4.2 How I Survived Christmas
by Leah Anders


Snow and wind stinging his eyes, Heyes got off the horse as quickly as his frozen joints would allow. "Kid!" His voice, swept away by the wind, sounded far-away to his own ears. Kneeling on the white-blanketed ground, he pulled Kid's head into his lap, wiping fat, wet flakes of snow away from his face. "Kid, wake up! You hear me, Kid? Wake up!" Kid's eyelids fluttered, but his eyes remained closed. Heyes felt a panic start to build, starting deep in his midsection and blooming outward. Squinting against the fierce forces of nature that were steadily working at wearing him down, he looked around him, desperate for some sign of improving weather. Finding none, he looked back at Kid, lying still as death against the white ground. He shook him vigorously by the shoulders. No response. He slapped him smartly across his cheeks, covered as they were by the thick woollen scarves. No response.

With a silent cry of fear and desperation, he managed to get Kid into a sitting position and, bending at the waist and knees, he pulled, using all the strength he had remaining, and threw Kid's limp body over his shoulder; intending to push, pull, and drag him back onto the horse any way he could.

Turning, he lost his footing on the slick earth and fell. Kid landed on top of him, weighing him down, face first in a thick, swirling drift. He lay there, exhausted, pinned between Kid and certain death from freezing. Realizing the hopelessness of their situation and yet, not ready to give up, he rolled Kid off him. Panting from the exertion, he said, "Ok, here we go, Kid. You gotta try and help me." Feeling as though he were moving in slow motion, he grabbed Kid's coat by the lapels, gave a mighty pull - and collapsed, breathing heavy, moist clouds of vapor, on top of his partner. Frustrated tears burned at the back of his eyes as silently he cursed himself again for getting the two of them here.

How I Survived Christmas
by Leah Anders

Heyes silently chastised himself, not for the first time this day, for the predicament he and Kid found themselves in. Given their circumstances, he probably could have shouted his curses at the top of his voice and not been heard over the howl of the wind that swept their words away across the prairie wilderness before they could reach the other's ears. The only real proof he had that Kid was still with him was the gentle, constant pressure against his back he felt through his heavy, though not nearly heavy enough, gray coat. After losing his own horse, which had slipped on an icy patch and broken its leg, they had been forced to ride double on Kid's and since his friend and partner was in worse shape than he was, Heyes took the reins.

The snow skittered and scurried around them, over them, and against them. It drifted up into huge mounds that pulled at the horse's legs and threatened to block their path time and again. The wind was a major culprit, blowing the snow with persistent zeal at them, looking for entrance under and around their clothing to wage angry, freezing assault on their already frigid bodies. Heyes' toes, inside his cowboy boots, were nearly frozen stiff and his fingers inside his leather gloves weren't faring much better. He found himself rubbing his hands together almost constantly to try to keep the circulation going, but he was fighting a losing battle.

Heyes was angry with himself for not recognizing the signs that the weather was going to take a turn, a very bad turn, for the worst. And now here they were, out in the middle of this god-forsaken prairie, in the middle of a first-class blizzard, without so much as a stand of trees to take shelter among. There was nothing here except for more nothing; at least that is how it appeared when the snow first started falling harder and the wind kicked up a few hours ago. Now, it was impossible to say with certainty what might be around them. The visibility had dropped to nearly nothing in the last hour and had stayed that way pretty much the whole time since.

The inability to see anything past the ears of his horse made Heyes feel like they were floating rather than walking along what may or may not have been a road; it was impossible to tell if they had wandered off the trail or not. The wind only added to his feeling of sensory distortion by blocking out any sounds other than the white noise of its whistling, gusty whooshes. He was thankful for the feel of Kid's torso resting against him, if for no other reason than to keep him grounded in reality.

Kid had been silent for too long. Heyes was becoming more and more worried about him. He had been fine when they set out this morning, except for a little winter cold; just a run of the mill cold; sniffles, a cough, a scratchy throat; nothing to lose sleep over.

Again, he bitterly berated himself for not watching out better. They could have stayed in that last town but since they were almost out of money, again, with less than ten dollars in their pockets between the two of them; and hadn't had any luck at all finding work, they had mutually decided to move on. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but now Heyes was sure he should have known better, somehow. They could have stretched those few dollars a little bit further if they had wanted to. And what good were they now, tucked safely inside his shirt pocket? They sure weren't helping them much out here, freezing in the cold.

The day had started out well enough, not much different than any other day out on the trail, except it was colder than what they were used to. How they had ended up so far north at this time of year was something else he blamed himself for, although right now he wasn't rightly sure how it had come about in the first place. When the snow started to fall, they hadn't minded. It came down gently at first, really a beautiful sight. He remembered how excited Kid had been to see the first flakes fall and hit his heavy winter coat. Sometimes Kid was such a kid, Heyes thought.

"Heyes, look! It's snowing."

"Uh, huh,"

Kid glanced at his partner, annoyed. "Uh, huh? That's it? That's the best you can come up with?"

Heyes chuckled, "I've seen snow before, you know. So have you, for that matter."

"That don't mean you can't enjoy seeing it again, does it?"

"Course not. But I can enjoy seeing it without getting all girly about it," he answered with a grin.

Kid's blue eyes turned as frosty as the air. "Girly! Why, if that don't beat all. Heyes, you can be the most disagreeable- "

"Aw, Kid. You know I was only prodding you. Where's your sense of humor?" Heyes reached over and poked a good-natured fist against Kid's shoulder. Kid thawed slightly but wasn't ready to warm up to Heyes' apology too quickly. "Kid, look. The snow is coming down harder now." Thick, wet flakes fell from the sky faster, clinging to their clothes, their hats, their skin, their horses. Concern creased Heyes' forehead. "Maybe we ought to find some place to hunker down until it lets up."

"You're probably right. But where?" Heyes and Curry scanned the horizon. There was nothing except open prairie and rolling hills, dotted by an occasional lonely, barren tree or two, for as far as the eye could see. "Maybe we should turn around? Head back to town?"

"Could be. On the other hand, how bad can it get? Maybe we should just keep going. The next town isn't more than five or ten miles that away," Heyes reasoned, gesturing towards the far horizon.

Thinking back now, Heyes wondered if it would have been smarter to head back the way they had come. In actuality, it probably wouldn't have made a speck of difference, but there was that little voice in his head telling him he had made a wrong decision when he decided to push forward.

Now the most important thing on his mind, other than beating himself up mentally, was to find shelter somewhere; someplace to get out of the wind and the snow and try to wait out the blizzard; maybe someplace he could dig down through the snow and make a small fire. Unfortunately, he couldn't see anyplace like that. No matter how hard he strained his eyes to see through the dense, white curtain of flakes, he couldn't see anything at all. Grimly, he decided that they were going to have to just keep going and hope for the best.

Which is what they'd been doing all day since the snow started falling harder and harder. Once the wind picked up, it only got worse. It seemed to get colder with each passing minute until Heyes' feet were so numb it was hard to keep them from falling out of the stirrups. Not only that, Kid had gone awfully quiet as the weather conditions got worse. Heyes was kept busy trying to keep him engaged in conversation.

"Are you all right, Kid?" he asked time and again, and each time, he got the same response from his friend.

"Fine, fine. I'm all right."

But his appearance didn't bear out his words. Heyes knew that Kid wasn't feeling all that well to start with and the cold was wearing him down. As the minutes and hours dragged on, it almost seemed to Heyes that Kid was visibly shrinking inside his big overcoat.

"Are you sure you're all right?"

"I'm fine," Kid answered stoically. "Just cold, is all."

"It's cold enough, that's for sure." Heyes was silent for a while. "But other than that, you're ok?" he asked again.

"Fine, I'm fine," Kid mumbled, his head drooping forward a little more.

Heyes studied Kid, knowing full well he wasn't fine. His face, now slack and fatigued looking, had taken on a bluish tint. Remembering the thick, knitted scarves that they carried in their saddlebags, Heyes paused long enough to retrieve them and to wrap Kid's securely around his head, giving him at least some protection from the hard-driven wind. After a second's hesitation, he took his own scarf and wrapped it around Kid's face also, securing it snugly into the top of Kid's coat.

When later, without warning, Heyes' horse went down hard on a patch of ice hidden under the snow and they were forced to shoot it to put it out of its misery, leg broken and bent at an unnatural angle, he was more than happy to join Kid on his horse. Partly because they would be able to share body warmth, an increasingly precious commodity; and also because he was concerned Kid would not be able to sit his horse alone much longer.

Now that concern became reality and Heyes could do little about it. Slowly, but not slowly enough, he felt Kid start to slip sideways out of his seat behind the saddle. Alarmed, Heyes reached back awkwardly, trying to stop Kid's steady roll to the left. But from where he was, the best he could manage was to grab a fistful of Kid's sheepskin coat with his cold-stiffened fingers, halting his fall momentarily before losing hold, only to watch Kid fall the rest of the way to the ground, where he landed in a soft, thick pile of flakes.

Snow and wind stinging his eyes, Heyes got off the horse as quickly as his frozen joints would allow. "Kid!" His voice, swept away by the wind, sounded far-away to his own ears. Kneeling on the white-blanketed ground, he pulled Kid's head into his lap, wiping fat, wet flakes of snow away from his face. "Kid, wake up! You hear me, Kid? Wake up!" Kid's eyelids fluttered, but his eyes remained closed. Heyes felt a panic start to build, starting deep in his midsection and blooming outward. Squinting against the fierce forces of nature that were steadily working at wearing him down, he looked around him, desperate for some sign of improving weather. Finding none, he looked back at Kid, lying still as death against the white ground. He shook him vigorously by the shoulders. No response. He slapped him smartly across his cheeks, covered as they were by the thick, woollen scarves. No response.

With a silent cry of fear and desperation, he managed to get Kid into a sitting position and, bending at the waist and knees, he pulled, using all the strength he had remaining, and threw Kid's limp body over his shoulder; intending to push, pull and drag him back onto the horse any way he could.

Turning, he lost his footing on the slick earth and fell. Kid landed on top of him, weighing him down, face first in a thick, swirling drift. He lay there, exhausted, pinned between Kid and certain death from freezing. Realizing the hopelessness of their situation and yet, not ready to give up, he rolled Kid off him. Panting from the exertion, he said, "Ok, here we go, Kid. You gotta try and help me." Feeling as though he were moving in slow motion, he grabbed Kid's coat by the lapels, gave a mighty pull - and collapsed, breathing heavy, moist clouds of vapor, on top of his partner. Frustrated tears burned at the back of his eyes as silently he cursed himself again for getting the two of them here.

Lying next to Kid on the cold snow, Heyes felt himself losing hope. "It looks like this is it, partner. The end of the road. We've survived posses and bounty hunters who've tried to turn us in, outlaws who've tried to kill us for the reward, and now it looks like God himself is against us." Longing for a moment's rest, Heyes moved closer to Kid, throwing an arm around the other man's shoulders, doing his best to keep both of them warm before, at the end of his endurance, he felt his eyelids slide shut.

* * * * *

Heyes didn't know how long he lay there on the ground next to Kid; but it was long enough for both of them to become covered with a thin winter blanket of white. He didn't know what finally woke him from his slumber; he was just thankful that he woke up at all. He lay there for a time, eyes closed, too cold to move, the noise of the wind invading his tired mind. Disoriented, he felt something about it had changed while he lay sleeping. It no longer howled relentlessly. Instead, all Heyes heard was a low, squeaking sound, unlike any wind he'd ever heard before, getting louder by increments as the seconds passed. First his exhausted mind resisted the sound, wanting nothing more than to keep sleeping, wanting to give in to the peaceful feeling of surrender he had succumbed to since lying down next to Kid.

Suddenly more alert, he pushed himself, with effort, to a sitting position and, squinting against the bright, white light of day, surveyed the horizon, hoping that his ears were not playing tricks on him.

Feeling nearly frozen, he barely had the strength left to beckon to the approaching wagon. Ironically, now that the worst of the blizzard had passed and the wind had died down, Heyes was able to see not only the wagon making its difficult way to them through the drifted snow, but also the small cabin no more than a few hundred yards away from where Kid had fallen from the horse. A touch of almost-hysterical laughter escaped his lips as he realized that they had almost frozen to death so close to possible shelter.

As the wagon got closer, Heyes studied the two men it carried. The driver was a big, rough-hewn sort, probably a farmer, although it was difficult to make out much more about him because of the worn, but heavy, fur-lined coat he wore. The other man, seated in the rear of the wagon had fair, finely chiselled features and light colored hair. He was strangely dressed for the weather, wearing only a fine suit with no overcoat at all. He kept his eyes locked on Heyes' until the wagon pulled up right next to them.

Relief and gratitude rolled over Heyes as he watched the driver get down from his seat and, without a word, pick Kid out of the snow as effortlessly as if he weighed no more than a bag of feathers and gently lay him out in the back of the wagon. Then, unable to fight the exhaustion that sought to overwhelm him once again, he lost consciousness at the exact moment he felt rough hands lift him from the ground and place him next to Kid.

* * * * *

Later - minutes…hours…days? Heyes had no idea how long he slept, but when he awoke, he felt warm and dry and comfortable and thankful to be alive. He wriggled his fingers and toes experimentally, just to make sure they were all still where he left them the morning of the storm. They felt stiff and a little tingly but not too much the worse for wear, considering what they had been through.

Confident that all his parts were still intact, he took a minute to check out his surroundings. He was in a small bedroom. The only furniture in the room was the bed he was laying in, a small chest of drawers, a straight-backed wooden chair, and a black, wrought iron pot-bellied stove. Wood crackled and burned behind the closed grate. After being stuck out in the storm, the heat it gave off didn't quite take the chill out of his bones, but it felt pretty good, nonetheless.

Reluctantly throwing back the thick patchwork quilt and blankets, Heyes sat up, dropping his bare feet onto the rug covered, wooden floor. He was dressed, not in his own clothes or even his own customary long-johns, but in a knee length, white night-shirt at least one size too large for him. Frowning slightly, he wondered how and by whom he had come to be dressed thusly. He didn't remember anything that had happened from the time he and Kid were dragged out of the snow bank and laid in the wagon. A twinge of panic coursed through his body as he thought about Kid. 'Where is he?' Getting up, he looked around for his clothes. He saw his hat sitting on the dresser and his gun belt looped over the back of the chair, but everything else was missing, even his boots.

Sighing, he padded over to the open door and peeked cautiously around the wall and out into the next room. He didn't see anyone but could hear sounds of other people in the house. There was a blazing fire in the fireplace and in front of it, he saw his shirt, pants, and boots, placed there to dry. With something akin to horror, he saw that even his long-johns were draped over the back of a chair - right there out in the open for anyone to see.

Emboldened by the desire to retrieve his 'underthings,' Heyes left the bedroom, padding along silently in his bare feet. He was just about to grab them from the back of the chair when he heard heavy footsteps coming up behind him. Before he could turn around, a man's voice growled, "Finally awake, eh?"

Heyes looked up at the big man, recognizing him as the person who had driven the wagon. He smiled, somewhat painfully, realizing too late that his lips were raw and cracked from being out in the driving wind and snow for so long. He ran his tongue over them, in a futile attempt to soften them up. He stood there, unhappy to be dressed in the thin nightshirt but determined not to show it. "Yes, I'm awake. And grateful to you, Mr…"

"Boone. The name's Joe Boone."

Heyes snaked his left hand around behind his back and searched blindly until his fingers found the soft fabric of his long-johns. He extended his right hand to Joe, "Joshua Smith. I can't thank you enough, Mr. Boone. If you hadn't happened along when you did…well, I hate to think what would have happened to us."

"I imagine you would have froze to death," he replied brusquely, ignoring Heyes' outstretched hand. "You want some coffee?"

"I would," Heyes answered, lowering his hand. "But first I need to know if my friend, Mr. Jones, is OK. Where is he?"

"Suit yerself."

"So where is he?"

Boone was already pouring himself a cup of coffee from the big, blue enamel pot kept warm over the wood-burning stove in the kitchen area. "In there," he grunted, a sharp nod of his head indicating a room at the back of the house.

Slightly annoyed at being treated so discourteously, Heyes glared at the man's back before leaving the room; underwear still in hand but forgotten in his eagerness to check on Kid. Hurrying, he crossed the threshold between the two rooms. Kid was lying in bed, covers tucked snugly around his body and pulled up right to his chin. All he could see of his partner was his face. The woman leaning over him glanced up and smiled as Heyes came in before finishing what she had been doing - tending to the man lying asleep in the bed. She was smoothing an ointment of some sort over Kid's wind-reddened and chafed skin with a motherly touch.

I see you found your clothes," she said, smiling at Heyes again as she straightened up and looked him over. Her gaze made him feel even more self-conscious about being dressed as he was. "Looks like you could use some of this yourself."

"Huh?" he said, somewhat stupidly.

"Your lips. Use this. It'll help them to heal."

"Oh. Oh, right. Thank you."

He took the jar of ointment from her, then asked, "How is he?"

"Well, I'm not sure. He's not too good, I'd guess."

"How so?" he asked, concern etching deep lines in his brow.

"Like I said, I'm not sure really, and we haven't been able to get the doc out here yet to have a look at him, but he's running a pretty high fever right now and he's been awful restless, even though he hasn't woke up yet. He seems to have some trouble drawing a deep breath and he's got a bad cough."

"Have you been able to do anything for him?"

"I've been able to get him to take a little water every now and again, and I've been giving him some medicine to take the fever down as much as possible."

"Oh." Heyes took a moment to consider what she had told him. Then walked over and sat, knees peeking out beneath the hem of the nightshirt, on the edge of the chair that someone had placed next to Kid's bed. Gently, he laid his palm flat against Kid's forehead. "He's burning up," he said, dismayed.

"I just gave him another dose of medicine. It should bring his fever back down soon."

"But- "

"Please, Mr…"

"Smith, Joshua Smith."

"He'll be all right, Mr. Smith."

"How do you know?"

She smiled. "Sometimes you just gotta have faith. Hasn't anyone ever told you that before?"

"Huh? Oh. Yeah…yeah, I guess I have heard that once or twice. But still - "

"Until we get the doctor out here to look at your friend, all we can do is wait and do what we can for him." She gave him a reassuring pat on his shoulder, and turned to walk away. "I'll leave you here alone for a while if you don't mind. I have some things to do….by the way, my name is Gail. Joe's my husband."

"Ahh…yeah, I met him earlier. May I ask why he seems a bit…surly?"

She laughed. "Surly? Yes, I suppose that's as good a word as any to use to describe Joe these days. Well, Joe is under a lot of stress lately. The last couple of years have been hard on the farmers around here. So money is tight right now, and with Christmas coming up…he's just been a little grumpy, is all."

"Oh, I see. Christmas. May I say, it doesn't seem to be having the same effect on you, ma'am."

"Let's just say I'm more naturally of a better disposition than Joe. And please don't call me ma'am. Gail. Just call me Gail."

"All right…as long as you call me Joshua." He smiled charmingly at her, in spite of his wind-chafed lips. "By the way, would you mind telling me how I came to be dressed this way?"

It was her turn to smile. "Oh. Well, I - "

The sound of running feet interrupted their conversation before she could answer. Both of them turned expectantly toward the open doorway as a young girl appeared there, moving fast; pulling up short when she saw Heyes sitting next to the bed.

"Land sakes, Jillian Rose. What are you in such a tizzy about?"

Breathless and suddenly embarrassed, the girl reddened. "Um, I was coming to tell you the other man was missing from his bed."

"I see. Well, as you can see, here he is. Say hello to Mr. Smith, Jill. And try to show him your manners."

"How do you do, Mr. Smith?"

"Hello, Jillian. I'm glad to see you take your job of watching me so seriously."

Jillian smiled shyly and studied her shoes.

Her mother looked affectionately at her young daughter. "Now let's leave Mr. Smith alone for a while with his friend. You can help me in the kitchen, please." Gail and Jill started to leave; Jill turned for one more curious glance at Heyes. Gail stopped once more before finally leaving, suddenly remembering something... "I suppose I should ask what we should call your friend. After all, I can't go on forever calling him 'your friend,' can I?"

"Jones. Thaddeus Jones."

"Hm. Smith and Jones. Well, if nothing else, it should be easy to remember."

Heyes smiled vaguely, a toneless, noncommittal laugh passing over his lips. And then he and Kid were alone.

He sat quietly watching him, listening as he drew labored, ragged breaths, one after the other, willing him to open his eyes. Leaning forward, he dropped his head into his hands as his mind went back to the other time - when Kid took ill while they were stuck in that cabin up in the mountains; when the fake doc told him that Kid had pneumonia. He still wasn't sure if that's what really made him sick that time, but to Heyes, it looked like whatever Kid had then, he had it again. And he remembered how worried he'd been then; worried that he was going to lose the best friend he ever had. Oh, he sure did remember that feeling. 'I should have been more careful,' he silently chastised himself again.

"Heyes? What are you doing? And why are you sitting there dressed like that? Is that your underwear you're holding?"

Heyes head snapped up. He had been so lost in his remorse that he hadn't heard Kid wake up, but now his mouth widened in a dazzling, delighted smile, unmindful of the pain his cracked lips caused him. "Kid! You're awake! How ya feeling?"

Kid smiled weakly. Without warning, a deep cough rattled up from his chest, racking his body before he could answer. His face reflected the pain the coughing fit caused him. "Awful. What happened, Heyes? The last thing I remember is being stuck in a snowstorm. I thought we were goners. Where are we? How'd you find this place?"

"I didn't. More like, it found us. Or at least, the man who lives here found us. If he hadn't happened upon us, I think we would have been goners." Kid coughed again, the strain of it draining the color from his face. Heyes studied him carefully, concern darkening his eyes to an even deeper shade of brown. "You sound awful. It's probably best if you get some more rest." Heyes stood up. "Can I get you anything before I leave?"

Kid shook his head wearily, "No. I'm alright," he said raspily. "But maybe you should go put your pants on before you catch your death. It must be a mite draughty in that get-up."

Heyes looked down at his bare legs and feet and grinned at Kid. "Naw. Not draughty, just refreshing. You oughta try it."

"Maybe later. For now, I think I'll just stay here where it's warm."

Heyes walked out of the bedroom. Joe, Gail, and Jillian glanced up from what they were doing and watched him gather up his clothes from in front of the fireplace, Gail, amused; Joe, grumpily; and Jillian, curious. Heyes graced them with a quick embarrassed nod and then retreated to the privacy of his bedroom to get dressed.

Later, fully dressed and more at ease, he emerged once again from his room to find Joe alone in the big room of the house. "Gail says your friend…Mr. Jones…isn't doing so good yet."

"I'm afraid she's right. But he'll be ok - I'm sure of it."

Joe grunted, "Coffee's still hot if you want some. Help yourself." He grabbed his coat from a peg by the door and shrugged into it. Then he pulled the door open and disappeared through it, leaving Heyes alone in the kitchen.

He was pouring himself a cup of the hot, black coffee when Jillian Rose breezed into the room. She smiled cheerily at him before sitting down at the big kitchen table. Abruptly, she asked, "What were you and Mr. Jones doing out in the snowstorm?"

"Well, it wasn't storming when we set out. Wasn't even snowing."

"Most people around here would know better than to be caught out like that. Didn't you see the signs?"

"Signs?"

"Yeah. My pa says you have to be able to read the signs for when bad weather is comin'. Didn't you read the signs?"

"I reckon I might have missed a sign or two. Me and Mr. Jones haven't spent much time in snow country these past few years."

"Where you been?"

"Oh, most everywhere, I guess. Mostly down south…where it's warm…no snow."

"Well, what are you doing up here then?"

"Mr. Jones and I like to travel around a lot."

"Huh. Seems like you should have stayed down south this time of year. You don't know much about cold weather, don't seem to me."

"You're more than likely right, Jillian Rose."

"Can you call me Jill, please? Jillian Rose is what my ma calls me when I'm doing something I ain't supposed to be doing…like running in the house."

"Ok, then. Jill. So tell me, Jill…What are you hoping to get for Christmas this year?"

Jill's smile faded. "Oh, I don't think we'll be doing presents this year," she said, in her most mature voice.

"Oh?"

"No. Pa ain't got much money to spend on such stuff right now, Ma says."

"I see."

"But it's OK. Really. I don't need anything at all."

"You don't?"

"No. And anyway, Ma says that Christmas ain't about presents anyway."

"It's not?"

"No. Ma says Christmas is about families and sharing the joy of the season. Presents are nice, but they ain't necessary, Ma says."

"Your ma is a very smart woman."

"I know," Jill agreed, a little sadly.

Gail came into the kitchen. She was lost in thought, her pretty brow lined with worry. Heyes felt his own brow furrow, matching her expression. "What's wrong? Is he worse?"

"He's not any better," she replied. "If I had to guess, I'd say he was getting worse."

"Why do you say that?"

"I was hoping the fever would break by now but it's still very high. He seems to be having more trouble drawing an easy breath. And I'm worried about that cough. He's sleeping again but I sure hope the doctor gets out here soon to have a look at him."

* * * * *

Heyes slouched low in his chair, his cup of coffee undrunk and cooling on the floor next to his feet. He stared helplessly at his friend and partner. Kid was sleeping restlessly, his breathing seemed even more labored than the first time Heyes had seen him since waking. His face was drained and pale, except for the two fiery points of color on his cheeks. Heyes didn't need to touch his skin to know that it burned with fever. He'd seen Kid sick before and knew all the signs.

He berated himself again for not watching out for Kid better. It was his job to take care of him - had been every since they were young'uns. It didn't matter that they were both grown and able-bodied now…some things don't change just because you say they do.
Heyes smiled in spite of the worry he was feeling…if he had asked Curry who generally did the 'taking care of,' he'd get a different answer entirely, but in Heyes' mind, it was his job to see to it that nothing bad happened to either one of them.

Heyes didn't hear when Gail came back into the bedroom. He was so deeply immersed in his own thoughts that he jumped, startled, when she placed her hand lightly on his shoulder. "Joshua?" she said gently. "This is Doctor Johannsen. He's come to look after Mr. Jones."

Doctor Johannsen shook Heyes' hand. His handshake was firm and confident. "Doctor. I'm glad to meet you." Heyes looked up; his eyes peered deep into the other man's eyes, quietly assessing the competence of the medical man. Johannsen had a face that would naturally inspire trust; deep, soulful eyes, a generous, kind smile, and a strong jaw line. He had an air of patience and thoughtfulness about him that calmed Heyes' mind before he even opened his mouth to speak.

The doctor nodded his greeting, "Mr. Smith. Nice to meet you, too." He turned to look at Kid. Setting his medical bag down on the bed, he opened it and brought out his stethoscope. Heyes watched as the doctor examined Kid, carefully taking in everything he saw. He was relieved to see that, even though this doctor went through a lot of the same motions that Doc Beauregard did back in that mountain cabin, Johannsen seemed to know what he was doing.

His heart dropped when, finished with the examination, the doctor sighed heavily and turned around to face Heyes. His heart dropped further when he saw the grim look on the physician's face. He waited for the doctor to speak, dreading the words he knew were coming.

"I'm afraid Mr. Jones is a very sick man. He's in serious distress right now. His lungs sound like they are full of fluid. If I had to guess, I'd say he is suffering from a bad case of pneumonia."

"What can you do for him?"

"There isn't a lot I can do, unfortunately. I'll leave some medicine with you and Gail that will help keep his fever down, but as far as the infection goes…well, we'll just have to keep him as comfortable as possible and hope for the best. With luck, his lungs will clear up and he'll get his strength back. The most important thing is that he gets plenty of rest."

Heyes nodded his understanding, not trusting his voice to answer. He swallowed hard, trying to bring his emotions back in check. He stood up as the doctor walked to the door. "I'll be back to check on him tomorrow."

"Doc?"

"Yes?"

"He'll be all right…won't he?"

The doc shook his head, "I wish I could tell you he will be, but - "

Heyes' temper flared, angry sparks glistened in his eyes. "There's got to be something else you can do!"

* * * * *

"I'm sorry, Joshua. I've done all I can. Now it's in the hands of someone more powerful than I will ever be."

Heyes' shoulders sagged, his anger dissolved. Doc Johannsen smiled sadly and left him standing alone, feeling more alone than he had for a long time. Slowly, he turned and walked to Kid's side. After a few minutes, he reached into the basin of cool water sitting on the bedside table. He wrung the water from the soft cloth he found there, folded it carefully, and lovingly laid it across Kid's feverish brow. Then he sat back down in the chair where he had spent most of the day, watching and waiting to see some improvement in his friend.

* * * * *

Heyes pulled his coat a little tighter against the icy wind cutting a path down Front Street. The snow had stopped falling long ago but large flakes swirled and eddied at his feet, carried by breezy gusts of air. The sun glistened off the pure, unbroken snow drifts, casting off sparkles reminiscent of a salted diamond field.

His horse securely tied to the hitching post, Heyes took a moment to look around the town. He was in a hurry to finish his errands so he could get back to the farm and check in on the Kid.

There were quite a few people out on the streets, many of them carrying packages from the various shops, bags of all sizes slung over their arms and clutched in hand. The stores were doing brisk business on this frosty winter day, the day before Christmas.

Heyes saw the store he was looking for, Arnold's Mercantile, at the end of the block and started walking toward it, taking care not to slip on the icy boardwalk, the smooth soles of his boots providing little traction. Not for the first time, he cursed the boots that served him well in normal weather conditions but which were proving to be a hazard on the icy streets and roads he found himself traveling over these days. With half of his attention focused on keeping his feet from sliding out from under him, he almost didn't notice the man who passed him going the other direction. He only made eye contact for a split second as they crossed paths and then it took him another second to remember where he had seen the face before.

By the time he recognized him as the man who had been with Farmer Boone the day he and Kid had almost frozen to death, and turned around to call after him, the man was nearing the end of the block and turning out of Heyes' sight.

Heyes hurried after him, as fast as the icy ground would allow him to move, wanting to speak to the man and thank him for his part in saving their lives. Even though he could not gain good traction on the ice, he managed to reach the corner mere seconds after the man turned around it, but when he looked down the next street, the man was nowhere to be seen.

Heyes stood there, perplexed, searching for any sign of the man. There were no store fronts on this particular side street - nowhere for the man to duck into quickly. But nevertheless, he was nowhere to be seen. There was no evidence that the man had ever come this way, not even a vague footprint in the hard ground. Heyes frowned, disappointed that he would not be able to thank the mysterious stranger.

Finally, he sighed and turned away, back towards the mercantile. Slowly and steadily, he made his slippery way back down the street, and eventually he was safe within the store. There was only one woman working behind the counter. She was doing her best to keep her customers happy, and succeeding pretty well too, but she was starting to show signs of wear. Her hair, which had probably started the day in a tight, neat bun at the nape of her neck, was beginning to work its way out of its confines, wisping around her face. And her holiday smile seemed to be wearing just a little thin from weariness.

While she was busy with the last few customers of the day, Heyes wandered about the store, browsing through the merchandise still available this late in the day before Christmas. He didn't really know exactly what he was looking for; Christmas shopping for a family was something he didn't have much experience in. Soon, the store was empty except for him and the clerk.

"Can I help you, sir?" she asked, casually looking him over.

"Thank you, ma'am. Yes, I'm looking for some gifts," he answered politely.

"Oh? And what are you looking for, exactly?"

"Well, I'm looking for some things to give the Boone family. Do you know them?"

"Oh, o'course! I know just about everybody in these parts. As a matter of fact, I don't recall ever seeing you around here before."

"No, ma'am. I'm not from around here. Just passing through. I've been staying out at the Boone place for a day or two."

"Friend of theirs?"

"No, ma'am. Just staying there." Tiring of her questions, he smiled sweetly at her, fixing his dark gaze on her long enough to make her look away, flustered. "So do you have any suggestions for me?"

"Oh…yes…yes, of course. We have some very nice things."

Heyes followed her around the store while she pointed out different things she thought he might be interested in. He made his selections thoughtfully, but without wasting any time. Kid's condition was heavy on his mind and he was anxious to get back to the farm to see how he was doing.

Before paying for his items, the clerk asked, "Can I interest you in some of our wrapping paper?"

"Wrapping paper?" he asked, frowning.

"Well, yes…these are gifts, aren't they?"

"I said they were," he answered, on the defensive.

"Then you'll want to wrap them, won't you?"

Heyes frowned more deeply. He'd never wrapped a Christmas gift in his life and had no idea how to go about it. "Of course. Can't give an unwrapped gift, anybody knows that."

She stared at him, waiting expectantly. "Uh…well, the paper is right here. Which would you like?"

"Hm? Oh, well…"

"I tell you what. How would it be if I wrapped them for you? For a small charge, I mean," she added hastily.

The frown on Heyes' face disappeared, replaced by a radiant Hannibal Heyes smile, complete with dimples. "That sounds wonderful, ma'am. How much do I owe you?"

"Just a moment. I'll ring you up." Heyes watched as she pushed the keys on her cash register. At first, everything seemed to be working fine, but the more she pushed, the more frustrated she seemed to get.

"Anything wrong?" he asked.

"Ohhhh…the owner just bought this new cash register…it's one of the latest, he said. Gonna save him lots of money, he says. And it's probably true, because half the time, I can't get the stubborn thing to work." She pushed a few more buttons, seemingly at random. "Now I can't get the cash drawer to open."

Heyes glanced around the edge of the bright, shiny new cash register. "Huh, would you look at that. Looks like a fine piece of equipment." Then, his arm outstretched across the counter, he flicked one key and the register drawer snapped open. "How much do I owe you?" he smiled easily.

Impressed, she smiled back. "That'll be $5.47. No charge for the gift wrapping."

"Why, thank you ma'am. That's right neighborly of you." Heyes reached into his pocket and pulled out his small wad of remaining cash, counting out the exact amount for her with some regret.

"No. Thank YOU, sir. Now you come back in about fifteen minutes and those packages will be ready and waiting for you."

Heyes tipped his hat to the clerk and walked out of the store. Fifteen minutes. Just long enough to have me a quick whiskey for the road, he thought. Fortunately, the saloon was just two doors down from the mercantile, so he didn't have too far to go on the icy walkway.

He was about to push through the barroom doors when he happened to glance toward the end of the street. Standing there, silently staring back at him, was the mysterious stranger who he had tried to catch up with earlier. Heyes called out, "Hey, mister. Hold up a minute. I wanna talk to you."

Heyes took a step toward the other man, just as the other man turned away. "Hey! Hey, wait," he repeated, trying his best to hurry after him. The first man turned the corner, this time just seconds before Heyes himself reached the spot where he disappeared from sight. 'I've got you this time,' he thought, sliding around the corner of the building.

To his surprise, the street was empty…just like it had been the first time he followed the stranger. "What the…" he said, out loud to no one. "Where did he go?" Bewildered, he pushed his hat back off his forehead while scanning the street in front of him for any sign of the fair-haired man. There were none.

'Maybe one whiskey ain't gonna be enough,' he thought.

* * * * *