Disclaimer: These characters are not mine, and no money is being made here, just a passel of words arranged to hopefully entertain and amuse. That being said, this story first appeared on fanfiction.net under my pen name Reba. I’ve changed it somewhat (including the title) since then. Thanks to David Dortort for his great characters.
Who will Rock Me Now?
Marie frowned. Ben, Hop Sing, Adam, and Eric had left just a few minutes ago. She knew before they left that she would surely forget something, and now that something had come to her. Fabric…They must still be less than a mile away, and since Joseph hadn’t settled down for his nap…She could slip a bridle on Sugar and bundle Joe warmly…They could ride out and catch them before they got too far away, before the wagon cleared the far gate. She needed the fabric, and with that decided, she got moving. She slipped Joe’s coat and mittens on him, muttering imprecations at her forgetfulness. New fabric would supply Eric with the larger shirts that he must have, and Adam could certainly use a new Sunday dress shirt.
As she bent to wrap the scarf around Joe’s neck, she kissed his upturned face.
“Mama, where are we going?”
“Ma petit cherie, Mama forgot to tell Papa to get the shirt cloth.”
He smiled up at her and reached for her hand. She led him out of the house and toward the
barn. Snow dusted the ground and the sky
was dark although it wasn’t yet
Ben had wanted to leave right after lunch to get the supplies, and he was counting on beating the storm back. He had taken everyone except Marie and Joseph to help expedite the buying, trading, and loading of supplies. If all went as planned, Ben and the others would return before nightfall.
Marie shook herself and squeezed the little mittened hand lovingly. She needed that material…Eric was straining the seams of his shirts. She smiled at her baby as Joe grinned up at her, impatiently pulling her in through the open barn door. She lifted four-year-old Joseph atop the nearest hay bale. He stood there, quite patiently for such a small boy. He watched his Mama slip the bridle over Sugar’s ears, and his eyes followed her as she led the mare to the bale where he waited. Mama hiked up her skirt and stepped up beside him, and then laid the heavy blanket over Sugar’s back, puffing a little at the exertion. Sugar stood quietly as Marie deftly swung herself up on the gentle mare’s back. Joe giggled as his Mama bent down and lifted him to sit in front of her.
“All set, sugar?” Joseph felt his Mama’s chest pressing warm against his back as his sweet laugh echoed through the barn. Sugar’s ears twitched. Mama was so funny. She called him sugar, and they were riding Sugar.
“Yes, Mama.” Joe still giggled a little, and Marie squeezed him close to her in a one armed hug.
Sugar would take them out to meet the wagon, and Marie could give Ben the measurements that she needed. They’d be back in the house in just a few minutes and then her giggly baby could take his afternoon nap. Joe leaned back against her, his little body warming her. She nudged Sugar’s flanks, and the horse dutifully walked out of the barn. Once clear of the door, Marie kicked Sugar, and the horse trotted down the snow-covered road, following the fresh wagon tracks toward town.
After a few minutes, Joe’s arm raised, and he began waving his hand excitedly. “Mama! There! Hoss..Adam..Papa..Hop Sing!”
Sugar quickly caught up to the wagon, seeking the familiarity of her stall mates harnessed there. Adam and Eric were sitting in the back of the wagon, facing the approaching horse, and Adam had reached up to tap on Ben’s back. Ben brought the team to a halt and turned toward the sound of Sugar’s welcoming neigh and his youngest son’s high-pitched shouts.
“Marie! Why…you shouldn’t be out here! What possessed you to…”
“Ben, cher…I forgot the materials. I need the fabrics for Eric and Adam. I had to catch you.”
“Marie—we’ll drive you back. The weather is turning. It may be best for us to wait until tomorrow for the supplies.”
“Non! Ben. Joseph and I can go back safely. The barn is in sight…and…we need these things. If you must, stay in town tonight if you cannot return before the storm moves in. We will be fine, Joseph Francis and I. But you must promise me that you will stay if the weather turns more quickly than expected.”
Ben looked up. The clouds did look threatening, but there was no smell of storm in the air. They should still have time to go and return—with all of them working together. He hesitated and then looked into his wife’s eyes. Marie pleaded wordlessly, and he nodded at once almost before he was conscious of doing so. He smiled slightly at how easily she could bend him to her wishes, and it occurred to him that she’d passed this quality on to their son. All Joseph had to do was to widen the green eyes he’d inherited from her, and Ben, Eric, and Hop Sing were putty in his tiny hands. If he added a trembling chin and a tear or two, Adam gave in as well.
Ben’s smile widened when Joe yawned hugely and blinked his suddenly heavy eyelids. Eric laughed and Joe smiled sleepily at him, snuggling back against Marie.
“Looks like someone’s tired,
Adam was waving too, and Marie held Sugar in place until the road turned and they could see her no more. Adam shivered, bumping his brother. Eric looked at him.
“What’s the matter big brother? You cold?”
Adam shook his head and concentrated on stilling his quaking hands. He had been sure, just now, that he would never see Marie or Joe again—that they were making a dreadful mistake by leaving them. He shook himself and smiled slightly at Eric. “I think a goose walked over my grave. I just had a bad feeling for a minute. But it’s gone now. I’m OK.” He tried to widen his smile, to reassure his large little brother. Eric gave him a weak grin and shrugged.
When Eric turned toward the main road, Adam surreptitiously fingered the unraveling hem of his large brother’s shirt. Marie was right, as usual. Hoss was growing right out of his clothes.
Sixteen-year-old Adam had grown four inches this last year, but as he looked at his younger brother, he knew that Hoss would shoot past him soon. At eleven, Eric was almost as tall as Adam, and already thicker across the shoulders.
Adam’s thoughts then turned to his youngest brother.
Joe was little, even for an almost five-year-old. Yet he was strong and sturdy. Adam smiled a little more at the memory of Joe’s first horseback riding lesson— Adam’s eyes closed against a gust of chill wind as he traveled back in time—
Ma and Pa watched as I led my two-year-old brother’s pony
around the corral. Joe was on the back
of his pony, Socks, our gift to him that Christmas. After fifteen minutes, He begged me to give
him the reins. Finally, after much
pleading on Joe’s part, Pa consented…just as long as I held onto the lead
rope. Joe immediately kicked Socks, and the pony trotted smoothly around the ring. I stood in the middle and held the long lead
and proudly gave Joe advice…Adam winced, remembering…in his eagerness to
follow my directions, Joe got distracted and slipped sideways in the saddle.
“Stop him, Adam!”
Pa had shouted and clambered quickly over the rails.
I was already bringing the pony to a halt, but Joe had
lost his grip and balance. He landed
heavily on the ground. Socks was a small pony, but it was still a far drop for a
little boy. I got to him first, and
nudged Socks backward toward the corral fence, where the pony stood, reins
trailing on the ground.
“Joseph..?” Pa had arrived one step behind me, and Marie was leading Eric through the corral gate. Pa turned Joseph over gently. Joe had a cut over his left eye and a bloody
nose. It was dripping fat, red drops in
the dust as he sat forward, grinning at his family.
“I falled, dinn’t I? Where’s Socks? I wanna try again,
Adam! Pa, I falled!” Pa
tried to hold him so he could get a handkerchief under the dripping nose, but
Joe wiggled free and ran to Socks. “Help
me up, Adam. Wanna
ride!”
At Hoss’s nudge, Adam opened his
eyes and smiled at his middle brother, still thinking about his littlest
brother’s tenacity and fearlessness. He
would be quite a horseman someday. Marie
had surprised him that day two years ago.
She had allowed Joe to get right back up, nose still dripping
blood. She had placed her baby right
back into his hands, and Adam had lifted him up on Socks—over the protests of
Pa, Adam recalled. Maybe Joe gets
some of his courage from Marie. It was
a new thought for the young man, and on the hour-long trip to
Marie had wheeled Sugar toward the barn when the wagon rounded the bend. She reined the horse to a walk as they started back to the ranch. It was colder now, and Joe leaned hard against her, his body so relaxed that she knew that he must be almost asleep. She poked him. “Joseph Francois! Wake up. You must wait to sleep until the house.”
“Yes, Mama.” He said quietly, and then he coughed a little. Marie felt a tinge of worry. Joe had been quiet all morning—a sure sign that something was bothering him or that he was feeling unwell. She had thought that her youngest was just upset about being left behind. He loved to travel into town: he still saw it as a big adventure. She smiled as she remembered his pleading eyes. Ben had the most difficult time standing firm when it came to Joseph. Her baby could and did manipulate his father and brothers just by using his expressive, beautiful eyes. His whole heart showed in his eyes, and Ben had had a very hard time refusing his youngest pleading to go with them. Marie had taken pity on her husband and added her firm ‘no’. Joe knew then that it was no use arguing further. The dejected boy left his father’s chair side to reluctantly climb the stairs and go to bed.
Joe coughed again, releasing Marie from the memory of last night’s discussion. She gathered the reins in one hand, held Joseph tight against her, and urged Sugar to a trot. She needed to get Joe home and in his warm bed. It sounded like he was coming down with a cold.
Sugar sped up slightly when she approached the barn. Marie had just begun to rein her in again when the horse’s movement scared a snowshoe rabbit crouched next to the corral fence. The rabbit darted out across the road, almost under Sugar’s hooves. Marie tried to stop her slide off the back of the rearing, panicked horse. Her grip around her son tightened instinctively. Her last thoughts were of Ben, Adam, Eric, and her baby. “God!! Take care of them! Take care of my baby..save Josep..” Her head hit the corner post of the corral, and her neck broke. She was gone.
Joe was almost asleep when Sugar reared. He felt Mama’s hand tighten around his middle, and then they were falling. When they hit the ground, Joe felt his Mama’s arm squeeze him, and then relax. He rolled away from her and landed face up. Sugar’s hooves came down. He screamed. Pain slashed through his head and his right shoulder. Sugar laid her ears back and galloped away; the boy’s screams panicked her further.
Joe cried out for his Mama, trying to roll over and away from the pain. His head pounded and throbbed. Sugar’s hoof had dealt him a glancing blow, laying back a large swath of his scalp behind his right ear. It bled profusely, staining the powdery snow under him. His right arm was useless; another of Sugar’s hooves had connected at his collarbone, and he couldn’t move his shoulder or arm. Where was Mama? He tried rolling to the left, and found that that didn’t hurt so much. He got to his side and pushed himself up, supported by his left hand. Mama lay behind him. She was so still.
“Mama..” He cried brokenly. He struggled to his feet, swaying. He was dizzy and his head hurt so. He staggered the few steps to her and slumped to his knees, groaning as the movement jarred his shoulder.
“Mama..” He whispered now. His Mama did not move. Her body was so still, and her eyes…they were open, but she wasn’t looking at him. Her eyes…her eyes looked like…looked like Ranger’s eyes. Adam’s old dog, Ranger, had died one night, and when Adam had found him, he had cried and carried him back to the house. Ranger’s eyes had looked then like Mama’s eyes looked now.
He felt a pain, so much worse than his head, worse than his chest or his shoulder, and this horrible, searing pain grew within him. Huge, agonizing, and unbearable, it swelled within him and pushed up out of him. He heard a terrifying sound, and realized it was his voice, him making that awful sound. He wailed “Mama!” over and over until he was left weak, shaking with the effort of pushing out the screams, and his voice was rendered hoarse and powerless. He knew…knew that she was dead. Dead like Ranger. Dead like…like Adam’s Ma. Dead like Hoss’s Ma. She was dead. DEAD. She had died and left him and he still needed her. He cried then, until no sound escaped from his aching throat. His vision was blurry, and the tears ran unchecked down his face. Blood also trickled down, slower now, from his scalp, but it was enough to soak his collar and down his shirt halfway. He swayed forward and collapsed on top of his Mama. His left hand found her thick, loose hair and buried itself there, seeking comfort in the softness.
“Mama…” He croaked. His voice was almost gone. His throat and chest were on fire and he coughed harshly. Tears again flooded his eyes from the pain in his chest and heart. He was so weak now, his head felt so heavy that it seemed impossible to lift. He didn’t care. He knew that his Mama was dead, and he didn’t want to leave her. His fingers clutched her hair, next to her neck. She was getting cold, but he was colder. He was freezing from his heart outward
He closed his eyes against the mist falling and shivered. He lay there, atop his Mama, cold, miserable, and hurting worse than he’d ever hurt before. When the darkness crept over him, he willingly surrendered to it.
Sugar wandered back into view. She approached the still forms and snorted, blowing warm breath across the child’s face. She smelled the blood and death here and backed away, uneasy. After a moment, she turned and went into the barn, settling into her stall.
Joe was in a dark and cold place. He ran, searching for his Mama, but he couldn’t find her. He hated the dark. He called for his Papa and finally, for his brothers. But no one came for him. He was alone in the dark.
Joe’s slight form shuddered from pain and chill, but he didn’t awaken. His hand had braided itself into his mother’s hair, the strands and curls interwoven in his small fingers. He lay on top of her chest. It was warmer here than on the ground, but the falling rain had soaked his back, and now he coughed, choking on the thickening mucus in his throat. His lungs were burning with each breath, and as he slipped further into unconsciousness, he slipped further away from the pain and the cold that had taken cruel residence in his body. He wanted to find his Mama, needed her, and wanted to be with her. In his growing delirium, he saw a light ahead and called, “Mama…wait!” But the light dimmed. Joe ran forward, following his Mama into the deepening shadows.
When it began to snow, the flakes fell silently and blanketed the ground. Joe was so deeply unconscious that he did not stir as the snow gathered on and around him. Soon he and Marie were covered with a soft white quilt of snow that disguised their shapes and turned their clothing white one flake at a time.
The buying, trading, and loading went much faster than normal. Ben was pleased with the prices that Adam got at the granary, and Eric was as much help as an extra man when it came time to get everything loaded in the wagon and tied down. Hop Sing and Ben had taken care of Marie’s list at the mercantile, and they were ready to start back by four in the afternoon. Ben vowed that he would take the boys with him more often if it shaved this much time off the trip.
“All set, Adam?”
Ben looked back at his eldest, who’d just stepped up to the back of the wagon.
“Yes, pa. Tired, though.”
“Dinner should be tasty tonight, big brother.” Eric looked longingly at the pile of sugar, flour, potatoes, and other food staples, thinking about the magical ways that Hop Sing combined them. He could hardly wait for the evening meal.
“Climb up, boys; let’s go home.” Ben waited a moment for Eric and Adam to find a place among the supplies, and then he clicked his tongue against his teeth and the team started off toward the Ponderosa.
It had begun to snow while they were in town. The fat flakes fell slowly and steadily in the still air. This was just the leading edge of the storm. It was cooler now, yet Ben figured that there was plenty of time to reach the ranch before it began snowing heavily. It would feel good to walk into their warm home. Marie and Joseph would be waiting for them, holding dinner until their return. Marie would have coffee ready, and would have prepared water for them to have a bath. He thanked God again for her. He could not thank the good Lord above enough for the miracle of falling in love again. He had been incredibly blessed, three times blessed, and he had the three fine sons to prove it. He smiled in anticipation of the evening with Marie, and these thoughts warmed him on the way home.
As they approached the house, Eric was the first to notice the lack of lamplight shining from the windows. It had been snowing steadily for the past ten minutes, and the horses were tiring by the time the wagon reached the house. It was not yet full dark, so a lamp wasn’t strictly necessary, but Marie always lit the lamps early to, “welcome the night” as she said.
“Hey,
Ben shook his head in response to his middle son. He had also noted the lack of smoke from the chimney. He knew the house would be dark and cold. As he turned the wagon toward the kitchen entrance, he looked behind him and caught Adam’s worried gaze. “I expect she left us a note—maybe a neighbor came by to ask her for help?” He sounded unconvincing even to himself, and he noted that Adam’s anxiety had not diminished.
As soon as Ben reined in the team, he jumped down and walked quickly to the front door. Eric and Adam were at his heels.
“Pa..” Adam started.
“Adam. Take your brother and check the barn. See if any of the horses are missing.”
While Ben and Hop Sing searched the house, Adam and Eric ran to the barn. It was twilight now, and their feet disturbed a six-inch layer of snow that had built up slowly over the afternoon. They were oblivious to the beauty of the white layer as they rushed to the barn, both anxious to locate Marie and their little brother. Eric spotted Sugar, still wearing her bridle.
“Adam. Sugar’s here. But Ma wouldn’t have left her like that.”
Adam nodded his agreement as he looked around the rest of the barn and studied everything. He didn’t want to miss anything important. Yet he noticed nothing missing or out of place.
“Adam! Come on! There’s nothin’ here to see. Let’s go up to the house and see what Pa has found out.”
Eric was pulling at his arm, and Adam could hear the panic creeping into his brother’s voice. He was deeply concerned also. Marie wouldn’t just leave. He reluctantly followed his younger brother out and retraced their tracks through the thickening snowfall to the house. Hop Sing had lit a lantern and was standing on the porch waiting for them.
“Father says to come inside. Honorable father wants to talk to you.”
Eric and Adam nodded, and went on ahead of him into the main room. As soon as they entered, Ben turned toward them from where he was stoking the fire.
“Come here and warm up.”
The three of them crossed the room quickly, and Adam and Eric answered
the question they saw in their Pa’s eyes.
“
“All the other horses are still there.” Adam finished. Then he added. “Pa, did you—is there a note?”
Ben shook his head.
As he watched his Pa rub his hands together, Adam suddenly remembered the feeling that he’d had earlier when they had left Marie on the road. The feeling that he’d never see his stepmother and his baby brother again. He shook his head and tried to shake off the dread that was beginning to creep over him like a cold fog.
“Boys. Warm up for a minute. Then we’ll take the lanterns out and search around the house. Maybe—we’ll see something that will give us a clue as to where they are. Hop Sing and I have searched the house twice. They are not inside.”
“What you want me to do?” Hop Sing was nearly wringing his hands in distress. The two people that he loved most in this world were missing.
“Look through the house again.” Ben’s voice was strained. “Maybe we missed—something. Get some coffee going, and maybe some hot water too. If they have been outside in the cold…”
Ben’s voice trailed off, his thoughts left unfinished. If Marie and Joseph had been outside for long in this weather, they might not find them in time. He sent up a quick prayer for their safety. Then he straightened and placed a hand on Eric’s shoulder. “Grab a lantern. I want you and Adam to search around the outside of the house together. I will take the perimeter of the barn. Start close to the house and then circle outward slowly. Look sharp, boys.”
“What—what are we looking for?” Eric said, and his voice was shaky. He was not far from tears, and Ben realized how young he was.
He placed his hands on his middle son’s shoulders and waited for Eric to meet his eyes. “We’re looking for anything out of the ordinary, Hoss. Anything. You stay with Adam, you hear?”
His two sons nodded, and followed him to the front door, and then out into the rising storm. Their lanterns gave the snowy night a soft, warm glow, and a circle of light surrounded the boys as they separated from him. Ben prayed that they would find something, some sign of their missing loved ones.
On Ben’s third circuit around the barn, he noticed that Adam and Eric had spread their search to the out buildings. It was snowing harder now, and the sky was very dark. Ben could hear Adam calling for Marie and Joseph, his voice reaching him over the rising whistle of the wind. The stronger gusts blew small ice chips up and stung his face, and he realized that his sons must be as cold and uncomfortable as he was. He decided that, if no sign were found in the next ten minutes, he would take the boys into the house and wait until morning to continue searching. He stamped his boots in the snow, blowing on his free hand, and then he transferred the lantern to that hand to let his breath warm his other hand. Sighing, he continued his search.
In the end, Joe saved himself. Ben thought this later, after the two horrible, unspeakable days were over, and they knew that Joseph would recover.
Ben had waited fifteen minutes longer that the ten-minute limit he’d set for himself. But finally, he yelled for his boys to join him, and then he headed toward the porch.
Adam and Eric ran toward him as best as they could in the deepening drifts. They were hoping that he’d called them in because he’d found something.
Joe had lain hidden in a large drift by the corral post. He coughed softly, and it was just enough to keep his nose and mouth clear of snow. His head was tucked near Marie’s neck in the hollow there between her body and the fence post. The same post that took her life now saved his. It had kept the snow from covering his head completely. But now the snow was deep enough so that the drift next to the post had begun to slide in from the sides, choking off the meager flow of fresh air to the child’s mouth and nose. In his delirium, Joe had finally caught up to his mama. They were rocking together in front of a roaring fire, and he was warm and cozy cuddled there on her lap. She sang to him while they rocked, and he relaxed against her, just about asleep. Then mama stopped abruptly, startling Joe out of his doze.
“Non. Joseph. You must not sleep yet. Papa is near. He will be with you now. Mama needs to go away, love. You must wake up now…wake up, Cherie. Wake up, my precious.”
Joe moaned. His body was suddenly very cold. Where…where had the fire gone? Where was his Mama? He could still hear her singing, but he wasn’t in her lap anymore, and the sound of her voice was fading. He opened his mouth to call to her, and tried to take a deep breath. He needed to shout to her to wait, to not leave him here in the cold, but now he couldn’t breathe, and he choked. Raising his aching head slightly, he began coughing in earnest—harsh wracking coughs that tore at his throat and shook his small body, dislodging the snowy blanket that had hidden and warmed him for so many hours.
Adam heard him first and froze, grabbing at his Pa’s sleeve.
“Where..?” Ben pushed past him and ran toward the painful, wonderful sound.
Joseph was choking; he could not get enough air in his lungs, and he coughed and coughed, his face gray-blue with cold and twisted with the heavy pain in his chest. He had collapsed forward, unconscious again, before his Pa or brothers reached him.
“JOSEPH!!! OH GOD…NO!! No…no..”
In the light of his lantern, Ben had seen Marie’s hand sticking out of the snow near where his baby son lay half-buried. His mind accepted it; he knew that she was dead, but his heart denied the truth there on the ground before him.
Adam dropped to his knees and began to claw at the hardening snow, heavy sobs tearing at his throat. Eric joined him, and tears ran down his cold-reddened cheeks.
“Pa…” He cried brokenly. “Ma..she’s…” He couldn’t get any more words out through his tears.
Ben touched his baby’s blue cheek. He’d heard Joseph coughing, hadn’t he? But his tiny son looked dead. As his hand caressed the cold cheek once again, he felt a small puff of a breath on his palm. Frantically, he unfastened his jacket and draped it over Joseph.
“Pa..” Adam’s voice cracked and shivered in
grief. “Her neck..it’s broke,
Ben knew that he should comfort Adam now. Comfort both of his sons. But his eyes had locked on Marie’s face. Adam had uncovered Marie’s torso, and her eyes were open. Ben saw, with growing horror, that her eyes were frozen. Frost glittered on her irises and made them shine in the glow of the lantern.
Joe moaned and shifted slightly under the warmth of his father’s coat. Ben’s attention immediately snapped back to his youngest son. Marie was…was…dead, but Joseph wasn’t, and he needed to tend his son.
He tried to lift Joseph off Marie, but dropped his hands away when his son’s moan rose to a hoarse scream of pain. Eric had thumped down behind him, his legs unable to hold him at his brother’s cry and Marie’s sudden movement.
Eric was sickened to see that when his Pa had lifted Joe, his baby brother’s hand was tangled in Ma’s hair. When Pa lifted him, Joe’s hand had raised Ma’s head off the ground with an ugly ripping sound, the sound of her hair tearing loose from the frozen earth. Eric thought that he would hear that sound forever. It echoed in his mind as he bent his head to his knees and rocked there, weeping. After a minute, Adam found his voice and patted his brother’s back roughly.
“Eric..Hoss..get the door. Tell Hop Sing that we’ve found them. Go Eric.”
And at his big brother’s firm direction, Eric found the strength to get up and get moving toward the house—away from—away from Ma.
Adam didn’t look directly at Marie’s face again as he helped
his father clear away the snow from around her.
Joe’s hand and fingers were hopelessly tangled in her frozen hair, and
Adam had a picture come to him—a memory of the countless times that he had seen
Marie holding baby Joseph in front of the fire.
She would sit in the rocker, with her hair down, modestly covered, and
feed her baby. But Joe’s hand would
always find and bury itself in her fall of hair. He twirled his hand among the thick strands
and ran the curls through his tiny fingers as he nursed. Adam thought that he had cried all he could
for now, but he shook with grief again.
Not for himself, or Pa, or Eric, but for his baby brother. He had often envied Joe for the gift that he
had been given at birth—a loving Ma and
“No…Adam…No” His voice shook a little. “Don’t. We’ll just carry them both inside. Help me, son.” His Pa sounded so old, so broken. Adam pocketed his knife and slipped his hands under Marie’s legs and lifted while his father picked up her shoulders. If he couldn’t get Joe free out here, then they would cut him loose in the house. Adam looked at his brother, but then looked away quickly, and focused on keeping his balance in the snow. His quick glance was enough to reveal Joe’s blood streaked face, his hair matted onto his head, and his blue-gray complexion. ‘Lord.’ Adam prayed. ‘Please let him live, please. Don’t take him too. Let him live for Pa, for Eric, for me. Oh, God. Please.’
Eric held the door and Hop Sing had a warm blanket spread on the sofa in front of the fire. “Oh, Missy.” He sighed, and then helped Ben settle her on the cushions.
In the light of the house, Joe looked worse, if possible, than he had outside. Ben removed the coat that he had draped over him and directed Hop Sing to bring him the scissors from his desk. Carefully, he cut the boy’s hand away from his Mama’s hair and then lifted Joseph off of Marie’s chest.
Joe cried out at the jostling, and whimpered, “Mama..” softly. Eric cried with him. “Oh, Pa…what will we do without her? Oh…Ma…” he whispered, and bowed his head.
Hop Sing gently wrapped the blanket up and around Marie, and covered her face. He closed his eyes and laid his hand on her head for a moment, wishing her a safe journey to her awaited heaven.
“Hop Sing has bath for little Joe. Warm him up. Need to warm him up now.” He had placed a large pan from the kitchen in front of the fire and had filled it part way with warm water. It was big enough for the boy to sit in, and Ben remembered when Marie had used it to bathe baby Joseph in just a few short years ago. He swallowed back his tears. His grief would have to wait. Right now, Joseph needed him.
The cook handed Ben his scissors again, and Ben began to cut off Joe’s clothes. He let the sodden, blood stained pieces fall unheeded to the floor. He tried to move Joe as little as possible, but it seemed that any movement caused his baby more pain. He was worried about Joe’s breathing as well. He could now see the terrible wound to Joe’s head and the bruising on his right shoulder, but his ribs seemed all right. Yet his breathing was labored, and his skin was either too cold, where it had been exposed to the weather—or too warm.
Joe arched upward unexpectedly, choking and coughing until he was blue lipped and gasping. His body jerked in Ben’s arms and his eyes fluttered open. He cried hoarsely for his Mama, cried her name over and over until Ben thought he would go mad. Then, Joe’s eyes opened wide, but he didn’t appear to be looking at his Pa or at anyone else in the room. Instead, his head twisted every direction as if searching for someone. He began screaming, piercing screams for his Mama. He screamed until he had no voice left, and still his mouth opened and closed soundlessly. He struggled, trying to escape Ben’s grasp, twisting and hurting himself in his fight to get free. He began coughing again, and as he coughed repeatedly, each one seemed to Ben to wrench his son’s frame. He coughed until he ran out of air, and then his eyes rolled back and he was still, limp again in Ben’s arms.
Adam had come near to try and help, but he was frozen in place when the screaming began, shocked to stillness by his brother’s pitiful wails. When Joe fainted, Adam was moving for the front door before his mind registered his actions. He was going for the doctor. Right now. Joe needed more help than they could give him.
“Adam!” He stopped short at his Pa’s tone of voice.
“Pa…Joe’s really sick. He needs…”
Adam found himself breathless at the pain he saw reflected in his father’s eyes. “Adam…Joseph is probably going to…to…die.” Ben’s eyes closed and Adam saw the tears on his father’s face shining in the firelight.
Eric looked up, his blue eyes huge on his white face. “No! Pa…no..no…not little Joe..”
Ben continued in a wooden voice as if he did not even hear Eric’s pleas. “Adam. You will stay here with us. I will not allow you to risk yourself in this storm on the small chance that you could reach the doctor in time.”
Adam held his hat in his hand, shocked by his father’s admission. Joe was going to die? No…No…God would not be so cruel…He put his hat down on the credenza and walked slowly back to the fire. He sat down by Eric, his movements shaky. After a minute, he gathered his middle brother to him. Eric lay with his head on Adam’s lap, sobbing brokenly. “No…no…not little Joe too…No.”
Adam stroked Eric’s back, but his eyes were on the little
boy lying so still now in his Pa’s arms.
He could see Joe struggle for every breath. His face was so white, and his lips were
blue. Adam looked away, looked down, and
then put his head down atop Eric’s and closed his eyes. Why, God?
Why find him if we have to watch him die? Why? Please..please…save
him!
Hop Sing took the small, naked boy gently from his father and set him in the warm water. Ben wrung out the washcloth and began sponging the dried blood from his son’s face and body while Hop Sing held the boy upright. Ben left Joseph’s head injury alone, he was afraid that the wound would break open again. From the look of his son’s clothes, the boy had lost as much blood as he could afford to lose.
The steam from the warm water had begun to work on Joe’s lungs, loosening the thick build-up of infection there. When Joe began coughing again, it now was a heavy, retching sound, and Hop Sing quickly leaned the boy forward in a sitting position. Joe coughed again and gagged as large ropes of thick yellow-green mucus fell into the bathwater. Ben gently lifted his son away from the mess and into a warm towel. He tried to be careful of the boy’s shoulder and head, but Joe still squirmed and moaned in pain. Ben wished that he could take the pain for his baby boy, he was all he had left of Marie now, and he was suffering. He felt as if every moan and cry of pain cut off a small piece of his own heart.
Joe shivered in his arms, but his body wasn’t cold anymore. He had a fever. “Joseph. Joe. Papa’s holding you. Joe, keep fighting. We need you here, baby. You need to stay with us.” He spared a glance to his two older sons by the fire and wished that he had held his tongue earlier, but Adam’s rush to the door had frightened him. He was almost positive Joe would not survive this illness, and he did not want to lose Adam as well.
He looked up as Hop Sing brought a nightshirt over and helped him slip it over Joe’s head. Then he held Joseph close as the cook carefully cleaned the head wound, softening the matted hair with warm water and washing away the dried blood.
“This need stitching.” Hop Sing said softly. “It wait ‘til doctor come.” He wrapped a clean bandage around the boy’s head and stood up. He blinked his eyes rapidly, trying to clear his vision. Little Joe was like his son too. He had helped Mrs. Cartwright in childbirth, and he had welcomed the beautiful baby to the light of the world. He’d been with him every day since then. He sighed. Joseph had sickness in his lungs, some of the worst he had ever heard, and the small boy would probably die. So much sadness in this house now. How much more would there be if this child died? He did not know if Mr. Cartwright could bear it. He did not know if he could bear it. He would do all he could to prevent such sadness, he determined. “I will make a medicine for little Joe.”
Ben nodded at him and hoped that he could perform some miracle and heal the child in his arms.
Joe was gasping again, his mouth opening and closing in a fruitless search for more air, more oxygen. Ben sat him upright, and his breathing eased.
Ben looked down at his youngest. He felt more helpless now that he’d ever felt before. There was nothing for him to do but to hold Joseph and pray for a miracle. He’d seen this kind of sickness before, on the trail west. The men and women who got it sometimes recovered, but the children always died. They died hard. He didn’t want that for his beloved Joseph, his baby. He closed his eyes.
“God. Please spare my son. Please. He has so much to live for, so much life left to live. He has brought so much joy to this house…Please, God…please…”
And now Ben’s control broke and he cried, sobs racking his body; he shook with the pain he felt in losing Marie and the fear he felt for Joseph.
Adam looked up and reached out, taking his Pa’s hand, and agreeing with his prayer. He added his own for the good Lord to spare his brother.
Eric’s head was pillowed on Adam’s lap; he had fallen asleep, exhausted by the day and the grief that had ended it. He had just lost the only Ma that he had ever known. Adam looked down at him, and his tears fell for his Pa and for his two younger brothers. He cried for all of them.
All through the long night, Ben and Hop Sing cared for Joseph. He lay so still in Ben’s arms, his face pale and his lips bluish purple. All his energy was focused on breathing. He sucked in every breath through his partially blocked throat, and winced as the air bubbled through his fluid-filled lungs. Ben tried to hold him up, so his breathing came easier, but his baby still struggled for every breath.
On the floor at his feet, Adam had fallen asleep by Eric, and Hop Sing had covered the two boys with blankets. The fire burned, and Ben felt its warmth on his skin, but his heart seemed to be frozen. Cold fear had plunged its fingers into his chest and was squeezing his heart unmercifully. He waited after each of Joe’s breaths to see if his baby would draw another.
Hop Sing had been placing onion poultices around the boy’s middle, and the heat and smell of them was making Ben ill. It didn’t seem to be helping Joseph’s breathing, but Ben couldn’t bring himself to ask Hop Sing to stop. He was desperate to help little Joe, and who knew…maybe the onion treatments would help. Ben realized that it was almost dawn now. This had been the longest night in his memory. Joseph’s painful breaths and tiny moans tore at him, and made each minute feel like an hour. Ben sat and listened to the wind echo Joe. Its louder moans along the eaves seemed to mock his son’s small cries. He’d heard the snow turn to rain in the night; it seemed the very sky was crying with him over the events of yesterday.
Ben placed his hand gently against Joe’s back, rubbing in slow circles and talking quietly to his youngest, not wanting to disturb Adam or Eric.
“Joseph, I love you. Keep fighting, my little son. You are needed here. You must not give up, Joe. Breathe, baby…keep breathing.” He whispered in his son’s ear, any words of comfort he could think of, and even recited all Joe’s favorite nursery stories that he could remember or dream up. He talked to his son until he was hoarse and full morning light had come.
Ben blinked. He was tired beyond words. Morning was here, and Joseph had lived to see it. He helped Hop Sing change the bandage on Joe’s head and strap the boy’s right arm tightly to his body to keep his injured shoulder immobile. They had lain him down to do this, and after a few moments, Joe gasped for air, his face turning blue. Quickly, Ben lifted him upright, resting Joe’s head on his shoulder. After that, Ben let Hop Sing tend Joseph alone. He concentrated on holding Joe close, and felt his struggle to draw in air. His little body thrummed with the effort…the effort of the simple act of breathing in and out. Joe wasn’t even coughing anymore and he lay against Ben, his body tense, while his head drooped heavily on his Papa’s shoulder.
Ben cradled Joe’s head, feeling the silky curls beneath his
fingers. His youngest puffed out short
labored breaths against his neck. What
would I give, Ben wondered, if right now I could
just ease his breathing. Just help him
to relax and sleep so he could heal. I’d
give this ranch. I’d give my life. Oh Marie, help your son…help our son.
He cried then, his tears wetting Joe’s neck.
Adam was awake now. Eric shifted and coughed next to him. He sounded like he was getting sick too. Adam got up quickly, stretched, and then stood beside his Pa’s chair. Joe was still alive—but he looked awful. He looked worse than he did last night. On the floor, Eric coughed again.
“Pa..”
Ben wiped his face with his free hand and looked up at his eldest son. He cleared his throat.
“Adam. Check the sky. It looks lighter than yesterday. If the weather has improved, ride for the doctor.”
Concerned, Adam stared at his
“Pa…are you going to be all right? You look…”
Ben waved him off with his free hand. He was more tired than he’d ever been, but he would sit with Joseph until Joe was well, or…He didn’t want to think about the alternative.
“Adam. Get going as soon as you can.” Ben looked for a long moment at the couch, where the still form of Marie lay shrouded in the blanket. “Adam. Send the doctor, and then stop at the undertakers. Tell Lew that I want the finest mahogany coffin he has in stock. Arrange for it, son.”
Ben looked down at the pain in Adam’s face and began stroking Joe’s head.
“Yes,
“I’m sorry, Adam.” He whispered as the front door closed, and Adam was on his way.
On the floor, Eric shifted and coughed again. Ben studied his middle son worriedly, and prayed that the doctor would arrive quickly.
Adam did not remember anything about the ride to town; he
was so focused on reaching Doc Martin.
Joe had lived this long; if he hurried, maybe the Doc could do something
more for his youngest brother. It
sounded like Eric was getting sick too.
Adam was afraid—so afraid of what Joe’s death would do to
He pounded on Doc Martin’s door, and when the Doc answered, he quickly relayed the tragic events of yesterday. The Doc’s eyes misted over at his account of Marie’s death, but he briskly questioned Adam about Joe while he rummaged through his medical supplies and made ready to leave. Adam helped him harness the buggy, and then watched him head toward the ranch. He prayed that God would spare Joe until he arrived, and prayed that God would give the Doc the skills to save his baby brother.
When Paul Martin’s buggy disappeared in the distance, Adam squared his shoulders and turned toward the undertaker’s house.
Somehow, Adam got through the retelling of Marie’s death, and let Lew know about his father’s wishes. Lew agreed to deliver the casket by that afternoon. Almost before the words were out of his mouth, Adam had mounted up and was ready to head for home.
The landscape blurred around him as Adam fought with his emotions. He couldn’t seem to quit crying. Every time he’d blink his eyes clear, his mind would betray him with another scene from last night. Marie’s eyes shining in the lamplight, Joe’s cries for his Mama; Joe’s fingers tangled in Marie’s hair; Pa’s cry of anguish at the hideous discovery of Marie’s body in the snow. Pa’s cry of ‘Oh, God! No!’ echoed over and over in Adam’s head, spurring him on. He felt so guilty for all the times that he had resisted Marie’s attempts to mother him. He wished, like the child he still was, that he could turn back time and do it all again. This time, he’d gladly accept all the mother love that Marie had freely offered. He had been stubborn and stupid! Now, it was too late. His overtired mind replayed all the impatient and unkind things that he’d said to his stepmother, and he had to stop before he got to the house to get control of himself. He couldn’t cry like this in front of Pa or Eric. He had to be strong.
Adam dismounted at the porch and left his horse there. Unsaddling and caring for the mare would have to wait. He had to see Joe. He couldn’t make it right with Marie. It was too late. But he could try to help his brother…her son.
In the main room, Adam’s entrance had gone unnoticed. Doc Martin had his hand on Ben’s shoulder. His face said everything. Doc thought Joe was dying. His father’s head was shaking back and forth, and Adam quickly crossed to his Pa’s chair to listen.
“No…no…Paul. He’s lived this long. That has to count for something. There has got to be something that you can do for him.” Ben’s desperate tones made Adam’s eyes well with tears again.
“Ben. It’s just a miracle that Joseph is still breathing. His lungs are full of fluid. You can hear it when he tries to take a breath. I don’t know how he has lasted this long. You need to prepare yourself…”
“NO! No…I can’t lose
him too. I can’t…” Ben’s voice, hoarse with emotion, broke at
the last words and his shoulders shook.
Adam knelt by his
“Ben…he’s not getting enough oxygen and he’s burning up. If I give him something to lower his temperature, it will depress his breathing further. He’d die more quickly. Ben, I…” Paul stopped and looked down at Adam. He had tears in his eyes. This family would suffer a double loss. Ben had lost his wife and his youngest son would die today. Paul’s concern was not for Joseph anymore—he was minutes, possibly hours from joining his mother. His concern was for his friend, Ben. Ben was on the verge of a physical collapse. He had been up for two days, and almost one complete day of that had been full of unspeakable grief and the stress of caring for a dying child. Ben needed rest immediately. Paul tried again.
“Ben. Eric and Adam need you too. You must rest.”
“NO! No…If I lie down, Joseph will choke. He has to sit up to breathe.”
“Pa…” Ben looked over at Adam. He hadn’t seen him come in. How long had he been kneeling there?
“
Ben did not want to relinquish his baby. He knew, despite his denials, that Joseph was dying. He had felt the boy slip further away from him hour by hour. He looked into Adam’s pleading eyes and nodded slowly.
Joe did not stir as Adam lifted him carefully away from
“All right, Paul. I’ll sleep. But not away from Joseph. We stay together. And you promise to wake me if…if…”
Adam interrupted. “
Ben smiled at Adam and rested his hand briefly on his oldest son’s cheek. “You are a fine son, Adam. I…I love you, boy.”
Adam nodded, his father’s hand
still warm on his cheek. “I love you
too,
Paul stayed long enough to get Ben settled and to check on Eric. His fever was down. It looked like he had a simple cold. When Doc Martin left to go on his rounds, he promised Adam and Hop Sing that he would return later that day to check on everyone.
As he drove away, he knew that upon his return, he would be filling out another death certificate for this family. He sighed tiredly. Sometimes he hated being a doctor. Times like this were the worst. He was weaponless in the fight to hold back death. The shadow was falling across Joe’s life, and there was nothing that he could do to prevent it.
Adam listened to the regular breathing of Eric and the
heavier sighs of his
Hop Sing entered the room and tucked a blanket around Joe, then went downstairs to his kitchen. In sad times, he took comfort in the warm room. It was here that he felt most at home, among his pots and pans. The little room was full of memories—happier memories of Missy Cartwright holding her baby and directing him in the proper way to prepare one of the French dishes that she was so fond of. He sniffed mightily and thought that it must be the onions that were making his eyes sting so. He sighed and began preparations for a broth to tempt the appetites of Ben and Eric when they woke. He knew that Joe would recover. He had to.
Upstairs, Adam continued to rock Joe. The movement was making him sleepy, and he rested his head against the back of the rocker. It had been a wearisome two days, full of worry and grief, and he was having a hard time staying awake.
His eyes blinked more slowly, the rocker slowed as well, and, after a minute, his eyes dipped closed and he slept.
He was dreaming. In his dream, he was fourteen again, and he was rocking Joe in Pa and Marie’s room. Joe was almost asleep. He had his blanket tucked in his hand and his thumb was securely anchored in his mouth. He smiled sleepily around his thumb at Adam, and squeezed his blanket in his fist. Adam smiled back and tickled Joe’s tummy a little. He heard the sweet sound of his brother’s laughter. When Adam stopped tickling, Joe cuddled closer and closed his eyes. He was still smiling when his body relaxed with a heaviness that only sleeping babies have. Adam felt a warm swell of pure love for this little boy. As he looked down at his sleeping brother, he heard Marie’s voice behind him.
“You are so good with your brothers, Adam. You will be a wonderful Papa. You have gotten him to sleep already. Merci, Adam.”
He twisted around to see her, surprised to hear her voice. But she was nowhere to be seen, and he knew, still in his dream, he knew that he was dreaming. He knew the Marie was dead. Yet he could still hear her voice, growing more faint. He mumbled in his sleep to her. “I…I’m so..so sorry Marie. Sorry…Ma. I…I should have called you Ma long ago…”
She seemed to whisper in his ear. “Adam. I love you. You are a wonderful boy, and I am proud of the man that you are becoming. I am proud to call you ‘son’. I know that you will help your Pa care for Eric and Joseph. I know that you will…”
Her voice was gone now and Adam opened his eyes, startled to realize that he had fallen asleep. He looked down. Joe had been up on his shoulder, but he had slipped down onto his lap, and his little legs were tangled in the blanket and through the armrest spokes. His eyes were open, but he was a gray-blue. Horrified, Adam registered that Joseph was no longer breathing.
“Oh God! No!…no…” Adam sobbed. He tried to jerk Joe up on his shoulder again, but the boy’s legs were still caught in the chair and the blanket, and rather than lifting his brother, his frantic movements slammed Joe’s stomach into the armrest. The chair arm struck the boy just under his ribcage and Adam felt his little body spasm as Joe vomited a rush of thick green fluid onto the floor. Adam quickly untangled him and grabbed the basin from off the dresser next to the rocker. He shoved it under the retching boy in time to catch the rapidly thinning mess of fluid that Joe continued to cough up. It smelled like onions, and Adam gagged a little at the sound and sight of it all. Joe sucked in huge gulps of air only to cough them back out again. Adam tilted Joseph down slightly to help him clear his throat. He rubbed Joe’s back and whispered.
“It’s O.K., buddy. Get it all out. You’ll feel better. It’s O.K., Adam’s got you. Your big brother’s got you.”
Joe shuddered as his sobbing coughs becoming less frequent. Adam put the basin down and reached over for the towel. He turned Joe to face him and then cleaned around his brother’s mouth. Joe looked up at him, tears caught on his lashes.
“Adam. I’m thirsty…Adam? Why are you cryin’?”
Joe slowly scooted himself up closer to Adam’s face and patted his cheek with his left hand. He wiped a tear away. “Don’t cry, Adam. Mama told me that she had to go.” The boy’s chin trembled and more tears welled up in his own eyes. “Don’t cry.” He whispered.
Adam swallowed back his own tears and gave his little brother a shaky smile. He hugged Joe tightly to him and began to rock him slowly.
“Adam? Will you rock me? From now on?” Joe was relaxing against him, molding his body to Adam’s as he succumbed to the exhaustion of his illness and his grief.
Adam closed his eyes briefly, his voice soft and heavy with sorrow. “Yes, Joe. I’ll rock you from now on.”
Joseph smiled sadly. He was safe. His big brother was here, and his big brother would rock him. But, oh how he missed his Mama. He closed his eyes and felt the tears run down the sides of his face, wetting Adam’s shirt. Adam’s hand brushed gently across his cheeks, catching some of the tears. Joe clasped his big brother’s hand tightly.
The last thing Joe heard before he slipped into sleep was Adam singing to him. Softly, Adam sang the French lullabies that his Mama had taught him. Adam sang and rocked until Joe relaxed completely. He sang, rocking his baby brother. He rocked and sang the French lyrics and watched Joe’s eyes move under the lids. He watched Joe dream his innocent dreams while he sang.
Adam rocked and sang, thankful for every easy breath that Joe now breathed. He sang until he heard his Pa’s exclamation of joy, and felt Ben’s hand on his shoulder.
“Adam! He’s better! He’s going to be all right. Oh, thank you, Lord.”
Adam stopped singing then and smiled up at his Pa with blinding happiness. Ben sank to his knees in front of the rocker and gathered his oldest and youngest close in his arms, gently rocking them back and forth.
Still cuddling his sleeping brother, Adam laid his head on his Pa’s shoulder and closed his eyes. He was so tired.
Ben felt Adam relax against him, and he knew that he had fallen asleep. Gently, he pushed his eldest back against the rocker cushion and stood up, his legs stiff and shaky. He took a deep breath; he was weak with relief. Moments ago, when he had awakened to the sound of Adam’s clear tenor voice, he had thought that he heard Marie singing. Now, he looked down at his sleeping sons. Joe had strapped himself tightly around Adam’s middle, his good hand clutching his brother’s shirt even in his sleep. His face was relaxed and although his eyes were deeply shadowed, Ben could see that his fever had broken and his breathing was much less labored. Adam’s young face was lined with weariness, and Ben touched his cheek, tracing the line a tear had left. Adam stirred under his hand, and Ben decided to move his sons to the bed.
He laid them both by Eric, and neither Adam nor Joe stirred. He stood looking at the three of them, his heart warm and full of gratitude. He…they…had all lost Marie, but they still had each other. He still had his sons.
After another minute of just watching his sons sleep, Ben
knelt by the bed and bowed his head, laying it on the coverlet next to Adam’s
hand. At first, he could think of no
words to say, and groaned aloud, his grief closing his throat. He knew that God understood him. He was so thankful for his sons, yet his
heart longed for his love, his Marie.
He could almost see her there, feel her next to
him as he rocked forward in sorrow. He
knew what she would say if she were there.
‘Ben, cher.
Stop this at once, my love. You must be strong for our boys. You must guide them without me now, and show
them how to be honorable men.’
And yet in that moment, he realized that he was not alone, had never been alone. God was here, too. He could almost hear Marie’s laugh ring out in agreement. Yes. God was here. God is here. Ben closed his eyes and thanked God for each of his sons, asked Him for help to somehow get through the next days and weeks.
In the middle of his prayer, Ben fell asleep. His head was resting by Adam, and his arm was draped protectively over all three of his sons. Ben’s arm covered his sons like a shield.
Hop Sing and Doctor Martin found them like this a half an hour later. The two men stood by the bed for a moment, enjoying the sight, and then Hop Sing motioned for the Doctor to follow him down the stairs. On the way down, both of them marveled at the miraculous recovery. Both agreed that no family deserved it more, and they thanked God for sparing Joe’s life. As Hop Sing waved at the departing doctor, he smiled at the memory of the scene upstairs. Smiled his love for the honorable father and his three fine sons.
“I will take care of them, Missy.” He whispered, and turned his smile up to the sky. He felt the sun’s warmth on his face even after he closed the front door.
The End.