Summary: When Joe tries to break a black stallion he learns that he should’ve listened to his Pa as the cost proves to be too high..

Rating T  WC 11,120

Memoir

I was never good at writing, never wanted to be.  That’s more to the liking of my oldest brother Adam.  But, this idea to put on paper what I am thinking and feeling came from someone that I have known all my life, so I decided to do it.  It’s doubtful I will ever show anyone what I have written here in this journal anyhow.  Doctor Martin suggested that if I wrote how I felt about everything that maybe I would be able to accept what is going on in my life.  Accept?  That’s a word someone offers you who has no clue about how you are thinking since they have never been in your shoes.  I sometimes wonder if anyone knows how angry I feel right now, and if they do well then why do they keep asking me to express myself?  I think they want some grand display of emotion where I yell and scream and talk about how unfair life has been to me.  But, I’ve already done that.  A year ago, when this all happened, I ranted and raved and gave them such a performance they should remember!  Of course back then, though I was mad, I still had the hope that everything would work out eventually.  Hope springs eternal—who said that?  Whoever it was never had a prolonged illness or injury, that’s for sure!

So, let’s see, I guess if I am supposed to address each aspect of this ongoing struggle of brain against body I should start at the beginning.  Funny I can remember it just like yesterday, as if my life froze at that moment and can never move away from it.  I’ve thought about how it happened about every minute of the day no matter where I am or what I am doing.  I wish I could get past the part where I blame myself, but I can’t.  I think that’s what makes it all that more difficult.  If I had someone else to blame I think it would be lots easier to deal with.  I have found that it’s a whole lot harder when you know that if you had just listened to someone’s advice you never would have gotten hurt.  That someone was my father.  Though throughout all that I’ve gone through this year he has never thrown it up to me.  I know he thinks about it and sometimes when I am hard to handle I bet he would love to bring it up.  But, that’s just not Pa.  He would do anything he could to take my pain away but he can’t.  I know he wishes I had been obedient to his order to leave that horse alone in order to have spared me the results of my arrogance.

I was getting a little too close to rehashing the event last night so I stopped.  I debated about continuing in this journal, but decided, when I woke up full of rage that I had better jot it in here than to take it out on others.  I’ve been doing that too much here lately; like this morning.  I could hear Pa coming down the hall to see if I was awake yet.  Awake?  Like I ever get a good night’s sleep!  The powders that Doc Martin left for me to use to get sleep work just the opposite now.  I doze off and then am catapulted into the scariest nightmares I have ever had in my life.  And, that’s saying something since I’ve always been plagued by bad dreams.  In fact, my two brothers used to joke about how many times I’ve sent them all running down the hall to save me from the night terrors.  I never saw that as a joke.  If they had seen some of the things that I have seen in my dreams they wouldn’t be laughing.  But, now the dreams are far worse than when I was a kid, because instead of monsters and worries about losing someone I love, they are all based on the ugly reality of my life.

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Anyway, I kinda felt bad for my father.  I know he’s trying to be cheerful, but if he comes in here one more morning and asks me how I am feeling I think I will scream!  I almost did that this morning when he came in to my room.  Pa always forces a smile, no matter what he’s really thinking. Guess he thinks that I am being pessimistic?  Funny I think the problem is that he is far too optimistic!  The man has never said the words, “I give up” not in his whole life.  He expects as much from his sons.  Unfortunately he reads me too well.  He sees past the fake words, the same ones I say each and every day, “I’m fine, Pa.”  Fine?  I don’t even know what it’s like to feel “fine” anymore.  A couple of times I’ve held real still in my bed first thing in the morning and just held my breath.  I thought that if I didn’t move that the pain couldn’t find me.  I was wrong.  A deep breath or a slight shift of my weight on the bed brings it back in full force and reminds me that it’s just the beginning of yet another day of agony.

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It’s still so ironic to me that all this happened because of a horse. Well, it wasn’t exactly just any horse.  From the first moment I laid my eyes on the solid black stallion I knew I had to have it.  Jim Mathers’ hired hands over at the Circle W ranch rounded up the black along with a dozen others they caught last spring just before the annual cattle drive to Ogden.  I had to go and see the horse that folks had named Mockery as soon as my friend Mitch told me about it.  Mr. Mathers and my father go way back and he didn’t mind my stopping by that day to take a look at the string of horses his wranglers were trying to break.  I had just climbed up onto the railing of the breaking corral when I saw the first man fly through the air, having been launched by the black stallion.  I was starting to get the idea why the hired hands had named the horse Mockery.  One by one I watched the best horse breakers in the area have a go at that black.  And, one by one they were thrown before they even got their boots planted firmly in the saddle stirrups.  Two men were taken into Virginia City to have Doc patch them up from injuries caused by Mockery.  It was then that I had asked Mr. Mathers about trying my hand at breaking the horse.  Naturally, since he is such a good friend of my pa he refused to let me try.  He had also mentioned that he wasn’t about to lose another wrangler, and was thinking about turning the horse loose.  I tried my best to convince him to sell me the stallion, but he was worried about what might happen to me.  He said he would consider it and let me know in a day or two.  Little did I know that he was going to ride out to the Ponderosa and have a good long talk with my father about me wanting Mockery.  By the time I had gone into town, which was supposed to be part of my chores for the day, and ridden back to the ranch Jim Mathers had come and gone.  After I bedded down Cochise, I walked into the house and found my father standing in front of the fireplace.  He had his arms across his chest and he looked at me as though he was ready to do battle.  Mr. Mathers had filled my father in well, even going so far as to tell him about each injury that had already befallen the men who had tried to break the wild stallion.  I was unprepared for the onslaught of chastisements that my father hurled my way that evening.  He’s usually a lot calmer in discussing such things, but not that night!  Mr. Mathers had painted a pretty awful picture of what might happen to me if I should try to break the horse and my father had made up his mind before I even rode up to the house. My father is a fair man and a good listener, that is, most of the time.  But, that night it didn’t matter how much logic I offered he wasn’t taking the bait or listening to my arguments.  I told him that I had a natural talent for breaking horses and that he should have some faith in me. I also told him, for perhaps the hundredth time in my life, that I was no longer a little kid.  He just kept shaking his head and telling me “no”!   I guess I got pretty loud, because by the time Hoss came into the room from the kitchen he thought we were close to fisticuffs.  Like that would ever happen!  I tried to get Hoss to back me up, after I told him that Pa was being unreasonable.  That was a mistake!  Hoss had seen the horse and also some of the damage the animal had caused over at the Circle W.  He went on to say some of the same things Pa had said to me earlier, mostly the line about me being out of my mind.  This argument ended up like most of the arguments I have had with my father over my twenty years.  I said some things hotly, that I later regretted, and bolted up the staircase.

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I wish I could go back to that moment in time, and stare directly into my father’s eyes and say a big thank you to him for trying to protect me from something that would end up causing me so much anguish.  But, it’s never been my nature to reason things out, no more than it’s been in my nature to do things in any other fashion than in haste.  I stayed up in my room that night, mad at my family for treating me like a child.  I was angry that they didn’t think I was experienced enough to handle that horse.  I had handled rough horses before, and was considered by many, especially myself, as being one of the best wranglers in the area.

My father came up to my room late that night to once again try and talk some sense into me.  He knows how I am and I think he was feeling me out to see if I was going to go and do something rash.  I avoided his eyes throughout that conversation.  He did a good job trying to make me feel guilty for blowing off steam and I did manage a half- hearted apology.  I thought he had sunk a bit lower than usual by bringing my mother’s name up in his late night lecture.  How many times does he need to remind me that she took that fatal fall off of a horse?  I know the image is still planted deep inside his mind and heart, and I hurt for him.  Pa witnessed that fall, but that was so many years ago you’d think he wouldn’t use it as a tool to keep me in line!  Anyway, I never promised him I wouldn’t try to break Mockery.  All I did was to tell him that I would think about it.  I also asked him to do some thinking too.  Pa wasn’t about to change his mind, no more than I was.  By the time he left my room I had already come up with a plan.  It would prove to be the worst scheme of my life and I would live to regret it.

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I felt kinda funny sitting here writing this stuff yesterday, especially when Pa walked into my room.  I was sitting by my window staring down towards the barn.  Every now and then I could see Hoss working with the stacks of hay he was loading into the wagon.  Helping him was Kyle Williams our new hand.  He was up on the second floor of the barn sending the hay down to Hoss.  That used to be my job.  I can remember how many times I tormented poor Hoss over the years when I was the one up there and not some hired hand.  I remember riding down with one of the hay bales just to make the job that much harder for the big galoot.  Funny the things you never realized that you enjoyed so much until you can’t do them anymore.  I’d give anything to be out there with my brother now.  I guess Hoss could kinda feel me looking at him ‘cause once or twice he stared over towards the house.  I don’t think he could see me, but I bet he knows.  I never had to tell him how I felt about things we both just knew each other so well.  There’s a wall between us now, that I feel building each day.  Maybe it’s me?  I am starting to feel envious towards anyone who can go out and ride and run and work and do all the things I used to be able to do.  Not that I would wish Hoss this injury.  No, if anyone in my family had to suffer like this, I guess I’d rather it be me.

So, Pa came in and did his best to coax me into going downstairs.  He thinks I spend too much time up here. I wonder why? What’s he think I’ve got to do around here?  Each step down those stairs feels like a knife stabbing me in the spine.  Of course I don’t tell him that or he would start in on me again about moving into the guest room.  That’s been his plan all this past year.  I fought him on it, and though it’s a rare thing, I actually won that round.  Doc told him I didn’t need to be climbing stairs as he called it “in my condition’.  Like that would stop the pain?  Doesn’t matter if I am sitting, standing or walking I am gonna be in pain.  And, I am not giving up the one thing that still makes me feel like I am at least a little normal; my bedroom.  I make it downstairs for at least one or two meals a day.  Believe me that’s enough of the outside world for me!  I could go and sit on the porch awhile and watch others doing all the things that I can no longer do, but no thanks.

Pa handed me another pain pill and asked what I was doing.  I think he knew, I mean kinda obvious!  I had the journal in my lap along with my pencil.  I think he just wants to see what I am writing in here. Maybe he will try to sneak a peek while I am asleep sometime?  I sure hope not.  Pa—if you read this—don’t read any further or you might not like what you see!  There!  I am sure that will stop him.  Like anything stops my pa.

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Now where did I leave off anyhow?  Guess I have to read all this stuff to keep focused on what I am trying to write.  I know that a little while after I swallowed that pain pill I suddenly found myself spread out on my bed.  I don’t remember how I got there either.  It’s strange how time loses all meaning after a while.  Sometimes I have to think hard in order to remember what day it is.  Doc says that some of this stuff he’s giving me can’t be taken too long because of the side effects.  Hell, I don’t even know exactly what he is giving me.  There were the white powders that he gave me first and those tasted like salt.  I used to drink glass after glass of water to wash the taste of them out of my mouth.  Then after I saw that other doctor, they started giving me these pills.  I kinda remember asking about them, but now it’s just a blur to me.  All I know now is that Pa hands them to me and I take them.  Well, most of the time.  There was a time a couple months ago that I got fed up with taking these medications.  So, every time Pa handed me one I made it appear as though I had swallowed it.  But, I was really stashing them under my mattress.  I guess I had about twenty of them buried there in case I decided to go through with another of my plans.  If it wasn’t for Hop Sing, I might have done it too.  I remember that day pretty clearly guess I should as I hadn’t had anything for pain for about six days!  It was awful to get to that point and not being able to tell anyone.  But, I had my mind made up that I was getting out of this situation one way or the other. Unfortunately, Hop Sing decided that my linens needed to be changed.  I wasn’t in my room at the time or I probably would’ve heard the release of a string of Chinese profanity.  But, Pa sure got an earful!  As was typical, he waited to see how high I would hang myself before telling him the truth of the matter.  When I wasn’t forthcoming with the facts, I remember him holding his hand out under my nose and showing me the pills that I had stashed away.  There really wasn’t any point in denying what I had been planning.  I think he and Doc had already figured it out.  Pa just wanted to hear it out of my own mouth.  I didn’t think I could hurt any more than I was hurting at that point.  The pain was so extreme I could hardly breathe.  I was wrong about the pain, though.  Seeing the tears in my father’s eyes hurt me far worse than any pain my injury had caused me.  He couldn’t believe that I had given up.  He couldn’t understand why I would hide my desperation from him.  Pa begged me for answers to his onslaught of questions, but I had none.  All I could say was that I just wanted it to be over.

He did the worst thing he could have done at that moment, at least in my opinion.  He reached for me and told me he forgave me.  How could he forgive me for wanting to do the sinful act of suicide?  I know how he feels about that just like I know how he feels about a son of his quitting.  But, he held me and cried and he begged me not to give up hope.  I think that’s when I first realized how much this injury had changed me.  I no longer felt safe and secure in my father’s loving embrace.  I felt trapped.  I also felt like a failure.  I was trapped in a body that refused to work and I was a failure for not having done something to fix it.  Most of all I felt like my selfish act had caused my father a deep pain of his own.  So, I did what he wanted.  I promised him I would never try anything like that again.  He needed to hear that from me.  I only hope I wasn’t lying.

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I can’t believe what I have been writing. I just read it all over again.  I guess this is what Doc meant by “purging” my soul?  I’m glad no-one else is reading this, as it makes little sense to me.  I guess I will go back to the accident. Accident?  I don’t even know if I can call it that.  Accidents are random things that no-one can predict.  Everyone who had warned me about trying to break Mockery had predicted I would get hurt.  Instead of accident, I guess I should call this a willful act of disobedience?  Yeah, that sounds more like it.

Now I heard that Mr. Mathers was gonna turn that horse loose. There were ranchers who would just as soon shoot the stallion, but Mr. Mathers was one who believed in letting such animals go back to the wild.  So, he did, and I was waiting.  Naturally, I was supposed to be elsewhere that morning.  Pa knew what I was thinking and had assigned me the job of going up to check on the timber crew’s progress which would have steered me far away from the hills above the Circle W.  I decided on my own to make a grand swing before following orders.  I knew that Hoss would probably be tailing me, heck he does it all the time.  My brother Adam would’ve been on the look-out too, had he not been in Carson City that day.  So, once I had convinced Hoss by my trail that I was indeed heading northwards, he turned back towards home.  It was then that I made my way back towards the Circle W.

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The stallion was high up into the hills by the time I swung around down towards the lake.  I spotted him and kicked at Cochise’s sides in order to give chase.  It took a long while to catch up to Mockery and my poor pinto had just about given up.  But, as soon as I was within reach, I swung my lariat and with one lucky throw I had the stallion.  He fought against the rope for a long time but finally gave in.  Maybe old Mockery knew what he was gonna do to me and he decided to get it over with?  Sometimes I wonder.

Knowing I couldn’t take the horse home with me and board it in the front corral, I rode out with Mockery in tow to the corral in the eastern meadow.  We only use that corral when we get a new string in, so I knew I wouldn’t have any onlookers.  I led Mockery inside the corral and let him run around awhile.  I took the time to water Cochise and catch my own breath before I approached the horse in order to try and break it.

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I have no idea how many horses that I have gentled in all the years I’ve been doing it.  But, I can say that there have only been a few that I haven’t succeeded in breaking.   I guess, in hindsight I should’ve looked a little closer at Mockery.  Maybe I would’ve seen the defiance in his eyes?  But, nonetheless I was confident that I would have the horse broken to saddle in a day or two and would ride up to the ranch house by the end of the week triumphant.  Once again I would prove my prowess with the horses and maybe that would earn the respect of all of those who doubted my ability!  I couldn’t have been more wrong.

I worked with the horse all afternoon.  Since Mockery had seen a bridle before, he didn’t seem to mind it when I carefully placed it over his head and secured the bit in his mouth.  I was starting to think that it had been more or less the haste in which the wranglers had gone after the stallion and not the horse’s desire to remain wild.  My confidence was my downfall.  I should never have tried to break the horse that same afternoon.  In fact, I never should have tried to break the horse at all!  But, it was my arrogance that made me climb upon the corral railing and ready to mount the animal.  I had been taught years ago that you never break a horse without another wrangler there to assist you in case you should encounter trouble.  All that wisdom left me and in its place was pure enthusiasm.  Mockery was still fighting the weight of the saddle when I threw my right leg across his back and leapt from the corral.

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To this day I only remember one or two bucks in the saddle and nothing else.  I don’t remember the fall, I don’t remember the pain.  All I remember is my world coming to an abrupt halt that afternoon.  Much later that night I came back from unconsciousness.  I was here in my bedroom.  I remember the glow from the lamp on my night stand and the feel of the cloth on my forehead.  It hurt to blink I had such an incredible headache. Pa was leaning over me calling my name and Doc was holding my wrist.  It took a good long while before I pieced together what had happened.  My two brothers were standing behind the doctor and their faces looked awfully grim.  Pa looked even worse than they did.  His face seemed pale and worry was etched across his brow.  I had seen that look before so many times that it didn’t bother me.  It was natural for my father to worry about me, especially when I was hurt.  Doc asked me some questions and had me follow his fingers with my eyes to make sure I could see okay.  He said something about a concussion.  Then he made me move each of my legs one at a time.  That’s when I first felt the pain.  When I groaned I saw Doc nod towards my father, as if they had some secret they weren’t telling me.

I started asking them what was wrong with me and it seemed like they intended on keeping the truth away from me for some reason.  Doc made me swallow some powders and told me to rest and Pa sat on the side of the bed and held my hand in his.  He tried to smile, as though all was well, but I could see the fear on his face.  I remember asking if Mockery was okay and Pa’s face seemed to change to rage.  That’s when Hoss moved alongside the bed and told me he had set the animal free.  Pa was collecting himself and had looked away from me.  I knew he was thinking about what I had done and how it was all my fault.  Adam said the words I would come to hear often.  He told me I would be okay.  I wanted to believe that, but after Pa turned back to look into my eyes I knew that it had to be a lie.  That’s when the powders did their trick and all went black again.

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Okay so I guess I about covered the whole Joe stupidly tries to break the stallion story now.  All’s that’s left is the end result of my stupidity.  For that part of this story I have to bring in the honorable Doctor Paul Martin.  He’s the one who insisted I write this stupid journal so guess he deserves his own chapter.  Let’s see where do I start with him?  Actually, I start at birth.  He brought me into the world and has told me the story of that wonderful event numerous times.  The man has doctored me ever since then and has pulled me safely out of the worst injuries of my life.  I just wish he could’ve pulled one more out of his hat.  I remember when I was sixteen he told me that if I could go a whole year without a serious injury or illness that he would take down his shingle and retire from the medical profession.  Needless to say he is still a doctor.  I can’t even remember how many of my bones that Doc has set over the years, nor the illnesses he has tended where I was concerned.  I bet he’s seen places on my body that I will never see.  Pa once told me that he was going to give the doc his own bedroom here on the ranch, since he had spent so many long nights dealing with me.  Of course he’s also handled the rest of the family, but all of their injuries added together wouldn’t equal the amount of my own.  I guess I am just plain lucky?  When other doctors would have quit on me and walked, no, ran the other way—Paul Martin stuck by me.  I don’t think there’s anyone alive who I respect more than him, other than my father of course.  They are both alike in many ways actually.  Both are caring and both of them have lectured me vehemently over the years about my willful abandon which usually is the root cause to my troubles.

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It’s a good thing that my father is the one who is monitoring how many pills I take.  If I were left in charge of it I wouldn’t have a clue as to whether I’ve taken one today.  I don’t feel quite so foggy, so guess it’s gonna be time soon to get another one.  Pa should be coming into my room soon.  He’s not gonna ask me if I am hurting bad enough to have another dose of medication.  That’s because he knows that I wouldn’t tell the truth if he did ask me.  The pills do something to me but it’s unclear just what that something is.  I guess they help with the pain by getting my brain so dizzy that it hasn’t a clue to where the pain is.  Doc said if I took them as prescribed that the pain wouldn’t be so bad.  But, he also told Pa that eventually they would stop working effectively because I would grow immune to their powers.  I have reached that point now I think.  But, I don’t say much about it cause I know that the alternative is to put me on stronger drugs.  I’ve been down that route before, no thanks.

I was right Pa came in with the pain medication a few minutes after I finished writing the last part.  He wanted me to come downstairs with him but I refused.  I mean it’s no different to me whether I am down there or up here, because after I take the medication I am little more than a zombie.  Not exactly the kind of person you want going over your books, though Pa has asked me to do them.  He’s trying to make me feel like a valuable part of the family.  Who does he think he’s kidding?  I don’t even remember what excuse I gave him this time.  Guess he’ll eventually stop asking.  It is kinda funny that when he hands me the pill now he looks real carefully at me.  I know it’s because of what I did before in hiding them.  I don’t blame him for not trusting me, I don’t trust me!  I’m getting foggy so guess this is it for today.  Maybe tomorrow I will get back to whatever I was trying to say.  I think it had to do with Doc.

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It’s now been two days since I wrote anything in here.  Funny thing happened on the way down the stairs the other night.  My foot went numb without warning and I made a great entrance for dinner.  Pa was sitting at his desk finishing up some business contracts.  He had just stood and looked my way when I took the plunge to the bottom of the stairs.  I guess I scared him pretty bad too cause his face was white when he reached me.  I just kinda laid there looking up at him, trying to figure out how I had fallen.  His hands were shaking as he slowly checked me out for injuries.  I couldn’t help laughing when he said he hoped I hadn’t “hurt” myself!  Like I would’ve been able to tell the difference?  Hoss came into the house and rushed over to me.  Then, the two of them carried me like a sack of grain over to the couch.  All I got out of the deal was a lump on my forehead.  Other than that I was just the same as before.  I told Pa that my foot goes numb all the time as does my leg, guess he didn’t realize that I have no warning when that happens.  Once the initial worry started to fade he got angry.  Hell it’s about time!  Pa went on and on about how none of this would have happened if I had done as requested and moved into the guest room downstairs.  I thought he was just about to say that none of this would’ve happened if I hadn’t disobeyed him and tried to break that horse in the first place!  But, he’s been able to stop short each time before that comes out of his mouth.  I think he thinks that would be low.  Actually it would be a relief to hear it after all of these months.  I can see it on his face, just like on the faces of my brothers.  They all know I have no-one to blame but me for being in the condition that I am.

Anyway, I made it over to the dining room under my own power, refusing all help.  Hop Sing came out and handed me a towel with some ice in it for my head.  At least he acted like it wasn’t a big deal, though Pa and Hoss wouldn’t take their eyes off of me throughout dinner.  I knew that a lecture or two would be forthcoming, so I avoided Pa’s eyes for as long as I could. Before heading back up to my room he had a few more things to say to me and made sure he fussed over my head lump for a few minutes too.  Just as always, I told him that I was not going to move downstairs and if that meant a tumble or two then I was willing to take the falls.  I reminded him that Doc had said that I could expect things like this to happen due to my back injury and no-one needed to get all upset.  I was no worse for wear in my opinion.  When I finally made eye contact with my father I could see the sorrow on his face again.  I know he wishes he could help me but he can’t.  If I have to face this then it’s time he did too.  He just looked so sad though, kinda tore me up in a way.  He said some things like—about me pushing people away and stuff.  Heard that before how many times now?  Maybe it’s the medications, who knows?  Maybe it’s resentment.  Not that I resent Pa, I resent me and all I’ve cost the family due to my injury.  I hate that he is so understanding all the time too!  Just once I wish he would yell at me for doing such a stupid thing.  He didn’t do that, not even the day after the accident happened. That’s when I knew that I must be bad off.

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A few days ago I started writing about what happened when I came to after Mockery threw me.  I guess I either derailed the story at that point or I was purposely trying to avoid the harsh details of that first day.  Doc came by again today just to talk.  He knows there’s nothing really he can do for me as a doctor now, so he just sits and talks about things happening in town.  I know he reports back to Pa though.  I know they’ve had lots of talks about me, especially after I pulled my little stunt with the pills.  I guess Doc is the only person that I haven’t totally tried to push away.  Not really sure why either.  You’d think I would try to blame him for not fixing me—but I know he would have if it was in his power.  I guess I just don’t feel like I’ve let Doc down the way I have my family.  Maybe that takes some of the heat off of me when I talk to him?

Okay back to the story of the day after.  It’s so real to me that I could write a minute by minute essay on what everyone did and said.  I don’t know if I can focus enough to do that though, my mind keeps going elsewhere.  I think Big Brother Adam would call that official avoidance on my part. No it’s the drugs not avoidance.  Least I think so.  Now that first morning I awoke to my father in his normal battle position.  That would be him sleeping in the chair next to my bed.  It didn’t matter that Doc had told him I wouldn’t come around for hours Pa wasn’t going to let me wake up without him there.  My Pa, the noble sentry! Maybe it’s the only times in my life that he can actually feel like he is truly in charge of me?  Well, he had a captive audience that time, as I couldn’t move when I finally started to wake up.

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I have gotten an awful lot of flak in twenty years over the fact that I have caused all the white hairs on my father’s head.  I can’t deny that either.  Now, for the times that it wasn’t my fault I don’t claim the credit. But, I would say the vast majority of my injuries were done to my body due to my total lack of brains.  Well, not to say I don’t have brains, it’s just like everyone has pointed out, I don’t use what God gave me in that department.  If I had a dollar for every bone I have broken in my life I would be able to purchase the Ponderosa outright.  It’s a good thing that Doc must give Pa a discount on his services or he would probably own the ranch himself by now.  Now where was I going?  I don’t know must be time to quit for the day.

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Hop Sing brought me some tea so I thought I would get back to this after a couple of hours of staring blankly at my ceiling.  Hop Sing is so funny in his own right.  He concocts all these things to try to heal me “Chinese” style.  I have stopped asking what the hell is in the teas he brings me.  I think he’s been using some kind of bark or something and the tea is getting stronger than my brother Hoss’ trail coffee.  Hop Sing also stands patiently and watches me try some of the exercises the second doctor told me to do each day.  He coaxes me on in his native language.  I think I am learning some of his lines now, and the way he says them I am sure he is swearing at me.  Of course he smiles, and that’s just to throw me off I am sure.  God love him anyway.  Hop Sing can say more with a smile than most folks could say in talking to you for an hour.  He’s a great friend and acts as a buffer between me and the others now.  If I tell him that I have HAD IT, then he knows what to say to Pa and my brothers to warn them to lay off of me.

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I think I was talking about the morning after the accident for like the last five pages.  Why am I stalling?  Okay, so I wake up and see Pa.  It’s like he can “feel” me staring over at him, kinda spooky!  But, then we’ve always been very close.  In the past I mean, not now.   Again it is all my fault.  So, he hurries to my side and tells me not to move much.  That was funny as I couldn’t have if I had wanted to.  So, I asked him what was wrong with me.  It was then that he started to hedge on his answer.  Pa does not have a good poker face.  Wonder how he beats us all in cards?   He sure can’t bluff worth a darn.  He says that the Doc has found “rather” bad bruising on my lower spine.  Then he goes on to say that it might take some time before the swelling goes down enough for Doc to determine the extent of my injury.  I tried to move my legs, and was relieved when I could get them to work, though they were slow about it.  There was something in my father’s eyes I didn’t often see.  He’s always been so in control.  I thought he was going to cry, but he didn’t.

As the fog from whatever the hell Doc had given me the night before left me I started to feel the most excruciating pain I had ever felt.  Guess Pa read my face that time because he was to me quickly trying to help.  He gave me some more medication and told me that Doc would be right back.  He had left early in the morning for another house call but assured my father he would return.  So, I laid there and let the pain medication slowly work its way to my brain.  The whole time I waited for my pain to subside Pa sat next to me on the bed and told me over and over again that I was going to get better.  I guess he figured I had gone back to sleep, but I had just closed my eyes waiting to greet the darkness.  He leaned over me and I felt his lips on my forehead, and at the same time I could feel the coolness of a tear that was not my own.  That’s when I realized that Pa was keeping something from me.  Whatever Doc had told my father, he wasn’t telling me.

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I remember the next time I came around that Doc was there in the room and I heard the whispers between him and Pa.  The first thing I asked them when I opened my eyes was what the heck was going on.  Doc told me to quiet down and began checking my legs by poking me with a pin.  I felt it, and I took that to be a good sign.  I could move my legs, just as before, but when I did a sharp pain shot up my spine.  He and Pa helped to roll me over and I could feel fingers prodding and poking my backbone.  It hurt like hell too!  By the time they repositioned me, I was getting a bit loud.  I told them both that I wanted to know whatever they weren’t telling me about my injury.  Pa kinda moved away from the bed giving Doc room to sit and try to explain all of it to me calmly.  I tried to take it all in, though he was a little beyond me as far as the medical jargon went.  I guess he could tell the confusion in my eyes and then went about explaining in a way I would actually comprehend.  He drew out a piece of paper from his black medical bag and Pa handed him a pencil from my desk.  After a few minutes he showed me his drawing.  He showed me all about what he called the spinal column and how different things all came together.  All I wanted to know was when I was going to get better and not hurt so bad.  That’s when he told me the bad news.  It was his opinion that I had severely injured my spine.  I thought that had to be wrong since I could move my legs fine.  I mean I wasn’t paralyzed so I figured I was just a little banged up but nothing permanent.  He talked about nerve involvement and reminded me that it was still too early to make an accurate diagnosis.  But, he also said that if the damage was as bad as he suspected that I might never be as I had been before my fall.

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I laid there for a long time trying to figure out what he wasn’t saying along with what he had said.  It didn’t make any sense to me.  Even his drawing was confusing.  I mean—you fall, you bruise your back–you heal and that’s it.  My back was NOT broken from what he had said, and then again I wasn’t paralyzed so I couldn’t figure out why Doc and Pa both looked so grim.  I have always been a tough guy.  I have also been a pretty quick healer too.  I finally reasoned that they were both jumping the gun and not giving me time to heal.  I was sure that I would once again, as I had so many times, prove them to be wrong.  Doc gave me some instructions about when I could get out of bed and what he wanted me to do.  He handed Pa some more medication and told him when to give it to me.  Then I noticed that Doc gave Pa “the look” which meant he wanted to talk to him privately and out of my room.  Pa must’ve caught on quickly as he patted my arm and made some excuse up about going to get me some food.  I watched them both leave and wished I could follow them to hear what they were going to say.  I even tried to get up from the bed, but I couldn’t stand the pain that even the slightest movement caused.

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For two days I stayed in bed, following all the rules that Doc had laid down.  I had no choice since Pa kept a constant vigil.  And, even when he wasn’t there, which wasn’t too often, he posted Hoss and Adam as guards over me.  Finally, on the third day after I fell off of Mockery, Pa and Doc helped me out of bed.  That was an experience I will never forget either!  I was going to try to walk to my bureau, but I only made it about three feet and then collapsed into my father’s arms.  It wasn’t that my legs hadn’t worked, it was that the pain was so bad I passed out.  Next thing I knew Doc was wafting some smelling salts under my nose and I was again staring at two very upset men.  Doc ordered more ice packs for my back, something that he had been doing off and on the previous two days.  The swelling hadn’t gone down and he took that as a bad sign.  It was awfully suspicious that Pa wasn’t asking the kinds of questions I had expected him to be asking at that point.  I figured he would be hollering that I needed surgery or something.  I didn’t know then that they had already broached that subject.  That didn’t stop me from asking though.  Doc just shook his head and said “not right now’.  What he wasn’t telling me at the time was that the idea of spine surgery was out of the question.  I guess I don’t blame him none for keeping that from me back then.  Hell I probably would have gone off the wall if I had known how ominous my condition was at the time. Guess Pa and the doctor had figured that one out.

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Isn’t it funny how you can read people that you know so well just by the look on their faces or by what they leave out in a conversation?  Now, Hoss never could pull one over on me so him coming up to my room each day to challenge me to a checkers game or two was his only way to try to take my mind off of what was happening.  I never had to ask him what he thought, I could read it in the way he looked when he tried his best to let me win.  Like I needed the edge?  I always could beat him—at least two out of three.  And, Adam, yeah he’s a bit tougher to figure out what’s behind those dark New England eyes.  But even he was starting to chip away his protective coating and look at me with pity.  Then there was Pa.  I’ve already written in here how it was apparent by the way he didn’t scold me about my disobedience right from the first day that was a big giveaway.  But, there was something in his touch that seemed different too.  He treated me like I was made of glass and that he couldn’t apply too much pressure or I would break.  He’s always been over protective, but it wasn’t that.  Even the nights that he didn’t spend worrying over me in the chair by my bed he would come into my room.  I’m sure he thought that I was asleep the night he knelt next to my bedside and folded his hands in front of him.  I know he was praying.  He always prays, but this time he seemed so distraught almost as though he wasn’t really expecting God to answer.  The dim light from the hallway lamp cast shadows across his face, but I could still see the tears as they streaked down his cheeks.  God I wish I hadn’t done this to him!  I wish I could take it all back—not for my sake–but for him.  How many times does he have to go through this stuff because of my stupidity?  After he left that night, I laid in my bed crying over all that had happened and what my future would hold now.  I knew I wasn’t getting any better, and that there was a good chance I never would.  Doc said I would walk soon, but that the damage to my spine might always cause me intense pain.  Now not only would I have to live with being a shadow of my former self, so would my family.  Day after day they would have to watch the kid they were used to seeing bounding down the stairs barely able to move without difficulty.  I can’t write anymore right now.

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I had decided to stop writing in this thing, it was becoming a crutch and I was afraid that it was keeping me from facing reality.  The reality is that I’m trapped in a body that hurts most of the time.  The reality is that I can’t do a damn thing about it.  I had to get back on here, no matter if it is a crutch because I needed to write down what happened last night.  My father finally said it.  Though he didn’t say it to my face, he said it to my brothers and I just happened to overhear him.  They hadn’t seen me trying to make my way to the top of the stairs.  Pa had given me that pill and he probably thought that I would be either asleep or lulled into a daze.  But I stood there quietly and fought the pain it took just to wait there.  The three of them were once again trying to find a way to make me move down into the guest room.  That’s when Pa lost it I guess, I mean it was coming, right?  It had been so long since my accident and he’s tried everything he can to get through to me urging me to at least try.  Like I’m not trying!  I try every day not to jump out of my window and end it all.  Unfortunately the way the roof is I’d have to push myself out quite a bit and then the drop isn’t much.  Heck even Hoss had made it off of the roof when we used to sneak out on Pa and Adam to go to Virginia City.  My first beer, compliments of my generous and sneaky big brother Hoss was the best one I ever tasted.  I think that was because I was underage and at a saloon for the first time.   God love that big ox! What was I writing a minute ago? Oh, yeah the blow up, I was getting to that!  These pills, can I just blame them because I can’t think straight most days?  Pa stood there by the grand fireplace and looked over at my brothers and said that “Joseph” had no business trying to ride that horse.  “If he had only listened to me it never would have happened.”  Finally!  But why in the hell didn’t he say it to my face?  I wasn’t mad or even sad when I heard those words.  I guess I was relieved in a way because Pa needed to get it out of his system.  But he should have grabbed my darn shoulders and given me a good shake and said it much louder.  Now THAT I would have appreciated as it would help me with this guilt!  Suddenly Pa spotted me and the room grew so quiet you’d think no-one was at home.  I decided to come down the stairs and just let everyone get it out of their systems and just tell me off once and for all.  But, Pa just stopped the minute that he saw me.  He looked so sad.  It was like he now had taken my guilt.  That’s what made me mad, as the guilt was mine!  I owned it not Pa.  I’m the one who disobeyed and didn’t even have the sense to go pull a wrangler or two to come spot me.  He called my name and I could read both fear and embarrassment on his face.  Maybe he was scared of what I’d do since he knew I had heard it all?  He moved right away to the bottom of the stairs and for a minute it was as if we were trying to have a stare down, with neither of us saying a word.  Instead of saying anything, I simply took one step down and then I fell.  I tumbled the whole way down to the first landing.  Then all I could hear was the sound of three pairs of boots rushing over to see if I had killed myself.  Yeah, life isn’t going to let me off that easily, and death just won’t take me for some reason.  Pa was first to reach me, but then again he had been standing there at the bottom of the stairs looking up at me so he had an edge to that race.  He did something that totally caught me off guard.  I just expected the normal hand held down to me to help pull me to standing but that’s not what happened.  Pa reached for me and he wasn’t gentle nor did he treat me like I was made of glass like he had for all of these many months.  My father swept me up into his arms and hugged me close to him.  Maybe he thought I had fallen due to what he had said, I don’t know because he never mentioned any of that.  He pulled me to his chest with such a fierce hold I couldn’t escape this time. I didn’t know what to think about it, I didn’t know how to feel about it.  My brothers turned and walked away.  I guess they figured that Pa and I needed a moment alone?  To tell you the truth I didn’t even feel all that bad about my fall or even about what Pa had said about this whole thing being my fault.  I only knew that my father was finally treating me like he used to.  It was just one moment in time that I was just his son, not the injured young man upstairs that he had to protect.  I didn’t know if I was supposed to say anything when he didn’t release me from his arms.  Maybe he was waiting for me to get mad over what I had heard coming out of his mouth just a few minutes earlier? Finally after what seemed like an hour I heard him crying.  It had all just been too much on my father.  He had dealt with the worry the fear and always trying to put on a brave face for me.  I can take almost anything but not hearing my Pa cry.  I was forced to talk straight to him and not in vague answers like I’d been doing for so long.  As Pa held me and cried I told him how sorry I was for everything.  I wanted to release him from all of his worries over me and his daily duties.  For once I wanted to make my Pa feel better and wasn’t thinking anything about how rotten I felt.  When he could finally speak he told me that he needed me.  I thought he was going to say that he needed me to try or he needed me to move into the guest room, but no he just said he needed me.  After feeling so worthless for all this time my father was letting me know that it was all in my head.  He told me that no matter what my future was going to hold it wouldn’t change the fact that he needed me and he loved me.  Pa didn’t even ask if I had hurt myself in the fall nor check me over.  All of it caught me off guard and it was sinking in that I was the only one who really hadn’t been trying, even if I thought that I had been.  Pa finally pulled me back a bit and looked me square in the eye and said that he knew I felt guilty for trying to break Mockery.  He admitted to being angry that I had gone against his wishes but that it was done and he had only brought it up that night because he was at his wits end with me.  I had pulled myself to a seated position now that Pa had let me loose from his arms but he wasn’t quite done with me yet.  He latched onto my two shoulders and gave me a bit of a shake and said that I was going to get better even if it killed the both of us!  I think that Pa thought that his statement would make me laugh but it had the opposite effect.  I don’t know why but I began to cry and when I did I let loose big time.  Was it just the fact that he loved me so much that he couldn’t imagine me not getting better or had he really believed it?  I didn’t know then and I don’t know that now.  But I do know that those few minutes there on the stairs meant more to me than months of him handing me a pill or standing guard in my bedroom.  Though I never wanted to make my Pa cry, because that’s just not something he does often, it was what changed everything.  I knew that I hurt, hell I hurt every single day for months now, but I never really understood how much I had made my father hurt.  He hurt when he found out about what I had done with those pills.  He held that back from me, because he was walking on eggshells every day, and because of that he hadn’t been acting like the “Pa” I had known or needed.  On those stairs we reached an understanding and it was simple.   I needed to get back to being my father’s son and he needed to get back to the job of being my father.  Pain or no pain, life altered forever or not, Pa let me know that life goes on.  He didn’t want to treat me like an invalid, but in a lot of ways he had.  Pa said that wasn’t going to be the case anymore.  He expected honesty from me from now on and I agreed that I’d talk straight with him. It was at that moment, when I had pushed away my tears I held my hand out to my Pa and asked him to help me up.  His smile said it all.  I had asked, he hadn’t rushed to do it because he was putting my life back on me.  Pa would be there, Pa would help, but he wasn’t going to go overboard waiting on me either.  And as for the guest room well that was resolved on the stairs too.  I told him that my bedroom made me feel like I was normal and he agreed, if that was the case, then no more would be said about moving to the bottom floor of the house.  I had to agree on holding onto the banister from now on, and after that fall I’d say that was a good idea.  My backside took the brunt of that tumble!

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I haven’t felt the need to write in here for a long while.  It’s been about a month now or maybe a bit more.  I don’t know as I never write the date on here so I’d have to go back and read what I’ve written but that takes time and I don’t have much of that lately.  I guess, looking back one page I left off with the whole blow up and my fall, along with how my Pa and I got things straightened out between us.  Funny thing about that fall, it changed a lot of things.  Sure I was glad that Pa and I got back to where we had been before the whole “fall from the stupid horse bit.” But, something else happened right after that tumble and by the time I got back to my room my back did strange things.  Since I had promised Pa that I’d tell him the truth from now on I had to tell him about the funny twinges that I began to get that same night.  It was almost as if my back was in a spasm in all different places.  Pa wondered if we should have Doc come out but I told him the pain wasn’t any worse just different.  I promised to let him know if it did get worse but other than that I’d just keep plugging along.  Pa and I worked on the books and I think that’s the first time I’ve laughed since the accident.  We decided that I’d “help” him before taking any medicine but it didn’t matter as my figures messed up Pa’s ledger book good.  But I also found three errors that Pa had made and that was what made everything funnier.  Not that it’s been a barrel of laughs but at least it’s been “better”.

Doc did come out which is why I had to put this book down right when I was going to write something very clever.  I don’t know what it was, but it would have been good.  Anyway Pa had Doc come check me and the excuse was that he happened to be “in the area” and thought he’d stop by.  The two of them are still conspirators at least as far as I’m concerned.  Doc checked for damage from my newest fall and told Pa that he didn’t see too much of a difference, other than a bruise or two. My backside didn’t fare as well but I wasn’t about to share that information!  After checking me over for new bruises and to determine if I’d messed up anything else on my person, he reassured Pa that I didn’t appear any worse for wear.  But when Doc got done prodding and poking my back I turned and noticed he had a strange look in his eyes.  Pa noticed it as well and asked Doc what was wrong “now”?  He said that my spine looked different somehow.  Not “bad” different, just different.  Then he asked how my pain was doing and that’s when I told him that I thought that it was a little better.  Pa stared straight at me and asked if I was telling the truth.  Would I lie?  Well, yeah I would, but I wasn’t, not then at least.  Pa told Doc about my fall and how I landed and he thought there just might be a chance that I straightened out some of my issues when I took that tumble.  He said he couldn’t swear to it, but my spine looked more in alignment than it had since the accident.  Pa’s eyes teared up and I thought that we’d have another incident like we did on the stairs.  But, he got a grip and simply said that he hoped so and then the two of them left.  I knew that meant that they were going into “conference” and discuss me.  Well, I made it out into the hall almost as quickly as they did and it caught them off guard.  My smile caught them off guard too because instead of the normal intense grimace I usually wear after I walk I had a smile on my face.  Both of them broke out grinning and shoed me back into my room.

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I won’t be writing in here too often though I’ve appreciated having myself to talk to through all of this agony.  I don’t know how I could’ve handled it without some outlet and this was it.  I’m starting on small chores this week and I’ve been outside walking every day.  I can’t say that I’m pain free but I sure feel better than I have in months!  I don’t know if this was all due to that fall or not.  Heck it could’ve been Pa working his magic as far as I know.  Whatever it was, including lots of prayers by everyone I know, and I admit to saying a lot more in the last couple of weeks, anyway I am on my way back.  I sure as heck won’t be sitting a bronc any time soon, but that will come in time.  But, when it does I will take my father’s advice and I will have wranglers there to help if I get in a bind.  I threw those two things at the end here in case my Pa is actually reading this journal when I go to sleep.  If you are, Pa — thanks – you’re the best! (P.S. I’ll never ever ride Mockery again even if I could find him!)

The End

Written by Wrangler (from an old draft from 2002) reformatted  6-14-25