The Breaking Game
By: Rona Y.
Looking at all the horses
milling about in the make-shift corral, Joe Cartwright knew that he had his
work cut out for him this time. There was a mixture of mares, foals, yearlings,
and some older horses. The herd stallion was still somewhere in there, and he
would have to be separated before he killed one of the young male horses.
Luckily, the stallion was
distinctive enough that Joe had no problems recognising him. The fact that he
had also once tried to break the stallion meant that he knew him well. Joe
whistled piercingly, not at all sure if Satan would respond to the whistle, but
a moment later, he saw the familiar brown-and-white coat of the skewbald
stallion and had his rope sailing towards him.
Joe’s aim was true, and he
used his pinto horse to help him pull the stallion over to the gate, although
Satan fought him every step of the way. But, with some help from the hands and
some big whips, Satan was soon outside the corral and Joe was faced with the daunting
task of removing the rope.
It was all too apparent
that the big stallion was angry. Joe dismounted from his horse and walked
slowly towards Satan, talking quietly and soothingly all the time. The hands
wisely kept their distance and watched. Even those new to the ranch knew the
stories about Joe and Satan, and were curious.
This was a scene that Joe
remembered only too well. Joe had separated the foals from the mares and had
had to restrain the stallion while that was happening. As Joe set the horse
free, it had turned on him, biting a chunk out of his shoulder, and striking
Joe’s leg with its hoof. Nor was that the last occasion that the stallion had
ravaged the man. Joe had almost died setting the horse free. Yet later, Satan
had saved Joe’s life. The animal was completely unpredictable.
“I’m just gonna let you go,
fella,” Joe soothed, allowing the rope to loosen slowly. “Don’t worry, I’m not
gonna keep you this time. Not that I’d mind, but I know it’s not for you.” The
horse shook its head, unknowingly helping Joe. In one smooth movement, Joe had
the rope over Satan’s ears and the stallion was free again.
For a long moment, man and
horse just looked at one another. The rope lay in loose coils on the ground and
Joe made no attempt to gather it up. He just looked at his horse and thought of
what might have been. Then Joe dropped his gaze, and, as though that action had
been holding Satan captive, the horse realised it was free. It turned in one
graceful movement and galloped off.
A hubbub of chat broke out
from behind Joe as he began to coil up the rope. Joe let it all wash over him
as relief made his muscles tremble slightly. Sub-consciously, he had been
expecting the horse to turn on him, as it had done the previous time.
Drawing a deep breath, Joe
started to give out his orders.
*******************
It was dark when he arrived
back at the house and he was sure supper would be long over. Not that Joe was
unduly worried about that. He was more tired than hungry and bed was calling
more loudly to him than food was. Slowly, he untacked his horse and bedded it
down for the night, yawning convulsively throughout.
The house was brightly lit
and welcoming as Joe opened the front door. Ben, his father, was seated in his
red leather chair by the fire, reading. Adam and Hoss were playing chess on the
table in front of the fire. Joe smiled at them all as he paused to unbuckle his
gun belt and take off his hat.
“How did it go?” Ben asked,
smiling.
“Great, thanks,” Joe
responded. “We got all the horses we wanted and we’re ready to start sorting
them out tomorrow.” Joe made a face. “I’ve got quite a few to geld, too.”
Gelding was a job Joe hated, but he knew it had to be done. Stallions were
unpredictable and working a stallion more often than not led to trouble, one
way or another. Geldings were much more reliable all round, but the process of
gelding was unpleasant.
“You look tired,” Ben
noted, rising from his seat and going over to Joe. “I was a little worried that
you were so late.”
Recognising the oblique
question, Joe grinned. “I’m fine,
Patting Joe’s shoulder, Ben
gave him an understanding smile. “Well, why don’t you get cleaned up while Hop
Sing makes you some supper?”
“Pa, I’m really tired,” Joe
replied. “I think I’ll just go straight to bed.”
“If you’re sure,” Ben
agreed, doubtfully. He looked into Joe’s face and saw the exhaustion etched
there. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
“I’m fine,” Joe replied.
“Honestly.” He smiled at them all. “Good night, everyone.”
As Joe’s back view
disappeared from sight, Adam commented, “He’s always tired after he sees
Satan.”
“I know,” Ben sighed.
“He sure do love that
horse,” Hoss agreed.
After a moment, they all
went back to what they had been doing. Upstairs, Joe fell into his bed and went
straight to sleep, to dream about his brown-and-white horse.
*********************
The next morning, the real
work began. All obviously pregnant mares were set loose again. Joe knew that
Satan was still hanging around, and that he would soon have the mares rounded
up. The foals were separated from the mares, and the air was filled with their
pitiful cries. Joe set some men to turn the foals loose in the big pasture near
the corrals and relative peace was soon restored.
The next job was to get the
young stallions apart. Although they had been together in a herd, they were all
full grown and would soon start to fight. Joe had to get them isolated, then
gelded. That would be the first job, he decided. While they were recovering
from the gelding, he could break the mares.
By late afternoon, the
young stallions were all isolated. One hand had been bitten, and another
kicked, but both had been lucky in that their injuries were minor. Joe was
nursing a sore wrist, where a rope had twisted around it suddenly, but he
hadn’t said anything to anyone, in typical fashion.
“Let’s call it a day!” he
called and heard relieved mumbles from all around. “Tomorrow, we do the
gelding.” It wasn’t something he looked forward to, but it had to be done.
As he rode into the yard,
Hoss came out of the barn. “Hi, Joe,” he greeted his younger brother. “You sure
are dirty, ain’t cha? You’ll have to get a bath before supper, or Hop Sing
won’t let you at the table.”
“I know,” Joe replied,
sighing. “Just let me get Cochise settled and I’ll get right onto it.” He
dismounted and led Cochise into the barn. Hoss followed him, chatting away
about his day.
“You dun hurt yourself,
Joe?” Hoss asked, as he saw his younger brother wince as he struggled with the
cinch.
“No, not really, just a
twinge in my wrist,” Joe told him, finally getting the cinch undone. He gritted
his teeth as he reached to pull the saddle off, only to find Hoss’ hands there
before him.
“I know you an’ your
‘twinges’,” Hoss commented. He gently lifted Joe’s bruised and swollen wrist.
“You git that strapped up after yer bath,” he ordered. “If’n you don’t do it, I
will.”
“All right,” Joe
capitulated. “You go tell Hop Sing to heat the water and I’ll be in in a
minute.” With his good hand, which was fortunately his left hand, Joe began to
energetically brush down his horse. Hoss eyed him for a moment, before going
off to the house.
****************
Between them, Ben and Hoss
were going to drive him to drink! Joe thought, as Ben gently checked the
bandage on his sprained wrist the next morning. As far as Joe was concerned, it
was nothing to worry about. It wasn’t the first time it had happened, and he
had the decided impression that it wouldn’t be the last. He had no intention of
keeping the bandage on while he was actually doing the gelding, but would put
it back before he got home, and they would be none the wiser.
Gelding was a nasty, bloody
job, but it had to be done. The horses were secured with a twitch initially (a device
that looped over the horse’s top lip and held them still) then were forced
down, legs tied, then castrated. The animals were then allowed back to their
feet and turned into the corral. Joe knew that it was for the best, because a
lot of stallions around the place would cause all sorts of problems, but it
didn’t make the job any more pleasant.
There were eight young
horses to do, and by
A couple of the men rose
and went to collect the colts. As Joe rose to go over to the place where he was
working, he heard the scream of an angry horse, and looked round in time to
spot the chestnut break free from his handler and dive towards the bay.
Without being aware of what
he was doing, Joe began to run in that direction. The man leading the bay tried
his best to get his charge to turn away, but with only a headcollar for
control, he had no chance. The bay stallion dragged him along as it rose to
meet the chestnut’s challenge.
There was a solid thud as
the two horses collided with each other, both on their hind legs, teeth and
hooves flashing. Chet, the hand, was knocked to the ground.
“Get out of there, Chet!”
Joe yelled, as he raced towards the horses. The man didn’t move.
Throwing himself bodily
into the fray was perhaps not the wisest thing Joe had ever done, but he did it
anyway, yelling like a banshee. For an instant, the horses parted, distracted
by the unexpected noise, but it was only for an instant. As Joe grabbed the
headcollar of the bay, he was struck by one of the flying hooves, and thrown
aside.
Undeterred, Joe scrambled
at once to his feet, and this time dived for Chet, grabbing his jacket and
pulling him away from the danger area. Unfortunately, the horses were circling
and pawing and no matter how fast Joe worked, they seemed to keep pace with
him. Teeth sank into his side, biting through the material of his shirt. Joe
let out a howl of pain, but kept working to save his man.
By now, the other hands had
their ropes out, and had the horses lassoed. It took several men to drag the
fighting animals apart, and just as they thought they had succeeded in parting
them, the chestnut broke free.
It lunged for its rival,
but missed, thanks to the tug on the rope around its neck. Frustrated, it
reared, higher and higher, until its balance was thrown off. With a startled
scream, the horse staggered slightly on its hind legs before it crashed to
earth.
One hoof hit Chet. The
other struck Joe.
*********************
When Ben arrived at the
corrals, Joe was on his feet, gazing at the lathered chestnut horse. He was
covered with blood. Ben felt a cold hand clutch at his heart. Dismounting
quickly, he hurried over to Joe. “Joe, are you all right?” he asked.
Slowly, Joe’s head turned
until he was looking at Ben. “Chet’s dead,” he said, tonelessly.
Aghast, not sure if he was
more shocked by his son’s tone than by the information he passed along, Ben
looked at the blanket-covered body. He swallowed convulsively, his heart going
out to the young man who had died, but relief swamping his body that it wasn’t
Joe who was lying there.
But that didn’t blunt the
edge of his worry. Joe was chalk white; a graze ran down the right side of his
face, down his neck and down his arm. The sleeve of his shirt was ripped, revealing
the lacerated skin beneath. Blood soaked through his shirt just about waist
level.
Looking round, Ben saw Jeb,
and ordered, “Take the body back to the house, Jeb and get those horses seen
to. Send someone for the doctor, too.”
“All right, Mr Cartwright,”
Jeb replied. He glanced uneasily at Joe. “It were the hoof that done all that,”
he explained, gesturing to the graze that ran down Joe’s body. “Joe was tryin’
to save Chet. An’ then the horse bit him, an’ all.”
“Thanks,” Ben answered. He
carefully took Joe’s uninjured arm. “Come on, son, let’s go home,” he urged.
After a moment, Joe followed him, mounting Cochise with a little help. As they
rode home, Ben kept close, but Joe, although he reeled in the saddle once or
twice, kept his seat.
******************
It was the silence that was
the most worrying, Ben thought. Joe had spoken not a word the whole ride home.
As they arrived in the yard, Ben hastily dismounted so he could hurry over and
help Joe. “Son?” he ventured, when Joe showed no signs of moving. “Let me help
you.”
Joe’s gaze came back from
whatever vista of hell it had been contemplating and he focused on Ben. “What
did you say, Pa?” he asked.
“Come on,” Ben urged,
pulling gently on Joe’s arm. This time, Joe realised what Ben wanted and slid
off his horse.
As his feet hit the ground,
his knees began to buckle and Joe came back to reality with a jolt. He blinked
and looked around. “How?” he began. “What?”
“Take it easy,” Ben advised
him. “You’ve had quite a knock on the head, Joe. Come inside so you can sit
down.” Looping his arm carefully around Joe’s waist, he assisted his son across
the yard.
By the time they reached
the sofa, Joe was visibly trembling. Ben helped him to sit down and swung his
legs up onto the sofa. “Chet’s dead, isn’t he?” Joe asked.
“I’m afraid so,” Ben
replied. “But it’s not your fault, Joe. You did everything you could to save
him.”
“It is my fault,” Joe
insisted. “I sent him to get that horse.”
“Him specifically, or just
someone in general?” Ben asked.
“What difference does it
make?” Joe snapped. “I sent him and he died because of me!” He moved
convulsively, as though he was going to stand up, and a shaft of pain rocketed
through his side. He blanched.
“Easy, Joe,” Ben soothed.
“You’ve been injured, so just take it easy. The doctor will be here soon.” He
kept repeating this mantra while they waited for the doctor to arrive. He did
what he could to make Joe more comfortable, but there was so much blood, Ben
was afraid to do too much.
It seemed to Ben that Joe
was going into shock, for he was pale, cold, sweating and his pupils were
enormous. He was relieved when Adam and
Hoss arrived home and so were able to help Joe up to his bed, where Ben made
him lie down, covered him warmly with a blanket and got his other sons to raise
the foot of the bed. He then spoke calmly to Joe while they waited for the
doctor to arrive. Adam and Hoss looked on anxiously, but Ben indicated to them
not to speak and so they contained their worry.
Finally, Dr Paul Martin
arrived. Ben met him at the door and briefed him on Joe’s injuries. “You’ve
done the right thing, Ben,” Paul assured him. “That’s the best possible thing
to do for shock. Now, you go down and drink something hot and sweet while I
tend to your boy.” He practically pushed Ben out of the door.
The hot sweet coffee did
help settle Ben’s nerves slightly while he waited for Paul to come to them. It
didn’t take as long as Ben had feared. “How is he?” he asked anxiously, the
moment Paul appeared.
“He’s asleep,” Paul replied.
He sat down on the sofa and accepted a cup of coffee. “His injuries are mostly
minor, Ben. That was quite a bite he got on his side, and it had bled a lot. I
haven’t had to take stitches, though. I cleaned it up and it should do well
enough. He’s going to be incredibly bruised and sore for a while though. He was
lucky that horse wasn’t shod, or he might have died. Keep him in bed tomorrow,
then let him up. He’ll be too stiff to do much for a few days. He’s slightly
concussed, as well.”
“Did he say anything?” Ben
asked.
“About Chet?” Paul replied.
“Yes, he did. I told him that it wasn’t his fault. I don’t think he believed
me, but if you keep repeating it often enough, he should come round.” Paul
sipped his coffee. “He’s bound to be a bit depressed, though, Ben. It’s only to
be expected.”
**************
Next morning, Joe was
indeed stiff and didn’t object to staying in bed. In fact, he didn’t complain
at all and seemed to have no opinions on anything. Every time Ben went into his
room that day, Joe was gazing into space. He made an effort to bring his
thoughts back to the room while Ben was there, but it was clearly an effort,
and as Ben left each time, he saw, with growing dismay, that Joe’s gaze had
become unfocused once again.
“Do you want to talk about
it, Joe?” Ben asked gently, as Joe picked at his supper.
“There’s nothing to talk
about,” Joe replied, tonelessly. “I killed Chet; what more is there to say?”
“You did not kill him,
Joseph!” Ben hissed. “Chet’s death was an accident!”
“An accident I caused,”
nodded Joe, still without the passion that Ben associated with his youngest
son. “I told him to get that horse, and I killed him.”
“The horse killed him,” Ben
snapped. “You told the men to get the horse. Chet was an experienced wrangler; you
had no reason to think that anything might happen.”
“Its very kind of you to
absolve me from blame,” Joe said, politely. “But there’s no need to pretend,
Shaken, Ben could only stare
at his son. He knew then that the words he had said had not registered with Joe
at all. Would repeating them make Joe hear them any better? “You didn’t kill
Chet!” he reiterated.
Giving Ben a meaningless
smile, Joe replied, “Whatever you say,
Cajoling Joe into eating
some more of his supper, Ben continued to repeat that Joe was not responsible
for Chet’s death. Every time, Joe agreed with him politely, but it was clear
that he didn’t believe a word of it. As Ben left with the tray, he wondered how
on earth he was going to get through to Joe.
******************
“How are you feeling this
morning, son?” Ben asked, as Joe arrived down for breakfast the next day. To
Ben’s critical eye, he still appeared pale, but that was understandable.
“Fine, thank you, sir,” Joe
replied. He glanced at his brothers, but there was no mischief lurking in those
green eyes that morning. “Morning,” he
offered, as though unsure what to say to them.
“Good ta see ya up,
Shortshanks,” Hoss beamed.
“Feeling better?” Adam
enquired.
“Yes,” Joe replied. He
began to help himself, but he put barely any food on his plate.
“Is that all you’re
having?” Ben asked, anxiety making his tone sharper than he had intended.
“I’m not very hungry,” Joe
responded indifferently.
“Ya need ta eat more’n that
ta git yer strength up,” Hoss protested, looking at the lone slice of bacon and
single egg on Joe’s plate. “Ya ain’t nuthin’ but skin an’ bone as it is!”
As he opened his mouth to
say something, Adam caught Joe’s eye, and was shocked by the blank look he saw
there. He subsided, not sure what to say. Joe didn’t care, he saw. It didn’t
bother him that he was causing his family worry by not eating. In a flash, Adam
realised that at that moment, Joe didn’t care if he lived or died. It was all
the same to him and he wasn’t going to make any effort either way.
Catching Ben’s eye, Adam
frantically shook his head, and Ben subsided. It took a moment or two longer for
Hoss to catch on, but he, too stopped getting at Joe and they watched as he ate
his meal without the slightest signs of interest or enjoyment.
As Hop Sing cleared the
table, Ben said, “Joe, we have to go into town, but we won’t be too long. Will
you be all right here alone?”
“Whatever,” Joe responded.
“Have a nice time.” This last sentence seemed to be quite an effort for him.
“We’re going to Chet’s
funeral,” Adam told him, quietly, eyes searching for a reaction.
For an instant, Joe’s eyes
opened wide, and tears began to form. Then his face closed down again, all the
life going out of it. “I’d better come, too then,” he stated. “After all, it
was my fault.”
“It weren’t your fault!”
Hoss declared. “It were an accident!”
“You don’t have to worry,
Hoss,” Joe told him, kindly. “I know it was my fault.” He rose unhurriedly from
the table and went over to the stairs.
“You’re not going to let
him come, are you?” Adam asked Ben, as Joe disappeared from sight.
“What do you suggest I do?”
Ben returned. “Tie him to his bed?”
“It might get a reaction
from him,” Adam shot back. “I don’t think he’s up to it. Look at him!” He
gestured dramatically to the stairs. “He’s as stiff as an old horse, looks like
his own ghost and you’re not going to stop him from coming?”
“Don’t you think I can see
that?” Ben whispered. “But I’d far rather he was under my eye, so I can see
what he’s doing. Adam, don’t you see? I’m afraid to leave him here alone.”
There, it was out; he’d put
into words his darkest fear. And looking at his sons, Ben saw that they had
instinctively feared the same thing. Nothing more was said as they shrugged on
coats and harnessed the buggy. Joe joined them a few minutes later, looking
like a faded copy of himself. As Adam had said, Joe could barely walk, he was
bruised and sore yet he was acting as though nothing had happened to him.
Conversation was short on
the ride into town. They parked the buggy by the cemetery gates and went in.
The hands were gathered there already and they all looked surprised to see Joe
there. Joe kept his eyes down throughout and barely heard the short service. As
he gazed at the plain coffin, his thoughts beat through his head louder and
louder. You killed Chet. You killed Chet.
You killed Chet. As the first clods of dirt were thrown onto the lowered
coffin, Joe could take it no longer. He turned abruptly and ran towards the
gate.
Quick as a flash, Adam
followed him, but still wasn’t in time to catch Joe as he collapsed in a heap
by the side of the buggy. Pulling Joe into his arms, Adam saw that his
brother’s face was pale, his eyes were closed and he was sweating.
“Let’s get him home,” Ben
said, from beside him, in a concerned tone. He helped Adam lift his unconscious
brother into the buggy as Hoss joined them, and they rode away, leaving the
hands and some friends muttering speculatively to each other.
*******************
“I didn’t mean to embarrass
you,” Joe muttered. He felt dreadful, but welcomed the misery. It proved to him
that he could feel something other than the crippling guilt that had dogged him
since Chet’s accident. What Joe couldn’t understand was why all the things he
said came out sounding like he was parroting some foreign language that he
didn’t understand.
“You didn’t embarrass me,”
Ben repeated, patiently. “But I am concerned. I think you over did it. Why
don’t you have a lie down?” he suggested.
“All right,” Joe agreed,
listlessly. He wondered if he would feel better if he had a sleep. Sleeping was
good; he didn’t have to think or feel while he was asleep. He dragged his sore,
weary body upstairs and lay down carefully on the bed. He closed his eyes as
tears seeped out beneath his lashes.
When Ben checked on him a
short while later, Joe was sound asleep.
******************
Unfortunately for Joe, as
his body began to heal, he found that it was impossible to sleep all the time.
He had grown to hate the litany that all his family repeated to him. “The
accident wasn’t your fault.” As he sank deeper into depression, he began to
believe that nothing he did was worthwhile. The repeated assurances, instead of
giving him the boost he needed, just convinced him that he was generally so
inept that he couldn’t be trusted to do anything.
From being silent, Joe became
angry; angry that they wouldn’t leave him alone with his misery. He could
barely put a foot outside the door before one or another of his family would
follow him. When he wanted to go riding, he couldn’t go alone, just in case he
felt dizzy, Ben said, but Joe thought it was so he wouldn’t go and do something
else stupid. “Don’t worry, Pa,” he snapped. “I’m never going to break horses
again, so I’m not going to run off there alone!” Shaken by the venom in Joe’s
voice, Ben could only stare at him.
“Joe…” he ventured.
“Never, Pa! I mean it!
Never again!” Joe had raced upstairs and slammed his door on that occasion. Ben
had not known what to say, so had said nothing.
Deep down inside, Joe knew
that he wasn’t useless, but his grieving over the death of Chet wasn’t being
allowed to fully run its course. What Joe needed, more than anything, was time
alone to work through his thoughts. Unintentionally, his family was smothering
him.
It all came to a head a few
days later. Joe had managed to get as far as the barn alone and was just
beginning to relax when the door opened and Adam came in. “Joe? Are you all
right?”
“I’m fine!” Joe replied,
through gritted teeth. He thought that if anyone else asked if he was all
right, he would probably scream.
“Are you going riding?”
Adam asked, which was a really stupid question, given that Joe was in the
process of saddling Cochise. “I don’t think you should go alone.”
That was the last straw for
Joe. “You know what, Adam?” Joe asked, slowly, turning to face him. His horse side-stepped
uneasily. Joe’s voice began to rise. “I don’t care what you think. If I want to
go riding alone, then that’s what I’m going to do! I can’t even go to the
outhouse alone these days. Someone always follows me to ask if I’m all right!
Well, guess what? I’m not all right! Got it? Now leave me alone!”
“Joe, hang on,” Adam
protested. “That’s not fair; we’re just concerned for you, buddy.”
“Fair or not, it’s the
truth!” Joe shouted. “Now I’m going riding, alone!”
“Not when you’re mad!” Adam
stated firmly, and found, to his shock, that Joe had decked him! Slightly
dazed, he just lay there in the straw as his irate youngest brother mounted up
and galloped off.
He had got as far as his
knees when Ben appeared in the barn, a questioning look on his face. “Adam?” he
queried, hurrying over to help his son. “Are you all right? What happened?” He
glanced around. “Where’s Joe?”
“Joe is what happened,”
Adam answered, wryly. He felt his face gingerly. “He lost his temper with me
and thumped me before riding off.”
“I’d better go after him,”
Ben worried. He moved towards his horse, but Adam put out his hand and stopped
him.
“Don’t, Pa,” he said, and
told Ben what Joe had said to him. “He’s right, you know? Thinking about it,
whenever Joe went off alone, we went after him, even to the outhouse.”
“But we’re worried about
him,” Ben protested frowning.
“Yes, but I think perhaps
Joe needs to be alone. By the time he’s gone off to bed at night, he’s tired
and probably doesn’t have time to think before he falls asleep.” Adam shrugged.
“For you, me and Hoss, keeping close is probably the right thing to do. But not
for Joe. We have to give him time alone,
“I suppose you’re right,”
Ben replied, but the frustration was clear in his tone. He looked at Adam more
closely. “You’re going to have a terrific bruise there, son,” he commented and
Adam grinned.
“Your baby son can sure
pack a wallop,” he agreed.
*******************
The sheer exhilaration of
riding his horse at a flat-out gallop made Joe feel human for the first time in
over a week. It felt good to be on his own at last. He allowed Cochise to slow,
until they were walking. He didn’t try and guide the horse; instead he just let
Cochise pick his own direction. Out of habit, because Joe went there so often,
Cochise took Joe to his mother’s grave. Joe wondered if, subconsciously, he had
directed the horse to come here. This was the place he came to sort out his
thoughts.
Dismounting, Joe sat for a
long time gazing at the lake. His mind played over and over the events of the
day that had led, ultimately, to Chet’s death. And as he played it through, Joe
began to cry, relieving the bottled-up feelings inside. Finally wiping his eyes
on his sleeve, Joe came to understand that he wasn’t to blame for Chet’s death.
It had been an horrific accident that no one could have foreseen. He had done
everything he could to save Chet, including risking his own life. The burden of
guilt lifted and Joe lay back, relaxed for the first time in a very long time.
Not surprisingly, after the
catharsis of tears, Joe fell asleep. He was awakened about an hour later by a
booming crash of thunder. Glancing round, Joe saw that a autumn squall was
moving in across the lake. Right now, there was no rain, but that would come
later, Joe guessed. Rising, he caught Cochise, who was grazing nearby and
mounted. He had no intention of getting wet if he could avoid it.
The very air seemed to
crackle with electricity, and Cochise was nervous. Joe soothed the horse as he
glanced around. There was a flash of lightning just ahead, and Cochise reared.
“Easy, fella,” Joe soothed, tightening the reins and stroking the
black-and-white neck. “Take it easy, Cooch, its just lightning. You’ve seen
storms before.”
However, Joe was slightly
concerned. He and Cochise were still in amongst the trees and he knew only too
well that lightning was attracted to the trees. “Let’s go,” he urged, allowing
the horse to stretch into a lope.
They had barely travelled
any distance when there were two lightning strikes in quick succession in the
trees ahead. With a roar, the trees caught fire. Startled, Cochise reared,
higher and higher. Joe clung to his saddle horn. After a moment, the horse
crashed back to all four legs, but it danced around uneasily as Joe tried to
calm it. Realising that this was hopeless, Joe was preparing to dismount and
lead Cochise when lightning stuck the tree right beside him. A flaming branch
plunged to the ground, striking Joe and knocking him from the saddle. Cochise
fled.
********************
He was on fire!
Frantically, Joe rolled over and over, extinguishing the flames on his sleeve.
Overhead, the fire crackled on. Panting, Joe lay face down on the ground,
becoming aware, now that his immediate danger was past, that his arm was
throbbing with pain. As he tried to move it, he realised that as well as being
burned, his arm was probably broken.
As he forced himself to his
knees, Joe suddenly realised that bits and pieces of fire were raining down on
him from above. His face stung here and there as embers floated past. And then
the worst happened, the ground, tinder dry, ignited. Joe was trapped in a
circle of flame!
******************
“Look at that lightnin’!”
Hoss exclaimed as he and Adam rode back into the yard.
“Let’s hope there’s rain on
the way,” Adam replied. “Otherwise we’re going to lose a lot of timber!” He
drew rein and looked harder. “Hoss, look! Fire!”
Moments later, they were
raising the alarm.
*****************
Snatching off his jacket,
Joe began to beat frantically at the flames. Smoke billowed into his face,
making him cough, but he didn’t stop; his life depended on him putting the
flames out. Joe knew that he was probably fighting a losing battle; one man was
not going to stop a forest fire.
With another crash of
thunder overhead, the rain suddenly came deluging down. Joe could hear the
flames hissing as the cold rain struck them. “Thank you, God!” he shouted
against the noise. There was a sudden
gust of wind, fanning the flames momentarily, and Joe inhaled a lungful of
smoke. He choked, and spluttered as tears ran down his grimy face.
When he had regained his
eyesight, he glanced up, squinting through the rain. The treetops were smoking now,
no longer blazing, and Joe sent up another thankful prayer. But his troubles
were not yet over. The canopy of leaves was so thick that the grass and
undergrowth still burned fiercely, as the soaking rain had not yet penetrated
that far. Joe was still in trouble.
There was nothing for it
but to carry on fighting the flames with his jacket. Joe was coughing steadily
now, and feeling light-headed as the oxygen content of the air he was breathing
decreased. He staggered and fell to his knees, the landing sending a jolt of
pain through his injured arm.
Dragging his sleeve over
his face, Joe forced himself to rise once more and begin beating at the flames.
His arm ached from the continuous unaccustomed movement, but Joe resolutely
didn’t allow himself to stop. He mechanically kept going, until he was no
longer able to continue. The smoke was thicker than ever now, and Joe could
barely breathe.
He toppled to the ground,
and for an instant in the clearer air felt better. Then the wind changed and
blew smoke into his face and Joe, unable to breathe for coughing, passed out.
************************
“Looks like the worst of
the fire is out!” Adam called over the noise of the storm.
“We’d better make sure it’s
all out!” Ben called back. They continued riding towards the fire site.
This was a familiar
scenario to the Cartwrights and their hands. They had brought large wet sacks
with them and they dismounted, hurrying towards the smouldering ground, ready
to beat out any remaining embers.
“Look!” Hoss cried, and
plunged into the smoke. Adam and Ben exchanged a startled look and hurried
after him, neither of them having seen whatever it was he had seen.
The smoke was eddying
about, but as far as they could see there were no flames left. Ben tugged his damp bandanna over his nose to
try and give himself some protection from the smoke. Adam was doing the same.
Spying Hoss kneeling on the
ground, Adam and Ben hurried over. Ben was horrified to realise that Hoss was
kneeling by a man. Some drifter caught out by the flames? Ben wondered as he
approached. So it was with a distinct sense of shock that he recognised the
curly hair belonging to his youngest son. “Joe?” he gasped and pushed his way
past Hoss to feel frantically for a pulse. “He’s alive, get him out of here,”
Ben ordered, and Adam and Hoss carefully lifted Joe between them. Their younger
brother was black with soot and barely seemed to be breathing.
Carrying him away from the
fire, they carefully set Joe down on a patch of untouched grass. Joe began to
cough almost at once. “Look at his arm!” Adam said, in almost a whisper. Joe’s
thin shirt had been burned away, leaving some red places on his skin.
“Get a canteen!” Ben
ordered, as he ripped off his bandanna. He began to wipe the soot from Joe’s
face with the damp cloth as Adam hurried over to the horses to retrieve a
canteen. He was soon back and managed to trickle a little water into Joe’s
mouth. His brother coughed again, reflexively, but his eyes, swollen and
red-rimmed, cracked open.
“Fire!” he whispered,
urgently. “Pa, fire!” His voice was hoarse.
“Easy, Joe,” Ben soothed.
“The fire is out.” He glanced over his shoulder at the blackened patch of
ground where they had found Joe. The rain, which still was pouring down in
torrents, had killed even the smouldering embers. Joe looked at Ben blankly
before starting to cough again. As his cough eased, Joe slumped unconscious in
his father’s arms again.
“Come on, we’ve got to get him
home,” Ben urged. He glanced at Adam. “Get the doctor, quickly! Hoss, help me.”
As they put Joe onto Buck,
his jacket fell from his hand. Hoss bent to scoop it up and froze. “I was
wonderin’ how come the flames was out, when the rain hadn’ reached the ground,
Pa,” he began. Ben frowned at him, not knowing where Hoss was going with this.
“I reckon Joe done beat those flames out. Look at his jacket.” The familiar
green twill was scorched and blackened, with smoking holes here and there.
“Never mind that now!” Ben
exclaimed. “We’ve got to get Joe home.” He mounted behind his son and set off
for the ranch.
********************
They were soaked to the
skin by the time they got home. Cochise was standing patiently in the yard when
they arrived and nickered softly as he saw his stablemates. One of the hands
took the Cartwrights’ horses as Hoss and Ben carried Joe into the house. He had
roused during the ride home, but he was unable to speak, and coughed almost
continuously.
While Ben removed Joe’s
soaking, blackened clothes, Hoss went to dry off and change. When he returned,
Ben went to change. Joe hadn’t spoken, apart from to cry out when Ben pulled
the remains of his shirt over his broken arm. His eyes were now so swollen that
they wouldn’t open at all. Ben was worried sick. He fed Joe small sips of water
while they waited for Paul Martin to arrive.
******************
Almost three hours passed
before Paul came. By then, Joe was exhausted, and appeared to be sleeping. His
face was spotted with tiny red marks that Ben correctly assumed were burns.
Remembering a previous occasion when Joe had been burned, Ben had placed cool
cloths on Joe’s injured arm, and wiped his face continuously with cool water.
After examining Joe, Paul
turned to Ben. “We’re going to treat him as though he has pneumonia,” Paul told
him. “Joe has inhaled a lot of smoke, and he’s got minor burns to his arm and
face. I’m slightly concerned that he might have burned his eyes, too, but until
the swelling is down and Joe can open them, I can’t confirm that. Keep him
quiet, keep the bandages damp and he should recover in time.”
“What are you going to do
about his eyes?” Ben asked, fearfully. “Will he be…blind?”
“Right now, I’m going to
bandage them up. Keep it damp, and we’ll know more when I can see into
them.” Paul patted Ben on the shoulder.
“He’ll be fine, Ben, I promise. Yes, he’s inhaled a lot of smoke, but he’s in
pretty good shape apart from that. I’ll set his arm now, then we can let him
sleep.”
Going back over to the bed,
Paul cajoled Joe into taking a couple of spoonfuls of a mixture he produced
from his bag. Joe’s cough was settling slightly and he was able to talk in a
hoarse whisper. “Pa?” he whispered and Ben went over to take his hand. “Why
can’t I see?”
“Don’t worry about it,
Joe,” Paul replied, soothingly. “Your eyes are just puffy from the smoke. I’m
going to bandage them up for a few days, all right? So don’t worry. Right now,
I’m going to give you something for the pain and set this arm. Keep taking the
medicine I’ve left for you and you’ll be all right.” With his eyes, he warned
Ben not to say anything to Joe about his eyes.
“It’s horrid,” Joe
complained, making a face after he had swallowed it.
“Then its good for you,” Paul
shot back. “All good medicine is horrid.” Joe gave a theatrical groan, which
relieved his father’s mind immensely. Ben squeezed Joe’s hand, and the pressure
was returned. Paul gave the morphine and gradually Joe’s grip loosened as he
slipped into a drugged sleep.
****************
Wakening some time later,
Joe struggled futilely to open his eyes. His body ached in places, but he
couldn’t remember why. A cough broke from his lips and Joe felt like it was
coming from his boots. As he lay panting as the cough eased, a familiar voice
asked, “Would you like a drink, Joe?”
Nodding, Joe wondered why
he couldn’t see. He tried to raise his hand to his face, but a hand caught his
and prevented him. A moment later, his head was raised and he felt a glass at his
lips. He drank gratefully and the cool water soothed his aching throat. “I
can’t see,” he whispered.
“Your eyes are bandaged,”
Adam reminded his brother gently, holding his hand all the while. “You were
caught in a fire, do you remember?” Paul had warned them that Joe might be a
bit confused.
“Oh yes,” Joe croaked, the
memory coming back. He tried to free his hand, but Adam held on, and Joe
attempted to move his other arm, remembering only too late that it was broken.
The plaster cast on his right arm weighed it down. “Where’s Pa?” he asked,
next.
“He’s asleep,” Adam
soothed. “It’s about
“My head aches,” Joe
complained.
“That’s from the smoke,”
Adam assured him. “It’ll pass. Why don’t you try to sleep?”
“Am I hurt bad?” Joe asked,
after a moment of silence.
“No, not really,” Adam
responded. “You’ve broken your arm, and it’s a little burned at the shoulder,
and your face is a bit pink, like you got too close to the fire, but no, you’re
not hurt bad.”
There was silence while Joe
digested this. “So why are my eyes bandaged if I’m not hurt bad?” he demanded.
Sighing, Adam shook his
head. Joe was nothing if not single-minded. “Because your eyes were all puffy
from the smoke and Paul thought this would help them recover more quickly.”
“Take the bandages off,”
Joe demanded. “Adam, please, I hate not being able to see.”
“I know you do, Joe,” Adam
replied, patiently, hiding his own fear. “But Paul says this is best for just
now. Be patient. You won’t be alone, I promise. It’s just for a day or two. You
can manage that, can’t you?” Adam bit his lip, wondering if that last sentence
had sounded too patronising.
But Joe was too sleepy to
notice. “I guess I can,” he agreed. “You won’t go away, will you?”
“Someone will always be with
you, Joe,” Adam assured him, and a few minutes later, Joe’s deep breathing
assured his brother that he slept again. But Joe’s grip did not loosen.
******************
Over the course of the next
day, Joe’s cough gradually disappeared, thanks partly to Paul’s medicine. By
evening, Joe was sitting up in bed, eating a light meal. His eyes were still
bandaged, as Paul Martin had not returned that day and Ben was afraid to remove
the bandages without him there. Consequently, Joe was being fed, something
which he hated.
After he had finished
eating, Joe asked, “Did we lose much timber?”
“No,” Ben responded. “None
at all, luckily. The rain began just in time.”
“Pity it didn’t begin a bit
sooner,” Joe commented. “Then maybe I wouldn’t have been in that position.”
“How did it happen?” Ben
asked. This was the first time Joe had shown any signs of wanting to discuss
what had happened to him, and Ben was agog with curiosity.
Slowly, Joe explained about
the lightning striking the tree and the limb falling on him, knocking him from
the saddle. “When I sat up, and I realised that I was trapped, I took my jacket
off and began to beat at the flames. Oh, I knew I had no chance, but I couldn’t
just do nothing.”
A big, warm hand was on his
forearm, the thumb making comforting circles on the skin. “Joe, if you hadn’t
done that, son, I think that we might well have lost some timber. Maybe even a
lot of timber. It took the rain some time to reach the ground.” Ben hesitated
for a moment. “Joe, you seem much better. Are you…?” Ben didn’t want to go on.
However, Joe didn’t pretend
to misunderstand his father. “I do feel better,” he replied. “I needed some
time alone to come to terms with Chet’s death. I can see now that it was just
an accident. Like this was just an accident.” Joe sighed. “I’m sorry I was so
rude to you.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Ben
denied. “And I’m sorry we didn’t realise that you needed to be alone. Joe, it’s
sometimes difficult with you, knowing what’s best. Sometimes, you want people
with you; other times, you want to be alone, but if you don’t tell us, how are
we to know?”
“I’m sorry,” Joe replied,
wretchedly. “I’ll tell you next time, I promise.” He winced slightly as Ben
replaced the cloth on his shoulder with a wet one. “When is Paul coming to look
at my eyes?” Joe had promised himself he wouldn’t ask that, yet it slipped out
before he could stop it. He wondered if Ben could hear the tremor in his voice.
“I don’t know,” replied his
father. “I thought he might have been out today, but he’s a busy man. I’m sure
he’ll come tomorrow.”
There was a long silence.
Ben thought that Joe had fallen asleep. He was about to move his son into a
more comfortable position when Joe spoke. “Do you think my eyes are burned?” he
asked, in a low voice.
“No!” Ben protested
vehemently. “Joe, your eyes were just swollen, that’s all. They didn’t look in
the least red to me yesterday. I’m sure they’ll be all right.”
“Yeah, I’m sure,” Joe
answered and slid down the bed, snuggling under the blankets. But his tone was
anything but convincing, and his hand clutched Ben’s tightly.
*********************
The next day passed without
any sign of Paul Martin and Ben asked Adam to ride into town. When the oldest
son arrived home, he found Ben in the kitchen. “The storm caused a huge fire at
“Oh no!” Ben breathed.
“What can we do to help?”
“Everything is under
control now,” Adam replied. “There isn’t much to do. They lost everything.
Sally is at Doc Martin’s office now. He said he’ll be out as soon as he can.
Meantime, keep Joe in bed and keep his eyes covered.”
Closing his eyes, Ben said
a prayer for the woman in travail and thanked the Lord once more for Joe’s
deliverance.
**********************
As the now familiar
protests began, Adam gently explained to Joe about the
***********************
It was early the following
evening before Paul Martin arrived at the Ponderosa. He looked tired, but made
an effort to smile at his old friends. But he was understandably subdued. When
Ben expressed his condolences for Sally’s death, Paul replied, “Thanks, Ben.
She suffered a great deal, but there was nothing I could do. Bill Johnston died
this afternoon. Sally’s death just took the heart right out of him.”
There was nothing to say to
such sombre news. Paul straightened and made an effort to look cheerful. “Let’s
go and see to this boy’s eyes. If I know Joe, he’s been driving you mad for the
last few days.”
“You could say that,” Adam
agreed, dryly.
Climbing the stairs, Ben
was aware of a mounting tension in his chest. He didn’t know how Joe would
react if he lost his sight, or how any of them would cope. He drew in a deep
breath as he opened the door to Joe’s room.
“I tol’ you that sounded
like the doc,” Hoss said to Joe.
“About time too,” Joe
joked, smiling in the general direction of the doorway. “I thought you’d abandoned
me, Doc.”
“Its not that I’m not
tempted, Joe,” Paul cracked back. “But the world isn’t big enough for me to
hide in if your Pa thought that I wasn’t coming back to see to you.”
Joe laughed. Paul ignored
Ben’s good-natured grumbling and began to unwind the bandage from Joe’s eyes.
Ben took Joe’s hand, and found himself holding his breath.
The swelling had gone down,
and Joe’s eyes were not as red as they had been three days previously. “Open
them,” Paul urged and Joe did just that.
“I can see,” he breathed
and the relief in the room was palpable.
“Excellent,” Paul replied,
briskly. He peered closely into Joe’s eyes, and was relieved to see that his
eyes had received no burns at all. Nodding, he checked the burns on Joe’s
shoulder and saw that they were recovering well, too. “All right, young man, I
think you can get up, as long as you don’t overdo things.”
“When can I get back to
breaking those horses?” Joe asked and Ben shot a sharp look at him.
“Not until I say so!” Paul
declared. He smiled at Joe and rose. “I’m going home to bed,” he announced and
Adam and Hoss, after a glance at Ben’s face, followed Paul, ostensibly to show
him out.
Sitting slowly into the
chair beside the bed, Ben had yet to take his eyes from his son’s face. “That
came as a surprise, huh, Pa?” Joe asked, grinning mischievously.
“It sure did,” agreed Ben.
“Weren’t you the young man who shouted at me last week that you were never
going to break horses again?”
Shame-faced, Joe nodded. “I
wanted to hurt you, to shock you,” he explained. “I felt so bad, so confused,
and I had to let it out somehow. And I did mean it – then.”
“And now?” Ben asked.
“Now, I feel I’m ready to
go back to it. Or I would be but for this arm.” And he raised his cast
slightly, giving it a rueful look. “You see, Pa, I never thought about the
risks involved in the breaking game. Even after all the spills I’ve had, I
never gave it a thought. I know there’s a chance that I could be badly hurt,
but I’m willing to accept those risks.” He glanced at Ben.
“Too willing, I sometimes
think,” Ben scolded him, gently.
“But I’m good at it, Pa,”
Joe went on, earnestly. “I know I shouldn’t say that, but it’s true. What I had
forgotten is that the men out there are also willing to take the same risks as
me. Okay, some of them will never break horses, but they all work, day in and
day out with them, and they know as well as me that there is always a risk.
Especially when working with wild horses.
“But you know, the point
isn’t to break the horses’ spirits. It’s to show them that men aren’t their
enemies. I use patience to wear them
down, to make them realise that I’m not going to go away.” He shot a smile at
Ben. “That’s crazy, isn’t it, when I have so little patience? But that’s how I
do it. I use patience. And perhaps I didn’t use enough patience that day; I
don’t know. But I have learned, these last few days, that Chet’s death wasn’t
my fault. I did everything I could for him out there. And I didn’t let it break
me. Because the breaking game can work both ways; it can break men as well as
horses. And I don’t want that to happen to me.” He looked at Ben, relishing in
having his sight back, but trying to see if his father had understood what he
said. “I almost let it break me this time. And if it had broken me, it would
have broken this whole family, wouldn’t it?”
“I know,” Ben agreed. He
fell silent, thinking over what Joe had said. He knew he would never stop
worrying about his boys, whatever they did, but he also knew that they knew the
risks and accepted the fully.
Very softly, Joe quoted,
“No man is an island, entire of itself… any man’s death diminishes me, because
I am involved in mankind; and therefore never send to know for whom the bell
tolls; it tolls for thee.”
Startled and deeply moved,
Ben looked into his son’s shining green eyes and felt tears prickling. “I
didn’t know you liked John Donne,” he whispered, huskily.
Blinking back the
corresponding tears from his own eyes, Joe replied, “I don’t much. But I like
that. I like that very much. And Adam read it to me last night, which reminded
me of it.” He tightened his fingers around his father’s hand and they sat that
way for a long time.
*******************
Three months later, Joe
dashed into the house. “Pa!” he cried, as he threw open the door. “Pa, where
are you?”
“I’m here,” Ben replied,
coming from the study area. “And you don’t need to shout, son, I’m not deaf.
Yet!”
“You know that chestnut
gelding?” Joe was clearly very excited.
“That one?” Ben questioned. “The one that caused all the trouble?
Yes. I know it.”
There was a huge grin on
Joe’s face. “I just sold it for a hundred and fifty bucks!”
“Well done!” Ben praised as
they grinned at one another. Both of them knew that the money could never make
up for losing a man’s life, but the fact that the horse had proven so good
seemed to go some of the way to making things right.
The End