Hey, brother. You keep telling me not to worry. Everything will be all right.

Don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not the worrier in the family. We all know that. Life rolls over me easy, like water from a stream. You’re the one who’s always thinking too hard about things. Don’t you worry yourself, Adam. Everything will turn out just fine. 

You’re right about one thing. Something’s wrong with me, but I’m not sure what to do about it. Right now, I’m lying on my own bed, and my body is hot and cold and hurts so much that I bite through my lip trying to hold it in. I’m drifting off again. Back to the dream. Sorry. A fellow can’t stay in this kind of pain for long, and you can’t hardly blame me for not wanting to stick around. How did you get me all the way home anyhow? Can’t remember much, but it must have been one hell of a ride. Strange voices in the room. Irish. Talking about periodicals and medicine and God knows what else. I’m only listening for your voice. I have things I need to tell you, but none of it comes out right. Moaning down deep in my throat. Everyone is talking hushed, like someone is dying. If it was me, you’d think I’d know it. But you keep talking to me, low and gentle. 

“It’s all right, Joe,” you say. “You’re going to be all right.” 

But I could have told you that.

I’m awake enough to be sorry for the way our hunting trip turned out. About the wolf and the bullet, and the long, long ride back. I only remember enough of that ride to know what it cost you. You keep telling me that wolf can’t get to me now. I want to believe you. You always tell me the truth; it’s something I’ve always been able to count on. But I’m having trouble getting through the next minute right now, big brother. 

It’s funny where pain can take you… 

Fever dreams. And I’m drifting again. In my mind, I’m going back to the high country, back to our hunting trip at the gorge. Dreaming of our last night at camp. I’m there again. 

Neither of us sleep much, knowing that the wolf is out there. The moon’s so bright, it feels like the sky glows over our heads. He bays into the night. He’s taunting us, and I’m ready to go after him right then and there. You won’t let me. Foolhardy, you say. We don’t have time for foolish mistakes. You can’t go wolf hunting in the dark. 

We wake up to the damn wolf, still howling. In a sour mood, I heat the water for coffee over the fire. It’s our last morning before we’re supposed to head back, and you’re laughing at me for being so upset about going home without getting what we’re after. You say I’d only give up on bagging that wolf when I’m as gray-haired as Pa.

“I’m going to tell Pa you said that,” I say with a sidelong glance, and you grin and push me off the log.

“Hey,” I protest and make a half-hearted attempt at shoving you back.

You smile but tell me, “We’re going home today. And I don’t want to hear anything else about it.” 

That’s what you say. But you don’t fool me, brother. You want that wolf just as bad as I do. 

Sure, you’ve got plenty of reasons for us to get back to the ranch. Can’t keep hunting a rogue wolf forever, no matter how many calves we lose. Hoss can’t do our chores on his own for any longer. It’s not fair, and we’ve been gone long enough. We’re short-handed this week, what with Hop Sing and the hands out on the range. You’re not even sure why Pa sent both of us on this trip in the first place. I was going off alone, but right before I left, Pa asked you to come along. Didn’t make much sense, and when you asked why, he said it was just a feeling. 

“Call it a father’s intuition.” 

That’s what Pa said when I was coming down the stairs. I froze, eavesdropping on the landing. You shrugged at him, raising an eyebrow. 

“He’s got to grow up sometime, Pa.” 

“Humor me,” Pa said with a smile. “I’d feel better knowing you were together.”

I grumbled about it, but truth be told, I was glad for the company. And so were you. It’s been a long time since we were out on a trip together… It goes way back to our last stop at Eastgate. Before you set off on your own. I remember that trip as well as you…. but we don’t talk about that much. In fact we don’t talk about it at all. It happened before we lost you. Before you were lost in the desert with Peter Kane… There’s things that don’t get said. Even in a family like ours.

So I try to talk you into staying with me a little longer. We can’t give up now. Not when we’re this close to hunting him down. Sure, it’s been days, and that wolf’s been leakin’ out of the landscape each and every time we think we’ve got him cornered. I don’t give up easy, and you know what? Neither do you. We’re alike that way. You can call it obstinacy if you gotta put a fancy label on it. Pa calls it being plain mule-headed. I call it wanting to win. And we both want to win, don’t we, brother?

“Sure wish I could have had him in my sights just once,” I tell Adam over coffee. It’s afternoon already, and we’ve been resting up after a fruitless morning of chasing that wolf up and down every ravine in the county. I can’t stand it. I pour out my coffee and reach for my rifle. I can hear him; he’s got to be nearby. “You know, he doesn’t sound that far off.”

“Where you going?” you ask me. 

“Have a look see. You take it easy.”

You don’t stop me, and I don’t stick around the campfire long enough for you to change your mind. As I swing into the saddle, I see you shake your head and pour out the water over the smoking embers. After that, I don’t look back. We’re in this together, but I’m going to get there first.

On my horse, I maneuver through rocks and boulders, edging toward a small bowl at the bottom of the gorge. That wolf is waiting for me there. I just know it. Then I see him. I get off a shot from my rifle, but he darts around the corner. The word “nemesis” comes to mind. It’s your kind of word, the kind I like to stay away from, but that wolf has earned it this time. The ravine is too narrow. I can’t follow on horseback any further, and I swing down, loosely tying Cochise to some chaparral. Stay there, boy. I’ll be right back. 

I’m close enough I can almost smell that wolf. Animal sweat and dust are mixing it up underneath the bright sun. I crouch behind a big outcrop of rock. My back’s up against it, and I can feel the bones in my arms aching, just from holding my rifle upright. Then I see him. I get off another shot but miss. Something is happening. The dream is fading. I’m sweating something fierce, and I don’t know why. 

There’s something I’m forgetting. Something that has already happened. I sway in my dream, closing my eyes, and violent pain comes flooding in. What the matter with me? How can I be this sick, like I’m coming down with something I don’t understand? I’m fine, I’ve got to be fine. We both should be fine. I’ve been looking forward to this for a time. Ever since Kane took our last trip together and turned it into something else, something ugly. Something we don’t talk about. 

“Adam! Adam!” 

I’m hurting, and I’m crying out so you’ll hear, but I can’t remember why. I open my eyes, and I’m back in my bedroom. You’re hunched over me, worried as hell, and I’m sorry about that. But I can’t tell you not to worry. Words are getting stuck in my throat. I feel like I’ve swallowed ashes. 

I’ve got to get back to the hunt. This isn’t over. The wolf is still waiting. Close my eyes, back off from the pain, finish this. So I’m creeping around the rocks. Gotta stay focused. Don’t think about Kane torturing my brother in the desert. Just go after that wolf. Stay focused. I will be fine, but that wolf won’t be fine once one of us has a clear shot at him. Doesn’t matter which one of us pulls the trigger. You or me. One way or other, it’s a Cartwright who took care of it. 

I’m skirting the edge of the ravine, playing the game. Hunter and prey. Which is which? I could swear that the wolf is tracking me, but last night, you rolled your eyes when I said so. Told me I’m imagining things. I don’t imagine things. That’s not me. But I also don’t worry, and I keep hearing you in my head. Don’t worry. It’s all right Little Joe. He can’t get you boy.

It makes no sense. You’re not with me anymore. I’m alone and sweating up something fierce, and it’s not from the sun this time. Hot and cold, up and down, the world is spinning under my feet. I can hardly keep standing on it. Shaking my head to clear it, I have to move on. I’m sidestepping along an arch of rock that tunnels down to the canyon. The sun’s low in the sky but already hot. Montpelier Gorge borders the high desert. Too close for comfort.

I’ve never liked the desert. Can’t stop thinking about Eastgate. Salt Flats. Telegraphing Pa that I’d lost you. Worst two weeks of my life, Adam. Don’t want to leave you alone again. Never good to be alone. Kane took two weeks from you that we won’t ever get back. Pa says I’ve got to let go of it, but I still feel like it was my fault. I shouldn’t have let you go off alone, shouldn’t have stayed to watch the trial of Obadiah Johnson. I told Hoss how I felt, and he said that kind of guilt is foolishness talkin’. Only God can know what’s going to happen, and only God has the good sense to know why. There ain’t no changing it. What’s done is done, but I can’t forget the day I saw you cry. 

Can’t forget Peter Kane and his blistered face. Evil. I knew it the second I laid eyes on him. You were delirious, half dead, dragging a dead man behind you. Do you remember it? We don’t talk about it. Not ever. Some things are best put aside, but for some reason, I can’t do that now. Pain’s wearing me down. Can’t rein in my imagination. I keep thinking about those two weeks in the desert. The dead man’s body strapped to that travois you rigged, hauling it across the scrub. It took a whole lot longer for you to come back to us. Pa said to let you be. Pa said that there are some things a man never forgets, but he does move on, and in time, you would heal. He said you have to take healing on faith, even if you don’t see it happen.

I want to get things right this time. God helps those who help themselves. I hope that’s not true, God. I don’t think I can help myself or you or anyone else right now. You should keep talking to me. I’m calling you, but you’re not anywhere. Things aren’t right. I’m getting confused like I’m tracking in circles. God, it hurts. The sun burns hot, I’m tracking this wolf, and I can’t remember where I’m supposed to be going. Was I shot? I think I was shot, but it’s not making sense even to me. Everything hurts, and I don’t know where you are, Adam. Can’t track my own thoughts, let alone a wolf.

I’m sure you’re nearby, and I should let you know where I am. I should call out and let you know my position. Instead, I hold back, even though I know better. This is my call. Giving you warning would scare away the wolf, and I want this bad. So do you. When you agreed to let me have one more try at going after him, you laughed. Can’t remember the last time you laughed like that, almost like you were having a good time. You used to laugh all the time, before you met Kane. Gotta be a good thing that you’re laughing again…

I’m coming around the rock towards the wolf. Finally. The clear shot I’ve been waiting for. I lift my rifle to my shoulder. Steady, Joe, steady. I’m about to get off a shot, when it all falls apart. I hear the crack of gunfire before I feel it. Slammed down against the rocks, the bullet’s impact is more surprising than painful. It surprises the wolf too, and he’s lunging at me. On top of me. I’m fighting as hard as I can. Desperately, but I can see his teeth bared and feel them sinking down into my arm. I’m bleeding. There’s blood everywhere. Oh God, I’m going to die…

I open my eyes. I’m back in my own room, and I’m crying out for you. This time, you hear me and come closer. You sit on the edge of the bed, and I grab onto you.

“Adam? Adam. Get him off me. I’m shot, I’m so shot. Please, oh please…”

You’re gripping my arm tight. 

“Joe, he won’t get you. It’s all right, Joe. You’ll be all right, boy.”

I’m groaning deep in my throat, because I’m back there again. Trapped underneath the wolf, fighting with everything I’ve got to stay alive a little bit longer. Get him off me. Got to keep those fangs away from my throat…

But then I hear it. Two blessed shots. You did it, Adam , you really did it! You are hunched over me, after kicking aside the body of that wolf. 

“Joe, I didn’t mean it, I didn’t see you.”

You’re upset and shaking, but I don’t feel it. I don’t feel any pain yet, just admiration for some damn fine shooting. Wish it was me who got in that shot, but if it couldn’t be, then I’m awfully glad it was you.

“You got him, Adam.”

“Yeah, I got him.”

Bitter. You sound bitter. If I could only fight off the darkness that’s coming over me, I’d tell you not to be. There’s no room for bitterness, Adam. That’s what you learned from Kane, ain’t it? We all got to go through what we got to go through in this life. Don’t go and borrow trouble. Wouldn’t change this for anything.

Cool cloth on my forehead. I open my eyes, and I’m back in my room. You’re still with me, but this time we’re alone. No strange voices. You’ve got a glass to my lips, and you’re lifting my head, so I can drink it down. It’s bitter.

“Doc Hickman’s medicine, Joe,” you are saying quietly, “and it was hard won. You need to drink all of it. It’s going to see you through this.”

“Adam,” I gasp, but it’s too much for me to say anything else. Maybe it’s for the best. It’s like the sound of your own name breaks you. 

Your eyes fill up, and you whisper, “I didn’t mean it, Little Joe. I didn’t see you.”

Guilt. I’m too tired to tell you to let go of it. Life’s too short. Next time, let’s go fishing. I’ll bring the bait. You bring the poles. The trout will be rising come morning. Thanks for keeping me company, brother. Fever dreams can be lonely. I start to smile, and you stare at me, bewildered. Maybe that medicine’s good for something after all. I’m already starting to feel easy. No worries. Pain’s reining me in, even if the medicine takes the edge off it. Who knows if morning’s gonna come? Doesn’t matter. One way or the other, it’s been a good ride. 

We’re both holding on to what we can. You’ve laid up a lot for yourself, Adam. You hold onto your guilt. I’m holding onto your hand. People mend from things all the time. If you healed from Peter Kane, then maybe I’ll get better to boot. If not, then I reckon I’ll be waiting for the rest of you. Come along when you can.

From far away, I can hear Pa calling my name. “Joseph! Joseph!”

“He’s up here, Pa!”

Heavy footsteps on the stairs. The door swinging open, slamming into the wall. 

“Thank God, you’re here, Pa.” My brother’s broken voice. Always my brother’s voice beside me.

And I’m taking a long breath. Short exhale. Closing my eyes. I don’t dream about wolves anymore. 

You got him, Adam. I just knew you would.

THE END