Summary: Adam fails in a task that haunts him, but the aftermath is haunting to everyone because no one can understand what happens next.
PG 2,128

The Artist

It was unusual for Adam to sleep late. When he came down to breakfast, though, his eyes were drooping and he wore a frown. It looked like he had gotten up early instead of sleeping in that morning. Ben suspected he knew what the problem had been.

“Bad dreams last night or bad memories interfere with sleep altogether?”

Pouring a cup of coffee before he even sat down, Adam didn’t answer right away. His two brothers looked at him and drew the same conclusion as their father. Hoss passed a platter of ham to him and Joe offered what was left of the eggs. Adam accepted the ham but declined the eggs which were likely cold by then asking instead for the biscuits. As he made a couple of small sandwiches, he got around to answering.

“Both in response to your question. I had trouble falling asleep picturing that family and wishing I could have done more. Then when I did sleep, they were all I saw especially that little girl slipping away from me at the last. I thought I could at least rescue her, but her hands were wet and mine had mud on them, and she slipped from my grasp.”

“Dadburnit, Adam, there was nothing nobody could have done. That man should never have tried fording that stream when it was that high. He must have known that.”

“Yeah, he must have known, but he and his family didn’t deserve to die for his mistake. One foolish thing like that shouldn’t lead to three deaths.”

“Older brother, if I hadn’t got there when I did, it would have been four. You would have been swept downstream right with them if I hadn’t roped you and hauled you in. It’s a good thing Chubb is so strong. Between the two of us we were able to pull you out of that mess. I’m not sure you could have gotten out of there even if you could have hung onto that little girl.”

“I had to try.”

The rope burns on Adam’s arms and those of Hoss’ hands were evidence of the struggle to pull Adam from the churning waters. Even as strong as the two of them were, it had been almost impossible to do.

“I know you had to try and I would have done it too, but it was impossible. You did all you could. Me and Joe are going to join the searchers today looking for the bodies. We want to give them a proper burial. The family that was traveling with them is going to be there.”

“I’ll go too.”

As the three brothers walked from the house to join the search party, Ben held Hoss back.

“Watch out for him. I think he’s feeling a bit sick even if he won’t admit it. He swallowed some of that muddy water. He hasn’t had much of an appetite. He looks pale too, and for him, that’s saying a lot. He’s not well.”

“I think so too. I figured that was why you agreed that Joe could go too. We’ll take good care of him.”

“Thank you.”

“No need for thanks, Pa. It’s what we do.”

The bodies were never found. The search stretched out for the day with only some breaks to rest the horses and one for lunch. They searched through the dinner hour and gave up as the sun began to sink. The stink of all that the floodwaters had captured and that the heat was attacking was all around them all through the day, but it did not include the bodies of the ill-fated family. They had to ride away from the river for the lunch break. No one could eat with the rising stench.

The family who had traveled with the ill-fated family talked about them when they had a chance especially during that lunch break. With tears spilling, they offered up the memories they wanted to share with the men who were searching. They were trying to give them even more cause to go on with the search.

“The father was a good man even if a bit too stubborn. It was always hard to get him to back off when he had an idea to do something. We told him that river was too dangerous.”

“My wife if being kind in my estimation. He was more stubborn than a mule. Back home, we told him not to try to fix his roof during a storm. He near got hit by lightning that time and could have left his family then with no one to care for them. While we traveled, we had to always tell him no to his ideas about how we could get places faster and against advice.”

“Yes, according to him, there was no obstacle that couldn’t be conquered. The man was the bravest man I ever knew, but he lacked in the common sense category too.”

“His wife was loyal and loving as any could ask to have. She would do whatever he asked no matter what it was. She would tell him her concerns but never pushed at him hard like maybe she should have.”

“You have to admire his determination though. The man had baskets of courage. He fought in the War, and he was a hero in the eyes of most for how he conducted himself. I guess we all forgave the excesses because of all the good he done. He’d stand on the side of right no matter who was on the other side.”

“That daughter of theirs though was an angel. She was the sweetest little girl you could ever imagine always saying nice things to people to cheer them up. She never liked to see people being sad. She was quite an artist too, and she would draw pictures and give them away. We got some she did. We’ll keep them forever now. It’s the only thing left of her, I guess. Sad to think that there’s not even a place to lay that little body to rest.”

“Yes, it is such a tragedy that she was lost before she could develop that talent. She might have been a great American artist one day. She was that good.”

“Such a sweet child and so talented, but heaven gained an angel, a perfect angel with her. She’ll be drawing in the heavens now.”

As the lady talked about the family lost in the floodwaters, Hoss and Joe saw the reaction that Adam had. He had done all anyone could, but he blamed himself yet for not saving that little girl. Hearing of her talent and her special nature only made him feel worse. When they returned to the ranch and Adam was so quiet through dinner, Ben was worried about what had happened. When Adam went up to his room early, Ben finally had the chance to ask Hoss and Joe about what had occurred that day to affect Adam so much. They told him everything they knew including the conversation at lunch especially all that had been said about the little girl. Ben knew how his sensitive oldest son would react. They all did.

For the next few nights, Adam had the same problems as he had the night of the tragedy. He had terrible trouble trying to fall asleep, and when he did, all he did was dream of the little girl with the dark eyes who slipped from his grasp into the raging torrent. He couldn’t bring himself to read, to draw, or to sing. After three days, Ben stopped in Adam’s room, and while talking, looked at Adam’s desk to see three drawings in Adam’s sketchbook. Ben was surprised because Adam hadn’t been able to concentrate on doing anything like that since the terrible loss of life at the river had occurred.

“When were you able to do these drawings? They’re very unusual. They’re not the kind of drawings I have ever seen you do.”

Shocked by his father’s question, Adam silently stood and walked to his desk. Ben had picked up the three sketches and stared at them one by one. They were portraits. One by one, he showed them to Adam. Each one had intricate shading done, and the features were drawn in detail with eyelashes and even small blemishes or tiny scars sketched into Adam’s face and neck. Adam looked to his father and found he couldn’t speak at first. Looking back at the drawings, he finally was able to answer his father’s question.

“Pa, I didn’t draw these. I’m not one to do self-portraits.”

In Ben’s hands were three drawings of Adam sleeping: there was one apparently for each of the previous three nights. Adam had a nightshirt on in one and not the other, and in the third he was on top of the quilt because the night had been so hot.

“Pa, this is exactly how I slept, when I did, the last three nights.”

The two men said nothing more because saying what they were thinking might make it seem too real. Neither wanted to admit what they knew had to be the truth. At first, Adam didn’t know what to do, but it seemed there was a thought niggling at his consciousness that finally broke through. The next morning, he told his father and brothers he needed some time for a project.

For the next couple of days, Adam was busy drawing. He drew that little girl as well as he could from memory which was actually remarkably well. He was inspired. In the background, he drew her parents with much less detail because he had not seen them as well. His father came up to his room at the end of that first day concerned that Adam had not even come down for lunch.

“Son, I know you’ve been troubled and need some time, but is staying in your room the best way?”

“I’m not staying in my room to meditate or try to recover. I have something to do, and I need this time and this isolation to do it. Pa, it’s in my mind and I have to get it out.”

Moving closer, Ben saw the drawings.

“You’re drawing her now?”

“I’m not going to say it, and I know you won’t say it either. Let’s leave it at that. I’m drawing her now.”

Knowing his son was correct about that, Ben turned to leave. It was a difficult thing to do, yet he couldn’t say what he was thinking and knew Adam didn’t want to say it either. Verbalizing it would make it all too real as if it wasn’t real enough already.

“Hop Sing is holding dinner for you in the warming oven. Should I bring it up to you?”

“I would appreciate that.”

“How long do you think this project will take?”

“I think two days but certainly no more than three.”

“I’ll tell your brothers when we can expect you back.”

When the sketch was completed, Adam took it to a painter he knew and described the girl as well as he could especially those dark eyes. The man agreed to do the painting Adam requested. When it was done, Adam told him it was perfect. Apparently, inspiration traveled with the sketches.

“What should I do with it?”

“How good is it? What is your honest evaluation of the work you did?”

“Good enough that I could sell it in a show or possibly offer it to one of my patrons for sale.”

“Then do that. As long as that portrait hangs somewhere, there’s still some life for them. I’ll pay you the commission as agreed for painting it, and you can keep whatever you get for it when you sell it.”

“I’d like to add a wagon in the background and maybe some mountains. Then I can make it part of my western show.”

“That’s fine as long as the girl and her parents stay the same.”

“It’s your commission, and you’re being very generous so yes, I can do that.”

A few months later, Adam was at the show where the painting was being offered for sale. When he saw a curator for a California art museum buy the painting, he had to smile a little. The family was going to make it to California after all. He wondered why he hadn’t thought of that sooner. Ever since that painting had been completed, he had slept better.

With the painting packed up for the buyer, Adam left and headed home. He told his family he was at peace again. After the sale of the painting and its trip to California, there were no more dreams of the little girl and the flood ever again.