THE BRASS RING

 

Life is either a daring adventure or nothing.

Security does not exist in nature, nor do the children of men as a whole experience it.

Avoiding danger is no safer in the long run than exposure.

-

Helen Keller

 

 

            My memory of that day is a series of fragmented images that have remained as vivid and jagged as the day they were formed.

 

            My mother's blue dress, her town one, hiked up around her knees, her legs protruding awkwardly and unmoving from the door of cabin.

 

            The brightness of the fire as it crackled from the roof of our barn, burning and burning and yet never seeming to consume it.

 

            Blood, which was too dark and confused me because I had never seen so much, splattered against the well where my father had finally gone down trying to protect my mother.  Even then he had tried to crawl to her and it had left a haunting crimson trail across the dirt to the steps of the porch.

 

            I remember counting the bullet holes in his back as I stood there digging my nails into my palms as I clenched my fists willing myself to do something, anything to make this end.

 

            I had no sense of personal danger at that point, if anything I was beyond all feeling.  Everything real in my world had ceased to exist and I was incapable of coherent thought.  If the raiders had returned at that moment I would have been unable to save myself; in fact I am sure I would have curled up willingly next to my parents and let them end my suffering.

 

            The sound of gunfire in the distance brought me back to life and I wiped my hands along the side of my pants trying to clean them before I touched my mother.  It never once occurred to me to wait for help or seek out the aid of grownups.  Perhaps I instinctively knew help no longer existed. It was as if I felt the whole world was gone and I was the only one left.  The only one who could care for them.

 

            Her eyes were open and lifeless and without thinking I shut them and smoothed the hair from her eyes.  She was always pushing it away, mine as well when she caught me concentrating over something and not noticing.  I remember her touch was always cool and so light I sometimes didn't realize she had done it.

 

            They had treated her badly and I realized later she had given them a hell of a fight.  She was a Curry and she died fighting like one.  Its funny I often think of myself more as part of my mother's family than my fathers.  His world was much more orderly and civilized and cognizant of rules.  My mother with her wild Irish spirit formed more of who I am than the man whose name I bear.   It would stand me in good stead for what lay ahead.

 

I had seen death before having lost grandparents, but not this violent sacrifice where life had been ripped from the soul by men more savage than animals.  I remember feeling anger well up in me when I realized they had ripped her dress to use her.  It was her new one; her best and the thought of how she had twirled around in it showing it off for my father and me, well, it affected me more than the blood did.

 

            My eyes were burning with tears I would never shed as I pulled a covering off their bed and wrapped her in it as best I could.  She was easy to pick up; she always had been a tiny thing though you never noticed it when she was moving.  Too much energy my father would say shaking his head and trying not to smile.  And now it was gone and they had ripped her best dress.

 

            I placed her beside my father turning him over on to his back.  It took me longer to wrap his body as he was heavy and I couldn't stand the way the blood felt on my hands and had to keep going over to the well to wash them.

 

            This done I felt calmer and sat on the step staring at them laying there in the middle of our yard and suddenly realized they looked like the mummy's in my father's book he had read me on Egypt.  That made me feel better for some reason, like I had gotten something right and getting up I moved around to the cellar doors for a shovel.  It was all very matter of fact at this point and it felt good to have something to do.  It was then I saw the gun.  It had been discarded having fallen from one of the men my father must have hit if the blood was any indication and I remember thinking, good, now I'll have something to kill them with.

 

            The cellar doors always stuck and I had to plant a foot against the frame to pull it open.  It was then Jed's sling shot fell out of my back pocket and as I bent down to see what had fallen I suddenly looked up towards his farm.

 

            I am embarrassed to say I had forgotten my cousin and his family up to this point.  We had been returning from playing hooky from chores when we had spotted the smoke from our farms and split up at a run to help.

 

            The fact the same scene might have awaited Jedediah made me double over and try to breathe.  He was only ten, he was little, and he was alone…

 

            And I started to run.

 

 

                                                            ***************************

 

            The distance between our farms had long ago been whittled down by my cousin and I who had devised routes through cornfields and over creeks that no         self respecting grown up would attempt.   It was for this reason I reached their place minutes later panting for breath and leaned on the gate trying to fill my exhausted lungs with air.

 

When I finally looked up the farmyard before me was still and from the corner of my eyes I saw something white and for a moment couldn't figure out what it was.

 

As I stepped closer I froze.  It was my Cousin Rachel's body.  They had dragged her out of the cabin for the men to use and I barely recognized her ravaged form in the weeds by the fence.  She looked like some discarded rag doll and I had to turn away and was quietly sick in my aunt's flowerbed.

 

I moved slower after that. 

 

            My uncle was dead on the porch, his head stoved in so I could hardly recognize him.  He had fought like my mother, like a Curry.

 

            I entered the house afraid of what I would find and to my horror heard my name softly gasped.

 

            It was my aunt.  She had dragged herself across the floor clutching her dress closed trying to pull down her skirt over legs she could no longer feel.

 

            "Ma'am?" I said reaching her afraid to touch her less I 'break' her ever more.

 

            She let out a cry seeing me and held out her hand and I scooped her up against me her body too cold for that hot summer day.

 

            "Hannibal, sweetheart, thank God.   Jedediah, is Jed safe?"

 

            "I don't know, I think so…I don't know what to do," I said and to my horror burst into tears.  Here I was crying and she was so hurt.

 

            "Its all right Hannibal, God will help you.  Now listen to me you must find Jedediah and then you both must hide, they will be back, you have to look after each other and keep each other safe."

 

            "My mama is dead Aunt Grace."

 

            She shuddered and a single tear escaped, "I’m sorry Hannibal, but you both will have to take care of each other can you do that?"

 

            "Yes ma'am."

 

            "Good boy, I love you Hannibal, Tell Jedediah I will always love him…"

 

            And then her body buckled and I held her as tight as I could and then tighter still as she died in my arms.

 

 

                                                ***************************

 

            "Mama? PA?"

 

            It was Jed.

 

            Desperate I placed her down and wiped the tears away with the back of my hand and stumbled out the door trying to get to him before he reached the house.

 

            "Han?"

 

            Thank God he had come around the back way past the barn, he hadn't seen yet, he didn't know.

 

            I caught him just as he reached the side of the house.

 

            "Han!  I got shot at!  I had to hide in our tunnel in the corn, stupid soldiers went right by me…what's wrong Han?  Where is everyone?  What was the fire? Hannibal?"

 

 

                                                *******************************

 

            I managed to get him into the barn telling him to try and find something we could use to defend ourselves.  Diverting him didn't last long, but I did manage to cover his family like I had mine and as I came out of the house I found him standing there staring at the bodies, a rifle hanging limply in his hand.

 

            "They dead?" he said and his voice scared me.

 

            "Yea, raiders, they got my parents too," I felt I had to add that, not to give him more grief, but to make him feel less alone.

 

            "Even Rachel?"

 

            I nodded even though he could see there were three bodies.

 

            "But your mom was gonna have a baby, why would they kill a baby?" Jed said as if trying to find some reason in madness.  "I mean I wasn't gonna be the youngest any more."

 

            "Jed we gotta bury them."

 

            He nodded and it took me a moment to convince him he had to set down the rifle if he was gonna hold the shovel.

 

            By nightfall both our families were in shallow graves and we were exhausted and about to turn on each other.  The air was hot and muggy like right before a storm and the air was charged with something that put us both on edge.

 

Jed wanted to go home but I thought it was too dangerous to stay at either of our houses.  To be honest I don't think I could have stepped back into his house, the memory of his mother was too clear in my mind and I knew it would be the final straw and I would cave in.  I couldn't cry because I wasn't sure I would be able to stop.

 

Jed on the other hand seemed to have gotten past his tears and grief and moved on to something much darker.   He didn't want to eat and he didn't want to sleep and when I told him if he went home the raiders might come back he seemed pleased.

 

            He finally pushed me away and said he didn't care what I said he was going home.

 

            The bullet just missed him.  It cracked over his head hitting the side of the house and with a yell I pushed him down and told him to run.

 

            The raiders had returned.

 

 

                                                            **************************

 

 

            I don't know how long we ran.  The only thing that saved us was that no one knew the fields and hills of our land like we did.  We had fought too many mock battles, played too many hiding games not to have the upper hand and when finally we fell into a sheltered ditch by the creek we knew we had lost them.

 

            I remember just laying there trying to breathe, looking up at the night sky and wondering if morning would ever come again.  In the distance we heard yelling and laughing and smelt smoke.  I didn't know then, but my house was on fire and by morning it and all its memories would be gone.

 

           

            I must have dozed off because I felt Jed nudge me with a shhhh and realized I could hear voices coming up over the hill.

 

            "Six of them," Jed said and I realized I would have been dead if not for his alertness.

 

            "Whose side?"

 

            "It matter?" Jed asked in a world-weary voice.

 

            I nodded, he was right.  We had no idea who the enemy was anymore and as Jed said later for a long time the enemy became anyone but us.

 

            We managed to crawl away into the cornfield and I guess we both fell into fitful sleeps because the sun was high in the sky when we both opened our eyes again.

 

            For a moment it all seemed like a bad dream, but then I noticed the blood on my clothes and knew nightmares sometimes didn't end.  I expected Jed to whine or complain about being hungry or thirsty, I sure was, but he didn't say a word, just waited for me to decide what to do and I was suddenly real glad he was with me.

 

            "You hungry?" I asked.

 

            He nodded.  Jed was always hungry so it was a stupid question, as I knew we both hadn't eaten since breakfast yesterday, but it felt good to talk about normal things like eating.

 

            "You got any money?" I asked because it sounded good to act like there would be a place to buy something if we did.

 

            "Let me look," he said pulling out the contents of his pocket and I swallowed when I saw the small gold cross among the odd collection of marbles and stones.

 

            "I found it in the yard," he said simply. "It was my mama's, chain must have broke.  Can't sell it though Han, I'm sorry."

 

            I nodded and awkwardly patted his shoulder glad he believed his mother had lost it and not had it taken from her.

 

            "No we can't sell that Jed," I agreed firmly and emptied my pockets to equally miserable results.

 

            "You still got it!" Jed said surprised holding up the small brass ring among my treasures.

 

            "Sure I do," I said snatching it back like it didn't matter.  "You won it for me didn't you?  And someday were gonna get back to Philadelphia and get me that free ride on your merry go round."

 

            "It was real wonderful Han and I did nearly fall off getting it for you."

 

            "Thanks Jed."

 

            It was odd but even a far distant plan such as that helped bolster our spirits and suddenly I looked at him and firmly made a decision.

 

            "Let's see if we can find us some apples."

 

            Hiking through the corn we reached the edge of the field and stared out at the road that separated us from the McKenzie farm and its apple trees which had been our salvation from hunger in the past.

 

            Suddenly overcome with desire we made a dash for the orchard and moments later were sitting under the shade of one tearing through apples like it was a Thanksgiving feast.

 

            Its odd I can still remember the way it tasted, how the juice dripped down my chin and I remember us nodding at each other content at finding such solace in such a simple thing as a stolen apple.

 

            "I'm still hungry," Jed said after his third and looking up I squinted into the tree above.

 

            "Gonna have to climb I'm afraid," I said.

 

            Jed nodded and I shook my head.

 

            "Jed you can't climb with that rifle leave it."

 

            He frowned not liking this idea, but the lure of the apples waiting won out and a moment later he was high in the branches searching out the best fruit.

 

            "Well boy how did you get past us?" came a roar and I turned horrified to see a mangled creature of a man staring fitfully at me with one eyes bloodied shut.

 

            His uniform was a mixture of both armies and he favored his right leg by leaning on his rifle. 

 

            I stood slowly backed against the tree.

 

            "Who are you?"

 

            "No mind, where's your home?"

 

            "Ain't got one no more," I said honestly praying Jed would keep quiet.  The man hadn't looked up yet; maybe he hadn't realized I wasn't alone.

 

            This seemed to amuse him; "Empty you pockets maybe you got something I can use."

 

            "Go to hell," I said defiantly.

 

            "Do as I say boy or I'll gut you across this tree!" he howled pulling out a knife as long as my arm.

 

            I reached slowly for my pocket.  It knew its contents without looking and I knew there was no way I would let him take them from me.  I had to get past him.  I could beat him if I could get room to move.

 

            "Damn it boy what's in your pockets!"  catching my arm he pulled me against him and ripped the contents free pushing me back up against the tree to examine them.

 

            "Is this it!?" he said raising his knife and tossing down what he had stolen as worthless.

 

            "Leave him alone!" Jed yelled and then with a jump fell hard atop the man bringing them both to the ground where they lay for a moment dazed and motionless.

 

            Finally my sense of survival kicked in and pulling Jed off him I picked up the butt of the rifle and slammed the soldier hard across the back of the head as he tried to stir.

 

            He fell back unconscious and I wondered if I had killed him and was surprised it bothered me that I might have after all that had happened.

 

            "Come on Han," Jed said taking the rifle from me and pulling at my sleeve.

 

            "Wait a minute the ring…"

 

            "Han he's gonna wake up leave it!" Jed yelled almost in tears.

 

            I reacted to the fear in his voice and let him pull me away until we finally felt safe once more in the cornfields.

 

            We both lasted a couple hours tensely wondering if the man would come in search for us.

 

            "What we gonna do Han?" Jed asked finally.  He never was any good at waiting or sitting still for that matter.

 

            "We gotta get to town," I said finally. "Talk to the law."

 

            Jed nodded and picked up his rifle, "Take the mill road and go in the back that will keep us off the main way."

 

            I nodded impressed with his reasoning and for a moment it felt like one of our war games until he picked up his rifle.  We usually just carried sticks.

 

            Usually it was just pretend.

 

 

                                                *******************************

 

 

            The closer we got to town the more worried I got.  I had presumed we were the only victims of the violence.  We had no way of knowing the entire town had been attacked or how many people were dead. 

 

            Lawrence was a fair size town even then.  There was talk of College being built and the river made us a fair stopping place for trade.   At the time there were twice as many churches than saloons and we had two newspapers.  Lawrence was civilized and 'cultured' and bad things didn't happen in places like that.

 

            We smelt the stale aftermath of the fires first and as we turned the corner to stare down Massachusetts Street I could not believe my eyes.

 

People were camped out on the streets nursing the wounded, the charred remains of buildings lining the streets, some only with chimney's standing.

 

            A wagon was piling bodies aboard for burial from a stack where they had been left in the hot sun since no house existed to hold them.

 

            The cries of the wounded and dying came up at us from either side and hollow eyed women went about tending them with no tears left to shed.

 

            I felt like turning and running, fearing the whole world had ended, but where could I run to?

 

            I think I was as close to madness as I have ever been staring down that street, but then the oddest thing happened.  Jed shifted his rifle to his other side and slipped his hand in mine without saying a word.

 

            Human contact brought me back and I let him pull me forward.  He made for the church without thought.  He was his mother's son and if all we had was the memory of her faith for a time it was enough.

 

            I didn't realize how bad we looked, but thinking back we must have looked a sight.  between the burying and the blood.  One of the ladies working the soup kitchen in front of the church saw us and let out a cry and suddenly we were surrounded and overwhelmed with questions such as are you hurt and where were our families.

 

            "Killed," was Jed's answer and then he added politely. "Might we have some supper please?"

 

            It was another day before the Union army arrived and took charge.  No one had quite taken responsibility for us up till then and so we slept under the church porch and ate when they offered cutting wood to pay our way and help pass the time.

 

            I know the women talked about us when they huddled together and there was much argument over what was to be done with us.  Our parents had been well liked, but being neighbors and helping out with a crop was one thing, raising a child another.

 

            I also think they realized that after what we had been through separating us would not be easy.  As it was then we never moved more than a few yards away from each other and I myself panicked if Jed was ever out of sight.

 

            I know now with so many homes destroyed and businesses lost there was also the economic factor.  Two more mouths to feed was a hardship.  But I think the real reason was people had lost sons and husbands and we were a reminder they didn't want before them every day.

 

            It was finally a German immigrant family that took us in.  Mr. and Mrs. Brumer had been spared loss of life in the raid having been away for a wedding and I am sure were pressured into taking us by an odd sense of guilt from having survived intact.

 

            At first Jed and I didn't even notice how different life with them was.  We were clean; there was food and a bed in the loft and with Mr. Brumer and his two older sons a sense of security. We were also expected to work from sun up to sun down and between shock, grief and exhaustion we were too overwhelmed to feel anything.

 

            It was Jed that broke first.  The two older sons seemed to feel he had been brought into the house for their own personal amusement.  They made great sport of tripping him or pushing him or doing anything possible to make him angry enough to fight so they had an excuse to clip him.

 

            Sadly I wasn't very aware at first and Jed never said a word to me or asked my help.  It was as if he had decided he had to be a man and was going to deal with it his own way.  And did he ever.  I'm still not sure how he managed to herd those hogs through where they were sleeping, but the outcome was spectacular.  Mud, squealing pigs, terrified half-awake brothers and Mrs. Brumer screaming senseless.

 

            When things finally settled down and Jed freely admitted doing it, my opinion of him went up several notches.  He had also managed to make me smile for the first time since the raid.

 

            He accepted his beating from Mr. Brumer without a word agreeing it was fair.  It was only when the two sons caught us walking back to the barn, both slapping wooden boards against their hands and saying the beating wasn't finished yet that I knew our time there was over.

 

            After that two other families tried to take us, but one wanted to separate us and another…well lets just say we didn't suit.

 

            So feeling the community had done its best the Home for Waywards was contacted and one rainy Thursday a wagon arrived filled with boys as equally as unwanted and we were placed inside almost hearing the collected sigh of relief from the town.

 

            Later Lawrence seemed to get an odd pride out of saying Heyes and Curry were born there with people giving interviews about what we had been like.  Kid always found that amusing and said we should go rob the town bank and pay our respects.  But we never did cause deep inside it had been home once and it hurt that it had given us up so easily.

 

            We lasted the School for Waywards about 3 years, seeing the war out.  It was no worse or better than a lot of places back then and for the most part we found our way fairly well because we had each other.  I suppose a fair bit that happened there was part of forming the way we went, but it's almost dawn and that's another story.

 

            And that sir, I hope is the answer to your question.

 

            I picked up the glass of whiskey I had been poured and was relieved to find my hand didn't shake as I downed it.

 

            It was the first time I had ever spoke of such things to anyone, even my partner and there was not a lot that would have given me the want or courage to try.

 

            I waited a moment grateful when my listener leaned over and refilled my glass and then his. 

 

            His hand did shake.

 

            "So that is why Mr. Curry and you became outlaws?" the deep voice asked me hidden behind the smoke of his cigar in the shadows of the darkened room.

 

            "No," I said simply.  "That's why we didn't care enough not to."

 

            He considered this with a nod, "You do realize a great many others suffered much as you did and yet there are not warrants for their arrest."

 

            "Men find different ways to deal with hopelessness, " I replied.

 

            He nodded, "I am not sure what I would have done in your place Mr. Heyes.  Stripping a child of hope is a terrible thing.  I am a loss to understand how you and our cousin managed to avoid a far darker path with the example given you, but somehow you did and retained your honor in the midst of it."

 

            I waited trying not to appear as if I was holding my breath.

 

            "Our country Mr. Heyes has lost too many men to this war.  The ones that died and the ones that grew up like you.  I would like to think it is possible to snatch two souls back from this hopelessness you describe.  I would like to think that redemption is possible for the individual and for the nation and to do that we must have examples.  Would you be up to being an example Mr. Heyes?"

 

            "Yes Governor I think I would."

 

 

                                                            **************************

 

            I reached Kid just as first light was inching past the horizon.

 

            He stood up his eyes tense and concerned trying to read my face wondering if a posse was right behind me.

 

            "It's all right," I said.  "I'm alone."

 

"What took all night?" he said not sure how much I was keeping from him, trying to break it slowly.

 

            "Talking, he wanted to know things."

 

            "Like what?"

           

            "Like why we became outlaws."

 

            Kid rolled his eyes, "Him and every saloon girl we bought a drink."  He then let some of the cynicism slip away from his eyes and didn't look all that different from the boy I had shared an apple with a long time ago.  "What did you tell him?"

 

            "The truth."

 

            Kid frowned not sure what this meant.

 

            "And?"

 

            I let a smile break across my face; "He wants to see us both tomorrow morning at 9:00 a.m."

 

            Kid's mouth dropped open, "You mean?"

 

            "I mean it was a helluva a ride Kid, but I think we finally caught the brass ring."

 

           

 

Historical Notes:

 

LAWRENCE RAID

Quantrill and his raiders attacked Lawrence, Kansas on August 21st at 5 a.m.  There were between 300 and 400 men in his gang and they killed 150 with orders to shoot both men and boys indiscriminately.

 

"The number of those massacred we have not exactly determined, as many remains of charred bodies are found in the ruins of burned buildings.  We have been engaged in burying the dead.  I believe there have been 120 houses burned.  All the business part of town is in ashes, except 3 stores.

 

To hear the shrieks and piteous entreaties of woman and children, to see wounded men lying helpless and dying their wives throwing themselves upon them to save them only to be shot again through the folds of their wives dresses." - R. G. Elliot Lawrence Kansas

 

BRASS RING

Carousels have existed for 1500 years!  The tradition of grabbing the brass ring began in the French court in the 1600's when young princes would attempt to spear rings to win.

 

English Engineer Frederick Savage brought steam power to the device and it took off in American and England in the 19th century as a staple of fairs.  Riders would reach out and attempt to catch the brass ring ensuring them of a free ride.  Most however landed headfirst in the hay provided for those missed attempts!