He didn’t speak for several long minutes and when he did, his voice was far away.

“I can still remember the first time my father called me ‘Kid’ instead of using my given name. The bastard was so drunk he couldn’t even remember that I was named for him.”

Lou could hear the venom in his voice, but her unrestrained curiosity dared her to ask him anyway. “Can you tell me your real name, Kid?”

He didn’t want to. He didn’t want to say it aloud. He hadn’t in so many years, he wasn’t sure he could form the words. Instead he whispered it. He whispered it softly into her ear. He did so because it was an important beginning to his secrets. He did so because when he was done, he wanted a clean slate. And he did so because he didn’t ever want to have to say it again. “You’re never to tell a soul, Lou. I’m only telling you it this once and you’re never to use it. My name to you is Kid McCloud and that’s all that matters.”

She had strained herself like a finely tuned fiddle just to hear the words. He had said his name once and that was all she would get. She burned it into her memory and then swore to forget it. His name wasn’t important, he wasn’t that person, but she felt grateful that he was finally able to tell her. That he trusted her that much.

“I’ll never use it, Kid. I swear to you on my life.” Lifting her head from his chest she squeezed his hand and gazed into his eyes to solidify her promise. This time her voice was barely a whisper as she leaned towards his ear. “Thank you for telling me.”

There was no reply. He just continued with his memory, his voice seemingly miles away. “Jed thought the name was funny. There were a fair amount of years between us and I was only about three when my father started it, Jed about ten. He just kept up with it and eventually my mother used it too. By the time I started school, it was the only name I knew. I sort of grew into it. It seemed to hurt less than knowing my father and I shared a name and yet, it made me seem different from the other folk, almost mysterious I guess. I can’t see what you’d find mysterious about a scruffy and scrawny little kid with poor dirt farmers for parents and not a dime to his name. No matter what, Kid’s who I am now and I know I’m better for it.”

“Other than our wedding day, I never really cared about what my name was or that I didn’t have a normal one. There was that brief moment when Teaspoon asked me to ‘fess up’ when I feared I would have to tell you, tell everyone, and we’d have to use the bastard’s name. When I explained to Teaspoon that I couldn’t tell him, that I wouldn’t tell him, and told him he could go right on and try and cancel the wedding because I had no proper name, I knew he’d honor my wishes. I knew he’d never make me leave you at the altar. And then simple enough, you said let’s use McCloud and now here we are. I never thanked you for that.”

“For what? I didn’t do nothing.”

“But you see, you did. By giving me your name, by giving our family your name, you made me whole, you made me count. You gave me something that no one in my own family ever could.”

Lou shivered. The intense pain she heard in Kid’s words shook her to the core. She allowed Kid to pull the blanket back around her and then settled back into his side.

“My father was a drunk. Not just the kind who had a few too many in the saloon, but the kind who had a whiskey bottle in hand every hour that he was awake. Jed used to tell me that he wasn’t always like that, but that’s the only image I can remember. Apparently right about the time I was born, the drought hit and our tired old farmland he was workin’ just quit. He and the land never recovered and from that day on we were officially dirt farmers - scrapin’ out barely enough to feed ourselves, let alone sell for a profit. I guess I was a constant reminder of his downfall and although I was supposed to be his namesake, he wanted nothing to do with me.”

“My mother, god bless her she was a good woman, but she was weak. She wasn’t strong like you are, Lou. She let that bastard run roughshod all over her day in and day out. I can still hear him callin’ to her from the porch - he rarely left that damn porch. ‘Sarah Jane! Sarah Jane! Where are you, you lazy old cow? Bring me my dinner!’ Sometimes it was his whiskey, sometimes his coffee. The demands varied, but his screamin’ at her never did.”

Suddenly, Kid’s aversion to alcohol and saloons and everything that went along with the drink was making more sense. Lou could tell that he feared he would end up like his father. She didn’t know how to make him understand that he was already more of a man than his father ever was.

“He used to hit her too. I didn’t realize what it was at first, but by the time I was four or so, the noises in the night began to make more sense. Jed tried to stop him, he was pretty big for his age, but that just made it worse for Mama. So eventually Jed just started disappearing altogether. I found out later he would run off to nearby towns and try to work for a while. He would bring the money home to Mama so she could get some food at the store rather than the liquid supper my father preferred.”

Lou was sickened hearing about Kid’s father. While her own father had been less than a prize catch, he had never been so abusive to her, her mother or her siblings. There was a big difference between a lying, thieving gunrunner who abandoned his family and a tyrant who hit his wife. She sensed that he was not telling her the whole of it, that he was trying to censor himself even while being truthful. “Did he ever hit you, Kid? Did he hurt you too?” The mere notion that her beloved had been harmed as a child had tears forming in her eyes again.

“Mama did her best to keep him away from me. I was small when I was younger, from lack of healthy food mostly, and she knew how much he disliked seeing me around all the time, so she kept me out of his way. The summer after I turned five my mother was expecting another child. You see, he may have been a drunk, but he never let that affect his bedroom activities. One night, close to when she was ready to have the baby her back was hurtin’ real bad. When he called for his tobacco she sent me out to the porch with it. She didn’t want to, but she couldn’t do it herself. Seeing me standing there, holding his pouch out to him just set him off and before I could react, he had knocked me clear across the porch. But that wasn’t enough, he came after me again and when I tried to run he held his foot over mine so I couldn’t escape.”

“Mama came out because of my cries and when she begged him to stop he hit her. Not once, not twice, but repeatedly. He hit her face and when she covered it, he hit her stomach. By God, I’ll never forget the site of her doubled up on the ground, moaning, begging him not to hurt the baby.”

Lou watched Kid’s hands clench into fists as if he was ready to fight back. She could feel his pulse racing and knew her own matched his. She remained silent and allowed him to continue at his own pace.

“Finally he must have worn himself out because he left us alone and went into the house to pass out. By then it was too late. Mama sent me to the Johannsen’s, they were the closest neighbors, but by the time I got Mrs. Johannsen back to the house even I knew that there was no way the baby could still be alive. She helped Mama to bed and the next day we buried my baby sister. She never christened the baby; we wouldn’t dare let the preacher near the house for fear he would learn what was going on, but Mama called her Elizabeth anyway.”

She had always known that they had named their second daughter for his mother, just as they had named their first for hers, but now she knew why Kid was so insistent on having Elizabeth as a second name. Lou had thought it was because it was also her second name, but what Kid had really wanted to do was honor his sister’s memory in the only public way he could allow. She was touched that her daughter was so blessed to have an angel looking over her from the start.

“Why didn’t anyone do something to help you?” Lou asked. “What about the town folk or the Johannsens?”

Although very wise to the world, sometimes Lou’s naiveté amazed Kid. “We didn’t go to town, but occasionally. And when we did, it’s when we looked good - no cuts, no bruises, at least none that people could see. We weren’t church going folk and as for the Johannsens, they were kindly, but they were foreigners who spoke little English - they didn’t know what to make of us.”

“What about school?” Lou knew Kid was too educated to have been kept at home.

“That was my one salvation. Finally when I was nearin’ six my father decided that since Jed was obviously going to be the useless and brainless sort, I would be the ‘smart’ one in the family. He allowed Mama to take me to town and enroll me in school and it was on that day that I knew I would one day get out of there. I learned from that very first day that there was a bigger world than Cobbs Creek, Virginia waiting for me.”

“Did your father stop hitting you then?”

“Not hardly, but he rarely hit me where it showed when school was in session. Suddenly, it was important to him that I keep up appearances, you know meet with the good folk in town. He got his whacks in, but when I went to school it was usually with a clear looking face.”

Lou sensed this was where Doritha entered Kid’s life. Even when she had been in Rock Creek with them, Lou hadn’t taken the time to imagine her as a child, as a young friend to Kid. The only image she could bring to mind was the proper southern belle, with the grating voice, who had nearly stolen Kid away from her and who in the end had given her life for them. A long forgotten memory, she was finding it harder to dislike the fallen woman.

Kid could picture his schoolhouse as if he were standing inside the door. He could feel the hard bench beneath him and smell the chalk from the slate boards. It hurt for him to go on, he knew Lou was crying silently against his chest, but he was in too deep now to turn back.

Kid eyed the crowded schoolroom nervously. His ma had finished with Miss Wentworth, the teacher, and now he was on his own. He recognized many of the children who now stared at him, but there wasn’t a one he could call a friend and from the looks they gave his hand-me-down clothes and well-worn shoes he didn’t expect to befriend many of them anytime soon.

Miss Wentworth smiled kindly and in an effort to make him more comfortable hurried him to a seat with the other first year students. Stopping at a bench already filled with two children he dropped his head and peered shyly out through his curls.

“You’ll sit here with Doritha and Garth and they’ll help you follow along,” the teacher said. Turning to the seated students before she hurried away she said, “This is Kid and he’ll be learnin’ with us from now on.”

“Kid? What kind of stupid name is Kid? Why didn’t your parents give you a real name?”

“Garth! You be more polite than that! I know your mama taught you better.” Turning to face the new student, Doritha extended her hand like a southern lady. “Hello, Kid. My name’s Doritha Simmons. You’ll have to excuse Garth, he’s just playing with you is all.”

Kid couldn’t help but be awed by the little blonde-headed girl. She acted much older than someone his age and she had the prettiest smile, he thought. Looking down at her extended hand, he didn’t know what to do with it other than shake it like he’d seen the men at the mercantile do. He was surprised at how soft her hand was. He couldn’t see a callous or a hangnail to mar the alabaster skin. Immediately embarrassed by his rough hands he dropped hers and slid onto the seat.

If Doritha noticed his uneasiness she didn’t let on. “Kid, let me introduce you two proper like,” she said pointing to their bench mate. “This is Garth Maxwell. We’re neighbors. Garth, this is Kid.”

The two young boys eyed each other suspiciously from either side of Doritha who seemed oblivious to the tension.

“Well, I’m so excited that you’ll be sitting with us from now on, Kid. It’s fun to make new friends. That’s the best part of school.”

Kid just nodded his head. He didn’t dare tell her that for him, the best part of school was being away from his father.

Although naturally shy, it didn’t take long for Kid to become inseparable from Doritha, and even Garth. Having friends was very exciting for him and he enjoyed having people his own age to play with. He took great pleasure in telling his mother tales about school, his learning, and his friends, but always when his father was either passed out or out of hearing range. He didn’t want to have his father spoil the good times he was having or make him stop going to school.

Occasionally, Kid would visit Doritha and Garth in their homes and he was always amazed at the fine things they had on display and all the toys they each had to play with. One day he would be rich like they were and be able to buy his mother one of the pretty rugs he saw or some of the fancy clothes their mothers wore. Beyond the luxury of their homes, the most astounding of all was all the food just lying about. There was always a snack for after school and a big meal cooking on the stove. Kid thought of his family’s bare home and paltry food supply and never tried to reciprocate the invitations. He didn’t want his friends to see how he lived.

On a cold day in January, Doritha noticed the pitiful amount of food Kid had brought in his lunch pail. She understood he was ‘less fortunate’ as Garth’s mother had once told them, but she was still saddened by how hungry he always looked. The very next day she started sneaking him extra bits of bread or cheese, whatever she could take from the kitchen without the staff saying anything. He mother never noticed, she hardly spoke to Doritha and her father said even less to her, always buried in his ledgers.

It was her sister, Agatha that made the most fuss. Older by several years, she warned her baby sister not to get involved in what happened to the Kid. “He’s just the son of a no-good dirt farmer,” she often said. “Being his friend and helping him will not get you further in life. Let the boy be.”

Doritha understood her sister’s concern, it was bred into both of the Simmons girls from an early age that they were to marry well and continue the ways of the southern wife, and she knew her parents didn’t approve of having the Kid around. She just didn’t see how she could let him suffer when they had plenty and Garth’s family too. She drafted his help and together they made sure that Kid always had something extra in his pail and occasionally enough to take something to his mother.

It pained the Kid to have to take the food from them. He didn’t except charity. Yet as simple as that was to say, he knew without food he would get sick. His father had given up even trying to plow the hard earth outside their door and it seemed what little money they had went to pay the bank just so they wouldn’t lose the house and the land.

The friendship blossomed and the children were like the ‘Three Musketeers’ in the book that Miss Wentworth was reading to them. They were mischievous and constantly getting themselves into trouble. Their adventures usually ended up with Kid having to come to the rescue of the more daring Garth and Doritha, forever putting her in his debt.

As the days wore on, Garth grew more and more tired of Doritha’s constant fawning over Kid and was very bothered when in their first summer as friends, Kid and Doritha pretended to get married. Garth couldn’t understand why Doritha didn’t marry him. He knew he was going to marry her when they got older and Kid was always getting in the way. Trying not to outwardly show his feelings, Garth kept his hurt to himself. Eventually, time wore on and the little marriage was forgotten as the three friends continued to spend all their time together.



Chapter Fourteen