Summary:  The brothers perspective of the Season 4 episode.

Rated: K – Word Count: 7340

                                                 My Brother’s Keeper

Joe ~

I couldn’t remember the bullet hitting me. Maybe it was because of who pulled the trigger that I can’t recall. I knew Adam didn’t mean to. It was an accident, I know it was. But the outcome was the same.

We had gone wolf hunting up by Montpelier Gorge, just Adam and me. We were both trying our best to get along with one another even though I was not doing my best all the time. I wanted that wolf in the worst sort of way and each time Adam wanted me to be patient and go slower, my hackles rose a little higher. Sure I was eager! That wolf had cost us a lot of cattle and I was determined that it wasn’t going to cost us any more. Maybe that’s what really pulled the trigger: my impatience.

At any rate, I’d heard the howl of that damn cattle thief and he had gone up into the rocks where Cochise couldn’t go. I didn’t think twice, just off my horse and chase that wolf. I had just skirted a big boulder, knowing I was hot on the wolf’s trail because I could smell him, he was that close. Just as I saw how the rocks petered out into a flat opening, I felt something hit me and I fell with the impact, stunned. I couldn’t think and instinct raised my arm when the wolf turned on me. I could smell his stinking breath hot on my face, making me nearly gag. I was scared. I’ll admit it, because my left arm seemed to be going numb and that damn wolf had it in his teeth, biting down hard.

Then suddenly over my head, I saw Adam, his rifle raised like a club. The gun caught the wolf hard just once, but then I heard Adam firing. I wanted to jump up and get a good look at the beast but my whole left side seemed numb. Worse yet, Adam was kneeling down beside me, saying something about how he hadn’t seen me; that he was sorry but I couldn’t understand at first what he meant. I was still so focused on the wolf and how Adam had shot him that it took a while for the realization to burn into me. I had been shot, the bullet striking me high on my chest on the left side. I could see Adam’s face when he opened up my shirt and pulled it aside to look at the wound. Guess he must have thought it looked pretty bad because he lost a little color and I could feel his hands were shaking some. He dug out his bandana and wadded it up to press against the hole he found. That was when it began to really hit me, the pain, the burning. I almost cried out but I didn’t because Adam was moving me and it hurt so bad I passed out.

I came to slowly. Funny how that happens. At first you can’t figure out what’s happening but if you concentrate, and I did, it comes to you. I was up on Sport with Adam behind me, his arms locked around me, holding me in place. I was cold, so cold I couldn’t really think straight even though I was wearing Adam’s coat. But it didn’t matter because I hurt so bad, I felt like crying. Maybe I did, I don’t remember but I do know that when night fell, we weren’t anywhere close to home and that’s where I wanted to be. Adam wanted to be home too! He said so as he helped me stretch out on his blanket. He built a fire close by and made me drink some from his canteen. I could have cared less about drinking anything but that water did taste right good going down. Seemed like I was thirsty but I didn’t have it in me to drink. That’s when it dawned on me that I was running a fever and, by the way Adam was acting, a good one too. My whole body was cold then hot; it felt stiff for a while then it went real loose. I remember making a suggestion to Adam that he ride on for help but the Yankee granite head wouldn’t leave me. Makes us even because, if the tables were turned, you couldn’t have gotten me to leave him either. Not for all the tea in China.

We passed the night that way. Adam kept the fire stoked up good and he had me wrapped in his coat and blanket. I finally fell asleep pushed up against him. Didn’t want to tell him it was more for his warmth than for any other reason. Like feeling secure and maybe not to be afraid. I recalled when I was a little kid and Pa would be away on business or the like and how afraid I’d get that he wasn’t coming back. I never had to say anything about it to Adam; he just knew I was fearful. He’d had the same fears, I guess, what with having lost two mothers. Yes, Adam knew what was going through a little boy’s thoughts and it was on those cold nights that he would raise up his bedcovers and welcome me in beside him. He would lay there with me pulled up tight to his chest, telling me that everything was going to be okay. And you know what? I believed him. That night there beside that stream, he told me the same thing and I believed him then too.

When the sun came up the next morning, I can’t say I knew what was going on a lot of the time. It seemed that one minute I was on the ground, shivering and the next, I was in the saddle, still wrapped in Adam’s coat and sweating. I wanted to tell Adam to just go on but my head was pounding so hard I couldn’t hear myself think. The rest of me felt like I didn’t have a solid bone to me. I had to lean against Adam to be able to stay in the saddle.

Don’t know how long we rode like that but I had come to a little when I heard Adam shouting. He was at one end of a long tunnel and I was at the other but somehow, he was pulling me down from the saddle. Adam was talking to someone else, telling them what happened and trying to make me walk but my legs were rubbery and I had trouble making them work. When he went to lift me up, I couldn’t help myself it hurt so bad and I cried out. There was a woman’s voice I heard and a man’s too but I couldn’t make sense of what they were saying so I just let it go. The one thing I did know was that Adam sounded like he was giving orders to them while he held me.

I drifted along for a good little while, not really caring anything about anything. My body hurt, Oh God, did it hurt! I could feel Adam touching me, holding me as we moved. I kept hearing him talk to me but I couldn’t figure how to answer him so he would hear me. One thing kept running through my thoughts: Adam felt powerful guilty about what had happened. I wanted to tell him that I knew it was just an accident and that he hadn’t shot me on purpose but I couldn’t make myself heard. Or maybe I was moaning too much for him to understand what I was saying the rest of the time. Either way it was, I could feel Adam’s guilt.

When we pulled into the yard there at home, I was pretty much out of it and I knew it at the time. Hoss was there, calling to me soft-like and trying to get a hold of me without hurting me but he should’ve just reached up and hauled me down like a sack of potatoes. I was beyond caring how or why or when. Got to admit though, with both of my brothers on either side of me, helping me into the house then into bed, I felt a little better. Once again, I could hear Adam passing out orders like he did when Pa wasn’t around to remind him who was the headman at home. There was that woman’s voice and I wanted to turn from the sound, it was so whining but I couldn’t.

Adam was running his hand over my forehead. Any other time and I might have teased him for acting like Pa. But I couldn’t because even with my tunnel vision, I could see how upset he was. Vaguely, I heard him say that he was going to have to take the bullet out. He smiled at me. Gave me that one-sided little quirky smile of his. You know the one. It says a lot that big brother can’t put into words. I knew what that smile said right then: he didn’t want to do it but he had to. He gave me something to bite down on and I did, turning my head so I couldn’t see. It wasn’t that I could have seen what he was doing to me. No, I didn’t want to see the look on his face. I can’t imagine anything any harder to do than to take a knife and purposely cut on someone you love.

Adam~

The only reason I even tried was to save his life. Joe was bleeding; his temperature was steadily rising. I knew I couldn’t wait for Hoss to come back with Doc Hickman. When the Reardons asked if they could help, my first impulse was to tell them to leave. I didn’t want an audience for what I had to do. But I also knew I couldn’t do it alone, if only because my hands were shaking so badly. I was afraid that if I cut too deep…..

The girl, barely a woman, went into the kitchen and dug through Hop Sing’s knives, looking for what I might need. Mr. Reardon stayed and helped me get Joe properly into bed and some of the minor wounds cleaned. When Sheila brought me the tray of knives, my stomach heaved at the thought of what I had to do. But I also had it figured that if I waited too much longer, it would be too long.

There was nothing to give him for the pain other than a wad of bandages to bite down on. That is mighty poor anesthesia but Joe just kept looking at me with that damnable trust in his eyes! That was what finally turned the stone around for me: the trust he had in me. Even when I picked up that first knife and began to slice through his flesh, probing for the bullet – my bullet – I could feel his eyes on me. He arched back a few times but other than that, he stayed still beneath my bloody hands. He couldn’t help but moan when I began to go deeper and deeper, changing to a pair of tongs, searching, searching. Just about when I thought I couldn’t go any further, I felt metal against metal. Using steadily increasing force, I finally got the bullet out. I wanted to throw it aside and run outside and hide. By then, Joe, thankfully, had lost consciousness or he would have seen the utter fear on my face.

It had surprised me when I realized that Mr. Reardon had picked up the lamp and held it so I could see better. I am sure he thought his words were encouraging but, in truth, I barely heard them. I was intent on saving my brother’s life and nothing else mattered.

With the bullet out, the wound began to bleed in earnest. Taking the bandages Sheila had torn, I packed Joe’s shoulder and wrapped it tightly. That was all I needed: let Pa come home and find that I had not only shot my brother, but butchered him so badly trying to remove the bullet that he bled to death.

Once we had Joe bandaged and settled, I felt his forehead. The fever was still there. I rubbed my eyes; they felt hot and grainy as well. They should have since I hadn’t slept proper in what felt like a week but in reality was only a little less than two days. I had to get some sleep or I would be no use to anyone, Joe especially. But first I had to remove from sight all evidence of the surgery, if only for my own peace of mind.

I had carried the tray and its blood-covered paraphernalia downstairs and just left it in the kitchen. Hop Sing, if he had been there, would have been throwing a fit at how his kitchen looked. But if Hop Sing had been there instead of out with the hands on the round-up, the coffee Sheila offered me would have been his, not her barely passable rendition. Weary, I sank down onto the hearth and talked with them, telling them about Hop Sing, the ranch and faintly praising Sheila’s cooking ability. She said she had some sandwiches made and I didn’t have the heart to tell her I didn’t want anything to eat but she disappeared, leaving Mr. Reardon and me alone. Out loud, I wondered where Hoss was with the doctor and Mr. Reardon couldn’t let the opportunity pass. He blurted out something about them being there shortly. I shook my head. Why didn’t the man just shut up? For God’s sake, that was my brother upstairs that I had shot and here he was just mouthing off. I held my peace but Reardon must have sensed something was wrong. I could tell just by the look on his face, his mouth opening and closing, he was searching for some cliché. I wasn’t willing to listen but yet something drove me and I confessed to the little man that although I had tried to curb Joe’s enthusiasm, it had infected me as well. I wanted that wolf killed just as bad as Joe had and I used about the same amount of commonsense as well. Mr. Reardon found his platitude when he commented that a man can only do what he thinks is right at the time but I certainly wasn’t convinced. In fact, I knew better. Sheila came back from the kitchen, offering me one of her sandwiches but I knew I couldn’t eat a bite and excused myself, saying that I needed to be with Joe. Sheila protested but I couldn’t be swayed. I had had enough of Mr. Reardon and his daughter. I was raised to be mannerly, but they were stretching an already taut line.

I was on my way back upstairs when a thought snagged me and turning back to the Reardons, I apologized for my rudeness. I tried to thank them for their assistance but they brushed it off. They told me they were simply touring the West and they would be moving along. Considering what they had done, I offered them a place to stay, at least for the night. Then I excused myself again and went back up the stairs. It never occurred to me to say anything else to them; I was so wrapped up in the thoughts of my brother dying.

I had checked Joe’s bandages and while he slept, I noted how flushed his cheeks were. With an inward growl, I again wondered what was keeping Hoss and the doctor. He had been gone long enough to get to Virginia City and back twice over. I drew a deep breath to calm myself down some. Hoss wouldn’t have dawdled. Not with Joe’s life at stake.

The tap at the open doorway behind me drew me back from my mental castigation. It was Sheila and she extended to me a cup of coffee. Just looking at her I could see she was afraid but I couldn’t figure out why, and didn’t want to know in actuality. More to be pleasant and an acceptable host, I asked why she had come West with her father. What she told me made me sorry I had felt so callous towards her. She’d read about the beauty of the land I called home and for a moment, I saw it through her eyes, fresh and invigorating to her father’s failing health. In the next moment, I remembered it for what it was: a land that had to be bought and paid for sometimes by blood. The thought of blood made me wince, seeing my brother’s blood again on my hands and knowing I was responsible for it being there.

A noise from the yard brought me out of my self-induced misery. It had to be Hoss and the doctor but tearing down the steps, with Sheila hot on my heels, didn’t make it true. When the door opened, it was only Hoss who bulled his way through it. He’d gone into town but found that Doc Hickman wasn’t there. He had ridden on to the Fleming Ranch on the far side of the county just to leave word that the doctor was needed here more urgently. He also told me that he had wired Pa and let him know what had happened.

Acid rose in the back of my throat as I listened to him. The doctor wasn’t here and there was no way of knowing when he would show up. Moreover, Pa would be tearing back home. Sheila, in her petulant voice, exclaimed how barbarous she thought the concept was that there wasn’t another physician around. I couldn’t help myself and I lashed out, reminding her of all the beautiful sunsets she’d read about but ground into her the fact that Doc Hickman was the only doctor around for a hundred miles. Sickened not only that I had turned on the innocent woman but also that the only hope for Joe right then was standing in that room, I had to get out. It seemed to me that all I could smell was fear. My own.

With the night closing in on me, I sat on the corner of the porch. Beyond the far mountains, I saw the sun setting. Any other time I would have chuckled at the irony. Here Sheila had been the one talking to me of the scenery and she was the one in the house while I watched the sun going down. I was about ready to go back into the house when I heard the door open and close behind me.

It was Mr. Reardon. He tried to console me but his words were out of place for what I felt right then. His quote of Thoreau, at first I thought, was so off the mark that I found it ludicrous. How the “mass of men lead lives of quite desperation” didn’t seem to me to be right. I knew Thoreau had written of slavery with those words. Did they fit the here and now? Mr. Reardon tried to tell me that I was not alone in my misery. How wrong he was, for at that moment, I felt like the only man held by my brother’s desperation, enslaved by circumstances of my own making. But with exhaustion creeping in on me yet again, I left the man standing in his own philosophy.

Hoss had told me he would sit with Joe and I’d thanked him, letting him know I was going to try and sleep some. I knew he would get me when the doctor showed up. But I found I couldn’t sleep. Instead, he found me an hour later downstairs reading. I had picked up Thoreau and had read more of his essay, searching for some comparison between my life and of what he wrote. He had written of truth becoming compromises and resigning oneself when desperation became overpowering. Is that what I had allowed to happen to my life? Had I compromised, coming back to the Ponderosa after I had tasted the grander world? And now, with the feelings of hopelessness and despondency weighing heavy, was I about to resign to my fate? I saw the lack of understanding on Hoss’ face when I quoted the lines of Thoreau. He understood, however, when I told him that my world of books and education seemed a waste now. He tried to console me, especially when I told him when this was over, I was leaving. To Hoss, yes, it was a sour pill for him to swallow, hearing that I wanted no part of the home, the world, he lived in. Our lives had not always been so different but he and I were coming to the understanding that night that they were.

He tried to send me off to bed with the placating remark that Joe held no blame against me. I would have accepted it but we heard a buggy pull up outside. At one and the same moment I hoped that it was Doc Hickman and Pa. Doc Hickman would make Joe all better and Pa…I could turn over all my worry and fears to him.

It was only Doc Hickman but both Hoss and I welcomed him, eagerly sending him up the steps with us following close behind him.

Sheila stood back from the bedside to let Doc there. I was surprised by how little time he took to examine Joe. He murmured something when he looked at the results of my butchery then felt Joe’s forehead. I thought how needless that was since just by looking at the boy, you could see he was feverish. When Doc rummaged around in his bag and came up with an empty medicine bottle, I wanted to shout out my frustration. Hoss would make the long ride back into town for the medicine and he took the slip of paper Doc had written on and disappeared. As for caring for Joe, all Doc could tell us to do was to keep cold compresses on him but I wanted more. I demanded to know what Joe’s chances were. When the doctor simply said that he was hoping for Joe’s constitution and the medicine to pull him through, I wanted to throttle the man. I nearly did when he said he was leaving to tend to Maggie Fleming. I didn’t care about Maggie having a baby, even if it was a breech birth. She’d already had half a dozen brats. There was only one Little Joe and it hurt me to watch him moan and weakly writhe. But I held my tongue, biting down on the inside of my cheek to stop recriminating words from escaping. I did nothing about the fists I clenched at my side.

Poor Sheila. She didn’t understand what was happening but I did. I couldn’t stop my venom, in my frustration and sense of hopelessness, from lashing out at her, whipping her with the idea that we still had glorious sunsets even though there was no medicine and the doctor was leaving. I wanted to shake her and make her realize that what the doctor had told me was that Maggie Fleming had a better chance of surviving than Joe did. And that I was solely responsible for his condition.

It was upon hearing the doctor ride away that my tired brain brought back to me the Biblical story of how Cain slew Abel. Cain’s protest of innocence before God wouldn’t have been mine that day. I knew in the depths of my heart that I was my brother’s keeper. Was he mine? Or was he the one who enslaved me, making me stay here when another world, another way of life, was out there, beckoning? Even in my exhausted state of mind, I knew I was the one to blame for staying even though the chains of brotherly love that bound me there that night were just as heavy as those of slavery.

I sat down beside Joe and, through the long night, kept watch. It was the least I could do.

When it became morning, I had no idea. I know I hadn’t slept. All night, I had kept trying to cool Joe’s fever with the compresses Doc Hickman had prescribed. At one point, I thought of Hoss and wondered where he was with the medicine but in my own foggy state, the thought just came and went. Mr. Reardon helped me and we changed the bandage on Joe’s shoulder but Joe was too lost in pain and delirium to know I was trying to help him.

It was only the sound of horses in the yard that made me leave Joe. I was sure that it was Hoss and Doc returning but one look at the three men made me wish I’d stopped and gotten my gun from the credenza. They were a dirty lot that I took at once to be drifters but they trailed Cochise, still saddled and still with Joe’s green jacket tied over his bedroll. When I stepped up to the pinto, the horse put his nose into my hand. Just like his master, he seemed to trust me even though I had none for myself.

The headman, he said his name was Dowd, told me he was from up to Montpelier Gorge and how some wild shooting had set his horses and cattle into a stampede. He had caught Cochise and when he and his compatriots had seen the same brand on another horse, figured he had found out who was responsible for their loss. They had met Hoss in Virginia City at the apothecary’s shop. He gave me the message that Hoss had given him in town. He was on his way to Genoa for Joe’s medicine. A part of me groaned, knowing that it might still be hours before he got home with it. I thanked the man for bringing the horse and the message but he still sat there.

I saw it coming, even before my brain registered it, I saw it then Dowd said it. He wanted three thousand dollars to cover the damages done. I tried to argue but I couldn’t keep my thoughts in a logical pattern so I ended by telling him that he had about ten seconds to get off the place. Dowd became threatening but I stood my ground, all the while keeping Cochise between his gun and myself. Finally, Dowd pulled back, telling me he would get his money or else. I stayed where I was until the three of them rode out.

When Mr. Reardon started putting in his two cents, I couldn’t stand it. Exasperated and exhausted, I shot back, giving him to understand that I didn’t care for him always trying to have a word. I wounded the man but I was beyond caring. Tugging Cochise over to the hitching rail, I tied him, promising myself that once I had some coffee, I would tend to the tired animal.

But the Reardons weren’t done with me that morning. Sheila had remained when her father left. How did I stand it, she asked me and I had no answer for her other than to put to her that I thought she liked it out here in these wide-open spaces. That was when she told me about a hanging she had witnessed outside of Denver. A man had been hung for stealing four cows. I wanted to hit her, to make her understand that this was a place no timid person like her should be. This was a world of animals, where the one who stayed alive sometimes was the one who was the most vicious. But I didn’t. I was too tired to teach her the truth. Instead I put my arm around her shoulders and walked her back into the safety of the house when she told me she had only come West because of her father’s health. Funny, I had come back home because of family too. We had more in common than I had thought.

I went upstairs to check on Joe. Some of my worry over Hoss’ whereabouts must have been telegraphed to Mr. Reardon. He made another stupid comment, this one about medicine and God being two staunch allies that I passed off as him always having the ready-made words, the false compassion I had seen too many times in my life. My attitude wasn’t helped when Joe sensed I was there. With one hand reaching for me, he began to twist and turn on the bed, his body trying to get away from the wolf’s teeth again, and at the same time telling me he was shot. I held him down, feeling the heat rising from his body as I did. His hand reached for me, grabbing my arm, the fingers like talons digging into me. I never tried to pull that hand away. The punishment it gave was a far cry from what I felt I deserved. But his body gave up and Joe lapsed back into unconsciousness too quickly to dole out all I felt I’d earned. I would’ve liked to have told Reardon what I thought about his two staunch allies since there was still no medicine to bring relief to my brother and I figured God was too busy elsewhere to help. Thankfully, Reardon was gone from the room.

Hoss ~

I was of a mind to do some fair cussing. Those men, the ones from Vince’s shop in Virginia City, they were waiting for me as I rode into that clearing. I had pushed my pony until he was near about done in and I wasn’t too far behind him in that respect. One thing and one thing only had kept me in the saddle: I had to get the medicine that might save my brother’s life.

But first I had to get it to him and these fellas were stopping me. The one called Dowd demanded that I dismount and give up my gun. That made me realize that they weren’t taking ‘no’ for an answer and that all my pleading otherwise wasn’t gonna have any effect on them. I did what they asked.

Dowd slipped behind me and got his hands on the bottle of medicine I had rode so hard for. It was my turn to demand things now and I let them know that I didn’t take kindly to what they were doing. I lunged for the bottle but the one behind me must have hit me on the head because I was down on the ground and Dowd was talking nonsense about the price of medicine going up in Nevada.

I come to, my head aching something fierce. A quick check showed me that Dowd and his cronies had left and taken the bottle with them. My first instinct was to get mad but I had to stay on an even keel. There was only one place they would take that bottle and I wanted to be there first. They would hold that medicine ransom until they got what they thought they had coming to them. Well, I, for one, would be all too happy to make sure of that happening. I crawled up on Chubb and headed him for home as fast as that old pony could take me. This time, though, I was using the backroads and side paths and not caring about whether the horse was tired. I just had to get to the house before Dowd did.

The house was a blaze with light when I pulled up in the yard. There were no extra horses around so I knew I had beat Dowd and his men but I didn’t know by how much. I ran to the house after hiding Chubb in the barn

That Mr. Reardon and his daughter met me at the door and Adam was right there too. I told them what had happened. When Adam asked me if I was hurt, I had to pass it off. I sat down in the chair over by Pa’s study and half listened to Adam talking to the man and the girl. He was mighty hard on them, words about sunsets and such nonsense made harsh by the sarcastic tone he took. I warned him to ease up but he didn’t. Instead he called things like he saw them: ugly and mean. Again, he made the statement that he was leaving but that he had something he had to do first. He headed for the rifles. I wasn’t about to be left out and I told Adam I was going with him.

Sheila tried to stop him but her father was a wiser person, telling her we had to do it. I didn’t much care either way about what he was telling her. It felt good to have that rifle in my hands but it felt even better to see Adam come to his senses. He had a plan, a purpose and was stepping away from the guilt and sorry-feelings he’d had. I knew it because I could see it in his face. He was mighty tired and so was I, but having that purpose in front of us now made it all disappear.

We were headed out when a rock came flying through the window and I could hear Dowd shouting, saying he wanted his money and right then. When I asked Mr. Reardon if he could handle a rifle, he pitched in and, hunkering down behind Pa’s place at the table, began firing like the rest of us. I could hear bullets hitting the house and knocking out the window in the study, I gave them fellas a few to think about. Adam scooted around to where I was in the study. He had let loose a couple of shots into the dark, just like me. Dowd challenged us when he asked if our brother’s life was worth the three thousand dollars he wanted. I looked to Adam and asked him why we didn’t just give Dowd the money and make him go away. It was then that Adam said we didn’t have that much in the house but we would never convince them of that fact. Then he told me he was heading out the side door.

I kept up a steady barrage of bullets. Overhead, I heard when one of them went onto the roof and figured they were going to go in through Joe’s window. I didn’t know which way to turn, nor what to do so I just kept firing at anything that moved out in the night. Luckily, Adam must have seen the man on the roof because it wasn’t long before I heard something hit the roof and roll off.

As quick as it started, it was over and Adam was shoving his man into the house at gunpoint, saying something about splintering the man’s backbone if he didn’t do what he was told. Seeing that it wasn’t Dowd, I demanded to know where the medicine was for Joe. If he hadn’t answered me, I was ready to do some backbone splintering myself but I wasn’t gonna use a bullet to it. The man said that Dowd had it. I was about to ask where he was when that snake, having slipped in through the kitchen, grabbed Mr. Reardon from behind, telling us to lay down our weapons.

Watching Mr. Reardon, I saw him get angry and, quick as a cat, he turned on Dowd, jamming his hand down on the man’s gun then kicking it away. I grabbed up my pistol, same as Adam, but the scuffle was all over with before you could blink twice. Dowd owned up that the bottle was in his pocket and Mr. Reardon, tough little cuss that he was, reached in and grabbed it, giving it to Adam.

There haven’t been many times in my life that I have been scared of my older brother but that night was one of them. He hefted that bottle in one hand while holding his gun level in the other. Real quiet like, he told Dowd if that medicine didn’t save Joe’s life, he was gonna to kill him. I believed Adam would do it too. Moreover, Dowd believed him. That made him a mite easier to take to the bunkhouse to tie and lock up. I weren’t taking no chances.

The fighting left Adam in a strange mood, I think. I heard him apologizing to Mr. Reardon and it made me feel good when I heard him doing it. But then I heard Mr. Reardon saying that it didn’t matter because he was dying any way. I don’t think he saw his daughter on the steps, listening to him.

Adam~

When I saw Sheila standing on the steps and Mr. Reardon was telling me that he was dying, something inside me shook. Here Sheila thought she was being so brave and noble by treating her father that way when in reality, he knew the truth all along. I hate to admit it but I had to leave them alone. Let them sort out their own differences. I had a brother upstairs who needed the medicine I had in my hand.

I heard the shout downstairs. That was one time I heard my brother’s name shouted and I was glad of it. Pa was downstairs. Sheila later said he had his gun drawn on them and was very cautious. In retrospect, I can believe it, seeing how there were bullet holes in the door and enough broken windows that the hardware would be hard pressed to supply all the replacements we would need. But Pa, down there shouting my brother’s name at the top of his lungs, made me want to shout for joy too. Instead, I simply called out that he was upstairs.

Even from where I was at Joe’s door, I heard Mr. Reardon saying something about God keeping close that night. I certainly hoped he was right.

I awoke at daybreak. In the night, I had finally collapsed and Hoss had dragged me from Joe’s bedside where I had sat explaining things to Pa until I was hoarse. Pa didn’t hold me responsible; he’d told me that several times but I still felt that way. Unable and unwilling to accept the solace and sanctuary of my room, I had gone downstairs, still searching for a way to escape my own life. With the coming of a new day, I jerked awake having heard the door behind me open and close. Pa was fussing at me since I’d not gone to bed but had fallen asleep on the settee, Mr. Thoreau’s essays in my hand.

Pa was saying that Hoss had taken Dowd and his remaining ally into town when Sheila called to me from the top of the stairs, saying that Joe was awake and asking for me.

I threw down Mr. Thoreau and took the stairs two at a time. Pa was right behind me.

For the first time since we had separated to get a better aim on the wolf, Joe was smiling. In that half a heart beat while I was at the door and alone with him, I felt the world lift from my shoulders as he greeted me with his usual off-hand manner. I may have said something back to him but I am not sure he heard it as Pa brushed by me and Joe spotted him. I watched my brother wiggle like an eager puppy, only confined by the pain in his shoulder as he greeted our father. Pa put his hand to Joe’s head, feeling for a fever just as I had done but he let it stay there longer, a parental caress that soothes both the giver and the receiver. When I softly asked if Pa thought Joe was going to be all right, Pa smiled, reminded me he wasn’t a doctor then said he thought so, drawing out his words with his relief.

Joe, typical of him, was just babbling on how I had shot the wolf and how big it was. The sense of weariness overtook me again, just listening to his excited words. Then it occurred to me. He had never said a word about my shooting him, even though he knew I had. I mentally stepped back, afraid that when he did remember, he would come after me with everything he had in his arsenal, but in particular, an extremely sharp tongue. Just listening to him though, as he talked with Pa and how he kept smiling at me, I knew my fear was groundless. With the first breath he had drawn after being shot, he had forgiven me.

I slipped out of the room, leaving my father and brother. Down the hall I went, finally finding myself in my own room. I stumbled to the bed and stretched out on it, still fully dressed. I must have fallen asleep immediately because I recall nothing else. Sometime, someone, probably Pa, pulled my boots off and threw a quilt over me. It was hard to believe that this had all happened in just four short days…days that I had been unable to sleep because guilt had kept me awake. But Joe had smiled away the guilty feeling and let me sleep.

The Reardons left the next day. Sheila admitted to me that she’d had a few romantic notions about me. I think I covered my surprise well but was a little stung when she said she knew I would never be comfortable in her world. Yes, a part of me would always be here on the Ponderosa; I had accepted that fact years ago. I kissed her, as she asked, but there was no passion in it, just a simple thank you was all I meant. Leading her out the door, I handed her off to my father who promised to have me look them up if I ever got to Philadelphia. I had no intentions of ever doing so. I would always remember when and how I had first met them and that would forever color my attitude towards them. Oh, Mr. Reardon made his cheery remark and they left singing but I still remembered the first time I laid eyes on them. Standing beside Pa, I waved to them then Pa and I turned to go back in the house.

When evening fell, I had let Joe beat me three times at chess before we called it quits. He knew I was letting him win but he would say nothing of it, just take the advantage and go with it. I was the one who broached the subject of the shooting but he turned it aside with a smile and a reminder that someone would have to do his chores for a while. I patted his leg and left, my own bed beckoning.

There on the stand beside my bed was my Thoreau. I hefted it in my hand and considered what I had read and tried to apply it to my own existence. I was wrong. I was not held here on this brutal land I called home. I was here because I wanted to be here. There were no chains holding me, unless you could really call the bonds of family a chain. I was free to come and go as I pleased. Again I recalled my dark thoughts of Cain and Abel, but this time I had all the answers. Was I my brother’s keeper? Without a doubt, yes.

And, because he had laid aside my guilt, he was mine.

~The End~

Tags: Adam Cartwright, Joe / Little Joe Cartwright