Vigil of Memories
by
Janice Sagraves

This is for Laurie who suggested I do this. The characters and parts and situations in this story are not mine, and no infringement is intended. This is simply for the enjoyment of fellow Bonanza fans.

1*

The rain had finally stopped not three hours earlier – thank goodness for small favors – but not before sending a chill straight into his bones. It had gone like that for two days, almost without let up, and just when you thought you were about to dry out it would start up again. Fortunately, the nights had been relatively dry and the campfires had helped some, if only moderately, but the ground had still been soaked. It was just coming dark and the breeze, which had picked up some, had turned colder, which only exacerbated things.

Adam Cartwright felt as if he would never be warm or dry again. His coat was wet, his clothes were wet, his skin was wet, and it seemed as if his very soul was wet. He hadn’t been completely dry since he had left home right before the deluge had started, and he could shoot himself for not bringing a slicker. His had been ravaged in some berry briars while trying to extricate a calf, and he hadn’t replaced it yet. Still, he could have borrowed Pa’s or Hoss’. The image of himself in Hoss’ oversized rain poncho curved the cornered of his mouth.

A harsh cough ran through him as he hunkered down inside his sodden coat in a vain attempt to stay at least a little warm. But the only heat came from the horse and it wasn’t sufficient to ward off the mind-numbing cold that reached down inside him like an icy hand.

He kept his long arms and legs pulled close to him and the horse to draw on what body heat there was, and, as far as he was concerned, it wasn’t enough. He shivered, and his teeth chattered as if sending some sort of strange Morse code. Another rash of coughing ran through him and filled the approaching dusk, and his head had been throbbing since morning. He hadn’t felt so swift when he left home, though he had attributed it to fatigue, and the hacking had been going on since the previous day. Maybe he shouldn’t have come, but he was the last one who would ever admit it.

“It won’t be long before we’re home, boy,” Adam said, his voice shaky, as he patted Sport on the neck. “Then I can get you into a warm stall and me into some dry clothes and bed. What I wouldn’t give for some of Hop Sing’s hot ginger tea.”

It took close to thirty minutes before he saw the lights in the distance. He was finally within sight of the house, but still it would probably take him another twenty minutes to reach it. But he wasn’t worried; he could sit on a sharp axe that long if he had to. What mattered was that he had made it home, well, almost.

*************************************************************************************

Ben Cartwright sat in the red leather chair by the blazing fire reading a four-day old edition of the Territorial Enterprise when he thought he heard the horse come into the yard. His eldest son had been out riding fence for three days out on the northern end of the property, checking for breaks and any other kind of damage that needed attending.

Spring always brought the inevitable repairs incurred by the usually hard Sierra winters; there was no getting away from it. And this year Adam had drawn the short straw. Ben’s eldest always seemed to have the knack for choosing the right one, but this time his ‘knack’ had failed him. And his brothers had made the most of it until he had ridden out in a huff. This was very much out of character for Ben’s first-born, since he never took umbrage with their teasing, he simply returned the favor.

No one had come right out and said anything, but Ben thought that he knew what the problem was. In the space of the past few months his oldest son had met and fallen heavily for two young women and wound up losing them both.

Regina Darien had been a fetching Quaker woman with snapping mahogany eyes. From what Hoss had related upon returning home, she and Adam had been very attracted to each other. At one point, Hoss had even thought they might marry. But Sam Bord had betrayed a trust and brought about the death of her father and stolen their money, and, against her wishes, Adam had gone after him. Adam had been forced to kill him, and it changed things between them. She, with her peaceful ways, could not stay with a man who lived by the gun, and they had both seen the futility of the situation. So, heart heavy and torn by duty to others, they had separated.

Then there was Ruth Halverson, of which the family knew very little. From what they had been able to drag out of that tightlipped clam, she had been a lovely creature with long thick golden tresses. She had saved his life twice and given up all chances of happiness to keep the Shoshone from killing him. The chances of Adam’s ever seeing her again were as remote as the chance that it would rain on the moon. In fact, he didn’t even know if she was still alive, and, on the off chance that she was, he didn’t dare go looking for her.

This, Ben believed, was what had brought about the changes in his oldest son. He had gotten so that he preferred time alone to being with others, and hard work had become his passion, especially when it took him from home. It wasn’t that he hadn’t always been a dilligent worker but now something seemed to be driving him into it. His appetite didn’t seem to have been effected too badly though he did tend to pick more than usual, and at mealtime his end of the table had become silent as a tomb. Even his brothers had failed to draw conversation from him. Ben suspected that his son would get over it, but it was going to take time.

Ben put the paper down, having lost interest in his musings, when Adam came in. He could see at once that his son was drenched through and thoroughly beat and looked even more drawn than he had when he had ridden out.

“I was beginning to think that you wouldn’t be home tonight either,” Ben said as he watched his son go through the fatigued motions of shucking out of his soaked coat and hanging it on the stand in the study.

“I couldn’t stand one more night out there,” Adam said as he hung his hat on the rack by the door then began unbuckling his gun belt. “It’s been almost like sleeping in a bathtub. I feel like if you squeezed me out you could irrigate a field of wheat.”

Ben traced the lines of weariness in his son’s face. “You just missed supper, and Hop Sing kept some food warm just in case you got in tonight.”

“I’m too dragged out, Pa. I just wantta get something hot to drink, get into some dry clothes, maybe read a little and go to bed.” He raised his fist to his mouth and coughed into it.

Ben didn’t like this development on bit. “How long has that been going on?”

“A couple days now. It’s nothin’. I’ve had worse.”

“Maybe we should let the doctor be the judge of that.”

“Pa, just for tonight, would you not fuss? Now, there wouldn’t happen to be any hot coffee in the kitchen, would there?”

“As a matter-of-fact, there is. But don’t you…?”

“Pa. Would you please?”

“All right, son, for now.”

Adam went on into the partially darkened kitchen. The light filtering in from the parlor kept if from being so oppressively black. A spate of coughing caught him, and with it came a rush of lightheadedness, and he leaned against the little table. He was glad Pa hadn’t been around to see this for he didn’t feel like having it out with him. Pa did have a tendency for overreacting, and tonight was not a good time for it. As his head cleared some he went to the breakfront and got a cup. Wrapping a towel around the coffee pot’s handle, he filled it nearly to the rim. He took a good jolt of the near-scalding brew and let the steam rise into his face. He had always been able to drink it hot enough to take the hide off a bear, as Hoss put it. And tonight it felt exceptionally good as it ran down his irritated throat and spread it’s warmth through the rest of him.

Ben, now standing in front of the fireplace, looked around as Adam came to stand at the foot of the staircase, taking another drink. “I think we need to talk about this. I know how good you are at overestimating what…”

“Pa, I tell you what. I’ll go see how I feel in the morning and take it from there.” Without waiting for his father to answer he started on up.

“Adam, don’t you think…?”

“Not tonight, huh, Pa?” Adam said as he stopped on the landing. “I really want to turn in, and tomorrow I’ll tell you what I found. But I will tell you that it’s not as bad as I expected.”

Without any further exchange between them, Adam trudged the rest of the way up as if having difficulty making his legs follow one another.

Ben’s attention returned to the flames, and he tried to kill the uneasiness that continued to build. Adam was probably right and it was nothing more than a nagging cough but he knew as well as anyone how quickly these things could turn nasty. He could only hope that that would not prove the case this time.

Adam closed his bedroom door and sat the cup and saucer on the end of the dresser. He took a match from the small box nailed to the wall and struck it on his belt, filling the air with the pungency of sulfur. He lit the lamp and turned it down, throwing a soft amber glow over everything and casting deep shadows that moved slightly with the gentle flicker of the flame.

Turning around, he pulled his shirt tail loose from his britches and began unbuttoning it. The bed had never looked as inviting as it did tonight. It had been three hard days, two of them more than a little soggy, and he just wanted to put them behind him.

He took the shirt off and dropped it in a sodden a heap on the floor. Moving back to the dresser he took another drink but just as he sat the cup back with a clink a coughing fit caught him. This time it was deeper than any of the others. Resting his hands on the dresser he braced himself until the spasm ran its course. “This is just all I need.”

Giving himself a few minutes to steady, he sat down in the chair by the window and took off his boots. He unfastened the belt then peeled off the wet britches and under drawers that wanted to cling to his skin then his socks and tossed them all onto the shirt. He availed himself of the chamber pot, and as he turned around his eyes lit on the stand mirror in the corner, and he watched the haggard face staring back at him. He looked thoroughly whipped, and after the past few months he more than felt it, he lived it.

With an onerous sigh he went to the dresser, and took out a red-striped cotton nightshirt and slipped into it. He put out the lamp, neglecting the rest of the coffee, and climbed into bed. The reading would have to wait for some other time, tonight he was simply too bone tired to concentrate.

The soft mattress seemed to wrap itself lovingly around him, and in less than a minute sleep overtook him. There was plenty to think about but right now exhaustion took priority, and he was soon dead-to-the-world.

2*

Adam hadn’t felt like this in a good long while, in fact, he couldn’t remember when he had ever felt this bad. His chest was heavy and his lungs had difficulty moving the air so essential to life. The coughing had really settled in, and he barked like a dog, and his throat made swallowing difficult. A sheen of sweat lay across his face and neck, and his shirt stuck close. Also, a chill had settled into him but he wouldn’t let it get the better of him. Getting dressed had been more of a chore than usual, but he had a full day ahead of him, and he couldn’t very well do his chores in a nightshirt.

He looked at himself in the mirror and tried slapping some color back into his wan face before he went down to breakfast. If he knew his father and brothers they would be all over him like a flock of mother hens, and he didn’t need their pecking and fluttering. He hoped that when he got out into the fresh air some of this would clear.

Ben was just sitting at the table when his oldest son came down the stairs. His breath caught and his fingers clenched on his napkin. Dark hazel eyes seemed duskier due to the paleness of the skin around them, and he moved with great effort, though Ben could tell he was trying to hide it. He could see that his son didn’t feel well but he wondered if it was from exhaustion and hoped that was only it. “Good morning, son. I was about to send one of your brothers after you. Did you sleep well?”

“Like a dead man,” Adam said as he took his seat. “I didn’t move all night.”

The phrase chilled Ben but he didn’t let on. “I’m not surprised. I don’t know when I’ve seen you as exhausted as you were when you came in.”

Joe Cartwright nearly choked on a bite of biscuit when he looked up at his oldest brother. No one had to tell him that Adam felt bad. There was always a look in those eyes that betrayed him when he didn’t no matter how hard he tried to conceal it. “You feel all right, Adam? You look like…”

“I know what I look like,” Adam said a trifle tersely. “There is a mirror in my room. I’ve just had a rough three days, and it’s gonna take me a bit to recover from them, is all.”

“All right, boys, let’s say grace, and eat so we can get started on our chores.”

Heads were lowered, and Ben’s strong voice echoed around them. “Amen.”

Hoss Cartwright, like his father and little brother didn’t care for Adam’s appearance. Maybe it was only from exhaustion but something nibbling at the back of his head told him not to be complacent about it. Things weren’t always what they appeared.

The meal moved along with little in the way of conversation. Adam could feel them watching him, and he almost wished he had returned to his room or gone into the kitchen to eat. But that wouldn’t have helped any. Hop Sing could be as bad or worse.

“Adam,” Ben said briskly as he took a slug of his coffee, “why don’t you stay home today and let us handle what needs to be done? I think you’ve done more than your share for a while, and it won’t hurt anything.”

“I’m all right, Pa,” Adam said as he cut off a piece of egg, which he didn’t really want.

Ben’s coffee eyes darted to his other two sons. “No, son, you aren’t.”

Adam glared at him as his knuckles whitened on the fork handle. “I think I know better how I feel, and if I say I’m all right you should take my word for it.”

“Adam, there’s no disgrace in feeling bad, so why don’t you just come out, and admit it?”

Adam slammed his napkin down and jerked to his feet, subtly gripping the table to maintain his balance. “If you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”

“Adam.”

They watched as Adam stalked past the bureau to get his hat and gun belt then got his coat from the study and stomped outside, closing the door hard behind him.

“Pa, he just ain’t right, an’ I think it’s more ‘n his just bein’ tired.”

“Hoss is right, Pa. I could see it in his eyes the minute I saw ‘im. But that hardhead never would admit when he’s sick.”

“I know, and for that reason I think you should go with him, Joe.”

“All right, Pa,” Joe said with a furtive glance at his brother as he washed down his last bite. He pushed himself away from the table then put on his hat and gun belt and grabbed his coat and rushed out.

Joe slipped his arms into the sleeves of the warm garment as he walked briskly toward the barn. He suspected that Adam was going to put up a fuss about his going along but he was ready to argue the point. His brother could be such a mule when he wanted to – which was most of the time – but he felt he was up to the task. They had all seen how quiet and sullen he had become, and he almost seemed to seek out isolation. He and Pa and Hoss had talked about it in secret conclave, and they had pretty much figured out the reason for it. To fall for two women and lose them both in such a short period of time, and not even know what had happened to the second one, would have an adverse effect on anyone. But then his older brother wasn’t just anyone. He didn’t handle things like other people, he handled them as only Adam could, and sometimes, usually, actually, it was maddening.

Deep, throaty coughs rattled from inside the barn and made Joe’s pace quicken. He walked in through the big doorway and instantly his emerald eyes began scanning around him. “Adam! Adam!” He didn’t get an answer, and an alarm bell went off in his head. His brother was in here, for he had heard him. “Adam!” he repeated as he started forward.

Adam was leaned forward in Sport’s stall trying to get his breath back from all the coughing. He couldn’t let Joe catch him like this; if he did there would be no end of haranguing from his family. With a will that was uniquely his own, Adam straightened up just as Joe came around the back of the horse.

“Are you all right?”

“I will be once I recover from the past three days.”

“But you…”

“I said I’m all right,” and intense hazel eyes came around that erased any doubt.

As Adam backed the big chestnut out of the stall, Joe put a hand on his brother’s back and felt that his coat wasn’t completely dry. “Your coat’s still damp. Don’t you think you oughtta put on another one?”

“It’s not that bad, and it’ll dry out.”

Joe’s temper flared. “Do you havta be so stubborn? I’ll even go get it.”

Adam knew he was right. “All right, Joe, but don’t drag your feet. I won’t wait all day.”

While Joe ran back to the house Adam began saddling his horse, and it was harder than he remembered it ever being. His arms didn’t want to cooperate, and the saddle had gained twenty pounds, and as he tried lifting it something wasn’t quite right.

“I brought Pa’s,” Joe said as he reentered the barn, but no sooner had he when he momentarily froze. “Adam!” and he shot forward.

Adam was slumped over against the oat bin shivering violently and breathing hard, the fingers of one hand clutching the rough wood. Joe fell onto his knees next to him, and grasped his arm. As he did, frightened, sick dark hazel eyes opened and turned to him.

“Fffreezing, Joe,” Adam said through chattering teeth. “So… cold.”

“Come on,” Joe said as he put his brother’s arm around his neck, “let’s get you into the house.”

Adam was trembling so hard that it was hard to make one leg follow the other. He could feel his little brother next to him and take him out of the barn and across the yard. He tried not thinking what this was going to do to his father, but right now that couldn’t be helped.

Hoss and Ben had just gotten up from the table when the front door slammed open. “Pa!” The sound of Joe’s anxious voice was enough to drive them into the entryway.

Ben suddenly went hallow when he saw his oldest son. “Adam! What happened, Joe?” he asked as he gripped Adam’s quivering arm.

“I found ‘im leaned over against the oat bin shakin’ like a leaf.”

The look in his youngest son’s eyes told him more than he wanted to know. “Hoss, help Joe get him up to his room while I go send somebody for the doctor.”

“Yessir, Pa.”

Ben bolted outside as Joe and Hoss helped their obviously very ill brother up the stairs, but it wasn’t easy. Adam’s shivering was impeding his progress, and he wasn’t in a position to help them very much.

Hoss could see how hard Adam was fighting what was happening to him as they went down the hall. He had been worried about his big brother long before this, and now it appeared that everything was coming to a head. “We’re just about there, Adam. Won’t be long now.”

Joe couldn’t remember anyone ever shivering so hard. It seemed as if very inch of his brother’s body was convulsing, and his breath rushed in through his teeth. Thoughts of what this could lead to bombarded Joe’s mind, and he tried fighting them off but to no avail. “We’ll get you into bed where you can wait for the doctor better. It’s gonna be all right.”

Joe and Hoss glanced at each other and communicated their anxiety as they crossed the threshold into their brother’s room.

Ben crossed the parlor as quickly as he could and bolted up the stairs. Inside, he chided himself for not taking a firmer hand with his strong willed son before it came to this, but Adam was, after all, an adult. Still, knowing his boy the way he did, he should have known to do more than he had.

As he came to Adam’s room, his spirits sank. Joe and Hoss were in the process of getting their brother undressed and into a nightshirt, and Adam was in no condition to fight it.

Ben didn’t think he had ever seen him in such a state, and it was shredding his heart. The thought of loosing a son, as he had lost their mothers, was ever present in the back of his mind, and something like this always gave it new life. “Leif has gone for the doctor,” he said as he went to his sons. “Can I help?”

“No, Pa, we got it covered,” Hoss said with a glance back at his father. “An’ too many cooks in the kitchen ain’t necessarily a good thing.” But the big man’s grin was false and hiding what really dwelled within his massive chest.

By the time they finally got Adam into the nightshirt, and into bed he was thoroughly exhausted as anyone could see. He was breathing harder than ever, and having a difficult time of it.

Hop Sing bustled in with an extra blanket and a steaming kettle, which he sat on the bed table. It was uncanny how he always knew when one of his boys was in need without being told. He had been watching after them for eighteen years now, and he had become more of a second father to them than just a servant who cooked and cleaned and kept the household running smoothly.

Without a word of explanation, he went to the side of the bed and threw the covers back. He draped the blanket over the first-born and tucked it in around him – especially his feet – then brought the sheet and comforter back over him. “Blanket warmed in front of fireplace. Take away chill, and steam help to bleath.”

Adam managed a weakened smile, and the little man returned it and gave him a pat then hustled himself out of the room.

Ben sat down on the side of the bed next to his oldest son, and the other two gathered around behind him. He tried keeping concealed the fear that was spreading through him like a wildfire. Life had dealt him some cruel blows in his fifty-three years on the Earth, and he had always managed to come back from devastating loss and grief. But if death should take one of his sons, he wasn’t so sure that he could.

3*

Time passed like a cold winter as a father and two brothers waited for the hand that had been sent to town to return with the doctor. It had been only an hour, though it seemed like much longer, as they watched Adam struggle to continue breathing. His chest rose and fell heavily as he fought to fill his lungs, though maybe it had lessened a little.

Ben hadn’t left the side of the bed, where he had been since coming up here. It hurt so to see his son fight so hard. Gingerly, he pushed back the black wisp that had fallen over Adam’s forehead, and watched as the heavy eyelids rose. The slightest hint of a frail smile touched the finely sculpted mouth, and the corners hardly turned, but it was enough.

Ben tried doing the same thing as he patted the perspiration from his son’s face with a dry cloth, but it just wouldn’t come. “The doctor’s on the way, son. It shouldn’t be long now.”

Hoss stood at the window looking out into the sunlit spring day. The golden rays that shone down from the heavens were deceiving for there was a chill to the air, and it was still damp from the rain though things had dried off. Unable and unwilling to see what was going on behind him, he kept his eyes focused on the mountains beyond the glass. How many times he had caught Adam standing here doing this same thing he couldn’t remember he only hoped he would again.

Joe was like a chicken on a hot stove, he simply could not be still. The notion that the doctor wouldn’t get there in time haunted him like an apparition that he wished would leave him be. But the image of his oldest brother as he had found him in the barn had adhered itself to his eyeballs and only compounded things. Knowing Adam as he did, this came as no huge surprise. His brother had a habit of pushing himself beyond any reasonable limit, and this wasn’t the first time he had paid for it. But this time could be the final payment, and he knew it, and it was killing him by littles.

“Joseph, would you please just sit down?”

Joe, however, continued to stalk about the room like a caged tiger, his hands balling and un-balling.

“Joseph,” Ben said a might more harshly.

“I’m sorry, Pa. I just…” his words faded, and he smoothed back his curly dark brown hair.

“Joe,” Adam managed to rasp. He brought his right hand from under the covers and held it out.

Joe’s head shot about as he stopped at the foot of the bed. A sharp breath ran through him, and he rushed around and grasped his brother’s hand.

Adam wanted to convince his little brother that he was all right, but he knew he couldn’t. He knew he couldn’t because he couldn’t convince himself. Joe’s warm fingers squeezed his, and it calmed the fear that nibbled at the edge of his consciousness. He understood that this could be the last time he would spend with his family, and he feared he knew what it would do to them if it turned out to be. “Joe,” he said weakly then he sought out his other brother. “Hoss.” A ragged breath shuddered through him, and his eyes closed.

Joe looked quickly to his father with fretful, questioning eyes as Hoss stepped next to him.

“He’s still with us,” Ben said reassuringly. “We haven’t lost him.”

“Not yet,” Joe thought, and his mind chastised him for it. He wanted to bolt from the room so he wouldn’t see his brother struggle so but he wouldn’t let go of the cherished hand under threat of imminent death. He blinked to hold back the tears that turned his eyes liquid green. His clasp tightened as did his heart, and he fought back the thought of what could be the inevitable and tragic outcome of all this.

*************************************************************************************

The day moved ponderously slow toward night. The meals had come to pass, with little sustenance being taken, and soon darkness would be upon them, and still the doctor hadn’t come. Tensions ran high in the big roughhewn log house, and one nervous temper was on the verge of cracking.

“What’s taking so long?” Joe huffed from where he sat in the big wing chair by the window. “Leif’s been gone all day.” His hands knotted together, and his fingers intertwined. “How long does it take to get the doctor?”

“I don’t know, Joe,” Ben said as he wiped Adam’s sweaty face. “He may’ve had to go looking for Dr. Blanchard…. We’re not the only people around here who need him.”

Joe’s shoulders sagged in defeat, and he leaned forward against his knees. “I know, it’s just that…” He shook his head, and his soft hair moved with it. “It’s not right, it’s just not right. We shouldn’t havta wait to find out if Adam’s gonna…” but he couldn’t make himself go on.

“Joe, why don’t you go downstairs and wait for the doctor?”

“Hop Sing’ll hear him.”

“And maybe he won’t. I think it’ll be better if you’re close to the front door so you can hear him,” Ben said as he glanced back at his youngest. “When he comes I want him up here as fast as possible.”

Joe looked first at Hoss then at Adam and stood stiffly then left.

Hoss stepped next to his father. “I know why you done that.” He looked at his unconscious brother. “An’ I know how he feels.”

“We all do.” He heaved a heavy sigh. “And it’ll be better this way if…”

Hoss squeezed his father’s shoulder, and further words would have been extraneous.

Joe had made himself settle into the red chair by the hearth. Upstairs was where he belonged, not down here sitting by the warm fire waiting for the doctor when Hop Sing could have done it just as well. But he knew why his father had told him to do it, and maybe a small part of him was glad for it.

As he stared into the flames flittering before him like bright will-o-the-wisps his mind began to turn back the pages.

In the years after his oldest brother’s return home from Boston they hadn’t been as close as before he left. Or rather, he hadn’t been as close to Adam, and sometimes he hated himself for it. He had grown a lot in those four years Adam was away, and he had come to believe that he didn’t need his big brother peering over his shoulder any longer. He could remember how excited they all were that first day when he returned, but it hadn’t taken long for a falling out between the youngest and oldest of Ben Cartwright’s sons to come about. Now, as he thought back on it, he could even recall what the argument had been about, thought now it was unimportant, and what he remembered most was the look on Adam’s face when his loving little brother had torn into him. Sometimes, like now, he could even hear the harsh words, and their sharp tone.

“I don’t need you telling me everything to do anymore! I’m not a little boy anymore! I grew up while you ran off to make yourself smarter than the rest of us! And just because you decided to come back don’t mean you can boss me around like you used to!”

He could visualize his brother's expression of intermingled astonishment and hurt as he reached out a comforting hand, and got it slapped away for good measure. Sure, he had later apologized to Adam, due to some strong insistence from Pa, for not respecting his elders and talking to his own beloved brother that way. But his tirade had set the stage for future confrontations that only heated up through his teenage years.

Joe hung his head and buried his face in his hands. His shoulders began trembling ever so minutely as he quietly sobbed. If only he could take back all the hateful and brash words he had spoken, and all the fists thrown and blows landed. If only he could let Adam know that he still loved him in spite of all that had ever come between them. If only…

His head shot up, and his moist eyes turned to the front door as he heard horses come into the yard. With heart beating like a steam press, he bounded from the chair and rushed across the room.

“Doctor Blanchard,” he said as he threw the door open and stepped out onto the porch.

“I’m sorry it took so long for me to get here,” Doctor Abel Blanchard said as he eased his wiry frame out of the buggy with his black leather medical bag. “Little Eva Rice has pneumonia, and I’ve been out there all day. Even after your hand found me I couldn’t leave her. Your man says it’s your brother Adam but he didn’t tell me what’s wrong.”

“I’ll let you see for yourself,” Joe said and started back in.

The doctor took no offence at the young man’s succinct manner. After being in this profession for twenty-odd years, worry was the easiest thing to pick up on. He followed the dark-haired one they called Joe into the house, and the door was pushed hastily shut behind him. Taking off his hat as they went he couldn’t miss the slump of the back in front of him. Whatever the problem was, no one had to tell him it wasn’t good.

Ben looked around as the doctor and his youngest entered the room. Abel Blanchard he had known for just over a month. Paul Martin was in Cincinnati on urgent family business, but he hadn’t left before asking a dear friend to fill in for him. He hadn’t wanted to traipse off back East and leave the people of Virginia City and surrounding areas without a doctor.

Dr. Blanchard ran his fingers through what remained of the hair on top of his balding head, and a breath swished in through his teeth. He had just left one man’s sick child, and now he must administer to another’s.

“How long has he been like this?” he asked as he started toward the bed.

“Since early this morning,” Ben said as his eyes never left the doctor. “His brother found him collapsed in the barn freezing to death. We brought him straight up here and got him into bed.” He turned back to Adam. “I believe this was coming on him four days ago but he’s been gone and we, didn’t catch it until today.”

The doctor put the bag on the bed table and took out his pocket watch and proceeded to check his new patient’s respiration.

“How is he, Doctor?” Ben asked.

“I won’t know until I do a more thorough examination. Mr. Cartwright,” he said as his piercing yet gentle chocolate eyes turned to this distraught father, “I’d like for you to stay, but I think your sons should wait outside.”

“We’ll be right downstairs, Pa, if’n ya need us.”

The brothers went out into the hall, Hoss closing the door quietly.

“Hoss.”

“I ain’t no doc, Joe, but it looks bad…. It’s real bad.”

4*

“Adam is a very sick boy, Ben,” Dr. Blanchard said as they started down the stairs. “There’s no sense hiding the truth. It’s out of my hands.”

They reached the bottom of the stairs where Joe and Hoss were waiting.

“Doctor, what does that mean?”

“He’ll reach a point of crisis tonight. If he passes it, all well and good, if not.” He gave a slight shake of his head then reached out and took this father’s arm. “Stay with him, Ben. I’ll be back out in the morning.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” Ben said lifelessly as Blanchard started out, unwilling to give in to what he had just been told.

“Pa,” Hoss said as he grasped his father’s shoulder, “Adam’s gonna be all right, don’t you worry none. Now you go on to bed. We don’t want you gittin’ sick too.”

“Pa, me and Hoss’ll sit up with him.”

“No,” Ben said his disbelieving eyes fixed ahead, “you two go on to bed. I’ll sit up with him.” Then he turned like a zombie with no will of his own and started back upstairs.

Joe and Hoss watched him until he was out of their sight but continued to simply stand at the foot of the staircase.

Ben went softly into his son’s room. Hop Sing still sat in the chair that had been pulled to the side of the bed.

“You can go on to bed now, Hop Sing. I’ll sit up with him.”

“You sure, Mr. Cartlight? Hop Sing not care to,” the little cook said hardly above a whisper.

“I’m sure,” Ben said as he took his arm firmly. “We’ll be all right.”

Hop Sing nodded then looked to Adam. “He velly sick boy.”

“Yes, Hop Sing, he’s very sick. Now go on, and sleep well, old friend.”

“I go but I not sleep.” Then he turned, muttering to himself in doleful Chinese and left the room.

Ben moved like a silent wraith to the bedside, and looked down at his son breathing so heavily. Picking up the cloth from the bed table he blotted the perspiration from Adam’s face then put it back. His gaze lingered on his boy then he went to the small chest sitting next to the little writing desk. Resting his arms on its top, he leaned forward and looked at the petite portrait of his first wife in its simple pewter frame. “Elizabeth. Elizabeth, my love.”

*************************************************************************************

The house – even though no one had gone to bed – had settled so quiet that it would have been easy to believe that it was vacant. What lamps were in use burned low, and the glow emanating from the hearth threw a gentle ambience about the room.

Joe sat on the low table staring into the blaze, his elbows propped on his knees, and his chin resting in his hands. Concern for his oldest brother had chased away any desire for sleep, and his green eyes were lit by the flames. He leaned closer to them, and let their warmth cover his face.

Behind him the big grandfather clock struck the quarter hour. He thought he had heard it striking eleven o’clock, but his mind had been so preoccupied that he couldn’t be sure.

Hoss came out of the kitchen with two cups, steam floating past their rims. “I brung you some coffee,” he said as he sat next to his little brother and held one out to him.

Joe was slow to take it and mumbled a ‘thank you’ then turned his attention back ahead of him.

Hoss did the same with his elbows as he too leaned forward and took a sip. “You oughtta drink it while its nice ‘n hot. Ain’t but few things worse ‘n cold coffee.”

“Hoss.”

“Yeah.”

“Since Pa went upstairs I’ve been doing a lot of thinking.” Joe wrapped his hands around the hot cup, and let its aroma waft into his face.

“What about?” Hoss took another sip.

“A lot of things really, but I guess mainly about when we were younger, and how Adam used to always watch out for us. Just like he does now.”

“I know,” Hoss said with a titter, and he grinned mildly. “You remember that big ol’ Blaine boy that used to like to pick on you?”

“I sure do,” Joe said, and his nose wrinkled, “and I wish I didn’t.”

“An’ you remember how Adam broke ‘im from it?”

Joe nodded, and his eyebrows raised. “I still haven’t figured it how Adam found out. I never told him. To tell the truth, I never told anybody except you, and I know you didn’t tell.”

“Adam’s like the Paiutes, he’s got his ways.” Hoss shook his head. “An’ after our brother had words with ‘im the big bully didn’t bother you no more.”

“Well, that’s a natural result when somebody threatens to stuff you down a badger hole, head first. And he knew Adam would’ve.”

“Yeah, an’ if’n we hadn’t been hidin’ behind a tree watchin’ and listinin’ we never would ‘o knowed it. Pa still don’t. He’d probably strip the hide off all three of us if’n he did.”

“Adam’s always just told us that he, and Randy Blaine had a heart-to-heart talk, and Randy saw the error of his ways.”

“More ‘n likely ol’ Randy saw his life pass before his eyes.”

They shared a light laugh that quickly died out, and they turned back to the fire. For a moment they sat in contemplative silence sipping on their coffee.

“I don’t know what we’ll do if he doesn’t make it through this.”

“We’ll go on just like folks always do when they lose somebody they love. They don’t never like it, but they ain’t got no choice. But we ain’t gonna give up on Adam just yet.”

Joe shook as a hard breath ran through him. Hoss put hand on his back and gave a pat but they didn’t look at each other, the coffee all but forgotten.

*************************************************************************************

Ben had returned to the chair. His eyes were set on his son but his mind and thoughts were miles and years away in a time and place so far from the present. Once again his beloved Elizabeth was with him, though only in shadows from the past. The sounds and sights of Boston in 1829 were as strong as they had been then. He closed his eyes and saw her delicate hand as he slipped the wedding band onto her elegantly tapered finger. “With this ring, I thee wed.”

Slowly, his eyelids raised and traced the features of his deathly ill son. He had his mother’s mouth and nose and the same fine hands. And he had the same way of tilting his head as she did. Elizabeth was gone but was still with him and would be for as long as their son lived. A cutting pain ran through his chest, and his fingers dug into the arms of the chair. For as long as Adam lived.

5*

The full moon hung high above the mountains, casting its soft grey light over all below, and the air was frigid and laced with the touch of more rain that weighed oppressively heavy with it. Majestic and aged pines stood in blackened silhouette like ghostly sentries, their heady scent like an invisible fog. In flashes of life, nocturnal creatures scurried about, and owls were on the hunt for hapless prey. It was as typical a spring night as one would find it in the Sierras of Nevada.

Inside the big house nestled on the one thousand square acres of the Ponderosa ranch, however, life was anything but typical. A pall seemed to hang over the dwelling and reach into those inside, and men moved as if bogged down in thick molasses.

Hop Sing sat at the small table in the kitchen with a book that had belonged to his mother. As he had told Ben Cartwright, he was indeed not able to go to bed, being a man true to his word.

The smell of incense wafted out from the room on the other side of the kitchen that he called his own. He had lit it to protect the spirit of Mista Adam, praying for the help of his boy’s honorable ancestors as he did.

As he tried to read, his mind once again wandered, and as he stared at nothing he could almost see the lanky, black-haired fourteen-year-old as he had that first time. He had known right off from the spark in those keen, intelligent eyes that this one was special, and through the years he had been proven right. He adored all three Cartwright sons, but this one was his scholar, his poet, his lover of music, and his traveler. Many times that one had come into the kitchen, unafraid, to snitch goodies and listen to stories of life in China. And Hop Sing had never failed to see how the first-born took to knowledge as a duck takes to water.

Rubbing his fingers at the ache between his eyes, he brought himself back to the here and now. The book was of no help whatsoever, since he simply couldn’t keep his concentration on it. With a huff, he tenderly closed it and placed it on the table in front of him. As he did, Hoss came in and went right to the stove, cup in hand.

“More coffee,” the big man said as he wrapped a dishtowel around the pot’s handle and poured. “Course I don’t really need it to keep me awake none. This ain’t much of a sleepin’ night.”

“Where Little Joe?”

“Last I looked, he was settin’ in Adam’s chair tryin’ to do the same thing you are.” He sat the pot back on the stove then took a sip and came toward him. “It weren’t workin’ for him either,” he went on.

“You like set down?”

“Nope,” and he took another sip, “I just come in to git me some o’ this. I don’t wantta keep ya from your readin’.”

“You not bother,” Hop Sing’s obsidian eyes flicked to the vellum bound book. “I like Little Joe. Mind not on book.”

“I spose that’s only natural…. When was the last time you was up there?”

“One, maybe two hour. I take cup of coffee to fathah, but he not see Hop Sing. He only see Mista Adam, and maybe Mista Adam’s mothah.”

“You’re probably right.” Without a word, he pulled out the chair nearest the doorway and sat down. “Next to Pa, you’ve known Adam longer ‘n anybody in this family.”

“That true.”

Hoss stared into his cup, and his blue eyes seemed so far away. Hop Sing reached out and cautiously touched the back of his hand, and Hoss looked at him.

“We have to believe that Mistah Adam be all light. I ask ancestors to watch him and keep him safe. His mothah watch after her son.”

“Thanks, Hop Sing.” He pushed back his chair and stood. “Well, I’d spose I best git back to Joe. I didn’t even mean to set down.”

For a second there was only awkward silence between them.

“I’ll probably be back for some more o’ this,” Hoss said as he raised his cup.

“I make plenty.”

“Good man,” he said then turned and was gone.

Hop Sing inhaled roughly and leaned back in the chair. This night was dragging like the snail, and it wasn’t even half over yet.

As Hoss went into the parlor, his attention was focused on his cup, but when he started to sit down in the by the fire he saw that Joe wasn’t where he had been. The book the boy had been trying to read lay closed on the seat of the blue chair. Looking around him he saw that his little brother was no longer in the room then his gaze shot toward the upstairs. Surely to goodness Joe wouldn’t bother Pa.

Careful not to slosh the contents of his cup, he quickly headed up the stairs. But he had just reached the top landing when he saw Joe sitting in the floor across from their brother’s room, leaned back against the wall with his arms resting on his bent knees. His eyes were set on the closed door and only his chest moved as he breathed.

With the tread of a cat, Hoss walked over to him and got the impression that even if he had clomped like a draft horse, Joe wouldn’t have noticed. “Joe,” he said softly, and when his brother apparently didn’t hear him, his voice went up a tad. “Joe.”

The pained green eyes that turned to him made Hoss hurt down deep. “Joe, why don’t you go on to bed? They ain’t nothin’ you can do, an’ this ain’t helpin’.”

“I know but… I’m just not sleepy.”

“You will be once you lay down.”

“No, Hoss,” and he shook his head, “I don’t want to.” He turned his attention back to the door. “If we’re gonna loose Adam because of this I wantta be up.”

“Joe, if’n it’s gonna happen, it will whether you’re asleep or awake.”

Joe looked up at him sharply. “I can’t stand the thought of waking up and being told that my brother died while I was… I can’t imagine a more terrible thing to wake up to than being told somebody you love passed away while you…” With a whimper he hid his face against his arms.

“All right. Let’s go on back downstairs and git you another cup o’ coffee, an’ we can talk some more.”

Joe thought it over then pushed himself away from the wall and got up. Hoss draped an arm around his shoulders, and they started for the stairs.

“I’ll tell you about that time in Arizona when we got caught foul o’ them rustlers down by Tucson.”

Joe had heard the story many times before but he didn’t care if it would bring him closer to Adam. He glanced back toward the bedroom where life fought against death and let Hoss guide him onto the first step.

*************************************************************************************

Lett Parker lay on his back – his hands behind his head with his fingers laced – staring up at the bottom of the top bunk. He could vaguely make it out in the pale light that managed to get in around the curtains. Snores and heavy breathing filled the room around him as the rest of the men slept, but not him, not even after a hard day’s work.

Unlike the other hands, he had known Adam Cartwright before even coming to work on the Ponderosa. They had run across each other, or actually, Adam had run across him out by the Humboldt about five year’s ago. Lett’s horse had stumbled and rolled over on him then run off like a scared jackrabbit, and he was laying there stove up and hurting something fierce when his future boss came along. He had been trying to pull himself over the rough ground for two days, and he was rapidly coming to the idea that he was going to die out there. Then a shadow had fallen over his face as he lay on his back and a rich, comforting voice spoke to him. The hand on his arm was firm but gentle, and he had looked around into a pair of the most compassionate dark hazel eyes. Once the damage had been assessed, he found himself lifted and a canteen placed to his lips. As he recalled, the water was stale but he had never tasted better.

One of the men grunted and flipped over on his bed, momentarily disrupting Lett’s train of thought, which he didn’t appreciate.

Gradually, his mind returned to his ruminations, and the images came back to him in the darkness. Adam Cartwright had set up camp there for two days and nights – them getting acquainted the whole time – until he could ride. He would never forget the feel of the big chestnut between his legs, and the man behind him making sure he stayed in the saddle. It was late when they finally rounded into the town of Baker Flats and had ridden straight to the doctor’s house. It was confirmed that he had several cracked ribs and a couple busted clean, and a twisted ankle as well as a mild concussion. Then once Cartwright had seen that his charge would be taken care of, he had paid the doctor for his services, wished his new friend well, adding in the offer of a job if he should need one, and then resumed his trek home.

Less than a year later, Lett had showed up on the Ponderosa looking for said job, and he had been there ever since. And he had never regretted it once. Adam Cartwright was every working hand’s idea of the perfect boss. Stern yet fair, amiable, with a keen wit and never one to frown on the men’s occasional bouts of rugged fun, and he never asked a man to do anything he wouldn’t do himself. When you got raked over the coals, and he had more than once, it was never in front of the other men. Drinking was allowed as long as it didn’t interfere with the job or get anyone hurt. And a few times the boss had even set in on a friendly game of poker, and always wound up with the pot.

Lett sighed heavily and brought his arms down to his sides. Now the boss could die, and he, for one, was saddened by the thought. “Hold on, boss,” he whispered to himself. “This job won’t be the same without ya.” Then he turned onto his side facing the wall and tried to go to sleep.

6*

Three o’clock in the morning finally rolled around. Joe, no matter how hard he had tried not to, had dozed off stretched out on the settee. He had gone back to the book but hadn’t gotten very far, and it now lay open on his chest, his hands clasped over it.

Hoss, unlike his little brother, was better able to stay awake. He had become accustomed to sitting up with restless cattle while Joe was snuggled warm and safe in bed. When they were boys, he and Adam would do that with Pa’s growing herd when they would drive them to the lower pastures in the fall and higher up in the spring.

With one more look at his sleeping brother, he turned for the door and went outside without even bothering with his coat or hat. He didn’t think going out to the barn could possibly hurt anything, and, if for only a few minutes, he just needed to get out of the house.

The air was nippier than he had expected, but his bulk and the furnace that burned hotter to keep such a large man going kept him from feeling it as acutely as Joe would have. Removing the bar from the large doors as quietly as possible, he went inside. The interior of the barn was cold as well, but it was a calm cold without the force of the wind to drive it against exposed skin and through clothes.

After lighting the lantern by the door, he went straight to Chubb’s stall, which was closest. The big brownish black horse was glad to see the man who had ridden him for many years. But Hoss had a goal in mind so he didn’t linger and went to Sport’s stall without any detours along the way.

The sleek chestnut reacted to his presence but not in the way Chubb had. He was Adam’s horse and as such Adam was the one he was closest to. Joe had tried riding him a couple times and handled him well, but the animal responded to no one like it did his older brother.

“Hello, old son,” Hoss said as he had heard his brother address his longtime companion. “Just thought I’d come see how you’re doin’.” He gave the sturdy animal a healthy pat on the withers. “I’d give you a combin’ but I don’t wantta make the others jealous.” He leaned closer and whispered into the horse’s ear. “I don’t think Chubb’d forgive me.”

Instead, he ran his hand along the shiny coat that felt like expensive silk beneath his fingers. Sport was a beautiful animal, and he sometimes gave the impression that he was aware of the fact. In the way he tossed his haughty head and would come down the street sideways, picking up his feet as if they were too good to touch the ground. And as many times as he had seen Adam on him, Hoss never tired of the sight. His big brother was a master horseman, and it took one to ride the tempestuous chestnut.

As he continued to pet the animal, memories of those first few days when Adam had started working with Pa’s welcome home gift sprang up. The four-year-old gelding had been green broke and hated the saddle with a rich passion, but that was perfect for Adam. He had always loved a challenge, and he had seen the horse as one. Hoss recalled their sessions together, and he still marveled at the fact that one or both of them hadn’t been maimed or killed. They had fought each other hoof and nail and for two weeks Adam didn’t seem to be getting anything except more bruises.

Then had come the fateful day when everything had changed. Adam had gone out to the breaking corral for his customary go round, and all was as usual. That is, until a flash storm had blown up. The sky had grown black and sullen and the clouds raced as if fleeing some dire threat. Then the lighting had striped the darkness with streaks of blinding light, and the heavens reverberated with thunder that sounded as a thousand cannon. Men scattered and horses panicked. A tree was struck and a large limb fell onto the corral where the stock was, trapping Sport and killing a mare.

Adam had stayed with his horse in the rain and mud, calming and soothing as they cut him free from the entangling branches. After that, the relationship between man and horse had come to a new level. Sport seemed to sense in the man trying to master him that this was someone he could trust, and the breaking process went more smoothly. Before long, Sport became one of the finest mounts that Hoss had ever seen, and with Adam on his back they moved as one in sheer poetry.

Hoss squeezed his eyes shut and let the tears flow down his cheeks unhindered. The thought that maybe he would never see Adam ride again brought with it its own brand of grief. His fingers twined in the coarse red mane, and the nearness of the animal only seemed to augment it.

Blinking his eyes clear, he raised his head and gave the animal a couple pats. “I guess I’d best be goin’ back into the house. I’m a might chilled, and you need your rest. See ya later, old son.”

Then, on a heavy sigh, he left the barn and barred the doors again and started back across the yard. It wouldn’t be long before the sun showed its bright face, and he needed to be ready for what could come with it.

*************************************************************************************

Fatigue had finally overtaken Hoss as he dozed lightly in his father’s favorite red chair. The clock’s chimes filled the room with the stroke of four. It roused him, and he rubbed the sleep from his eyes and looked over toward the settee. Joe had turned to face the back of it, and the book lay haphazardly in the floor. Hoss thought about picking it up, but with what was happening in all their lives at this moment in time, it was unimportant. With a deep, invigorating breath, he leaned forward on his legs, ruffling his hair and stimulating his scalp with his fingernails.

The flames had died down to little more than a flicker. With a languid stretch, he forced himself to his feet, and he stepped rigidly to the hearth. With the movement of an aged man, he took the poker and began jabbing up the remains of the charred and blackened logs. The fire began reasserting itself and golden sparks floated up the chimney. He put a fresh chunk of wood on it and commenced with the poker again.

As the tongues of flame began to reach higher he froze, and, the end of the poker resting in the renewed blaze, his weary blue eyes drifted upward toward the stairs’ top landing. Since Pa had gone to Adam’s room and closed himself off from the rest of the family only Hop Sing had been up their twice, and he had gone unnoticed both times. Usually, Pa was not so distant and quiet when something like this came up, but Hoss suspected he knew the reason this time.

As he stood there the restless sounds of waking arose behind him then “Adam!” He turned around just as Joe sat bolt upright, his hair tousled and his fingers gripping the back and seat of the settee.

Fiery green eyes came around on him. “You let me go to sleep!”

“You needed it, Joe.”

“That doesn’t matter! I told you I didn’t want to!” Then Joe looked toward the second floor, and Hoss could see the blood drain from his little brother’s face. “Nothing’s…” he started as his gaze returned to Hoss.

“No, Joe, ain’t nothin’ happened. Hop Sing looked in not an hour ago an’ he’s still with us.”

With a heavy expulsion of breath, Joe flopped back and sat there calmly for a few seconds then abruptly jerked to his feet. “I can’t stand this anymore,” he said as he started toward the staircase. “I’ve gotta know.”

Dropping the poker with a clang against the hearthstone, Hoss rushed around the table and seized Joe’s arm. “We agreed that we’d wait.”

“Wait for what? For him to die? Hoss, I can’t stand this endless waiting and not knowing anything anymore. It’s not like Pa to shut us out like this.”

“I know, an’ I got me an idea on that. Now you come set down, an’ I’ll tell you all about it.”

“I don’t wantta sit down. I wantta go see my brother.”

“Joe, he’s my brother too, an’ I’m just as worried about ‘im as you are, but goin’ off in all directions ain’t gonna help a thing. Now it’ll soon be light, an’ we should know somethin’ by then.”

Joe wasn’t so enamored with the idea, and he still couldn’t get past seeing his oldest brother shaking so. There had been a pleading look to those dark eyes that he hadn’t recalled seeing before. Adam had never been one to ask for help but this time, in the look he had given, he had done exactly that, and it struck Joe to the heart. “All right,” he relented.

Hoss led him back to the settee and got his settled then returned to the big red chair. By now the fire was a full blown conflagration, hungrily devouring the new fuel.

“Do you know what this comin’ Wednesday is?”

“The twenty-second, but what difference does that make?”

“Ah, come on, Joe. Use your head for somethin’ other ‘n a place to grow all that hair. Think,” and he tapped the side of his head with two fingers.

Joe tried, his mind turning furiously but he couldn’t get away from what was happening upstairs, and nothing was coming. With a grunt, he shook his head. He wasn’t in the mood for playing games. “I don’t know. I give up.”

“Well, Pa don’t talk about it much, an’ you wasn’t even a sparkle in his eye. It’ll be thirty-two years ago that he married Adam’s ma.”

Joe went wild-eyed. “His wedding anniversary?”

“That’s right,” Hoss said with a nod. “An’ we both know what he’s gotta be thinkin’.”

Joe’s head dropped, and his fingers locked in his hair. He couldn’t help wondering if his father was reliving the tragedy of Elizabeth’s loss through their son, and the possibility of losing him too. In one sudden rush of conscience he felt so selfish. What Pa must be going through, and what must be running through his thoughts. Joe wished he could do something, but right now all that was left to him and Hoss was to wait, and to pick up the pieces if it came to that.

EPILOGUE*

Pink had hardly streaked the sky when Joe decided that he couldn’t handle it anymore. His agitation had grown paramount, and Hoss realized that it would be futile to try holding him back any longer. In fact, it surprised him that he had been able to as long as he had.

“That does it,” Joe pronounced as he whirled toward the stairs from where he had been pacing. “I’ve gotta know.” But as he started toward them he found himself blocked by his considerable brother. “Don’t try to stop me, Hoss.”

“I ain’t gonna try to stop nobody. I’m goin’ with ya, I gotta know too. But I want you to simmer down before we do. If’n it ain’t good, an’ even if’n it is, after this night Pa don’t need you floppin’ around like a headless chicken.” He gripped his little brother’s shoulders. “Now you just settle down an’ keep your wits about you.”

“All right,” Joe said as his hands wadded.

“Now let’s go,” Hoss said and gave him an encouraging smack.

Joe followed dutifully after him, and as they drew closer to Adam’s room it was all he could do to keep a tight rein on himself. His mind, no matter how hard he tried keeping it from it, ran to all sorts of things, most of them bad. As Hoss reached for the doorknob he swallowed the lump in his throat and bucked himself up for what lay on the other side.

As they entered the tranquility of the room brothers’ eyes went straight to Adam.

“How is he, Pa?” Joe asked.

“Your brother’s gonna be all right.”

Hoss smiled, and the low lamplight caught in his eyes. “Howdy, Adam. Welcome home.”

The corners of Adam’s mouth crooked into a hint of a weary smile, and he managed a slight gesture of acknowledgement with one hand.

Joe instantly felt all the fear and anxiety begin to wane as Pa’s words registered. Adam would be all right, of that he had no doubt, his father wouldn’t say so if it weren’t true. His hands relaxed, and he returned Adam’s imitation of a smile. His brother was going to live, and all was right with the world.

*************************************************************************************

It would soon be two weeks since Adam’s brush with death. Dr. Blanchard had returned that day after the crisis had been passed as he said he would and confirmed what the family already knew. Until that past Saturday he had come out routinely to check on his patient’s progress and found him steadily regaining his strength, and finally decided his visits were no longer necessary.

Adam stopped on his way to the barn and looked up into the bluest sky he had seen that spring. It was his own fault that he had gotten so sick. The fates had turned on him and taken two from him that had meant so much before he had gotten the chance to know them as well as he would have liked. But that was no reason for doing what he had and nearly killing himself.

“Adam, you comin’?”

“On my way, Hoss.”

With another glance up he shook his head and started on again. Someday he would find the right woman, but for now it would have to be enough to know that it wasn’t meant to be Regina Darien or Ruth Halverson.

THE END

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