Summary:   This is a ‘Death of a Cartwright’ challenge story.  Be warned!

Rated: K+  Word Count:  1628

 

                                                                        Returning the Favour

 

As I stood on the bottom stair, I could see Pa sat in his old leather armchair, his eyes closed and his face streaked wet.  I gave a deep, heartfelt sigh of dismay at the sight, but couldn’t blame him for his tears.  I mean, what father worth his salt wants to bury a son?

 

My insides churned at the thought of the pain he was going through, knowing how the chains of guilt had pressed down heavy on his shoulders since the accident.

 

How long had it been since it happened?   Seven days, ten?  Could even have been more.   I’d lost count already, but it was obvious Pa’s inability to sleep through the night wasn’t about to leave him any time soon.  Only the luxury of pure malt seemed to give him the chance to take a rest; albeit a short one, as he sought peace from his troubled and guilt filled thoughts.

 

As I made my way towards him I shivered. The fire had long burnt out and the room was cold.  By the light of the oil lamp I could see Pa was gripping a glass close to his chest, the half empty bottle which I knew for a fact had been full only a couple of hours before held tight in his other hand.

 

I wondered for a moment whether to leave him to sleep.

 

However, the way things were going Pa was sure to be heading for an early grave himself if things didn’t change some time soon.

 

There’d been occasions when I’d managed to go through the same amount of liquor in such a short time during my darkest moments. Like when Julia died, and then Laura.  Each time Pa had been there at my side, helping me get through it all and face another day.  I knew then, at that moment, I had to do something.  It was now my turn to comfort and console.

 

“Pa?”

 

I nudged him gently on his arm and the feel of my touch woke him with a start.

 

“Joe?  What you doing here?”  Pa’s voice was hoarse and it took a few moments for him to become fully alert.

 

“Couldn’t sleep, I was worried,” I said, staring pointedly at the bottle.   “Drinking yourself into a stupor every night isn’t helping anyone Pa, least of all you.”

 

Pa pursed his lips tight, knowing I spoke the truth but refusing to accept my words of warning.  “It helps me Joe…it helps me.”

 

I waited for a few moments, hoping he’d start opening up and talk.  But silence was all that settled between us.

 

“This has to stop Pa,” I finally said in a decisive voice, finding an inner strength to order him in such an authoritative way. “You can’t keep on like this.  You can’t keep blaming yourself forever.”

 

Pa just sighed and stared into the empty glass.   “Yes I can Joe,” he finally offered in a bitter tone. “It was my fault.  You know it, I know it, and everyone else damn well knows it!”

 

For a moment I was taken aback by the ferocity of his feeling.  I refused however to back down.  “You’re wrong Pa.  There’s nothing you could have done.  It was an accident pure and simple.”

 

“But I gave the order,” Pa replied, determined not to be let off so easy. “I ought to have realized the pass was too dangerous to go through after all that heavy rain.  I should have…”

 

“You weren’t to know there’d be a landslide at that moment Pa,” I quickly interrupted.  “No one could have known.  It was just pure bad luck…it was fate.”

 

Pa shook his head, and I knew he hadn’t listened to a word I’d said.  “It’s no good Joe.  It was my decision.  I’m the one who insisted those wagons were taken that way instead of going the longer route.  Everything what happened was all down to me and…”

 

I tried hard to keep my impatience from showing as I clenched my fists hard.  “Pa, nobody blames you,” I interrupted with a loud groan.  “Please, for all our sakes, let it go.”

 

Pa looked at me, sensing the anger I was holding back inside, yet shrugged his shoulders dismissively. “I can’t Joseph. I’ll never be able to forgive myself, knowing the …the life that was lost because of me…”

 

His hesitating voice trailed, unable to complete the sentence at the thought of his son, now gone.  A tear escaped and ran down his cheek.

 

I kept my own gaze fixed on him, my own heart breaking at the sight of my father’s distress.

 

Pa then let out an audible sigh; grief induced weariness and exhaustion showing clearly across his weathered face.

 

I couldn’t stand his expression of remorse any longer.  I removed the glass from unresisting fingers, and along with the whiskey bottle I returned it to the tray on the table.

 

All the while he watched me through moistened eyes, offering up no show of resistance. Then I eased down on the settee, leaning forward and taking hold of his hand.  It reminded us both of the close bond between us which had been sadly missing over the past couple of weeks.

 

Pa bowed his head closer to his chest, unashamed tears this time falling in a steady, silent flow.

 

“Pa,” I said softly.  “If it had been you who’d been killed, would you have wanted me, or Adam, or Hoss to carry on in this way, taking the blame even though what happened was no ones fault?”

 

Almost reluctantly Pa shook his head.  “Of course not Joe.  But it’s hard…so very hard.”

 

“I know it Pa.  But you must realize you have to find it in yourself to move on. It’s the only way. Your strength is needed now more than ever before otherwise this family is going to fall apart. You do see that, don’t you?”

 

Suddenly Pa looked at me as if seeing me for the first time; trusting what I told him and fully believing what I said.

 

Slowly, very slowly, the flames of guilt which had flared in his eyes extinguished and died.  “I’m sorry Joseph.”  Pa’s admission came as a whispered murmur. “I’m sorry for what I’ve put everyone through.”

 

“I know…we all know.”

 

There was then a comfortable silence between us, both contented to be in each other’s company in such a relaxed way.

 

Finally I stood up and rested my hand lightly on his shoulder.  I felt him tremble under my touch.  “Are you going to be all right Pa?” I asked, watching him closely.

 

“I’m going to be fine Joseph.  Just fine.”

 

I managed a smile, hoping the sight would help in some small way to heal his broken heart.  “So no more staying down here every night with just a whiskey bottle as a friend?”

 

He smiled back.  “No Joe.  I promise no more drink.”

 

Believing him I exhaled a long sigh of relief and started to move away.

 

“Joe?”  Pa’s whispered word was almost inaudible as I stopped and turned.

 

“Yes Pa?”

 

“Thank you son.”

 

I wiped moisture from my own face, our gaze locking for a few seconds more.  I nodded; words not needed between us and watched for a moment as his eyes grew heavier and slowly closed.

 

Smiling softly to myself, I retraced my steps up to my room, leaving my Pa alone but knowing all was going to be well as he rested in a deep and healing sleep.

 

***

 

Ben felt a tug on his sleeve, dragging him back to consciousness.

 

A morning sun was streaming warmth through the windows and he squinted against the light until they focused.

 

The broad face of Hoss looked down at him with concern.  “Pa?  You ain’t been sleeping down here all night, have you?”

 

“Guilty as charged,” Ben managed to croak as he pushed up on his chair and stretched aching limbs.

 

Footsteps echoed on the wooden staircase, and a second figure came into view and gave a faint nervous smile of greeting.   “How you feeling today Pa?”

 

Rubbing his eyes Ben gave a nod.  “Better,” he answered truthfully as his voice croaked in a dry mouth.

 

A memory of what he’d been doing the night before came back to haunt him.  He looked around for the whiskey he’d expected to see in his hand. It was gone.  He then stared down on the floor, thinking it must have been dropped during sleep and expecting to see a dried out stain of wasted liquid.  There was no sign.

 

“You lost something Pa?” Hoss asked, noting his puzzled look.

 

“I…I thought I had a glass somewhere…”

 

As his voice trailed, Ben turned his head and looked behind him.  On the table stood the whiskey bottle and glass, exactly where Joe had left it.

 

For a moment his face reflected shock and then slowly changed to one of reflective acceptance.

 

After following their father’s gaze Hoss gave a sorrowful sigh, guessing what he’d been doing again most of the night.  “Pa, how many times do we have to tell you, no one blames you for what happened to Joe.  Not me or Adam and if he could tell you himself, not even little brother.”

 

Adam eased down on the settee.  “It was an accident, pure and simple Pa. It could have happened to any one of us,” he added in a choked voice.

 

Ben nodded, remembering back as he sat with his youngest and heard the self same words uttered towards him. Managing a smile he took a deep breath.   “I know boys…I know that now.  Joe already told me.”

 

 

 

The End