘til now. Besides, I’ve got his horse, so I’ll be able to get back faster than with the wagon.”

The storekeeper nodded as he sorted through her wares. “What size you need, Rhea?”

“Ohhhh… She looked back at Heyes, who tried to look uninterested. “About the size of that young man, there.” She pointed to him.

“I think I’ve got something in back that’ll do for you.” The two disappeared for only a moment, and reemerged with a bundle under her arm.  

“Are you staying in town?”  The man questioned.

“Well”, she looked a bit sheepish.  “I had planed on trying to get back tonight.”

“You’ll do no such thing…You stay here in back, and get a good start in the morning.”  He then looked up at Heyes.  “Can I help you with something, young man?”

“No, no!!”  Heyes replied nervously.  “I… ahhh, I ahhh, ummm don’t see what I’m looking for.  Thanks anyway…” He slinked out the door.

He watched as the grocer put the horse up in the livery and made sure the woman was comfortable for the night. 

After all was quiet, he stole into the livery and slept in the hay.  Not only did he not have any money for a room, this way he could catch the woman and follow her as she rode out in the morning. 

The chill of the night air clutched at his bones like a death’s grip.  His demeanor was bolstered, as he was sure he found Kid, and alive. Then again, this young man this woman spoke of may have stolen Kid’s horse. It may all be a cruel joke on him..  He had to follow her and make certain.  After over two months, he finally felt a small amount of comfort.  He fell asleep, a good, deep, restful  sleep for the first time in a long time.

Heyes woke with a start.  He realized the sun was up and he’d be discovered in the livery if he didn’t hurry out of there.  Stiffly, he rose and looked around…Kid’s horse was gone.  The woman had left. Panic started to set in.  Had he found Kid only to lose  him just as easily?  He kept a sharp eye for the livery master and made his way to his horse down the street.  There was only one way out of town and it didn’t take long to catch up to her and track her down the mountainside, and hopefully to Kid.

                                                   Chapter 14 

There was an icy rain falling when Rhea rode back onto her farm.  Poke had heard the horse’s approach and stood on the porch as she rode up.

“You made good time!”  He smiled as he tugged the shirt around him to ward off the chill.

“You have a good horse.”  She smiled, then grimaced as she slid off the saddle.  “Oh, I don’t want to do that too often.  These old bones are just not used to that type of ride.”  She handed Poke the package and  waved him into the house to change.  “Get going, I can get the saddle.”

Heyes had followed the trail and watched from an outcropping of boulders not too far from the house.  He smiled a broad, relived smile as he saw Kid re-emerge from the house.  He watched for a long moment, then dusted himself off and made his way to the yard.

“Hi.”  He called from the middle of the yard.  Rhea stopped tugging at the saddle and Curry stepped into the doorway.

“You were in town!”  Rhea was a bit on edge. “You followed me?!”

“”Well, yes….I”  Heyes started, but Curry cut him off, his gun drawn and pointed at Heyes.

“What’s your business here, Mister?”  Curry sounded menacing as he took another step on the porch.

“Thaddeus…” Heyes tried to step closer. “It’s me, Joshua.”

Curry looked over to Rhea’s reaction to being called Thaddeus, then he spun back to Heyes and fired of a shot that spat dust at his feet.  “Not a step closer.” Curry warned him.  “I won’t miss the next time.”

“Of that, I’m sure.” Heyes put his hands up.  “Thaddeus, c’mon, it’s me Joshua.  I’ve been looking for you for nearly two and half months…”

“Look, Mister…I don’t know who you are, so you get back on your horse and get outta here before I….”

Curry wasn’t able to finish his thought.  From the stable, Paulson grabbed Rhea and shoved his gun into her temple and wrapped his arm around her throat.  He forced her out into the yard area where both Curry and Heyes could see her.

“You should try callin’ him by his real name…” Paulson snarled as he pushed the woman farther out into the yard.  He had her in a tight grip, and both men could see she was choking.  Her toes barely touched the ground, as she flailed and clutched at his strong arm around her neck.  “Put the gun down, Curry…you too, Heyes…drop the gun or I shoot her now.”  He jabbed the gun barrel into her temple again to make the point.  “C’mon Curry!  Drop the gun or the woman dies” Paulson prompted after Heyes dropped his gun from his belt.

“He doesn’t know who he is..”  Rhea gasped for air and continued to claw at her captor’s arm.

“What?”  Paulson laughed.  “No wonder he was ready to blow your head off, Heyes.”  He walked in closer and demanded that Curry drop the gun again.  As he stepped closer,  Lizzie flew out of the door behind Curry, her teeth bared.  She lunged at Paulson, but he turned the pistol on her and fired  into her head.  She dropped with a single yelp.  Rhea screamed a tortured howl as uncontainable tears streamed down her cheeks.  Curry dropped his gun and Heyes stood in silent horror.  Paulson returned the gun back to Rhea’s temple and smiled and evil smile at Heyes.  “She’s next if you don’t move into the house…NOW!” 

Heyes dutifully walked to the porch and stepped up next to Curry.  Both men entered the front room.  Paulson shoved Rhea into the room, the gun still held tightly to her head. 

“Tie him up!”  Paulson ordered Heyes as he nodded toward Curry.

“Sorry, Kid..”  Heyes whispered as he pulled Curry’s hands behind him on the dining room chair.

“His legs, too!” Paulson snapped as he threw another leather strap at him.  “And make sure it’s tight.”

Now you…” Paulson spun a chair around and indicated that Heyes should sit in it.  He gruffly pushed Rhea toward him and threw more leather straps at her.  “You tie him..”  He commanded.

Rhea shook uncontrollably as she bent to tie Heyes to the chair. She pulled his hands behind him and started to wrap the thin bond around them, but Paulson stopped her.

“NO!” He leaned forward and waved the gun.  “Tie his hands apart, on each side of the chair…his feet, too.”  He leaned back and gave an evil grin. “Heyes is a slippery one, and I don’t want him to be able to wriggle out this time.”

Heyes bent forward and spoke into her ear.  “I’m so sorry…” He wasn’t able to finish.  Rhea looked up into his eyes, hers rimmed in red, her jaw set tight.  She glared back at him.  Distain, hate and mistrust all bore through him like an icy blast.  She tied him as tightly as she could to the chair.  When she was done, she turned to Paulson, the same look spat at him, but he didn’t seem to care.  He pulled her back toward him, then shoved her to the stove.  “Make me some dinner, old woman.”  He demanded.  “And what’ya got to drink around here?”

Dutifully she went to her pantry and pulled out a jug of hard cider and  a slab of salt pork, beans and the fixings for biscuits.  Without a word she went about making food for all of the men.  Paulson sneered at the poor excuse for liquor and gulped down a good portion.  It didn’t take long before he became drunk.

  Curry did not see the bright and happy face he had come to know over the past few weeks.  She even glared at him, and he bowed his head.  He could not look at her.  Even as she fed them the dinner, she scowled at the pair as tears poured from her eyes.  She sat between them, alternating spoonfuls of beans into their waiting mouths.  She watched Heyes’ eyes as they looked back at Curry’s.  She wasn’t sure of her trust of either of them.  She knew she really didn’t like the other man, but he was the one in control.  Halfway through supper, she caught a glimpse of Heyes’ hand tugging on the end of one of his ties.  She could see he was about to get free and she looked straight into his eyes.  He looked back, his eyes almost pleading not to let on he was nearly free.  But she was more afraid of what Paulson might do than any trust she had in these other men.  She stood up, plopped the plate on the table and bent to retie the lacing.  Heyes’ eyes looked beseeching, but she glared back, proud she had done the right thing.  At least she hoped it was the right thing.  She was familiar with the names Heyes and Curry, so she was sure this man Paulson was the law and he was right in his ways of apprehending two, wanted men.

 Kid saw what she had done and looked over to Heyes.  Then watched as she stood to clear the dishes.  He felt his throat go dry when she went to scrape the leftovers in Lizzie’s bowl, which still sat beside the hearth.

 Rhea cried out as she dropped the kettle and swept toward the window.  She held her hand to the cold pane and watched as the driving snow built up around her beloved companion.  A sob caught in her throat as she watched the dog’s coat catch the wind.  The snow was sticking to her, and was beginning to bury her under its white blanket.  “Ohh my poor Lizzie…” She murmured, her tears fell unchecked.

Cruelly, Rhea was wrenched from the window and spun into the middle of the room.  “Quit our belly-achin’ over the mutt…” 

“Leave her alone, Paulson…She’s got nothing to do with us!”  Heyes demanded.

“She’s got everything to do with this…” Paulson ran his hand along her back, then yanked her hair, and snapped her neck back.  “She cost me a good amount of time and money!  I could’a had Kid and his money months ago if she hadn’t meddled!”

Paulson pulled out his gun again and pointed it Heyes, then back at Rhea. “You don’t keep your mouth shut, someone’s gonna get hurt.

“I guess I’m gonna have to get some sort of payback for my trouble..”  He gave a malevolent sneer toward Heyes, then back at the woman as he tugged on Rhea’s hair again and forced a kiss on the horrified woman.  She tried to squirm free, but even in his drunken state, he had a firm grip on her and his gun.

“Leave her be!”  Heyes cried out and tried to free himself from his bonds.

“Get your hands off of her!”  Curry roared at the same time, he too struggling to free himself.

Rhea let out with terrified screams as she tried to pull herself from his grasp.  He held her tightly against him and continued to forcibly kiss her, and grope at her ample chest.  He laughed wickedly as she continued to try and free herself from his abusive attack. His gun never too far from her temple, he saw Heyes out of the corner of his eye and cocked the trigger.

“I’ll shoot her, Heyes, and blame it on you and the Kid…”  He twisted the barrel against her head for emphasis.  “How much do you think they’d up your price if we added murder to your list of crimes?”

“Not even you are that stupid, Paulson…” Heyes’ anger seethed as he twisted his hands back and forth in the bindings, his wrists bloodied.  Kid, too rubbed his wrists raw as he ran them back and forth against the back of the chair trying to free himself.

“Shut up, Heyes!” Paulson was becoming more irritated at him.  He snapped the gun from Rhea’s head and aimed it at him.  He fired, grazing Heyes’ already injured shoulder.  Kid jumped, Rhea screamed, and Heyes took advantage of the confusion.  With every ounce of his might, he launched himself forward, chair and all, toward Paulson.  Both men went crashing to the floor.  Paulson had a hold of Rhea’s dress, and it tore as he fell.  She screamed again and burst into hysterical tears.  This had been her breaking point.  She stood in the middle of the floor and trembled at the sight in front of her.  Paulson was down, Heyes was on top of him, and there was a pool of blood forming under the two men. 

“Help him up!”  Curry shouted at Rhea, but she didn’t seem to hear.  “He’s hurt, get him up!”  He continued to urge, but she still stood transfixed as she starred down at the pair.

“Untie me, and I’ll get him up!”  Curry finally ordered, but she stood, rooted to the spot and trembling. 

After what seemed an eternity, Curry managed to worm his way out of his ties.  He bolted toward Heyes, untied him and helped him to his feet… “You okay, Mister?” He looked concerned, but not what Heyes had hoped for.  His heart sank as he looked into Kid’s eyes and saw there was no recognition.  There wasn’t time to dwell on his problem, Rhea still stood quivering in a corner, and Paulson hadn’t moved.

Heyes bent down and listened for any sign of life and found none.  “He’s dead…”  he spoke matter-of-factly as he pointed to the blood.  “  Looks like he hit his head on the corner of the hearth…”  He looked back at Rhea, who still held contempt in her eyes for all the men who had invaded her home.  Her breathing was fast and hard as she held her torn dress close.  “I never meant for this to happen… I’m just so sor…” Heyes’ dark eyes were rimmed with heartache for the woman.

“SORRY?!”  Rhea blasted at him.  “So, very sorry?” Her voice trembled and her body continued to shudder.  “I’m so sick of hearing you say you’re sorry!”  Her voice cracked with gut-wrenching emotion, then she collapsed.

Heyes and Curry rushed to her side, afraid the whole ordeal had taken her life as well. Both were relieved when they both saw she was still breathing.  It was shallow, yet she still was alive.  They picked her up and placed her on her fainting couch and coved her with one of her quilts.  Then Heyes looked up at Curry…

“You really don’t know who I am, do you, Kid…?”

Curry shook his head and looked around the room, still confused.  “Why do you call me Kid?”

“Huh…”  Heyes laughed a husky, tentative laugh and cocked his head to one side.  “I’ve called you Kid since….since…since we WERE kids.”

“I am who he said I am, then?”  Curry pointed down to Paulson’s lifeless body.  “I’m an outlaw, a wanted outlaw?”

“No..”  Heyes solemnly shook his head. ”Not like he said.  We’re working for an amnesty from the Governor of Wyoming.  We haven’t been outlaws for over two years.”  He put his hand on Kid’s shoulder, but he was startled and backed away.  It hurt Heyes that his cousin didn’t trust him.

“But in the meantime,  we’re still wanted?”

“Look, “ He said.  “Let’s you and me get him out of here, and we’ll talk, cousin..”

“Cousin?”  Curry looked even more confused.

“Yeah…” Heyes put his hands on his hips and looked at the ground.  “It gets a bit complicated.”

                                  Chapter 15 

 They placed a few logs on the fire and begun cleaning up the mess that Paulson had brought upon this woman.  They wrapped him in burlap they had found in the barn, and did the same for Rhea’s dog, but put her inside the tool chest, away from would-be predators.  They cleaned up the blood and even did the dishes, and put the dog’s bowls out of sight, then sat and waited until Rhea came to. 

Cold and exhausted from their ordeal, the men threw some more logs on the fire and settled in to keep warm.  Heyes’ wound had already stopped bleeding and Curry’s wounds were not the worse for wear.

 Heyes had picked out a small log and pulled out his knife.  He propped up the chair he’d been tied in to see a support rail had been broken.  He began to whittle a new one.  He flicked the shavings into the fire. Each new curl brought a  sizzling snap to the blaze.

Curry warmed his hands and took quick glances at Heyes, then back to Rhea.  In due course, he rose and made a fresh pot of coffee.

“You said we’re cousins?” Curry finally spoke.

“Um hmm.” Heyes squinted one eye and smiled out of one side of his mouth. He flicked another curl of wood into the fire and followed Curry’s gaze as he sat back down.  My mother and your father were brother and sister.  Family name is Curry.”  He watched to see if there was any recognition.  There wasn’t.

Unknown to Curry and Heyes, Rhea had come to.  She was aware of the voices and still held panic as to what these men were capable of doing.  She held her breath steady and listened to their conversation.  She hoped it would give her an idea on how to react.

“Were brother and sister?”  Curry questioned as he hooked the coffee pot onto the fireplace catch and edged it into the fire.

“Yeah…been dead for about 20 or so years.”  Another sliver of wood flew into the fire.

“That would have made us just kids when it happened…right?”  Curry studied the face of this familiar stranger.

“Umm hmm…”  Heyes fought back long-repressed tears; his eyes glistened in the firelight.  “Right near the end of the war our farms were overrun by renegade, Southern troops.”  Heyes took in a deep breath as his mind traveled back to that stomach-turning event that changed their lives forever.  “I had just finished my chores and was off to get you for a day of fishing.

“Our farms were close.  We could even see each other’s place.  Mom and Uncle T were close, real close.”

“Uncle T?” Curry quizzed.

Another sad, half-smile crossed Heyes’ face. “I’m getting a bit ahead of myself, but when we got our aliases from Lom, he only gave us last names.  We took our father’s names as first names.  Uncle T… Thaddeus Curry… Thaddeus Jones.” He pointed to Curry with the end of his knife.

“Joshua Heyes?”

“Joshua Smith.” Heyes updated his name and rolled another huge curl of wood from the log. 

“So, what happened?”  Curry was almost afraid to ask.

Another deep breath and a swipe of the knife, but this time with a bit more force.  “They swept down like locusts, quick and without mercy.  They burned the farms, raped, and killed our mothers while our fathers looked on, helpless.  Then shot them, like animals as they pleaded for their lives.”  Heyes’ slices into the wood became more intense.  “I ran, just ran.  I thought they had killed you, too.  Then I saw you, sitting on the riverbank, already a pole in the water.  You’d finished your chores first again.” Another sad smile flashed across his face as Heyes shook his head. “Your mother never gave you too much to do…

“We hid for days in the woods, then made our way to Lawrence, and Grandma and Grandpa Curry.”  Heyes test fitted the new brace into the chair, then went back to his story.  “It was fine for a while.  That is until you started practicing your fast draw on Grandma’s fine china. 

“We became too much for them to handle, and they shipped us off to the Valparaiso Home for Wayawards.”

Heyes had just put more logs onto the fire when Rhea couldn’t hold her position anymore.  She began to cramp up and stir.  Both men stood over  her in anticipation.

“Rhea?”  Curry spoke quietly as he bent near her and she woke with a start.

 She tore the cover from her and stood up quickly.  It was a bit much for her and she wavered…Heyes caught her, but she pulled away angrily. She still wasn’t sure how to take these men.  Once steadied, she looked around her cabin.  It was cleaned of every speck of blood and all neatly in order.  Her eyes sparked in a flash of memory and she flew to the window.

“Lizzie!”  She cried…  “Where’s my girl?”

Curry moved up next to and looked out at the snow-blown farm.  It had changed so much from just a few hours before.  It was bleak and snow-covered.  “We’ve got her in the barn…” His words were compassionate.

“How dare you touch her!”  Rhea shrieked and lunged at Curry and beat his chest with her closed fist.  Heyes ran to them and pulled her away and she began to beat on him as well.  “You had no right, no right to touch her!”  She was hysterical with hate and grief.  “She’s my baby, mine!” Her tears ran down her flushed cheeks as her energy waned and Heyes held her, first by her wrists to stop her beating, then close as he felt her knees buckle.  She looked up into his eyes. Soft and brown, they held such understanding.  But all that had happened confused her.  They were wanted outlaws.  There was a man dead.  A man that had done such atrocities to her and killed her beloved Lizzie.

“We wanted to make sure she was safe….coyotes and the like.  We meant no disrespect.” Heyes’ dark eyes continued to look empathically into hers.

“I loved her, too…” Curry stepped up next to her.

 She still felt too much anger.  She wrestled away from Heyes’ grip and glared at both of them.  She turned toward her bedroom and noticed that even the stove in there had a fire blazing. Confused by what she overheard and saw, she ground her heel into the floor and marched to her room and slammed the door. Both men stood and stared at each other.

                                       Chapter 16   

Daybreak came quickly, and the storm still raged outside.  Rhea rose to the sounds of footfalls and voices in her living room.  She still felt so much pain from the night before, both physical and emotional.  All the horror rushed back to her when she caught her reflection in the mirror.  Her face red, bruised and tear-stained; her dress torn and bloodied.  She changed quickly and headed out to the main part of the house, just as Curry and Heyes were heading out the door, their saddles over their shoulders.

“What do you two think you are doing?”  She sounded more like a scolding mother than the angry woman they had heard last night.

“We’ve caused you enough pain, Ma’am.” Heyes pushed his hat back on his head.  “We figured we’d try and make it back to Eagle Ridge…”

“You’ll do no such thing!”  She scolded and held her hand against the door. “That would be just like you two, putting more guilt on my head!” She wedged herself between the door and the two and prodded them pack into the living room.  “That’s all I’d need, my first trip down the mountain come Spring, to find your two half-frozen, half-eaten bodies rotting on the trail to town!”

Both Heyes and Curry blinked in disbelief.  This was not the same woman from last night.  But Curry had seen how she could turn her emotions around in a blink of an eye, especially after his talk with her about her son.

“You’d never make it more than 500 yards down the mountain, not in your shape. “  She tugged at Curry’s coat.  “And you…” She placed her fingers on the still damp spot where Heyes had been shot the night before.  “You’d never make it either!

“Well, you’re dressed, so make sure your horses are put up…and make sure the barn’s stove is stoked….while you milk the cow and gather the eggs…”  She stopped and turned before the boys opened the door.  “Don’t misunderstand me.”  Her tone became dark again. “I don’t like this setup anymore than you do, but I won’t have another death on my head.  You’ll work for your keep, mark me!”

Once again they started for the door and she stopped them. “And no more of these, these names…Joshua and, and …” She choked on the name.

“Thaddeus..”  Heyes offered, not understanding why she had stopped.  Curry put a hand on his shoulder, but it was too late.  He could see her pain again.

“Thaddeus..”  She repeated, holding back her tears.  What are your real names?”  She looked at Heyes.

“Ahhh, I’m Hannibal Heyes he’s Kid Curry.”

“HIS REAL NAME!” She punctuated.

“Oh, his name is Jed, Jedidiah Curry.”

“Well, then, Hannibal, Jedidiah, this will be your home until Spring, and it’s safe to travel.”

“Yes, Ma’am..” they spoke in unison.  Heyes winced at being called by his first name.

“Now, off to your chores..”

They felt 12 years old again.

They weren’t gone long.  They had already done most of what was asked of them before they had decided to make their way back to town.  When they got back into the house, they were snow-covered nearly up to their chests.  They had also taken time to blaze a trail back and forth between the house and the outhouse.  They had hoped that the bulk of the snow had already fallen and the trial would be passable for some time.

Rhea had a hot breakfast waiting for them from the already gathered eggs and bucket of milk that rested on the windowsill.  She had reheated the coffee that was left from last night.

Sit and eat, boys.”  She nearly ordered them.  “Put your coats near the fire and dry them out…boots, too.”  She plopped down heaping plates of eggs and bacon, and steaming cups of coffee in front of them, then pulled up a chair and served herself, too.                

Silently, she sipped on her coffee and poked at her plate.  After a while she finally raised her head and looked at the pair.  “You two can’t sleep on the floor all winter.  We’ll have to come up with some better arrangement.”

“Floor’s fine, Miz Evans.”  Heyes piped up.  “We’ve slept in worse places.”

“But you won’t in my home!”  She snapped.  “There’s a loft in the back of the cabin, over the water room.  It’d be big enough for you two to sleep in.  Heat from the fireplace would drift up there, so it won’t be cold.  I even think there’s an old mattress up there.  You two can get to that after breakfast.”

They just nodded as they silently ate their food.  Both looked at each other, curious as to what ‘the water room’ would be.

After their meal and the cleanup, Rhea took the boys to the back of the cabin and pushed back a heavy curtain.  The question as to what this room was, was answered as they worked on getting their room constructed.  Heyes marveled at the ingenuity of it all.  Water was fed from the waterfall into a pipe that had a shuttlecock at the bend. At will, the water would flow into a giant, copper tub, fitted with five, old oil lamp burners under it.  A makeshift spigot loomed over tub that sat on a wood-slat floor; open to the rocks below.  It would take all day, but one could take a hot bath anytime of the year, then empty it without too much trouble.

                                          Chapter 17 

Rhea was right on several accounts.  There was an old mattress up on the loft and the heat from the fireplace made it more than comfortable in the tiny room. 

Heyes and Curry were settled in, and hungry.  Smells of Rhea’s cooking had been wafting upstairs all morning long.  She had made beans, but they smelled better than any beans Heyes remembered having in a long time.  Curry was used to her cooking, and how she could make even beans taste different every time.

They made their way down the ladder and to the table, but Rhea admonished them to wash up before the meal.  As they began to sit, she stopped cold in her tracks.  A huge red stain had formed on Heyes’ left arm.  She threw down her dishtowel and ran to her pantry, mumbling something about, “should have taken care of that last night”.  She motioned for Heyes to sit near the light of the window.  He slipped off his shirt and she tended his wound; slathered honey and willow leaves on it, then wrapped it with clean cloth.  It wasn’t bad, but he’d have to take it a bit easier until it healed over.  Graciously, he thanked her as he slipped the shirt back over his shoulder.  They both headed back to the table, where Curry waited patiently to start eating.

“He’d like to have killed you.” Rhea spoke first as she nibbled on a forkful of beans.”

“Huh…yes..”  Heyes gave a deep, whisky-throated laugh as he wolfed down the food.

“Was he a lawman; bounty hunter?”  Rhea nibbled a bit more, unsure if she wanted to hear the answer.

“No, not a lawman.”  Heyes ate a few more forkfuls.  “And not a bounty hunter, not by trade.  He just wanted our bounty.”

“Why?’

“Twenty-thousand dollars is why.” Heyes broke off a piece of biscuit and mopped up some of the sauce with it.  “And, he had a grudge he felt he had to settle with us.”

“Well, did he?”  She asked as she watched Curry lean in to hear the answer as well.

“Well, he thought he did.”  Heyes poured himself a cup of coffee and stirred in a spoonful of sugar.  “He sort of latched on to the Devil’s Hole Gang….our gang, but he wasn’t like the rest of us.  He had a cruel streak in him.  It didn’t bother him if people got hurt.  We were just after the money.”

“Ahh, so you’re good bad men?”

“Well, I wouldn’t go that far, either, Ma’am.”  Heyes smiled again as he snatched another bite of his biscuit.  “It’s just that me and the Kid….Jed here, don’t believe in killing, Paulson didn’t care.”

“His dead body is in my barn.  I’m sure he’d beg to differ that point.”

“That was an accident…” Heyes’ demeanor got a bit darker as he jabbed a finger toward Rhea.

“Yes….yes it was…” Her tone was apologetic.

“So why was he after us?”  Curry needed to know why he was beaten and left in his present state.

“It was about two jobs before the Columbine safe fiasco.  You remember, Kid…ahh Jed…” Heyes looked over to see his partner shaking his head.  “Ahhh, we’ll go into that later.  Anyway, it was a bank job.  It was pretty straightforward, but Paulson didn’t listen to the plan.  He felt he knew better and went off and did what he felt was the way the job should go. 

“We all got away, except for Paulson.  He felt it was set-up, but it wasn’t.  It just turned out bad for him and he got five years for it.  Thing is, none of us cared he got caught.  It was best for everyone”

Rhea didn’t say much.  She just nodded in acceptance and finished her meal.  As it was, that was the conversation for the night.  All of them still felt a bit uneasy of the situation.  Heyes and Curry dutifully cleaned up the night’s dishes.  As promised, they worked for their keep.

Rhea was still fretful of her houseguests and kept to herself.  She’d sit by the fire and work on her needlepoint, knit or crochet something.  All the while intent on the stories Heyes told the Kid.

She heard what was meant as the ’Columbine fiasco’ and how they had dragged the safe all over Colorado trying to open it.  How it was then and there the two of them decided to go to Lom and see if the amnesty this little,  old lady had told them about could happen to them.  She couldn’t help but stifle a giggle when Heyes recounted how the bank blew up from all the dynamite that was used.  She learned how Lom Treavors came up with the names Smith and Jones on the fly and the provisional amnesty the governor of Wyoming had set up for them

Night after night Heyes recounted the stories of how they ran into one setback after another:  Harry Briscoe and the train full of Bannerman Detectives, running into old acquaintances, like Jim Plummer, Harry Wagner,  Charlie O’Rourke, and of course Clementine Hale.

While Heyes talked, Curry listened, fascinated by the tales, but unable to recall them as memories.

                                           Chapter 18  

Days tuned into weeks and a routine fell over the trio.  Most of the time  was spent in remaking the trail to the outhouse.  It seemed as soon as they had a path cleared, another mountain snow would fall and fill in their work.  Other daily tasks kept them from being bored.  The stoves in the barns needed to be kept up to keep the livestock from freezing; plus there was the  daily milking and egg-collecting.  Simple, routine days that made both men reminisce of their days as boys back in Kansas.  Heyes marveled at how many different ways Rhea could make beans never tasted the same way twice, and her pies and other goodies that came from the seemingly endless larder.  He and the Kid had begun to put on a bit of weight from all of her good cooking.

It seemed the tension had eased a lot from those first few days and Rhea looked forward to Heyes’ nightly stories of the Devil’s Hole Gang and he and Kid’s bid for amnesty.  It pained her almost as much as it did Heyes when Kid just nodded and smiled at the stories, still not able to grasp them as memories.  Even still, there was a bit of apprehension in her.  After all, they were Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry, and she was an old woman, alone with these two men in an isolated cabin in the mountains.  Anything could happen….anything…..

  There wasn’t much to do besides the chores in the long, dark, days of winter.  They had noticed that Rhea had fallen back into her sullen moods.  She became less talkative again.  She concentrated on her needlepoint, but she seemed frustrated by the whole thing and often threw it down only after a few moments of her picking it up.  Darkness enveloped this secluded abode.  Days began at nearly 10, and shadows grew long again by four.  They boys kept their respectful distance, but still tried to include her in  their card games.  She more often than not declined.  And when she did attempt a game, it was often over quickly.  Frequently, she would silently retire into her room, not to emerge until the next day.

Both men had turned in early after a rousing game of checkers, as it had gotten too dark to play, even by firelight.  The days were very short near the end of December., and very often they all spent most of their time huddled in the warmth of their beds.  On one of those long, lonely nights, Heyes woke to a noise in the lower area and watched as Rhea , wrapped in a black cloak, stole into the shadowy night.  Carefully he stepped from the loft and watched out the window at the silhouetted figure.  She moved from the barn to a pile of wood that lay not too far from the cabin.  In her arms, the dead, frozen body of her beloved pet.  She placed the still-wrapped body of her adored Lizzie on the wood pile and set it ablaze.  She stepped back from the inferno and drummed on a large, round tambourine-like instrument.  Heyes thought he could hear her singing.  Quietly, he raced up the stairs and got Kid to join him.  Silently, together they watched as Rhea said a final goodbye to her precious companion.  They stood side-by-side for the better part of two hours and watched as the fire slowly died into glowing, red embers in the bright, white snow, as new flakes began to steadily fall .  As Rhea finally turned to leave, both men turned and scurried up the ladder like a pair of youngsters trying not to be caught on Christmas Eve.  They both peered over the edge of their loft and watched as Rhea; face blackened by soot, streaked by tears, haltingly went back to her room, shut the door, and sobbed into the night.

                          Chapter 19   

The cabin felt a bit cold as Curry and Heyes rolled out of bed that next morning.  Usually, by now Rhea had a steaming pot of coffee on the stove and breakfast nearly done.  But cinders met them, barley smoldering as they made their way down the ladder into the main part of the home.  Tentatively, Heyes knocked on Rhea’s door.

“Miz Evans, are you all right?”  He called softly.  He was startled as the door flew open and she greeted them with sunken eyes and pale skin.

“Fine, boys” her voice was heavy and graveled.  “I just overslept.” Her movements were slow and measured.  She looked at her ebbing fire and sighed heavily and headed toward the door.  “Firewood..” she mumbled as she made he way to the door.

“Let Jed and I get it, Miz Evans, you rest”.  Heyes tried to force her to sit, but she drove him off with a weak push.

“Leave me be.”  She pushed past both men and out the door.  “I’d have to do this if you two weren’t here, now wouldn’t I?” She started to wheeze heavily as she stepped away from the pair.  She grabbed at the doorjamb to steady herself then reached for a log, but fell to the ground, drained.  Kid and Heyes raced to her side as she was nearly enveloped in the soft, newly fallen snow  They scooped her up, now on the verge of total collapse.  She gasped for every bit of precious air she could get into her lungs.  Her face was flushed with both fever and the redness of the cold snow on her.  She shivered and began to cough, her body racked with every tumultuous rumbling bout.

Heyes and Curry looked at each other in frightened puzzlement as the woman fell limply into Heyes’ arms.  They had to do something or this woman who had taken them into her home as her own, would most certainly die.  Heyes pulled her by the fireplace and poked at the embers to entice them into a flame.  Kid instinctively ran and got the wood that Rhea had started to fetch only moments before.  The fire roared back to life as Kid threw one log after another onto the hearth.  Both men carefully removed her wet clothes.  Kid dashed back and retrieved her warm, flannel nightgown.  They put her on the chaise and pushed it closer to the blazing fire.

“What do we do?”  Curry looked to Heyes for direction.

“I…I don’t know…” Heyes covered the woman with a heavy afghan and gazed questioningly around the room as the woman’s breathing became more labored and aggravated.

“Go check in her pantry…” Curry urged.  “Every thing she’s ever needed has come out of that door…”  he pointed to the huge door wedged between the cast-iron stove and the fireplace.

Heyes rummaged around in the cavernous room carved out from the mountainside.  He found jar upon jar of exotic herbs, spices, and things he had no category for.  As he opened one jar after another and smelled into each of them, one caught him off guard and brought tears to his eyes. It was labeled camphor leaves.  “Ohh..  yeah, that’ll do it!”  Satisfied he snatched it away and ran back into the other room and showed them to Curry. 

“Perfect!” The other smiled and stood to face him.  “That’s what your mother used when you got sick with the croup.” He raced for the stove and dug out a huge kettle for water.  Again, he dashed out into the snowy day and gathered up more logs and stoked the small, pot-bellied stove in Rhea’s room.  Together they hurriedly worked to make a steam tent for Rhea.  Heyes gathered up all the pillows he could find to prop her up.  They took  sheets and found ropes to make the enclosed area around her head to force the camphorated steam into a confined area.

Exhausted after several hours of wearisome work the two slumped back on chairs on either side of Rhea’s bed.  Heyes propped his feet on the corner of the bed and let out a heavy sigh and smiled a weary smile.  “Kinda like that time you got sick up in Clarence’s cabin…”

“Yeah….” Curry laughed without awareness.  “That’s where you caught on to ol’ Doc Beauregard and his ear tube…”

Heyes’ smile grew wider and a slow, deep  chuckle built in his chest.  “Kid?”  he asked in a hushed tone.

“Yeah…? The other responded.

“Wasn’t Miss Porter about the prettiest banker you ever met?”

“Oh yeah…  That’s why I felt a little bad about teachin’ Lom a lesson when we blew up her bank…”  As Curry got closer to the end of his sentence he slowed his measure.  A considerable grin fell across his face as the realization hit him.  He had his memory back.  “Heyes!’  He whooped.  “Heyes, it’s me…it’s you… I know who I am!”  He leapt to his feet and wrapped his arms around his cousin in a tight embrace!  Rhea stirred a little, but then fell back into a fitful rest.  Her breathing sounded like someone rattling marbles in a box.  Heyes was confident that his tent and steam combination would ease her breathing, so he held his finger to his lips and shushed Kid, and motioned for them to step out of the room.

The two carefully stepped out into the living area and closed Rhea’s door behind them.  It felt cooler in the bigger part of the house; refreshing after their quick-thinking, but sweltering past few hours.  Kid threw a few more logs onto the larger, household fireplace and the room roared to life in an amber glow.  The two men pulled in close to the flames and watched as the flames danced across the hearth.  There was so much to say, but neither could find the words to speak.  They smiled a lot and shook their heads.  Both fought back tears, but a few flowed, in spite of their bravado.  Soon, they wilted down into their chairs and fell asleep.

                                                    Chapter 20 

Kid was first to rise.  He felt the chill of the waning fire as he came around from his night’s slumber.  He smirked at Heyes, all huddled down in the rocker.  His long legs stretched into nearly the middle of the floor.  He poked at the embers and threw a few more logs on to the fire.  He ambled about the cabin as he found the fixings for coffee, grits, and a ham-and-egg breakfast.  He checked in on Rhea, too.  Her stove was weakening as well, so he threw a few more logs in her stove brought the warmth back into the room.  He filled her kettle and put more of the camphor leaves into it.  The room immediately became pungent with the releasing oils.  Kid leaned in and checked to make sure she was still breathing.  It seemed that Heyes’ contraption worked, as she seemed less congested and was resting comfortably.

The smell of Kid’s cooking roused Heyes.  He rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he focused on his cousin, dutifully poised at the huge, black stove, scrambling up a skillet full of eggs.

“That was quite some night last night…”  Heyes walked behind Kid, slapped him on the shoulder, and poured himself a steaming cup of coffee.

“Yeah…good to be back…”  Kid smiled a broad smile and slipped the finished eggs onto a large platter that already held several slabs of ham.  Heyes grabbed some plates and silverware and followed Kid to the table.  Quietly, the two began to eat.

“This is some place, y’know?”  Kid pointed with his fork.  All these gadgets Mr. Evans made before he died…  Real genius.”

“Yeah…”  Heyes acknowledged as he scooped up a huge forkful of eggs…  “ I wonder what he was hiding from?”

“Hiding?”  Kid was puzzled.  “What makes you think he was hiding?”

“Look around you, Kid…  This is almost the carbon copy of Devil’s Hole”  Heyes looked around.  “Ohh, this is a lot prettier, no bunkhouse and no little stream running in front of the place…but almost a perfect match.”

Another one of Kid’s lights went on…”Ahhh, that’s why it felt like home!”

“Well,  that… and Rhea is a lot like our mothers.

“ I’d like to think that, anyway…”  Heyes smiled a tender smile.

“Still…”  Kid gathered up the dishes and headed to the sink.  “I’m beginning to feel a bit restless, though.  I think I’m getting the urge to move around again.  This place IS lovely, but I just can’t see me here for any length of time.  I can’t imagine what it would be like for us if we were REALLY in prison.  This is about as close as I want to get…”

“PRISON!?”  Rhea’s infuriated voice came from the doorway.

A consuming silence fell across the cabin, punctuated only by the howl of the winter’s wind and the lone snap of the blazing fire.  Both men were frozen on their mark, horrified that she had heard those words.  Before they could explain, she slammed the door of her room.  Heyes heard her weight fall against the door as he and Kid raced to the door.

“Rhea…”  Heyes pleaded…”Open up…”

“NO!”  She moaned back.  “Just leave me alone!”  Her breath came in huge sobs.  “Prison…?”  strained through the door.  “Is that what you think….?”  More weeping followed as she banged on the door with her fists. 

“Rhea…..”  Curry tried this time.  His voice was soft and calming…  “please open the door.  It’s me, Poke…”  He used the name she had given him.

“Go AWAY!”  She screeched.  “ I can’t do this anymore…Let me die…

“Prison…prison?  Yes, this is a prison, but not for you…ME! 

Heyes glanced quickly at Kid then back to the heavy door.  He tried to push it open, but it had been locked from the inside.  He could feel Rhea’s weight against it.

“You….you’ll leave the first sign of Spring… gone…away…forever…And I’m alone…again…

“What did I do that would make the Great Architect of all Creation leave me like this…alone…no one to love…no one to love me?

“Why did I have to watch my son die… torn from my heart and arms in such a cruel and senseless fashion?  Is there any meaning to it?”  She cried more and more.  Her head and fists pounded a continuous beat against the door.

“Why did my husband steal me away to this retreat to hide from the world…To tinker day and night for ‘my own good, ’then one day…after 20 years, say that he abhorred to even look at me….that I was the root of all his heartache.  I was responsible for HIS son’s death.  I had no right to my feelings…and he left…just left, to leave me alone in this….this….isolation?  No…no he didn’t die….He left one beautiful, sunny October morning…  Packed his things, told me he never loved me and rode off!

 “You…even if you are caught and locked up…you’ll have each other…You know you are there for each other…  I have no one…no one…nothing!  The more I heard you talk, the more you told of your life; the more I hated you!  Ohhh, not because of your thieving ways, but because there are so many people out there that care for you… that would do anything for you…  I’m jealous!

“PRISON!?”  She shrieked again.  “Try living in a prison where you KNOW there is no escape, no reprieve…no one in the world who cares for you…the emptiness of no human contact.  The want of the touch of someone’s arms around you, and knowing you’ll never know that feeling again…the prison of your own life…..  I don’t want to live in that world….  I can’t live in that world anymore!!!!”  She sobbed in great gulps of air.

The two just stared at each other, not knowing what they should say…if they should say something at all.  Kid started to speak, but Heyes cut him off with a finger to his lips and a concerned shake of his head.  He motioned to the other to step away from the door.

“You can’t …”  Heyes admonished his cousin.

“I can’t what; tell her we care?”  Kid stood defiantly.  “You can’t just let her die….Freeze to death in her own room; in her own tears.  You know that fire’s going to go out pretty soon?”

Heyes nodded his head and tried to smile.  “You know I wouldn’t do that!”  He reproached the other.  “But you just can’t go telling her…’yeah, we love you.’  You know that wouldn’t work.  She wouldn’t believe you.  To her it would be empty words spoken in an attempt to calm her for the moment.  She knows were going to leave in the spring.  It would just reinforce her claims.”  He walked to the middle of the room, his eyes darted from side to side as he tried to think.  “She’ll cry herself out in no time, then we’ll have to make our move.”

“HOW?”  Kid followed him.  “She’s in a locked room, and I bet she’s still up against the door.”

Heyes’ familiar, shrewd grin returned.  “Kid…. since when has a locked anything kept us from what we wanted?”

                                       Chapter 21  

Several hours had passed, and the sobs from the back room had ended.  Heyes could still hear her rasped breathing from the other side of the door.  Picking the lock was a snap for Heyes, pushing the unconscious Rhea against the heavy door was the more complex of the two tasks.  Neither man wanted to harm her anymore than she already was. 

As predicted, the room was cold and dark, and Kid snatched up some logs and quickly made a fire in her small stove.  Heyes cleaned up her bedding and carefully placed Rhea back into her bed.  He gently pushed back her hair, then took a warm rag, and cleaned her tear-stained face.

“You know, Heyes, she’s gonna be upset when she wakes up and finds we’ve ignored her wishes..”

“Yeah…”  Heyes murmured as he stared at the spent body.  “We’ll just have to deal with that when she comes to.”  He tucked her tightly under the sheets and turned his attention back to Kid.  “Meanwhile, we’re going to have to get some food into her.  Those eggs were pretty good, how about you go make some soup?”

Kid smiled and darted out the door.  Heyes stayed at Rhea’s side for a moment and brushed his thumb across her cheek as if to wipe away an unseen tear.  “I’m sorry….”  He spoke softly into her ear.  “that we bought all this new pain on you...”

Heyes stood in the doorway and watched as Kid put together the makings of the soup.  He then looked back at Rhea.  There was an uneasy comfort in the whole scene.  He hoped that when Rhea came to, she would know… truly know how much she meant to them.  He knew it would take more than words to convince her, and right now, he wasn’t sure it could be done.  Not only did they have to overcome the pain that had been inflicted on her because of Kid and him, but now there was the past that she had revealed.  This would take all of Heyes’ talents, but not as a scheme or a con.  No, Heyes would have to use something he hadn’t in a long, long time….his heart.

The soup had simmered for hours and had built up a heady broth.  Kid skimmed the richest liquid in a bowl and he and Heyes marched into Rhea’s room.  She hadn’t stirred, which left the men a bit concerned.  Kid enticed Heyes to wake her.  It wasn’t going to be any easier if she woke on her own or if they did it.  The two braced themselves for the worst.

Gently, Kid shook her and called her name.  At first she was disoriented, she then saw the figures of Kid and Heyes and her fury was unleashed.  She used all her strength to swipe away the covers.  In the process, she sent the soup bowl careening across the room and sent it smashing to the floor.  Kid had to duck out of the way or it would have hit him in the head.  She tried to scream at the pair, but her recent outburst left her unable to utter a sound.  Heyes took advantage of her hesitation and forced her back down onto the bed.  He held her wrists down and came nose to nose with her. 

“Look, I’m trying to help you.  If you continue to make a fuss like this, I’m gonna have to tie you to the bed!”

She glared back at him as if to say, you wouldn’t dare, but Heyes scowled back in an equally intimidating gaze.  She knew he meant business.

Another bowl, JED!”  He instructed Kid, and the other dashed out of the room.  He returned quickly with another steaming bowl of broth.  Heyes motioned to Kid to hold her hands down as he sat next to her on the bed.  He scooped up a spoonful and held it to her mouth.  Defiantly, she pursed her lips and snapped her had away from the offered fare.

“Open up, Rhea!”  Heyes demanded.  “Open up and let me get some food into you!”

She shoved her face deeper into her pillow, resolved not to let the spoon pierce her lips.  She thrashed about, and tossed her head back and forth for a good half hour.  Heyes was exhausted, and he had no clue as to where she was getting her energy.  Frustrated, angered and annoyed by her self-indulgent outburst, Heyes slammed down the soup bowl on the bed-side commode and tramped out of the room.  He returned moments later, his blue-black gun in his hands.

“HERE!”  He announced as he plopped the gun on Rhea’s chest.  “You wanna kill yourself…use this.!”

Kid stepped back, his eyes were wide with disbelieve.  “Heyes…?”  barely brushed past his lips, but Heyes held up his hand and indicated for him not to make a sound.

“You wanna die, fine…but make it quick.  Don’t make Kid and me sit here and wait in the other room while you freeze and starve yourself to death!  You can’t ask us to do this… you can’t tell us to do this…We won’t…  We can’t!

“We’re not the ones you want to hurt with this…He’s not here…  He’s not going to be here…  And he’s not going to care one way or the other. 

“I understand your pain and your feelings…but if your want to go…  GO!  Make it quick and stop all this playing around!”

Rhea howled great huffs of air as tears once again rolled down her cheeks.  She pushed the gun from her chest and sent it crashing to the floor.  Curry stepped back, his eyes blinked in panic.

Heyes drew in a deep sigh of relief.  His mouth quivered into an uneasy smile as he bent over Rhea and whispered in her ear.  “No more of this, okay?”

Sluggishly, she nodded.

“Let’s finish this soup….”

Again, she nodded as she turned to face Heyes.  Her mouth, dry and parched, parted to allow the spoonful of soup to enter.  She was very hungry, but was only able to finish about half of the soup before she fell asleep.

“Here…”  Heyes handed the bowl to Kid.  “You take care of this and try and get some sleep.  I’m gonna stay here for  awhile and make sure she’s all right.”  He pulled the rocker around so he could use the bed as a footstool.

“You sure?”  Kid asked warily as he glanced at the gun still on the floor.

“Yeah…”  the weak smile returned.  “  I’m sure.”

“Okay, but I’ll be in, in a couple of hours to relive you…”

“Sounds fair…” 

                               Chapter 22   

Kid rolled over to see the morning sun slice a bright path across the living room floor.  He wondered how late in the day it really was, and scurried down the ladder to see if Heyes and Rhea were all right.  Along the way, he poked at the embers and threw a few more logs on the main fireplace, then quietly opened the door to Rhea’s room.

It was bright, as her south-facing windows let the warmth and the light in her room.  Heyes sat slumped in the chair and Rhea was curled up and facing away from him.  Cautiously Kid placed a hand on Heyes’ shoulder.  He woke with a start.

“Shhh…”  Curry placed his finger to his lips as Heyes wiped the night’s sleep from his eyes. 

“You know that was a pretty bold move you took last night.?”  Curry reprimanded Heyes as he picked up the gun, which still rested on the floor, and handed it back to the other.

“Yeah….  I know.”  Heyes sat up in the chair and looked over at the sleeping form.

“You really weren’t going to let her shoot herself, were you?!”

“No…  Really Kid, do you think I could do that?  Heyes looked a bit offended by Kid’s comment.  “What happened was what I had hoped would happen…”

“And if she had gone for the gun…?”  Kid urged.

Heyes drew in another heavy breath and looked up at Kid, then over to the sleeping woman.  His brow furrowed and his eyes went skyward as he pondered for a moment.  “If it had come to that….  I’d hope I would be faster at getting to the gun than she was.  But, that’s a road I thankfully don’t have to travel down.”  He ended with a tired smile.

“This is not the woman who found me, Heyes”  Curry crouched down to look at his cousin in the eyes.  “We did something to her that changed her…changed her life.

“We opened old wounds and caused new ones.  What we’ve done to her is inexcusable.”

Heyes placed a comforting hand on the other’s shoulder and looked into his crystal, blue eyes.  “We’ve done nothing wrong, but yes, our being here has caused some grief.  But she was there for you when you needed her…, and for me…  We were here for her, too…”  Heyes drew in another one of his long, pensive breaths and gazed skyward.  It was something Kid had seen him do thousands of times when he thought.  There was a comfort for Kid in that look.

“You don’t know the true sound of her voice, Heyes… the one that made me feel safe when I was scared and didn’t know who I was, where I was.  I need to hear that again..”  Kid shot a glance over his shoulder at her.  “There is something comforting about her.  I care deeply for this woman…”

“I know…I  know, Kid”  Heyes stood and stretched his stiff muscles and quietly walked to the door.  “She helped me, too  find something in myself that I thought I’d lost a long time ago.  If I had let her die, either by just letting her stay in here or …” he looked down at the gun in his hand…”I would have lost a good portion of myself, too.”  He looked squarely into Kid’s eyes again, they had a glisten of a tear in them…”It’d be like watching Mom die all over again…” There was a shudder to his voice.  “I’m finding I too, have a great fondness for this woman.  It’s a scary, but a good feeling.”  He shook his head.  “It wouldn’t be so bad to stay here, but I don’t think that’s what the governor or Lom had in mind when they said stay outta trouble.

“It would be easy for us if we holed up somewhere until this all blew over, but what would that prove?  No Kid, we need to know we can function out there, face temptation and walk away.”  He smiled and tugged on Kid’s vest as they moved out into the rest of the house.  Quietly, he closed the door.

Unbeknownst to them, Rhea had been awake and listened to the whole conversation.  Tears ran down her cheeks and she stifled sniffing until she knew they were gone.  As she heard the door close, she rolled over in her bed and stared sorrowfully at the door.  Then a smile crossed her face.  She wasn’t alone anymore…

Throughout the next few days, Heyes and Curry watched over Rhea, each taking their turn in making sure she was fed and tended to.  There was never a word spoken about that horrific night.  Rhea just got stronger and stronger.

It had been about two weeks since Rhea had taken ill. Today she felt the strongest she had in weeks and quietly padded out into the main house.  She pumped herself a kettle full of water and placed it on the hearth, along with a teapot.  It was a great triumph.  She had managed to make herself a pot of tea.  She rested at the dining table and watched as another blizzard covered the paths to the various outbuildings.  She was deep in thought and was startled as Curry stepped up behind her and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”  He smiled.

“Just thinking…”  She responded, her voice was still deep and raspy.  “I pulled a pretty bone-head stunt…”

Kid held up his hand, motioned for her to stop, and then reached for her hand.  “We all make mistakes.  I’m just glad Heyes…Hannibal and I were here to…to… well, you know?”

Rhea smiled a warm smile as she glanced down at their hands.  She nodded then patted his top hand with her other hand.  “Yes, it was good that you and Heyes were here…”

Curry’s eyes shot her a questioning gaze.  “Heyes?” he asked

“Yes, Kid….Heyes…”

There was an immediate understanding.

Kid drew in a deep breath and looked out at the white-covered landscape.  “Looks like we’re going to be busy again, today!”

                                Chapter 23

Even though the final months of the year are the coldest and the darkest, there was a new-found lightheartedness in the cabin nestled in the canyon.  Every morning the boys woke to the smell of fresh, baked goods and the sound of Rhea’s soft, soprano voice.  She sang ancient Welsh tunes as she scurried around her kitchen.  Some of them were rousing refrains, others were soothing, melodic lullabies.  These were the sounds that had given Kid so much comfort.  Heyes was feeling it too.  A great and wonderful change had enveloped the trio.  There was a sense of family. 

Early in February, every window of the house flaunted a burning, white candle.  Rhea coaxed the boys out to hunt for signs of life: bird and small animal tracks, buds on trees and green trying to poke its nose through the frozen ground.  It was such fun.  They even had a snowball fight.  But in the back of her mind, it was a bittersweet time.  She knew the boys would be leaving and she would truly be all alone again.  She made an effort to store these happy times for later, and she enjoyed all these moments to their fullest.

The long nights were filled with the same stories Heyes had told before.  Now, however, Kid filled in with his own point of view.  There were times that all of them held their sides and tears poured out from laughter.  Even some of the scarier and discouraging events in their stories took on a humorous edge.  One story hadn’t been told.  The one that divided these two men and sent them on separate paths to bring them here.  Heyes didn’t want to go along that route, but Kid had pushed and pushed.  Now, as their days here were growing shorter and shorter, Heyes gave in.

He told of the fight for the amnesty and how Paulson and his men had gotten the drop on them.  His voice cracked when he told Kid how he had seen the rope snare his neck, and how he broke free.  There had been so much gunfire, he couldn’t see how he got loose.  All he knew was Kid had broken free and ridden off.  Paulson had snared him, beat him to a bloody mush and thrown him in this cellar.

“He said you were dead, Kid.”  Heyes’ voice broke.  “I thought he was right, ‘because you’d never leave me like that.”

“Heyes…”  Curry shook his head.  “I don’t remember any of that.  Something must have happened.  I couldn’t leave you, I wouldn’t leave you…”

“I know…”  Heyes gave a somber smile and continued.  “When Paulson threw me your hat to prove your death…”  He broke off.  “The blood…”  His voice halted as he tried to hold back the pain.  “My head told me you were gone, but here…” he jabbed at his heart.   “  here…I knew I had to find you, and alive!”  The two embraced and held each other for a long while.  Tears flowed all around. 

Rhea was the first to try and dry her tears.  She stood up indignantly and wiped her tears furiously with her apron.  “That’ll be enough you two.

“Now… how long did you say you dragged that safe behind you?”

The room burst into laughter.  The moment was over.  It was with that silly question, Rhea let them know she had her fill of sad stories.

The day had come that all had looked forward to both with excited anticipation and dread.  Heyes and Curry had their horses saddled and ready to go.  They had helped Rhea load the body of Paulson into her buckboard and gotten her horse hooked up.

“It’s going to be a lonely trip without Lizzie at my side.”  She looked up at the men.  They still had a bit of a worried look in their eyes.  “Ahhh…”  She smiled.  “Don’t worry.  No one will ever know you two were here.  My ranch hand, Poke left.  This man came at me and hit his head and died.  End of story.”

“Well, I’m sure you’ll embellish it a bit more than that, Miz Evans..”  Heyes cocked his head to one side and squinted one eye into the sun.

“Well, a bit….”  Rhea situated herself on the seat and started to slap the horse, but stopped.  “Boys….”  She looked at them.  I’m going to miss you both very much.  You’re both like a bit of my boy; what I’d hope he’d had grown into if he’d been given a chance.  Circumstances forced you to do what you had to do.  I don’t fault you one bit.  I’m sure your mother is watching over you and smiling.  I know if you were my boys, I’d be proud….”  She snapped the reins and rode off before the two could answer her, and before she let them see her break down and cry.

                                                         Epilogue    

It was a late-summer day when two riders crested the overlook of the box canyon.  Rhea looked up from her garden and smiled a huge smile.  She recognized the silhouettes immediately.

“What are you two doing here?”  She slapped the dirt from her hands and wiped them on her apron.  “I thought I’d never see you again!”

“Well, “ Came the familiar drawl of Kid Curry”,we just had to come by one more time.”

Heyes looked around and noticed quite a bit of new equipment, even a better buckboard and a few more horses cattle and a couple of pigs.

“Looks like you got a good deal on you canning, Miz Evans.”  He smiled.

“Ohh, well, that..”  She blushed.  “Seems I did have to embellish on my story a bit.  Turns out your Mr. Paulson got a little careless while looking for you, and killed a man he thought was you in Turtle Creek.”  She bounced on her toes, quite proud of herself.  “I got me a $5,000 reward for turning him in…”

She held up a dipper of cool water for the two and noticed a sack over Kid’s shoulder was…..moving….  Curry was already in the process of wrestling with the package.

“Congratulations!”  Both men chimed in.  By now, Curry had pulled a tiny, collie-mix puppy from the sack.

“Heyes and me….”

“Heyes and I…”  Rhea corrected.

“Heyes and I… were on a cattle drive.  One of the trail dogs had pups.  This one was the runt of the litter.  The hands started calling her L’il Bit.  Well, we thought she needed a good home…”  Curry handed the squirming pup down to Rhea’s waiting arms.  She held the tin cup up to the pup’s mouth and it thirstily drank down the rest of the water.

“L’il Bit, hmmm?”  Rhea laughed as the pup began to lick her face.

“You boys must stay for dinner…I can..”

Heyes interrupted.  “We ‘d love to, but we’re going to miss a train.  We have another job lined up with a friend of ours on the Texas/Mexico boarder..”

“Ohhh, McReady!”  Rhea questioned.  The boys laughed.  They forgot she knew as much about them as anyone.  They nodded.  She motioned for them to bend down and gave them each a huge kiss on the cheek.  “Thank you both so very much.

“Remember, that governor snaps that rug out from under you, you got a home here with me…”

“We’ll remember…”  They leaned over and kissed the woman on the forehead.  They snapped their mounts and turned swiftly about.  Rhea watched at the pair disappeared in a cloud of dust.

“C’mon Lilly, let’s see what we’ve got for you…”