Coming Home For Christmas
By: Rona Y.
“Any word?” Ben asked
anxiously, as Adam arrived home from town with the mail.
Dismounting slowly, Adam
tried not to wince as he shook his head. “No, nothing, Pa,” he reported, sadly.
“
Sighing, Ben looked
discouraged. Adam thought how much his father had aged these last 2 months. The
lines on his face were more pronounced and there were perpetual dark circles
under his eyes, as though he hadn’t slept properly for a long time. And Adam
knew that Ben hadn’t slept properly; neither had he and Hoss.
None of them had slept
properly since Joe disappeared two months before.
******************
“That weather’s closin’ in
fast,” Hoss commented as he came in later that afternoon. “I reckon there’ll be
more snow afore mornin’.” He stripped off his big coat and hung it behind the
door. He went over to stand in front of the fire, putting his hands out to the
blaze to warm them. He diagnosed the silence surrounding his family all too
easily. “Still no word, huh?”
“None,” Ben sighed. He rose
from his chair to pace the floor restlessly. “Do you think we did everything we
could? Is there something we haven’t thought of?”
“Pa, we done everythin’,”
Hoss assured him. “There ain’t a single thing we didn’ do. I hate ta say it,
but Joe’s gone.” He blinked back the tears in his eyes.
“You know we’ve done
everything, Pa,” Adam added. “All we can do now is hope that Joe is all right
and will come home one day.”
“I suppose so,” Ben agreed.
“But if only we hadn’t parted on such bad terms…”
*******************
“I know I’m taking Jonathan
to the stage,” Joe snapped. “Why am I suddenly being reminded of it all the
time? Was I complaining? No!”
“I’m reminding you that you
have to be up on time tomorrow morning,” Adam snapped back. “You’ve missed
breakfast every day this week so far.”
“Boys!” Ben interrupted. He
didn’t want this argument getting out of hand. “Could we please stop shouting
at each other? I guarantee Joe will be up on time tomorrow morning, Adam,
because I will be wakening both he and Jonathan. Now let’s close the matter
there.”
“Yes, Pa,” Joe muttered and
walked off, but the black look he threw Adam told Ben all too clearly that, for
Joe, the matter was not yet closed. Adam walked off the other way.
Sighing, Ben went back
indoors. Adam’s friend Jonathan Millar had been staying with them for a month.
He was a bit younger than Adam and had been the year below him in college.
Nevertheless, he and Adam had struck up a close friendship and this was the
first time that they had seen each other in several years.
Sitting down at his desk,
Ben gazed blankly at the books in front of him. Joe and Jon had become friends,
too, much to Adam’s chagrin. Ben wondered if Adam was jealous that his friend
had also become close to his youngest brother. Adam was chary about sharing his
feelings and surprisingly possessive about his friends. And when Jon had
announced that he had been summoned home by his father, and showed the stage
ticket that had been sent to him, the breach between Joe and Adam had widened a
bit further. That was the very day that Adam had arranged an important meeting
to negotiate a lumber contract. He couldn’t back out without making the
Ponderosa look bad and so Joe had been elected to take Jon to the stage. Adam
would have preferred that Hoss do it, but Hoss was laid up in bed with a bad
cold. When Jon seemed to find this quite acceptable and showed only minimal
disappointment, Adam had become ominously quiet towards his younger brother.
To further sour the
mixture, Joe had been up before either Ben or Adam the next morning and
couldn’t keep the triumphant grin off his face. Adam had ignored Joe all
through the meal, talking almost exclusively to Jon. Joe had been quite tactful
while his brother took his leave of his friend, and then had ridden away with
Jon, chatting 20 to the dozen and laughing aloud. Adam had left for his
appointment wearing the most ferocious scowl Ben had ever seen.
That had been the last time
they had seen Joe. He and Jon had never arrived in
Sighing deeply once more,
Ben muttered, “It’s the not knowing that’s so hard. How I wish Joe was coming
home for Christmas.”
Adam and Hoss exchanged
glances. Very few preparations had been made for Christmas, and neither of them
had liked to suggest that they buy presents or decorate a tree. They had
nothing to celebrate this year. It was a dreadful thought, but they were both
sure that Joe was not only not coming home for Christmas, but that he was not
coming home ever again.
*******************
Two
months previously…
“It’s a real pity your pa
wants you back home so suddenly, Jon,” Joe told him as they rode off towards
town.
“Well, I’ve been here a month,
Joe, so I guess he’s entitled to ask me to come home. I do work for him after
all.” Jon was taller than Joe, with short blond hair and blue eyes. The ladies
of
“Good,” Joe replied,
pleased. He glanced around at his home, feeling the intense pleasure it always
brought him to know that this land belonged to his family. “It looks like there’s rain coming,” he
commented. “I hope it’s not too bad, or it’ll make the stage trip real
uncomfortable.”
“I’ve been wet before,” Jon
replied, philosophically. “I don’t suppose I’ll shrink.”
“No, probably not,” Joe
joked back and grinned.
They had just left the
Ponderosa when a group of horsemen rode onto the road ahead. Joe tensed at
once, sensing trouble, and his left handed drifted to hover near his gun. He
shot a quick glance at Jon. “Be ready to ride when I tell you to,” he warned.
“These guys look like trouble.”
“Oh, they’re not trouble,
Joe,” Jon replied. A small derringer appeared in his hand, aimed at Joe. “These
are my friends, and I’m sure they’ll become friends of yours, too, before
long.” He grinned at Joe. “And just move your hand away from your gun
carefully, Joe. I don’t want to have to shoot you.”
“What is this?” Joe asked,
as the other men reached them.
“These are my men,” Jon
replied, smiling lazily. It was clear he was finding Joe’s disbelief amusing.
“That wire didn’t really come from my father, Joe. I murdered the old man a few
months ago. No, I got the boys here to send the wire. I had hoped to get Adam
to join me, but I saw that he was too stuffy. But you; you’ve got much more
life in you, Joe and I’m sure you’ll enjoy being one of us.”
“I wouldn’t count on it,”
Joe retorted. He glared at one man who had lifted his gun from its holster.
“I thought you might say
that, but since I’ve just told you something incriminating, I can’t just let
you go.” Jon sighed dramatically. “I guess I’ll just have to take you along,
Joe.”
At those words, panic
flared through Joe’s gut. He thought he knew what this would involve; a ransom
note to his father. Jon had been living with them for a month; he knew that Ben
would pay to get one of his sons back. Kicking Cochise, Joe attempted to break
through the men in front of him, but Jon had been doing his homework and
guessed that Joe would make a break for freedom. His men had been well briefed,
and Joe got nowhere.
As they bound Joe’s hands
behind his back, Jon looked around. He wouldn’t be back to this area; too many
people knew his face. He would head down into
Or death.
******************
Through the long days of
riding down to
“When Adam told me about
that meeting, I knew this was the chance I’d been looking for. I wasn’t quite
sure how to get Hoss out of the picture, but that cold was very fortunate. I
made sure my men knew what I wanted, they sent the wire and the stage ticket
and then laid in wait for us to pass by.” Jon looked appraisingly at Joe. “I
must say, I thought you’d be more up for this, after some of the stories I was
told about you.”
“In which one of those
stories did I break the law?” Joe asked, acidly.
Shrugging casually, Jon
answered, “None of them, I guess, but you did come pretty close a few times.
Have you really not done anything to tweak the devil’s tail, Joe?”
“No, nothing,” Joe replied,
truthfully. “I suppose I’ve got into a few bar fights, but that’s been it! I
certainly haven’t murdered anyone and especially not my own father!”
“Perhaps telling you that
was a mistake,” Jon admitted. “But, too late now. My father was a rich man when
I was a child, Joe. But somehow, the money disappeared. When I discovered that
I would have to work for a living, I wasn’t too pleased. I didn’t really want
to be an engineer, and they don’t get paid enough to support the kind of
life-style I fancy. So I told my father that I wasn’t going to work for him for
just my keep and we argued. I killed him. End of story.”
“Not quite, surely,” Joe
said, quietly. “The end of the story won’t come until you are hanged for his
murder.”
“Good try,” Jon allowed.
“But you can’t goad me into anger, Joe. Not any more. I vowed to always keep my
temper under control from now on.”
“It’s an easy vow to make,”
Joe replied, with the assurance of one who knows. “But it’s not so easy to
keep.”
“That’s why I like you,
Joe,” Jon laughed, slapping his captive on the shoulder. “You’ve got a temper,
just like I have.” He rose. “You’ll change your mind, Joe, you’ll see.”
“Don’t hold your breath,”
Joe advised him.
*****************
After 10 days of riding,
they arrived at a ramshackle old house miles from anywhere. The house was
barely weatherproof, and the barn leaked like a sieve, but this appeared to be
where the outlaws were going to hole up. Joe had been bound the whole time, and
barely spoken to. He had kept a sharp eye on the route they took, so that he
would be able to retrace his steps when he got free. For Joe never doubted that
he would escape at some point. In his mind, he promised Ben every night that he
would do what was necessary to survive and get home. The image of the Ponderosa
and his family kept him going.
There were eight men
altogether, but Joe never discovered any other names. From the time they
arrived at the house, Joe barely saw the other men at all. He was secured in
the cellar, fighting the whole way down, to no avail. By the time he was tied
to a stout pole, he was bruised and dishevelled. For two days, he saw no one;
his only way of charting the passing of time was to look at the daylight coming
through the dusty, broken glass high above him.
Weak from hunger and
thirst, Joe did not resist when Jon came to get him. In an upstairs room, he
was given a little food and a little water and was nursed back to something
approaching normality. While he was too weak to try and escape, Joe was left
untied, but as his strength crept back, Jon appeared with handcuffs and leg
irons. Joe had balked at having them fitted and Jon lost the battle to keep his
temper. It only took a few blows to get Joe down, and when the youngest
Cartwright was again aware of his surroundings, he was locked into the irons.
The very next day, Joe
discovered that he was to be the servant to the gang by making their meals and
looking after the horses. While Jon and his gang were out robbing banks, or
making plans for the next robbery, Joe was left, chained like an animal, in the
cellar. He never had enough food, although his water was never restricted
again.
Looking after horses was a
chore Joe had done all his life, but he had never found it onerous before. Now,
with his strength sapped by too little food, and his movements hampered by the
chains he wore, Joe found it very hard to keep going. His wrists were raw from
the chafing of the irons and he hadn’t seen his boots since his first days in
the house. His bare feet were covered in cuts and bruises from working in the
barn.
Joe thought he had been in
the house about three weeks when Jon came down one morning to set him ‘free’ to
do his chores for the day. Joe thought of refusing, but he couldn’t face the
beating that he knew refusal would bring him. Jon was all too free with his
fists.
“Have you changed your mind
yet, Joe?” Jon asked, as he unlocked the chain that kept Joe a prisoner.
“Changed my mind about
what?” Joe responded, dully. He wondered if he would get anything to eat that
day. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been fed.
“About joining us, of
course.” Jon sighed. “Surely you don’t like living like this? You stink, you
know, Joe.”
“That’s not my doing,” Joe
answered. He had done his best to keep himself clean, but since he could only
wash in the horse trough, and had no way to clean his tattered clothes, he had
failed. He raised his head to meet Jon’s eyes. “I would sooner live like this
than join you.”
For a moment, Joe thought
Jon was going to hit him after all, but the other man controlled his temper. “Adam
said you were stubborn, but I didn’t think he meant this stubborn!”
“Now you know,” Joe
muttered. He felt as though he had never slept, although he had fallen asleep
almost before his chain had been locked the night before. Looking at Jon with
revulsion, Joe wondered how on earth he had ever been friends with this man.
“I’m not going to join you, Jon.”
“Some people are obviously
too stupid to see the benefits,” Jon snapped, clearly annoyed.
“The benefits being getting
caught, going to jail or hanging?” Joe retorted, with some of his old fire. “No
thanks! I’d sooner starve!”
“That can be arranged!” Jon
hissed and drove his fist into Joe’s stomach.
Caught completely by
surprise, Joe folded and the next blow caught the back of his neck. Joe tumbled
to the floor, where a couple of kicks sent him into oblivion.
*******************
All that day, Joe lay
shivering in the cellar, his chains pulled into a cruel hogtie. By evening, when
Jon finally relented and allowed him his minimal freedom again, Joe’s muscles
had been cramping for hours and he was in agony. Moving slowly, Joe reached for
the canteen of water that had been tantalisingly close, but so far out of his
reach, all day. After slaking his thirst, Joe curled into a ball to try and
keep warm. There had been lashing rain and gales all day, and the rain had been
driven into the cellar, with the result that Joe’s clothes were quite damp.
Now, a sharp frost was setting in and the temperature plummeted.
Come morning, Joe was
chilled to the bone and running a slight fever.
*********************
Getting back to work was
nearly a relief. Hunched over the stove, Joe was at least able to warm himself
for a while. He was even allowed a single slice of bacon to eat – the first
thing he’d eaten in almost a week. Mucking out the stalls and saddling the
horses warmed him up, too. He made sure Cochise, also a prisoner, got some hay,
for he was sure his horse would starve if it was left to the outlaws.
As he slowly fastened the
last cinch, he heard hoofs on the clear, cold air. Next moment, the man who was
guarding him raced into the barn, knocked Joe off his feet into one of the
stalls, and jammed a bandanna in his mouth. Joe fought furiously, but he was
too weak to throw the man off, and he lay, pinned to the floor, as the hoofs
stopped in the yard outside.
“Well, morning, sheriff,”
he heard Jon call cheerfully. “What can I do for you? Would you like a cup of
coffee to help you thaw out?”
“No, but thanks for the
offer. Have you fellas seen any strangers around here? Someone robbed the bank
last night not far from here.”
“Can’t say that I have,”
Jon replied, in a thoughtful tone. Joe struggled harder to try and break free,
but only earned himself a backhander across the face. “Do you think they came
this way?”
“No, not really,” the
sheriff replied. “But I thought I’d mention to you folks, seeing as how you’re
out here a long way from town.”
“We’ll keep our eyes open,”
Jon promised. “Thanks for coming out. Are you sure I can’t tempt you into some
coffee?”
“Much as I’d love to, I got
work to do. See ya.” Joe heard the hoofs leaving again.
“All clear,” Jon said, from
the barn door.
“That was close!” the other
remarked, getting off Joe. Joe reached up and tugged the bandanna away from his
mouth, drawing a deep breath. His lip and cheek stung where he had been struck,
but he barely noticed. Disappointment raged through him that he had not been
able to attract the sheriff’s attention to his plight.
“Did you get your hopes up
there, Joe?” Jon taunted him.
Half-way to his feet, Joe
threw himself at Jon, and was chagrined when the man simply stepped aside and
let Joe tumble to the floor, caught up in the leg irons. But Jon didn’t allow
the challenge to pass by. He pounced on Joe, yanking him to his feet and
punching him several times in the stomach. This was his favourite form of
punishment, although Joe had had several black eyes by then.
Lying on the floor, dazed, Joe
tried to catch his breath. Jon pulled him to his feet and began to drag him
back to the house. Joe could feel new stinging on his feet that meant new cuts
for him to worry about. “What good would one man have been against all of us,
Joe?” Jon asked, as he secured Joe in the cellar again. “We’d have killed him
like that!” He snapped his fingers.
As the pain subsided, and
Joe lay there, alone, he realised that Jon was right. Perhaps it was just as
well he hadn’t been able to attract the sheriff’s attention.
******************
The cold and the abuse grew
worse and Joe grew weaker. Jon no longer bothered to chain him up at night,
secure in the knowledge that Joe would be there the next day. Realising this,
Joe played along, pretending to be too weak to work and so husbanding his
strength the best he could. He had planned out his escape route and all he
needed was the chance.
It just a few days later,
at the start of the following week. Joe had lost track of how long he had been
a captive; he knew it was weeks, rather than days, but was unable to put a
number to them. He was lying in the cellar when he heard shouting and gunfire
outside.
Struggling to his feet, Joe
peered through the grimly glass as best he could, but he could see very little.
However, one thing seemed clear; a posse had found the gang and was closing in
on them. Joe’s heart leapt. He tried to climb onto a rickety old chair that was
standing there, but in his haste, he neglected to allow for his chains and
tumbled headlong to the floor.
Winded but unhurt, Joe
scrambled to his feet again, but the battle had moved on and he couldn’t see
anything. Making up his mind to take the chance, Joe made his way to the cellar
stairs and climbed laboriously up them. He tried the door, but he didn’t really
believe it was unlocked and so wasn’t disappointed. He tugged, pulled and
pushed at the door, but it didn’t budge.
Despairing, Joe threw his
entire weight against the door and when it gave unexpectedly, he lost his
balance and tumbled headlong down the stairs.
*****************
When Joe regained
consciousness, there was silence outside. Rising shakily to his feet, he
fumbled his way through the half-light to the stairs and climbed them once
more.
The door lay a little open,
just as it had when Joe fell. Cautiously, he crept out into the hall, trying to
minimise the noise his chains made. There was a hushed air of expectancy about
the house. As Joe shuffled towards the door, he gradually realised that the
house was empty.
There were odd stains on
the frozen dirt of the yard, and Joe guessed they were blood stains. He headed
over to the barn, steeling himself to find it empty, for he thought it unlikely
that Cochise would still be there. So it was with overwhelming relief and joy
that Joe saw his pinto was still in its stall.
Standing by his horse, Joe
could not stop himself shedding some tears. All through his ordeal, he had
refused to allow the tears to come; now he could not stop them. The horse was
warm and alive and Joe now had the chance to go home.
*****************
Since it was already dusk,
Joe knew it would be foolish to set off that night. He searched the barn and
finally found the tools he was looking for – a hammer and chisel. Working carefully,
he finally managed to prise the leg irons open, although not without some cost
in himself as his hand slipped and struck the exposed skin of his ankles more
than once. The handcuffs defeated his efforts to remove, although he was able
to split the chain, so that his hands were independent of one another again. It
felt distinctly odd, but very nice.
Going back into the house,
Joe found a couple of canteens and a little food. In another room, he found a
threadbare blanket, but given the tattered state of his clothes, it seemed like
the height of luxury to the frozen young man.
Taking all the things back
to the barn, Joe settled in to spend the night there beside Cochise. He could
not face spending a night in that house, free or not. Cochise gave off some
heat, and the straw was warm after the bare earth floor. Joe soon fell fast
asleep.
*******************
Next morning, Joe forced
himself to eat a little food before he saddled Cochise. Then, he had to rest
for a while before he could pull himself into the saddle. Ruefully, he found
himself remembering the times when he had vaulted so effortlessly on board his
mount.
It had been weeks since Joe
had arrived here, but he had never forgotten in which direction his home lay.
Turning Cochise’s head to the north, he began the long trek home.
****************
“Pa,” Adam said, in a low
voice as he approached his father’s desk. “It’s going to be Christmas in a
couple of days. Do you want Hoss and I to get a tree?”
Looking up lethargically,
Ben shrugged. “Do whatever you think is best, son,” he replied.
There was so much pain in
Ben’s voice that Adam’s heart ached for him. The house had been unusually
silent for these last months. None of them had laughed since Joe vanished and
Adam was beginning to think that they would never laugh again. Why had they
quarrelled that last day? Why had he grudged sharing his friend with Joe? Adam
stifled a wince as he remembered the wire they had received, telling them that
Jon’s father had been murdered. There was no one there to mourn the loss of a
son. “We’ll get a tree,” he murmured.
As Adam buckled on his gun
belt, he heard slow hoofs entering the yard. Wondering who it could be, for
most sensible people weren’t going anywhere in the three feet of snow that was
lying, Adam opened the door. What he saw caused him to freeze in place, unable
to do anything except stare disbelievingly at the apparition outside.
It was only as the figure
slipped from the back of the pinto to the ground that Adam was able to break the
spell that held him captive. “Pa!” he cried. “Hoss! Come quick!” He raced
outside, only slowing as the horse shied nervously.
Kneeling by the body in the
snow, Adam gazed and gazed, unable to believe that Joe was home.
“What is it?” Ben asked,
then was pushing his oldest son aside as he scrambled to gather his youngest
son in his arms, crying his name over and over again, while tears poured down
his face. “Joseph! Oh, Joseph!”
****************
“Send someone for the doctor!”
Ben ordered, his voice anguished. After the initial joy of seeing his lost son
home again, Ben had realised that the scarecrow figure in his arms was burning
with fever. As he hoisted the unconscious youth in his arms, oblivious of the
rank smell from his tattered clothes and body, Ben became aware of just how
much weight Joe had lost. His youngest son had always been slender, but he was
positively skeletal now.
The immobility that had
gripped Adam disappeared and he hurried off to the bunkhouse to send one of the
men on the tricky journey to town for the doctor. That accomplished, he led
Joe’s horse into the barn and stripped off the saddle. Cochise was almost as
thin as its master, its coat rank and staring and the bones of its hips
sticking out. Adam put a rug over the horse and gave it a measure of grain
before hurrying into the house.
Upstairs, Ben was removing
the tattered remains of Joe’s clothes. “Hoss, get something to remove these,”
Ben ordered as he allowed himself to acknowledge the chains still hanging from
Joe’s thin wrists. “Oh, Joe, who did this to you?” he asked. There was no
answer, for Joe was still unconscious.
Becoming aware of someone
at his side, Ben looked around to see Hop Sing. The Oriental looked appalled.
“Hop Sing get water for bath,” he announced, for the rank smell from Joe’s body
was overpowering. Joe was caked in grime and had quite a substantial growth of
beard, despite his brothers’ claims he would never be able to grow one.
It didn’t take long for the
bath to arrive, and by then, Adam had arrived to help Ben carefully lower Joe
into the water. Joe mumbled a bit, but didn’t regain consciousness as they
carefully scrubbed the dirt from his body and washed his hair. Then, with Joe
clean at last, they laid him carefully on the bed to towel him dry.
“He’s been beaten,” Ben
muttered. Joe’s stomach was a pattern of differently coloured bruises, although
most of them were fading now. There were smudges around Joe’s eye that
suggested he had had a black eye recently.
“Look at his ankles,” Adam
said, in a low voice. The scabs there had barely healed over and the flesh
looked red.
“It looks like he had
chains on his legs, too,” Ben replied, in a despairing tone. “And, Adam, look!
His feet!” For Ben had noticed the bruises and cuts. “What can have happened to
him?”
“I don’t know,” Adam
answered. “I just don’t know,
After that, there was
nothing to do but wait for the doctor. Joe seemed slightly cooler after his
bath and Ben managed to get him to swallow some water, although his eyes never
opened and he seemed no nearer the surface. Ben held Joe’s hand, and constantly
urged him to wake up, but there was no movement from the skeletal figure on the
bed.
The light was waning before
they heard Doc Martin’s buggy in the yard. Adam rose to let him in, but Paul
was an old friend and knew the way. He and Adam met on the stairs. “Is it
true?” he demanded. “Is it Joe?”
“Yes,” Adam nodded, but he
couldn’t return the smile that lit Paul’s face. “He’s… changed, Paul.”
Sobering, Paul looked
intently into Adam’s eyes. “All right,” he replied, understanding that Adam was
warning him to prepare for a shock. He followed the oldest Cartwright son into
Joe’s room, speculating on the ‘changes’ he would see.
They were indeed shocking.
Joe was usually deceptively slender, although impressively muscled. Now, the
flesh had melted off his bones, leaving him looking like an illustration for a
medical examination. His normally golden-toned skin was grey and ashen and even
his hair seemed to have lost its curl and bounce. Everything about Joe told
Paul that this was a boy desperately sick and although he seldom thought of Joe
as a boy anymore, the adjective seemed somehow appropriate, as Joe looked no
more than 16 lying there.
“Good God, Ben, what’s happened
to him?” The words were out before Paul could catch them.
“Paul,” Ben replied, as way
of greeting. “We don’t know. Adam saw him falling from his horse in the yard.
He’s been unconscious ever since. But he’s been beaten, and he was in chains.”
Ben’s voice threatened to break and he swallowed hard. “He was filthy, and so
we bathed him. His clothes were in rags.”
“Let me see,” Paul
requested and Ben moved slightly to let the physician in, but he didn’t
relinquish his hold of Joe’s hand. Paul’s examination was thorough and when he
finished, he sat back on the bed. He could feel three pairs of eyes on him.
“All right,” he began. “As you can plainly see, Joe is severely mal-nourished.
His feet and ankles are infected and his wrists are chafed raw. There’s some
sign of infection there, too. As you said, he’s been beaten and I suspect he
has some broken ribs that are partially healed. He’s clearly exhausted. I can’t
detect any internal injuries, and no broken bones apart from those ribs. You’ll
have to build him up very slowly. Fluids for the first while, then start him on
soft foods. I’ll give him something for the fever and let’s hope it breaks
soon. I think it’s just been caused by the infection, his poor condition and
mild exposure. His lungs are clear, although his breathing sounds a little
stuffy. I can’t even guess what has happened to him, and frankly, I don’t want
to guess!”
“Will he be all right?” Ben
asked, his voice a low throb in its intensity.
“I hope so,” Paul replied,
hesitantly, “but I can’t give any guarantees, Ben. It could be that he’s
reached a stage in his starvation where his body will reject food. We won’t
know until we start to feed him. But at any rate, he’s going to be sick for a
long time.” He sighed. “Joe was strong, but all his strength has gone on
staying alive, and now that he’s home again, it might be that he relaxes too
much and can’t regain his strength. I just don’t know at this stage.”
“Just tell us what to do,”
Ben ordered. “We’ll get Joe through this.” He stroked Joe’s arm. “I promise,
son, I’ll make you well again.”
Looking at Ben, Paul found
there was nothing more he could say. He had seen Ben dwindling into a shadow of
his former self over the last couple of months and couldn’t bring himself to
say anything that would knock away the fragile hope that Ben had found in his
son’s return.
******************
Snow was falling softly as
Paul Martin left the Ponderosa that night. He glanced back over his shoulder as
he drove away, looking at the light in the room above the door. He knew Ben
would be keeping vigil over Joe until such times as the young man regained
consciousness or died. He had done everything he could for Joe, dosing him with
quinine until the fever abated somewhat, and bandaging up the various hurts after
cleaning them thoroughly with alcohol.
It was a long, cold journey
home that night, but the first thing he did after stabling his horse was call
on Roy Coffee, the sheriff. “Hello, Paul,”
“Well, nothing, really,”
Paul replied, smiling slightly. “I came to tell you that Joe Cartwright is
home.”
“Joe?”
“He arrived home early this
afternoon, but that’s all we know,
“I know,” Paul agreed,
before he headed off for his own home and bed. But it was a long time before he
slept that night and both he and Roy prayed fervently for Joe to be spared.
*******************
Joe slept throughout the
night, barely moving at all. Ben’s eyes were burning when dawn finally broke,
for he had resisted all Adam’s efforts to make him go to bed. It was as if he feared
Joe would die if he was not there to keep urging his son to live. Joe’s fever
had broken during the night in a drenching sweat and Ben had accepted Adam’s
help to change the bedding. Cradling Joe in his arms, Ben thought how frail his
son felt, his every bone threatening to poke through his paper-thin skin. When
Joe was settled into fresh bedding again, he had slipped into a deeper slumber.
A huge sigh from the bed
dragged Ben’s eyelids open again. Looking at Joe, he saw his son was mumbling
slightly and rolling his head around. “Joe?” he asked tentatively. His voice
was hoarse from the hours of talking, keeping Joe anchored to this world. “Joe,
can you hear me, son?”
Another sigh shook the
frail man on the bed and then Joe’s eyes opened. For a moment, he gazed at the
ceiling in disbelief, then as Ben spoke his name once more, he swivelled his
gaze round to his father’s face. Green eyes met brown and locked for an endless
moment, when neither of them could speak. Then tears mounted in Joe’s green eyes
and silently overflowed.
“Joe?” Ben questioned,
feeling corresponding moisture forming in his own eyes. “Are you in pain?”
After a moment, Joe shook
his head slowly. “Pa?” he whispered. He raised his hand slightly and glanced
down to make sure that the hand he could feel in his was actually there. He had
suffered many hallucinations on the trail home. “Is that really you, Pa?”
“It’s really me, Joe,” Ben
assured him. “Oh, Joe, we thought you were dead.” The tears broke and spilled
down Ben’s cheeks. “What happened to you?” A look of distress flitted across
Joe’s face and Ben hurried to soothe him. “It doesn’t matter,” he comforted
him. “Joe, it doesn’t matter.”
“How did I get here?” Joe
asked.
“Don’t you remember?” Ben
asked. “You rode into the yard yesterday afternoon, Joe. You passed out and
you’ve been asleep ever since.”
“I sort of remember riding
home,” Joe whispered. He looked utterly exhausted and defeated. “But I don’t
remember getting here.”
“It doesn’t matter now,”
Ben repeated. “You’re home at last.” A thought occurred to Ben and he asked,
“Joe, what about Jon?”
A cry escaped Joe’s lips
and he made an effort to move. But his body didn’t have the strength to allow
that and he barely twitched. “He’s not here, is he?” Joe asked urgently. His eyes
were huge in his thin face. “Pa, please, Jon’s not here, is he?”
“No, Joe, he’s not here,”
Ben replied, perplexed by his son’s behaviour. It was almost as though Joe was
afraid of Jon, yet they had been friends. “He hasn’t been seen since you
disappeared.”
Gradually, Joe’s tense
muscles relaxed, but his eyes were still riveted to Ben’s. “I can’t…” Joe tore
his eyes away as the memories of the past 8 weeks swept through him. “Pa, I
can’t.”
“It’s all right, son,” Ben soothed.
“You don’t have to tell us until you’re ready.” Nodding in relief, Joe raised a
hand weakly to wipe the tears from his face. The expression when he felt the
beard on his face was comical. Ben smiled. “We bathed you, Joe, but decided to
leave shaving until you were awake.”
“Now, please,” Joe urged.
“Pa, now!” He was quite vehement, despite the quietness of his voice.
“As soon as Hop Sing can
heat the water,” Ben assured him. “It’s very early, Joe. You’ve got to give us
time to get organised.” He smiled to reassure his son even more. “Now, what
would you like to eat?”
“I’m allowed to eat?” Joe
asked, amazement clear in his tones.
“Of course you are,” Ben
avowed stoutly, denying the fear those words set up in his heart. “But I’m
afraid that you’re restricted to fluids just now. So how about some broth? Hop
Sing made up some beef broth for you last night.” Seeing the uncertain look on
Joe’s face, Ben asked, “Were you not allowed to eat?”
Slowly, Joe fought down the
memories again and shook his head. “Not often,” he replied, and the pain in his
voice tore at Ben’s heart. How could anyone treat another human being like
that? How could anyone treat his son like that?
Swallowing down the tears
and the outrage, Ben said, “Well, you can eat what you like here, Joe. You know
that.”
“All right,” Joe replied.
“I’ll eat the broth.” He closed his eyes and slipped into slumber again without
meaning to, his small reserve of strength already exhausted.
Looking at Joe sadly, Ben
rose to organise the broth and water to shave his son. His heart ached for all
that Joe had been through, even though he knew that there were more revelations
to come. Somehow, Jon was all mixed up with it, although Ben could not guess
how.
****************
Hoss was the person who had
the honour of shaving Joe. Adam was allowed to feed him small sips of the
nourishing broth Hop Sing had made the night before, while Ben had something to
eat and a couple of hours sleep. By the time Joe was once more clean-shaven, he
was worn out and more than ready to sleep again. Adam looked ruefully at the
broth, thinking that the six small sips weren’t enough to keep a bird alive,
but Paul had explained to them the night before that Joe’s stomach had shrunk
quite drastically, and that he might find it very difficult to keep anything
down. The fact that he had kept down that tiny amount was encouraging, Adam
felt.
“Will you sit with him,
Hoss?” Adam whispered.
“Sure,” Hoss agreed. He
frowned slightly at Adam. “Where’re you goin’?”
Pulling Hoss away from the
bed so that they didn’t disturb Joe, Adam whispered, “I’m going to get a tree.
Later, when Pa is sitting with Joe again, you and I can decorate it, so that
when we bring Joe down for Christmas, its there to cheer him up.”
For a moment, a smile spilt
Hoss’ face, then it dimmed to a frown. “What if he ain’t up ta gittin’ up fer
Christmas?”
Frowning back, Adam
scolded, “Don’t go borrowing trouble! He’ll be able to sit downstairs for his presents,
if nothing else.” Adam’s eyes opened wide. “Presents! We don’t have any!” For a
moment, Adam’s eyes were drawn back to the still figure on the bed. “I’ll go
into town, too. Will you be all right alone with him?”
“Naw,” Hoss replied,
sarcastically. “I don’ think I’m able ta pick him up, Adam.”
“Ha ha!” Adam sneered back,
then smiled. “I’m sorry; I’m just worried about him.”
“We’re all worried about
him,” Hoss corrected him gently. “You’re feelin’ guilty ‘cos ya quarrelled
afore he disappeared. It weren’t none o’ yore doin’, Adam. And Joe don’ hold
nothin’ agin ya.”
Blue eyes locked with
brown, and love and understanding poured from one to the other. “Perhaps,” Adam
murmured, breaking the eye contact. He often had the impression that Hoss could
see deep into his soul, especially when he was troubled, and his younger
brother often knew exactly what to say to help him feel better. “But I still
want to spoil him a bit now he’s home.”
Patting Adam heavily on the
shoulder, Hoss nodded his understanding. “Sometimes ya c’n be real stuck-up,
Adam,” he teased. “An’ other times yer just plain nice!”
Grinning, Adam retorted,
“Flattery will get you nowhere!”
*******************
The ride to town took
longer than usual, thanks to the snow, but at least the sun was shining and
Adam didn’t have to fear being caught in a blizzard. As he dismounted outside
the store, he was hailed from across the street. “Adam!”
Turning, Adam saw Roy
Coffee coming towards him. He paused, waiting for the sheriff to negotiate the
icy street. “Morning,
“Sure did,”
“Not too good,” Adam
answered truthfully. “But he was able to eat a little this morning, so we’re
taking that as a good sign.”
“He say what happened to
him yet?”
“Pa tried asking him when
he wore up, but he couldn’t say, Roy.” Adam bit his lip. “He’s very weak,
“I suppose that’s sensible,”
“Of course,” Adam replied,
politely. “But don’t expect too much of Joe,
It was amazing how quickly
word of Joe’s arrival home had spread through the town. A number of people
stopped Adam to ask after Joe with genuine concern. Adam was touched that so
many people held his brother in such affection. He was also amused at the
number of young women who asked after his brother.
The supplies for Christmas
dinner had already been secured, but Adam wasn’t after food, although he bought
a few sweets to tempt Joe’s appetite. He bought Joe some new clothes, replacing
his brother’s favourite green jacket with an identical one. A new warm dressing
gown for him to wear on Christmas morning and slippers – probably too large for
day to day wear, but that would slip on over the bandages on Joe’s feet. He
bought a new holster and gun, since Joe’s ones were missing. To top it off, he
bought a pile of dime novels. Personally, he hated them, but he knew Joe liked
them, and they were light enough reading for someone who was so sick.
To conclude his shopping,
he bought a new pipe and books for Ben and a coat for Hoss, who had been
wearing the same old winter coat for many years. Happy with his purchases, he
turned his horse for home.
*******************
A couple of hours sleep had
done Ben more good that morning than all the previous nights had. He went into
Joe’s room with a lighter step than of late. Hoss was sitting by Joe’s bed,
while the younger man slept. Pausing, Ben was struck afresh by the thinness of
Joe’s face. His skin seemed to be less ashen than the previous day, but in no
way could it be said that Joe’s colour was good.
“How is he?” Ben whispered,
crossing to the bed and stroking Joe’s curls gently.
“A mite hot,” Hoss replied,
“but he ate a little bit this mornin’. He’s bin asleep ever since.”
“I’ll sit with him now,”
Ben said. “Why don’t you have a break?” he urged. “Where’s Adam?”
Grinning Hoss relinquished
the chair to his father. “He went into town to buy p-r-e-s-e-n-t-s for
someone.” He winked massively at Ben, delighted with his ploy of spelling out
the word in case Joe woke up. It had quite escaped his notice that Joe was more
than able to spell.
“Oh, I see,” Ben replied,
gravely, fighting not to laugh out loud. There were times when Hoss was just
like a little boy and it showed especially around Christmas time. The big man
just loved giving presents and he and Joe were very alike in this. Joe loved
presents – giving and receiving.
“He’s gonna git the tree,
too,” Hoss continued. “Him an’ me’ll decorate it later.”
“Thank you, son,” Ben
replied, smiling. “We have something to celebrate this year.”
“We sure do,” Hoss agreed,
huskily.
***********************
When Joe stirred a couple
of hours later, Ben was still by his bedside. “Pa?” Joe whispered. He tried to
pull himself up slightly, but his body still wasn’t ready to allow him to do
that.
“Hi there,” Ben replied,
smiling. “How do you feel?” Joe’s temperature had dropped again a while before
and he was currently cool to the touch.
“Tired,” Joe admitted. He
frowned. “Pa, I need to go.”
“All right, son,” Ben
replied, understanding his son’s embarrassment. He pulled out the chamber pot
and assisted Joe in using it. Then he settled Joe back into bed, took away the
pot and when he came back into the room, he saw that Joe’s eyes were still
open. “Hop Sing is bringing up some broth for you,” he told Joe gently. “Dr
Martin says you have to try and eat every time you’re awake.” He raised his
hand to stroke Joe’s head and was horrified when Joe flinched away from him.
“Joe? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, I…” Joe looked
away, embarrassed afresh. “I thought you were going to hit me,” he admitted, in
a low voice.
“But, Joe, I wouldn’t!” Ben
denied, appalled. He sat down on the edge of the bed and looked into his son’s
face.
“I know that,” Joe replied.
“But you see…” He paused to try and think how best to say this. Raising
sorrowful eyes to his father’s, he blurted, “Jon used to hit me all the time.”
“Jon?” Ben echoed. “Jon
beat you?”
“Yes,” Joe replied, the
relief of finally telling overwhelming him. He could tell from Ben’s voice that
his father believed him. He licked his dry lips, not liking to ask for water,
but Ben could read the signs, and offered his son a drink, tenderly holding his
head while Joe slowly sipped. “Thanks, Pa,” he whispered and closed his eyes
for a minute.
It was obvious when Joe opened
them again that he had fallen asleep. He could smell something delicious and
turned his head slowly to see a steaming bowl of broth on the bedside table. It
was about as far away as the moon at that moment, and there was no one in the
room with him. For an instant, Joe panicked, remembering how he had been
chained after the first few days with Jon and fearing that he had been chained
while he slept. Despite finding himself still free, Joe could not quell the
fear that they had gone to get chains for him again.
But just as the panic was
beginning to overwhelm Joe, the door opened and Ben came in. He saw at once how
distressed Joe was and hurried over to reassure him. “I’m sorry, son, I just
stepped out for a minute to ask Hop Sing for something. I didn’t mean to leave
you alone.”
Blinking back tears, Joe
couldn’t say anything for a minute. “Can I have some of that?” he asked,
gesturing to the bowl.
“Of course you can,” Ben
replied. “It’s for you.” He helped Joe into a sitting position, and propped him
up with lots of pillows. Then slowly, he fed Joe the broth, relieved that his
son had more than the few sips Adam had reported him taking that morning, but
wishing that Joe had been able to eat more than just half a bowl.
“I’m tired,” Joe complained,
as he lay down again. He snagged Ben’s sleeve. “Pa, you weren’t asking Hop Sing
to get…” he swallowed convulsively and tears filled his eyes. “To get chains?”
“Of course not, Joe!” Ben
declared. He gathered his son into his arms. “Joe this is your home; nothing
like that will ever happen to you here, I promise. You can eat and drink what
you like, and no one will chain you up. You have to try and hold on to those
thoughts, son, and tell yourself you’re free.”
“I’ll try,” Joe promised.
He leaned his curly head against Ben’s shoulder and was soon asleep. For a long
time, Ben just sat there, holding him.
*******************
As the hand reached for the
chains on his wrists, Joe jerked awake to find himself safe in his own bed,
drenched in a cold sweat. Adam was sitting by the bed reading, and as Joe
gasped, he glanced up, immediately putting aside the book to tend to Joe’s
needs. “What is it, Joe?” he asked, seeing the dilated pupils, and hearing
Joe’s panting breath. “A bad dream?”
Slowly relaxing, Joe
nodded. “Yes,” he panted. He glanced round the room. “Where’s Pa?”
“He’s talking to Roy Coffee
and Dr Martin downstairs,” Adam replied. “He’ll be back in a minute, with
something for you to eat.” Taking a cloth, he wiped the sweat from Joe’s brow.
“Can I get you anything?”
“A drink, please?” Joe
asked.
Since Ben had told both
Adam and Hoss that Joe had been deliberately starved, Adam did not act as
though there was anything odd about the way Joe asked for a drink. “You can
have as much water as you like, buddy,” he assured Joe and tried not to notice
the way Joe flinched as his hand went past Joe’s face. He was horrified by what
had happened to Joe. After Joe was finished, Adam went to the door and called
to Ben that Joe was awake.
A few minutes later, Ben
and Hoss arrived with Roy and Paul. Paul went over to the bed first and began
to check Joe over, asking if he had any pain and making sure the infection in
his feet was dying back. The fact that Joe’s fever had broken told him that it
had, but he wanted to be absolutely certain. “How do your ribs feel?” Paul
asked, feeling gently.
Joe shrugged. “Like they’ve
felt for ages,” he responded, dully.
“And how is that?” Paul
persisted. “Sore? Sharp, stabbing pains? A grinding ache? What?”
“They ache,” Joe agreed.
“But no more than they have for a long time.”
“All right,” Paul nodded.
“Ben, you can feed him now. I have to say, I’m much happier about his condition
than I was last night. It’s going to take a long time, but I think this lad of
yours is going to get better!”
“C’n I talk ta him now?”
“Only after he’s eaten and
only if he feels up to it,” Paul cautioned. “He’s been through a lot.”
“I c’n see that,”
Again, Joe ate about half a
bowl of broth. Ben put aside the rest and took Joe’s hand. “Joe,
Sighing deeply, Joe
wondered if he could bring himself to tell anyone about what had happened to
him .He didn’t really want to, yet the words were about bursting out of him. He
felt the reassuring warmth of Ben’s hand on his arm and looked up into those
compassionate brown eyes that told Joe he was loved very much. “All right,” Joe
sighed.
“Hoss and I will leave,”
Adam offered, but Joe shook his head.
“You might as well stay and
hear it from me,” he told them. “Jon and I left to get the coach,” he began,
his voice thin and frail.
Slowly, Joe told of meeting
Jon’s gang, and of being held prisoner while they journeyed into
“I knocked myself out when
I fell down the stairs,” he concluded. “When I came too, there was nobody
there. The posse hadn’t checked the place very well, because Cochise was still
in the barn. I managed to get the leg irons off, but I couldn’t remove the
handcuffs. Next morning, I got onto Cochise and rode home. I ran out of food on
the way home, but it didn’t matter, because I couldn’t keep it down anyway.”
“It was overloading your
stomach,” Paul explained. “That’s why you’re living on broth right now.”
“Are you sure it was a
posse and not another gang?”
“No, I’m not sure,” Joe
admitted. “It just seemed to me that it had to be a posse.” He yawned suddenly
and his eyelids dropped. “I’m tired.” The catharsis of telling his story had
drained him emotionally, as well as physically and he slipped quietly into
sleep.
Glancing round, Ben saw
that Adam had his hand on Hoss’ shoulder and the big man was wiping away tears.
Adam’s eyes were glittering unnaturally, but he wouldn’t allow the tears to
fall where others could see it. He would shed his tears alone, if at all. Ben
could wish it were otherwise, but there was nothing he could do about it.
“I’ll find out fer sure,
Ben,”
“Thanks,” Ben replied. He looked back at Joe as Paul began to feel
gently round his head. “What are you looking for?” he asked.
“I was just checking to
make sure I didn’t miss any lumps on Joe’s head. I didn’t think I had, but with
Joe saying he’d knocked himself out, I thought I’d just double check.”
Apparently satisfied, he straightened. “No, he’s fine. And I meant what I said
earlier. I do think he’ll be all right, but it will be months before he regains
that lost weight. I think, now his feet are on the mend, that you ought to try
and get him out of bed and doing a little walking as soon as possible. If he
lies there too long, he’ll become bed-bound.”
“Now?” Ben asked,
astonished, for Joe could still not turn himself in bed.
“No, give him another
couple of days. By then, he should have gained enough strength to stay awake
longer. It will be incredibly difficult for him, Ben. I don’t know how he
managed to get home, despite his horse! But you’ll see an improvement in time.
If there’s anything worrying you, just call me.” Paul smiled at them and left.
**********************
As Adam carried on making
preparations for Christmas, Ben continued to sit with Joe, making sure he had
everything he wanted. Joe had said no more about his ordeal, but he was having
fewer nightmares, so Ben said nothing, either. Joe soon became used to the
routine. Whenever he woke, he was given something to eat, and by the end of
three days, he was feeling a bit better and was able to stay awake for longer.
As Ben noticed this, he enlisted Hoss’ help to get Joe onto his feet again. The
first time, Joe could only take a few shuffling steps before he slumped,
exhausted, between father and brother, but later he was able to try again and
took a few more steps this time.
“Pa, how long was I gone?”
Joe asked, as he lay thankfully back on the bed. His face glowed with triumph,
for he had managed to walk all the way across his room and back, with only Hoss
helping him.
“Eight weeks,” Ben replied,
watching Joe closely to see his reaction.
“Eight weeks?” Joe repeated, stunned. The new colour drained from
his face as he tried to assimilate this information. “I… I knew it had been
weeks, but… I never thought that long.” Anguish filled his eyes as he looked at
Ben despairingly. “You must have thought I was dead,” he whispered, stricken
with the knowledge.
“We didn’t give up hope,”
Ben told him. “We looked everywhere for you, Joe, you must believe that. And
when we realised that you were really gone, we never gave up hoping you would
somehow come back to us. We knew that you wouldn’t go off like that, with no
word, even after quarrelling with Adam.”
“Did I?” Joe asked. “Oh,
yes, so we did. I’d forgotten.” He raised his eyes to his father’s again. “I
didn’t ask… I didn’t think… Adam. Oh, Pa, is Adam all right?”
“Yes, of course Adam is all
right,” Ben replied, perplexed. “You saw him this morning, Joe.”
“Oh, I know that, but I
meant…” Joe took a deep breath and put his thoughts into order. “I never
thought what effect telling my story would have on Adam. Jon was his friend, Pa
and I just blurted it all out. Adam must be so hurt.”
“Yes, he is,” Ben agreed.
“Hurt for you, that a friend of his could do such a thing.” Ben rubbed Joe’s
arm gently. This sudden concern for others was a sign, to Ben, that Joe was on
the mend. He could spare time to think of others, not just his own survival.
“Did you think Adam cared more for Jon than for you?”
“No, of course not,” Joe
replied. “But I didn’t think of how it would make him feel when I told you. Why
didn’t I think of it?”
“You were pretty sick,
Joe,” Ben told him. “You still are, but you are on the mend. Then, you told us
to get it off your mind and to make us go away.” He smiled at the look on Joe’s
face. “I know you didn’t think of it that way, but that’s how it was. You
needed rest and your sub-conscious told you that the best way to get rest was
to get rid of your audience and the best way to do that,” he grinned, “was to tell the story. That’s why you didn’t
think of Adam. He understands that. After all, he hasn’t been treating you any
differently, has he?”
“No,” Joe admitted. “Pa,
could I talk to Adam, please?”
“Of course,” Ben agreed. He
had yet to say no to anything Joe really wanted. Smiling at his son again, Ben rose
and went to fetch Adam.
*******************
Although he had wanted to
talk to Adam and clear the air between them, Joe found it surprisingly hard to
begin. He suddenly couldn’t meet his brother’s eyes. “I wanted to apologise for
telling you about Jon like that,” he blurted. “I didn’t mean to. I didn’t want
to hurt you. I know he was your friend.”
“I thought so while he was
here,” Adam agreed. “But he stopped being my friend the moment he took you
prisoner, Joe.”
Looking up, Joe saw that
Adam meant every word. “Really?” he asked, still unwilling to believe that
absolution could come so easily. “We quarrelled, although I don’t really
remember too well. I thought… well, to be honest, I don’t know what I thought.”
Joe immediately contradicted himself, but Adam didn’t interrupt as he could see
how important this was to Joe. “I thought you might hate me for not telling you
about Jon when we were alone. But I didn’t really think about that then.”
“Joe.” Adam took a deep
breath. He found it difficult, always, to say what was in his heart. But this
mattered too much for him to keep it private. “As long as I have my brothers,
it doesn’t matter if I don’t have any other friends. A friend could never come
before you, or Hoss. I…” he paused and bit his lip. Joe’s green eyes never
wavered from his face. Finally, the difficult, important words came. “I love
you, Joe.”
Tears spilled down Joe’s
face as he reached for his brother. For no matter how they quarrelled, they
were still brothers and this bond mattered more than anything. Joe knew how
difficult it was for Adam to tell them what was in his heart and he felt the
last burden of his captivity lifting with those precious words. “Thank you,” he
whispered. “And I love you, Adam.” He smiled through his tears. “You stubborn
Yankee Granite head!”
*********************
The next afternoon,
December 24th, Christmas Eve, Roy Coffee arrived at the Ponderosa
through a light dusting of snow. He gratefully accepted coffee to thaw out and
told the Cartwrights his news. “That weren’t a posse Joe saw, Ben. It were
another gang. Jon had moved into their area, and there was a fight. The other
gang, led by someone called Big Lem, took Jon and the rest and hanged ‘em all
from the nearest trees. Joe were downright lucky that they never found him.”
“He was indeed,” Ben
murmured.
“Big Lem was caught the
other day robbin’ a bank. He told o’ the killings afore he died from the bullet
the sheriff had put in him.” He shook his head. “Well, that’s the mystery
solved, Ben. How’s the boy doin’? Paul says he’s improvin’.”
“Yes, he’s doing much
better,” Ben replied. “He doesn’t know this, but we’re bringing him downstairs
for Christmas tomorrow.”
“That’s right good ta
hear,”
“And to you,” Ben returned.
*****************
Later that night, Ben told
Joe what
*****************
“Good morning,” Ben said,
gently, as Joe wakened the next day. “Merry Christmas, son.”
“Huh?” Joe responded.
“Christmas? Is it Christmas already?”
“Sure is!” carolled Hoss
from behind Ben. “Here’s yer breakfast.” He plunked a tray with a scrambled egg
on it onto Joe’s lap. It was the first solid food he had had since returning
home. He ate it slowly, enjoying every bite. He couldn’t remember anything ever
tasting so good.
“Here you go, Joe,” Adam
smiled and dropped two packages onto Joe’s lap.
“For me?”
“Open them!” Adam urged and
Joe did so, drawing out the dressing gown and slippers.
“Are these a joke?” Joe
demanded, his eyes flashing, as he held up one large slipper. “They’d fit
Hoss!”
“Sure would,” Adam agreed,
cheerfully. “But they also fit over those bandages. You’re coming downstairs,
so get those things on!”
Despite Joe’s protests, he
was soon warmly wrapped in the dressing gown and slippers and walked out of his
room before his strength began to give out. Hoss carried him downstairs, where
he was tenderly tucked up on the sofa.
“The tree looks great,” Joe
whispered as he looked at it with tear-filled eyes. He was suddenly overcome
with emotion. He hadn’t know it was Christmas.
Presents were handed out
and Joe was overwhelmed by the things he received. Looking at it all, piled on
his legs, while Adam, Hoss and Ben opened their parcels from each other, he
could hardly believe it. “But, I don’t have anything to give to you,” he
complained. Tears were standing in his eyes again.
“We have our gift from you,
Joe,” Ben replied, gently. Seeing the non-comprehension on Joe’s face he added,
“All we wanted was for you to come home for Christmas. We got our gift, and we
don’t need anything else.”
Merry Christmas.
The End