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 Sept 2020 'Haven't you forgotten something?'

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Calico

Calico


Posts : 873
Join date : 2012-04-22
Age : 59
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PostSubject: Sept 2020 'Haven't you forgotten something?'   Sept 2020  'Haven't you forgotten something?' Icon_minitimeTue Sep 01, 2020 11:54 pm

Hello
I forgot didn't I??
Doh

Anyhow, that makes a topic easy...

One day late, let your fertile pens think about;

'Haven't you forgotten something?' Rolling Eyes confused
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Penski
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Penski


Posts : 1804
Join date : 2012-04-22
Age : 62
Location : Northern California

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PostSubject: Re: Sept 2020 'Haven't you forgotten something?'   Sept 2020  'Haven't you forgotten something?' Icon_minitimeSun Sep 13, 2020 5:51 pm

Continuing my Sheriff Jones and Deputy Smith story with another monthly challenge.  This story seemed to write itself.


'Haven't you forgotten something?'

Sheriff Jones poured a cup of coffee and frowned as he sat down at his desk, looking at the paperwork.  “Nothin’s even happened and still there’s a mountain of paperwork to do,” he muttered.  “Where does it all come from?”  He picked up his mug, blew on the hot drink, took a sip…

“Sheriff Jones!”  Deputy Lobo shouted as he rushed in, the door almost banging off its hinges.

Coffee misted the paperwork and Curry coughed.  “Dang it, Lobo!  What’s so hellfire important?”  He took his bandanna and tried to wipe the droplets of coffee off the papers and desk.

“Sorry, but you better come quick!”  The deputy also removed his bandanna and tried to clean up the mess.  “There’s a gunslinger in town and he’s challengin’ Harold, one of the miners.”

“Gunslinger?  Does he have a name?”  Kid Curry dropped his bandanna, drew his gun and put a sixth bullet in the chamber.  He twirled his gun and holstered it, making his way to the door.  “Where is he?”

"He was at the Golden Nugget.  You see, Gus offered me a sarsaparilla while I was doin’ my rounds and…”

“Lobo, about the gunslinger.”

The deputy hurried behind the sheriff, who was rushing to the saloon.  “He’s big and ugly and wears his gun like you do.  Heard someone call him Carson.”

“Carson?  Must be Homer Carson.  Dang it all.”

“Should I go get Deputy Smith?” Lobo asked.

“No, he’s sleepin’ before his night shift.  We can handle this.”

“Are you sure, ‘cause…”

"There he is,” the Kid interrupted him.

“But Sheriff…”

“Not now!”  Curry took in the action happening at the door of the saloon as folks came pouring out of it.

Homer Carson walked confidently in the middle of the street and sneered at the reluctant man following him.  “You stand over there and, to make it fair, I’ll have my back to you.  You!”  The gunslinger pointed to a young lad on the boardwalk.  “Start counting to three.  That means, miner, you’ll have three seconds left to live.”  Carson chuckled.

Sheriff Jones walked out into the middle of the street with his thumbs hooked into his belt.  “There won’t be a gunfight in MY town.”


~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Hannibal was sleeping fully clothed on top of the quilt, his hands folded over his chest.

“Mrs. Tucker!” Lobo gasped, out of breath.  “I…need… Deputy Smith!”

One of Heyes’ eyes opened.

“Why, Deputy, I think he’s resting…”

“But it’s important!”

Now both of Heyes’ eyes were wide open.

“There’s a gunslinger in town and…”

Heyes jumped out of bed, stomped on his boots, grabbed his gun belt and put it on.  Grasping his hat from a hook, he hurried down the stairs.  “What’s going on, Lobo?” he asked as he opened the door.

“Sorry to wake you!  The sheriff told me not to, but he’s in trouble.”

“What kind of trouble?”  Heyes started walking quickly from the boarding house.  “Where’s Thaddeus?”

Lobo hurried behind him.  “In front of the Golden Nugget.  You see, there’s a gunslinger, Homer Carson, who called out one of the miners for his stake.  Sheriff didn’t give me a chance to tell him that Carson has others with him.”

“How many?”

“Three of ‘em.  I didn’t see them in the street, though.”

Heyes started running.


~ * ~ * ~ * ~

“And who are you?” Homer Carson spat at his new adversary.

“Jones.  Sheriff Jones.”

“And just how are you gonna stop me, Sheriff Jones?” Carson sneered.

“Well, to start, I’m gonna point out that it’s not a fair fight.  You really should pick on folks who can at least shoot.”  Curry stood near the miner.  “It’s Harold, right?”

“Yessir.”

“What’d you do to irritate him?”

“Wouldn’t give him the deed to my land.”

“Land for sale?”

“No, sir.  I’m workin’ it and it’s producin’.  Don’t wanna sell.”

“You know my name.  What’s yours?” Curry asked in a louder voice.

“Homer Carson.  Probably heard of me.  I have a reputation for never losin’ a gun fight.”

“Is that so?.  Well, Carson, Harold here doesn’t want to sell his stake.  I’m not gonna let you shoot a man for his land.”

“And who’s gonna stop me?”

“Me!”  Kid Curry stepped forward.  “Harold, get outta here.  Go in the saloon and tell Gus I said to keep you safe.”

“Thanks, Sheriff!”  Harold ran onto the boardwalk and into the saloon.

“So, you think you can shoot, huh, Sheriff?”

Curry did a single nod, his eyes never leaving his opponent.  “I can usually hit what I aim for, if that’s what you’re askin’.  However, I’m tellin’ you to put your gun away and leave the area.”

“Afraid I can’t do that, Sheriff, ‘cause of my reputation.  Never walked away from a fight.”  Homer Carson's fingers curled and flexed.  “And I ain’t plannin’ to start now.”

“Well, it’s your call.”  Blue eyes went glacial and arms went down straight to his side.


~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Heyes came to an abrupt stop as he saw the action unfolding.  “Where are they?”  He glanced at the rooftops and windows.

Lobo almost bumped into Deputy Smith with the quick stop and began looking around, too.

“There!”  Heyes pointed to a rifle barrel peering over a false roof front.

“I see another one over here.”  Lobo pointed to a curtain moving to the side and a gun pointing down.

“Where’s the third!?” Heyes frantically scanned the area again.  As the event escalated, he pulled out his gun.  “You stay outta the way; I have to take a stance behind Thaddeus.  I’ll get the one on the rooftop and you get the one behind the curtain.”

“Sure thing, Smith!”  

Heyes walked into the street.

Lobo took off running as fast as he could.


~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Kid Curry felt his partner’s presence behind him, watching his back.

In a split second, Carson went for his gun.  Catching the glint of sunlight on metal out of the corner of his eye, Kid Curry drew, shot and then turned to his right.  He fired again.

Heyes shot above Curry’s head and the rifle barrel’s aim was affected when the bullet hit it.  The rifle’s shot went up and hit the Golden Nugget sign.

Lobo barged into the room with the gunman.  “Hold it right there!”

The gunman turned and fired, but the deputy’s bullet found its mark, hitting the man in the right arm.  His hand wavered as he fired.

Lobo gasped as a bullet grazed his thigh.

Heyes rushed up to the rooftop.  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.  Put it down!”  Dark eyes and an unwavering gun pointed at the man.

“Don't shoot – I surrender!”  The gunman put his rifle down and held up his hands.  

Homer Carson lay in the street bleeding.  The third gunman clutched his bleeding shoulder in an alley.

“Get the doctor!” Sheriff Jones commanded.


~ * ~ * ~ * ~

The doctor was in the cell bandaging up a shoulder and an arm.  The uninjured gunman sat in the cell surrounded by the blanket.

Deputy Smith paced the office.

Morton Grove, the mortician and honorary mayor, came into the sheriff’s office.  “See you gave me a customer, Sheriff Jones.  Have a name for me?”

Kid Curry sighed.  “Homer Carson.”  He pointed to the board on the wall covered with posters.  “He was wanted.”

Grove looked around at the cells.  “This could have been so much worse.  Good job, Sheriff.  Deputies.  Excellent work!"

The doctor finished with the prisoners and saw Deputy Lobo leaning on the desk, a bloody bandanna around his thigh.  “You, too?”

Lobo nodded.  “Just a graze.”

“Looks like it’ll need stitches.  Think you can make it to my office?”

“Sheriff?” Lobo looked questioningly at his boss.

"Go.  Get your leg properly looked at and take the rest of the day off.  See you in the mornin’.”  The Kid took a seat behind his desk.

“Thank you, sir.”  

“I’ll help.  You can lean on me, Deputy.”  Grove offered him an arm.

Lobo limped out of the office with the doctor, his arm over Grove’s shoulder as the mortician helped him keep weight off the leg.

Heyes continued to pace the office.

The Kid watched his deputy.  “Would you sit down?”

Heyes turned toward his partner; his eyes dark with anger.  “Haven’t you forgotten something?” he spat.

“Joshua…”

“ME!”  Heyes kicked a chair and sent it flying backwards.  “You forgot your partner!  How am I supposed to back you up if you don’t even tell me what’s going on?  Yeah, Lobo told me you said to let me sleep.  Well, I’m sleeping in here from now on because I can’t trust my partner to get me!”

“You done?” the Kid asked calmly.

Heyes took a deep breath and slowly released it.

“I was wrong.  Thank you for bein’ there to back me up.”

“Lobo told me there were three more.  He didn’t have a chance to tell you.  We found the two, but not the third.”  Heyes uprighted the chair and sat down.

“I was already takin’ in all that was happenin’.  I should have let Lobo talk.”  Curry pulled out a pint bottle from the far back corner of a drawer and handed it to Heyes.  “It was pure luck that third fella's gun caught the sun when it did.”

Heyes took a drink and passed the bottle back.  “You knew I was there.”

Curry nodded and took a sip.  “Not sure when you got there, but I knew.”

Heyes ran his fingers through his hair.  “You killed him.”  

“I saw the other gun and knew I couldn’t just wound him and take the chance that I'd get the other one before he got me.  Carson was good.  I felt the bullet as it whizzed by, just missin’ me.”  Kid Curry stood and showed his partner a mark on his leather vest.

“That was close.  Too close.”  Brown eyes locked with blue as the two men shared a moment of silent resignation.

“I know.”  The Kid glanced down at his vest.  “Thank goodness Lobo didn’t listen to me and got you.  I’ll have to thank him tomorrow.”

“You okay?” Heyes asked.

“I will be, partner.”  Curry stood and removed Carson’s wanted poster from the board.  “I will be.”

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

MoulinP


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PostSubject: Re: Sept 2020 'Haven't you forgotten something?'   Sept 2020  'Haven't you forgotten something?' Icon_minitimeFri Sep 18, 2020 8:02 am

Hi, this follows on from my July challenge

Heyes and Jed lay in the back of the cart, not daring to move in case. As they felt the cart turn the corner away from the front entrance of Valparaiso, they began to relax.


“Heyes, who is this man?” Jed whispered.


“I don’t know.”


“How do we know we can trust him?”


“We don’t. But he ain’t taking us back that’s for sure. We’re going in a different direction.”


Even so, Jed could feel Heyes' worry.


“Where d’you think we’re going?”


“How the hell do I know?” Anxiety caused him to snap. Then he patted Jed’s arm to reassure him. “He got us away, Jed. Let’s see what happens when we stop. If we don’t trust it we’re away. Okay?”


Heyes felt Jed nod. “Okay Heyes.”


They lay under the sacking in silence, listening to the rhythmic clip clop of the trotting horse. It had slowed now from when it had first took flight, settling into a more steady progress.


“How’s the ankle?” Heyes asked.


“Hurts like blazes,” Jed sighed. “I’m sorry Heyes. I shoulda listening to ya in the first place. Thanks for coming back for me.”


Heyes patted his arm. “We’re partners Jed. That’s what partners do.”


They drove for what seemed like hours. Heyes struggled to stay awake, jerking every now and then when he drifted off. Beside him, although the rhythmic sway of the cart was luring him, Jed’s ankle hurt too much to let him sleep.


Both boys came to full alertness when the cart slowed and turned. Heyes risked a glance from under the sacking. They had turned into a small yard. The cart circled and came to a complete stop. Heyes could see a modest house in front of him. A stable and barn stood to either side at right angles. A high wall surrounded the whole yard. What was this place? It didn’t look any more appealing than Valparaiso. Briefly, Heyes considered getting out fast and making a run for it. He soon dismissed the notion. His hip ached and Jed’s ankle was a concern. No, their only real choice was to await and see what was to come.


The moon was up and Jed caught sight of Heyes’ worried face before he dropped the sacking back in place. If Heyes worried, should he worry as well? The cart rocked as the driver get out and they heard his footsteps walk round to the back. Even though they were expecting it, both boys gasped when the sacking flew back.


“We’re here boys. Out ya get.”


The man’s voice was gruff but kind.


Heyes hesitated.


“I won’t hurt ya boys if’n that’s what ya thinking. Reckon ya’ve had enough in that damm place. Come on. There’s food and a place to sleep inside. Take a look at that ankle of the young’un’s too while I’m about it.”


The man stepped back and beckoned them out.


Heyes and Jed swapped glances. What choice did they have? Jed widened his eyes in unspoken question. Heyes shrugged and moved. He jumped down, wincing as his feet jolted on the ground.


“Ya hurt too boy?” the man asked, starting to move towards him but thought better of it.


“Naw! A little stiff from being in this here cart.” Heyes stretched to ease his back.


The man gave a short laugh. “Yeah ain’t the most comfortable mode of transport. Let’s get ya friend out …” The man reached forward but Heyes blocked him.


“I’ll help him mister.”


The man stepped back and raised his hands.


“Whatever ya say young fella.”


With Jed was out and Heyes’ arm around him, they followed the man slowly to the house. The man stood at the open door and looked back when the boys stopped. They looked nervously up at the house.


“Hey, I knows ya scared,” the man said. “An’ ya don’t trust me right? Can’t blame you. I’d be suspicious of a new body if’n I’d been in that place more’n five minutes.”


“Mister we sure do thank you for coming along right when you did,” Heyes said, with more confidence than he felt. “But I don’t reckon we can take up anymore of your goodwill. We’ll jus’ be getting along now.”


Heyes started to turn Jed away.


“Heyes …?”


“D’ya think I’da gone to all this trouble if’n I was gonna hurt ya? Why they’d arrest me for kidnapping! An’ for a man of my colour that don’t sit too well with some folks. Especially if’n its white kids involved.”


For the first time, Heyes and Jed saw their saviour was black. It took them by surprise. The man mistook their wide eyes and sighed.


“Aw! Guess I’m used to that look by now.” He scanned away for a moment and then back at the two boys, neither standing straight.


“Heyes is it? Strikes me ya friend is hurting some. Ya don’t look in too better shape neither. Wouldn’t be a good friend to him if ya don’t rest up some. There’s food here and place to sleep for the night. You can be on ya way in the morning if ya want. I won’t stop ya.”


The man turned and went inside, leaving the door open.


“Heyes?”


Heyes couldn’t decide. He hurt and Jed was leaning most of his weight on him. They weren’t going to get far if they refused this help. Could they trust this man? Heyes swallowed and licked his lips. His decision to trust this man earlier had turned out well. They were miles away from Valparaiso now. Should they trust him again?


Heyes looked at Jed. The other boy looked a lot younger than his thirteen years and he was clearly in pain. Heyes swallowed again and nodded. The stress of the desperate flight had exhausted him too.


“Okay,” he sighed. “Be on your guard.”


Jed smiled and nodded.


The boys entered the house as the man finished lighting the lamps. He smiled as he turned and saw them standing in the doorway.


“Come in. Come in. Sit yaselves down.” He pulled out two chairs from the central table.


Heyes deposited Jed on the nearest. He started as the man moved behind him, closing the door. The man inclined his head and nodded.


“I’ll leave it open ‘till we get to know each other a little better.” He opened the door fully again.


Heyes nodded and went to the other chair. He dragged it nearer to Jed and put a reassuring hand on the younger boy’s arm. Together they looked at the strange man who had suddenly become a big part of their lives.


He was in his middle years, his curly hair flecked with grey. He was broad shouldered and muscular. His lined face told of a hard life. He stood now hands on hips, regarding them, his dark eyes thoughtful. His powerful presence intimidated the boys. Both wondered if this was a good idea. The man saw the looks passing between the boys and he chuckled. A deep throated and joyous guffaw.


“Names Jericho Crowther,” he said, sticking out a hand in Heyes’ direction. “An’ believe me I ain’t your enemy.”


“Heyes,” said that one, eyeing the hand and then taking it. He prepared himself for a bone-crushing grip as the man encased his own smaller hand. Heyes flashed a brief smile, when that didn’t happen. The hand moved to Jed.


Jed glanced at Heyes. Seeing no harm came to him shook the offered hand.


“Jed.”  


“Well now Heyes and Jed, I’m right pleased to meet ya. How ‘bout me looking at that ankle of yours? Then, I’ll fix us up a veritable feast. All this rescuing has stirred me up an appetite.”


ASJASJASJASJ


An hour later, the boys were demolishing plates laden with sausage, beans, chipped potatoes, and tomatoes. Together with a big hunk of bread smothered in creamy butter. All washed down with large glasses of milk. .


Heavy strapping on his ankle, Jed’s leg now rested on a stool at the side of the table.


Jericho was content to attend to his own meal. The speed with which the food was disappearing told of a long established hunger. Must be the first proper meal these boys had eaten in a long while. He kept his eyes down, not wanting to unsettle their fragile alliance. The elder boy, the dark haired one, was suspicious. Not a bad thing, mind.


Heyes took a long pull of his milk, some rolling down his chin in his hurry to drink. He put the glass down deliberately, looked at it for a moment, before turning his attention to Jericho.


“Why’d you rescue us Jericho?”


Jericho detected that it wasn’t just a polite enquiry. The boy was watchful, trying to sus him out. Behind the dark eyes was an intelligent brain, trying to make sense of the night’s events.


Jericho scratching his cheek. He had to tell the boys something to explain why he was where he was at that moment.


“I’ve got a nephew in there,” he said, holding his hand out for Heyes’ plate.


“There ain’t no …” Jed started, his mouth full of bread. He saw the look Heyes gave him and stopped.


“Ain’t no what Jed?” Jericho growled.


Jed reddened and dropped his eyes. “No black kids in there,” he mumbled.


Jericho sighed, stacking the boys’ plates on top of his own. “He ain’t black.” They looked at him in surprise. “Leastways his mother was light skinned and his father white. He passes.” He shrugged. “But he’s my nephew sure enough. I came home from the War an’ found his mother dead. His pa got it at Shiloh. I’m all the kin that boy has left. Problem is, those folks at Valparaiso take one look at me an’ they won’t even let me see him. But I knows he’s in there.”


A look passed between Heyes and Jed. A familiar story, not unlike their own. Both shifted uncomfortably. Jericho looked so sad they knew it to be true.


“What’s his name? Might know him,” Heyes asked, finally.


“Hubert Rawlins. ‘Bout your age I reckon.” He nodded at Jed. “Blond, blue eyed, wears eye glasses. Has a stutter. D’you know him?”


Heyes and Jed looked at one another. By unspoken agreement, Jed answered.


“Sounds like Herbie, don’t it Heyes?”


“Yep.”


“Y’know him? Is he alright?”


“Yeah as alright as any kid in that place can be. Good kid. Keeps himself to himself. Don’t cause no trouble.” Heyes said. “There are others who do that.” Heyes grinned, dimples proud.


Jericho gave a deep chortle and his eyes sparkled in Heyes’ direction. The boy looked back, their understanding firming up.


“You didn’t answer my question. Why’d you rescue us?”


“Waal I’ve tried to see Hubert through official channels. That didn’t get me nowhere. So ….” He paused. “Figgered if that place is as bad as I’d heard, then some kids might try an’ escape at night. They do on occasion. One of ‘em might be my Hubert. So I sits out there two or three nights a week an’ wait. I saw ya two running and darn near making it. I couldn’t let ya get that close and not help. ‘Specially when I saw the young’un was hurt.”


Jericho shrugged. “Took pity on ya I guess. Right foolish of me. The authorities know I sit there. Gonna get into real trouble.”


A moment of silence. Another look passed between the boys.


“Are they likely to come knocking?” Heyes swallowed, looking at the door, expecting it to fly open. Thinking all the time about where they were and who was with them.


Jericho pursed his lips, considering. Then he shook his head. “Not for a while. Gotta find me first. I moves about. Keep ‘em guessing. But they’ve warned me to stay away. Don’t want my kind hangin’ around y’see.” Jericho scrapped back his chair and stood up, hands on the plates. “But I gotta be there. Jus’ in case. For Hubert.”


He moved off to the sink.


Heyes frowned. Jed pulled the hunk of bread in his hands to pieces. Finally, Heyes took a deep breath and turned in his chair.


“Mr Crowther, Herbie’s okay. He knows how to survive. He don’t get beaten … like some of us. No snitch either!” Heyes was adamant. “Guess he’s jus’ biding his time. Trying to survive best he can.”


Jericho turned and smiled. “Thanks Heyes. That’s good to hear.”


“Talks ‘bout his uncle sometimes,” Jed said, quietly. The hunk of bread now crumbs. “Don’t mention ya by name but he does talk about ya.”


Jericho, tears in his eyes, didn’t trust himself to speak. He nodded and turned back to the sink.


ASJASJASJASJ


A little while later, the boys lay together in a big comfortable bed. So nice to feel clean sheets and the warmth of blankets. Although tired, neither could sleep. Both going over the events of the evening.


“We were lucky Heyes,” Jed said.


“Yep.” Heyes agreed and then knowing what was going through the younger boy’s mind. “Don’t dwell on it Jed. We made it. We’re out.” Heyes threw an arm over his head. “Luck of the draw I suppose but I can’t believe we made it.”


Jed turned his head and smiled ruefully at Heyes. “Don’t dwell on it Heyes.”


Heyes grinned back and patted Jed’s leg. “Why’d you … why’d you tell Jericho Herbie talks ‘bout his uncle? I’ve never heard him.”


Jed didn’t answer for a moment.


“So that he don’t give up,” he said, finally.


“Herbie won’t try an’ escape you know that.”


“Nope but haven’t you forgotten something? Others will an’ Jericho might jus’ be out there to rescue ‘em. Jus’ like he did us tonight.”


“Yeah,” Heyes agreed.


The boys lay in silence but both still awake.


“Where are we going now Heyes?”


Heyes took a deep breath. That conversation could wait until the morning.


“Right now? What d’you say to the Land of Nod?”


Jed laughed. “Yeah. Okay Heyes, we’ll talk ‘bout it in the morning.” He turned over away from his cousin. “’Night Heyes.”


“Night Jed.”


ASJASJASJASJ


Heyes was running. They were getting closer. He had to get away. There were three. No four of them. They had him cornered. He skidded to a halt. He stood clenching and unclenching his fists. He was handy in a fight but he wasn’t sure he could take four of them. He swallowed and looked behind him. Two members of staff approached, both with sticks, one was slapping it into the palm of his hand. He looked back at the four boys, willing them to take his side. But no. His heart sank. They walked towards him as well. Trapped. He steeled himself for was coming.


Hands grabbed his shoulder. He felt the first blow of the stick on his calves, knocking him to the floor. Then more blows and kicks. He heard a scream …


“Heyes!”


Someone called his name and shook him. He couldn’t see. Was it dark? Or something else. He panicked, thrashing about trying to get away.


“Heyes!”


A light appeared by his side. A shadow of a man leaned over him. Heyes shrank back.


“No!”


“Heyes, it’s okay.” The voice came from the other side of him. It sounded familiar. “Heyes, it’s Jed. You’re okay.”


Heyes stared upwards, breathing heavily, drenched in sweat.


He put a hand to his forehead and found a cool cloth there. “Wha’?”


“He often have nightmares?” an unfamiliar voice asked to his right.


“Sometimes,” said the voice called Jed.


“Easy young fella. You’re safe now. Nobody here is gonna hurt ya.” The unfamiliar voice was soothing.


Heyes turned his head towards it. He couldn’t focus on the face and he gasped. Slowly it coalesced into Jericho. Heyes blinked and gave a shuttering gasp of relief.


“Heyes, ya okay?”


Heyes turned his head the other way and could make out Jed. “Yeah.” He smiled faintly. “Yeah I’m fine.” He put his hand to his forehead again. “Sheesh!” His breathing returning to normal now. He nodded, trying to reassure them both and himself that he was okay. The nightmare still haunted him but it was receding.


“Gave me a bit of a scare young Heyes, crying out like that. I thought ya were being murdered.”


“I was,” Heyes breathed. “Sheesh!” He struggled onto his elbows. Jericho caught the wet cloth as it dropped from his forehead. Heyes groaned. “Gonna be sick!” He scrambled to sit up and threw his legs over the side of the bed.


Jericho snatched up the chamber pot and thrust it into Heyes’ hands onto his knees. Not a moment too soon. Heyes wretched. This was embarrassing. Jed rubbed his shoulder.


“It’s okay, Heyes. Better out than in.”


Heyes grunted. “Hope you don’t think this is a verdict on your cooking Jericho ‘cos …” Again.


Jericho chuckled. “No offense taken, young Heyes. Finished?”


Heyes raised his head and nodded. “Yeah.”


Jericho handed him the cloth from earlier for wiping his mouth and patted him on the shoulder.


“I’m fine,” Heyes reassured him. “Sorry I woke you.”


“Ah, ‘bout time to get up anyways. You two get back to bed. Get ya heads down for a ‘nother few hours. There’s no rush. After the night you’ve had I reckon ya could do with the sleep.”


Jericho glanced at Jed. He would leave Heyes to his care. Jericho left taking the chamber pot with him.


After he’d gone Heyes leaned forward on his elbows and cradled his head.


“You okay Heyes?”


“Yeah,” Heyes sighed, looking round with a weak smile. “I’m fine now, Jed. Coulda done without that.”


“Let’s get some more sleep. Big day tomorrow.”


Heyes settled on his back. Jed turned over and was soon asleep. Heyes lay staring at the ceiling now slowing becoming visible in the dawn light.


“Yeah. Big day indeed.”
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RosieAnnie

RosieAnnie


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PostSubject: Re: Sept 2020 'Haven't you forgotten something?'   Sept 2020  'Haven't you forgotten something?' Icon_minitimeSat Oct 31, 2020 2:11 pm

So, I thought "Haven't you forgotten something" was the October challenge . . . turns out it was September. Well, heck -- I wrote something with the wrong challenge prompt for this month. It's an "oh well" sort of thing because I was going to say, not for polling anyway, because it's way over 3,000 words, and besides, the ending isn't quite what I want, but I had to post because the deadline had arrived. The joke's on me! Anyway, have a good read.

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“It’s changed a lot, hasn’t it?”

Hannibal Heyes looked where his old friend was pointing.

“Not that much. At least, not since Jed and I were last here.”

“It’s been longer for me. Almost feels like I’m here for the first time, following you up a trail I couldn’t see.”

Heyes laughed. “You said a mouthful there, Lom. You followed me up a trail you couldn’t see and look where it led you to. Running with the Devil’s Hole Gang and then becoming the famous Sheriff Trevors from Wyoming.”

“Don’t claim credit for his lawman career, Heyes. He did that all by himself.”

“Ain’t that the truth, Jed. Sorry, Lom.”

“I ain’t a lawman anymore, remember? Just an unemployed citizen of the great territory of Wyoming.”

Curry and Heyes exchanged a quick glance, reacting to the bitter tone in Trevors’ voice, but neither responded. The three men stood together, holding the reins of their horses. It was already mid-afternoon, and they were hours from their destination.

“Let’s ride,” Curry said. “I’d like to set up camp in the daylight.”

“I thought we were going to stay in the cabin, Heyes. I’m getting too old to sleep under the stars any more than I’ve already done this trip.”

“I hope we can use one of the leader’s cabin or the bunkhouse, but who knows? From what we’ve heard, ain’t nobody been seen there since the winter of ’87-’88.”

“We’re not going to find out by standing around.” Curry swung onto his horse.

“Always the man of action,” Heyes commented, as he mounted his horse. “It’s midsummer. We got plenty of sunlight left,” He shifted around in the saddle, trying to find more padding for his sore backside and failing.

“Yeah, and it’s a good thing, too. We’ll need the sunlight to find the trail. Looks overgrown to me. Ain’t nobody been here in a while.”

“That is a good thing,” Trevors agreed. “I don’t want to surprise anyone who’s staying at the Hole.”

“Not much chance of that,” Curry said, moving his horse to lead the small column uphill.

“Haven’t you forgotten something?” Heyes asked. “We should fire three shots, in case anybody from the old gang is still there.’

“Haven’t you forgotten something?” Trevors replied. “We’re supposed to be going in quiet-like. If someone’s up there, I don’t want them to be greeting us with drawn guns.”

“We wouldn’t want to surprise anyone either,” Curry added. “But it don’t matter anyway. The old gang is long gone. Ain’t nobody left who remembers the signal except us.”

“Supposed to be long gone. We never did hear for sure about Wheat or Kyle once we moved to Canada.”

“They weren’t the sharpest tacks in the box, but I’m willing to guarantee they ain’t waiting for us upstairs right now. Let’s limit the shooting, alright?”

Heyes grinned. “I love the irony of that statement, Jed. You want them dime novel writers to know Kid Curry said, let’s limit the shooting? It’d ruin your reputation.”

Curry’s response was a hard stare. Heyes was not intimidated.

“Alright, alright,” he said, still smiling. “It just don’t feel right to me, that’s all. That’s not how we did things in our day.”

“Our day as crooks is done, Heyes. And believe you me, all the old gang is gone, too. Ain’t that what we’re counting on?”

“Yeah, I guess so.” With Curry in the lead, the men gently guided the animals up the old trail to the high meadow that was the Devil’s Hole Gang’s famous hideout. Trevors was content to bring up the rear. Curry maintained a slow pace, as he slowly picked his way along what seemed to be no trail at all.

“You doing okay back there, Lom?” Curry called back after they made several switchbacks and squeezed through some tricky openings in the rocky hills.

“Aren’t we almost there? I don’t remember it being this far.”

“Not much farther at all. Just after this last notch.”

Trevors followed them through a marrow passage. When he emerged on the other side, he drew up alongside his guides. The entire clearing lay before him.

“Sheesh. That ain’t the way I remember it. Not at all.”

“Me neither,” Heyes said. “It looks like Gettysburg after the battle.”

“Not quite that bad,” Curry commented. “The leader’s cabin looks pretty solid. But I sure didn’t expect to see everything else looking like it all burned to the ground. Even the fencing around the corral is gone.”

“The stable looks halfway decent.”

“If no roof looks halfway decent, then I guess it does.” He urged his horse forward. “Let’s get the animals settled, then we can get our gear set up in the cabin. Sun’s already starting to set, and the damn wind’s picking up. We can check the hidey-hole in the morning.”

Once the animals were eating comfortably in the roofless stalls, the men walked through the overgrown meadow towards the leader’s cabin, the distant roar of the waterfall echoing across the flat ground. Heyes moved away to study the ruins of the bunkhouse. The others followed him. All three stood and surveyed the destruction.

“Looks like it was a particularly hot fire,” Heyes said. “See how the timbers are charred? Even years later you can still tell.”

Curry stared at the derelict building. “A fire that hot had to spread fast. I hope everybody got out.”

“cowpucky.” Trevors dropped his saddlebags. “I wish you hadn’t said that.” He stepped carefully onto the charred floor, testing the rotten floorboards before putting his full weight on them. Near the remains of the chimney that stood like a lonely sentinel, he got down on one knee and touched a lump of charcoal. “This looks like bone.”

Curry and Heyes exchanged shocked looks.

“Could be animal,” Curry suggested, hopefully.

Heyes crouched down next to Trevors. He cautiously touched the scorched object with one gloved finger.

“Could be but isn’t. This is a human femur.” At Trevors’ uncomprehending look, he explained. “It’s the long bone in the thigh. You can tell by its length and by this lumpy part at the top. It’s called the greater trochanter.” He leaned back on his heels. “And there’s more. All this lumpy, charred stuff there, and there? That’s bone, too. Most of it was disintegrated by the heat of the fire, but if you look at the pattern of stains on the floorboards, you can see the outline of at least one body.”

“How do you know? You’re not a doctor.”

“Since we relocated to Vancouver, I been studying medicine.” Trevors looked skeptical.

“It’s true, Lom,” Curry said. “After we gave up on the amnesty and got the orphanage started, he’s been hitting the medical books and studying with one of the local doctors. Since we took in the sick kids that nobody wanted, our initial costs were high. We couldn’t afford to pay for too many doctor visits, so Heyes had to learn. If he says that’s a human bone, that’s a human bone.”

“Well, hell.” Trevors groaned as he pushed himself up. “I thought we were coming here to find buried money, not skeletons.”

Heyes stood up, too. “The only reason for crooks leaving money behind is that they didn’t get a chance to spend it, which is why we’re here.” Hands on hips, he stared at the blackened bones. “We suspected that something bad had happened to the gang, and now, I think we got proof of that. Death and prison are the only reasons a crook doesn’t spend his money fast as he gets it.” A wry grin crossed his face. “Jed and I know all too well.”

“Somebody must’ve gotten away to tell the tale,” Curry objected. “There’s only a few bones here.”

“Have you forgotten how many years have passed since the hard winter of ’87-’88? Animals have had plenty of time to clear away body parts. There’s no way of telling how many men might’ve died in this fire.”

“Happy thought,” Trevors said. “It’s getting dark. Let’s get settled in the cabin and figure out our next move. I always think better on a full stomach.”

“That’s Jed’s line, Lom.” Curry rewarded Heyes with another sidelong glance, which Heyes ignored. “I just hope the cabin’s okay.”

“I know I’m going to hate myself for asking, but I’m asking anyway,” Curry said. “How would it not be okay?”

Heyes only shook his head. “Lots of ways, Jed. Lots of ways.”

The door to the leader’s cabin was stuck. Trevors twisted the handle and pushed hard, but the door resisted.

“Locked. You still carry your lockpicks?”

“Always. Can’t quit the habit of a lifetime.” Heyes pulled the lockpicks from his jacket and got down on one knee. Within two minutes, the lock was released. Standing, he pushed the door open, and it creaked as it slowly swung open.

The men stepped inside cautiously. Dust mites rose and fell as they advanced. They heard mice skittering away.

“Roof looks solid,” Trevors said, looking around the room. “But why’s all the furniture gone?”

“You think the beds are gone, too?”

“You weren’t thinking of sleeping on one of them, were you, Jed? They’d be full of bedbugs by now.”

“Can’t be sure without checking.” Curry pushed the bedroom door open. Trevors and Heyes exchanged a quick smile of understanding that faded when they heard him take in a deep, gasping breath.

His subdued voice echoed in the stillness. “You better come see this.”

There was a pallet on the floor where the bed had been. A pile of tattered blankets and quilts covered something lumpy.

Trevors pushed his way past Curry and pulled back the faded bedding, revealing a complete human skeleton. The man had been crouched in a fetal position when he died.

“What happened here?” Curry asked.

Heyes stepped over to look at the remains. “No bullets or broken bones. Skeleton looks intact. No ropes or leather ties around the neck, so he probably wasn’t strangled. No signs of violence.”

“How long you think he’s been here?”

“Got to be years. It’d take that long for the flesh to deteriorate so completely. With the door locked, we can be sure big predators didn’t get in.” He regarded the specimen with sadness. “Probably died right here, all alone, of some illness.”

“Pitiful.” Trevors looked around the remains. “Anything here to indicate who he was?”

“Not immediately. Clothes have rotted away too, although the boots are still there. Looks like he was tall, maybe as tall as you.” He shrugged. “Could be anybody, really.”

“I’ve seen enough,” Curry said. “Let’s set up the bedrolls and see to dinner.”

“Nothing ruins your appetite, does it, Jed?” Trevors asked.

“I’ve seen plenty of death. I can’t do anything to help him. Better to focus on why we came here.”

“Amen to that,” Heyes said. “Let’s leave this poor fellow where he is for now.”

The men spread bedrolls out in the parlor. Trevors and Heyes went out to find firewood for the stove while Curry unpacked and organized the food they’d brought with them. By the time the others returned with arms full of wood gathered from the nearby forest, he’d set everything up to cook. While they unloaded the firewood and set up the pot-bellied stove, he went out to fill the canteens.

The last few rays of sunlight crept over the surrounding mountains, still covered with snow in late June. Curry went to the stable to check on the horses. Finding them content, despite the cool of the night, he walked over to the stream of ice-cold water that ran from the distant waterfall. He got down on his knees and held the canteens and coffee pot in the clear water. The constant Wyoming wind felt refreshing. He let the sharp breeze wash over him and clean away thoughts of skeletons and charred bones laying inside burnt-out buildings.

When he got back to the cabin, it was warm and comfortable. Heyes and Trevors were seated on the floor, passing a bottle of whiskey between them.

“You started without me?” Curry asked, in mock outrage. He shook his head sadly. “Can’t trust you two with a full bottle of whiskey, can I?”

“Sure can’t,” Heyes agreed cheerfully. “Once a crook, always a crook. Right, Lom?”

Trevors didn’t smile. “The citizens of Porterville would agree with you.”

Curry sat down next to him, silently accepting the bottle Heyes passed to him. He took a satisfying drink.

“You got to let it go, Lom. The people in Porterville always knew you’d run with us, years before. Sometimes you lose an election just because people think a change is good, any kind of a change. Even a bad one.”

“Give me that.” Curry passed the bottle back to Trevors, who took a long swallow. “Is supper ready yet?”

Supper was a silent affair, dominated by Trevors’ low mood. He held onto the whiskey bottle, taking long drinks throughout the meal, and lay down with it afterwards, his back towards the others, who were clearing the dishes and tamping down the fire for the night before they, too, lay down to sleep..

00000000000

Trevors groaned when the bright sunlight hit his red eyes in the morning. He rolled over reluctantly and groaned again when he saw the other bedrolls were not only unoccupied but rolled up and put away. It had to be late morning.

He pushed himself to a sitting position, then rubbed his aching head. He pulled on his boots to go outside. When he returned, Heyes was on the porch, holding out a tin cup.

“Thought some fresh, sweet coffee might help, Lom.” Trevors grunted his thanks.

“Jed and I are checking out the old hidey-holes. Care to join us?”

“No.”

Heyes covered his smile with one hand. He knew all too well the signs of a serious hangover.

“See you later then.” Trevors nodded, then winced in regret. Too much head movement was painful. He watched Heyes walk away and sipped his coffee. The headache seemed to be fading, slowly.

He went back into the cabin and, after a moment’s hesitation, into the haunted bedroom. He stared at the skeleton, at the bedding, and around the room, and then he sat down on the floor and thought about things like the hard winter of ’87-’88, the Hole, and what people do when the times and circumstances are worse than they’ve ever been. And suddenly, something caught his eye. There was something under the battered pillow where the skeletal head rested. He reached carefully under the pillow and found a book.

When Heyes and Curry returned to the cabin late in the afternoon, they found Trevors sitting on the porch steps, reading.

“I didn’t think you brought reading material with you, Lom.”

Trevors closed the book. “I didn’t. This is a diary. I found it under the pillow, where the body was laying.”

Heyes’ and Curry’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Whose is it?”

“Man calling himself Josiah Wilder. Ever hear of him?” The two men shook their heads.

“I have. Petty criminal from Nebraska. Stole his way through every territory he crossed. Usually kept one step ahead of the law. Your old friend Wheat brought him here in summer ’87. He did a few jobs with the gang, nothing big.”

“The gang definitely went small-time after Wheat took over,” Heyes said. “You remember him, don’t you? Not much imagination. Not much for planning. Not smart enough to realize he wasn’t smart enough to run the gang.”

Curry gestured at the book. “Does that diary tell you what happened here?”

Trevors nodded. “Everything. Every awful, stupid thing.” He sighed deeply. “It’s a tragedy, really. Bad decisions, bad planning, bad weather. The result was, a lot of men died here. Wilder was the last survivor.”

“Let’s get us some coffee and then we’ll hear it out, Lom.” Heyes’ face was grim. “I think we’ll need some fortitude to get through this.”

Twenty minutes later, each man was drinking from a fresh cup of coffee, as they sat together on the porch steps. Lom picked up the book and flipped the pages idly as he talked.

“It started October of ’87. The gang was here, laying low with their latest haul until they thought it was safe to leave the Hole. They hadn’t laid in stores because nobody planned to winter here. The first blizzard came in October, and Wilder says, they thought, well, there’s always a thaw after the first big blow, we’ll head out then. But there was no thaw. Storm after storm came, and the temperature dropped. You remember that winter.”

“We heard all about it,” Curry said. “We were staying with an old friend, Mac McCreedy, in Texas.”

“I was in Porterville. The town might not’ve survived but for the train bringing in supplies. But here,” Trevors said, tapping the book with his index finger, “nobody brought in supplies. Hardly any stored food. No stocks of firewood. They burned the furniture – that’s why no chairs, no wardrobes, no beds – and they took down the corral for firewood. By January, there were down to a few handfuls of beans a day. They slaughtered the horses for meat, and there still wasn’t enough to eat. They were exhausted and cold and getting sick. Pneumonia, sounds like, and dysentery. Men started dying. Somebody got careless with the oil lamps in the bunkhouse and ignited some blankets. Men were trapped and died there. Strong winds that night spread the fire everywhere. Only the stable and the leader’s cabin didn’t burn because the wind changed direction at the last minute. And the only people who survived were your pals Wheat and Kyle, in the leader’s cabin, and Wilder, who’d been out hunting for meat.”

He paused, shaking his head. “Everything that could go wrong, did go wrong. They were trapped. No food. No firewood. Lots of money from their summer jobs, but useless to them, unless they burned the cash for heat. And they couldn’t even do that, because it was mainly coins.”

“So there is money around here somewhere,” Heyes commented.

“Yes,” Trevors affirmed. “You’ll be happy to know that Wilder drew a map. It’s here.” He held the book open for the others to see.

“I know exactly where this is,” Curry said. “How much do you think is there?”

“Wilder says, about $20,000.”

Heyes pushed his hat farther back on his head. “If we can get that, Jed . . . “

“I know. Not only can we pay off our debts, but we can expand the residential area and the school. Probably double the amount of kids we’ve got now.”

“You know, boys, of all the things I thought you’d do after amnesty, starting up an orphanage and boarding school was not even on the list.”

“It wasn’t,” Curry said. “But that was when we still held out hope we’d get an amnesty. Once we realized that wasn’t going to happen – and we know, Lom, you did everything in your power – we had to rethink everything. That’s why we went to Canada. Fresh start in a new country where they speak English.”

“And it was a natural fit for Jed. He always did like helping the needy people.” Heyes added.

Curry stood up. “Helping our needy people calls for cash. Let’s get that haul, right now.”

“Don’t you want to hear the rest of Wilder’s story?” Trevors asked.

Heyes stood and stretched. “Yes, and no. Let’s see if Wilder’s map is right. Looking at a pile of cash will make it easier to hear about what happened here.”

000000000000

“Right about $20,000,” Heyes said. Both paper money and gold coins were spread out on the floor between the three men. “We can do a lot of good with this, Jed.”

“I never dreamed I’d see you two looking at a haul like this without planning some big blowout at a saloon.”

Heyes and Curry exchanged smiles. “Well, I won’t deny that we’ll probably spend a few dollars on ourselves, but definitely not the way we did in the old days.”

“Heyes is getting too old for that anyway,” Curry said, ignoring the glare Heyes sent his way.

“You’ve done better without the amnesty than without,” Trevors told them.

“No, Lom, that’s not so,” Heyes argued. “We’re still wanted. Somebody could still shoot us dead and get rewarded for it. At least there’s less chance of it in Vancouver.”

“I see your point.” He watched as Curry and Heyes started packing away the currency in their bags. “How you going to explain all this money when you get back?”

“Simple. We said we were trying to sell property in Colorado.” Heyes grinned. “We sold the property.”

Trevors’ smiled with reluctant admiration. “You sure thought it through, Heyes. Too bad you weren’t here for the hard winter. Maybe those men might’ve lived.”

“I doubt it, Lom. Even if the Hole had been supplied to carry the gang through winter, it might not have been enough for that particular winter.”

“I suppose that’s the cue for the rest of the story, Lom,” Curry said. “But give us the short version. I don’t know how much more I want to hear about death, especially with what’s left of Wilder in the next room.”

“Did he say what happened to Wheat and Kyle?”

Trevors nodded. “In February, there was a short time when the weather was getting better. They decided to try and walk out. Wilder was too sick to go with. They left him food and firewood, and headed out on foot. That was the last he saw of them. He wrote as long as he had the strength, but he says, at the end, he knew he was dying, and he asked that someone let his family know he had died.”

“Damn. There’s no way they survived that.”

“Yep.”
The men were silent, contemplating the fate of their old friends.

“Well.” Heyes almost visibly shook himself, trying to change the mood. “That kind of leads me to another former gang member.” Trevors gave him an inquisitive look. Heyes pointed his index finger at Trevors’ chest.

“Who, me?”

“What are your plans, Lom, since the idiot voters of Porterville have cut you loose?”

Trevors shrugged. “Look for lawman work, I suppose. Somewhere.”

“We were wondering, Lom, now that you’re footloose and fancy-free, if you’d be interested in moving to Vancouver and working with us.”

“What? And do what? You need a sheriff?”

Heyes smiled. “Not a sheriff, no, but an administrator. A manager, someone used to dealing with all types of people, especially orphaned boys who might’ve gotten in a little bit of trouble already.” His grin widened. “Kind of like Jed and I were, when we were just petty crooks.”

Trevors’ mouth opened and closed a few times. It was evident he was looking for words and not finding any. Heyes was ready to fill that gap.

“We need you to keep us, as well as the boys, on the straight and narrow. Your experience is perfect for the job, Lom. And, if we didn’t already tell you, Vancouver is a fine place. It’s right on the ocean, so it’s got a milder climate than the rest of Canada. And definitely a lot more pleasant than freezing your butt off in Wyoming.”

“I don’t know, boys. . . “ the men smiled at his hesitation. It meant he was seriously considering their offer.

“Lom, we can fill you in more on the way back. We can answer any questions you have. And, as you can see, we got the financial backing to make it all happen.”

Trevors looked around the room. He looked at Wilder’s diary. He looked at his hands. He looked up at his friends and said, “I’ll do it.”

0000000000000000000


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