Summary:  After the death of his dearest friend, Joe takes a downward spiral.  Can his father stop him before he surrenders to old temptations?
Rating:  T  (24,890)

Whatever It Takes Series:

Whatever it Takes
Absolute Faith
A Part of the Main
Mustard Seed
To Help a Stranger (by Deb)
Of One Breath

Of One Breath

 

( Ecclesiastes Chapter 3 Verse 19 : “For that which befalleth the sons of men befalleth beasts; even one thing befalleth them: as the one dieth, so dieth the other; yea, they have all one breath; so that a man hath no preeminence above a beast: for all is vanity.”)

 

Ben Cartwright stood outside the Overland Stage Office and pulled his pocket watch from his leather vest.  He stared down at the time piece, but didn’t even note the hour or minute before returning it inside his pocket.  It had become a matter of mindless habit, as his thoughts were far from the lateness of the stagecoach from San Francisco, nor how long he had stood pacing the wood walkway.  His thoughts were only on one passenger who would be arriving on the stage, his youngest son, Joseph.  It had been a little less than three weeks since Ben had dropped his son at this same depot on a trip which was part business and part pleasure.  Joseph had needed time away.  The young man’s twenty-second year of life had been rife with trouble and upheaval.  Even though Joseph hadn’t complained, his father could tell that his son was finding it harder to cope with the many trials he had endured since the beginning of the year.

And what a year it had been!  Ben reflected as he finally gave up on his pacing and sank down to the wooden bench in front of the depot.  He found his lips to be turning downward as the pictures began to run by his mind.  Before the first part of spring had hit, Joe had been held against his will by two of the worst varmints that Virginia City had to offer.  Ben’s blood ran cold as he thought of what Travis Brodie and Pete Conn had down to his son.  Always aware that there were those who had tried to kidnap one of the four Cartwrights for a fast buck, this was altogether different.  Travis and Pete had taken Joe for purely inhumane reasons.  When all was said and done, Joe had been found alive, but had been injected numerous times with morphine.  That would have been bad enough to do to anyone at random, but Joseph had fought back from a morphine addiction the previous year.  Ben groaned aloud and shook his head as the old pent up anger was back in the forefront of his mind and heart.  Even the addiction was no fault of his son, as he had been given the morphine two years prior due to the injuries Joe had sustained while saving a young girl from a burning barn.  Unfortunately the doctor had to use the highly addictive drug morphine to keep Joe alive during the intense fight to save his life from serious burns he had received during the rescue.

Once again Ben stood, and began the routine pacing.  All the past was weighing him down and he fought hard to push it away.  Joe had recovered from both his addiction to morphine and the second bout at the hands of the two captors.  Fortunately, both Travis and Pete were now doing hard time for what they had done to Joseph.  That chapter was over, but every now and then Ben caught a peculiar look on his son’s face.  He was never quite sure just how much Joseph thought about either ordeal, and didn’t choose to ask him.  Ben hoped Joe would come to him if any of the old demons came back, as theirs was a tight bond, one that was unbreakable.  But, it had been one reason why he had given the job to Joe to go to San Francisco to handle some minor business problems instead of giving that task to his two older brothers.  Ben knew that Joe would be stopping by to see Doctor Harold Peele, the person Ben credited with saving his son’s life.  It had been at the recovery hospital in San Francisco where Doctor Peele had weaned Joseph off of the morphine, and again he had helped him with moral support , during the crisis earlier in the year.  Yes, Ben was glad that things were going well on the trip, at least according to Joe’s last telegraph.  But, now there was a new problem, one that didn’t look as though it could be resolved without causing Joseph more pain.

Ben sighed to himself and hoped that his youngest would understand why he hadn’t sent an immediate telegraph at the first sign of trouble at home.  It wouldn’t have mattered, as Joe was due to board the stage for home the day after it all had happened.  There wouldn’t have been a way to get him home any faster.  The anxious father played the scene over and over in his mind.  How would he break the news to his son?  After the ordeal with Travis and Pete, along with so many other periods of sadness lately, Ben was worried whether Joe could come to terms with what was waiting for him at home.  Ben remembered Joe having to stand right there at the Overland Stage Depot two months prior and his sad goodbye he had said to his longtime friend, Mitch Devlin.  Mitch had married  and had decided to move to his new bride’s hometown in New England, thus ending for all intents and purposes a friendship which had lasted fifteen of Joe’s twenty-two years.  Yes, Joseph might eventually visit Mitch, but he knew it wouldn’t be any time soon, nor would their relationship remain as tight as it had been.  ***And such is life*** Ben thought to himself.  But, it didn’t lessen his worry over what lay ahead once the stage pulled into town.

Joe Cartwright watched the scenery go by as the stagecoach rocked and pitched it’s way going along the rising and falling trails which led to Virginia City.  He had found the trip to be longer coming home than it seemed going to San Francisco.  Though he was always the sort who craved a new adventure, or at least a change from the norm, it didn’t take long before he found himself missing home.  Home meant the Ponderosa Ranch.  Home meant his brothers Hoss and Adam.  Foremost, home meant his father, his mainstay, his rock.  Lifting the canteen, which was now filled with lukewarm water, Joe took a generous swig.  He would’ve passed it around to the other passengers, but there weren’t any.  The few who had ridden the first leg of the trip had disembarked at the last stop.  There were two salesmen, and a rather rotund middle aged woman.  Of course once Joe had done his share of embellishing, he would have a much more interesting cast of characters to tell Hoss about. And Hoss would believe his little brother, to a point at least.  Whereas, as always, he would get an eye-roll from his elder brother, Adam, once the tale grew too deep.  Now as for what Pa would say or do upon hearing his son’s obvious fable, it was a certainty.  Joe was sure his father would at least allow him to get the whole story out and let Hoss ask some questions before turning a warning gaze towards his youngest son.  And at that point, Joe would cave in to the awful truth that the trip home had been boring.

Joe looked at his pocket watch and couldn’t help smiling.  The engraving on the inside of the cover read:   “absolute faith”, and was a constant reminder of his father.  Pa had given him the watch that year, which had to be one of the few and far between highlights of the last ten months.  Joe could tell that the stage would be pulling in soon, though, according to the time it would be a good hour late.  That wasn’t unusual, and Joe could visualize his father patiently waiting at the stage depot.  Joe laughed aloud, Pa patient?  Maybe at some things, Joe admitted, but not as far as waiting on a stage to come in!  Joe felt eager to be back home and wasn’t thrilled with the wait either.  Ever since he had peered out the window and viewed Mt. Davidson looming above the road he couldn’t wait to reach Virginia City.  He wanted to see the man, who was surely waiting on him, and he wanted the normalcy that he’d find at home.  Joe shook his head bewildered.  Even he would admit to having a somewhat split personality.  One part of him longed for excitement and adventure, while the other side of him wanted nothing more than the surety of being with his family in familiar surroundings.  And after enduring many traumatic life experiences, like those that had been thrown his way the past couple years, he would gladly choose the regular day to day ranch life there on the Ponderosa.  Joe felt it was about time that his life evened out and he caught a break from any more sadness and strife.

Ben heard the sound, and then saw the dust cloud before the stagecoach finally came into view.  He felt like his heart was in his throat, and wondered if he could pull off the façade that all was well once Joe disembarked there in front of him.   Only a few seconds later the moment was upon him as Stubby the driver pulled back on his reins and the stage manager came out of his office to put the step down on the ground.  Ben couldn’t help but smile as he spied the curly headed young man, who halfway jumped out of the coach and was there in front of his father.

“Hey, Pa!  Good to see you!”  Joe called as he reached for Ben’s outstretched hand.

“You’ve got to do better than that after being gone for a month,”  Ben grinned and pulled his son into a quick hug.

“Month?  C’mon, Pa — it hasn’t even been three full weeks,” Joe argued, but allowed the exchange gladly.

“Really?  Only three weeks?”  Ben teased as Joe broke loose and turned to retrieve his one suitcase from the driver.

Ben turned to lead his son over to the buckboard, and Joe put his luggage underneath the bench seat.

“Hey — how about a beer before that long drive home?”  Joe suggested.  “You know it was a dusty drive and all.”

Ben paused, trying hard not to give away why there was a need for their urgent return to the Ponderosa Ranch.  Time was definitely a serious issue, though he didn’t dare tell his son why until they were almost to the ranch house.  If he told Joseph what was really going on he was sure that the boy would vault up onto the nearest horse and race homeward.  Ben feared that in Joe’s rush to get home that he would be injured.

“Not this time, Joseph.  I have already been away longer than planned — and there are some things I have to tend to once we get home,” Ben replied. ***Good try, Ben.  Hope Joe didn’t hear what was behind that lame excuse***Ben thought to himself.

“Well, how about I stay here for just an hour or so?  I can rent a horse from the livery?”

***He’s going to make this hard on me.  I’ve just got to get him home! *** Ben continued to think of a valid excuse.

“Pa?  What is it?”  Joe asked, wondering why his father hadn’t replied one way or the other.

“I’ll tell you what,” Ben paused, and climbed up into the driver’s side of the buckboard, which ended the debate, “if you want to go into town tomorrow, I’ll give you the day off.”

Joe climbed up alongside his father and tried to study the man’s face.  He could tell that something was up.  ***Pa is sure acting funny!  I just got home and he’s already going to give me a day off?  Either he REALLY missed me bad, or he’s not telling me something. *** Joe thought to himself as the wagon began its journey home.

The ride back to the ranch house was a strange one, at least in Joe’s opinion.  Pa seemed awfully interested in every minute detail of his son’s stay in San Francisco, but was very void of details as to what was going on at home.  Joe informed his father about all the business dealings, and how he had resolved the problems with the lumber orders, and all else he had been sent to do.  Ben tried his very best to volley questions back and forth in order to keep Joe from asking specifics about what had gone on day by day there at the ranch.

“So, you didn’t stop by the hospital?”  Ben asked, noting mentally that they were now only minutes from the ranch house.

“Pa — I told you that forty minutes ago!”  Joe exclaimed.  “I told you that Doctor Peele and I met over dinner.  I told you that I really wasn’t up to seeing where I went through all that hell a year ago.  Why haven’t you listened to a word I’ve said?”

“I’m sorry, Joseph — I guess I’ve had a lot on my mind.  I do remember you saying you ate dinner with the doctor.  I was paying attention to everything you said.   You know your old man isn’t as young as he used to be!”  Ben explained, and hoped for some kind of a save.  Home was now too close for comfort and everything would be changing very soon.  Dread was taking over, and even his brief smile, aimed after his reply, came off as a half-hearted attempt.

***Nice try*** Joe thought to himself as he took a good hard look at his father’s uneasiness.  There had to be something very wrong, something Pa was doing his best to keep him from finding out.  *** I wonder if I should just wait him out?  I mean — we’re almost to the ranch house — if he won’t tell me I can always get it out of Hoss.***

“Pa, you’re sharper than me on my best day.  Is there something I need to know?”  Joe now turned his bright hazel eyes directly on his father.

Ben did not reply, it was too late, and if he even tried to lie again he wouldn’t have been able to do it.  Not now.  Not with Joseph and his eyes which could burn through to his father’s very soul.

“Pa?”

“Here we are,”  Ben paused, as he turned the team around the barn and they pulled into the yard.  “Let’s go inside, Joseph.  I do need to talk to you.  I just didn’t want to mention any of this out on the trail.”  Ben reached under the bench seat and retrieved Joe’s bag.  “Come inside and I’ll tell you what’s going on.”

 

Ben draped his arm across his son’s shoulder as the two Cartwrights entered the ranch house.  Before either man could take off their gun belts or hang up their hats, Adam came around from the kitchen.

“Not much time if you want to see her — Adam began, and then noticed his father waving his hand, trying to stop his son from continuing in his statement.  Adam stopped in midsentence.

“To see WHO?  What’s going on?”  Joe retorted, now knowing there was something very badly wrong, and it seemed like everyone knew except him.

“Joseph — please — just sit down for a minute,” Ben began, as he tugged on his son’s arm, guiding him gently towards the living room.

Joe reluctantly sat down on the settee across from his father, his face betraying his urgency to find out what Adam had meant before being stopped abruptly.

“Joseph,”  Ben began softly, carefully weighing each word as he went into his explanation, “two days before you were due to leave San Francisco to come home, Hoss noticed that Cochise was off her feed.  You know that we all take good care of your horse whenever you are away for any period of time.”

“What’s wrong with her?!”  Joe demanded and stood.

 

Ben tugged Joe’s left wrist, forcing him to sit back down.  “You have to let me tell you all of this and then you can go out to see her,” Ben insisted, however he did it without a harsh forcefulness, knowing what effect his story would have on his son.  He watched Joe sitting stiffly, bracing himself from the information as it was being unraveled in front of him.  It was then that Ben took in a deep unsettled breath and continued.  “Each day you were gone we took turns feeding Cochise, putting her out in the front corral, currying her, tending to her just like you would’ve done.  But, she took sick, and by the second day, when Hoss had done everything he could think of to help, we decided to call in a vet.  We knew you were on your way home, and there wasn’t any way to get you here any faster.  So we sent for Doc Harper, the best vet around these parts, and he came right away from Carson City.  And, just like your brother, he tried everything he could do to get her to eat.  But she went down.  We tried pulling her up with belly bands and blankets and a pulley system that Hoss and Adam rigged up in the barn.  But, Son, she was in undeniable pain.  After a few hours Doc helped us take her back down and she’s been laying in her stall ever since.  The Doc thought we should put her down yesterday, but, I knew you needed to see her and say your goodbyes.”

Joe jumped to his feet after his father’s last word and bolted for the front door.  Ben was quick to catch up with him before he pulled open the barn door.  He knew that Joseph wouldn’t take anyone’s opinion about his horse, especially if that opinion suggested putting Cochise down.  Ben watched as Joe pushed aside Adam, Hoss and the veterinarian.  Joe quickly fell to his knees alongside of his beloved horse.

Joe began to gently speak to Cochise, stroking her mane, “You fool horse!  I told you I’d be back in a couple of weeks.  Get up and stop all of this nonsense.”

Joe knelt closer and stared into his horse’s dull right eye.  He also noticed that she was having trouble breathing.  With each rise and fall of her side there was a definite wheezing sound which accompanied the breath.  Joe whipped his head around and stared accusingly at his two brothers.  “What did you give her?  Did she get into any poison?”

Neither Hoss nor Adam took their brother’s outburst personal, as they could tell he was at his wit’s end watching his horse laying there in agony.  Hoss was first to respond.

Dropping a large hand on his brother’s right shoulder Hoss replied, “Little Brother, you know I took care of Cochise like she was my own horse.  Adam and Pa did too!  I’m just so sorry, I done everything I could think of —“ Hoss stopped, he had to turn around and wipe a few tears from his eyes.  He didn’t want Joe to see them.  He had stayed in the barn night and day since the horse had gone down.  And now to see his little brother suffering was eating him up inside.  Hoss was better than any vet around, but they had brought Doc Harper in just in case he had missed something.

“Young Man, this animal should be put down as soon as possible.  It has suffered more than necessary already,” Doc Harper admonished.

“It’s not an animal!” Joe shouted, springing to his feet.  His blood boiled after hearing what the vet had just announced, as though it had been a reprimand aimed directly at the horse’s owner.  He observed that all three men were wearing holsters, and Joe knew what the doctor was suggesting.  “The first person who puts a bullet into this horse better be prepared to take bullet himself!” Joe warned, dead serious.

Ben moved around his two older sons and the doctor, and put a firm hand on Joe’s shoulder.  “No-one is doing anything without your permission, Joseph.”

“Pa?”  Joe whispered, now feeling as though he would be sick to his stomach.  “Pa, can’t you do something?”  Joe’s voice came out like that of a frightened child, one who expected his pa to perform a miracle.

Ben hurt inside as he stared into his son’s tear filled eyes and heard his desperate plea for help.  “I wish I could, Boy,” he responded and pulled Joe against his chest for comfort.

Joe looked around the room at the faces of each man.  He knew in his heart that they were not the enemy, but it didn’t seem that way.  They had already pronounced a death sentence on Cochise, and his was the only dissenting vote.  Finally, after Joe had watched his horse’s struggle for each breath, he stared up at the doctor and asked, “ If I don’t do nothing how long does she have?”

The vet shook his head, and this time was more delicate with his response, “To tell you the truth she should’ve been gone already.  I think maybe she’s been holding on for you.”

“I need a couple of minutes alone,” Joe paused and knelt back down next to Cochise, “I’ve got to talk to her first.”

Ben nodded and all four men left Little Joe in the barn with his horse.  As Ben closed the barn door he could see his youngest sprawled out alongside the animal, his arm hugging Cochise’s neck.  He knew it would be one of the hardest and saddest goodbyes Joseph had ever had to handle.

 

Joe traced the white blotch of hair, which stood out from the solid black right side of the filly’s neck, with his index finger.  He knew the horse so well.  It was a pinto, and though the white and black parts of the horse showed no rhyme or reason as to their placements to a bystander, Joe could close his eyes and describe exactly which part of the horse’s body were what shade.  The black right side of her neck was exactly opposite to the left white side.  Her face was black, but going down her muzzle was a perfect white stripe.  The midsection was mainly white, the hindquarters being mostly black.  Joe knew this paint pony because she wasn’t just a horse to him.  The fact of the matter was that Cochise had become his best friend.  With the exception of his father, Joe Cartwright had had more conversations with the pinto than any other being in his life.  And with each talk, Cochise would respond with a special brand of wisdom, usually the silent kind.  It was the listening part she did best, that, and the fact that she never judged, and by a nod of the filly’s head she would agree with her master.  Joe had unconditional love for Cochise and he felt the same kind of love given in return.  This special human-like pinto had saved his life many times, and now Joe was being forced into taking hers away.

“Cooch — you can’t leave me — not now — we’ve got to get those cows down to winter grass.  I told you I was taking you on a trip before the snows came,” Joe began his conversation, as tears dripped out of his eyes, down his cheeks, falling onto his horse.  “I can’t do this without you!  C’mon — why don’t you show them all?  Why don’t you stop laying around and get up and prove them all wrong?”

Joe didn’t hear the door to the barn open, where his father stood in the dimming light.  Ben watched the scene in silence, crestfallen over the heartbreaking decision his son had to make.

“You’re my best friend, Cochise!  I can’t let you go.  I can’t let anyone — Joe trailed off when he thought about someone putting a bullet through his beloved horse.  He felt as though he was consenting to a murder.  Joe’s eyes glazed over  when he realized it would be like he was betraying Cochise after all the years that she had taken care of him.

“Joseph,” Ben called softly, “sometimes letting go is an act of love.”

Joe threw his arms around the horse’s neck and tried once more.  “Won’t you please show me that I shouldn’t let them do this?”  Joe begged.  It was at that moment that Cochise struggled one final time to lift her head and tried to stare at her master.  Her head came right back down.

Joe had witnessed the attempt, and saw the pain it had caused the horse to make one last sign to him.  It was as though she was giving him one final goodbye.  Then she closed her eyes and her breathing became more labored.

“Pa, — send the doc in — Hoss and Adam can come in too,” Joe whispered, as he tried to wipe some of his tears off on his left shirt sleeve.

 

When everyone had gathered back inside the barn Joe spoke in a voice which struggled for control.  “Doc, can you give her something —- you know — some kind of shot so she won’t be able to feel —“ Joe stopped.  He couldn’t say the word bullet.  Not in front of his friend.

The doctor nodded and replied, “Yes, I could give her an injection, but the size of the needle of that syringe would hurt far more than just a good clean shot.”

Joe stroked Cochise’s mane for a final time and whispered to his horse, “I love you, Cochise.  You’ll always be my best friend.”  Then he stood and stared over at his family.  He looked at Hoss, for perhaps the first time since he had come into the barn.  Hoss appeared so worn out emotionally that Joe didn’t dare trust his brother with having a steady aim.  Joe knew Pa couldn’t make the shot, not with the way his father was staring sympathetically back at him.  Lastly Joe looked at Adam.  His eldest brother must have read his thoughts or his face, because he walked over to him.

“Adam — “ Joe began, but got too choked up to complete his request.

“I promise, Joe, fast and clean,”  Adam nodded and touched his brother’s shoulder compassionately.

Joe took a final look towards his horse and soon felt Ben’s hand on his arm, pulling him out of the barn.  Before they took the walk back to the ranch house, Ben stuck his head inside the barn and told Adam not to take the shot until he had gotten Joe indoors.  Adam nodded and Hoss and the doctor held up lanterns so that the gunshot would have plenty of light for accuracy.

 

Ben walked with Joseph at his side.  He watched as his son continued to fight internally with the decision he had made.  Ben half expected the boy to rush back towards the barn.  But, that didn’t happen.  They both made it into the living room and were about to walk around to the settee when the resounding gunshot echoed through the walls.  Joe stopped in mid-pace and dropped down to his knees on the floor, as if he had felt the impact of the bullet.

“Oh, God!”  Joe cried, “ God I can’t bear this!” Joe sobbed as dull reality began to sink in, and he knew Cochise, his best friend, his companion ever since he was twelve, was now gone.

“I’m so sorry, Joseph,” Ben whispered, and also went to his knees to wrap his arms around his son.  He felt Joe’s body quake with sobs of pain.

“Promise me — promise me,” Joe stammered, trying to get out his meaning.

“What?  What do you need me to do, Son?”

“Don’t let them just throw her to the side — like something that never existed.  I — I don’t want the animals to get to her.”

“I’ll handle that —- you don’t have to worry.  Why don’t you let me get you something to drink?”

“And her blanket —- the new one I just bought before I left,” Joe stopped, as he was once again caught up in the whole awful event.  “why did I leave?  It’s MY fault!  I never should have left.”

Ben shook his head.  The worried father could tell that Joe was trying to assign blame to someone, even if that someone was himself.  “Joseph?  What were you saying about her blanket?”  Ben asked, trying to ignore his son’s suggestion that he was the cause of the horse’s illness.  He wanted to change the subject back to something that might help the boy deal with Cochise’s death.

“Put it with her, Pa, I — I — don’t want her to be cold,” Joe stammered.

 

Joe stopped just as Adam and Hoss walked into the house.  “I need to be alone,”  Joe whispered, as he stood up on shaky legs and headed towards the stairs.   He made it to the second step, knowing all eyes were fixed on him.  Joe never turned around, even though there were no more tears left in him, he still couldn’t face his family.  Joe thought that once he was up in the safety of his own room he would cry until there were no tears left inside, but, he wouldn’t shed any more of them in front of his family.  He decided that he did need to make one final statement towards the ones who had labored so hard to help Cochise. “Hoss — Adam — Pa — thanks for what all you tried to do.  I — I —appreciate that you— “Joe stopped abruptly.  He could no longer try to put up a brave front.  He would thank them another time.  Joe ran up the staircase and the three Cartwrights downstairs heard the sound of the heart broken young man’s door being shut.  They all knew Joe well.  He was not just shutting himself inside his bedroom, he was also shutting all others out.

 

Midnight found the ranch house to be cloaked in silence.  Hoss and Adam had tended to all of their father’s concerns in dealing with Cochise’s remains.  Both of the men were well spent once they had returned home.  After bidding their father goodnight, each went to his bedroom.  Emotional and physical exhaustion having taken over, Adam and Hoss fell fast asleep.  Ben hadn’t fared as well.  He had wanted to help his two sons with all that Joseph had requested to be done with his horse, but the worried father didn’t want to leave his youngest alone in case he needed to talk.  That hadn’t happened.  Ben finally gave up checking outside Joe’s bedroom door, hoping he’d be invited in.  Instead, quite the contrary, there was no sound coming from inside the boy’s room, and his door was locked.  Ben had found that information out after his third or fourth trip down the hall.  He had changed into his night clothes after Hoss and Adam had gone to sleep and then stole down to Little Joe’s room.  A slow turn of the doorknob let Ben know that Joseph wanted to be left alone.  It was a sign that gave him great consternation.  He hoped the boy would have sought his father out, if for no other reason than to say goodnight.  Ben sighed to himself as he gave up on talking or even seeing Joseph until morning.  Still, he was unable to go to sleep himself, and decided to go back downstairs for a shot of brandy and a few chapters of a book.  The brandy would hopefully settle his nerves, and the book might lull him into a state of drowsiness.  Or so Ben naively thought.

Ben had finished the second and final snifter of brandy and tossed his novel onto the coffee table.  After reading the same pages over and over again, he knew it was not a night to be reading and concentrating on anything fictitious.  Stark reality hung over the ranch house, even in the wee hours of the morning when nothing stirred, other than a concerned father.  Ben closed his eyes as memories flooded his thoughts.  He had given up on dealing with the present as his mind flashbacked to Joseph as he had been at the age of twelve.  Ben could still hear the boy’s persistent pleading about the same old topic.  He wanted a full grown horse , just like his pa, just like his two big brothers.  Ben had delayed the inevitable as long as he could.  How could Marie’s and his little boy be twelve?  It still hurt his father’s heart every single time the curly headed boy turned his hazel eyes on him.  Those eyes were Marie’s, though almost everything else about the child was a mixture of both his late wife and himself.  Now, as for where Joseph had gotten that strange trilling laugh, his father had no idea!  When he had first heard the sound he was sure that Joe was hitting puberty early.  Ben had obviously dealt with a change of voice pitch which usually indicated such things, but, the boy’s voice hadn’t changed, just that strange cackling laughter.  Of course Hoss and Adam cracked up every time they heard Little Joe  let loose with that strange sound, usually after he’d played some prank on his brothers.  Ben had asked them not to encourage the kid, as it was something that he hoped Joseph would grow out of.  Little did his father suspect that Joseph Cartwright had developed a trait which would follow him throughout his life; his laughter!

Ben stretched in his leather chair and wondered why he was thinking of Joe’s laughter at such a joyless time.  He finally reasoned that it was where the start of the whole Cochise saga had begun.  Once Joseph hit twelve he had worn his pa down sufficiently and he promised the boy that he could have a grown up horse.  That led to weeks of viewing almost every single horse on the large ranch, and parts beyond.  Ben’s patience was about spent watching Little Joe each night as he knelt on the floor next to the coffee table.  He would have a sheet of paper and a pencil, and instead of homework, which was badly needed, Joe checked his lists of horses he had seen.  Ben could still close his eyes and hear the boy calling them out one by one.  He inventoried their colors, their markings, how many hands high each of them were, calling everything out loud.  His two brothers took the incessant chatter as long as they could.  But, soon the living room would erupt in a pillow fight to try to shut up the boy.  Like their father, the horse search was wearing thin on Hoss and Adam, as was listening to Joe’s lists each night.  There were all kinds of horses on the boy’s lists; from chestnuts to sorrels to bays and buckskins.  Joe had even asked for a huge black stallion which had resulted in a resounding “NO!” shouted at the top of his father’s lungs.  Marie had been killed on a horse, an exact replica of the one that Joseph had asked for.  It was far too much horse for the boy, especially his boy!  It had become abundantly clear that Joseph did not know the word STOP, nor the words SLOW DOWN.  Ben had already warned his youngest that if he caught him racing any horse, his or anyone else’s, he would not be sitting for a long time.  Though Joe had looked attentively towards his father as he was being warned, Pa knew it had probably fallen on deaf ears, as most of his warnings had.  And that was why Ben insisted Joseph take the big black stallion off of his list.

A few weeks before the Paiute Indian’s harvest festival, Ben had readied to take some gifts to his friend Chief Winnemucca.  Since Joseph had the day off from school and the boy had been so consumed with finding a horse, Ben decided that a short day trip up to the mountain range might help him.  Little Joe enjoyed going up to the Indian camp, as he had met several boys up there on past trips and hoped he’d get to show off his new pocket knife.  Pa had already warned him not to go playing “blood brother”, as he had the previous year.  That little trick had cost Joe several stitches.  As Ben stared over at Joe sitting next to him on the buckboard bench seat, he shook his head, wondering why he had bought the boy an appeasement gift of a knife in the first place.  Joseph didn’t need any weapons to get hurt, he was in the clumsy stage anyway, and had spent more time out of school than in it due to accidents.

Joseph had been very polite, as usual, when he arrived at the camp.  He could be as gracious as he could be aggravating.  It wasn’t long after his father had given Chief Winnemucca gifts of tobacco, blankets, and other things to help the tribe through the upcoming winter, that Little Joe had asked Pa if he could go down to the creek with a couple of the young braves.  Ben had agreed, but with a stern gaze, he warned the boy to be careful.  Joe had waited until his father’s last words and then bolted towards the creek.  His father watched as the curly headed boy disappeared around the tents.  He silently prayed that Joe had remembered to close his pocket knife before running off.

Ben stood and paced the living room remembering exactly what had happened next, and how Cochise had come into their lives ten years ago.  He wasn’t there to see it, but from the way the young braves and Joseph told the story, it was very amusing.  Little Joe had apparently been leaning over the creek getting a drink of water after talking non-stop to the other boys.  It was at that exact moment that a pinto broke loose from a string of horses and headed down to the water as well.  There had been laughter from everyone except Joe when the pinto had slowly approached and nudged the unsuspecting boy into the creek.  Joe had done a complete somersault into the water.  The pinto, standing at the shoreline, acted like it was very amused by the whole event.  The boy had been helped out of the creek by his friend, Silver Wolf, and soon stood soaking wet on the shore.  Joe said a few unkind words to the pinto, who whinnied and walked right over to him.  Silver Wolf, who had endured hearing non-stop about Joe wanting to get a horse, informed him that he had been chosen by the pinto.  Little Joe doubted it.  A pinto wasn’t on his list, he was quite sure.  But, he found the horse following him all the way back to the camp.  The other braves retied the rope corral and soon they were all talking at the same time.  Ben who had been sitting cross-legged on the ground stood.  There coming towards him was his soaking wet son and a black and white pinto, both walking in perfect unison.  Silver Wolf spoke to the Chief in their native tongue to fill him in on what had happened and how only the one pinto had escaped.  He also told the elder of the tribe that Joe had been trying to find a horse of his own for weeks.

Chief Winnemucca grabbed Little Joe’s right hand and placed it on the horse’s neck.  In three words it was a done deal.  The Indian had said simply, “Horse choose boy”. And, with that, Cochise was Joseph Cartwright’s horse.  Ben had offered to pay the Chief but the Indian refused.  He had received Ben’s gifts graciously, and the Chief expected Ben to reciprocate.  Silver Wolf had given Joe and Indian blanket for the horse and provided a bridle with a rope lead to help him get the horse back to the ranch.  Of course Little Joe wanted to ride out like a great conqueror, even though his father warned that the horse needed to be saddle broken before the boy would be allowed to ride.  As soon as Pa’s head was turned, Joe had launched himself up onto the pinto’s back.  Silver Wolf called something to his friend, but Joe wasn’t listening.  He was waving goodbye, but accidently pulled back on the rope around the pinto’s neck at the same time.  Ben turned around from the seat of the buckboard just in time to see the stark terror on his son’s face.  The pinto immediately stood up on its two rear hooves the minute that Joe had inadvertently tugged on the reins.  Now Joseph was hanging on for dear life!  Ben jumped from his seat to rescue his errant son just as Cochise dumped Joe right down on his backside.  After that, the horse nodded its head up and down and gave a whinny that sounded like laughter.  Ben reached down and pulled Joe to standing.  The boy rubbed at the seat of his pants.  There he stood still wet from Cochise’s push into the creek.  And, to make matters worse, he had been dumped onto his butt by the same horse; the pinto who had chosen her own master.  Ben thoroughly brushed the dirt off Joe’s backside, giving him a quick swat in the process for good measure.  Then he tied the pinto’s lead rope to the back of the buckboard.  Pa turned his attention back to his rebellious boy and warned him that he’d better do as he was told or Ben would keep the pinto and give Joseph to the Indians.  Chief Winnemucca had listened and laughed, finally waving goodbye to the Cartwrights as they stepped up into the buckboard and headed for home.  Following eagerly behind them was the pinto, who, only hours later, Joseph would name Cochise.  The same pinto who would become a huge part of all the Cartwright’s lives for over ten years.  She had followed Joe from the age of twelve to twenty-two, and stayed ever unpredictable, but always faithful; just like her master.

Ben climbed the staircase, hoping to get a couple of hours of sleep before the long day that lay ahead.  The trip down memory lane was both heartwarming and sad.  He missed Cochise, and felt indebted to the horse for all of the times she had brought Joe home safely.  And, if Ben missed the pinto so badly, he could only imagine what was going on in Little Joe’s room all night.

 

Joe walked across his bedroom and peered out the window.  Adam and Hoss were finally home, so he figured that Cochise was gone from the barn now.  He had heard the sounds of boots walking in the hallway, and Joe knew it was his father, waiting for an invitation into his room.  Pa would’ve stayed home, just in case he was needed, and his brothers had been stuck with the task of getting a horse buried somewhere.  Rinsing his face, Joe looked into the mirror on his bureau.  It surprised him that, other than the scenes he had made inside the barn and once he had heard the gunshot, he had not broken down again.  Moving to his bed, Joe sprawled out still fully dressed.  He wished he could feel something.  But, there was a remarkable nothingness which had taken over.  There was no grief, none at all.  Joe tried to force images of Cochise into his mind.  Several passed by quickly, like a montage of the horse’s best tricks, or how she knew what her master always needed from her.

The late fall air filtered through the window, reminding the young man of the first time he had taken the filly up to Lake Tahoe.  His father had told him that since the horse had just been fully saddle broken, he could ride alone, but wasn’t to ride hard.  That compliance lasted until both Joe and Cochise had left the meadow half a mile from the front door.  Cochise began.  First a trot then a cantor, then she took off in a gallop that surprised her rider so much he almost had fallen off.  Joe remembered how she felt, sure of step and always ready for an adventure or to learn a new trick.  That day they had climbed, they had descended, they had taken risky trails where even a goat wouldn’t have gone.  It wasn’t long before Joe was at the summit over-looking his favorite spot.  Lake Tahoe lay ahead.  There was the magnificent expanse of blue water and the white snowcapped mountains on the other side.  Joe could almost smell the pines in his mind, and remembered how he felt to have his horse — Joe stopped the memory.  It had to go away.  There WAS no horse!  What in the hell was he thinking?  Joe sat on the side of the bed.  He heard the gentle sound of his doorknob being tested, most likely by his pa.  No!  Pa would make him remember and he would be his rock and all that stuff.  ***Enough with the tragedies already*** Joe thought to himself.  The last two years were like a bad play, and unfortunately, he must have been written in as the main character.  Joe hated it.  He wished he could make it downstairs without running into Pa.  Joe thought about the bottle of brandy in the study.  Or maybe he could find something stronger?  But, he couldn’t chance a run-in with anyone until morning.  Morning there would be a plan.  Tonight was purgatory.  So, the memories would haunt him and by no means help in any way.

Joe moved to the chair at his desk.  He wanted to feel uncomfortable.  The bed was made for sleeping, and sleeping would bring dreams.  He would NOT go there!  Closing his eyes there was a canyon and he had been left for dead. *** Of course it has to be THIS memory*** Joe thought to himself, still trying to push them back inside his head.  They just kept on coming regardless.  “Cochise —Cochise — oh God!”  Joe felt his ribs, they were broken.  He wasn’t sure if his leg was busted or just bruised bad.  Reaching out his left hand, he could hardly move his fingers.  Sucking in air Joe tried to roll over so he could get to his knees.  He fell flat on his face in the dirt.  He tasted ground, and his lips were matted with blood so that when he rolled back he brought the soil with him.  How many people had either robbed or tried to kidnap him? *** Joe gave a sarcastic grin.  Everyone wants to kill me — why don’t they ever finish the job for God’s sake? *** The sound was getting closer, Joe knew what was coming.  He pursed his battered lips and tried to whistle.  Nothing came out but dirt.  It didn’t matter, the pony was coming anyway!  Joe spotted the silhouette of his horse.  Cochise was casually walking towards her master, as if nothing was wrong. *** Danged horse! Don’t you know I’m about half dead? *** Then came the snort as the horse dropped her face down towards Joe.  She was making a decision, since Joe was obviously out of his head.  ***I told you to get help!  What are you doing, Cochise? —-There she did it on her own!  How many times did I try to teach her and her eyes just laughed at me? ***  Cochise gave a warning whinny, lowered her head, and then folded her forelegs.  She was kneeling!  *** You did everything but call my name and say get on board. *** Joe remembered rolling onto the saddle.  He could only hold onto the saddle horn with a few fingers on his right hand.  Those few fingers were the only parts of his body that were working right.  *** Good thing this horse has more brains than me! *** Then she stood up so gently, like in slow motion.  How could an animal be so gentle and all knowing?  **** I wonder how the hell she found me?  They dragged me a good ten miles from the ranch.  How did she find my trail when they threw me over one of their horses? *** Cochise  snorted again and pawed at the ground.  It was a warning that Joe needed to do what he could to hold on, because she wasn’t stopping until she saw one of the other Cartwrights.  Even if it meant prancing up to the front door of the ranch house and depositing her master there…*** I never taught you anything.  You taught ME!  Get me home again, Cochise.  I promise you I’ll do the same for you one day.***

Joe stood and stared out his window again.  The barn was dark.  Now there was an empty stall. ***Just like you never existed *** Joe shook his head but refused to cry.  *** And how did I repay you for all the things you did for me?  I let them put a bullet through your head *** Joe turned and fell down on the bed. *** I will NOT cry for something that never existed.  It was all a dream, a dream that lasted ten years.  But now I’m awake.  God, I wish I could go back to sleep — back to you, Cochise. *** Joe closed his eyes.  He would wait out the dawn.  That’s right, the dawn would come and he would do what he had to do.  Joe heard footsteps out in the hall again.  ***Sorry, Pa, you can’t be any part of this one. ***  He pulled up his blanket and waited to hear the sounds of morning.  Then Joe would leave.

 

Ben paused outside of Little Joe’s bedroom early the next morning.  He knew he would have to do some serious negotiation to bring the young man down for breakfast.  Taking a deep breath, he knocked on Joe’s door.

“Come in,”  Joe sang out.

“Joseph, I was wondering if you’d like some breakfast?  You know I’m not as good a cook as Hop Sing, but —“  Ben paused in mid statement as he noticed what his son was doing.  Joe had a carpet bag out and he was packing.  “Joseph, what are you doing?”

“I need to get away for a few days, Pa,”  Joe answered, continuing with what he was doing.

“Son — do you really think that’s a good idea?  You just got home yesterday,” Ben’s voice showed a strain in its tone.

“Yeah — well, it wasn’t the homecoming I had hoped for,” Joe retorted, sarcasm pouring out with his words.

“All the more reason to be around family now, Joseph,” Ben returned softly and touched his son’s shoulder.

“Pa — if you really want to help me,” Joe paused, still not looking directly at his father, “I do need a favor.”

“Before you ask for favors how about answering me about this leaving nonsense?”

“I have to get away.  Now will you help me or not?”

“That depends.  How about some bargaining around here?”  Ben tried to sound as contrite as he could, but worry was growing just watching his son’s staunch demeanor.  “Why don’t you take Hoss or Adam with you?  For that matter, I could use a couple of days away from dishes with Hop Sing out of town!”

Joe stopped his progress with his packing and stared at his father.  It was such a cold and devoid stare that it almost broke Pa’s heart.  He looked nothing like the warm emotional young man who had run up the stairs the night before.  Joe acted stinted, like he was looking and speaking to a stranger.  “I said I needed to be alone, Pa.  Three or four days isn’t a trip to Spain.”

Ben sighed and shook his head in defeat.  In his opinion the boy belonged home, end of story.  But, with Joe’s persistence, there really wasn’t much he could do to dissuade him.

“Okay, Son.  Now what was that favor?”  Ben caved in.

“I need a ride.  It doesn’t matter to me what kind, as long as it has four legs a head and a tail.  And I’d appreciate it if you could manage to bring my saddle and any bridle — but,” Joe stopped before saying the word COCHISE, which had almost slipped out.

Pa had noticed the abrupt way his son had stopped speaking.  He searched the boy’s face for a glimmer of grief.  Ben knew he could help Joe through that.  But, he had to be willing to show it first.

“Just the gear I’ll need to ride the damn horse,” Joe muttered and fastened his bag.

“There is a chestnut mare out in the front corral.  I’ll get her saddled and ready for you.  Won’t you please come down and eat something before you go?”

“Just not hungry, Pa.  Are Adam and Hoss down there?”

“No, they left for south shore to move the herd to winter grass,” Ben explained.

Joe closed his eyes and could still hear him telling Cochise she had to pull through so they could take the cattle to south shore.  It had been something Joe routinely did with his horse each year.

Ben saw the change in Joe’s countenance, and hoped in his heart that Joe might let loose.  It would help and his father could be the shoulder that he would need to get through the grieving process.  But, Joe regained his composure and lifted the bag to the floor.

“Well, I’d like you to tell them that I appreciate what they did for me last night.  And you too, Pa.  At least you got me home before —-“ Joe stopped once more, still finding it hard not to mention specifics regarding his horse, “anyway, thanks.”

Ben nodded and walked to the door, his heart sinking in his chest.  He paused before heading down the stairs to get a horse ready for his son.  Stopping there in the doorway, Ben gave it one more try.  “Joseph, grief is handled better with those who care about you, not by running away.”

“Pa, I’m not grieving, I just want to get away by myself.  And, I’d like to go as soon as possible,” Joe defended his motives, and his tone came out with uncharacteristic harshness.

“Fine,” Ben nodded, giving up the cause.  “So I WILL expect you home by Sunday!”

Joe didn’t reply.  He turned toward his window instead.  He wasn’t going to make any specific promises.

 

A few minutes after eight a.m. Joe rode out of the yard with a chestnut mare as his mount.  He hardly said anything further to his pa, which was rare coming from a young man who almost always turned to his father during times of crisis.  Joe reasoned that the less Pa knew about his plans the better it would be for everyone.  Heading to Virginia City would be the first stop.  Joe needed money before he could do anything else.  The plan in motion, he rode northward.

 

Ben tried to remain busy for two days, dealing with all the necessary tasks for securing the cattle in preparation for the upcoming winter.  He handled the mountainous paperwork involved, and made ready the payroll for the end of the month.  Still, his thoughts were never far from Joseph.  And, for that matter, Hoss and Adam were worried as to where their brother had gone off to in his quest for privacy.  Their father tried his best to put on a show of faith that Little Joe would be home, as he had alluded, by Sunday.  However, as Saturday dawned with no word of Joe’s whereabouts, Ben had given both Hoss and Adam his permission to go into town and find out what they could.

Hoss and Adam knew their little brother well, including his known hide-outs.  They hoped the kid had taken a room at the International House, and maybe had stayed in town drowning his sorrow in one of the two saloons.  That wasn’t the case, and after hours of trying to follow leads, they decided they could use a drink themselves.  It was in the Silver Dollar Saloon where they finally got their one and only piece of information.  While sipping on their beers they spotted a teller who worked at the Virginia City Branch Bank.  After inviting the man, Frank Simmons, to sit with them, he had casually mentioned seeing Little Joe on Thursday.  He also said that he had withdrawn the money for Joe, and it was basically his whole deposited amount there at the bank.  For some reason, that information forced both brothers to cut their conversation short and head home.  Worried that their brother had done something desperate, like catching a stage for parts unknown, they decided that Pa should be informed at once.  Even though there was no record of Joe having left from Virginia City, according to the Overland Stage manager, he could have taken a stagecoach from Carson City just as easily.

Ben listened intently to all the information that Hoss and Adam had provided about where they had gone and who they had spoken to in their search for their brother.  But, they hadn’t garnered much in their efforts; still no idea where Joe had gone.  The withdrawal of money bothered the anxious father, though he didn’t think Joseph would’ve randomly taking a stage in his attempt to work things out in his mind.  Of course Joe had a penchant for getting into trouble, sometimes getting over his head in a good poker game.  And it was logical that he would’ve needed the extra cash for that.  But somehow that scenario didn’t ring true now either.  The boy had said that he wanted to be alone, and he wouldn’t find solitude sitting around in a saloon in Carson City playing cards.  Ben told both sons that he would think on it all, and tried to sound encouraging.  He put on a brave front once again, and assured Hoss and Adam that Little Joe would be back the next day.  Joseph had said three or four days, and it was just the end of the third day.  Both brothers watched as their father climbed the stairs, deciding to turn in for the night.  They knew their father all too well.  Pa’s slumped shoulders and furrowed brow revealed to them that he hadn’t bought the lie he had just told them.  Joe was in some kind of trouble, he felt it in his heart.

 

Joe’s eyes slowly adjusted to the light peering through the clapboard walls of the line shack.  Morning was apparently seeping into the place long before the young man wanted it to.  He stiffly sat up on his bunk, blinking back the pain from his eyes.  Joe rubbed at his temples as his head began pounding.  *** Good whiskey *** He mused to himself in spite of the pain.  Making it over to the table and sinking onto the hard-backed chair, Joe tried to gather his thoughts.  He wasn’t too sure what day it was or what had transpired the previous night.  The last few days had been a blur, mainly due to his intoxication.  That had been part of his plan of action; to drink as much as possible.  He ate when he was hungry, which wasn’t often.  He drank when he wasn’t thirsty; liquor being one of his old friends.  Joe knew the last part of his two-staged plan was going to be a little rougher than opening a whiskey bottle.  He stared over at the sack, old urges pulling at him to open it and open it soon.  ***What the hell am I waiting for anyhow? *** Joe thought on the whole situation, trying to be clearheaded enough before doing what he felt he had to do.

Pacing the cabin floor Joe looked around.  There it was, the one place where no-one would ever think to look for him; Oblivion.  Joe laughed at the name of the cabin, though it really wasn’t a laughing matter, nor would it have been to anyone else in the family.  This was the same line shack where Joe had been held against his will earlier in the year.  The same bunk where he had just slept, was the bunk where the two men had tied him down onto.  Joe looked back towards the sack on the table.  *** And so here we are again, Old Friends! *** He sighed and sat back down.  “This time it’s on MY terms!  I make the decisions.”  Joe called aloud.  There wasn’t anyone within twenty miles, perhaps more, but there were still memories as well as unseen ghosts.  ***Ghosts of injections past ***  Joe laughed and decided a drink was needed to calm his nerves.  He poured a double shot into the tin cup.  The stale taste of the indulgence of the night before needed to be tended to, he reasoned.  As Joe sipped at the rot gut he closed his eyes and remembered how smoothly his plan had gone thus far.  First, he had gone into Virginia City for money.  He did that and left, not wanting to be spotted by anyone who would later report back to his family.  Joe had to keep all of them in the dark.  And, Joe was now in a very dark place himself.  Instead of dealing with his feelings for his horse, and the death of Cochise, the young man had decided to take away all of the pain.  And there was one thing Joe knew of that could take away pain; and it was in that brown paper sack, which called out to him from across the room.  That was where the money had come in handy.  Joe knew that he had enough on him before he had left the Ponderosa to purchase the liquor and what little food he would need, but as for the drug, that was a different matter entirely.  And, that had been why he had to empty his bank account in Virginia City.  It had also meant he would have to journey to Genoa and seek out the seedier side of town.  Joe knew of a doctor there who could be bought off easily.  He had used this man before, though it had been through a third party.  That person was his best friend, Mitch Devlin, the same friend who had moved away a few months prior.  ***Good old Mitch!  All it had taken was a few fake tears and you went and got me the bootlegged drug.  Heck you even brought it to me out in the barn.  Yeah, the same barn — *** Joe stopped his musings and took another long sip of his whiskey.  Even the memory of his first bout with morphine had brought memories of the barn, and the stall where Cochise called home for ten years.  He had planned everything so perfectly, and was sure that if he only had some morphine that the horse would be gone from his memory and his heart.  Joe stood back up, this time wanting to address Pete and Travis, the men who had jabbed him with syringes containing morphine.  “I wonder how prison is going for you guys?  Didn’t think I would testify against you, did you?  Yep, I got up on that stand and told everyone how you put me through that hell.  You both have years to think about it,”  Joe paused again.  He tried to rationalize what he was doing, replaying his motives over in his mind.  Joe reminded himself that HE was in charge, HE was in control, and THIS time it was different.  He deserved this, he was old enough and smart enough to decide his own fate.  He planned to use just the right amount.  After all, he was a professional when it came to the use of morphine.  After just a few minutes he would slip into total euphoria; the place where happy dreams started and nightmares ended.

It had taken two days to get the drug and Joe had spent the sleepless nights in Genoa.  The only room he could find was over a seedy saloon and the noise was non-stop.  But, he had to wait for the danged doctor to sober up long enough to open his office and fill Joe’s urgent request.  He had paid the doctor well, as Joe knew he would be seeing the man again in the near future for a steady supply of his drug of choice.  Then the long ride up to the far away cabin had cost him half of the previous day.  If he’d had Cochise Joe could’ve made the trip a lot quicker than on the chestnut mare his father had provided him.  Joe squeezed his eyes closed tightly.  There was the thought of Cochise again!  And to add to that pain there was the thought of his father as well.  Pa was the LAST person on earth Joe wanted to see now.  He had sent Joe off to that dreadful hospital in San Francisco to dry out from the morphine addiction the first go-round over a year ago.  *** Good thing Pa will never find me up here *** Joe reasoned and walked outside.  He needed to look after the mare out in the rope corral and he had to tend to a few other small chores before he could get to the main event.  He could almost feel the medication already.  Nothing else mattered, as far as Joe was concerned.

 

Joe sat at the table inside the cabin known as Oblivion.  He forced down a small piece of stale bread, and just a bite of beef jerky.  Hunger was not an issue, but he needed to sober up at least a tad, to pull it all together mentally.  Joe, from past experience, knew he’d have to measure out his dosage exactly.  Even though he wanted to be out of the pain of spirit and body, he didn’t want to overdose on the deadly drug.  Swallowing a mouthful of water, Joe opened the brown paper sack.  He laughed to himself, remembering how the doctor had placed the liquid morphine and a few syringes inside the bag.  It was a joke that the man had given it to Joe illegally but had packed it in a way that anyone passing by the man’s office would know what was inside!  After all, he wasn’t the type of doctor anyone would’ve chosen to go to if they were really sick.  He kept his medical license, but only because he knew the right people.  The man made most of his money by the selling of addictive substances, something everyone in Genoa knew.

Joe shook himself from his thoughts and withdrew one of the syringes from the bag along with the morphine.  Eyeing the markings on the syringe, he tilted the vial upside down.  It all came back to Joe, just as though he had never given up the drug.  Preparing the syringe had come as natural to him as breathing.  Slowly the morphine rose inside the syringe.  When Joe felt he had a sufficient amount drawn up, he righted the glass vial and set it down on the table.  Next he tapped the needle a few times.  *** Gotta get rid of those pesky air bubbles or it will be lights out forever *** Joe mused.  He made a mental note about the chance of getting a good dose of air and not morphine and how it could kill someone, as he had listened to Doctor Martin talking to his father when they had first begun to use the drug on him.  *** Another time, another injury *** Joe smirked.  He didn’t want to think about either man, especially Pa!  Joe shrugged the memories away again, and set the filled syringe on a cloth on the table.  He rolled up the sleeve to his right arm.  Being left handed made it all a bit awkward, but he had done it so many times that he wasn’t worried in the least.  A rush of adrenalin coursed through his body as he contemplated how he would soon be feeling.  He couldn’t wait to be in blissful surrender, it wouldn’t take long.

 

Ben ran thoughts of all that Joseph had said to him the day he had left for places unknown.  Something deep down reminded Ben of another time when his son had pretended to just need some space instead of telling the truth about why he was leaving home.  And as his horse, Buck, carried Ben further up into the deep woods he wondered if it could be possible that Joseph had intentionally planned on hiding out from everyone for an extended period of time.  Pa knew his son, or liked to think he did.  But, as he got older Joe had become harder to read at times.  He missed the young boy who always wore his heart on his sleeve and trusted his father enough to tell him the painful truth, no matter how bad it was.    Ben also missed Cochise, especially now with his son missing.  The pinto would’ve let them all know if Joe had been injured or had some kind of mishap.  But, she was gone and her master would not admit to anyone how he really felt.  Ben believed that to be the crux of the issue, though there was something way underneath it all that the worried father still hadn’t been able to piece together.  He only hoped that his trip would not be a waste of time.  It was almost sunset and his destination lay just over the next rise up ahead; Oblivion.

 

Joe heard the noise of a rider as it approached the cabin.  He figured that it had to be some passing stranger who had gotten off the marked road by accident.  ***I’ll just send him on his merry way — I don’t need no company!  I have the whole night to lay here and enjoy myself *** Joe thought to himself and walked to the door.  He reached for his Colt pistol, just in case the stranger didn’t get the message he was about to give him.

Ben dismounted and walked towards the front porch where Joe stood.  The boy was quite obviously surprised, as he hadn’t said a word and his mouth hung open.

“It’s the fourth day,” Ben began, trying not to sound as irritated as he felt.

“Pa, — what are you doing here?  How did you find me?”  Joe stammered.  His mind was working as fast as it could, wondering how he could keep his father out of the line shack.

Ben stepped up onto the porch and moved next to his son.  He put his hands on his hips and replied, “I asked myself where was the last place on earth that you’d ever go — then I went there.”

“Oh,” Joe said unenthusiastically.  “I told you I needed some time, Pa.”

“Well, you’ve just run out of it.  Now is there some reason why you’re leaving your father standing out here?”

“Just give me a couple more days, Pa —- that’s all I’m asking,” Joe grasped for anything he could use to dissuade his father from entering the cabin.

“No!  Now let’s go inside and have this out.  I’m tired and I’m irritated,” Ben paused and pushed past his son and entered the cabin.  “And I — “ Ben stopped as his eyes caught a glimpse at the table and what was laying there on  it.  He saw a syringe and a glass vial.  Whipping his head around to face Joe, who had entered inside behind his father, he pointed towards both objects.  “What is that?!”  Ben yelled knowing, from past experience, exactly what he was seeing there before him.

Joe walked the long way around the table to get out of his father’s reach.  The move didn’t pay off as Ben grabbed his elbow as he passed by.  He couldn’t help noticing that Joe’s right shirt sleeve was rolled up just above his elbow.  “You didn’t!”  Ben shouted, taking his son’s right arm and pulling it roughly towards him.

Joe pulled back equally hard, his temper mounting.  “Just go away, Pa!”

“Are you out of your head?” Ben asked, his face red with anger.

“Not yet,”  Joe muttered, sarcasm coming out just loud enough for his father to hear.

“Did you — did you do it?   Did you do it yet?” Pa’s dread played out in his questions.

Joe planted himself down in the chair hard, placing his pistol off to the side.  He hadn’t had the chance to use the drug, and wished now that he had been a little quicker in getting to it.  The big fatherly inquisition was about to start, and by the look on Pa’s face, it was going to be one for the ages.

“Answer me!”  Ben demanded, walking around to where he could get a better look at his son’s arm.

“No — not yet.  But, if you’ll give me a little privacy —“  Joe began, the latent effects of all of his drinking wasn’t helping his disposition.  He would only stare straight at the morphine on the table and refused to look at his pa.

“Do I have to remind you about Travis and Pete and all of the suffering you endured at their hands?  Do I have to remind you how much our whole family has gone through due to your addiction?”  Ben questioned, but had yet to lower the tone of his voice.

Joe reached over to his whiskey bottle and poured a quick drink.  He knew he had to answer his father but he didn’t dare say it yet.  He needed some relief in advance.  Joe shot the liquid down his throat before his father could try and stop him.

“Answer me!”  Ben shouted, pulling the bottle away from Joe’s reach.

“No!  No, I haven’t forgotten, Pa!”  Joe yelled.  It was a clear sign to his father that Joseph was not in his right mind or he would never have used that tone with him.  “I also haven’t forgotten that you and Doc caused my first bout with morphine addiction!”  Joe spat back, hoping to injure his father because he had dared to interfere with his plans for the evening.

Ben felt frozen in time.  He tried to remember why he had gone to find his son.  It hadn’t been to get into a fight with him, it was to try and help him.  But, as he stared at the syringe on the table he could see that it had already been drawn up.  His heart was in his throat when he realized he could have arrived too late.  Joe had been so close to spiraling down the deep well of addiction and it’s after effects. He knew he had to figure out a way to help the boy.  Ben stared at the blank expression on his son’s face.  He could tell that his youngest hadn’t been eating well.  Joseph appeared so thin and pale.  Ben could also tell that Joe had been drowning whatever feelings he had in liquor, so he decided to let his outburst go without repercussions, at least for now.  Weighing everything in his mind, Ben knew he’d have to handle the whole ball of wax at the same time.  Maybe they were tied together? Ben pondered for a few moments.  Joe lost Cochise, so he simply decided to inject himself with morphine. *** No — that’s too stupid to even suggest.  Yes, he’s trying to dull himself with alcohol, but to get hooked on that damned medicine again?  It didn’t make the least bit of sense.  He had concluded that Joe had fired the last round of insults his father’s way to challenge the fact that it had, indeed, been both Doctor Martin and Ben who had given Joe the medicine when he had first been injured.  But, how did that equate to going up to Oblivion where Joseph had been so horribly treated earlier the following year? — *** Ben wondered internally.

Ben was losing time, and foremost he was afraid he was losing his son.  He knew that he had to come up with the proper approach to handle this problem.  Ben decided that now was not a time for gentleness or a strong shoulder to lean on.  If he offered that to Joe, and gave in to the compassion and love he felt for the boy, he might never be able to truly get him to give up on his self-destructive path.  Somehow he had to shock Joseph into stark reality.  He had to break down the wall that Joe had put up between himself and the rest of the world.  Ben, though he internally ached to see Joe in such obvious distress, had to handle the situation from here on out with firmness.  The anxious father was absolutely sure that Joseph needed to understand and accept the proper emotion that he needed to be dealing with; undeniable grief.

“Joseph,” Ben continued, firm of stature, but a bit softer in tone, “you know that we did that to save your life.  It was either that, or watch you die from those burns.  But, you fought your way back — or have you forgotten that hospital in San Francisco?”

Joe laughed, “sure, Pa!  Like I would forget being tied down in restraints.”

“My point exactly,” Ben countered.  “You were lucky after what Travis and Pete did to you this year that you were able to fight it off at home and didn’t end up back at the hospital again.  So, why would you even think about coming here?  Why would you even think about sticking yourself with that poison again?”

Joe shook his head and frowned.  “You just don’t get it.”

“I know I don’t!”  Ben replied loudly.  “That’s why I’m asking.”

“Well, I came here to take the morphine because I figured no-one would find me.  And, I didn’t plan on going through withdrawal again anyhow.”

“What were you going to do?  Were you going to just kill yourself?  That’s why we prosecuted those two men, you know?  They almost killed you with that stuff!”

“I know how much to take, they didn’t know how much to give me.  Big difference there, Pa!  I mean, just like I said up on that witness stand, I AM a morphine addict you know?  And, there’s not one single day that goes by that I don’t WANT that drug, that I don’t NEED that drug.  So, I’m gonna stop fighting it and use the stuff.  I know how much to use, trust me,” Joe spouted out, defiance written all over his face.

“Okay,” Ben paused and stared at his son hard, “so you’re going to kill yourself slowly?  Well, if I have to lose my son, — because he’s out of his head due to his addiction — I’d just as soon lose him fast.  So why don’t you do me the great favor of getting it over with already.  Why delay the inevitable?  Go on!”

Joe was shocked to hear the words leaving his father’s mouth.  Yes, he was intoxicated, but he knew what he’d heard Pa say.  Those were words he never ever thought he’d hear from him; that was for sure!  Pa was supposed to talk him down from a wall, not push him over it.  “Don’t rush me.  I’ll get to it shortly,” Joe shot back, after regaining his composure and sarcasm.

“That’s it!”  Ben shouted and stood up.  “I think you are all show.  Not that I don’t think you wouldn’t have injected that stuff into you — just that you’re not being honest as to the why of it.  Now tell me WHY!  And don’t you dare give me that lame excuse of being a morphine addict.  Because, thus far, you’ve blamed the original cause of the addiction on Doc Martin and me.  Okay, I’ll accept that, and I make no apology for it.  And, then there’s the second go-round, well that one is on Travis and Pete, right?  Now, what about THIS time, Joseph?  THIS time who are you going to hold responsible for your fall into the addiction — Cochise?”

Joe stood up and faced his father.  He wouldn’t be looked down at, not now.  He was getting mad; VERY MAD.  “Leave Cochise out of this!  I’m responsible this time, I’m not blaming anyone else.  And, I’m doing it to get out of pain!  Now just how hard is that for you to understand?!”

“Joseph, pain is a part of life — just like love, joy and hope.”

“You forgot anger, Pa!” Joe shot back, annoyed to be hearing the same old lecture.

“You haven’t SEEN anger yet, Joseph,” Ben warned in his tone that he had been pushed to the brink by the boy’s disrespectful replies.  Though, in all honesty, it had been Joe’s father who had purposely lit that explosive himself.

“You wanted the truth,” Joe volleyed back.

“You don’t have anger, Son, and you don’t have pain either.  You have grief,” Ben countered, and forced his gaze on the boy.

“No I don’t!”  Joe insisted.

“I suppose you think I don’t know anything about grief?”

 

Joe sank down in the chair.  He could see the whiskey bottle which Pa had moved out of his reach.  He sure wished he had more now.  Better still, he craved what stared back at him on the table; the vial full of morphine.  ***If only Pa hadn’t shown up *** Joe thought.  Finally, regrouping a bit, he answered his father.  “Yeah, Pa — if anyone knows grief it’s YOU!  You are like the Job of all grief!”

Ben held up his right hand and signaled with his thumb and forefinger a measure the size of an inch.  He called back to his son sharply, “Young Man, you are THIS close!”

“What did I do?  I just stated fact,” Joe complained.  He didn’t like to be threatened like a little kid.

“Explain yourself, and you’d better do it pretty fast.  Because if you weren’t twenty-two I would have already made sure you could no longer sit down.”

Joe crossed his arms over his chest, holding back his anger.  But, he didn’t want to push his luck with his father either, so he responded carefully.  “Pa — all’s I was saying was that you’ve had about as much grief as Job.  Now why is that a cause to threaten me?”

Ben groaned loudly and sat back down.  The kid was wearing him out.  He had gone round and round with Joe, from the reason for being up at the line-shack to the morphine, and now they were arguing over the term grief.  He wasn’t sure how long he could last, and was tempted to partake in Joe’s whiskey.  Ben shook himself from his thoughts.

“Okay, then we’re on somewhat the same page about grief.  I’ve had it and you don’t.  Your horse, who was your best friend, died.  You are only full of pain.  You want to take that drug which could kill you and all just to take away that pain.  And, evidently, you think your father is stupid enough to let you do that.  Now are we together on all this now?”

Joe sighed.  Pa was wearing him down too.  He had the blissful expectation of being drugged out on morphine by then, instead of going another round with his father, who was in fact, getting too close for comfort.

“Yeah, you’ve got it right,” Joe whispered.

“I’ve ALMOST got it right,” Ben corrected.  “If you will tell me truthfully why you don’t feel grief over Cochise — well — at least I’ll drop that topic.”

Joe stood and started to pace.  He figured he might just as well say it.  “Pa?  Why do you go up to my mother’s grave?  I mean — is she there?  Or is she in heaven?”  Joe asked, this time seriously.

Ben faced off with his son again.  “I go there to remember her.  No, I don’t think she’s there.  I know she’s in heaven — isn’t that what YOU believe too?”

Joe looked down at the cabin floor and tried to hold back what was buried in his gut.  Even he didn’t totally understand what was ultimately bothering him.  He had an idea, but no way to really explain it other than in the terms he had chosen.  “Yeah — she’s in heaven — and if you’re very good — which YOU naturally ARE, you’ll get to see her when you die.”

“You say that like you don’t mean it.  Do you or don’t you?”
“Oh, I mean it.  No doubt about it, you grieve for people that you lose, and you go to heaven and see them again if you’re good.  Absolutely!  And that’s why I keep telling you over and over again why I am NOT grieving.  How can I grieve for something that never existed, Pa?”

Ben stared so strangely at his son.  It had never dawned on him that the boy felt that way, and worst of all, that he believed that way.  This had been the key all along, and Ben cursed himself internally that he hadn’t picked up on it sooner.  He could have spared them both a lot of heartache.

“Oh,” Ben finally spoke out, with much less volume in his voice, “now I understand.”

“Good,” Joe responded, not asking his father what he had meant.  “Now can I have my whiskey back?”

Ben shook his head, “you don’t need whiskey, Joseph.  And you certainly don’t need that!”  Pa pointed toward the syringe and the morphine.  “What you need is something that I just happen to have out in my saddle bags.”  He tucked the whiskey bottle underneath his left arm.  It was then that he noticed Joe had an intense fixed gaze on the filled syringe, which sat on the table just off to the boy’s right.  “I want you to hand me that —- all of it,” Ben indicated with his stare the syringe along with the vial of morphine and whatever else was in the brown paper sack.

Dead silence fell over the cabin as the battle of wills went on.  Joseph fought with his hunger for the morphine and what it could do for him.  While Ben fought to allow his son to willingly hand it over to him.  Beads of perspiration dotted Joe’s forehead and spread downward from his face, neck and to his chest.  The signs were all there, just as Doctor Peele had warned Ben earlier in the year.  There was always a chance that Joe’s fight to stay off the medication could just as easily turn into a full- fledged relapse.  The worried father held his breath, knowing he had to let his son hand the drug to him.  Joe’s left hand trembled as he picked the syringe up from the table.  Old familiar urges were starting to take over, and Joe closed his eyes.  He didn’t want to surrender to his father’s request.  There was still the overwhelming desire to finish with the plan that had begun the night that Cochise had been put down.  He still needed the pain to go away.

“Joseph?” Ben called out again.

“Why don’t you just take it?” Joe snapped back.

“No, Son, you have to hand it to me.  I’ll take it from there,” Ben insisted.

Joe bit at his bottom lip and then eyed the syringe again.  He fought with himself again, but finally put it inside the sack along with the vial of morphine.  He internally told himself that he could always head back to Genoa if he wanted to, but tonight he would have to turn this stash over to his father.  Reaching towards Pa he relinquished the whole bag, and everything that had been on the table.

Ben breathed a sigh of relief for the first time since he had first entered the cabin earlier.  It was only a small victory, but it was a step in the right direction he presumed.  At least there hadn’t been a big fight with his son over handing the morphine to him.  But, he knew that unless he could straighten the boy’s attitude out, that there were always other ways for him to get a hold of the drug again. *** One step at a time, Ben *** he told himself.  “I’ll be right back,” Ben paused briefly and called over to his son, “the next sound you hear will be the sound of breaking glass.  Better brace yourself!”

Joe watched as his father pulled open the cabin door and stepped onto the porch.  He was sure that no matter what Pa had alluded to, that nothing that he had out there in his saddle bags would be better for him than the drug he had just walked out of the door with.  Soon he heard the smashing of glass coming from outside somewhere.  Joe sighed.  Obviously, according to all of the racket, Pa was taking great pleasure in destroying all the contents of the sack, along with the whiskey too.  Taking in a deep unsettled breath, Joe readied for what was sure to be one heck of a round two with his father.

 

Ben made several trips from his horse and back to the line-shack.  There were quite a few things he needed to tend to.  Most importantly was smashing to bits the contents of the paper sack and whiskey bottle.  While accomplishing those tasks, he also wanted to get everything lined up in his mind; like what he would say to his son to get him to understand.  After he had secured Buck in the rope corral, and fed and watered the horse, he made sure that Joe had done the same with the chestnut mare.  Satisfied that his son had at least tended to those minor chores, though obviously inebriated at the time he did them, Ben made the trip indoors.  Joe’s eyes had been focused on his father as he made his way in and out of the cabin.  He never stood up to try and help Pa, but was growing curious about all he was doing.  He watched as his father stowed his gear over on one of the two bunks.  Pa had also brought two canteens inside and poured some water from one of them into an old coffee pot, which he had rinsed out beforehand.  ***Coffee!  I had a whole bottle of whiskey and he’s interested in coffee! *** Joe thought to himself.  He was still angry, and felt that he had every right to be.  *** Just my luck he goes and finds me tonight of all nights.  If he hadn’t come I’d be feeling pretty good about now.  Then, on top of smashing the rot-gut, he goes and smashes the entire vial of morphine!  He owes me over a hundred dollars — *** Joe continued, but then shook himself from his thoughts as his father stopped dead in his tracks right in front of where he sat at the table.  Evidently, unbeknownst to the young man, he had not mused his anger in silence.   But rather, he had muttered what had been rummaging through his brain.  Ben shot his son a stern warning look, and then walked outside one more time.

“Great!  Now Pa can read minds,” Joe said aloud, though this time taking the precaution of looking around to make sure his father was gone from ear-shot.

 

Ben arrived back inside the cabin and closed the door behind him.  He was finally done with all of his chores, and had also come up with a plan of action.  Joe stared over at the man.  Pa was carrying a good sized stick, about a yard in length.

“Stand up!” Ben called over to his son, who was still seated at the table.  His voice wasn’t as loud as it had been earlier, but it had a definite stern inflection to it.

“Huh?” Joe replied, a bit shaken up.  He couldn’t remember the parts he had muttered loud enough for his father to hear them.  In fact, he couldn’t even remember whether he had cursed during his internal tirade over the loss of his supplies.  Joe only knew that his father now stood less than a few feet from the table and his countenance was not a happy one.  Worse still was that the man was telling him to stand up while holding that stick.  ***Maybe I HAVE had enough liquor?  Even if I don’t remember what I said a little while ago, it’s for sure that Pa does— *** Joe thought, this time internally.

“Did you hear me, Joseph?” Ben asked and moved closer towards the table.

Joe stood.  He didn’t know what was going on, and wasn’t about to ask any questions.  He decided his father was probably upset that he hadn’t made any attempt to help him with any of his many trips outside.  But, Joe was just inebriated enough, and just arrogant enough to stand before his father without offering an apology.

“Break this into kindling for me,” Ben said, and handed the stick to his son.  He watched as a flicker of relief passed across Joe’s eyes.  It had been the only time that day that Pa had been amused.  Ben had seen the look on Joseph’s face when he had walked into the cabin carrying the stick.  It had been priceless to watch the boy’s appearance rise from defiance and fall to deep concern in just one quick glance.

Joe didn’t know why they needed a dang fire, coffee, or talk for that matter.  He just wanted to go to sleep now that there was nothing else left to take his pain away inside the cabin.  But, if Pa asked him to break that stick up, it was fine with him!  He wasn’t all that sure what his father would’ve done if he had refused the order.  Joe broke the stick into pieces and tossed them into the wood burning stove which stood in the middle of the line-shack.  He had forgotten to get it ready when he did his other chores, because he planned to be in a different state of mind by the time night fell.  Now things were oh so different!  No drug, no whiskey, and no privacy.  And, the way Pa was getting everything ready, it was apparent that he was setting the stage for a long night of talking.  Joe cringed at the idea.  If he could’ve found some excuse to go outside, he would have escaped.  But, Pa was watching his every movement.  Besides that, he knew that his father had used the stick routine to see just how much authority he still held over his son.  When Joe ended up backing down, it was obvious that Pa was still very much in charge.

Joe moved to one side as Ben brought the flames up in the stove.  His father placed two tin cups on the table and sat down once more.

“You might just as well come over here, Joseph.  It’s going to take awhile before the stove is hot enough to get that coffee going.”

Joe turned back towards the table and his father, not interested in coffee, and furthermore not interested in any discussion.  “I guess I’ll just turn in.  I didn’t want coffee anyhow.”

“Sit!” Ben commanded, and pointed at the chair opposite him.

Joe let out an aggravated sigh.  But, reasoning that he wouldn’t get Pa to let up on him until he’d had his say, reluctantly did as he had been instructed.

Ben drew out a book from one side of his saddle bags and placed it in front of him on the table.  Even though it was upside down from where he sat, Joe could read the title.

“The Bible?  Geesh, Pa —what do you do — travel the countryside with that thing?”

Ben cleared his throat and fired a warning across the table with his gaze.  “For your information, Young Man, NO I don’t generally travel these roads with my Bible.  However, it is Sunday!  I HAD planned on going to church today.  Of course that was before my wayward son decided to run off and not return as he promised he would.  But, here it is, and it’s by Divine Intervention I guess.”

“C’mon, Pa — you’re not gonna read the Bible to me, are you?” Joe complained.  If he didn’t want to hear his father’s opinion, he certainly didn’t want to hear God’s opinion either.

“No, you’re going to read it to me,” Ben replied, thumbing through the Old Testament, trying to get to the right spot.

“Read?  Heck I can’t half see!” Joe protested, standing abruptly.  “And I’m starting to get a hangover already.”

Ben didn’t look up from his progression through the books of the Bible as he responded, “one more complaint and I’ll find another stick that won’t be used for kindling!  You are THIS CLOSE now, Young Man,” Pa moved together his forefinger and thumb from where they formerly had been hours earlier at about one inch, down to about a half of an inch.  It was a strong indication that his son’s disobedience was wearing thin, as were Ben’s nerves.

Joe sat down promptly.  He was no longer able to discern if his father’s threats were simply ploys to garner his compliance, or if they were in fact genuine.  He decided to keep his mouth shut.  But he made a silent vow that in the morning he would somehow give his father the slip and head back to Genoa.  And he would be sure to choose a better hideaway next time.

Ben found the passage he had been looking for, one that he hoped would have the biggest impact on his son.  Keeping the place with his finger, he turned the Bible around to face Joseph.  “Read this, starting with — for that which,” Ben pointed across the table.

Joe sighed, there was no getting out of it now.  He stared through bloodshot eyes at the print.  “How much do I have to read?”

“Just verse nineteen.  Now go ahead.”

“For that which befalleth the sons of men befalleth beasts; even one thing befalleth them:  as the one dieth, so dieth the other; yea, they have all one breath; so that a man hath no preeminence above a beast:  for all is vanity,” Joe stopped and stared over at his father.  “If this was somehow meant to cheer me up — well — it sure didn’t.”

“Look here, Son,” Ben replied gently, as he pointed at the words one and breath.  “You have to learn the meaning of this part to get to a full understanding of it.”

“One breath?  Something has breath, so it’s alive.  No big meaningful thought,” Joe argued.

“I had the good fortune of studying the Bible rather thoroughly, especially the Old Testament, in my sailing days.”

“Didn’t it get wet?”  Joe retorted.   He couldn’t help it.  He didn’t see his father as a minister, and couldn’t understand what the big deal was anyway.

Ben sighed and shook his head.  That boy of his never made anything easy!  “No, I didn’t study as I was at the helm, Joseph.  I didn’t command every single ship you know?  Let’s get back at this!  Now, as I was saying, I met several ministers and even a rabbi during my travels.  The young rabbi and I worked on Ecclesiastes one whole voyage.  Whenever I had a little spare time he would show me what the words meant in their original language.  So, in Hebrew the word breath in that verse means spirit.  Now try reading that to yourself and substitute the word breath with spirit.”

Joe did what Pa had instructed.  Not that he was buying any of his statements, but he figured if he appeased his father that maybe the night would pass by quicker.  Slowly he reread the nineteenth verse of chapter three in Ecclesiastes.  Something finally struck a nerve and he looked up, puzzlement framing his face.  “Wait — are you saying that this is talking about people and animals?” Joe asked quietly.

Ben nodded, “absolutely it is.  Now do you know what preeminence means?”

“No, that one is too big for me.”

Ben smiled, for the first time that evening.  He felt like he was about to make a breakthrough.  Or, rather, that God was getting through to his son.  “Well, if it’s saying there that man doesn’t have preeminence over a beast,that means that he is not really all that much better than a beast.  Not that much more superior to a beast would probably be about the most accurate.  And they both have a spirit, or are of one breath, as it says.”

Joe frowned and looked suspiciously up at his father.  “You’re not trying to weave some kind of a fairytale here, are you, Pa?  You know — like there’s a horse heaven, there’s a people heaven?  Is that what you’re doing?”

“I’m telling you the truth, Son.  And, as far as how heaven is set up, well, I do know that God has made a covenant with all of His creatures.  This isn’t the only place in the Bible where it speaks of animals, you know?  In Proverbs it says that a righteous man regardeth the life of his beast.  There are numerous places in the Bible where it speaks of how God feels about His creatures both great and small.  I could show you places that reference His love for animals in Isaiah, Hosea, even in the New Testament,” Ben explained.

“Pa, are you saying this, or do you REALLY believe it?”

Ben reached across the table and pulled the Bible back to him.  “I said it AND I believe it.  But, I knew it wouldn’t be as easy as one verse with you.  But, that’s fine, I want YOU to KNOW it.  You don’t need to take my word for it.  These words aren’t mine, they are God’s.”

Ben moved to the book of Isaiah chapter eleven, verse six.  He did as he had before, and kept the place with his finger as he turned the book back towards his son.  “Verse six, Joe.  This is about animals in the final kingdom of God.  It’s about how they’ll be in spirit bodies and will dwell together safely.  Go on read it.”

“The wolf also shall dwell with the lamb, and the leopard shall lie down with the kid; and the calf and the young lion and the fatling together; and a child shall lead them,” Joe read aloud.

“Now,” Ben paused and reached over and touched his son’s arm, “does it sound like God doesn’t have a place set up for his animals?”

Joe reread that verse several times to himself.  He didn’t answer his father, as he was still trying to mentally digest it all.  If it was true, then it meant that his horse was not something that never was or never would be again.  It was hard for Joe to accept what had happened to Cochise, as he considered the animal to be more than a horse; she had been his beloved friend.  He had struggled by himself to come to terms with the fact that he would never see Cochise again.  It wasn’t something he was willing to accept.  Joe had been running away from the fact that he had told God that if heaven wasn’t good enough for Cochise, then he didn’t want to go there when he died.  It had been one of the hardest tests of his faith; a test he was failing.  Yes, he had lost loved ones.  However, Joe did believe that they were in heaven waiting for him.  But, he had never heard anyone, not even his father, say that animals had a place in the kingdom of God.  His eyes were starting to open, as his heart was starting to ache for the first time in days.

Ben had noticed the tell-tale signs.  Joe wasn’t making wise-cracks any more, nor was he challenging his father’s beliefs.  The boy sat there reading the same passage over and over again.  “How about I show you one more place for tonight, Joseph?”

Joe simply nodded.  He was about to lose his composure entirely.  He could feel the emotions trying to leave his heart.

Ben thumbed through to Hosea, looking up now and then to gauge how his son was doing.  He could see the reemergence of the boy he loved so much.  It had been a long day, and a long battle, and though Ben knew it would mean the beginning of true grief, he was prepared to help his son through that.  Clearing his throat from latent emotion, Pa turned the Bible around and pointed out Hosea chapter two, verse eighteen to Joe.

“Let’s close up with God’s covenant for animals here.  Read eighteen, Son.”

“And in that day will I make a covenant for them with the beasts of the fields, and with the fowls of heaven, and with the creeping things of the ground:  and I will break the bow and the sword and the battle out of the earth, and will make them to lie down safely.”

“You see, Joseph, God made every living thing for his pleasure.  And just think how much pleasure that crazy pinto is for Him now!  I believe that Cochise had a very special spirit, I really do.  And, I owe her an awful lot, for always bringing you home to me.  Now she’s gone home.  You’ll see her again, I don’t doubt that at all, Son.”

That had done it!  Joe had to push the Bible away from him.  His head fell to his arms on the table.  Joe wept.  Grief had finally filled in for his anger and pain.  Ben ached for the boy.  He hated that it had taken four days to get to what was basically day one for Joe.  But, since he had misguidedly thought that his horse had just gone to nothingness he really hadn’t been able to grieve.  Ben wished he had understood that point before he had ever allowed his son to leave home.  When he thought on how close Joe had come to getting back on morphine it scared him half to death.  Ben said a silent prayer of thanksgivings to God, grateful that He had brought him up to the line shack in time.  Ben walked around the table and dropped his hands down on Joe’s shoulders.

“Joe, if you had only told me,” Ben whispered.

“I couldn’t, Pa.  I couldn’t ask you for help that I didn’t believe existed.”

“How many times did you hear in church that God knows when even a sparrow falls?  Joseph, imagine —- just imagine — if the Good Lord loves a little sparrow, why —  just imagine how much He must love that pinto of yours!”

Joe wiped his eyes on his shirt sleeve but still didn’t lift his head yet.  He hurt too much.  “I believe it, Pa, — but now I hurt more than I did before.  Why?”

“It’s grief.  Unfortunately, even when you know where she is, it doesn’t take that away.  That takes time, Joe.  But, the good part is, when the grief ends, that’s where you find the good memories.  As long as you have good memories, you’ll always have Cochise with you; until you see her again.”

Joe made the move his father had been waiting for.  He stood from the table.  This time he wasn’t looking for a whiskey bottle, or a vial of morphine.  Joe needed something stronger and longer lasting.  He turned towards his father’s love.  And Pa was right there.  He held him close and allowed his son time to cry, to grieve, and to talk.  Unconditional love was waiting for Joe, even after all of the trials that he had put his father through.  They were family, and there was and always would be love.

The two Cartwrights stayed up most of the night.  Joe experienced all the normal signs of grief.  He felt he should have done more.  He felt he should have waited to put the horse down.  A couple of times he said that he should have put her down sooner.  One time Joe had gone so far as to call himself a murderer for having had her put down at all.  His feelings ran the gamut:  grief, sorrow, denial, remorse, and even occasional anger.  Pa was ready for it all, as Joe had aptly put it, Ben was the Job of all grief.  That one line, after thinking on it, did tend to describe parts of Ben’s life.  But, he felt he was like Job in another way as well.  For as much grief as he had endured over the years, even after loving and losing three wives, he still felt as though he had been reimbursed, just as Job had been.  Ben had his three sons, and he wouldn’t have traded his life with anyone.

By the time Pa finally got Joe settled enough so that he could get him to lay down on one of the bunks, it was after two in the morning.  Holding the lantern up, he placed it next to the head of the bunk.  There was one final thing that Ben needed to address or he would have trouble sleeping.

“Joseph?” Ben whispered.

“Still awake,” Joe replied and squinted towards his father.

“Mind if I give you one final quote from the Bible?” he asked, sitting down on the side of the bunk.

“If it’s about Cochise, Pa — I don’t think I can take it right now,” Joe answered earnestly.

Ben shook his head, “no, Son, it’s about the morphine.  I can’t shake the worry over how easily you got a hold of it, and why you turned to it now.  I know you’ve had a rough year — well, several in fact.  I also remember Doctor Peele cautioning me that something could come up to send you back towards that vile drug.  I just need to know that you’re not still thinking about it.  But, you’ve got to be honest with me or we’re both wasting our time.”

“Pa, I might always think about it — but I didn’t use it.  At least that’s something, right?  I mean, I could’ve right after I filled that syringe.  Maybe, deep down I was waiting for something—-like maybe my pa showing up?” Joe attempted a smile, but it lost its effect as his father’s eyes were penetrating and wanted total honesty.  “I promise you I won’t do this again —- and if I start to get the urge — for whatever reason — I will come to you.  I won’t let you down again.”

“If you promise,” Ben nodded.  “But, I thought I’d leave you with my favorite passage from the Bible.  You won’t have to look it up, I’ve memorized this one over the years.”

“Sure, Pa, go ahead.”

“It’s from First Corinthians chapter ten, verse thirteen.  It goes like this, there hath no temptation taken you but such is common to man:  but God is faithful, who will not suffer you to be tempted about that ye are able; but will with the temptation also make a way to escape, that ye may be able to bear it.”

Joe nodded.  He understood exactly why Pa had chosen that one to both learn by heart and also to share with his son.  He knew that Joe would always be tempted by his addiction.  Pa was letting him know that he’d never be alone, and he would always have a way to escape it.

“First Corinthians?” Joe asked, groggily.  The strong emotional night had taken its toll and he was wearing out fast.

Ben grinned knowingly and replied, “yes, and you’ll find that in the New Testament, Joseph.”

Joe began to nod off.  Before he went totally underneath the blanket of sleep, he whispered, “Pa — how long will this grief last you think?”

Pa stood and stared down at his youngest.  He was glad that Joe had passed out before he had to lie to the boy.  Ben knew that everyone grieved in different ways and at different times.  He could do nothing to hasten the grieving process, other than to pray that Joseph would get to the healing stage without too much anguish.  Ben felt that the boy had dealt with enough travail in his twenty two years.  Pulling up the covers to Joe’s shoulders, he bent down and pushed the curls from off the boy’s forehead.  “Nothing very bad lasts forever,” Pa whispered to his sleeping son.

 

The next morning Joe awoke with a crashing headache.  As he sat up in his bunk he rubbed at his temples, realizing that he was experiencing the pain due to his alcohol consumption over the last four days.  He also knew his head hurt due to the prior long night which had been rent with deep emotions.  Glancing across the room he spotted his father, who had obviously been up for quite a while.  Ben stood next to the stove, a coffee pot in his gloved hand.  Grimacing as he swung his legs around to the side of the bunk, Joe carefully pulled himself to standing.

“Good morning,” Ben called over to his son.

“Morning,” Joe returned, and crossed over to the table.  He sat down gingerly.

Ben grinned as he handed Joe a cup of coffee and asked, “hangover?”

Joe nodded as he took the cup into his left hand.  “Worst one I’ve ever had.”

Ben took a seat across from Joe and replied, “just remember how you feel right now and perhaps history won’t repeat itself.”

Joe shook his head wondering how his father could launch right into a lecture so early in the morning.

“I was going to fix you some breakfast, but figured you wouldn’t be hungry.  As a matter of fact,” Ben paused and studied his son’s face, “you look a little green around the gills.”

“That’s exactly how I feel, Pa.  My stomach and my head hurt.”

“Well, Young Man,” Ben paused again, reaching over and tapping his son’s right arm, “you’re lucky that you aren’t hurting elsewhere today.”

“Huh?” Joe questioned, having no idea what his father was referring to.

Ben sighed and shook his head.  “Evidently you’ve forgotten all about your behavior yesterday.  Albeit you were very intoxicated, you were however, very outspoken.”

Joe winced his eyes closed as flashes of the previous night emerged.  He remembered most of what his father had alluded to.  He knew by the paternal gaze shot his way that he had pushed his father to the breaking point.

“Oh yeah — that,” Joe stammered.

“Yes THAT,” Ben returned sternly.

Grinning sheepishly across the table Joe tried his best to get out of the embarrassment that he felt over his atrocious actions.  “Hey, Pa, was I really this close last night?” Joe measured a half of an inch between his right index finger and thumb and held it up.

“Of course not, Joseph,” Ben replied calmly.  But, as soon as he saw his son lean back in his chair and heard him breathe a sigh of relief, Pa reached across the table.  “Actually, you were this THIS CLOSE,” Pa held up his own right index finger and thumb, and they were touching each other firmly, right in front of Joes’ face.

Joe grinned.  Pa, though he was the true king of innuendo, had meant the gesture as a way to get his son to smile.  He knew his father was trying to keep his thoughts away from all of the sorrow that had transpired and the grief that still lay ahead in the weeks to come.  Ben walked around the table, looked down sternly at his son, and then laughed.  He ruffled a hand through Joe’s unruly hair and made an announcement.

“Just so I’ve made myself clear about everything.  Finish your coffee, I’m going to start packing my gear,” Ben said, and walked over to his bunk.

Joe drank what he could, which wasn’t much.  Days of overindulging on alcohol and not eating had taken their toll.  He watched as his father packed up his bedroll and placed his Bible back into his saddle bags.  Joe didn’t have much to pack up.  Most of what he had brought to the cabin had been smashed the previous night by his father.  He rolled up his blanket and grabbed his holster.  Joe made sure that the wood stove was thoroughly doused, thus ending his chores.

“Ready?” Ben called over to his son.  He wasn’t trying to rush the boy, but he was concerned that if they didn’t show up at the ranch house soon, that Hoss and Adam would be out looking for them.

Joe buckled his gun-belt and tied the rawhide strings.  “Yeah, Pa, I’m ready.”

Ben stood at the door with his son.  He dropped a hand down onto Joe’s shoulder and spoke out seriously, “I don’t see any reason to mention to your brothers where I found you or what you were getting ready to do.”

Joe nodded appreciatively, “thanks, Pa.”

“BUT, I don’t want to EVER find you here again, understood?”

Joe stared up at his father, he was not fooling around this time, Pa was dead serious.  “Yes, Sir, — it’s understood,” Joe replied quickly.

“And, I’ll hold you to that promise you made last night about the morphine,” Ben reminded his son exactly what he expected from him

“I meant what I said, Pa.  I promise you — I’ll come to you if the urge ever gets too bad.”

Ben sighed with relief, he had read his son’s face and could tell that Joe was being sincere, “c’mon, let’s get out of here,” Ben smiled and opened the door.

 

After the two men tied off their bedrolls and secured the saddlebags, Ben and Joe mounted their horses.  Pa could detect sadness beginning to spread across his son’s face.  He knew Joe had been thinking of Cochise when he had slipped his left boot into the stirrup and swung his right leg across the saddle.  Joseph had a habit of vaulting up onto his pinto, using only his left hand on the saddle-horn.  But the chestnut mare was not Cochise.

“Joseph,” Ben began, “I know it’s going to be hard back home at first.  There are a lot of memories there.”

Joe nodded solemnly.  He had already begun thinking of what it was going to be like walking into the barn again.  The thought of the empty stall sent an aching in his heart.

“I just want you to know that I’m not going to pressure you about getting another horse.  You’ll know when the time is right,” Ben said, and reached over and patted his son’s back.

“Thanks,” Joe whispered, still fighting for control of his emotions.

“But —- when you are ready — you just let me know.  Then you can start making up one of your famous lists and we’ll go over it,” Ben smiled as he turned his mount, and both horses slowly began walking alongside each other.

“Lists?” Joe asked, confused.  “What lists?”

Ben looked over at his son surprised, “oh don’t tell me you forgot about writing that long list ten years ago?  You remember — you practically insisted on seeing every horse in this country.”

“Oh!” Joe exclaimed.  “The list.  Yeah — now I remember.”  His memories took him back ten years.  He reflected back not only to the list of horses, but also to the Indian camp where he had first seen Cochise.

When Joe became suddenly silent again, his father looked over at him concerned.  He could see his son’s eyes beginning to mist up.  Joe tipped his hat forward, in a failed attempt to hide his tears.

“It’s going to be okay, Son.”

“I know, Pa,” Joe replied, his voice breaking.  He fought to regroup.  Finally, he said, “but this time, I guess I will have to use a list.  Because they’ll never be another horse like Cochise!  She chose me, remember?”

Ben nodded, “of course I remember!  But, no matter what, even if you don’t ever feel the same way about another horse, Joseph — there is another horse out there somewhere just waiting for you.  And, I’m betting that you choose a good one!”

Joe reached up under his hat and pushed away his tears.  He breathed deeply, trying to stay the emotion he was feeling.  “When I make that list one thing’s for sure, Pa,” Joe stopped abruptly.

“What’s that, Son?” Ben coaxed him on.

“No pintos!”  Joe called over to his pa, and then sent the chestnut mare into a gallop.

Ben watched as his son raced back towards the ranch house.  *** He just needs some time *** Ben sighed to himself.  He knew that Joe needed to burn off some steam before he’d be hitting the stark reality waiting for him at home.  Kicking at Buck’s sides gently, he increased the pace.  Ben kept his son within his sight all the way back to the Ponderosa ranch house.

 

Epilogue:

 

Over five weeks went by slowly for Joe Cartwright.  He had his good days, and he had his terrible days.  Trying his best to stay busy he had helped his brothers with the cattle, taking them down to the south shore of Lake Tahoe.  The cattle would be grazing there on winter grass in order to survive the heavy snows.  Hoss and Adam were glad to have Joe with them, not just for the extra hands, but because they were worried about him.  For years he had been known as the kid who bounced back from any ordeal.  But, now with each new week that passed all the other Cartwrights were concerned that Joe might never get over the loss of his best friend.  Everyone noticed that each day the young man took out a different mount.  Joe had refused subtle suggestions that there was new horse stock up in the Carson Valley.  The mere mention of a replacement for Cochise usually led to a day of silence on Joe’s part.

Ben had spotted his youngest son staring into the empty stall in the barn frequently.  It made his heart ache for the kid.  He felt at a total loss as to how to help him.  All Ben could do was to wait for some kind of a sign that Joe’s grief was lifting, and that sign hadn’t come yet.  It did make him feel a tad better to see Joseph going out each day with his brothers, and from their reports he was working harder than ever before.  That didn’t come as much of a surprise to Pa.  He knew his youngest enough to know that the boy put his heart into everything he did; even grief.  Working hard lent its way to exhaustion, and Joe went to bed each night long before anyone else in the house.  It was another sign that Joe wasn’t his old self.

It was time to get the last preparations done to secure the ranch before winter dug in.  In the High Sierra Mountain Range, where the Ponderosa was a large part, there were predictions of the possibility of heavy snows soon.  It was a guessing game most years.  A blizzard could be upon them in October or some years it could wait until late December.  So, as Ben was finishing some last minute details concerning closing out his yearly financial ledgers, he decided that a trip into Virginia City would be a good idea.  He could get all of his banking done, pick up what he needed at the mercantile, and figure out what to get Joe for Christmas.  He had already picked Adam and Hoss’ brains as to what each of them wanted, and had long ago purchased their presents.  *** Two down one to go *** Ben thought to himself as he stared towards the staircase.  It wouldn’t be long before a huge evergreen tree would sit right alongside of the stairs.  There had been so many happy memories of Christmas’s past, and a couple that weren’t so happy.  Ben had learned to file the unhappy memories away over the years, and he wished that Joseph could come to that realization too.  Even though it had been a month and a half, it probably seemed like only hours ago that Cochise had been put down, at least to Joe.

The anxious father tried to shake off his normal paternal worry and walked outside to get some fresh air.  He knew that both of his older boys were off on a mission to mark a tree to cut, and that meant that Joseph would be around somewhere.  Looking across the yard he spotted the open barn door.  Sighing to himself, Ben headed towards the empty stall, where he might find his son.

“Joe?” Ben called softly.

Joe turned towards the sound of his father’s voice.  He had a bridle in his hand.  It had been Cochise’s.  Joe hung the bridle on the stall gate, and turned away from his father for a minute.  Ben noticed his son wiping his eyes on his shirt sleeve before turning back around.

Joe coughed into his hand to keep his voice from betraying him and showing he had been crying.  “You looking for me?”

Ben forced a smile and pretended not to notice what his son was trying so hard to hide from him.  “Yes, I need your help with something.”

Joe walked closer to his father and looked up at him.  He doubted Pa needed his help with anything.  All the real chores were already done, at least the ones that Joe could do.  But, since it was getting close to Christmas he decided to play along, in an attempt to ease his father’s mind.  He knew that everyone was trying their best to help him get over his loss.  ***If only someone could *** Joe thought to himself.

“What do you need, Pa?”

“Will you help me hitch up the buckboard?  I need to drop some papers off at the bank and finish up with my shopping.  This might be the last chance I get, the snow can’t hold off much longer!”

“I’ll hitch up the team for you,” Joe replied and began to walk towards the corral.

Ben caught his son’s arm before he made it out of the barn.  “Well, I can hitch up the team, of course.  I need you to help me with the last of the shopping.”

Joe shook his head and forced a smile, “Pa, you’ve got everything done by now.  You probably got most of the stuff way back in summer!  You want me to go into town — fine.  But, if you’re still trying to find out what I want for Christmas just give up will you?”

“There has to be SOMETHING that you want,” Pa argued, draping his arm around his son’s shoulder.

Joe looked back towards the empty stall.  “What I want isn’t in your power any more, Pa.  Maybe next year,” Joe answered, a wistfulness to his tone.

Ben nodded that he understood.  “Okay, then just humor your father.  And have pity on me.  I haven’t found Hop Sing that cookbook he wanted.  Can’t you at least go into town with me?  I could use the company and the moral support.”

“You’re not going to give up, are you, Pa?”

Ben laughed, “where do you think you got your stubbornness anyway?”

Joe caved in to his father’s request.  “I’ll go with you.  Let me get the buckboard ready,” Joe announced and turned out of the barn.

Ben looked heavenward and whispered, “thanks!”

 

Virginia City had a fair sized number of shoppers for so late in the season.  Joe had gone with his father to the bank and then to a few small shops in search of Hop Sing’s gift.  Ben watched as Joe walked around the mercantile, hoping he would hone in on something that his son might like.  The only items that he had paid any attention to were gifts for others.  Joe had already finished all of his shopping, but wanted to see if he’d gotten a good price on what he had purchased elsewhere.  Ben gave up on finding something for Joe.  He had a few small things for the boy already, just like Joe had alluded to at home.  He had picked up several things for each of his sons earlier in the year while away on business trips.  Ben finally decided that he’d have to settle with giving Joseph an I.O.U. towards whatever he wanted in the future.

“Pa?  I’m gonna wait outside, okay?” Joe asked, weary of watching his father watching him.

“Sure, Joe, you go on out, I’ll be along shortly,” Ben nodded, having picked up a cookbook which looked like the one that Hop Sing had mentioned.

 

Joe sat on a bench outside the mercantile.  He was bored and wasn’t much in the mood for Christmas.  The only joy he might have would be in watching his family opening the gifts he’d purchased for them.  Fortunately, like his pa, he had done some shopping while in San Francisco.  And it was a good thing that he had done it back then.  Joe didn’t have much money left after closing his bank account to purchase the morphine six weeks prior.  He had earned some money since then, regular pay, which he used to get the few other presents he had already bought for his family.  This year, Joe reasoned, he’d have two less presents to buy.  There was his friend Mitch, who had moved to New England.  They wouldn’t be sending gifts back and forth to each other.  And there wouldn’t be the usual gift he always bought at Christmas for Cochise.  He had bought her a new blanket before he had left to visit Doctor Peele, and now that was gone too.  The more he thought about Christmas, and what it would mean at home this year, the more depressed he got.  And, it was the reason why he wanted to get out of town faster than usual.  He was getting upset seeing all the happy faces on all of the local shoppers.

“Hey, Pale Face!” a voice sang out, coming from the street down in front of Joe.

Looking up, Joe saw his old friend, Silver Wolf.  He hadn’t seen the man in several years.  Silver Wolf was four years older than Joe, and he was surprised that they still got along so well, even after all the years.  The Paiute tribe hadn’t had the best of years either.  Pa had helped with yet another treaty, but it was getting harder for the tribe to find game due to all of the new settlers.  Joe had missed the regular fall trip up to Winnemucca’s camp, since he had been away in San Francisco at the time.

“How are you, Old Friend?” Joe smiled, and walked down to the street.  He noticed that Silver Wolf was pulling along a string of five horses behind his own horse.

“Healthy and well, but waiting for winter to see what it brings.  Glad to see the snows hold off, but coat on squirrels very thick.  Will be plenty snow soon.”

“And the Chief?  How’s Winnemucca?”

“Strong, but years grow long for Chief.”

“Yeah — hey can he still out run you?” Joe joked.

Silver Wolf grinned and nodded his head, “still can.”

“So, what are you doing in town?”

“Mister Vance at livery ask for five Indian ponies.  I bring now, get paid by him and get supplies back to camp before dark.”

Joe glanced towards the horses, but didn’t pay them much attention.  He also didn’t want to bring up the fact that Cochise had died.  So, before Silver Wolf might get interested and perhaps ask about the paint pony, Joe decided to side step that issue.

“Hey, you know my pa is inside here at the mercantile.  Why don’t you go in and see him?  I know he’d love to see you!” Joe urged his friend.

The Indian sprang from his horse, and without asking for Joe’s help, handed him the lead ropes to all five of the horses along with the reins to his stallion.  “You guard, I go see Father Cartwright,” Silver Wolf insisted, shoving the ropes and reins into Joe’s left hand.  He then stepped up onto the steps and pointed toward the watering trough just down at the end of the sidewalk in front of the store.  “Make useful!  Water ponies,” Silver Wolf ordered, but with a smile on his face.  He then entered the mercantile in search of Ben.

Joe frowned realizing that somehow his plan had gone drastically awry.  Now instead of having to explain where his own horse was, he was forced to take care of six Indian ponies.  And it hadn’t taken too long to spot the fact that one of them was a black and white pinto.  Joe also spied two brown and white pintos, a sorrel and a solid black horse.  Then, of course there was Silver Wolf’s prized white stallion.  Six horses to tend to, and all of them thirsty.  Joe slowly led the bunch over to the horse trough.  Dropping their guide ropes down, Joe turned to tie the stallion’s reins to a hitching post.  He figured he’d be better off letting the wilder horses drink first, and then he’d water his friend’s stallion.  As soon as Joe had secured the reins, he walked around the step to the porch and approached the five horses.  The black and white pinto, which had been in the middle of the string of ponies, suddenly was no longer there.  When Joe looked around to see where it had gone off to, without warning he felt an abrupt push.  Before Joe could catch himself, he fell head over heels into the watering trough.  A loud splash followed by a yell was heard just inside the mercantile.  Joe came up from the bottom of the trough spitting out water.  There in front of him was the black and white pinto.  On top of that humiliation was that the horse was whinnying, as if it was laughing at him!  Ben and Silver Wolf, who had been standing just inside of the store, heard the commotion and looking outside saw Joe.  Only the black and white pinto had broken rank, the other horses all remained calmly just where Joe had dropped their leads.

“You DAD GUM sneaky horse!” Joe yelled, as he stood up sopping wet.

Ben and Silver Wolf couldn’t contain themselves and erupted in laughter.  Joe looked like a drowned rat.  His hair hung down into his eyes.  And there was the pinto, standing off towards the end of the watering trough where it had pushed Joe.  The paint pony was holding its own against the young man’s tirade.

“Joseph?  A little early in the day for a bath isn’t it?” Ben called down to his son.

Joe frowned and shot both his father and his friend a very displeased look.  “Get this animal away from me!” Joe shouted, and pointed at the black and white pinto.

Silver Wolf gathered the ropes to the four horses.  He left his stallion tied where Joe had secured him.  The Indian also left the pinto which had pushed Joe standing just where it was, staring down his old friend.  “You not yell so loud at this horse, Little Joe!  It is a wild one,” Silver Wolf warned.

Joe decided to step out of the trough at the opposite end from where the black and white pinto stood.  He stared up at his father and was unamused and miffed that he hadn’t come to his aid.

“Neither of you were much help!” Joe called out to both men.

“I’ll help you, Son,” Ben replied, trying to sound apologetic.  It was a difficult task, as he was trying to contain his mirth.  “Here, better put on my coat or you’ll catch your death of cold.”

“I don’t want your coat,” Joe argued.  “What good’s a coat gonna do for me when I’m soaked to the skin and all because of that sneaky pinto?!”

“Go on inside then, Joseph.  Go buy some clothes and have Jim wrap up your wet ones while you change.  Just tell him to add it to my bill.”

“Been good seeing you, Old Friend!”  Silver Wolf called to Joe as he disappeared into the shop.

Joe simply waved towards the Indian, and indignantly passing by his father, made sure he dripped some water onto him.

 

By the time Joe had a chance to get a whole new outfit, change inside the dressing room, and have his wet clothes bound up, Ben had paid his bill and was waiting for his son out in the buckboard.  Joe came out of the store, his hair still wet, but his body was once again dry.  He had made a point of choosing the most expensive pants, underclothes, and shirt he could find.  If Pa was going to have a good laugh at his expense, Joe reasoned, he’d have to pay for the merriment.  When he stepped down from the porch of the mercantile, Joe noticed that Pa was not alone.

“What the heck is THAT?!”  Joe yelled, and pointed at the black and white pinto, whose lead rope was now tied to the back of the buckboard.

“What?” Ben asked, pretending not to know what Joe was pointing towards.

“That evil mangy horse you have tied up to your buckboard, that’s what!” Joe retorted, making sure to walk the long way around the wagon before climbing up to the bench seat.

“Oh, — the horse?”

“Yes, the horse, Pa!  What are you doing with that thing?”

“Merry Christmas, Joseph,” Ben smiled.

Joe folded his arms tightly across his chest, obviously upset.  He waited a few minutes before he replied, “you said I could choose my own horse!”

“I know I did, but you were too late,” Ben argued, and tapped at the reins of the team, sending the buckboard into motion.

“Too late for what, Pa?”

“Horse choose boy!” Ben announced, giving his best Chief Winnemucca imitation, as a reminder of how the chief had spoken to his son ten years earlier when he was gifted Cochise.

Joe turned around and stared towards the pinto.  “Didn’t I say there wouldn’t be a pinto on my list?” Joe reminded his father.

“Yes, you did.  But, as I recall a pinto wasn’t on your list when you were a kid either,” Ben remarked smiling.

“A mangy sneaky pinto!  Just what I need,” Joe announced but couldn’t help turning around several more times to look at the animal.  “She’s probably dumb as a rock.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Pa paused and patted his son’s knee, “at least HE knows that HE is a HE!”

Joe whipped his head around and took another look at the animal.  “Oh, well — I guess he’s got that going for him.  But, I wasn’t ready for this, Pa,” Joe turned serious, thinking back to his beloved friend, Cochise.

“Son, you’re waiting for Cochise.  You’re never going to find her again — at least not on earth.  You said yourself that she was one of a kind,” Ben tried his best to get through to his son.

Joe turned back towards the horse and called out to it, “okay, you can stay for a while.  But, you’d better learn who’s in charge around here pretty darned quick!”

“That’s right, Joseph.  You make sure you explain to the horse just who is in charge around here,” Ben laughed.

Joe broke into a smile and, staring over at his pa, sighed, “I think I’m looking at him.”

“And it only took you twenty two years to figure that one out, Joseph.  Lets’ hope that your horse learns faster than his master,” Ben chuckled.

Joe laughed and turned around in the seat to watch the pinto as it followed behind the buckboard all the way back to the Ponderosa.

 

Christmas Eve had come after a long wait.  Ben reflected briefly on the year that had almost come to a close.  It had been rife with ups and downs, both good times and bad.  But, that was the way of life, and Ben had learned those things the hard way.  He pulled on his heavy winter coat before stepping outside. It appeared that Hoss and Adam, with Hop Sing’s help, had things pretty much in order inside the house.  They had been busy with the decorations, finishing the last minute touches, as well as setting out food for a Christmas Eve spread for the four Cartwrights and their cherished cook and caregiver.   Now all Ben had to do was to find his wayward youngest son.  It wasn’t a big mystery to figure out where the boy was hiding out this time.  Though he had been sent to do a simple chore over an hour ago, he still wasn’t back nor the job completed.

Ben crossed the front yard and headed towards the light from a lantern coming from the barn.  Evidently Joe had gone the long way around to bring in the firewood that he had been sent out to gather.  Silently slipping into the barn, Ben saw his son standing in Cochise’s old stall.   Watching the boy standing there grooming his new pinto warmed his father’s heart.

“Joseph?  Were you planning on ripping out the stalls to get the wood we need for the fireplace?” Ben asked, and tried his best to look annoyed.

Joe finished brushing the horse and set the curry comb down onto a shelf.  “Oh, well, I was going to the wood pile and I thought I heard something, Pa.”

“Oh?  Is this horse talking to you again?”  Ben laughed.

“Nope, in fact he still refuses to tell me his name no matter how many times I ask him!”  Joe grinned and stepped out of the stall, patting the pinto as he walked around him.

“Maybe he’s going to let you name him, since he got to choose you?”

“I don’t know, Pa.  Maybe he’s not on the bright side after all?” Joe quipped.

The horse whinnied and pawed the ground as if he knew what Joe had said.

“Just testing you, fella,” Joe replied, and patted the horse on its forehead.

“Well, I’ll just have to name him then,” Ben announced.

“Go ahead, Pa, but I’m telling you I’ve been through tons of names and he doesn’t like any of them.” Joe warned.

Ben walked over to the pinto and called out three names.  First he named his horse, then Adam’s and then Hoss’ horses.  “Buck!  Sport!  Chub!”

“I tried those already, Pa!”

“Okay, well, you know what he looks like to me?” Ben grinned.

“Don’t say it,” Joe warned.  He thought of his horse every time he looked at the new pinto.  They had a lot of the same markings.  The big difference was that the new one wasn’t a filly.

“Cochise!” Ben called out to the horse.

The pinto suddenly perked up its ears.

“Well, it looks like he’s interested, why don’t you try saying it, Joseph?”

Joe took a deep breath.  Part of him didn’t want the horse to respond, but a part of him did.  Finally, summoning the courage to find out, Joe said simply, “Cochise.”

The pinto got up on its two back hooves and stood up.  Then he came down gently and walked right over to where Joe stood by the gate of the stall.  Joe fought back tears and looked over at his father.

“You think it’s a good idea?”

“Looks to me like it was meant to be,” Pa nodded.

Joe patted the pinto’s neck and whispered the name again.  “You’re going to have to work hard to live up to your new name,” Joe reminded the animal.

“Work — that reminds me!” Ben interrupted.  “I have two sons inside the house who say I spoil you rotten by not making you work as hard as they do.”

“Huh?”

“Well, they’ve gotten the whole tree decorated, the mantle done and are helping Hop Sing with tomorrow’s meal.  And all YOU had to do was to bring in the firewood so we won’t freeze to death.  So tell Cochise goodnight and get out there and get to work!” Ben scolded, though his face gave away his true emotions.  He was just so happy that Joe had found another horse to help take away some of the grief he had felt for so long.  He was relieved that Joseph appeared to be looking forward to the future, and no longer dwelling on the sadness of the past few years.”

“Okay, Cochise, I’ll be back first thing in the morning to bring you your present.  Now you sleep good,” Joe said, and dropped a blanket across the horse’s back.  He then turned and brought the lantern outside.  Securing the barn door, Joe faced his father and asked, “So — Adam and Hoss think I’m spoiled, huh?”

“Yes, they do,” Ben nodded as he walked towards the wood pile with his son.

“No way possible!” Joe argued.

“Oh?  And why is that?”

“Because you didn’t spare the rod, so you couldn’t have spoileth THIS CHILD,” Joe laughed, and reached for the stacked firewood.

“So you’re the Bible expert now, is that right?” Ben asked raising his eyebrows.

“Hey, I once sailed with this rabbi — “Joe began, but couldn’t finish his statement with a straight face.  He thought back to the talk he and Pa had in the cabin, and Ben’s stories of his sailing days.

“Well, it must not have been the same rabbi I knew, because you got that Proverb wrong.  Actually it’s he that spareth his rod hateth his son,” Ben corrected.

Joe pulled up a couple of pieces of firewood and handed them over to his father, who now had most of the wood in his arms.

“Well, Pa, if that’s the case,” Joe paused and picked up a few pieces of wood to carry for himself, since he had already loaded his father’s arms down.  “If that’s the way that proverb goes, then it’s a sure bet that you must’ve loved me a whole lot!  Because I don’t remember even one time that you “spareth the rod” with me,” Joe quipped.

“I guess you’ve forgotten that three foot long stick up at the line shack, Joseph?” Ben reminded his son.

Joe grinned sheepishly, “okay, I’ll admit it — you did “spareth the KINDLING”, Pa!  But, I still know how much you love me.  All I have to do is look at that pinto in the barn, he’s proof enough.   Thanks — not just for the horse — but – well you know— for everything.”  Joe alluded to how his father had saved him from making a terrible error in judgement up at the cabin; one which could have proven to be deadly in the long run.

Ben smiled knowingly, and nodded towards his son as he made his way to the front door, arms loaded down with firewood.

Joe opened the door and the two Cartwrights stepped inside.  The living room was bathed in the soft glow of candles, showing off the beautiful holiday decorations.  Next to the staircase stood a twelve foot tall Christmas tree adorned with family ornaments.

Both men freed their arms of the firewood, setting it down onto the hearth.  Joe turned and stared at the Christmas tree.  It came as a complete surprise to him to see a new ornament hanging from one of the middle boughs.  It was a small ceramic figurine of a black and white pinto.  He reached for it and his eyes lit up.

Ben approached his son and settled his hand down onto Joe’s shoulder and whispered, “Merry Christmas, Joseph.”

Joe looked up into his pa’s twinkling eyes and, feeling the love that his father had for him, smiled and replied, “Merry Christmas, Pa.”

 

 

THE END

11-19-2010 – 11-29-2024

(Dedicated to my grandson, Krishna Michael, who encouraged me to finish a story that sat unfinished since 2010:   And to Rob, my unwitting story consultant)

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