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 Jan 2019 - The Pulley (think... pilot)

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Calico

Calico


Posts : 873
Join date : 2012-04-22
Age : 59
Location : Birmingham

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PostSubject: Jan 2019 - The Pulley (think... pilot)   Jan 2019  - The Pulley  (think... pilot) Icon_minitimeWed Jan 02, 2019 9:18 am

A happy new year to one and all chbottle chbottle chbottle

Apologies for late posting - this is laptop gremlins, not laziness for once.

We have a writer suggestion for our first topic of 2019...

Cast your mind back to the contraption conveying the safe breaking equipment in the pilot...

Your challenge is;


The Pulley...



Let the mechanical machinations begin

catval
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InsideOutlaw

InsideOutlaw


Posts : 882
Join date : 2012-04-22
Age : 68
Location : Colorado

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PostSubject: Re: Jan 2019 - The Pulley (think... pilot)   Jan 2019  - The Pulley  (think... pilot) Icon_minitimeWed Jan 16, 2019 1:14 pm

A Day Early, A Dollar Short - Chapter 5

The smoke increased as the afternoon wore on and the Kid could feel his eyes watering and his throat was sore, the taste acrid in his mouth.  Mac had taken to coughing every once in a while.  Curry heartily wished the man would choke to death and relieve him of the burden of keeping an eye on him.  With both of them mounted, he’d had to split his attention between his captive and the tracks he was having difficulty following.  Barefoot, Heyes wasn’t leaving much of a trail, only areas of soft soil and broken branches signaled his passing.  

When the Kid saw the tiny cabin in the meadow, he thought he was imagining it.  It appeared out of the haze like a mirage.  A trail of trodden grass led from where his horse stood at the edge of the forest around the side of the decrepit building.  How the hell had Heyes known this place was here?  Spurring his horse and yanking Mac and the bay along behind, Curry rode up to the front of the house and leapt from his saddle.  He untied the rope securing Mac and yanked him off the horse before roughly pushing him up the stairs and through the door ahead of him.

The Kid’s Colt was out of its holster and at the ready.    As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he saw what appeared to be a pile of torn fabric heaped upon an old iron bed frame.  A soft squeaking of the coiled springs was his only clue the bed was inhabited.  Gripping Mac by his forearm, he dragged him to a support post in the center of the room and tied him to it before turning his attention to the bed.  Heyes’ face appeared, deep red with beads of moisture dotting his skin.  Gently, Curry touched his forehead and snatched back his hand, shocked by the heat.  He pulled a torn blanket off and shook the revealed shoulder, but Heyes only mumbled incoherently unable to awaken.  When the Kid’s gaze reached his partner’s filthy bare feet and he saw the crude bandage, he rounded on Mac.

“What the hell did you do to him?” yelled the Kid.

Mac shrugged dismissively.  “I didn’t want him running away so I shot him.  Seemed like a good idea at the time.”

Curry seized the bound man by his shirt, his eyes blazing with hate.  “You sonova…”

Calm, brown eyes looked back at the Kid.  “You two are wanted dead or alive.  I figured I was doin’ him a favor.”

The Kid felt a murderous rage exploding in his heart, but he knew if he gave into it he’d become what he’d always feared.  With a frustrated growl, he released Mac and returned to kneel down by Heyes.  How was he going to care for him with no medicine?  As the dark head thrashed from side to side, he whispered quiet encouragement until the restlessness passed then turned his attention to Heyes’ foot.  Carefully, he cut through the tattered skunk cabbage leaves with his pocketknife.  The leaves fell open exposing the angry wounds and the marked signs of a deeper infection brewing within.  He could tell Heyes had done a good job of keeping the wounds as clean as he could but they were still festering. Hurrying outside, the Kid grabbed a bar of soap and a clean towel from his saddlebags and pulled the canteens from the horn.  He’d seen a well on the east side of the cabin as they’d ridden up.

XXX

As soon as Curry left, Mac tugged against the ropes binding him but it was no use.  Giving up, he let his gaze sweep the cabin.  A fine film of dust and mouse turds covered every surface and footprints, both man and animal, were visible on the rough plank floors.  A bank of cabinets hung over a makeshift counter on one wall, doors sagging open, rusted cans visible.  No one had visited this place in years and it showed.  A pane was missing from one of the windows facing the rear and he saw Curry as he passed by.  

He was confounded by the young outlaw.  He’d seen the raw desire for revenge in the Kid’s eyes and had watched the fight for control play out across the man’s face.  Truly, he was stunned he was still alive.  Curry clearly wasn’t the stone cold killer his reputation made him out to be.  Men had been killed for far less than what Mac had done to Heyes.  

The sickened man shifted uncomfortably on the filthy bed.  Groans and mumblings erupted from Heyes until the outlaw rolled over and opened his eyes, staring straight at Mac.  Heyes cried out, “Pa, please help me,” and, against all reason, Mac felt a shiver down his back and an unwelcomed stab to his heart.  

XXXX

Grayed, warped boards covered the mouth of the well and the Kid savagely yanked them off, tossing them aside.  He hung over the well’s edge and peered down into its depths but it was too dark to see the bottom.  A wooden pulley was mounted on a beam set across the rocked perimeter and a frayed rope tied to a rotted pail hung suspended over the opening, the end of it secured to a ring set into the masonry.  He untied the rope and pulled the bucket towards him.  Using his knife, he cut the bucket away and tied the canteens to the severed end.  Scooping up small stones he found in the yard, he weighted the canteens so they would sink then he lowered them into the well holding his breath until he heard the splash as they struck water.  He gave the canteens time to fill before hauling them up and screwing the caps back on.  He’d need to boil the water before he cleaned Heyes’ wound.  Putting the canteens around his neck, he gathered up two of the smaller boards, tucking them under one arm before rushing back to the front of the cabin.  
 
XXX

“Fire!!” screamed Heyes, jerking upright and startling both Mac and the Kid.  The former had been peacefully dozing slumped against the post while the latter had been outside building a fire using the broken chairs and splintered boards.  Curry had only just returned from placing Heyes’ cookpot filled with water on the open flames.  He was stopped short by the terrified cry from his partner.  

“Hey, hey, it’s all right.  The fire’s a long ways away, it ain’t gonna hurt us,” said the Kid, soothing his partner while gently urging him to lie back down.

“The barn!  The raiders are burning our barn!”  Heyes fought the Kid but he didn’t have the strength to resist and he fell back.

“Naw, Heyes, you’re just smellin’ smoke.”  

“But…but they got Ma, Jed.  They…they…,” Heyes couldn’t finish, what he was seeing in his mind was so horrific he was at a loss for words, his face drained of all color despite his high fever, his eyes wide open and bright with fear and illness.  

The Kid glanced over his shoulder at Mac who was listening, his own face pale.  There wasn’t anything he could do about the audience and he turned back to Heyes.  “Easy now, partner.  It’s all right, you’re just havin’ a bad dream.”  He held onto his friend’s flailing arms until he felt them weaken and, with a strangled whimper, Heyes stilled.

Weakly, Heyes protested, “But Pa…I have to help him.”

Stroking the dark, sweat-soaked hair, Curry lowered his voice.  “Heyes, you’re all mixed up.  That was a long time ago.  Your pa’s past helpin’.  No one’s hurtin’ now, ‘cept you.”  Eventually, the terror-filled brown eyes staring up at him glazed over and Heyes passed out again.  The Kid watched him for several moments and then stood and turned to his prisoner.  

Mac’s eyes shone with an odd light and he whispered, “Heyes lost his folks to raiders?”

“That’s none of your damn business,” snarled the Kid as he picked up the ripped blanket he’d tossed aside earlier and spread it over his partner.  Without looking at the bound man he left the cabin, struggling to maintain his composure.  

Returning some time later, the Kid held a pot of hot water gripped in one hand and the soap and towel in the other and carried it all over to the bed and set it on the floor.  Pulling the blanket off Heyes’ feet, he examined the wounded appendage before picking up the towel and dipping it in the water.  He worked up a thick lather with the soap and began thoroughly washing Heyes’ foot while watching for any signs that his partner felt what he was doing.  There weren’t any so he scrubbed hard enough to scrape away the scabs and dead tissue that were clotting the entry and exit wounds and started them bleeding again.  The blood would help cleanse the foot.  

When he was satisfied he’d cleaned the injury as well as he possibly could, he gently put the foot down.  He didn’t want to wrap it again, instead choosing to let the blood freely flow hoping it would carry away any remaining filth.  He washed out the towel with the leftover water and hooked it on a nail to dry.  When he turned away from Heyes, he found Mac watching him again.  “You gonna keep starin’ at me?” he snapped peevishly.

“Ain’t got nothin’ else to stare at.”

Ignoring Mac, the Kid crossed over to the cabinets and began pulling out the old cans of food from the lower shelf.  Most of them were swollen with toxicity and he threw those to the floor, but he found several that he could use and set them on the counter.  On the top shelf, he found an old hammer, a roll of baling wire, and a can of pine tar for waterproofing.  He pulled each item down and placed it next to the cans.  Reaching back up, he felt around the rear of the shelf and his hand nearly knocked over a bottle.  He caught it and pulled it out.  It was half-filled and labeled with crude X’s.  Moonshine.   “Yes!” he said triumphantly.

Mac read his mind.  “Ain’t gonna help Heyes.  That infection’s too far gone to be cured by tonsil paint.”

The Kid knew what Mac said was true.  Deflated, he put the bottle down and his shoulders slumped with defeat.

“So what’s in them cans?”

“Beans and potatoes.”

“What’s that other one?”  Mac nodded his chin at the green and black can next to the hammer.

“Pine tar.”  The Kid picked up the can and couldn’t help noticing Mac’s interest.  “Why?  You wanna waterproof somethin’?”

Shaking his head, Mac gave the Kid a tight little smile.  “Ain’t all it’s good for, Curry.  It’ll draw out an abscess from a horse’s hoof and heal a cut in no time but it’s messy.”  

“What?”  The Kid looked at the can in his hand as what he was hearing started to sink in.  “Are you sayin’ I can use this on Heyes?”

“I used to use it on my stock so I guess it’s good enough for him.  Works drawin’ out the bad stuff.”

Skeptical, the Kid frowned.  “How can I be sure you ain’t lyin’ to me?”

“Killin’ Heyes ain’t gonna help me much now,” said Mac.  “It works.  ‘Sides, it don’t seem to me like you have much of a choice.  From the looks of that foot, your partner’s got one leg in the grave and he’s ‘bout to dive in.”

The Kid looked over at Heyes and back at Mac.  “What do I do with it?”

“Smear it on thick and wait.  Pus’ll start oozin’ out and take the tar with it.  Clean ‘im up and put more on as soon as that happens.  Keep doin’ it ‘til it stops.  Then you wait some more and see which way the wind’ll blow.”

XXX

The Kid picked up the bottle of moonshine off the counter and sat down across from Mac, his back to Heyes’ bed.  He’d treated the foot, cleaned out the bedding as best he could and seen to the horses, now all he could do was wait.  Heyes was growing weaker by the minute as his own fear grew stronger.    

The sun was setting and he was beginning to feel the effects of the past couple of days. He was bone-tired.  He pulled the dried cork out of the bottle with his teeth and took a long pull of the caustic alcohol while considering the man across from him.  He couldn’t figure Mac out.  He’d wounded a man for convenience’s sake and had been unapologetic about it.  The man wasn’t afraid to die, that’s for sure, he’d owned right up to what he’d done despite the Kid’s reputation.  He had to give him that.  That and the fact that he’d helped Heyes even if he was the one to hurt him in the first place.  “Drink?” he asked, holding out the bottle.  

“Naw, teetotaler,” said Mac.  He added as though it needed clarifying, “Methodist.”

Curry couldn’t help smiling.  “Somehow I didn’t take you for a God-fearin’ man.”

“Can’t say as I am.  Me, I’m more of a man-fearin’ man.”

The Kid took another swill of booze, “I reckon there’s more men ‘fraid of you than you of them.”  

Mac bristled at the observation.  “Outlaws maybe.  I ain’t never killed no law-abidin’ folk.”

“So how d’you know who’s law-abidin’ and who’s not?  Or do you enlist ol’ Saint Peter’s help passin’ judgment?”

Mac’s eyebrows shot up.  “Don’t tell me you got religion.”

“My maw put the fear into us; made all of us go to services every Sunday.  Some lessons took, some didn’t,” the Kid wistfully thought of those hard wooden benches piled full of squirming Currys.  All passed now, and Heyes fixin’ to follow.

“Is your maw proud of you?  First commandment is ‘thou shall not steal.’  You and your partner broke that one all to hell.  A few others, too, I’d bet.”

Curry glared at him.  “I reckon she’d be ashamed of what we’ve done in the past, but if she could see us now, she’d be proud enough.”  He thought of the amnesty for the first time in days.  They’d worked so hard.  Was it gone forever?

Mac’s jaw tightened with outrage and he sputtered, “You’re a damned gunslinger, you kill all the time!”

Frigid blue eyes regarded him.  “Only ever killed two men and both of ‘em deserved it.  You shouldn’t believe what you read in the dime novels.”

Mac snorted with derision.  “C’mon, Curry, you ‘spect me to believe you only killed two men?  You’re the fastest gun in the West.  You must have every wanna-be shootist callin’ you out on a daily basis.”

The Kid thought of Danny Bilson.  He could still see Danny falling to the street, his face forever shocked by his own demise.  He took another swig wishing alcohol could wash that memory away, but it never did.  “I’m good enough I don’t have to kill, but I’m also smart enough to know when I have to and I’ve only had to twice.”  

“Man with your reputation, I’d have figured you’d enjoy the killin’ for the fun of it.”  Mac shifted his position.  His arms were falling asleep.

“You might find it fun, but I don’t see anything good in it.  I killed my first man when I was too young to know better but I’ll never forget how I felt after.  I made a resolution right then to make damn sure I never had to kill again.”

“But you did.”

“Some men are hell-bent on hurtin’ others.  Like a mad dog, they need puttin’ down.”

“So you kill out of a sense of community?” roared Mac with an angry laugh.  “That’s the most self-servin’ bull I’ve ever heard!”

Curry got to his feet and looked at Heyes for a long moment then shifted his eyes back to Mac, asking softly, “What about you, how many men have you killed?  Are you hell-bent on hurtin’ others?”

“I do what I do for a reason.”

“You could say that of both of us,” nodded the Kid.  “It’s dusk.  Game’ll be on the move. I’ll go see if I can find us some fresh meat.  As long as you don’t object to my killin’?”

Mac watched the door swing shut behind the famed outlaw and he stared at it for a long time.

_________________
*****************

"You can only be young once. But you can always be immature." —Dave Barry
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Elleree

Elleree


Posts : 62
Join date : 2016-06-29

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PostSubject: Re: Jan 2019 - The Pulley (think... pilot)   Jan 2019  - The Pulley  (think... pilot) Icon_minitimeSun Jan 20, 2019 10:30 pm

Hello everyone,
This is not a continuation of anything, just a short story I had in mind thanks to "The Pulley."  Oh...did I say short? Well, it is under 3000 words, barely. In fact, I feel like I should do a Jimmy Fallon style thank you note. "Thank you, Story Challenges, for making me realize I am a long winded author." Hah. And don't worry, I really love the challenges, I just think it's amusing to poke fun at myself.

Anyway, this is under the limit, but if it feels a bit short that is because I had to cut off the end and take out some content to make it work. I will definitely post the longer version on ff.net. Oh, I'll also continue my other story, promise.

***

A lithe, handsome man in a black hat walked toward the train depot and froze, hands on his hips in front of his partner.

Four pairs of innocent blue eyes looked at Hannibal Heyes. Jed ‘Kid’ Curry was on the same bench he’d left him, but now he had two children next to him and one on his lap. All four were eating sliced tomatoes and beans from the train. A plateful cost .55 cents so Kid was down at least $2.20. It never ceased to amaze Heyes how quick Kid could find the needy.  

“I leave you alone for five minutes… I think this is a record, even for you,” Hannibal Heyes said to his partner. “What happened to looking in the paper for jobs?”

“’Lo Joshua,” Kid said with a mouth full of tomato. “Don’t worry, kids, this is my partner Joshua Smith. Joshua, this is the Cooke family. Meet Nelly, Pansy, and Wes. I bought you a train special, too.” Kid indicated a plate.

Heyes picked it up and smiled at the children before he sat down. “Nice to meet you.”

“Your partner’s real nice,” Nelly, about 7, said to Heyes.

“Yeah, that’s one word for him,” Heyes replied.

Kid gave him a Look. “You find a room?”

“Just. There was only one left,” Heyes replied.

“That’s ‘cause of the carnival,” Nelly said.

Wes, probably 10, chimed in. “First time we’ve had one in town.”

“Gonna be el’fants,” Pansy said from Kid’s lap. She looked barely three.

“Nuh uh,” Wes said. “They’re at circuses.”

Pansy’s lower lip quivered.

“It should have games an’ candy,” Kid said.

“Can’t afford none,” Wes muttered, but quietly.  

Kid looked at Heyes and Heyes exhaled.

“So what were the three of you doin’ before you met Thaddeus?” He asked.

“Lookin’ for pa,” Nelly said.

“We come an’ wait every third Thursday,” Wes added, finished.

“It’s when their pa would come to town,” Kid said softly as he cleaned his own plate. Heyes sighed again.

“We’re only stayin’ at the home ‘till he comes back,” Nelly added.

“Oh?” Heyes asked noncommittally, sympathy in his eyes.

“It’s only been a year since Mama died,” Wes said defensively. “Pa coulda got stuck in the mountains. Anyway, thanks.” He gathered his sister’s dishes and stacked them on the bench.

Nelly stood. “Come here, Pans.”

Pansy clung to Kid’s blue shirt. “Nuh-uh!”

Nelly tried to pull her off but the three year old hung on.

“Tell you what, I’ll walk you home,” Kid said.

Shaking his head, Heyes returned all the plates to the ticket booth then rejoined the party.

“Okay, follow me,” Nelly said, smiling and exposing a missing front tooth.

Heyes threw both sets of saddlebags over his shoulders as Kid had his arms full with Pansy. Actually, Kid had both girls as Nelly was right at his side, chatting, too.  

Wes, on the other hand, fell in step next to Heyes. “I can take one of those bags, mister.”

Heyes would’ve refused, but he recognized the stubborn set of the jaw. “Sure.”

He handed one over.

“I know Pa ain’t comin’,” Wes said in a low voice. “But Nelly ain’t gave up yet an’ while she still thinks there’s a chance…”

“You want to let her,” Heyes said. Two years age difference wasn’t much as an adult, but as children…  A look of understanding passed between them.

“At least, it means we got a reason to go out the window,” Wes said with a smirk.

“You let your sisters climb out a window?” Heyes asked.

“There’s a pulley system. Well, it’s a clothesline, but I made it sturdier,” Wes said with pride. “The kids that live across the alley leave the window to their buildin’ unlocked an’ I go first an’ open it then send the basket over an’ Nelly puts Pans in then follows.”

“Uh huh,” Heyes said, thinking of his own youth. “Be careful. Always check the how taut the rope is.”

Wes rolled his eyes.

“And,” Heyes continued with a dimpled smile. “If you haven’t already, you should grease the pulley’s parts so they don’t squeak and give you away.”

Wes grinned at him.  “Great idea!”

The five of them walked into town, stopping at a somewhat ramshackle three story townhouse that didn’t look like an orphanage. Heyes and Kid expected hardened workers who didn’t care if the children returned, but an anxious young woman with brown eyes ushered them inside.

“Oh thank goodness!” She barely noticed the handsome men, reaching to take Pansy. “You three all right?”

“We’re fine, Miss Abby,” Wes said. “This is Mr. Jones and his partner Mr. Smith.”

Pansy snuggled into Miss Abby’s arms. The pretty woman looked relieved, tired, and overworked.

Heyes and Kid watched as Nelly clasped her hands and looked earnest. “We saw Mr. Jones an’ he made sure we didn’t come to no harm an’ we’re all acquainted, so it was proper.”

Somewhere upstairs a baby started crying. Then another, and still another. On top of the crying, it sounded as if elephants were wrestling overhead and everyone looked up when there was a particularly large thump and the chandelier swung.

Miss Abby looked apologetic. “Thank you gentleman. Did I introduce myself? I’m Miss Abigail Williams. It’s so nice you know the Cooke children, but I’m sorry, I can’t let you visit today. The matron quit and half the staff left, so I’m all there is. Nelly can you get the bottles? Wes, can you tell the twins to stop fighting? I need to get the supplies. Oh dear. I also need to start supper…  Maybe I can send someone…?”

Heyes glanced at Kid and quirked a smile. He knew what was coming.

“Miss Williams, we’ll go get your supplies so you can take care of things,” Kid said.

Abigail looked at him, smiling beautifully. “Oh could you?? There are thirteen children and four infants and we usually have a staff of six, but I’m it just now. Let me get you the money, and write a note for Benja—Mr. Simms, the grocer.”

After a few minutes, Abigail handed Kid an envelope with cash and a note. “I can’t pay you much, but you can keep whatever’s left.”

“Thank you, ma’am. We’ll get the supplies right after we drop off our things at the hotel,” Heyes said.

Wes handed over the saddlebag he’d carried. “Will you visit us after?”

His blue eyes didn’t meet Heyes’, but Kid’s did.

“Sure,” Heyes said.

Kid smiled and tipped his hat. Heyes did the same. Miss Abigail smiled in return then headed upstairs either to calm infants or stop a wrestling match. She forgot to shut the front door behind her and the partners obliged on their way out.

“I was goin’ to give the person in charge a talkin’ to,” Kid said. “Lettin’ those kids out alone.”

“Until you saw her pretty brown eyes,” Heyes replied as they headed to the hotel. “How’d you get involved?”

“I was readin’ the paper when Nelly and Wes ran past lookin’ frantic and askin’ for help. Their sister was missin.’ Well, after tryin’ to think like a three year old—“

“Child’s play for you,” Heyes said and received a Look.

Kid continued. “I found her on a luggage cart. She’d toppled a trunk and nobody was happy ‘bout that. I bought some food to placate the porter, gave him a tip, and got the kids all sittin’ and eatin’. They would’ve got in trouble otherwise, an’ they didn’t have nobody lookin’ after them.”

Jed ‘Kid’ Curry, tough gunslinger, didn’t mention how Nelly had slipped her hand in his and how Pansy had nuzzled into his neck. Wes had reminded him of himself and Heyes.

“You’re an easy mark,” Heyes said.

“It was my idea to feed them,” Kid retorted.

“Like I said, easy mark.”

Kid shook his head. “They weren’t flim-flammin’. Besides, what was I supposed to do? Leave ‘em alone?”

“Nooo,” Heyes replied. “Of course not. Why mind your own business?”

“You would’ve helped them, too,” Kid said. “They’re kids.”

“Maybe. But we could’ve just seen them home,” Heyes said. He knew, knew Kid wouldn’t let them keep the change that was left.

“Never hurts to help out a lady,” Kid said in a definite tone.

“Really? You’re telling me that?” Heyes asked sardonically.

“Well it’s always right to help one, anyway, so stop ridin’ me,” Kid snapped. “Besides, maybe she’ll know of a job around town.”

“Just remember we’re only in town for a week or so. It’ll be cruel to get them too attached.”

Kid smiled at Heyes; his partner was nowhere near as hard as he acted. “I know. I told ‘em straight off we weren’t in town long.”

The partners dropped off their bags in their room and went to the mercantile. Kid showed the note to Mr. Simms who left to retrieve the supplies.

“I doubt there’s gonna be much left over,” Kid said as he pulled out the envelope.

Heyes gave him a long suffering look. “Don’t tell me. You want to give it all back.”

“Don’t you think it’s the right thing to do?” Kid asked.

“Here you are, gentleman,” the grocer said, putting a crate on the counter. “You need anything, you can have a discount. Friends of Miss Abigail are friends of mine.”

Mr. Simms gave them more change than was due and Heyes pointed it out to the man. Honesty was a habit by now. Mostly.

“Oh, don’t worry,” the grocer said, reddening. “The rest I’ll take care of. For Miss Abby. And the children, of course.”

Ah. Heyes nodded and pocketed the envelope. “Thank you.” To his partner he said, “This was your idea so you get the box.”

Kid rolled his eyes but picked up the heavy wooden crate. They returned the supplies to the makeshift orphanage and faced with four pairs of blue eyes again, Heyes returned the change. Both reformed outlaws received a grateful, distracted, hug from Abigail. The Cooke children hugged them as well and Nelly made Thaddeus promise to try and find time to say goodbye.

***

The next few days passed quickly, both partners making some money through cards, and on Saturday the carnival started. Kid convinced Heyes to head to the orphanage for a visit, and he planned on taking the Cookes to the carnival. He hadn’t told Heyes his plans, but his partner probably knew.

They were nearly there when they heard the cry of “Fire!”

The partners exchanged looks and started running. Somehow a fire had started in the bakery on the corner and it had spread down the block. Sure enough, when they skidded to a halt in front of the orphanage, there were visible flames blocking the entrance.

Miss Abigail was handing children out of the first floor window on the side of the building. A line of men was forming to pass buckets and Heyes and Curry ran to her.

“Mr. Jones! Mr. Smith!” Abby yelled as she was hauled out of the window. “The front door and staircase are blocked! I can’t get up there!”

“Are the kids all safe?” Kid asked as they scanned the crowd.

“N-not the Cookes!” Miss Abigail dissolved into coughing.

“Shush dear,” one of the women helping gather the orphans soothed. “You did all you could.”

“But we haven’t,” Kid muttered, eyeing the first floor window.

Heyes put his arm on Kid’s shoulder. “Not that way.”

He pointed to the clothesline turned child-pulley and Kid nodded. Heyes crossed the alley and went inside the neighboring building with Kid was close behind him. As they ran up the stairs, Heyes explained.

“We’re both gonna have to go over,” Kid said. “Three kids, three trips. Only one can hold on at a time.”

“Me first,” Heyes said. “I’m lighter and we can make sure it’ll hold an adult.”

“If we’re testin’ it, the heaviest should go first,” Kid argued.

“Not unless we’re testin’ how fast you’ll fall,” Heyes said. “It’s more likely that I’ll have time to grab the sill but you’d just drop like a rock.”

“Thanks,” Kid snapped. “I ain’t that much heavier than you.”

They went to the window which, true to Wes, was unlocked. Heyes opened it and eyed the moveable pulley system. It wasn’t rigged much different than most clotheslines, but Wes had added a nice size hook.

Heyes tightened the line and put his blue bandanna over his mouth and nose. “I think it’ll work.”

“You think?” Kid asked, taking hold of his partner’s arm. “Be careful!”

Heyes nodded, grabbed the bottom rope, and went out the window. It held.

The blonde watched his partner shimmy across and held his breath the whole way.

“In!” Heyes shouted.

Kid exhaled in relief.  He adjusted his own bandanna, grabbed the bottom rope, and followed.

Inside the building it was an inferno and smoke was everywhere. They could mainly see white and flickers of flame.

Heyes found Wes trying to drag his sisters to the window. The girls were unconscious.

“They won’t wake up,” he wailed. “I ran up here to get to ‘em!”

Heyes grabbed the boy just as Kid headed for the girls.

“Take him across then send the basket! I’ll put Pansy in.” Kid picked up the girls one at a time and brought them to the window. “We’ll see if we can get Nelly sent across in it, too.”

“I ain’t leavin’ them,” Wes insisted. “Send them first!”

“You weigh more,” Kid pointed out. “You got to go with my skinny partner.”

“Svelte. Besides,” Heyes added as he pulled out a spare bandana to tie around Wes. “You know how to operate the basket and pulley better than anyone, right? We need it for the girls.”

Wes nodded and he wrapped his arms around Heyes’ neck and his legs around his waist.

Heyes and Kid exchanged a nod and the dark haired man went back on the rope.

“Hold on,” Heyes said to the boy.

It held them and Hannibal Heyes made his way across, brown gloved hands grasping the rope, one after the other.
Kid was near the sill, holding the girl’s up toward the good air and watching his partner. He’d removed his bandanna and given it to Pansy. His spare was on Nelly.

Heyes huffed and puffed each inch of the wire, but he finally made it across. The boy clambered inside and he followed.

Heyes and Wes sent the basket over and Kid secured Pansy. He hated not to go with the basket, but didn’t figure the ropes would hold him, Pansy, and Nelly all at the same time. The heat was getting near unbearable.

Once the toddler was aboard, Heyes worked the pulley system quickly to pull in the basket. Sweat drenched his brow and his shirt and he could only imagine how hot Kid was at the moment. As soon as the basket was near the window, Heyes got her inside and Wes took her.  The dark haired man tightened the line again and saw the basket handle was ripped.

“The basket ain’t gonna hold Nelly!” Heyes yelled across the gap. “I’ll get a sheet, run downstairs, grab some men and hold it so you can toss her down!”

Kid swore. “Flames are gettin’ closer, ain’t got time!”

Heyes eyes widened and he glanced around desperately. When he looked back at the other window, Kid was no longer visible.

“Hey!” he yelled out the window. “Thaddeus!”

Inside the orphanage, Kid was looking around. He grabbed the cord off the curtains, taking Nelly in his arms. He rigged a system using the cord and his belt and tied her to him as best he could. Curry stood slowly, testing it out.
Heyes had just put his hand on the rope to climb over when Kid stood up. Curry saw his partner’s pinched, worried face out the window and gave him a bright, confident smile. Then Kid went out the window.

Kid used both hands to go across the rope. He moved carefully and it was all going fine until halfway across he felt the cord slip and Nelly slipped, too. He had a millisecond to catch her and he did, with one arm. That left the other hand hanging onto the rope. Curry cursed under his breath and looked at Heyes, who stared back at him.

“Hold on!” Heyes yelled, reaching out the window.

Kid gave his partner a look. “No kiddin’!”

The blonde looked down. It was a three story building and they’d been on the top floor. It was over a 20 foot drop. He’d have to try and make sure he landed on his back because he couldn’t let Nelly get hurt. As for himself…

“Don’t drop,” Heyes said, reading Kid’s expression. “Hold on!”

Kid held tight to the girl and the rope. Heyes reached out and started to pull Kid in like he was wash on the line. The rope started sagging but Heyes continued and Curry inched closer.

Kid threw himself toward the sill, still holding the girl and Heyes reached out and pulled them in. He didn’t release his partner until Kid dropped to the floor, holding the girl, coughing. Actually they were all coughing, and Wes was crying, but they were alive.

“Thanks,” Kid croaked, managing a smile.

Heyes returned the smile and squeezed Kid’s shoulder. “Wes, can you walk?”

The boy nodded.

“Let’s get to the doctor,” Heyes said. “I can carry Pansy for you.”

Kid adjusted his hold on Nelly, who stirred in his arms.

“Mr. Jones?” she asked.

Kid smiled. “Hi Nelly. You’re all right. There was a fire but we’re safe now and we’re goin’ to the doctor.”

“Then why’re you smilin’? I don’t like doctors,” she said sleepily. “Unless we get a candy stick after?”

“Honey, I’ll buy you a whole jar,” he said as they headed down the stairs and out into the street.

***
Note: Yes, a plate of tomatoes and beans cost .55 cents in the late 1870s. I got it from an 1870s train menu.
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Jan 2019  - The Pulley  (think... pilot) Empty
PostSubject: Re: Jan 2019 - The Pulley (think... pilot)   Jan 2019  - The Pulley  (think... pilot) Icon_minitimeWed Jan 30, 2019 2:16 pm


Pulley Challenge


Kid Curry’s stomach grumbled.  “Heyes, how much money do you have?”  

“Same as the last time you asked me.”  Heyes twisted in his saddle and looked back.  “I have $2.54 so with your $1.37, we have $3.91.

The Kid sighed.  “That sure isn’t much.”

“Will buy us a meal and maybe a bed, but we have the horses to think of, too.”

“Guess we’ll be takin’ any job we find.”

“You be guessing right.”

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Heyes and Curry rode into the village of Drytown, cautiously checking the townsfolk and the location of the jail.

“Well, Drytown don’t sound promisin’.”

“It sure don’t, but I’ve never heard of Sheriff Schroeder.  Have you?”

“Nope.  Soundin’ better already.”  Curry nodded an acknowledgement to a man driving a wagon of hay.  “And I see a saloon so it’s not called Drytown ‘cause there’s no drinkin’.”

Heyes grinned as he reined his mare to the right.  “Let’s go get a beer and see if there’s jobs around here.”

They rode to the Copper Penny Saloon and tied their horses to a hitching post before venturing inside.

Curry quickly glanced around the room as they made their way to the bar.  “Looks peaceful.”

“We’ll have two beers, please.”  Heyes held up two fingers as he ordered.

The bartender wiped two glasses clean and poured them with beer.  “That’ll be ten cents.”

“Are the eggs at the other end of the counter free?”

“One egg for each glass of beer.”

“Thanks.”  Curry walked over and grabbed two while Heyes pulled a dime out of his pocket.  “Here you go.”  He handed one to Heyes.

While drinking their beer and eating an egg, Heyes observed the poker game and subtly shook his head.  “Betting with a two of a kind.  If I only had enough money…”

“Speakin’ of money,” Curry mumbled before speaking louder.  “Excuse me, do you know of any jobs in town?” he asked the bartender.

The man stopped and looked up from the newspaper he was reading.  “Jobs… I heard Sam is getting a couple wagons of hay.  He might need help putting it in the loft.”

“Any other jobs?” Heyes asked hopeful.

“None that I’ve heard of or seen in the paper.  Still a recession going on, you know.”

“Oh, we know,” Curry agreed.  “Where might we find Sam?”

“At the livery – he’s the owner.”

“How about another beer and egg, Thaddeus?”

“Sounds good to me.”

“Two more, please.”

“Coming right up.”

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Heyes and Kid Curry walked their horse down the street to the livery.

“Hello, Sam?”

“In here,” came a voice inside a stall.  “Be right there.”

A moment later an older man came out into the middle of the barn.  “How can I help you?”

“Well, the bartender told us you might have jobs available.”

“As a matter of fact, I do.  Just got four wagons of hay delivered today and need to get it up in the loft before it rains.”

“How much does it pay?” asked Curry.

Sam noted the trail-weary men in front of him with worn clothes.  “A dollar a wagon so $4.00 for the job.

“How about two dollars a wagon?” Heyes asked.

Sam frowned.  “I’m guessin’ you don’t have much money.  Am I right?”  He didn’t get a response.  “I’m feeling gracious so I’ll offer a dollar a wagon and I’ll feed your horses and you can stay overnight in the loft for a few nights.  It’ll be better than the hard ground and drier, too, if it rains.  The missus runs the café so we’ll also feed you the special twice a day.

Heyes and Curry looked at each other and shrugged.  

Heyes held out his hand.  “You got yourself a deal, Sam.”

Sam smiled.  “You can help muck out the stalls, too, for fifty cents a day.  Wouldn’t mind havin’ a rest for a few days, Mr…”

“Joshua Smith and he’s Thaddeus Jones.”

“Well, Joshua and Thaddeus, it’s almost dinner.  Thought you could start first thing in the morning and we’ll head over to the café now before the crowd.

“Sounds like a good deal, Sam.”  The Kid’s stomach growled.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

The next day, after breakfast, Heyes and Curry started unloading the hay from the wagons.  One would work a metal claw to pick up the hay and then pull the pulley rope to get the hay up to the loft door.  The other would hook the rope and bring it towards him inside the loft and release the hay from the hook.  They took turns, working quickly and efficiently.

Sheriff Schroeder made his rounds in the morning and watched the men working.  “Hey, Sam, who are they?”

“Joshua Smith and Thaddeus Jones.  They came into town looking for work and I had four wagons on hay to unload.”

“Smith and Jones, huh?”

“Now August, quit bein’ so suspicious.  They’re good, hard workers.”

“Where are they staying?”

“Here in the loft.  They didn’t have much money for food and a room.”

“Hmmm…”  The sheriff watched them for a few more minutes before moving on.

Heyes’ and Curry’s shirts were damp from sweat, along with their faces.  As they changed positions, they stopped to get some water from the well.

“Heyes, did you see the sheriff watchin’ us?”

“I did.”

“And…”

“And I think he’s cautious.  We need to be careful not to cause him reason to think about us.”

“Clouds are in the west.”

“Then we better hurry to get the rest inside and rake it in the loft later.”

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

In the late afternoon, Kid Curry and Hannibal Heyes finished getting the last of the loose hay in one wagon and pushed it inside as large droplets of rain began to fall.  

They hurried to the café, tired and sore, as the storm rolled in.

Heyes was glancing at a paper left behind and drinking coffee as the Kid finished his beef stew.

“Sam’s wife is a good cook.”

“Uh huh.”

“I’m full and tired.”

“Uh huh.”

“Think I might go back to the hotel now.”

“Uh huh… huh?  The hotel?”

Curry smiled.  “Just seein’ if you were listenin’ to me.  Wanna go to the saloon?”

“You know, I’m thinking a whiskey might help me sleep better.  I’m more sore than I’d like to admit.”

“I like how you think, Joshua.”

“And as much as I’d like to play poker, I don’t want that sheriff watching us more than he already has.”

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

“Kid?” Heyes said in a raspy voice.  “We usually avoid work that’s hard on the back.”

“I know.”  Curry opened his eyes and quickly closed them again as a sun beam peered in between a crack in the barn boards.  “You’re achin’ as much as I am?”

“My aches have aches.”  Heyes stretched while lying in the hay.  “Why’d we unload all four wagons yesterday?”

“I dunno, but we have more to do today.”  Curry slowly sat up.  “Let’s get some coffee and breakfast – we’ll feel better once we move around.”

Sam sat in the café finishing his coffee as he read the paper.  He looked up when the door opened.  “Well, good morning.  I was wondering when you were gonna get up.”

Heyes and the Kid slowly moved over to his table and sat.

“Hurting today, huh?  Well, it don’t surprise me.  You sure got a lot more done yesterday than I thought you would.  Edith will be here soon with coffee and your plates of food.”  Sam stood up.  “I better get on over there and open up the livery.  See you over there.”

“We’ll be over soon,” Heyes mumbled as he held his cup for Edith to pour him coffee.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Using a tarp, they put the last loose hay in the wagon on the cloth, put the four ends together, and got it up in the loft with another pulley and rope.  An hour later all the hay was upstairs.  They used pitchforks to spread the hay around the loft like Sam requested.

“Sam, we’re about done up here.”

“Good, come on down and muck out the stalls.”

The Kid sighed.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

“Smith and Jones…”  Sheriff Schroeder pulled a pile of wanted posters over to himself and began going through them, one by one.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

After a full day of working in the livery cleaning out the stalls, laying fresh straw, and mending leather, the boys rested outside by the corral.

Sam walked over by them.  “You sure do a mighty fine job.”  He sniffed the air.  “Tell you what… I’m gonna pay for a bath for you boys.  You sure do need one.”  He dug in his pocket and pulled out his money.  “Soakin’ will feel good when you’re stiff.”  He counted out some money.  “Here’s your pay for all the hard work you did, too.  Now go get cleaned up before dinner – you stink!”

“Sam, we sure appreciate this.”  Heyes took the money.  “Let’s get our bags, Thaddeus.”

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

An hour later, Kid Curry and Heyes were smoking cigars while soaking in tubs of hot water.  A bottle of whiskey sat between them within easy reach.

“Does this feel good!  I’m gonna sleep good tonight.”

“Me, too!”

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

A half-moon was high in the sky as Heyes sat by the livery loft window.  A soft breeze blew into the livery.

Heyes thought about the lack of money, the hard work, the amnesty that was taking longer than the promised year, the… He sighed.

In the moonlight, Heyes saw something move.  He watched the area and noticed a man making his way quietly to the bank and down an alley.  Sitting up a little straighter, he observed another man noting the location of all the business and jail in the town.

“Well, I’ll be…” Heyes mumbled.  

“Heyes, what are you doin’ up?”  Curry rolled over onto his side and held his head in the crook of his arm.

“Shhh…”

“What?” the Kid whispered, more alert.  “What are you watchin’?”

“Looks like a gang is casing the bank and town.”

“Casin’?”  Curry quickly came over to the window.  “Well, I’ll be.  Do we know them?”

“Not sure.  The moon’s not bright enough.  Who’s in this area?”

“Well, last I heard, the Thompson brothers and Jake Campbell’s gang.”

“I forgot about Jake.  That one kinda looks like him, don’t it?”  Heyes pointed.

“Yeah, it does.”  The Kid sat down next to his partner.  “Heyes, what are we gonna do about it?”

“Do about it?”

“Yeah, we need to tell someone.”

“Kid, I don’t need to remind you we’re still wanted.  We can’t afford to make enemies with any outlaws in case we need to escape a posse by going to a hide-out.  We’re not gonna be welcomed there if word gets around that we turned some fellow outlaws in.”

“I know, but what if Lom hears we could’ve stopped a robbery and didn’t?”

“How’s Lom gonna find out?”

“You never know.”

Heyes sighed, again.

“We need a plan, Heyes.”

“Sheriff Schroeder is already suspicious of us.”

“So, we can’t have Jake or the sheriff see us.”

“I guess we can leave a note warning the sheriff and leave tonight before he sees it.  Of course, we have to wait until the gang leaves.”

“That’d work.  Good thing Sam already paid us.”  Kid Curry began packing up his few belongings.  I go get the horses saddled and you write the note.”

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

“Stop where you are – you’re surrounded!” Sheriff Schroeder yelled to the group of men who had just dismounted near the bank.  “Put down your weapons.”

Townsfolks around and on top of buildings cocked their rifles.

The Jake Campbell gang cursed as they tossed their guns to the ground.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Later that evening in the saloon, the town’s men celebrated the apprehending of the bank robbers.

“Sam, where’s that Smith and Jones who worked at the livery?  I haven’t seen them all day.”

“Oh, I paid them yesterday and they must’ve rode out early this morning.”

“I still say something’s strange about them.”

The mayor came up and slapped the sheriff on the back.  “August, how’d you know that gang was gonna ride into town?”

“I received a note warning me.”  

“A note?  From whom?”

“I don’t know.  They didn’t sign it and left it pinned to the jail door post.”

Sam grinned and sipped his whiskey.  “I liked those two boys,” he mumbled.  “Wonder how they knew.”



Jan 2019  - The Pulley  (think... pilot) Pulley10Jan 2019  - The Pulley  (think... pilot) Claw10
(Thanks to WichitaRed for the pictures!)

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"Do you ever get the feeling that nothing right is ever going to happen to us again?" - Kid Curry
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