WHN – Showdown
By Rona Y.
Sam Kirby wasn’t sure what he should feel as the Cartwrights approached.
He had hurt Adam before he sneaked away, and it was because of him that Little
Joe had been held hostage, and beaten up. He wasn’t completely reassured by
Joe’s promise that Sam wouldn’t suffer. He didn’t really believe that the
Cartwrights would be his friends, just because he had had a change of heart,
and been unable to go along with Pardoe’s plans at the last.
He was too tongue-tied to say anything as Joe tiredly explained what had
happened to his father and brothers. Adam and Hoss took over guarding the
two prisoners, and Ben Cartwright rode with Joe and Sam as they headed back
to the ranch. They were all tired after their sleepless night, and Joe yawned
all the way home. Sam, however, was too tense to want to sleep. He still had
to face the sheriff – the same one he’d pulled a gun on in the Ponderosa ranch
house only the previous evening. Joe said it would be fine, but he didn’t
believe it.
Hours later, as a stiff, sore, tired Joe was sent off to bed, Sam sat on
the settee in front of the fire, scarcely believing that he was a free man,
still. The sheriff was going to get Pardoe’s body, and Sam could relax. He
had a job and a home. His head nodded, and he flinched as someone touched
his shoulder. It was Adam, who smiled. “Go to bed, Sam,” he suggested, his
smile telling the younger man that the incident the previous night was forgotten.
“I think I will,” Sam agreed, and rose wearily to his feet. “Thanks, Adam,
and I’m sorry.”
“It’s all forgotten,” Adam assured him. “Get some rest.”
As he walked to the door, Sam reflected on the way the Cartwrights had accepted
him. He had been so jealous of them that he almost choked on it. Now, he felt
warmed and soothed by their gratitude. He fell onto the bunk, and closed his
eyes. He was asleep in seconds.
***********
“Pa, honestly, its just a split lip,” Joe said, in exasperation. Ben was
holding his chin firmly in his hand, and turning his youngest son’s face to
the light so he could examine the bruises there more closely.
“So it is,” Ben agreed, blandly, having satisfied himself that Joe wasn’t
putting on a brave face. “Well, in that case, I think you and Sam should get
on with breaking those horses. We’ve put it off long enough, what with the
bank robbery. Just try not to break anything other than the horses.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Joe grumbled, and laughed when his father ruffled his curls.
He had kept his ordeal the previous day to himself, as he didn’t want Ben
worrying in retrospect. Pardoe had been a bully, and Joe wasn’t surprised
that Sam had found it difficult to stand up to him. Joe had several places
on his body that were very sore, and marked by nasty bruises. Fortunately,
they were all hidden by his clothing, and after breaking a few horses, Joe
could at least pretend they were from that. “See you, Pa.”
“Bye, son,” Ben responded. He had been watching the play of emotions over
Joe’s face. His son seldom had a need to hide his emotions, and so seldom
bothered. Ben was experienced at reading Joe’s state of health by his body
language alone, and could see that Joe was still sore here and there. He knew,
too, that Joe hadn’t told him everything, but reasoned that if it bothered
him, Joe would tell someone. That was his way.
“Mornin’, Sam,” Joe said, as he arrived at the corral.
“Mornin’, Joe,” Sam replied, and glanced briefly at his boss and friend
before dropping his eyes.
“Sam,” Joe said, softly, “its not common knowledge. The men don’t know anything
except that you helped find me and save me from the gang. That’s it. Now,
let’s break these horses!”
As the day went on, Sam began to truly relax. The hard work and the camaraderie
that horse breaking engendered helped immensely. Sam had never felt accepted
before, not like he did that day. A number of the men thanked him for helping
Joe, and each time, Sam flushed with a mixture of guilt and pleasure. Each
time he did, Joe would grin at him, and the flush and guilt would die away,
leaving only the pleasure.
“Let’s call it a day,” Joe said, wiping the sweat from his forehead with
his sleeve. It was a scorching hot afternoon, and it was taking its toll on
man and beast.
“You’re the boss,” Sam said, not wanting to look to eager to quit, but too
hot to want to go on working.
Laughing, Joe plunked his hat back on his head. “Sam, these guys here have
been belly-aching at me for the last hour to call it quits! You’re gonna have
to learn that I don’t bite!”
“All right,” laughed Sam. He started to climb down from the corral rails,
but movement caught his attention, and he looked over Joe’s head. Sudden tension
gripped his body, and Joe turned slowly to see what had brought it on. Roy
Coffee was just dismounting form his horse in the yard.
“Wonder what Roy’s doing here,” Joe commented. “Come on, Sam. Let’s find
out.” As Sam hesitated, Joe said, “It’ll be all right, honestly. I gave you
my word yesterday, and I wasn’t wrong, was I?”
They walked slowly up to the house, brushing the dust off their chaps. Sam
thought desperately for something to say to take his mind off its morbid speculation.
“Joe, how come you have flowers on your chaps?” he blurted.
Biting his lip, Joe tried to hide his laughter, but it was a wasted effort.
“Blame my oldest brother,” he said. “He was sent into town to buy me chaps,
after I had an accident. They were meant to cheer me up. The storeowner had
just got these ones in, and I think he despaired of ever selling them. So
Adam bought them for me.” Joe chuckled. “I nearly murdered him! But, you know
what? Nobody ever borrows my chaps, so I can always find them, which is more
than Adam can say!”
“You don’t mind any more?” Sam asked, not sure he’d have been so forgiving.
“Don’t you think they suit me?” Joe asked, in an offended tone. Sam’s eyes
widened in horror, before he realised Joe was just teasing, and they were
both laughing hard as they entered the house.
The laughter died instantly as Joe sensed the atmosphere. Ben and Roy were
sitting by the desk, and Ben’s face was grim. Sam shrank back, and Joe put
his hand out to touch his friend’s arm reassuringly. “What wrong, Pa?” Joe
asked.
It was Roy who answered. “Little Joe, are you sure Pardoe was dead?”
“Yes,” Joe answered, without hesitation. “I didn’t check for a pulse, but
I shot him in the chest.” He looked from his father to the sheriff and back
again. He paled. “Why?”
“Because there’s no trace of his body,” Roy answered. “Some blood stains,
but that’s all. Pardoe is still alive, and still out there somewhere.”
Looking at the pale faces of the two young men standing in front of him,
Ben tried to lighten Roy’s comment slightly. “He probably crawled away to
die somewhere,” he suggested, but neither Joe nor Sam looked convinced. “Don’t
worry, boys, we’ll find him,” Ben promised. “The posse is out looking for
him now.”
At his words, Joe ducked his head slightly, a sure sign that something was
troubling him. However, he glanced up again and smiled. “Sure, Pa,” he agreed.
“Why don’t you boys get cleaned up?” Ben suggested. He hooked Roy with a
look, and his old friend said no more until both Joe and Sam had gone. “Roy,
do you think the posse will find him?”
“I don’t know,” Roy admitted. “The ground up there is pretty hard, and there
weren’t any tracks to follow. If he has crawled away and died, we might never
find his body. If he hasn’t, let’s hope that he isn’t up to coming looking
for the boys. Pardoe has a bad reputation, as you know.”
“I know,” Ben said, troubled.
*************
Over supper, Ben told Adam and Hoss about Pardoe. Both of them looked at
Joe, whose attention was on his plate, although he was just shoving his fork
aimlessly though his food. Ben didn’t think he’d seem Joe eat more than one
mouthful. As always, Joe’s actions gave the lead to his emotions, and his
appetite was always the first thing to suffer.
“Pardoe’s going to come after us,” Joe said, almost inaudibly. He raised
his head and looked round the table. “He hasn’t crawled away to die somewhere.
He’s nursing his wounds, and he’s going to come after Sam and I.”
“You don’t know that, Joe,” Adam said. He exchanged a glance with his father.
“I met him, Adam,” Joe said, hotly. “Not you! It wasn’t you he was trying
to get information out of! We double-crossed him and he won’t forgive that!
He knows where the ranch is, he knows where I am and he knows where Sam is!
He’s coming after us, I tell you!”
“What information?” Ben asked, signalling Adam to back off. “What did he
do to you, Joe?”
“He wanted to know about the soldiers,” Joe said, his gaze still on Adam.
“He just hit me, that’s all.”
“So its more than just a split lip?” Ben asked. “How much more?”
“Just a couple of bruises,” Joe evaded.
“Is that what was making you so stiff this morning?” Ben asked. At the look
Joe gave him, he said, “I’m not blind, son,” in a gentler tone.
Trying to take the heat from Joe, as his brother nodded dejectedly, Adam
said, “Joe’s right, Pa. He does know this man better than any of us. If he
says Pardoe will come after them, then he probably will. We’re going to have
to keep an eye on Joe and Sam.”
Once more, Joe’s head was down. He hated to be caged, even if it was just
nominal caging, like being watched. Ben put his hand on Joe’s wrist, and gently
stroked. Joe looked at him. “How can he be alive?” Joe whispered. The thought
had been tormenting him all afternoon. “I shot him three times!”
“I don’t know,” Ben answered, troubled. “I don’t know.”
*************
The posse was out searching every day, but they found no trace of Pardoe.
The man was like an animal, which had holed up to lick his wounds, until he
either recovered or died. Adam and Hoss joined the posse a few times, but
they had no better luck. There wasn’t a trace of the man.
The detachment of soldiers didn’t linger, since the bank’s money had been
found, and Mr McClure, the banker, was able to carry on as normal, with none
of his investors suffering. Ellie, his daughter, was reportedly still furious
with Joe and Sam for fighting at her birthday picnic, and had declared that
she didn’t want to see either of them again. Sam in particular felt very bad;
Ellie had all but invited him to the dance the following night, and now she
was mad at him. He had never been to a dance, and was no longer sure he wanted
to go, but the Cartwrights were going along, and persuaded Sam to join them.
Joe had even given him some dancing lessons, but Sam was pretty sure he’d
just sit on the sidelines and watch.
“You’re pretty quiet, Joe,” Sam commented, as they rode into town. Adam
and Hoss were slightly behind them.
“I don’t like being watched,” Joe said, gesturing to his brothers. “I don’t
see how Pardoe can still be alive. You saw me shoot him. He must have died.”
“I won’t believe he’s dead until I see his body,” Sam said, darkly. “And
this time I’ll check to make sure he’s dead!”
“I guess,” Joe agreed, shrugging to shake off the crawly feeling along his
spine. He wondered if it was because someone was watching him, or if it was
just because he knew Adam and Hoss were watching him. Either way, he felt
uncomfortable.
They dismounted at the livery stable, and left the horses there, walking
to the hotel, where the dance was being held. As they arrived, Adam stopped
them. “Joe, Sam, no moonlit walks tonight, all right?”
“Aw, Adam,” Joe began, but Adam cut him off brusquely.
“I mean it, Joe! I want a promise from you, or we go home right now!” To
add weight to his words, Adam put a hand on Joe’s shoulder.
“All right, I promise,” Joe capitulated, unwillingly. However, he knew Adam
was quite capable of picking him up and carrying him home, if need be, and
Hoss was there to back him up.
“I promise, too,” Sam said. “I don’t know any of the girls, anyhow.”
That wasn’t quite true, as was demonstrated when they went into the hotel,
because the first person they met was Ellie McClure. For a moment, she almost
smiled, but then she remembered that Joe and Sam were in her bad books for
fighting at the picnic, and she turned away. Ruefully, Joe looked at Sam,
and they gave each other a sheepish smile.
The dancing was soon under way, and Joe took advantage of the crowd to go
over to Ellie. She gave him an unfriendly look, but Joe was out to charm her.
“Ellie, I just wanted to say how sorry I was for causing a scene at the picnic,”
he said. “I was jealous of you talking to Sam, and it was wrong of me. Can
you forgive me?”
“Have you apologised to Sam?” she asked, coldly.
“Yes, I have, and as a matter of fact, he saved me from Pardoe’s clutches,”
Joe returned. “We’re real good friends now.”
“What do you mean, he saved you?” Ellie repeated. Smiling, Joe told the
story of his abduction, painting Sam in the best light he could. “Oh, Joe!”
Ellie exclaimed, as he finished. “You weren’t hurt, were you?”
“Just a few cuts and bruises,” Joe said, turning his head and pointing to
the yellow discolouration on his cheek. He was quite pleased with the way
things were going. Ellie McClure was a pretty girl, and Joe was quite fond
of her. However, his good feelings were to be short lived, as Ellie soon spied
Sam, and went across to talk to him. The next thing Joe knew, she was dancing
with Sam.
Disgruntled, Joe went back to join Hoss by the punch bowl. “You ain’t on
very good form tonight, little brother,” Hoss said.
“Must be that bang on the head Pardoe gave me,” Joe returned, gloomily.
“What bang on the head?” Hoss asked, and Joe realised that he’d let something
else slip out.
“Don’t worry, I just got knocked out, is all,” Joe said, wishing he’d kept
quiet. Hoss would undoubtedly tell Ben, who would then fuss about possible
concussion. Joe heaved a deep sigh.
“Ah, quit fussin’, little brother,” Hoss said. “I won’t tell Pa, if’n you
don’t want me to.”
“There ain’t no point in tellin’ Pa,” Joe said. “He’d just fuss for nothing.
Thanks, Hoss.”
“Don’t mention it,” Hoss returned. He knew Joe had been fine all week, and
he knew what Ben was like when one of his boys got hurt. Fuss, fuss, fuss.
“Where’s Adam?” Joe asked, looking round, and not seeing him.
“Keepin’ watch on the door, to make sure you don’t sneak out,” replied the
middle son, matter-of-factly.
“I gave my promise!” Joe protested. “Doesn’t he trust me?”
“Not where them gals is concerned,” agreed Hoss.
Making a face, and grunting under his breath, Joe went off to dance.
************
Far up in the hills, Pardoe painfully shoved another stick on his small
fire. The wound in his chest was sore, and he had lost some blood, but it
wasn’t anywhere near the fatal shot Joe had thought it was. Only one bullet
had hit him, and it went straight through. When Pardoe came round, and realised
that Joe, Sam and his other two men were gone, he dragged himself painfully
away. He had remarkable strength of mind, and managed to keep going until
he found a sheltered overhang, and settled himself there. There was enough
deadfall nearby to make a fire, and he slept all night.
Come morning, Pardoe had taken stock of his situation. He had managed to
take a saddlebag with food and a canteen, and he knew that this would see
him through several days. So he nursed his strength, and used his hate to
make him well again. “I’ll get you for this, Joe Cartwright,” he muttered
to himself frequently. “And you, Sam Kirby!”
By Thursday, he was well on the road to recovery, and was thinking of doing
some stealing to bolster his dwindling supplies. He was still weaker than
he expected, so contented himself with setting some traps, and by morning,
he had a couple of rabbits to cook. He guessed that by the start of the next
week, he would be almost back to normal. With this in mind, he began to make
his plans.
**************
“What do you mean, I’m not allowed to go into town?” Joe said, loudly. He
was glaring at his father, his temper on a hair trigger. “Why not? I went
to the dance on Thursday, and nothing happened! I’m not going to be caged
on the ranch!”
“Don’t take that tone with me, young man!” Ben said, sternly.
“Oh, come on, Joe,” Adam said, reasonably, “you’re hardly caged here.” It
was just a pity that the voice of reason wasn’t the one Joe wanted to heed
right then. “Anyway, its only one Saturday night.”
“Yes, just one, then next week it’ll be another and then another. How long
will this go on? Pardoe hasn’t shown up at all. Will I still be being followed
around when I’m old and grey?”
“Now you’re just being ridiculous,” Adam scoffed. “Joe, this is for your
safety. Will one week hurt?”
“And will you still be using the same argument next week, too?” Joe flared.
“I want to go into town and forget about my troubles for a while. Is that
too much to ask?”
Adam launched into another soothing explanation, but Ben stood there. Joe
was right, he knew. But he was terrified to let his youngest son go into town,
where his escorts could succumb to the temptations of drink, and anything
could happen. Then there was the ride there and back, and in the dark. Interrupting
Adam, Ben said, “Joe, please, just this week. Next week, regardless, you may
go to town. But for me, please?”
Looking down, Joe knew that he was out-manoeuvred. He couldn’t turn down
his father when he asked like that. It would’ve been childish, and rude. But
it was difficult to back down. Still… He took a deep breath and raised his
head. “All right, Pa. Just for this week.”
“Thank you, son,” Ben breathed. He could see the pent-up disappointment
and anger, but he ignored them. The boy was entitled to his feelings. Just
as long as he was safe.
Finding a counterfeit smile for Ben, Joe went out to put his horse away.
Just for a moment, the urge to jump on and ride away was very strong. Then
the door opened and Adam came out. “You did the right thing there, Joe,” he
said.
“Yeah, sure,” Joe said, bitterly. “Have a good time in town.” He walked
towards the barn, his head down, a sure sign he was upset.
Hesitating, Adam wondered if he ought to stay home and keep Joe company,
but he figured that he might not be flavour of the moment, and so mounted
Sport and rode away. From the shadows of the barn, Joe watched him leave.
****************
“Hoss, you get the supplies in, and Adam, ride out to the timber camp and
check on the progress of the logging. Joe…”
“I know,” Joe interrupted rudely, “you have some barn chores, and wood chopping
for me to do.”
There was a collective catch of breath round the breakfast table. Joe flushed
deeply, but he didn’t apologise. He hadn’t been out of the yard in the last
five days, and he was beginning to go stir crazy. He had never known the Ponderosa
had so many broken bridles or dirty saddles. He didn’t know why Hop Sing
suddenly needed so much wood for the stove, or why the porch steps had needed
every nail and board checked, when it had been done a few short months before.
“I wasn’t going to say that,” Ben said, coldly. “But if you don’t mind your
manners, young man, you can do just that!”
“Sorry, Pa,” Joe said, grudgingly. He could still feel the flush staining
his neck and face, and he wished his brothers would look elsewhere. He glared
at them. Hoss took the hint, and applied himself to his plate again.
“Joe, I want you to finish schooling that new driving team. I’d like to
be able to use them soon. Can you handle that?” Ben glared at his youngest
son, aware that Joe had had far more than his share of barn chores in the
last few days, but still angry at the show of bad manners.
“Yes, sir,” he said, sulkily.
“Then let’s get going,” Ben said. He watched as his sons rose from the table
and went out. Joe still looked angry, but Ben was sure he’d work it out. He
shook his head. The tension was getting to all of them. He hoped someone would
find Pardoe’s body soon.
*************
From his vantage point above the ranch, Pardoe saw Joe walking down to the
corral. Sam was out with a bunch of hands checking on the herd. Joe was by
far the easiest one to get to, although Pardoe wanted to pay Sam back. Lifting
the rifle he had taken from the traveller he’d killed, Pardoe made his way
slowly down, until he was hidden in brush quite close to the corral. He had
no intention of killing Joe just yet. He wanted to do that slowly, and so
Joe could see his face. The thought gave him a lot of pleasure. Now, he settled
down to watch, knowing that he only had to slink back into the undergrowth
to become invisible to pursuers.
*************
Hitching the team to the buckboard, Joe spent some time soothing the nervous
horses. They had been worked together before, and were well matched in size
and strength. However, they hadn’t had on the blinkered bridles before, and
were uneasy. Finally, Joe was content that the horses were settled, and he
climbed onto the seat. Lifting the reins, he snapped them and said, “Walk
on.”
After a couple of false starts, the horses got used to throwing their weight
into the collars on their necks, and pulling together. Joe drove them round
and round the corral, sometimes at walk, sometimes at trot. The horses quickly
learned to move together, and Joe soon had them backing up, as well. Pleased
with his work, he got the hands with him to bring some hay bales and load
the buckboard. The horses might as well learn what weight felt like.
It was almost like the first time again, but the horses quickly got used
to it, so Joe decided to take them out of the corral. This was the acid test
– how would they react without corral railings? Flicking the reins, Joe steered
the horses out of the corral, and urged them into trot. He could feel a grin
on his face. The work he had done that day had been satisfying and productive,
and he felt better.
Seconds later, something sang past his ear, and Joe realised that it was
a bullet, as the sound of the shot echoed back at him. The horses threw up
their heads, and Joe tightened the reins, speaking soothingly, even as he
looked to find the marksman. Another shot fired, and another, and one pinged
off the ground almost under the offside horse’s foot. With a startled snort,
it threw up its head and broke into a canter. Its unwilling partner became
infected with its panic, and Joe suddenly found himself in charge of a runaway
team.
The road that ran past the corral was narrow. Joe tried desperately to steer
the team down the road, but the horses had the bits between their teeth, and
he was a helpless passenger. Another shot rang out, turning the horses again.
The turn was too fast, and the buckboard tilted alarmingly. Joe clung on.
With a crunch, the buckboard struck the corral rails and a wheel was ripped
off. Joe was catapulted out of the seat, and into the rails. With a crash,
the buckboard tipped up, hung for a second in the air, before falling away
from Joe’s crumpled form. The horses were dragged to a sudden halt, panting
and lathered.
From all around, the hands converged on Joe. Up on the hill, Pardoe slipped
away, delighted with the results of his shooting.
***************
Riding into the yard, Adam looked with surprise at the supplies still loaded
onto the wagon, and at the buggy hitched to the railing. He was pretty sure
that they buggy belonged to Doctor Paul Martin, but he wasn’t unduly alarmed,
as Paul was a friend of the family. Hitching Sport, Adam went inside to solve
the mystery.
His attitude changed at once, as Hoss lifted his head from his hands, and
gave Adam a look of pure misery. “What’s wrong?” Adam asked, crossing to his
side.
“Someone shot at Joe down at the corral, and the team bolted. There was
an accident, Adam, and Joe’s hurt right bad.” Hoss dropped his head again,
and ran his hands through his thinning hair.
“How bad?” Adam cried, the cold hand of fear gripping his heart.
“I ain’t sure,” Hoss replied. “The doc’s with him right now.”
Turning away, Adam leaned on the fireplace, trying to calm the anger and
fear battling in his heart. He knew Pardoe had to be at the back of it. There
couldn’t be any other explanation. “When did this happen?” he asked.
“Couple o’ hours ago,” Hoss returned. He looked up, as footsteps sounded
on the stairs. Ben came down, looking tired and drawn.
“Adam,” he said, in greeting. “I thought I heard your horse.”
“How’s Joe?” Adam asked. He put a hand on Ben’s shoulder. Hoss was standing,
too.
“He’s been lucky,” Ben replied, sitting down heavily. The boys sat down
too, Adam on the fireplace and Hoss on the table. “He’s got a nasty head
injury, and has broken his right collarbone, and arm, plus three ribs on
his right side, and his left ankle. His right side seems to be where he took
the worst of the impact.”
“And that’s lucky?” Adam said, harshly. He was on his feet and pacing without
knowing how he’d go there.
“Yes,” Ben replied, steadily. He was keeping a tight rein on his emotions,
because he knew that if he let out his anger and grief, he’d break down and
cry, and wouldn’t be able to stop. “Paul say he broke his ankle on the front
of the buckboard. If his foot had caught, he would’ve died. Yes, he’s badly
injured, but he’ll live. That’s the important thing. He’ll live.”
“Yes, of course,” Adam said. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Is he awake?”
“He was,” Ben said. “He’s badly concussed. He got a bad blow on the head.
But he knew who he was, and where he was.”
They looked up as Paul came down. “I’ve given him some morphine for the
pain, Ben,” he said. “That should see him through the night. By morning,
he’ll be a bit more comfortable, with the breaks all set, and in place. After
that, I’d like to keep him off painkillers whenever possible. I don’t like
to give drugs on top of a concussion like that, but he needed something.
Keep an eye on him, and send for me if you’re worried. He’s a little hot
right now, but that’s just shock. It should settle as the night goes on.”
“Thank you, Paul,” Ben said.
***********
Watching as Joe murmured something in his drugged sleep, Adam felt his anger
growing again. It had come and gone all evening, and he had hardly been able
to sleep. At his insistence, Ben had woken him to sit with Joe about 2 am.
Ben looked shattered, as well he might. He had broken the news to Sam that
Pardoe appeared to be on the loose again, and left strict instructions that
Sam was not to go out of the yard until further notice. Sam had been white-faced
at the news.
Rising, Adam paced back and forth impatiently for a few minutes before settling
himself by Joe’s side again. Joe was swathed in bandages and plaster. There
was a bandage round his head, a cast on his arm and ankle, and more bandages
round his shoulder and ribs. Adam knew it would a long time before Joe was
able to get out of the bed. His broken collarbone would prevent him wearing
a sling to support the weight of the cast, and he couldn’t be able to support
his weight on a crutch. Adam could envisage weeks of misery for all the household,
trying to keep Joe still long enough to allow him to heal.
As dawn broke, Joe roused. Adam had realised that he was waking, and went
to get Ben. He found his father already up and almost dressed. He was by Joe’s
side before Joe’s eyes were open.
“Hi, Pa,” Joe whispered, as he focused on his father’s face.
“Hi yourself,” Ben replied, finding a smile. “How do you feel this morning?”
“Thirsty,” Joe answered, and tried to move. He couldn’t bite back a groan.
He looked down at himself, as though he had forgotten how badly injured he
was.
“Sore, too, huh, buddy?” Adam said, sympathetically.
“I don’t think I’m gonna learn to fly,” Joe joked, weakly. He winced again
as a shudder ran down his back, as the memory of the accident popped into
his mind for a moment.
“Do you think you could eat anything, Joe?” Ben asked, as he helped his
son to drink.
“I guess,” Joe answered, laying his head down with relief. He gingerly lifted
his left hand to scratch at the bandage. “This itches,” he grumbled.
“Well, that’s a good sign,” Adam said, sarcastically. Ben grinned at him,
as relieved as Adam that Joe was complaining already.
“How about breakfast?” Ben asked again, and was in time to see Joe turning
green.
“Gonna be sick,” Joe warned. His head was suddenly pounding, and sweat beaded
on his forehead.
“Forget breakfast,” Adam commented, as he left the room.
****************
Slowly, Joe made progress. After a few days, his persistent headache disappeared,
and he found sitting up was less of a chore. He was still confined to bed,
and would be for some weeks to come. One of his most constant companions was
Sam, who, like Joe, was at risk from Pardoe’s vengeance. Unlike the family,
though, Sam didn’t hesitate to pass the gossip on to Joe.
“Another man was robbed on the road yesterday,” he said to Joe. “This one
escaped alive, and from his description, it was Pardoe who held him up. He
isn’t going away, Joe, and they can’t find him.”
Resting his head on the pillows propping him up, Joe sighed deeply, then
winced as his broken ribs protested. “That makes three people he’s robbed
and killed, or tried to. Where is he hiding out?”
“It was him who tired to kill you, wasn’t it?” Sam said, thinking out loud.
“He’ll be coming for me next, and this time, he won’t miss.”
Joe couldn’t dispute anything that Sam said. Sam knew the man; knew that
he was a sadistic bully. Joe had only had a taste of Pardoe’s temper, that
day he had been Pardoe’s captive, but he fully understood why Sam was worried.
There didn’t seem to be anything he could say to re-assure Sam either. After
all, he had been attacked on the ranch. Surreptitiously, Joe moved his left
hand down to touch the gun secreted under the covers. He knew how vulnerable
he was to further attack, and had persuaded Hoss to bring his gun up to him.
He knew Ben wouldn’t approve, so he’d said nothing to either Ben or Adam.
“D’you think he’s watching us?” Sam asked.
“Yeah,” Joe admitted, reluctantly. He wished Sam would stop talking about
it, but conversely, he was afraid that if they didn’t talk about it, fear
would eat away at his nerves.
**************
Both Joe and Sam were right. Pardoe was indeed watching the ranch. He knew
the day-to-day routine off by heart. He recognised all the family by
sight, and he was biding his time. From questioning the men he had robbed
and killed, he knew that Joe Cartwright had survived the buckboard accident.
He knew how badly injured he was, and Pardoe altered his plans. He no longer
intended to catch Joe outside; he didn’t have time to wait. The posse would
find him eventually. He would go into the ranch house itself to kill him.
From his observations, he knew that Sam spent a lot of time in the big house,
and so he laid his plans.
The dry weather gave him his idea. He knew the horror with which timber
barons like Ben held forest fires, and so he decided to set a fire. It would
draw all the hands, and the family, too, and he would have free access to
the house and the two young men.
He didn’t wait any longer. It had been over a week since he caused the buckboard
to crash, and he guessed that Joe would be over his concussion, so consequently
aware of the horrors he was about to face. Early the next morning, he set
the fire, and made his way to his vantage point.
Sure enough, it wasn’t long before the shout “FIRE!” went up, and the ranch
hands and the family dashed out to waiting horses. There was a brief discussion
between Ben and his sons, but they all rode away together. Pardoe allowed
a smile to twist his thin-lipped mouth as he made his way down to the yard.
Quietly, he let himself into the house. Thanks to what Sam had previously
told him, he knew the rough layout of the building. He stood just inside the
door, listening to the reassuring sound of silence. On cat-like feet, he
walked across the room, and tiptoed upstairs.
There were a number of doors. Most of them were shut, but some stood ajar.
Pardoe eased his way along the hall, checking out each room. Then a voice
spoke. “You want something to drink, Joe?” Pardoe recognised Sam’s voice.
“No, thanks, Sam,” Joe responded. “Stop trying to distract me. You’re losing,
and that’s all there is to it!”
“You’re both gonna lose,” Pardoe said, stepping into the room, and covering
the young men sitting playing chequers on the bed.
***************
Dirty and coughing, Ben wiped the sweat from his brow, and looked at the
men round about him. “Thanks, men,” he said. It wasn’t much, but his heart-felt
tone was more than enough for the men. They muttered various things, shrugging
off the praise, but pleased, nevertheless.
“Let’s get home,” Adam said. “I’ve got an uneasy feeling about this.”
“How’d ya mean?” Hoss asked. He slipped his vest back on.
“I’m not sure,” admitted his older brother. “But it seems odd that a fire
should start way out here, miles from the nearest track, and in plain sight
of the house. There didn’t seem to be a camp fire to blame, it wasn’t big,
it didn’t take long to put out, and with what’s been happening recently, I’m
just nervous.”
“Do you think Joe’s in danger?” Ben asked, mounting Buck.
“I don’t know,” Adam said, honestly. “But I’d rather be back home where
I can check on him.”
“Let’s go,” Ben agreed, and they rode off towards home. Adam’s bad feeling
had infected all of them now, and they raced back along the narrow trail with
reckless abandon.
***********
Moving slowly, Joe tried to get his hand under the cover to grasp his gun.
He moved his leg slightly, thinking he might push the gun nearer to his fingers,
but he forgot about his cast, and his foot slid off the pillow it was cushioned
on, causing Joe to grunt in pain. The chequers board toppled to the
floor, and the outline of the gun was plain under the flattened blanket.
“You take that gun outa there, and drop it real slow to the floor,” Pardoe
ordered. He watched, as Joe, his loathing evident on his face, did as he was
told. “Well, Sam, how’s the boy?” he asked, and Sam shuddered.
“What do you want?” Joe asked, coldly.
“I want to kill you both,” Pardoe said. “I owe you, both of you. Sam, no
one double-crosses me and lives to talk about it.”
“Sam did the right thing,” Joe defended his friend. “The bank got its money
back, and none of the innocent people you robbed suffered for it.”
“Save your moralising for someone who’s interested,” Pardoe sneered. “You
cost me a lot of money, Cartwright!”
“So you’re going to take it out of my hide?” Joe asked. He had stood up
to this man before, and he didn’t intend to back away from him this time,
either. But this time, he was much more vulnerable, and he knew it. Unfortunately,
Pardoe knew it too. “ Was it you who caused the accident?”
“Have you got that many enemies, son?” Pardoe laughed.
“No, I don’t, but its always nice to have things confirmed,” Joe shot back.
“But you didn’t manage to kill me.”
“I didn’t mean to kill you,” Pardoe said. “It was more of a crash than I
expected, but I wasn’t sorry. It was just the start, boy.”
Jumping to his feet, Sam threw himself at the outlaw. “Leave him alone!”
he cried. All this, he felt, was his fault. He wanted desperately to protect
Joe.
Without missing a beat, Pardoe moved the gun and shot Sam at point blank
range. The shot rang loudly in the room, and Joe could smell the cordite on
the air. His eyes were glued to his friend. He knew there was no way Sam would
long survive an injury like that. “Sam?” he breathed. “Sam?”
For an instant, Sam’s eyes met Joe’s. The young man clutched his stomach,
and blood poured through his fingers. “Sorry,” he gasped, and his eyes glazed,
and he went limp. His fingers fell to the ground and the blood continued to
pour from the hole in his stomach. After a few moments, it slowed, then stopped.
Sam was dead.
Tearing his gaze away from Sam, Joe swallowed desperately to stop himself
regurgitating the contents of his stomach. He had seen death before, but never
like this. His room had always been a haven of security for Joe, and now
it had been violated. He was shaking violently, and couldn’t stop. His hands
were slick with sweat, and he dimly recognised the symptoms of shock. His
head dropped back on the pillows, as he fought for breath.
After a couple of minutes, Joe had recovered slightly. Pardoe had enjoyed
the whole performance immensely.
He was a bit sorry that Sam had died so quickly, instead of after the mental
torture he had envisioned, but it didn’t really matter. He had wanted Sam
dead, and he was. He had been somewhat surprised at Joe’s reaction, but he
had found it interesting. And he still had Joe to torture.
“You pig!” Joe spat, as he gained control of himself again.
“Shut up, boy!” Pardoe said, and backhanded Joe across the mouth.
Raising his hand to wipe the blood from his mouth, Joe glared at Pardoe.
The moment seemed familiar to Joe somehow, and then he remembered; it had
been at a moment like this that Sam had intervened that morning when Joe thought
he’d killed Pardoe, and Sam saved Joe’s life. Joe realised that he had a
fair idea of what he was facing now. He swallowed convulsively.
“Broken foot, huh?” Pardoe asked, pushing aside the covers to examine the
heavy cast on Joe’s foot and ankle. “And your arm, and ribs, too.”
Keeping his eyes on the outlaw, Joe said nothing. Pardoe laughed, and clapped
a heavy hand onto Joe’s injured shoulder. He couldn’t prevent a cry escaping.
“Oh, sorry, boy,” Pardoe said, in a mocking tone. “Does that bit hurt, too?
Broke something there as well?” His grip tightened, and Joe was squirming
with the pain, reaching across with his left hand to try and break the outlaw’s
hold. “Ah-ah!” Pardoe chided, and rapped the base of Joe’s thumb with the
barrel of his gun. As he had known it would, it broke Joe’s grip. Joe’s hand
dropped back to the covers. Blood spilled from the gash on his hand.
Laughing, Pardoe’s hand moved down to Joe’s ribs, and he pushed brutally
on Joe’s side, feeling the partially mended bones move under his hands. Joe
cried out, and swung his heavy cast against the outlaw. Pardoe was caught
unaware, and fell onto the floor.
Immediately, heedless of his injuries, Joe lunged from the other side of
the bed to the floor, scrabbling after his gun. Pardoe was on his feet in
a moment, and racing round the bed after Joe, who couldn’t quite reach his
gun. Pardoe kicked it, and it spun across the room. “You’ll pay for that,
boy!” Pardoe swore.
He froze, as the sound of hooves reached them through the open window. “HELP!”
Joe yelled, as loudly as he could, and began to drag himself across the floor
towards the door. Pardoe went after him.
**************
“Did you hear that?” Adam gasped, pulling Sport to a halt. He didn’t wait
for an answer, but ran across to the house, and threw the door open. Behind
him, Ben and Hoss jumped down from their horses and followed him. They had
all instinctively drawn their guns.
From upstairs, they could hear yelling, and although the words themselves
were lost, the voice was clearly Joe’s.
Adam took the stairs two at a time, Ben and Hoss at his heels.
****************
Kicking out at Joe, Pardoe caught the youth on his hip, as Joe desperately
twisted to try and save his injuries another battering. It didn’t work, as
the shock from the kick reverberated up his body. Joe kept moving, desperate
to reach the door. He knew he wasn’t going to make it, but he had to keep
trying.
Reaching for him, Pardoe caught hold of Joe’s hair, and hauled. Joe let
out a screech, and swung his plastered arm again, to no avail. Pardoe had
him in his grasp, and it was at that very moment that the bedroom door opened,
and Adam raced in.
He barely had time to register what was going on, as Pardoe swung his gun
round and fired. Adam was already falling to the floor, but he didn’t dare
shoot back, for Pardoe had Joe hugged hard against his body, using the injured
young man as a shield.
“Get out, Adam!” Joe yelled. Sweat was running into his eyes, and pain was
consuming his body. He could barely move, but he threw his weight forward,
trying to knock Pardoe off balance, so that he couldn’t shoot Joe’s beloved
brother.
“Damn you, boy!” Pardoe swore, as his next shot went wide.
Pleased with his success, Joe tried the same manoeuvre again, but Pardoe
was ready for him this time. However, the outlaw’s attention had wavered,
and Adam dived across the room to tackle Pardoe around the legs, just as Hoss
shoved Ben aside and lunged at Pardoe.
Distracted, unsure who to shoot at first, Pardoe hesitated for that crucial
second, and the next moment, two Cartwrights hit him. His grip on Joe loosened,
and Joe tumbled to the floor, where he lay gasping, and trying to avoid being
stepped on by his brothers. Hoss wrestled Pardoe for control of the gun, and
although it discharged once more, the bullet went harmlessly into the ceiling.
Then it was over, and Pardoe was on the floor, out cold.
“Joe!” Ben was kneeling beside him. Joe looked at him sideways, trying not
to groan, and failing. He hurt all over.
“Pa! Sam...” Tears broke free and rolled down Joe’s face without him being
aware of them.
“Let’s get him back to bed, boys,” Ben said.
“Not in here, Pa,” Adam said, panting. He gestured slightly to the body
on the floor. Ben had been so intent on reaching Joe that he hadn’t seen
Sam’s body.
“Of course, well, next door then.” He stood back, and let Adam and Hoss
gently pick Joe up. Despite their care, he groaned, and bit his lip. He was
soon settled between the cold sheets in the next door room. Hoss went to
get some wood to make up a fire, for Joe was shivering. It was mostly reaction
– delayed shock. But the room was cool, compared to Joe’s.
“I’ll send someone for the sheriff,” Adam said, going out.
“Tell him to leave the doctor behind,” Joe commented.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, Ben did what he could to make Joe comfortable.
He didn’t speak, letting his movements speak for themselves. But as Joe shivering
grew worse, he drew the young man into a tight embrace, murmuring wordless
sounds of comfort, and stroking Joe’s hair. After a few minutes, the shivering
subsided, and Joe drew a deep breath. “Feel better?” Ben asked, laying Joe
down carefully.
“A bit,” Joe said. “He shot Sam.”
“I’m so sorry, Joe,” Ben said, and he took the boy’s hand, frowning as he
felt the sticky blood there.
He had no idea how long he just sat there, holding Joe’s hand, neither of
them talking. Joe fell into a light doze, which Ben thought was a good thing.
From the next door room, he could hear sounds of someone cleaning up. He thought
sadly of Sam, who had finally found peace, and had it ripped from him so
brutally.
His musings were broken by the arrival of Paul Martin and Roy Coffee. Joe
opened his eyes. He didn’t look surprised to see Paul, who immediately began
to examine Joe. Ben rose, and joined Roy in the hall.
“Got Pardoe on his way to jail,” Roy said, gruffly. “I’m real sorry about
the boy, Ben. It’s real hard. Has Joe said anything?”
“No, not yet. Just that Pardoe shot Sam. I didn’t want to push him until
Paul had checked him over. Pardoe seems to have been free with his fists.”
Ben’s hands clenched as he thought of what his son had suffered.
“He is gonna be all right, isn’t he?” Roy asked. He had known Joe a long
time, and was fond of the boy.
“Yes, he’ll be all right,” Ben said. He shook his head. “I never asked Adam
and Hoss if they were all right,” he said, suddenly remembering his seeming
callous disregard for his older sons.
“They’re fine, and I’m sure they didn’t need to be asked,” Roy said.
The door to Joe’s room opened and Paul came out. “Ben, Joe’s not too bad
hurt. His ribs are sore again, as is his collarbone, but nothing has had to
be reset. Everything is sore, and he’s going to have bruises on his bruises,
but he was lucky. He was quite shocked, but you did the right things; kept
him warm and didn’t make him talk. I think he might be up to answering a few
questions, Roy, but go easy. He’s had a very traumatic afternoon.”
They went back in. Joe was settled lying flat on the bed, and seemed to
be more comfortable than before. Ben noticed that his bandages had all been
redone, and the gash on his thumb had been bandaged. “Joe, can you tell me
what happened?” Roy asked.
Unconsciously, Joe reached for Ben’s hand and held it tight. His eyes slid
to the door, and Ben turned his head enough to see his older sons entering.
“We were playing chequers after you left for the fire,” Joe began. “Sam was
loosing, and trying to distract me. The door opened, and Pardoe was there.
He said he was going to kill us. I tried to get my gun, but I knocked the
board to the floor, and he saw the gun under the blankets. He made me throw
it on the floor.” Looking back, reliving the horror, Joe’s eyes were misted
with tears. “I told him Sam had done the right thing, and he laughed at me.
Then Sam suddenly jumped at him, and Pardoe shot him. He died right there,
in front of me.” The tears broke free, and Ben squeezed Joe’s hand.
“Its all right, son,” he said. “You don’t have to go on.”
“I do,” Joe declared. “For Sam. He was trying to save me again. Pardoe looked
a bit surprised. I – I was shaking, and couldn’t stop.” He looked at Paul.
“Shock,” Paul said, briskly. “Quite normal.”
“Then Pardoe grabbed my shoulder, and was talking about my injuries. He
fired those shots that caused the team to bolt.” Joe wiped the tears away
impatiently. “He was hurting me, and I hit him with my cast, and dived to
the floor to try and get the gun, but he was too quick for me.” The words
were pouring from Joe now, and nobody tried to stop him, although Paul looked
a little concerned. “I heard you ride in and shouted for help. He was angry,
and I knew he was going to kill me, so I tried to get away. He caught me
by the hair, and pulled me against him. Then you came, Adam, and I thought
he’d shot you, too! So I threw myself off balance, so he wouldn’t have the
chance to do it again.” Joe swallowed. “Then you attacked him and it was
all over.” Exhausted, Joe shut his eyes, closing out his audience.
Moved by the graphic account, and appalled that his son should have had
to suffer like that, Ben stroked Joe’s hair soothingly, as hot tears seeped
through Joe’s lashes. There were murmuring voices all around, and Joe wished
they would leave him alone so he could sleep – and mourn. Then a needle pricked
his flesh, and soon he felt the warm tendrils of sleep curling through his
brain. He didn’t fight them.
Out in the hall once more, Roy said, “I don’t think we’ll need Joe’s testimony.
Pardoe will hang for this.”
Ben said nothing, although his spirit called out for a brutal death for
the monster who had caused so much suffering. He briefly clasped his other
sons to his chest, and they both hugged back, needing the reassurance of
physical contact as much as Ben did.
**************
Later, downstairs, Adam said, “We’ve cleaned up Joe’s room, but I don’t
think he’ll ever want to sleep there again. I wouldn’t blame him, either.”
“Nor me,” Ben agreed. “I think we’ll just make the room he’s in his room
from now on, unless he doesn’t want that. We can ask him tomorrow, then move
his stuff in. Give him his own bed, that sort of thing.” Ben gazed into the
fire. He’d spent a lot of the day doing just that. “Boys, I want to thank
you for the risks you took to save Joe.”
“Aw, Pa, t’weren’t nothin’,” Hoss protested. “Joe’d do the same thing for
us any day of the week.”
“I know, but still...” Ben didn’t go on. He was emotionally exhausted, as
were they all. “Let’s get some sleep,” he suggested.
***********
Next morning, Joe seemed calmer, and Ben casually asked if he would like
his belongings moved into the room he was in. Joe’s face blanched, but after
a moment, he shrugged. “I don’t know,” he said.
“You don’t have to decide now,” Ben said, sitting down on the bed. “There’s
no rush.” He watched as Joe’s gaze turned inwards. “What’s troubling you,
son?” he asked.
“I was just thinking about Sam,” Joe replied, focusing on Ben once more.
“We really didn’t know much about him, did we? Like how he got those scars
on his back. I wish he’d told us.”
Belatedly, Ben remembered that Joe had been missing the evening when Sam’s
past came to light. “We did know, as it happens. When Pardoe was holding you,
Sam told us. Roy had wired Ed Lemp, and he had sent details of Sam’s prison
record.”
“What did he do?” Joe asked, his eyes glued on Ben’s face.
“He murdered his step-father.” Quickly, Ben outlined the story Sam had told
them. Joe’s face grew thoughtful. He understood, now, why Sam had been so
worried by the thought of going prison. At the time, Joe had assumed that
it was just a natural aversion, but this explained the depths of Sam’s concerns,
and why he had been so uncomfortable round Roy Coffee.
“Poor Sam,” Joe commented, when Ben was finished. “He never said a word
of that to me.”
“Well, it could be that he’d simply forgotten that you weren’t there,” Ben
said. “He’d had a bad day, let’s be honest, and he was struggling with his
conscience, and he knew that we were worried by your absence, and he knew
where you were… Well, its no wonder he didn’t bring it up again.”
Silence fell. Ben could see Joe was miles away. He waited patiently, and
after a few moments, Joe spoke again. “That afternoon, after the picnic. I
followed Sam up to that canyon. I should’ve expected something, and been more
careful, but the two men – the ones we brought back – were on me before I
knew. When I saw Sam in the camp, I let him have it. Pardoe hit me on the
head, and when I came round, I was tied up. Pardoe was a bully, Pa. He bullied
his men, and he bullied me. I stood up to him as best I could, but you know,
he was intent on getting the information about the soldiers, and he was prepared
to beat it out of me.” Joe moved uncomfortably. “He kicked me when I was still
tied up, but that wasn’t enough fun for him so he had his men hold me. When
Sam came, I hoped he would shoot me, like Pardoe wanted. Because I wouldn’t
tell him, Pa, and I knew he’d just keep beating me until I wasn’t able to
move, or until I died.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this?” Ben asked. He offered Joe some water, which
he drank. “I let you go off breaking horses the next day.”
“He didn’t have the chance to hurt me really badly,” Joe explained. “Sure
I was bruised and sore, but I was okay. Sam came at the right time, and when
I realised that he was going to help me, I didn’t care what Pardoe had done
to me.”
“You should have told me,” Ben said. He shook his head ruefully. “Joe, the
world won’t come to a stop if you admit you’re hurt.”
“Do you want to risk it?” Joe asked, mischievously. “It might, you know.”
*************
A week passed without Joe making up his mind about changing rooms. He seemed
to be recovering well, as he was impatient to get out of bed. Paul Martin
said that Adam and Hoss could help him downstairs each day, so he wasn’t as
isolated, but on no account was he to walk on that ankle. Joe cheered up
immensely with the change of scenery, and he was able to eat in the same room
as his family, even if he wasn’t sitting at the table with them.
Late one night, Adam woke to hear a strange noise. Rising, he slipped on
his dressing gown, and lit a lamp. He opened the door and went into the hall.
“Joe!” he exclaimed, as the lamplight fell on his youngest brother, leaning
awkwardly against the wall. “What’s the matter? Where are you going?”
Closing his eyes, Joe groaned. Adam didn’t think it was a groan of pain,
but a groan of despair at having been discovered. Without waiting for an answer,
Adam put the lamp own and went over to put his arm round Joe’s waist, to
help him back to bed.
“Wait,” Joe whispered. “I need to see my room.”
“What?” Adam said, wondering if Joe had lost his mind. “What for?”
“I need to, Adam. Please help me.” Joe looked pleadingly at Adam, who could
see in his brother’s eyes just what this expedition was costing him.
“All right, kid,” Adam said, and helped his brother the few steps along
the hall to the door. Adam opened it, and helped Joe inside.
“The bed,” Joe panted, and Adam set him on the bed before going and retrieving
the lamp form the hall. Ben’s door was open, and he stood there, a puzzled
frown on his face. Adam put his finger to his lips, and beckoned Ben along,
so he could hear what was being said.
As the warm glow from the lamp illuminated Joe’s room, Joe looked round,
drinking in each familiar object. He ran his hand over the cover of the bed,
and touched his mother’s photo on his nightstand. Adam stood patiently, waiting
for Joe to tell him what was going on, although he had a fair idea. Ben lurked
in the hall, peering through the crack by the hinges.
“It’s a different rug,” Joe said at last, his voice low.
“Yes,” Adam responded. “The other one was destroyed.”
“I thought there would be – I don’t know – an echo in here. A feeling in
the air, that violence had been done here, but there isn’t.” Joe lifted his
head, as though feeling the atmosphere. “It feels just the same as ever.”
“Does it?” Adam said, although he could feel it himself. “Yes, I suppose.”
“This was my haven, Adam,” Joe said. “The place where I came when I felt
the world was against me. Pardoe intruded. No, that’s not the word…”
“Violated?” Adam suggested.
“Yes, that’s it. He violated it. I thought that feeling would still be here.
But its not.” Joe looked round again. “Its not. The room feels just the same
as it did. I thought it would feel different.”
This was tricky, Adam thought. “Perhaps its because Sam died to save you,”
he suggested, tentatively. “And because, although Pardoe did violate your
room, you were, ultimately, still safe here.”
“What do you mean?” Joe asked, looking at him.
“Well, we came, and stopped Pardoe from killing you. So you were safe here
in your room. And remembered comfort often outweighs sorrow or pain.” Adam
wondered if he was talking sense, and if Joe believed anything he said. “Houses
seem to pick up atmospheres,” Adam went on, encouraged by the look on Joe’s
face. “And this house has a nice atmosphere. It permeates all the rooms. It’s
created by love. And there’s been a lot of love in this room over the years,
Joe. All those times we’ve spent by your bedside, using love to help you
get over your injuries. It marks a place.”
Silence. Ben resisted the urge to go into the room. Joe was obviously deep
in thought, and he didn’t want to disturb him. “You’re right, Adam,” Joe agreed,
finally. “The atmosphere is nice in here. Its warm, and comforting.” Joe
yawned. “I don’t think I want to change rooms, Adam,” he said. “Do you think
Pa will mind?”
Raking that as his cue, Ben walked into the room. “No, I don’t mind,” he
said, and went to sit by Joe. He thought his sons were right. The atmosphere
in the room was the same as it had always been. “The choice was always yours,
son.”
Smiling ruefully, Joe said, “I might have known you’d hear me.”
“Why didn’t you just ask us to bring you here?” Ben wanted to know.
“I don’t know,” Joe said, reluctantly. “I thought you might think I was
mad. I didn’t realise how hard it would be to get here alone.”
“Well, let’s get you back to bed,” Ben said, rising, but Joe put his hand
on Ben’s arm.
“Can’t I sleep here?” he asked. “I want to.”
Hesitating, Ben searched Joe’s eyes. “if that’s what you want, son,” he
said, softly, and Joe smiled at him, vividly.
It only took the minutes to get Joe settled comfortably. “My own bed,” he
muttered, and snuggled down, a smile splaying over his lips.
“Sleep well,” Ben said, picking up the lamp.
“Night, Pa,” Joe murmured, his voice already sleep-laden.
Pausing, Ben stroked Joe’s hair. Somehow, he sensed that this was a major
step in Joe’s recovery; that his son had made peace with the things that had
happened to him, and before long, they would have their old Joe back, laughing
and teasing and driving them all crazy.
Walking to the door, Ben smiled at Adam. He couldn’t wait!
The End
RETURN TO LIBRARY