Jan 2023 - Regrets

Happy New Again :)

AND

This challenge is not particularly New Year themed - though, I guess it could have that 'tone' ...

It has been on the LIST for a good long while

Try not to get too angsty as you think about

REGRETS

Sitting in the early evening sun, drinking watered down rot gut, outside a hotel that had seen better days, with about eighty dollars between them, Heyes still thought life was pretty good. It was certainly much better than it had been just over three months ago, when they'd been stuck in the hell of Wyoming Territorial Prison, facing another three years of a five year sentence. But somehow they'd been gifted a miracle in the shape of a new Wyoming Governor, who was good friends with C. Meyer Zulick and had a conscience. He'd quickly secured them a pardon, on the grounds of service to the union, and their ordeal had been over, quicker than either of them could have hoped.

Heyes stared over at his partner, who was studying his whiskey as if it held all the answers in the world, and cleared his throat bringing his friend's gaze up to him . Sighing at the lines on his face and the hint of grey at his temples, Heyes took a drink out of his glass to cover his discomfort. The Kid had always looked young for his age, but prison had aged them both, and he now looked every inch and more of his thirty four years. But when his lips quirked up into a smile, which then widened into a grin as he kept Heyes' gaze with no difficulty some of the years dropped away. Heyes could then easily see both the boy and the man in that gaze, and he quickly found his expression softening, before he felt his face break into an answering broad smile.

Prison had been every bit as bad as both of them had feared it would be, worse in some ways, but they'd faced it together. Their joint ordeal had only reinforced their bond, so much so that sometimes Heyes swore it was a physical thing between them that he could reach out and touch. Prison had left them both with mental and physical scars, that would probably never fully heal, but Heyes had every faith that they'd manage to find a place to thrive. They just needed time, and that was something they hopefully had in abundance now they were free men. After a few more moments of quiet, Heyes curious as to what was going through his friend's head asked quietly. “Whatcha thinking about?”

The Kid laughed slightly. “Just wonderin' if I'd known where we'd end up, whether I'd still have chosen to take the path we did."

Heyes swallowed, that thought had crossed his mind frequently, especially when at his lowest in prison, but in the last month, he had finally concluded that for him at least, the decisions he'd made would have been much the same even knowing the outcome. He somehow dreaded that his friend would have come to a different verdict, and it was with a sudden lump in his stomach that he asked. “And what did ya decide?”

The Kid sipped his drink then laughed softly. “While I'd sure like to change the middle, I ain't going to regret the beginning, and I'm hoping for a good ending.”

The knot in Heyes' stomach eased and he found a smile creeping back across his face as he raised his glass in a toast. “Now I can drink to that, Kid.”

The Kid took a sip out of his own drink before asking seriously. “What about you Heyes? Any regrets?”

“Just the one really, Kid...that we got caught, before the many Governor's of Wyoming got their collective heads out of their asses.”

The Kid midway through taking a drink snorted, before laughing so hard that he nearly fell out of his chair, before the laugh turned into a cough. He eventually wiped his streaming eyes, waving Heyes away as he stood a little anxiously. Prison hadn't been good for either of them on any level, and the Kid always a little prone to colds, had suffered more than one bout of the grippe during their time in jail. He'd been laid low by one such incidence not long before they'd been released. Prison had made it hard for him to get over any of them, and even now, he still hadn't fully recovered his stamina and was prone to prolonged coughing. But after a final clearing of his throat, he showed no more sign of needing to cough and said firmly.  “I'm fine, Heyes, I'm fine. But next time warn me!"

Heyes laughed, relieved and amused by the gleam in his friend's eyes and barely suppressed grin, before saying lightly. “It's a deal, Kid.”  While it felt good to laugh out loud again and to be able to talk freely with no fear, they soon lapsed back into comfortable silence, not needing conversation to be content. So they sat quietly, happy to watch the townsfolk hurry home as the sun began to set around them.

“No, I don’t where you might have left your blasted hat, Kid! Why are you always leaving things lying around?” The storm cloud that darkened Heyes’ face took Kid Curry by surprise and he stood gaping at his partner for a few quick seconds before his own visage turned sour in response.

“Well, what on God’s good earth has gotten into you, Heyes? I just asked a simple question.” He glanced around the shabby motel room and spied his hat on the floor by his bed. “Anyways, here it is. Problem solved. Let’s go.”

Heyes didn’t seem to care that Kid had located his precious hat. His mood, if anything, seemed to darken even further. He sat down heavily into the one threadbare chair in the room and stared into the fireplace, blazing with a merry fire.

“Ok, Heyes, you better tell me what’s eating you or I’m gonna go down to the saloon without you. It’s the first day of the new year and I intend to do me some celebrating.”

“Celebrating? Celebrating?! Ok, you tell me, Kid. What do we have to celebrate? Another year without amnesty? Another year, traipsing around from place to place, trying to make enough money working crap jobs or gambling, or or—whatever--just to survive another day? No family? No friends to speak of?
Me? All I have every time another year rolls around is regrets.”

Kid looked down at his friend, unsure of what to say. Mostly, he just wanted to get out of the claustrophobic room and forget about whatever regrets Heyes might be having. Mostly, he just wanted to forget his own regrets for one day.

Putting on his own best, not so real smile, Kid said, in a voice more cheery than his mood, “Heyes, whadda you say we just head downstairs to the saloon and drink some of those regrets away? I mean, what good does it do to sit here and wallow in it? Let’s make the best of today. What do you say?”

Heyes pulled his eyes away from the flickering flames and slowly turned his gaze to his friend and partner. “Nah, I don’t think so. I’m not much in the mood for celebrating right now. You go though. Have a good time. See if you can win a pot or two. We can always use the money.” His half-hearted smile was more sad than happy.

Kid wanted to help his friend, but he wanted to get out of the dingy room even more. After a moment of hesitation, he said “Ok, I’m gonna go.” He turned his back and started toward the door, but paused and turned around one last time. “You sure?” Heyes just nodded. Kid looked him over for a few seconds longer and then turned away and left the room.

Heyes stared at the closed door, at a loss for what to do next. He looked around the room, hoping for some kind of distraction but there were scarcely any furnishings in the room, let alone creature comforts. He returned to his place in the chair and stared forlornly into the dying embers of the fire, too downtrodden in his mind to even think about getting up to add another log onto the flame.

Without warning, the door flung open. Kid Curry stood in the doorway in a fighter’s stance, ready to take on the world. Before Heyes could say a word, he started speaking.

“Regrets? You got regrets? Come on, Heyes! Stop feeling sorry for yourself. Sure, we’ve had a rough few years waiting for the governor to give us that amnesty he promised us. But we’ve had some really good times too. I mean, think of it…we’ve been all kinds of places. Met a bunch of interesting people. Tried our hands at all sorts of jobs. Heck, if it wasn’t for giving up bank robbin’ and the like, we’d still be stuck in Devil’s Hole with the rest of the guys. Now, you can’t tell me that was an easy time. Some of those fellas don’t take a bath more than once every few months. Now that was rough all right. Going for amnesty has been a walk in the park compared to that, if you really think about it.”

Heyes opened his mouth to speak but Kid wasn’t ready to give up the floor. “No, Heyes, you listen to me. I can see you’re in one of your moods, but this is a new year. Think of it as a new beginning, why don’t cha? Full of new adventures; new possibilities. Heck, new towns, new people, new chances to make that big break we are always looking for.”

Heyes tried again to insert himself in the thus-far, one-sided conversation but Kid still wasn’t having any of it. “Now I want you to stop moping around in this gosh-danged room and come downstairs with me. There are probably some real nice ladies down there, just waiting to strip us of all our cash. You don’t want to miss out on that now, do ya?”

Kid finally stopped talking and looked at his partner. “You finished?”

Kid looked unsure of himself but then nodded slowly. “That depends. You coming downstairs?”

Heyes sighed heavily but then a slight smile appeared on his face. “How could I possibly refuse such an eloquent plea. Yeah, Kid. I’ll come down with you. Turns out, I could use a whiskey. Maybe three.”

Kid smiled, feeling slightly smug for having won one with Heyes. The two men walked toward the door together. Just as Heyes was about to walk through the door, he stopped. Kid turned to look at him quizzically. “You coming, or not?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m coming. You head on down. There’s something I want to take care of first. I’ll be there in a minute.”

“You sure? I could wait…”

“Nah. You go down and order us a couple of whiskeys. I’ll be there in a minute.”

Kid hesitated just a moment, before turning away and heading out the door. Heyes stood still for a half a minute, his smile disappearing from his face. Every fiber of his body wanted to crawl into bed, his regrets weighing him down like a quilt. But he knew Kid Curry needed him today, the first day of the new year, full of hope and possibilities. Regrets can wait for another day. He walked slowly through the still-open door, willing a smile onto his lips as he walked down the stairs to find his friend.

(Writer's note: Be kind. It's been a while.)

January 2023 Challenge
Regrets


TWENTY FIVE YEARS POST AMNESTY

“Heyes, we've been here too long.  Safe as it feels, somebody’s gonna figure out who we are sooner or later.  I’d rather leave now and not wait for the later.”  Jedediah “Kid” Curry rose from his comfortable overstuffed chair by the warm fire in their hotel room.

“Afraid you’re right, Kid; although it is comfortable here and we ain’t seen no sheriff snooping around.  We got enough money and can head to Santa Marta.”  Hannibal Heyes, the former leader of the famous Devil’s Hole Gang, stood and stretched.  The fire felt good on his bones.  He wasn’t sure why his back was so sore, and his knee was still but he still welcomed the heat.

“Glad we ate an early breakfast.”  Curry smiled and patted his stomach.  “Gotta go get my gun.  We’re gettin’ too relaxed here; you ain’t wearin’ yours either.”  

“Kid, you seen my travel bag?”

“Under the bed?”

“Yeah, there it is.  I’ll be ready soon.”  Heyes started throwing things into his bag, wondering where his shaving kit had got to in the days or had it been weeks they had been here?  It was nice and he felt a sense of safety here, but the Kid was right.  Somebody always recognizes us.

“Found our guns on top of the cabinet there, but they ain’t loaded.   Why do you think that is?  Gotta find my bullets.”  

“I’ll get the horses.”  Heyes closed his half-filled bag feeling he was forgetting something he really needed to remember.  When their door opened, they both turned.

“Just what’s going on in here?”  

“Clementine!” Heyes exclaimed.  “Get ready, we’re leaving for Santa Marta in an hour.  Are you packed?  Did you send the telegram to Lom so he knows where we are?”  He tried to pick the girl up, but she was taller and heavier than he thought she should be.  

“Er, no; I think I should go get mama,” she said.  “You shouldn’t be going anywhere.”

She got quizzical looks from the two men that quickly faded away as they returned to getting ready to leave.

Curry fastened his gun belt around his waist and leaned over to tie it down.  A pain in his lower back stopped him so he didn’t notice when Clementine slipped out the door.  He tried to think where he had hurt his back but couldn’t remember.  His Colt felt good in his hand.  That’s where it belonged; no matter that it wasn’t loaded.  

Heyes wondered why he had to buckle his holster in a looser hole.  They must have gotten too comfortable here.  

Clementine came back into the room, but she looked different.  Maybe this was the mother she was talking about?

“Well, boys, where are we going this time?” she asked.  

Of course this was Clementine, Jed thought, he’d know her voice anywhere.  Curry smiled at her.  “Darlin’, you know we're goin' to Santa Marta and you’re gonna pretend to be my wife.”  He lifted her chin and kissed her lips.  “Just practicin’ for the real thing.”

“You don’t know how real,” he thought he heard her whisper.  But why would she say that?  

“Mama?”  A soft knock on the door and the two partners froze.  

“No mamas in here,” Curry announced to the room; curious why Clementine went to the door but not enough to ask.

“Our horses are ready and I ordered a lunch for us to bring,” Clementine told them.

Carrying their bags, the partners left the room and looked for the exit.  Clementine led the way.  

“Nice warm room,” Heyes commented, looking back.

When they were in the stable, Clementine turned and ran back to the house, calling over her shoulder to them, “Forgot something.  Don’t leave without me.”

The younger girl met her just inside the door.  “Mama, why today?”

“Doctor says there’s no way to tell when their memory will go back in time,” Clementine explained to her daughter.  “But sometimes Papa and Uncle Han seem just fine.”  She smiled.  “Where’s your sister?”

“Making sure they don’t leave without you.  Mama, it’s hard enough when one or the other of them really gets lost in his memories, but when they both forget, I don’t know what to do,”  Charlotte Curry complained.  “And today of all days.  We have to leave for Uncle Lom’s funeral in two hours.”

Clementine sighed.  “And you just answered your own question.  Lom Trevors was a close friend to both of them.  He’s the reason they got their amnesty.  The news was too hard for them.  The doctor said it’s senility, too many hits on the head.  They remember the past, but not what they had for breakfast.”  

“But sometimes Papa knows me and sometimes he thinks I’m you.”

“They lived hard lives from the time they lost their families.”  

“I didn’t mind coming home and going to the local college so I could help take care of them.  You were sweet to bring them here.  You’ve been divorced from Papa for almost twelve years and from Uncle Heyes eight years.”  She paused, then continued, “Mama, do you regret divorcing both of them?  You never remarried.”

“Well, your papa was always traveling, doing shows and selling the newest model from Colt.  Everybody wanted to see Kid Curry.  He made a very good living, but I needed him here.”

“And my papa was always around,” Julia Heyes said, as she joined them.  

Charlotte hugged her mother,  “I understand, and if you hadn’t married Uncle Heyes, I would never have had a sister.”

“Well I could never make up my mind between them even when we were young.”  Clementine sighed, sounding like her younger self.  “But Heyes couldn’t settle down.”

“And what are you three doing today? They mentioned Santa Marta again.” Julia asked.

“We’ll ride out for an hour and have a picnic.  I’ll enjoy it as much as them.  I'm hoping  that afterwards one of them will want to come home.  They are almost seventy years old, dear; they tire easily.”  Clem looked across the street and smiled affectionately at her two best friends standing patiently in the stable doorway, waiting for her return.

“Enjoy yourself, Mama, and be careful.  You’re no spring chicken either.”