Summary: Little Joe is ready to do anything to help the struggling widow of his childhood friend.

-Tissue Warning- This story deals with loss (NO main character deaths)

Rating: PG

Word Count: 7561

For the Love of Pete

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

~~

Streets that usually teemed with activity were empty. Doors to shops with their various bells that signaled the arrival of expectant shoppers were closed. The buildings were quiet as if, like the people who lived there, they were grieving over their loss. Just outside the town, on a small hill, inside of an ever-growing cemetery, the citizens of Virginia City were gathered. Solemn faces turned in the direction of the soft-spoken minister, but few heard his words. Near the newly formed mound of earth stood an aging couple, their only child, their son, lying cold and alone beneath the ground. On the other side of the grave stood his widow, a young woman whose natural beauty was, at the moment, lost in her grief. The minister’s words couldn’t offer nearly as much comfort to her as the full presence of the community. Everyone had loved Pete, with his easy banter and warm smile. Few in attendance could claim to be untouched by the young man who had grown up as one of their own, and they now suffered the loss together.

Eventually, one by one, the people turned to leave. Condolences were given, flowers were thrown, but the sadness remained. As the sun went down, the pale sky faded from orange to pink. Only two stayed.

“Rose,” Little Joe said as he gently laid a hand on her arm. “I . . . Come on, let me walk you home.”

The young woman nodded, but she made no move to leave. Little Joe felt his throat tighten as she turned to him; her eyes pooled with tears.

“Why . . . why?”

Little Joe had no answer to give her, but he knew that none was expected. Instead, he put an arm around her and slowly guided her away from the cemetery.

Why?

The question lodged itself in his own mind.

Wasn’t it enough that only a few months before the young couple had lost their first child? The baby had never even had a chance to live, stillborn. Why was it that some people had to suffer so much loss; so much pain?

It’s not for us to question . . . He could still hear his father’s words clearly.

But some questions demanded answers, and the death of his friend was one of them. His mind went back to the day before yesterday, when Sheriff Coffee had knocked on the door of the Ponderosa. They’d been expecting the lawman for supper, but he’d brought news.

“I don’t know how to tell ya this,” he’d said. “It’s the Hirsch boy-”

Little Joe had quickly stood. “Pete?”

“ ‘Fraid so,” Roy answered. “Seems he took a fall; got too close to the edge of his loft, landed right on a . . . well, he didn’t make it. Doc said his neck was broke.”

Little Joe forced his mind back to the present. It just didn’t seem possible. Children fell from lofts breaking an arm or a leg, not full-grown adults, and surely not to their deaths, but he knew better than to say anything to the woman walking silently by his side.

“Can I get you anything?” he asked once she was seated at the dining table of her small home.

“No, thank you, Little Joe. I think I’d just like to be alone.”

He understood, and giving her shoulder a light squeeze, Little Joe made his way outside shutting the door gently behind him.

Over the next few weeks, Little Joe stopped by often with offers of help and friendship, but Rose was always the same.

“It’s all right, Little Joe,” she would say, as she pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders. “I’m fine, thanks anyhow.”

The emptiness in her eyes told a different story, and though Little Joe grieved along with her, he was at a loss as to how to help her.

~~

Time passed, and day by day the early spring weather grew warmer. It was nearly a month after his last attempt to visit Rose that Little Joe whooped, spurring Cochise into a gallop along the road to Virginia City. It had been a long month, one in which he hadn’t left the Ponderosa even once. The moving of their herds had taken much longer than expected, and this slight reprieve had been well earned. That morning, he and his brothers had made a contest out of bringing in the last of the strays. The two that showed up in the meadow last would have to stay over one more day, until all the fences needed to keep the cattle in place were secured. Needless to say, Hoss and Adam wouldn’t be joining their youngest brother until sometime the next morning or afternoon.

As the clustering of buildings drew closer, Little Joe slowed Cochise to a canter and headed straight for the livery.

“Well, howdy, Little Joe,” Mr. Watkins, the livery owner greeted.

“Evening, Charlie. Hey, set Cochise up with some of the finest will you?”

Charlie smiled as he accepted the reigns from Little Joe. “Gonna be in town a while, are ya?”

Little Joe winked and tossed the man a silver coin. “Two whole days and two long nights.”

“Hah, ya think your daddy can spare ya that long?”

“I doubt it, but he’ll make do.” Little Joe’s laughter blended with Charlie’s as the young man made his way into the city. He stopped for a moment, his eyes roaming over the various shops and establishments. He had narrowed his decision down to the International Hotel or the Silver Dollar, but then his gaze fell upon the little shop two doors down from Hansen’s Feed. His smile slowly faded as memories began to surface of all the times he’d spent inside the tiny store. He and Pete had played in the back room for hours upon hours with bits of glass and broken gears, while Mr. Hirsch worked on his watches or occasionally jewelry. The two young boys had made sure to never stray far from Mr. Hirsch’s watchful eyes, nor from Mrs. Hirsch’s good smelling kitchen.

Little Joe was nearly to the steps before he even realized he’d made the decision to visit his friend’s parents. He paused at the door to run his hand over the wooden shingle where he and Pete had carved their initials. He chuckled as he remembered Pete’s father’s discovery of their handiwork on his newly purchased sign. He’d turned first red and then purple. Little Joe had thought for sure the man would burst, but eventually, he threw up his hands, turned and stomped away.

“Little Joe, is that you? Come in, boy.”

The sound of the door opening along with Mr. Hirsch’s greeting, interrupted Little Joe’s thoughts.

“Good morning,” Joe answered, stepping inside. “I have a couple days off, and I thought I’d . . . well, is there anything I can do for you?”

Little Joe took off his hat and smiled as Mrs. Hirsch came bustling in from the kitchen, her cheeks rosy and her smile warm.

“Little Joe,” she said, “It is good to see you. Come, I’ve just put the water on.”

Mr. Hirsch reached out an elbow and nudged Joe’s arm, nodding his head in the direction of the kitchen. “You know she won’t let you go now until you’ve finished her latest batch of tea. She’s been experimenting again?”

Little Joe shrugged and sniffed the air. “If it comes with some of that apple pie I’m smelling, I’ll drink it by the gallon.” He nudged the older man back and chuckled.

“Ah, Little Joe, it is good to hear laughter again. I’m glad you’ve come.”

Joe forced the smile to stay on his face as he nodded. “Don’t mention it. Pete was a good friend; you folks are like family.”

Mrs. Hirsch interrupted the men as she called them to the table, and Little Joe turned his smile to the older woman, pretending not to notice the moisture in her husband’s eyes.

~~

A few hours later, Little Joe checked in at the hotel. Mrs. Hirsch had offered to let him stay with them, but her husband had been quick to inform her that a young man of Little Joe’s current unattached circumstances would prefer to be on his own. Little Joe had kissed her goodbye, promising to visit again before he left town. That wasn’t the only promise he’d made, however, and he fully intended to visit the newest saloon in town after he freshened up.

It took another half hour before his bath was ready, and while he soaked away the evidence of several weeks’ worth of working with cattle, he thought about what Pete’s parents had told him. From what they’d said, it sounded like Rose was getting herself into some trouble, and he was determined to find out if the rumors being spread around town were true.

“Please, Little Joe,” Mrs. Hirsch had pleaded as she clenched her teacup, “she is all we have left of our Peter.”

“She won’t even see us,” Mr. Hirsch had added. They’d both grown quiet after that, their eyes flickering with shadows of concern.

Now, Little Joe shared that concern. He dunked his head under the water, running his fingers through his hair as the warm liquid enveloped him. A moment later, he came up with a noisy splutter, and reached for the soap. As he washed, he mentally reviewed all he knew of Rose. By Virginia City standards, with its steady stream of people constantly coming and going, she was practically considered a long term citizen; though she’d only moved there about two years ago. Little Joe and Pete had been outside the mercantile one day, about to head over to Sally’s Diner when the stage had rolled in.

They’d both stood in awe as a young slender woman in a green, velvet dress had stepped down onto the boardwalk. Her eyes were the same rich brown as her curly hair. The two young men nearly puddled when she turned to the stage operator and smiled; they watched hypnotized as she pulled a small coin purse out of her bag and tipped the driver, then she reached for her valise. That set the two men in motion, with Little Joe getting a head start. He’d been surprised when his normally bashful friend had reached out and grabbed hold of his jacket collar.

“Not this time, buddy,” Pete had said with his jaw set, “this one’s mine.”

Whether in pure amazement over his friend’s sudden assertiveness, or amusement over the fact that Pete was hopelessly and utterly smitten, Little Joe wasn’t sure, but he’d decided to let his friend have his way.

Little Joe grinned as he recalled the memory. From the day he’d first seen her until the day he died, Pete had loved Rose with every ounce of his being. Little Joe stood, and grabbing a towel, dried his hair vigorously before wrapping it around his middle. His body was dry by the time he finished combing his hair and he dressed quickly, anxious to get out and start his brief holiday.

He had a twenty dollar bill threatening to burn a hole in his pocket, and he was feeling lucky. Standing outside the hotel for a moment, he listened to the sounds of evening settling in over the town. Virginia City tended to be noisy during the day, but night time was when it really came alive. Joe’s step was light as he made his way across the street. Normally, he would have chosen a smaller establishment, but this time he had motive to try his luck at the much larger, Blue Silver Hotel and Saloon. The place had opened up about six months ago, and already had the reputation of serving, not only the best steaks in town, but also the best whisky and women. The larger crowd would allow Little Joe the chance to be more selective in his poker opponents.

He nodded to the bar tender as he walked inside, and the older gentleman smiled as he held up a pad and pencil.

“No need, Jake,” Joe said, fishing several silver dollars out of his pocket. “I’ve got cash tonight.” Joe had practically had to ransack his room to fish up enough coins, but after his last tab had somehow found its way into the hands of his pa, he wasn’t too keen on leaving a paper trail again anytime soon. The bartender handed him a mug of cool beer, and as Joe glanced around the room he was pleased to see several different card games taking place. He would have to start small and build up his stash before he would be able to get in on one of the high stakes games but he had high hopes of turning his twenty into enough for a handsome gray stallion he’d been keeping his eye on. He glanced into one of the smaller rooms off to the side as he walked, and caught a glimpse of a familiar brunette sitting alone at a table. Frowning, he changed his direction and, he suspected, the rest of his plans for the evening. He crossed the room quickly to confront the young woman drooped in her chair holding a half-empty bottle of whiskey.

“Rose, what is this?” Little Joe asked, struggling to keep his voice calm. “What are doing here?” He grabbed a chair and turned it around before sitting down.

Rose slowly lifted her head. Her eyes were bloodshot, and most of her curls were loose, hanging limply around her flushed face. The bags under her eyes testified to more than one sleepless night.

“Is there somewhere else I should be?” Rose asked without looking up.

Little Joe leaned back to escape the stench of alcohol on her breath. Her slurred words indicated that she was even more drunk than he’d figured.

“Rose, let me take you home,” he tried. “You shouldn’t be in a place like this.”

With great concentration the woman managed to settle her watery eyes on Little Joe’s face. “Oh . . . Little Joe,” she said. “It’s you. Nice of you to drop up. I’d get you a drink, but I’m off for the night.”

Little Joe rolled his eyes and stood. “Come on, Rose, time to go,” he said as he reached for her arm. Rose opened her mouth as if she wanted to say something, but then the thought seemed to pass and she quietly allowed Little Joe to escort her out of the noisy saloon. At the last second, Little Joe opted to take her out the back door. Her scanty dress offered little in the way of modesty and the last thing he wanted to do was fuel the flames of the local town gossips. Though he tried, he couldn’t avoid being seen altogether, and there were more than a few raised eyebrows as the two made their way down B street, toward the little home where Rose now lived alone.

They were a few doors down from her house when Rose started making the warning sounds, and Little Joe quickly rushed her into a side street where she spent the next several minutes vomiting. Little Joe knew he should be feeling sympathetic, but more than anything, he was angry.

How could she?

Without warning, his mind suddenly flashed back to another night just like this one. A night when it had been a young sixteen-year-old boy inside of an alley retching, while his buddy waited just outside. Little Joe felt his anger fade as he remembered how Pete had stayed with him all night, cleaning up his messes and pumping coffee down his throat so that Little Joe would be able to face his pa in the morning with a clear head.

“I’m ready now.” Rose’s hoarse voice as she stepped out from between the houses brought Joe back from his reverie. Rose managed to make it inside the house before she passed out, and Little Joe carried her the rest of the way to her bed. After lying her down, he hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to do about her soiled clothing. Finally, he decided it would be easier to clean the sheets the next day then to explain how’d she’d gotten undressed. After he was sure Rose was settled, he left the room, shutting the door softly. The moon was shining brightly through the windows as he made his way over to the kitchen table to light a lantern. The lamp provided a soft glow, and Little Joe took a look around. Between the tiny kitchen and the main room there wasn’t much furniture. Pete had insisted that they keep to the bare necessities until he and Rose were in there new house. Little Joe tried to ignore the pang in his chest as he thought of his friend’s dreams; dreams of building a little farmhouse just outside of Virginia City.

“A place where there’s room for the kids to grow,” Pete had said. “A place where we can keep chickens, and a milk cow, and . . . if you’ll help me, maybe a place where I can raise a couple of fine horses.”

Little Joe smiled sadly, Pete had always loved horses. When they were young, whenever Pete would stay at the Ponderosa, the two boys would spend hours upon hours riding horses high in the mountains. There was hardly a gully or brook they hadn’t explored. Though Pete had rarely said anything out loud, Little Joe had always known that his friend longed for a horse of his own, but his parents, with their little watch shop had never had the money, the place, nor the skill required to obtain one.
Across the room on a small shelf, a book on farm animals caught Little Joe’s attention. Picking it up, he leafed through the pages, noting that the section on horses seemed to be the most worn.

“The things we take for granted,” he spoke softly to himself. His own life had been so different from his friend’s. Little Joe had grown up surrounded by the animals that he and Pete shared a love for. Placing the book back in its place, he scanned the title of the few volumes there. He recognized most of the titles from books his father and oldest brother owned. Most of the one’s on Pete’s shelves were by Charles Dickens, and they all showed evidence of having been read many times over. Knowing that Pete had never been much of a reader, he decided that the novels must belong to Rose.

Little Joe turned when he heard stirring in the bedroom and crossed quickly to the kitchen where he grabbed the biggest bowl he could find. He got the dish to Rose just in time, and began what would be a very long night’s vigil.

~~

The sun was high in the sky the next day before Little Joe woke. He hadn’t gotten much sleep, and the little he had managed had come at the cost of cramped and aching muscles from trying to fit onto the small sofa in the main room. Standing up with a groan, he decided to check in on Rose before heading to the kitchen to make a fresh pot of coffee. He didn’t think he could stomach another cup personally, but he knew that Rose would be needing it soon.

The coffee was nearly done boiling when he finally heard Rose moving around in the next room, and grabbing a pail near the door, he headed outside to the pump for some cool water. Bringing it back into the house, he poured some into a pitcher near the basin and then dumped the rest into a large pot he already had sitting on the stove. He figured Rose was going to want a bath, and he knew after last night that there was quite a bit of washing to be done.

A few minutes later, the creak of the bedroom door alerted him to Rose’s presence. Taking the coffee pot from the stove, he turned and greeted her with a smile and a good morning.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, pulling her robe tighter around her body.

Little Joe hadn’t been sure how much she’d remember from the night before, but he hadn’t expected her to forget about him completely. He was glad to see that she was out of the dirty clothes she’d slept in all night.

“Just helping a friend,” he answered.

Rose eyed him warily for a moment. “Would that be me or Pete?”

“Both.” His voice was gentle as he answered, and Rose’s hard gaze softened.

“I’m sorry, Little Joe. I guess I should be grateful. It’s just that . . . I hate for you to see me this way.”

Little Joe bit back the first response that came to mind, and opting for silence, motioned to the table where he had two cups and saucers waiting. The two sat for several minutes in silence, and when it became clear that Rose didn’t have any intentions of breaking it, he spoke up.

“Why the saloon, Rose?”

Rose kept her gaze on the table. “I have to make a living.”

“That way?”

Her gaze drifted up. “It was Pete’s dream to live on that farm. I can’t afford to finish it any other way.”

Little Joe cleared his throat to hide his scoff. Her answer was a cover, although for what he wasn’t sure. She offered no other explanation so he searched her eyes, hoping to find there the truth she refused to speak. What he saw in them caused his remaining anger to vanish.
In her eyes was pleading, hopelessness, fear, and then she turned away.

“Thank you . . .” she said, “for what you did last night.”

So she did remember.

“But, I’m fine now, and I have to get ready for . . .”

Reaching across the table he rested his fingers on her hand. “Let me help you,” he said.

Rose looked startled for a moment, but quickly regained her composure. “Don’t be silly. I’m fine, and I meant it,” she said, stopping Little Joe before he could interrupt. “I want to finish Pete’s farm. The barn was almost done, you know?”

Little Joe didn’t miss the moisture in her eyes when she quickly stood up. There was more to the story, he knew, but he also knew that now wasn’t the time to push her. Pointing to the water on the stove he said, “Thought you might want a bath. I’ll stop by again before I leave tomorrow.” Before she could answer, he gave her quick kiss on the cheek and left. As he made his way down to C Street, his stomach’s rumbling reminded him that he hadn’t eaten in a while. Taking a left, he headed toward Daisy’s and chuckled when he saw his brothers’ horses tied out front of the small café.

Little Joe spent most of the afternoon with Hoss and Adam, but toward evening they decided to split up. His brothers were staying at a much cheaper boarding house, so they agreed to meet up again the next morning at Daisy’s for breakfast.

“We prefer to spend our money on things other than sleeping,” Adam had said.

“Hey,” Little Joe answered. “I’ve earned a good sleep, and I intend to do it in style.”

The three brothers parted with laughter, and Little Joe headed back to the Blue Silver Saloon, more than eager to play some poker. Several hours later, Little Joe raked in the pot for the second time that evening. The last two men in the game, threw their cards on the table and left, scraping their chairs noisily across the floor.

Whew! Five-hundred dollars. Not bad.

Little Joe was tempted to fan out the money and cool himself off with it, but for once, his pa’s warnings of being discreet were ringing in his ears. Instead of boasting of his prize he neatly folded it, put it inside his wallet, and placed it in the inside pocket of his jacket. He’d won enough to buy the stallion he wanted with money left over . Exiting the building, he turned toward the hotel, but a soft cry from the alley stopped him. He turned his ear to listen, half expecting a cat to come careening out into the street, but then there was another cry and he recognized it as a woman’s voice. Darting around the side of the building he saw a man with a young woman pinned against the wall. Her arm was being twisted in his grasp and his mouth was pressed so tightly against hers that Little Joe wouldn’t have been surprised if the woman couldn’t breathe.

“Let her go,” he said, swiftly drawing his pistol and aiming at the man’s head.

The man turned, and let the woman go so suddenly she went flying. “Look, mister, I’ve got no quarrel with you or the young lady.”

“Little Joe?” the woman questioned.

Little Joe’s rage was fueled when he recognized Rose. “Yeah, I think the lady might have something to say about that,” he said, positioning himself in front of Rose.

The man leered at Joe. “She’s getting as good as she gives.”

Little Joe saw red, and before he knew what he was doing the man was picking himself up off the ground, his nose crooked and bleeding. “Now get out of here before I really get angry,” Joe shouted. The man wasted no more words, and took off without even bothering to pick the hat that had flown off his head. Joe grinned and holstered his pistol, then turned to Rose. The expression on her face wasn’t what he’d been expecting.

“Do you have any idea how much money you’ve just cost me?” she spat, then picking up the man’s bowler, she dusted it off and pushed her way past Little Joe.

“Rose,” Little Joe said, reaching for her arm. She stopped and turned her gaze on him.

“I told you. I don’t need your help,” she said, and though her words were angry, her eyes showed something more; panic. “Please, just leave me alone.”

Little Joe released her arm and watched in defeat as she marched out of the alley. It was then it hit him just how tired he was, and he decided, for the moment, sorting things out with Rose could wait. Twenty minutes later, he smiled as he climbed between the clean, cool sheets of his overpriced hotel room and his thoughts turned to his brothers. He knew without a doubt that they weren’t nearly as comfortable as he was.

~~

Little Joe’s time off in Virginia City was up before he knew it, and if it hadn’t been for the well-muscled stallion he was leading home, he would have been sad to leave. As it was, the Ponderosa was entering its busy season, and between roping, branding, breaking, and training, Little Joe’s thoughts and worries of Rose were temporarily set aside. It wasn’t until one evening, nearly a month later, that his thoughts of her again came to the forefront. He and Adam had spent the day up at one of the logging mills and had stayed to join the men with their evening meal. The next morning was payday, and the men were boisterous as they ate. Some of them, had begun their celebrating early and a few bottles were being passed around. Little Joe watched as his older brother gave him a wink and took a swig when the bottle was passed to him.

“Fan the sinking flame of hilarity with the wing of friendship and pass the rosy wine,” Adam said, passing the bottle to his younger brother.

“What?” Little Joe chuckled.

“Dickens, my dear boy,” Adam answered, clapping him on the back. “Charles Dickens.”

“I must have missed that part,” Joe answered, but then the vision of a shelf full of books by Charles Dickens entered his mind, and he sobered as he passed the bottle to the impatient man next to him.

“Older brother,” he said, “Don’t you think one of us should be in town with the men tomorrow? I mean, we wouldn’t want to lose any of them to the mines.”

Joe knew there was little danger of that happening with this particular crew. The group was made up mostly of local mountain men that were longtime friends of their father. Many of them, Little Joe knew, wouldn’t even be heading into town the next day, preferring to spend their time off at home with their families. Adam seemed to sense his younger brother’s anxiousness and gave him a half smile along with his blessing. “Just don’t let pa find out. Hoss and I haven’t had the heart to tell him yet that you don’t actually earn your keep.”

Little Joe decided to let the comment pass as he jumped up from the table. “I’ll see you in a few days,” he said, then turned to leave.

“A few days? I didn’t say . . .”

Little Joe didn’t hear the rest of Adam’s statement as the door to the mess shack closed behind him, and he didn’t waste any time saddling up his horse. He and Cochise were well on their way by the time Little Joe figured Adam would be finishing up a slice of pie with the men. As he rode, a sense of urgency fueled him to go faster. He managed to make it into Virginia City just before nightfall and turned immediately up B Street. Somehow he knew something was wrong. Tying his mount outside of Rose’s front gate, he quickly walked up to the door and knocked, then without waiting for an answer, he pushed the door open. His breath caught in his throat as he walked in. Rose, nearly naked, was lying on the floor, her dress in pieces around her, having been torn from her body. Little Joe was by her side in an instant, and she moaned as he gently turned her head.

Little Joe jumped up and worked to steady his hands so he could light a lamp. When he turned back to Rose, he saw that her face was caked with blood. Her eyes were open, and she was watching him. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. The pleading in her eyes seemed to hold Little Joe in a spell, and it wasn’t until a tear slipped down her cheek that he went into action.

“Come on,” he said, scooping her up as gently as he could. Rose cried out with the movement, and she cradled her arm as Little Joe carried her outside toward Doc Martin’s house. Little Joe was exhausted by the time he made it to the porch, and half stumbling up the steps, he kicked loudly at the door. Miraculously, the doctor was in, and helped Little Joe get Rose to an examining table. Little Joe paced the small room until Doc Martin finally ordered him out, and Joe spent the next couple of hours waiting anxiously in the doctor’s parlor.

It wasn’t until the next morning that he’d been allowed to see Rose. Doc Martin had explained with as much delicacy as possible the young woman’s situation, and Little Joe had been seething by the time the doctor had finished.

“You need to calm down before you see her,” the doctor had said. “She’s been through enough without you upsetting her more.”

Now, as Little Joe walked into the examining room, he was glad he’d waited. Rose was sitting near a window, the morning sun shining down on her hair. Her skin was pale in the places that weren’t bruised, and she looked as if she’d lost a considerable amount of weight. Her left arm was in a sling. The doctor said it hadn’t been broken, but it was badly sprained and she needed to be careful with it for a while.

“I’m taking you to the Ponderosa,” he’d said when she’d turned to him.

“I told you,”

But he didn’t let her finish. “I know what you told me, but I’m bigger than you are and twice as stubborn, so we’re doing things my way.” That hadn’t won him a smile, but she did nod, and he hoped it wasn’t just his imagination that there was a little less droop to her shoulders.

~~

Rose had only been at the Ponderosa for three days when she started talking of needing to go back. The family was at a loss trying to persuade her to stay longer. In the end, it was Little Joe that had been the one to get her to agree to staying one more day, by offering to take her out to see some of the horses. Rose had smiled for the first time since coming to stay with them when he’d mentioned that they had a few Pete would have loved to see.

The next day, they headed out bright and early to the meadow where Little Joe kept his special horses. He hadn’t had to point out the gray stallion because as soon as they’d rounded the hill and the pasture had come in view, Rose had been practically out of her seat with excitement.

“Oh, Little Joe,” she said. “He’s just beautiful. I’ve never seen a horse that color before. His coat gleams so that he almost shimmers.”

Little Joe parked the buggy near the gate, and gently lifted Rose to the ground. Though she never complained, he knew that she was still sore. As they approached the gate, Little Joe began making a clicking sound with his tongue and the large gray trotted over to the fence to greet them. Rose laughed and reached out to stroke the horse’s neck. Little Joe decided it was as good a time as any to tell her his secret.

“You like him?” Little Joe asked.

“He’s too beautiful to like,” she answered. “A person has to love this horse.”

Little Joe grinned broadly. “He’s yours then.”

Rose dropped her hand from the horse’s muzzle and turned to Joe in amazement. She started to shake her head no, but Little Joe held up a hand to stop her.

“It’s for Pete,” he said. “I made up my mind the first time I saw him. It’s been my intention all along.”

Tears brimmed in Rose’s eyes and she quickly turned her head. “I . . . I don’t know what to say.”

“Thanks will do.” Little Joe laughed.

Rose smiled and reached out to the horse again. The stallion met her halfway and nuzzled her fingers. “Does he have a name?” she asked.

“Yep. Gratitude.”

Rose turned to Little Joe with a raised eyebrow.

“It’s not what you think,” Little Joe said, raising his hands in defense. “Hoss is actually the one that named him that.”

“And why would Hoss name this magnificent animal Gratitude.”

“Well,” Joe said. “He’s gray, and he has an attitude. Put the two together, and that’s what old Hoss ended up with.”

Little Joe’s laugh was infectious and soon Rose joined in. “So what do you think?” Little Joe asked.

“In the words of Charles Dickens,” Rose answered, “Cows are my passion. But he’ll do.”

Gratitude seemed to be offended by her remark and tossing his head, the large animal turned on its heel and began to run across the meadow. His hair flowed out behind him like flaming silver, and Little Joe and Rose stood in awe. Joe turned, a moment later, when Rose sighed.

“I only ask to be free,” she said.

“Another quote?”

Rose shrugged. “Oh, don’t mind me. It just almost seems a pity to keep such a beautiful animal locked up. You’ll keep him here for me, won’t you? Until I get the farm ready?”

“Of course. About the farm-”

“Don’t, Little Joe. I’ve already told you I’m fine. I don’t need your help.”

Joe wanted to say more, but Rose’s demeanor had changed, and he instinctively knew that nothing he said was going to change her mind, at least, not then, and the next day, it was with a heavy heart that he drove her back into town.

“Next Saturday is the Founder’s Day picnic,” he said as he dropped her off at her home. “The whole family is going. There’s going to be food and games, and I hear they’re planning a pretty spectacular fireworks display this year. Can I pick you up?”

Little Joe was puzzled by the shadows that crept into Rose’s eyes.

“I don’t know,” she answered. “That’s probably going to be a busy night, and-”

“And nothing,” Little Joe interrupted. “Rose, you can’t possibly be thinking of going back to what you were doing before? That’s not the kind of life for you.”

Rose surprised Joe by reaching out and touching his cheek. “Not all of us have the choices you do, Little Joe,” and with that she turned and ran into the house. Little Joe started to follow, but then heard the lock clicking in place. As he turned to leave, he wasn’t sure whether to be disgusted or concerned, but one thing he knew for sure. Next Saturday, Rose would be going with him to the picnic, and if he had to pay her for her time, so be it.

~~

Later that night, Little Joe stood outside on the porch of his home. The black sky was strewn with stars twinkling their late night conversations.

“I just don’t understand it, Pa,” Little Joe said when he heard his father’s footfall behind him.

“You’re talking about Rose?”

Little Joe nodded, keeping his eyes on the stars.
“You know, Little Joe. When I was in town the other day, I did some checking. I met a man that seemed to know an awful lot about Rose. Said he’d known her in San Francisco. This life that she’s leading now . . . well, it’s not the first time she’s chosen to . . .”

Little Joe turned to look at his father. “I know, Pa. I mean, I guess I didn’t know, but I figured as much, but this time, I don’t think she’s choosing it. She says she is, but then I look at her, and I can see that she hates it, that she’s ashamed, maybe even afraid.”

“She has every right to be afraid after what just happened to her.”

“But it’s not that. Of course, she was afraid the other night, but before that, the fear in her eyes was from something else. I can’t figure it out yet, Pa, but I know she needs help, and somehow, I’m going to see that she gets it.”

“Are you sure that’s wise, son?”

Little Joe looked back to the stars. A phrase he’d come across while leafing through one of Adam’s Dickens books came to mind. “There is wisdom of the head and there is wisdom of the heart,” he said. He heard his father chuckle behind him and felt his strong hand grip his shoulder.

“You’ve got both, Little Joe; just promise me you’ll use both.”

~~

Little Joe thought back to that promise the next Saturday as he turned his horse toward Rose’s house. All week, he’d had the young woman on his mind, and he had finally come up with a solution the night before. He gently fingered the gold ring inside his pocket. He wasn’t in love with Rose, but they were good friends, and in his heart, he knew that they would come to love each other in time.

As he approached the house, he squinted against the sun. The door to the house was open and flapping in the breeze. That’s not right. He ran Cochise up to the house and jumped down, a feeling of dread settled in the pit of his stomach as he approached the door. He knew, before he even went inside, he knew.

~~

He’d found her on the bed. The doctor said she’d swallowed an entire bottle of laudanum.

“She must have taken it when I treated her that night,” Doc Martin had said.

Try as he might, Little Joe couldn’t wrap his mind around it. If she’d taken it then, that would mean she’d had it planned when he’d brought her home, when he’d given her the gray stallion, when he’d invited her to the picnic. Why? Why hadn’t she asked for help?

~~

Unlike Pete’s funeral, the only people that stood beside Rose’s grave were the Cartwrights and Pete’s broken-hearted parents, and it was for them that Little Joe grieved the most. He was too hurt to feel much more than anger toward Rose. Little Joe was the last to leave the cemetery. Stepping around the freshly formed grave, he laid a hand on the cross where his childhood friend’s epitaph was carved. “I’m sorry, Pete,” he whispered.

~~

It was several weeks later, while the Cartwrights were at home eating breakfast that the unexpected knock came at the door. Ben invited the Sherriff in for breakfast, but the lawman said he didn’t have time to stay.

“I come ‘cause I figured you all hadn’t heard.” The family waited as the sheriff pulled a letter from his pocket. “This come the other day all the way from San Francisco. It’s from Rose.”

Little Joe’s head jerked up from his plate, and he glared at the lawman. “What are you talking about?”

“Now simmer down there, Little Joe, that’s what I’ve come to tell ya. It seems Rose gave this letter to a man passin’ through Virginia City more’n a month ago, and asked him to send it when he reached San Francisco. The letter just came to my office yesterday.”

“What does it say, Roy?” Ben asked impatiently.

“It says plenty,” Roy answered, then hurried on. “It seems that some fellow from Rose’s past, a Mike Jackson, moved into Virginia City about the same time that new saloon opened up. I guess Rose had worked for him a long time ago. He’d use her to get close to men with money, get them to spend money on her, then he’d take most of it. She said that’s why she moved here in the first place; to get away from him. Wasn’t the first time she’d tried to get away either. She said he found her every time. She thought she’d gotten away from all that here, and then she met Pete, but that skunk found her again. Came into their home one night with a couple of other fellows and threatened ‘em both at gunpoint.”

“Why didn’t Pete just go to you?” Adam interrupted.

“I’m gettin’ to that,” Roy answered. “It seems the night them fellers came and threatened ‘em, well, it upset Rose so much that she went into labor. She had the baby that night, while Pete was tied up in the next room. That Jackson fella took the baby and told her that she’d better do just what he said, or the baby would pay for it.”

Little Joe’s head was swimming, and the next thing he knew his father was forcing a glass of water into his hand and urging him to sit down. The ringing in Little Joe’s ears cleared just in time for him to hear the sheriff finish his story.

“That’s how Pete was killed. He found out they had some old woman lookin’ after the baby out at his own farm. Pete went to try and get the baby back, but Mike’s men were there that night. Darn fool decided to try and confront them by himself. One of Jackson’s men was a mighty big fella, broke Pete’s neck and then pushed him out of the loft to make it look like an accident.

“Why!” Little Joe suddenly shouted, “Why didn’t she ask for help? She could have come to you with all this in person. Why did she kill herself?”

“Joe, don’t you see,” Adam said softly, “if Jackson got wind that she’d gone to the sheriff, the first thing he’d do is get rid of the evidence. Rose knew that as long as she was alive her baby was in danger.”

“Imagine how she must have felt, Little Joe,” his pa said, “the men were constantly hunting her down. She must have felt trapped.”

“I only ask to be free.”

Little Joe closed his eyes against the pain in his heart as he remembered the words Rose had quoted. “She could have told me. I would have done something.”

“Like Pete?” Adam questioned.

“Sometimes, son,” Ben said, reaching across the table to lay a hand on Joe’s arm. “All a mother has is wisdom of the heart.”

Little Joe’s shoulders fell and he nodded. “Where’s the baby?”

“I think you should come and see for yourself,” Roy said.

~~

A few hours later, Little Joe walked into the kitchen of the home where he and his friend had spent so many happy hours.

“Come,” Mrs. Hirsch said. “Come meet my grandson, Little Pete.”

 

It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a far, far better rest that I go to, than I have ever known.
~Charles Dickens~