[December 2017]
Chapters: 1
Word Count: 6,147
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Warnings: None
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PROTECTION
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by
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Goldie & Eleanor Ward
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With acknowledgement, and thanks, to Goldie, who kindly invited me to co-write this story with her, re-igniting writing juices which had been dormant for a number of years.
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* * *
On Christmas Eve, Heyes and Curry encounter a stranger who appears
to know them better than they know themselves.
A certain amount of understanding is crucial to the preservation of friendships that are being pummeled by a patience-testing snowstorm.
Said snowstorm came out of nowhere unexpectedly and intensified as the afternoon continued. Hannibal Heyes and his friend Kid Curry had entertained high hopes of daylong sunny weather when they had set out on their journey that morning, expecting to arrive at their destination around dark. But before late afternoon they were forced to accept the fact that they would have to cut their trip short due to the weather. The snow was continuing to deepen and make it difficult for their horses to make much headway, and they were cold, hungry, wet, miserable and at each other’s throats. They would have to stop somewhere for the night, somewhere short of their intended destination. It was the one thing they could agree upon.
But where? Setting up camp in a snowstorm was akin to suicide, and they hadn’t passed any houses in quite some time.
Conversation was kept to a minimum as the wind was fierce, blowing snow and often their own words back into their mouths. The Kid was riding behind Heyes and could barely make out his friend’s horse in front of him. “We’ve got to do something, Heyes!” he shouted.
“I know!” came the answer, yelled but sounding like a whisper.
Still the horses plodded on, more likely sensing than seeing the roadway. Both riders focused their gazes to the ground, allowing their hats to buffer some of the wind from their faces. Their hats were held in place with scarves. Each of them held the horse’s reins with one hand only, as the other hand attempted, mostly unsuccessfully, to hold a coat in place. Each of them was trying to remember a time when they had been more miserable.
Neither could.
In the midst of this chaos, both the horses suddenly sidestepped. The snow kept their movements minimal, so the riders easily held their seats. Heyes’s horse also whinnied.
“What is it?” yelled the Kid.
“Thought I heard something!”
“You’re crazy! What’s to hear besides the wind?”
“Listen!”
Kid Curry turned his head to hear what his partner might be hearing, but couldn’t pick up anything. “I don’t . . . “
“There it is again, Kid! Someone’s yelling for help!”
The Kid still couldn’t hear anything and was quite surprised when he saw Heyes dismount and walk off the trail. In a second he heard Heyes yelling for his assistance. Hoping that there was some reason for this other than Heyes’s craziness, the Kid dismounted and fought the wind in an attempt to follow his friend’s voice.
He found Heyes kneeling on the ground and focusing on something. As the Kid got closer, he realized that his partner was talking to a man! The man was lying on the ground and appeared to be only partly conscious. The Kid knelt down as well and exchanged a look with Heyes, who was doing what he could to protect the man from the snow.
“Thanks … thanks for …” The man was struggling to talk to them. It was apparent he was elderly, and he weighed a few more pounds than he should have. Talking was difficult, especially with the constant wind. He attempted to stand up and both Heyes and Curry assisted him. “Just talk it easy now.” cooed Heyes, “Hang on to us.”
They got him to his feet and each put an arm around him as they led him back to their horses, “What happened to you, old timer?” the Kid asked gently.
“Robbed! I was robbed!” the man said, “They took everything – even my clothes!”
They had noticed that he was wearing boots, but nothing else except long underwear. In those meager clothes and with the current wintry conditions, he couldn’t have been there too long or he would have been frozen. When they reached the horses, the Kid removed his jacket from his saddlebag and put it around the man’s shoulders. Heyes shed his wool scarf and wrapped it around the man’s head. “We’ve got to find some shelter!” he yelled to the two of them.
“There’s a house – close by,” said the man, pointing in the direction they had been heading, “I passed it a little while ago.”
Heyes and the Kid looked at each other. Their communication was non-verbal, and they were of one thought. Heyes re-mounted and held out his hand. He and the Kid helped the man up behind Heyes. Then Kid Curry mounted his own horse and they began plodding toward the promised house.
It didn’t take long. In just a few short minutes, the house came into view. It was close to the road but hard to see due to the swirling snow. The three of them headed right for the barn that was next to the house.
The Kid dismounted and shoved aside the barn door. Inside, it was dry and spacious. There was hay for the horses. Heyes helped the man off his horse and made sure he was able to stand steadily by himself before doing anything else. The man watched the Kid grab a bucket and take it outside to fill with snow that could be used to water the horses. Heyes removed the saddles and tack from the animals and set them free in the barn. It was relatively warm inside and the horses shook the snow off themselves and seemed to appreciate being out of the storm.
“They’re going to have to spend the night here, Ki – uh, Thaddeus,” said Heyes, “We might have to, too, if there’s nobody home. Better than being in the storm.”
“Yeah. I’ll go find out.”
Heyes and the stranger watched from the barn doorway as the Kid trudged through the snow to the house. They heard him knock and then he yelled for them.
Half an hour later, the three of them were warming themselves in front of the fireplace. They were finally thawing out and, compliments of Heyes’s flask, there was brandy in their glasses, and compliments of the Kid’s saddlebags, there were beans on their plates.
“I had apples in my pockets,” lamented the man, “but they took those, too.”
“No matter.” said Heyes, “We’re warm now. And safe. Lucky for us whoever lives here left that door unlocked.” There was a sparkle in his eye as he exchanged a look with his partner. The Kid, he was fairly certain, had picked the lock to get inside., “Wonder where they are? The people who live here.”
“No doubt they’re visiting kin for Christmas.” said the stranger, “It’s Christmas Eve, you know. I was traveling, too. Where were you heading?”
“We would have been in Colby tonight if it wasn’t for this blizzard. Friends of a friend of ours invited us to spend the holiday with them.” said Heyes wistfully, “It would have been nice to spend Christmas Eve with friends.”
“And that’s just what you’re doing, young man!” The man held out his hand., “Call me Chris.”
“Joshua Smith.” “Thaddeus Jones.” They each shook his hand in turn.
“You’re doing a lot better.” the Kid noted, “When we found you, you were half frozen.”
Chris chuckle, “Might I say the same for you! The two of you were covered in snow and moving mighty slow when I spotted you. I mean, when you rescued me.”
“I didn’t realize we were that bad off.” said Heyes sheepishly.
“I think he’s right, Joshua,” the Kid piped in, “I don’t think I could have gone another mile. If this house wasn’t here, I don’t know what would have happened to us.”
“No one dies tonight.” said Chris as he thoughtfully sipped his brandy, “It’s Christmas Eve!” He held out his glass, “By the way, boys, I don’t want you to think that I drink brandy all the time! Just to take the nip off tonight, you know.”
“Sure, we understand.” Heyes smiled. So did the Kid.
“It’s good to see you boys smiling. I like the two of you! You’re very kind – the way you stopped in a blizzard to help an old man, and the way you took care of your horses. I like folks who take care of their animals. You’re both considerate. Thank you for being kind.”
Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry both smiled and looked down.
“Do either of you boys have a timepiece? I’m curious about the time.”
Heyes reached inside his vest and pulled out his pocketwatch, “Just after 7.” he announced, “Way too early to turn in. Anyone for a few card games?”
“Don’t forget, Joshua,” said the Kid, “our friend here had his clothing stolen. He doesn’t have any money.”
“Oh, I never carry money!” said Chris.
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Although Heyes was disappointed, he said, “Well, maybe just a few hands for fun.” He pulled his deck of cards out of his jacket pocket. They were soaked from the melting snow and all stuck together.
“Guess not, Joshua,” said the Kid.
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Heyes laid the cards near the fireplace and sighed, “Well, we have to pass the time somehow. What can we do? Old-timer, do you have any hobbies?”
“I build things. Wood-working, that kind of thing. And I travel a lot. Been all over.”
“We travel a lot, too,” said Kid Curry. He and his partner exchanged a look of disgust, “Don’t really want to, though. Sounds like your life is a lot more interesting than ours.”
“I’m not so sure about that.” said Chris thoughtfully, “Travelled a lot at your young ages? That says something. And the lines in your faces tell stories about your lives. And you’re kind to animals! I think you’re both more interesting than you let on. If you tell me a little about yourselves, I can tell you some things about me.”
“I guess we can pass the time telling stories.” said the Kid. He then caught the warning look Heyes gave him, “Can’t we?” he asked cautiously.
Heyes sighed and looked down. Offhand, he couldn’t think of any stories about their years as outlaws that would be safe to divulge to this stranger. But, almost as if he was reading Heyes’s mind, Chris said, “How about your early lives? I’d like to hear.”
Heyes and the Kid looked at each other and smiled sadly. Yes, they could speak of their childhoods. But these would not all be happy stories.
“Tell me about yourselves.” Chris looked from one to the other, “Are you related?” The closeness between them had not been lost on him.
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Heyes and the Kid exchanged amused glances.
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“No,” smiled Heyes, “we’re just friends. We grew up together.”
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The Kid nodded, “We look for odd jobs.”
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“Where are you from?” Chris enquired.
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“Kan…“ Heyes began at the same time as the Kid said “Ark…“ both breaking off and exchanging a nervous glance, surprised that they had started to answer immediately, without thinking. Usually they avoided talking about their past.
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Chris raised a puzzled eyebrow.
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Heyes gave a nonchalant laugh, “We moved around a lot as children.” he said by way of explanation.
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Chris eyed them with his kindly blue eyes, making both of them feel quite vulnerable without really understanding why.
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“How so?” he asked.
“Oh, it’s a long story. ”Heyes shrugged dismissively, as though to end the conversation, but Chris continued to fix them with his penetrating blue gaze. It seemed to Heyes like he could almost read his mind without his having to say a word.
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Suddenly feeling strangely emotional, Heyes broke Chris’s gaze and glanced nervously across at the Kid whose eyes were fixed on Chris, unaware of his friend’s anxiety.
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“I sense a deep sadness in you.” Chris’s words drew Heyes’s gaze back to him. Heyes had intended to fend off his questions with some jovial comment but as their eyes met he found himself unable to do so. He stared at Chris for several moments before finally giving a small nod.
“What happened?” asked Chris, his face showing genuine interest and concern.
Heyes lowered his eyes, picking absently at some imaginary speck on his pants as he allowed his mind to revisit the memories he’d spent years trying to bury.
The Kid switched his gaze from Chris to Heyes. They rarely spoke about their past to each other, let alone a complete stranger, and yet, there was something about Chris, something warm and comforting, that inspired them to trust him and want to confide in him.
“Our folks were killed… by raiders.” the Kid replied, seeing that Heyes couldn’t bring himself to answer.
Chris stroked his beard, nodding to himself, “That’s very sad.” he said presently, “How old were you?”
“I was seven, Joshua was nine.” the Kid replied, eyeing Heyes who was still picking at the imaginary speck on his pants, a frown furrowing his brow as his mind turned once again to that day.
“That’s a very young age to be losing your families.” said Chris, “You were lucky to escape with your lives.”
The Kid sighed heavily, “We weren’t there.” he said presently., “We’d skipped our chores and sneaked off to the woods to play.”
“I see.” said Chris. When neither of them said anything further he asked, “What happened?”
The Kid glanced across at Heyes for a lead of some kind, but his friend’s mind was obviously elsewhere. He wondered why he felt the need to answer Chris’s question truthfully. Usually they would bat away any such questions about their childhoods with a quick change of subject, or a blatant lie, but something in Chris’s demeanour compelled him to answer honestly.
“Our families lived on neighbouring farms, so Joshua and me spent a lot of time together.” the Kid said now, “That day…” He paused, remembering “… we’d gone off into the woods to fish in the stream. We lost track of time and it was getting late when we headed back home…”
Chris waited patiently while the Kid stared at the floor, transported back to that fateful day.
“When we came over the brow of the hill… we could see smoke, and then… we realized it was our homes that were burning…” He trailed off, lost in the memory.
“What did you do?” Chris asked softly.
The Kid shook his head, his gaze still fixed on the floor. He gave a deep sigh before lifting his eyes to Chris’s.
“I was too young to understand what was happening…” he began.,“Joshua…” The Kid glanced over at Heyes, who didn’t return his look. “…told me to wait there, while he went to see what was going on. I wanted to go too, but he insisted. He had this real serious look on his face that scared me… so I did as I was told.”
Chris switched his gaze to Heyes, but his head was bowed, a look of angst on his face as he re-lived the events of that day.
“When he came back…” The Kid’s voice drew his attention, "… he told me that… our folks were gone, forever. I didn’t understand what death was at that age, but I couldn’t imagine never seeing my folks ever again, so I started to cry.” He shook his head, “Joshua just held me… I guess he was in shock; he just stood there, like a statue, with his arms around me, I don’t know how long for…” He broke off as his voice faltered.
Chris looked over at Heyes who closed his eyes and swallowed, obviously choked by the memories that the Kid’s words had brought to his mind.
“Joshua?” he called.
Slowly, Heyes opened his eyes and looked at Chris.
“Do you want to talk about what happened?” Chris enquired.
Heyes lowered his gaze and shook his head, “It’s… I don’t think I can…”
“Have you ever told Thaddeus what you saw that day?” Chris asked gently.
Heyes shook his head, “I couldn’t. He was too young to hear it then, and later…” He shrugged, “...it was just better forgotten.”
“But it hasn’t been forgotten, has it? By either of you?” Chris glanced from Heyes to the Kid and back again.
Both of them shook their heads.
“Then perhaps it’s time.” said Chris. “Time you talked about it and resolved your feelings.”
“What’s to resolve?” the Kid cut in, “Our folks were killed. We had no say in it and we couldn’t change it. We just had to get by as best we could.”
“True, you suffered at the hand of fate, nothing you could have done to stop it, but that hasn’t stopped you beating yourselves up about it all these years – guilt, because you survived; anger, for what you lost; frustration, because you’ve never really talked about it, never properly grieved, just buried it away inside. That’s not healthy.”
The Kid nodded, “You’re right. We never really did talk about it, not to each other or anyone else. It’s always just kind of been there, like… like a ghost.”
“Now’s as good a time as any to resolve that.” Chris said quietly.
The Kid eyed him curiously. He’d never recounted what he’d just said to Chris about that day to anyone, not even Heyes. Why did this man have the power to make him speak so openly about it now? He switched his gaze to Heyes, whose head was still bowed, a sick expression on his face, obviously struggling with his memories of that terrible day.
“Joshua?”
Slowly, Heyes lifted his head and shifted his gaze to the Kid’s. Chris was probably right. They should perhaps talk about that day and how it had changed their lives, but even now, all these years later, the memories were almost too painful to voice.
Finally, he tilted his head up to the roof and gave a deep sigh, before lowering his gaze to the floor once more.
“After I left you on the hill…” Heyes began, his voice barely audible, “I ran down to our farm.” He shook his head as he remembered, “Pa… was lying by the water trough… his head smashed open… It must have happened so fast, he hadn’t even had time to get his rifle…” He paused, remembering, while Chris and the Kid waited for him to continue.
“The corral was open, and the horses gone.” Heyes continued, “The house was burning, but as I ran round to the door… Ma…” He broke off, screwing his eyes shut against the memory, “… she was laid on the porch… her throat… slit…” He choked on the word, covering his mouth with his hand as he stifled a sob, while the Kid stared at him, aghast at what he was hearing.
“Her clothes… were all torn…’ ’Heyes continued now, struggling to maintain his composure, “so I guess they… had their fun with her… before…” He closed his eyes, shaking his head.
Chris watched, silently, his kindly expression unchanged.
It was several moments before Heyes said, “From what I could see inside the house… the furniture was all tipped up and the cupboards all open… I guess they took what food they wanted when they left.” He paused again, his expression anguished.
“Then I ran over to your folks’ place.” he continued presently, looking at his friend, “It was the same…” He shook his head, “Your Pa… he’d been stabbed… in the chest… I ran to the house and looked in the door – the fire had spread more there... Your Ma… she was lying on the floor… she must have been stabbed too, there was blood all over the floor… but… the fire… had reached there and… her head and shoulders… were burned…” Again his voice broke, and he shook his head despairingly.
The Kid said nothing, but on hearing how his Mother had died, tears slid silently down his face.
“I didn’t know what to do...” Heyes continued, “I didn’t know if I should try to bury them… or drag them inside so the fire would …” He broke off on a choked sob, “I just didn’t know what to do… where to go… or what I was going to tell you…” He shook his head, “I was so scared…” He closed his eyes as the tears he’d buried all these years welled up and forced their way through his lashes, covering his face with his hands, his shoulders shaking as the grief he’d pushed aside now overtook him.
Chris nodded to himself, his kindly expression still unchanged.
It was several minutes before Heyes composed himself enough to continue, “I was scared whoever did it might come back, so I ran back to you.” he said, his voice hoarse with emotion.
“I can’t imagine what it must have been like to see that, at that age.” the Kid said now, brushing the tears off his face with the back of his hand, “I can still picture that look on your face… kind of lost… like something inside you had died.” He shook his head, “At that age I didn’t understand, I just remember the fear of never seeing my folks again…”
“I never wanted to tell you any of this.” croaked Heyes, wiping his face with his sleeve, “I wanted to protect you. I didn’t want you to have to feel how I felt… still feel when I let myself think about it.”
The Kid nodded, “I understand. But I’m glad you told me. It kind of helps, somehow, even though it’s hard to hear.”
“It haunted me for years…” Heyes said presently, his voice trembling with emotion, “Every time I tried to sleep, I would see their bodies.”
“I wish I’d been old enough to help you.” said the Kid.
“What did you do next?” Chris asked now.
Heyes sighed and shrugged, “We started walking and before long we met some of the townsfolk who had seen the smoke and come out to see what happened.”
The Kid nodded, “I remember them putting us on a wagon and taking us into town. I think it was Mrs. Amos who put us up that night?”
Heyes nodded, “She was very kind, and I think she would probably have taken us in, but she had five children of her own and just couldn’t afford to take on any more. So we were duly taken away and placed in the orphanage.”
“Orphanage?” said Chris.
The Kid nodded, “It was a horrible place.” he said disgustedly.
Heyes nodded agreement, “Because I was older, they put us in separate groups, for chores and classes. They wanted to split us up at night too, but I kept going to Thaddeus’s room to sleep at night. I didn’t want him to be scared.”
The Kid nodded, “They didn’t like that,” he told Chris, “They kept taking him back to his own room, and the more he defied them, they would beat him, and lock him in the punishment room.”
Heyes nodded acknowledgement, “I still hate being shut in places because of that.”
“I can imagine,” said Chris.
“They worked us hard there,” the Kid said, “with minimal food.”
“What they gave us to eat could hardly be described as food.” Heyes cut in.
The Kid nodded agreement, “We had to have lessons in reading and writing for an hour a day but the rest of the time was basically hard labour with an hour at dusk to eat a bowl of slop before lights out.” he told Chris,“If any of us didn’t pull our weight, as they saw it, or were caught out of our rooms at night, we would be beaten, locked up or starved.”
“That sounds dreadful.” said Chris.
“The older boys bullied us too.” the Kid continued, “I was too young to think of fighting back, but Joshua did, didn’t you?” He glanced across at Heyes, who nodded, looking uncomfortable with the memory.
“I remember,” the Kid said to Heyes, “the time that older boy wanted you to do his chores for him and you refused.”
Heyes nodded, “So do I.”
The Kid turned back to Chris, “We were pretty skinny, you can imagine, and this boy was a couple of years older than Joshua and had somehow managed to get enough to eat that he was in reasonable shape. When Joshua wouldn’t do his chores, he and his friends beat him to within an inch of his life. He spent a couple of weeks in the infirmary and it was months before he fully recovered.”
Heyes nodded, “I vowed nobody was ever going to hurt me like that ever again.” he said bitterly.
“That was when we started planning to run away.” the Kid continued, “We watched and waited and when the opportunity came, we ran.”
“How old were you then?” asked Chris.
“I was almost fifteen.” said Heyes.
“And I was thirteen.” the Kid added.
“Life was almost as tough outside the orphanage as it was inside at first.” said Heyes, “Because of how skinny we were, people mistook us for schoolchildren and we couldn’t get work, so we had to beg, steal and borrow our way through life for a while.”
The Kid realized they were in danger of revealing their descent into outlawing and jumped in with, “But it got a bit easier when we grew up more and we could do proper jobs, like cattle driving and ranching.” He exchanged knowing glances with Heyes, who gave him a tearful smile, still wondering what it was about Chris, a perfect stranger, that had them pouring their life stories out to him. The Kid still couldn’t understand how he had been compelled to talk about the deaths of their parents so easily, when even he and Heyes hadn’t spoken of it in all these years.
“I’m sorry you had to see all that, that day.” the Kid said, “I can’t imagine how I would have reacted if I’d have been you.”
“Probably the same,” Heyes said hoarsely, wiping his face on his sleeve.
“Our lives might have been very different if that hadn’t happened.” said the Kid, his expression wistful.
“I’m sure they would have.” replied Heyes, a tone of bitterness in his voice at the road they’d been forced to take in life following their parents’ untimely deaths. He briefly indulged himself in a vision of what their lives might have been had their parents lived to see them grow into adulthood. Marriage, perhaps, children, decent jobs and a proper home. None of that looked likely now, he thought angrily, once again cursing the raiders who had snatched away that life.
The Kid saw the flicker of resentment that appeared in Heyes’s eyes and, reaching over, placed his hand on his friend’s forearm. As Heyes turned to look at him, the Kid squeezed his arm, his eyes conveying his understanding and also his thanks for Heyes’s attempts to protect him from the reality of what had taken place that day, and his efforts to look after them both.
Touched, Heyes patted the Kid’s hand in acknowledgement before turning away as tears threatened to overcome him once more.
Chris watched this moving scene, pleased that they had been willing to be so honest about their emotions with him. Honest with each other as well. He allowed them a moment of silence before speaking. He chose his words carefully, as he wanted to give them a reprieve from the strong emotion without actually breaking the mood.
“My childhood was similar,” he said softly, “but not so bad as yours. I had folks who loved me, too…” He broke off when he saw Heyes turn his head and run his sleeve across his eyes, “They were … uh… good churchpeople, my parents. They always helped other people who were in need. A lot like you, Joshua.” This last sentence was aimed directly at Heyes, who turned back in full attention.
Chris smiled at them, “I’ve lived a long, full life. And a good one, too. My folks – all those years ago – they taught me right from wrong…” Chris did not miss the quick glance they exchanged with each other, “… and they taught me that it is better to give than to receive. Oh, this is a very important life lesson, and you boys certainly understand the meaning of it.”
“Well, maybe it wasn’t always so.” Heyes said, smiling coyly and looking down. There was a flicker of a smile on Kid Curry’s face also.
“A long time ago,” Chris continued, “I knew a young woman who wanted to be an artist. She was very talented but very poor. She won a scholarship to an art school in Boston, but the school ran out of that tuition money so then all the students had to pay their own way, including her.” Chris stopped talking as he seemed to be reminiscing. Heyes and Curry waited respectfully for him to continue, but he seemed to have forgotten he was talking.
Finally, the Kid said, “So what happened? With the woman art student?”
Chris snapped back to attention, “Oh, she was fine. She re-enrolled in the spring semester because someone anonymous paid her tuition that December. She’s actually a very famous artist now. See, that’s what I mean about giving. She’s old now, and she sold many paintings her whole life. Made enough money to pay scholarships many times for future art students. So you see, both she and her school thrived because of that one anonymous Christmas gift.”
Heyes smiled gently and looked down. He understood the point of the story, but the Kid seemed lost. Chris noticed this. “Giving, you know, giving…” He scratched his beard, “That’s what matters. The only thing that matters, really, because it means love. And caring. Like when parents work hard so they can put their children through school. Or like when a man toils at a job he doesn’t like, just to keep his family intact. I knew a man in West Virginia once who went to prison because his younger brother was mentally unsound and committed a crime and this man said he did it instead. To protect his brother, who didn’t really know what he was doing. That’s love. That’s giving.”
“But isn’t that a little bit crazy,” ventured the Kid, “to go to jail for a crime you didn’t commit? It’s bad enough to be locked up if you did it, but if you didn’t….!” He looked at Heyes, who smiled gently and looked down.
“Sure, it’s crazy.” said Chris, “But it’s crazier not to give, not to love, not to be whole. But don’t worry - the man’s sentence was shortened because he had never done anything illegal. He went to prison in November and they let him out by December. Basically, he gave up a month of his life for his brother. Would you do that?” It wasn’t clear if Chris was addressing Heyes or Curry, but both considered the question more than the answer. To them, the answer was clear. Each had made sacrifices many times for the other, going all the way back to their childhood, as they had told Chris earlier. Why did he ask? Heyes wondered to himself, if he already knew the answer.
Chris watched each of them carefully. Before either could answer, he started talking again, “Some years back, I saw some young orphan boys. Newly orphaned. I wanted to help them but they resisted my help. Anyone’s help, in fact. I tried to get the point across to them that they were loved but they were too angry and sad to accept it as truth.”
Kid Curry was exhausted physically from the storm and emotionally from the way the evening had gone. He wasn’t sure he wanted to hear any more of Chris’s stories. “Where did this one happen?” he scoffed, “Boston or West Virginia?”
“Neither,” said Chris, appearing to try to remember, “The Midwest. Kansas, I think.” Out of the corner of his eye, he caught the startled looks they gave each other, “They had lost their parents – just like you did – and they were bitter about it. I knew them and knew they loved each other very much, but they wouldn’t open up to anyone else. It was tearing them apart.”
This was hitting a little bit too close to home for Kid Curry, and he looked down, wishing he could think of something to say to change the subject. When he glanced over at his partner, he noticed that Heyes was staring fixedly at Chris.
“I wanted to give both of them a gift, because it was Christmas Eve, just like tonight.” Chris continued, looking out the window at the swirling snow, “But there really wasn’t anything I could think of that would be appropriate. A toy or a tool or clothing – all these things seemed inadequate after all they’d gone through.” He suddenly changed the subject and turned back to Heyes, “Joshua, what time is it now?”
Heyes had been so wrapped up in this story that seemed to match his own life that he was taken off guard. “Uh . . . just after 8.” he said, pulling out his watch.
“I’ll have to be going soon.” Chris announced with a worried look.
The Kid huffed in surprise, “What are you talking about? It’s a snowstorm. You can’t go anywhere!”
“What did you do for them?” asked Heyes.
“Who?” said Chris, who seemed to be preoccupied.
“The boys! The two orphans! What did you do for them, that Christmas, all those years ago?” Heyes had a very determined look on his face and there was a deeply serious tone in his voice that caused Kid Curry to turn and look at him in wonder.
With a gentle meaningful smile, Chris asked Heyes, “What would you have done?” The two of them stared at each other.
The Kid heard a noise coming from the outside. It sounded like animals and there were jingling sounds, too. Maybe the people who lived there were returning by sleigh. He was going to say something, but the intensity of the looks Chris and Heyes were giving each other stole his attention.
It was a moment before Heyes answered, “You gave them your love and they didn’t notice. The only thing left to give them was. . . your protection.” This last word was whispered in astonishment.
Chris smiled meaningfully and placed his hand on Hannibal Heyes’s arm. He turned to Kid Curry and did the same with him, “Merry Christmas, boys.” he said softly. Then he rose from his chair and removed the jacket he had been wearing, handing it to the Kid, “This is yours, I believe. Thanks. I knew you were very kind. But I have to be going now.”
The Kid did not understand, “But it’s cold out! You’ll… “
Chris laughed, “Not my color. I usually wear red this time of year.” He went to the door and opened it, allowing some of the blowing snow to enter the room. The storm was clearly in full force. Through the opening in the door, Heyes and Curry caught a glimpse of a large vehicle, probably a sleigh, with a few animals in front of it. There was a glimmer of red on top of the sleigh.
Chris stepped outside but turned back to them, “From now on,” he said meaningfully, “may all your Christmases be jolly! You deserve it!” He turned to leave, but looked back at them with an afterthought, “By the way,” he yelled through the storm, “it’s ‘Chris’ with a ‘K’!” Then magically he was gone.
Kid Curry and Hannibal Heyes heard his laughter, which somehow seemed to be coming from above, as it died away. The Kid ran to the door and scoured the area, but could see no sign of him.
“Close the door, Kid,” said Heyes softly.
“But…”
“Close the door.”
With understanding beginning to dawn on him, Kid Curry slowly closed the door of the house and turned back to his friend. “Heyes…” he whispered.
Heyes smiled gently, “That’s not the only door we’ve closed tonight, Kid.”
They gazed at each other for a minute more, then Heyes grabbed their brandy glasses and walked over to his friend. “Here.” he said, handing the Kid his drink, “Merry Christmas, Jed.” He raised his glass.
The Kid touched the glass with his own and said with deep emotion, “Merry Christmas, Han.” They drank the toast, then the Kid grasped his friend’s shoulder, “Thanks for protecting me all those years ago.” he whispered, tears in his eyes. Heyes smiled knowingly.
They stayed that way for a long time. At one point, they heard sleigh bells, way off in the distance. A strange thing to hear on stormy, winter night. They might have been imagining it. Or the bells might have been real.
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