Into the Fire
​
-3-
The next morning, after a hearty breakfast, Han offered to help out with any chores, as payment for their bed and board.
“I don’t think there’s much to be done.” Margaret Scott looked thoughtful, “Tell you what,” she said presently, “the windows could do with washing, and I have some seeds that need planting. If you do those jobs for me we’ll call it square.”
“Yes, M’am.” grinned Han.
Jed, who was still pretending his ankle was injured, sat on the porch and watched as Han first washed the windows and then headed over to the vegetable patch to plant the seeds, the task reminding him of how he used to do this with his Father, back on their farm.
The thought brought a lump to his throat, but he forced it down. Dwelling on the past was pointless. Many times, this past year, he’d wished for a way to go back in time, to the way things used to be. But no amount of wishing could change the past, or bring their families back. So he pushed the memory from his mind and concentrated his thoughts on what they were going to do when they got to Kansas City.
Later that evening, as they ate supper, the sound of a wagon approaching reached their ears.
“That’ll be my husband.” said Margaret, with a smile.
Getting to her feet, she said, “Wait here, while I go and speak to him.”
Han and Jed exchanged anxious glances, as she left the cabin, wondering if perhaps Mr. Scott might not be as accommodating as his wife.
Several minutes later, Margaret returned towing her husband behind her.
“Boys, this is my husband, Jesse Scott. Jesse, this is Han, and this is Jed.”
“Hello, sir.” Han gave him his best smile, while Jed just nodded.
“How do you do, boys.” Jesse Scott smiled down at them. He was a tall, muscular man with wavy brown hair and hazel eyes, “Maggie tells me you’re on your way to Kansas City, to make your fortune?”
“To find work, sir.”
Jesse nodded thoughtfully, “Well, I don’t know how easy it’ll be for a couple of whipper-snappers like you to find paying work in Kansas City. The city has been much affected by war and is only now beginning to recover. Most of the available work would be too heavy for you.”
Han and Jed exchanged anxious glances as Jesse sat down at the table and Margaret brought him a plate of food.
Seeing their worried looks, Jesse said, “I do know of someone who might perhaps be able to help you out though.”
“You do?” Han looked hopeful.
Jesse nodded, “I have a friend who has a small ranch on the outskirts of Kansas City. His wife died, in childbirth, a couple of years ago and he runs the ranch on his own these days. Takes a lot of work. If I have a word with him, he might take you on, to help him out, for bed and board, maybe a little pocket money.”
“We’d be happy if you’d ask him.” said Han.
“Sure thing, boys. I’ll take you over there in a day or two and have a chat with him.”
Later, when they were in bed, Jed said, “Think Mr. Scott’s friend will give us some work?”
“I sure hope so.” said Han, “It would be good if we could stay here with Mr. and Mrs. Scott, but there aint enough work to be done and I don’t think they have much money so couldn’t pay us even if there was.”
Jed nodded, “I like them.”
“So do I.” said Han.
* * *
Two days later, while Jesse hitched up the wagon in readiness to take the boys over to Kansas City, Margaret Scott prepared them a pack lunch each, since it would take most of the day to get there.
“Thank you, M’am.” said Han, as Margaret handed them each a brown paper package containing the food.
“You’re welcome, boys. I hope Mr. Conway can help you out.” She smiled, ruffling Jed’s curls and giving Han’s shoulder an affectionate squeeze. She had become very fond of the boys in the few days they’d stayed with them and was sorry to see them leave.
“Ready, boys?” called Jesse, as he climbed up onto the wagon.
Reluctantly, Han and Jed climbed up alongside Jesse.
“I’ll probably stay over in town.” Jesse told Margaret, “I’ll be back tomorrow evening.”
Margaret nodded and then stood waving as the wagon headed off.
Han and Jed screwed round, to wave back. Long after her figure became too small to see, Jed’s eyes remained fixed on the rapidly diminishing farm, wishing they could have stayed there.
It was late afternoon when they reached the ranch belonging to Zebulon Conway.
“You stay here, boys, while I go talk to him.” said Jesse, jumping down off the wagon and heading towards the ranch house.
“What if Mr. Conway don’t want to take us on?” Jed asked, presently, his expression anxious.
Not wanting to consider that possibility, Han said, confidently, “Mr. Scott wouldn’t have brought us all the way over here if he didn’t think he would.”
Some time later, Jesse exited the house with another man. He was about the same build as Jesse but with black hair and dark eyes that reminded Han of Mr. Warner.
“They’re good boys.” Jesse was saying, as they approached the wagon, “Polite, willing. We would have been happy to have them stay on with us, but we don’t have much in the way of work for them to do, or money to pay them with. With you being on your own here, at the ranch, they could help you out, for bed and board, and maybe a little money on the side, to get them started?”
Conway looked them up and down as Jesse said, “Boys, this is Zeb Conway. Zeb, this Han and Jed.” He pointed to each of them.
“Hello, sir.” said Han. He wasn’t drawn to this man, who reminded him of the Superintendent at Valparaiso, but he put on his best smile and nudged Jed to speak.
“Hello, sir.” muttered Jed.
“Boys.” Conway nodded his head to them both.
“What do you think, Zeb?” Jesse looked at him questioningly.
Keen to make a good impression, Han said, “Before our folks were killed, I used to help them out on our farm, planting, harvesting, fencework and stuff. Jed did too, but he was smaller then, so not quite so much.”
Conway nodded, thoughtfully.
“Can you milk a cow?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Groom a horse?”
“Yes, sir, and ride them. We had a few horses on our farms and our Pa’s taught us how to ride.”
“Sounds like they’d be a great help to you.” said Jesse.
Conway nodded, slowly.
“How’s room and board and twenty-five cents each, a week, pocket money, sound?” he said presently.
Jesse looked to the boys, “Well, boys?”
Han wasn’t convinced. Twenty-five cents a week each didn’t sound much, but then they would be getting bed and board and beggars couldn’t be choosers.
He glanced at Jed who was looking at him, waiting for him to make the decision for them.
“Okay.” he said finally.
Jesse smiled.
They climbed down off the wagon and Jesse bid them farewell, telling them to “visit any time” before heading off into town to get a room for the night.
Han and Jed stood watching, as the wagon faded from sight, before Conway said, “Come on then, I’ll show you where you’ll be sleeping.” striding off towards the house without waiting for them to follow.
With anxious glances to each other, they hurriedly followed him inside.
Conway led the way to a small room at the back of the house, which contained a single bed, a chest of drawers with a handbasin on top of it, and a chair.
“I think there’s another cot out in the back of the barn. If you can find it, you can bring it in and use it.”
With an anxious exchange of glances, they followed Conway around to the back of the house where he pointed out the barn, some distance away, before heading back inside.
Han and Jed headed for the barn, and after rooting through a pile of tools and other unused items of furniture that had been dumped there, they finally located the cot and carried it back to the house and set it up next to the single bed.
Conway brought them some bedlinen from the closet and they made up the cot, after which Conway called them for supper.
He made no effort at conversation, as they ate, and afterwards, he pulled out a bottle of whisky and seated himself in front of the hearth, effectively dismissing them.
“We’ll get some sleep, if that’s all right?” said Han.
Conway nodded, sourly, and Han steered Jed into the bedroom, beginning to wonder if running away from the orphanage, in search of freedom, had been such a good idea after all. He had, naively, believed that most people were like his and Jed’s families had been – honest, hardworking people always willing to see the good in others and to help those less fortunate than themselves whenever they were able. People who would help them out, by giving them work in exchange for, if not money, at least bed and board. But, from what he’d witnessed since their departure from the school, it seemed that the opposite was largely true. Apart from the Scott’s, they hadn’t met anyone else who had shown any charity towards them and this man Conway appeared to be no exception. He sighed, disappointed by what he’d discovered, so far, about life beyond the confines of the school. If Valparaiso was the proverbial frying pan, in leaving it they might well have jumped into the proverbial fire.
​
* * *
They were rudely awoken, at first light and given some bread and cheese for breakfast before being assigned tasks.
Jed was to milk the cow and groom the horses while Han was to help Conway mend some broken fences.
It turned out that Conway didn’t raise cattle, but sheep, on his ranch. He didn’t have a huge number, just enough to bring in an adequate living. Some were sent to market for food production, some younger ones he sold privately, and the wool from others was sold for processing into clothing. There were a lot of young lambs around with lambing season having taken place a couple of months earlier, and, Conway told him, it would soon be time for shearing the adult sheep.
“You’ll be learning how to do this.” He told Han.
“Yes, sir.” Han, eyed the beasts doubtfully, “Do they bite?” he asked, anxiously.
A faint smile touched the edge of Conway’s mouth, “Only if you stick your fingers in their mouths.”
Han made a mental note to keep his fingers well away from the sheep’s mouths.
At noon they headed back to the ranch, where Jed was just finishing grooming the horses.
They were hoping to have a break and something to eat but Conway made no mention of lunch, giving them both instructions to muck out the stable.
“After that, you can draw water from the well and fill up the water trough in the field.” He instructed, before heading off towards the barn.
“I’m hungry.” said Jed.
“Me too.” said Han, watching Conway’s receding figure with a frown.
It was late afternoon by the time they’d finished the tasks and returned to the house, where Conway was poring over some ledgers.
After a meagre supper they retired to bed, tired after working all day.
Han had suggested that Jed have the bed while he would take the cot and, as they entered the bedroom, Jed flung himself on the bed, glad for the opportunity to lie down after working all day.
“I don’t like him.” he said, in reference to Conway, as Han moved to sit on the cot and begin unbuttoning his shirt.
“He aint very friendly, it’s true,” agreed Han, “but Mr. Scott said that his wife and child died a while ago so I guess that could be the reason.”
The rest of the week followed pretty much the same pattern; up at first light, with a cold breakfast of bread and cheese, out all day around the ranch, doing whatever jobs Conway gave them, and then a meagre supper before they retired to bed.
Conway made no effort to interact with them, other than to tell them what to do, and every evening he would get out the whisky bottle. Han presumed it was to drown his sorrows over the death of his wife and child.
At the end of the week, when Conway made no attempt to pay them the fifty cents he’d promised them, Han decided to bring up the subject as they ate supper.
“Sir…” he began, tentatively.
Conway turned his dark eyes to his, reminding him, once again, of Mr. Warner and causing him to almost back down from asking. But, swallowing down his nerves, he said, “You promised us twenty-five cents each, a week, for working for you.”
Conway’s dark eyes bored into his but Han held his gaze steadily.
Without a word, Conway got to his feet and went into his bedroom, returning some moments later, with a fifty-cent piece, which he banged down on the table in front of them.
Slowly, Han reached out and picked it up, still keeping his gaze on Conway.
“Thank you, sir.” he said, pocketing the coin. Then, with a glance at Jed, said, “We’ll turn in now, if that’s all right?”
Conway stared at him for a moment longer before, with a vague nod, he lowered his gaze.
​
The weeks passed by and Conway became more and more erratic, giving them tasks far beyond the abilities of their young age and then chastising them when they either failed to do them, or didn’t do them to his satisfaction. He attempted to show Han how to shear a sheep, but not only was he not strong enough to hold the animal in place, resulting in Conway having to hold it for him, he then got it wrong and spoiled the fleece, receiving a stream of abusive language for it.
Every evening he would saturate himself in whisky and rose each morning with a hangover that just inflated his anger.
Han and Jed had just about had enough of working for him and had decided that once they’d saved up ten dollars, they would leave and try their luck elsewhere.
Eight weeks had passed when, one morning, as Jed was filling the bucket, from the well, to top up the sheep’s water trough, the old, metal S hook that held the bucket to the rope, snapped, and the bucket fell down into the well.
He went to fetch Han, who was mucking out the stable, to show him what had happened.
As they stood by the well, trying to decide what to do, Conway came out of the house and saw them apparently idling.
“What’s going on?” he growled.
“The hook broke as I pulled up the bucket an’ it fell into the well.” said Jed.
Conway glared angrily at him.
“Well then, you’re just going to have to go down and get it, aren’t you.” he said, grabbing hold of the rope and moving towards Jed with the intention of tying it around his waist and lowering him down into the well.
Jed backed away, shaking his head, “I aint goin’ down there.”
“Well, I sure as hell aint.” growled Conway, “You broke it, so you can go down and get it.”
He reached for Jed once more but Han stepped in front of him.
“It’s too dangerous.” he said.
“Well either he goes down or you do.” Conway glared at him, while Jed moved away, behind and out of reach of Conway’s grasp.
“No, sir.” Han shook his head, keeping his tone polite in an attempt to sooth the man’s angry mood, “The hook was rusted away, from bein’ dunked in the water so many times. It aint Jed’s fault it broke, or mine.”
“Are you disobeying an order? An order from the man who’s giving you bed and board, and paying you money?”
“It’s too dangerous.” repeated Han. He might have been persuaded to allow someone like Mr. Scott to lower him into the well but he didn’t like, or trust Conway one bit and had no intention of allowing him to lower either himself or Jed down into the well.
“There’s a bucket in the stable and one in the kitchen. You can use one of those.” he suggested.
“They’re both metal, and too small.” snapped Conway, “That one’s wood, and bigger. And, because it’s floating there, on the top of the water, another bucket won’t go down past it. I aint gonna stand here all day, debatin’ with ya. We need the water from that well so one of you is gonna go down and retrieve the bucket.”
“No.” said Han, firmly.
“Why, you little—“ Conway raised his arm and delivered a backhand blow across Han’s face, that knocked him sprawling.
Jed, now standing behind Conway, had a flashback of Mr. Brown knocking Han down the stairs, and was moved to action.
Before he knew what he was doing, he’d jumped forward and grabbed the gun from Conway’s holster. His father had shown him the basics of shooting a gun, shortly before his death and, while he’d never actually fired one, he knew what to do.
“Leave him alone!” he yelled, cocking the gun and aiming it at Conway.
Conway, feeling the gun being pulled from his holster, straightened up and whirled round.
“Why you— Give that to me.” he growled.
Jed shook his head, backing up a few paces while still pointing the gun at him.
“I won’t tell you again, give that to me—” Conway lunged towards him, and Jed fired the gun.
Conway fell to the ground, clutching his shoulder.
Han, who had just struggled back up onto his feet, looked at Jed in astonishment.
Then, looking back at Conway, holding a hand to his bleeding shoulder, he realized that they had to leave. Right now. If Conway didn’t kill them for this, he would surely have them arrested and then their identities would come out and they would probably get sent back to the school.
“Are you okay?” Jed asked Han.
Han nodded.
“Watch him.” He nodded towards Conway before running back into the house to collect their jackets and the money they’d been paid. It was only four dollars but it would have to do.
Running back outside, Han yelled, “Get your own bucket!” to Conway before nodding to Jed to follow him.
Jed walked backwards, keeping the gun on Conway, in case he should try to run after them, although, judging from the way he looked at the moment, just walking would be a challenge, let alone running.
As soon as he was satisfied they were far enough away that he couldn’t catch up with them, Jed turned around and then they both ran, as fast as their legs would carry them.
Some time later, a few miles away, Han and Jed lay in amongst some trees, getting their breath back.
“I didn’t know you knew how to shoot.” said Han.
Jed shrugged, “Pa showed me what to do. But I never fired a gun before.”
“Well, I’m glad your Pa showed you.” said Han, giving him a smile, “But you might have killed him, and then we’d have been in big trouble.”
Jed nodded. “I know. That’s why I aimed for his shoulder.”
Han’s mouth fell open in astonishment, “You aimed for his shoulder?” he said, wondering how he could do that when he’d never fired a gun before. His own father had taught him how to use a rifle when he was about Jed’s age, but for the first few times he hadn’t been able to hit anything at all, no matter how carefully he aimed.
Jed nodded.
Han grinned, realizing the benefits of this discovery.
“What're we going to do now?” Jed’s question broke into his thoughts.
Han thought about that.
“Well, I don’t think we should go into the city.” he said presently, “Mr. Conway is going to go to a doctor and he’s going to tell him, and probably the law, who shot him, so if we go there we might be spotted and put in jail, or sent back to Valparaiso.” He shook his head, “I think we should keep moving, see what other towns we come across and try and find some work there.”
“What are we gonna do for food?” asked Jed.
“You have that gun, don’t ya?” said Han, “We’ll buy some more bullets for it and you can shoot rabbits and stuff.”
Jed thought about that for a moment and then nodded.
Han grinned. Having left Conway behind, and with a few dollars in their pockets plus the gun, which Jed appeared to have a natural aptitude with, their earlier bleak future was beginning to seem a little more positive. They were finally free and, with the gun, they could live off the land until they found some work and somewhere to live. Yes, things were definitely looking up.
“We’ll be fine.” he told him.
Jed met Han’s eyes and smiled, boosted by his friend’s confidence.
“Come on,” Han got to his feet, “Let’s get going.”
--oo00oo--
Three months later…
​
Jed crouched in an alleyway between two buildings, watching the street anxiously.
Some minutes later, he was relieved to see his friend striding quickly towards him, a rolled up sack tucked under his arm.
​
After leaving Conway’s ranch behind, their optimism had been short lived.
They’d used most of the money Conway had paid them to buy bullets for the gun, and they’d survived, for a time, on rabbits, birds, and other creatures that Jed managed to shoot, along with berries and apples and any other fruits they came across. But their hopes of finding paid work and a place to live had not materialised, with most people they approached being unwilling or unable to hire them, either for wages or just for bed and board. After a spell of several days where they hadn’t managed to find any food to catch, and with no money left with which to buy any, they became fearful of starving to death and so, in desperation, Han had stolen some bread and fruit from a small township they passed through.
It had been easier than he had expected and, while a part of him felt guilty, for being dishonest, he couldn’t deny the thrill that doing it had given him.
Since then he’d risked doing it a few more times, whenever they passed through a town, becoming more adept each time.
With a quick look over his shoulder to make sure no-one was looking, Han ducked into the alleyway and they quickly ran to the far end, which brought them out at the rear of the buildings on that side of the street.
Keeping out of sight, they made their way to the end of the row of buildings in the small town they’d arrived at earlier that morning and, with a look around to make sure no-one was taking any undue interest in them, they hastily left the town and headed out into open land.
Once at a safe distance, they took cover in amongst some trees.
“What did ya get?” Jed asked, anxiously, as Han sat down on the ground and opened up the sack.
Han reached into the sack and pulled out a small loaf of bread that he’d lifted from a display basket outside the bakers shop, and two small meat pies he’d managed to rifle from the butcher’s shop while the butcher was engaged in conversation with a very large lady wearing an equally large bonnet.
Jed’s eyes widened as he took in the juicy meat pies.
A couple of oranges came out of the sack next along with a slab of cake.
“Wow!” Jed exclaimed, eyeing the cake avariciously.
“That’s not all.” grinned Han. Reaching into the sack he pulled out a shirt.
“I got you this. You’re growing out of that one you’re wearing.” he said, nodding at the too short sleeves of Jed’s battered shirt.
Jed gasped, in awe, and took the pale blue shirt from him, holding it up to examine it.
“How’dya get this?” he asked.
Han shrugged, “I followed this lady into the mercantile and there was a rack of shirts down one aisle. No-one was paying any attention so I ducked down behind the rack, so no-one could see me, an’ just took one. I tucked it under my coat and then I just followed the lady out of the store.”
Jed began to unbutton his shirt, in order to put on the new one.
“There’s somethin’ else.” Han said now, “Somethin’ worth more than any of that.”
Reaching into the sack he pulled out a newspaper.
“What?” said Jed, his attention focused on the new shirt.
"The School Board have fired Mr. Warner from Valparaiso, and it’s all thanks to my letter.”
Jed stopped unbuttoning his shirt and turned to looked at him, his eyes wide with surprise.
Han nodded and held up the newspaper, pointing to the headline 'HEAD OF BOYS SCHOOL DISMISSED', before beginning to read the article out loud.
‘The Superintendent of the Valparaiso School for Boys has been dismissed from his position following accusations of mismanagement, and a regime of brutality towards pupils at the school.
An investigation was launched, by the board, following receipt of a letter, written by one of the pupils, detailing various unnecessarily harsh punishments and acts of violence against the pupils, including pushing the writer of the letter down the stairs and causing him significant injury. The pupil in question, and a friend, are said to have run away from the school in fear of their lives.
The investigation is ongoing but is expected to confirm that standards of accommodation, food and discipline at the school fall well short of designated standards. It is yet to be decided if the Superintendent and/or staff members will be subject to criminal charges arising from the accusations made in the letter.’
Han put down the paper and looked proudly at Jed.
“I’m glad he got fired.” said Jed.
Han nodded, “And he might even go to jail. Even if he doesn’t, his career is finished. Mr. Brown's too, with luck.” He thought for a moment, remembering some of the punishments Warner had inflicted on him and Jed, and others that he had either authorized staff members to carry out, or else turned a blind eye to, such as Mr. Brown hitting him and knocking him down the stairs, before saying, “As hard as things have been, since we ran away, knowing I got him fired makes it all worth it. He’s finished. He can’t treat anyone else the way he treated us.”
Jed nodded, “I’m glad we ran away. I know things aint been easy but it’s still better than bein’ there.”
Han nodded, ”It’s true, things aint worked out quite like I planned, but we’re getting’ by.” he said, “And who knows what we might find around the next bend?”
He met Jed’s eyes and they exchanged smiles.
“Come on,” said Han, “let’s go find out.”
Scrambling to his feet, he tossed the sack of food over his shoulder and they set off towards the horizon. Their future was uncertain, but one thing they knew for sure, it couldn’t be worse than the past they were leaving behind.
--oo00o--
​
​
