The Curse by bonanzagirl

Summary: A Halloween story. It all starts with a harmless visit to the circus.
Rating: PG Word Count: 6000

The Curse

Prologue

The woman’s meaty, ring-laden fingers lifted a Tarot card from the deck and placed it on the table before the massive cowboy in the white ten-gallon hat. Her pale blue, almost colorless eyes met his. “The tower,” she said in a somber voice.

The man frowned at the black-and-yellow card, which showed a narrow stone tower struck by lightning. Screaming people fell out of the windows. “What … does that mean?”

“The tower represents unexpected, life-changing events. Often, it means destruction, but sometimes that’s necessary to create something new.”

Expansive earrings jangled as the old woman revealed the next card. “Death,” she stated with a flinch, covering her mouth.

The man opposite gulped and grew pale. A lump formed in his chest, making it difficult to breathe. The stuffy air in the circus tent was far too warm and smelled too much of musky perfume and foreign herbs dangling in bundles from a pole. “Someone’s gonna die?” His cracked voice revealed the extent of his horror.

“Possibly, probably, but you can’t be sure. The card may instead indicate the end of a cycle and the beginning of a new phase. It’s all about transformation and change. Sometimes, you have to let go of old patterns or habits.”

The bulky cowboy dabbed beads of sweat from his face with his handkerchief and touched the card with the skeleton and scythe but quickly withdrew his finger as if he had burned it.

An arthritic hand with age spots sneaked on top of his, giving him a reassuring pat. “Now, now young fella, don’t worry. Let’s see what the final card shows, huh? Oh. Two of the goblets.” The mouth curled into a toothless smile.

“Good?” The man’s white hat slipped back an inch as he raised his eyebrows, meeting the woman’s gaze. A few irritating black hairs adorned her wrinkled chin.

“It symbolizes a strong emotional bond and partnership. You most likely will meet a girl. The card represents romance.”

“A girl?” Doubtful, the man scratched the back of his head.

The woman folded her hands. “Your time is up, young man. I would advise you to buy a talisman. Sometimes, it can avert disaster.”

“Um, how much is it?” There was a jingle as his hand fumbled in his pocket for coins.

“Two dollars.”

“Two bucks? I ain’t got that much.”

“Hey, there you are, Hoss!” A green-eyed, slim young man whirled into the tent and grabbed the meaty upper arm. “Adam and I have been looking all over the place for you. Come on, there’s an interesting show with a knife thrower coming up!”

++++

The circus event was the last carefree day I could remember. From then on, things went downhill, as if the old woman’s prediction had come true. I didn’t believe in nonsense like fortune telling or horoscopes. Adam trusted science, but I wasn’t so sure about Hoss.

Nevertheless, misfortune had entered our home like an ill-timed guest who had invited himself. It hung around the ranch, joined us at work, spoiled our evenings around the fireplace, and made our meals uncomfortable.

The strange atmosphere in the house was almost palpable, suffocating everything. The lights seemed less bright, and shadows lurked in the corners, waiting to sneak out. The food smelled stale, and the conversation was muffled.

I knew we had huge money problems right now, but I suspected that wasn’t the only reason for the down mood. My family was keeping something from me. Did they think I was too young to be burdened by her problems? It seemed as if they were about to give up, which caught me by surprise. We’d had bad luck and hard times before. Where had the Cartwright fighting spirit gone? It seemed it had gotten lost somewhere in those last three weeks.

With a deep sigh and a stifled yawn, I descended the stairs to the main room, as always, the last to get up. No one had bothered to wake me today, and I was grateful. I sure appreciated an extra half hour of sleep. Shivering, I glanced into the fireplace, where yellow flames blazed, but the fire had not yet dispelled the October chill that had settled in the house.

Pa and my brothers were already gathered around the breakfast table, each in his usual place, engrossed in a muffled discussion about the day’s chores.

“Morning!” I mumbled. I stretched until my back cracked before I lowered on my seat, glad not to get a snarky comment from Adam about my oversleeping.

The aromatic smell of coffee hung in the air. Hop Sing had brewed it so strong that mere inhalation was enough to wake a man. His efforts didn’t seem to help much, though. None of my family looked like they had slept well tonight or had gotten a good night’s sleep in the last few days. Pa, in particular, appeared exhausted beyond belief. Worry had etched permanent lines into his face. He had lost weight, and the dark circles under his eyes grew deeper by the day. And his hair—was I wrong, or had it gotten a bit whiter?

Pa rubbed his temples and sighed.

“What’s the plan for today?” Adam asked in a flat voice, staring into his empty coffee cup with a blank expression. Hoss swallowed his last flapjack. At least his appetite hadn’t suffered, but he looked as if he was millions of miles away.

“I want you boys to check the fences and get an idea of what needs fixing. I want them all in order before winter.”

“Yes, sir.” Our three voices sounded in unison.

“It’ll be a heck of a lot of work,” I complained. Yesterday, I’d overheard Adam talking to one of the ranch hands about the bad shape the fences were in. The one on the south pasture was our oldest, and many posts were crumbling just by looking at them.

“It’s going to take us quite some days,” Hoss confirmed, then pushed the chair back with a clatter. No doubt, he was relieved to escape the gloomy atmosphere. “I’ll go get the wagon ready.”

Adam looked at me and then at Pa while he concentrated on folding his napkin into a tidy square. “We can’t go on like this. We have to get back to normal. Bad things happen, but we must be positive.”

I was amazed at how warm and full of feeling his voice was. It didn’t sound like Adam, but as I said, nothing was as it used to be at the moment. I picked at a piece of skin next to my fingernail. “Being well is the main thing, isn’t it, Pa? You always say material things ain’t so important.”

“Yes, you’re right, son. We have to stick together and look ahead.” Pa wiped his eyes with a vigorous motion. Determined, he stood, straightening his shoulders. “Let’s get down to work. The ranch won’t run itself.”

“Yes, sir.” I nodded, and Adam grumbled in agreement. It was a phrase we had heard countless times from our father. I was determined to work hard today, without dawdling or fussing, just to see a smile on Pa’s face when I told him in the evening how much we had covered. My tone eager and enthusiastic, I rose from my chair and hurried to the door. “C’mon, Adam! Hoss has probably hitched up the wagon.”

 

The day flew by in the blink of an eye. Work on a ranch never stopped, and when you’d mended all the fences, rounded up all strays, and cleaned out all the water holes, you had to start all over again.

“How’s it look?” Pa asked, examining us from head to toe as we shuffled into the house late that evening. Our damp pants clung cold against our legs, and our boots’ wet leather squeaked with every step.

“We shoveled dirt all day,” I said with a theatrical groan, clammy fingers fumbling with my holster buckle. “We didn’t even start with the fence.”

Adam peered down at the puddle forming beneath his feet. “A landslide dammed up the creek. We spent hours clearing the riverbed so the cattle would have water.”

“Will this string of bad luck ever end? It’s like someone put a spell on us.” Hoss took off his hat, his only dry piece of clothing, and scratched his head.

Hop Sing’s yelling interrupted us. He rushed over, armed with a bucket and rag, and ordered, “Take off boots! Make everything dirty! Freshly scrubbed floorboards!”

No one dared to object. We shuffled up the stairs in our socks, where a hot bath was ready for us as if our cook had guessed we’d need it. I grimaced at the thought of the bathwater waiting for me when Adam and Hoss were done. That was one of the downsides of being the youngest.

Half an hour later, Hoss strolled past me, whistling and smelling of soap, with a towel wrapped around his waist. “Next time, we’ll draw matches,” I muttered in disgust, eying the cloudy, lukewarm liquid sloshing in the copper tub.

 

Clean as a whistle, we sat down to supper, our hair still damp. I chuckled at the loud growl of stomachs at the scent of fried chicken, Hoss’ favorite. Lately, Hop Sing always cooked one of our favorite meals. Spoiling us was our cook’s way of saying how much he supported us during this difficult time. But no matter how hard he tried, it didn’t help to drive away the dark spirits or whatever it was, hovering over the Ponderosa.

I bit my lower lip. Looking at miserable faces day after day got on my nerves, and it ruined my appetite. The atmosphere was so tense that I had to hold myself back from jumping up and running out of the room.

Even Hoss, who was always ready for a joke or a banter with me, was quiet. He shoveled food into his mouth with dogged determination, as if he only did it because it was necessary to fuel his body. Or maybe he wanted to do Hop Sing a favor.

I listened with half an ear as Adam talked with Pa about whether he should take a job at the sawmill to earn some extra money, but we were short on staff ourselves. In the kitchen, Hop Sing grumbled in Chinese that he’d gone through all the trouble of preparing food only to clear it away again half eaten. I smiled as I caught the phrase ‘go back to China,’ but he was right. Apart from Hoss, we had all just poked around on our plates.

The prospect of the next few day’s tasks made my smile fade. Replacing fences wasn’t something I looked forward to. If you asked me, I preferred working from horseback to digging post holes in rock-hard, sun-baked earth. At least it couldn’t get as bad as it was today.

I studied my callused palms. Although I was only seventeen, I had the hands of a man who’d worked at the ranch for years. Perhaps I should start wearing gloves.

The silence was overwhelming. I would have loved to have a normal conversation about banal things, but nobody was in the mood. My glance around showed me tired faces with worry lines and down-turned mouth corners. A sigh escaped from deep inside me. “Are we going to lose the ranch?” I finally dared to bring up the subject which stood fat as the elephant in the room while everyone pretended it wasn’t there.

Pas’s blank stare, deep in thought, went right through me.

Adam examined the piece of chicken he had speared on his fork from all sides. “If this winter doesn’t get as hard and snowy as the last one, and we can get all our cattle through, things won’t be so bad, will they, Pa?”

“Yes. At least we’ll get good prices per head next year.”

Foot and mouth disease had reduced not only our livestock but also the other ranchers’ herds, so beef prices had gone way up. We sold all the animals we didn’t need for breeding and kept only a few good stock bulls and cows. The plague was one of the reasons for the ranch’s strained financial situation.

I remembered with a shudder how we had to shoot countless infected beeves. The north pasture had echoed with the thunder of gunfire. Gunsmoke had veiled our sight. The pain of losing the animals we had nurtured, fed, and raised with blood and sweat was still very present.

After dousing the carcasses with kerosene, we burned them. With tears in our eyes and scarves tied over our mouths and noses, we’d stood shoulder to shoulder and watched the flames consume hundreds of cattle. Nausea knotted in my stomach at the memory of the acrid stench of burning hide and fur that crept into every pore and lingered for days.

But it didn’t stop there. Pa had taken out a credit to buy cattle to breed into our stock and had to repay the bank loan at monthly rates, which had become almost impossible to manage. The threat of losing the ranch to the bank hung over everything, like the oily black smoke from burning the dead animals. It clung to our skin and invaded our dreams at night. No, it was not surprising that hopelessness spread across the Ponderosa.

Pa rubbed his temples in circular motions and sighed. “What do you think, Adam? Do we have enough hay to sell some? I got a good offer from Farmer Hickman. With the money, we could pay off part of the loan.”

“I’ll do the math first thing in the morning.” Adam tossed his napkin on the table and stood. “Who’ll play chess with me?”

Chess wasn’t my favorite game since Adam usually beat me. “Not me. I’m going to check on Cooch and go to bed early.”

Pa stifled a yawn. “I’m tuckered out. I’m going to bed. I’ve spent way too much time over those books.”

Hoss got up. “I’m up for a game, but let’s play checkers, huh?”

++++

The next day found us working under the blazing sun with Pete, one of the few ranch hands we didn’t have to fire. “Damn heat,” I complained with a gaze at the azure sky.

“One of the last hot days before fall, I bet.” Hoss took a deep swig from his canteen, set it aside, and drove the shovel into the unyielding ground. “Cold weather’s on its way. I can feel it in my corns.”

Adam took no part in our conversation. All architect, he concentrated on making sure the new posts were straight and in line, leaving Hoss with the unpopular task of digging holes.

“You’re doing good, brother!” I joked.

Hoss paused, wiped his sweaty brow, and leaned hard on the handle of his shovel. His gaze went into the distance. “The old woman at the circus was right when she said misfortune will come to us.”

I gave an uncertain smile. “You’re not serious, are you?”

Taking off his shirt, Adam revealed his tanned back and hairy chest. “Oh, come on, Hoss. You don’t believe that hocus-pocus. That kind of swindlers take money out of your pocket and fob you off with general phrases you can always interpret to fit. She also said you’d fall in love.”

“Exactly. Not a girl in sight!” I threw in with a chuckle, but Hoss wasn’t convinced at all.

“I dunno. I got the feeling she was right. Should have bought that rabbit’s paw.”

“A good luck charm? Hoss, you don’t mean that!” Adam looked at him with a corner of his mouth raised in amusement.

“Maybe I’ll shoot a rabbit for dinner tonight,” I mused as I fumbled for my Colt. “I’ll save you a foot.”

“Can’t hurt, can it?” grumbled Hoss, annoyed that no one took him seriously.

Adam patted him on the shoulder. “Never mind what the old lady said. Let’s get on with it.”

++++

A week later, the fence was in perfect condition, unlike the mood in the house, which resembled the dreary fall weather with the rain-laden clouds that enveloped the Ponderosa for days.

While I still worried about Pa, Adam and Hoss had returned to some normalcy. Pa spent hours over the books, crunching numbers, staring at the wall or into the fire without seeing anything. The last time Doc Martin checked on him, he’d muttered something about melancholy, leaving some powders to help Pa relax.

As I walked down the stairs, the lamps in the main room struggled to dispel the falling dusk. Pa stood with his back to me, jabbing at the fire with the poker, sending up angry sparks. I stepped behind him and rested my hand on his shoulder. “Pa.”

Although the fire gave off a blazing heat I felt a chill run through him. A terrible thought flashed through my mind. What if Pa was sick, and everyone knew it but me? It perfectly made sense that they kept it from me so as not to bother me.

“Are you okay?” I asked in a low voice, tightening my grip on his shoulder. I felt the muscles under my fingers turn to stone.

“This cold is creeping into my old bones. It feels like I will never get warm again.” Pa moved like he was in pain. Startled, I pulled my hand away. My father reached up to massage his left upper arm and the tense nape of his neck. Hadn’t Paul Martin mentioned once that this kind of pain could be a sign of a heart attack? “I’m exhausted. I feel too old to run this ranch,” Pa muttered, barely audible.

Before I could answer, the door flew open. With a rush of cool autumn air, Adam walked in. Two withered leaves, messengers of the dying summer, whirled in wild circles and came to rest on the floorboards in front of the credenza.

My brother’s sharp gaze fell on Pa, taking in his tense posture and face contorted with pain.

“I think Pa’s having a heart attack,” I said with a quiver in my voice, feeling helpless beyond belief.

Even in situations like this, Adam kept his nerve. God, sometimes I was in awe of how he was able to stay so calm. Without wasting a word, Adam grabbed Pa’s left arm while I caught his right, and we led him to the settee.

Pa shivered. “I’m cold,” he murmured, allowing Adam to lift his legs. It had to be damn serious if Pa wasn’t protesting about boots on the furniture.

I swallowed against the thick lump in my throat. “You want me to ride into town and get the doctor?”

“I’ll send one of the hands to Paul. I’ll be right back.” Adam placed a hand on our father’s forehead in a loving way I had never seen before. Then he turned and hurried to the door.

“Where’s Hoss?” I wanted to ask, but the words stuck in my mouth. Panic welled up inside me. I didn’t want to be alone with Pa, even if it was only for a short time when Adam went to the bunkhouse. What should I do if he dies? He looked so pale and wasted. Beads of sweat glistened on his forehead, although he was still trembling. I went to put more wood on the fire but found the box empty. Heck, it was my duty to take care of the firewood supply. “I’ll be back in a minute, Pa,” I hollered.

I followed Adam out as he hurried across the yard to the bunkhouse. My brother had other things on his mind than nagging me about forgotten chores. Hoss came out of the barn, wiping his hands on his pants. “The horses are fed, and I’m so hungry that I—Hey! What’s going on?”

“Go inside. Hurry. Pa’s not feeling well. Maybe he’s having a heart attack. I’ll send Pete for Paul,” Adam called to him.

“Bad?” Hoss frowned, quickening his pace.

“I don’t know. Get some firewood inside. The supply’s empty. I’ll be back in a minute.”

“I’m on it. You go to Pa,” I said, relieved to see my brother’s broad frame steering toward the house.

 

The fire blazed bright after we rekindled it. Long yellow flames ate into the resin-soaked pine. It sputtered and crackled. Warmth filled the room, seeping into our bones. Pa stopped shivering. The blanket Hoss pulled over him also helped.

Seeing my father like that scared me to death. He’d always been as strong as one of the trees lining our yard. A storm could shake it; sometimes, it groaned under the strain, but it always stood upright, defying wind and weather, blistering sun and icy cold, rooted deep in the fertile earth that gave us life.

‘You will lose something you love.’ The memory of Hoss’s words about the fortune-telling cards popped into my head, causing me problems breathing. Or maybe it was the room that got too hot and stuffy. “I have to go outside!” My brothers paid little attention. Adam wiped Pa’s forehead with a damp cloth while Hoss poured him brandy.

“Please, God, not Pa!” I whispered as I stepped into the yard. A thick darkness had replaced the dusk. Closing my eyes, I drew in a deep breath. The air carried a crisp chill from the fresh snow of the Sierras, the first signs of winter. A shudder ran through me. Hoss had been right about the weather.

The muffled call of an owl echoed through the night, followed by the shrill death cry of an animal. I imagined the silent hunter of the night clawing into a warm bundle of fur, a mouse or a rabbit, and holding on until the frantic little heart stopped beating.

I groped across the yard to the barn. Without bothering to light a lantern, I slid inside. My heart almost stopped as my foot brushed against something soft. An aggressive hiss made my hair stand on end, but then I let out a high-pitched giggle. It was just the barn cat. I had a picture of her hunched over, her mouth wide open, her yellow eyes sparkling.

“It’s just me,” I whispered and heard a rustle as she jumped onto a hay bale.

The warm smell of horses, straw, and oiled leather hit me, a familiar scent I had grown up with. I stepped toward Cochise’s stable. Opening my eyes wide, I could see the blurry white patches in his coat. He was restless and snorted as if my tension had been spread to him. I put my hand on his neck to calm us both. The warmth and the twitching of his muscles under my palm brought a smile to my face. My horse moved uneasily, scratching his hoof in the bedding.

“I’m not sure why everyone’s so downcast, Cooch. I feel they’re hiding something from me. Money troubles are nothing new. There’ve always been times when we’ve had to tighten our belts. We often had to fight for the ranch. But it seems like they’re about to give up, and I don’t understand why. When I ask questions, they dodge, change the subject, or pretend they didn’t hear me. Maybe it’s Pa. I fear he’s gonna die, and nobody tells me.”

Cochise snorted again and flapped his tail. He understood my despair. “I know it’s disturbing. What do you think about a ride to the lake tomorrow? Just you and me.” I yawned. Overwhelmed by a deep tiredness, I strolled to a hay bale and sat down, not yet ready to return to the house. Then, I must have dozed off.

 

The faint glow of light seeping through the windows into the yard lighted a buggy that I recognized as Doc Martin’s. I wondered how he had made it here in the pitch-black dark. Did I fall asleep in the barn that long?

So far, Paul has always been able to heal our injuries, illnesses, and aches. It would be the same this time. Relieved and almost convinced the doctor would cure our father, I stepped into the living room.

Adam sat in his blue chair, pretending to read, while Hoss rocked on his heels with his hands buried in his pockets. They had moved Pa upstairs to his room. Our heads snapped towards the staircase at the doctor’s footsteps.

“Howdy, Doc! How’s Pa?” I asked.

“Your father’s sleeping now. I gave him something to calm him down. His heart is fine. It’s beating nicely and evenly. My diagnosis is a weakness as a reaction to the strain of the last few weeks.”

It was no heart attack. Pa wasn’t going to die. Nobody would. That would prove the soothsayer wrong, right? Besides, Hoss hadn’t fallen in love, as foretold. And the cattle? Things happened. It was part of life. I smiled, proud of the reasonable explanation I had come up with. My body went limp with relief, and I slumped on the edge of the living room table.

Scurrying out of the kitchen, Hop Sing handed Doc a cup of coffee. “Doctor stay overnight?”

“You should stay. It’s as dark as pitch out there,” I said with a glance at the deep black pressing against the window pane.

“Thanks. If you don’t mind, I’ll spend the night in the guest room. I’m surprised I even made it here without breaking my neck.”

Hoss’ face lit up. “Sure, Doc, make yourself at home! How ’bout cookies? Hop Sing baked some.”

“I’d love to.” Paul sat down on the settee with a sigh and placed his bag on the table.

I made my way to Pa’s red leather armchair and curled up in it. The cushion wrapped me in a comforting softness, evaporating a whiff of pipe tobacco. The settee creaked in protest as Hoss flopped beside the doc with a relieved grunt.

“How are you boys doing?” Paul sipped his coffee.

Hoss had his elbows on his knees and his hands clasped together. “The cattle we’ve lost and the loan we’ve got to pay back could break our backs.”

“It’s hard, but we’ll manage.” Adam rubbed his eyes. A heavy five o’clock shadow adorned his jaw and cheeks, and his usually neat hair was out of shape.

“I don’t think Doc meant how the ranch is doing,” I said in a low voice, knowing that Hoss and especially Adam were unwilling to talk about how they felt. “I wish everything was like it was before.”

“Pa tried to get us to put off the payments until spring, but I don’t know if the bank will grant us the extension.” Adam rubbed at a flaw in his blue armchair.

“Pa’s the one who’s most bothered,” I stated as Paul Martin’s gaze flickered over us. “We three can handle it.”

Doc’s concerned look told me he didn’t believe me, or maybe the atmosphere in the house had already caught up with him. He sat back and folded his hands over his stomach. “If I wasn’t a man of science, I’d think there was some kind of curse on you.”

Hoss winced, spilling his coffee and exchanging worried glances with Adam, which didn’t escape Paul’s attention. The doc gave a wry grin. “What’s the matter, Hoss? I was kidding. You don’t believe it’s a curse, do you?”

“Um, I … no, Doc, of course not.” It sounded more like a question. Hoss let out a sheepish laugh.

Paul emptied his cup and heaved a deep sigh. “I’d better turn in. It had been a long day. Good night, boys.”

“Night!” we replied. Hoss stood to show Doc to the guest room.

 

As I sat on the edge of my bed, my thoughts spun. Would Pa recover? Was it a curse after all? I’d better get a rabbit’s foot, just in case. Couldn’t hurt, could it? I didn’t know why I hadn’t taken care of it long ago. Some people even nailed horseshoes over their doors to catch the luck. That was something I would do first thing in the morning.

++++

The kitchen has always been a place where I felt at peace. The clatter of pots, pans, and aromatic smells I have been familiar with since I was a child. Without many words, Hop Sing and I understood one another. I sat on the edge of the countertop and let my legs dangle, watching our cook work. Using his huge knife, he chopped away at a mountain of onions, which brought tears to his eyes. With an annoyed snort, he wiped them away with his sleeve.

When he was done, he poured oil into the pan and added a piece of beef to fry. “This good for Mistah Ben.”

“Roast beef and potatoes? His favorite. He’ll be back on his feet in no time,” I confirmed.

Hop Sing turned the meat over, tossed the peeled potatoes into a pot with boiling water, and hurried beside me to continue kneading the bread dough.

“Always lot of work,” he grumbled. “Nobody eats.”

“It smells delicious. I promise we’ll definitely eat it all.”

Our cook stared at the dough he had formed into a round loaf. “When the bad reaches its peak, the good will come,” he muttered in his native tongue, turning toward the meat to flip it again. An exquisite aroma spread, making my mouth water.

“Chinese phrase, huh? Pa always says, ‘After rain comes sunshine.'”

Hop Sing opened the lid of the stove to add kindling. His hand reached into the box and found nothing. “Out of wood again,” he grumbled, letting out a deep sigh.

“I’m sorry. I’ll get some!” I hopped off the worktop and patted his shoulder. Hop Sing winced and rubbed his upper arms as if he were freezing. Now I noticed the chill in the kitchen.

“Little Joe?” I heard the Oriental’s questioning voice.

“I’ll be back in a minute!” I’d already opened the kitchen door to the yard a crack when Hoss’ words echoed from the front door making me pause.

“Next week’s Joe’s birthday.”

I let go of the knob and held my breath, listening to the scraping of boots on the wooden porch and the patting of hands knocking dust off clothes.

“I know,” Adam said in a soft voice.

” Should we celebrate? And if so, how?”

“I don’t feel like having a big party.”

“Remember how excited Joe was when he got his gun for his sixteenth birthday?” Hoss gave a small chuckle, a sound I hadn’t heard in weeks.

“Pa had to keep him from taking it to bed.”

“He cleaned it every day and wore it all the time!”

“Let’s ask Pa. We might be planning a—”

I bit my lip. Eavesdropping on my brothers planning a birthday surprise was wrong. Their voices faded as the two entered the main room. After I heard a few more scraps of words like ‘trip’ and ‘lake’, the front door slammed shut. I slid out the kitchen door and into the yard to finally get that wood.

++++

Today was my birthday, October 31. Pa expected us to show up at church as usual since it was a Sunday. He would have been furious if he had found out about Hoss’ visit to the fortune teller’s tent. To him, such things were unholy, devilish stuff.

The service bored me as usual. It was chilly in the church, and we all wore our jackets. My attention was less on the sermon and more on the birthday surprise my brothers sure had planned. I wondered what they had in mind. Fishing and picnicking at the lake? It wouldn’t be a big party with friends and neighbors, but that was fine with me.

My knee twitched up and down, and I glanced at the cute blonde girl in the front row. As if she sensed me staring at her, she turned around. She had the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen! I gave her a wink and a charming Joe Cartwright smile. Maybe it was my cards that said romance and not Hoss’s.

On the way back home, Pa missed the turnoff to the ranch. Instead, he took the left road to the hill overlooking Lake Tahoe, but neither Hoss nor Adam objected. I knew we were headed to my mama’s grave, but the heavy rain clouds gathering overhead didn’t bode well.

“Darn cold for the end of October. We’d better hurry up. It’s about to rain,” Hoss took the words from my mouth.

“Yes, I just want to make a quick visit to the grave,” Pa interjected, ducking his head deeper between his shoulders. The wind tossed dry leaves before it, making the yellow dead grass sway and whisper. Two cawing crows flew up from a rotten stump and were carried away by a gust. An inexplicable anxiety crept up inside me.

“Whoa.” Pa stopped the rig near the grave, and we got out.

Heads bowed, we walked up to the two stones.

Wait, TWO stones? The one on the left was older, familiar, and overgrown with moss and lichen. The other was new and bright, and the mound in front of it was bare earth that had not yet had the chance to get covered with a sheltering coat of grass. I pushed through my family to read the words. My mouth was dry, and a thick lump blocked my throat. The roots of my hair prickled with horror, goosebumps forming on my body.

‘Joseph Francis Cartwright. Beloved son and brother. October 31, 1842—October 2, 1859.’

“What …?” I turned to Adam, who stood closest and gripped his arm. “That’s a bad joke, isn’t it?”

Adam ignored me and stared at the grave, his face stone. “Happy birthday, little brother,” he whispered, sounding like he fought back tears.

“What are you doing? I’m not dead!” I yelled in his face. He didn’t bat an eyelid. “Pa! Talk to me! What’s all this about?”

Hoss kneaded his hat, looking utterly helpless and lost. “It sure sounds crazy, but sometimes I feel Little Joe. It’s like part of him’s still with us.”

Pa used the back of his hand to wipe his moist eyes. “You’re right, Hoss. As long as we remember our boy, he won’t be completely gone.”

A gust of wind hit my jacket and ripped it open. Stunned, disbelieving, horrified, I looked down at myself. Frayed in the fabric above my heart was an innocent little hole. The entire front of my shirt was brown-red and stiff with long dried blood.

Memories pounded at me and made me reel. “NO!”

We drank beer at the saloon after the circus. Two cowboys started a fight over a card game. One of them drew a gun. A shot drowned out the noise in the room. A blow hit my chest. My legs buckled. Darkness enveloped me, pulling me into the void.

Pa stretched out his arms and placed his left hand on Hoss’ broad back and his right on Adam’s tense shoulder. He cleared his throat and blinked several times. His body straightened. The deep sadness in his voice carried a hint of his former strength. “Let’s go home, boys. Hop Sing must be waiting for us with lunch. I know we’ll make it through this hard time together.”

Hoss’ slumped frame tautened. “Yeah. Joe wouldn’t want us to mope on his birthday.” For a fleeting moment, it was as if our eyes met.

Too stunned to move or speak, I stood with my arms dangling, letting the realization seep in. I watched Adam herding Hoss and Pa to the buggy. They climbed on board. Adam grabbed the reins. With one last glance back, he clicked the team into a trot, steering them away.

My eyes were veiled with tears. I knew it was time for me to leave as well. I raised my hand in greeting, the other resting on my mother’s tombstone’s rough surface.

“Take care!” This last greeting was snatched from my lips by a gust of wind. It died unheard.

The End

September 2024

Author’s Notes:  Thanks to M. Night Shyamalan for the idea.  Originally written for the Just Joe Halloween challenge.

 

 

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Author: bonanzagirl

I saw Bonanza on TV as a child and still like it, especially Little Joe.

12 thoughts on “The Curse by bonanzagirl

  1. What a chilling story. I was just as puzzled and worried as Joe about the family. The ending was a shock yet answered so many questions. Well done!

  2. Fantastic story! You had me guessing right up to the end about what was going on. And the first person telling of the story only added to the mystery!

    1. Thank you very much for reading an commenting! I only wrote for two years and had lots of support on how to become a ff author.

  3. I love stories related to Halloween. From the opening scene with Hoss in the fortune teller’s tent, I was hooked. The end came as a complete surprise.

    Thank you for sharing.

  4. Wow, great Halloween story! Didn’t expect that ending. Once revealed, everything in the story fell into place. Enjoyed reading.

    1. Grazie mille per il tuo commento. Scrivo fanfiction solo da due anni e sono felice che ti sia piaciuta.
      Thank you for your comment. I’ve only been writing fan fiction for about two years, so I’m glad you liked it.

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