Summary:  This WHN for A Journey Remembered looks at a “missing page” from the journal chronicling the journey West with Inger. After reading the story to Hoss while they waited for a horse to foal, Ben finds evidence of a page that was removed and remembers that it’s kept with personal papers. When he finally has a chance to do so, he rereads the missing page and recalls what he witnessed the night after Inger died.

Rated: K+  WC  2600

Story Notes:

The idea for this story came from an actual experience I had with my grandson the night that his maternal grandmother passed away. What happened has always left me wondering in awe, and confirmed that there are things that can’t be explained–and that we shouldn’t try to–but rather accept for the blessing they are.

***

A Moment Before Leaving

Prologue

“Your mother would be mighty proud of you Hoss, mighty proud,” Ben spoke quietly as Hoss wiped down the new colt.

As he paged again through journal he’d been reading while Hoss assisted the mare to foal, he noted the torn edge of a missing sheet toward the back of the book and recalled what he had written early in the morning the day after Inger died. The missing page chronicled what he had witnessed the previous night and had been written for “his eyes only,” as a personal reminder that things sometimes happen that the human mind can’t comprehend or control. He’d removed the page to keep with his personal papers rather than leaving it with the journal where someone else might read it and wonder at his sanity. He could still remember much of what he’d experienced that night, but made a mental note to revisit his written account as soon as he could.

***A Moment Before Leaving

They’d been home for a few days when Ben recalled the scene in the barn with Hoss. It had begun with his reprimand for delaying their start to relieve Adam and Little Joe at the herd. Ben’s impatience had grown while Hoss assisted the mare, and he’d chastised his son for not leaving the task to Doc Samuels instead of holding up their departure by doing it himself. But the day had developed into an almost sacred interval between father and son when Ben had found his travel journal while retrieving a bottle medicine Hoss had asked for.

Father and son had sat on bags of oats waiting for the mare, while he had read from the pages, retelling the story of falling in love with Inger, their marriage, and then the trip West. His words brought Inger back to life as they painted scenes of their day-to-day lives while moving across the prairie, the joy of finding out that Inger was expecting Hoss, and her bliss at his birth. The story ended with the circumstances of Inger’s death, recalling her bravery in protecting her children as she fought side-by-side with the men. He and Hoss had been so absorbed in the story that they had jumped when the foal stood at the back of the stall without help from either of them.

After the young colt was given a clean bill of health and the mare secured, Ben and Hoss had finally ridden out to relieve the brothers, who while unhappy about the delay, softened when they heard about the new addition at the ranch. They both had understood that Hoss could no more leave an animal in pain that he could have abandoned one of them.

While riding the herd later that day, Hoss had managed to move up close enough to speak to his father. “Thanks for reading all them pages to me today, Pa. It felt kind-a good to know that Ma held up a wagon train to do the same thing that I was doin’.  When you first started into reading, I was afraid that it would be too sad to hear about my ma, but it sure felt wonderful to see her through your eyes.” The boy had blushed and pulled back in shyness, then straightened tall again to add, “I always knowed you loved her, but never knew just how much until I heard them things you wrote about her. Your words make me proud to be her son.”

“You have every reason to be proud, Hoss. She loved you more than you can possibly know and was a wonderful woman.”

“I know. It sounds strange to say this out loud, but sometimes I can feel her here,” he’d indicated his heart. “She seems so real that it hurts to know it’s just a thought of her that’s touched me.”

“I know, son. I’ve felt her too. She was such a loving woman, that even death couldn’t take all of that love away.”

The memories Ben had just relived had blossomed and waned when he’d sat to do some work at his desk. That in turn had stirred his desire to reread the missing page of his journal. Little Joe was gone for the evening and his brothers had already gone up to their rooms and the quiet above indicated that they had likely settled into personal activities and wouldn’t be coming down again, ensuring Ben’s privacy.

Reaching inside the top drawer of his desk, he released a latch that in turn opened a hidden panel in a larger drawer below. Inside the false bottom was a metal box containing Ben’s most personal items: pictures of his wives and the boys, snips from their first haircuts and an assortment of drawings they’d made for him as children. Pushing under the accumulation, he retrieved an envelope containing the missing journal page, withdrew it and began to read:

If anyone should find this, they may think me insane, but I assure you that this happened just as I write it now.

We turned in last night after a harrowing day. The boys were restless, but had settled down enough that I could write a note marking the circumstances surrounding Inger’s death in my journal. After finishing those thoughts I laid down next to Adam to help soothe the child. I had no illusions of finding peace enough to actually sleep, yet knew that for the boys’ sakes I would need to appear to rest so they would follow suit.

It surprised me to wake after actually dozing off for a few minutes. The wagon had become silent inside and out—almost as if we had been bottled and separated from the noises of the prairie; there was no wind, nor sounds from any animals or night birds. It was a cold night, but the wagon was warm, almost radiant with warmth and I became aware of Hoss making noises in his cradle. He was always a happy baby and had slept through the night early on, and since he was too young to really know what had been lost that day, it surprised me to hear him awake.

I rose to my elbows, surprised to see Adam sitting up near the cradle watching his brother. There was just enough moonlight shining through the space at the rear of the wagon for me to see his face glowing with affection and smiling broadly, wide awake and alert.

My eyes were drawn again to Hoss who was cooing, smiling and reaching out as though holding someone’s hands. He seemed genuinely happy and content, as though engaging someone who might have stood looking down on him. My greatest fear was that if he saw Adam or heard me moving, he’d not fall back to sleep which would make for a ragged day to come, so I kept quiet and hoped Adam would do the same.

Neither of my sons seemed to notice that I was watching. I looked from one child to the other not knowing what to make of it.

After a few minutes I decided to ease Adam back to his pillow but as I reached toward him, he broke his gaze at Hoss just long enough to look at me and say, “Shhh Papa. Mama Inger is here to say goodbye.”

I was stunned by the remark and continued to watch. After a few more minutes, Hoss quieted and slowly drifted to sleep. Adam waited until Hoss was silent and then lay back beside me.

Once I heard Hoss’ steady breathing indicating that he was soundly asleep, I whispered to Adam, “What did you mean when you said Inger was here?”

He told me with solemnity, “Mama Inger came to me, kissed my cheek and spoke a blessing as she always does at my bedtime. She thanked me for taking such good care of Hoss and protecting him when she was hurt, and then she talked to Hoss, singing his favorite songs and rhymes while she held his hands. She stroked his cheek until he fell asleep and whispered that I should lay down then, and said she loved me and would miss Hoss and me but would always watch over us.”

I tried to reassure Adam that he had been dreaming but he insisted that he was wide awake and that Inger was still there next to Hoss, but that it was getting harder to see her because the light around her was dimming. A short time later Adam whispered, “She’s gone now, Papa.” There was no fear or sadness at that moment, and as he snuggled up to my chest, he murmured, “It was nice of Mama Inger to stop here on her way to heaven.”

Oddly enough, as Adam said she left, there was a gentle rustling of the wagon canvas as the breeze began to sneak through the flaps again and I was once again aware of the noises of the night. Adam soon dozed and I followed shortly after, not awaking until the early morning sunshine began to sift through the thinner fabric of the canvas.

Adam clearly remembers last night and is still awed by it rather than afraid. I imagine the memory will fade with time, but he is very sure that Inger was here. Maybe I was just caught up with Adam’s telling of it, but as I lay back with him, I’m quite sure that I felt a brush of softness against my lips and a touch upon my cheek. Adam says that I couldn’t see Inger because I am too old. Children have all the answers!

n closing, I can only say, Goodbye Inger, my love. The journey will be hard without you but I we will all make you proud and never forget your gifts.

***

Ben wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand, refolded the journal page and returned it to the drawer. Dimming the downstairs lamps, he headed to his room, noting that light still glowed beneath Adam’s door. After knocking lightly he was welcomed by Adam’s easy, “C’mon in.”

“Hi, Pa,” Adam sat forward on his chair: still dressed, but with his unbuttoned shirt hanging loose—barefoot and reading as usual. “What can I do for you?” he asked curiously.

“I was just wondering something. Perhaps it’s an odd question, but it came to my mind tonight.” Ben paused, not sure if he should press on.

Adam gave his father a wry smile and encouraged him, “What is it Pa? You planning on doing something you shouldn’t and want some company doing it?”

Ben grinned and finally asked the question that was on his mind. “Adam, do you remember much about the night after Inger died? I know you were just six at the time and that’s a lot of years ago. But I was just wondering…”

Adam put his book down and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. “You mean that I saw and spoke to Inger that night after her death?”

“Then you do remember,” signed Ben

Adam nodded thoughtfully. “Why do you ask?”

“Hoss and I went through my journal from back then while waiting for the mare last week, and it brought back the memory of that night as well.” He paused again, “What do you feel about that memory?”

“It was as real to me as sitting here talking to you is now. I’ve told Hoss about that night and he’ll never say anything to you because he thinks you don’t believe in such things, but I think you did and still do. Am I right?”

Ben shook his head in affirmation. “I don’t know what happened that night, but it seemed to ease you a lot and made it possible for you to go on with a full heart instead of one shattered by loss. Although I guess I find it hard to ‘believe’ that she was there.”

“I know, Pa. It’s one of those things I think I should doubt, especially now that I’m an adult: but I can’t. I honestly don’t think we have to believe it happened as much as just accept that it did. I don’t believe in ghosts lingering to haunt the world, but I saw Inger in some form that night and it did help me, and maybe it helped Hoss and you too. It’s one of those questions we’ll have to ask God when our time comes. Wonder how to do that… Maybe I’ll say, ‘Sir, by the way, did I see a spirit when I was six, or was it my imagination?’”

Both men chuckled.

“Pa?”

“Yes, Adam?”

“Have you talked to Hoss about that night?”

“No,” Ben sighed, “I guess I wasn’t sure what to say about it.”

“I think he’d like it very much if you would.”

Ben had been sitting on Adam’s bed and rose to leave. “Thanks, son, I will. Goodnight.”

“G’night Pa” Adam returned. “Pleasant dreams.”

Ben left Adam’s room wondering when his “boy” had grown into such an intelligent man. He descended the stairs, retrieved the folded paper and headed back up towards Hoss’ room. Listening at the door, he heard sounds of activity rather than the young man’s legendary snoring so knocked softly and entered.

Hoss was at his desk concentrating on a bit of intricate whittling for a small wooden horse. He looked up to see the soft look on Ben’s face. “Hey, Pa. Something wrong?”

“Not a thing.” He leaned on the edge of the desk, handing Hoss the folded sheet. “It’s just that there was a missing page in the journal we looked at the other day and I thought you might like to see it.”

Hoss opened it and began to read. A smile spread over his face as he once again felt the touch of his mother as she spent a moment with him before leaving. He nodded at his father and smiled. “Thanks Pa. This means a lot. Um…, would you mind if I kept this?”

“It’s yours Hoss. I wrote it for you, even though I didn’t realize it until tonight.” Ben brushed his cheek to Hoss’s head while giving his shoulder a squeeze and said goodnight. As he walked down the hall to his own room, Ben smiled, looked upward and said quietly, “I know, Inger, I’m proud of them too.”

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.