Summary: Adam and Little Joe rely on each other to survive.

Rating:  T
Word Count: 3,758

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Joe didn’t know what time it was anymore. He didn’t know how far he’d come, nor how far he had to go. All he knew was the wind, rain, and misery. It was the second week in November and the storms had been relentless this year. What had started as a routine, if wet, day of getting the herd from the upper grazing areas to the lower for the winter had very quickly devolved into one of the worst days of Joe’s entire year.

He stumbled again as the tip of his boot caught the rocks beneath his feet. It was becoming harder and harder to lift his feet high enough to walk without tripping. He pulled the sodden jacket closer around his shivering form, but there was only so much the wet fabric could do. Joe wondered if his horse had made it back to the ranch house ok. Cochise was such a good horse. He’d only dumped him off this time because of the gunfire. Joe found himself smiling as he thought of his black and white pinto. Suddenly he was jolted back to reality as he hit the ground hard.

Groaning, Joe considered just staying there and giving up. His mind wandered. Which would be less painful: dying from exposure or explaining to his pa and brothers how he’d let the rustlers get the drop on him? With what seemed to be a gargantuan effort, Joe pulled himself to his feet again and continued staggering in what he thought was the direction of the closest line shack. He’d left behind his hat a long time ago as well as his pistol when he had the passing lucid thought that without ammunition, it was just dead weight. This time all he had to leave was the blood that flowed down his side to join the water soaking into the Nevada soil.

*********

Adam couldn’t give up now. He knew he wasn’t that far behind his youngest brother, but the rate the rain was falling would wash away any tracks nearly as fast as Joe could leave them. He’d found the tan hat crushed in the mud about a mile back which told him that he was still on the right track. He knew that Joe was hurt, but he didn’t know how bad it was, nor if Joe would be coherent enough to make a conscious choice of which direction to travel.

The last Adam had seen of Joe, he’d been low over his pinto’s neck as he chased after the rustlers. They’d been caught off guard. The two of them had stayed behind to gather as many strays as they could before joining the rest of the hands who were driving the main herd to the lower pasture. And that is precisely what the rustlers had waited for. Joe and Adam had gathered 14 head of cattle. Adam off-hand wondered if the rustlers would still have taken them if they had only gathered the unlucky number of 13.

They’d been moving the 14 cattle east down from the high country when out of the fog, a rider had appeared, leveling a rifle at the elder of the two brothers. He raised his hands away from his own sidearm and watched another rider move to change the direction the cattle were being herded. Adam cursed when through the fog, he heard the report of a pistol, quickly followed by that of a rifle. Soon after he heard the pistol again, but it was fainter as if moving away. The man holding him at gunpoint wavered and seemed unsure what to do. Adam took his chance and kicked his mount to move. The gunman had not been prepared for Adam’s quick movement and didn’t get the rifle lined up again before firing. Adam flung himself out of his saddle at the other man and knocked him to the ground on the far side of the horses. He yanked the rifle out of the other man’s hand and knocked him solidly over the head with it before tossing it as far as he could into the trees.

Adam listened as hard as he could, but in the fog everything reverberated and made it impossible to tell where anything came from. He spun around quickly at the sound of hurried hooves moving quickly in his direction. Adam’s eyes widened at the sight of two large bay horses looming out of the fog straight at him. He dove to the side as the horses pounded past. He was still on the ground when another shadow rushed by, this one black and white with a rider bent low, nearly plastered to the horse’s neck. The three riders disappeared back into the fog, their hoofbeats echoing eerily in the mist.

He whistled for Sport who trotted right over. Adam mounted and rode in the same direction that he’d seen his youngest brother disappear. The fog lifted not five minutes later, and Adam could make out the three figures ahead of him by a short distance. Then the drizzle that had been constant through the whole morning decided to turn to a downpour and he lost sight of them just before hearing the opening of gunfire.

Adam heard a faint shout, felt fire in his shoulder, then saw the ground rise up to meet him.

*********

Joe lay on the ground again. At least the shivering had stopped, he thought to himself. He hoped his older brother had gotten away. Joe thought back. He’d seen Adam begin to follow as he drove Cochise at a gallop after the two men who had fired on him. The fog had lifted and Joe saw too late that they’d led him right into their setup. He shouted as he felt a sharp pain in his side and started to sway in the saddle at the same time he heard gunfire behind him. Joe hit the ground hard, trying his best to return fire, but knowing each of his shots went wide. Joe fought to stay conscious as he watched his pinto disappear into the torrential cloudburst.

He shook his head trying vainly to clear it. He had tried to find his way back to where he’d last seen Adam, but the pain, blood loss and extremely poor visibility had rendered that a losing battle. Joe didn’t even know if Adam would still be there. More likely, he had trusted Joe to catch the rustlers and had continued taking the stock back to the main herd. Joe had decided in the end that it was a better idea to make for the nearest line shack. At least there he had a chance of someone finding him. So that is the direction he started stumbling in.

Now he didn’t know what time it was anymore. He didn’t know how far he’d come, nor how far he had to go. All he knew was the wind, rain, and misery.

*********

Adam was getting close to his brother. The rain had let up slightly and wasn’t washing away the boot prints anymore, so Adam found it easier to follow and was assured he was both heading in the right direction and also catching up. What was concerning, however, was the way his brother’s trail wasn’t moving in a straight line anymore. It meandered this way and that, occasionally being joined with large scuffs and handprints that told Adam that Joe had fallen again. He and Sport mounted the crest of a hill and as Adam scanned the landscape in front of them, he found what he had been looking for.

*********

He couldn’t do it. He’d tried. But there was simply no more hope of standing. His thoughts were sluggish and his body just wouldn’t do what he asked of it. His hands seemed stuck in a permanent curl as he groped at the pain in his side, no longer able to grasp the bandana that he had been pressing into the wound. Joe tried valiantly once more to get up, but failed. He resorted to crawling in the direction he thought he was supposed to be traveling. But soon even that proved to be too much for him. Hypothermia had him well within its hold. Joe’s arms gave out and he crashed facefirst back into the mud and laid still.

*********

Adam reached his brother and fell to his knees on the soggy ground beside him. He reached out with his right hand and turned Joe over. Frantically he felt for a pulse, not finding it on his wrist, but having success on his neck. Joe was terribly cold, his lips and fingertips tinged blue. His breaths were weak, but at least they were steady. Adam looked around trying to gain his bearings. They were so far off track to get to a line shack that they were now actually closer to the main ranch house. With only one working arm, it took Adam three tries to haul himself and his brother to an upright position. Blood loss and the chilling temperatures were beginning to take a toll on him as well. He ended up dragging Little Joe the short distance to where Sport stood.

He wasn’t entirely sure how he’d gotten Joe up onto the horse, but by the time that task was complete, the saddle was covered in their mixed blood and Adam was cursing having such a tall horse. Joe lay face down across the saddle, Adam mounted behind him. He normally would not have an injured person in such a position, but there was really no other option. Adam nudged Sport and the trio started for home.

The rain had picked up again and now came mixed with snow. Adam couldn’t feel it anymore, but judging from the mud puddle he had just woken up in, it was raining even worse than it was earlier. He groaned and wondered how long he had been unconscious. Dragging himself back up using the stirrups on Sport’s saddle, Adam looped a rope around himself and wrapped it around the saddle horn.

“Get us home, boy.” His horse flicked his ears back and seeming to understand the desperate plea, headed in a direction known only to him.

*********

Sport stopped moving, and the change rocked Adam back to a state of semi-awareness. He tried to get the horse walking again, but he refused to budge. Blearily opening his eyes, Adam blinked slowly before he realized that Sport had gotten them home. He unwrapped the rope and gracelessly fell off the far side of the horse. He caught himself on the cantle and reached back up to drag Joe down with him. He felt again for a pulse and found it even fainter than before. Joe’s eyelids fluttered and he moaned.

“Joe. Wake… wake up. C’mon.” Adam heard his own voice slurring the words. Surprisingly there was no worry that came with it. There was, however, the very clear thought that they both could still die from either the cold or the blood loss. Adam knew that the bullet he had been shot with was still in his shoulder. He wasn’t sure about his brother, but from the amount of blood smeared all over, chances were that it had passed clean through. He got Joe’s right arm around his shoulders and held him around the waist as tightly as he could. Adam looked up again and realized that even if he did get them inside he would have neither the energy nor the dexterity to get fires going and warm them that way.

He changed course and stumbled to the barn. In the back corner, Hop Sing had insisted on making a nice area for the two dairy cows. Joe had cleaned it out just this morning and spread fresh bedding down for the animals. Now they lay leaning against each other, chewing their cud, and watching as Adam first ran into the stall partition then fell with Joe at the entrance to their pen.

Adam had never been so happy to see cows as he was in this moment. Even through the spots that were currently swimming in his vision, it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. His own shivering had stopped sometime around when he tied himself to the saddle. He hadn’t felt a single tremble from his brother. Their internal temperatures had dropped so low that their bodies had given up trying to warm themselves. On his knees, Adam shucked first his own then his brother’s jackets then he maneuvered the limp body of his youngest brother so that he was lying in between the two cows. Then he simply dropped into the space next to him, the feeling of warmth starting to seep into his body the last thing he was aware of before letting the darkness take him.

*********

Joe felt like he was floating. He seemed disconnected from reality. The last thing he remembered clearly was being desperate to get to shelter with a bullet hole in his side. No, two holes. It had gone straight through him. There were disjointed memories of Adam and a very uncomfortable ride facedown across a saddle. He had been so cold he wasn’t even able to move his hands properly. Now though, he was warm. And all his extremities hurt. He pried his eyes open and was met with a faceful of light brown wiry hair. Not Cochise then, his horse had black and white hair. Sport? No, it was cowhide. Why was he lying on a cow?

He lifted his head from where it rested against the warm animal and blinked slowly. He shivered and wondered why he was next to Hop Sing’s dairy cows. Feeling movement next to him, Joe turned to see his oldest brother also lying with the cows. Adam was shaking with the cold. Both their jackets had been tossed in a pile at the entrance to the stall, so Joe reached up and pulled the horse blanket that was hanging on the stall partition down to their level. He floundered a bit until it covered them both and then, exhausted, he fell back into the unconsciousness that rose to greet him.

The next time that Joe awoke, his thoughts were much more coherent. He reasoned that Adam must have been about as bad off as he was to take them to warm up with the cows instead of inside with a fire. Joe grimaced as he tried to move and was reminded of the injury to his side. No wonder hypothermia had taken hold so quickly. He wondered how much blood he had lost. Joe sat up slowly and took stock of his situation. Clothes were damp now instead of sodden. Bleeding had slowed down to a trickle. Hands were stiff, but at least he could move them again. Breathing was clear. Self-examination done, he moved to check on Adam.

His brother was still unconscious, but had stopped the shaking that Joe had felt earlier. His nail beds had a slight blue tint to them, and his face was pale. His breathing was deep and steady. The cold was no longer a worry for him either. What concerned Joe most was the large smear of blood that Joe could see on the dairy cow in front of Adam. He pulled his brother back and gave him a once over. High on his right shoulder, Joe found an angry-looking bullet hole. Joe pulled the shirt away, but could find no matching wound on his back. From the look of the wound, infection was already starting to take hold. The bullet had to come out. Joe was in no shape to ride into town for a doctor, and no one else would be home until sunset after getting the herds moved. He mentally fortified himself before staggering to his feet. Joe swayed when he made it upright and would have fallen if not for the stall partition that caught him.

There was no way he was going to be able to get Adam into the house. He had to stop and lean against the wall three times just on his way out of the barn in order to stay upright and conscious. Joe staggered his way across the yard to the main house. He gathered bandages and brandy then stood unsteadily in the kitchen, staring blankly at the wall, unable to remember what he had come in there for. The wind whipped the door open to bang into the wall behind it, snapping Joe back to his senses and reminding him that he had come in to get a sharp knife and some matches. He had the presence of mind to put the supplies he had gathered into a basket instead of trying to carry everything loose, which was a good thing because there is no way he would have avoided stabbing himself with the knives when he fell twice going back to the barn.

Little Joe made it back to the barn and collapsed more than sat down next to where he had left his brother. He soaked some of the bandages in the brandy before pulling off his own shirt and wadding the bandages against both the entrance and exit bullet wounds. He yelped as the brandy hit the exposed and torn flesh, working its way inside the laceration like liquid fire. Sweat beaded on his forehead and his hands shook. He tipped his head back, eyes closed, and took a few deep breaths to try to assuage the nausea that came with the pain. Once he had control over both his body and the pain, he opened his eyes again and took the knives out of the basket. He lit a match and ran the flame over the blades to sterilize them. He set the basket with the bandages and brandy within reach and scooted forward on his knees to reach his brother.

“Adam?” He shook his older brother gently. “Adam, if you can hear me, I’m sorry. I’ve gotta get that bullet outta you. It’s gonna hurt like hell, but I’ll go as quick as I can.” He maneuvered Adam so that he was lying on his back. Joe took the sharpest knife and counted to ten, breathing deep and fortifying his nerves. He willed his hand to hold steady and made an incision to widen the bullet hole. He poured some brandy over the wound, flushing it out and rinsing away the fresh blood that bubbled up. He probed the wound with the duller knife he had brought out. Luckily the bullet was only an inch into Adam’s shoulder. Unluckily, he was having trouble pinning it between the two blades to draw it out.

Joe swallowed thickly, flicked his gaze up to his older brother’s face and exhaled shakily. Then he poured brandy over his own left hand and dug into the wound. Adam cried out and his eyes flew open. Joe felt panic build up, but he had a grasp on the intruding projectile. He pinned Adam down with his knee and right hand and slowly drew the bullet back out the way it had gone in. He dropped it next to the knives and poured the last of the brandy over the now freely-bleeding wound. He pressed a folded bandage over the grotesque hole and wrapped it tightly. Having succeeded in his task, Joe let the panic take over. His breathing sped up and his eyes overflowed with tears. He crawled away from Adam but only made it six or seven feet before losing control of his stomach and puking on the barn floor.

Adam clawed his way back to awareness through a haze of agony. He heard someone crying then retching. The burning pain in his shoulder began to fade to a dull ache. He blinked hard a few times to clear his vision and struggled to an upright sitting position. Why was he sitting leaning against a cow? Oh right. He’d dragged himself and his youngest brother into the barn as a last ditch effort to use Hop Sing’s dairy cows to get warm. Joe!

“Joe?” Adam’s voice barely made a sound. He swallowed and cleared his throat before trying again, “Joe?”

He heard rustling and Little Joe appeared next to him. “Adam! I’m so sorry. I had to do it. It was already getting infected. I couldn’t go get a doctor… Here, drink some water.” Joe held out a canteen. Adam looked at his little brother trying to fuse the two images into one. Tear tracks ran down Joe’s face. His eyes were wide, and his hands shook as Adam took the canteen from him and drank from it.

“You ok, Joe?”

“Adam, I just pulled a bullet out of you, I should be asking you that!”

“Yeah, well. I’m the older brother. I’m allowed to worry about you anytime I want to.”

Joe huffed a brief laugh before sitting down less than gracefully next to Adam. “Yeah, you’ve got me there.” He took a drink from the canteen Adam passed back to him. “I really don’t want to ever have to do that again. God, Adam. I… I couldn’t get it out with the knives. I had to… had to…” Joe swallowed spastically and if possible, paled even more than he was. “Had to dig into you with my fingers just to grab it.” He finished in a whisper.

“Oh Joe. I’m sorry you had to go through that. But you got it. I’ll be fine thanks to you.” He pulled Joe into his side and hooked his arm around him. Little Joe crumpled, physically and emotionally. He sobbed against his older brother.

“Think you could make it into the house? It’d be more comfortable than here in the barn.”

Joe shrugged. “Honestly? I’m really not sure.”

“Joe, tell me the truth. Are you ok? You had me really scared on our way back.”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. It was a through and through. I got a bandage on it before I fixed you up. Kinda weak. A bit sick. But warmer than I was.” He sighed “Hey Adam, I might just take a nap though before we trying moving.” With that, Joe passed out again, the trials of the day catching up to him.

The storm had moved on and the night was warming up when Ben and Hoss found the brothers still in the barn after they got back from moving the cattle.

 

The End