Chapter Two

Ben leaned on the kitchen door, sipping a cup of coffee and watched as his five year old grandson tried valiantly to spear a piece of sausage onto his fork. He couldn’t contain the smile that spread across his face at that thought. His grandson! Who could have known that only three weeks ago his life would be irrevocably changed by the small child that now sat across from Hoss? It felt like he had been with them for far longer and he could not imagine not having him around. He’d watched his son step up to take on a responsibility that many men would have walked away from and he felt immensely proud of him. As he mused about the changes in his youngest son, he watched as Michael tried once again to stab at the piece of meat. It seemed that somebody had forgotten to tell the sausage what was expected of it because Michael was losing the battle. The slippery piece of meat seemed to have a mind of its own as it skidded around the rim of the plate and finally bounced right over the edge and onto the floor.

Hoss stifled a laugh as he watched the battle playing out, but he soon found himself choking back the comment he had intended to make. The child had gone from frustrated to what looked like terrified in the space of seconds. As he clambered from his seat and scrambled around on the floor looking for the piece of sausage, the unmistakable sound of sobbing carried up from under the table.

Joe chose that moment to fling open the front door and call for his son.

“Michael! Aren’t you finished on that breakfast yet or are you taking lessons from your Uncle Hoss on second helpings? Come on! We gotta get going. Uncle Adam is gettin’ all antsy.”

He moved across the room and was about to call out again when he saw his brother’s face. Hoss looked like he had when he’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar as a child. Only he didn’t. Something about it looked off and Joe was about to make a jab at his brother when he realised why he looked so strange.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” The fear-filled words filtering out from under the table stopped him in his tracks.

“Michael?”

It wasn’t the first time he’d seen his son dissolve in such a fashion and he knew it would probably not be the last. As the desperate litany continued, Joe slowly crouched down beside the table and lifted the tablecloth. The sight in front of him broke his heart as he saw wide-eyed terror written across Michael’s face.

He knew that no amount of logic or words were going to make any difference at that moment so he crawled under the table and sat down beside the terrified child.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorr ….” The words dissolved into hiccups as Joe slowly reached forward and pulled the little boy onto his lap. In the cramped space, he could not sit up, but he bent over the child and stroked the back of his head with one hand as he wrapped the other arm around his body.

Hoss and Ben had moved into the kitchen and were waiting to see how long this latest episode would take to ease up. Hoss looked like he wanted to cry too and Ben clamped a hand on his son’s shoulder.

“It ain’t right! Dadburnit it ain’t right! That little fella’s pa put the fear of God into him and it ain’t right!”

Ben agreed that it wasn’t right in the slightest, but God had nothing to do with it. A violent drunk had seen fit to beat his wife and child and it had fallen to them to try to undo the damage. All of them had been witness to the fallout of a traumatised child’s random reactions and all of them felt at a loss as to how to help. For the first few days after Joe had brought Michael home with him, the boy had been so exhausted he had slept for much of it. The lingering effects of his recent illness had taken several weeks for him to fully overcome and by that time, it seemed he had quietly accepted that he was staying put.

Grief was not always easy to gauge in a child and after his initial tired outburst at Joe about leaving his mother behind, he had said nothing else. It seemed he had accepted her loss a little too easily. At least that was how it had seemed to all of them. In one way, it made things easier, but in another, Joe found it entirely unnerving. He recalled only too well his own reaction to losing his mother around the same age and could not reconcile his protracted and vocal grieving with the almost silent and compliant child he found himself dealing with.

Give him time.

The words echoed around in his head as Joe continued to stroke his son’s head. It had been the only advice that anybody seemed able to give him and it made him want to scream in frustration. Time was supposed to heal all wounds, but he knew otherwise. Time did not heal broken hearts. Time just dulled the pain until it became bearable to smile again. Even though he felt entirely clueless as to what to do, he knew that the child needed more than just time.

“M’sorry,” the words drifted up towards him and he tried to see what on earth the child was apologising for. He reached a hand around to lift Michael’s chin towards him and he smiled.

“What are you sorry for?”

“Wasting food. Never waste food! Never, ever!” The words rose in pitch and Joe knew his son was repeating a litany that had no doubt been beaten into him. As Michael tentatively lifted a piece of sausage towards him, his eyes dropped down once again and tears began to dribble down his cheeks.

Joe reached for the piece of meat and tried to keep his voice calm. “This fell on the floor?”

A small nod was all he got in response and he clenched his hand around the offending piece of sausage. He wanted to squeeze it into oblivion and as he closed his eyes briefly, he imagined squeezing his hands around the throat of the man who had beaten such fear into the child. In the first couple of weeks that Michael had been with them, he’d found food hidden away in the bottom drawer of his dresser. Hop Sing had complained about it when he’d gone to put clean laundry away and Joe had struggled to reassure the boy that there was no shortage of food. It was like pushing molasses uphill as he knew there had been times where food was scarce. Times before he’d stumbled upon Michael and Hannah in the livery. Times when his father had been too busy drinking to bother putting food on his dining table. It struck him as beyond ludicrous that the same man had then ranted about food and how important it was. He knew it wasn’t really the food that was the issue and it was really all about control.

Control. He needed to get himself under control!

Joe opened his eyes and tried to smile reassuringly.

“It was an accident. We all have accidents and they don’t mean anything. Now, as I remember, we were going to take you into Virginia City and see about getting you some new clothes and boots. At the rate you’re growing, you’ll be bigger’n your Uncle Hoss by next month!”

Ben held his breath as he strained to hear what was happening. Michael must have agreed to the plan as the next thing he knew, chairs were being pushed aside and two heads appeared from under the tablecloth.

He watched as the buckboard finally rolled out of the yard half an hour later with the child firmly planted between Joe and Adam on the front seat. It was many hours later that he heard them return and he couldn’t help but smile as Michael sought him out to show him the new pair of boots he was wearing.

The next few weeks went by with no further incidents and Joe began to allow himself to believe things were settling down. That illusion came crashing down one night as shrill screams broke through the darkness and jolted him out of a deep sleep. He scrambled out of bed and bolted to Michael’s room. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he heard other doors opening and he knew someone else was awake and moving too.

“Don’t hurt her! Don’t hurt my mama!”

Joe pushed the door open and headed straight for the bed, but pulled up short when he found it empty. It only took a moment to find Michael huddled on the floor, squeezing himself into the corner as far as he could go.

The frantic words were still tumbling out of his mouth as wild fists flailed in the air in front of him.

“Easy! Easy there.” Joe felt like he was dealing with a spooked horse and he slowly knelt down on the floor.

“Mama!” The scream shook him to his core and Joe rocked back on his heels. Before he could do anything further, Michael jolted out of his nightmare and found himself face to face with a shadow. He tried to scoot backwards and panicked when he realised he was up against something solid.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m …”

The shadow loomed closer and he almost screamed again as he felt himself being lifted and wrapped in a blanket. Words that made no sense flowed over his head and wound their way through the fog of fear that enveloped him. Hands rubbed at his back and something finally broke through the terror as he found himself being rocked back and forth. His mama had done the same thing once, but she wasn’t there anymore. His mind gave up trying to reason things out and he allowed himself to just settle into the shadow and go back to sleep.

Joe felt the child go limp in his arms as he paced the floor and he looked up to see his father standing in the doorway.

“Pa, how do I make this stop? How do I make him feel safe? And please don’t tell me to give him time!”

Ben crossed the room and wrapped a hand over his son’s shoulder.

“Keep doing what you are doing.”

“For how long?”

“For as long as it takes, Son.”

Joe stared at his father and shook his head. There was no magic formula. No quick fix. Just time and patience and love. He’d made his decision when he asked Hannah to marry him and the child in his arms was part of the package. His heart ached that she was not there to help him, but he’d already decided his course of action. No matter what it took, he’d raise her son into a man she’d be proud of.

As the early morning light filtered through his window, Michael tried to work out where he was. His head wasn’t on his pillow and it took a few minutes before he was awake enough to see why. Memories of the previous night came pouring back and he found himself grasping a fistful of nightshirt. He scrunched his eyes closed again and turned his face into Joe’s chest, as if he could somehow blot out the images from his nightmare. Something about the man sleeping beneath him confused him. He was used to men who shouted and made him feel small and helpless. His pa had told him he was worthless. His mama said that was a lie and he knew she didn’t lie. She’d said that Joe was going to be his new pa and she was smiling when she told him. His insides ached when he thought about that and he couldn’t contain it when a small moan slipped out.

Joe shifted underneath him and he held his breath. Mama had taught him to be very quiet when he got up in the morning so’s he wouldn’t make his pa’s head hurt. He didn’t want to make Joe’s head hurt so he stayed as still as he could and waited.

Joe could feel the wild heartbeat of the child who lay draped across his chest. He’d felt the small fist clutching at his shirt and he’d heard his breathing hitch. Acting solely on instinct, he forced himself to stay still and wait. He didn’t want to spook the child any more than he already was.

As long as it takes.

His father’s words sounded in his head and once again, he wondered how long that would be. How long until the child clinging to him felt safe and loved? How long until he could let go of the things that stalked him in the dark? How long until he really grieved for his mother instead of keeping it all locked away somewhere? How long until fear was not his constant shadow?

“I wish you were really my pa.”

The whispered words seemed like a dream as they floated over him. Joe held himself stock still as he waited to see if there was any more.

“I wish Mama was here.”

His hands moved of their own accord and he found himself wrapping them around the child.

“I wish she was here too.” Joe looked down to see Michael staring at him, his eyes bright with unshed tears. “And if you’ll have me … I really want to be your pa too.”

Michael pushed himself up onto his knees and rubbed a hand against his eyes. Nobody had ever given him a choice on anything before. The idea rattled him and he frowned in confusion.

“I … I can choose?”

Joe smiled at him as he could see the wheels of thought turning.

“My real pa didn’t want me. He told me so!”

“Your pa was sick. He didn’t always know what he wanted.”

“Mama said the same thing. She said that I needed to mind him and not get him riled up, ’cause he was sick and he couldn’t help himself.”

Joe felt his insides churning as he ran a hand down Michael’s face.

“Yes!” Michael nodded enthusiastically.

“Yes, what?” The conversation had shifted and Joe wasn’t entirely sure where it had gone.

“If I get to choose … then I choose you as my pa!”

Joe grinned at the expression on Michael’s face as he jumped up on the bed. “And I choose you as my son!”

Michael launched himself towards him and Joe barely caught him before he bounced off the edge of the bed. As both of them were giggling, neither had noticed they were being watched.

“I think you’re getting the better end of that deal, little brother.”

Joe looked up to see Adam standing in the doorway with his hands crossed under his armpits. The stance was so casual and so incongruous with the momentous decision that had just been announced that Joe found himself laughing in response.

“I came to check if things were okay this morning. You had a rough night.”

Joe nodded as he saw his brother’s expression. He knew that it wasn’t just his pa who had been awoken last night.

“Things are more than okay, brother.”

His pa was right. As usual.

Time did not heal all wounds, but he would give every last second he had until his son was whole and healed.

As long as it takes. Because that’s what a real father would do.