“Y’think yer up t’gittin’ up today?” Ida-May asked Heyes, as she collected the tray she’d brought his breakfast on.

 

It had been five days since Ely had found him on the trail and Heyes could tell that his hosts were getting a little fractious at having to tend to him. He’d tried to get up the previous day, but had only gotten as far as sitting on the edge of the bed, the room spinning around him as he’d sat up, and his head feeling like a dozen blacksmiths were at work hitting their anvils inside it, while the sudden, sharp pain in his ribs, as he’d sat up, had taken his breath away.  But he felt a little better this morning and ready to give it another try.  In truth he was bored stiff, lying in bed all day, even though he’d felt to ill to get out of it.

 

“I’ll give it a try. I feel a little better today.” he told her, with a small smile.  The cuts on his face were beginning to heal now, and the swelling around his eye had gone down a good deal, allowing him to open it, although it was bloodshot and the vision in it was a little blurry, and his cheek bone and temple were covered in a purplish-blue bruise.  However, a bandage still covered the wound on the other side of his head, which was still open.

 

Ida-May gave a satisfied nod, picking up the tray and leaving the room.  A few minutes later, Ely entered.

 

“Ma sent me t’help ya up.” he announced.

 

Heyes had intended to let his breakfast digest a while, and then work up to attempting to get up but, keen not to put his hosts out for any longer than was necessary, he gave a small nod. Throwing off the bed covers, he carefully sat up, avoiding any sudden movements, and swung his legs to the floor, gasping as pain shot through his ribs and abdomen.  He sat, his hands gripping the edge of the mattress, bracing himself, eyes closed and head bowed as he waited for pain to subside and the sudden rush of dizziness, at sitting upright, to pass.

 

After a few minutes, he reached out to grasp the metal bedpost and attempted to stand, giving a gasp of pain as hid did so.  He stood, bent over, holding onto the bedpost, unable, for the moment, to straighten further, taking small, shallow breaths, his face beaded in perspiration and his legs trembling at taking his weight after five days in bed.

 

“Ma said to try an’ make it to the porch.” Ely told him.

 

“I… don’t know… if… I can…” gasped Heyes.

 

“I’ll help ya.” said Ely, offering his arm for him to hold on to.

 

Steeling himself, Heyes slowly straightened up and reached out one hand to grasp Ely’s forearm, before letting go of the bedpost with his other and grasping Ely’s arm with that too. Gingerly he took a step, and then another, wobbling, but staying upright.  Ely put his other arm under his armpit to help support him and slowly they moved out through the kitchen and onto the porch where Heyes carefully lowered himself onto a rocking chair that Ida-May kept there.

 

A few minutes later, Ida-May came out to him.

 

“I washed yer pants, and managed to soak the blood out of yer shirt.” she told him.

 

“Thank you, M’am. I’ll put them on, if I may.” smiled Heyes, feeling slightly embarrassed at being half naked in front of his hosts.

 

“You’ll be needin’ a bath before ya put on clean clothes.” Ida-May told him, “I’ll get started on heatin’ the water.”

 

“I don’t know if I’m up to getting into a bathtub…” Heyes began, but Ida-May cut of his protests.

 

“Ely can help ya.” she said, turning and going back inside the house without further conversation.

 

Heyes sighed,  “Yes, M’am.” he muttered to her disappearing figure.

 

“Ely!” Ida-May’s voice floated out of the kitchen, “Git yourself to work.”

 

Heyes looked up at Ely, who shrugged, sheepishly, before turning and stepping off the porch to go and start his daily chores.

 

Heyes scanned around his surroundings.  From the perimeter of the farm, a track led downhill and turned to the right, disappearing behind trees and brush. There were ridges and hills surrounding the farm, and, in the distance he could see mountains, although he had no recollection of which mountains they were. There didn’t seem to be any other sign of civilization for miles.

 

To one side of the farmhouse there was a small corral, containing a couple of horses. The cart which, presumably, Ely had brought him here in, stood at the side of the corral. Behind the cart was a small barn.  Heyes could hear chickens nearby, although he couldn’t see them from where he sat.  From the looks of it the farm had a fair amount of land attached to it. Heyes guessed it must take a fair amount of hard labour to work it.   He wondered again where he was and what had happened to him but he could recall nothing at all.

 

He wasn’t aware of falling asleep until Ida-May shook him awake to give him some soup.

 

“The water’s almost ready fer ya bath.” she told him as he sampled the soup,  “I’ve sent Ely to get the bathtub from the barn.  He’ll help ya git in an’ out if y’need it.”

 

As if on cue, Ely came striding out of the barn, carrying the heavy tin bathtub as though it was made of paper.  He carried it into the kitchen and set it down in front of the hearth and Ida-May began to fill it.

 

When the bath was ready, Ida-May and Ely came out onto the porch.

 

“I’m gonna take m’self off t’feed the chickens while ya take yer bath, t’give ya yer privacy.” Ida-May told him, “Ely’ll help ya.  Yer clothes are on the table.  I’ve left a fresh pair of underwear fer ya t’put on too.  Them y’wearin’ aint fit fer much other than puttin’ in the fire.”

 

“Thank you, M’am.” said Heyes, looking sheepish.

 

Without further comment, Ida-May disappeared round the side of the house and Ely turned to help Heyes out of the rocking chair, supporting him as he walked, unsteadily, into the kitchen.

 

“D’ya need me t’help ya git inta the tub?” Ely asked, a look of childish excitement evident on his face that kind of unsettled Heyes.

 

“I think you’re going to have to.” he replied.  He moved to take off his union suit but lost his balance and nearly fell over, grabbing hold of the high back of the tub to save himself.

 

“Stand still, I’ll do it.” said Ely.  Moving behind him he pulled the union suit down to his ankles before kneeling to lift each of his feet to pull them off, while Heyes held onto the bathtub for support.

 

“Thank you.”  he muttered, as Ely got up and moved to take hold of his arm, supporting him while he climbed into the tub and carefully eased himself down into the water, noting the dark bruises across his back and abdomen.

 

He leaned his head back against the tub and gave a deep sigh as the warm water soothed his aching body.

 

“Y’need me to help wash ya?”  asked Ely.

 

Heyes gave him a startled look.

 

“No, thanks.  “I’d like to soak a while, to soothe the bruises, so you can leave me to it and I’ll give you a shout when I’m ready to get out. OK?”

 

“Oh. O.K.” Heyes thought Ely sounded disappointed, but he handed him the soap, and placed a razor and mirror on a chair by the side of the bathtub, before obediently going outside. 

 

What Heyes didn’t see, as he lathered up the soap and began, carefully, to wash himself, was Ely, watching him through the crack in the door.

 

 

*    *    *

​

 

After the bath, Heyes felt a good deal better.  He shouted for Ely to come and help him out and, after drying off, he dressed in the union suit Ida-May had left for him, which, fortunately was a good fit - he’d half been expecting one of Ely’s, who was a lot bigger in frame – and pulled on his freshly laundered clothes.

 

Ely helped him back out onto the porch and into the armchair before disappearing back inside to dispose of the bath water.

 

A few minutes later, Ida-May reappeared from  behind the barn.

 

“Did the bath do ya good?” she asked, as she stepped up onto the porch.

 

“Yes, thank you, M’am, I feel a good deal better for it.”

 

Ida-May gave a small nod of satisfaction. The sooner he was up on his feet, the sooner he could help out around the farm.

 

“I’ll have some broth ready, for lunch, in half an hour or so.” she told him, heading into the house.

 

After finishing emptying the bathtub and taking it back to the barn, Ely helped Heyes up out of the chair and into the house where he managed to sit at the table with them as Ida-May served up the broth for lunch.

 

“It’s very good of you to help me out like this.” Heyes tried again to thank them as they ate.

 

“Has anythin’ come back t’ya yet?” asked Ida-May, ignoring his thanks.

 

Heyes shook his head,  “Not yet.”

 

“So, ya don’t know if y’were in any kind of trouble? “ she fixed him with a hard stare, “We don’t want nobody turning up here lookin’ fer ya.”

 

Heyes tried once more to remember, but gave up with a sigh,    “I don’t know.”

 

Ida-May made no response.

 

“I’d be glad to help you out around the farm for a while, until I’m fit to travel,” Heyes said now, “as thanks for helping me out.  It must be hard work for just the two of you.”

 

“We used to have another helper, but he--“ Ely began, but broke off as his Mother banged her cup hard down on the table and glared at him.

 

“He left.” she said, seeing Heyes’ puzzled look.

 

Before Heyes had chance to pursue that line of conversation, Ida-May said, “If yer up to it tomorrow, y’can make a start by feedin’ the chickens and getting’ in the eggs.”

 

“Sure.” said Heyes.

 

“Right.  Ely, there’s work to be done.” said Ida-May, bringing the meal to a close, getting up and carrying their dishes to the sink.

 

Grumpily, Ely headed outside to continue his chores and Heyes decided to take a nap, tired after his first morning out of bed.

 

As he lay in bed, his mind returned to Ida-May’s abrupt interruption of Ely’s comment about their previous helper.  It was obvious she hadn’t wanted to discuss it, and he was curious as to why. This, and other concerns - like who he was and how he’d ended up here - floated around his mind before sleep once more overtook him.

 

 

*    *    *

 

 

Kid Curry had visited half a dozen townships in as many days and still found no trace of Heyes and, as he arrived in the township of Flat Rocks, at sundown, almost a week after their ambush by Winters, he was beginning to lose faith in finding his friend alive. 

 

He had crisscrossed pretty much every area that Heyes could possibly have travelled on foot, and was now down to two options; either Winters had taken him back to his ranch as a prisoner – he was certain he wouldn’t have gone willingly -  or else he’d killed him and buried his body somewhere.

 

He needed to go to Winters’ ranch, to see if he was holding Heyes there, perhaps as bait to lure Curry there to look for him so that he could finish implementing his 'punishment', but that was a risky endeavor.  But if he didn’t go, he wouldn’t be able to eliminate that option.

 

After spending the night in a boarding house, he had made up his mind to travel to Winters’ ranch and try to observe the goings on there from a distance.

 

He set off early the next morning for the town of Brownsville, some forty miles west of Flat Rocks and the nearest habitable town from Winters’ ranch.

 

It was late afternoon when he arrived, and booked a room at the town’s only hotel.

 

After getting cleaned up and grabbing a bite to eat at the local restaurant, he headed over to the town’s saloon for a drink.

 

Propped against the bar with his glass, he became aware of the conversation between two men standing a few feet away from him and realized that it was Jason Winters they were talking about, and that these men worked for him. This was too good an opportunity to pass up, to try and get some information, although he would have to tread carefully.

 

“Excuse me,” he said to the man nearest to him, having checked first to make sure that neither of these men were the ones who had ambushed Heyes and himself on the road,  “but I couldn’t help over hearing…  do you work for Jason Winters?”

 

“Who wants to know?” the man eyed him suspiciously.

 

“My name is… Johnson…” Curry quickly plucked a name out of the air,  “Zachary Johnson.  I didn’t  mean to eavesdrop, it’s just that I’m looking for work and a friend of mind used to work for Mr. Winters a while back, said he was a fair boss, and I just wondered if he might be hirin’?”

 

“Who’s your friend?” the man narrowed his eyes.

 

“Joshua Smith.” said Curry, wondering whether he should have perhaps made up a name but deciding that would probably be counter-productive.

 

“Can’t say I’ve heard of him,” said the man, “How about you Rusty?” he turned to the man at his side.

 

The man thought for a moment before shaking his head.

 

“It was a year or so back, maybe before you worked there?” Curry suggested.

 

The man shook his head, “I’ve worked for Mr. Winters for around five years now. If he’d been there in that time I’d remember.  What’s he look like?”

 

Curry gave him a brief description.

 

“Nope,” said the man, “can’t say I recall anyone of that description being at the ranch. But, if you’re interested in work, come along to the ranch and I’ll get you an interview with Mr. Winters.  Just ask for me – Jake Bradley – I’m the Foreman.”

 

“Well, that’s very kind of you, Jake.” Curry extended his hand to Bradley, who shook it, “I’ll maybe do that.”

 

Finishing his drink, he excused himself and headed back over to the hotel.

 

From what Jake Bradley had said it didn’t look as though Winters had taken Heyes back to his ranch, which only left one logical option.  But Curry was loathed to believe that his friend was dead.  He didn’t believe that Winters would have left Heyes’ horse wandering around if he had killed him. He would at the very least have taken it as recompense for the one he believed Curry had stolen. 

 

Despite the fact that he had been about to hang him, Curry had the impression that Winters was, on the whole, a fair man who honoured his word.  He had told Curry that he had no quarrel with Heyes and that he would be free to go on his way after the hanging.  The fact that his horse had been left to roam free seemed to suggest that the men had left him, either to chase after Curry or merely to return to the ranch. 

 

Curry recalled the sight of Winters’ two men laying into Heyes just before his horse had headed into woodland and he’d lost sight of them.  Perhaps they had left him, to chase after Curry, and Heyes had left the scene before they returned.  He recalled that he’d found Heyes’ horse a good half mile from where they’d been ambushed.  Perhaps Heyes had been unconscious for a time and, on not seeing the horse when he regained his senses, had possibly set off on foot.

 

It sounded plausible enough but, if that was the case, then why hadn’t Curry  managed to find him? The only explanation he could come up with was that Heyes had perhaps gone west, and not back east towards Hobbs. Curry had assumed he would return to Hobbs as it was much nearer than where they’d been headed.

 

The nearest town west of where they’d been ambushed was Carlsbad.  The only thing for him to do was to go back to where they were ambushed and follow the trail towards Carlsbad and hope he could find a clue to his whereabouts there.

​