Over The Moon 1

[September 2020]

Chapters: 2

Word Count: 32,342

Warnings: None

OVER THE MOON

Goldie &

Eleanor Ward

Plenty of fun stuff, angst,and a real ASJ plot line. A tantalizing look at an episode

in their teenage years that led to them being dashing heroes later.

* * *

With acknowledgement and thanks to Goldie, for inviting me to co-write this story and getting me to put pen to paper for the first time in several years. I hope people enjoy reading this as much as we enjoyed writing it!

* * *

The game was called “Over the Moon.” It was an educational game and it was part of the only education two teenage boys had seen for some time. But it was a valuable game because it might save their lives someday.

Hannibal Heyes had argued that pursuing book-learning was the best thing they could do for their survival. But his friend Jed Curry disagreed. He instinctively knew his own abilities lay elsewhere. So while Hannibal spent his time reading literature and studying mechanics and history and science, Jed worked at honing the talent he had discovered he possessed in aces – fast, accurate handling of a gun. Hannibal’s pursuits were limited to the daytime, but when the sun went down and the moon came out, “Over the Moon” was often played by the two of them. In this game, Hannibal would throw some object up in the air as high as he could, aiming for the moon presumably, and Jed would take careful aim and attempt to shoot it. Jed had invented this game to further his marksmanship skills, which he had already perfected in the full light of day. At first, on scouring the ground the following day, they found several objects that had been thrown and not hit. But as he continued to practice, Jed’s aim got as deadly at night as it was during the day. They both delighted in watching a bottle or rock or tin can shatter against the backdrop of the moon.

Jed Curry was becoming an expert as a fast gun.

And Hannibal Heyes was doing everything he could to further his informal education, since his formal education had fallen by the wayside. His “book learning” could be applied to a number of real-life situations, he discovered, for the betterment of their, well, survival.

For example, most of their meals were provided thanks to Jed’s gun and a trek through the woods. But sometimes animals stayed clear and sometimes the boys did not have any bullets. In times like that, meals were often provided compliments of Hannibal’s ability to engage adults in intelligent discourse over subjects of the adults’ choosing. Just before mealtime.

And, occasionally, if there were no animals, bullets, or adults, meals were provided by quick-fingered pilfering of pears or candy out of grocers’ display baskets or cooling pies off windowsills or carrots out of gardens. Jed didn’t particularly like the pilfering method because Hannibal was just as likely to steal a book as a loaf of bread, and books couldn’t be eaten.

Or, if they were between towns, sometimes meals were restricted to wild berries or mushrooms. Neither of them liked going hungry and Jed in particular did not like being out of bullets. So, even though they probably looked like ragamuffins, sometimes they were lucky enough to procure temporary work – work that paid real money. And sometimes, like with ranches or farms, they were provided sit-down meals as part of the deal, and in those cases all their money could go to bullets. And books.

Scavenging to stay alive was a difficult life, but it was the only one they knew since being orphaned. They had tried living in the orphanage, but the only real advantage it offered was a roof over their heads, a roof that leaked during rainstorms unfortunately. The food, they felt, was worse than starving, and the other boys were often mean and malicious. The two of them often talked of running away, but Hannibal hoped for an education and always talked Jed into staying. The day finally came when Hannibal realized that the only real education he was likely to get involved being thumped over the head with the Bible, and the two of them gathered up what little they owned and a bit of what they didn’t and left in the middle of the night.

No one would have envied the lives they were forced to lead, but most would have envied their formidable friendship. They were absolutely devoted to each other. At first, it was Hannibal who felt the need to protect his younger friend from the atrocities of their existence, but as they aged and Jed became so proficient with a gun, their roles gradually reversed until it was Jed who felt he could do the protecting of them both.

And in spite of everything, they managed to maintain a good sense of humor. One day they were particularly hungry. They were near a large farm with several buildings. Hannibal observed a couple farmhands leave the barn with sandwiches in their hands so he reasoned there might have been food left behind.

“What do you think?” asked Jed. “More sandwiches inside? Should we sneak in?”

“Absolutely!” Hannibal wanted to impress his friend, so he said, “You wait here. All I need is a couple minutes. I won’t come back empty-handed, I guarantee it!”

But when Hannibal got inside the barn, all he saw was farm implements and other farming items. No food whatsoever. Disappointed, he stole a pair of work gloves and returned to his friend, who was waiting for him behind the barn.

“Well? Where’s the sandwiches?”

“Sorry, Jed, there wasn’t any food.” Noting his friend’s dejection, he donned the gloves and held up his hands. “But I said I wouldn’t come back empty-handed!” He smiled broadly.

“Han! I’m hungry!” Jed wailed.

“Empty-handed! I said I wouldn’t come back empty-handed! Get it?”

And then Jed got the joke. He laughed and Hannibal laughed and put his arm around his friend.

“Come on,” said Hannibal, “let’s go into that town we saw and trade these for some baked potatoes or something!”

Their friendship was powerful enough to overcome hunger. As well as many other adversities over the years.

They looked forward to the day when they would look like real men and would finally be treated as such. Hannibal had already been shaving for a couple years and carried a small mirror in his pocket that had a cover over it so it couldn’t easily get broken. It had belonged to his father and when his folks had been murdered and his place burned, he had salvaged what he could. His neighbors had faced the same fate at the hands of the post-war raiders, and after all the mourning was over, he teamed up with their son Jed. The few belongings they had managed to save had, one by one, been lost or broken over the years. But the mirror, and Jed’s pocket knife, had come out each day as Hannibal tried to make himself as presentable as possible. He had to endure Jed’s snickers for a full couple of years until Jed himself found he needed the mirror and knife. Hannibal very considerately contained his own snickering and instead chose to point out to his friend that they were both men now.

If only other people would see them that way.

Hence the target practice and book-learning. And, when all else failed, pilfering.

Their lives changed one November night, by which time Jed had become so proficient that shooting “Over the Moon” really wasn’t necessary any more. But they were cold and the arm movements helped to warm them some. Before they knew what was happening, a man appeared out of nowhere and was holding a scattergun on them.

“Put the weapon down, boys,” he commanded.

Jed set the gun on the ground and then raised his hands when he saw Han do the same. Instinctively Jed knew it was best to leave the talking to his silver-tongued friend.

“If you’re planning on robbing us,” Hannibal Heyes said, with just the slightest touch of fear in his voice, “you’re wasting your time. We got nothing.”

The man smiled, the Moon made that clear. “I’m not planning on robbing you. I just want to know what you’re doing out here in the middle of nowhere, shooting up the sky. Seems like a dangerous thing for two teenage boys to be doing. Not too smart either – waste of ammunition. By the way, you can put your hands down now.”

They relaxed a little. Jed started reaching for his gun on the ground, but when he heard his friend softly say, “No, Jed,” he abandoned the idea.

Hannibal Heyes crossed his arms and spoke belligerently to the man. “You shouldn’t be messing with my friend here. He’s as fast as lightning and if he felt like it, he could shoot a hole between your eyes so fast you wouldn’t have the chance to blink either one of them!”

The man laughed. “I see,” he said. “But then I’d have a hole to put an extra eye in, and I could see you both even better than I do now!”

This was not the retort the boys expected. They looked at each other in bewilderment. But before they could say anything, the man continued.

“I know how fast you are, son. I’ve been watching you for a few minutes now. Seems to me you’re learning to protect yourself. From what, I don’t know. But you might just want to give a little consideration to honing your listening skills, too, because neither one of you heard me ride up.”

Jed looked to his friend for guidance, but ashamed, Hannibal just looked down.

Nobody said anything for a minute. Finally the man continued, “All right. I guess you’ve figured out by now I don’t mean you any harm. Go ahead and get your gun.”

Jed jumped at the chance. He picked up his pistol and brushed it off before sticking it in his waistband. “Thanks,” he said quietly. Heyes snuck him an angry look. He shrugged.

“Now tell me what you kids are doing out here – so far from anything.”

Hannibal found his voice again and his tone was aggressive. “We’re traveling – coming from somewhere and going somewhere.”

Although it was too dark for them to see, the man raised his eyebrows. “I don’t suppose you’d like to tell me where . . .”

“That’s none of your business!”

“ . . . or how long it’ll take you to get there . . .”

“That’s none of your business neither!”

He sighed. “You’re on my land, you know.”

Jed looked to his friend with anxious eyes. Hannibal’s tone softened a little when he said, “We didn’t know it belonged to anyone.”

“I suppose you didn’t,” said the man with a little smile in his voice.

“We didn’t hurt it none!” Jed quickly added.

“I’m sure you didn’t. Although those rocks that you blew to smithereens – those were my rocks, you know.”

Both boys’ eyes got very wide and they were stunned into silence. The man started laughing at their nervousness, and, finally realizing that he was joking, they began laughing also. He got off his horse and extended his hand. “I’m Clu McPherson,” he said by way of introduction. “This is my land you’re standing on - my ranch.”

The ice had finally been broken. Jed Curry eagerly shook Clu’s hand and Hannibal shook it as well, but more apprehensively. He was the older of the two, after all, and it was his job to protect his younger friend. And it was never in his nature to be as trusting as Jed anyhow. “Sorry, Mr. McPherson,” he said, “we’ll be moving on.”

“Going . . . somewhere?”

“That’s right. Going somewhere.”

“Well,” said Clu, “it’s dark. And it’s going to be dark for several hours. And it’s cold. My guess is you won’t get there tonight. If you want, you can spend the night in my barn. Lots of dry hay to sleep on, horse blankets to cover up with.” Jed looked eager at the prospect of sleeping under a roof but Hannibal, as always, was suspicious and less enthusiastic about taking up the offer of a stranger. “Feels like it might rain or snow, too. Up to you boys, but in my opinion you should think about it. I don’t think life offers you boys too many opportunities.”

Jed and Hannibal silently conferred with each other. Hannibal’s instincts told him to walk away from the offer, but Jed’s eyes were so imploring that Hannibal decided to back down - just this once. He figured he’d stay awake all night to watch over his friend. Besides, the prospect of staying warm and dry and awake all night on soft hay was just as appealing as sleeping on it.

He gave his head a slight shake. “All right!” Jed said excitedly, and punched his friend in the arm. “Let’s go!”

“Good!” said Clu. “My ranch is only about a mile from here. Gather up your belongings and we’ll get going.”

When they made no effort to gather anything, Hannibal explained, “We’ve already got our belongings.”

Clu shook his head in sad understanding. “I see. OK, three of us would wear out poor Taffy here, even though the two of you put together probably weigh less than that gun of yours, so we’re going to have to walk. This way,” he said, and started back in the direction he had come from. They followed him on foot, keeping a safe distance behind him.

It did not escape Hannibal’s attention that Clu was very nice to walk with them instead of riding, even though he had a perfectly good horse. It also did not escape his attention that Jed was eying up the horse enviously. Although Jed hadn’t said anything, Hannibal knew how much his friend loved horses and how he still missed the horse he used to have before their young lives were violently disrupted.

“Mr. McPherson,” Hannibal called to him. “Would it be all right if my friend rode on the horse? Seems silly to waste a perfectly good mount, and Jed is . . . well . . . tired.”

Clu stopped walking and turned towards them, eyeing Jed up and down before saying, “Sure, go ahead.”

Jed looked at Han and opened his mouth to protest, feeling guilty that he should get to ride the horse while his friend had to walk, but closed it again as Han gave an almost imperceptible shake of the head, indicating that the issue wasn’t up for discussion, and Jed gratefully climbed up onto the horse, its rhythmic motion as it walked almost sending Jed to sleep.

Less than half an hour later they arrived at Clu’s ranch. Jed slid off the horse as one of the ranch hands approached to take it to the stable.

“Come on in, boys,” said Clu, stepping up onto the porch of the ranch house and moving to open the door.

Han hesitated a moment, his natural suspicion about accepting the offer of a stranger once again rearing its head, but, as he caught Jed’s pleading expression, he pushed it to one side and smiled at his friend, waving a hand to indicate for him to enter the house.

With a grin, Jed followed Clu inside, with Han on his heels. Inside was a cozy kitchen, similar to the one that Jed himself, and Han too, had been brought up in. He glanced across at Han to see if the similarity hadn’t been lost on him too, but he seemed oblivious, his wary gaze focused on Clu.

“Betsy, I found these two young‘uns about a mile from here. I said they could sleep in the barn for tonight, save them sleeping outside.” Before Betsy could answer he turned to the boys and said, “This is my wife, Betsy. I don’t think I got your names?” He raised a questioning eyebrow.

“I’m Jed,” Jed said eagerly, “and this is Han.” He glanced towards Han, getting a hostile look back from him for revealing their names before they knew anything about these people. Jed ignored the look and turned back to face Clu and Betsy.

“Pleased to meet you, Jed.” Betsy stepped in front of her husband and held out her hand to Jed, who, at first startled, reached out to shake it. “And Han.” She turned towards Han and held out her hand to him. Han hesitated for a moment before finally showing his manners by shaking it and dipping his head politely with a murmured “Ma’am.” She was an attractive, middle-aged woman with blonde hair piled up on her head, a pretty chequered apron covering her dark blue dress.

“I’ll fix you some supper while Clu shows you where you can sleep,” she said, before moving over to the stove.

“Come on, boys, this way.” Clu lead the way out of the house and across to the barn where, in a corner, away from the doors, he pointed to some hay.

“Boys, you should be warm enough here. I’ll get you a couple of blankets.” He disappeared out of the barn, to return a few moments later, with Betsy, he carrying two thick blankets and she with plates of sandwiches and mugs of hot milk.

“Sleep well, boys.” She smiled as she handed them the plates and then she and Clu departed.

They settled down to eat the sandwiches. Even in the darkness of the barn, Jed could sense Han’s hostility about what he would see as being railroaded into coming here - not only by Clu, but also his best friend! But Jed was too tired and enjoying his supper too much to indulge in any debate about it and so, after quickly devouring the sandwiches and milk, he settled down with his blanket and in moments was fast asleep. Han, however, lay awake, alert as always, to any possible trouble, and it was well into the early hours before he finally caved in to sleep.

* * *

In the morning, Jed woke up shivering. He took a moment to get his bearings and then realized he was cold because he had kicked off the blanket during the night. He had probably been dreaming someone was trying to attack him. Damn blanket! But foe or not, morning brought new light and new cold and he wrapped it around himself again for warmth.

Han! Where was Hannibal? Jed looked wildly around until he spied another blanket lying in a ball just a few feet away. He crawled over the hay and lifted a corner of the blanket to see his friend sleeping soundly under it. Jed smiled and whispered, “Thanks.” He knew Han had probably stayed awake most of the night to watch over him and had finally caved in to sleep.

Careful not to disturb his friend, Jed walked over to the barn door and opened it. The glory of a peaceful morning greeted him. He laughed – not loudly – and watched his breath float away on the cold air. The coldest day yet this year. He was just about to close the barn door when he spied a couple of dirty plates and mugs in the hay by the door. He fondly remembered the night before, when Mr. McPherson’s wife Betsy brought out sandwiches and warm milk for them before they settled in for the night. With a full stomach and a warm bed, both rare events, Jed had had no trouble falling asleep instantly.

Life was good this morning. Jed glanced back over at Han again and spent a moment listening to his friend’s gentle rhythmic breathing. Satisfied that all was well, he removed his own blanket and placed it gently over his sleeping friend for extra warmth. Then he gathered up the dishes and mugs, closed the barn door behind him, and headed for the house.

Betsy McPherson answered the door before he could knock. “Come on, come on,” she ushered him in. “Got to keep this cold air out where it belongs.”

Jed stepped inside and crossed to the stove where, after setting down the dirty crockery, he held out his hands to warm them. It was an automatic response and he chuckled to himself as he realized that the kitchen was plenty warm enough.

He watched Betsy out of the corner of his eye as she busied herself in the kitchen, images of his own Mother doing the same when he was a child springing to his mind. Indeed, she was not unlike his Mother with her blonde hair and cheery smile. A wave of sadness passed over him at the memory.

“Sit down.” Betsy’s voice drew him out of his reverie. “You’re just in time for breakfast. Hot biscuits just coming out.”

Breakfast! Jed couldn’t keep from smiling. He sat instantly at the table before the spell could be broken. There were two men sitting at the table already, neither of whom was Mr. McPherson. One of them looked like the man who had taken the horse to the barn last night. He nodded to them. They were waiting for breakfast, just like him.

Betsy introduced them while she worked at the stove. “Boys, this is Jed. Jed, the man on your left there is Frankie. And the other one is Travers. He goes by Travers – guess he doesn’t have a first name!” She laughed and placed an inviting bowl of hot biscuits on the table next to the fresh butter.

They both shook Jed’s hand. Travers said, “It’s Poindexter, ma’am.”

Betsy laughed first and then they all did. “Mercy!” she said. “No wonder you go by Travers!”

Just then Clu McPherson himself entered the kitchen from the other part of the house, the bedroom, Jed guessed. He and Betsy bid each other good morning with a heartfelt kiss. Jed watched them mistily, fondly remembering many mornings of his own childhood that started with the love his parents obviously felt for each other and extended to their son.

Clu greeted all the “men” at the table, expressing no surprise at seeing Jed sitting there. He seated himself in the one remaining chair, just as Betsy said, “Flapjacks be ready in a minute. Maple’s on the table.”

Realizing he was sitting in Betsy’s chair, Jed stood suddenly. Reacting to the questioning look on Clu’s face, he said, “I’ll go sit outside and eat. Maybe I could have a plate to take to my friend . . .?”

Betsy turned around so quickly she startled him. “Of course not!” she commanded. Stunned, he wondered if she was referring to him eating outside or taking food to Han.

“You sit right there and help these boys finish this off! They’ve got to get to work – bringing in a hundred or so head from the north range today. You take your time, though.” She returned to the table with a plate of delicious-smelling bacon and a pot of coffee, which she poured for the three men. “Your friend can eat with me when he gets here. If he’d rather sleep a while, let him. I’ll leave something warm on the stove for him.”

“Thank you, ma’am. Uh . . . would you mind if I had some of that coffee? It smells good!”

“Of course you can’t have coffee! You’re a growing boy! You just drink that milk I set out for you!” Mildly surprised, Jed looked to Mr. McPherson, who shrugged his shoulders and smiled.

Jed couldn’t help himself; he chuckled. Betsy reminded him so much of his mother and the way she talked and the wonderful things she used to do for his father and him. Everything about this kitchen was homey and comforting. He dug into the flapjacks she had just brought out and the bacon and the biscuits and he ate just as fast as the hired men and he gave Betsy almost the same compliments they did. She was still standing by the stove and it was clear she loved the attention.

And Jed let down his guard. He knew Han would be mad at him, but he hadn’t felt this comfortable since his parents had been murdered.

But Hannibal had not let down his guard. Halfway through breakfast, the door suddenly was thrown open. Everyone was surprised to see young Hannibal Heyes standing in the doorway, aiming Jed’s gun at the people sitting at the table and waving it slowly back and forth as if unsure who to shoot first. Betsy gasped and Travers slowly lowered his hand toward his gunbelt and Clu reached out his hand as if to ask for the gun to be turned over to him. Only Jed spoke.

“Han! Put that down! These folks here are friends!” He was ashamed when Hannibal did not at first respond. Instead, Han aimed directly at Travers and shook his head no. Travers returned his hand to the table. Satisfied that he had made his point, Han turned to Jed and asked, “Are you all right?”

“Sure I’m all right! These folks don’t want to hurt us! They don’t, Han! Look at this spread!”

Somehow Han had known this the instant he’d entered the kitchen, but his protective instincts had been stronger and took over. He lowered the gun and, guessing correctly, did what Clu suggested and placed it in his outstretched hand.

Jed knew that the closest thing to an apology anyone would get from Hannibal Heyes had already been given, so he said, “We’re sorry, Mr. McPherson. Han was just trying to protect me, that’s all. He didn’t know. Right, Han?”

The smell of the good food was getting to Hannibal and he uttered a vague “Yeah.”

Surprisingly, Mr. McPherson was not angry. He said in a low even voice, “No guns in the house, boys.”

Han flared up again and pointed to Frankie and Travers. “They’re wearing ‘em!”

“That’s because they work for me.”

“Then I want to work for you, too!” Hannibal Heyes commanded.

“That can be arranged,” Clu said in the same low even voice.

Jed stared at his friend questioningly but everyone else was staring at Clu. Using the same tone of voice, he continued, “You eat your breakfast, and when you’re done, you come out to the barn and I’ll tell you how to do some ranching for me.”

“We’ve done ranchin’ before,” Hannibal Heyes said belligerently.

“That’s fine,” Clu smiled in an attempt to disarm Han’s defensiveness. “And you, too,” he pointed to Jed. “You’re welcome to work for us, too. The two of you come out to the barn when you’re done and I’ll be waiting for you. Betsy, see if you can find a couple old jackets of mine for them.”

And, just like that, he and Frankie and Travers left to start their day’s work. Betsy took a moment to explain that they would be paid whatever her husband felt was appropriate and they would get three meals a day. She explained that the hired men lived in rented rooms in the town but since they didn’t have a place, she would fix up a good place in the barn where they could sleep. Then she left to perform her task, leaving the boys alone at the table. Hannibal wasted no time digging into the food.

“Did you mean it?” Jed asked hopefully, almost afraid to say anything and break the spell.

“Sure, I meant it. We’ve done ranchin’ before. Besides, they probably won’t pay us like real ranch hands and we won’t have the same stuff to do, but – why not? It’s a paying job. Roof over our heads. Food.”

This was the best day Jed Curry could remember having in a long time. He chewed another bite thoughtfully and then said, “Mr. McPherson took you by surprise, didn’t he? You wanted to leave this morning, didn’t you?”

Hannibal Heyes didn’t like being embarrassed and this came a little too close. “Yeah,” he admitted grudgingly. “But I wasn’t going to rob them, though. After they fed us last night!”

Jed smiled and looked down. “Thanks,” he said softly.

Han nodded.

* * *

Clu McPherson was indeed waiting for them when they arrived at the barn, jacketed up and only one hat between them, unfortunately, which Betsy asked them to share because it was all she could find. They were warm and it felt good.

Clu explained to them what he expected their duties to be, and he quoted their pay, which was less than they wanted but almost acceptable. Han asked for more.

“No, boys, this ranch can’t afford more. Don’t forget you’re getting a roof over your heads and three square meals a day!”

The boys exchanged a look. “How about one more thing?” Han bargained. “Six bullets a day so my friend can keep practicing.” Jed was taken by complete surprise and had a difficult time hiding his hope.

Clu hesitated. “All right. On two conditions. One – you practice at night, only after your work is done. The gun stays in the house with Betsy during the day. And, two – you tell me why this is important to you.”

They exchanged a long look and then Han softly said, “Where we come from – Kansas and thereabouts – nothing is safe anymore. There are crazy people out there since the War. Our folks were . . . “ He stopped to gather himself together; this was a subject he never wanted to think about. He looked at Jed, who gave him a nod of encouragement. “Well, Jed and me, we lost everything. We don’t aim to lose our lives, too.”

Although vague, this was apparently enough to satisfy Clu, and they all agreed to the terms. And he vowed never to ask them to talk about it again.

Their first day on the ranch involved a number of fix-it things to do. Easy things for them – broken saddle cinches, leaking horse troughs, a couple of repairs to the house. Their second day found them on horseback, going out with Clu to mend some fences. He observed them closely all this time, marveling at their willingness to do anything and especially at their ability to do it well. The chores that they absorbed allowed Betsy some free time and she took in sewing from some of the neighboring ranchers’ wives. It brought extra money into the household and it was something she really enjoyed. All in all, everybody found the relationship to be very satisfactory.

Jed Curry was content there but, deep in his soul, he missed the nomadic life they had left behind. Jed knew that if he felt like this, the wanderlust his friend felt almost certainly had to be stronger. But neither of them said anything.

After a couple of weeks, the ranch encountered some problems with a cougar threatening the cattle and killing one head. Even though it was a small ranch, it still covered a lot of area and Clu did not have enough manpower to fight the cat. He was forced to put a couple men on the range at night. He wanted to pair up one of the boys with one of the experienced hands, and switch them off between night and day hours each week. But Jed and Han flatly refused to work with anyone but each other. So Clu let them stay together and he gave them strictly day shifts. He also rigged their horses with rifle holders after they claimed they could handle rifles. They had never given him a reason not to believe them.

It was several days later and two more head of cattle had been killed before anyone caught sight of the cat. The boys were following its tracks up into the hills, beginning to wonder if they would ever encounter it since it had proven elusive. But they were good trackers, particularly Jed, and they were persistent. Both of them were anxious to prove to Mr. McPherson that they were deserving of the faith he had put in them. And they were anxious to prove to themselves that they were really men, even though their biological ages fell a little short of that milestone. Returning to the ranch with the dead wildcat would do wonders for their self-images.

Jed spotted the blood first. In a particularly rocky area, he detected some blood in the tracks, as well as small amounts of cat hair. The tracks had become erratic, and both Han and Jed concluded that the animal had somehow injured its paw, probably on the craggy ground.

Finding and killing a cougar before it could kill you first was a dangerous enough job as it was, but an injury to the animal would make it angry and defensive.

And even more dangerous.

This realization caused them to stop and powwow for a moment, but Han convinced his friend that they should continue on. Although skeptical, Jed trusted Han as he always had, and the two of them continued following the tracks up into the rocks.

At one point, the uneven ground caused them to have to abandon their horses and continue the hunt on foot. Now they both knew that the odds were definitely against them. An injured wildcat, no horses for protection or early warning, and the most obvious fact that they both refused to acknowledge – neither of them had ever come this close to encountering a cougar before – put them at a disadvantage.

And they were very close and they knew it.

Another thing that they both refused to accept – they were scared. Without realizing he was doing it, Jed let Han lead and stuck close to him. After a few paces, Hannibal said, “Maybe we should split up. Give us a better chance to find him.”

“I don’t know. If we stick together, we look more. . . I don’t know . . . maybe tougher.”

“Yeah,” Han smiled a little and put his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “I think that’s the problem. We might be at this forever if he’s afraid to confront us. We need him to come out of hiding.”

“By using us as . . . bait?”

Han’s smile disappeared. “Well . . . yeah. I guess so. It’s the instinct of the wild – kill or be killed. We’ve got to draw him out. And, besides, we’ve both got rifles.”

“I don’t feel as good about the rifle as you do. Not like the handgun.” For emphasis and security, Jed patted their gun, which Clu was now allowing him to pocket.

Hannibal Heyes smiled a false smile before continuing onward. “Don’t worry, Jed, I’ll protect you.”

Jed Curry knew it was a little joke but he did not smile. He clutched his rifle tighter as Han turned to his right and set off, watching him nervously for a moment before setting off in the opposite direction.

Carefully treading the uneven rocky ground, they had barely gone thirty yards before they heard the warning snarl of an angry wildcat.

And then, seemingly from nowhere, it was on Han.

It came from above. Their inexperience caused them to continue looking at the ground and they hadn’t thought to look up. The cat sprang from the boulder like lightning, landing on Hannibal Heyes and knocking him to the ground. It aimed its fangs right at its adversary’s neck, but Han put his arm up in time and instinctively tried to roll on to his stomach to protect himself. His rifle had bounded out of reach but he was in no position to be able to use it, anyway. The cat sank its claws and fangs into his shoulder, causing him to cry out. “Jed! Jed!” he screamed. “Help me!”

Jed Curry was only a few short yards away but they seemed like miles to him. He had the presence of mind to shoulder his rifle and take aim, but Han and the cat were rolling too quickly for him to risk a shot. He couldn’t take the chance that he might accidentally shoot the only person on earth who meant anything to him. He kept re-adjusting for each of their movements but he was scared and his hands shook. “No, Han! Stop moving! I can’t get. . . I can’t . . .”

Jed Curry couldn’t imagine life without Hannibal Heyes.

But Han was weakening. And when he rolled on his back, right where the cat wanted him, and when the cat sank its fangs into his chest near his heart, and when he sank into unconsciousness and stopped struggling, this is when Jed knew he had to stop this tragedy somehow. He had not been old enough to stop his parents from being murdered or his home from being destroyed, but that was a long time ago, and Han had always been there to help him when he felt bad. And now, Han was being murdered by an animal.

Jed Curry threw his rifle to the ground, drew his handgun out of his pocket and shot that animal in the neck. As the injured cat turned in rage to face him, he shot it square between the eyes. All without thinking, without taking the time to aim. Perfection with a gun.

But all Jed could think about was his beloved friend, lying on the ground unconscious, with his life seeping away in his blood.

“Han!” he yelled, scrambling frantically across the rocky ground to reach his friend.

Shoving the gun back into his coat, he dropped to his knees, holding his breath. He felt his friend’s neck for a pulse, afraid he might already be dead. Relief flooded over him when he felt a faint heartbeat beneath his fingers. This was short-lived however, when he pulled open his jacket and shirt to examine the wounds the cat had inflicted.

There were two puncture wounds in the fleshy part of Han’s left shoulder, just above his collarbone, as well as four deep tears going over the top of his shoulder and into his back where the cat had tried to get a grip on him with its claws. But it was the wound to his chest that worried Jed the most. The cat had sunk its fangs deep into his chest, perilously close to his heart, and had ripped two significant holes in the flesh as it had withdrawn them, from which blood was flowing profusely.

“Han!” Jed called again, slapping his face as he tried to rouse him back to consciousness. “Han! Wake up!”

Jed had never been in such a situation before and he desperately needed advice from his older friend on what he should do, but Han did not stir.

Jed knelt there, trying to think rationally. They were probably close to a mile away from the ranch. Jed contemplated going back there to fetch help but it would take him a good hour to get there, get help and get back – and by that time Han could be dead.

The only option was for him to try to get Han back to the ranch. But first, he needed to try and slow down the bleeding before he attempted to move him.

Removing his jacket, he took off his shirt and ripped it in half, before carefully removing Han’s jacket and shirt. He made a thick pad from one half of his torn shirt which he pressed onto the chest wounds, and then used Han’s shirt as a bandage, wrapping it around his back and tying the sleeves tightly across his chest to secure it in place. With the other half of the shirt he made a makeshift bandage for the wounds to his shoulder before easing Han’s jacket back on to help hold it in place.

His makeshift bandages in place, Jed now had to get Han back to their horses, which they’d left a number of yards back, when the ground became too uneven for them.

He knew he couldn’t physically carry Han that far, and it wasn’t feasible to bring the horses to them, so what was he to do?

“Han!” He tried again to rouse his friend in the hope of getting some guidance, but Han remained unconscious.

Suddenly an idea occurred to Jed. Taking his coat, he spread it out on the ground and managed to drag Han onto it. Then, using the sleeves as a tow, he slowly began pulling his unconscious friend along the ground, back towards where their horses were tethered, taking care to avoid the many rocks and boulders on the uneven ground.

It took him more than twenty minutes to reach the horses. During that time Han had groaned a couple of times but had not regained full consciousness.

Now Jed somehow had to get Han onto the horse. No easy task with his unconscious friend a dead weight, but somehow he found the strength to pull Han to his feet and then to shove him unceremoniously up and across the horse’s back before pushing one leg up and over its back so that he was sitting astride the horse, slumped forward across its neck. Gratefully, Jed picked up his coat from the ground and shrugged it back on. The exertion of getting Han back to the horses had kept him reasonably warm, but without his shirt and coat he would soon fall prey to the cold winter air.

Fastening the coat, Jed then fetched his own horse and tethered it to Han’s before scrambling up behind Han so that he could make sure his friend didn’t fall off the horse before they got back to the ranch.

Slowly, Jed steered the horse back towards the ranch, his own horse trotting obediently alongside. More than once Han started to slide off and Jed had to hang onto him with all his strength to keep him mounted, and when he saw the ranch house come into sight, almost an hour later, the feeling of relief was overwhelming.

“Hello!” he called, scanning around for anyone to help. “Help!”

He slid off the horse, hastily tethered it to the hitching post, and ran toward the ranch.

Before he could get there, Betsy opened the door and came out.

“Jed! What’s wrong?”

“It’s Han, he’s hurt… We found the cat, and it attacked him…”

“Oh, my!” Betsy’s hands flew to her face. She ran down the steps to look at Han before shouting, “Frankie! Frankie! Where are you?”

A moment later, Frankie’s head appeared around the barn door.

“Yes, Ma’am?”

“Come here, quickly.” Betsy waved at him to come over.

Frankie came over to them, wiping his hands on a rag.

“What’s wrong?”

“Han’s hurt. The cougar attacked him,” Jed recounted, breathlessly.

“Let’s get him inside,” said Betsy.

Between them, they got Han off the horse and carried him into the house and into a small bedroom at the back of the house.

“Go and fetch Doctor James,” Betsy instructed Frankie.

Frankie nodded and left the room while Betsy carefully eased Han out of his jacket and removed Jed’s temporary bandages, now soaked through with blood, to examine his injuries.

“We need to get these cleaned up,” she said to Jed. “I’ll get some hot water.”

She left the room and Jed sat down on a chair by the side of the bed, unbuttoning his coat.

“Han!” Jed shook him gently. “Han!”

Han groaned but didn’t open his eyes.

“Please don’t die,” Jed said quietly. They’d lost enough in their young lives already. Jed didn’t think he could handle losing his best friend, too.

A few minutes later, Betsy returned with hot water and cloths. Carefully she washed the wounds before pressing some clean cloths onto them until the doctor could examine him more closely.

Seeing Jed’s anxious expression, Betsy put a hand on his shoulder. “Try not to worry,” she told him, hiding her own concern about his friend’s condition.

Jed didn’t reply, his blue eyes big and round with fear as he looked at her.

Betsy patted Jed on the shoulder and promised him a clean shirt. She returned a moment later with one of Clu’s.

“Put this on.” She handed it to Jed.

Absently, his attention focused on his friend, Jed took the shirt and put it on. It was a little large for his youthful frame but not so much as to be unwearable.

Betsy once again left the room, to wait for the doctor’s arrival.

Presently, the doctor arrived on his pony and trap. Betsy showed him to the room where Han lay.

The doctor examined him, a frown furrowing his brow.

“Nasty,” he said. “Cougar, you say?”

Jed, standing nervously at the foot of the bed, nodded. “Yes. It came out of nowhere.”

The doctor nodded, thoughtfully. “He was very lucky not to be killed outright. If this bite had been a fraction further….”

“Will he be all right?” Jed asked, his voice a whisper.

“Difficult to say. He’s lost quite a lot of blood and there’s a risk of infection from the bites. I’ll clean up the wounds and dress them, but he’s going to need a lot of rest and the dressings will need to be changed often.”

“We’ll take care of it, Doctor,” said Betsy.

Just then the door opened and in walked Clu, having just returned with Travers from fixing fences out at the perimeter of the ranch and meeting with Frankie who had told him of Han’s injury.

“How is he?” Clu demanded of the doctor, who reiterated what he had just told Betsy and Jed.

“I knew it was foolish to let them go out looking for that cat,” Clu chastised himself.

Betsy took her husband’s arm and patted his shoulder. “You couldn’t have known this would happen,” she told him, but Clu insisted on shouldering the responsibility. He’d come to like the boys in the short time they’d been at the ranch and the last thing he would have wanted was for them to be hurt while working for him.

The doctor ushered everyone out of the room while he administered to Han and then gave them instructions for his care before bidding them good evening with a promise to return the next afternoon and an instruction to send for him if the patient became worse in the meantime.

Jed refused Betsy’s offer of supper and went to sit by Han’s bedside. Han woke, briefly, but seemed disoriented and was obviously in a good deal of pain.

“Han!” Jed spoke softly to him. “Han, it’s me, Jed. The cougar attacked you, but you’re gonna be all right.”

Han groaned and rolled his head in Jed’s direction, opening his eyes slightly and gazing up at him but not really seeing him. With another groan, he drifted off again.

The room they were in, Jed discovered, was the McPhersons’ second bedroom, prepared for the children they had hoped for but never had. Clu told him that they could use it for as long as Han needed it.

Betsy came in at regular intervals to check on Han and, whenever he roused, to get him to drink a little water. Later, she brought Jed some supper but he left it untouched as he sat at Han’s bedside watching over his friend and willing him to pull though.

He wasn’t aware of falling asleep until Han moved and banged his arm against Jed’s, rousing him.

“Han?”

Han blinked and focused his gaze on Jed’s. “Wh-what happened?” he croaked.

“The cougar attacked you. Don’t you remember?”

Han frowned, his gaze shifting to the ceiling as he tried to clear the fog clouding his brain.

“Oh… yeah…” he muttered presently. He attempted to move and yelped as pain shot through his shoulder.

“I shot it dead, but it already bit you,” Jed told him. “Don’t move,” he added as Han once again attempted to shift position and then gave up as pain shafted through him.

“What time is it?” asked Han, becoming aware that the curtains in the room were drawn and a lamp was burning on the bedside table.

“Dunno. About three a.m., I guess. You’ve been out of it for twelve hours.”

Han moved his head in a vague nodding movement as he digested Jed’s words.

“It bit you a couple of times and clawed your back. You lost a lot of blood so the doctor said you have to rest up.”

Han nodded again.

Jed gave a tremulous sigh and lowered his head. “I thought you were dead. I didn’t know what to do. After what happened to our folks… I was afraid I’d lost you too…” He risked a glance at Han, who had once again drifted into unconsciousness, not hearing his friend’s words.

Jed leaned back in the chair and continued his vigil.

The next thing he knew it was daylight and Clu was standing at the bedside, the back of his hand pressed to Han’s forehead.

Instantly awake, Jed sat upright. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

Clu shook his head. “He’s running a bit of a fever,” he said.

Just then, Betsy entered with a basin of cool water and some cloths.

“Morning, Jed,” she smiled across at him. “There’s some breakfast on the stove if you’d like some. You must be hungry.”

Jed shook his head. “Thank you, but I’ll stay with Han.”

“You need to eat something,” Betsy scolded him mildly. “Otherwise you’ll be sick too and I don’t want to have to be looking after both of you.” She smiled. “I’ll take care of Han, you go and get some food.”

Jed hesitated, unwilling to leave his friend’s side.

“Go on, scoot,” Betsy ordered with a smile.

Jed did as he was told and went into the kitchen. The other men had already eaten and left to start work, so Jed helped himself to bacon and biscuits, not realizing, until he started to eat, just how hungry he was.

Clu came into the kitchen just as he was finishing eating. “Betsy will look after Han, and Dr. James will be by in the afternoon to check on him. I have some chores to do but I’ll be back later to see how he’s doing.” He picked up his rifle before turning back to face Jed once more.

“Whereabouts did you kill the cat?” he enquired.

Jed gave him the general location.

“And did you leave the rifles there too?” he asked.

Jed looked guilty. “I’m sorry, Mr. McPherson. I was so worried about Han I just didn’t think to pick them up.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll find them.” Clu gave him a kindly smile before leaving the ranch.

When Jed returned to the bedroom, Betsy was bathing Han’s face with cool water in an attempt to bring his temperature down.

Jed absently watched her work, picturing Han’s own mother caring for her son. The stress of the last hours were taking their toll on him, and for some reason, his eyes filled with tears. He wanted to thank her but couldn’t vocalize the right words. All he managed to say was, “I’m sorry we ruined your jackets – the dirt, and the . . . the blood . . .”

Betsy turned to him and put a gentle hand on his face. Then she turned back to her patient.

Han woke a few times and drank the water Betsy offered him, but he seemed distant and much of the time was unresponsive to questions or conversation. Twice he complained that his head hurt, but mostly he just slept.

By the time Dr. James arrived later that afternoon Han’s fever had intensified and he thrashed about in a delirium, his face bathed in sweat.

The doctor removed the bandages to check on the wounds and noticed little red pus-filled blisters appearing around the bite wounds on his chest and neck.

“What are they?” Besty asked.

“It’s an infection from the cat’s bite,” he told her. He delved in his bag and handed her a bottle. “This is magnesium sulphate. Mix some up with warm water, enough to make a light paste, and make a compress. Press the compress over the wounds for 20 minutes each time, three times a day. It will help to draw out the poison.”

“Is he going to be all right?” Jed asked anxiously.

“If you can keep his fever down, he should be, but the infection is driving the fever. The next 48 hours will be crucial.”

Betsy, Clu and Jed took it in turns to administer the compress to the bite wounds, three times each day as the doctor had instructed, and each of them took turns sitting with Han and bathing his fevered brow as he fought the infection ravaging his body.

The following night the fever reached its peak. Betsy had gone to bed, leaving Clu in charge of Han while Jed, a blanket wrapped around him, had tried to grab some sleep in an armchair in the corner of the room.

At around midnight, Clu, bathing Han’s fevered brow, suddenly became aware of a change in his patient’s demeanor, as his body stilled and his breathing shallowed.

“Jed!” he barked, knowing that this was the crisis point and knowing that Jed would be devastated if his friend should pass while he wasn’t there.

Jed was awake instantly, throwing off the blanket and hurrying to the bedside.

“What?”

“He’s reaching the climax,” said Clu.

Jed sat down on the chair by the bedside and grabbed Han’s hand, squeezing it tightly.

“Han! Han, listen to me,” he pleaded. “Han! Don’t die. Please. I need you…” he broke off, choked by tears.

Clu continued to try to cool Han’s fever while Jed held tightly to his hand, praying that his friend would survive.

Then, suddenly it was over.

Jed was so focused on willing Han to live he jumped when Clu put his hand on his shoulder and said, “The fever has broken.”

Jed looked from Clu to Han and back again. “Is… is he going to be all right?”

“Well,” Clu began, “we still need to get the poison out of these blisters, but he should be all right. He’s going to be weak for a while though.”

Jed sent a prayer of thanks for Han’s survival to a God he no longer believed in, tears of relief and happiness sliding down his cheeks.

“Now,” said Clu, “you get some sleep. I’ll look after him.”

Jed nodded and retreated to the armchair, pulling the blanket around him. Now that he knew his friend was going to be all right, he was asleep in seconds.

* * *

The following morning Han woke in much better spirits.

“How are you feeling?” asked Jed.

“Like I was kicked by a mule,” Han replied. “All my bones ache.”

“Mr. and Mrs. McPherson have been great,” said Jed. “I don’t know what would have happened without them.”

“Did you say you shot the cat?” Han asked, having a vague recollection of Jed telling him that, in what seemed like years ago.

“Yes. I couldn’t get a shot at first because you and it were moving around so much, but as it put its head down to bite you I managed to shoot it in the neck and then in the head.”

He recounted his efforts to get Han back to the ranch and filled him in on how Betsy and Clu had taken over his care.

“They’ve been very kind,” Han acknowledged, feeling slightly regretful at how suspicious he had been of them at the outset.

“I thought you were dead.” Jed repeated what he’d said a couple of nights earlier that Han hadn’t heard. “I didn’t know what to do. After what happened to our folks… I was afraid I’d lost you too…” He broke off, lowering his gaze, shaking his head at the unbearable thought.

He jumped as Han put his hand on his arm. “But you haven’t.”

Jed lifted his gaze to meet Han’s. Han gave him a gentle smile.

“You did a great job… killing the cat and getting me back here… Thank you.”

Jed smiled, his eyes bright with emotion.

It took a further week of compresses before the pus-filled blisters were finally drained and healing and Han felt able to get out of bed. But, even then, he was still weak and the wounds were still painful and he could do little except sit around in a chair on the porch.

Each morning Jed would help him out onto the porch before he went off to work on the ranch with the other men, while Betsy fussed over Han, feeding him well to build up his strength. In the evenings Jed would join him for supper and, after Han went to bed, he would go out to continue his shooting practice.

At the outset Clu had counted out the six promised bullets for him each day, but since Han’s injury he’d stopped doing it. He’d realized, when he’d come to check, that Jed had taken only the six agreed bullets each time and not a single one more. Clu’s respect for him and Han had grown immensely over this past few weeks.

After three weeks of recuperation, Han was finally starting to feel a bit more like himself and he discussed with Jed what they should do next.

Clu and Betsy had welcomed them into their home, fed them, given them shelter and paid work, and taken care of Han while he was ill, and the boys kind of felt like they owed them something in return. However, Han’s natural wanderlust made him keen to move on, despite his affection for Clu and Betsy after all they had done for him. Jed understood, but he was enjoying being part of a family, and of having a roof over his head and three square meals a day, and he was less enthusiastic to leave so soon. While he too enjoyed their nomadic lifestyle, he disliked being broke and hungry much of the time.

After a lengthy discussion, Jed persuaded Han that they should at least stay until after Christmas, which was only three weeks away. Since their families’ murders they hadn’t had a proper Christmas and Jed was keen to enjoy the feeling of a family Christmas once more. Han was too, but he wasn’t about to admit that to his friend.

“O.K. We’ll stay until Christmas,” Han agreed.

Even now that Han was mostly recovered, apart from the scars of the cat attack, which would take much longer to fade, Clu and Betsy had allowed him and Jed to stay in the second bedroom instead of going back to sleeping in the barn, bringing in a second bed, for Jed, and when they awoke on Christmas Day, it felt, for a moment, like they’d gone back in time.

Jed woke first, squinting in the bright morning sunlight. He stretched, enjoying the warm comfort of the bed. Being used to camping out most of the time, any kind of bed was a luxury. As he lay enveloped in the bedcovers in the warmth of the house, with the delicious smell of cooking wafting in from the kitchen, he felt like a prince in a palace.

He lay there for some time, basking in the comfort, until movement from the other bed indicated Han was awake.

Han stretched and glanced across at the other bed.

“Mornin’,” he smiled at his friend.

Jed smiled back. “Mornin’”

“Did we oversleep?” asked Han, seeing the brightness of the sky and knowing it was way past the time they normally got up for work.

“I think so,” Jed nodded “But we ain’t got to work today so I guess it don’t matter much.”

“I guess not,” agreed Han, stretching again and lacing his hands behind his head, enjoying the lazy comfort.

“Han?” Jed said softly.

“Hmm?” Han replied sleepily.

“Doesn’t this remind you of—“

“Yes.” Han cut him off quickly, knowing he was going to ask if it reminded him of their childhood Christmases with their families. It did, but it wasn’t something he could easily talk about.

Jed understood. He found it difficult to think about too. But, today, he wanted to remember some of those happy Christmases and so, ignoring Han, he pressed on.

“I remember... that last Christmas...” He risked a glance at Han, who didn’t acknowledge him. Han’s gaze was fixed on the ceiling.

“It was a lot like today... although we’d had a big snowfall a day or so before...” Jed continued, glancing out the window. It was icy cold outside but, so far, apart from a few flurries, they’d escaped any significant snow.

“You all came over to our place for Christmas dinner,” Jed continued.

“I remember,” Han cut in, his tone implying that that he would rather not.

Jed glanced across at him. Being a couple of years older than him, Han’s memories of what had happened to their parents were clearer than his own and it obviously upset him more to think about it. But, Jed had a desire to keep those early childhood memories alive – after all, they were all they had – and wished Han would speak more of those days, and of things he remembered from those times that Jed was too young to recall.

“What do you remember?” Jed asked now, hoping to prompt him to divulge some of those memories.

Han closed his eyes and sighed deeply, his mind going back to that last Christmas.

“The snow...” he said slowly. “It was almost up to my knees as we walked over to your place...” He paused, deeply in thought. “I remember there was a huge turkey... there was a lot of laughter... and I remember us playing around outside in the snow, after dinner, throwing snowballs...”

“I remember that too,” Jed said now, “you shoving a huge ball of snow down the back of my coat.”

Han nodded, a slight smile coming to his face. “That was my revenge for you having smacked me square in the face with a snowball... You had good aim even back then.”

Jed didn’t remember doing that, but smiled now at the thought. “It was a good Christmas,” Han said wistfully.

“Yeah,” agreed Jed.

They were silent for a few more moments before Jed said, “Han?”

“Hmm?”

“Merry Christmas.”

A ghost of a smile touched Han’s lips. “Merry Christmas, Jed.”

They fell silent once more, each with their own memories of Christmases past, sadness for what they’d lost, and a wish that, somewhere in their futures, they would have families of their own to share Christmas with once again.

Presently, Han said, “I guess we should get up.”

“I guess.”

Neither moved for several more minutes, unwilling to get out of their warm beds, but eventually first Han and then Jed threw off the covers and got ready for their day. Basking in the laziness of a work-free holiday, they eventually joined Clu and Betsy in the kitchen.

Travers and Frankie, the ranch hands, had also been invited to Christmas dinner but had not yet arrived.

“Morning, boys,” Clu greeted them with a smile. “Would you like a drink?” He held up his glass which was half full of whisky.

“Clunainach McPherson!” Betsy scolded him from over by the stove. “What are you doing offering those boys alcohol? They’re too young to be drinking.”

“Aww, it’s Christmas, a wee dram won’t hurt them.”

Betsy rolled her eyes and continued with her dinner preparations.

Clu poured whisky into two glasses and handed them to the boys.

“Thank you,” said Han as he took his glass, while Jed looked into his glass with suspicion, never having drunk whiskey before.

Clu picked up his glass and clinked it against each of theirs. “Merry Christmas, boys,” he said before tossing back the drink.

Han and Jed exchanged glances before doing the same, before both being engulfed by a fit of coughing as the strong liquid hit their throats. Clu laughed out loud.

“You’re a bad influence,” Betsy told him good humoredly, shaking her head to herself.

Clu smiled and moved across to a cupboard, from which he withdrew two wrapped packages.

“These are for you, boys. Merry Christmas to you both,” he said, handing them each a package.

Han and Jed had spoken little about their past but, from what they had said, Clu had long since worked out that they had been orphaned in the border wars and scratched a living as best they could since then, and he wanted to give them back a little pleasure for once.

Han and Jed exchanged glances. Neither had expected to receive anything from Clu and Betsy, believing Clu allowing them to live and work at the ranch for bed and board, and paying them wages too, was gift enough.

They turned their attention to the packages, Jed’s eyes growing wide as he ripped off the paper to reveal a brand new leather gun belt.

He looked across at Han who had ripped open his package to reveal a book. 'Moby Dick or The Whale', by Herman Melville.

“I hope you like them?” Clu watched them intently.

Jed looked at Clu now. “Thank you. I’ve wanted a belt like this for ages.”

“Han?” Clu turned his attention to Han who was stroking the book thoughtfully.

Han raised his eyes to meet Clu’s gaze, a mixture of emotions apparent in his dark eyes. Clu was pleased to note that the ever-present glint of suspicion and hostility in them was, for now at least, banished.

“Thank you. It’s very generous of you,” Han said quietly, feeling suddenly overwhelmed by the unexpected gift. “I’m sorry me and Jed haven’t been able to get you anything…” he added, obviously feeling embarrassed.

“Not a problem, boys.” Clu slapped them both on the shoulder. “’Tis better to give than receive, and we don’t need anything.”

Just then, Frankie and Travers arrived, sparing Han and Jed from further attention as Clu also gave them Christmas gifts.

While they were exchanging gifts and Clu was pouring them drinks, Han and Jed took the opportunity to slip away to the bedroom to put away their gifts.

“I can’t believe Clu gave us gifts,” said Jed, trying on the gunbelt and looking at it in the mirror. “A proper gunbelt. Now I don’t have to keep my gun in my coat pocket anymore.” He made a few mock draws at his reflection while Han sat down on the bed, looking at the book, genuinely touched by Clu’s generosity.

“I feel bad about leaving when they’ve been so good to us,” he said presently.

Jed unbuckled the gunbelt and placed it on the dresser.

“We don’t have to go. We could stay longer,” he suggested.

Han stroked the book cover with his thumb as he contemplated Jed’s words.

“No,” he said presently. “The longer we stay, the harder it will be to leave.”

Jed sighed. “I guess.”

They were both silent for a few moments. Then Jed said, “When are we going to tell them we’re leaving?”

Han shrugged.

“Well, we can’t just disappear,” said Jed.

“Can’t we?” Han looked at his friend.

“No. That would be rude. Especially after all they’ve done for us.”

“So, do you want to tell them?” asked Han.

Jed pondered for a moment before shaking his head. “I can’t.”

Han sighed. “Neither can I.”

“Why not? You ain’t afraid of anything.” said Jed.

Han shook his head. “It’s got nothing to do with fear…” he said, only half truthfully. In reality, he couldn’t bear to see the disappointment on their faces if he told them they were leaving now, after everything they’d done for him and Jed, and especially after welcoming them into their home to celebrate Christmas together and even giving them gifts. But at the same time he didn’t want to stay either, as it would get even harder to say goodbye the longer they left it.

Their discussion was interrupted just then, as Betsy called to them to come to the table for dinner.

Putting down the book, Han followed Jed back into the kitchen where the others were already seated at the table.

They took their seats and Betsy proceeded to serve up a full turkey dinner followed by homemade apple pie.

The afternoon turned into the best one the boys had had since before their families were murdered. Plentiful food, in a warm, homey atmosphere, with lots of talk and laughter.

Now that he was well again, Han was singled out for a bit of leg-pulling about hunting the cougar, which he took in good humour. Being part of the banter made him and Jed both felt as if they were being treated like a real part of the family and the ranch, like men.

All too soon the day was over. Frankie and Travers made their departure and Betsy busied herself with washing up.

Clu lit a cigar and sat down in a rocking chair by the hearth. “I hope you’ve had a good day, boys?” Clu looked at the boys.

“Yes, sir. It’s been great. Han and I haven’t celebrated Christmas in so long….” Jed broke off, realizing he’d said more than he intended.

“Yes,” Han took over. “It’s been a lovely day. Thank you both, for everything… The meal, the gifts…” He shook his head, unable to say any more.

“I’m glad,” said Betsy.

“I guess we’d better turn in,” Han said now. “Come on, Jed.”

They turned and headed toward the bedroom.

“Goodnight, boys,” Clu called out to them.

The both paused at the door.

“Goodnight, and thanks again,” said Han.

“Goodnight,” echoed Jed.

As they left the room, Clu and Betsy looked at each other and exchanged a smile.

Once in the bedroom, Han said, “I think we should leave tonight.”

“Huh?” Jed looked confused. “Without saying goodbye?”

Han nodded. “I don’t want to tell them and see their disappointment in us, that we’re leaving after everything they’ve done for us… for me.” He shook his head. “They took care of me after the cougar attack, they’ve given us bed and board, paid us to work for them, given us Christmas gifts… To now say we’re leaving...” He shook his head. “They’ll be hurt. I can’t do it.”

Jed understood what his friend was saying. “So, what do we do?” he asked.

“We’ll wait until the early hours, when they’re asleep, and we’ll go out the window,” Han said now. “I’ll write a note for them to find in the morning.”

Jed pondered that for a moment. He still felt bad about leaving unannounced, but he didn’t want to see the reaction if they told the McPhersons they were going, and he also understood where Han was coming from when he said it would get harder to leave the longer they stayed. This seemed, from their point of view, to be the best way.

Finally, he nodded. “O.K.”

“Let’s get a few hours’ sleep,” Han told him.

Jed nodded and lay down on the cot.

“I’m going to miss them,” he said presently.

Han sighed as he lay down on the bed. “Me, too.”

Jed soon fell asleep but Han lay awake trying to compose a goodbye note in his head.

It was around one a.m. when Han got up and, getting a paper and pencil, began to compose their goodbye note.

Hearing him moving around, Jed woke and sat up.

“Is it time?” he asked, with a yawn.

“Soon,” said Han, still writing.

Jed lay back down and let him get on with writing.

“There,” Han said sometime later. “It’s done.” He looked at the clock. “They’ll be asleep now; we’d better go.”

Jed picked up the piece of paper and began to read:

“Dear Mr. and Mrs. McPherson,

By the time you read this Jed and I will be gone. We’re sorry we left without saying goodbye, but we were ashamed to tell you we were leaving after everything you’ve done for us both. We’ll be forever grateful for the way you took us in, and I’ll never forget the way you looked after me after the cougar attack. To stay at the ranch with you all is a wonderful dream, but our reality, our future, lies elsewhere. I hope you can understand.

Today was the best Christmas Jed and I have had in a very long time. We’ll treasure the memory forever.

Thank you for everything. We’ll miss you.

Han & Jed”

Jed finished reading and put the note on the middle of the bed.

Gathering their few belongings, Han quietly lifted up the window and Jed climbed out, Han following. Quietly he closed the window and they crept away from the ranch until they were sure they were far enough away that they wouldn’t be heard.

Pausing for a last look back, Jed said, “I wonder if we’ll see them again?”

Han moved to stand by him, following his gaze back to the ranch. “Maybe. Who knows.”

“Are you sure we’re doing the right thing?” Jed asked now. “They treated us like family.”

“I know, and I really liked being there, but, staying in one place, it’s not for me. We’ll make out all right. Trust me.”

Jed did trust him, with his life. He had no idea what their future held, but whatever it was, they would face it together.

With one last look back at the ranch, Jed turned and followed Han into the trees. Han always led, and besides, this way Jed couldn’t see his tears.

* * *

It was eleven years before Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry encountered Clu McPherson again. The growing-up they felt they had already done when they left the comfort of his small ranch happened quickly after their departure. The freedom they craved had come at a price – poverty, isolation, hardship. All this led to association with the wrong people, which in turn led to their lives of crime. Which led to their eventual agreement with the governor to renounce those lives of crime.

Hannibal Heyes had used his learning and imagination during this time to become a safecracker extraordinaire. Jed Curry was now Kid Curry and his marksmanship skills continued to be phenomenal. To his great credit, although a known gunfighter, he had never actually killed anyone, except for one man who was responsible for the death of an elderly acquaintance. Heyes had always tried to talk him out of gunfights, but stood aside for this one. Their sense of fairness highlighted how they thought, and directed everything they did.

Their short association with Clu and Betsy McPherson was something they never discussed, but there was no question that the warm feelings they experienced during that time had always stayed with them and underscored their outlaw careers. They had been successful outlaws during those intervening eleven years, but never cold-hearted criminals.

In the autumn of that eleventh year, ex-outlaws Hannibal Heyes and Jed “Kid” Curry rode into an unfamiliar town, unaware they were very close to the ranch where they had spent those wonderful months with the McPhersons. Trail-worn, cold and dirty, they took their time soaking in hot baths and spruce themselves up before heading to the saloon to complete the warming-up process.

It was afternoon, just before nightfall, and there was not yet any music or female company present in the saloon. They didn’t care since they just wanted a few minutes to relax at a corner table before finding some good steaks.

But said relaxation was interrupted as they realized they were listening to a couple of saloon patrons harassing a man who had just come in. The man was trying to get to the bar to order a drink, but the two men kept pushing him away and verbally abusing him. The bartender joined in and all three laughed at the man, who by this time had fallen to the floor.

This got Kid Curry’s interest, since his innate sense of fair play did not allow for outnumbering, and he nudged his friend. “Look at that, Heyes.”

Hannibal Heyes looked up over his beer and summed up the situation quickly. “Just some drunk, Kid. One in every town.”

True. But there was something about this particular drunk that the Kid couldn’t quite reconcile in his mind. The man was in late middle-age, underweight, clearly drunk, and as straggly as they come, but somehow he did not seem to fit the normal stereotype of the town drunk. Kid Curry set down his drink and observed the scene.

The drunk was attempting to get to his feet, but the two bullies thwarted each attempt and pushed him back down again. The drunk attempted to crawl to the bar, but at the bartender’s request, and with (almost) everyone in the saloon laughing, the bullies forcefully pushed him into one of the empty tables, which got knocked over. This time the drunk stayed down, pleading with the bartender over the laughter for “just one drink.”

Kid Curry noticed the side of the drunk’s head was bleeding. Although he hadn’t said anything or made any move to stand, Heyes knew his partner so well that he detected the subtle body change that foretold gunfighter action.

“Leave it, Kid,” he said. “This isn’t our fight. He’s just an old drunk.”

“No, he isn’t, Heyes. Look again.”

Heyes looked at the man on the floor. He just saw a man lying in a defeatist position, dirty, worn out, graying hair and a beard that was several days, maybe weeks, old. Heyes could smell the alcohol all the way over to their table. He saw the town drunk and nothing more.

“What?” he asked disinterestedly.

“Recognize the jacket?”

OK, this had to be a joke. “Sure, Kid. It’s my favorite kind: torn, patched, muddy, missing part of the collar . . .”

But Kid Curry wasn’t letting this go. “Come on, Heyes, look again. Look at his face!”

There was a touch of sorrow in the Kid’s insistence that caused Heyes to set down his beer and scrutinize the drunk. As he focused on the man’s face, Heyes began to sense a memory hinting . . . a long-ago feeling . . . comfort, and yet anguish . . .

In a moment, he softly said, “Oh, no. Mr. McPherson.”

“Yeah. How long has it been? Ten years? Eleven? He’s a lot thinner now.”

“Looks like he fell on hard times.” Heyes’s mind was racing and he was beginning to feel emotions come to the surface that he had managed to ignore for most of the intervening years since they’d been at Clu’s ranch. That man crumpled on the floor rudely reminded Heyes of the happy domestic life he and his friend had lost so long ago, and of those blissful weeks they had spent with Clu and Betsy. Their lives during that time were sheltered and happy, and Heyes couldn’t have had better care after the wildcat attacked him.

And now Hannibal Heyes felt threatened because he never wanted to be reminded of how much he had lost as a boy. And, more importantly, he did not want to be reminded of how Clu basically took over his own position with his friend Jed, becoming instead the father figure, the inspiration, the protector, leaving Han in a lesser role.

And here was Clu again. Right in front of them. Needing their help like they had needed his once.

Kid Curry stood up. His intent was clear.

“No, Kid! Don’t!”

“I just want to help the guy.”

“Don’t!”

“Don’t you think I can take on those two? Come on, Heyes, you know better.”

“Of course you can handle those idiots. And I’ll watch anyone else, including the bartender, who probably has a shotgun behind the bar. That’s not the point.” Oops . . .

Kid Curry turned to look at his partner, seeing him in a different light. He scrutinized the man sitting at the table, the friend he’d known all his life, the friend he’d shared all of life’s joys and heartbreaks with. It was a long moment before he said with deep understanding, “You don’t have to worry.”

But Heyes did worry, every time this kind of situation occurred. Outwardly he gave away nothing of his feelings, but inwardly his stomach would be in tight knots - afraid each time, even though he knew Curry’s skill with a gun, that this might be the time his luck ran out.

As Curry began to walk slowly towards the men, Heyes got up and moved to stand at the end of the bar, adopting a casual pose which belied his inner angst.

Stopping a few yards away from the two men, Curry said, “That’s enough.”

The two bullies turned to look at him.

“What?” said one.

“I said, that’s enough, leave him alone.”

“I don’t see that this is any of your business, Mister,” the other man said now.

“Well, I’m making it my business.” said Curry, his voice quiet, but with an edge to his tone that only Heyes was able to pick up on. Heyes unconsciously held his breath as he waited for what was going to happen.

The other man nodded slowly. “Oh, you are, are you?”

Curry gave a vague nod, his ice-blue gaze never moving from the other man’s face.

“Now, why don’t you two… gentlemen… finish your drinks and leave.” Curry’s tone said it wasn’t a suggestion.

The other man turned and paced around, stroking his chin thoughtfully, as though seeming to consider Curry’s suggestion.

Curry stood, motionless, appearing outwardly relaxed as he watched the man.

“I don’t think so.” The man suddenly spun around, going for his gun, but was greeted by the barrel of Curry’s gun pointing right at him.

He exchanged glances with his friend, unable to believe his adversary had managed to draw so quickly.

The bartender, who had watched the scene play out from behind the counter, now made a move towards the shotgun that was hidden under it.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

The surprised bartender turned to see Heyes at the end of the bar, his elbow on the counter, gun pointing right at him.

The bartender raised his hands and, as Heyes waved the gun at him to move out from behind the bar, backed away into the corner of the room.

Curry remained motionless, his gun still pointed at the two men.

Heyes holstered his gun and approached the two men, taking each of their guns and emptying out the bullets before handing them back.

“Now,” he said, “why don’t you do like the gentleman said, and finish your drinks and leave.” His tone was perfectly polite, but his dark eyes threatened retribution if they didn’t comply.

Grudgingly, the two men did as they were told. As they were heading out the door, the man who had tried to draw on Curry said, “You’d better keep looking over your shoulders, cos if I see you two again, that day is gonna be your last.”

Once they’d gone, Curry holstered his gun, while Heyes blew out his cheeks in a relieved sigh, thankful that once more Curry’s luck had held out.

“See, I told you that you didn’t have to worry.” Curry gave him a smile, his gunfighter demeanour dissipating with it.

Unwilling to voice his true thoughts with the bartender in earshot, Heyes merely shook his head, ruefully.

“I’m sorry, boys…” the bartender said now, obviously afraid of these two men and trying to make amends. “I thought there was going to be bloodshed.”

“Who are those guys?” asked Heyes while Curry moved to help Clu up off the floor and onto a chair.

“They work for Stoney Conway. He runs the Diamondback Ranch just outside of town - amongst other things.”

“Are you O.K?” Curry addressed Clu now.

“Just… need a drink…” muttered Clu.

Heyes and Curry exchanged glances.

“Does he come in here often?” Heyes asked the bartender. Clu looked pretty far gone and Heyes wondered how his old friend had come to be in this state.

The bartender nodded. “He’s here pretty much every day.”

Heyes and Curry looked at each other puzzledly.

“We’d better get him home,” Curry said now. “Does he live nearby?”

“Just outside of town, in an old shack set back from the road.” The bartender pointed in the general direction.

“How far?” asked Heyes.

“Five, maybe ten minutes’ walk,” the bartender told them.

Between them, Curry and Heyes got Clu on his feet and with an arm each about their shoulders half-walked, half-carried him down the street. Clu assisted only by rambling incoherently. Some minutes later they found the shack the bartender had described.

Again, Curry and Heyes looked at each other, this time in astonishment.

“He really lives here?” Curry asked, looking at the dilapidated building and remembering the comfortable ranch house he’d lived in before.

Heyes shrugged his shoulders in a ‘don’t ask me’ fashion as he opened the door.

The small, two-roomed shack was just as dilapidated inside as out. One room doubled as a living/kitchen area with a smaller bedroom at the back.

The kitchen area was full of unwashed dishes and pans and smelled pretty awful. There was a small table and a dilapidated old sofa in the centre of the room. In the corner stood an old cot, unmade.

“What the hell has happened to him?” Curry asked now, as they gently lay him down on the cot.

Heyes looked around him. “I don’t know, Kid, but it must have been something pretty drastic.”

They decided they had better stay with him, rather than go back to their hotel, and try to get him sobered up.

Heyes looked in the bedroom. There was nothing in it apart from a rail with a few clothes on, and a couple of pairs of boots on the floor.

“There’s no bed,” he told Curry.

Curry looked around him, not relishing sleeping here but not wanting to leave Clu alone either.

“Dibs on the sofa,” he said quickly, before Heyes could lay first claim to it.

Heyes gave it a disdainful look. “You’re welcome,” he told him. “I’d rather sleep on the floor than that old thing. It looks about ready to walk out of here on its own.”

Curry looked again at the old sofa, deciding that Heyes was probably right.

“You put some coffee on…” said Heyes. “If you can find a pot,” he added, eyeing the mound of dirty pans and crockery. “I’ll go back to the hotel and get our gear.”

“O.K.” Curry headed to the sink while Heyes headed back out to the hotel.

An hour later, Heyes and Curry were sitting at the little table with two mugs of coffee.

“I don’t think we should let on to him who we are,” said Heyes, eyeing Clu who was out cold on the cot, snoring heavily.

“But he knows who we are.” Curry looked puzzled.

Heyes shook his head. “He knows us just as Han and Jed and we were just kids then, I doubt he’s gonna recognize us after all these years. I don’t know how much he knows of Heyes and Curry the outlaws, but I think it’s safer if we use our alias names around him.”

“He did so much for us,” Curry said now, “and we left without a word. I’d like to return that favour now, and help him out.”

“And we can,” said Heyes, “just not as ourselves. Our real selves, I mean.”

Curry sighed despondently. He could see Heyes’s point about avoiding the risk of being identified, but he also knew that Heyes had felt guilty all these years about the way they’d left, and was ashamed for Clu to know that he was that person who had instigated their hasty exit with no notice and no goodbyes.

“If you think it’s best,” he said.

“I do.”

They were silent for a moment before Curry said, “I wonder what could have happened to him? And where is Betsy?”

“Hopefully we’ll get to find that out in due course,” said Heyes, “but, for now, we should get some shuteye.”

They rolled out their sleeping gear and made themselves comfortable on the floor, choosing not to retreat to the little bedroom in case Clu should wake in the night and wander off in search of booze.

They rose early the following morning and made a start on cleaning up the shack while Clu slept off the drink.

They washed up all the crockery and pans and cleaned the sink and table and then swept the floors.

Curry wiped over the grimy windows while Heyes took the somewhat faded and dusty curtains outside and gave them a good shake. The shack was never going to look like a palace, but at least now it was habitable.

They’d just finished and put on a fresh pot of coffee when Clu began to awaken from his stupor.

“Don’t forget, we don’t know who he is,” Heyes reminded Curry.

Curry gave him a withering look before crossing to the cot.

“Hey! Hey, are you all right?” he called, gently shaking Clu’s shoulder.

Clu grunted a couple of times and then slowly opened his eyes, opening them even wider when he saw a strange man standing over him.

“Wha… Who…?” He tried to struggle into a sitting position.

“It’s all right,” Curry told him. “We’re not gonna hurt you. We brought you home from the saloon last night… You had a bit of trouble.”

Clu groaned, holding his head as he managed to get into a sitting position, leaning back against the wall of the shack.

“You hit your head when you fell into a table,” Curry told him, as he felt the dried blood on his head.

“Here, have some coffee.” Heyes crossed to the cot and held out a mug.

Clu looked from Heyes to Curry and back again before gingerly taking the mug.

“Who… are you…?” he asked, gruffly, his words slightly slurred.

“I’m Joshua Smith, and this is Thaddeus Jones,” Heyes introduced, half holding his breath in case Clu might look more closely and recognize them. He was relieved to see no hint of recognition in Clu’s face.

Clu half nodded, taking a sip of the coffee and grimacing, wishing it was whisky.

“And you are...?” Heyes asked.

Clu was silent for a moment, as he tried retrieve the information through the fog of his hangover.

“McPherson…” he said presently. “Clu McPherson.”

“Well, Mr. McPherson,” Heyes exchanged glances with Curry, “we were in the saloon last night when you came in, and two men were bullying you, so we brought you home.”

“Aah,” muttered Clu, only vaguely aware of the altercation in the saloon.

“Are you from here?” Curry asked now, maintaining the deception.

Clu shook his head. “I used to have a ranch… an hour or so… south of here…”

“Used to?” Heyes asked now.

Clu nodded, taking another sip of the coffee and wishing once again that it was whisky.

“Had it for… close on thirty years,” he told them, “but… we had a couple of bad drought years… we couldn’t afford to keep the place going any longer… a lot of other ranchers were in the same boat… and it was taken by the bank… as were a lot of others…”

“That’s a shame,” Curry said sincerely.

Clu nodded. He reached over to put the mug on the floor and lay back down on the cot with a groan. “… And then they all got bought up from under us by some wealthy rancher who got them at a bargain price …”

“What about your family?” Heyes asked now. “Are you married?”

Clu gave a strange cry that was almost a choked sob.

“I was…” he muttered.

“Was?” asked Curry.

Clu gave a vague nod, already back on the verge of sleep.

“She died.”

Curry and Heyes exchanged shocked glances.

“How?” Curry blurted out, almost forgetting he wasn’t supposed to know who she was.

“They said it was… influenza…” muttered Clu, “but I think… she died of a broken heart…” He shook his head. “She loved that house… she never got over the bank taking it back…”

“I’m sorry,” said Heyes, his voice hoarse with emotion. He and Curry had grown very fond of Betsy McPherson during their time with them; indeed, she had been as much like a mother to them as their own had been, and to think she had died, so tragically, and so unnecessarily, cut them both to the bone.

Clu gave a vague nod. “I… miss her…” he muttered before falling back into a stupor.

Curry got up and crossed to the window, his back to Heyes and Clu, staring vacantly out as he remembered his time at the ranch and of how much Betsy had reminded him of his own mother.

A moment later, Heyes joined him, also staring out through the window as he too remembered Betsy’s kindness to him during their time there.

“This ain’t right, Heyes,” Curry said presently. “Something doesn’t ring true.”

Heyes nodded. “I was thinking the same myself. I think it’s time we did a bit of detective work.”

“Maybe we can find a way to get the ranch back for him?” Curry suggested hopefully.

“Like, find the new owner and win it back in a poker game maybe?” Heyes joked, receiving a withering look from Curry. Heyes sighed. “I don’t know what we can do, Kid. Let’s do some digging and see what we can find out about what happened.”

By midday, their stomachs were growling and Clu showed no signs of waking up again soon, so they decided to go back into town to eat lunch and find a mercantile to buy some supplies and bring some food back for Clu’s larder. They retrieved their horses from the livery, and on the short ride back to the shack, Heyes made a suggestion which surprised his partner.

“Kid, I think we owe it to Mr. McPherson to help him out.”

“How much help are you talking about here?”

“Everything, Kid. Everything. Sober him up . . .”

“Uh huh.”

“Clean up his shack . . .”

“Uh huh.”

“Convince him that life is worth living . . .”

“Uh huh.”

“Get his ranch back for him . . .”

“Nope! It seems to me that we already talked about this, Heyes. You convinced me that’s not going to be such an easy thing to do!”

“Nothing in life that’s worth having is easy to get, Kid. Guess I changed my mind. We just have to use a little diplomacy, is all.”

“Diplomacy?”

“Diplomacy, investigation, wheeling/dealing, underhandedness . . . you just leave it to me.”

Kid Curry was skeptical. “There’s no safe to crack open here, Heyes, or an engineer who will stop a train because you hold a gun to his head. This is all stuff done on paperwork, legal stuff. I know you’re good, but you can’t fight that!”

Heyes’s actual belief in his own ability to achieve this was greatly exaggerated when he said, “You just leave it to me!”

By this time, they had reached the shack and lingered outside a moment to finish their conversation. The Kid said, “I don’t believe you for a second, Heyes; you’re not fooling anyone.” He sighed. “But I do want to get Mr. McPherson back on his feet. He’s a good man, deserves better. So . . . I’ll help you any way I can.”

Heyes smiled and slapped his friend on the back. His gratitude was implied. He grabbed the saddlebags and said, “You see if you can find a place to keep the horses out back and I’ll go in and see what I can do with our old friend.”

When Heyes entered the shack, he saw Clu awake and sitting on the edge of his bed, head in hands. Clu looked up, surprised. “Who are you again?”

Heyes set his saddlebag on the table and pulled a few things out of it. “I’m not surprised you don’t remember. For now, I’m the man bringing you a meal. Come sit at the table, Mr. McPherson.”

It was said in a commanding voice, so Clu decided to obey. He slowly dragged himself to his feet and made his way to the table. “You brought me food?” he asked vacantly.

“Yup! You need something in your stomach besides that rotgut you’ve been drinking.”

Clu stared at the small repast laid out for him – cheese, bread, a slab of butter, sliced beef, a pear, and a Mason jar of milk. “You brought all this for me?” he asked in wonder.

“Yeah, yeah, go ahead and eat.”

“But why?”

“Because you looked hungry,” Heyes said flippantly.

Heyes expected a chuckle but instead Clu looked sadly up at him, seemingly searching his face for – for what? Recognition? Some long-ago memory trying to surface?

This startled Heyes, who absolutely did not wish to be recognized. He pointed sternly at the food. “Just eat, Mr. . . Clu. Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.” Heyes realized he had already addressed Clu by his surname, the name he and the Kid had solely used to address their benefactor all those years ago. This mistake could not be made again, for it might tip off their identities. Clu was not likely to forget the boys Hannibal Heyes and Jed Curry, nor was he likely to be unaware that they had later become wanted outlaws. Heyes made a mental note to warn the Kid before he made this mistake also. Clu had to be known as “Clu” from now on. And they were Joshua Smith and Thaddeus Jones. They could not forget.

But Clu had already grabbed the food and was eating hungrily. Heyes watched him, wishing he could feel something besides sadness. Softly he said, “Because someone once did something nice for me.” He stood and went outside to join his friend.

Heyes leaned against a tree and looked off in the distance. “I’m going to get that ranch back for him if it’s the last thing I do.”

Kid Curry smiled.

* * *

They stayed with him, the three of them in that little cabin, to be sure he was OK. The first order of business was to get Clu off the booze. This proved to be easier than Heyes predicted, since it soon became clear that he had only taken up serious drinking recently. They gave him a little whiskey each day, gradually decreasing the amount until he didn’t seem to crave it anymore. Or at least that’s what he told them. In his heart, Heyes believed that the time they had spent talking with Clu while sobering him up had accomplished two ends. For one, Heyes was able to garner a lot of information he could use to try to get the ranch back. And, more importantly, Clu now believed that he had two new friends who believed in him and supported him. Heyes and the Kid never forgot how Clu had done exactly that for the two of them eleven years earlier.

The sobering-up process included cleaning up as well – both Clu and his cabin. The three of them worked on it together. Winter wasn’t too far away and firewood had to be chopped, windows had to be fixed, cracks had to be sealed, and a shed had to be built to shelter their horses. Clu built a bedframe and Heyes bought him a new mattress. All three were happy to trash the old cot. Heyes and the Kid marveled at how quickly Clu adapted to this new lifestyle. As the days went by, the three of them built up their muscles with all the hard work. Heyes wasn’t as fond of the work as the other two, and when it became apparent that he was doing more directing and less labor, Clu and the Kid ganged up on him and dumped him in the horse trough!

Heyes loved the attention, and his worry over the possibility that Clu might remember and recognize them diminished, as did his angst over the possibility that the Kid would develop a stronger friendship with Clu than him. This fear was Heyes’ alone, but Kid Curry was well aware of how his friend felt. That day in the saloon when he told Heyes he had nothing to worry about, he wasn’t referring to anyone outdrawing him! In his mind, they were friends forever, and nothing could ever change that.

They were proud of each other for what they were able to accomplish with Clu, and he was proud of them and glad to have them as friends.

A plan to get Clu’s ranch back gradually began to form in Hannibal Heyes’s mind. At night, when all the work was done, and the three of them had eaten properly (thanks to the money they had earned at their last lucrative job with Big Mac, since Clu had been left with nothing), they sat by the fireplace and discussed options. Heyes took notes. Sometimes in the middle of the night, he got up and reviewed his notes. He knew it wouldn’t be easy, but he didn’t want to let Clu down. The Kid was a light sleeper and usually watched his friend as he pored over the notes. Sometimes he was so very proud of Heyes.

* * *

Alias Smith & Jones FanFiction