Moment
of Silence
by
Janice Sagraves
NOTE: Except for one line at the end all dialogue is Ben’s and in his thoughts.
Ben Cartwright blotted the perspiration from his eldest son’s pallid face. His boy had an Apache bullet deep inside him, and he was helpless to do anything about it. The constant nagging thought that if the slug didn’t kill him from doing nothing his own father would if he tried, ate at him like an acid. His son needed a doctor desperately, but without their horses and continually watched by Cochise and his warriors there was no way to get one or get to one.
He glanced up at the murmur of voices as his other two sons – standing off to themselves – talked too lowly for him to make out the words. Their eyes constantly darted contemptuously to Captain Moss Johnson, the reason for all the grief. Ben detested this odious man and cared little what happened to him, but he knew he couldn’t hand him over to the Indians. The man had poisoned innocent people – among them women and children – on the pretext of peace, and he understood why the Apaches wanted him, but he couldn’t, in all clear conscience, let them have him. No one deserved the kind of death that awaited him. And the ensuing vengeance against the Apache people would be relentless and merciless.
He looked back at his oldest son. Adam was still for now and seemed to be resting a little better, but Ben didn’t know how long it would last. And that very stillness that he welcomed also frightened him beyond words. Ben raised the corner of the black shirt and looked beneath the blood soaked cloth. The bleeding had stopped for now, but the damage was done and needed to be undone and the sooner the better. He placed his hand against his son’s broad chest over his heart and felt it valiantly struggling to keep going.
“Keep beating, please, keep beating. Don’t give in.”
There was also the added problem of not having any water. They had not so much as a drop and the small stream was being fiercely watched by the Apaches. In fact, that was how Adam had been shot in the first place. Once attention was diverted from him he had slipped away in a futile effort to fill the canteens.
“Why, son, why?” Ben began swabbing his son’s face again. “It wasn’t worth it, he isn’t worth it.” His eyes briefly rose ominously to Johnson. “Nothing’s worth seeing one of my son’s suffer, and certainly not him.” He pushed back the black wisp that had characteristically fallen over Adam’s forehead. “I don’t know what I’ll do if I should lose you because of the likes of him.”
He pulled Adam’s shirt back over what he couldn’t stand to look at anymore. Hiding it wouldn’t make it go away, but he wouldn’t have to see his son’s blood.
Ben lowered his head and rubbed at the throbbing behind his coffee eyes. But the pain in his head was nothing to what was contained within a father’s heart. Slowly, he looked back to the wan face, his son’s strong, stern features relaxed almost to boyishness. The fans of thick black lashes rested against his usually dark skin and the elegant mouth was slightly open.
Ben took one of the fine hands and clasped it between both of his, but Adam didn’t move. At least he could see his son and watch his chest rise and fall with steady – though shallow – breaths and be reassured that he was still alive. But if not for Joe’s impulsiveness he wouldn’t even be allowed this small comfort, and Adam probably would have bled to death in the sand. The image of Joe rushing back with his older and bigger brother held tight in his arms, and his pistol barking filled him with pride. Ben’s eyes went back to his youngest. “Thank you, Joseph.”
Ben’s head fell till his lips rested against his son’s fingers. They were cool and clammy and it sent a surge of anguish through him that filled every nerve ending with the keenest kind of pain. “I love you, son.” His hands tightened, and he fought the desire to cry out into the night. “Please, don’t take my son. Not yet. Parents aren’t supposed to outlive their children. Not my son, please.”
Adam groaned and began trying to come out of what had been thrust upon him. Ben’s head shot up as his son began to move. Gently, he put the cherished hand down and began patting away the perspiration from his boy’s face. His whole attention was focused on Adam, and he wasn’t aware of the presence crouching next to him.
“He’s getting worse,” Joe said softly.
Ben glanced at him but continued wiping the face and neck of his eldest. He knew that, no one had to tell him. His son was dying, and he was powerless to stop it.
THE END
This is simply for the enjoyment of Bonanza fans and no infringement is intended.