A Hot Summer Night

by Sadie Spinner

The air was stifling; it hung so heavy in the small room that you could almost have seen it if it was daylight. The moon was in its new phase so the inky black added to the suffocating feeling. The young man sat in the straight back chair as despair surrounded him like a cloak. The pain was so intense and the grief was so raw. Try as he may, it was impossible to hold back the strangled sob as it bubbled up from within his soul. Even the flame burning low in the bedside lamp did not flicker. The air was so still and hot. Perspiration soaked his shirt; the faded muslin clung to him adding to his feeling of despair. He lifted his head at the soft muted whimper coming from the bed. He dipped a cloth into a basin of water then rang it out. With shaking hands he gently placed it on the forehead of the small child restlessly moving and twisting under the damp sheets.

Ben Cartwright was being eaten up with fear and guilt. He and his young son were on their way west, having left New Bedford after the loss of his wife, Elizabeth, in childbirth. The couple had planned on heading west to seek their dream of a new land full of promise and opportunity. That dream was all but destroyed when she had died giving birth to this child. Ben, at first, wanted no part of this now empty dream. Her father made him see it was for her, as well as for him and most of all for their son that he keep his promise to find his dream.

The road was long and progress, at times, seemed to go backward and not forward. Ben doggedly forced himself to go on. Every time he looked at the little boy with the raven black hair and the dark sparkling hazel eyes, he had the will to continue. This quiet, shy, and very bright boy was all he had of the love they had shared for a short time together.

Adam Cartwright, Ben's three and a half year old son lay in the bed, his little body racked with fever, his face pale, except for the bright pink highlights on his cheeks attesting to the heat that burned in him. Ben brushed the hair from his forehead. The sweat gave it a satin sheen under the lamp glow. Although thick and wavy, Adam's hair now separated into strings that hugged his head and formed little knots.

"Hush, son. It's all right. I'm right here."

The words came hard. His mouth felt dry. His throat constricted. With great care he wiped his son's face and down the child's neck, then turning the cloth over, he placed the cooler side on his forehead once more.

"P.. please, Adam, try to sleep. You will feel better. Pa is right here. Just try and sleep."

The sound of his voice rang hollow in his ears. He did not even know if the child was aware of him. Adam twisted and pushed at him in his effort to escape the fever induced flames that chased him. Fire was an ever-present danger and comfort when on the road in a wagon, and now those opposites were warring in the mind of this little boy.

Hot tears spilled over and down Ben's face mixing with the rivulets of sweat. He rose stiffly and carefully sat on the side of the bed. He pulled back the drenched sheet, and lifting his son as gingerly as possible, he turned the pillow over in an effort to offer some relief. The child was limp as a rag doll, unaware of his father's presence or what he was doing. After he lay Adam back down, he pulled the sheet all the way off. Going to the small table, he got another then placed it over the child who was now shivering in spite of the heat. As he attempted to tuck it in, Adam seemed to rouse. Although his eyes remained closed, his small hand struggled to free himself from the sheet. Ben ran his eyes over every inch of the tiny room, as if something would appear to spare him this trial. All he found was just what he had found the last hundredth time he did this, a stark black silhouette of a man slumped over a bed. It had a cruel reality to it despite the way it was distorted by the length of the shadow as it ran down the wall and stretched over the floor.

"Easy, there now, Pa is right here, son. You rest. I am right here," Ben whispered, his lips as close to the little boy's ear as he could get. He swallowed hard as he felt the heat radiating from him.

Adam moaned. He ground his teeth. Then they began to chatter as the fever climbed ever higher. Ben felt as if he were drowning. He could not breathe. Desperately he gasped for air. How? How could he have done such a stupid thing, to try to take this precious gift across the entire continent alone? He never felt more like a fool in his entire life.

Adam was stilled by his father's voice for a few moments at least. Even deep in the throws of his delirium, his father's voice reached him. Ben picked up the tiny hand in his big rough one. It seemed even smaller tonight. It was soft and so very warm. Ben lifted each finger to examine it as if he would never see it again. Gently with trembling lips he kissed each in turn, then the soft, little palm.

"Tisk, you..You forgot to remind your Pa to..to.." Ben swiped at the tears, "be sure your fingernails were clean...but don't worry I am not cross." Ben rambled, fearing that if he stopped he might lose his fragile hold on his son. Adam sighed and moaned softly once again. Ben laughed a strained, hoarse laugh, "You think y..you fooled me?" Adam began to move more restlessly, his whimpers grew more distressed. He pulled the cloth form his face, his movements escalating to thrashing. Ben wet the cloth in the cool water, which really needed to be changed, but he dared not leave his son to go down to the well in the center of town. The hour was such that Ben was sure no one would be up to sit with Adam so he could do so. Desperation was quickly dissolving into utter panic.

When they had arrived in this tiny hamlet near sundown, Ben was shaking. He had no money. His child was desperately ill, and he had no idea what to do. His only thought was that he needed help for Adam and he needed it fast. It was only blind luck that the first person he encountered was the owner of the only boarding house, a dower woman, who, at first, was unwilling to open her house to illness. Not knowing what the child had, she did not want to expose herself to anything. As Ben stood there with Adam cradled in his trembling arms; she finally gave in and let him have this tiny attic room. This room had only one small window, which served to further intensify the oppressive heat of the night. There was no doctor in the town. The local barber, to whom most in the town turned for advice on this sort of thing, agreed to come over and have a look. It was just as well as Ben had no money for that either.

The barber declared it was "A touch o' fever." and pronounced he would get better by sun up - or not. As he left, he offered this advice, "Starve a fever. Make 'em sweat. Give 'em' pleny water. No food...an...Young fella, good luck!"

So it was Ben Cartwright began his long vigil with no one to talk to, no one to reassure him, no one to offer any real positive advice. He watched and waited. Condemnation ran rampant in his mind. Why had he been so careless? He let his guard down and this was his payment. Three days ago the hot, dusty road they bumped along waved with the shimmer of heat rising from the ground baked into hard clay ruts. The sun glared down from the cloudless sky. The grass they passed was brown, and the earth scorched. Even the occasional tree did not offer any respite. The horse plodded along slowly, sweat darkened his coat in places as it ran down from under the harness. Ben did not have the heart to hurry him, as much as he wanted to get as far as he could. They were nearly out of supplies yet again. He had not had much luck setting snares, as the land was so dry there were not many good places, and the few streams were so low there was no hope of catching anything.

Adam had only oatmeal and journey cake for breakfast and dinner over the last few days. They were out of canned milk, and the need for fresh milk was becoming alarming. Ben knew he could go with only water for a while but his son needed real nourishment fast.

Hot and dusty, they stumbled on to the little pond. It was tucked away in a thicket. The horse had smelled it and whinnied, automatically heading for it. Ben was thrilled and wary at the same time. The water appeared slightly brackish, but he felt it would be ok just to refresh themselves with it. As he unhitched the wagon, Ben thought the water would be ok for the horse but he must remember to tell Adam not to drink it. Ben stripped Adam and carried him to the edge of the pond where he washed him down.

"Pa..do.. it more!" Adam squealed with delight as the cool water tickled his skin.

"Ok, how about this? " Ben laughed as he found himself almost as wet as Adam. With that he took the cloth and squeezed a stream of water down on top of Adam's head.

"Hahaha" Adam danced with glee. He was always such a serious little boy, and this display made his father forget for the moment the need for vigilance. Adam tipped his face up, and sticking out his tongue. lapped some of the water as it splashed his face. For almost half an hour they played together, father and son, in a rare moment of pure joy. When the ground under Adams feet turned to mud from his dancing and he almost slipped into the pond, Ben decided it was time to quit.

The next day was just as hot. Adam was normally a quiet, obedient child; Ben attributed his son's lethargy to this fact and nothing more. By the time they made camp, Adam had slept the better part of the day. The boy wasn't particularly hungry all day, which was not surprising due to the heat. Ben did become suspicious later when Adam lay his head down and drifted off to sleep almost in the middle of eating. When Ben picked him up, he was horrified to feel him burning up; Adam looked up rather stupefied, his eyes glassy.

"Oh, God!" Ben looked heavenward then closed his eyes. The wagon was out of the question for sleeping. It was far too hot. Holding Adam in one arm, he frantically pulled all the bedding out to make a bed on the ground. As Ben worked to strip Adam and get him in his nightshirt his mind raced. "How far to the next town? Do they have a doctor? I have no money." All these collided in his brain as Ben raced to the small stream they were camped next to and filled a bowl. Returning, he placed a cool cloth dipped in the water on Adam's forehead.

Here in the attic room, as he reached out, he felt the boy who was burning up and shivering. The fever had been raging for two full days. How much longer could Adam last? He was so little and so weak. Ben felt he had reached an insurmountable impasse. He could not go on, could not expose this child to any more of the harsh reality of life on the trail. He would swallow his pride, and go back east. At least back in New England, there were doctors, food and people who cared about him. What right did he have to endanger his son this way?

He had no idea how to raise a child. In a civilized world it was overwhelming, much less out here. He had drifted around enough. Nothing was more important then his child, Elizabeth's child She would have understood. He did his best. He tried to find his dream, their dream. However the cost was just too damn high.

Adam tossed his head back and forth, licking his parched lips.

"Nooo, hot.... Pa...hot...." his voice barely audible as he fought to remove the sheet. "Toooo hooot," then, adding to Ben's anguish, he began to sob softly. Tenderly Ben stroked his hair and whispered soothing words.

"What is it, Adam? What's wrong, son," Ben asked, his pain every bit as deep as the child's.

"Tell me...son."

Slowly Adam ceased some of his moving, then as if almost awake, yet not opening his eyes, he sniffled, his lashes wet; his lip stuck out in a quivering pout.

"Hurt's ...pa..."

The little voice tore the very heart from his father. Adam never complained, never whined, well, almost never whined, for no reason at least.

Ben's own voice shook as he tried to remain calm and reassuring. He asked again,

"Tell Pa w..what hurts Adam."

"Eye's." Adam put one little finger up to his eye as a tear rolled down the side of his face into the already wet pillow.

"Your eyes hurt?"

"Uh huh."

Ben swallowed the enormous lump in his throat. Taking a deep breath he gently ran his hand through Adam's tangled, damp hair.

"W..what else hurts... does any thing else hurt?'

Adam pulled up his shoulders. "Head hurts...Pa...pweeze..make it bet- a," he sobbed.

If it was possible for a human being to split wide open from grief and pain, then that is exactly what would have happened to Ben.

"Hot...t...pa...too...hot." Adam ran his hand over his mouth. "Thursy...pa."

Ben poured some water into the glass, and, shifting, he lifted Adam into his lap; the heat radiating from the boy sent chills down him despite the unbearable closeness of the night.

"Here son, drink some water, careful now, go slow." Adam put his tiny hands around his father's. They were so hot. Ben knew his own hands were shaking. Adam gulped some water before Ben was able to pull the glass back.

"No, son, you must go slow." He hugged the boy. Adam fell back against him, spent by even this small amount of effort.

"More, pweeze." he whispered.

"Just a sip this time, or you will get sick," Adam nodded weakly.

"Am sick, Pa," he replied as he sipped at the water. After a few more sips, he pushed the glass away.

"nouff."

Ben fought his frustration; he wanted to change the bed sheets but the owner was not too keen on giving up so many changes in bedding. So he made do with turning the pillow one more time. Adam was wearing his underclothes as the nightshirt was too hot, and got tangled in the sheets. Ben held his son for a few more minutes rocking back and forth slowly, wishing he could absorb the heat coming off the boy and transfer it to himself.

"Tooo hot...Pa.. wanna. lay down..." Ben reluctantly put him back in bed. Adam sighed, rubbing at his eyes again.

"Hurts, Pa," he repeated.

Ben knew it was the fever that made them hurt, at least that's what he told himself.

"Shuuuush." he softly cooed, "Go to sleep, Adam...your eyes will feel better."

'"Kay," came the trembling little voice "I will...pa?"

"Yes, son?"

"I gonna get bett ah?"

"What kind of silly question is that....of course you are! Now do as I ask and try to sleep...Alright?"

Adam opened his eyes, and in the glow of the lamp. Ben could not help see how they were bright with fever, but lacked any of the sparkle or the inquisitive shine that was in Adam's normally clear, dark, hazel eyes surrounded by his long black lashes. Adam's eyes caught almost every one's attention the moment they looked at him, and where were the dimples? Ben felt himself shutter. The very thought of going on without this child was impossible to imagine.

"Close your eyes, and when you get better, we...we can get you some bread and jam. How does that sound?" Ben forced himself to sound cheerful, when, in fact, he was almost gagging from terror. The bile churning in his stomach threatened to make him wretch.

But Adam had slipped into his fevered sleep, once again held captive by the fire that ravaged his body. Ben sat on the bed, holding Adam's hand in one of his; he stroked the side of his face with his fingertips.

Nothing moved, not the air, the curtains or the flame in the lamp. Ben sat staring at his little boy. Scarcely breathing himself, he watched as Adam's chest rose and fell, sometimes in great sucking gulps, sometimes barely enough to pull in the thick air. The hours crawled by minute by nerve-racking minute.

"Elizabeth...My Love.... I need you.... We...need you... Our son needs you..." Ben wept in desolation; slowly he slid off the bed to his knees. Resting his huge hands on the bed while holding Adam's small hand between them, he lowered his head, pressing them to his cheek.

"It's no use. Without you I thought I had nothing, but I have him. Without our son, there is no meaning in my life."

The great wound in Ben's heart bled anew. His own tears added new wet spots to the sheet. So powerful was his sorrow, so deep into despair, that he felt surly he had plunged into an abyss from which he could never recover.

Adam moaned and ground his teeth, muttering soft indistinguishable words with the exception of his pleas for the hot to go away.

Ben sobbed quietly as he knelt by the bed. God had chosen to test him in the most heart wrenching way. Why? He did not know. What had he done to displease Him so, that He would send this to him? For himself, it did not matter. But, God, this was just an innocent little boy, a mere baby. Surely he could not be at fault? Ben begged for mercy. Then, unwillingly, anger found it's ugly way into Ben's tormented heart, anger at himself, at the world, and for just a brief moment, at his God.

"Life is not supposed to be fair, Benjamin. Life is to be lived, come what may, in God's light, in His path."

Ben raised his head. That voice - he knew that voice. Somewhere in this tiny attic room was a sweet, yet insistent voice. It had a familiar softness.

"Liz?" Ben shot to his feet. The stale air had a strangely odd tingle to it.

"Do not despair, my darling. Life has much to offer our son."

The air in the room remained deathly still, yet the curtains fluttered and Ben swore he saw the hair on Adam's forehead ruffle ever so gently.

"Kay, I will...." Adam suddenly whispered as he turned his head toward the open window.

Ben sank suddenly weak kneed into the straight back chair. Quaking, he reached over and felt Adam's head. The fever still raged in him. His face hot and dry, the pink spots on his cheeks had turned scarlet and had grown larger. Dragging himself to the bed, he began once again to do the only thing he could do for his little son, talk to him in a soothing, calming voice, encourage him, keep him as cool as possible, and wait.... And wait...

Adam fussed and tossed until long into the wee hours of the morning. Just as the horizon began to glow with the promise of a new dawn, he settled down. The fever had not broken but he was at least quiet, not moaning, not twisting, no whimpering. He had stopped grinding his teeth and crying he was hot. All of these things scared Ben more then he was willing to admit. With nothing left but sheer faith, Ben let one last plea fall from his lips, "Father, please, forgive me for doubting you." His eyes closed for just a moment. Somewhere in that moment, he fell asleep.

Adam woke as the sun touched his face. Blinking, he frowned. He was not sure where he was, and why he was in a bed. Slowly he sat up, and his head spun, so he lay back down. Rubbing his eyes, he tried again. Suddenly he was overcome by a loud yawn that took him by surprise. At the same time he was aware of being very thirsty. Spotting the glass on the bedside table, he wiggled over and reached for it. Unable to get a good grip as he almost fell out of bed, he let go of the glass, and it crashed to the floor bringing his father to his feet instantly.

"Adam! What ever are you doing?'"

Wide-eyed Adam looked over the side of the bed at the broken glass. Swallowing hard, he sat back up and looked up at his father. As the sun climbed higher in the morning sky, light spilled in over the raven black hair that shone like polished ebony in spite of the fact it was tangled and stuck to his face in places. The dark, hazel eyes were bright and clear, just a little mystified.

Although it was a hot morning, Adam shivered. Grabbing the sheet, he slid back down in the bed, never taking his eyes off his father whose expression confused him. He seemed to be deciding a very serious matter. Adam pulled the sheet up to his chin as Ben finally moved. In one swift motion he gathered the boy and the sheet into his big, strong arms as he smiled. His lips trembled, his eyes misty.

"Good morning, Adam," he whispered, holding onto the boy tightly.

"Pa, you cold?"

"No, son, why?"

"Why you shivrin?"

"Because, it was a long hot night."

Suddenly, Adam trembled himself with an overwhelming desire to be even closer to his father. He struggled out of the confines of the sheet and grabbed his father around the neck and held tight.

Today was a new day, and they had a long way to go to find their dream, he and Adam. They did not know what lay ahead, but they knew they had to find it, and together they would.

"Nothing like a beautiful, clear morning after a long hot night...is there son?"

Adam sat back and studied his Pa's face.

Adam nodded yes, not quite sure of the answer his father was looking for, he simply said. "Yer right, Pa. Sure is."

"Are you feeling up to eating, Adam?"

"Are you?"

"Now I am. Yes, son." Ben gently kissed his little boy on the forehead, suddenly wrinkling his nose.

"But not until we get you a bath." Ben winked and laughed softly as he hugged Adam one more time.

"Thank you.... Thank you!" he gratefully whispered, placing his chin on the top of Adam's head, Ben sighed and raised his eyes to heaven.

The End.

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