Summary:  An afternoon swim takes an unexpected turn, and Joe is forced to test his survival instincts.

Rated K+ (9,995 words)

 

Mutual Trust

Trust men and they will be true to you. Treat them greatly and they will show themselves great. (Emerson)
He could no longer feel anything, for his body was growing numb below the lake’s surface. Like two wooden sticks, Joe’s legs churned desperately to keep his head above water as he watched the small band of Paiutes resting near the shoreline. What was supposed to have been a cool late summer afternoon swim …was turning into a nightmare.

Only moments earlier nothing had seemed more glorious than plunging into Lake Tahoe and removing the sticky residue of sweat, compliments of a long hot day mending fences. Joe’s cramped muscles were instantly soothed as he stretched out in long easy stokes, pulling him farther away from shore. He felt he could swim for miles, but thought better of it, knowing the water was getting colder and swimming back would not be as pleasant.

“Best not swim out too far,” Joe thought to himself as he rolled onto his back, and let the sun saturate his face.

But his euphoria was rudely interrupted when he heard… and then saw a group of Paiutes arrive at the water’s edge. He hoped they had only stopped to water their horses, but soon realized they were settling in for some rest.

Momentary panic was quickly replaced by logic, as Joe worked to keep his presence unknown. Sinking lower in the water, he kept his head barely visible.

Now all he could do was wait and pray for the young braves to move on.

From what he could hear, the small hunting party appeared to be boasting amongst each other as they compared the rabbits they had snared. Aside from a language that Joe didn’t understand, he thought how similar they seemed to his family bragging at the end of a good day fishing.

“Now go on …get home and get those rabbits cooked up, will ya?” pleaded Joe silently.

But these braves didn’t look like they were leaving anytime soon, and Joe was getting increasingly cold.

He reminded himself of Adam’s advice on how to manage the cold on those trips back to the ranch, after looking for strays in the bitter weather.

“Don’t think about the cold Joe. Picture yourself near the fireplace where the heat forces you to move away… and the warmth lingers on your back and your pants.” Adam had told him.

“I’m trying Adam,” thought Joe, “…but it’s just so cold.”

Attempting to conjure up the heat in his mind, Joe was quickly brought back to reality as he noticed a brave standing near the shoreline who appeared to be looking directly at him. Luckily, however, the low sun and the reflection off the water kept his presence hidden from view.

“Get moving … damn it,” gasped Joe as he tried to stifle a cough, and keep the water from getting into his mouth.  Joe knew he couldn’t tread water forever.  “I’ve got to get to shore, I’ve got to do something,” he realized.

By now Joe knew that Hoss would be home enjoying a hot tub of water prepared by Hop Sing, for his brother had opted out of nature’s bath and left Joe to indulge on his own. Continuing his fight to remain afloat, Joe thought about the conversation he’d had with his brother.

“You make sure you get home in plenty of time for dinner,” Hoss had said. “ Pa’s planning a surprise and I got me a hunch it’s the kind that smells real good.”

“Just going to have me a quick swim brother… I’m right behind you. Baths are for sissies…this here’s my tub,” Joe had laughed.

“You can have your ice water, little brother. Me, I’m lookin’ forward to a nice hot bath.”  Hoss had then turned his horse in the direction of home, leaving Joe to relish in a swim on his own.  Now… Joe thought, “Why didn’t I listen to you, big brother?”

Cold and frightened, Joe wished he had chosen the more conventional route. He could feel his panic growing as his legs kicked frantically and he found it increasingly hard to keep his head above water.

“Stay calm…think like Adam.” Distracted for a moment, Joe smiled as he realized that Adam would never do anything so foolish as to swim when the water was this cold!

Joe was finding it difficult to think straight. His thoughts were gripped in a frigid vice where planning the simplest means of escape was almost impossible.

Scanning the shore line where the Paiutes were resting, Joe spied some reeds just tall enough, and far away enough, to hide his presence. He knew he had to get out of the water soon if he was to survive, but he also feared he might suffer greater harm if he didn’t make it there unseen.

Joe’s knowledge of the Paiutes was varied. He had heard the wild stories in the saloon but had also listened carefully to his Pa.

“They fear us as much as we fear them, Joe. They have as much right to hunt and fish to feed their families as we do,” his Pa had said.

“Leave them alone son, and you’ll come to no harm.”

Looking at the braves, Joe didn’t wish to test any theory. He only wanted to get to shore unseen. Joe was a strong swimmer, but he was no fish, and a lengthy underwater swim would be a challenge for anyone. Luckily he hadn’t swum out too far, having been taught to swim parallel to the shore.

With no other option, Joe sucked in as much air as he could and plunged below the surface, praying he would make it to the reeds. Kicking hard, his legs seemed to find new purpose, and with the added strength of his arms, he propelled himself towards the shoreline. At times it was difficult to see underwater as it was getting increasingly murky. The pressure in his lungs was almost unbearable and combined with the frigid pain he felt on his forehead, Joe was forced to break the surface. His first instinct was to soar up and splash the surface for precious air; but he knew better.

Slowly, and denying his lungs for just a moment longer, he laid his head back just below the surface, breaking the water silently with his nose. With his lungs now starving, it took all his control to feed them quietly with air, without the sound of a large gasp.

Trembling with cold and exhaustion in the shallow water, Joe tried to think of what to do next. His underwater swim made his head pound from lack of oxygen and his growing weariness left him disoriented.

His unfocused state caused his mind to wander to tiny, seemingly unimportant details, such as Pa’s surprise that Hoss had mentioned. A surprise. “Wonder what it was,” he thought. Possibilities drifted briefly through his head and then were gone again; his energy and his concentration went back to pushing his increasingly weary legs.
***********************************************************************

 

“We’ve waited long enough,” bellowed Ben. “Your younger brother still doesn’t seem to know the importance of being on time.”

“Aw Pa, give him a few more minutes, he’ll be here. Clean as a whistle too!” said Hoss.

When Hoss had returned to the ranch without Joe, he had tried in vain to defend his little brother, but his Pa was not interested. For weeks now Ben had looked forward to taking his sons into town for the opening of the Grand Hotel. He wanted to treat them to a splendid dinner, celebrating a very successful cattle drive and all their hard work. Ben had wanted the evening to be a wonderful surprise, and a means of showing his sons how much he appreciated them.

“Well, they won’t hold our reservations forever. You both might as well know that I was looking forward to a memorable meal with each of you,” said Ben.

“I knew it,” Hoss grumbled.

Both Adam and Hoss had been on the receiving end of their father’s disappointment before, when it came to their wayward younger brother; and neither one of them felt like letting Joe ruin the evening.

“Why don’t you leave him a note, and let him know where we’ve gone? According to Hoss, he won’t be long,” Adam said, rolling his eyes in Hoss’s direction.

“Alright then, we’ll leave him a note, and if he doesn’t catch up… he can heat up Hop Sing’s stew. By then it should taste like leather,” said Ben!

Hop Sing looked rather insulted but chose to move away from the brewing storm.

“You go now, I look after Little Joe when he come home,” said Hop Sing as he retreated into the kitchen.

While gathering their coats Adam and Hoss glanced briefly at each other, knowing full well their little brother was going to be the source of everyone’s indigestion.
************************************************************************

Lying in the shallow water, thinking of his family, Joe had almost forgotten his present danger. He felt sluggish, and quite incapable of making a decision. However, a hearty laugh from one of the braves quickly reminded him of his dire need to get out of the water and find someplace to hide. His body was beginning to succumb to the deadly effects of what happens when you’re forced to stay in cold water for too long.

Again his mind drifted, recalling his Pa’s stories of brave seaman attempting to rescue other shipmates who had been thrown over board in stormy seas. Lying in the frigid water, Joe wondered if this was what it was like, being left to perish at sea.

He knew if he didn’t drag himself out of the water he wouldn’t last much longer, so he struggled forward. By now his legs were useless and Joe was forced to use his forearms to pull his body over a mixture of rough rock and sand.

Completely numb he felt no pain as his body scraped its way forward to some underbrush just up from the shoreline. Once hidden, Joe prayed that he didn’t leave too much of a trail. But glancing back, he knew you would have to be blind not to notice the small funnel of sand he had created as he dragged himself to his hiding place.
Peeking through some brush Joe could see and hear the braves preparing to leave. They appeared to be laughing at the size of a rabbit a younger brave had managed to snare. As his mind continued to drift randomly, Joe felt some sympathy as he watched the young man be ridiculed.
“I guess older brothers are all alike, no matter what language you speak,” thought Joe. “

Looking down at himself, Joe suddenly realized his clothes would still be out in plain view, although wedged between two rocks.

Shivering violently, he began to fear the worst. One of the braves would spot his clothes. A whoop would go up in blood-chilling shrieks of punishment and retribution, and they’d begin to search through the underbrush and reeds until they found him.

And they would find him; it was only a matter of when. And once they did, they’d be on him like a pack of wolves. He’d have less chance of surviving than those rabbits they’d snared.

Time passed. Joe didn’t know how much. The sun was still out, but it hung low in the sky, causing the water to glisten like jewels. Mesmerized by the sight, his body stiff and cold and his mind sluggish, Joe turned his face to the side and watched the colors glinting off the water: blue and silver, like ice. Pinks and oranges and ever-darkening reds, like blood.

Without warning, the sound of multiple hooves beating over the ground broke close by. Frozen in fear, Joe held his breath as the Paiutes passed just yards from where he lay. He willed his body to stop trembling, but it was impossible, and the branches around him moved as if waving to anyone near who would notice.

Luckily the hunting party seemed intent on continuing to tease its youngest member, paying no attention to the ground.

Resting his head back against the damp ground, Joe sighed in relief, but he knew it wasn’t a true reprieve; he realized that even if the Paiutes somehow missed his presence, he was now simply too weak to fetch his clothes and make his way home.

With his energy gone, Joe found himself staring at the sky where only hours ago the sun had warmed his face. Now in the shade, he felt only despair, for even if his family found him in the morning, he knew he wouldn’t last through the night.

“I’m sorry Pa, I’m so tired…and so cold.”

Closing his eyes, he pictured the grand fireplace… and silently thanked Adam again, for trying to keep him warm. From a distance he could still see the Paiutes as they headed down the shoreline, back to their camp. He imagined them being greeted with enthusiasm, as each brave proudly showed off his bountiful hunt.

Lost in his thoughts, Joe was startled to see them all abruptly stop. He could see one of the Paiutes waving his arm in frustration, as one of the braves pointed back towards Joe. Tensing instantly, Joe became transfixed on the horse and its rider heading back along the shoreline. Had he been discovered after all? Lying still, he prayed for a miracle; squeezing his eyes shut he tried to concentrate as his heart raced dangerously fast.

“Stop shaking,” Joe spoke silently to himself as he pressed his back further into the damp ground.

By now he was tightly wedged between brambles and dead branches, where sharp thorns left numerous cuts on his exposed skin. So cold and numb, Joe felt no pain…only fear.

Now seeing the Paiute, Joe lay helpless, knowing he was no match for the brave. He watched in sheer panic as the Paiute’s knife hacked and slashed at the tough foliage that had provided him with feeble cover all afternoon. The blade flashed in the light of the dying sun, and Joe knew that within moments he’d feel the point of that blade.

Staring at Joe, the Paiute watched the blood from Joe’s bitten lips dribble down his chin.

“Why do you fear me so… you have done nothing wrong,” thought the Paiute.

A sound so helpless emerged from Joe that the brave stopped what he was doing, as he realized his actions were being misunderstood. Shaking his head, the brave quickly returned his blade to its sheath.

Gently drawing down Joe’s arm that had been flung up to protect his face, the Paiute saw the greenest eyes he had ever seen; eyes that were drowning in fear.

Carefully the Paiute rested his hand oh Joe’s chest as a calming gesture, but then became alarmed at the touch of Joe’s icy skin.

“How long have you been hiding?” thought the Paiute.

There was no time to waste as he knew the deadly effects of the cold, having seen many of his tribe perish in the winter months. Running back to his horse for a blanket, the Paiute noticed again the furrow leading down to the water and his fear mounted as he realized that the cold air combined with the water could only mean certain death for the young Whiteman. He couldn’t imagine why someone would be swimming at this stage of the hunting season.

“Foolish Whiteman.”

By the time the Paiute had returned to Joe he knew he needed to act quickly, for Joe’s skin, now fully exposed and out from under the bramble was blue; the color of the fatally cold.

Reaching down the Paiute gently covered Joe with the horse blanket and like treating a wounded animal, he carefully ran his hand over Joe’s limbs to make sure nothing was broken before he lifted him easily from the ground.

Joe flinched momentarily at the Paiutes touch, but offered no resistance.

“I see you are still afraid,” whispered the Paiute. “You have nothing to fear, except the cold.”

The Paiute knew Joe could not understand as he carried him quickly to his horse. Glancing back at the sand, the brave could see where he had left his forgotten rabbits, and remembered how frustrated he was when his tribe had told him to go back and retrieve them, while they headed back to camp.

Looking down at Joe, it occurred to the Paiute that perhaps it was all meant to be.

“The Gods favor you,” the Paiute whispered as he gently settled Joe on his horse, and sprung up behind him.

Turning back in the direction of his camp the Paiute pulled Joe’s blanketed body back against his own, in an attempt to keep him warm and secure. It would be almost dark by the time he would arrive back at his camp and he knew they would be concerned.

“You don’t look like a rabbit,” said the Paiute quietly, bracing himself for his tribe’s displeasure.

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By the time they arrived back from town Ben fully expected to see lights still on, where no doubt his youngest son was rehearsing his lines as to why he was late.

But the moon was the only light that bathed the ranch house.

“He’s probably gone to bed,” Ben said. “No doubt your brother is hoping my temper will mellow with a good nights rest!”

But even as Ben tried to convince himself there was nothing to worry about, both Hoss and Adam were suddenly quiet, choosing to tether the horses quickly rather than put them in the barn.

Once inside the ranch house Ben lit the lantern behind the settee, hoping to find Joe asleep; but to no avail.

Trying to find some answers, Ben knew Hop Sing would have long since gone to bed as was his custom when he woke so early.

“I’ll check his room Pa, you know how Joe likes to avoid trouble till the mornin’,” said Hoss. Worried but still optimistic, Hoss hurried upstairs.

“You and I are gonna have a little chat little brother,” thought Hoss.

Pushing open Joe’s door, Hoss entered the dark room.

“Good thinking younger brother, the best way to avoid trouble is to get out of its way,” thought Hoss. Convinced that Joe was feigning sleep, Hoss sat down hard on his bed, half expecting to launch Joe onto the floor. But his lightheartedness was swiftly replaced by panic as he realized Joe’s bed was empty.

“No,” whispered Hoss, barging blindly out the bedroom and down the stairs. “Pa…Adam!”

Ben and Adam were up instantly, alerted by the panic in Hoss’s voice.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” urged Ben.

“He’s not in his room, Pa.” Hoss shook his head slowly. “It’s my fault. I should never have left him. What was I thinking letting him swim by himself…it’s fall and the water is too cold… I should have known better.”

With only one single thought on his mind Hoss hurried towards the door with his Pa not far behind.

“Now wait, let’s not jump to conclusions. Joe may have come back and seeing we weren’t here, could have ridden into town to look for us. Where did you leave that note, Pa?” asked Adam.

But Ben was already way past that possibility as he noticed the note he had written to Joe was still neatly folded on the hutch, on his way out the door with Hoss.

Once outside, each of them stopped abruptly, for near the barn stood Cochise, nervously looking at them as if he was asking the same question; where was Joe?

At a loss for words, Ben stared at his sons, hoping that one of them would come up with a logical explanation. But both brothers stood silent, their gazes locked on Cochise.

“It’s too dark to go the lake now. We’ll have to wait until morning,” Ben muttered as he gathered up Cochise’s reins and headed into the barn.

None of them spoke as they bedded down their horses in the barn. Hoss gave Cochise special care as his guilt consumed him in the simple task. It was late and even the full moon had retreated behind a cloud, offering little hope, as they made their way back to the house for bed.

Sitting quietly in his room, Hoss was overcome. “Where are you, little brother?”

His guilt left little room for sleep and he simply waited for dawn.

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By the time Joe arrived at the Paiute camp he was only vaguely aware he was sitting on a horse. He felt so sluggish and was grateful to have an arm wrapped around him, for his hands were useless and couldn’t possibly hold on to anything. His memory was also dulled, though he knew that his fear was real as he began to see Paiutes surrounded the horse he was riding. Its was hard to see the multiple faces glaring up at him and the moonlight only served to frighten him more, as the expressions appeared more ominous. As Joe’s body stiffened, so did the Paiute’s.

Vaguely aware of raised voices, Joe felt himself being held tighter against the Paiute’s chest as if he was being protected, and as the Paiute patted his blanket Joe felt a little more assured.

Fading in and out of consciousness, Joe could see that more Paiutes had now surrounded him. Fear rose up in his throat, making him fight the sleep that tried to claim him, and he cast an anxious glance back at the Paiute brave’s face. Dark eyes gazed steadily back at him, reassuring him that no harm would come.

Then all the excitement ceased when a loud authoritative command cut through the air. Semi-conscious, Joe watched in fear as an older man draped in a tribal costume, demanding respect, walked towards him. He couldn’t understand the exchange, but sensed the Paiute holding him was giving some explanation.

For a moment it reminded him of his Pa and Adam as their opinions clashed and the volume increased.

Everyone was upset and Joe could feel many hands reaching for him, and attempting to tug him off the horse. He felt helpless. But then everything stopped, with a booming command that silenced both sound and movement.

Joe felt a shift from behind as the Paiute quickly dismounted and carefully pulled him off the horse and carried him to his teepee. Closing his eyes, the urge to sleep could no longer be resisted.

Although Joe was safe from the tribe for the time being, the Paiute knew that Joe’s real danger was the cold. The wind from the ride had cost him valuable body heat and the Paiute was alarmed at Joe’s loss of consciousness. Covering Joe with furs, he began to rub his arms and legs to begin the process of warming him up. So intent on saving Joe’s life the Paiute was unaware of the stares he was receiving from his squaw and his sister, who were curious at the sight of a Whiteman in their teepee.

“What are you gawking at, women?” said the Paiute. “He has been in the water, and exposed to the cold too long. Gather some more wood for the fire and prepare some nourishment for him when he wakes up.”

Quickly the women pursued their tasks, stealing only a few guarded glances at Joe.

The Paiute was not happy with Joe’s body temperature. His skin was still tinged with blue, and his heart was beating too fast, but there was nothing more the Paiute could do at this stage, and he believed that Joe’s life was out of his hands.

“Sleep well,” whispered the Paiute as he prepared himself for rest, knowing he would be keeping a close eye on Joe throughout the night.

The Paiute had not intended on falling asleep, but was awoken quickly by a moaning that took a moment to register. Moving closer to Joe he could see that his young Whiteman was struggling with the weight of the furs. Watching Joe open his eyes, the Paiute could see his confusion as he tried to sit up. Gently pushing Joe back down, the Paiute wondered what Joe was trying to say. However, before the Paiute could attempt to communicate, Joe had fallen back asleep.

Light was barely filtering in through the teepee when the Paiute got up to begin his day. Joe was alive, but far from out of danger, and the Paiute sensed it was going to take some time.

By early morning Joe was restless again, thrashing as best he could under the weight of the heavy furs. His body temperature was warmer but he still continued to shiver now and again. Lifting a portion of the furs, the Paiute examined Joe more closely, shaking his head at the myriad of cuts and bruises that promised infection.

“He needs those cuts tended to,” the young squaw motioned to her husband.

Checking the color of Joe’s skin, the Paiute pinched his arm.

“If we can’t get him warm, he won’t live long enough for the cuts to matter. It is the cold that still continues to threaten him,” said the Paiute.

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Before the sun was up Ben was barking orders at his sons.

“Wake up some of the hands, Hoss. The more eyes we have the better. We’ll begin on the north side of the lake starting with the area where Joe chose to swim,” said Ben.

Always the optimist, Hoss tried to stay positive although he was sick with worry. “Maybe Cochise got tired of waiting, and we’ll find Joe wandering home,” he said.

But Ben was simply not in the mood. His fear had been rising throughout the night, hoping beyond hope that Joe would have turned up by now. Glancing at Hoss, Adam felt for his brother for he knew his guilt consumed him.

“We’ll find him, Hoss. Don’t worry. And when we do we’ll both give him a bath he won’t forget!” said Adam.

After saddling their horses they mounted quickly, anxious to begin their search. By late morning word had got out that Joe was missing. Neighboring ranches offered to help so as to cover more ground, and Roy also showed up with more volunteers to help scour the area.

As the day wore on ominous rumors were hushed, but everyone began to have their doubts. There was even some discussion about dragging the shoreline, but Roy wasn’t about to assume the worst; not yet. Looking at his old friend staring out at the lake, Roy felt a deep ached in his heart.

“We’re here for as long as it takes Ben,” said Roy, gently alerting his friend to his presence. “Won’t give up till we find him.”

Roy’s soft reassurances weren’t working. Ben shook his head. “He’s gone Roy. You know how deep and cold this water is. You’ve felt it yourself … no one could last this long… it’s too cold,” said Ben.

“I know no such thing, Ben, and neither do you. That son of yours is the most resourceful young man I know,” said Roy.

With spirits slightly lifted, Ben turned to Roy and nodded his head, grateful for an old friend.

When Joe awoke he felt more alert, and a growing sense of uneasiness developed as he became more aware of his surroundings. Listening to the women talk, he wished he could understand the language. Adam had taught him a few words but nothing more than the simple hello and goodbye.

He could hear voices outside raised in anger, and the intonation was clear enough to tell him someone was not happy. Sitting up quickly, he caught the attention of the Paiute’s squaw and he pointed to the door of the teepee. Joe was frightened and believed that in moments he could be dragged outside.

Still weak, Joe’s chest heaved trying to catch his breath. He noticed the women were frowning, convincing him even more that he was in imminent danger.

The Paiute who had saved him seemed to be speaking the loudest as Joe had gotten to know the sound of his voice. He only hoped that the words spoken the loudest were in his defense. Before he could listen to more, the flap of the teepee opened and the Paiute barreled through.

The Paiute was not pleased. His dark eyes locked with Joe’s in such defiance it forced Joe to move further back from his bed in an attempt to get away. Grabbing Joe by his arm the Paiute shook his head. No translation was necessary, Joe knew to stay put.

“What will it take for him to trust,” said the Paiute.

“He was frightened by your disagreement. Your voices were angry,” said the Paiute’s Squaw.

“He needs to stay under the furs if he wishes to get well.” The Paiute frowned again at Joe. Squatting down to reassure Joe that no harm would come to him, the Paiute readjusted his furs. “My anger is with my tribe, young Whiteman,” he said.

Drawing back slightly, Joe sat perfectly still… reminding the Paiute that although warmer, Joe was still frightened. Pushing the blankets aside, Joe tried to get up again, but a fierce sound from the Paiute stopped him from moving instantly.

“The warmth is not the only reason he should stay covered,” smiled the Paiute’s sister.

Looking at Joe, the Paiute smiled gently, and gestured to the blanket that left Joe fully exposed. Flushed with embarrassment, Joe clamped the furs down tightly around himself.

It hadn’t occurred to the Paiute to find Joe’s clothes when he bought him home on his horse. There had been no time.

Joe’s blushing did not go unnoticed, as the women attempted to stifle their giggles while busying themselves with the evening chores. However, one well directed frown from the Paiute put an end to their torment.

“I will return to the lake and bring his clothes. Keep him warm while I am gone,” said the Paiute, attempting to hide his smile.

Riding back to the lake, the Paiute was also amused with his young Whiteman. He was aware of different customs, but had never seen such a display of modesty.

As he crested the bluff before his descent to the lake, the Paiute stopped abruptly. For there, scouring the shoreline and dense brush were dozens of Whiteman, and although they looked peaceful the Paiute knew better. Drawing his horse out of view, the Paiute crouched down to take a better look.

A very large man caught his eye and he could see this one had discovered the belongings of the young man resting back in his teepee. The Paiute stiffened as he watched the visible anguish of an older man when the articles of clothing and some boots were handed to him. Holding the items to his chest, this man gazed across the lake before falling to his knees in grief. The Paiute knew at that moment that the source of his pain rested in his teepee.

Suddenly there was all sorts of commotion as men surrounded the elderly man. A dark haired one with black clothes appeared to take charge, helping the older man up and urging him to sit.

As if in shock, everyone seemed to be looking out at the lake, so much so that the Paiute thought they were watching him. The large man who had originally found the clothes was looking particularly hard in his direction, but the Paiute soon realized the desperate eyes were not focused, but lost in grief. And the late afternoon sun kept him well hidden.

The Paiute continued to watch three very large men huddled together; they appeared to be incapable of moving.

“The young Whiteman belongs to these men…this family,” thought the Paiute.

He was tempted to make himself known, assuring them that Joe was alright, but the sudden movement of another man with a visible star attached to his chest prevented the Paiute from leaving his hiding place. He had been taught that to venture too close to a man with a star could mean certain danger, so fear drove him back to his camp

Joe was sleeping soundly when the Paiute returned to his teepee. Glancing at his squaw for assurance that nothing had happened in his absence, the Paiute spoke of all the Whiteman down at the lakeshore.

“They look for this one.” He pointed to Joe. “His family thinks he is dead, for his clothes have been found,” said the Paiute.

Remembering that Joe was still in need of some clothes, the Paiute found his own and laid them beside Joe’s head.

“We must not speak of his family, for it will trouble him,” warned the Paiute.

“And we must not speak of this information, for the tribe is upset by this Whiteman’s presence here,” said his Squaw. “They did not bother us while you were away, but many were near.”

The Squaw had no idea how accurate she was, for even at that moment whispers carried the news of the Whiteman throughout the camp, and it wasn’t long before unrest could be heard outside the Paiute’s teepee. Leaving his teepee to see what the commotion was all about, the Paiute had barely set foot outside before he was instantly stopped in his tracks.

“The Whiteman you keep will only bring trouble to our tribe,” argued the brave blocking the Paiute’s path.

Many had now gathered near the Paiute’s teepee, curious and fearful of the rumors.

“Our brother here has seen many Whiteman gather at the lake. They search for the boy,” said one brave to anyone who would listen.

Feeling the hostility, the Paiute searched for the camp Elder, who was respected and known for his wisdom.

However, the Paiute did not to look too long as the Elder had been listening carefully and nodded to the Paiute to speak.

“My brother worries too much. The Whiteman are searching for the boy. They will be grateful to us for having saved his life,” said the Paiute.

“Or they will blame us for taking him,” shouted the brave.

Disgusted, the Paiute was just about to say something more when he heard Joe’s panicked voice. Glaring at his tribe, the Paiute quickly returned to his teepee, only to find Joe sitting up with his chest heaving in fright.

“The sound of anger frightened him, he could hear you shouting,” said his squaw.

“His fear is real for the tribe does not support his presence here,” said the Paiute.

Joe’s eyes darted anxiously between the Paiute and his squaw.

“Tell me what wrong,” urged Joe. “I don’t understand.”

It was time to bridge the language barrier. Taking Joe’s hand and placing it gently on his chest, the Paiute offered Joe his name, “Chetan.” The gesture had an immediate effect on Joe, and like a gift of friendship, Joe nodded and repeated his name; Chetan.

Nothing more necessary.

In the morning, as instructed, Chetan returned to the lake and to see if the Whiteman were still there. Although reluctant, he respected the wishes of the elder, leaving strict instructions to others to keep away from his teepee.

Once he reached the familiar bluff, Chetan and two other braves that had accompanied him could see clearly that the Whiteman were gone.

“You see brothers… they have left, we have nothing to fear,” said the Paiute.

Anxious to get back to his camp the Paiute turned to go, but then caught sight of a large man leaning against a rock. Slowing down, he urged the others to go on ahead so he could take a better look.

There, leaning up against a rock, the Paiute recognized Hoss, who moved very little …except to occasionally toss a pebble and watch it dance on water.

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By day two Hoss was convinced that’s Joe’s death was all his fault. Hoping to find some clues, he had chosen to return to the lakefront even though dozens of volunteers had scoured the area the day before. Although he knew there was a good probability that his brother had drowned, he still couldn’t understand why. Joe was a good swimmer.

Staring out at the water, Hoss imagined his brother’s head popping up and whipping his hair from side to side, as he so often did.

Hoss still hadn’t recovered from the pain of getting his Pa back to the ranch. It was the hardest thing he had ever had to do. But no harder than Roy’s task, and Hoss could still hear him trying to convince his Pa to go home.

“Ben, you need to go home and get some rest. Your boys are worried about you,” Roy had said. “There’s nothing here for you, Ben, and staring at the water won’t bring Joe back.”

“Don’t you understand? I want my son, I need to see him … hold him!” And then Ben had revealed what was truly weighing heavy on his heart. “I need to bury my son,” he had whispered, staring at the sand.

Wincing at Ben’s words, Roy had been left speechless. Squeezing his friend’s shoulder, he had glanced around for Hoss or Adam to help get Ben home.

“Alright Ben, we’ll find him for you, but you get home and rest.”

Roy had watched Ben rise stiffly as his body mirrored the pain in his heart.

Hoss knew that once his family was out of view, Roy would begin the burdensome task of dragging the lake, hoping to find Joe’s body.

Still staring at the water, Hoss vowed he would return every day until he found an answer.

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When Chetan returned to the camp, tempers had simmered and his tribe was satisfied that the Whiteman combing the lake had posed no threat.

Joe was also feeling much better and ached to get up and stretch his legs, although his new attire left him a bit reluctant to be seen! Seeing his hesitation, Chetan practically pushed him outside the teepee shaking his head again at Joe’s modesty. He was shown a spot where he could continue to rest and enjoy the sun, while Chetan went about the chores of the day.

Joe marveled at life outside the teepee and observed how each member of the tribe had a purpose. The lifestyle was simple, and nothing was taken for granted. Now and again young children would stop and run, teasing him in a playful manner. But after spending hours on his own, Joe’s thoughts would drift to his family and he worried how desperately concerned they would be.

He remembered the anguish he had shared with his brothers when they had thought that a rustler had killed their Pa. Putting his head down, Joe tried to suppress the memories, as he didn’t want his family to suffer the way he did. They all had agonized so much, believing their Pa was dead, and the thought that he was causing his family so much pain was suddenly overwhelming.

Sitting quietly, with his head down, Joe watched the ground moisten with his tears.

“I’m okay Pa,” he whispered quietly. “Please don’t worry.”

Joe knew in his heart that his family would have scoured the lake for any signs of life. But he also knew the depth of lake would sooner or later force his family to give up and accept his fate, without any hope of retrieving his body.
________________________________________________________________________

For the most part Joe was an accepted novelty in camp, but to some he was still not to be trusted. And for this reason, Chetan still kept a close eye not so much on Joe but on those opposed to his presence.

Bedding down for the night, Joe felt useful having helped the camp with some chores. There was plenty to do and Joe had busied himself gathering firewood throughout the day. He knew better than to venture far from his teepee but was quick to help others carrying water from a nearby stream when they passed near him, taking the heavy burden of carrying water from them. His strength was returning and soon he prayed he would be reunited with his family.

Lost in his thoughts, Joe wasn’t aware of a shadow so fluid it could easily be mistaken for wind.

Without warning, Joe was yanked up by his hair, while a massive hand clamped over his mouth and nose. His hands instantly fought with the vise-like grip that sought to cut off his air.

As he was dragged towards the opening of the teepee Joe could feel the cold steel etching into his throat. His eyes begged for someone …anyone. His Paiute.

Looking frantically around the teepee, Joe could see Chetan’s squaw and his sister sleeping soundly, but Chetan was nowhere to be seen. Panic surged inside him and his ears roared with lack of oxygen.

Joe knew that once dragged outside, anything could happen, but he simply was no match for his assailant. But just as his world was going black, he felt the hand clamped on his face release its grip and he slid to the ground.

Joe was vaguely aware of Chetan, who seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. In an effort not to pass out, he tried to focus on the battle behind him…. but its silence was its strength, and within seconds an unconscious brave was dragged outside by Chetan.

Standing, Joe staggered to his bed and dropped to his knees. His mind reeled in the aftermath, as he realized how close he had come to never seeing his family again.

With fear still lodged in his throat, Joe suddenly found it difficult to breath. Gasping for air he reached for Chetan who seemed to once again appear out of nowhere.

Without hesitation Chetan gently stroked Joe’s back, helping him bring his breathing under control. Slightly embarrassed by his reaction to fear, Joe squeezed Cheetan’s arm in thanks and encouraged him to go back to bed.

Lying down, done in…Joe rolled onto his side. Now more than ever he ached for his Pa. He needed his strength and assurance that everything was going to be all right. Never had Joe felt so alone, and in a sudden release of tension his shoulders shook, as tears of exhaustion tracked down his face.

Hidden once again in the shadows, Chetan observed Joe, knowing the tears were not that of a child, but of a brave young man at the end of his rope.

Nodding to his squaw, Chetan whispered quietly, “it is time.”

During the day Chetan kept close to his camp, making sure Joe was being properly treated. Ever since the attack he was well aware of the dangers within his own tribe and there was still some debate over whether Joe should be allowed to return home to his family.

“Let the boy go, he means no harm. I will make sure I take him home in a direction he would have difficulty following if he chose to return with his people,” said Chetan.

But fear of revenge still fueled plenty of doubt in the camp.

“I know of his father and he has much land. A Whiteman with that much wealth can only mean trouble for our people, especially if he believes we took his son,” said one of the braves.

“But the boy is grateful. You’ve seen how he tries to be helpful around camp. You’re not born helpful, you have to be taught to care. I would think twice before we judge his father,” said Chetan.

Listening carefully the Elder nodded his head in approval.

“I sense goodness in the boy as well. Prepare him for travel, for you leave at dawn,” said the Elder.

Chetan did not wait for a rebuttal from the other braves, but rather nodded his head in respect to the Elder and returned to his teepee.

There were many routes Chetan could travel to take Joe home, so before the evening sun made its final descent, he once again returned to the bluff overlooking the lake to determine which route was easiest. Chetan had concerns about Joe’s ability on bareback and wondered if the rough terrain could possibly be too much for him to handle.

By the time Chetan had arrived at the Lake he was satisfied he had chosen a suitable route. Admiring the lake’s beauty Chetan was startled to see the large, now-familiar Whitman again looking out across the water. Chetan wished he could relieve his pain.

************************************************************************

As Hoss leaned against a boulder he noticed an Indian watching him from a distance. This was not the first time he had seen this particular Indian and Hoss wished he had the nerve to ask if he had seen Joe. But he had been taught to be cautious and waited for the Paiute to make the first move.

Waving in a gesture of good will, Hoss had hoped the Paiute might venture closer… so he could try and communicate.

Unfortunately, Chetan, like Hoss, was not completely certain. He had never seen a Whiteman the size of Hoss, and assumed any confrontation could be deadly. So Chetan turned away at Hoss’s wave and made his way back to his tribe, with no intention of sharing what he had observed.

With everything ready to go, Joe smiled and said his goodbyes to Chetan’s squaw and his sister. Blushing he hesitated briefly, until Chetan, well aware of the exchange, lead him eagerly to his horse!

Not quite sure what was expected of him, Joe accepted the reins, and Chetan watched as Joe contemplated the horse without a saddle. But a lighting quick swing mount left no doubt in Chetan’s mind of Joe’s ability. Glancing at his tribe, he felt an odd sense of pride, and smiling, he signaled Joe in the direction that would eventually lead him home.

Watching Joe from behind, Chetan marveled at the easy relationship between the horse and its rider, and quickly realized that the path he had chosen would present no difficulty.

Perhaps it was the fact that the terrain was so flat, combined with the knowledge that he would likely never see Joe again that caused Chetan to urge his horse ahead and challenge Joe to keep up.

Seeing the playful expression on Chetan’s face, Joe yelped with excitement, and the two of them sped towards an imaginary finish line.

Eventually Chetan slowed to a stop and encouraged Joe to do the same, for they had reached a place familiar to Joe, well within running distance to the ranch house.

Dismounting and holding the reins of the borrowed horse, Joe paused and looked up at his friend.

“How do I say goodbye and thank someone who saved my life?” thought Joe.

Joe began to speak but Chetan held up his hand to silence his words of thanks. Instead, he very carefully removed his beads from around his neck, and handed them down to his young friend.

As Joe’s eyes glistened in gratitude, Chetan nodded and was reminded of what his squaw had said about this young Whiteman.

“His heart speaks through his eyes,” she had said watching Joe help others in the camp.

“And hopefully his eyes have finally found trust and friendship in mine,” thought Chetan.

Turning his horse abruptly, Chetan headed back towards his camp…and Joe sped towards his home, in a run that barely touched the ground.

************************************************************************

Slamming open the front door, Joe’s first reaction was to yell and let everyone know he was home. Instead, however, he ran smack into a face… frozen in disbelief!

“Hop sing…where are they? Hop sing, please,” urged Joe. “Where’s Pa? Where’s Adam… Hoss!” Frantic, Joe turned to go, but Hop sing had found his voice just in time.

“Strays… they all look for strays,” Hop sing whispered quietly.

Staring at Joe, Hop sing was about to give him more information, but Joe was already running out the door and heading towards the barn.

“They look for stays so they not think about their loss, Little Joe,” Hopsing said quietly to an empty room.

Hop sing couldn’t believe that Joe was alive, as he remembered well the day Ben had returned from the lake clutching Joe’s clothes. All seemed lost that day, with little hope of ever finding Joe’s body. Each day the Joe’s family attempted to busy themselves with mundane chores, desperate to take their minds off their loss.

Now, with Joe having returned, Hop sing beamed with anticipation, and couldn’t wait to start the evening meal.

In the barn, Joe couldn’t be bothered with a saddle, having just ridden bareback. He knew Cochise could adapt quickly and wanted to get to his family as soon as possible. Leading Cochise out of the barn, Joe swing mounted on bareback for the second time that day.

Wasting no time, he galloped out of the yard heading for the north pasture, where he knew his family often looked for strays.

Sure enough, it wasn’t long before Joe spotted Buck, and on him was a rider he couldn’t wait to embrace. In his excitement he let out a yell, not unlike the one he had let go when he was racing Chetan. A yell that could easily be mistaken for that of an Indian.

Tearing across the open meadow, it hadn’t occurred to Joe that his painted horse combined with his native clothing, could trigger a deadly misconception.

“Injun!” screamed one of the hands.

And driven by fear, a rifle was instantly leveled and aimed at the Joe.

Hoss’ eyes were glued on the horse. “No!” he screamed. But the only answer to his plea was the sharp retort of a riffle.

The impact left Joe staring up at the sky, dazed and confused by what had just happened. Oddly, his mind recalled staring at the same gorgeous blue sky while floating on his back in the lake. But his momentary confusion was quickly refocused by an intense pain that seared his shoulder. The bullet had thrown Joe clear of his horse, and his head had landed hard on some loose rocks. His pain was all mixed up.

“Oh God, I’ve been shot… no…why would they shoot me?”

Frightened and barely holding on to consciousness, Joe could see figures racing towards him. Everyone was shouting at once, bombarding his senses. His urge to slide into darkness was being interrupted, commanding his attention.

“Joseph! Come on, boy…stay with us,” urged Ben, kneeling beside his son.

Hearing a voice so attached to his heart, Joe opened his eyes. His vision was blurring, but not before he saw the faces of his family. Reaching for his lifeline, Joe’s hand found his Pa.

“Lie still boy, you’ve been shot,” Ben whispered

Squeezing Joe’s hand, Ben attempted to ground his son, assuring him that everything was going to be alright. Crowding in on the circle, both Adam and Hoss leaned into Joe, anxious to see that their brother was okay.

Nothing made sense to Joe. Why would they shoot him… he was family. But then his heart began to pump in sheer panic as he glanced down at his native clothing.

“Can’t breathe,” Joe whispered, fighting to stay conscious.

The blow to Joe’s head was far more concerning now, and blood was rapidly carpeting the ground he was lying on. Instinctively, Joe’s family moved back slightly, realizing that they had let their fear of losing him again, interfere with what was best for him.

“Always have to make an entrance, don’t ya, little brother,” said Hoss.

Hoss could see the humour flash briefly in Joe’s eyes, and volunteered quickly to get the wagon back at the ranch.

“I’ll be back as fast as I can, Pa. You behave yourself, little brother,” said Hoss, patting Joe’s arm.

Adam got up as well, ready to fetch the doctor back to the ranch, but the hand who was mortified that he had accidentally shot Joe had beaten him to it.

“I’ll meet Doc back at the ranch and get everything ready,” said Adam. “Don’t you be late this time, little brother, or you’ll have me to answer to!”

Each of them knew how serious the situation was, as Joe was pale and losing far too much blood. Steady pressure was being applied to his wounds, but like staying in the water too long, time was not on his side.

Lying still, Joe could sense lots of commotion and he could hear his family making plans to go. Everyone seemed to be leaving and Joe was growing increasingly disoriented. Panicking, he released his Pa’s hand and grasped his sleeve to tug him closer.

“Don’t go… please. Please, Pa,” urged Joe.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Ben assured his son.

But Joe’s fear was plain as day and Ben’s presence was not only necessary but essential to his well being.

Smiling gently, Ben very calmly took Joe’s hand and pressed it up against the side of his cheek.

“Wild horses couldn’t drag me away, son,” said Ben.

It wasn’t long before Hoss returned with a wagon and Joe was settled in the back with his Pa. True to his word Ben, continued to hold his son, whispering words of encouragement in the hopes of keeping Joe awake. The extent of Joe’s head injury was still unknown and Ben wanted Doc Martin to examine him before he let him drift off to sleep.

As the wagon entered the yard of the ranch house everyone was ready, assuming a role, like a well rehearsed waltz. Ever so gently, Hoss lifted Joe out of the wagon, with Ben following close behind. Hop Sing had water boiling and a fire lit in Joe’s bedroom, while Doc Martin had his instruments laid out in anticipation of a bullet wound. And Adam had filled in the Doc with the extent of Joe’s injuries.

Joe had finally succumbed, and was unconscious by the time Hoss carried him up to his bedroom. Pressure had to be reapplied to the head wound so as stop the bleeding and Doc Martin was worried about Joe’s weakened state. Normally when it came to Joe, he counted on Joe’s robust health to pull him through.

Rifle shots were always more damaging, and this particular wound did not disappoint.

The bullet had gone clean through, but in its wake left shattered bone and tissue damage. The Doc’s work was cut out for him. But what concerned Doc the most was getting Joe on the right side of recovery, for he had never seen Joe so frail.

“Leave me with him Ben,” said the Doc.

Normally this was the family’s cue to leave and go downstairs, but no one responded.

Looking around the room, the Doc realized that each of them were suffering, and finding Joe again, with possibly losing him a second time…was simply too much.

So this time they chose to stay, ignoring the Doc, and finding a corner or a chair to remain out of the way for as long as it took.

It was hours before Joe gradually surfaced to where he was aware of those around him. Opening his eyes, he simply stared at his family, not quite believing he was finally home.

“I’m sorry,” said Joe.

“Sorry, I don’t understand, son, we’re the ones who should be sorry. We simply didn’t know it was you,” said Ben.

Momentarily confused, Joe shook his head.

“No… not that Pa,” said Joe realizing his bullet wound was an accident. “I’m sorry because I missed your surprise. What was it Pa?”

Staring at Joe, Ben realized his son was referring to the evening he had planned to surprise his sons, whereby they would all dine at the opening of the Grand Hotel.

It all seemed so insignificant now.

But seeing the disappointment in son’s eyes, Ben was reminded of the small boy who hated to miss out on surprises and secrets.

Thinking of what he might say to make Joe feel better, Adam joined the conversation at his brother’s bedside.

“Don’t worry little brother, Hoss ate a huge meal, but I think the restaurant still has some food left for you!” said Adam.

Grateful for some much-needed levity, Ben smiled at Adam as they both remembered the dinner all too well… a dinner fraught with worry that would later turn into a nightmare.

“We can talk more tomorrow. You rest now, son,” said Ben.

Closing his eyes, Joe was reminded of another deep, authoritative voice, insisting that he rest.

Joe’s recovery was much slower than it had been in the past, for the tissue damage was extensive and he tired quickly. Gradually he began to tell his family what had happened that fateful afternoon down at the lake.

Watching them listen, Joe could see the pain on Hoss’ face and knew he still blamed himself for his ordeal. He had tried to reassure his brother that he was the one who persuaded him to go back to the ranch.

Sensitive to Hoss, Joe was careful not to share too much; how frightened he’d been, the attempt on his life, and the worry that he would never see his family again.

For now, Joe recalled his ordeal like an adventure. He talked about the daily life in the camp, and the children’s games that he watched as he sat outside the teepee. As well, he joked how pretty the women were that nurtured him back to health, recalling the embarrassing moment when his modesty was compromised.

“They were not at all like I expected,” said Joe. “They teased one another just like us. In fact one of the braves reminded me of you Adam… real bossy!”

Adam smiled at his younger brother, saving a clever response for another time. For now, he just savored the fact that Joe was alive, and so was his sense of humor.

But when it came time for Joe to talk about Chetan, the bond he felt was much stronger than he realized, and without warning Joe felt quite despondent.

Twisting his bed sheets, he was at a loss for words, attempting to describe his relationship with Chetan to his family. Sensing his discomfort, Adam and Hoss quietly excused themselves from Joe’s bedroom. Joe needed time with his Pa.

“I wish Chetan could have understood how I felt, Pa. I was so frightened…so confused. I never realized how difficult it was, when you don’t understand the language,” said Joe.

Looking down at the beads left on Joe’s bedside table, Ben tried to reassure his son that Chetan had understood just fine. Ben had always marveled at Joe’s ability to express a wealth of meaning through his eyes, and there was no doubt in his mind that Chetan understood much more than Joe realized.

No words were necessary; only trust.
Epilogue
The winter had been hard for Chetan and his tribe. Moving frequently, there was scarcely enough food for everyone, and the weather was bitterly cold.

But summer had returned, and with it renewed hope for a successful hunting season.

Rounding a familiar bluff, Chetan was distracted by a voice coming off the lake that could only belong to one person. Gazing down at the young man splashing about in the water, with the ever-watchful large man leaning up against a rock, Chetan smiled to his squaw.

“I see our young friend has recovered well,” said Chetan.

“Perhaps you should leave him some clothes, just in case!” smiled his squaw.

 

The End

Author’s note: Many, many, many thanks go to my good friend Southplains, who was so supportive and helpful with my POV! As well… thank you to PJB, who sat and listened to my idea in a New York bar over a glass of wine!