Thank You

Two young teenage boys sat in a dimly-lit room. The raw wooden table was laden with buckets and bowls of potatoes, only few of them were already peeled. With a disgusted face the younger one threw a freshly unclad vegetable to its companions.

“We’re gonna do all that work, and we won’t even get a mouthful of it when it’s finished.”

“I guess we just chose the wrong day to cross Mr. Mason.”

“We didn’t want to cross him!”

“He might see it differently that we picked up the last walnuts from his tree.”

“He wouldn’t want them anyway. Half of them is already rotten.”

“We were on his property, and it’s still his nuts.”

“That IS nuts! You can’t steal anything nobody wants anyway! It’s... it’s... like stealing garbage!”

“Search me, Jed! I don’t get it either!”

Both boys scowled and continued working.

“I’m glad, we’re not allowed to join supper anyway,” Jed grunted after a while.

“You’re what? You not hungry?”

The younger one only shrugged.

“C’mon, you’re always hungry, and you sure can use every bit you’re gonna get. So, what’s eating at you?”

“They wanted us to say thanks.”

“And...?”

“And?!? What’s there to say thanks for? Lot of work, no kind word, drafty rooms...”

“Hold it, hold it, Jed. I know, you have a point there, but you can always make something up. There’s still blessings to count.”

“Blessings? You goin’ crazy now?” the blond flared up.

“We’ve got a roof over our heads...”

“...that leaks...”

“...we’re given food...”

“...that never is enough...”

“...we receive clothes...”

“...meaning rags! Why, thank you...”

“Heck, Jed, will you just stop it! You can’t hold a grudge against all the world! Grudges are for folks with bad stomachs, and that’s something you’re quite definitely not suffering from. I’m trying to make the best of what we’ve got and you spoil it!”

“There is no best when everything’s as bad as possible!”

“No, Jed, you’re wrong. It could be worse, a whole lot worse!”

“How?!”

“You really missed what’s important, didn’t you? It’s us,” his friend pointed out and then paused. “Could be easily one of us alone in here...”

Busy hands stilled. Silence spread. Brown eyes and blue eyes met.

Jed opened his mouth, but closed it again without voicing a word. Everything needed to be said was said by their glances. Silently he nodded and continued working on the mounds of potatoes.

“But we’re meant to be with our family today,” Jed objected quietly after a while, and laid down his dull knife again.

“I’m glad, we’re not,” Han murmured as he remembered motionless bodies lying in the dirt. Within a blink he gathered himself and compassionately lay his arm around his cousin’s shoulder. “But on the other hand, in a way we are with our family today. It’s just you and me now, Jed, and we’ll stick together no matter what!”

“Yeah, it’s you and me, Han,” Jed replied and smiled briefly. “Always.” A twinkle lit up his eyes, his smile grew wider and ended up as a wide grin. “I guess, I could have done worse than stickin’ around with you.”

“No grudge anymore?”

“No grudge!”

“Thank you.” Han returned the grin and winked.

They shared a soft chuckle, broke the eye contact and resumed their boring work. For some reason the room didn’t seem as dark as before anymore.

This is Chapter #19 of Destiny's Cycle. If you have not read the other chapters, they can be found on Archive of Our Own of FanFic. Have a wonderful week, Wichita Red. 




 
A hollow, short cough echoed across the cabin.
 
“Swallow some more, honey.”
 
“Don’t need it.”
 
“If you’re coughing, you need it.”
 
“Said I don’t.”
 
Heyes lowered his book to raise an eyebrow sharply at his partner, who had a collection of pistols disassembled across the kitchen table.
 
“Stop looking at me, Heyes.”
 
The book went back up, “could at least say thank you.” Although the aroma of gun cleaning oil filled the space between them, no words filled the silence, and as it stretched out Heyes grumbled, “still think a thank you wouldn’t hurt you none.”
 
There was the soft clunk of metal hitting the table’s scarred top, “you want me to thank you for the burns that mustard plaster left all across my back and chest.”
 
The book noticeably moved closer to Heyes’ face, obscuring him from Curry’s potent glare.
 
“Hellfire, I have blisters in some places.”
 
“It worked though.”
 
“Not going to agree to that.”
 
“Next time, I won’t leave it on for so long.”
 
“There won’t be a next time,” Curry firmly responded, followed by the distinctive sound of a cylinder sliding into place.
 
“Cleared your chest out,” Heyes laid his book down, “you can breathe, and I say it worked.” He stood, dropping the book on his chair. “So, you could say thank you since I was arrested helping you.”
 
“You got yourself arrested, nothing to do with me.”
 
“You can be the biggest ingrate sometimes.”
 
Curry looked up at his partner, now standing across the table from him, his blue eyes narrowing until they disappeared.
 
Unmollified, Heyes put his hands on his hips, “you can.”
 
“Not sure what ingrate means, but it doesn’t sound like anything you should explain to me,” Curry said, turning the Schofield’s cylinder checking its smoothness, “and it damn well does not sound like anything I want to thank you for!”
 
“Well, what about the honey, you going to say it hasn’t smothered your cough.” Heyes grouched, pulling out a chair and dropping in it. “I got that for you, too.”
 
“You did, and it did,” Curry replied, setting the Schofield down, “and I could not eat another mouthful for the rest of my life and be happy.”
 
“|Then say thank you.”
 
“No!” Curry snapped, placing both hands, palms down on the table leveling a disgusted scowl on his pal. “I used to enjoy the tasted of honey, and you ruined that for me.”
 
Rolling his eyes, Heyes leaned forward, shoving a few revolver parts out of his way, “why can’t you admit I cured you.”
 
“Stop moving them parts, I laid them out like I want them!”
 
“Come on, Kid, just say thank you.”
 
Straightening the parts, Kid muttered, “if I do, will you just leave me be.”
 
“Might.”
 
“Not one to bet on them type of odds.”
 
The corner of Heyes’ mouth twitched, his dimple appearing briefly and deeply in his cheek. “Won’t know until you do.”
 
“Won’t know until you do.”
 
Picking up his lukewarm cup of coffee, Curry took a long drink, emptying it. Setting the cup down, he then picked up a pistol frame, “Fine. Thank you.”
 
A smile burst forth from Heyes, “your welcome, pal. Now you want to hear about how I was arrested all to save you?”
 
“Nope, you already told me.”
 
“Yeah, but that was the short version.”
 
Attaching the ejector rod to the Colt’s frame, Curry replied, “short version was enough.”
 
“There you go being an ingrate again.”
 
“Sounds to me like you’ve learned a new word and I suggest you stop using it on me,” Curry said, softly, peeking over at his pal.
 
Heyes looked down, then got up, and retrieving the coffee pot, he refilled Curry’s cup, setting the pot on the table. “But, there is more to the whole story.”
 
“Heyes, I said thank you,” Curry replied sliding a cylinder on the Colt’s frame. “now you keep at me….” He switched his grip on the Colt, so his hand was wrapped around the barrel, “I’m going to buffalo you with this.”
 
Stepping away from the table, Heyes’ nostrils flared, “you going to act this way, I’ll just take myself down to the hang out with the Boys.”
 
Curry looked up joyful mirth illumination his face, “Thank You!”