The Debt

A Sequel to A Young Man’s Journey

By jfclover  (8-2011)

“I need you boys to go into town for me this morning.  Hop Sing has a list of supplies a mile long.  You could also pick up the mail for me while you’re there.  And,” Pa said, looking each of us in the eye, “I’d like to see you back here at a reasonable hour.  There’s a lot to be done today.”

“Sure, Pa,” I said.  I can barely get the bacon and eggs on my plate before Pa starts in on his list of chores.  Just once, I’d like to have a day that isn’t filled from sunup to sundown.

“You expectin’ a letter, Pa?” 

“You never know, Hoss.  We haven’t heard from your brother for quite some time now.”

“You think Adam’s still in Boston?”

“I have to assume he is, Joe, why?”

“No reason.  Just wondered.”

My eldest brother left home just a few months ago—a new career choice, so to speak.  Thinking I wanted a new career, but for different reasons, a few years back, I was maybe too young and naive to know the ways of the world, and the ways of men with power, and how that power could all but ruin people’s lives. 

My brother, Adam, is older and wiser than me, at least that’s what he always told me.   When we were both much younger, he considered me nothing but a rowdy, hare-brained kid who didn’t have a lick of sense or the work ethic needed to be a part of the Cartwright family. 

We tended to have one disagreement after another, but mostly, I had a quick temper, and with my brother’s condescending tone, tempers heightened on both sides, and matters which should have been dropped, quickly became a bone of contention.

Adam’s an educated man—a college graduate—who never let me forget the fact that all of us could have improved ourselves greatly with a higher education.  And even though he’s been back home from Boston, and his precious college for more than a decade, the snide comments never ceased to exist. 

He was eager to use his academic skills when he returned all those years ago, but there just isn’t much here on the ranch to keep a mind like his occupied forever.  On the other hand, Pa and Hoss and I are quite content with how things are.  There’s never a dull moment keeping a ranch the size of the Ponderosa running smoothly.  Hence—not many breaks in the routine from sunup to sundown.

I’d thought I was so grown up when I joined the army at seventeen, which had been my choice, rather than going to college like Adam.  I was so eager to prove myself in those days—to be a man like Adam or a man like Hoss.  I knew it all, at least I thought I did, and maybe I was no different than any other young man at that age.  No one could have persuaded me different.  Whereas Adam’s choice was college, I enlisted in the Army—the U. S. Cavalry in fact—two entirely different career choices, but let me just say, we both got a heck of an education. 

Hoss is the only one out of any of us who’s always been content watching over this land and taking pride in what he does.  I’m not saying the rest of us aren’t proud of what we do, but Hoss always knew what was important to him without having to leave and find happiness, or manhood, elsewhere.  Even Pa left home at an early age to fulfill his dream at sea.  I envy my brother’s content.  There are times I still get restless even though I know I will never leave the Ponderosa again in search of something I now know is right here.  This is my home and this is the family I cherish.

~~~

Hoss pulled the buckboard to a stop in front of the mercantile.  “Take about an hour to fill this order, boys,” Jake said, looking down the list, but that’s what Jake always said.  I think he knew if we’d come all this way for supplies, the least he could do was add a little extra time for the job, so we had an excuse to stop in the saloon for a beer—or two.

“Sounds good, Jake,” I said.  “Might as well walk down and pick up the mail for Pa.  Then we’re free to do whatever, Hoss.”

“I suppose you’re itchin’ fer a beer already?”

“Aren’t you?”

Gus handed me a few letters and The Atlantic Monthly, an eastern publication that Adam had subscribed to and Pa now read.  It was too high-brow for Hoss or me but I think it made Pa still feel a connection to Adam somehow.  I slipped the bundle of mail into my jacket pocket and my brother and I were off to the saloon.  After a couple of beers, and a few tall-tales from Bruno the bartender, describing the big brawl we missed the night before, we were back, filling up the wagon and on our way home. As soon as we unloaded the supplies to Hop Sing’s satisfaction, he made us a quick lunch and Hoss and I were off again.  Pa said he wished he could come with us but there was too much paperwork on his desk to contend with.

“Oh, the mail.”  I reached in my pocket and tossed it on his desk before my brother and I left.  “I put the mail on your desk, Pa.  Enjoy,” I said.  He smiled unconvincingly and ran his hand across my shoulder, half pushing me out the door, before I said anything else.

“Three posts down over here, Hoss,” I yelled, as he held up two beefy fingers, indicating two more on down the fence line.  These stupid bovines are dumber that dirt—tear down a fence when they see a green patch of grass on the other side.  Now Hoss and I will have to come back and repair this whole area.  We might actually get something worthwhile accomplished on this ranch if we didn’t have to keep repeating the same jobs over and over.

“Looks like we’ll be back here tomorrow,” I said to Hoss when he’d walked back up the hill to meet me.

“Yep—looks that way, don’t it.”

Both of us were bone tired after a day in the saddle and making our way back to the house.  With Adam now gone, Hoss and I had to pick up the slack of that desperately needed third man.  Pa wasn’t ready to hire an extra hand to replace my older brother just yet.  I think in the back of his mind, he hoped Adam would tire of the East, and their proper Bostonian ways, and return home.  I wasn’t holding my breath. 

It had been obvious for months, at least to me, that Adam was looking for something he would never find here.  He wanted to make a name for himself—Adam Cartwright—architect—not just Adam Cartwright, Ben Cartwright’s eldest son.  The feeling wasn’t foreign to me.  I knew the feeling all too well when I’d left home all those years ago. 

I patted Cooch’s rump after Hoss and I had stabled our mounts, and then headed out of the barn.  We were both looking forward to good food and a good night’s rest.  Start—stop—start—stop all day long, trying to lure strays away from broken sections of fence, until we could get back out there tomorrow for repairs.  I was beat.

“Pa—” I yelled as we walked in the front door.  “We’re home.”

“I’m right here, son,” he called from behind his desk.

Hoss and I rid ourselves of our hats and gun belts and strolled over to tell Pa about the fences, but something was wrong.  I could tell as soon as I turned the corner towards my father’s desk and saw his slumped shoulders and the worried expression on his face.  Adam, I thought.  Something’s happened to my brother. 

Hoss and I both stood like wooden soldiers, waiting to hear the bad news.  I was sure Hoss thought the same thing I had.  Pa looked up at me, then looked back down, picking up an envelope on top of a pile of others and handed it to me.

“This came for you, Joe.”

“Me?”  I looked at the front of the envelope.  “Wonder who it’s from?”

“Ain’t ya gonna open it?  Hoss said.

“The postmark is from Santa Fe,” Pa said, which confused me even more.

“Santa Fe?”

“Who do ya know down there, Little Joe?”

“I didn’t think I knew anyone but—” I tore open the envelope and started to read.  “Maggie,” I said with fond remembrance.

I glanced at Pa, then back to the letter.  “Maggie O’Grady—from the hospital in Santa Fe,” I said.  “Seems she and my friend Tommy Bolton, my best friend in the army, got married some time back.”  I was reading along and telling Pa and Hoss as I scanned on down the letter. “He’s missing and—” I read on down,  “—wants me to come—”

I looked back at Pa.  I knew this is what had him upset.  He’d already figured this letter had something to do with my time in the army just by the postmark, then add to that, my total lack of any other acquaintances in Santa Fe.  “Says I’m the only one—” I looked up again before reading the rest.  “—only one who would understand.”

It had been a rough time for both Pa and me and we had both suffered our own private hell under difficult circumstances.  There was the unjustified claim of treason, then the added charge of desertion, but when it was all said and done, we managed to get through the dark days, and let me tell you, there were more than I could count.  But we both came away with a better understanding of each other and a tighter bond between us than Pa and I’d ever had before. 

As soon as the two of us returned to the Ponderosa, Pa made it his mission to rid the army of the colonel who had deliberately made my life a living hell.  He immediately started tracking down people in high places, and much to our surprise, he found there was no record of Sergeant Joseph Cartwright ever serving in the U.S. Cavalry at Bent’s Fort.  There was no record whatsoever of my serving nearly two years—no enlistment papers—no treason—no desertion—nothing at all.  Sergeant Cartwright did not exist. 

The colonel had every record from the day I enlisted, and time served, mysteriously removed.  Pa had people searching; trying to find some kind of paper trail, but in the end, there was nothing.  As far as the army was concerned, Joe Cartwright never existed.

Pa had spent months and months, obsessed with finding an outcome that would never be.  I’d told him, more than once, it wasn’t worth the time and effort.  What’s done is done.  Let it go.  

Finally, out of the blue, it was over.  He realized his efforts were in vain.  He had no recourse but to give up—put an end to this seemingly endless amount of searching for records that were nonexistent.  It also ended his hope of trying to have the colonel removed from his command. 

I had put it behind me weeks, maybe even months, before my father had.  I’m not sure when it happened—it just did.  I didn’t care anymore, but Pa was driven.  One single man—this mighty colonel had caused unnecessary pain for one of his sons, and in Pa’s mind, this man needed to pay. 

My father’s hair grew whiter and lines appeared deeper in his age-worn face.  It took the three of us—his three sons—to finally convince him to stop—stop the madness that was driving him to an early grave.

“So what are ya gonna do, Little Joe?  Ya goin’ down there to Santa Fe?”

“I don’t know, Hoss.”

Pa would never stop me from going to help a friend; on the other hand, I’m sure he was praying I wouldn’t go.  Before anything else was said, Hop Sing stood next to the dining room table, threatening a cold dinner if we didn’t come to the table pronto.  I tucked the letter in my pocket.  This would take a considerable amount of thought, but I couldn’t take the time needed, if in fact, Tommy was in serious trouble.

Pa was more than just quiet during supper—he almost looked angry about this whole situation with Maggie.  It seemed he might be afraid of what he would say if he allowed himself to speak.  I was a grown man, old enough to make my own decisions, and I think that’s what worried Pa the most.

I didn’t say anything either, or even try to discuss the issue, simply because I had no clue what I intended to do.  Tommy was a good friend—a best friend.  He’d stuck by me through it all.  When I cried out for help to rescue women and children from the line of fire, he was there.  When I directly opposed the colonel’s orders and told my men to pull back, shouting at the top of my lungs that no one here was armed, Tommy was the first to holster his gun.

I’d gotten a letter from him a few years back after my men were eventually released from the stockade.  He’d written a brief note, telling me he’d met a girl.  He didn’t tell me who or how it happened—I guess he was waiting to see if things worked out, and I have to assume this girl was Maggie O’Grady.  I’d never heard anything about the wedding until today.

I was the first one to excuse myself from the table—I needed time and empty space to think without my father’s face, looming directly in front of me.  My mind was obviously consumed with thoughts of Maggie and Tommy and the long ride to Santa Fe.

I wasn’t crazy about revisiting that part of the country anytime soon, or ever again, for that matter.  How did Maggie think I could help, and why did she think I was the only one who would understand?  A few more details in her letter, telling me why or how Tommy had come up missing would have been helpful.

It wasn’t long before my time alone ended.  I’d been watching the changing colors of the evening sky, bringing us closer the end of another day, when I heard the front door close and footsteps crossing the wooden planks of the porch.  I turned to look and it was Pa, hands deep in his pockets and walking slow and deliberately as if he was still mulling over what he proposed to say.

“Nice night,” I said, when he came to stand beside me.

“Yes it is.”

I was leaning on the top rail of the corral; a place I found myself often if I was trying to sort things out in my mind.  Pa leaned his back again the wooden rails, then scuffed the dirt with the toe of his boot.

“I don’t know what to do, Pa.”  I wasn’t really asking for an answer, or even looking in his direction, but I saw his head nod slightly as if he understood, even though he knew in the end it was my decision, and not his to make.

“It’s a tough decision, son.”

“Tommy’s my friend.”

“Yes, I know.”

I knew now that Pa hadn’t come out here to give me his opinion or tell me what to do.  He was leaving it up to me, whether to stay here, where routine days were predictable, or ride out and leave my safe environment, to help a friend who had no one else to turn to. 

Part of me felt anxious and uncertain about riding alone—back to the one place on earth that dredged up so many unpleasant memories I’d tried so hard to put behind me.  It was foolhardy mission—it just didn’t make sense, and who, besides my brother, could I possibly take with me on this kind of manhunt?  But Hoss was needed here and it wasn’t fair to put him in that type of situation anyway.

“I wanna help her,” I said.  “I just don’t know if I can do it alone.” 

I think Pa tried to keep it from me, but I heard him sigh anyway.  It was a sigh of relief, like I’d already made the decision, but little did he know, I was far from committing one way or the other.

“I wish I knew more—more of the situation.” Pa nodded and I’m sure he wanted to know more too.  “She didn’t say why Tommy is missing—she must think he’s still alive or she would never have written.”  I looked straight at Pa, maybe for answers this time. 

“There are so many questions, Pa.  How long has Tommy been missing?  Where do I look?  Does she have any clue what might have happened to him?”  I knew I was rambling—thinking out loud was more like it.

“Those are good questions, Joseph.”  Pa was giving me the time needed to work this out for myself without his interference.  I just didn’t know what the heck I was thinking, much less saying at this point.

“Maybe I should write her or send her a wire, but there’s probably not a telegraph close or she would have—no, writing would be better—but that would take too much time.  Maybe he’s in some kind of trouble or in danger?  Maybe he’s already dead.”  I was rambling again, but it helped me think.  “How many weeks did it take for Maggie’s letter to arrive here?  Maybe he’s already back home and another letter is on its way.”

Pa turned to face me and his hand slid across my shoulder.  “Maybe you should get some sleep, son.”

“Yeah—I’m beat.”

“Things sometimes seem clearer after a good night’s rest.”  

“Yeah, I guess.”

I started to walk back toward the house and I turned to see Pa still standing by the corral.  “You comin’?”

“In a while, son—night.”

Of course sleep wouldn’t come.  I didn’t think it would, even as tired as I was.  I hadn’t heard Pa come back in the house yet; at least he hadn’t made his way upstairs.  I knew this whole ordeal was upsetting him; I could see the worry lines already start to form.  With Adam now gone, my father seemed to hang on a little tighter to Hoss and me—not literally, of course, but the feeling was there.

Hoss and I needed to repair that fencing tomorrow and there would be something else the next day and the day after that.  If I rode away, I’d leave my family shorthanded.  Hoss can’t do it alone.  How long could I wait before giving Maggie an answer? And what would that answer be?

At some point during the night, I fell asleep because the sun was now coming in through my bedroom window, indicating I’d slept longer than I’d planned.  I dressed quickly and hurried downstairs.  I’d made my decision.  My father may try to dissuade me and that was his duty as a father.  He would have me list the pros and cons and I understood that too.  The bottom line was Tommy Bolton was my friend and Maggie O’Grady had kept me alive when I’d given up hope and wanted to roll over in that little iron bed in Santa Fe and die.

~~~

I rode alone, along trails I’d ridden several times before, and I was beginning to know them by heart.  This time I would ride even farther—not by much, but east of Santa Fe, to a small settlement where Maggie waited for me, knowing I would come because I did understand.  

I hadn’t taken the time to write back—there was no point.  I would probably be standing in front of her, long before a letter would make the journey by stage.  I figured I should arrive tonight, or if I’d miscalculated, early tomorrow morning.

It was a long time to sit in a saddle.  Had there been a stagecoach with a more direct route, Pa would have had me on it.  Horseback was really the only means of transportation to this remote area of the country.  This was Indian country and the promise of a railroad hadn’t made it this far west as of yet.

I’d been lucky so far and hadn’t encountered any trouble whatsoever on my trip down.  There had been no sign of Navajo or Comanche, and thankfully no young renegades.  That’s where the colonel’s and my opinions differed.  Where I might find a young renegade hostile, although not until I had some kind of proof, he found every native hostile—every man, woman and child.

So far, the only sign of human life I’d seen was a small wagon train.  I had met up with these would-be settlers and stayed the night, laughing and enjoying the company of people close to my own age.   The assortment of wild stories they told of their adventures, crossing the plains, had me in stitches, late into the night.  These two young couples were excited about leaving the security of their homes in Missouri and Kentucky and heading west to the unknown.   They invited me to stay and eat a real meal that night, instead of my steady diet of jerky, hardtack and an occasional apple.   It was nice to be with people again.

Maggie had sent simple directions in her letter and I’d followed them religiously so far.  Getting lost in this part of the world could prove disastrous.  I’d end up somewhere in Mexico and have myself a heck of a ride back.  If I hit the Rio Bravo, I’d know I’d gone too far.

As I reached in my saddlebag for the last apple, I noticed what appeared to be small structures on the horizon a little to my left.  Cochise and I were ready for this trip to end and I hoped this was finally the settlement.  The closer we got it became clear there were small, one-story adobe buildings ahead.  I’d save the apple for Cooch.  So with a smile on my face, and the satisfaction of knowing we’d finally made it, I kicked him a little harder. 

There were clothes on a line, waving in the gentle breeze, and I could see, and then smell, a hint of smoke, rising in a thin, white stream from the chimneys in the distance.  This had to be the place.  The small houses were nestled in the only grove of trees for miles around, while the rest of the land was barren and dry, just like Maggie had described.  

I rode in, hoping to lend a helping hand—I would ride away a changed man.

~~~

Maggie must have been standing outside every day, watching and waiting, knowing at some point, I’d eventually ride in.  I don’t have any notion of how she recognized me, but there she was, running toward me like we had been close friends all our lives.  I’d barely dismounted before her arms encircled my waist, while welcomed tears of joy knowing help had arrived, flowed gently down her cheeks.  

I’d forgotten how petite she really was, with almost childlike features, and still, the two long plaits I’d recalled from before.  Then, as an afterthought, I caught a glimpse of Tommy in my mind, and how I had to strain to look up at him, as his tall, thin frame had towered many inches over mine. 

When she finally released me, I took hold of her shoulders and caught sight of her red rimmed eyes.  I slipped one of her plaits between my thumb and forefinger, trying to gain comfort for each of us, then quickly realized it was wrong of me to be that intimate with another man’s wife.

“Thank you for coming, Joe.” she said, realizing it too.  She eased herself away, then took hold of my hand and led me toward her small, sand-colored home.  “I have a surprise for you.”

I barely had time to pull the apple from my saddlebag and hand it over to Cochise.  Although I didn’t want to leave him saddled, she seemed so excited, I would let her show me the surprise, then come back and tend to him later.  She walked in front of me into her dark, one-room home, and then stood to the side so I could see who was right in front of my eyes.

“Captain,” I said, shocked to see him sitting at the small, wooden table in the center of the room.

“Sergeant,” Hayes replied, standing and extending his hand in a friendly greeting.

“I—I don’t understand.”  I was so taken aback I’d fumbled my words. 

“Long story, Cartwright.”

With a big grin on her face, Maggie pulled out a chair and told me to sit down.  She set a bottle and two glasses in the center of the table.  “Benjamin will tell you what’s been happening while I stable your horse.”

I started to stand.  “I can see to my own horse, Maggie.” 

She gently pressed her hands on my shoulders, pushing me back down on the seat of the chair, then was out the door before I could say another word.  The captain poured us each a drink and we raised our glasses in a toast.

“To better days,” the captain said.

“To better days,” I replied.

We each waited for the other to speak first, and after the second drink was poured, I figured it might as well be me.

“It’s sure good to see you, sir.”

“Let’s get one thing straight, Cartwright.  I left the army as soon as all of your men were released from the stockade.  They spent nearly a year behind those prison walls, and the day they were discharged, I left right along with them.  I am no longer your captain and I am no longer sir.  If you will call me Ben, I will call you Joe.”

It didn’t set well with me after all these years but I agreed to the name change.  “Okay, I’ll try—Ben.”

“You’ll get used to it.”  A friendly smile crossed his face and we both had a good laugh before we would get down to business at hand.  Our two glasses clinked, and together, we quickly downed a second shot.

“Let me start at the beginning and that will bring us to the reason you’re here.”

“I’d like to hear,” I said. 

I had a feeling this was going to take a while and I leaned back in the chair.  All I’d eaten today was a piece of jerky, and I could already feel the alcohol take effect, so I covered my glass with my hand when the captain leaned forward to pour me another.

“I’m going to start at the beginning, Joe.  A little background if that’s okay.”

“Sure,” I said.

“A group of us left Bent’s Fort together; problem was,” he said, with a shrug of his shoulders, “we didn’t know what to do with ourselves.  Jake Simmons and Albert Andrews left the group and headed back home—Kansas, I think.  A few others rode out to who knows where.  That left four of us with nowhere to go and no plans for the future.  Long story short, we decided to see if anything was left of the Cheyenne camp we’d destroyed the night you were shot.”

He poured himself another drink before he continued.  I wasn’t sure how much of the story I really wanted to hear.  As far as I could remember, there was nothing but death and destruction.  Why would they want to go back?

“As you know, the Cheyenne camp was deserted, so we continued on south.  I can’t really say why, we were just wandering, but also finding ourselves unwelcome in most small towns we passed through.  Maybe it was the uniform we still wore.  That’s when, by chance, and a lucky one too, we stumbled right into a Navajo village.  Come to find out, there were survivors from the massacre; a few women, and also a few young children, the Navajo had taken in and treated as their own.  Not all tribes will do that, you know, but the Navajo are a friendly people.”

I was shocked to hear anyone had survived a night like that, and I found myself instinctively reaching for the curved edge of the medallion I kept hidden underneath my shirt.  I don’t know where they hid or how they got away, but it really didn’t matter now—all that mattered was that some were lucky enough to have survived. 

“Go on,” I said.

“Well, they too saw our uniforms, and at first, they were reluctant to talk or let us in their camp.  The chief’s younger brother spoke enough English that we were able explain we were just passing through and meant them no harm.  We were invited us to stay and share a meal with the chief before we moved on.  Where were we going, we still didn’t have a clue.  What we didn’t know, and I don’t think they knew either at the time, an outbreak of cholera had just begun to spread throughout the camp.

“We didn’t realize until days later when Charles came down sick.  By then we were close to Santa Fe, and as sick as he was, we kept him isolated from the rest of us until we could see my old friend, Dr. Willis.  As soon as he detected cholera, he made all of us stay on at the hospital in case any of the rest of us of came down with the disease.  We were damn lucky, Joe.  No one else got sick.”

I nodded.  I remembered Charles well.  “So did he make it through?”

“Turn around,” he said.

I didn’t quite understand why, but I swung my arm over the back of the chair and turned to see the doorway blocked—blocked with three of my men.  I stood up from my chair and checked each man out—head to toe.  There stood Hank and Bonehead and Charles.

“I can’t believe it,” I said.  “I can’t believe you’re all here.”  After they all moved into the little room, alongside the captain and me, we managed eager handshakes and pats on the back before I remembered Tommy and the reason I was there.  “So where’s Tommy?” I said to Captain Hayes.

I really knew how to silence a room.  They all looked at the captain, who remained their leader, army or not, and they would all keep silent and let him explain.  There weren’t enough chairs for everyone, so as a group, we moved our conversation outside and let Maggie have her home back.  We looked like a band of tribesmen ourselves as the five of us sat around a small campfire so I could gather any kind of knowledge of Tommy’s whereabouts.

“The Cheyenne were still raiding settlements, as were the Apache and some bands of Navajo,” Hayes started to explain.  “The colonel was still burning camps and killing everyone in them, total devastation as you well know.  White man and natives, one retaliating against the other, until no one in this part of the country was safe.  

“We had all bought new sets of clothes by now, and had shed our cavalry uniforms, since we were no longer army, but after nearly a year of drifting and tired of being homeless, that’s how we ended up here with the beginnings our own small settlement.

“We figured we could hunt and farm as well as the Indian or the Mexicans that inhabit this area.  We would start a new life and eventually build ourselves a trading post and whatnot, since none of us wanted to return to our former lives like you did, Joe.  This is actually Navajo land, but they encouraged us to stay—to build—to trade with them, so here we are.”

I was impressed they’d come this far and done this much with the land, but we weren’t any closer to the problem at hand—the question I still didn’t have an answer to.  Maybe I was a jerk to interrupt, but I did.

“You still haven’t told me about Tommy,” I said.

“I’m getting to that.  Just hold your horses.”

“Sorry, Captain.”  I heard the men laugh and I realized what I’d said.  “I mean—Ben.”

“Don’t worry yourself none, Sarge, we call him Captain too.”  I shrugged my shoulders at the Sarge and Captain remark. 

“Hard habit to break, Captain,” I said.  Hayes rolled his eyes, but he got right back into finishing up the story.

“Anyway, so two of these men left Santa Fe with wives; Tommy married Maggie and Bonehead married Lucy.  My friend, the good doctor said to us jokingly, he never wanted to see us in Santa Fe again after we’d taken his two best nurses and left him shorthanded.”  I winked at Bonehead.  I’m sure he’d found himself a fine wife. 

“We started out here with nothing but the clothes on our backs and only a few dollars between us.   We quickly found out the Navajo loved trinkets—trinkets of any kind—so we bought goods whenever the trader came through.  Anything we could afford, we bought.  Mirrors, bright-colored pieces of cloth—sometimes a watch or a pocketknife—anything and everything and this trader was quite generous after he found out our plight.  So we traded trinkets for food and supplies until we could grow our own crops and get our houses built.  That first winter was rough, but we managed.

“I’m getting off track here, Joe.  Tommy and Charles and I had set out for the Navajo camp to do some trading, but before we got close enough to see the camp, we smelled the smoke and saw traces of it still in the air.  Something was wrong and we all had a gut feeling we knew what it was.  We kept riding.  We sat above the camp looking down at the destruction.  Nothing left but burnt remains.  It was so reminiscent of before.  We didn’t know if the Navajo were dead or alive.  We didn’t know if any had escaped or not.

“The Navajo had told us during our last visit with them, they’d been told they would have to leave this place come fall—the land wasn’t theirs anymore.  Let’s just say we weren’t shocked to hear the news.  I wouldn’t have had any pull if I was still army, and I certainly didn’t have any as a civilian.  When the government makes a decision to move Indians, as you know, they have no choice but to go.”

I’d heard this same story so many times before.  Move the tribes from their land.  But why were they burned out?  What’s the point if they have to leave anyway?  As much as I didn’t want to think it was still happening, I believed as my friends did, and we all knew who was behind the devastation—who thought every red man was a hostile.  I figured the captain would soon get to the part about Tommy and the reason I was here. 

“Go on, Captain.”

“The three of us sat there staring, but not believing what we saw.  These were our friends—our neighbors.  These were people who had fought the ways of the white man in the past, but were working hard to make peace by giving us this piece of land to settle on and build our homes.

“As I said, we knew it hadn’t been long.  Smoke still hung in the air over the camp.  We had come to trade and had a burro with us loaded down with supplies and some trinkets we’d bought from the trader.”

Could it be? “What was the trader’s name?” I asked.

The captain laughed.  “Captain Jack,” he said.  I nodded my head.  “Been tradin’ this route for over twenty years.  Why?”

“He saved my life.”

“Yes, I know.”

The look on my face said it all, I’m sure.  This is a whole other story I would have to ask the captain about, but now I just wanted to hear about Tommy.

“Later,” I said.  The captain winked, and then nodded.  He continued on.

“Tommy went wild,” Hayes said, glancing at Charles for conformation.  “He took off, screaming like a crazed warrior.  He pulled his rifle from its scabbard and held it high over his head like an Indian lance, then kicked his mount into a run and headed straight into the camp, sending ash and black cinders high into the air.  Up and down the camp—one end to the other—he rode like a madman.  Charles and I stayed put, waiting for him to get it out of his system, you know, get the worst of it out.  Then we would look for any sign of life or maybe a trail leading away.”

I closed my eyes as the memories—the similarities of that night, so long ago.  It hit me—hit me hard.  Again, I could hear the cries—the screams—just like it was yesterday. The bullet grazing my head—Eli.  It had been years ago and all but forgotten.  Buried deep and not allowed to surface. 

Then the days spent in that cell.  The beatings—the haunting visions—it was all so real, so fresh in my mind—too fresh to bury

“Give me a minute,” I said.  I stood and walked away.

I heard their whispers as I moved away from the group and stood by myself with my thoughts.  I needed a couple of minutes alone to clear my head.  I thought this was all in the past—forgotten.  I walked farther away.  I knew exactly how Tommy felt.  I might have done the same.  I knew all about rage and anger.  He’d seen it before, and he was seeing it again, just like I was in my mind.

Why?  I’d asked myself that question over and over so many times—times when I had too much time on my hands to think. All men are created equal.  Didn’t I learn that in school?  Wasn’t that the Declaration?  Wasn’t that what this country was founded on? 

Then who is created equal?  Certainly not Eli and certainly not the red man.  The answers never came.  There were no answers.  There was no good reason for people to be treated as they were or lives to end as they had.  There was only a madman in charge.  The colonel.  Why was he still at the fort? Why was he still in command?

Now I felt like a fool.  Can’t take it, Cartwright?  If you cry, the boys will call you a baby.  Boy, I sure hadn’t thought of that one for a while.  I turned when I heard footsteps behind me.  It was the captain. 

“Sorry,” I said, planting my hands on my hips and staring up at the stars.

“Forget it,” he said.

I took a deep breath.  Maybe if I let the captain finish the story, I wouldn’t have to think.  “So what happened next?”

“Well, the three of us came back here.”

“So there weren’t any survivors?”

“That’s not what I said, Cartwright.”

“Oh—so—”

“Someone, maybe a Navajo scout, had found out that camp was next on the colonel’s list.  The Navajo fled the camp with most of their belongings, leaving their lodges intact, and at night who could tell the difference?”

I found myself grinning at the captain, but that still didn’t explain Tommy.

“And—”

“We didn’t find out until later.  We met up with Captain Jack again and he told us which direction he thought the Navajo might head.”

“I need to meet this guy,” I said.

“Well, you might just get the chance.”

“Really?”

“He sold his trading company a few months back—said he was getting too old to be traipsin’ cross country.  Said it was a job for a younger man.  He married himself a Navajo squaw, actually a widow, who no one else would have, and settled not too far from here.”

“Why not here with the rest of you?”

“Too many people.  Said he had to ease himself back into civilization, but I doubt he ever will.  Been a loner too long.”

“And Tommy?”

“Let’s walk,” he said, and he finally explained Tommy.  “We came back to camp later that night.  Tommy couldn’t let go—he’d seen too much and it really got to him this time.  Maggie said he paced the house all night.  She couldn’t get him to eat or come to bed.  By morning he was gone.”

“So you think he went to find the new camp?”

“Not sure, Joe.  That’s the problem.  We left Bonehead and Hank here with the women and Charles and I went looking.  We followed his trail for a while, but lost it a few miles out.”

I nodded my head.  I’m sure that’s what Tommy did, unless he thought he could take on the U.S. Army alone, and he’s not stupid, just upset and frustrated over the way things are and have been far too long.

“Maggie sent you that letter out of frustration, Joe.  We had come back without her husband and she didn’t know where else to turn.”

“Is there a telegraph close by?”

“No, just mail.”

“I need to let my pa know I made it here.  He tends to worry,” I said.

“Your father?  Worry?  I never would have known.”

I laughed along with the captain before we got serious again.

“So you think Tommy’s still alive?”

“I haven’t heard otherwise.”

“What do we do now?  How do we find him?”

“We’ll leave in the morning and pay Captain Jack a visit.  I suspect he knows things we don’t.”

We made an early night of it, knowing we’d be up by sunrise and ready to ride.  Maggie and Lucy cooked supper for all of us, and I ate more than ever.  Both women kept piling food on my plate, till I thought I would bust wide open. 

Whiskey made the rounds, but I noticed the captain was still in charge.  He corked the bottle early and called it a night.  There were no complaints by anyone.

I bunked with the captain that night.  I knew by now I would never call him Ben or Benjamin.  It would always be the captain or sir.  That’s how it all started and would always be.  We talked for a while.  I told him things he didn’t know about my days in the stockade.  I told him how I only saw my men once, for about five minutes, and then I was locked in a cell by myself for the duration.  

Not wanting to dwell too long on bad memories, I quickly skimmed over the beatings and the funny mushrooms, which I hadn’t known at the time were meant to drive me mad—more like submissive and willing to perform whatever the colonel instructed me to do.  

“Did you know about the paper I signed?”  He shook his head no.  “Did you know the colonel erased my name completely?  There is no record of Joe Cartwright ever being in the army.  No record at all.”

The more I revealed to him, the more shocked he became.  “I never knew any of that, Joe.  I’m sorry.” 

He said he never knew the extent of my torture or about the paperwork.  His apology was sincere, and he all but begged me to forgive him for taking me back to the fort, never even considering the colonel would resort to such tactics.  I had really shocked him.

“Again, Joe, I’m sorry.  Had I known—”

“What could you have done?  Nothing—” I answered before he could say anything more.  “It’s all in the past—all forgotten.”  There was silence after that.  It had all been said—it was out in the open and somehow I felt more relaxed after I’d exposed the colonel’s actions to this man I called friend.

The room was silent.  The captain lowered the wick—we both needed to get some sleep.  “Nite, Joe.”

“Nite, Captain.”

Nothing more was said after that—I don’t know if he fell right off to sleep or not.  The relaxed feeling I’d had only moments ago didn’t last, and as much as I tried, I was too agitated to fall asleep anytime soon.  I’d stared at the ceiling for so long, I finally got up and went outside.  I’d slipped on my pants and boots but the cool night air, skimming my bare shoulders, made me wish I’d grabbed my shirt. 

The memories of that time were as fresh in my mind as if it had happened just yesterday.  I couldn’t help but think back to those days when I’d become a lost soul—reduced to a scared little boy.  I remembered the day I’d been told that my father had deserted me— to shamed and disappointed to stay any longer.  He’d left any form of discipline and punishment I deserved in the hands of the colonel.

Any desire to live was gone.  If Pa didn’t care, if Pa had given up on me, I would too. I never wanted to feel that lost again.  As much as I thought those days were truly over, even knowing the truth about the colonel and my father setting me straight about what really happened, just the thought of it still troubled me more than I wanted to admit.

Cochise was standing nearby, under the lean-to with the other mounts.  Now I wished I’d left him at home.  I’d lost Raven that night of the Comanche raid, but I could never take that chance with Cooch—not the best horse any man could have. 

I needed to get word to Pa and Hoss, and I hoped at some point, we’d pass a town with a telegraph—a letter just took too long.  I realized too, I’d never asked how long Tommy had been missing, but it had to be weeks by now.

My brain was working overtime.  Everything important or not so important at all, raced through my mind, keeping me awake and keeping me from getting the sleep I needed, knowing we planned to leave at first light. 

The sliver of moon and brilliant intensity of stars in this endless stretch of sky had disappeared as the black of night began fading to grey on the eastern horizon.  I’d wasted the entire night, standing out here thinking—remembering.  It was too late to do anything about it at this point.  I was tired now, although still wide awake, and even though I’d ridden all day yesterday and the umpteen days it took to get here, I was more than anxious to get moving and get this business with Tommy over and done with.

~~~

Our day did start at sunrise.   Hayes stood outside the adobe, stretching out taut, sleepy muscles and wondering, I sure, about my whereabouts.   I signaled him with a wave, then made my way across the small dirt yard to have him follow me inside and hand me a freshly brewed cup of coffee.  No questions or superficial words were needed between the two of us. 

I slipped on my shirt and belt, grabbed my jacket and hat, and before I even had Cochise tacked, I was well aware of how the lack of sleep might betray me by mid day.  I was a fool to waste away an entire night’s worth of sleep.  I glanced at the bunk I’d spent only minutes in, and knew I could easily crawl back now in and sleep till noon.

Maggie and Lucy loaded our saddlebags with food and supplies, enough for at least a week’s time.  We each carried two canteens, a preference of mine, and we were off to meet Captain Jack.  We left Bonehead, Hank and Charles with the women; just the captain and I rode out.  Everyone feared the colonel and another attack. It was even suggested that he may be the one raiding, using the excuse of white men harboring red men, then blaming the red man in his twisted, merciless mind.  The fact was the man couldn’t be trusted.

I was anxious to meet up with the man who saved my life, rescuing me from a slow and miserable death in the desert.  That’s the one thing that would keep me going and keep me in the saddle today.  I owed Captain Jack my life, a debt I’m willing, but unable to repay.  I owed Maggie too, for the time she spent with me in the hospital, telling me time and again to hold on, stay alive; my father was on his way.  If we could bring Tommy home alive, I felt the debt I owed her would be paid. 

We came to a narrow, but fast-flowing river, and had to ride down to a more placid, less rocky area, if we dared to cross and not be swept away to whom knows where.  Captain Hayes said that during certain times of the year, this river would be impassable and Captain Jack would then be isolated from any neighbors at all.  I guess that’s the way he liked things—his own little Ponderosa—with no one within miles around to intrude on his little slice of paradise.

Higher into the mountains, the captain and I rode.  It was slow going now, traversing back and forth as we went.  Finally, smoke from a chimney signaled us we were almost there.  Captain Hayes drew his gun and fired a single shot into the air.  “Gotta let him know we’re coming, Joe, or he’s apt to shoot us on sight.”  I was beginning to get a real sense of how much Captain Jack valued his privacy.

Another twenty yards and I saw a lone figure, sitting in front of an old rundown shack.  With his long grey beard and coonskin cap, he was still dressed in buckskins, just like I’d remembered.  His rifle rested across his lap, and he looked very much at ease as the two of us rode across his sacred land.

His woman made her presence at the doorway, looked us over quickly, and then ducked back inside.  After leaning his rifle next to the bench, he stood up slowly and made his way towards us.  He walked right past the captain and looked straight up at me, still mounted on top of Cochise.  His eyes narrowed into just slivers of dark lashes as he took in every inch of me—head to toe—then back up toward the bright sun to study my face.

“Boy in desert,” he said. 

I smiled and gave a quick nod, then dismounted, extending my hand to the man who’d saved my life.  “Yessir,” I said.  “Joe Cartwright.”

He reached out and shook my hand.  “Didn’t know if you’s gonna make it or not, Joe Cartwright.”

“Call me Joe.”

“All right,” he said. “You’re lookin’ a mite better than the last time I seen ya.”

“I’m beholdin’—”

“Don’t start that, boy.  Don’t be beholdin’ to no one.  Get ya in a peck o’ trouble, it will.”

“Thanks then,” I said.

He nodded and the conversation was over.  The captain dismounted and the two captains shook hands.   Captain Jack motioned his head toward the cabin and the two of us followed him inside.  It wasn’t long before a jug of some mighty strong corn whiskey was passed among the three of us.  Hayes wasted no time on small talk or pleasantries; he got straight to the point.  We needed a guide to find Tommy.

I watched Captain Jack, whom I couldn’t rightly call captain, since I already called the captain, Captain, so from now on I would just call him Jack, unless he corrected me, preferring his whole name be used. 

He sat without speaking; taking in everything Captain Hayes had to say.  He reminded me some of Pa, sitting there calmly, collecting all the facts, before jumping in and confusing the issue—something I often had trouble doing.  He seemed to be mulling everything over and finally he spoke.

“We leave in the morning.”

“What about your wife?” I asked.

I kept my eyes on Jack as he looked across the room at his woman.  I saw a hint of a smile under all that scraggly, grey hair, covering most of his face.  “Morning Sun knows how to take care of things while I’m gone.  We ride north.  I think I may know where that band may have gone.”

It was settled.  We got the answer we came for; Jack would show us the way.  Since it was only a one-room cabin, the captain and I spent the night outside, in order for Jack to have one last night alone with Morning Sun.  Not knowing how long we’d be gone, or exactly where we were going, I pulled some paper from my saddlebag and scribbled out a brief letter to Pa.  Chances were slim I’d be able to mail it, but it was ready to go just in case.

We were three men on a mission.  Jack didn’t seem bothered one bit by having to leave his sanctuary high on the mountain.  If he was he never let on.  He knew shortcuts and trails the captain and I never would have found on our own. 

I touched my hand to one of my canteens, feeling the heat of the sun as it blazed high in the summer sky.  Shimmering mirages skimmed the horizon, as clear and lifelike as the glassy lakes I saw every day on the Ponderosa

I hated this land.  I hated it with good reason.  It brought nothing but vivid memories I’d tried so long to forget.  I kept pace with the two captains and wondered what they were thinking.  No one said much at all. 

I was hot, tired and just plain miserable, but the day was only half over with several more miles ahead before we made camp for the night.  I’d always prided myself in toughness and resilience, but I didn’t feel tough.  I felt weak and further exposed with every mile we rode.  Maybe pride didn’t matter anymore; then again, maybe it mattered more than ever.

Jack turned to the two of us. “Water,” he said, pointing up ahead.  “We can rest the horses.”

My head pounded from the heat as I’m sure the two captains’ did too.  What I wouldn’t have given to stumble upon a cool stream of water the last time I wondered this land on foot.  That part of my life was over and it was time to concentrate on what needed to be done now rather than what took place in the past.

It was only minutes before we reached the stream.  We all stood together, loosely holding our horse’s reins until they had their fill.  I bent down and dunked my head in the water, letting the icy coolness trickle down my face and chest. 

When I stood back up and shook my head like a dog, I ended up spraying both my companions—my so-called friends.  One glanced at the other.  I saw the look; the same look I’d seen passed between my two older brothers when they were up to no good. 

Seconds later—a hearty push.  I couldn’t help but lose my footing and tumble backwards—feet in the air—while the rest of me, clothes and all, headed straight into the bubbling stream. 

I was drenched, head to toe, but I don’t think I’ve ever enjoyed anything more or laughed any harder.  My laughter seemed contagious and we all got a good chuckle at my expense.

The captain leaned over and helped me up from my unexpected bath.  It was fun while it lasted, but we had work to do and we didn’t have time to fool around much longer.

Jack said he didn’t think we’d have to travel much farther, and in no time, we were mounted and ready to ride.  Now single file, we followed the small meandering stream up into the foothills.  Of course, the Navajo people would need water, and this was the route we would follow.  If this one didn’t pan out, Jack informed us there were many more streams we could follow.

We rode until nightfall without seeing any visible sign of human life.  “The Navajo are expert at covering their tracks,” Jack said, letting us know we could easily be heading in the right direction, and not to give up hope, just because we hadn’t seen any tracks along the way.  “We can keep going if you’d rather,” he added, but Jack looked tired and I didn’t want him to wear himself out in just one day.  He was not a young man.

“I’m beat,” I said, taking the pressure off the other two men.  Hayes was about Adam’s age and Jack was twice my age if not more.  “I’m ready to stop if you two are.”  I would be the scapegoat and would take the brunt of their jokes, which I was sure would come at some point, before any of us fell asleep

After a meal of tortillas and beans, we settled in for the night, each of us using our saddles for backrests and sipping Jack’s jug of whiskey he’d so conveniently brought along.  The conversation was easy and relaxed.  Jack told us some of his many adventures along the trail between St. Louis to Santa Fe.  How he’d fought off Indians and Mexicans in the early days.  He said he often times had a companion—someone eager to make the journey west, and on occasion, a man who had changed his mind about the wild, untamed west, and was heading back to his home in the east.  He also mentioned he had three sons—sons who would at times; make the long journey with him.

The captain and I found humor in many of Jack’s tales.  But the more pulls he had from the jug, the wilder and less believable the stories became.  There were also times of sadness, of people he’d befriended along the way, never to see again.  It was a lonely life, at best, traveling back and forth across the open plains.

We’d put in a full day and it was quiet now—only the sound of the crackling fire and a lonely cry of a coyote, signaling his mate somewhere off in the distance.  My clothes had dried quickly in the hot afternoon sun, but now the air was cool and I pulled my thin blanket up over my shoulders and closed my eyes. 

The captains were still sitting up, staring at the fire.  I hadn’t slept the night before and I was too tired to sit up and make decent conversation.  Unexpectedly, Jack began to speak.

“Once I find boy, crawling in the desert,” he said.  “Same boy try to stab Captain Jack with a knife.”  My eyes shot open and I looked straight at him.  Why, out of the blue, did he have to bring that up?  What did he expect me to say?  I stared in his direction, waiting for more, but there was nothing.  No more stories—no more laughter—only silence

“What!”  I nearly shouted. They were both staring at me like I should say something, but what was there to say?

“Nothing, Joe.”  I could tell Captain Hayes didn’t want a fight on his hands, but the silence indicated to me I was supposed to respond to Jack’s comment.  I wasn’t going to talk about it—not now—not ever.

“I’m going to sleep then,” I said.  I rolled over, turning my back to both of them.  Assuming I had fallen asleep, which I wasn’t, now that all of those memories had been brought to my attention, it wasn’t long before they were talking between themselves, Well, I wasn’t asleep and I heard every word.

“No need to bring up the past, Jack.  It’s all but forgotten so let’s drop it.”

“Not forgotten.  He remembers all the time.  I see it in his eyes.”

“So why bring it up—why make it worse?”

“He thinks because it was long ago it’s over, but it is not.  There are still demons that haunt him.”

“What makes you say a thing like that?”  Maybe it was Captain Jack who was a little touched in the head, not me. 

“I had three sons—joined the army soon as they were able.  Lost two at Shiloh.  My third son came west to fight Injuns.  He figured they must be as ignorant at the Nigra’s back home.  He got in his head they were a menace to society and it was up to him to do something about it.

“The boys weren’t raised that way till my sister got hold of ‘em.  When they were young, my three boys travelled with me one trip a year.  The rest of the time they stayed with my sister in St. Louis and took in some schoolin’.  But my oldest boy was always different.  He listened to my sister and her husband and he believed every word they said about Nigra’s and red men—and them weren’t good words neither.

“I know how boys are and I see something in this one,” he continued.  “There are signs.  Ya just gotta know how to read ‘em.”

“Signs?”

“Joe Cartwright, he wears something under his shirt—a medal, or token or some kind of jewelry—something spiritual maybe.  He reaches for it often.”

“That doesn’t prove he carries demons with him, Jack.”

“Watch how his hand reaches down for his canteen even when he’s not thirsty, just to make sure it’s still there.”

“I think you’re overreacting.”

“This country scares him.  He needs to face the truth.  He needs to put the demons behind him.”

“What truth is that?”

I was kind of anxious to know that myself.  This was the craziest conversation I’d ever eavesdropped on.

“He will find the truth before he can leave this place and return to his home.  The truth is near.”

“Go to sleep, Jack.”

The captains were quiet now.  Apparently the conversation was over.  I didn’t get any answers as to what this truth was that Jack referred to.  Maybe I was dense.  Maybe I didn’t want to know.  I was too tired to think.  I couldn’t keep my eyes open another minute—I would worry about truths tomorrow.

~~~

We mounted up the next morning after coffee and a simple breakfast of bread and jam.  I could tell all eyes were on me.  I’d fallen asleep soon after I’d overheard their little conversation last night and I was in no mood to be friendly just yet.  Let them think whatever they wanted—truths, signs—none of it made sense to me.  

Unlike my brother, Adam, the only thing wrong with me was the fact that I was content at home, and now I was back in the land of devils—hot and dry and miserable. There was nothing I appreciated about the sights and sounds of this part of the country.  Captain Jack had gotten it all wrong last night.  I was here to find Tommy and take him back home to his wife and that was the end of it.  I’d ride back to the Ponderosa and have done my duty—paid my debt—end of story.

The captain broke the silence early on, but with a different subject—a subject that wasn’t about me.  I was pleased, and the two of us joked and had as much fun as one could have while plodding along. 

All day long, we kept close to the same creek we’d camped by last night.  Jack had been quiet all morning, then suddenly, he changed directions and veered left.  I didn’t understand why the abrupt change, and when I’d asked why we were altering our route, he was much more thorough in his explanation of sacred burial ground than he needed to be.

I knew what a burial ground was.  I’d lived among the Paiutes and Bannocks my whole life; I just didn’t know there was sacred land ahead of us, so when he went on and on about it, I grew frustrated and out of sorts.  It seemed he was up to something and I was having difficulty catching on.

“Way station up ahead,” Jack called out to the two of us. 

I think all of us were ready to get out of the saddle for a while, and if we were lucky, we just might talk the attendant into a decent meal.  It was midday and hot, and my heart wasn’t in this mission like it should have been.  

Even in the heat of the day, there should have been smoke rising from the chimney.  A woman never let the fire go out completely. There was no barking dog, no pulling horses for the next stage in the corral.

We rode in cautiously, taking in the nothingness—the stark sterility of the area as we rode forward.  Captain Jack was the first to dismount—Hayes and I followed.

“I’ll check inside,” Jack said.  I was relieved to hear those words.  This whole place gave me the creeps.

“I’ll look in the barn.  Wait here, Joe,” the captain said.

I walked around the yard looking for any sign of life, but the place looked like it had been deserted entirely, except for a few items of clothing, left hanging haphazardly on the line, as if they’d been blowing out here for days on end.  I was walking to the well to see if maybe it had gone dry, forcing the station agent to leave this place, when Jack came running out of the small, adobe building.

“Joe, stop!” I turned quickly to see what all the yelling was about.

“Sickness,” he said, as he moved quickly in my direction.  “Don’t touch anything.  Where’s Hayes?”

“In the barn.  I’ll get him.”

“You stay put!  Don’t touch the bucket—don’t touch anything.”  He was making his way quickly to the barn and Captain Hayes.

“What do you think it is?”  I yelled into the breeze as he scurried away.  

“Might be cholera,” he yelled back over his shoulder.

I stopped in my tracks after hearing those deadly words.  Jack was scared and he had good reason—cholera could spread like wildfire and I wondered if it had been making the rounds since Charles had contracted it from the Navajo.

Jack stood outside the barn door, but he didn’t go in, then backed away when the captain came out.  I heard them talking, keeping a lengthy distance from each other, although I couldn’t make out the words.  The captain walked toward me, leaving Jack to go back into the station alone.

“Mount up,” he said.

“Why?  What about Jack?”

“Do as I say.”

I did as he said, but I didn’t understand.  Why were we leaving Jack all alone?  The captain and I rode in silence for a couple of miles when I stopped my horse, demanding an explanation.  “What’s this all about?”

“We’re just going to make camp up here in these bluffs, Joe.”

“What about Jack?”

“He’s going to deal with the agent and his wife and burn the station.” The captain hesitated and looked straight at me.  “He touched the bodies, Joe.”

“Jack’s an old man.  We could have at least stayed and dug the graves,” I said.

“I tried to tell him that, but he was adamant that I get you out of there.”

“Me? Why?”

“Come on—let’s get our camp set up then we’ll talk.”

What did the captain know that I didn’t?  I felt like I was listening to my oldest brother or my father ordering me around—telling  me what to do like I didn’t have a brain in my head.  I was frustrated with this whole situation and was tempted to turn back and give Jack a helping hand anyway when the captain grabbed hold of my arm. 

“He wants it this way, Joe.”

Hayes and I rode forward, into the bluffs straight ahead, and the two of us hurried to set up camp.  From our vantage point, we could look down into the valley below and see what was left of the way station—fire blazing through its window and door, taking the barn and corral down with it.  Someone must have set the horses free or stolen them before we’d arrived.  There should have been a milk cow and chickens, but they were gone too.

We could see Jack riding slowly toward us.  I needed that explanation before he made it to camp.  “Well?”  I said to the captain.  “What’s up with Jack?  What’s he got against me?”

“Against you?” The captain seemed to be trying to suppress a laugh, whereas I couldn’t find anything remotely funny about the question I’d asked.  “Joe, he’s trying to protect you.”

“Why?  I can do my share.” 

“Let me try to explain.”

“I wish you would, Captain.”

“Since that day he found you in the desert, he’s felt protective of you.  I don’t know the reason exactly, but almost like a father would a son.  He couldn’t hang around Santa Fe to see if you lived or died.  He had a schedule to keep, but he had Dr. Willis send a message on to his sister in St. Louis, which he was able to receive after he arrived.  For some reason only he knows, and is not lettin’ on to anyone else, he cares about you, Joe.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I’m just telling you what I know.”

“Why should he care what happens to me?” 

Captain Hayes sat down on his bedroll and leaned back against his saddle, under the few young trees where we’d set up camp.  I joined him and was ready to hear this story.

“First time I met Captain Jack, I was still in uniform,” Hayes said.  “I’d just left the fort on an extended leave and Jack was making his last run to Santa Fe.  He asked if I knew a young man named Cartwright who might have been stationed at Bent’s Fort sometime back.  

“That was right after I’d found out from my friend Dr. Willis that you had indeed survived the massacre, and that Jack was the one who had stumbled upon you in the desert and brought you into the hospital.   After I told him you’d been released a few weeks later and had gone home to Nevada with your family, he didn’t say anything, only nodded his head, but he seemed pleased to hear the news.”

I won’t say I truly understood the explanation, or the reason Captain Jack cared anything about me.  Maybe when he was ready, he would sit down and explain this whole father-son attitude he has toward to me. 

He was what I would refer to as a Good Samaritan, rescuing me like he did, but why the connection, especially if I tried to stab him with my knife?  Then when I’d tried to thank him back up at his cabin, he barely accepted my gratitude by jumpin’ all over me about not being beholdin’.

When Jack rode up the final hill to our camp, he tethered his horse some distance from the captain’s and mine.  Then he proceeded to set up a separate camp a ways off from ours.  When I started to walk toward him he shouted at me to stay where I was. 

“I will continue to lead if you stay far enough behind,” he said rather gruffly.  Then he pointed his finger straight at me.  “You come close and I will turn back.  You’ll be on your own after that.”

I had questions I wanted to ask the old man, but I didn’t want to shout at him from a distance—they weren’t that kind of questions.  I had to accept Jack’s wishes for now, but before this was over, I would demand to know what this was all about.

I had hoped I could mail this letter, I carried in my pocket, at the way station.  It didn’t take much for Pa to get his feathers ruffled, and if I didn’t get word to him soon, that’s exactly what would happen.  There had been no town, no stage passing east or west—nothing that would permit me to mail this simple little note home, informing Pa of my safe arrival. 

When morning came, we played by Jacks rules.  He would lead as long as the captain and I kept our distance. A gauzy white haze covered the sky, softening the sun’s harsh rays, as we rode in an easterly direction. 

We’d remained between bluffs, staying close to the small creek that ran through narrow ravines, separating each rocky slope.  At some point it time, I figured we’d have to climb up one of these steep ragged inclines.  It was slow going, and I hoped Jack had figured right, and we weren’t heading on a wild goose chase, and would have to forfeit our route.

By noontime we turned away from the water and started climbing.  I noticed the hills were full of caves—places for anyone to hide.  I sensed the captain getting a little uneasy and I understood completely.  We were sitting ducks and Hayes constantly scanned the area, as did I, looking for anything—a flash of light—a signal to others, that we, as unwanted visitors, were approaching.

We were looking for a peaceful band of people, but still, two sets of eyes canvassed the area for any signs of trouble, even though it was only Hayes and I that seemed to be wary of hidden dangers.  Jack plodded along, half slumped in the saddle, reminding me of how an old Indian would ride away from his people to be left alone to die. 

I knew it was my overactive imagination, and I shouldn’t even think things like that, but I had a different mindset here.  It seemed as though death hung in the air like the heat, trapped between earth and sky, never moving, never stirring, never leaving this place.

Like the heat of the sun bearing down, leaving its cosmic mark on this land, ghosts of the past were with me now.  I thought back to the conversation I’d heard between the captains.  It bothered me that Jack thought he had to be my protector—that I was unable to handle myself.  I knew he’d seen me at my worst, but that was a long time ago—a different time and under circumstances that should have never occurred or, by God, should only happened only once in a man’s lifetime.

“Bury it, Joe,” I mumbled to myself.  “Let it go.”

We were nearing the top of a ridge when Jack took a trail that veered off to the south—a somewhat hidden trail the captain and I never would have found on our own.  About a mile in, there they were—the Navajo people—now living in caves, rather than the lodges they’d left behind.  Jack had stopped and sidestepped off the narrow trail, waving the captain and me on ahead.

I pressed hard in my stirrups, lifting myself up taller and out of the saddle.  The first person I saw as I rode in closer was the one we were searching for—my friend—at long last and definitely alive, stood Tommy Bolton. 

Bare-chested and dressed in buckskins—a rifle dangling from his left hand, while his right hand clutched the handle of the 12” army knife fastened to his waistband.  His long, curly hair was unmistakably that of a white man, living among the native people.  I would have recognized him anywhere.  

I waved my hat over my head, hoping he’d know it was me.  I didn’t want him to him to get trigger happy—shoot first—ask questions later.  A big old grin crossed his face and he raised his rifle high above his head, then and whooped and hollered so loud it could be heard echoing all the way down through the canyon.

I jumped down from Cochise and we gave each other a back-slapping hug, only he had to show off, lifting me up off the ground, like a certain brother of mine always did.  After a few words and continued hand shaking, we finally had sense enough to pull the captain into our one-sided party.

I’d missed my friend and wished there was a way we could always be together, but Tommy’s life was here with Maggie and mine was on the Ponderosa, at least until I found the right woman, although I would still make the Ponderosa my home.

“What the heck are you doing back here, Joe?”

 “Maggie wrote me a letter,” I said.

“Maggie?”

“Yes—your wife.,” I said almost like a question.  “She’s a little concerned, wondering if you’re dead or alive.” My tone was a bit sarcastic, but Tommy had been gone for weeks, and I wondered if his brain was on a permanent vacation.

The excitement of meeting after all this time was gone.  Silence now filled the air.  I saw sadness in Tommy’s eyes as he pondered the thought of Maggie and how worried she must be.  “I was wrong to leave like I did.”

“Ya think?”

“The Navajo, Joe—I feared for their lives.  I couldn’t let it happen again.  I had to try and keep them safe.”

“And you’ve done a fine job, my friend.  You make a man proud.”

“I’ll second that,” said Hayes.

“Thanks, Joe—Captain.”

~~~

The three of us sat and talked long into the night, catching up on the last few years and everything that had taken place in each of our lives.  Captain Jack wouldn’t come near anyone, and for good reason, we explained to Tommy. 

Just like the night before, he sat by himself, away from the camp.  He wouldn’t budge, not even when I offered him a meal the Navajo women had fixed for us all.  “Got my own food right here,” he said, clutching his saddlebags.  “Now git.”

I didn’t need to stand there and get yelled at so I went back to sit with Tommy and the captain. I told Tommy he was one lucky man, and I assured him he’d married the prettiest girl this side of the Mississippi. 

“Are the Eastern girls prettier?” he asked.

“Not the ones I’ve ever seen.”

“Then she must be the prettiest little gal in the whole US of A,” he said.

“And if you’re smart, you’ll head back home tomorrow and not leave that pretty little gal by herself too long.  She might just up and find herself a new fella.” 

We joked and we laughed and we told stories, one after another, and, like they had with Jack, the stories got more comical and more outrageous as the night went on.  But in the end, we found ourselves leaning toward a more serious conversation.  

The last time I’d seen Tommy, and the rest of my men, was the day I got thrown in the stockade.  We never saw each other again after that first day when I was hauled off, and taken to a cell, away from everyone else.  My men been fed one lie after another about me—same as I had about them—every word untrue and part of the colonel’s plan. 

Tommy, along with everyone else, had been told I’d betrayed them, by signing a paper, stating my men were at fault, they failed to obey direct orders.  After testifying in a court of law against each and every one of my men, I was set free, while they rotted behind fenced-in walls for an entire year.  The colonel, and I’m sure the guards, had played their parts well.

If not for Captain Hayes, Tommy and the rest of my men would have always believed that of me.  They would have never known the truth.  I understood my men accepting everything they were told and why not?  It made perfect sense. 

I was gone and they were still being held prisoner in the stockade.  I was grateful for the captain and how he’d set the record straight.  Without standing up for me and convincing my men it was all lies, Tommy might not have thought twice about shooting me on sight as I rode into camp.

But I worried about Jack.  I wasn’t sure how long the incubation period for cholera was, if in fact that was the sickness the agent and his wife had, but I knew the disease was highly contagious.  As far as I knew, Jack wasn’t sick yet, and he certainly didn’t want to infect anyone else, so he continued to keep his distance.

My main concern was to get Tommy home to Maggie so I could return home.  I didn’t want to hang around here any longer than necessary.  The Navajo people were safe now, and there was no reason I could come up with, not to head back.

“We’ll leave in the morning?”  I said to Tommy and the captain.  I watched Tommy’s face closely when he didn’t give me an answer.  “You can’t stay here forever.”

“I know.”  He seemed to think on it for a minute and finally looked up and gave me an answer.  “Tomorrow.  We’ll head back tomorrow.”

~~~

When morning came, I walked toward Jack to tell him our plans.  “Stop right there,” he said, holding his hand up, daring me to come any closer.

“Fine—we’re leaving here shortly.”

“Good,” he said, in a rather irritable voice. “I’m ready when you are.”

The captain and I were anxious to get moving, but Tommy was still saying his goodbyes.  The horses were saddled and the women kindly packed our saddlebags with food for the trip.  I smiled and thanked them the best I could, as did the captain, though neither of us knew much of their language.  A woman held out a bag for me and nodded her head toward Jack.  “Thank you,” I said, and walked back toward him, setting it down far enough away that he wouldn’t get sore at me again.

Jack was mounted before the rest of us and he started down the trail that would lead us back to the stream, which we would follow through the narrow ravines and past the burned-out way station and on through the desert.  Then I could head back home—back to my own mountains and the smell of sweet pine in the air.  I still carried the letter to Pa and I would probably end up carrying it the rest of the way home.

A sudden explosion of rifle fire echoed though the canyon walls.  I grabbed my rifle and raced forward on foot with Captain Hayes cautioning me from behind.  A renegade—a sniper—had fired at Jack, but why?  He lay on the ground unmoving.  I crouched down behind a large boulder and waited for a second shot so I could pinpoint the shooter.  The captain and Tommy flanked me in no time.

“Where’s it coming from, Joe?”

“I don’t know.  I can’t see a blasted thing.”

The three of us scanned the bluffs, but saw nothing.  Navajo men from the camp scattered in various directions, waiting to take aim at this sudden intruder. There was no sign whatsoever—so we waited.

“We can’t leave Jack lying there,” I said.  “He may still be alive.”

“Well, you can’t go running out in the open, Joe.  You’d be a sittin’ duck.”

“You stay here then, and I’ll circle around,” I said, hearing the unsteady sound of my own voice.

“I’ll head this way, Joe,” Tommy said, pointing the opposite direction.

“Good, let’s go.”

I skirted the edge of the ravine, protecting myself behind trees and boulders, but from whom or how many, I wasn’t sure.  Who they were after?  Were they after us or the Navajo?  I still couldn’t see anyone and I hoped Tommy was having better luck at his end, although it was eerily quiet.

A second shot rang out.  I turned quickly toward the sound, but with the echo, I still couldn’t tell where it had come from.  Suddenly another—then another, pinging off boulders around me. 

I rose up, fired off a couple of shots, but I was aiming at no one.  Now I’d given away my position and I was wasting valuable ammunition.  I stayed low, gazing across the canyon, looking for any movement at all, but not really sure what to do next.

The Navajo men had rifles too, and at that point, I didn’t know who was firing at whom.  I felt weak and defenseless and realized my mistake—we’d been much better off had we all stayed together.  I needed to get back to the captain.  Again, I kept low, darting around trees and rocks, making my way back toward the camp.

Hayes was firing across the ravine and down the trail we had taken in.  “See anything?” I said.

“Shot came from that direction,” he said, pointing his rifle, but holding his fire.

“Tommy?”

“Don’t know.”

Another shot—this time from another spot on the bluff.  Then another and another.  I saw Jack move his arm just slightly, and I knew he was still alive, but the area was too much in the open to try and drag him to safety.

“Jack’s alive,” I said.

“Leave him be for now, Joe.  He’s smart enough not to move while there’s still fire.”

I felt useless not being able to see who was firing at us.  Sporadic shots came from every direction, which made leaving this spot almost impossible.  I wanted to check on Tommy.  I hadn’t come this far to let Maggie down now.

“Cover me.”  I crouched down low, and took off down the hill, in the direction I’d seen Tommy go.  The sun was fully awake and was now shining brightly over the tallest bluffs and I was clearly a visible target.  I didn’t dare let myself out in the open.  I wasn’t sure which way to go until I heard a slight rustle in the dusty-green colored sage to my left.

“Tommy—” He was down, but alive.

I knelt down over him, laying my rifle on the ground and raising his head.  “It’s not that bad, Joe—just caught my arm.”

“Thank God,” I said, feeling relieved.  “Can you walk?”

“Sure—help me up.”

I grabbed my rifle and pulled Tommy to his feet.  He wrapped his good arm around my shoulder and we walked slowly and carefully back to camp.  A shot was fired and I heard someone cry out, thanking God it wasn’t either of us. 

Sounds were deceiving and seemed to encircle us from every direction.  I handed Tommy over to a woman near the entrance to a cave; one who could tend his wound and keep him safe, then headed back down to the captain.

“Find Tommy?”

“Yeah—brought him back to camp.  He took a bullet in his arm, but nothing too serious.”

“Okay—at least he’s back here.”

“See anyone?”

“Sure don’t,” Hayes said.  “I can’t figure this one out, Joe.  I don’t know who they’re after.”

“Who would be after us?  Who even knows we’re here?”

“Beat me, Joe.”

“You think someone followed us in?”

I was just as stumped as the captain.  I could still see Jack, lying as still as he could, but I didn’t know where he’d been shot or how badly he was wounded.  We held our positions all day long, firing random shots if we saw the slightest movement.  It was a precarious situation—they fired—we fired, but to my knowledge, no one else fell.

It would be dark soon and my mind travelled back to the last battle I fought in darkness.  All I could think of was the colonel and his night raids.  Were these people planning the same thing?  Were they waiting for dark?  They knew our position, but we didn’t know theirs. 

The captain and I discussed different strategies, but not much came of our day-long conversation.  There was nowhere else for us to go.  We were basically stranded in this one spot, backed up against steep rock, with nowhere else we could go.

I was dead on my feet and I’m sure everyone else was too.  It had been a long, agonizing day.  Jack had been down on the ground for hours, and with the sun now dipping behind the bluffs, it would soon be dark enough for me to help him back to camp.  Hopefully he’d have the sense not to fuss at me for trying to save his life.

No fires had been lit.  The children were pulled to the back of the caves and kept quiet by their mothers.  There was silence within the camp.

And we waited.

I had checked on Tommy earlier.  He was sitting up and eating, but his right arm was worthless and out of commission if we were attacked.  The Navajo men were still scattered throughout the hillside and holding position.  All we could do was wait.

Now that it was dark, with only a sliver of light from the moon, Jack finally inched his way back toward us and I nudged the captain.  I realized he must not be hurt that bad and I decided not to help him after all.

“He won’t come all the way if he sees us here.” It was too soon to let down our guard, but the captain and I relinquished our spot and planted ourselves in front of one of the caves alongside two other Navajo men.  They were all starting to come down from their lookouts, to guard their homes and families, as soon as darkness fell. 

Jack was safely hidden now where we could still see him, but the captain and I knew better than to try to get near him.  We sure didn’t need him to start hollering at one or both of us for getting too close.  If possible, he would have to tend his own wound.

The women brought out food, and even though it was something I didn’t recognize, and served cold, it filled our empty stomachs.  We didn’t hear any sounds whatsoever within the caves and figured the children had been put to bed after a long day of hiding in the dark and keeping their voices to a minimum. 

I thought of Pa and my brothers and how challenging it would have been for them, trying to keep me subdued--sitting and quiet—for an entire day when I was a little kid.  I thought of the letter, still in my pocket after all this time. 

Poor Hoss.  He would take the brunt of Pa’s worry and frustration over not hearing from me.  I owed him big time, and after a hearty greeting when I returned home, I knew he’d be tempted to pound me for all weeks of worry he’d been through with Pa.

~~~

They came out of nowhere from opposite directions, charging wildly through camp.  Uniformed soldiers on horseback—some firing rifles, while others held lit torches high above their heads.  The four of us guarding our cave pulled back inside its walls, firing at will, as the soldier’s skittish mounts trampled everything in sight.

Soldiers dropped to the ground—horses fell—a blanket of dust and debris congested the darkened sky.  We were outnumbered five to one.  They came in without structure or order and it soon became hand-to-hand combat—rifles became clubs—torches flared, offering up a spine-chilling air of a night long ago.

Children and women screamed—rifle fire echoed throughout the canyon—blazing torches sailed past us and into the darkened depths of the caves where the women and children hid themselves from the terrifying battle.

Suddenly, there he was, sitting tall in the saddle—his face contorted by madness.  His dirty-blond hair swirling wildly through dust and ash.  His pistol found its mark.  I raised my rifle, but before I could fire, I was slammed abruptly into the cave wall—a hint of long, curly hair flashed through my mine.  I knew nothing more.

~~~

I forced myself up from the dirt floor and adjusted my eyes to the darkness.  I blinked several times, trying to rid myself of the confusion and complete sense of uncertainty.  No sooner had I stood up, I immediately started coughing, as I breathed in the smoke filled air.  With my eyes finally focused, I stumbled my way forward, realizing the soldiers were gone—vanished into the black of night, leaving their dead behind. 

But there in front of me, in the heart of so many motionless bodies, kneeling down on one knee was Jack.  I blinked my eyes again, confused to see him in the middle of camp, and especially, rolling over the lifeless body of the colonel so that the dead man lay flat on his back. 

I pulled myself together and moved slowly toward Jack, and next to the one man in this world, who’d made my life a living hell.  So many questions—but what were the answers?  What did this man mean to Jack? 

I almost smiled with a feeling of pure satisfaction.  It was over.  The colonel was dead.  I wanted to sing out to the world—sing out on this joyous occasion.  Jack lifted his head, but kept his hand on the colonel’s chest.  He looked up at me with heart wrenching, glassy eyes—willing the tears not to fall.

“He’s dead,” Jack said, though I barely heard the words he mumbled over the colonel’s body.  I thought back to the last thing I remembered—the colonel—high atop his grey—his army-issued Colt aimed straight at me. 

Jack didn’t move away, but kept himself low to the ground.  With the care only shown to a loved one, he closed the colonel’s eyes, then carefully brushed the excess dirt off his now ashen face.  Jack looked up again, slowly meeting my eyes.  “John was my eldest son.”

I stood frozen—my knees locked in place.  Jack’s rifle lay next to him on the ground—the exit wound showed plain on the front of the colonel’s coat.  He’d been shot from behind.  I knew now who had ended his life.

What could I say?  What words of comfort could I possibly give this man who saved my life by firing his rifle at his own son?  I’d dreamed of this day—I’d cursed this man for years and now I felt nothing but sorrow and regret.  Jack had done this for me—a stranger he’d met by chance—a boy he found in the desert.

My body shuddered unexpectedly when the captain walked up behind me, placing his hand on my shoulder.  I wanted to tell him what had happened here, but when I opened my mouth to speak, my voice fell silent.  

Maybe he’d witnessed what I’d just come to realize, but maybe he already knew the connection between Jack and the colonel.  Maybe he didn’t have the heart to tell me, knowing the hatred I felt.

Jack pulled out a blue bandana from a side pocket and laid it out carefully over the colonel’s face before he stood and walked away, leaving the two of us to watch this broken man cross the camp, leaving his eldest and last son behind.  The threat of cholera was still real and any act of comfort or appreciation would have to wait for another time.

“Joe—” I took a deep breath and looked up at the captain.  I saw the haunted look in his eyes and it scared me.  What else could there possibly be?  “Tommy Bolton’s dead.”

I covered my face with my hands as an ache like no other seized my very soul.  “Oh, God, no,” I cried, before tears of exhaustion and hopelessness fell.  I looked up into the smoke filled sky.  There were no stars—no moon, lighting up a night of death and destruction—only darkness, filtering through the vast haze and the bitter hint of gunpowder, leaving us all with another memory we’d soon wish to forget.

Would the nightmare ever end?  Then it hit me like a shot in the dark.  I knew what had happened inside the cave.  It had been Tommy, who, in the shadows of the cave, pushed me out of the way of the fatal bullet.  

“Two men are dead because of me, Captain.  Tommy and—this man,” I said, looking down at the colonel.  “Did you know this is Jack’s son?”

The captain was unaware of the connection between father and son.  Seeing the look on his face was like staring at my own reflection in the mirror.  Neither of us moved or said another word. 

I would have to take Tommy’s body back to Maggie and have him buried there.  I would have to face her—look into her eyes and tell her I was the reason her husband was dead.

~~~

We left camp the next morning—Jack still out in front, leading his son’s horse with the colonel’s lifeless body, belly down across the saddle, and of course I was doing the same with Tommy.  Only one Navajo brave died and over thirty young soldiers, for what?  A man’s hate—a man who learned hatred at a young age and carried inside till the day he died.

Jack still wouldn’t let the captain or me near him, and up till now, he still showed no sign of sickness.  This man—this old trader—had protected me, like a father protects his own son, from the day he’d found me so long ago, and again last night by killing his only living son. 

But why?  I still didn’t know, and I may never understand.  I have never understood the truths he’d talked about the other night.  Did he assume I was still awake?  Did he plan for me to overhear that conversation?  Did he have some weird, outlandish premonition of what was to come?

Maybe he understood the hatred I carried, but he wouldn’t have known why, would he?  Did he know his son was stationed at Bent’s fort?  Could he have possibly known the reason I was alone in the desert?  

I stared at the back of this old man as we rode past the burned-out shell of the way station; I wondered if it was Jack’s truths—not mine he was referring to.  Did he know all along his son was responsible for these raids?  Did he want to put an end to the madness?  Was I just an excuse? 

No—I didn’t like coming back down to this godforsaken part of the country, but I came to help a friend, and now look what’s happened.  There was absolutely no need for Tommy to die—no need.  The colonel fell from grace a long time ago, but Tommy only did what he thought was right and look where it got him—dead—just like Eli.

I feared for Jack’s wellbeing.  If the sickness didn’t kill him, I wondered if burying his eldest son would.  I tried to imagine my father, having to witness the death of a son and found it more or less unimaginable; and by his own hand—never. 

I didn’t pretend to understand how Jack felt—three sons now gone—left with only memories—memories of three young boys, crossing the prairie on big adventures alongside their Pa, Captain Jack.

The three of us rode nonstop until we reached the small adobe structures nearly hidden within the grove of trees.   The sun had not yet crept over the horizon.  The grey in-between color of early dawn still permeated the sky.  There had been no stops for water, no playful moments of laughter next to a rushing stream.  The somber atmosphere of death kept us pressing forward till we reached our destination.

Jack, always commanding the lead, stopped unexpectedly. “I leave you here and go home to Morning Sun,” he said, only pausing long enough to mumble those simple words.  No goodbye, no visible eye contact.  This wasn’t the end.  I would visit him once more before I left on my return trip home.  My present job was to face Maggie.  I’d think about Jack later.

I remained sitting in the saddle until Jack was out of sight.  There were no words between Captain Hayes and myself.  I knew what had to be done next and I cringed at the thought.

“You want me to tell her?”

“No.  I’ll do it.”

Slowly, I dismounted.  I looked across the yard at the darkened house.  A soft glow of light began to flicker inside the window.  Maggie must have heard us ride up.  I handed both sets of reins to the captain, took a deep breath, then walked toward the house.

Maggie stood in the doorway without moving.  She knew before she ever saw the body that her husband was dead.  I hesitated at the sight of her.  Both hands covered her mouth and she escaped quickly back into the house.  I glanced back over my shoulder at the captain, then forced myself to move forward.

Maggie had her back to me, busying herself pulling down cups and saucers from the open shelves in her makeshift kitchen.  She wouldn’t turn around and acknowledge me even though she knew I was standing there in the room.   She stopped what she was doing and grabbed hold of the wooden counter, steadying herself as if just now realizing Tommy was gone forever.

I couldn’t help but notice her head now dipped to her chest and the way her shoulders began to shake.  I moved closer, wrapping my arms tightly around this little slip of a girl.  Together, she and Tommy had made this place their home.  What would become of her now?  “I’m so sorry,” I whispered.

There were no other words of comfort I could share—not yet.  We would talk about it later, after she had some time to herself.  She was trying her best to understand, but it was tearing her apart.

“I should go help the captain,” I said, backing away, hoping leaving her alone was the right thing to do.  She still didn’t turn around.  Her arms fell to her sides in resignation and she nodded her head, letting me know I could go.

I walked out the door, still unsure.  I found a shovel in the lean-to and walked to the back of the house where I found the captain.  He had already started digging parallel to another marker, and even though I felt like an intruder, I read the engraving on the small white stone. 

Thomas Joseph Bolton

May 1864 – September 1864

Our Beloved Son

 

To say I was stunned was an understatement.  “I didn’t know,” I said, just above a whisper.

“It will keep Maggie here forever, I’m afraid.”

“This is no place for a woman alone.”  But I knew what the captain was saying, and I knew in my heart, with her son and now her husband buried here, she would never leave this place. 

There were no materials within this small settlement to make a casket and Santa Fe was too far to ride.  It was too hot not to bury the body as soon as possible, so Maggie brought out a quilt she had made for their bed and we wrapped him securely within it folds.

The morning sun had crept slowly across the ancient, parched land, only this time I saw the beauty that was Tommy and Maggie’s home.  The mountains to the east, with blazing red rock, streaked with coal, black shadows, giant crevices between magnificent rock formations, jutting upright, majestically touching the sky.

It was time to lower the body and for some unknown reason, the land of devils, as I’d often referred to this land, looked different, and I stood silent over Tommy’s grave, capturing the colors, the beauty for the first time.  By now everyone in the settlement was here, standing alongside me, as we put Tommy to rest and paid our final respects to a husband and friend. 

Maggie asked me to say a few words, and a few chosen words were all I could manage, in the state I was in.  I would make Maggie a new marker, similar to the one Tommy had made for their child.

“He saved my life,” I said later, when Maggie and I had a chance to sit by ourselves and talk.  “He would have come home to you if not for me.  I—I’m so—”

“Stop, Joe,” she said forcefully.  “You would have done the same for my husband.”

Now I was the one who looked away, who couldn’t look up and meet her eyes.  I don’t know what I would have done given the same situation.  How does a man ever know how he’ll react? 

“He talked about you all the time,” she said.  Then she took my hand and held it between her own.  “Look at me.”  I couldn’t move.  I was the one to blame for her husband’s death.  “Look at me, Joe.”  I turned her direction.  She would see the tears I no longer could control.  “Tommy had more respect for you than any other man he’d ever known.  You were like a brother to him.  He loved you, Joe.”

“I—” I tried, but couldn’t respond like I wanted to.  My heart was in my throat and the words wouldn’t come.

We cried together.  We cried for the senseless loss of a man we both loved.  She was stronger than I gave her credit for.  Maybe she would make it here after all.  She had friends—good friends—who would watch over her and maybe the grief she felt now would find a quiet place and she would once again find happiness.

I stayed for almost a week, helping out with chores and fixing a few odds and ends around the place.  When it was time for me to be on my way, I told Maggie I would leave before sunrise so we said our goodbyes that evening.  I left her alone in a home, which once housed a family of three, and joined Captain Hayes for our final night together.

“I’d be glad to ride along part of the way with you, Joe,” the captain said.

“You don’t think I can handle it on my own?” 

“That’s not what I meant—just thought you might like some company.”

“I’m sorry, Captain.  It’s been a long week and I’ve let this whole thing with Tommy get to me.”

“Maggie will be fine.  She’ll find her own way.  She’s a tough little lady, you know.”

“Yeah—” 

“Listen,” he said. “You need some sleep if you’re heading out early.  I’d hate to see you pull another all-nighter if you’re planning to ride out alone.” 

I looked up at the captain, and with everything we’d been through since day one, the day I’d enlisted in the army, he’d stuck by me, and he still felt it his job to watch over me.  “You knew?” He nodded and smiled, but kept his thoughts to himself. “You’re a good friend, Captain.”

“We’ve been through a lot, haven’t we, Cartwright?” 

He smiled and I had to agree.  We’d become like brothers.  We cared for each other just like Tommy and I had.  I respected him and I think he felt the same about me.  It would be hard to leave a man like Benjamin Hayes.

“We certainly have.”

~~~

I rode through the dry, sandy flatlands, with a different perspective this time around, and up into the mountains, which I had once called Jack’s own little Ponderosa.  I hoped I would fine him alive and well.  I just couldn’t leave without knowing if he’d made it home and somehow bypassed the sickness we assumed might be cholera.

I spotted the trail of smoke, showing signs of life, but whose?  It could just be his woman.  I fired a single shot into the air, announcing my arrival, then I rode farther in, but I stopped a far enough distance away so I wouldn’t get hollered at or shot.

From just inside the doorway of the small, log cabin, Jack stood looking out.  He started forward—a smile showed more in his eyes than behind his grey beard, which I noticed he’d trimmed up quite neatly since he’d returned home.  I knew the scare was over.  He’d never contracted the disease.  I grinned from ear to ear when that big old trader, turned mountain man, practically pulled me down from the saddle.

“Joe Cartwright!”  His voice was loud and clear and he seemed glad to be alive.

I awkwardly dismounted and shook the old man’s hand.  I don’t think he ever thought we would see each other again.  He dragged me by one arm inside the cabin where Morning Sun stood at the table, gutting a wild turkey.  I found myself making a face and looking away.  Jack saw the look and he laughed out loud at my discomfort. 

“We have big feast tonight.  Come—we go back outside.”

We ventured back outside the cabin, in the fresh mountain air, and away from the half-butchered turkey.  I was glad to be out of there and Jack no doubt sensed my relief. 

We walked and talked.  He pointed out little things on his land, even two elk, standing in the distance.  After his years of travel, he’d settled here, and I found out quickly, he loved this land as much as I loved my own home. 

We ate the wild turkey.  His woman had fried the big bird like a chicken, with all the fixin’s the Navajo culture provided.  My mind wandered to my big brother, Hoss, and I could just picture the look of satisfaction on his big, round face after enjoying a meal such as this. 

I missed my family, but I dreaded the long ride home.  I’d become fond of these men—men who had become part of my life—part of me.  Men who’d became like family in the absence of my own—a surrogate father in Jack, and two brothers, as Captain Hayes and Tommy Bolton had become.

Tommy was gone now, as was my eldest brother, only Adam had the distinct advantage of returning someday—Tommy did not.  We’d been through a lot together and we had formed a tight bond that would last a lifetime.  I may never see either of them again, but I would never forget our time spent together.

Jack pulled out his faithful old jug of corn whiskey.  I’d become melancholy reflecting on family and friends, and I wanted to enjoy my last night with Captain Jack.  We hadn’t talked about the colonel yet, and I think that’s why Jack pulled out the jug and had me follow him back outside next to a small, but comfortable, fire he’d built earlier to combat the night’s chill.  He needed a bit of courage, and maybe I did too, if we were going to sit together and talk of unpleasantness and still remain friends.

“Don’t get me too liquored up, Jack,” I said.  “I’ve got a long ride tomorrow.”

“Can’t take it,” he said with a smile. 

“I can take it.”

The jug passed between us and I knew my pulls were much less severe than Jack’s.  He intended to forget the past, while I had no desire at all to ride through the desert in the condition he would be in tomorrow.  When he’d finally had enough, and still had half a brain left, he was ready to talk. 

“I buried my third and last son, Joe.  A man hated by many and loved by—maybe only by me,” he said with hesitation.  “He was a good boy—a decent boy and I blame myself for what he became.” I started to speak but Jack held up his hand, and after another tilt of the jug, he continued.

“He learned to hate at an early age and so did his two younger brothers.  None of my sons joined the army to protect the innocent—they joined the army to kill.”  He took one more drink and passed the jug on to me.  I sat it on the ground in front of me, easily within Jack’s reach.

“We had some Indian trouble early on, during one of my trips west with the boys.  Their mother had died giving birth to Samuel, the youngest of the three, and when he grew old enough to travel along with his older brothers; it was just the four of us, the four Brady men, off on a wild adventure. 

“My boys were young and impressionable, and when they saw what was left of a settlement after it had been raided and burned to the ground by the Apache, it changed their lives forever.  That one single incident made more of an impression on them, especially John. I guess because he was old enough to understand, than anything else in their young lives.  I noticed a big change in John after that.  He couldn’t wait to grow up and kill every redskin possible.

“I decided not to bring them on the next trip and I left them with my sister in St. Louis.  They begged to come with me, and I told them if they did a good job with their schoolin’, I would take them with me every other trip. 

“This was before the war started back east and tensions were high.  Missouri was split, north and south, and I think they learned more about hate from their teachers and my sister’s husband than anything they would have ever learned with me.  But my John never forgot the devastation he’d witnessed from that Apache raid.

“Soon as they were old enough, one by one, they enlisted in the army.”  Jack picked up the jug before he continued.  He looked straight at me.  “I didn’t know when I found you in the desert that my son was your commanding officer.”

“Would it have made a difference?”

“No.  You needed help and I helped.” He took a healthy swig before he went on.  “Before I ran into Captain Hayes years later, I’d come to find out John was serving as colonel at Bent’s Fort.  I’d often wondered about you, a boy in full uniform, and how you came to be alone in the desert, not far from the fort.

Hayes filled me in.  He told me of your currant whereabouts.  He also filled me in on the reasons you were left for dead in the desert.  I knew then what my son had done.  I knew then what kind of man he’d become and when he raised his gun to you—”

I took the jug back from Jack.  My mind flooded with memories of long ago.  Memories—demons—nightmares—whatever they were or had become in my mind, it was because of only one man—Jack’s son.  It was because of the colonel, the demons still haunted me.  It was because of the colonel Tommy was dead.  But I knew as I sat here, if I didn’t let it go, right here and now, even a dead man could haunt me for the rest of my life.

“It’s all in the past, Jack,” I said, handing him back the jug. 

Captain Jack was my friend.  His son was dead and I would show respect by not telling him the rest of the story.  I would not reveal anything more about the man who had the power to ruin my career in the army, or about the man who used that power to practically destroy my life. 

“I’m really tired, Jack,” I said, trying to avoid picking up the jug and drinking it dry. “I wanna get an early start in the morning.”  I stood up and stretched out my back.  Jack stood too. 

“I’m sorry about all of your sons.” 

That’s the best I could do.  I was ready to go home.  Maybe the truths were best left unsaid.  I’d told Jack it was all in the past.  Now, if I could only believe that myself.

“Goodnight, son,” he said.  I headed to the lean-to where I would spend my last night here on Jack’s mountain.

Son, he’d said.  What if I’d been one of Jack’s sons?  Would I have been a different man?  Would I have felt the same—done the same?  Would I have used the army as an excuse to kill? 

Needless to say, sleep didn’t come as I reflected on how my life might have turned out had I been Jack’s son rather than Ben Cartwright’s son.  Were we all predestined?  I would have plenty of time to think it all through before I made it back home and put my life—the life I knew, and the simple truths I lived by—back in order.

~~~

Ben Cartwright- Virginia City, Ne. (stop)

On my way home (stop)

Joseph Cartwright (stop)

 

The short, scribbled letter I’d written when I’d arrived weeks ago never got mailed but remained in my jacket pocket.  I rode into a no-name town, halfway home, and was able to send a telegram, then decided to stay the night in a soft bed in a small Mexican hotel, much like the one Pa and I had stayed in on our journey home years ago.  I treated myself to my first bath in I don’t know how long, and a big juicy steak, along with a couple of beers in the local saloon.

The trip so far had proven unexciting and I was grateful for every uneventful day.  I was alone, and it was no secret how much I needed to be around people.  A young senorita came up to me in the bar, and for just a few pesos, she would make me forget all my troubles.  I smiled at the lovely young lady, but turned her down.  As I lay in bed alone that night, I wondered why I had refused such an offer.

I had only been gone a few weeks, but it seemed like forever.  I was ready to get back to work with Hoss; whether we were fixing fences or chasing boneheaded steers, it was home and I welcomed the routine.  I didn’t think I would ever find a good enough reason to leave the ranch again for an overextended period of time.  A trip to Virginia City for supplies and a beer with my brother was far enough for me.

I made it as far as Carson.  I was almost home, but it was growing dark and Cooch and I were too tired to make it all the way.  One more night, and once again, I booked myself a room at the hotel and walked over to the saloon for dinner.  It wasn’t long before a fight broke out in the bar—a fight over North and South and how the Confederates should have pulled out and stayed out.  How the South never should have surrendered, and how President Grant didn’t know his ass from a hole in the ground.

These were men who knew nothing about anything.  Men who’d never served a day in the army and only knew how to shoot off their mouths and get people riled.  It reminded me of my youth; the days when Adam and I fought our own verbal battles over the same issues—important issues—but unless you lived through some type of battle—engaged in combat—you knew nothing.

I was so sure of everything in those days, when, like many young men my age, I was seduced by the so-called glories of war, when in fact, there’s never a good enough reason for war.  But I was naïve, as was my brother, if either of us thought war was the answer.

So with all that in mind, and tired of the constant bickering with Adam, I turned my back on what I loved most—my home and my family—to prove myself worthy and be part of that glory.  I owed Adam an apology—I owed Pa and Hoss an apology too.

I never made it to that war in the east, although I would have had circumstances been different.  I was primed and ready to go.  I think of the horror—what if my own brother had been across the battlefield? 

The two of us ordered to kill—what would I have done?   What would he have done?  It’s strange how things work out, and even stranger finding out who the real enemy is after all.  So much has changed in these past few years.  I miss the easiness of youth.  I miss Tommy and I miss my oldest brother.

Hoss is the only one of us with a lick of sense.  I knew that now and I would learn to be more like him.  He’s the best there is, and whether he knows it or not, he’s been my best friend and my only true confidant my whole life.  He would now be my teacher—I would learn from the best and I would start tonight. 

I’d heard enough—I was in no mood.   It wouldn’t be long before someone pulled a gun and I wanted no part of their little game.  I left the saloon and marched down to the livery.  I’d had my fill of men like this, and dark or not, Cochise knew the way.  I was ready to head home.

When we rounded the barn, Cochise bobbed his head up and down and let out a long, familiar whinny.  I started to laugh, and then realized what time it was and everyone in the house would obviously be sound asleep.  I jumped down and patted his velvety nose, trying to quiet his excitement, and my own.. 

“You deserve a rest.  Come on.” 

I led him into the barn, trying to keep the doors from squeaking too loudly.  I lit the lamp and removed his tack, lifting it onto the railing next to his stall.  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw movement.  I laid my hand over my pistol and unfastened the loop, then stepped away from Cooch, only to find my father and brother, pointing their Colts straight at me.

I raised my hands above my head.  “Don’t shoot,” I said, then couldn’t help the smile that crossed my face as I slowly peeked around the backside of Cochise.

“Joseph,” Pa said, lowering his gun safely to his side.

Pa’s eyes were big and round, like he’d seen a ghost, but Hoss started laughing as he too lowered his gun.  “We done thought you was a horse thief, little brother.”

“Not me, big brother.”

We all burst into tears and laughter and bear hugs and back-slaps.  We walked to the house together.  I was home—flanked on both sides with the heavy bulk of my father and brother’s arms wrapped securely around my shoulders.

I don’t think Pa’s hand left my arm the entire evening—the gentle caress—the touch I longed for.  Across the table, my brother sat, grinning and listening and genuinely glad to see me, of course, he’d been the only one here with Pa for weeks, and I’m sure I’d hear about that later. 

As the three of us sat around the dining room table, I talked until I couldn’t keep my eyes open any longer.  The strong coffee Hop Sing provided wasn’t doing the trick and I was grateful when Pa suggested we all turn in and get a good night’s sleep—we’d continue this discussion in the morning.

Briefly, I explained the basic highs and lows of the trip.  I told of the death of a man I loved like a brother and the death of the man I’d hated for so long.  I said I’d come to forgive the latter, then went on to assure Pa I’d shelved that chapter of my life on the highest bookshelf.  An unpleasant period for sure, one which I would always remember—a period I’d lived through once, but didn’t plan to revisit anytime soon.

On the other hand, there was my family—an entire library.  Volumes I would re-read time and again—start to finish—with chapters I never wished to forget.  This collection of books remained on the lowest shelf—one I could easily reach and have access to at all times.

It had been a trip of endings and farewells.  A trip I needed to take to make myself whole again.  We would talk again in the morning. I would tell them more about the two captains, Jack and Hayes—how tightly I’d bonded with each—how much I admired both.

~~~

Years passed, and although I’d never been this content at home, working the land with Pa and my brother, Hoss, I often thought of the two captains and Maggie, and wondered how they were getting on and if their lives were complete, even though I was never quite willing to ride the distance to find out. 

Had Captain Hayes remained in the small four-house settlement, the land the Navajo had been forced from?  Had they grown and prospered?  Had Maggie found a reason to go on?  Was Jack still happy on his own little Ponderosa?  The answers would soon come to those questions and more.

I’d been down at the corral, breaking a new string of horses all morning, when Hoss came down and told me we had a visitor up to the house.  I was hot and tired and almost relieved by the interruption.  I wasn’t a young man anymore, and after two or three rag-tailed mustangs, I was ready to give my spot up to the younger men I’d actually hired for the job.

“Who?” I asked

“Come on and get cleaned up,” was all he had to say.

Hoss and I rode back up together, and tied to the rail in front of the house, was a reddish, brown bay I thought looked vaguely familiar.  I was fooling myself to think it was the same horse I remembered from so many years ago. 

Hoss threw open the front door, but kept his stance, nodding for me go in first.  The sound of my father’s deep voice came to a stop as I stepped farther into the room.   Continuing on, I rounded the corner and peered into the dining room.  I stopped dead in my tracks.  I wasn’t dreaming.   It was the same horse.  It took all I had in me to hold back the tears of joy I felt, seeing this man—this extraordinary friend, I never thought I’d lay eyes on again.

“Captain,” I said, as he stood from his chair.

“Cartwright—”

“I—I can’t believe it,” I said.  I glanced at Pa, caught the wink, then stared back up at the captain.  I was beside myself, and I know it may sound odd, but I was at a loss for words.

“It’s been a long time, Sergeant.”

“Sure has.  What brings you up here?”

“Why don’t you boys wash up and join us,” Pa said.  “I’ll do what I can to keep Benjamin entertained till you two get back.”

“Okay.”  I felt scatterbrained—like a boy, courting a girl for the first time.  Maybe a minute or two to calm down would help.  I was a filthy mess and Hoss didn’t look much better.  “Don’t go anywhere now.  I won’t be long,” I said, pointing my finger at the captain and backing out of the room. 

I flew up the stairs like a ten year old kid, and within minutes, I’d washed myself up some and put on a clean shirt.  At least I was a bit more presentable now.  I ran back down the stairs—my feet barely touching the ground.  I was so anxious to hear why the captain was here and what kind of stories he had to tell.

Pa slid a cup of coffee across the table to me and refilled his and the captain’s.  “We’ll wait a minute for Hoss if that’s all right with you, Joseph.”

“Well, he better not take all day.”

“It’s lunchtime, son.  I’m sure he’ll join us shortly.”

I sipped my coffee.  I could already feel my own adrenalin attacking every nerve in my body.  A couple cups of this and I’d be as jittery as the mustangs I’d left back at the corral.  I looked toward the stairs as Hoss hurried down, knowing I was anxious to why the captain was here.

Hoss sat next to the captain and across from me, then as he sat down, he also winked.  I was beginning to feel like everyone knew something but me.

“Well,” I said.  “What’s going on, Captain—you re-enlist?” 

“No—can’t say that, but I have been working with the army on another project, during the past four years.”

“What kind of project?”

“You.”

“Me?”

“Yes—you.”

I glanced at Pa.  I was at a complete loss as to what the captain was talking about.  “You know about this?”  I suspected my father knew something he wasn’t telling me, and it didn’t look like he was going to let the cat out of the bag now either.

“Why don’t you just listen to what Captain Hayes has to say, Joseph?”  I saw the captain hold back a grin as my father reprimanded me in that distinctive tone of voice he’s used ever since I was a child.  I glanced at Hoss.  I knew he was holding back too.

“Okay, Captain.  I’m all ears.”

“After you left to return home, here to the Ponderosa, it hit me.  I realized what all you had done for the sake of your fellow man, and I also remembered what you’d told me about being dismissed by the colonel as if you’d never existed at all.

“After the colonel was dead and buried, I remembered the letter your father had written me some time ago.  He’d also informed me your name had somehow been erased by the colonel, showing Sergeant Joseph Cartwright had never served a day in the army.  There was no record of you whatsoever.”

I looked at Pa, then back at the captain.  “That’s ancient history, Captain.  I put that part of my life to rest a long time ago.”

“Let me finish.”

“Yes sir.” I decided I’d better shut up.  I was getting a look from both my father and the captain; even Hoss joined in, hoping I’d keep my mouth shut for once and just listen.

“What I learned during my investigation was that all military records; enlistment of new recruits, discharge papers, any paperwork from that time period just before, during, and about a year after the war between the states was being held at the post where young men had initially enlisted. Under normal conditions, all paperwork was sent to Washington, but at the time you enlisted, our country was in chaos.

“So you see, Joe, records of enlisted men in these western posts were kept separate from the men who’d enlisted back east.  All the colonel had to do was destroy your file and you vanished—no more Joe Cartwright.”

“Easy as pie,” I said.

I sure wasn’t shocked by the news, or how easy it was for the colonel to make me disappear, but how unfair life could be.  I was a human being and deserved more than I got from the colonel or the army.  The captain gave me a minute to absorb what he’d said, and when I looked up at him and nodded, he continued.

“Well, I began sending out letters.  I had a few connections, not many after I left the army, but a few.  I explained in those letters what took place at Bent’s Fort; mainly what happened to you.  At first, my letters were ignored.  Guess they thought I was a bit loony, and because your name didn’t exist, it was hard to prove you actually did exist, much less existed as a sergeant in the U.S. Cavalry.

“Tommy was gone and Eli was gone, but I sent letters out to every other man who served under you, and I started receiving replies.  Finally, I was sent an invitation to meet with General Ellis.  I knew I’d have trouble convincing him by myself, so Charles and Alex, otherwise known as Bonehead, and four out of the other six of your men met me that day in the general’s office.”

“Was that Bonehead’s real name?” I said.  “Don’t think I never knew.”

“Alexander Monroe McAllister—aka Bonehead.”

“I can’t believe it.”  I smiled at the captain.  “I can’t believe they’re all still around.”

“Well, two of your men had moved back east and couldn’t make the trip, but they each sent me a letter, verifying you were their sergeant and the dates, along with a brief explanation of the battle with the Comanche.”

“What a team,” I said.  “What a great group of men.  I always said they were the best the army had to offer.”

“I’ll agree with you there, Joe.  They weren’t just fond of you; they respected you more than anyone else at Bent’s Fort.  That’s why each one of them went to great lengths to step up and continue the fight.”

Had I been alone, I might have lost control, hearing about these men I held in such high regard.  I was choked up to the point my breathing had become somewhat irregular, but I took a deep breath and listened to what else the captain had to say.

“As I was saying, General Ellis was disheartened and utterly disgusted by what your men and I explained took place, during those years with Colonel John Seymour Brady in command at Bent’s fort.  We explained even further about your men’s yearlong incarceration, and of course experience in the stockade, following the vile and shameful slaughter of the Comanche.”

I closed my eyes.  I’d buried that part of my life so many times, although somehow the memories always found their way back.  I knew the captain hadn’t come all this way just to bring up the past, but those days of terror and shear panic were front and center once again.

“How could nine of us be wrong?”   I smiled at the captain.  He’d gone to great lengths to make things right.  “So, after much discussion, and letters back and forth to Washington, I have something to present to you, Sergeant Cartwright.”   

Captain Hayes reached deep into a leather packet he had setting on the table and then handed me a package wrapped in brown paper, tied up with string.  “I believe these belong to you, Joe.”

I quickly pulled the string and tore away the paper revealing the contents.  I stared at the bright yellow stripes, then gave the captain a tightlipped smile. “My sergeant stripes,” I said, holding them in my hand, running my fingers over the raised fabric.  “Thanks, Captain,” I said.  “I appreciate all you’ve—”

“Oh, but there’s more,” he said, when I couldn’t seem to express myself properly due to the Hoss size lump in my throat.

“More?” I said, looking back up at the captain.       

“Stand at attention, Sergeant.”

“Yes, sir.”  I glanced at Pa.  His fisted hand covered his mouth—his dark, loving eyes became glassy.  Pa stood up from his chair as did the captain and then Hoss.

Again from the leather packet, Captain Hayes reached in and pulled out a velvet case.   He walked around the table and stood in front of me, then presented it to me like a man would show an engagement ring to his intended.  Inside was a pendant attached to a lengthy blue, satin ribbon.  The captain removed it from its case, then slipped it over my head so the gold, star-shaped medallion rested against my chest.  

“This is the Medal of Honor, Sergeant Cartwright.  It was signed into law by President Lincoln in ‘62.  It’s given only to men such as you—to a man who most distinguishes himself by his gallantry in time of war.

“Normally General Ellis or even the president of the United States would award you this medal, but your father asked if I could bring it here to you, rather than you have to travel elsewhere to receive this overdue honor.”

Captain Hayes raised his hand in a salute and I followed in suit.  If I thought I was choked up before—

I turned to my father. “You knew?”  Pa smiled.  He quickly wiped his eyes, collecting himself, before he spoke.

“Yes, son.  The captain has kept me informed throughout this entire ordeal.”

I looked back at the captain.  “I don’t know what to say.”

The captain shook my hand, but he didn’t let go.  “I was glad to see justice served, Joe.  Maybe in some small way, a debt has been paid.  Your moral commitment to help your fellow man, over and above the call of duty, is something you should be proud of. 

“I’m sure your father had something to do with teaching you early on, but you took it one step farther, in that you sacrificed yourself for the lives of others.  You deserved this a long time ago, Joe.”

I sure proper etiquette didn’t call for my next move, but I wrapped my arms around the captain’s broad shoulders and he embraced the gesture.  “We’ve been through a lot together, haven’t we?”  I felt him nod, but this time he had no words.

Finally, I stepped back and I tilted the medal up so I could see it clearly.  My hand had slipped across the medallion I’d kept hidden beneath my shirt ever since the night I’d killed the young boy—a boy who would never grow to manhood and have sons of his own.

We all sat back down around the dining room table and Pa called for Hop Sing to serve us lunch.  After he’d placed all the platters the table, Hop Sing waited off to the side until he was able to catch my eye.  He clasped his hands together and bowed to me just slightly from the waist.  I winked and smiled back, knowing in his eyes, I had brought honor to this house and to this family.

Captain Hayes stayed with us that night and many of the questions I had, the people I cared for, were now being answered.  He said Captain Jack had died the following winter.  Hayes had ridden up to see him in the spring and the house sat empty.  A recently dug grave with just the letters CJ were carved into a stone alongside his son, John’s.  The woman was gone and the captain was unclear as to what had become of her.

After two years of mourning, Maggie married a Navajo brave, a man who’d been there at the caves, fighting alongside us the night Tommy had died.  The young brave looked upon Tommy with high regard for giving his life for another—me.  They have one son already.  Maggie and her new family still lived in the same house, as the captain and I assumed she always would.

We were all up early the next morning and while the captain took time to eat breakfast with us, it was soon time for him to go.  Pa and Hoss said their goodbyes and expressed their gratitude inside the house, the captain and I walk outside for our own private goodbye.  It was a beautiful warm spring morning—a good day for a ride.

“Where do you go from here, Captain?”

“Well, the settlement is growing and I still have my home alongside Charles and Hank, Bonehead and Maggie plus two more families have settled there now.  But I may travel a while before I head back.  I’ve never seen the west coast and I think I’d like to do that.”

“I can’t ever thank you for all you’ve done for me.”

“That’s what friends do for each other, Joe.  You taught me that.”

I smiled up at the captain after he’d mounted the bay.  With a final handshake, he told me to thank Hop Sing again for filling his saddlebags and to my father for his generous hospitality.  I knew I’d probably never see my friend again. I knew we both were done with the army even in the event of another war. This would be the final goodbye even though we’d agreed not to say the words.

“Two canteens?” I said, glancing at them hanging from his saddle horn.

He reached down and patted them both. “Two canteens.”

“Till we meet again—”

 

The End