Written in honor of Katie, one of the original Tahoe
Ladies
She touched so many people in so many ways
and because of her, I received a gift of friendship I will always treasure.
Adam approached the overlook quietly, his boots making only little shuffling
noises on the pine needle covered ground.
He wasn’t hiding his presence, just offering the courtesy of not
intruding on his little brother’s grief.
Joe stood at the very edge of the land that jutted out over the lake,
the cool dawn breeze ruffling his soft curls.
Tear tracks ran down his cheeks, glinting in the early sun. Of all things, Adam admired this about his
brother – he was never afraid to feel.
“She was special,” Joe said. “I never
met her, but she was special.”
Adam moved to his side and gazed across the water to the snow-capped mountains
beyond. “Her letters came from
Joe looked down, and when he blinked, more tears fell from his lashes. “Maybe . . . but there was
something about getting the letters.
Reading what she said, learning about her through her words, seeing her
handwriting . . .”
Adam nodded; he understood well the power and mystique of the written
word. Then, curiosity lacing his deep
voice, he asked, “How did you two start writing to each other, anyway? You never said.”
Joe took a deep breath and sighed. “Oh, a friend of a friend.
That kind of thing. She was curious about ranch life, so she
wrote to me asking all kinds of questions.”
He laughed suddenly. “I know Pa
wondered why I was suddenly so interested in some of the stuff around here.”
Adam smiled in return, remembering a couple of questions Joe had put to him,
remembering his own pleased puzzlement at his little brother’s sudden interest
in subjects that had previously bored him to the point of yawns. “So that’s what that was all about.”
“She was interested in everything. We
started out writing back and forth about the ranch, but pretty soon, we were
talking about all kinds of things.” His
voice suddenly dropped. “You would’ve
liked her, Adam. She cared about doing
things the right way, making sure people were treated right. A couple letters I got, when she was mad
about something, I wished I could’ve been there to help. Thing is, though, she was tough. She didn’t really need any help. Maybe just friends around to tell her she was
right, and that it was worth the fight.”
“You did that for her, Joe, by writing back.”
Now it was his turn to sigh. “I
remember getting letters from all of you when I was in college. I felt so alone sometimes, especially that
first year. Trying to fit in, trying to
catch up on all the subjects I needed.
I’d get tired and wonder if it was worth it. Then I’d pull out my box of letters and read
through them again. Sometimes they were
just funny stories about some trouble you and Hoss had gotten into, sometimes
it was Pa writing about what was going on with the ranch – it didn’t really
matter, it was the love and the caring that shone through. The sharing of what was important to each of
you.”
Adam laid his arm across Joe’s shoulders and gently squeezed. “When it comes down to it, to have family, to
have friends who care about you, about what you’re doing – whether they’re
standing next to you or sharing their thoughts with pen and ink – it’s the most
wonderful gift in the world. They are
the ones who make the fight worthwhile.”
“I hope so,” he said softly. “I hope she
thought so.”
Adam turned Joe then, turned him so he could look him in the eyes, and said
simply, “I know she did.” He gathered his brother into his arms, stroking his
hair like he had when he was a little boy, and held him close to his heart
while he wept.
Bless you, Katie,
wherever you are,
for fighting the good fight
and for sharing a very special part of
yourself with us
Becky,