Out of Darkness
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-4-
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“Jack! Breakfast!” Ida-May’s voice woke Heyes from a troubled sleep.
It had been almost two weeks since Ely had brought Heyes to the farm and, on the outside, he was healing reasonably well. The cuts and bruising on his face had mostly faded although the gash on the side of his head was still a long way from being fully healed. His ribs were still painful, but he was able to undertake light jobs around the farm and had spent the last few days feeding the chickens, collecting their eggs and helping to plant seeds and harvest potatoes and other vegetables.
He still had no recollection of who he was and what had happened to him but, over the last two or three nights, his sleep had been disturbed by intense dreams, with flashes of horses, guns and violence. He couldn’t make any sense of them but felt they were somehow relevant to what had happened to him.
“Jack!” Ida-May’s voice came angrily through the doorway.
Reluctantly, Heyes got out of bed and dressed, before going into the kitchen.
“Sorry.” he said, apologetically, as he sat down at the table.
Ida-May merely put a plate down in front of him.
As he began to eat she said, “Part of the fence has collapsed out behind the barn. Think ya can help Ely fix it?”
“I’ll certainly give him a hand.” said Heyes.
Ida-May gave a curt nod and went back to her chores.
After he’d eaten, Heyes made his way around the back of the barn and followed the fence a ways until he spotted Ely setting a pole into the ground in order to fix the fence.
“Need some help?” he enquired.
Ely straightened, from knocking in the pole.
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“There’s some long poles over there,” he pointed in the direction, “if y’can start bringin’ ‘em over.”
Heyes turned and crossed to where three long poles had been laid and lifted the end of one, intending to drag it across to the fence but, as he did so, a shaft of pain shot through his ribs and he dropped it with a yelp.”
“They aint heavy.” Ely gave him a sardonic look.
“No, they aren’t, it’s just my ribs hurt.” said Heyes.
“If I gotta carry ‘em m'self, you aint gonna be a lotta help.” said Ely, resuming his hammering.
“I’ll do it.” Heyes replied, somewhat irritably.
Sucking in a breath, he hefted the pole and dragged it over to the fence, making sure not to let on how painful the action was, pausing, to lean on the fence, while he got his breath. As he did so, he spotted what looked like a grave, a few yards away on the outer side of the fence, with boulders laid out in an oblong and piled up on top of each other.
“Somebody die?” he asked, nodding towards the mound of rocks.
Ely turned to look, a somewhat startled expression coming to his face.
“Just a dog.” he said dismissively.
Heyes looked again at the grave. It looked awfully big just for a dog, but before he was able to voice the thought Ely said, “Are ya gonna git them poles, or what?”
Abandoning the thought, Heyes resumed the task and then between them they managed to get the poles fixed to the fence posts, by which time it was lunch time.
Later, while Heyes was taking a nap on the porch, tired after the morning’s exertions, Ely approached his Mother apprehensively.
“When we was out fixin’ the fence this mornin’ Jack spotted the grave.” he told her.
Ida-May glared at him, “What’d he say?”
Ely shrugged, “He asked who died… I told him it was the dog.”
Ida-May tutted in annoyance, “You’d better hope he believed ya.” she growled.
At supper that evening, Heyes said, “I should be fit enough to travel in a few days time, so I’ll be able to get out of your hair.” He smiled, “How far is the nearest town?”
Ida-May and Ely exchanged glances.
“Nearest town’s a good fifteen miles from here,” she told him, “too fer to be goin’ on foot, an’ we aint got no spare horses to let go.”
“I see.” said Heyes, “Well, maybe I can ride in with Ely, next time he goes to market?”
Making an effort to appear cordial, Ida-May smiled and said, “It’d really help us out a lot if ya would stay a while longer.”
“I’ve already outstayed my welcome as it is.” smiled Heyes, "I’m really grateful for you helping me, but I need to be moving on.”
“Why? Where’re ya gonna go?” scoffed Ida-May, while Ely got quietly up from the table, “Ya don’t even remember yer own name. How can ya be movin’ on when y’don’t even know where y’come from?”
That was true, Heyes had to admit, but staying here wasn’t really going to help him.
“I’m hoping that going somewhere else, seeing other people, might help jog my memory.” he said.
Ida-May turned her hard gaze to his, “I’m afraid y’aint goin’ anywhere." she said threateningly.
Heyes looked at her, confused by her sudden menacing demeanour.
“Well, I don’t see that---“ He began, but got no further as Ely hit him in the head with a saucepan, knocking him out cold.
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* * *
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Kid Curry had made the journey back out to where he and Heyes had been ambushed by Winters, and from there had spent the next few days crisscrossing the land to the west, looking for any town or homestead that he could conceivably have come across. It was a laborious process, but Curry wanted to make sure that he didn’t miss any place that Heyes could possibly have reached, on foot.
He was beginning to think he was wasting his time, that he was kidding himself and that Heyes was dead, but, every time the thought pushed its way into his mind, he forced it out, unwilling to consider that possibility until every other one had been eliminated.
He camped out each night, missing the companionship of his friend and hoping that the next day might bring success and he would find him.
* * *
Heyes awoke with a thumping headache.
As his senses cleared, he looked around him in confusion. He was lying on a cot, in a wooden room. An oil lamp was hooked on a nail a few feet away.
As his eyes adjusted to the dim light, he saw that the walls and the ceiling were all made of wooden boards and there was no window. He was obviously in some kind of cellar.
He looked around him. Apart from the cot he was lying on, there was a chamber pot, a bucket of water and a tin cup.
Tentatively he got up, wincing as pain shot through his head, reaching up to feel a bump on the back of it.
He searched the room for a way out, eventually spotting a trap door in the ceiling at one end of the room. The cellar, however, was deeply cut beneath the foundations of the house and the ceiling was out of reach of his outstretched arm.
He crossed to the cot and pulled it over to the trap door and stood on it, but, even then, he could only just touch it, but even so, he could tell it was securely fastened from above.
He sat back down on the cot, wondering what the hell was going on. Why had they knocked him out and put him down here? Surely they didn’t think they could keep him down here forever? He shook his head when he realized that they actually could. But why?
Getting up again he shouted, to try and get their attention, but there was no response.
He lay down on the cot, trying to work it out. Suddenly, he remembered Ely’s words about them having had a previous helper. Ida-May had cut him off abruptly when he’d spoken about him, and said that he had left. Then he remembered the grave he’d seen that morning, and how apprehensive Ely had looked when he’d asked who had died, before saying it was a dog. He had thought at the time that the grave was too big for a dog. Maybe it was the grave of the helper, and he hadn’t left at all, but had been killed somehow. Maybe he too had been kept a prisoner here, in this cellar. His blood ran cold at the thought.
He wasn’t aware of falling asleep until the noise of the trap door being opened roused him.
Sunlight flooded down into the room, dazzling him. Then a ladder was pushed down into the room.
“Come up.” Ida-May’s voice called down.
Heyes climbed up the ladder into the kitchen, to see Ely holding a shotgun on him.
He saw that the kitchen table had been moved aside and realized that the trap door was located beneath the kitchen table and hidden by a rug.
“Just what the hell is going on?” he demanded, glaring at each of them in turn.
“Sit down.” Ida-May indicated the table.
Heyes moved to the table and sat down.
“Well?” he asked
“You’ve been askin’ a lot of questions,” Ida-May began, “’bout how fer the town is, an’ ‘bout the grave out the back there… Ely forgot hisself and spoke about our last… helper… We couldn’t afford t’have ya put two ‘n two together, an’ maybe bring the law down on us.”
“I don’t understand…” said Heyes
“Ely, give me that gun an’ go out an’ collect the eggs.” said Ida-May.
Ely looked reluctant to relinquish the weapon.
“Do it,” Ida-May glared at Ely, who gave her the shotgun and obediently left the house.
“an’ don’t get any ideas that I won’t use it.” she warned Heyes off attempting to overpower her and take the gun.
Moving around the table she closed the door and leaned against it, before saying, “Our last helper… Charles his name was… he was here for around a year I guess… He was like a father figure t’Ely…”
“Go on.” said Heyes, when she paused, remembering.
Ida-May mentally shook herself and gave a shrug, “You’ve probably noticed that Ely is… well… he aint had a normal upbringing… his Pa died when he was still a kid… and we’ve been pretty isolated out here… just me an’ him mostly… He don’t understand… y’know… how it should be… between men ‘an women… He looked on Charles like another me… another Mother…” she paused, shaking her head to herself.
“One day… he… y’know… made a pass at him… just bein’ friendly-like, like he was gonna kiss his Sister… or me… but Charles didn’t take it too well and laid into him… and Ely… shot him.”
Heyes’ eyebrows rose, but he said nothing as Ida-May continued.
“He didn’t die… not then… Ely just wounded him… After that, it weren’t the same between ‘em, an’ Charles was gettin’ a hankerin’ to leave… but I couldn’t let him leave… I needed him to help me run the farm while Ely was growin’ up… So we forced him to live down there…” she nodded towards the cellar, “’an’ just come out t’work… at gunpoint, t’make sure he didn’t run off…”
“So, what happened?”
“Six months later… he killed himself… with the scythe…”
“I see.” said Heyes.
“We buried him behind the barn…”
They were both silent for several moments before Ida-May said, “I know Ely aint the sharpest tool in the box… but he’s all I’ve got… an’ this farm’s all I’ve got… and I’ve gotta protect them…”
“So, you’re going to keep me a prisoner here, like you did him?”
Ida-May shrugged, “You aint got no place else to be.”
“You don’t know that. There could be people looking for me right now.”
“Maybe, maybe not. I’ll deal with it if ‘n when it happens.”
Heyes looked into her eyes and saw her determination to do what she believed she had to in order to protect her son and her livelihood.
“So, in six months, supposing I do what Charles did… what then...?"
“We made sure to move all the sharp tools, so there aint no way fer ya to do what Charles did.” Ida-May interjected.
“...You’re just going to keep on kidnapping anyone who happens by until you’ve got a whole cemetery out there?” he waved his hand in the direction of Charles’ grave.
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“If that’s what it takes.”
Heyes shook his head, lost for any further argument.
“It’ll only be as bad as you make it.” she said now, “If you co-operate we’ll all get along fine…”
“And if I don’t?”
Ida-May didn’t reply, and Heyes gave a disgusted snort.
“Git some breakfast,” Ida-May said now, “and then Ely’ll take ya out to help him with the chores.”
She opened the door and shouted, “Ely!” A moment later, Ely entered the house with a basket of eggs.
Ida-May gave him the gun back and moved to fix Heyes some breakfast, while Ely kept the gun on him.
He kept the gun on him all day and Heyes soon began to realize that “helping” with the chores actually meant him doing all the work while Ely sat around, idly, holding the gun.
By the end of the day, he was exhausted and aching all over, after spending the past couple of weeks doing virtually nothing while he’d recovered from his injuries.
The only consolation was that Ida-May did provide him with a hearty supper. But, as soon as he’d eaten, he was forced back down into the cellar and the door locked.
He lay on the cot, trying to think of a way out of the situation. He could understand Charles resorting to killing himself rather than be trapped here, maybe for years, and forced to do their bidding, like a slave. But he could also see Ida-May’s point of view. With no husband, or friends or relatives to support her, and a lazy and educationally and emotionally underdeveloped son, making a living from the farm was tough, although that didn’t make what she was doing right. But, understanding their viewpoint wasn’t going to help him find a way out. He had no doubt that they would kill him rather than risk him leaving, too afraid of any reprisals, for their actions, to be reasoned with. So, what was he to do?
He fell into a troubled sleep, which was once again disturbed by the same violent dreams that had plagued him over the past few nights, of horses, guns and violence. Tonight however, he also saw a man, on horseback, with a rope around his neck.
He woke, abruptly, the image still in his mind. He had no idea who the man was but felt that he was somehow connected to what had happened to him.
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* * *
Over the next few days, Heyes watched and waited for an opportunity to escape, but none arose.
He was forced to do pretty much all the day to day farm work alone, while Ely sat idly by, keeping the gun on him. Not once did his attention wander, which Heyes was pretty surprised about given how difficult it was for his Mother to get him to set his mind to anything for more than a few minutes without her keeping on at him. Heyes had hoped he might fall asleep in the sun, or let his attention wander for a few moments, to give him an opportunity to try and overpower him, but it seemed like he felt that being put in charge of the shotgun was an important task that he couldn’t afford to mess up, especially, Heyes noted, since it also gave him the chance to do his favourite thing each day – basically nothing at all - and he watched him relentlessly
Each day was the same, he would be allowed out of the cellar first thing in the morning, given breakfast, work all day, be given supper and then locked back in the cellar.
Then, one afternoon, the sound of an approaching horse disrupted the daily routine.
In a panic, Ida-May instructed Ely to lock Heyes in the cellar. Nobody ever came out to the farm and she was concerned that whoever was approaching might be searching for him. She was also worried that he might stir up trouble for them should he be allowed to be seen, now that he knew about Charles.
Ely hustled him back into the cellar and locked the door, putting the ladder in the bedroom while Ida-May quickly pulled the rug back over the trap door and dragged the table back over it before going outside.
Putting on her most cordial expression she smiled as the man pulled up his horse in front of the porch.
Kid Curry tipped his hat and smiled, “Howdy M’am.”
“Can I help you?” she enquired.
“I’m hoping you can, M’am. I’m looking for someone.”
“Oh?”
“Yes, M’am, I’m a Bounty Hunter and I was taking a wanted outlaw into Carlsbad, but he managed to escape.” Curry had found that saying he was looking for a friend hadn’t really got him anywhere with any of the townships and homesteads he had visited, but posing as a Bounty Hunter seemed to induce people to be more co-operative.
“Oh, my! Is he dangerous?”
“Well, he’s probably pretty desperate by now, there aint exactly a whole lot of places for him to hide out in this side of El Paso… and desperate men can do desperate things.”
“How long ago did you lose him?” asked Ida-May, as Ely came out of the house to stand in the doorway behind her.
“Getting on for three weeks.” said Curry, “I’ve been crisscrossing the area, visiting all the townships and homesteads in the hope of finding him.”
In the cellar, Heyes was desperate to try and attract the attention of whoever the visitor was.
Pulling the cot underneath the trap door, he pulled off his boot and, standing on the cot, swung it as hard as he could, to bang against the underside of the door.
The noise it made wasn’t deafening, but was loud enough that all three of them heard a muffled thud.
Ely looked nervously inside the house before hurriedly pulling the door closed behind him, to prevent any further sounds being heard outside.
“You haven’t seen anyone around here?” Curry asked
Ida-May shook her head, “No. We’re a good few miles from town, it aint often anyone comes by.”
“Just the two of you here?”
“Yep, jest me, and ma son here.” Ida-May smiled, “This outlaw… what’s he look like?”
“Oh, he’s just about six feet tall, slim build, dark hair. Last seen wearin’ a brown jacket an’ pants an’ a fawn coloured shirt.”
“Well, we’ll be sure t’keep an eye out.” said Ida-May, “What if he should turn up here?”
“If he does, I wouldn’t let on you know who he is, he might turn nasty. He might just ask for food and then leave. If an opportunity presents itself to lock him up, or tie him up, you should do it, but only if it doesn’t put you in danger mind, and then send word to the Sheriff in Carlsbad to come and pick him up.”
Ida-May nodded.
“Well, sorry to have intruded on your time, M’am.” Curry tipped his hat and turned to leave.
“This outlaw…” Ida-May called after him, “What’s his name?”
“Oh, he uses one or two aliases, but generally goes as… McCreedy.” Curry stifled a smile at using Big Mac’s name in vain. “Mac McCreedy.”
“Thank you.” smiled Ida-May.
Curry tipped his hat again and headed off at a trot. He’d barely gone thirty yards when he saw the two of them rush inside the house and bang the door shut.
* * *
Ida-May and Ely went back inside the house and watched to make sure the rider had disappeared before moving the table and unlocking the trap door to the cellar, Ely putting the ladder down to enable Heyes to come up.
“So,” Ida-May rounded on him once he’d climbed into the kitchen, “you’re an outlaw!”
“Huh?” Heyes looked confused.
“That guy was a Bounty Hunter… lookin’ fer you!”
“H-how do you know it was me he was looking for?”
“He described ya right down t’the clothes you was wearin’ when Ely brung ya here.”
“I…” Heyes began
“He said ya go by the name of Mac McCreedy.” Ida-May spoke over him.
“I don’t know…” Heyes raked his hands through his hair. He couldn’t remember anything about his life before coming here but he didn’t envision himself as an outlaw in any way at all.
“He said he was takin’ ya in t’Carlsbad but ya got away from him.”
“I don’t remember…” said Heyes, suddenly recalling the violent images from his dreams of the past few nights and wondering if they were perhaps connected to him being captured by the Bounty Hunter.
“Well, no matter… Mac…” she said sarcastically, “We told him we aint seen nobody but that we’d keep an eye out. It don’t change anythin', other than we’re gonna have t’keep a closer eye on ya, from now on, just in case…”
“In case of what?” asked Heyes, “You have a gun on me all day… and locked up all night… just what do you think I’m gonna do?”
“That Bounty Hunter said y’was desperate, and that desperate men do desperate things.”
“I volunteered to stay and help you around the farm, as a thank you for taking care of me. Would a desperate outlaw do that?”
“He just might, at that, just so’s we wouldn’t be suspicious.” said Ida-May.
Heyes shook his head, at a loss for any further protest and confused by what he had been told.
“There’s still work to be done, before supper.” Ida-May’s voice broke into his thoughts.
She moved to open the door and Heyes reluctantly exited the house, Ely on his heels, gun in hand.
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