OFTEN AND MUCH

Drena Hills

"To laugh often and much;

To win the respect of intelligent people and the affection of children;

To earn the appreciation of honest critics and endure the betrayal of false friends;

To appreciate beauty, to find the best in others;

To leave the world a little better;

Whether by a healthy child, a garden patch or a redeemed social condition;

To know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived.

This is the meaning of success."

- Ralph Waldo Emerson

They had agreed to go together.

No perhaps agreed was too strong a word, perhaps they had just known neither could go alone.

Only Lom would have had the boldness to ask. Only Sheriff Lom Trevors would have known; having heard a story here or there that had slipped out when the whiskey had flowed a little too freely. Even then, to have him ask, it had felt like a kick to the stomach. That place was ended, dead, gone, no longer a part of them. That place was not up for remembering.

“It’s a friend of the Governor, boys, he’d really appreciate someone who had been there about that time checking it out.”

“Lom it’s always a friend of the Governor,” Hannibal Heyes said, his usually deep voice, slightly higher as the stress of the request rolled over him. He paced the Porterville jail jumpy, like a man sure at any moment he would encounter a ghost that meant him harm. He didn’t dare look at his partner.

“Been a long time Lom,” Kid Curry merely said.

Heyes looked up relieved. The calm, unaffected response of his partner was comforting in a way he didn’t quite understand. Maybe because he couldn’t have handled his cousin’s pain and his own at that moment.

“10 years,” Lom said easily.

“Closer to 14,” Kid corrected voice still even and eyes still unreadable. “Heyes was 15, I was 13 when we left.”

“So you could have known him!” Lom said pouncing on the information.

“Possible, but there were a lot of boys there, in and out, especially after the war ended,” Kid went on and Lom made a point not to notice he was doing all the talking.

“Look all I’m asking is for you to go up there and check out if this man’s grandson was there. It will let an old man rest in peace knowing the boy is alive or dead,” and with that he held out the paper with the information and waited.

Kid’s first glance was to his partner, who was reading his own wanted poster as if he had never seen it before.

Lom waited. No one made these two do anything, especially Kid and right now he knew Kid was making the decisions for them.

Finally Kid took the paper in his hand and with one smooth motion deposited it in his upper shirt pocket.

“So you’ll do it?” Lom asked.

Kid looked at him and the warning his eyes made Lom suddenly grateful the man thought him a friend.

“Think about it. Right now I need a drink. You coming Heyes?”

“What? Oh yea. Lom,” Heyes said in way of good bye and let his partner lead him out.

Lom Trevors let out the breath he had been holding.

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

“Lot of money,” Kid said three whiskeys later.

“He can get any detective to do it for him,” Heyes said, his first words since leaving the jail.

“Yup, but like the man said, we were there, we got the edge.”

“They really gonna tear it down?”

“So the man says.”

Heyes finally stopped brooding and studied his cousin, “You think we should do this, why?”

Kid considered the question fairly, “Don’t know, like I said the money is good.”

“No it’s more than that, what?”

Kid took a long time and another whiskey to answer, “Because I don’t want to. Because I don’t think I can. Don’t like that.”

Heyes nodded. His partner was right, it was reason enough.

They would go.

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

The Valyard School for Waywards sat on a lone hill as far out of town as the locals could manage. It was not so much they shunned Christian charity, indeed the school would have floundered more than once if not for the benevolent guilt throngs of the locals, perhaps it was just too grim a reminder of a generation lost to a country still too young to bear such things.

An old man was sweeping the porch as they road up. Heyes found his eyes trying to take in and process a thousand memories fighting their way to the front and threatening to swamp him.

The drainpipe, still attached, even after all those midnight shimmies down. The oak tree out front, the one where Kid had lost a tooth in that fight, but won and won in such a way they were finally left alone.

He forced himself to look at his cousin, but Kid was merely getting off his horse like they had been invited for afternoon tea. Of all the things he admired about his cousin it was his single focused determination at times like this. Kid could shut out everything but the task at hand. He suddenly understood one of the reasons his partner was so successful in a gunfight.

“Afternoon,” Kid greeted pulling out the letter from the Governor. “We’re here to see the records…”

“No mind to me, back room, said you were coming,” the man said dismissing them.

Kid looked at him and he shrugged. But then getting in had never been as hard as getting out.

It was only at the porch Kid paused and Heyes was afraid of his memory and his own. Of that first day, brought there discarded and unwanted, ashamed and angry. But then Kid stepped up and was through the door and the energy behind the task propelled him along with him. He didn’t miss that both of them were out of breath as they stepped through the door.

They stood in the foyer and Heyes realized it was only the second time he had ever been through that door. Every other time had been through the servant exit. Front door was for somebody’s, that had always been clear.

He waited, expecting to hear voices and smell cabbage, it always smelt of cabbage, but there was nothing and that unnerved him even more.

“Office on the second floor,” Kid said heading for the sweeping stairway without pausing.

“Don’t you want to look around?” Heyes asked softly taking in the faded curtains and torn upholstery; the marble fireplace that had never been lit enough to satisfy him.

“Nope,” Kid said and for the first time some of his own doubts about being there were caught in the sharpness of the word as it hung in the air.

“Yea, guess your right,” Heyes said clapping a hand on his shoulder and following him up.

They knew the office well. The office was where disputes were settled, where arguments were resolved and mostly where punishment was administered.

Jedediah Curry and Hannibal Heyes had spent a lot of time there.

It was not that we any worse than the other children, Heyes defended them to himself, it was just that we could think for ourselves and they did so frown on that.

Of course if he was honest a great deal of thinking had gone into making things as hard as possible for the grownups in charge. Not because they were brutal or purposely deprived them, but because grownups in charge had done this thing. It was because of the ways of those in charge they were alone and an anger burned in Heyes demanding retribution.

Heyes was never quite sure how long they stood outside that office door. Too many past moments froze them in their tracks.

Finally it was he who opened the door and let it swing open. He almost told Kid to cover him.

To his surprise no glaring Mrs. Beauchant stared out at him disapprovingly. In fact the room looked rather light and airy, almost peaceful.

“Everything is so much smaller,” Kid said surprised as he stepped into the room.

“Actually I think we grew,” Heyes grinned.

Kid caught it and grinned back, it helped, always had.

“Files were in Dagget’s office,” Heyes said and this time he opened the inner door without pausing.

The room was stripped now. A desk, a chair, the files were all that remained. Gone was the horrible watercolor Mrs. Dagget had painted of little children at the seaside that Heyes had studied as he endured his beatings, improving his appreciation of art, while doing little to curb his spirit.

“How many times we end up in here?” Kid asked sitting down at the desk with a determined air of revenge at being able to do it.

“More than we had hot dinners,” Heyes sighed.

“I don’t believe it!”

Heyes looked over to see his partner had opened the desk drawers and was pulling out a large box.

“It isn’t?” Heyes grinned amused.

“Sure is, think my slingshot is still in here?”

Heyes grinned broader as his cousin went through the contents of the box; the treasures confiscated from children caught at play instead of work or sleep.

“Kid I think he burned that when he finally figured out it was you tormenting him with those dried peas.”

“I swear Heyes that man had eyes in the back of his head,” Kid sighed remembering and looking 10.

“He had to,” Heyes laughed. “You were a menace with that thing, could hit a fly at 10 yards! What is it? What’s wrong?”

Kid had pulled something from the box and the recognition on his face had caused him to fall into chair without concern for it being there.

“What the…”

“What?” Heyes came around and the desk and stopped at the large envelope in Kid’s hands. It was clearly addressed to Jedediah Curry care of the Home. “Can’t be.”

“I wonder what’s in it,” Kid whispered.

“Opening it might help,” Heyes said rolling his eyes.

“You do it,” Kid said thrusting the object into his hands like they were children once more.

“Me! It’s addressed to you!” Heyes said pushing it back.

Reluctantly Kid took it back and slowly dumped the contents on the desk managing, on purpose, not to touch them.

“Book,” Kid said staring at the object on the desk in front of him as if it might bite.

“Bible,” Heyes continued making no move to touch it either “Anything else in there?”

Kid peered in the envelope, “Letter.” He pulled it out, “It’s addressed to ‘Whoever is in charge’…”

Heyes took it, “That’s us now.”

Carefully he pulled the single sheet of writing paper free.

“From a Reverend Danker…don’t know the name.”

“I think he took over when Reverend Meeks got killed in the raid,” Kid said standing to peer over his shoulder.

“Dear Sir, The enclosed item was found in my church during a routine clean up. It had slipped behind the organ and we just now became aware of it. After some inquiries I learned the owner was killed in the unfortunate incident that happened here several years ago and her only living relative that remains is a son who was entrusted to your establishment. Please be so kind as to forward this to him. Yours in Christ, Reverend Danker, Lawrence Kansas,” Heyes looked up. “Unfortunate incident, well that’s one way of putting it.”

“It’s hers, the little one she used to carry to church,” Kid said quietly turning the Bible over and gently opening the front page to reveal an inscription dedicating the book to one Bridget Esther McCormick, age 10 on her confession of faith, May 12, 1842, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.

Heyes finally exhaled and found the courage to look at his cousin. “Don’t that beat all.”

Kid had leaned back and was riffling through the pages gently his eyes a million miles away.

“What’s that?” Heyes asked when Kid suddenly stopped his fingers running into something as they caressed the pages.

“Don’t know looks like another let….Heyes it’s addressed to you.”

“What?”

“Says right here, Hannibal and it’s my mother’s handwriting,” He looked up suddenly stunned. “Heyes it’s dated August 19, 1863.”

“Two days before the raid,” Heyes said hoarsely.

“What do you think it says?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well aren’t you gonna open it?”

Heyes turned and pulled open the nearest file cabinet drawer; “No I don’t believe I am. Come on we got records to find.”

“Heyes how can you not be curious, after all this time…”

“Exactly!” His partner said slamming the drawer and turning back angrily. “After all this time. You ever think about that Kid? They kept this from us.”

“I don’t know Heyes, maybe there were just hanging on until we could appreciate it, would have gave it to us when we left if we hadn’t of run away.”

“They kept it from us, you. Only bit of your mom you had and they kept it locked in a drawer in the same room where they beat you…”

Heyes slammed his fist into the wall with such force that for a moment Kid was sure he had broken it.

“Heyes, let it go.”

“I need some air,” his cousin said simply and left the room.

Kid sat for a long moment looking at the envelope and then slowly he pulled the letter free.

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

It was dusk before they finally found the information they needed and were able to ride out. Night had well fallen by the time they stopped, but by some unspoken agreement both wanted as much space between them and the institution as possible.

No word had been said when Heyes had finally returned and they had gone through the records painstakingly looking for evidence of how the man’s grandson had ended up. A letter at last provided a clue and grateful to be able to return with some hope they had hastily made their exit removing all evidence of their stay there as they did.

“So you gonna brood all night or ya wanna talk about it,” Kid said finally, the meal over and just the fire and coffee remaining before bed.

“Talk about what?” Heyes said innocently.

“I read it you know.”

“I know.”

He didn’t say he had known because of the red of his cousin’s eyes or the pain that still lingered there as if his cousin had been scalded by the shock.

“I think you should read it, she wrote it to you.”

Heyes looked at the letter in his friend’s outstretched hand.

“Kid I really don’t…”

“Please.”

A fight he could have dealt with, an argument he could have won, but his cousin’s simple plea coupled with two very young blue eyes found him groaning as he accepted the envelope.

“Kid why are you doing this to me,” he moaned.

“From as near as I can figure she put the letter in her Bible thinking to give it to you at church. She must have left her Bible on the organ for some reason after she finished playing…wait a minute wasn’t that the Sunday Mrs. Baker near gave birth right in the middle of the sermon?”

“Yea,” Heyes said snapping his fingers. “Our mothers helped get her home, 2 weeks early she was, must have got left behind in all the confusion.”

“And then…then she never got chance to collect it,” Kid said suddenly standing. “I’m going for a walk.”

Heyes didn’t answer. And then after a long battle he sighed and opened the envelope.

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

August 19, 1863

Well Favorite Nephew at it again I hear!

The familiar handwriting jumped out at him. His aunt was always writing him notes; their passing of them was the biggest ‘secret’ in the two families. Sometimes it was just easier to put down on paper what you were feeling and Aunt Bridget had understood that. Next to Jed she was the one he confided in the most, funny how he had almost forgotten that.

Swallowing, he continued to read.

Hannibal Joshua Heyes how do you do it? Only you could concoct a scheme to get that nasty old miser Mr. Jackson to pay you to eat his apples. Quality Control? Honestly Han you amaze even me at times! Your uncle spent ten minutes this morning going on about you, but I think in truth he was rather proud, put it down to Curry ingenuity!

Jedediah told me about how your father read you the riot act this morning and told you that your ‘dreamin’ and scheming’ would never make you amount to much. Han? He didn’t mean it, for as bright as your father is he doesn’t understand.

Course, know I love your father like a brother, but he’s all caught up in caring and raising you and sometimes when your too close you can’t see as clearly as someone further back.

But me? I know the truth. I know how special you are and how great you are going to be. I’ve had many a glimpse these 12 years, but I think it was last March I realized for certain.

Remember? You, Jedediah and I were visiting down land and we stumbled across that man selling that slave, couldn’t have been more than 6, poor little mite.

I saw the way you reacted to her in those chains Han, I saw the rage in your eyes, but you didn’t leave it at that, you and Jedediah found a way to correct what you felt was wrong. I was never prouder of you two when that man was forced to hand little Hannah over to me, even if he did call me a crook! (And speaking of which young man you have to stop teasing me and calling me that because one day the wrong person is going to overhear and think you are disrespectin’!)

Your gonna make mistakes Han, big and little. Wrong choices, wrong decisions, but in the end you will have a life that reveals where you ultimately make the best and right one.

I am glad my son has you as a friend. I hope you always have each other, because I think together you two could do anything.

Be true to yourself nephew. Laugh often and much and never give up. Remember it’s the final tally that counts.

Love,

Aunt Bridget

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

He didn’t hear Kid come back and when he did he didn’t move to wipe the tears away.

“You mom was some lady,” he said finally, his voice dry and rough. That Underground Railroad stop at our farms would never have happened without her.”

“Yea, yea she was. My Pa said she was too much like you. Clever, quick and dangerous.”

Heyes looked up surprised, “He did?”

Kid smiled remembering, “Yea usually right before he kissed her. ” Kid nodded pleased the comment caused a small smile on his cousin’s face. “You okay?”

“Yea, yea fine. Funny getting this after all this time. Sort of makes them feel less gone.”

“Yea I thought that myself, you wanna turn in?”

“Yea I guess we better,” He looked up suddenly needing to know. “Kid, you think she was right?”

His cousin looked at him pretending he didn’t understand.

“I mean about the end tally being the one that counts,” Heyes urged.

Kid took a moment to pull his blanket up and then putting his hands under his head stared up at the stars as he answered. “Heyes my Pa said he learned real early on that my mother was always right and if I was smart I would do the same.,” He turned and glanced at his friend. “So I guess were gonna have to believe her.”

Heyes grinned, suddenly at peace, “Yea, I guess we better at that.”