royannahuggins
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 | | A Cargo of Kids by Kathy Knudsen | |
Starring
Pete Duel and Ben Murphy as
Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry
Guest Starring
Wally Cox as Deacon Miller
John Ritter as Reverend Whorley
James Drury as Sheriff Lom Trevors
Elijah Wood as Peter
Kristi McNichol as Alex
Michael Burns as Caleb
Peter Billingsley as Hiram
Ricky Schroder as Mark
Paul Peterson as Eddie
Johnny Whitaker as Henry
Johnny Crawford as Bo A Cargo of Kids
by Kathy Knudsen Jed Curry lay stretched lazily across his hotel bed, the sheet draped loosely across his legs, his feet sticking out of the end of the covering. Even the sound of the key turning in the lock did not waken Curry, though the subsequent lighting of an oil lamp did bring a vague awareness to him that Heyes had returned from his evening of poker at the Porterville Saloon.
They had arrived in Porterville earlier that afternoon, having been summoned by a telegram from Sheriff Lom Trevors for “an urgent matter about which our mutual friend is quite concerned.” But as yet, despite knowing of their arrival, Sheriff Trevors had not provided them with any details.
“You awake?” Heyes asked, but his partner didn't answer. “Hey, you awake?”
“I am now,” the Kid replied, but not so much as a muscle twitched.
“I know what the job is,” Heyes said with a slightly louder voice.
Eyes still closed, the Kid tried to discourage any further conversation. “Unless it involves bein' a night watchman, can't this wait till mornin'?”
“It's a transport job,” Heyes replied, ignoring the attempted reproach.
The blond man sighed, opened his eyes, and shifted in the bed so he was facing his partner. Then he raised himself on one elbow and sighed heavily a second time. “Apparently this can't wait till mornin'.”
Heyes was readying himself for bed and had removed his hat and gun belt. He unfastened his pants and slid them down as far as his thighs, then sat down on the edge of his bed to remove his boots and finally his pants. “Pays three hundred dollars,” he said as first one, then the other boot landed on the floor with a thud.
“Apiece?”
Heyes shook his head. “But it ain't a difficult or dangerous job. And it don't start till the end of the week.”
“So, this couldda waited till mornin',” Curry said flatly.
“Lom said when he heard the details, he thought about us right away.”
Curry cringed. “Ah, Heyes. This is just another lousy job for the governor, ain't it? What's he want us to do, rescue his ninety-year-old grandmother from the throes of some pack of wild Indians?”
Heyes smiled and chuckled lightly. “No, Kid. Nothing dangerous about this job. It does involve people, though,” he added as he pulled off his socks and tossed them on top of his boots.
“People? As in people who might be able to identify us? Or maybe people workin' for the governor. You know, like government people?”
“I wouldn't call them government people exactly.”
“Who are we transportin' and where are we takin' ‘em?”
“Well, there's a little bit of a story to that.”
Curry shifted himself in the bed again, so he was now sitting, leaning his back against the frame of the brass bed. He shifted the sheet around so it covered him from his waist down.
“Alright, I'm ready. Start explainin'.”
“Well, about a dozen years ago, the Methodist church here in Porterville started up a sort of home for young boys...”
“An orphanage for waywards?” Curry asked, a look of despair on his face. “We're transportin' waywards somewhere?”
“Not waywards, Kid, at least not necessarily. This is just a home for orphan boys. They went to the regular school in town. The home was more of a place to live. You know, like hot meals, a place to sleep, a weekly bath, that sort of thing.”
“Go on,” Curry said. “I'm listenin', even though I don't think I wanna hear it.”
“Well, the church operated the home with donations but also with state funding, and...”
“Heyes, they didn't steal the state funds for those kids' care, did they?”
“No, no, this orphanage ain't like Valparaiso. But the state yanked the funding out from under them, claiming to have more useful roads for that money in other projects. The church tried to keep the home going, but just couldn't elicit enough donations to pay a staff and feed and clothe all them kids...So they gotta close by the end of the month.”
“And like I said, we're transportin' them boys somewhere. Just how many boys are we transportin'?”
Heyes got up, opened the curtains, and raised the window higher. “It sure is hot in here.”
“Heyes?” Curry prodded.
“Well, we're not transporting them all by ourselves. The minister and one of the church deacons is coming along.”
“Where to and how many?” the Kid asked again.
“Eight and to Evanston.”
Curry frowned a bit but nodded his head. “That shouldn't be too hard. Four adults and eight kids, and it's only a two day's ride by train.”
“There's the catch. We're not going by train.” Heyes sat down on the edge of his bed again.
“We ain't? Why not?”
Heyes shook his head. “State says that's too costly - almost four hundred dollars.”
“And the stage?”
“Almost as costly.”
“So, how are we goin'?” Curry frowned. “Aw, Heyes, we ain't drivin' wagons, are we?”
“'Fraid so, Kid.”
“That'll take...nearly a week!”
“Uh-uh.”
“With eight wild boys?”
“And,” Heyes paused, “two adults. And us, of course.”
“What do you mean two adults? You ain't puttin' us in the adult category? Where you puttin' us – in the horse and mule category?”
“Now, Kid, be reasonable.”
“Reasonable? Might I remind you that you accepted this job without even consultin' me?”
“Well, you were sleeping and...”
“And Lom told you we ain't got no choice if we want our amnesty!”
“Something like that,” Heyes quietly confessed.
“Why do you let him push us around like that!? You really think the governor would cancel our amnesty if we said no to one lousy job?”
“No, I don't, Kid. But I think we should pick our battles. And this one sounds like a pretty easy way to make three hundred dollars.”
Curry sighed and shook his head. “Least you couldda done was ask. You know, Heyes, sometimes I could just flatten you,” the Kid growled as he slid back down into the bed, turned his back on his partner, and pulled the sheet up to his shoulders.
Heyes sat watching his partner for a minute, before reaching over and dousing the light. “Good night, Kid.” His words were met with silence.
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The next morning, Heyes and Curry ate their breakfast in silence. Halfway through the meal, Lom Trevors walked into the cafe.
“I thought I'd find the two of you in here,” the lawman said as he sat down at the table without having been invited.
“Why don't you join us, Lom,” Heyes said with just a hint of irritation in his voice.
“I actually asked Reverend Whorley and Deacon Miller to meet us here at nine. Figured they could explain everything to you.”
“You mean there's more to this than just drivin' a half dozen kids to Evanston?” Curry asked as he pinned Lom with a look.
“Eight boys, and I think it's just more the itinerary they want to go over, and meet the two of you, of course.”
“Lom, why does a minister and a deacon want a couple of ex-outlaws escortin' a bunch of kids anywhere?” Curry asked.
“They don't know know you were outlaws and, as far as I'm concerned, that information don't need to make it into the Book of Revelations. All they need to know is that you two fellas volunteered your time to help.”
“Volunteered?” the Kid echoed.
But Lom wasn't paying any attention to him. The sheriff turned when he heard the cafe door open and saw the two men they'd been waiting for. “Over here, Reverend,” he called out and waved them to the table.
Heyes and Curry stood in the presence of a minister and Lom provided all the introductions as the four men shook hands.
“I can't tell you how much we appreciate your kind offer of assistance,” Reverend Whorley said as he sat down.
“Offer of assistance? I thought this was a payin' job?” Curry's brow furrowed.
“Oh, it is,” Deacon Miller quickly replied. “We're just grateful to have the help.”
“Who exactly is paying us?” Heyes looked at the other three men.
“The state is paying half,” Lom explained. “The church has graciously agreed to match that amount.”
“And just when, exactly, are we getting paid?” Heyes pressed.
“I'll give you the state half up front. Reverend Whorley will pay you the rest when you get to Evanston.”
“Lom mentioned you have an itinerary,” Heyes stated. “Why don't we start with that?” He glanced at the reverend, who nodded.
“Perhaps I should tell you a bit about the boys, first. We, that is, the orphanage, has been in existence for a dozen years. The staff has been dedicated to placing the children with appropriate families and the success rate has been remarkable,” Reverend Whorley added with great enthusiasm. “Porterville truly is a caring and giving community.”
“Yes, they've always been very friendly to us when we visit, especially Sheriff Trevors here,” Curry answered.
“I beg your pardon, Reverend.” Heyes looked into the man's eyes as he spoke. “But it sounds to me, that for some reason or another, these boys haven't been successfully placed?”
The Reverend glanced down at the table. “I'm afraid not.”
“They're waywards?” the Kid asked and gave Heyes a sideways glance.
“Oh, I wouldn't say that at all, no,” Reverend Whorley quickly replied. “They are... independent, perhaps even a bit strong-willed, likely due to their situation. They've had to grow up rather quickly you see, and in two cases they are brothers who refuse to be separated and that makes placement a bit more difficult. But they are typical boys. Well-mannered.”
“We're not hearing much from you, Mr. Miller.” Heyes looked at the other man.
“Please, call me Deacon.”
“You mean that's your first name?” Curry frowned. “You ain't a deacon of the church?”
“That's right,” the man replied, nodding vigorously. “I'm Deacon Miller and not a deacon of the church.
“Deacon ran...well, I suppose I should say he runs the orphanage and has done a fine job all these years,” the Reverend explained.
“So, let's hear from you then, Deacon,” Heyes said with a flash of a smile.
“Well, waywards may be a bit harsh, but perhaps not terribly off the mark in describing these boys. Oh, they're not troublemakers, mind you, just...strong-willed, perhaps mischievous, perhaps a little...too independent at times.”
“You mean they don't listen to you, so, like the Reverend said, they're just normal boys?” Curry asked.
Deacon nodded. “They'll give you a run for your money, Mr. Jones. They'll see just how far they can go. Why, I once found a frog in my desk drawer and another time, a tack in my chair.”
“That is pretty dangerous behavior for boys,” Heyes said stifling a grin.
“Like I said, just typical boys,” Curry nodded.
Heyes gave the Kid a questioning glace and received a single nod in return.
“Before you go any further, gentlemen, it might be...worthwhile for you to know that Mr. Jones and I grew up in an orphanage in Kansas. The Valparaiso School for Waywards. We met a lot of different kinds of kids there. Some nice and some troublemakers. Thaddeus and me were kind of a combination.”
The Reverend smiled. “Then you can appreciate the challenges that lie ahead, maybe even anticipate some of the things these boys might attempt. Perhaps you'll be able to thwart a plan or two along the way.”
“Babysit 'em is what you want us to do.” Curry gave Lom an exasperated look.
“Help us oversee their activity,” Deacon clarified. “I doubt any of them will really be of any serious trouble. They are just high-spirited boys, that's all.”
“Gentlemen,” Reverend Whorley politely interrupted. “We would like you to come to supper at the orphanage tomorrow evening to give you a chance to meet the boys.”
“You mean size 'em up, Reverend?” Heyes asked.
Reverend Whorley smiled. “Gain an understanding of the challenge, Mr. Smith.”
“We'll be there,” Lom replied
“Not you, Lom,” Curry said, leaving no room for debate.
“What Mr. Jones means, Lom, is that you being a sheriff might put these boys on their best behavior. Seeing their best behavior is not going to help us much,” Heyes explained.
Disgruntled, Lom shook his head. “Alright. Suit yourselves.”
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Arriving at the orphanage the following evening, Heyes and Curry remained on their horses at the hitching post and watched the boys playing in the yard.
“Them two older boys that are shoutin' out all the orders seem to be the leaders,” Curry told his partner.
Heyes rolled his eyes. “They're not a gang, Kid.”
“They are to me.” Curry pointed to one of the smaller children. “Look at that little scrawny one over there. Looks like the runt of the litter. Now don't it seem funny nobody's pickin' on him?”
“Maybe they're just having an off day. We've had those from time to time,” Heyes teased.
“Maybe,” Curry agreed seriously.
“Gentlemen, welcome. Come in, please,” Reverend Whorley called from the porch steps.
Heyes and Curry dismounted, tethered their horses, and approached the porch.
“I see you found the boys.”
“They look like a fine bunch of children,” Heyes replied.
Reverend Whorley stepped off the porch and walked to the side of the house. “Boys, dinner in ten minutes,” he shouted. “Go in and wash up.”
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The dining room in the old two-story house was massive, a wall having been removed to accommodate one very large, long dining table. Eight children were seated in chairs, four on either side of the table. Deacon Miller sat at the foot of the table and Reverend Whorley sat at the head. Heyes and Curry sat opposite each other, along the sides, and next to Reverend Whorley.
Reverend Whorley stood and bowed his head, and the room grew silent as he uttered a brief prayer of thanks. As soon as he sat down, hands flew out to grab bowls and plates of food as the boys served themselves, then passed the food down the line so each person could fill his plate.
“Boys, this is Mr. Smith and Mr. Jones. They are going to be traveling with us to Evanston. Perhaps each one of you could introduce yourself; tell them your name, age, and some little point of interest about yourself,” Reverend Whorley suggested.
Eight pairs of eyes looked around the table, no one daring to be the first to speak.
“Maybe Mr. Jones and I should go first,” Heyes said with a smile. “I'm Joshua Smith and this is Thaddeus Jones, and we grew up in Kansas, on farms next to each other. As luck would have it, we ended up living in an orphanage ourselves. Of course, ours wasn't as nice as this one. We slept in a dormitory with twenty other boys, so there wasn't much privacy, but a lot of opportunity for dreaming up mischief.”
“You two was orphans?” a freckle-faced, brown-haired boy in a blue shirt asked.
“Still are,” Curry replied.
“Caleb, introduce yourself, then ask your question,” Deacon Miller told him.
Caleb nodded. “My name's Caleb Atkins and I'm fourteen. You grew up in an orphanage?”
“We sure did,” the Kid nodded. “We got ourselves into a lot of mischief, too. The orphanage we grew up in was bigger than this place, but the thing I remember most was that it was always cold, and we never ate as fine a meal as this.”
“I'm Mark Atkins,” a blond boy of slight build announced. “I'm ten.”
“So, you two are brothers?” Curry asked.
“Yes, sir. What kind of mischief?”
Curry smiled. “Oh, s'pect not much different than the mischief you boys get into.”
“Anybody else related?” Heyes asked.
“My name's Eddie Thompson,” explained a tall, lanky, dark-haired boy. “Alex here is my little brother.” He turned to look at the boy in the purple shirt sitting next to him.
Curry looked a bit perplexed. “How old are you two?”
“I'm fourteen. Alex is eight.”
Alex raised curious eyes at Curry, but quickly looked away.
Curry gave Heyes a quick glance. Alex was the boy the Kid had described as the runt of the litter. “I see... And you're brothers?”
“Yes, sir,” Eddie replied, but Curry noticed all the nervous glances the boys shared with each other.
Alex remained quiet but shot curious glances at Curry several times.
“Well, that takes care of half of you boys; how about the rest of you?” Deacon Miller prompted.
“I'm Bo Conners. I'm twelve. I can work a sling shot better than any of the other boys.”
“Henry Rawlins and I'm eleven. I can whistle using my fingers.”
“Everyone calls him 'Red' cause of his hair,” Bo piped up.
“Shut up, Bo!” Henry warned.
“My name's Peter Hastings. I'm ten. I ain't good with numbers, but I like to read.”
“And how about you?” Curry asked the last boy.
“Hiram Davenport,” a chubby-cheeked, blond boy wearing round spectacles answered very quietly and with his head down. “I ain't good at nothing.”
The rest of the boys giggled, and Hiram pouted.
“Yeah, he's scared of his own shadow,” Bo explained.
Curry started to speak but Reverend Whorley interrupted. “We have one wagon loaded with all the boy's belongings, food supplies, blankets, canteens, tarps and poles and stakes for tents. The boys will ride in the other one.”
“What time do you plan on leaving in the morning?” Heyes asked.
“As early as we can,” Deacon Miller replied.
“We'll be here at sunup,” Heyes assured them.
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Two wagons sat in front of the orphanage house, one packed with the supplies, the other loaded down with eight children. Reverend Whorley stood beside them waiting, while Curry sat in the seat of their wagon. Holding the reins, Heyes sat next to Deacon Miller in the supply wagon.
“Everybody got everything?” Reverend Whorley asked.
“We're all set, Reverend,” Caleb answered.
The Reverend climbed up into the wagon with Curry.
“Red sky,” Heyes announced. “Might be in for some rain today.”
“Then best get some miles behind us while the roads are dry.” Reverend Whorley cast an anxious look at the sky.
Heyes gave the reins a shake and Curry's wagon fell in behind.
The anticipated rain skirted around them, and the wagons traveled at a steady pace along the road. The boys talked and giggled and entertained themselves.
“Tell me about Alex and Eddie,” Curry said to the Reverend.
Reverend Whorley smiled. “They came to us three years ago. Their mother died giving birth to Alex. Their father tried to raise them, but it was just too much for him, I suppose. As you can see, Alex is of a rather slight build and Eddie never lets him out of his sight; he's very protective.”
“I can see where he would be,” Curry replied.
“Why?”
“Oh, no particular reason. I was a pretty small kid and Joshua was that way with me. Likely has something to do with the age difference, maybe.”
Reverend Whorley smiled. “They came to us from Cheyenne. Alex was five, Eddie was eleven. They traveled alone by train. The train was held up. No one was hurt, but it scared poor Alex; made quite the impression on him.”
“I s'pect it would.”
“According to Eddie, Alex wasn't such a timid child before that train robbery. I suppose the combination of traveling alone and being held up had a rather negative impact on him.”
“You know who it was that held up the train?” Curry asked.
“The Devil's Hole Gang. I think they are about the only gang that commits such crimes in this area.”
“I wouldn't be so sure about that, Reverend. I think the Unger Gang and the Plummer Gang have done their fair share of robberies in these parts. Course, the Plummer gang ain't active no more.”
“You seem rather familiar with all the gangs in eastern Wyoming, Mr. Jones.”
Curry shook his head. “Not really. I guess I just like to read the wanted posters in Sheriff Trevors office when we pay him a visit.”
“How long have you known Sheriff Trevors?” Reverend Whorley asked.
“Mr. Smith has known him longer than me, but probably close to eight or ten years.”
Heyes pulled his wagon off the road and brought it to a halt. “Thought it might be a good time for lunch, stretch our legs, take care of any...business...anybody might have,” he called to the Reverend as Curry pulled the wagon up behind Heyes and the children clambered out.
Deacon Miller pulled a dozen small paper lunch bags from the supply wagon and dispensed one out to everyone. Most of the children sat down immediately to eat their lunch, but Alex handed his bag to Eddie and pulled his brother down low to whisper in his ear. Eddie nodded and Alex walked away from the group toward some nearby bushes.
A few minutes later, a blood-curdling scream was heard in the distance, coming from behind the bushes where Alex had ventured. Eddie scrambled to his feet and took off running toward the sound of Alex's scream.
“I'll go! Rest of you stay here,” Curry ordered the adults and raced off after Eddie. Reaching the bushes, Curry saw that the boy had come to an abrupt halt several feet in front of Alex, who stood shaking and staring at the ground.
All three then heard the hissing sound of the rattlesnake.
“Don't move!” Curry warned them. “Don't even breathe.” Curry's eyes swept the ground until he located the snake. In a split second, the Kid drew his gun and fired, killing the snake instantly. He looked at Alex, who was staring at him wide-eyed, not with fear or relief, but with recognition.
At the sound of gunfire, Heyes acted quickly. “You two stay with the boys,” he directed the two men. “I'll call you if I need you,” he added and ran toward the foliage just in time to see the Kid holster his gun.
Curry crouched down, then held his hand out and Alex slowly walked up to him. He stood, hoisting Alex up on his hip.
“I know who you are,” Alex whispered. “I seen you once when we was on a train.”
The Kid shot Heyes a quick glance and a subtle wink of his eye while Heyes pressed his lips together to keep from smiling.
Curry grinned. “Well then, Missy, I guess we each know a secret about the other.” Curry looked over at Eddie as he spoke. “I tell you what, you two keep our secret, and we'll keep yours.”
“How did you know?” Eddie asked.
“Oh, the face, the hair, and the way she clings to you. Curious how you've kept that a secret from the others for three years.”
“Our pa told them we was both boys when he wrote to the church to see if they had room for us. The other boys all know. Reverend and Mr. Miller don't, though,” Eddie told them.
“Just out of curiosity, Eddie, where's your pa now?” Heyes asked.
“He died of the grippe about a year ago,” Eddie replied.
Curry glanced over at his partner, who closed his eyes and shook his head.
“Well, guess we best be gettin' back before they come lookin' for us.” Curry put Alex down and led the way back to camp.
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Later that afternoon, they made camp at the edge of a wooded area near a river-fed pond. Pup tents were erected, a fire had been built, and Deacon Miller and Curry were busy preparing supper.
“How much time before we eat?” Reverend Whorley asked.
“About an hour,” Deacon replied.
The Reverend looked at the pond and then at Heyes, who shrugged his shoulders and smiled.
“Anyone interested in taking a swim?” the Reverend asked, and all the children shouted with excitement and rapidly stripped down to their long johns. Moments later the boys were jumping into the water and the air was filled with laughter, sounds of water splashing, and squeals.
“Don't venture out too far,” Reverend Whorley cautioned. “We don't know how deep the water is!”
Hiram stood nervously at the edge of a short, crudely-made split log pier.
Seeing him, Bo swam up near the edge of the pier and stood up. “It's alright, Hiram. See, it ain't deep right here. You don't gotta know how to swim. You can just stand in the water like me.”
Hiram nodded, but remained cautious.
Bo waded up to the pier and held his hand high in the air. “Here, take my hand.”
Hiram sat down on the edge of the pier, then timidly reached for Bo's hand. Once a grasp had been achieved, Bo gave Hiram a yank and the boy plunged into the pond, then slipped under the water, and came up sputtering. Catching his breath, Hiram looked at Bo for a moment before both boys broke into gleeful giggles.
Heyes walked to the edge of the water to stand beside Reverend Whorley.
“Oh, I'm truly going to miss these boys,” the Reverend said.
“The place they're going to, what's it like?” Heyes asked.
“Oh, it's quite nice. It's large enough that only two boys share a room. It's on several acres of land so there's room to play and explore. Once they are acclimated, I'm sure they will all fit in quite well.”
“Oh, I'm sure they will,” Heyes agreed.
“Of course, Alex and Eddie aren't making the entire trip with us.”
“They're not?”
“Deacon has a sister in Layman, not more than half a day's ride from Evanston. She and her husband have been married for eight or ten years. No children. They have visited our orphanage often and when they heard we were closing, they decided to adopt Alex and Eddie.”
“Alex and Eddie know that?”
Reverend Whorley nodded. “We're planning to spend the night there, then drive into Evanston the next morning, just to give the boys all a chance to say goodbye.”
“So, Deacon's sister and her husband, they know those two pretty well, I suppose?”
“They've been coming by train once a month for the past three months, so they and the boys could get to know each other,” Reverend Whorley replied.
“Help! Help! Hiram's under water and we can't find him!” Bo shouted.
Heyes pulled off his gun belt and tossed it to the ground. Reverend Whorley was already waist deep in the water when Heyes plunged in after him.
“Where did you see him last?” the Reverend shouted.
“Right here where I'm standing!” Bo cried.
Six boys and two men immediately dove into the pond, eyes open and straining to see in the now murky water. Their hands groped wildly for the lost child, each surfacing for a gasp of air before plunging again into the river's churned-up bed.
Heyes suddenly felt a long johns clad limp leg and he grabbed onto it. He then followed the leg up the torso and wrapped his arm under the limp shoulder, pulling the child to the surface. Gasping for air himself, Heyes quickly waded his way to the shore while the others followed as fast as they could.
Heyes laid Hiram face-down on his stomach, then placed the palms of his hands between the child's shoulder blades. He pumped the youngster's back until a stream of water spurted from the boy's mouth and he began to cough and sputter.
“At least he don't appear to be dead no more,” Henry announced to the group.
“Shut up, Henry!” Bo scolded.
“Think you can sit up now?” Heyes asked.
Still coughing, Hiram turned himself over and slowly sat up.
“You alright?”
Hiram nodded weakly. “Yeah.”
Heyes noticed that the boy wasn't coughing as much and his breathing seemed better.
“Alright boys, the show's over now. Hiram is going to be fine. Go get your clothes back on. It's almost time for supper,” Reverend Whorley announced.
Bo reached for Hiram's hand and pulled him to his feet, then wrapped a supportive arm behind his friend's shoulders. All the boys walked over to the heaps of clothing and began to get dressed.
Heyes looked at Reverend Whorley. “Well, a near miss rattlesnake bite and a near miss drowning. Not too bad for the first day out, wouldn't you say?”
Reverend Whorley smiled. “I'd say the evening prayer will certainly include a lot to be thankful for today, Mr. Smith. You and Mr. Jones both saved a child's life today.”
“All in a day's work when you're dealing with a pack of boys,” Heyes joked.
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Last edited by royannahuggins on Fri 04 Mar 2022, 9:08 pm; edited 2 times in total | |
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