Summary:  A look into the last few moments of Hoss Cartwright’s life. My tribute to both the character and the actor that played him.  Rated: K+ (1,170 words)

One Last Goodbye

“You never think about dying when you brush up against death. You’re too busy really; your will to live is screaming and railing and carrying on, refusing to even let death know he crossed your mind. Like when a fella has you backed up against a wall or cornered under a wagon or in a shootout. Happened to me a couple of times over the years, and let me tell you, death is the last thing on your mind. Your only thoughts are of where the next shot is coming from and how to send off one of your own to stop it. Everything is bigger – the sweat and dust smell just as strong as the horse droppings you’re kneeling in, and your heart is just as loud as the gunshots you’re firing. Everything’s bigger, everything’s louder, and everything’s a lot closer. Except death. Somehow when you’re kneeling in his shadow is when death is the smallest. And you don’t even think about him.

“The people who think the most about death are the ones that wouldn’t recognize him if he walked right up and punched ‘em in the face. Even out here there are a few people like that. Didn’t used to be that way. Used to be everyone, young men, women, kids so small you could step on ‘em, everyone knew what death looked like. Everyone had been under that shadow and could look back and say, ‘Yessir, that was a mighty close one’. Not now though. Now we got folks coming in from all over, and not everyone can think back to a time when their luck almost ran out. It’s those folks that worry the most, about plagues, outlaws, Indians, fires, floods, and everything in between. Seems to me the more time you spend thinking about death, the less time you spend being alive. And it’s a shame really because when you do hit death square on, all you really want is more time.

“I’m still not quite sure how it happened. Like I said, I’d had my brushes, times when I thought I was about to kick it. And there were times when looking back I wondered how I’d ever survived. I always thought God kept me around for some reason or another. I may not be perfect, but there’s so many rotten folk around that I guess the world can’t afford to lose too many decent ones. And once you squeak by a few times when you shoulda gone under, well, I guess it kind of gets to be a habit. So when it came right down to it, it took a little convincing before I realized that this was it. And then, like I said, all I wanted was more time. Because dying by inches takes longer than a stray bullet in a shootout, and you have time to think. Not a lot, a handful of seconds maybe, but they’re worth more than a handful of gold. More than a million handfuls. Time is suddenly fast and slow at the same time. Those seconds felt like a lifetime. My mind had stopped fighting, the fire burning in my lungs, desperate for air, had been extinguished as water rushed into them, and instead of feeling like I was being rushed and dragged, I felt like I was almost floating. Suddenly I wasn’t afraid, and instead of trying to hold onto those seconds, I let them go, one at a time. And then they seemed to take forever.

One: Stop fighting; it ain’t helping. Sometimes you come up short. Maybe your fingers are still trying to pull yourself up out of the water, but your mind knows when it’s over. Don’t Adam always say the mind is stronger than the body? Too bad he won’t get to say I told you so.

Two: Too bad none of them will get to say anything. No goodbyes, nothin’. Wouldn’ve liked to say goodbye. Well, I’ll say it from here, and maybe they’ll get the jist when they find me. Shouldn’t take too long; I was coming straight back with the mail.

Three: Dangflabbit, the mail’s in my pocket. Should’ve taken it out before jumping into the river. Have to remember that for next time.

Four: Oh yeah, there won’t be a next time. And funny thing, I’m alright with that.

“You might think it’s crazy, but once you’ve realized it’s over and stop fighting, it’s like falling asleep after a hard day’s work. Sure, there are things you could still be doing, getting married, fishing with your little brother, talking about plain old, every day things with your Pa, but you can’t go on forever. No one can. And this seemed as good a time as any to let go and make room for someone else on this earth. Maybe somebody better lookin’ or smarter.

“So I know you’re tore up about this, but I just wanted to let you know that I ain’t. And maybe someday you’ll see that, Pa.” Hoss looked from his father, who looked older than Hoss had ever seen him, to his little brother, sitting on the ground by the fresh mound of dirt. Joe had always knelt by his mother’s grave, but maybe he felt that Hoss didn’t need such reverence. Hoss hoped so. No point in cramping up your knees just to have a talk with your big brother.

“Bet anything you wrote to Adam, and bet anything else he’s on his way now.” Hoss murmured. That was good; if his dying had brought the rest of the family together, it was worth it. But now he had to go; he couldn’t stay forever, as much as part of him would have liked to despite his words. He could hear his mothers, both the one he hadn’t known and the one he had, and both were calling him onward. Hoss took one more look around at the place and the people that had sheltered and nurtured him all his life. If he’d been breathing he would have breathed it in, the scent of pine and soil, and pure, clean air, and his eyes took in the sight of the lake, dancing blue with sparkling waves in the sunlight, almost like it was winking up at the endless stretch of sky. Pa had once said that the Ponderosa was as close to heaven as a person could get. Well, he’d find out. Hoss took one last look and then turned away. Ben Cartwright, standing over the grave of his son, thought he felt a shimmer of wind, and then it was gone.

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