December 2012 BB Challenge Words: a thimble full will do; our gay apparel; a star shone down; drank til the pot was dry; never get lost again

XxXxX

12

Joe opened his eyes to see a round-faced boy looking down on him. The boy’s eyes widened, but Joe was too tired to be surprised. He blinked once…twice…and tried to clear the fog from his thoughts. The boy looked familiar. Joe didn’t know why; he just looked…familiar. And for some reason he reminded Joe of Christmas…of the Christmas after his mother had died. It was not a pleasant memory, so Joe pushed it away.

Who…? He tried to speak, but no sound emerged. His throat was too dry. Water. Please?

The boy didn’t seem to understand. His gaze moved from Joe to something off to his side and then back again. That was the problem, Joe decided. The boy wasn’t paying enough attention.

“Water?” Joe forced the word out on nothing more than a thin breath.

The boy stared at him then, his brow drawing down in concentration. A moment later, he stepped away, revealing something red and glowing behind him.

Joe’s muddled thoughts went clear in an instant. He remembered the chair…the pain…the iron poker. Fear rushed in on him, choking him with a swallow of dry, over-heated air. He coughed it back out again, kindling the embers already burning in his throat and sending him toward a darkness watched over by the red-glowing eyes of a snarling wolf.

“Joseph?” his mother called to him. “Here, darling. Drink.”

He felt one drop of water…and then another…slide across the flames in his throat. It wasn’t enough. But it was all she would give him.

That’s all right, he said to her in the silence of his dream. It was no more than a thimble full, but as dry as he was, even one drop was better than none at all. Yes, he decided. A thimble full will do.

And suddenly the snarling wolf was gone. In its place Joe found a warm hearth and his mother’s slender hand stitching up the hole in his sleeve. When she pricked him with her needle, he didn’t care. She was there. Nothing else mattered.

XxXxX

“I’ve done what I can for now,” the doctor said as he rinsed his hands in a basin of water.  “We’ll let them both rest for a while.” Grabbing a towel, he looked appraisingly at Little Joe; Hoss couldn’t help but follow his gaze. “Try to get some more water into Joseph if you can. By the spoonful until—”

“Joe,” Hoss interrupted without taking his eyes off of his little brother. “He likes to be called Joe. If he hears ‘Joseph’…well, he’s likely to start thinkin’ Pa’s angry with him. Or…. I just don’t want him thinkin’ anything like that. I don’t want him thinkin’….”

“That’s fine, Hoss. I understand completely. I’ll be sure to both address him and refer to him as Joe from now on.”

Hoss felt a hand on his arm and finally turned to face the doctor. Doc Edmonds was as gentle a man as Hoss had ever met. He had a look of kindness in his eyes; and his hands…well, they sure weren’t a rancher’s hands. There weren’t calloused and rough. No. They were thin and smooth. This doctor had slim, long-fingered hands Hoss figured to be just perfect for…well, for doing things Hoss’s fat fingers would just make a mess of. He got that bullet out of Adam without any trouble at all. And the way he stitched up that awful hole in Joe’s arm looked about as fine as a fine lady’s sewing.

“Hoss?” Doc Edmonds’ hand tightened on Hoss’s arm. “Do you hear me? I said falling ill yourself is no way to help your brothers.”

“I’m fine, doc. Don’t waste your time worrying about me.”

“I don’t waste my time worrying about anyone, my friend. I simply concern myself with their care.”

“Well, you just concern yourself with my brothers then. I’ll be fine enough as long as you do that.”

“I imagine you will.”

Hoss could tell the doctor was about to say something more, but a shout from outside stopped his words before they could come out.

“Drank til the pot was dry, he did!” It was the devil’s voice, coming straight out of Buford’s older brother, Chet. “My pa could’a drunk all a’you under the table!” He was laughing. The posse had finally arrived to take him to jail—and his dead brothers to the undertaker—and he was laughing. “You’re all nothin’ but a bunch a’scrawny sheep doin’ anythin’ the sheriff says and too yellow to go out in the rain!”

“Sure you don’t want to gag him, Clem?” Sheriff Coffee called back. “I’d say it was justified.”

“Don’t, Hoss,” a much softer voice said at Hoss’s shoulder.

While the shouting continued outside, Hoss gave his full attention to the doctor beside him.

“Don’t let that man’s lack of humanity soil your own good heart.”

“You don’t understand, doc. He and his brothers done this to mine. They could’a killed Joe and Adam.”

“Maybe so. But they didn’t.”

“You sure about that?”

“See for yourself. Your brothers are still breathing.”

“Can you promise me they’re gonna keep on breathing? Can you promise they’re both gonna get better?”

“Only God can make a promise like that. But only God could have placed me right where I needed to be in order to help your brothers. And I don’t see why He would have done that if my efforts here were doomed to fail.”

Hoss looked deep into the man’s kind eyes. “I want to believe you.”

“Then allow yourself to do exactly that.” The homesteader’s dogs started barking outside, pulling the doctor’s gaze back toward the window. “I suppose that means Buford failed to convince Beau to accept my help.”

“Yeah. I…reckon it does.”

“I’ll never understand it. If he survives the trip back to Virginia City, he had better hope your Dr. Martin is available to help him.”

“Don’t mind me for wishin’ he ain’t.” Hoss was still staring toward the front of the shack when the door opened.

Buford stepped hesitantly back inside. He seemed just as hesitant to speak. “Sheriff told me I could stay, if that’s all right with you, Hoss?”

“What about Beau?” Hoss asked.

Buford shook his head. “He don’t want to be here. Dogs’ll take him back with the posse. I think…I think maybe he’s ashamed.”

“Ashamed of what?”

“I think he feels bad. Same as me.”

“If that’s true, then wouldn’t you rather go with him?”

“I just…isn’t there something I can do to help?” The boy’s eyes moved to Adam and Little Joe.

“I’d say your brother out there needs you more’n we do. We got plenty enough help here now.”

Buford looked to the ground. “But…but I’m a’feared.”

“Chet can’t hurt you anymore. Clem and his men will see to that.”

In an instant, Buford went from skittish to adamant. “No!” he shouted. “Not Chet! I’m not a’feared of him! It’s…it’s God I’m a’feared of. I need to make it right. I need to…make it all right again.” And then he started crying.

Hoss didn’t hesitate. He stepped forward and enfolded Buford in his arms. “You already did, boy. You already did make it right. If it weren’t for you, we might not have got to Joe in time. I think maybe you even saved his life.

“I…did?”

Hoss nodded. “You sure did.” Then he gripped Buford by the arms and pushed him just far enough away to look at his eyes—and to let the boy see his own. “You see? You got no cause to fear God. I already told you that before. Your heart ain’t turned to stone. And if what you think about Beau is true, then his heart ain’t stone either. Now you go on out there, and you help your brother. I can help both of mine.”

“But he won’t listen to me. He never does. None of ’em ever would.”

“He won’t have much choice now though, will he?”

“What do you mean?”

“He’s hurt, ain’t he?”

Buford nodded.

“Then he ain’t got the strength to fight you about anything. This is your chance to show him how strong you are.”

“But I ain’t strong.”

“Sure you are! You were strong enough to walk out of here and then to stay out even when you thought your brothers would punish you for it. You were strong enough to tell me how afraid you were about God turnin’ His back on you. You been lost, boy. But you don’t have to be that way anymore. You and Beau can stand on your own now. And you got it in you to never get lost again.”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, I do. An’ as a wise man once told me, if you want to believe it, then let yourself believe it. Do you want to believe you’ll never get lost again?”

Buford nodded.

“Then believe it. That’s what faith is all about, boy. An’ that’s why you don’t have to be afraid of God if your heart ain’t turned to stone.”

Buford gave Hoss another tight hug, and then scrambled back outside. A moment later, Hoss heard that young voice of his shouting. “You’re stayin’ right here, Beau! An’ you ain’t goin’ nowhere until the doc says you can!”

When Hoss looked at the doctor again, the man was smiling even wider than Hoss.

XxXxX

Christmas. It was Christmas. That felt wrong, somehow; but Joe didn’t much care…especially when he saw how happy his mother was. She was laughing. And Pa…Pa was singing.

Don we now our gay apparel, fa la la, la la la, la la la.
Troll the ancient Yule-tide carol, fa la la la la, la la la la!

“Joseph? Joe? Please, son.”

Keep singing, Pa. It’s better if you….

“Little Joe? Come on, son. It’s time to wake up.”

“Keep…singing.” Joe felt the words scrape their way out of his throat. It felt like fire…like the words had been dug out of him with a red, glowing, iron poker.

Something was wrapped around Joe’s wrist. Rope?

They were back, Joe realized. The wolves were back. He’d only been dreaming of Christmas. This was real. He was still tied to that chair. And the boy…Where was the boy? He’d given Joe a gift, hadn’t he? He’d hidden the iron poker from Joe’s view. He’d given Joe a reprieve. And Joe had wondered if that boy had ever known a real Christmas. How could he, living with a pack of wolves like that?

“Joe?”

“Pa?” No. Pa wasn’t there. It was just Joe. And the boy. And the wolves.

“Yes, son, I’m here. Now please, Joe. Won’t you open your eyes for me?”

“Wolves?”

“There aren’t any wolves here, son.”

“I don’t know about that, Pa.” Hoss? “That Simon Walker fella’ sort of smells like one, don’t ya’ think?”

“Na! More like a bear, I’d say!” Sheriff Coffee?

Now Joe knew he was dreaming. But maybe it was better that way. He couldn’t stand to be in that chair anymore, anyhow.

“You’d better open your eyes, Joe.” Adam? “Take it from me, they’ll just keep at it until you do.”

You sound funny. Like maybe you’ve had too much— “Whiskey.” Again, Joe’s throat burned.

“Sorry, young man. But you’re going to have to settle for laudanum, I’m afraid.” What was a stranger doing in Joe’s dream?

He tried to open his eyes; but only one of them seemed to work. And then he couldn’t see too much at all. Must still be night out, dark as it was. The only thing Joe could see was the dim, orange glow of lamplight.

At least it didn’t seem to be windy anymore. Maybe the storm was finally over. That was a good thing. He’d been so cold he didn’t think he would ever feel warm again.  And the wolves….

No. They hadn’t been wolves, had they? They’d been— “Moonshine.” Joe’s throat could take no more of that scraping. He started coughing.

“Easy, son. Easy.” The ropes holding Joe down softened…became arms. His father’s arms.  “That’s it, Joe. Easy, now.”

“Pa?” Joe opened his good eye once more. A shadow started to form in front of him.

“You’re going to be all right, Joe. Everything’s going to be just fine, now.”

Joe blinked once, and then again. The shadow gained substance. Joe saw white hair. “Pa?” He tried to grasp the familiar leather vest, but his fingers were so stiff he could barely move them at all.

“Yes, Joe. I’m here. We’re all here, now.”

“An’ let me tell you, little brother….” Joe turned his head just enough to catch sight of Hoss. “No line shack was ever meant to be this crowded. ‘Least you got that cot.”

Joe realized Hoss was right as he scanned the small room. Sheriff Coffee, Doc Martin, a small-boned stranger, Hoss, Pa, the boy who’d given him Christmas….

“Adam?” Joe asked, concerned to see his oldest brother lying on the ground, on what looked to be a gray wolf’s pelt.

“I’m all right, Joe.” But he didn’t look all right. He was pale, and there was a sheen of sweat on his brow.

Suddenly Joe was back in the chair again. He’d heard Adam’s voice. But…there was a gun. The wolf was going to shoot Joe. Did he shoot Adam, instead?

XxXxX

“Adam?” Joe felt a cool cloth on his forehead. He opened his eye again to see his pa leaning over him.

“Feeling better now, Joe?”

“He shot…Adam. Didn’t he?” Joe’s throat felt…maybe not better, exactly, but it didn’t burn quite as much as before.

“Adam’s going to be just fine. You both are, thanks to Dr. Edmonds.”

Dr. Edmonds? But Joe had other questions…other…thoughts…to puzzle out. “The storm,” he said softly. “How’d he….” Joe wanted to ask how Adam had made it out there in that storm; and how had he known to come at all? But those were just too many words.

Pa understood, even so. “Dusty made it back to Virginia City.” He was quiet for a moment. Joe thought he saw something troubling in Pa’s eyes; but that was another question, for another time. “Adam, Hoss and Sheriff Coffee all rode up here, right in the middle of that storm, after Dusty told them you were in trouble.”

“I’m glad…Dusty made it back.” Joe closed his eye and took a ragged breath, cringing at the pull on his sore ribs. How much damage had those men caused? They’d just kept hitting him…burning him. “They were…like…animals, Pa. I couldn’t…I couldn’t….”

Pa’s hand moved to Joe’s hair. “I know, son. But it’s over now. You’re safe.”

“I killed him, Pa. He was…gonna kill me. I didn’t…. No choice.” Joe once again saw that old moonshiner’s eyes. There had been such hatred in them, such…. “They said he…their pa…but…how…how could…?”

“Shhhh.” Pa rubbed the top of Joe’s head. “Don’t worry about any of that right now, son. You just focus on getting better.”

“Pack of wolves.” Joe’s own voice was sounding distant, even to him. “Howling…not just the wind. I couldn’t….” Joe remembered the door bucking against his back as the wolf tried to push itself inside. He could hear the scraping of claws at the window…the hungry howls in the night…and…the loud snores of men sleeping nearby. Men, Joe realized, not wolves.

This time when he opened his eye, Joe’s gaze landed on the window, where a star shone down through the black night. It wasn’t raining anymore. There was no wind, no ice. And the line shack was crowded with men who were looking out for him. There were no animals, no moonshiners, no….

A shadowed beast passed under that star. Startled, Joe held his breath as the beast looked in at him…and then Joe saw that it, too, was just a man…a man cloaked in animal furs…a man whose eyes glistened but did not burn. The man nodded at him, raised a hand in greeting…or farewell?…and then disappeared back into the darkness.

Pa had been right. It really was over. Seeking out Adam again, Joe saw him bathed in moonlight, and somehow he knew his oldest brother was going to be fine, just like Pa had told him.

“…If you want to believe it, then let yourself believe it,” Joe heard Hoss saying. “That’s what faith is all about.”

But Hoss wasn’t talking, was he? No. He was snoring as loud as ever. It was about the best sound Joe had ever heard, surely a whole lot more comforting than the wolf in the wind.

Joe smiled, settled back against the thin pillow cradling his aching head, and fell into a deep, soothing sleep. His dreams were filled with family…and Christmas.

XxXxX

~end~