Summary: Ben discovers, twelve years after the fact, that he had hurt Little Joe and now must reconcile what happened that sad day to begin the healing process. Rating T, WC 4,980

It Will Be Me

If you hear a voice in the middle of the night saying it’ll be alright, it will be me.  If you feel a hand guiding you along, when the path seems wrong, it will be me.  There is no mountain that I can’t climb, for you, I’d swim through the rivers of time.  As you go your way and I go mine, a light will shine.  And it will be me.

(from the song “It Will Be me” written by Melissa Etheridge)

Ben Cartwright sighed wearily and, after standing there in front of the great fireplace for a good hour, finally sank down into his red leather chair.  He looked over at his sons Adam and Hoss and could tell that they were almost as frustrated as he was at the time.

“Dad burn it, Pa, it’s been like this every time for years now.  I wish Little Joe wouldn’t keep putting you through all of this.  He knows it’s hard enough on you,” Hoss announced as he cast a look over at his older brother, hoping he had an idea about what to do this time.

Adam shrugged his shoulders, noticing the hopeful stare that Hoss was sending his way.  He didn’t have the answer to the problem.  He’d never fully understood why his youngest brother always gave their father a pure fit each year when the anniversary of his mother’s death arrived.  “I don’t get it — never have, Pa.  Little Joe goes on up to his mother’s grave several times a year, but he fights you about going to pay his respects on the day that she passed away.  I can’t remember a time when you’ve not had to force him to join us.”

Ben locked his hands together and his brow furrowed.  “That boy and I had our usual row just before the two of you came home.  Then he took off – I imagine he’s probably out in the barn.”

“Yes, Sir – Adam and me heard him up in the loft when we put our horses away but he didn’t say anything when the two of us called up to him a little while ago.  You want me to fetch him for you?”

Ben gave a tired sigh and replied, “No, Son, you and your brother put in a full day and should get some sleep.  I expect all of us will be going to pay our respects around noon tomorrow.  Why don’t the two of you turn in?”

“You sure you don’t want some help, Pa?” Adam offered as he stood from his chair and shot Hoss a quick glance, wondering if they should take it upon themselves to bring their brother in forcefully if necessary.

“No – I can handle it,” Pa returned and shot a quick look over at the grandfather clock.  “If Joseph isn’t back inside in thirty minutes, I’ll go out there.  Go on ahead.”

“Goodnight, Pa,” Adam called as he turned for the staircase.

Hoss made his way over to his father and set down a big hand onto his arm.  “Sorry, Pa,” He whispered and then made his own way up the stairs.

Ben’s eyes followed his oldest boys up the stairs and then he stood once again.  It had been twelve years since he had laid his beloved wife Marie to rest, and it never got any easier to cope with the anniversary of her death.  He fought back the sad memories of watching her taking that fall from her horse just outside where he now stood, hands in pockets and head bowed looking into nothingness.  Ben had witnessed that blink of the  eye when for a fleeting second, she was almost to the front hitching post and then suddenly lay lifelessly there in the yard.  He had overturned the chair on the front porch where he had been sitting doing paperwork and awaiting his wife’s return from riding up to the newly built grist mill which Adam had helped to design.  Ben jumped down from his position and hurriedly approached Marie, hoping and praying with every stride that she had only received a bruise or two in the fall.  But as he had drawn closer to her still figure he felt in his heart that she was already gone.  With trembling hands, he had pulled the beautiful woman who had been so full of love and warmth into his arms.  He tenderly swept his right hand through her hair and called her name over and over again while pleading with God not to take her from him.  There had been no response, not from God or Marie.  He would never again hear her laughter or the way she would call him her “darling” in those tender moments that they had shared.  The sobs rattled in his chest as he called out to the love of his life.  Ben’s tears bathed the woman’s face as he carefully lifted her up into his arms.  His world had stopped at that moment.  Though he had been there as each of his other two wives had died; Adam’s mother Elizabeth right after childbirth and Hoss’ mother Inger after the arrow had stolen her away from him, the death of Marie was the final destruction done to his heart.

The grieved husband walked as if in a waking dream, or rather a nightmare, as he made his way into the ranch house.  He was not going to allow his last memory of Marie to end up being there in the dirt of the front yard.  Ben knew that he had to bring her up to the room which they had shared before he could even process in his mind what would need to be done next.  He hadn’t even remembered how he had gotten into the house or up the stairs.  The rest of the day was gone from his memory too, as if it had begun and ended after he had seen Marie’s fall.  Next came the vision of the day of her burying and how, soon afterwards, he had left the ranch for several weeks to grieve far away from the eyes of his three boys.  He had come home a week before Marie’s and his son, Joseph, had turned five.  Ben remembered that milestone and how he had to pretend to enjoy the festivities though all he wanted to do at the time was to join his wife.

Ben shook himself from his annual bout of melancholy and heartache when he heard Hop Sing’s approach coming from the dining room.  He turned towards the sound and watched as the man set down the tray holding the coffee pot and cups onto the table in front of the fireplace.

“Hop Sing?  I thought you’d turned in a while ago?” Ben asked, forcing a slight smile as he made his way over to the cook.

“Mister Carlight—Hop Sing need to talk please,” He responded with an anxious gaze directed at his employer and friend.  “Please to sit down?”

Ben looked puzzled by the other man’s request wondering just what he wanted at such a late hour.  He moved back to the chair which he had vacated a little while ago and sat down.  “Something on your mind?”

“Yes, please – Hop Sing sit, okay?” He questioned, knowing he could have just as easily sat down on the settee without an invitation but that just wasn’t his way of doing things.

“Yes, of course,” Ben nodded and cast a smile over to him.  “Have some coffee with me, Old Friend.  How about letting me pour for a change?”

Hop Sing smiled and it was like a northeastern sunrise, or so Ben remembered how one looked from his earlier seafaring days.  He allowed his boss to pour and was surprised that he had remembered that he took two teaspoons of sugar in his coffee.

“Thank you vely much, Mister Carlight,” Hop Sing nodded gratefully and took a quick sip of the brew before he dared to venture into what he wanted to tell Ben.

Having prepared his own cup, Ben stirred his coffee, never taking his eyes off the cook.  He wasn’t easily readable, or at least most of the time.  But there was a peculiar intensity to his ebony eyes as they reflected from the flames jutting atop the close by fire logs.

Ben leaned back and then began, “You wanted to speak to me – about what?”

“Mister Carlight – Hop Sing hear you and Little Joe – you yell he yell and he leave,” Hop Sing said sadly.

Ben nodded, “Yes, I’d say that was about it – I know we got pretty loud – I’m sorry if we upset you.”

Hop Sing looked down at the floor and his expression appeared rooted in remorse.  “All Hop Sing fault,” He admitted sadly.

“Your fault?” Ben asked confusion on his face.  “Now how in the world can it be your fault that Joseph and I had words?”

Shaking his head woefully Hop Sing replied, “Hop Sing keep truth – too long – keep truth from you.”

“I have no idea what truth you’re talking about.”

“Missy Carlight—Hop Sing love vely much, like I love all Carlights,” Hop Sing insisted.

“Yes, I’m well aware of how much you cared about Marie.  But what does this have to do with Joseph’s and my fight tonight?”

Hop Sing fought to get his thoughts together so he could better explain himself.  After a few minutes he tried to tell his story.

“Mister Carlight – day Missy Carlight pass to next world – you remember much?”

Ben sighed and shook his head, wishing that the man would just come to the point so he wouldn’t have to dredge up the past as he had done just a few moments ago, that had been painful enough for the evening.  “Yes, I remember – of course I remember.”

“Hop Sing remember too – but not think Mister Cartlight remember all that happen,” Hop Sing now turned his eyes directly onto the other man.  “You bring Missy Carlight into house – you remember?”

Ben simply nodded, unable to get the words out.

“Hop Sing wonder if you maybe forget Little Joe,” he said and peered into Ben’s brown eyes, almost willing the man to know what he was referring to so he wouldn’t have to tell him.

“Little Joe?  What does Joseph have to do with that dreadful day?”

Hop Sing nodded his head insistently, now that he was sure that his boss had no memory of the little boy who had been in the room at the time.  “Hop Sing think you too hurt to remember Little Joe – but Hop Sing see what happen – and maybe so you need remember?”

Ben tried not to get angry with his old friend, but he wasn’t following along with whatever the man was trying to relate.  “Please just tell me what you’re saying, Hop Sing.”

“Hop Sing come from kitchen that day— just to see you pass by little boy playing on floor.”

Ben’s face froze up in horror.  He had no recollection of his son having been anywhere around when he had carried the boy’s mother inside of the ranch house.  “Joseph – you’re saying that Joseph was in here when I brought his mother inside?” He posed his question in a whisper.

Hop Sing’s head bobbed up and down as he returned, “Little Joe – play with toys on floor when you come in – he grab onto Missy Carlight’s hand – he not know better.  You pushed boy back – he fall down — not your fault, Mister Carlight— but Hop Sing see,  Hop Sing go to boy—I take in kitchen.  Little Joe—he know something wrong with mama— he run out of kitchen to Papa’s room and bang on door before Hop Sing make up stairs.  He yell for his mama over over again.  You yell go away then Hop Sing bring boy down and keep in kitchen.  Little Joe – he vely sad – vely sad boy.”

Ben Cartwright didn’t think it was possible to hurt any more than he already did over the loss of his beloved Marie, but he was wrong.  Now that Hop Sing had informed him about what he had said to Little Joe and what he had done to the boy on that horrible day things were beginning to make more sense to him.  For twelve years he had to forcefully make Joseph go up to his mother’s grave on the date of her death.  He had never understood why his youngest would fight him over going up there since his son had no problem going to the grave at any other time of the year.

Standing shakily, Ben turned towards the fireplace, overwhelmed over the fact that he had no memory of his actions but apparently Joseph still did.

“Hop Sing fault,” the cook muttered sadly.

“No, it’s not your fault,” Ben countered quietly.

“Hop Sing know Mister Carlight vely sad on day Missy Carlight go to ancestors – not want make hurt more.  Hop Sing hope you can forgive,” His voice called out repentantly.

“Why did you wait this long to tell me?”

“Hop Sing think maybe years make sad go away for both Mister Carlight and Little Joe – but hear you yell loud—you both yell vely loud tonight.  Hop Sing worry – it time to tell you tonight.”

Ben crossed his arms over his chest and turned back to stare at the cook.  His eyes were glazed with unspent tears.  “I knocked Joseph down?  I yelled at him?”

“Not mean to do this – you vely hurt you vely sad – not know what do,” Hop Sing corrected adamantly.

Ben drew in a deep breath and sighed wearily.  He shook his head sadly, full of more remorse than his heart could hold.  “Joseph grabbed his mother’s hand—as I was getting ready to carry her up the stairs and I pushed him down.  He ran up to my room and called for his mother, and I yelled for him to go away.  That’s what you’re telling me happened?” Ben just had to get everything settled in his mind before addressing the issue with his son.

“That right,” Hop Sing nodded.

The two men turned when the front door opened, and Little Joe walked in quietly.  Ben shot Hop Sing an apprehensive gaze.

“Hop Sing, thank you again— for the coffee,” Ben said and nodded over to the other man.

The cook could tell that the bereaved man in front of him wanted to be alone with his son.

“Hop Sing go bed now,” He insisted quietly and padded off quickly into the kitchen and to his quarters.

*** Dear Lord, how do I do this?  How do I talk to my son?  How can I find the words? *** Ben wondered as he stared at the boy across the room who simply leaned against the credenza without making a sound.

Joe turned to go to the staircase when his father called out to him.

“Joseph?  Will you please come over here?”

Joe looked down at the floor and responded quietly, “I can’t take anymore tonight, Pa.  You’ve threatened me enough for one night – just wait until tomorrow, will you? Then you can start in on me again.”

“I’m not going to threaten you, Son – I just want to talk to you,” He returned softly.

Finally, glancing at his pa Joe noted the difference in his tone of voice.  “What’s this, Pa?  First the hard sell now the soft sell?   Either way we both know how this is gonna end.  You’re going to force me to go up there against my will – whether that’s by giving me a tanning or whatever—just like it’s been for the last twelve years.”

Ben crossed the living room to where his youngest now stood staring at him.  He wanted to reach for the boy, take him into his arms and tell him how sorry he was for not remembering what had happened all those years ago.

“Joseph, please – please just come over to the sofa and sit down.  I promise I won’t yell or threaten you,” Pa pleaded with his son.

Joe didn’t want to honor his father’s wishes but couldn’t help reading something just a little bit different in Pa’s eyes.  He almost looked as though he had been crying.  Joe acquiesced, walking across the room and settling down onto the settee.

Ben retook his seat in his chair and stared over at his son, fighting once again to find the right words to offer to him.

“Joseph – can you tell me why you never want to go to your Ma’s grave every year on the day that she passed?” He questioned quietly.

“Come on, Pa!  We go through this every darned year.  I told you that I go there when I feel like it, that’s it.  There isn’t a reason — it’s just the way I do it.  The three of you go every darned year and put flowers up there – and I go stand in the tree line.  And every single year you fuss at me and sometimes you punish me because of it.  So, why do we have to keep talking about it?  You know you’ll get your way this year just like all the others – until I’m old enough that you can’t force me anymore,” Joe called out defensively.

“Son, I’m not even talking about tomorrow.  If you don’t want to go, I won’t make you,” Ben returned, sincerity in his tone of voice.

Joe looked over at his father, stunned by what he had said.  “So, you’re not going to force me this year?” He asked in disbelief.

“No, I’m not going to force you.  But I need to talk to you – and listen to you – unlike I did earlier tonight.”

“What’s there to talk about, Pa?  I mean if you’re saying I don’t have to go up there tomorrow then what do we have to talk about now?”

Ben drew in a deep breath and forced himself to stand and move over to sit right next to his son.  It wasn’t going to do to just sit across from the boy, not this night anyway.

“We need to talk about your mother’s death, Joseph,” He whispered and placed his arm around his son’s shoulder.

Joe felt uneasy about what his father had said and over his presence on the settee there next to him. He never minded his pa’s show of affection; in fact, he had always welcomed it, but now it seemed to repel him.  Joe wanted to just move away from the man, and worst of all he had no clue as to why he felt that way.

“Pa, she died twelve years ago –what’s the point of talking about it now?” Joe whispered, his body stiffening due to the feel of his father’s arm around him.

“Do you remember the day that she died?”

Joe simply shrugged his shoulders but didn’t reply. He directed his eyes down to the floor.

“You were almost five at the time – you don’t remember anything?” Pa persisted.

“I turned five a month later,” Joe mumbled.

Ben nodded and stared down at his son.  He could tell that Joe was purposely avoiding his eyes.  “Yes – I went away for a few weeks – do you remember that?”

Joe nodded.

“So, you remember my leaving and returning?” Ben continued.

“Yes.”

“Then you must remember the day we lost your mother, Joseph,” Ben insisted.

“Okay – yes, I remember it.  I want to go to bed now,” Joe stood abruptly, his mind urging him to flee the continued questions being posed to him there in the living room.  It was becoming a matter of self-preservation now.

“No, Joseph!” Ben called to his son and grabbed him before the boy could escape to the stairs.  He pulled him back to him, locking his hands onto Joe’s arms.

“Let me go, Pa!” Joe shouted, struggling to free himself from his father’s strong hold.

“Joseph, settle down now.  What’s got you so upset?”

“Nothing!” Joe insisted vehemently, still attempting to pull himself free.

“It’s what you saw that day, isn’t it?” Ben asked, lowering his voice.

“Just let me go,” Joe pleaded with his father.

Ben shook his head sadly and released one hand from his son’s arms and pulled the boy’s chin up gently.  “You saw your mother – in my arms – isn’t that right?”

Joe closed his eyes tightly to block his father’s gaze, refusing to answer the question that he had posed.

“Come here,” Ben whispered and tugged his son’s arm directing him back to the settee.  “Sit down.”

Joe didn’t want to sit down he wanted to run up the stairs and end the whole terrible discussion, but he couldn’t, not with the way Pa had him held.  Reluctantly he took a seat on the sofa.

Keeping one hand tightly around his son’s arm, Ben sat down next to him again and continued.  “Joseph, until my conversation with Hop Sing just before you came back in here a little while ago, I had no idea that you had been here in the living room when I brought your mother inside the day that she fell.”

“Stop, Pa – please stop!” Joe begged, his voice full of desperation.  “I don’t want to think about it—I don’t want to talk about it.  Please!”

“I didn’t know you had reached for your mother, Joseph— and I don’t remember you calling for her at our bedroom door.  I don’t remember any of that.  But Hop Sing saw it all and heard it all,” Ben fought his tears as he tried to get all the details out so they could confront the horrible ordeal together to purge it from their hearts.

Joe finally tugged his arm from his father’s control and dropped his head down into his hands and wept both bitter and painful tears.

“You pushed me down—and you shouted for me to go away – to leave you and Mama alone,” Joe sobbed, his memories as fresh as they had been twelve years ago.  He hadn’t forgotten anything that had happened that day, though apparently Pa had no inkling by the way that he was acting.  Joe had lived with his father’s actions, and it was never as painful as it was on each anniversary of his mother’s death.

Ben couldn’t hide his tears any longer after hearing what his son had conveyed to him.  He pulled Joe into his arms and held onto him like he would vanish from his life if he were to ever let go.  The one tangible thing that his beloved wife had left him was held there in his embrace and the fact that he had hurt the boy so long ago and had never realized it was more than he could bear.   And to know that Joseph had held onto that secret for twelve years and had never brought it up to him, though he had gone through battles over visiting his mother’s grave on the date of her death, seemed excruciating.

“Of all the awful things I’ve ever done in my entire life hurting you like that – no matter the circumstance is something I’ll never forgive myself for doing.  Joseph – I didn’t know – I promise you I didn’t know,” Ben cried and prayed that his son could release his hurt over what had happened.

Joe didn’t make a sound or move an inch.  He could hear his father’s soft cries and wanted to understand what had happened and why Pa had acted the way that he had all those years ago.  He knew that his father had been swept up in grief, and that was part of it, but to turn on someone you love the way that he had, Joe didn’t understand.  He could forgive, but he couldn’t reconcile Pa’s actions that day in his mind or heart.

Ben eventually eased his son back some, though he never released his hold of his arms, afraid that the boy would bolt up the stairs and close him out forever.  “Joseph—when it’s my time to face God along with all of those who have died – if He points out who did the worst harm to someone that they loved – it will be me.”

Hearing his father’s remorseful words and feeling the hurt that he now bore, Joe couldn’t take it anymore.  He turned to stare into Pa’s clouded eyes and choked out, “No, no – Pa – don’t say that.  It hurt me – yeah—it hurt—but you didn’t do it on purpose.  I might not have understood that when I was four or five or maybe even just a little while ago.  I don’t know – but right now I know it — that you didn’t do it on purpose – and it’s not something I want you to feel sorry about.  You were trying to say your goodbyes to my mother — I just didn’t know she was gone—or I wouldn’t have acted like I did back then.”

“Then – then you will forgive me?” Pa asked, amazed by his son’s acceptance of what had happened between the two of them.

“I already have, Pa – I already have,” Joe whispered and held onto his father tightly.

*** Thank God. *** Ben thought to himself as he sat there holding his and Marie’s boy in his arms.

Ben stood at the graveside of his beloved wife Marie and looked across to where both Adam and Hoss stood, bouquets held in their hands waiting for the right time to place them up by the granite headstone.  As he recited the Twenty-third Psalm, Ben lifted his head to stare over at his two sons. Each one had loved Marie as though she had been their very own mother.  Ben nodded to Adam and Hoss, and they placed the flowers down at her headstone and then stood back up.  He had glanced around the area surrounding the gravesite in the hopes that Little Joe might just show up, but that hadn’t happened.  But Ben had told his youngest that he wouldn’t put any pressure on him to join them and had kept his word.

Hoss and Adam stood at either side of their father and draped an arm around him in a show of support.  They knew it was always a painful day, and this one had been done without any appearance from their youngest brother.  Both men knew that it was hard for their father to think of Joe not showing up especially with the rest of the family in attendance.

“Pa?  You want us to stick around a while?” Hoss asked quietly.  Usually, Pa liked to stand alone for a bit after his sons had left just to spend some private time thinking about the life he had shared with the beautiful woman who they all had loved.

Ben looked up, trying to hold back any tears until he was all alone with his memories.  “No, you two go on home.  I won’t be long.  Thank you for the flowers – your Ma would’ve liked them very much,” He answered and patted each of his sons on the back.

Once his sons had left, Ben knelt at the grave and faced Marie’s headstone.

*** Marie, my love, another year without you with me.  And yet – you are with me – in so many ways.  Not the least of which is that boy of ours.  Hard to believe in another month Joseph will be seventeen.  He sure favors you, Darling, in so many ways *** Ben spoke internally to the woman he had loved so much.

“Here, Pa — add these will you?” Joe asked as he walked up from behind where his father was kneeling.

Surprised by his son’s voice, Ben spun around and looked up at Joseph standing there with wildflowers in his left hand.   A smile filtered down onto his lips as he looked at his youngest.

“They’re beautiful, Son,” Ben nodded and placed them alongside the flowers from Adam and Hoss.  He stood and stared down at his boy.  “I’m glad you came, Joseph.”

“I’ll come every year from here on out, Pa,” Joe promised looking up into his father’s eyes.

Ben sighed, still having so much regret over what he had learned the previous night.  It still ate at his insides though Joseph had insisted that all was forgiven.

Joe read the look there in his father’s eyes and knew that Pa already had enough to be sad about with it being the anniversary of his mother’s death.  He didn’t need any more pain.  Joe fought to figure out what he could do or say.  Finally, he had the words that might heal his pa. He felt them coming from somewhere deep inside, so he would say them.

“Pa?”

“Yes, Son?”

Joe looked down for just a minute at his mother’s headstone and then he turned and looked pensively into his father’s eyes.  Settling his left hand onto Pa’s shoulder he smiled and said, “When it’s my turn to stand before God along with all of those who have died, if He decides to point out who had the best pa in the world – well – it will be me.”

Ben shook his head, so amazed by the love and forgiveness that his son possessed that it took his breath away.  He pulled Joseph into his arms and held him as he looked over at Marie’s headstone.  *** Thank you for our son, Marie *** He thought and then, taking a deep breath, he turned from the grave with his arm wrapped around his son’s shoulder.

Both father and son walked back down the well-worn path, making their way to the horses.  From that day forward Pa and Little Joe would honor each anniversary of Marie Cartwright’s death there at the graveside together.

The End

Written by: Wrangler

7-20-26      ***To the new reader who wrote me a week ago — I’m very sorry you had asked the name of one of my series, and I gave you the wrong one in error. Since I didn’t save your email Information, I hope you will see this.  It wasn’t the “Every Purpose Under Heaven” series, your description was for the one called “Stay in the Darkness” series from last year. My apologies. ***

(Dedicated to Rob the story consultant and to someone else very special to my heart.  As this story is about how a parent can learn from a child, even a young adult or even older, I have to tell my daughter Julie how much I’ve learned from her.  It’s hard being the first born, and she had to deal with a lot of my ups and downs trying to do my best as a single parent.  It’s only now in looking back that, just like Pa in this story, I worry that maybe I didn’t do as well as I could have, especially emotionally, in her younger years.  We all try to do our best, but there’s always room for improvement.  I hope she knows how loved she was and is.  Maybe someday she will see this and know, but I believe she already does.  Like Little Joe in this story, she’s a wonderful and very forgiving soul. I have been blessed to have her as a daughter.