Summary:  Ben stands vigil as thirteen-year-old Adam lies near death with a raging fever. The father blames himself and questions his ability as a parent while offering a prayer to give his own life to spare his son’s. A stranger helps Ben face his fears and understand that parenthood takes courage and help from unexpected places.

Rated: K+ WC  4600

Story Notes:

This is a prequel with Adam at age 13, Hoss at 6 and Little Joe as a baby. Marie makes a cameo appearance as Ben grieves his choices and deals with his torment.

***

A Prayer in the Night

“I’m sorry Ben, there’s no more you or I can do. It’s up to him now. He’ll have to fight this with everything he’s got if he wants to live.”

After uttering those ominous words, Bill Farley squeezed Ben’s arm and walked toward the bedroom door, turning back to add, “I’ll let myself out.” Yet he knew the worried father hadn’t heard a word he’d said after he’d proclaimed the stark reality of Adam’s condition.

There weren’t trained physicians living in the Nevada territory and there probably wouldn’t be any until the population and opportunity grew a little more, but there were people who were skilled in natural medicine and shared their talents with those who needed help. Bill Farley was a neighbor who had a “sense” about ailments, could often figure out what was wrong and usually offered some herb preparation, poultice or advice that would help. He’d come at Ben’s request and was hopeful some of his tried and true methods could break Adam’s fever, but nothing had worked. He was stymied at the lack of response to all of his attempts at easing the child’s condition, and was leaving the Cartwright family with a heavy heart, knowing that the young man would likely succumb to whatever horrible illness was plaguing him.

Ben heard footfalls down the stairs after Bill left, the brief goodbyes being given at the door and then Marie’s lighter step as she made her way up to the room where Ben stood gazing down at his son. With his dark curls haloing his pale white face and bright red cheeks, the child already looked like he had passed to another realm where his earthly family could no longer reach him.

“Darling,” Marie ventured. When Ben did not look up, she walked over, wrapped her arms around his waist from behind and quietly held the man she loved. She knew there were no words that would comfort him at this moment and gently turned him to face her. “I would offer to remain here with you, Ben, but you would tell me I need to rest. I would protest, but you would say that our Little Joseph and Hoss need me to be up and ready to care for them in the morning. Then I’d say that I cannot stand the thought of leaving you alone and you would remind me that it is as you wish. And finally I would tell you not to blame yourself for this and you would ask whom else to blame. So, I will simply bid you good night. I doubt that I will sleep well, and while I’m awake will bombard heaven with prayers for our child.”

Ben smiled down at Marie and broke out of his anguish long enough to kiss her. “I’m glad ‘we’ had this little talk,” he said with a wisp of a chuckle.

Marie winked at Ben, kissed him gently and then went over to the silent child that barely raised a mound in his encasement of blankets. She sat next to him, held his hands and kissed each one before placing her cheek against his while whispering, “I pray that you will heal this night my sweet. You must fight and stay strong, for we would all find it impossible to go on without you.” A final kiss to his forehead confirmed what Marie feared; his fever warmed her lips as they met his skin, and she knew his small body couldn’t bear the high temperature much longer. She stood and turned once more to Ben, touched his cheek lightly and bid him goodnight with words she could only pray would prove true. “All will seem better in the morning, my love.”

Alone with Adam, Ben turned the lamp down and knelt at the bedside. He was exhausted after several days of watching his nearly13 year old son get worse until now he lay there silent: his chest barely rising and falling. Although the boy was only as tall as Marie now, he was beginning to show signs of changing from a boy to a man. It came to Ben’s mind that he himself had grown like a weed between ages 13 and 15 and expected that Adam would probably do the same. But now… He tried to stop the thought from entering his mind, yet it snuck in and struck with a hard left to his gut: “But now, would he even live through this night.”

Ben lowered his head to his hands and began:
“Dear Lord, What kind of father am I? How can I come to you, asking you to rescue my son when I have done such a miserable job with this child you entrusted to me? What kind of father would let his son get so sick that they would have to hear a healer…a friend, tell him that there is nothing more to be done: that it’s up to a 13 year old boy to decide if he can find enough strength to fight for his life? What kind of God would allow this boy’s mother to die and leave me behind with him instead?

I’m not questioning your authority God, just your purpose. Wouldn’t he have been better off if I had died and Elizabeth had lived to raise him in a civilized city instead of living with me in this wild country?  If Adam truly must decide to live or die, will he want to stay with me, after the life I’ve given him, or will he prefer to join his mother with you?  I believe that you are a good and gracious God, so please, Lord, if you require a life tonight, let me be the one to go. I pray now to ransom my son’s life with my own…”

Ben stayed kneeling at Adam’s bedside for a long while as he finished praying, then pulled a chair close enough that he could sit and hold his son’s hand. There was a moment of hope when Ben felt how cool Adam’s fingers had become. But a quick check of the child’s forehead and blazing red cheeks confirmed that the fever was still raging. Slipping his hand beneath the covers, he noted that Adam’s feet and legs were cool as well. There was only one thing he knew of that was indicated by cooling limbs and it made Ben’s mouth go dry with pure terror while his pulse pounded in his head.

“Oh, God, no,” Ben moaned to himself looking toward heaven, “Don’t punish my son for my mistakes!” He added another blanket over the boy’s feet and continued his vigil. When his emotional and physical exhaustion finally left him bobbing and dozing in the chair, he laid his head down at Adam’s side, while still holding tightly to his son’s hand, and began again to pray while waiting for what he expected would come soon enough; that which he had no power to stop—the death of his oldest son.

***

He was driving a wagon along the road toward the lake, when he glanced to his side, startled to see a man sitting next to him. “Sorry, I didn’t realize anyone was with me,” Ben stuttered as his puzzled look revealed that he didn’t recall the circumstances resulting in a stranger being with him on this trip.

“You picked me up back a spell, don’t you remember? I was walking and you offered me a ride as far as you were going,” replied the stranger. “You did seem a bit preoccupied at the time and have been very deep in thought ever since I joined you.”

Ben could only manage a simple, “Oh.” In truth, he had no recollection of ever seeing the man before.

“Who’s that in the back of the wagon?” asked the stranger.

Stopping the team, Ben turned to look because he couldn’t remember having anyone along. Surprised, he offered, “That’s my son, Adam.”

“He doesn’t look well. Why do you have him out here with you?”

“I’m honestly at a loss here,” replied a bewildered Ben. “I’m going to pull over and see if I can sort this out.”

After moving the rig to a shaded spot, the two men got out, walked to the back of the wagon and took a good look at Adam. “He looks feverish,” offered Ben’s companion.

“He’s been sick with a fever, but I noticed tonight that his extremities are getting cool and I know that’s a sign that a body is dying, so maybe I wanted to take him somewhere before he goes…away…” Looking around, Ben noted, “This is one of Adam’s favorite spots on the ranch. Maybe I was bringing him here so he might see it one last time.”

The stranger guided Ben from the wagon to a grassy patch under a tree. “Sit with me Ben. Let’s leave Adam resting and we’ll talk.”

“How do you know my name?” Ben was feeling bewildered—almost as if he were drunk. But he knew he was sober. In fact he wouldn’t have minded losing himself in a bottle of something right then: something to help him forget what was happening and his part in it.

“I just do. I’ve actually known your whole family for quite some time now, but I don’t think we’ve ever been introduced. I’m Stephen.”

“Stephen,” offered Ben as he extended his hand, unable to engage in any further pleasantries.

“Now how about you tell me what happened with your son?”

“Well,” Ben stopped to think about what he was doing. Weighing his options, he finally figured it couldn’t hurt if he told someone about it. “Adam was brush clearing with me a few weeks back in a stand of trees I was looking to harvest for a new shed. He knows he needs to keep his jacket on when we’re in the brush in spring, but he got warm, so took it off and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. I checked him for ticks when we got home, but there must have been one I didn’t see. Funny how something that small can cause something so big.”

“How big did it get?” pressed Stephen.

“I’m such a fool,” Ben continued. “About a week after we were out there, I noted Adam wasn’t eating as much as usual and went to bed early, but didn’t think much of it. You see, we have a new baby in the house and things have been turned upside down since his arrival. He’s pretty much managed to upset all our eating and sleeping patterns for some months now.”

“Babies will do that,” Stephen mused. “How’d your two older sons handle having a new brother?”

The fact that the stranger knew of Hoss didn’t seem to upset Ben. “Hoss is intrigued by the baby, and Adam is concerned. I think he usually worries about Joseph more than he gets irritated by him, but that’s my eldest.” Ben got up to check on Adam in the buckboard and then returned to Stephen. It felt good to be talking to someone who didn’t dismiss him or try to make him feel better about the course of events that had brought him to this point.

“Why’d you just call yourself a fool?” wondered Stephen.

“Why? I ignored Adam’s symptoms because I was too absorbed with the baby, running the ranch and being dead tired all the time. We made a rule for the two older boys that if Joseph was sleeping the rest of us had to be quiet. Marie, the baby’s mother, tries to rest when the baby sleeps, so Hoss and Adam are under strict rules about causing any disruption during those times.”

Stephen pressed for more details. “So how does being human and setting family rules make you a fool?”

Ben was unable to meet Stephen’s eyes as he told the next part of his story, so he rested his head in his hands as he recalled the series of events leading to Adam being in this condition. “I didn’t pay attention, or maybe didn’t want to pay attention, is pretty much the gist of it. I thought Adam was moping because the baby was getting so much of our attention.” Ben had to stop and take a deep breath. The shudder of it emerged from his body in a voiceless sob.

The stranger encouraged, “So, what happened?”

After composing himself, Ben started again. “I’ve lost track of time, but I think it was about 5 days ago, Hoss came to me during one of our ‘quiet times’ in the house. Little Joe and Marie were resting and I was working on our ranch accounts. It’s funny how some moments seem frozen in unbearable memory, even though they seemed so ordinary at the time.”

“Go on,” Stephen prodded.

“Hoss, our six-year-old, came sneaking down the stairs, trying to be very quiet. I remember watching him in amusement, wondering what he was up to. He finally made it to the table where I was working and whispered that Adam was in his room crying. I yelled, ‘What in blazes is he crying for!?’ A little too loudly as it turned out, and the house was suddenly alive with Joseph’s wailing and Marie’s displeasure at the untimely awakening.”

“And what did you do about Adam?”

Ben now raised his head and looked Stephen in the eyes as he confessed. “I stormed up to his room, threw open the door and chastised him for his jealousy. I assumed that his tears were from self-pity over having to be quiet in respect for his stepmother and new brother. I told him…” Ben could not continue as his voice cracked.

“Say it Ben. What did you tell Adam?”

Finally, in an exhale of pain he said, “I told him that if he wanted to cry, I’d give him something to cry about! I actually walked over to his bed where he was curled up, fully ready to take him over my knee.”

Stephen saw the demons of anguish flooding Ben’s eyes as he asked, “And what then?”

“I ordered Adam to his feet.”

“And?”

“He tried to stand, but cried out in pain and collapsed. It was only then that I noticed the rash on his arms and felt the heat of his skin. And that’s not even the worst of it.”

“Go on, Ben. You need to say it.”

“Hoss had followed me up to Adam’s room and stood in the doorway looking on in terror. He finally told me, ‘Pa, Adam’s been sick for a couple a days already. He didn’t want to bother you, so he’s been hiding it.’” Ben sighed. “I went to ask a local healer for help as soon as I realized how sick the boy was, but although he’s been here frequently, there is nothing he can do. He figured Adam might have been bitten by a tic—a fact confirmed by Hoss who said Adam showed it to him when he pulled it off. The healer said that he’s heard tell of a bad fever carried by tics, but there’s not even a name for it yet. It starts with a sick stomach and tiredness, then progresses to horrible joint pain, rash and high fevers. Living or dying is a toss up once it takes hold.”

Stephen summed up the problem. “So when you found Adam crying, you became angry, thinking he was feeling sorry for himself, when he was actually suffering great pain from this tic fever?”

“That’s it. I’m a fool who couldn’t see my own son becoming sicker by the day. I’m the fool whose son hid his illness so as not to be a burden. Oh, Dear Lord, what have I done to my child?” Ben returned his head to his hands for a moment but looked toward Stephen again when he began to speak.

“Seems to me that what you’ve done is raised a very intuitive son who wants to bear his own burdens—just like his father.” Stephen pulled a stalk of rye grass from the ground and handed it to Ben. “The way I see it, is that you’re feeling a whole world of guilt. You feel guilty about being the parent who survived to raise Adam and then making him grow up on the trail West. You feel guilt for making him learn so much so fast, and be responsible, vigilant and helpful. And now you feel guilty about your son getting sick because he was helping you and the worst of your fears is that Adam won’t want to fight for his life because the he thinks the life you’ve given him isn’t worth fighting for. Is that about right, Ben?

Ben nodded. He wasn’t sure how Stephen knew these intimate details of his life, but felt his heart release some of its tension as he heard his greatest fears voiced by another.

“Take a look at that blade of grass in your hands, Ben.”

The father did as he was told to see a seed laden stalk resting in his palm.

“Some people are like grass that’s planted to be kept cut back so it grows full and green and pretty. But that’s not you Ben. You let yourself grow to heights you had only dreamed about. And as you grew, you developed seeds that spread, allowing others to dream of growing fine and tall as well. You didn’t keep Adam from a childhood; you gave him the seeds of exploration, wonder and possibility. You taught Adam that the journey is just as important as getting to where you’re going.” After a moment Stephen asked, “Do you see what I’m saying Ben?”

Ben was absentmindedly turning the stalk of grass in his hands, eventually breaking it in half and sticking the upper portion into his shirt pocket. “Your words are kind and encouraging, but they don’t recognize the fact that my son is dying because I am a parent who lost track of him.”

“Ah, I see,” replied Stephen before pausing to reflect. “Ben, parenthood—even at its best—is a juggling act. Sometimes you get all the balls in the air and keep them flying without any problems. You and others watch in amazement as they rise and fall in perfect rhythm. But there are the times when you get distracted and lose track of where the balls are and when that happens, some of them are going to fall. Instead of giving up and letting the others tumble as well, you just have to keep juggling the ones still in the air and hope to retrieve the others when you can. It doesn’t mean you can’t juggle, just that you need more practice. Do you see?”

Ben chuckled, “A juggling act, huh? Apparently I am not a good juggler.”

“But you are. You just have too many balls in the air right now and it’s alright to ask for help. People get weary when they try to do everything alone. You carry a huge responsibility on your shoulders, and you’re going to drop a ball now and then. It doesn’t mean you’re a bad father, just a tired, overworked, and overstressed one.” Stephen asked again, “Ben do you understand what I’m saying?”

“I suppose I do, but that doesn’t comfort me now. My child is dying and my heart is breaking. I doubt that I’ll ever make another good decision after this. I am guilty of so many sins I don’t know where to start to ask for forgiveness.”

Stephen ignored the comment and said instead, “In your prayer tonight, you offered your life for your son’s, right?”

“Yes…but, how….” Ben stood, his face awash in anger and confusion.

“It doesn’t matter how I know, just that I do,” countered Stephen. “So right now, if I offered you the choice of giving your life for Adam’s you’d make the exchange?”

“Absolutely! Without hesitation.”

Stephen had stood as well and took Ben by the shoulders. The father was surprised at the strength he felt in the stranger’s hands. There was something else as well: a warmth and comforting presence Ben wasn’t expecting.

“You would offer yourself, even if you dying in Adam’s place meant that three children would be without a father, and a wife would have to go on without her husband? How does that sound like a good idea to you?”

The reply was barely breathed into words, “Might it not be better for them to have no father than to have a bad one?”

“If you’re willing to die for your son, then why aren’t you willing to keep living for him?”

“I don’t understand what you mean,” moaned Ben. Why would I want to live if it means Adam will die? I’m so confused! Why are you doing this?”

Stephen walked Ben to the wagon to look at Adam. “See your son? You wanted him to have a life of freedom, challenge and faith in himself. You’ve done that Ben. The things you’re beating yourself up about tonight are because Adam is everything you taught him to be, and he was doing what he thought was right to help you. He did what he did because he loves and respects you, not because he hates you or his life.”

“He shouldn’t have to help me,” he replied, his voice no more than a whisper. “He’s only a child. He should let me decide what’s best for him. He isn’t the one who should have to die for his decisions.”

Stephen held Ben’s shoulders again as they looked at Adam. “You’re missing the point here. You and Adam are a team. You always were and will be to the end. You both love each other more than life itself and would each give their life if it meant the other could go on living. At this moment, Adam is ill because an infected tic bit him, not because you’re a bad father, or as a judgment or punishment for something you did or didn’t do. Ben, accept that there are things you can’t control and just do the best with those things you can.”

He turned to face Stephen, “How do I do that?”

Stephen moved away and started walking down the road, looking back only to say, “This is where we part company.”

“You didn’t answer my question!” Ben hollered desperately after him. “How do I do that?”

“Forgive yourself for having moments when you drop some of the balls you’re trying to keep in the air. Keep putting one foot in front of the other, and remember that you sacrifice yourself as much for your children by living and loving them the best way you know how, as by asking to die for them. And above all, keep praying for guidance.” Stephen laughed before adding, “And maybe take some juggling lessons!” With a final wave, he was gone.

***

Ben was aware of a shaft of moonlight casting its glow across Adam’s bed. It was still dark, but there was a tinge of gathering daylight in the east. Realizing in panic that he must have been asleep for hours, Ben quickly brought himself to attention. Adam’s hand was warm from being held, but he knew that wasn’t an indication of his son’s condition. Reaching under the covers, he felt his feet, finding them cool, but no cooler than earlier.

The foot was hastily withdrawn from Ben’s hand as he heard, “Stop it, that tickles,” waft from the top of the bedding.

Ben’s head snapped to Adam’s face. He had been afraid to start his appraisal from the head down, for fear of seeing his son’s angelic face with the pallor of death, so had started from the bottom up. A huge smile spread as he gently took Adam from the bed and held him close. “Oh, Adam,” were the only words he could get out. He held onto the child as one clinging to a life ring in a tortured sea.

Ben finally settled the boy back on the bed, propping him up with pillows. “How do you feel?” he asked with concern.

“I’m good, Pa. I didn’t feel so good yesterday, but I feel a lot better today.”

“Adam, ‘yesterday’ was 5 days ago. You were very ill, and I’m thankful that you’re doing so well today.” Ben wanted to say more about hiding his illness from his parents, but decided that conversation could wait a bit. Now it was time to celebrate.

“Pa,” Adam ventured. “I kind of know how to juggle, if you want me to teach you.”

Ben wondered why Adam would bring up that particular subject. “Why do you offer, son?”

“I heard you talking with someone about juggling during the night. It sounded like you didn’t know how to do it very well.”

“I must have been talking in my sleep.” Ben’s mind was suddenly filled with the remembrance of his dream. “How do you know how to juggle?”

“It tells how in one of Marie’s books about the circus. I’ve been practicing during the times we have to be quiet while Little Joe sleeps.”

“I’ll have you give me a lesson or two when you’re feeling a little stronger. Hey, I probably shouldn’t do this,” Ben offered conspiratorially, “but nobody else is awake yet to tell us not to. Do you feel up to getting out of this bed for a while? I’ll carry you downstairs. I’m sure Hop Sing’s up already and will make you something to eat if you’re hungry.”

Adam sat up immediately and moved to the edge of the bed. “I’m starved Pa and my backside hurts. I suppose I’ve been laying on it too long.”

“Then it’s a deal.” Ben took Adam into his arms as he would a small child while his son melted into his shoulder and notched his head in the curve of his father’s neck. A supreme thankfulness enveloped the man as he realized his son had been given back to him…or had asked to stay. He offered silent prayers of praise as he quietly headed downstairs.

While Ben was tucking a blanket around Adam to keep him warm after depositing him in a chair, Adam pulled something from his father’s shirt pocket. “What’s this?”

Ben looked at the object in Adam’s hand, his heart beating wildly as he recognized it as the stalk of rye grass Stephen had handed him in his dream. “It’s a reminder, son,” Ben finally replied with as much calm as he could muster, “Just a reminder.

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.