Retribution
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- 3 -
​
Heyes’ screams of pain motivated Kid Curry. He belted down the ridge, hoping the element of surprise he had would be enough against seven of them.
Felton had his arm around Heyes’ neck, his hand pulling on his chin to force his mouth open. He was almost sitting on top of him and reached out his foot to press down on Heyes’ injured leg. As Heyes let out a howl of pain, Felton forced his jaws open.
He kept his foot on Heyes’ injured leg and, leaning forward onto him, forced him down onto one shoulder, so that his one arm was trapped beneath him and the other couldn’t reach Felton’s knife hand with any leverage.
Heyes choked and spluttered, trying to bite Felton’s hand, but Felton all but had his fist in his mouth now, and had forced his head so far back, he could barely swallow and was in danger of choking.
"No." he tried to cry out, but all he managed was an agonised whimper as Felton forced his fist into his mouth.
"Oh, God." Heyes prayed, silently, knowing that he was powerless against him, "Not this. Anything but this."
Too weak to fight any more, and paralysed by fear at what was about to come, Heyes closed his eyes and tried to block his mind to the unbearable agony about to be inflicted on him.
​
"Freeze!"
They all jumped as Kid Curry burst onto the scene with a blood curdling yell, his gun aimed at them.
One of the men made a move towards his gun. Curry fired a warning shot that missed his toes by half an inch.
"Don’t try it." he hissed.
"It’s Kid Curry!" said one of the men.
"Don’t try anything. He’s pretty good with a gun." said another.
Joey turned pale, remembering what Heyes had told him about his friends coming after them.
"Get away from him!" Curry yelled at Felton, his eyes blazing.
Felton let go of Heyes, who slumped to the ground and lay still, and stood up slowly.
Curry nodded to McKenzie. "You… tie up the others. Tight mind. I’ll be watching."
McKenzie did as he was told and then Curry tied him up while keeping an eye on the others. He then confiscated their ammunition and took a couple of canteens of water, and a portion of their food, which he loaded into the back of their wagon, hitching up two horses to it and tying Heyes’ own horse to the back of it before scattering the rest and then hurrying over to Heyes’ motionless form, face down on the ground, afraid, for one heart stopping moment, that he was too late, that Heyes was already dead. But, as he crouched down by him, he could see that he was still breathing.
"Heyes?" he called softly, "It’s me, Kid. It’s O.K. You’re safe now."
Heyes gave no response.
Curry frowned, worriedly. He had to get him out of here, and get him some medical attention, and fast. But it was obvious that he was badly injured and Curry was afraid to touch him for fear of hurting him further. The frenzied attack that Felton had just made on him alone would be enough to injure him severely, without the other beatings he had seen him endure, and he didn’t know what other injuries he may have suffered before he'd caught up with them. It might be dangerous, fatal even, to move him in his present condition, but what choice did he have? Help wasn’t going to come to them.
Carefully, Curry got his arms underneath him, and, as gently as he could, picked him up, grimacing at the involuntary whimper of pain that escaped Heyes’ lips as he did so.
He started for the wagon, glancing worriedly down at Heyes as he did so. At first glance, he appeared unconscious, his body limp in Curry's arms, arms dangling down, his head flopped back against Curry's shoulder, but his eyes were open, their expression glazed, and Curry knew that he was in deep shock, unaware of anything going on around him.
He lay him carefully in the back of the wagon and covered him with a blanket, staring down at his bloody, bruised and swollen, dirt streaked face, scarcely able to recognize this as the same man he’d left in the saloon five days ago.
A wave of anger washed over him at the men who had done this to him and, when he left the wagon, he had to use every ounce of self control he possessed to stop himself from going over and inflicting some of the same on them.
Instead, he climbed up onto the front of the wagon and headed off at a gallop, stopping, briefly, to collect his own horse before riding on again.
He rode several miles before he felt safe enough to stop and check on Heyes.
He climbed inside the wagon to find Heyes still lying as he’d left him, gazing unseeingly at the roof of the wagon.
Curry wanted to examine him, to find out what harm those bastards had done him, but he was afraid to touch him. Instead, he said, "It’s O.K. You’re safe now. Just relax. No-one’s going to hurt you."
Heyes gave no response, and Curry got out of the wagon with a sigh.
He climbed back up on the front again, a frown furrowing his brow. After a moment, he picked up the reins, "Ya!" he shouted to the horses.
Instead of making camp somewhere for the night, he decided to ride to Lom’s. Heyes needed medical attention as soon as possible. If he rode straight through, he could get there by nightfall the next day. There were townships nearer than Porterville, but Curry didn’t want to risk going to any of them, unless the situation was desperate, in case they were recognized. Heyes was injured, and in shock, but Curry didn’t think his injuries were serious enough to be immediately life threatening. At least, he hoped they weren’t.
He rode all night, pausing, briefly, just after sunrise, to rest the horses and fix a quick breakfast. He tried to get Heyes to drink some water, but he was completely out of it, like a rag doll in his arms.
Curry pressed on, stopping once more, by a small stream, to rest the horses and fill his canteen.
It was growing dark when he pulled the wagon up outside Lom’s cabin. Thankfully, a lamp was burning inside, indicating that Lom was at home.
He climbed wearily down from the wagon, hoping, as he knocked the door, that Lom hadn’t got company, walking straight in without waiting for an answer.
Lom was just drying his hands at the sink, having heard the horses and been about to come out to see who it was.
"Kid!" Lom looked surprised, "What brings you here?" he asked with a smile.
"Trouble." Curry took off his hat and wiped sweat off his brow with the back of his hand, "What else ever brings us here?" he added wearily.
"What’s happened?" Lom asked in a resigned tone of voice. Since going in for the amnesty they’d got into trouble several times, and each time had come to Lom for help. On each occasion so far, they had been able to prove their innocence and Lom had bailed them out, but he had made it abundantly clear that if he ever found them guilty of any crimes charged against them, they could expect no help from him whatsoever.
"It’s Heyes." Curry replied, "He’s been hurt."
"Hurt?" Lom frowned, "What’s happened? Where is he?"
Curry jerked his thumb in the direction of the door, "He’s outside, in the wagon…" He broke off temporarily, passing a weary hand across his eyes, "I didn’t want to risk causing you any trouble by coming here…" he raised his eyes to Lom’s now, "but I didn’t know where else to go. Will you help?" he asked, his eyes pleading.
Lom stared at him momentarily, noting his dusty and dishevelled appearance, the weariness in his face, the worried frown on his brow and the pleading, almost desperate, look in his eyes as he waited for him to answer. He seemed almost beside himself, and Lom realised that whatever had happened must be pretty serious. A knot of apprehension began to form in the pit of his stomach as he nodded his reply, "Of course…" he began, hoping that however Heyes had come to be hurt, it wasn’t doing something illegal.
"Thank you." Curry cut off the rest of his sentence, relief flooding his face, "Will you help me get him inside?" he asked, turning towards the door.
Lom nodded, following him outside.
"Don’t be shocked." Curry warned as he climbed into the wagon, "He’s in pretty bad shape."
Lom nodded, dumbly, following him inside.
Curry crouched down by Heyes. He could almost sense him flinch as he reached out and touched his shoulder.
"It’s O.K." he told him, "Lom’s here. We’re gonna take you inside. Relax now."
He turned to Lom who was looking at Heyes with an expression of disbelief, barely recognizing this pale, battered figure as his friend Hannibal Heyes.
"Help me carry him."
Lom nodded.
"Gently now." ordered Curry.
Together they carried Heyes inside and laid him carefully on Lom’s bed. He was barely conscious, not aware of where he was or what was going on around him. He was physically and mentally exhausted, but some deep subconscious instinct refused to let him drift into total unconsciousness for fear of death, or disfigurement, at Felton’s hands.
Curry covered him with a blanket.
"What the hell happened?" Lom burst out, his eyes taking in Heyes’ cut, bruised, and dirt streaked face, scanning over his grubby, torn and bloodstained clothes, his raw, bloody wrists and the makeshift splint on his injured leg, before lifting his horrified gaze to Curry's.
"It’s a long story, Lom." sighed Curry.
Lom nodded, "I’ll go for the doctor. You can tell me about it later."
While Lom was away, Curry got some water and cleaned up Heyes’ face up as best as he could and bathed his bloodied wrists. He didn’t dare try to clean him up any further as he wasn’t sure what injuries he’d sustained and didn’t want to hurt him unnecessarily.
A short time later, Lom returned with the doctor, a stout, middle aged man, with sandy hair and a bushy auburn beard, who wore gold rimmed spectacles.
After Lom had introduced Curry as Thaddeus Jones, and told him Heyes’ name was Joshua Smith, the doctor approached the bed to give Heyes a thorough examination.
He opened his shirt to look at the wound to his shoulder, "Someone’s removed the bullet from this wound, but it looks a bit infected." he commented to no-one in particular, "I’ll see to that later." He continued his examination, "Minor lacerations," he intoned, touching the cuts on Heyes’ face, "bruising to the face, throat… shoulders, arms… and back." he said as he looked over his body, "Bruised ribs… a couple cracked I think." He looked at Heyes’ hands, "Rope burns." he stated, examining the raw, red, wheals around his wrists. He straightened up, peering at Lom and Curry over the rim of his spectacles, "I won’t even ask how he came to get in this state." he said severely.
Lom nodded, "Thanks."
The doctor moved onto Heyes’ leg, removing the splint and slitting his pants up to the knee with a knife before bending to examine the damage.
He stood up presently, tutting and shaking his head.
"How long ago did this happen?"
"Best part of a week." Curry told him. When the doctor frowned, he added, "We were a long way from civilization, in Nebraska. It’s taken until now to get back."
The doctor looked doubtful. There were other towns between here and Nebraska that they could have gone to for medical help instead of coming all the way here. But he refrained from comment. He knew Lom and his strange ‘friends’. His work under the amnesty system was an open secret in the district. These two, he assumed, were a couple of two-bit criminals he’d taken under his wing.
Lom only helped people he thought were decent, so they couldn’t be all bad, the doctor decided. The one he’d introduced as Thaddeus Jones seemed affable enough, although he looked a bit concerned at the moment. But he had an open, honest, face, with clear blue eyes that looked as though they laughed easily, and this other one was probably a handsome looking man underneath all this dirt and bruising. He would have liked to know just how he had come to take such a terrible beating, but he knew, if he asked, they would lie, so he let it go.
"The fracture is about five inches above the ankle." he told them now, "It’s started to knit wrong." That was an understatement. The leg was a mess. Goodness only knew what he’d been doing to it, "I’m going to have to straighten it and reset it." he said.
Lom nodded. "O.K."
"Hold his leg steady." said the doctor, positioning himself at the foot of the bed.
Lom walked to the bed and securely grabbed Heyes’ leg just above the knee, nodding to the doctor for him to begin.
The doctor pulled and twisted Heyes’ leg back into line with a crack that made Curry shudder.
Heyes, who had lain semi-conscious until now, let out a scream of agony before being overcome by pain and finally passing out.
The doctor reset the leg in a splint from foot to thigh, before cleaning and bandaging the wounds to his shoulder and wrists, strapping up his injured ribs and treating the cuts to his face with iodine.
"There." he announced finally, "That’s about it." He straightened up and began putting his things in his bag, "Keep an eye on him." he told them, "Not that he’ll be going anywhere for a while." he added, casting a brief glance at Heyes’ face, "When he wakes up, try and get plenty of fluids into him. He’s very dehydrated"
"Thanks for your help, Doc." Lom shook his hand.
"Pleasure."
Lom escorted him outside.
"He’s had a hell of a beating." the doctor told him, "He needs plenty of rest. If he should take a turn for the worse, send for me."
Lom nodded, "I will. Oh, and send the bill to me, would you?" he added.
"As you wish. Goodnight."
"Goodnight, Doc, and thanks."
Lom went back inside and together, he and Curry managed to strip Heyes of his grimy clothes and get him into some nightclothes before covering him with the bedcovers.
Lom gazed down at Heyes’ motionless form, a frown on his face.
Curry had washed off the blood and grime, leaving a pale, bruised, face, with several days stubble. His cheeks seemed pinched somehow, and even asleep he looked a broken man. His lips were cut and swollen and there was a cut on his chin and a gash on his forehead, along with several bruises, and dark shadows of fatigue under his eyes.
"What the hell happened?" he asked, his voice gruff.
Curry turned and left the room. With a last glance at Heyes, Lom followed, leaving the door ajar.
Curry poured them some coffee, placing the mugs on the table and sitting down, gazing pensively into his mug. Lom sat down, picked up his mug and leaned back in the chair, putting his feet up on the table and crossing his ankles, fixing Curry with a scrutinising gaze as he sipped the coffee. He noted that he too too was unusually pale, and he looked dead on his feet. Whatever had happened to Heyes had taken its toll on him too.
As he watched, Curry yawned, raking his hands up through his hair and shaking his head. He hadn’t slept in almost thirty six hours, and not much in the days before that while he’d tracked Felton’s gang, and he was fit to drop. It was only his concern for Heyes that had kept him going. Now that he knew he was safe, the tiredness he’d kept at bay washed over him.
"Well?" Lom prompted.
Curry shrugged, "Heyes was ambushed by seven men. I don’t know who they were - Bounty Hunters I guess - but they were obviously taking him to Cheyenne to hand him over for the reward, and, believe me, they weren’t fussy how they got him there." He paused, remembering.
"Where were you?" Lom asked.
A slight flush touched Curry's cheeks as he stared intently into his coffee, "We’d... er… sort of... had a disagreement…" he began.
"You’d fallen out and gone off in a huff!" Lom finished for him, "What about?" he asked, as Curry nodded.
Curry shrugged, "It was one of those rows that flare up over nothing." He sighed, "We’d just arrived in Harrison, broke and saddle sore. We went to the saloon for a drink, and before long, we were arguing over the amnesty."
"The amnesty?" Lom raised an eyebrow.
Curry nodded, taking a sip of his drink, "Sometimes, it just don’t seem worth it, you know?" He glanced over at Lom, "Being constantly broke, always having to keep looking over our shoulders in case we’re recognized. Having to slink away when we are…" he shook his head, "It’s hard… and we take it out on each other sometimes..." He trailed off, momentarily lost in thought. Then, making a visible effort to lighten up, he said, "I told him he was a self opinionated, arrogant, over-bearing son-of-a-bitch." He glanced at Lom, who raised his eyebrows quizzically.
"What did he say to that?" Lom asked, his expression amused.
Curry shrugged, "Not much. He just gave me one of his ‘looks’, you know?"
Lom nodded. He could well imagine Heyes’ disdainful expression.
"He can be so… insufferable… sometimes." Curry continued, "I lost my temper, told him I thought I’d do better on my own, and left." He sighed, "It was late when I went back to the hotel, but Heyes wasn’t there. I assumed he’d stayed out just to prove a point. When he didn’t come back the next morning I wasn’t too concerned." He shook his head, "By the time I realized something was wrong, they were long gone. It took me three days to track them and catch up with them. By then, Heyes was in pretty bad shape… I don’t know what they did to him before then, but I saw enough in the day and a half that I followed them to make me sick to my stomach." He paused to take another sip of his coffee, his eyes flicking across to the bedroom, where Heyes was still out cold.
"They treated him worse than a dog." he growled. He explained to Lom how they’d beaten and humiliated him, how they’d purposely tied him to his horse, and chained him up at night, even though there was no possible way for him to have escaped with his injuries.
"He tried so hard to stand up to them, but he was just too weak in the end."
He told Lom of what he had seen on the afternoon he’d rescued him.
"I don’t know what started it, but that guy went wild. I really thought he was going to kill him…" he broke off shaking his head.
"Heartless bastards." Lom said through his teeth, "You wouldn’t let an animal walk around in that state."
Curry nodded agreement, "They wouldn’t even share their water with him out on the trail, and, when he didn’t do what they told him, they laid into him with their fists, boots, gun butts, anything that was handy… he must have been in agony." he muttered, gazing into space, a frown on his face, feeling guilty that he hadn’t been able to rescue him sooner.
Lom got up and went to check on Heyes, who was deeply asleep, barely breathing.
"He’ll sleep right through." Lom whispered, closing the door and going over to a cupboard, returning with a bottle of scotch and two glasses.
He stoked up the fire and turned down the lamp and then sat down to pour them both a drink, handing one to Curry. They sat talking over old times, when Lom had ridden with them as an outlaw before going straight and becoming Sheriff of Porterville.
It had taken a lot of talking by him to keep Heyes and Curry on the straight and narrow, and they weren’t out of the woods yet. But they were two of his closest friends and he didn’t want to see either of them go to jail, or the gallows, or be killed in some senseless shoot out, and so he kept close tabs on them, bullying and cajoling them to stay out of trouble, sticking his neck out for them on the occasions they had ended up in jail.
He knew they were both grateful, although they tried not to show it. Indeed, they constantly complained at Lom, saying that the amnesty ‘wasn’t worth the trouble’, that they enjoyed robbing banks and trains and didn’t want to quit. But Lom knew that deep inside, it was what they wanted, or nothing on earth would have persuaded them to stick with it through the tough times, which, Lom had to admit had been plenty, particularly Heyes, who, despite his amiable manner and charming way, had a stubborn streak a mile wide and had always done precisely as he wanted, although his friendship with Curry had mellowed him a little over the years. Indeed, they were good for each other. Curry was apt to be highly strung and short tempered, and, in his youth, this, combined with his talent with a gun, had got him into a lot of trouble. Heyes’ easy charm had a calming influence on him, and, in return, Curry's dependence on him to keep him out of trouble had, over the years, taught Heyes to think of the consequences before dashing off on some hair-brained scheme.
In some ways they were as different as chalk and cheese, hence their frequent arguments, yet, in others, as alike as peas in a pod, but they were as close as it was possible to be without being blood relatives, closer sometimes, and Lom knew that each would be devastated if something happened to the other, hence the worried look on Curry's face now.
"You look tired." Lom told him as he saw Curry's eyelids beginning to droop.
"I am. I haven’t slept since yesterday."
Lom stood up and took Curry's glass from him.
"Turn in." he told him, "I’ll keep an eye on Heyes."
Curry smiled. "Thanks, Lom." He got up and went into the other bedroom, undressing and climbing into bed, falling into an exhausted sleep almost before his head touched the pillow.
​
* * *
When Curry got up the next morning, Lom was already eating breakfast.
"Hi." He wandered over to the stove and poured himself some coffee.
"Sleep well?" Lom enquired.
Curry nodded, sitting down.
"Want something to eat?" asked Lom.
Curry shook his head, sipping the coffee, "How is he?" He nodded towards the bedroom.
"Still out. He must be shattered."
Curry nodded agreement, "I know the feeling." he said, yawning. He was still tired from his long journey the previous day.
They sat chatting for a while and then Curry decided to have some breakfast.
They left Heyes to sleep until lunch time before going into the bedroom to check on him.
He had twisted onto his right side, his arms wrapped about his shoulders. The eighteen hours he’d slept had put a little more colour in his face, but he still looked exhausted.
Lom was standing with his head on one side, listening to his breathing, which was light and erratic. He leaned over and touched his shoulder, shaking him gently.
"Heyes?" he called quietly.
At Lom’s touch, Heyes woke with a startled gasp, a look of terror in his eyes. He shrank away from Lom’s touch, obviously expecting a beating.
Lom hastily removed his hand.
"It’s O.K." he told him, "You’re safe now. You’re in my cabin and everything’s gonna be alright. You just relax."
Heyes gazed vacantly ahead, seemingly unaware of their presence.
Lom nodded to Curry to follow him outside.
"What’s wrong with him?" Curry asked.
"It’s just shock." said Lom, a frown on his forehead, "He just needs time to collect himself."
They left him for a while and then looked in on him once more. He was lying exactly as when they’d left him, still gazing vacantly ahead, out of the window.
Lom approached quietly, not wanting to startle him.
"How’re you doing?" he enquired.
Heyes showed no indication that he was aware of their presence.
"Heyes?" Lom reached out and touched his shoulder.
Heyes’ gaze flicked briefly, unseeingly, in his direction.
"How are you doing?" Lom asked again. Heyes gave no response.
"Are you hurting much?" asked Lom.
Still Heyes gave no response, his gaze back on the window.
Lom and Curry exchanged glances. Lom shrugged and tried again. Picking up a glass of water, he perched himself on the edge of the bed.
"Come on, Heyes, try and drink some of this. You must be thirsty." Gently he reached down and slid his arm under Heyes’ shoulders to lift him up enough to sip the water, noticing the boniness of his shoulders through the nightshirt, his body barely seeming to weigh anything as Lom’s strong arm raised him up off the pillow. He put the glass to his lips, relieved, when, as the cool water touched his lips, he responded and took a few mouthfuls before his swollen throat caused him to choke as he tried to drink more than he could swallow.
"Whoah, easy now." said Lom as Heyes coughed and spluttered. He put the glass down before taking Heyes’ pillow and plumping it up and then placing it behind him to raise him up slightly.
"Better?" he enquired as he lay him back against it.
Still Heyes gazed vacantly ahead of him, seemingly unaware of Lom, or the question.
Lom gazed down at Heyes’ pale, bruised, face. His dark eyes, which normally twinkled good humouredly, bore an unusually tortured expression. The expression of a man in pain and demoralized beyond his limit. Lom turned away, suddenly filled with anger at the men who had reduced such a fine, free spirit to this broken wreck, albeit, Lom hoped, temporarily. He strode out of the room, Curry following him.
"I could kill those mongrels for what they’ve done to him." he spat with uncharacteristic venom.
They tried several times during the day to get some response from him, but it was as though he was locked in some tormented world of his own.
"Do you think he’s going to be alright?" Curry asked that evening.
Lom sighed, pacing the room, "I don’t know. He’s shut himself off from everything because he can’t handle what’s happened to him. Either it’s too painful, or too humiliating, or both."
When they checked on him before turning in, he had at last fallen asleep.
"Hopefully, he’ll be a bit more lucid tomorrow." said Lom, as he closed the bedroom door.
After breakfast the next morning, Lom and Curry went in to check on Heyes’ condition. He appeared to be sleeping, but, as they entered the room, his eyes flew open, eyeing them suspiciously as they crossed to the bed.
"Hello." Lom smiled at him, "How are you feeling?"
Heyes just stared at them.
"Are you hurting much?" asked Lom.
Heyes’ gaze slid off them to roam vacantly around the room, obviously trying to work out where he was.
"Heyes?" Lom prompted.
Heyes’ vacant gaze returned to Lom’s face.
Lom and Curry exchanged anxious glances before Lom moved to sit on the edge of the bed.
"Do you know who I am?" he asked, grasping Heyes’ shoulders and pulling him into a half sitting position,"Heyes?" he called, shaking him when he didn’t respond, "Do you?"
Heyes stared at him for several moments as he fought to respond and to get his muddled thoughts into some kind of order, before finally nodding his recognition of Lom’s face.
"Tell me." Lom commanded.
Heyes stared at him for several more moments, "L-Lom…" he stuttered finally, his voice a whisper.
"And who’s this?" Lom pointed to Curry at the foot of the bed.
Heyes turned his confused gaze onto Curry's face. It was several moments before he finally said "Kid." his tone dispassionate, making him sound like a stranger.
"And do you know where you are?" Lom asked.
Heyes gazed vacantly around the room before shaking his head.
"Yes, you do. You’ve been here before." Lom was shouting, now, as he tried to get through the fog clouding Heyes’ brain. "Come on, where are we?"
"I…" Heyes looked confused, shaking his head.
"Come on, Heyes. Think!" Lom demanded.
"Y-Your cabin?" Heyes replied finally, still sounding uncertain.
Lom nodded, "Where is it? What town? What State?"
Heyes frowned, obviously trying to search his mind for the information, "Chey…" he began, then stopped, looking confused, "No… Por… Porterville… Neb…" he frowned again, shaking his head, "…Wy… Wyoming…?" he said finally.
"Right. Good lad." Lom rubbed his hands up and down Heyes’ upper arms, in a gesture of encouragement, satisfied that he was at least coherent enough now to know who they were and where he was, although it was obvious that he couldn’t fathom out yet just how he’d got there.
"Do you… remember what happened?" Lom asked gently.
Heyes’ gaze slid off Lom, to some point beyond his shoulder, a frown creasing his brow, "I…" he began hoarsely, but then broke off with a helpless shrug, looking down to his lap, obviously confused and not a little upset.
Lom touched his shoulder, "It’s O.K." he told him, a lump coming to his throat at the desolate expression in Heyes’ eyes as he lifted them to his.
"Don’t worry about it. We’ll talk it through later, when you’re feeling stronger. O.K?"
Heyes bowed his head once more, giving Lom a vague nod.
"You rest a while." said Lom, easing him back against the pillows before he and Curry left the room.
Curry sank down at the kitchen table while Lom poured two cups of coffee, moving to place one in front of him before sitting down opposite to him and taking a sip.
"Don’t worry, he’s gonna be fine." he said, seeing Curry's anxious expression.
Curry sighed, "I don’t know. He seems so…" he shrugged, at a loss to explain himself.
"It’s just the effects of what’s happened." Lom told him, "Those guys beat him into submission. He gave in because he was too weak, and too sick, to fight them any longer." He shook his head, "They came pretty close to destroying him, and it’s going to take a while for him to work his way through his feelings, and it won’t be plain sailing either, you mark my words."
"I’m just glad he’s O.K." said Curry.
Lom nodded, "There’s a way to go yet, but he just might be."
​
* * *
