March 2023 Welsh (Welch)

Oh SO many apologies
I knew I would be away for two days on a work thing over month end and planned to set a challenge and put up the poll on the 28th Feb

THEN I forgot all about it
Sorry sorry sorry

Anyhow - My lovely husband suggested something about St Davids Day for March 1st

So...
Your topic is WELSH

Or just possibly WELCH

(After all, Soapy did once ask if the Governor had welched on the deal...)

Ysgrifennu Hapus

“Heyes, I’m starved. What do you say we head out and get some lunch?” The two men had just gotten into town and settled into a room at the local hotel. It seemed, at first glance, like a quiet town, verging on boring; which, when you’re two wanted outlaws, is not a bad thing.

“Good idea, Kid. You know, I think I saw an English pub when we rode into town. They could have some interesting chow.”

Kid nodded enthusiastically, “That sounds good. Anything except beans and hard biscuits. Please!” He grabbed his hat, turning back to ask, “Just what do Englishmen eat, Heyes?”

Heyes shrugged, “You got me, Jed. Let’s go find out.”


**************

Opening the door of the restaurant caused the tiny bell attached to the doorknob to tinkle softly; apparently just loud enough to grab the attention of a middle-aged woman who promptly walked out from the kitchen in the back. She smiled and greeted them cheerfully, with a pronounced English accent, “Sit anywhere you like, gentlemen. You made it in right before I locked the doors to prepare for the dinner crowd later.”

The men smiled politely and found a table near the rear of the empty restaurant where both of them could sit at an angle which allowed both of them to watch the front door. She approached their table with two cups of steaming hot coffee. “I assume you want coffee…all you colonists out here love your coffee,” she said, chuckling with amusement at her joke. “My name is Agatha. I own this establishment. Now, what can I get started for you? I have shepherd’s pie, welsh rabbit and steak and kidney pie. What appeals to you?”

The two cowboys looked at each other quizzically. Kid could tell by Heyes’ furrowed brow that he didn’t recognize these names any more than he did. “Well, hmmm. I guess I’ll have the welsh rabbit, ma’am,” Jed said, rather doubtfully.

Heyes considered his options and asked, “Is shepherd’s pie some kind of dessert, Ma’am?”

She laughed and said, “No, it’s more of a meat and vegetable pie.” He looked dubious but she assured him, “Oh, trust me, you’ll love it. If not, I’ll bring you something different.”

“Well ok then. I’m always up to try something new. Shepherd’s pie for me, I reckon,” said Heyes.

As she walked back into the kitchen, Jed leaned across the table. “Heyes, have you ever heard of welsh rabbit? It’s probably some kinda rabbit stew, don’t ya think? Like the kind we make sometimes when we’re lucky enough to kill a rabbit?”

“Yeah, Kid, you’re probably right. Rabbit stew, that sounds right.”

A few minutes later, the door to the kitchen swung open and Agatha arrived at their table with plates of food. “Here you are, gentlemen. One shepherd’s pie for you. And one welsh rabbit for you.”

Heyes beamed happily at the delicious mound of mashed potatoes in front of him before digging in and discovering the steaming chunks of meat and vegetables. He greedily put a big spoonful in his mouth and groaned in contentment. “Agatha, I have to give you credit. This is delicious.” He glanced up long enough to notice Jed hadn’t started eating yet, uncharacteristically. “What’s the matter, Thaddeus?” he asked.

Jed was staring down at his plate. “Uh, Agatha, you musta forgot part of my lunch.”

“Oh? I’m not sure I know what you mean,” she frowned.

“Yeah, I don’t mean to complain or nothin’, but where’s the rabbit? All I see is bread with cheese on it. Don’t get me wrong, it looks tasty enough. But where’s the rabbit stew?”

“Rabbit stew?” she said, looking confused. Then her face lit up in amusement and she laughed uproariously. Once she regained control of herself, she said, “This is welsh rabbit. No stew. No actual rabbit…actually.”

Jed stared up at her, not sure what to say. Finally, he just repeated her words back to her. “No stew. No rabbit.” She nodded, biting her lower lip as she did so. “Just bread. With runny cheese.”

“Yes, I guess you could say that. But I can assure you, it’s delicious.”

Jed looked dubious but he delicately dipped his finger into the cheese sauce on his plate. “Well, that is pretty tasty, Agatha. I guess I will eat this welsh ‘rabbit’ after all.”

“That’s the spirit, young man. I knew you’d like it if you tried it. Now, can I bring you gentlemen anything else before I close the kitchen for lunch?”

“Yes, ma’am. I’d like a little more of your coffee, if you don’t mind.” She nodded and started off to the kitchen. “Oh, ma’am. One more thing if you don’t mind?”

“Yes?”

“Could you bring me one of those shepherd’s pies? This is pretty good but I’m gonna need more than just toast with cheese. And if you happen to have any real pies back there, like apple or peach, I’ll have some of that too. Thank you.”

She laughed again and walked away, shaking her head. Jed looked across the table to see Heyes smiling at him in a bemused fashion. “What? A man’s gotta eat, ain’t he?”

March 2023 Challenge Story
Welch(ed)

Hannibal Heyes trudged wearily into the small dusty town of Road’s End and headed to the salon with a cane made from a tree limb, dragging his left leg.  Hesitating outside the batwing doors, he took a deep breath.  Setting his makeshift cane next to the window he tried to stand up straight on his leg.  The left leg collapsed.  Resigned, he grabbed the cane and pushed the doors open.

The one man in the world he trusted and wanted to see in the saloon was not there.  The one man he had wrongly trusted and wanted to avoid was sitting at the back table playing poker.  

He didn’t have enough money for a room but had enough for a beer.

“You seen my partner in here?  We were here together three days ago?” he asked the bartender as he ordered his beer.  “My height, sandy brown hair, blue eyes?”

Ignoring the question, the barkeep walked to the far end of the bar and served a waiting customer.  Then he returned.  “Saw him here with you.  I remember men that wear their guns tied down.”

Heyes took a welcome sip of the beer.  “Seen him since?”

“Might have.”

Heyes reached into his pocket and deftly withdrew half of his remaining money.  “That’s all I got in the world until I find my partner.”

“Should have known,” the barkeep chuckled.  “He was in the next night.  Mr. Jenkins, he owns the bank, came in looking for someone to deliver papers two towns over.  Your partner volunteered.”

Heyes sighed loudly.  “Thanks.”  He picked up his beer to go to a table, forgot about his leg and cane and crumbled to the floor, spilling the beer all over himself.

ASJ*****ASJ

Only one thing had gone right for Heyes since Jim Plummer stole the take from a robbery and his gang broke up.  He tried in vain to find a gang in Wyoming or Colorado that needed a good safe man.  Got arrested once for asking the wrong person that question.  He spent three nights in jail until he convinced the sheriff that he was an undercover Bannerman detective trying to work his way into a gang.  

The jail cell had been better than being alone and out in the rain.  He had enjoyed the company of the sheriff and his son, the deputy.  Enjoyed the evening poker game that was allowed.  Of course, he stayed locked up.  The table was set up outside the cell and he reached through the bars.  He even purposely didn’t win too much.  When he got out, he was more careful about trying to find a new gang.  

About two weeks later, the only right thing that happened, happened by accident.  He was working in a saloon, sweeping up the place during the day and washing the floors and taking out the trash at night.  At sundown one night, he heard a familiar sound with he was emptying the trash.  Bang.  Bang.  Bang.  Bang.  Bang.  Bang.  Then a stop to reload and the sound of someone practicing shooting resumed.

The Kid and Heyes had split up when Heyes joined the Plummer Gang.  Curry hadn’t wanted to join a gang he didn’t know a lot about.  Heyes felt bad about it now that following Plummer turned out to be the wrong choice.  The Kid had wanted to stay together and kinda honest.  But no matter where they were, if he had money for the bullets, the Kid practiced his shooting.  

Heyes had approached the end of the dead-end alley cautiously at first.  He studied the man before him and knew him instantly.  His cousin had grown up, filled out and gained a reputation as a fast gun.  Heyes had read about him in the papers when he could, but hadn’t found anything in the last seven months.  He clapped his hands when all six of the cans jumped off the fence in rapid order.

The Kid had turned around quickly, empty gun pointed at Heyes.  

“Heyes!” he had said with a smile.

And that was it; all was forgotten.  They were partners again.  That was three weeks ago.  Heyes was worried that the Kid didn’t say much, although they were comfortable together.  Heyes had asked but the Kid never said what he’d been doing the last seven years.

“Kid, what do you think about us joining another gang?” Heyes asked tentatively.  

When the Kid smiled this time, it was the same easy smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.  There was a harder edge to the Kid now.  He was wary of strangers. Heyes figured it took something out of you to get a reputation as a fast gun.

“Ain’t against it anymore long as we check out the gang first.  Some of them like killin’ to intimidate and show how powerful they are.”  

“We will, I promise.”

Heyes didn’t mean to, but he’d broken that promise and ended up hurt, broke, and alone.  

The Kid and him had wandered into Road’s End after a long ride, cold and on edge.  They pooled their money and Heyes multiplied it at the poker table.

“Kid, I found us a gang that needs a safe man and a gunnie.  Vern Hendry’s the leader.”  Heyes had been so excited that he expected the Kid to be too.

“You check him out?”  

“I’ll talk to the bartender,” he answered before the Kid could stop him.

As he walked back to the table, he saw the harder edge to his partner in his face and in his manner.  It was going to take a lot to convince him.

“Says the gang comes here all the time,” Heyes said as he sat down.

“That’s all the checkin’ you gonna do?”  The Kid’s voice was a low growl.

Heyes knew he had to use his silver tongue now, but it had never worked too well on his cousin.  

“They got a job tomorrow morning.  They want us both to join in.  We’ll each get a full share of the take,” he said, trying to convince Curry.  

“Where?”

“South of here.”

Once Curry steepled his fingers in front of his face in thought, Heyes knew he wasn’t going to agree.  

“Tell you what, I’ll go with Vern, feel them out.  Open the safe for them.  Get my full share I was promised and then we’ll discuss it.  We could use the money.”

“You go with them, don’t know if I’ll be here when you get back.”

“Aw Kid, you ain’t never been stupid.  This is our opportunity.”

“Your choice, Heyes.”

Heyes watched in amazement as the Kid drained his drink, stood up and left.  “Kid, wait!”  Heyes had gone after him, but the street was empty.  

ASJ*****ASJ

And the Kid had been right.  Everyone in the gang had been friendly and amazed he opened the safe without dynamite.  Vern Hendry had led them all out of town, stopping at a small shack about two miles away.  Heyes watched him count the large take thinking of the delights that money would buy for him and his cousin.

But that didn’t happen.  When he stood up to collect his take, something hit him hard on the back of his head.  When he woke up, he’d been dragged by the feet out into the brush.  His horse was gone.  His gun, hat and boots were gone. His eyes and jaws were aching, and he had a hell of a headache.  When he tried to stand, his left leg wouldn’t hold him.  

And now he was back where he started, in the saloon in Road’s End.  But the Kid was gone, and he was alone watching Vern Hendry, the man who welched on his promise of a full share of the take, laughing while playing poker.

“Next time you gonna listen to me?”  The Kid’s voice was behind him.  He helped him stand up.  Heyes grabbed the Kid’s arm, leaning heavily on him as they found a table.

Hope, that’s what Heyes defined what he felt.  Even though he was soaked in beer, he had hope that he might have another chance.  “Yeah, I’ll listen.  You have some good ideas.  You gonna tell me now where you been the last seven months?  All stories about the gunfighter Kid Curry just disappeared from the newspapers.  Where were you?”

Curry came around and sat opposite Heyes.  He picked up his partner’s almost empty beer and finished it in one gulp.  Then he stared into the empty glass.  “I learned to be careful who I trusted while spendin’ six months in prison for trustin’ the wrong man.”

Heyes, for once, didn’t know what to say, but he knew what to do.  He held up two fingers to the barkeep then looked his partner in the eyes.  “Think we both learned there’s only one person we can ever trust…each other.

Heyes heard Vern Hendry’s voice laughing at the poker table.  Curry looked the same way.  

“That the man that did this to you?”

Heyes nodded but turned away, but his prison hardened partner stood.  

Curry checked his gun and reholstered it.  “Let’s go get what he owes you.”  He handed Heyes his makeshift cane and led the way to the poker table.

Heyes realized that his partner had learned a threatening stance, a gunfighter’s stance, while they were apart.  

“Vern Hendry, I believe you owe my partner some money.”  The Kid’s voice was quiet, but his tone allowed no contradiction.  

Hendry looked up from his cards and into the now steel blue eyes of his opponent.  He looked at Heyes and back at Curry.

“Partner?” Hendry asked.  

“Partner,” Curry answered firmly.

“Ah, Vern, that’s Kid Curry,” one of the other poker players said with a tremble in his voice.

Vern’s right hand moved.

Before he could reach to his side and draw his gun, Curry’s gun was in his hand.

“Wouldn’t try to go for your gun.  Take it out with two fingers and put it on the table.  All of you do that.”  Heyes was startled at the harshness in his partner’s voice.  

“Good.  Now, Hendry, the money you owe my partner.”

Hendry reached into his breast pocket and took out a stack of bills.  He counted some out.  

“That right?” Curry asked Heyes, who nodded then picked up the money.  

“That your gun?”  Curry held his gun on Hendry while he pointed at a Scofield among the colts on the table.

Heyes picked it up.  “Sure is.”

Curry motioned him to back away and stepped backwards still holding his gun on the men.  “Barkeep, come over here.  Take those guns.  They can have them back when we’ve been gone fifteen minutes.”

“Now where’s Heyes’ horse?”

“Tied out in front,” one of the players answered quickly.

“One more thing,” Curry growled, but motioned Heyes to keep moving.  “You took his hat.  Don’t see it on any of you, but Hendry, that black one of yours with the silver things on the band will do.”

“But...”

“The hat!”

Hendry took it off and threw it on the table.  Before picking it up, Curry handed the barkeep some bills.  Keep them here awhile.”

“Yes, sir, Mr. Curry, sir!”

Heyes wondered at the respect the Kid got when he pulled his gun, but left and found his horse.  Curry plopped the black hat on his head before helping him into the saddle.  “Hat fits you!”

Heyes smiled, knowing he could trust his partner to take care of him.  And his partner could trust him to thoroughly check out the gang that they would join together