In the Night Garden

By Gemhenry

The night is black and the stars are bright and the sea is dark and deep.

Kid Curry was late.  Not a day late or even a week late, but seventeen days late.  Hannibal Heyes had arrived thirteen days late but had sent a telegraph to his partner advising him that the job he had taken was to be extended.  The additional fee was very welcome as their finances had been stretched in recent months.  Although they would normally avoid separating due to the high probability that trouble always followed one or both of them if they did, the delivery requirements of this particular job for Mr McKendricks couldn’t be fulfilled unless they travelled in different directions.

The clerk at the hotel reception desk insisted that no one by the name of Thaddeus Jones was staying there.  In fact the clerk had remained remarkably calm when Heyes had snatched the register from the desk and flicked through the pages to check the entries.  In frustration, the book had been slammed down on the reception desk, Heyes had stormed out of the door, then gracefully pirouetted around to re-enter the hotel, firstly apologising to the clerk and then checking in.

On arrival in the small town near Denver, Heyes had anticipated that Curry would be in the saloon scowling into a glass of beer with a few choice words on the end of his tongue for leaving him to wait so long with nothing to do.  After all, the Kid was a man of action and grew restless if he couldn’t occupy his time.  Cleaning his gun, shooting practice and dallying with saloon girls would only fill in part of the seventeen day period. 

Already prepared with a generous offer of a steak dinner and cigar, Heyes entered the saloon only to be disappointed that his partner was not there.  His next stop would have been the jail; a bored Kid was likely to cause trouble if it hadn't already found him but on questioning the barman he found out that the Sheriff was out of town, leaving over three weeks ago to visit his mother who had been taken ill.  Frank, the barkeep, couldn’t recall anyone coming into his establishment that fitted the description of Curry, and this, in itself, was the first indication that Heyes should be worried.

After the hotel clerk informed him that the telegraph office was closed for the day, Heyes climbed the stairs to his room.  His hunger had disappeared along with his partner.  Lying on the bed worrying images racing through his head, and his thoughts drifted back to another time when Kid Curry went missing.

§ § §

Sitting at his desk in the leader’s cabin, Heyes looked up when the door burst open followed by an excited Kyle.

“The Kid’s back.”

“What do you mean, the Kid’s back?”

“Kid Curry, the gunslinger,” Kyle uttered, looking confused.  “Oh, I forgot, you wasn’t here then.  It was back in Big Jim’s time, afore you joined,” explained Kyle, looking wistful.  “The Kid is fast, no one is faster than Kid Curry.”

Heyes was out of the door in seconds.  And there, mounted on a large black gelding, was his best friend beaming down at him.  Curry’s left leg was wrapped around the pommel and his blue shirt cuffs were undone; no change since the now elated Heyes last saw him.

It had been three years since they had separated for a second time.  After the disastrous robbery with the Plummer Gang, when the haul disappeared with the leader, Heyes had sought out Curry and the young men had reunited.  They had joined a cattle drive along the Chisholm Trail, but soon the gruelling work and long hard days made Heyes look favourably on joining up with another outlaw gang.  He thought of himself as a skilled safe cracker; his time with Jim Plummer had enabled his talented fingers to be honed and his planning more sophisticated.  He enjoyed the thrill, the easy life, and the money that came with it.

After completing the first drive and finding that the pay didn’t last that long, the two childhood friends quickly signed on for another which Heyes regretted almost immediately. Two months in, his horse stumbled and he was thrown down a gulley.  No bones were broken, but he was bruised and sore, so on passing the next town he decided to quit.  Luckily Buck Wilder, his trail boss, was sympathetic and paid him his dues after finding a replacement drover which wasn’t difficult in those troubled times.

Curry, however, wasn’t as understanding.  He had already realised that his friend was heading back to his previous occupation.  Heyes talked non-stop about his outlaw life.  His features lighting up as he described the planning and execution of a robbery, and the elation after a successful getaway.

A decidedly unhappy Curry stayed on to finish the drive and the once inseparable pair made no plans to meet up again.

“Hiya Heyes, I heard you were the new leader of the Devil’s Hole Gang.  Thought I'd look you up.” Curry smiled down from his horse.  “Can I get down?”

“Kid, it’s good to see you,” said Heyes returning the smile. “Kyle, see to the Kid’s horse.”

With Heyes' arm wrapped around Curry’s shoulders, the two men walked towards the leader’s cabin.

Once inside, Heyes poured them each a coffee from the pot warming on the stove and grabbed a bottle of whisky and two glasses.  Whilst on the cattle drive the Kid had been reluctant to talk about where he had been and what he had been doing since they had separated the first time following a trivial argument.  This was some months before Heyes joined Jim Plummer’s gang.

Heyes couldn’t really recall what the quarrel was about — they were always squabbling at that point in their lives, and Curry didn’t like being told what to do by his older companion, who still felt responsible for him although he was no longer a child.

“I am intrigued Jed, Kyle said you’d been here before.  That must have been before we joined the trail drive.”

Curry’s happy demeanour disappeared to be replaced by an embarrassed grimace.

“I was looking for you.  I’d heard you’d joined a gang in Wyoming.  I found the wrong gang,” said the Kid, continuing under his breath, “in more ways than one.”  Heyes frowned, looking perplexed.

That night, with his friend softly snoring in the next room, Heyes drifted off into a contented sleep.  He had missed Jed more than he would ever say and with hindsight, deeply regretting leaving him on the trail drive.  The future looked brighter now they were together again.

Over the next few days as Curry settled back into life in Devil’s Hole, Heyes managed to draw out more details of the Kid’s previous time at the hideout, mainly from Kyle.  If asked directly, Curry would throw on his stubborn and moody cloak.

It transpired that the Kid had clashed with another member of the gang, a fast draw named Max Packer, which ultimately ended in a standoff between the two men.  At that time the Kid had yet to reach his eighteenth birthday and his opponent was a hardened gunslinger known to have killed.

Big Jim Santana had heard the commotion, stepped in to stop the gunfight, and escorted both the cocky, hot headed youngster and the aggressive troublemaker out of Devil’s Hole.  Rules were rules, and although he had liked the talented young shooter, it gave him a reason to get rid of Packer who was a thorn in his side.

As the months moved forward, the friends had settled back into their partnership, becoming joint leaders of the Devil’s Hole Gang.  Whilst Heyes was happy to sit at his makeshift desk planning the next heist, Curry liked to take the time to escape the hideout for a few days and explore the neighbouring countryside on hunting trips.  He enjoyed the relaxation and quiet away from his talkative partner and the general hustle and bustle of the outlaw camp.

Curry’s disappearance occurred on one such trip.  He was stealthily tracking a young buck and had followed the animal up the side of a steep mountain slope.  Having just taken aim, his foot slipped and he found himself falling backwards, his arms flailed as he sought to maintain his balance, flinging his shotgun out of his hands.  As momentum propelled him down the incline, he tried without success to grasp at a tree branch or patches of vegetation.

“Well, look who it is, Igor.”  The Kid looked up to see the face of Max Packer leering above him.

“Is that you Max?” asked Curry, confused as he had heard Max had been killed in a gunfight.

“Sure is. I ain’t forgot Curry; you got me thrown out of Devil’s Hole. I was gonna take over from Jim Santana and you and your smart mouth got in the way.  This is my partner Igor Piggott.”

The kick to his side was unexpected as was the punch to his head. Curry tried to curl up to protect his body against the following kicks and blows from the two men that rained down on him.

He heard laughter as his eyes closed and silence enveloped him.

Kid Curry heard the rumble of the engine and click clacking of the wheels on the train.  He was finally fully roused by the brakes screeching.  His head ached and his body felt bruised and battered.  He was lying on the floor in a freight carriage.  How had he got there?  He tried to move his soaking body but his hands were tied behind his back and his feet were tied at the ankles.

“Hello, my name is Daisy Upton. I did believe deeply that a girl should have authentic experience before she gets married and settles down. But now I believe we should get married first.  Come on, we’re here in Philadelphia.  Let’s get to the church — we don’t want to be late.”

She flung the freight door open, turned and grabbed his hand and they both jumped off into a cloud of dust.

Heyes hurried out of the leaders' cabin just after day break and headed across to the bunk house.  He had expected his partner back the day before yesterday, and although the Kid’s time-keeping was somewhat lax at times, he also knew that Heyes would worry if he was late. The men, most still sleeping in their bunks, were woken by Heyes clanking two pans together.

“Aw, Heyes, do you have to do that?” growled Kyle.

“The Kid’s still not back,” explained Heyes. “He should have been back by now.”

“You know the Kid, he’ll turn up.”  Wheat clambered out of his bunk as he looked across at Heyes.

“I want you all mounted up and ready in twenty minutes,” ordered Heyes.  “If Kid’s not back, it means something is stopping him.”

Heyes organised the men into four groups, heading out to search the areas Kid would normally hunt.  The men regrouped just after noon and set off again to search different areas, returning to the Hole as darkness drew in, having found no sign of the missing man.

Sleep eluded Heyes as he became more and more concerned about the whereabouts of his friend.

The search resumed at dawn the following morning, moving to a steeper slope to an area where young bucks had been known to herd. The men, now searching on foot, combed the area.

“Heyes,” shouted Hank. “Over here.” He held a piece of blue material in his hand which he passed to Heyes who had manoeuvred across the incline holding onto branches.

“Kid's partial to blue shirts, ain’t he?”

The outlaw leader examined the cloth and looked down the slope.  He squinted and started to move slowly down to a brown object which had caught his attention.

“Kid’s hat,” he shouted, as he reached to pluck it from a branch.  "Spread out men and move downwards.”

Approaching the bottom of the slope, Heyes spotted his partner half lying in a stream of water.

“Jed!”

Running over to him, he crouched down, gently turning over the unconscious young man to check that he was breathing. A deep sigh escaped from Heyes lips and in a breaking voice shouted to his men. “He’s alive.”

Some hours later, back at the leaders’ cabin, Curry lay on his bed having been attended to by Haller, the nearest the gang had to a Doctor.  The Kid’s wet clothes had been removed by Heyes and replaced by clean, dry, long johns in his favourite colour.  A bandage was wrapped around a nasty head wound.  His body was covered in multiple bruises, scrapes and scratches from his fall down the mountainside.

On regaining consciousness, Curry had been really confused insisting that he was in Philadelphia.  He had soon fallen back into a deep sleep and his soft snores were a comfort to his partner, who was sitting on an old wooden rocking chair beside the bed.

“Heyes!”

“Shh, Kyle. The Kid’s asleep.”

“We found the Kid’s horse and his shotgun.  Horse is fine, Hank is just brushing him down.  I brung you his saddlebags in case there was anything he needed,” whispered Kyle.

Heyes opened the saddlebags and on top of the Kid’s belongings was a well read dime novel entitled “Daisy Upton, the trapper’s daughter or The Fate of the Philadelphia Express.”

§ § §

Heyes must have dozed off as a sharp knock on the door brought him quickly to his senses.  Drawing his gun on the way, he unlocked the door and there stood his partner.  He grabbed Curry’s arms and pulled his dirty and unkempt best friend into a hug.  Feeling slightly embarrassed by this show of affection, Heyes eyes then roamed up and down as he examined his partner for any injuries.

“I’m fine, Heyes,” Kid said softly as he moved into the hotel room using his foot to shut the door behind him. “I’ve been camped on the outskirts of the town. I picked up your message, but the Sheriff here knows me, so I just stocked up with supplies at the general store and waited for you to arrive.”

“I thought you had gone to Philadelphia again,” Heyes replied, a sarcastic smirk on his face.

“Very funny, Heyes.”

“I hate to say this but the Sheriff hasn’t been in town for the last three weeks, he's visiting his sick mother,” said Heyes.

Curry groaned, slouching over to the bed, and flopped down yawning.  “I hadn’t even got a dime novel to read,” he mumbled as his eyes closed.

But someone I know is safe and sound and drifting off to sleep.

This is the way to the garden in the night.