October 2012 BB Challenge Words: Impaled; Toothsome; Zig-zag; Dissipated; Benediction

XxXxX

10

Hoss was weary in a way that had nothing to do with being tired. He had done what he could to slow the bleeding from Adam’s wound. As to Joe…well, Little Joe needed a lot of looking after. He was shivering and sweating by turns. Both brothers needed more tending to than Hoss could provide, even with the sheriff’s help. But, for the time being, they were holding their own.

After letting out a heavy sigh that rose up in a cloud of steam the instant he stepped outside, Hoss watched the cloud dissipate as though it was the only thing in the world worth his attention—out there in that cold, anyway. Everything that mattered was in the shack behind him.

No, he told himself. Pa mattered, too. And Pa didn’t even know about Adam and Joe. He didn’t know he could lose two of his sons today.

Today?

Hoss’s gaze reached the sky. At first he was confused, and then…surprised to discover not only had the storm ended, the night had, too. Somehow it had all happened without him noticing. He could almost have believed the hell of that night…shards of ice pelting his skin, his nose tingling and burning in the frigid air and his throat tightening against the onslaught while his belly tightened in fear for Little Joe…he could almost have believed it would never end, that Dusty McGraw’s frantic arrival in Virginia City had set Hoss, Adam and the sheriff on a nightmare journey straight into an arctic hell. Yet now the clouds were parting and the sun was streaming through the cracks.

When one, stray beam came straight for Hoss, he could swear it warmed him. One single ray of sunshine could never penetrate all that cold, a cold so intense he’d been sure he’d never feel warm again. Yet, somehow, he did…as though a part of him was melting…as though his very soul was being wrapped in comfort.

It soothed him.

And then, instead of a heavy sigh, he took a breath deep enough to fill the rest of his soul with something that felt very much like hope.

Just before he turned to head back inside, he saw a patch of blue sky; and all those stray beams converged into one great ball of light. He couldn’t help but think maybe it was there to show him his brothers were gonna be just fine…as though that light had come like a benediction straight from Heaven.

“Hoss?” Sheriff Coffee said softly behind him. “You see that?”

Confused, Hoss looked to the sheriff in the doorway, and then followed his gaze out to the road, way back where it met the horizon.

“What in tarnation?” Roy’s voice grew softer as they both watched…something…zig-zagging toward them along that roadway at a speed that made no sense at all, given the storm-wrought conditions.

“Is that…?” Hoss stopped himself for a moment, reconsidering his words. But the closer that thing came, the more he was sure of what he was seeing. “A team of dogs?”

“Sure seems like,” Roy answered. “I swear I ain’t seen stranger things in my whole life than I have in the last twenty-four hours.”

“You and me, both, sheriff.” When it was closer still, Hoss saw that dog-team was pulling a sled along behind it; and in that sled he caught sight of that bear of a man, Simon Bullnose Walker. “You and me, both.”

XxXxX

Chilled as much by the lingering dampness from the storm as by the unjustifiable fear in his heart, Ben Cartwright poked at the fire in the great room. His efforts at nudging the flames back to life stirred something inside him as well. Mesmerized, he stared at that charred piece of wood currently impaled on his iron poker. With each breath Ben took, he watched that wood grow brighter, redder, more alive…more dangerous.

Yes. Dangerous. He’d sensed danger out in that storm through the long night…a long, sleepless night spent in worry for all three of his sons. He’d told himself again and again there was no reason for concern. Adam and Hoss would surely have stayed in Virginia City until the storm had passed. And Joe knew well enough to take cover in a line shack. He should know better, anyway. And if he didn’t, Dusty was with him.

Dusty was a good man, the best Ben had. Truly someone to ride the river with, as Dusty himself would say. Yes, Ben could count on Dusty to see to it Joe was safe.

So why is it yer holdin’ on like a sick kitten to a warm brick?

Imagining what Dusty would say to him if the man were to find him hovering there by the fire, holding to a nameless, useless fear he had no reason to feel, Ben couldn’t help but smile.

You’re right, he decided, pushing the now glowing piece of wood from the end of his poker and squaring his shoulders to step away. You’re absolutely right. There’s no point to borrowing trouble. Adam and Hoss would be home anytime now; and Joe…. Well, it might take another day or two for Joe to make his way down off that mountain, depending on how much snow or ice had fallen up in the high country. But he would be home soon enough, undoubtedly safe and sound with Dusty at his side.

Then quit beatin’ the devil around the stump, an’ get on with yer day! What ya’ still all balled up about?

Because they are my boys, Ben told the phantom in his thoughts. I cannot help but worry.

But none of ’em’s between hay and grass no more. They’re all full grow’d, an’ you know it.

“They may be grown men,” Ben found himself saying aloud, “but they are still my boys.” Drawing in a deep breath, he finally stepped away from the fireplace.

Almost immediately, he heard a horse in the yard; and he quickened his steps to the front door, feeling as surprised as he was relieved. But when he threw the door open to greet his returning sons, he was even more surprised to see his old friend, Dr. Paul Martin, instead. Perhaps stranger still, he was mounted rather than in his usual buggy.

“Paul?” Ben greeted. “What brings you out here? This is hardly a day for riding.”

“I’m not out for a ride, Ben. I’m afraid I have some bad news.”

Ben’s relief died. He felt a burning ember take root in his stomach. “Not…Not Adam or…or Hoss?” He felt fear growing along with that ember as he watched Paul dismount.

“They’re both fine, Ben. At least, they were when I saw them last night. No. No. It’s Dusty McGraw.”

“Well, Dusty’s not here. He’s with Joe, up in—”

“No, Ben. He’s not. He rode into Virginia City last night. Or rather, he was chased in.”

“What do you mean, ‘chased’?”

“Hard to say, exactly. From what we could gather, he had the misfortune to run into a bunch of madmen who did everything short of killing him outright.”

“And Joe? What about Joe?”

“I don’t know. Dusty rode in on Joe’s horse. He said he found the horse, but Joe wasn’t with him.”

“What are you saying, Paul? What’s happened to Little Joe?”

“I just don’t know, Ben. Dusty said he found Joe’s horse, and he was being chased by men who seemed to think he was Little Joe.”

“Surely he had to tell you more than that. Roy must have—”

“He died, Ben.”

“What?”Ben said the word in a rush of breath, feeling as though it had been punched right out of him.

“Dusty died before he could tell us anything more. Clem and a posse headed out at first light; but it’s bound to be slow going.”

Ben found himself nodding, and barely even knowing why. “I imagine Adam and Hoss are with them, then.”

“No. They’re not. They went up that mountain last night, with Roy Coffee.”

“Last night?” Ben said, feeling another punch. “They couldn’t possibly. That storm—”

“They were out in it, I’m afraid. They didn’t seem to think they had a choice.”

Ben’s ember became a raging fire that stole his voice. Not trusting himself to words, he nodded once, as much to himself as to his friend, and then strode purposefully toward the barn.

“I figured you would insist on going up there too,” Paul called after him, “as soon as you heard. I also figured it might be a good idea for me to join you.”

Ben stopped cold, and then turned to look at his friend. Paul Martin was a man of healing, not trail riding. Yet here he was, offering to ride a trail as rough as they come. The thought gave Ben comfort even as it built his fear into absolute terror. Clearly, Paul knew there would be a need for him…because, whether or not Little Joe was hurt up there on that mountain, Adam and Hoss…and Roy…had put their own lives at risk by riding out in treacherous weather to find him. And Dusty….

Dusty McGraw was dead.

For an instant, fear gave way to sorrow. Ben nodded and abruptly turned once more.

Oh, that ain’t no tear squeezer, Dusty said in his thoughts. Ever’one’s got ta’ cut his suspenders sometime. This time was mine.

No, Ben thought. It wasn’t. It should not have been.

It was, an’ that’s all there is to it. But it ain’t ought ta’ be Joe’s. If somethin’s gonna clench yer gut, it’s got ta’ be thinkin’ of that boy up yonder ways, half froze. Or all three a’them boy’s a’ yours. That just ain’t a toothsome kind of thought any which way.

“No,” Ben said aloud as he lifted a saddle to his horse’s back. “It most definitely is not.”

“What’s that, Ben?” Paul called back from the barn door.

Swiveling around to find Paul standing in the open doorway, Ben realized what he had failed to say moments earlier. “Thank you.”

“For what? Bringing bad news?”

“For not leaving me with it.”

And then, finally, numb and anxious all at once, Ben mounted his horse.

His sleepless night had been justified, after all.

XxXxX

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