Summary: A writer’s challenge.  Joe plays a joke on Hoss.

Rated: K (1,330 words)

Death’s Letter S

“It happened again last night.”  Joe’s voice sank to a funereal whisper.  “Night after night.  It’s always the same.”

Hoss’s blue eyes were round as saucers and he glanced quickly over his shoulder at the gathering darkness.  Surreptitiously he inched closer to the campfire.

Joe caught the movement however, and he coughed into his gloved hand to hide his grin.  “Yessirre, Hoss.  Every single night this whole week,” he intoned.  “The same dream.  The same beautiful lady all veiled in white, whispering.  Always whispering.”  He shivered dramatically.  “And she always says the same thing.”

Hoss leaned forward intently.  “What?” he demanded.  “What’s she say, Joe?”

Joe made a show of looking around the clearing, peering at the shadows suspiciously, allowing the silence to build to a fever pitch.  He had to hide another grin when he saw Hoss was holding his breath as he waited for the answer.

At last Joe spoke, leaning forward to whisper in Hoss’s ear.  “She lifts one hand and points right at me, and she speaks so softly I can’t make out most of the words.  But whatever she says, it ain’t good.  She kind of moans out something, and all I hear is the final word.”  He stopped, his eyes solemn.

Hoss pounded his thigh in frustration.  “Dadburn it, Joe.  Spit it out.  What’s she say?”

“She says…Death.”  Joe deliberately drew out the word, allowing the darkness and the flickering campfire to add to Hoss’s wild-eyed terror.  He had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing out loud as Hoss sucked in a deep gulp of air.

“D-d-death?”

Joe nodded.  “Yep.  Death.”  He allowed a quaver of fear to ripple through his words.  “But whose?  Mine?  What d’ya think, brother?  It doesn’t sound like she’s saying my name.  All that hissing.  Could be a lot of S’s.”

Hoss paled, his face assuming a ghastly blue tinge in the moonlight.  “S’s?”  He gulped again.  “Ya think she means me, Joe?”

Joe smiled with obvious insincerity.  “You?  Why you?  Hoss doesn’t start with S.”

Hoss frowned, irritation written across the broad expanse of his face.  “Of course Hoss don’t start with S, but it shore ends with a couple of ‘em.  Whad’ya think, Joe.  Is it me?”  He tugged at his shirt collar as if it had suddenly gotten too tight and again glanced over his shoulder.

Joe affected astonishment.  “Why, you’re right, brother.  Hoss does end with a couple of those pesky S’s.  She just might mean you.”  He casually got up and yawned, stretching ostentatiously before lying down on his bedroll.  “Well, we’ve gotta get up early to start the round-up.  Best we get some shut eye.”

He pretended to go to sleep, resting with his hat over his eyes, as he listened to Hoss’s movements.  His brother sat for a long while by the fire, and Joe could barely restrain his giddy laughter when he saw Hoss jerk and twitch with every rustle and pop in the night air.  Even the familiar call of the night owls and the far distant yelps of the coyote made the big man jump.  At long last, Hoss rolled himself up in his own bedroll, tiredness apparently winning out over fear.  His snores soon echoed through the clearing.

Joe’s wait was not in vain.  Not long after Hoss began to snore, a white-clad figure drifted through the trees, hovering at the edge of the feeble circle of light provided by the dying campfire.

“Hoss-ss-ssssss–” The voice was a sibilant hiss, the final syllables throbbing on the night air.  “Hoss-ss-ssssssssssss–“

The figure drifted a little closer, Hoss’s name slipping between its lips like a chill breeze.  Hoss sat up with a gasp.

“What?  W-What?  Joe?  Is that you?” he quavered.

And then he caught sight of the ghostly visitor.  The color drained from his face as he scrambled to his feet.  Unable to tear his eyes from the figure, he backed away, tripping over a log, but righting himself, banging a shin on a jutting rock without even noticing, always moving backward, away from the shining figure advancing toward him.

“Joe!” he wailed, before he finally turned and fled for the trees as fast as his legs could carry him.

Joe lay convulsed with laughter on his bedroll, tears streaming from his eyes as he made no effort to restrain his cackling laugh.  When he finally sat up and wiped his eyes, the figure had vanished.  Still chuckling from time to time, he got up and peered into the darkness.

“Jamie?  Where are you?  C’mon out.  It worked just fine.  C’mon, you sure earned your money.”  He hesitated, listening to the nighttime sounds with his head cocked slightly.  “Jamie?  Where are you, boy?”

There was a rustling from the darkness, and Jamie emerged, clutching a bedraggled white bed sheet.  “Shut up, Joe!” he scolded.  “What are you yelling about?  Hoss is gonna hear you.”

He looked around the campsite, taking in Hoss’s scattered bedroll, the overturned coffeepot, and the tracks leading into the darkness.  “Where is Hoss anyway?  What’s going on here?”

Joe laughed and slapped the boy on the shoulder.  “Right.  Good one, Jamie.  You know what happened.  After all, you’re the one who scared the bejeebers out of that big lummox.  You did a good job; I’ll bet he’s halfway back to the Ponderosa by now.  Probably hasn’t even stopped to take a breath.  I’ll pay you what I promised you when I come back to the ranch tomorrow to pick up the chuck wagon and supplies.”

Jamie eyed Joe with scorn.  “What are you talking about, Joe.  I just got here to find you yelling.  I haven’t even had a chance to put the sheet on and try our plan.  Now quit fooling around and tell me where Hoss is.”  He shook his red head in disgust.  “This is what I get for goin’ in on a plan with you.  You start screaming too early and ruin everything.”

He stopped, his eyes growing large as he saw Joe’s face pale.  “Y-you just got here?” Joe asked.  “But then who–?”  He moaned and then turned and began scrabbling for his boots.  “I’ve got to get back to the Ponderosa.  If that wasn’t you–“

He headed into the darkness along the same path Hoss had taken, never glancing back.  His voice, still carrying on a quavering monologue drifted back over his shoulder.

Jamie watched him go in amusement, finally giving in to a bout of hysterical laughter, bending double with the force of his mirth.  The snap of a twig made him spin on his heel, and he laughed again as he came face to face with Hoss.

Hoss wiped his own streaming eyes, his round face red with suppressed laughter.  “Ya done it perfectly Jamie.  Caught Joe with his own joke and turned it right back on him.”  He clapped the boy on the shoulder with such force that Jamie flew forward a couple of steps.  Fishing in the pocket of his vest, he extracted a wad of folded bills.  “Here’s double what Joe promised you.  And worth every penny.  That’s the best laugh I’ve had in months.  It ain’t often I get the best of Joe in a joke.”

He gestured at Joe’s abandoned bedroll.  “Wanna spend the night out here, little brother?  I’d say there probably won’t be much sleepin’ goin’ on at the house tonight.”  He stretched out on his own bedroll as he spoke, and grinned when Jamie followed suit on Joe’s blanket.

Soon all was quiet around the glowing embers of the dying fire.  The only sound was the occasional snuffle of laughter throughout the night.

 

The End

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.