Hate and Fear
By Rona
Smoke writhed under the wooden door, and set the man coughing. He struggled
against the ropes that tightly bound him to the supporting pole in the middle
of the cabin, but his struggles only seemed to make the knots tighter. He
coughed again. From outside, the howling of the mob grew louder and louder,
and the man could hardly believe that these people, who he’d known all his
life, were intent on burning him to death, all because he had tried to protect
the woman who lived here.
He didn’t know where Grace was anymore. He hadn’t seen her since the mob
had dragged him away from the corral, beaten him, tied him in the cabin, and
then set it on fire. Again, the smoke tickled his throat, causing him to
cough. The movement of his ribs set off painful spasms in the bruised, strained
muscles of his chest. “Let me out of here!” he yelled, and choked on the
smoke. It came to him that he would die there, and the thought of never seeing
his family again sent a sharp pain through his heart.
Every breath was torture now, as the door burst into flames. The man felt
his head swimming as he was forced to breathe in the smoke, which thickened
with every passing second. He knew a last moment of fear, as he slumped unconscious
in his bonds.
*********
“Well now,” murmured Adam Cartwright, “that’ll set the cat among the pigeons.”
He spoke in the dry tones that often covered his real feelings.
“What will?” asked Joe Cartwright, the youngest of Adam’s brothers. He hitched
his pinto pony to the rail in front of the church, and looked at Adam. Following
his brother’s gaze, he saw one of their neighbours, Jed Wilkins, driving his
buggy along the street. There was a woman sitting beside him. “Is that Jed’s
new wife?”
“Yes, that’s her,” Ben Cartwright replied. He patted his buckskin horse.
“I wonder what the reaction will be.”
“I’m sure you could guess,” retorted Adam.
“What’s got everyone so fired up?” enquired Hoss, the middle brother, as
he saw the undercurrent of disapproval surge around the good folks of Virginia
City who were gathered outside the church.
“Yeah,” Joe chimed in. “You’d think Jed had murdered somebody, the way they’re
all acting.”
Neither Ben nor Adam replied, because Jed and his wife were now close enough
to hear. Jed stopped the buggy beside the Ponderosa horses, and Joe and Hoss
could immediately see what had the townsfolk so riled up.
Jed’s new wife was an Indian!
************
“How do you do, Mrs Wilkins?” Ben said, stepping forward, and ignoring the
disapproving stares of the townspeople. “I’m Ben Cartwright. I’m pleased to
meet you.”
“Mr Cartwright,” responded the beautiful woman, in perfect, unaccented English.
“Jed has told me about you.” She smiled, seeming oblivious to the staring
crowd.
“These are my sons,” Ben added, and introduced them one by one. Adam was
as calm as ever, touching his hat politely. Hoss blushed, and mumbled something
none of them caught. Joe whipped his hat off and smiled his most charming
smile, and kissed Mrs Wilkins hand. Ben hid a smile. He could have predicted
each of his sons’ reactions exactly.
“Morning, Ben,” said Jed, warmly. He assisted his wife down from the buggy.
“Grace, you have to watch Little Joe here,” he said, jokingly. “He likes to
flirt with the ladies.”
Turning her large, dark eyes on Joe, she smiled at him. “Why are you called
Little Joe?” she asked. “You seem quite tall to me.” She stood barely more
than 5 feet tall.
Unabashed, Joe grinned back. “Well, ma’m, you see, its this over sized family
I have. I seem quite little in comparison.”
Looking at Joe’s family, Mrs Wilkins began to laugh. “Well, I suppose you’ll
just have to call me Tiny Grace, then,” she responded.
The church bell began to toll, and they composed themselves to go into church.
Joe couldn’t suppress a sigh, for he found it very difficult to sit still
through the long service. He often thought the reverend repeated himself too
many times, and could say the important things in half the time. A small hand
patted him on the arm, and he found himself getting a sympathetic smile from
Grace.
As the Cartwrights and the Wilkins settled themselves in their pews, the
muttering grew louder. From where he sat, Joe could see Jed’s neck getting
red, and he was angry on their behalf. He and his brothers had been brought
up to treat everyone the same, no matter their race, colour or creed. Unfortunately,
it was an unusual attitude to find, and the people of Virginia City were acting
in the same way that most of the people in America would act. It didn’t excuse
them, in Joe’s eyes. He thought Grace was one of the most beautiful women
he had ever set eyes on. She was small, and slender, and moved with uncommon
grace. Her black hair was straight and shiny and fashionably styled. Her
clothes were immaculate, down to the black kid boots, which peeped out below
the hem of her silk dress. She had large, almond shaped eyes, a small nose
and sensuous mouth. Grace was altogether one of the most exotic women Joe
had ever seen.
Noticing Joe’s preoccupation, Ben nudged his youngest son in the ribs. With
a start, Joe realised he’d been staring, and hastily looked away. He could
feel a flush crawling up his neck. Turning his head, he smiled guiltily at
Ben, who nodded reprovingly. Joe didn’t know that Ben was fighting not to
laugh at his son’s puppy dog eyes.
The service began. They stood to sing the first hymn, and Joe mouthed the
familiar words, while watching the minister, who glared at Grace all the time.
Joe was rather shocked. Shouldn’t the minister be above feeling like that?
Surely he tended to all God’s creatures, regardless? Joe resolved to ask
his father about it after the service was over.
Above Adam’s beautiful baritone voice, Joe heard a new female voice singing,
one he hadn’t heard before. It was only when Grace turned to look at Adam
and smile that Joe realised it was she who was singing so wonderfully. Joe
could sing a bit, but he didn’t have Adam’s talent. It made him appreciate
people who did.
The church was warm and stuffy, and as the sermon began, Joe found himself
drifting off to sleep. He was jarred awake several times as the reverend thumped
the pulpit vigorously to make a point. When this had happened a few times,
Joe sat up and began to take more notice. He realised the reverend was talking
about heathen savages, and some of their less Christian practices, and was
looking directly at Grace all the time.
Furious, Joe wondered what he could do. Ben’s hand suddenly clamped down
on Joe’s wrist, and he looked up in surprise. Ben was glaring at Joe and shaking
his head. For a moment, Joe resisted, but Ben’s grip didn’t slacken. Swallowing
hard, Joe relaxed his tensed muscles, and after a moment, that bruising grip
had gone.
When finally the service was over, the Cartwrights moved to join the people
leaving the church and shaking the reverend’s hand. Ben put his hand on Joe’s
arm. “Just shake the man’s hand and say nothing,” he warned, in his hardest
voice. “We don’t want to start any trouble.”
“But, Pa,” Joe protested.
“No, Joseph, its not our place to start this fight. Its up to Jed and Grace.
Don’t say anything!” And the flint edge to Ben’s voice left no doubt in Joe’s
mind what would happen if Joe disobeyed him.
“Yes, sir,” Joe muttered, sulkily. He shuffled obediently into the queue,
and shook fingertips with the reverend at the door. Not waiting for the rest
of his family, he went across to Cochise, his pinto gelding, and began to
tighten the cinch. Hoss appeared on the other side of Joe’s mount, and his
face was as white and pinched as Joe’s felt. Beyond him, Adam looked almost
as calm as ever. Almost.
“Jed, Grace, I was wondering if you’d like to come back to the Ponderosa
for some lunch?” Ben said, loudly.
A round of shocked muttering broke out as Ben’s powerful voice carried easily
on the balmy air. Several heads turned to look at the Cartwrights. “Indian
lover!” muttered one person, safely lost in the crowd. Ben acted as though
he hadn’t heard.
“That’s mighty neighbourly of you, Ben,” Jed said, in a falsely bright voice.
“But its real short notice. It would be too much trouble.”
“Its no trouble at all,” Ben assured him. “Grace, prevail upon your husband
to come.”
“I’d love to go,” Grace said, looking at Jed.
“I guess its settled then,” Jed said, with a laugh. He helped Grace into
the buggy.
*********
Lunch was a pleasant affair, with Hop Sing delighted to show off his skills
to somebody new. Grace was a witty companion, and soon had them all laughing.
Only Joe couldn’t quite shake off the bad taste left in his mouth by the attitude
of the so-called Christians that morning. Ben glanced at his youngest son
several times during the meal, hoping that Joe wouldn’t say anything inappropriate.
However, Joe’s manners were excellent, and he contained his anger.
After they left the table, Joe wandered outside for a breath of fresh air.
He stood by the corral, desperately wanting to hit someone or something, anything
to ease his frustration. A soft step sounded behind him, and he turned to
see Grace following him. “I’ll go if you want to be alone,” she said.
“No, that’s all right. Please stay.” Joe found a smile, but by now Grace
had realised that something was troubling the youngest Cartwright, and she
didn’t have to look far to find the cause.
“I’m used to it, you know,” she said, pleasantly.
It was like releasing a cork from a bottle. “You shouldn’t have to be used
to it!” cried Joe, passionately. “Its wrong! I don’t know why people behave
like that!”
“I don’t know either,” Grace admitted, sadly. “But they do, time and again.
You and your family are exceptions, you know. Not many people of your father’s
standing would ask an Indian girl into their home.”
“What difference does it make if you’re an Indian!” Joe exclaimed. “So what?”
“In an ideal world, it wouldn’t,” Grace said. “But this isn’t an ideal world.
Nobody sees that I’m more than just an Indian. In fact, I’m more you than
I am like the Indians. I never lived with a tribe. I know a little about my
people, but I was raised in New York, and was adopted by kind people, who
taught me to love myself. But the colour of my skin, and my breeding puts
me apart from others. I’m even shunned by the Indians, because my mother was
from one tribe, and my father from a different one, and neither tribe wanted
me when my parents died. If it hadn’t been for the preacher who came to the
reservation, I would have died.”
“I’m ashamed of the way those people treated you,” Joe said. “I never thought
they were like that.”
Grace put her hand on Joe’s arm. “Joe, the important thing is you’re not
like that. You aren’t responsible for others’ behaviour.”
“No, I guess not,” agreed Joe, calming down now after his outburst. “But
I’m still sorry.”
“Come back inside,” Grace coaxed. “Tell me all about your part in the Ponderosa’s
success.”
Gallantly offering his arm, Joe led her back to the house, talking about
his beloved horses.
*********
The whole of Virginia City was in an uproar, following that Sunday. Ben’s
invitation to the Wilkins had shown the town firmly where he stood, not that
it was any real surprise. But many were unhappy about Grace being allowed
to live with a ‘civilised’ man, and worse, that she came to the church. There
was a growing ground swell of resentment against the Cartwrights. It bubbled
and swelled, fuelled amongst the younger men by drink.
Not that anyone would dream of taking on Ben. He was too well respected
for them to take their displeasure out on. Adam was much the same. He came
to town and drank in the saloon, but he generally kept out of trouble, unless
his brothers were involved. He was impossible to goad into a fight. Hoss was
simply too big. Nobody in their right mind picked a fight with Hoss Cartwright!
But Joe was a different story all together. Everyone knew how volatile his
temper was. He was in town alone more often than anyone apart from Ben, and
there wasn’t a person who knew him who’d be surprised if he became involved
in a fight. So the young men of the town hatched their plans and waited.
They didn’t have long to wait. On Tuesday morning, Joe rode into town shortly
before noon to collect the mail. He had one or two other small tasks to see
to, then he headed for the Bucket of Blood for a beer, before setting off
for home.
“A beer, Sam, please,” Joe said, tossing a coin onto the bar.
In silence, Sam drew a beer, and placed it in front of Joe. “Thanks,” Joe
said, cheerfully, and took a mouthful, pretending not to notice that Sam wasn’t
talking to him. Turning to lean against the bar, Joe found he had become
a pariah. Everyone he knew avoided his gaze. Joe immediately knew what was
going on. He felt angry again, but carried on pretending he hadn’t noticed
anything. He drank his beer as slowly as he could, then gave Sam a cheerful
farewell, and went outside.
Cochise stood drowsing in the heat of the day, and Joe paused to look up
and down the street. Everyone seemed to be avoiding looking at him. Joe squared
his shoulders defiantly. If that was how they wanted to be, it was fine with
him.
Something hard poked him in the ribs, and he froze, recognising the feel
of a gun. “Into the alley, Cartwright,” said a low voice, and Joe glanced
round to see one man on each side of him. He felt his gun being lifted from
his holster. Joe had no choice, and he went into the alley.
There was quite a crowd by this time. Joe thought about 12 men, most of
them the worse for drink. He tried to get some room, but they crowded in
around him, and a couple grabbed his arms. Joe struggled uselessly. “We don’t
like Injun lovers round here,” said the spokesman, Drew Dunn. “We’re gonna
show you what we do to Injun lovers!”
Shaking off one of the men who held him Joe took the initiative, and threw
the first punch. He decked the guy he hit, but it was the last person who
felt his wrath. The mob, egged on by drink and company, jumped on him and
Joe went down under a welter of kicks and blows. When they finally broke and
ran, Joe was unconscious.
**********
“Hey, Sam,” said, Sheriff Roy Coffee as he entered the saloon. “Is Little
Joe Cartwright still here?”
“No, sheriff, he left some time ago,” Sam replied.
“Thanks,” Roy said, mystified. Cochise still stood at the hitching rail,
but Joe was nowhere to be seen. Roy had hoped to send a message to Ben saying
that he would be coming out to play checkers, as invited, the following evening.
Knowing that Joe wouldn’t leave Cochise, Roy had been hunting for him all
over town, but hadn’t found him.
A noise from the alley drew Roy’s attention, and he glanced down it to see
Joe trying to get up. “Joe!” Roy exclaimed, and rushed to the young man’s
side.
He let out an exclamation of horror as he got a close look at Joe. Joe’s
face was gashed, swelling and bleeding. His lips were split, his clothing
torn. It was obvious that Joe had no idea where he was. He tried to take his
weight on his right arm, and it collapsed underneath him, and Joe let out
a fearful groan. “Don’t try to move, son,” Roy ordered, and rushed back to
the street. “Somebody get the doctor!” he bellowed, and saw a figure run off
in response.
A short while later, Joe was in Dr Paul Martin’s office, carried there by
willing hands. Paul was horrified by Joe’s condition. He gently cleaned the
cuts on Joe’s face, and felt carefully round his ribs, deciding that he’d
broken at least one on each side. Joe’s wrist was swelling, but Paul decided
it was only a sprain, and bandaged it securely. A whiff of smelling salts
had brought Joe round completely, and Paul helped the injured youth to unbutton
and removed the rags of his shirt, so he could clean the cuts and bruises
on his arms. “Who did this to you, Joe?” Paul asked.
“There were lots of them,” Joe mumbled. “Drew Dunn was one of them. He said
they would show me what happens to an Injun lover round here.”
Glancing round at Roy, Paul nodded. “Send someone to get Ben. Joe won’t
be able to ride home,” he said, softly. Roy left, the frown on his face boding
ill for Drew Dunn when he caught up with him.
**********
The Ponderosa buckboard rattled into town, the team going faster than they
had in a long time. Ben and Hoss sat silently on the seat. Adam rode behind
on Sport. Clem, Roy’s deputy, had found all the Cartwrights together, finished
with the day’s work and eagerly anticipating supper. They were on their feet
and out of the door practically before he had stopped speaking.
Leaping down from the buckboard, Ben rushed into Paul’s office. Linda, the
young girl who came in to help Paul out sometimes, met him. “Just through
there, sir,” she said, and stood back, knowing what they went to face. She
had been shocked by Joe’s injuries, and was still concerned for her friend.
Entering the inner office, Ben let out a shocked sound. Joe lay asleep on
the couch, aided by a pain powder. He had his ribs taped up, and his arm in
a sling. His face was bruised and swollen. All in all, it was a painful sight.
Ben didn’t think he’d seen anyone so badly beaten. “Paul?” he said, his eyes
fixed on Joe.
“He’ll be all right, Ben,” Paul said. “A concussion, broken ribs, sprained
wrist, cuts, bruises and abrasions. Somebody beat him pretty badly.”
“Who did it?” Ben asked, finding himself seated beside his youngest son.
He gently stroked Joe’s tangled curls.
“Roy is looking for one of them now,” replied Paul. He glanced at the two
older sons, standing together in the doorway, wearing remarkably similar expressions.
“Joe gave him a name. Ben, I think you should take Joe home. There’s a lot
of bad feeling in town right now.”
“Bad feeling about what?” Adam asked.
“About the friendship you showed to Grace Wilkins on Sunday,” Paul answered,
frankly. “There are a lot of people in this town who think you were wrong.”
“Do you mean that Joe ain’t safe here?” demanded Hoss.
“I don’t know, Hoss,” admitted Paul. “But I’d hate anything to happen to
him. Anything else,” he added.
“Why is everyone so riled up?” Hoss asked.
“There was some trouble on the road to Carson City a few days ago,” Paul
explained. “Some Indians attacked a wagon, and stole the grain. The farmer
wasn’t hurt bad, but it scared everybody.”
“But Grace didn’t have nothin’ to do with that,” protested Hoss. “She ain’t
but a little bit of a filly anyhows. Just a right nice person.”
“Rationally, I think we all know that,” Adam interjected. “But mobs can
stir up feelings really quickly, especially when folks are already scared.
And we knew there would be trouble when Jed married Grace. We knew the people
here would find it hard to accept. Its just unfortunate that the Indian attack
coincided with Grace’s arrival in town.”
Reluctantly, Paul added, “Joe said that he was told by his attackers that
this was what happened to Indian lovers round here.”
He saw at once that the message wasn’t lost on his listeners.
**************
With a great deal of care, Joe was loaded onto the buckboard and taken home.
He roused when they arrived home, and tried to smile, but his face was too
painful to allow the movement. “Pa,” he whispered.
“Take it easy, son,” Ben said, tenderly. “You’re home now.”
“There were so many of them,” Joe went on, and Ben had the distinct impression
that he was apologising for being beaten up. “I couldn’t get away.”
“Don’t worry about it, Joe,” soothed Ben. “Just rest and get well.”
Since Joe was awake, Adam and Hoss gently helped him walk to his room, and
there they eased off his boots and pants, and Ben tucked him securely into
bed, fetching another pillow to cushion the injured wrist. “Pa,” Joe said,
again. He clutched his father’s sleeve. “Don’t tell Jed and Grace,” he pleaded.
“Its not their fault, and I don’t want them to feel bad.”
“We may not be able to keep this from them,” Ben said, sitting down. “If
Roy arrests somebody for this, it’ll be all over town.” He squeezed Joe’s
hand. “You’ll have to testify, son. Can you do that?”
For a long moment, Joe didn’t answer. His green eyes were wide, the pupils
dilated with fear. “Yes,” he said, in a low voice. “If I don’t, who knows
what might happen next.”
“We’ll look after you, Joe,” promised Ben. “No one will hurt you while we’re
around.” And he silently vowed to never leave Joe alone until the ill feeling
in the town had died away.
*********
Unfortunately, the bad feeling in town didn’t die away. Roy Coffee arrested
Drew Dunn, who promptly ratted on his compatriots, until Roy’s jail was filled
to overflowing. Although Drew Dunn was lazy and shiftless, and considered
good for nothing, the feeling against his arrest was overwhelming. Roy found
himself almost under siege at the jailhouse. The circuit judge was due in
Virginia City within 48 hours anyway, so Roy battened down the hatches and
prepared to ride out the storm.
The hysteria that gripped Virginia City continued unabated. Most of
the people had been shocked when they heard of Joe’s beating, but a good many
of them thought he deserved it. The strong bullied the weak into denouncing
the Cartwrights and Jed, until anti-Indian fever was rife. It was indeed fortunate
that Joe was at the Ponderosa. There were a few citizens who felt like taking
revenge on Joe. Chief amongst them was Drew Dunn’s father.
***********
On the morning of the trial, Joe was escorted into town by his family, Clem
and several of the ranch hands. Roy had become increasingly embattled, and
was seriously worried that his one and only eyewitness wouldn’t make the courthouse
alive.
As the buckboard came into sight along Main Street, jeers and boos from
the crowd greeted them. There was a slight drawing in of breath when the
crowd saw the extent of Joe’s injuries, but the heckling continued unabated.
Inside the courthouse, only the prisoners’ families were present. The judge
had wisely decided to close the court. The noise level from outside was almost
deafening. Joe was asked to take the stand, and gave his testimony in a low,
clear voice. Paul Martin testified that Joe had been severely beaten by a
number of people. In short order, Drew Dunn and his compatriots were found
guilty and sentenced to two years in prison each. There was stunned silence
from the families, but before long, the news leaked outside, and the catcalls,
boos and jeers became louder. The judge commended Joe for his courage, and
he was free to go home.
Tired and pale, Joe joined his family to walk to the buckboard. Some of
the men sentenced today had been schoolmates of his. Joe wondered if they
had all been influenced by the talk and the drink, or if they had all believed
that Grace had no place in a town like this. He wondered how many people were
too scared to speak up in Grace’s defence, because of what had happened to
him. Above all, he wondered how a town of basically decent people could all
suddenly turn into monsters.
Despite his armed escort, Joe was jostled on the way to the buckboard, and
settled back on the blanket in the back with a sigh of relief. He ached all
over from the beating, and the jostling hadn’t helped. For once, Joe wouldn’t
object to being sent straight to bed! He was troubled by the bad feeling directed
towards him. He’d usually been popular in the town, and it was unsettling
to be an outcast.
**************
Jed and Grace were waiting for them back at the house. Jed had heard the
story of Joe’s beating from the owner of the general store when he’d gone
in for supplies. Mr Richmond hadn’t made any secret of the cause of Joe’s
grief. Jed had found himself shunned by many of the town folks, but being
by nature a solitary man, he wasn’t overly concerned. He had known when he
married Grace that there would be ill feeling. What he hadn’t expected was
that the ill feeling would be taken out on someone else.
“Oh, Joe!” Grace exclaimed in sorrowful tones, as Joe was helped from the
buckboard. “This is all my fault!”
“I didn’t see you in the crowd who did this,” Joe joked, weakly. He was
exhausted from his trip to court. The bruises were at their worst, and the
jolting of the buckboard hadn’t helped his aches and pains. Joe was glad
of Hoss’ supporting hand under his elbow.
Tears shone in Grace’s large dark eyes. “I’m so sorry, Ben,” she said. “I
would never have come here if I’d thought this would happen.”
“This is not your fault,” Ben insisted. “Joe somehow got on the wrong side
of a group of drunken thugs, who are now paying for their crime.”
“But Jed said,” Grace started, but Ben interrupted her.
“Grace, the town will get used to your presence, and the worst trouble makers
are gone. The boys and I value your friendship. Friends look out for each
other – at least real friends do.” Ben patted her hand in a fatherly manner.
“Joe is going to be fine. We’ll all just have to be a little careful until
this blows over, that’s all.” He smiled. “Come in and have some coffee.”
“Good idea,” Joe chimed in, desperate to get inside and sit down. His legs
were trembling beneath him. Hoss took the cue immediately, and began to walk
Joe slowly over to the house. Adam moved quietly to Joe’s other side, prepared,
should he need more help.
The coffee revived Joe for a while, but by the time Jed and Grace took their
leave, he was ready to drop. Adam helped him upstairs, and into bed. “Adam,”
Joe said, in a low voice, as Adam was preparing to leave. “Do you think the
bad feeling will blow over as easy as Pa said?”
Pausing, Adam gave Joe a penetrating stare. “Do you?” he asked.
“No,” Joe admitted. “It worries me, some.”
At that oblique admission, Adam went back to Joe’s bedside. “Do you think
someone will come after you again?”
“Me, or Jed or Grace,” murmured Joe. “Or you, Pa and Hoss. We’re all at
risk, aren’t we?”
“Probably,” admitted Adam. “But it will blow over eventually. It just might
take some time. But folks will get used to Grace.” He looked at the thoughtful
young man in the bed. “Joe, we’ll keep you safe, I promise.”
“I know, Adam. Thanks.” His lashes swept down, hiding his thoughts. “I just
needed to know. To be prepared.”
“Get some rest, buddy,” Adam said. “Everything will work out, somehow.”
***********
The bad feeling in the town never did die away completely that summer, but
time muted it slightly. Jed and the Cartwrights made sure never to go to town
alone. Joe recovered his strength gradually, and allowed himself to be babied
much longer than he usually would, sensing the worry that Ben tried to hide
even from himself.
It was a relief to get back into the rhythm of ranch life at last, and Joe
found himself busy once more with the round up and branding. Haying was next,
and Adam joked that at least this year, Joe was fit enough to help. They worked
from sun up to sundown. About the only time they saw Jed and Grace was in
church, and for Sunday lunch, which had become a ritual. There were still
mutterings as Grace appeared at church every Sunday, and although the Cartwrights
made an effort to point out that Grace had been raised as a Christian, nobody
seemed to believe them.
Haying was finished when Grace came across to tell them some happy news.
She and Jed were expecting their first child in the spring. It was glad news,
received with joy, and buoyed everyone up after their summer of hard work.
The only dark cloud on the horizon was the cattle drive to the sales in
Sacramento. Jed was taking his cattle there too, and Grace would be left
alone. Jed was unhappy about it. He’d had problems keeping reliable hands
since his marriage. He finally admitted to the Cartwrights that there had
been a number of small incidents over the summer. Someone had scrawled ‘Indian
lover’ on the wall of their cabin one night. The night watchman claimed to
have seen nothing. A fence that Jed had spent all day building was scattered
asunder the next morning. Small, mean tricks, but enough to make Jed desperately
concerned. He had kept as much of it from Grace as he could.
“I tell you, Ben, I don’t know what I’m going to do,” Jed admitted, sitting
heavily on the settee in the Ponderosa ranch house. “I’ve had to so many things
over again, that I haven’t even got started on breaking those ponies I brought
back from New York. I need to sell these cattle, or I won’t have enough to
get through the winter.”
Putting down his coffee cup, Ben looked thoughtful. “It’s a problem,” he
admitted. “Look, Jed, why don’t you drive the cattle over to us, and we’ll
take them to Sacramento and sell them for you. That way, you can stay home
with Grace, and get to work on those ponies.”
“That would be very good of you, Ben,” Jed said. “It’s a lot of work for
you.”
“No, its not,” Ben said. “We’re going anyway. Its no problem.”
“And I could give you a head start on those ponies,” Joe offered. “While
you bring the herd across here, I could start breaking the ponies for you.”
“Good idea, Joe,” Ben said, quickly, before Adam could make a sarcastic
comment about Joe avoiding work again. Joe had been restless all summer,
confined to the ranch because of the bad feeling in town. He needed something
to release the tension, or he would fly apart. Ben shot Adam a look that
promised to explain his decision when they didn’t have company. Adam, as
he had expected, subsided. “Shall we say the start of the week?”
It was agreed, and Jed went off home. Joe and Hoss went back out to tidy
up some things in the barn, and Adam looked at Ben. “Why isn’t Joe going to
be helping with the round up?” he asked.
“You know as well as I do that Joe needs something different to do. Something
physical that will give him enough excitement, that he might manage to stay
calm.” Ben sighed as he looked out of the open door to where his younger sons
were laughing at something. “Its been hard on all of us, never being alone,
but its especially hard for Joe. At least breaking the ponies gives him a
little excitement.”
“I thought the bad feeling in town would have died down by now,” Adam said,
after a pause, tacitly admitting he understood his father’s reasoning.
“It might have done, if there hadn’t been all those Indian attacks. The
tribes are starving. They’re being driven from their hunting grounds. Its
bad luck that it started happening about the time Grace came to town. Otherwise,
she’d have been a seven-day wonder, and it would be all forgotten by now.
I even heard some idiot saying that Grace was stirring up the Indians.” Ben
shook his head. “Its hard to believe that reasonable people can believe nonsense
like that.”
“I think its been worrying Little Joe, too,” Adam mentioned casually. “He
was pretty wound up about it after the court case.”
“I know,” Ben admitted. “He’s being having nightmares again. Who can blame
him? From what Paul said at the trial, Joe was lucky not to be kicked to death.
We can protect him for a while, but after a time, he’s not going to be willing
to have an armed escort all the time. What happens then?”
“Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof,” Adam quoted, not having any
answer to give his father.
“Amen,” Ben added.
***********
Monday morning saw Joe up at only his second calling, and eating a reasonable
amount of breakfast. Joe’s appetite, never wonderful, had been suffering lately
from the stresses in his life. But the previous night, he had slept without
nightmares, and felt pretty good about life. He joked with the rest of his
family, and they enjoyed hearing his laugh again, realising that it had been
missing for far too long.
It was only an hour’s ride to Jed’s spread, and Joe was greeted by both
Jed and Grace. Jed was mounted up, ready to start moving his herd. Joe’s
armed escort was heading back with Jed, leaving Joe under the watchful eye
of Jed’s foreman, who was charged with seeing to the safety of the ranch.
Joe had a cup of coffee with Grace before heading out to the corral to start
breaking the ponies.
Standing watching for a few minutes, Grace wondered how Joe could be so
enthusiastic about bronco busting. It was very hard, physically punishing
work, yet Joe seemed to relish every moment. She went off back into the house
to complete her daily chores. Jed was working hard to enlarge the cabin for
the expected new arrival, and Grace had been teasing him about the large
pole he had planted in the middle of the room, in preparation for extending
the roof. She didn’t really mind it, but sometimes found it a little annoying
to have to detour round, when she wasn’t used to it being there.
At noon, Grace called Joe in to eat. He quickly washed up and joined her
at the table. After saying grace, they began eating. Joe and Grace had become
fast friends over the past few months. Joe kept her entertained with stories
about his family. Grace in return told Joe about her upbringing in New York.
The dinner hour went by all too quickly, and Joe stretched as he left the
table. “Thanks, Grace, that was wonderful,” he said. “I’d better get back
to work.”
“You be careful out there,” Grace warned him, lightly. “I don’t want any
harm coming to those ponies!”
“Well, thanks a bunch,” Joe laughed, his whole face lit up with his breath-taking
smile. Grace looked at him, and wondered why some young lady hadn’t snapped
him up by now. “Don’t worry about me, will you?”
“Aren’t you the one who told me he could take care of himself?” she teased.
“Maybe I did at that,” agreed Joe, and shoved his hat back on as he left
the cabin.
Joe hadn’t been gone very long when the foreman came panting to the door
of the house. “Mrs Wilkins, look! Smoke!” He pointed to the wooded ridge north
of the house. Part of the land was theirs, part belonged to the Ponderosa.
“Tell Little Joe,” Grace said, “and then get Jed and the Cartwrights! Quickly!”
Even though she had only been in the West a short time, Grace knew all about
the dangers of forest fires. She rang the loud dinner bell over and over,
summoning the hands that were still around the homestead.
They came at a run, and with a few short words, Grace directed them to check
out the fire. Joe appeared as they left, his face tight with worry. “I’ve
seen it,” he said, forestalling her remark. “I’d better stay here with you.”
“I’ll be all right,” she protested. “Joe, you’ve got to help fight that
fire!”
“I can’t leave you here alone,” he insisted. “This might be a ruse to get
us away from our homes. The Ponderosa is all right, because Hop Sing is there.
But I won’t leave you alone here. Besides, if the fire spreads this way, you’ll
need help getting your stock away.”
“Very well,” capitulated Grace, but she was secretly quite relieved that
Joe was staying. He’d seen fires before; he would know when to move the stock,
if the need arose.
Moving quickly, Joe filled buckets of water from the well, and began to
soak the outside of the cabin. He knew that if the fire came through, it
wouldn’t save the building, but it might gain them an extra few minutes.
Once that was done, he filled every bucket he could find, and stationed them
strategically round the yard, especially close to the new haystacks. After
that, all Joe could do was watch the smoke anxiously
**********
“Can I smell smoke?” Hoss asked himself. He pulled Chubb to a halt, and
sniffed, but the only scent reaching his nostrils was cow. Still, Hoss was
uneasy, and moved Chubb away from the herd, and sniffed again. Adam, spotting
Hoss’ odd movement, rode across.
“What is it?” he asked.
“I don’t rightly know,” Hoss replied, still sniffing. He lifted his tall
white hat and scratched his head. “But my scalp is sure pricklin’ and that
means trouble.”
The Cartwrights had great faith in Hoss’ scalp. It had never been proved
wrong yet. Adam began to sniff the air, too, his eyes scanning the horizon.
“What am I smelling for?” Adam asked, realising how mad he must look.
“Smoke,” Hoss said, darkly. His blue eyes widened suddenly. “Look, Adam!
There!” He pointed, and Adam followed his brother’s finger, until he too saw
the faint plume of smoke.
“Come on!” Adam said, urgently. He rode swiftly towards Ben. “Pa! Fire!”
Within moments, all the hands were looking at the smoke, which was growing
thicker. Ben made several quick decisions. “Charlie, Dave, stay with the herd.
Adam, you and Jed get over to his place to help Joe. Hoss, you come with
me. Come on, men,” he called, and pointed to the burning ridge.
The hands needed no further urging. They all knew the drill. They abandoned
the herd to Charlie and Dave, and galloped after Ben towards the fire. Adam
and Jed set off in the other direction.
************
It was Grace who first noticed the movement on the road to the homestead.
Joe was saddling a horse for her, just in case they had to abandon the homestead.
“Joe!” she called. “It looks like help is arriving!”
Coming out of the barn, leading Grace’s sorrel filly, Joe looked along the
road. The riders were coming at a lope, not the flat out gallop he might have
expected, but it still took several moments for Joe to recognise any of the
riders. When he did, his heart leaped into his mouth. “Grace!” he shouted,
dragging the filly to the door. “Get on and ride away, quickly! Get to the
Ponderosa, you’ll be safe there!”
“What? I don’t understand,” Grace protested, even as Joe bundled her onto
the horse. “Joe! I can’t go without you!”
“Just do as you’re told and go!” Joe yelled. “That’s Bert Dunn there!
He’s coming to get revenge for Drew going to jail! Now ride!” He slapped the
sorrel on the rump, urging her away.
Grasping the urgency, Grace drove her heel into the filly’s side. Joe dashed
across to Cochise, grabbed his rifle and pistol, unhitched the gelding, and
slapped his rump, not wanting his beloved pony to be anywhere near the gun
battle he was sure would follow.
Turning, he realised it was too late to fire the warning shot he’d planned.
Dunn was almost on top of him. Joe dodged onto the porch and spotted a couple
of riders chasing after Grace. Furious, Joe raised his rifle and fired at
them. He was too far away to hit them, and his shots went wide. Then Dunn
leapt from his pony onto Joe, and drove him to the ground.
A desperate struggle began. Joe knew with a chilling certainty that Dunn
wanted him dead. He fought like a tiger, and managed to throw Dunn off. Scrambling
to his feet, Joe straightened into a right hook from one of the other men,
and before he could rally his defences, he was being pummelled from all sides.
It was an all too familiar scene to Joe, one that had haunted his dreams since
the attack in Virginia City. Here was a mob, intent on beating him to death,
and he was alone. His last coherent thought as he fell to the ground, was
that Grace had escaped.
*************
A bucketful of cold water splashed onto Joe’s face, and he revived, coughing
and spluttering. Rolling onto his side, he coughed out the water he had inhaled.
Every part of his body ached. Cruel hands jerked him to his feet, and his
hands were roughly forced behind his back and tied there. Someone grabbed
a handful of curly hair, and yanked Joe’s head back. Joe looked at Bert Dunn,
and felt fear curl in his belly.
“We’ve got you now, Cartwright,” Dunn hissed. “Thought you’d escaped, didn’t
you? Well, you were wrong. You sent my boy to jail, and you’re going to pay
for it! You and that Injun pretending to be a white.”
Glancing round as best he could, Joe realised that everyone who was there
was the father of one of the young men sent to jail. From the corner of his
eye, he saw movement, and with sinking horror, realised that they had caught
Grace. She was being dragged along the ground, and for an instant, Joe hoped
she was already dead, to spare her any more pain.
“Here’s the squaw now,” Dunn laughed. Joe could smell the cheap whiskey
on his breath.
“Leave her alone,” he panted, and regretted it instantly as Dunn swung a
meaty fist into his stomach. Joe tried instinctively to curl over, but the
grip on his hair stopped him. “Grace!” he cried, and Dunn struck him again.
As Joe regained his breath, Grace was dragged onto the porch beside him.
Her dress was ripped, exposing her breasts, but Grace held her head high,
as though nothing had happened to her. Her eyes flickered to Joe, sending
him a message of strength and hope, before returning once more to Dunn.
Fearing what Dunn was going to do, Joe renewed his struggles against the
men who held him, but he got nowhere. Dunn laughed, and reached out to paw
one of Grace’s breasts. “You’re right pretty, ain’t ya, squaw?” he said
Two men held Grace in a bruising grip, but she wasn’t struggling. “I’m not
a squaw,” she said, quietly. “I was raised a Christian, which is more than
can be said for you.”
To say Dunn was annoyed by that was an understatement. He slapped Grace
hard across the face, and when Joe let out a shout of protest, he turned
and backhanded Joe savagely, twice. “Injun lover,” he cursed. “You Cartwrights
are all the same. Think you’re so high and mighty, yet you’re crawling into
bed with an Injun!”
“I’d sooner stand with her than you any day!” Joe retorted, truthfully,
but unwisely. He groaned as Dunn hit him again. He heard Grace make a sound
of protest, but knew it was useless. Unless a miracle occurred, they were
both going to die.
With a last effort, Joe wrenched himself free, and threw himself on one
of the men holding Grace. Caught by surprise, the man let go and went down.
“Run!” Joe cried, and Grace took the chance offered to her, and ran.
Somehow, Joe evaded the hands grabbing for him, and fled towards the corral.
He had no plan in mind, he simply wanted to divert attention from Grace, in
the hope she might manage to escape. But he was out of luck. Both he and Grace
were recaptured, and Joe subjected to another beating. He was barely conscious
as they dragged him to his feet and pushed him across the yard to the house.
There, he was dropped beside the new supporting post and bound to it. They
left, and a few minutes later, the smoke began to curl menacingly under the
door. Joe struggled frantically against the knots, but they only seemed to
get tighter. Outside, the mob yelled and cheered with delight, and when Joe
heard Grace’s screams, he knew what was happening to her. He fought harder
against the ropes, but only succeeded in tearing the skin on his wrists.
The smoke increased, and Joe knew for a certainty that he was going to die
there, murdered by people he had known all his life. He coughed painfully,
and slid into unconsciousness.
**********
The fire on the ridge was hardly worthy of the name. A pile of wood had
been set alight, but was too green to burn. Ben eyed it as his hands began
to dismount. He was uneasy. “Frank!” he called, suddenly making a decision.
“You and Johnny see to that fire. The rest of you, come with me!” Ben turned
his horse and headed towards Jed’s place.
**********
Thundering down the road, Adam and Jed saw the mob gathered by the corral.
“Oh my God,” Jed breathed, and Adam heard both fear and entreaty in the words.
He understood both sentiments. His own heart had leapt into his mouth at the
sight. He had no idea how the two of them were going to deal with all those
men, but he knew they had to do something.
From further over the valley, he saw horses, and realised that Ben, Hoss
and the hands were coming direct from the ridge to help them out. Hope swelled
in his heart, and he spurred Sport to greater effort.
By now, the mob had seen the riders coming, and were fleeing for their horses.
Adam drew his gun and fired at them, knowing it was a wasted effort while
at speed. The mob’s horses began panicking as shots filled the air, and other
horses thundered in their direction. Before very much longer, the yard was
full of fighting men, as the hands began to subdue the mob.
Jed ran to the corral, where Grace lay motionless beside the railings. Ben
followed a few paces behind, terrified of what he would find. As he hesitated,
Jed let out a wail of anguish, and Ben knew that what he had feared had come
to pass. Grace was dead. Ben clasped Jed’s shoulder in empathy, but his mind
was whirling. Where was Joe?
The cabin was burning, though still sluggishly, thanks to the soaking Joe
had given it a short time earlier. Ben looked at it vaguely, then glanced
round for his sons. They were looking round, too. The fights were beginning
to die down, and Ben saw Adam grab the collar of the nearest man. As clearly
as if he stood right next to him, Ben saw him say “Where’s my brother?”
The glance at the burning cabin was all the answer they needed, but it almost
stopped Ben’s heart. Without hesitating, Hoss and Adam ran to the burning
structure, and Hoss kicked the door in. They plunged into the reeking interior.
Ben waited outside, all his senses straining towards the building, which contained
the most important things in his life.
All around, the men were standing silently, realising what was going on.
One man, (Ben later realised it was Fred) said, “I’ll get the doctor and the
sheriff, Boss,” and mounted up without waiting for a reply. The others simply
stood and waited, fearing the worst, but hoping for the best.
Suddenly, there was movement at the door, and Hoss backed out, closely followed
by Adam, and between them was slung the bound, unconscious form of their youngest
brother. Relief almost drove Ben to his knees, so he stood still, unable
to move for a moment, while Adam and Hoss carried their precious burden a
good distance away from the flames.
Both of the older Cartwright boys were coughing violently, and their faces
were smudged with soot. Both wore remarkably similar grave expressions. Adam
unshipped his knife, and sliced through Joe’s bonds. Ben knelt by them, and
looked anxiously at both of his older boys, before turning his attention to
his youngest. A ragged gasp escaped his lips.
If Joe had been badly beaten before, it was nothing to the condition he
was in now. His face was almost unrecognisable. His nose was obviously broken,
his lips were split and there were gashes and bruises all over his face. The
raw skin on his wrists gave mute testament to his struggle to free himself.
“Somebody get a blanket,” Ben shouted, and the hands burst into life. Soon,
Joe was warmly swaddled in blankets, and Grace’s poor broken body was decently
shrouded. Adam and Hoss hovered over Joe, as Ben sat cradling him. He was
almost as concerned with his other sons’ health as he was with Joe. Adam and
Hoss coughed steadily, and spat up sooty muck from the depths of their lungs.
*********
A couple of hours passed before Paul and Roy arrived, and another few hours
went by before all three Cartwright sons were securely in their own beds.
Joe had remained unconscious throughout, but his frequent mumblings and groans
of pain assured them all that he wasn’t in a coma. Paul worked on Joe, while
Ben persuaded Adam and Hoss into bed. They both had distinct rattles in their
chests, but were no longer coughing up soot. Hop Sing arrived with some warm
tea, and Ben left his sons to their housekeeper’s capable hands.
Returning to Joe’s bedside, Ben watched with concern as Paul carefully set
Joe’s broken nose, packed it with cotton, and taped it across his cheeks.
Paul had already bound up the broken ribs, and bandaged Joe’s wrists. A huge
bruise was spreading over his abdomen, and Paul was concerned there might
be some internal bleeding. The last thing he wanted to do, while Joe was still
so weak, was operate on him.
“I’ve done all I can for him, Ben,” Paul said, straightening up. “Its up
to Joe now. I want to keep an eye on that bruise, and keep him as upright
as possible. As he wakens up, he’ll start to cough, I hope.”
“And if he doesn’t?” Ben asked.
“If he doesn’t, he might not survive,” Paul said, bluntly. “He must get
the soot out of his lungs. Get a brazier up here and keep a kettle boiling
all the time. The steam should help loosen his chest. I’ll stay here to be
close at hand.”
It was a long night for Ben. He mostly sat by Joe, but every now and then
went to check on Adam and Hoss. Both had fallen asleep, and their coughs had
subsided. Ben was thankful for that.
Joe was finding breathing difficult. He had finally opened his eyes about
2 am, and looked at Ben without saying anything. With his awakening, came
the start of the coughing, and Joe was in torment. He couldn’t breathe though
his nose at all, and by the end of a spasm of coughing, was often blue around
the lips as he struggled to get enough oxygen in. The cough tormented his
broken ribs, and Ben was fearful that a rib would spring free and maybe puncture
a lung.
As the night wore on, Joe’s eyes became glazed with exhaustion, but he drank
the water his father offered. Paul, roused by Joe’s coughing, raided the kitchen
and fed Joe sips of honey, which gave him some nourishment, and also soothed
his raw throat. One boiling kettle soon became two, and it felt to Ben like
he and Paul were working in a Turkish bath. However, Joe’s breathing seemed
easier, and gradually the coughing slowed.
Dawn broke in glorious colour that morning, and Ben, glancing out of the
window, spared a thought for Jed. He felt very bad that he’d had to leave
his friend alone, but for his hands, the previous day. Grace’s death shocked
and saddened Ben. He wondered how the town would be reacting to the arrests
of the mob. He was sure there would be a few hangings. He would never understand
why people reacted so badly to other people who were different. It was something
he had no patience for, and he had taught his sons the same, and was immensely
proud of their tolerant attitude.
“Pa,” said a breathy, painful whisper, and Ben turned from his musings to
see Joe looking at him.
“How do you feel, son?” Ben asked, sitting by Joe and taking his hand gently.
“Grace,” Joe said, ignoring the question completely. “Is Grace…?”
“Don’t try to talk any more, Joe,” Paul warned. “Your throat will be pretty
sore for a few days, and you don’t want to strain it. Understand?”
Mutely, Joe nodded, but his pleading green eyes were fixed on Ben, and for
the first time, Ben wondered if Joe knew what had happened to Grace. “Grace
died, son,” he said, and saw the tears drowning those expressive orbs; saw
the anguish there, and knew that Joe had been aware of the torments Grace
had been subjected to before she died. He gathered Joe into a comforting embrace.
Crying when your nose is packed is an unpleasant business, and Joe choked
and spluttered several times before he could get his grief under control.
“I… tried… to… protect….her,” he whispered. Paul made a ‘tutting’ noise, but
Joe ignored him. “I…. heard…. them… hurt…. her.”
“You did everything you could, Joe,” Ben soothed. “How could you hold off
so many men alone? You expected too much of yourself, Joe. You were lucky
to get out alive.”
Opening his mouth, Joe suddenly cast a look at the scowling face of Paul
Martin and closed it again. He turned back to his father, the question he
wanted to ask there in his eyes, those expressive eyes that showed so much
of his soul. Ben smiled. “Adam and Hoss saved you,” he explained.
At those words, Joe’s eyes swivelled to the door, and riveted there. His
pupils were wide and dilated. “Joe, they’re both fine,” Paul said. “Just sleeping,
which is what you should be doing!” He held a glass of doctored water to
Joe’s mouth and he had the choice of drink or drown. He drank, and a short
while later, he slipped into a deep sleep.
“I think he’s going to be fine,” Paul said, quietly. “There are no indications
of internal bleeding. He’s been lucky. Its now a case of keeping him quiet,
and letting nature take its course.”
“Thank you, Paul,” responded Ben. He shut his eyes to say a brief, heartfelt,
prayer of thanks.
“Get some rest,” Paul ordered. “And eat something! Doctor’s orders!”
**************
Although it was soon clear that Joe’s physical recovery was well under way,
his mental recovery was a different matter. Joe sank into a deep depression,
barely talking or eating. He lost weight, and there were dark circles permanently
under his eyes. Every night, his screams woke his family. Ben had never heard
the expression ‘survivor guilt’, but if he had, he would have recognised it
immediately. Joe was feeling guilty for living when Grace had died.
Rational thought told Joe that he had no reason to feel guilty. He had done
everything in his power to save Grace, and it was inconceivable that he would
have prevailed over 12 men. But Joe persisted in blaming himself. Even a visit
from Jed didn’t change his mind. Jed had sold his homestead, and was leaving
Nevada. The memories were more than he could handle, and he was moving on.
The trial of the mob came and went, and Joe had once again given damning
testimony, but this time, instead of fanning the flames of ill feeling in
the town, his obvious distress and suffering turned the townsfolk against
the mob who had taken unspeakable revenge against a pregnant woman. Joe found
himself a hero, which made him feel even guiltier. Neither Adam nor Hoss had
been able to get past the barrier of guilt Joe hid behind. In fact, he had
barely spoken to his brothers in weeks.
A few weeks later, Ben found Joe by his mother’s grave, his habitual retreat
when the world became too much for him. The young man’s troubled mind was
only too obvious to his father, and Ben decided he had to say something to
Joe, to see if he could finally calm his son’s troubled spirit.
“Joe,” Ben said, and looked down at the grave between them.
“Pa,” Joe acknowledged. He rose to his feet, and started to walk away, but
Ben put out his hand to stop him.
“Joe, when are you going to stop blaming yourself for being alive?” Ben
asked, his tone conversational.
Visibly jolted, Joe just looked at his father. “I think I can understand
a little of how you feel,” Ben went on. “What has happened to you over the
last few months has had some far reaching consequences, and its difficult
to know why these things happened.”
“Grace didn’t deserve to die like that!” Joe exclaimed, violently. “She
was a good person, but nobody stopped to find that out!”
“No, you’re right,” Ben agreed. “Nobody deserves to die like that. It was
dreadful and tragic. But you know, Joe, I think maybe a little good has come
from it.”
“Do you?” Joe said, rudely. He started to walk away, but Ben caught his
arm.
“You haven’t been into town since the trial,” he went on, pretending not
to notice how Joe struggled to free himself from the grip on his arm. “So
you don’t know that there has been a change of attitude towards Grace. Its
too late for her to get the benefit, but who knows? There may be other young
Indian women who might find a warmer welcome here than they expect.”
“You’re right, Pa,” Joe said. “It is too late for Grace. Far too late! I
suppose you’ll say better late than never?”
“Perhaps,” allowed Ben. “But you’ve got to remember something, Joe. The
attitude of the people in town is more common than you think. Oh, most folks
are basically decent, but they have been brought up to hate and fear the
Indians. How many times have you heard it said that the only good Indian
is a dead Indian? Too many times. I brought you boys up to give respect to
everyone, regardless of race, colour or creed. But we are the exceptions.
Maybe one day, others will think like us. But we have to live in the here
and now. And in the here and now, Grace’s death has shown the people of Virginia
City that they were wrong about her. Perhaps, as I said, some other Indian
woman, or man, may benefit from it.”
Joe was silent, his head ducked so that Ben couldn’t see his face below
the brim of his hat. “But why am I alive, and she’s not?” Joe cried, anguish
in his tones.
“I don’t know the answer to that,” Ben replied. “But perhaps you had to
live, to show these people that Grace was a human being, just like them.
Joe,” he added, forcing his son to meet his eyes, “nobody, least of all Grace,
would blame you for what happened to her. You did your best, and no one can
ask for more than that. You may have lived to share your philosophy that individuals
are deserving of respect, even if their customs and culture are different
from your own. I don’t know. All I do know is that I am eternally grateful
to God that you survived.” There were tears in Ben’s voice. He drew his son
to him in an enveloping hug, and after a moment, Joe hugged him back. As
though a dam had been breached, Joe began to sob, and the tears washed away
the weeks of bitter self-reproach.
As his son’s sobs subsided, Ben spoke again. “Joe, life is a gift, and we
should never waste it. Your brothers and I are so grateful that you are still
here with us. It would make us all happier than I can say if you felt happy
about being alive, too. These last few weeks have been hard on all of us,
especially you, I know. But its time to put the past to rest, and remember
Grace as she would have wanted – a beautiful young woman.”
Wiping his face, Joe nodded. “I hadn’t thought of it that way, Pa,” he said,
and Ben noticed the lighter tone in his son’s voice. “Let’s go home. I haven’t
thanked Adam and Hoss for saving my life.”
With a big smile of relief, Ben draped his arm round his son’s shoulders,
and they walked back to their horses in a companionable silence that neither
of them had felt for too long. As they mounted, Ben glanced back at the grave.
“Thank you, Marie my love,” he whispered, “for helping me find the right words
to reach our son.”
They turned their horses towards home, and Joe smiled his brilliant, loving
smile at Ben. He responded with a grin of his own, and together they urged
their horses into a light-hearted race.
The End
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