Thanksgiving November 2008

Thanksgiving By Ghislaine Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry slowly walked toward the imposing red-brick building that cast a dark shadow around the surrounding land, the Wyoming Territorial Prison. Flanked by armed guards, they paused as they approached the first gate. The guards nudged them forward and the two men resumed their hesitant walk towards the entrance. Entering the prison, they were thoroughly searched by guards who seemed to take special delight in patting down the two famous outlaws. Heyes and Curry stood silently, turning when told, lifting their arms and spreading their feet when ordered. They flinched as the gate shut with a loud clang behind them. They looked at each other and knew they shared the same thought. They were escorted through a heavy wood door, down a narrow corridor, until they finally reached what appeared to be an office. One guard knocked on the door and, hearing a grunt in reply, opened it and indicated that Heyes and Curry should enter. “Welcome, Mr. Heyes, Mr. Curry.” A middle-aged, slightly balding man sat behind a desk covered with papers, including their wanted posters. He stared at the two men before him, one dark-haired, one blond, both clearly nervous. “I’m Warden Fitzpatrick. It’s taken quite a long time but you’re finally here.” The warden smiled grimly. “I hope you enjoy your stay with us.” “Guard!” At the warden’s call, the man who’d been waiting outside the door opened it and gestured for Heyes and Curry to follow him. “Take them to Cell Block E,” the warden instructed the guard. “They’ll take real good care of you over there, gentlemen. Good day.” Neither Curry nor Heyes had said a word out loud since they’d entered the penitentiary. They were too overwhelmed by what was happening. It was hard to believe that after so many years, they had still ended up there. Numbly, they followed the guard deeper into the prison. They passed rows and rows of cells, all filled with men who looked fifty years old or more but who probably weren’t older than thirty-five, who walked arthritically up to the bars that functioned as doors and squinted through the darkness at the two newcomers, who stoically kept their gazes directly ahead of them, who didn’t want to admit to themselves that they were looking at what could have been their future. After an interminable walk, Curry and Heyes were led through another door that opened to a small courtyard; they passed through it and finally reached Cell Block E. The guard ushered them into a small room furnished with a table and four chairs, one of which was occupied by a reverend. He looked up as the men entered. “That will be all, thank you,” the reverend said to the guard, who carefully closed the 1

door behind him as he left. “Sit down, gentlemen, please.” Curry and Heyes, not expecting such politeness, looked at him in surprise. “There’s no need to be inhumane here,” he told them. “Just because someone has been convicted of a crime doesn’t mean they can’t be shown some common courtesy.” Heyes spoke for the first time. “That’s, uh, an unusual attitude, wouldn’t you say, sir?” The reverend smiled. “Yes, perhaps it is. But, like the Good Book says, we should do unto others what we wish for ourselves. So I fervently believe that if we treat people right, especially young people who’ve never had much of a chance in life, then they can be steered in the proper direction and they’ll be more willing to follow the straight and narrow path.” “So what are we supposed to do, reverend?” Curry sighed. It was clear he wished he were somewhere else. “Do you really think it’s going to make a difference, reverend?” Heyes wanted to know. “Yes, Mr. Heyes, I do. You and Mr. Curry are living proof that if someone truly wants to change, he can. People never would have believed that the two most successful outlaws in the history of the West voluntarily gave up their lives of crime and went straight, but when the Governor of Wyoming gave you your amnesties, you proved it to the world.” Heyes and Curry looked at each other and shrugged. It had all been a long time ago and sometimes it was hard to remember what that life had been like. The reverend continued to talk. “So that’s why you are the perfect men to talk to the boys here. They’re not hardened criminals, yet; they’ve just made some bad choices and done some unfortunate things. But they could easily go the wrong way. I’m hoping that you two, being who you are, will be able to make these boys understand that they have their lives ahead of them and that they shouldn’t waste them by committing crimes.” Heyes replied for both of them. “All right. We can do that. If someone had been looking out for us when we were younger, maybe our lives would’ve been real different.” “Yeah,” Curry added seriously and, it seemed to Heyes, wistfully. “But we do have a lot to be thankful for, don’t we, Heyes?” His lifelong partner nodded. “Yeah, Kid, we sure do.” A bright smile lit up his face as he said softly, “We sure do.”

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By LAK The quiet of the room was broken by the sound of a pair of booted feet moving across the floor. Back and forth they went. A few minutes of this, and a sigh came from the man lying on a nearby cot, hat pulled down over his eyes. The man’s right arm was in a sling, and he used his good arm to push his hat back and then lever himself up to lean his back against the wall behind him. “What are you doing, Kid,” grumped Hannibal Heyes. Kid Curry stopped mid-pace and looked down at his long-time partner. “I’m just thinking, Heyes,” he said, then grimaced when, despite the other man’s obvious exhaustion, Heyes grinned. “So let’s get this straight,” Heyes said with a smile. “You’re pacing and thinking, and I’m trying to sleep. Is it just me, or is something wrong here?” Kid chuckled in spite of himself. It was pretty strange. “So, Kid, it must be something pretty serious, to get you riled up enough to work up a good pace.” Kid smiled again at Heyes’ words. “Well?” Heyes prodded. Kid hesitated a moment, wondering how his friend would react to the unusually sentimental subject of his current thoughts. “I was just thinking about how tomorrow is Thanksgiving,” he said eventually. “Okay,” said Heyes, obviously confused by the direction the conversation was taking. “You remember my ma’s Thanksgiving rule, Heyes. We always made a list of what we were thankful for, even when there wasn’t much to put on it.” “You haven’t seen your ma since you were ten years old, Kid.” Heyes admonished, but his tone was gentle. Family memories were in short supply and not to be trifled with. “You didn’t mention that last year,” Kid replied, his eyes taking on a stubborn look Heyes was all too familiar with. “Last year we were working the O’Malley’s ranch, not sitting in jail waiting for an escort to Wyoming.” Heyes said, trying for patience despite his fatigue and the throbbing in his arm. “And last year I hadn’t just taken a bullet in the shoulder. I don’t know that I have the energy to come up with a plan that might get us out of this right now, let alone to find

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something I’m thankful for, Kid.” Kid Curry looked his partner over. The doctor had done a fine job patching him up, but there wasn’t anything the man could do about the amount of blood Heyes had lost while he and Kid had been trying to lose that posse. Kid knew Heyes was dead tired and still in some pain. And he also knew that Heyes was at least partly right. Last Thanksgiving they had had a good job, a roof over their heads, and even a family dinner to sit down to. In fact, it had been the bleakness of their current situation that had had him pacing in frustration. But there was so little left to him of his family, and he was determined to keep his mother’s tradition. Lifting his gaze to Heyes’ face, Kid met his partner’s eyes and held them, willing Heyes to understand him. After a long moment, Heyes sighed, shaking his head in frustration, but the brown eyes were sympathetic and there was an acceptance there that warmed Kid’s heart. However bad things looked, he and Heyes were still in this together. A moment later, that last thought still in his mind, a slow smile spread across Kid’s face. “All right, Kid,” Heyes said, a thoughtful look on his face. “You must of come up with something, so let’s hear it. What are you thankful for?” “I’m thankful for my family,” Kid said with conviction. Heyes looked puzzled. “I don’t get it.” Kid smirked at him. “And you’re supposed to be the genius.” “Kid, your family is dead. Or are you thankful for your ma for giving you this crazy rule to follow?” Kid heaved a sigh. “You’re my family, Heyes. Or as good as. And I’m thankful that we’re in this together, even if you’re too tired to come up with a plan. I’m thankful that you’re still here to be too tired to come up with a plan, and that bullet only got you in the shoulder. I’m thankful that if we had to get ourselves arrested, we did it in a town with a good doctor and a sheriff who wouldn’t just as soon let you bleed to death. As for the rest, we’ll deal with it as it comes.” Heyes just looked at his partner. Kid wasn’t prone to long speeches, and that had been quite a mouthful. Neither of the men tended to be overly sentimental, and now that he’d said his piece, Kid looked a little embarrassed by his outburst. But Heyes appreciated the words, and the way they improved his mood, despite their current situation. “Maybe your ma had the right idea, Kid,” he said. “I guess I’m pretty thankful for all those things too.” That was just about the end of conversation for the night. Kid no longer had the need to pace to work out his thoughts, and Heyes, who usually had that job, was not really in any

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shape to do much more than sleep. But it was with lighter spirits that both partners settled down for the night. They’d worry about getting out of this mess in the morning. Two days later, Lom Trevors’ house, Porterville, Wyoming… “Everything looks delicious, Maggie,” said Kid Curry, looking appreciatively at the spread of food in front of him. “I’m sorry we delayed your Thanksgiving celebration, though” put in Hannibal Heyes. “Think nothing of it, boys,” Maggie Trevors replied, smiling indulgently at her husband’s old friends. “We’re just glad you could be here.” “We’re pretty glad to be able to be here ourselves,” Kid replied. “You might even say we were thankful,” Heyes added, a touch of amusement in his voice. “Heyes?” Kid said, looking over at his partner. “I was just thinking about your ma, Jed.” A moment later, Kid broke into a grin. “So, Heyes, you got something to be thankful for?” There was laughter in Kid’s voice as he asked the question, and in Heyes’ as well as he started to answer. “I’m thankful for a little old lady from Boston, who handed my partner a flyer almost two years ago,” Heyes said with a smile. “And I’m thankful to our old friend Lom Trevors, for not laughing us out of his office, or locking us up, when we brought it to him.” Somewhere in the midst of if all, though, Heyes began to grow serious. “I’m thankful for whoever or whatever finally convinced the Governor to live up to his word,” he continued. “And I’m thankful for Maggie Trevors, for inviting a pair of ex-outlaws like us into her home. But most of all, I’m thankful for my family.” Heyes paused in his recitation then, leveling a look at Kid and seeing the unvoiced understanding in his eyes. “I don’t think I would have made it this far without you,” he concluded, then ducked his head, somewhat ill at ease with the emotion of the moment, before quickly changing the subject. “So, let me guess Kid, you’re thankful for all this food.” And then there was laughter all around, and the sounds of glasses clinking as a toast was made, and easy conversation between friends, as Kid Curry and Hannibal Heyes celebrated what would probably be their most memorable Thanksgiving ever.

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By Maz McCoy

Thanksgiving The young blond boy looked at the plate of food in front of him and his stomach rumbled in anticipation. The turkey was still steaming and he watched his father carve more slices for his brothers and sisters. When everyone had a plate before them grace was said. The children were then asked, in turn, to say something they were thankful for on this Thanksgiving. Jed watched and listened as his oldest brother began… Kid looked into his cup of coffee, swirling the contents around thoughtfully. Sometimes he couldn’t remember their faces. It had been so long ago and he had nothing to remember them by. But there were times in his dreams when they all came back to him, as if it was yesterday, and he would wake expecting to find himself in his old bed, in the room he shared all those years ago. Another Thanksgiving had come around and he was glad in some ways that his folks were not alive to see him. He knew they would not have approved of the life he had chosen, although he suspected things would have turned out a lot different, if the raiders hadn’t turned up that day. He didn’t have a lot to be thankful for, for many years after that. And what about now? They were still on the run, the amnesty no nearer and… a cough pulled him from his reverie. Kid looked at the figure hidden beneath a blanket on the other side of the fire. The coughing started again. Getting to his feet, Kid made his way to his partner’s side. “Heyes?” A dark sweat covered forehead appeared from under the blanket. Heyes shivered. He was about to say something when his body was wracked by another bout of coughing. Kid reached out a hand and placed it on Heyes’ forehead. He was burning up. Kid picked up a cup beside his friend. “Here, have some water.” Kid supported Heyes, as he took several small sips. “What time is it?” Heyes asked, turning red rimmed eyes on his friend. “After midnight.” “Why you still up?”

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“Oh, keeping an eye on you and thinking.” “I thought we had an agree…” Heyes’ words were cut off by more coughing. He took time to catch his breath. He had been like this for two days now and the cough was getting worse. “Try and get some sleep,” Kid advised. “Maybe tomorrow you’ll be well enough to ride and we can get to that doctor in Kinder Lake.” Heyes’ reply was a shiver. He pulled the blanket closer and closed his eyes. Kid went back to the fire and added more wood. As he picked up the coffee pot, he glanced over his shoulder at his friend. Thanksgiving. Right now he’d be grateful if Heyes made it through the night.

By Shenango The Cave After five days of running from a very persistent posse, Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry had found a large cave in some rocky hills to hole up in. The cave, though not perfect, had many comforts that they were not always able to have outside of the small towns they seemed to find themselves in so often. Those were the same small towns that they often had to depart on short notice. The cave was sheltered from the wind and some exploring had led them to a small waterfall running along one side of the cave. Following its path, they were both surprised and pleased to find that the small trickle of running water eventually ran to a hot spring. It had become habit then, that when they had the means to afford to replenish their supplies, they made that a priority, in the event of the need of a speedy exit. They were again lucky to find that in addition to shelter, the natural equivalent of a hot bath, running water, and a roof over their heads, they had food enough to last them at least a few days, more if they rationed their stores. The horses were able to go out a second entrance to the cave, to an outcropping with a grassy slope, a continuation of the small stream inside and some trees. They had enough room to bring them inside in the event of bad weather, but had decided to let them to rest as well. As he was exploring the area, Kid noticed that the trees behind the cave were fruit bearing and picked a number of ripe apples for themselves and the horses. Taking the apples inside the cave, he put them near the fire Heyes had going. Heyes had picked up a cough out on the run over the last few days, and Kid was happy to have him tending the fire, as there was a chill in the air and a possible hint of a storm.

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Heyes acknowledged him and the fruit with a nod and went back to cooking biscuits and beans. The smell of coffee was strong enticement to sit by the fire, but the emptiness in his stomach overrode all and he went outside behind the cave again. A few minutes later, the reverberation of a gunshot startled Heyes. The echo's origin was hard to determine, and Heyes had his gun out of the holster and in his hands in a blink. He started making his way toward the front of the cave when Kid walked in from the back entrance. Noticing his partner with his gun drawn and moving to the entrance, he stopped quietly. "Heyes?" he questioned. "What's..." Without turning Heyes answered, "Did you just hear that shot, Kid? I'm going to see how close they are." "Heyes," Kid said more urgently, "Wait." Heyes kept moving as though he hadn't heard his partner. "Heyes!" he called more urgently. "Wait!" Finally, Heyes stopped and slowly turned to see why he was being called. "What is it?" he asked. As he turned, Kid noticed the flush in his cheeks and how he was trying not to cough again. Kid didn't say anything but held up the large bird he was holding by its feet in his left hand. Heyes finally turned to face him, only to hear, "I got supper for us. That's what the shot was. Couldn't you tell where the shot came from?" "No, Kid," he answered. "The echo in here made it hard to tell where it came from." Looking at Kid, he said, "Supper, huh? Looks like it might be a bit more than that, if we plan to stay here for a couple more days." He coughed again and after putting his gun back in the holster, rubbed his hand over his ear. Not wanting to say anything to let the Kid know, but the stuffiness causing his coughing had settled in his ears, making it difficult to hear. Smiling, Curry walked over toward the fire again. Putting the bird down on the rocks beside the fire, he spoke, "If you don't mind getting started cleaning this, I noticed an old garden patch out back, past where the horses are grazing. I thought I'd go see what else I can rustle up for us." "Wait," Heyes looked at him. "A garden? Any signs of a cabin or any settlers back there?" Kid shook his head. "What it does look like is maybe it was an Indian settlement at some point. Didn't the government and the army move them away from this part of the country and put them onto a reservation?" "Seems you're right about that, Kid." Heyes went back to tending the fire and dressing

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the bird and a short time later, Kid came back in with his arms full of carrots, potatoes, and squash. As Kid started putting the vegetables down, Heyes looked at him, very surprised. Before he could say anything, Kid spoke. "Looks like we got lucky for a change, Heyes." "I'll say we did," he agreed. Heyes had a pot of beans cooking and took the vegetables and started putting them in with the beans and the potatoes into the fire. He'd made progress on the bird and was getting it ready to go over the fire, when dizziness overtook him and he tottered to the side. Kid was right beside him, keeping him and their supper from hitting the ground. Knowing how stubborn Heyes could get, Kid quietly relieved him of the bird, put it over the fire and then turned to take a better look. "How long you been sick, Heyes?" Heyes was looking at the fire and not hearing much, and after a brief pause, Kid asked again, "Heyes! How long you been sick?" "It's just a cold, Kid." "Heyes, level with me. We're safe here; we have food, shelter, even hot and cold running water. Almost as good as a hotel. We can stay for a while." Heyes nodded at him. "Right." "Well?" Heyes finally relented. "Just the last day or so. It's really just a cold." Kid pulled a small bottle of whiskey out of his saddlebag and dosed the coffee his partner had just poured for himself. Heyes raised the cup to thank him, then slowly drank the warmth in. After the feast, during which Heyes said and ate very little and Kid watched him closely, Kid suggested they try the hot springs farther back in the cave. Taking a change of clothes with them, he had started another fire back near the springs, so that they wouldn't get a chill when they got out. As they got comfortable in the hot springs, Heyes started to warm up, the steam doing wonders for his head. He hadn't said much since that morning, and appeared he was saving his voice. Finally, relaxed and starting to get tired, he spoke. "Kid?" "Yeah, what is it." "Thanks for taking care of supper. It was good." "I've been thinking. Seems we got lucky this time. A good place to rest up for at least a couple days, rest the horses. We got everything we need here except for beds."

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"You suggesting we move in here, Kid?" Heyes chuckled at him. "Naw, Heyes, just saying that we got a lot to be thankful for right at the moment. It's about time we got some luck running on our side." Heyes got quiet, thinking about what had been said. "Well, Kid, seems you're doing some pretty serious thinking right now." He stifled a cough, then continued, "I think I'm going to let you take over for a bit," and was overcome by coughing again. Kid took the hint and moved to get out of the spring. "C'mon Heyes. Time to let you get some rest." Donning their clothes again and going back to where their bedrolls were waiting for them, Heyes allowed his fatigue to catch up to him. As he settled down for the night, he quietly gave Kid his thanks for watching over him. Then as he was dropping off to sleep, he heard Kid saying, "Get some sleep, partner." "G'night, Kid. And you're right. We do have a lot to be thankful for right now." He rolled over and was asleep, letting his partner watch over him.

By S. J. Smith A Lot To Be Thankful For “I don’t think I could eat another bite,” Kid said lighting Heyes cigar. Heyes took a long drag and blew out a smoke ring. He gave Kid a nod as he went to pour them some brandy. “Yep, our ladies really out did themselves this year,” Heyes said smiling. He handed Kid his glass and slowly lowered himself into the leather chair. “Ah, we have a lot to be thankful for Kid.” “The amnesty,” Kid said nodding then taking a sip of the hundred year old cognac. “Our wives,” Heyes said closing his eyes and stretching out his legs. “Our children,” Kid said also closing his eyes. “The business,” Heyes said. “Our friends,” Kid said.

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“And that wonderful meal,” Heyes said with a sigh. “Like I said Heyes, I don’t think I could eat another bite.” Kid sighed. “I know the feeling, I am so stuffed,” Heyes chuckled. “Just like that bird was.” “Dessert!” a lovely voice called from the other room. Heyes and Kid’s eyes popped open. “Well maybe just another bite or two,” Kid said standing. “We wouldn’t want to insult them by not eating dessert,” Heyes said. Kid slapped Heyes on the shoulder. “Happy Thanksgiving, Heyes.” “Happy Thanksgiving, Kid.”

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