Written for the 2016 Ponderosa Paddlewheel Poker Tournament

Summary:   WHN for The Truckee Strip. Unable to cope with Amy’s death, Joe has withdrawn from his family and shut everybody out. Will a trip alone to Placerville prove beneficial or disastrous?

Rating: T     Word Count: 9754

 

                                                                       The Act of Living 

She had told him that she was going to be all right. The doctor had said so. It had been a lie.

Joe had replied that Ben had given them that little piece of land down by the creek. “You can stick your feet in that old water anytime you want to.”

She had started to talk about their future home but stopped midsentence. Her eyes turned blank and still, her lungs came to rest. And Joe had felt his heart shatter, like a physical sensation. Like the tines of the pitchfork had plunged deep into Amy’s midriff, slicing through her intestines, Joe’s heart was broken.

He hadn’t remained kneeling at her side for long. With the hole in his chest throbbing and aching, he had shed a couple of tears before getting to his feet and leaving her dead body. Knowing that he had looked into her big, brown eyes for the very last time, he had pulled himself together and walked out to Luther Bishop, his own father and brothers, and Dr. Martin. “She said it could never be. A Cartwright and a Bishop.”

Joe had seen her one more time after that. A few days before the burial, which was to be held in private.

The calm night had come softly down over the Concho when Joe appeared. The house was hushed and tranquil. In the parlor lay Amy in her coffin, her long brown hair framing her beautiful face. It was the first and last time Joe had ever given her flowers. The sweet but modest flowers which his mother had planted in her bridal days and for which Joe had always had a secret, wordless love. He had gathered them and brought them to Amy, his anguished, tearless eyes burning. But he didn’t cry, and he didn’t stay long.

**********

Days turned into weeks, but that person who once stated that time heals all wounds, clearly hadn’t had his heart and soul so violently ripped out of his body. The person who said that couldn’t have lost themselves and the very meaning of their existence.

Joe lost himself in the fog of self-pity, hopelessness and guilt that beckoned. He had lied to Amy on her deathbed, told her how she would recover and live a happy life. Instead of telling her how much he loved her, he had let her die believing his lies. There was no forgiveness for that. But, above all, it was too painful to think about, to talk about, to face the fact that Amy was dead. The truth became unspeakable words, a foe he didn’t dare confront. If he did, he knew it would turn into a battle, which he would lose.

The pain and the loneliness had become a part of him. It was destroying him, but he had no other choice than to accept his destruction. The pain, the guilt, the sorrow, and realization of how hopeless and meaningless life really was, had filled the part of his soul that he still commanded. Those feelings were as immense as death itself. And there was nothing Pa or anybody could say or do to change it. To save him. Little Joe Cartwright was as dead as Amy Bishop.

Joe got up from his bed, made sure the bedroom was locked and listened carefully for sounds, despite knowing that his father and brothers had gone to Virginia City. Hop Sing’s ranting in Chinese combined with rattling tableware being put away in cupboards and clinking silverware placed in drawers made the whole house resound. Joe returned to the bed and threw himself down on the covers. With effort, he pulled the bottle out from under his pillow and drained the remaining content in one gulp. He felt its effects before it had even hit his stomach, soothing him to peace at last.

**********

Apart from the everlasting doctor’s appointments during his youth, Little Joe had always been open and honest about how he felt and what he had done or failed to do. Especially to his father. Joe had always been able to confide in Pa, and when things got rough, he knew he could count on Ben to give him the advice or support he needed. Until now.

That made Ben Cartwright feel utterly helpless. He knew his youngest son well enough to know that the boy was hurting more than he was willing to let on. Joe was the emotional one in the family. Yet, he hadn’t even cried since the Bishop girl’s tragic death. He had become withdrawn and quiet but pretended everything was okay. It was as if he’d shut everybody out, carefully keeping his family and friends at a distance.

Ben felt as if he were standing off to the side, watching as his son’s life force seeped out of him. How could he help him heal?

**********

The serving dishes clinked against their plates as they ate. The three oldest Cartwrights tried not to look at the morose face of the seventeen-year-old when he joined them, but they couldn’t help themselves.

“Are you sure this is what you want to do?” Ben asked as he handed the bowl to his youngest son. Joe put a potato on his plate even though he felt sick by the very sight of it. It was easier to do that; otherwise his father would keep urging him to take more food until he gave in. Food didn’t interest him anymore. He ate only because he needed to keep his appearance up and avoid drawing attention to himself. Hoss, on the other hand, always ate everything with a healthy appetite, and Adam carefully cut his meat into pieces before raising the fork to his lips.

Joe glanced at his older brothers as he reluctantly took a mouthful of potato. The food swelled in his mouth. He chewed mechanically and took a sip of water to be able to swallow the mushy substance as quickly as possible.

“Joseph?” Ben Cartwright gave his youngest son a disconcerted look.

“Yes, Pa?” Joe started and looked at his father as if he didn’t recognize him. He forced a smile. “Sorry, I was a million miles away. You were saying?”

“I asked if you are sure you want to leave for Placerville in the morning. It’s a long trip using the stagecoach, son.”

Joe nodded. “I’m sure. I think it would do me good getting away for a few days. You know, see some new things and clear my head…”

Ben smiled back. “Well, it’s not like you haven’t seen Placerville before. But I understand. A change could be good for you right now.”

“Sure could do me some good too,” Hoss butted in. “You sure don’t want some company?”

Knowing that the question contained more than just the appealing thought of a vacation, Joe forced himself to smile. “I’m sure. Besides, I remember your last trip to Carson City. The stagecoach driver said he’d tried to talk to you, but the only words you seemed to know were interjunktions like ‘dadburn’, ‘doggone’, ‘daggum’, ‘dadblast’, ‘goldarn’ and ‘dagnab’.”

“Interjections,” Adam corrected.

Joe nodded. “Yeah, a million interjunktions. You were fit to be tied.”

A sense of relief washed over Ben. It was good to see Little Joe smile. For the first time since Amy Bishop’s tragic death, his youngest son was chatty and animated.

In his heart, he knew there was a long road ahead, and the boy might suddenly slip back into the introverted state. Nothing was certain. But his son was a fighter, and maybe this was the first step. “I think that’s fine, Joseph. Just be careful. I don’t want you to get in any trouble over there, understand?”

“I won’t. I really just need to be by myself for a while. I’m not gonna spend the nights playing poker or getting myself involved in any bar fight. I promise.” Joe looked his father straight in the eye, and he meant every word of what he said.

“That’s good, son,” Ben smiled. That sounds really good.

“Thanks, Pa.”

**********

The stagecoach rocked hypnotically, the rattling monotonously strangely soothing and unnerving at the same time. Joe stared out the window, watching the landscape flash past. Everything was different shades of green. The speed of the stagecoach blurred the edges and turned the world into an abstract painting.

“Beautiful day, isn’t it?”

Joe turned and looked at the young lady in the seat opposite him. She was dressed in blue cashmere and the sun made her lustrous sugar-brown curly hair shimmer. Her smile began at the corners of her lips and spread over her face in a slow, subtle, very charming way.

“Yes,” Joe mumbled halfheartedly. “Beautiful day.”

“My name is Nancy,” she said. “Nancy Wells.”

“Joe Cartwright.”

“I’m pleased to meet you, Mr. Cartwright,” she said extending her hand. Joe cautiously took her hand in his. “Likewise, Mrs. Wells.”

“Actually, it’s ‘Miss’. I am not married,” she corrected, still smiling.

“I’m sorry.” Joe felt himself blushing. “Where are you going, Miss Wells?”

“Placerville,” she replied.

Joe couldn’t help returning her smile. “Placerville, huh? Kind of a rough place for a girl to visit alone.” For a moment he forgot Amy. For a short while he felt like the Little Joe Cartwright he used to be. Charming, good-natured and full of life.

Nancy Wells’ smile broadened, her eyes so brown and radiant in the flickering light. “I am not going there for a visit. I live there. My father owns the General Store.”

“I’m heading for Placerville too,” Joe explained. “But only for a brief visit.”

**********

After a long dusty ride, the stage reached its destination. Joe assisted Nancy as she stepped out of the coach. He fetched their luggage as the stagecoach driver tossed down the two suitcases.

“Miss Wells, will your father be here to meet you?” Joe asked chivalrously. They had stopped being formal with each other after a couple of hours of small talk.

The young woman shook her head. “I’ll walk from here. It’s not far. My house is only a block away.”

Joe frowned. “You’re walking alone?”

She laughed. “I’m used to it. The miners are usually too busy drinking and gambling and fighting to notice a plain girl walking by.”

Joe looked her deep in the eyes. “You are not plain, Nancy. So would you mind if I escorted you home?” He gave her a crooked smile. “Besides, I could use the walk after being cooped up in than stagecoach for two days.”

“Well, since you put it that way, Mr. Cartwright…” she replied and slipped her hand through his crooked arm.

**********

“This is it,” Nancy said as they entered the porch to one of the houses on the main street. “Thank you for being such a gentleman, Little Joe.”

“It was my pleasure,” Joe replied. “Take care, Nancy Wells.” He turned and started walking toward one of the many saloons in this town. He really needed to get hold of a bottle.

“Little Joe?”

He stopped in his tracks and glanced at her over his shoulder. “Yes?”

Nancy approached him and he faced her again. “There is a barn dance tomorrow at the Wilson’s. I know it’s not very ladylike for a girl to ask, but… Would you like to be my escort?”

Joe stopped breathing. His mouth was open but nothing came out. He wanted to shout “Yes! Yes! I want to dance and laugh and have fun. I want to look into a pair of brown eyes that give me warmth in return. I want to sit close to someone, I want to share my hopes and plans and dreams with a pretty girl and see them all come true. I want to live!” “I’m sorry,” he said curtly. “I can’t.” He swallowed hard.

“I see …” Nancy couldn’t conceal the disappointment on her face. Joe pressed his lips together hard. “Oh well,” Nancy said, trying to laugh. “That’s life. Some other time, maybe?”

Closing his eyes, Joe felt tears coming on. “I don’t think so,” he whispered, no longer able to look at her. He tried to fix his gaze out in the distance, but the moist in his eyes made everything run together in a mist. Grief welled up from somewhere deep inside him, and tears started running down his cheeks. He began to sob, and he wiped his nose with his sleeve. Finally, he walked back to the porch and sat down. With his head in his hands he gave up all attempts to wipe off his face or quench the tears.

Nancy sat down next to him. Without words, she put her arms around him to console him. But Joe shook her off. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’ve gotta go.”

**********

Joe swiped away the last tears as he entered the saloon and threw some money down on the bar. “A bottle of whiskey.” The bartender flashed him a peculiar look before picking up the money and handing the young man a bottle and a glass. Joe picked up the bottle and left the saloon. On the street, he opened his bag, replaced one of the five empty bottles with this new one. He returned to the bar and placed the empty bottle along with some more money under the barkeeper’s nose. “Another one thanks.”

**********

With his bag pleasantly heavier, Joe checked into the closest hotel. A sleepy clerk signed him up in the register with one hand and reached for the key to room number 12 with the other. Joe couldn’t get to the room fast enough. It was late and he was desperate for a drink. Grabbing one of the bottles, he threw the bag in a corner and himself on the bed.

He gulped down the liquid, felt it burn his throat. Cotton wool for brain, a chance to dull the pain and misery. And shame. He had betrayed Amy. The sweet, innocent, loving, beautiful young lady who would have been his wife. He had charmed and playfully flirted with another woman. But that wasn’t the worst. He had allowed himself to enjoy Nancy Wells’ company. For just a brief time he had forgotten about everything that had happened to Amy. Nancy had made him feel alive again. Like the Little Joe he used to be. So blithe. So naive.

He took a few more swigs of liquor and stuffed the half empty bottle under the pillow out of sheer habit.

He had always assumed that the Ponderosa would be there. That the family would always have money. That his Pa and brothers would always be there. That the love of his life wouldn’t be speared with a pitchfork that was meant for him.

Amy, he thought. Oh God, I really do love you, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.

Joe felt that the world was toppling over. The pitchfork sticking out of Amy’s midriff, Dr. Martin’s concerned expression. The look in Amy’s eyes and the smile on her lips just before she died. Nancy Well’s wordless bewilderment beside him on the porch, her arms circling around him.

His insides turned into razor blades and shards of ice, cutting him when he breathed.

Getting up on unsteady legs, Joe staggered over to the door; the floor under his feet was rolling. It got worse when he entered the corridor outside the hotel room. He had to support himself against the wall. I’m going to break, he thought. I can’t do it. I won’t make it outside. I’ll throw up right here on the floor.  

He made it back to the room and threw up in the water basin.  He caught sight of his eyes in the mirror. The pupils were enlarged, almost covering the irises, as if the hole in his chest was reflected in his eyes.

**********

Joe woke up and found himself staring at a white curtain. He had no idea where he was. His head felt like a lump of rock, and there was a big black hole in his chest.

The stagecoach. The girl. Placerville. The three different saloons where he got the new bottles. The hotel room. Reality. He was lying fully clothed in bed with his head burrowed into the pillow and his hair dripping with sweat. The weight of his feet told him that he hadn’t even removed his boots. He kicked off the damp covers, pushing them to the foot of the bed.

Restlessness churned inside him. He grabbed the bottle from under his head and realized it was empty. Unsteadily, he got to his feet and stumbled over a chair on his way to the corner where he had set the bag.

Grabbing a bottle, Joe sank to the floor and leaned against the wall, facing the window. He still hadn’t sobered up after yesterday night’s binge. The whiskey did its work quickly despite his weeks of hard drinking.

**********

The sunlight shrieked loudly at him, reminding him of something he only wanted to forget. Nancy Wells charming smile when she started talking to him on the stagecoach. “Beautiful day, isn’t it?” Why in hell was she going to ruin everything? Why couldn’t she just leave him alone? That stupid, impetuous Nancy Wells, she thought only of herself. Sweet and innocent on the outside, but nothing beneath the surface. Nothing like Amy.

 Joe needed to feel that loving warmth, needed to get lost in a couple of beautiful eyes, needed to stroke a soft cheek with his fingertips. He needed to throw his arms around someone and hold her close for a long time. A touch, a kiss, a whisper of love. He needed to share what he was feeling, but not with anyone except Amy. And she was gone.

“Damn it!”

He roared and flung the bottle straight at the wall. The amber liquid sprayed across the tapestry and he observed the effect with satisfaction.

Slowly, he sank back into the familiar fog with the smell of old vomit hanging in his nostrils.

**********

The sun was still shining on his face, blinding him when he opened his eyes. Joe looked up at the ceiling, then across at the window. He remembered Amy, her smell, her laughter, and those radiant brown eyes. The realization that she would never again be more than a fading memory had left him stiff, numb and cold.

If only Nancy had been different, Joe thought vaguely. If only she’d been forward and outgoing. Curvy and blond and fashionable. If only he had noticed a girl for something Amy didn’t have, but Nancy was so much the same. Same sort of look. Same kind of youthful conduct.  That made the sense of betrayal magnified somehow. Nobody could ever replace Amy. He was a fool for letting himself be duped into believing that life would ever be worth living again.

It wasn’t anything superficially wrong with Nancy. But she was wrong as a person. Her attitude to life was wrong, her spontaneity and ingenuousness. And she wasn’t Amy.

As tears of self-pity started to bubble up, he looked up at the ceiling and forced them back with sheer bloody-minded willpower.

There was something up there. Placed in the middle of the ceiling was a hook. Absentmindedly, Joe reached for another bottle while studying the dark, crooked metal. It had been placed there for one single purpose, and his eyes riveted to the chair that he’d stumbled over this morning.

Joe picked up the chair and moved it to right under the hook.

He went over to the bed, pulled the mattress off, and threw it on the floor. A rope was secured to the headboard with a tight slipknot. He grabbed hold of it and started pulling and tugging. The rope bed was laced tightly, and it took a while to untie the knot. With aching fingers, he unstrung it from the rail.

The walls were closing in on him, his legs buckled and he fell to the floor. He clasped his legs, and his breathing became more and more shallow, rigid and convulsive.

No more, he couldn’t take any more. The pain was all consuming and relentless. Joe pulled himself to a sitting position, reached for the bottle and took a long draw. Resting his head on his arms, he closed his eyes and listened to himself breathe. There was no point in putting it off any longer. He might as well get it over with. Holding the bottle in one hand and grabbing the rope with the other, he got to his feet.

He tied a slipknot into the end of the rope and tugged on it to make sure it wouldn’t release. When it was secured, he let the loop slide through it, and climbed up on the chair and tied the rope to the hook. The snare dangled freely in front of his face.

It was a pity, he thought. About all the bottles that were still unopened. But it wouldn’t matter much longer. Soon it would be over. The jerk on his neck would make the process short. He grabbed the noose with his hands; let his head slide through like a collar.

**********

Nancy carried the heavy box through the hotel entrance and to the reception desk where the lethargic clerk Mr. Porter was sleeping on the counter.

“Excuse me, sir?” she said in a loud voice. “I have a special delivery.”

The older man reacted like a little boy on Christmas morning. “Very good,” he smiled. “I’ve been expecting this. It was expensive, but it will all be worth it in the end. A chandelier-lit lobby is going to make all the difference in the world for the business…”

Nancy smiled back at him and looked around. The entrance was dark and unfashionable. But a chandelier this small? The owner must be desperate for more business, Nancy thought and glanced at the hotel register. She recognized one of the names.

“Just imagine how the flickering light would attract the society,” the clerk continued, throwing out his arms. “The improvements that could be made, like a new carpet on the floor. Groups of armchairs and small tables placed at regular intervals along one wall—”

When Mr. Porter paused to take a breath, Nancy saw her chance to extricate herself from the conversation.”That sounds really nice, Mr. Porter,” she said. “It was terribly nice talking to you, but unfortunately I have another errand to run. I’m sure you understand.” She nodded graciously and hurried to say goodbye before heading for the staircase.

Raising her hand to knock on the door to room number 12, Nancy stopped. A sense of unease began to take hold, she couldn’t explain what or why, but something was wrong. She felt the door and realized it wasn’t locked. Without thinking, she pushed it open and looked in. The sight made her freeze to ice. She wanted to scream but felt mute. Oh God, this can’t be happening!

 **********

Joe saw the silhouette of a human standing in the doorway, silently staring at him. He raised himself to a sitting position on the floor. “What are you doing here?” he slurred.

“Joe Cartwright, what in God’s name is the matter with you?” It was a woman, a young woman. Her voice panic-stricken, exasperated.

“Get out of here.”

She walked up to him. “I am. And you’re going with me to the doctor’s office.”

“I’m not sick,” Joe mumbled.

“Good, then it won’t take long to get you a clean bill of health,” she retorted, more composed now. Joe recognized her. It was Nancy, the girl from the stage.

He hid his head in his hands. “I couldn’t do it.”

“You couldn’t kick the chair aside?”

He nodded.

She sighed. “Why, Little Joe? What were you trying to accomplish?”

He did a double take, suddenly enraged. “What exactly do you want?” he roared.

“Take it easy,” the girl responded sharply. “I want to take you to the doctor’s office. And you can either act civilized and come with me, or you can make a scene and have a few strong men come in here and drag you there while the whole town is watching. That’s up to you. But you are going to the doc regardless.”

Joe stopped short, realizing that he was standing. Swaying, furious, his left hand bunched into a fist and raised – what the hell was the matter with him?

He tumbled back down on the floor and she caught his upper body in her arms, falling to her knees. Joe’s head rested in the crook of her elbow.”I’m sorry,” he said. “God, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

Nancy ran her hand over his hair. “I know, don’t worry about it.” She continued to stroke his hair until Joe made a move to sit up. Holding his arm, Nancy helped him into a sitting position.”Can you walk?” she asked. He shook his head.

“Put an arm around my shoulder and lean on me then,” she said. “Come on, let’s go.”

Joe did as he was told. He put his arm around her shoulders for support while she helped him through the door and down the stairs. For such a tiny thing, she was remarkably strong.

**********

Nancy walked up the stairs to Dr. Larson’s office where Little Joe had stayed over the night. When she brought him here yesterday, the physician had examined him thoroughly. Joe Cartwright he had been severely intoxicated, as well as dehydrated. Other than that, he wasn’t in too bad shape physically.

She knocked cautiously on the door to the spare room. “Little Joe? Hello? It’s Nancy. May I come in?” No answer. She stood there bewildered. Feeling extremely uncomfortable with the situation, she took a deep breath and pushed open the door. Joe Cartwright lay on the bed, glancing vacantly at her.

“A gentleman would at least have answered when a lady came calling,” she said as she sat down on a chair beside the bed.

“A lady would have waited for an answer before barging through the door,” Joe replied.

Nancy smiled. “Touché. How are you feeling?”

“I’m going back to the hotel in an hour,” he answered morosely.

Nancy turned serious.”I’m worried about you.”

“There’s no need to worry,” Joe said, without conviction. “I’ll be fine.”

“Joe, don’t get upset, but I don’t think you should be alone right now. Why don’t you stay with me and my father at our place? Maybe that would—”

Joe cut her off abruptly. “No. I came here to be alone. I appreciate the offer, but I’ve got to work this out on my own. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to rest before I go back to the hotel. Thank s or stopping by.” He leaned back and closed his eyes.

Nancy hesitated. “If you say so. I’m going to come by twice a day and make sure you’re all right. And if you don’t open the door or if you give me the slightest reason to worry, I’m going to use the trump card I’m holding.”

“What trump card? What are you talking about?”

“I’m going to wire your father. And tell him exactly what happened yesterday, the condition you were in and what I found hanging from the ceiling.”

Joe stared at her openmouthed.

“You can’t be serious,” he said, giving Nancy a deeply suspicious look. “Are you threatening to telegraph my father and squeal on me for having a little too much to drink and being a little moody?”

“That’s putting it mildly,” she answered, “but yes. I’m absolutely serious. And I won’t mince my words.”

“You have no right to interfere in my life like that!” Joe stood up quickly, put his hands on the arms of the chair, and leaned over Nancy, sudden fury blazing in his eyes. The young woman met his eyes and replied calmly, “If you do something destructive like that again, I don’t only have the right. I owe it to your family, to myself and to you. Do you have any idea what could have happened if you put that noose around your neck?”

Joe breathed heavily, looking down into her face. He clenched his jaw so tight, his skin turned white. Then he seemed to relax and took several deep breaths, and it sounded like sobs. “Oh God,” he said and sat down on the bed again with one hand covering his eyes. “I wanted a way out,” he said, his voice was reduced to a hiss. “But I don’t think I really wanted to die. Not really.”

“I know. You’re too strong a person.”

“It’s not strength,” Joe replied bleakly. “You have no idea how much courage it would take to kick that chair.”

“Actually, I do,” Nancy said. “And it doesn’t take much courage to do it. Not really. It only takes one second of determination. After that, it’s out of your hands. And unless someone intervenes, it’s up to everybody else to clean up the mess. That’s not courage. It’s cowardice.”

Joe sat up in bed.”Wait a minute. Are you telling me that—”

“Yeah. Almost a year ago.”

Joe looked at the girl with fresh eyes, through a mixture of bewilderment and sympathy. “What happened?” he asked softly.

“My twin brother Henry died of pneumonia. We were very close, and I felt like my life was ripped apart. Everything was chaos. I couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep, couldn’t think. And I tried to end it the only way I could think of; with a snare in my father’s storeroom. I thought it would be over in a second, but I kept dangling with the pain around my neck, unable to breathe. My father found me in time, thank God.” She looked him straight in the eyes and continued. “I didn’t understand that suicide is forever; not only for you, but for everybody around you. Your family and friends. They are the ones left behind with the suicide’s legacy of pain.”

Joe was silent for a while, contemplating what she just said. “How are you holding up now?” he asked with genuine concern.

“I’m doing all right,” she replied. “At that time, I didn’t think it was possible to ever feel happiness again. But as time passes, the good days outnumber the bad. And I’m truly grateful to be alive.”

“How were you able to move on?” he whispered.

“I learned to think about Henry the way he used to be when we grew up. He was my brother, but he was also my best friend. And I want to remember him the way he was when he was alive. Not the pain of losing him, but the legacy of his life.”

“I know you’re right Nancy,” Joe replied, “but it’s so very hard. I can’t get away from the pain. Not without drinking.”

Nancy got up from her chair and sat down beside him on the bed. “I know how painful it is, Little Joe. Right now, there’s nothing but pain and anger. But you mustn’t keep running from the pain and hiding behind the anger. It doesn’t work. Trust me, I’ve tried. Face the pain, and it will subside and allow you to heal. You can trust me on that too. And for the same reason.” She gently stroked his cheek and continued, “And believe me, there will be so much more in your life.”

Despite the sadness of the situation, Joe felt something like joy come to life and cultivate in his heart.

**********

Joe’s legs were heavy when he walked up the stairs and entered his room at the hotel. His head was full of new thoughts, mixed up with the want of alcohol. It felt like walking through water. His gaze swept over the room. The floor was clean and somebody had removed the rope from the hook in the ceiling. He went over to his bag and pulled out a bottle.

The decision was made without him really being aware of it. The look in his eyes was resolute as he grabbed all the bottles and rushed out of the building. Stopping in an alley, Joe unscrewed the cap of the first whiskey bottle, and poured the liquid out into the dirt. He repeated the process for all the bottles, one by one. It was over.

As a second step away from the old misery that had become his existence, Joe arranged for a tub to be brought up to his room, along with buckets of steaming water. And with fresh clothes and his hair still wet, he decided to take a walk down to the General Store.

He found himself smiling when he saw Nancy helping an older lady pick out material for a dress. She glanced up and smiled back as she saw him enter. Little Joe touched the brim of his hat and turned sideways, allowing her to take her time with the customer.

“Good afternoon, sir. What can I do for you?” an older man inquired, briskly, tapping the counter with both hands.

Joe hadn’t taken into account that the owner, Mr. Wells, might not like the idea of young men coming into his store, without any other business than to glance at his beautiful daughter.

“Yes, sir. Uhm, I’m looking for… for… well… a pair of… snowshoes,” Little Joe heard himself stammer.

Mr. Wells looked rather surprised to hear this young man inquiring for snowshoes in California in the middle of May.

“I might have one or two pairs in the storeroom,” he said. “Let me go and have a look.”

Joe saw the man disappear into the storeroom and fought the urge to turn and run out of the store. But the sight of Nancy made him pull himself together and stay put, nonchalantly leaning over the counter.

Mr. Wells returned with a smile on his face and a pair of snowshoes in his hand. “Anything else?”

Little Joe glanced desperately in Nancy’s direction. She was still discussing sewing patterns with the older lady. “Well, as a matter of fact,” Joe said to Nancy’s father, “there is another thing I would like to… look at. Before I forget it… It’s… uh…” He glanced at Nancy again, and her father couldn’t help but chuckle when he realized who this crazy kid was.

“You must be the boy Nancy met on the stage. Little Joe, isn’t it?” He held out his hand and Joe took it.

“Joe Cartwright, sir.”

The older lady came to get her material wrapped in paper and to mark the purchase down in the book. When she left the General Store, Nancy’s father introduced himself as Karl Wells. He had heard about the Cartwrights and didn’t seem too suspicious of Little Joe, which was the only thing that struck Joe as odd about the store owner. Those snowshoes should have given most rational fathers pause.

**********

Nancy stayed true to her word and paid Joe two visits every day. They started to take walks together and during one of those walks, he told her about Amy.  He let her know about the feud, about the Bishops and the Cartwrights, and that they’d kept their love a secret until he broke down and told his father.

“All that land meant a lot to him, but he said it wasn’t his whole life.”

Amy had only been a name before. Part of the family Joe was supposed to stay away from, but he had fallen in love with her. Little Joe Cartwright wanted to marry Amy Bishop.

“I apologized for not telling him before. Started to explain that it was because I knew how he felt about Luther Bishop.”

Joe lapsed into pensive silence The memory of his father’s words flashed through his mind.

“Oh, son,” Ben reached for his son’s shoulders. “Are we so far apart, boy? I’ve never held my land above my sons. Before that’d happen, I’d destroy the Ponderosa.”

 Tears welled up in Joe’s eyes. He had to gather himself before responding. “I guess we won’t have any trouble talking anymore, Pa.”

Joe blinked a few times and took a deep breath before turning his attention back to Nancy. He told her how Luther Bishop had agreed to let Amy make up her own mind when it came to the matter of marriage. For a short moment, Joe had been at the height of happiness. A short moment before his whole world crashed in around him.

Finally, he shared with Nancy how Bishop’s trusted foreman had tried to force himself on Joe’s intended bride, the fight that followed, and the pitchfork Jessup threw that was meant for him but hit Amy instead.  He talked about their final conversation, his feelings of guilt, and how the pain of losing her still ripped through his heart. The human condition was so terrible, the price was so atrociously high.

“I was prepared to do whatever it took to escape it. I realized that whiskey made me feel numb. And I started drinking, alone. I couldn’t tell Pa or my brothers. I couldn’t tell anybody.”

“But now you’re telling me,” Nancy’s voice quavered. “And you are facing it without the liquor.”

Joe nodded. “I didn’t ever want to love or care for anybody again. Not if this was how it would end. But meeting you at the stage… it made me forget. Forget to keep my guard up. You made me feel alive again, and I hated you for it.” He glanced at her, worried how she would take that last confession. Nancy responded by putting her arm around his waist.

Joe stopped and turned to face her. Ever so gently, he let his hands slide around her shoulders and pulled her to him. She looked into his green eyes, taking in their depths and seeing the sorrow there. Meeting her gaze, so brown and brilliant, Joe stroked her cheek and lowered his lips to hers. Nancy hesitated momentarily, then responded. She wrapped her arms around him, let her hands run through his back while the kiss deepened.

Suddenly and without warning, she turned away from him. “I’m sorry…”

Joe stood there, confused and unsettled. “Nancy? Nancy, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“No,” she interrupted, “don’t be. Don’t apologize.” She swallowed and met his eyes again. “As much as I would love for this to happen, it can’t. At least not now.”

“I don’t understand, Nancy. Why?” Suspicion hit him. “There’s somebody else, isn’t there?”

She shook her head. “No, there’s nobody else.”

“You just don’t feel for me… the same way I feel for you?”

“I think I feel more for you than you do for me.” Tears welled up in her eyes. “That’s the problem.”

“You don’t know how special you are to me,” Joe said quietly. “You are the only person in the world who understands me. You make me feel so alive and happy again.”

Nancy put her arms around his shoulders again and pressed her cheek against his. “I really care for you, Little Joe,” she said, “and I am proud to call you my friend. I could easily fall in love with you, but that wouldn’t be right. Because your heart still belongs to Amy.”

Joe buried his face in her hair, and Nancy continued. “I do understand you, but I’m not the only one who would. So would your father and your brothers, if you just gave them that chance. And as for happiness, I’m not the one who gave it to you. It was inside you all along.”

For a few long minutes, they simply stood like that.

“I’m going back home the day after tomorrow,” Joe finally said and disengaged himself from her arms. “I have a lot to talk to my Pa about. But I would like to come back for you, Nancy. Can I come back and see you again?”

“You know where to find me,” she whispered. “Take your time to sort things out with your family and yourself. And know that you will always have a very special place in my heart, Joe Cartwright.”

**********

Joe woke up the next morning by an unexpected knock on his door. He sat up in bed, bleary with sleep. Nancy didn’t use to show up this early in the morning, and her knocks used to be softer. Had something happened to her? Joe yanked off the cover and went to answer the door with an uneasy feeling in his stomach.

“Joseph…” The dark eyes that met him were worried.

“Pa? What are you doing here?” He stepped aside to allow his father to enter.

“I was in Placerville to discuss some business contracts, so I thought I’d just drop by and have a little chat.” Drop by? It was a day-and-a-half ride from the Ponderosa. If his father had business to discuss with somebody in Placerville, why didn’t he ask Joe to deliver that message, when he knew the youngest son was going there anyway? And since when did Ben Cartwright make social calls at four in the morning?

“I am here to apologize,” Ben said, answering Joe’s unspoken question as he stepped inside the room and closed the door behind him. “I know that you are hurting. And I respect your wish not to discuss with me what happened to Amy Bishop. You are entitled to your privacy. Every man grieves in his own way. But you are also entitled to know how I am feeling and what your brothers are thinking about your way of coping. Truth be told son, we were all worried about you.”

Ben sat down on the chair. The same chair Joe had failed to kick aside from under his feet only a few days ago. “Adam told me about a friend he met in Boston. A young man who studied medicine and dreamt of becoming a doctor. Your brother told me that your behavior the day before you left home reminded him of that friend.”

Joe sat down on the bed. “What happened to him?”

Ben sighed. “He had some personal problems and began to drink excessively. One night just before Christmas, he fell asleep in a ditch. It was snowing heavily and his body was soon covered. Needless to say, they didn’t find him in time.”

Joe stared down at his hands. Unable to meet his father’s eyes, he mumbled, “It’s true. I was drunk that day.”

Ben nodded but didn’t say anything.

“I thought you would be madder than a wet hen for telling you that,” Joe said, tearing his gaze away from his hands.

Ben put his hand on Joe’s shoulder. “I won’t lie to you and say that I am not disappointed, but I appreciate your honesty.”

“Pa, I’m sorry.” Joe’s voice sounded small and thin. “I’m so sorry, but I have been anything but honest these past weeks. I wanted to tell you, but I couldn’t at the time. I’ve been such a coward…” Joe noticed with frustration that sobs were rising in his throat.

“You are going through the most painful ordeal in life, the loss of someone you loved. That’s not an easy thing to share with anyone. I meant what I said about respecting your wish not to discuss it. But if it would help to let me share this with you, I’m more than happy to listen. That’s why I am here, Joseph.”

Joe took a deep breath, filling his lungs with resolve. He told the whole story for the second time. About the deadly fight with Pete Jessup and the pitchfork that stabbed Amy, and how she died talking about their future. How she took her last breath and the vision of his beloved Amy, lifeless, gone forever. How his own heart shattered and left nothing behind but pain.

He went on and told his father about the whiskey that dulled the pain and made him forget that he was alive. How he hid the bottles from everybody the same way he hid the suffering. That sharing his feelings with anybody would destroy him. To no use at all, because he was so sure life would never be worth living again.

Ben took a firm grip on his youngest son’s shoulders and looked him straight in the eyes. “I, if anyone, know how the loss of a loved one can affect a person. I know it only too well. I prayed that none of my sons would lose a woman to death the way I have. I don’t know why I didn’t see it. Why it took me so long to realize how much you needed me. I am sorry, son. But please Joseph, let me help you now.”

Joe twisted his arms out of his father’s grasp. “There is more, Pa. I tried to do something really bad.” He swallowed hard and took a deep breath. “I unlaced the rope from my bed. Then I tied it into a snare and hitched it to that hook in the roof. I wanted the pain to stop. I wanted an option. But I couldn’t do it, Pa. I stood there with the rope around my neck and wanted to kick that chair aside. But I couldn’t do it.” Tears welled up in the young man’s eyes. “I’m so sorry, Pa. You trusted me to take this trip alone, and I betrayed that trust.”

The ensuing silence enveloped them. Finally expressed, Joe’s words remained suspended in the air.

“What you did was incredibly reckless”, Ben said. “Incredibly dangerous. You can never do that again, Joseph. And part of me cannot even believe what you just told me. But another part of me understands. Another part of me knows the desperation you must have felt. And let me tell you why, son. Because that part of me once felt the same urge for a way out.”

Joe stared at his father with an expression of disbelief. “What do you mean?”

Ben met his young son’s gaze. The naked pain in his expression almost made Joe recoil.

“Twelve years ago, your mother fell from that horse. She left me alone to cope with the profound grief. Not only in my own heart, but in the hearts of three young boys as well.”

Ben closed his eyes as he allowed himself to sink into memories from when their world fell apart; succumb to the despair and the overwhelming helplessness he felt when his life had crumbled.

**********

The Ponderosa transformed from a place of life and joy and peace to the complete opposite. The whole house reminded Ben of what they had all lost. Not just their wonderful Marie, but also the life that they had all shared together as a family. In his heart, he had begun to think that it might be gone forever, and he didn’t know what to do.

“We were all devastated. For me, things got worse when the loss was combined with the anger and guilt that I couldn’t escape. I had three sons that needed their father, but I was too immersed in my own grief to be able to handle yours. A shared sorrow doesn’t always bring people closer together.” Ben spoke the words in a quiet voice, but even so they seemed to echo in the room.

The wounds in Ben’s soul were ripped open every night when he put his youngest son to bed and he asked for his mother. And again, when he lay on his side of the bed, next to the empty space that used to be Marie’s. The grief was overwhelming, thoughts and images kept whirling through his head. From the moment of Joseph’s birth to early the last morning when the boy had snuggled with them in bed, his brown curls tousled, his eyes lively with laughter. Was that laughter forever silenced?  Had Little Joe lost his joy, his faith that everything was good and that the next day would be even better?

 Hour after hour, Ben would lie in bed and stare up at the ceiling. Memories kept rushing in and filled him with an unbearable longing for a life that would never return.

Ben gave his son a somber look and continued, “The nights were endless and I had trouble sleeping. When the sun finally rose in the morning, I couldn’t make myself get out of bed and start another day. Life without your mother seemed too hard to face. I missed her, and no one could help me with that. I was grateful for the wonderful memories of our life together, but at the same time, I wished I could rip them out of my head, because that’s what hurt the most. I had no place to take the grief, anger and other feelings. My only solution at the time seemed to be numbing my feelings with alcohol.”

**********

Joe’s chest constricted; tears suspended like a veil in his eyes.

“As you know, I left you boys and went on a long trip. I rode without destination and I traveled light. I had everything I needed packed in my saddlebags – and in my gunbelt. I drank myself to sleep many nights in different saloons. One of the nights, I was kicked out. I stumbled back to the livery stable where I pulled out my gun, cocked it and held it to my head. But I never pulled the trigger.”

Something crumbled in Little Joe’s gaze. His eyes expressed something that Ben Cartwright had never seen before: an illusion had been shattered – Joseph had gained a certain insight about his father that had never before entered his mind.

“I didn’t know, Pa” Joe whispered. “I remember you going away and I remember…” His voice broke as the tears rolled from his eyes down his throat. “I remember asking Adam if you… had gone to Heaven to get Mama back. He grabbed me by the arm and screamed at me never to ask such a stupid question again. Then he let go and started to cry.” The pressure on his chest increased and he forced air into his lungs. Joe swallowed and continued. “I had never seen Adam lose it like that before and it scared me. It scared me so much because… I knew he was afraid too. That you had gone to Heaven and wouldn’t come back.”

Ben leaned forward and wrapped his arms round his son. His offer of comfort and reassurance robbed Joe of what little self-control he had left, and he wept with long wrenching sobs. In time, he raised his head from his father’s shoulder.

“I am so sorry you boys had to go through that,” Ben said, moving back to the chair across from Joe. “It was wrong of me to leave you to fend for yourselves so soon after your mother’s death.”

“But you came back,” Joe said, wiping his eyes on the sleeve of his nightshirt. “You didn’t go to Heaven. You never pulled that trigger. What made you come back to us?”

“You. I thought about you boys. I also thought about Marie. And Inger and Elizabeth. And I knew that I had to face the pain of moving on. Your mother – none of your mothers had the choice that I had. I had the opportunity to keep living, regardless of how miserable my future would be. I owed that to them, and to the three sons that were living parts of them. I owed it to you and your brothers to carry on the best I could.”

Once again, Ben let his hands fall on his young son’s shoulders. “Death wasn’t an option.”

A pained expression stole over Joe’s face. “Just the thought of losing you too… I never thought anything could be as terrible as losing Mama, but I was wrong. Losing you would have been worse, Pa. At least Hoss and Adam and I knew my Mama didn’t want to die. But if you pulled that trigger, we’d have known it was your choice to go.”

“I know, son. The pain of losing your father by his own hand would have been unbearable for you. Just as unbearable as it would be for me and your brothers if you gave up on your own life and ended it,” Ben replied.

**********

A few hours later, father and son were having breakfast together at the hotel restaurant. Joe sipped on his cup of coffee and Ben chewed on a sandwich with cheese, ham and a tired slice of tomato.

“I met a girl on the stage,” Joe said. Ben gave a look of surprise. “Her name is Nancy,” Joe continued. “Her father owns the General Store here in Placerville.”

Ben put his sandwich down on the plate and waited silently for his son to go on.

“She is a very special girl, Pa. She’s so sweet and innocent, but when push comes to shove, she’s certainly not a wimp. She says what’s on her mind. She’s rather forward, you might say, and it’s like she doesn’t give up.”

“You seem to have gotten to know her pretty well,” Ben said gravely.

Joe nodded. “She started talking to me on the stagecoach. There was a sense of warmth that reached out through her, embracing me like a hug, making me smile.” He paused, feeling slightly embarrassed in front of his father. “I thought it was because she reminded me of Amy, and I felt so guilty. Like I was trying to replace her. But Nancy is different. I know that now. She has been in the same darkness I’ve lived in the past weeks, and still she has the strength to live on and believe in the future.”

“And so can you, Joseph. You have the strength to live on and have a wonderful future.”

Silence descended again. A wistful, faraway look stole over Joe’s green eyes. “I really like her, Pa,” he said, “a lot.”

He pushed the coffeecup aside and stood up. “Mind if I excuse myself?”

Ben got up from his chair, reached over and gently placed his hand on his youngest son’s shoulder “We’ll talk more later,” he said gently, “if you want to.”

Joe nodded. “I want to. But there is something I have to do first.”

“Does this ‘something’ have anything to do with Nancy?”

Joe nodded again, his eyes blinking to excess. “It’s funny, you know… Sometimes we can have a right love at the wrong time in our lives. It’s the last thing I want to do, but I have to… let her go. And I owe her a proper goodbye.”

**********

Ben Cartwright, his heart full to overflowing, watched his youngest son walk through the lobby and out the front entrance of the hotel. He sat back down at the table and took a long, deep breath. His lungs felt hard to inflate, they were so filled with relief and the residue of pent-up worry. He had achieved his end. Yes. Absolutely. He had his son back. Ben exhaled.

**********

Joe walked silently through the reception and out into the street, crossing the road. The day dawned bright and shiny, but the wind was gusty. He turned up the collar of his jacket and made it quickly to the General Store. The store wasn’t opened yet, but Karl Wells opened the door for him without hesitation. “Good morning, Little Joe,” he smiled.

“Excuse me for bothering you this early in the morning,” Joe said, “but I just wondered…” He sought for words but found none. Appearing from the back of the store, Nancy stopped in mid-stride when she saw him. Her father looked from the young man to his daughter and back. “It looks like the two of you could use some fresh air,” he said. “Thank you for helping me unpacking, Nancy. I believe the rest of the goods can remain in their boxes for now.”

Nancy nodded mutely.  She walked past her father and Joe and opened the door.  She turned to look at the younger man as an indication to follow. As soon as the two of them reached the street, she turned to him with a concerned look on her face. “Has something happened?”

He forced a smile. “No. But I have something I wanted to say to you.” He fell silent.

“Let’s go for a walk,” Nancy said. “Then you can tell me what’s on your mind.”

**********

They made their way down the main street.

“I came to say goodbye,” Joe begun. “And I don’t think I will be able to do it tomorrow, or even later today. You are a very special girl, Nancy. I have never met anyone like you, so kind and sweet and caring and bossy all at the same time.” He flashed her a crooked smile. “You never go with the flow. You always say what you think. I wasn’t very happy when you interfered in my life and pointed out my errors, but I always ended up wiser.”

“I stepped over many lines,” Nancy replied. “But you started it.”

Joe laughed. “You can say that again. But I know you did it because you care. And what I tried to do was pretty inexcusable.”

“Totally unforgivable,” Nancy agreed. “But as long as it doesn’t ever happen again, I’m willing to consider it forgotten. Everyone makes mistakes. You’re not the only person on Earth who does that. And that’s a good thing to try to remember.”

**********

They crossed the street by the newly built post office and sat down on a small bench.

“I wanted to thank you for being the one to open my eyes and showing me the way,” Joe said and glanced at the young woman beside him. “We haven’t known each other for very long, but… I’m so grateful for you. You have been more of a friend than I could ever deserve. I’m really gonna miss you, Nancy.”

“I’m really going to miss you too, Little Joe…” Her voice quavered. “You will always have a very special place in my heart. I will never forget you.”

Without saying a word, Joe wrapped his arms around her and held her tight.

“You too,” he whispered after a moment. “And me neither.”

 

The End

 

Words drawn were:   stagecoach, rope, pitchfork, pillow, morose