Summary: A trip through the desert turns into a nightmare for the Cartwrights.

Rated: K+ (6,820 words)

 

Trouble

“You didn’t even try.”

Adam’s voice is so quiet over the snapping of the campfire that Joe hardly glances in his direction.

When he finally does, he sees shadows, but there’s no mistaking the honed edge to his brother’s voice. His brothers are angry, and there’s no getting away from it. There’s no front door to slam, no fine pinto waiting in the stable, saddled and ready to provide his sweet escape. He wishes they’d just come out with it. Yell, rage, give him a good punch in the jaw, do something. Anything other than stay mad at him for day after day. 

They’re always saying he is still a boy, but he’s bone tired with an aching that makes him feel ancient inside. He can’t blame his brothers for what he knows they’re thinking. It’s all his fault. He knows they are cold and in pain and just as tired as he is. He got off the easiest which is the hardest thing to face. Hoss took a blow to the gut that would have killed a lesser man, and Joe doesn’t want to remember Adam’s blood painting the desert sand. Sacrifice. They were defending him. He knows that. It’s all about him. He is the reason they are stranded in the desert, surrounded by miles of desolation and dry bones.

Some of the bones aren’t even dry. He feels the presence of death around them, even though he and Hoss dragged the bodies away from their poor excuse for a shelter. If he could see through the darkness, he could count off how long they’d been stranded by the rate of decay. It was as sure as a calendar, death marking the progression of time. 

“Ain’t you gonna answer, Little Joe?”

It’s Hoss’ turn to ask him. His brothers don’t give up easy. They brought him out into the middle of the desert to save him, and no matter how desperate their situation, they’re not about to admit that they’re giving up. They’re still trying to redeem him, but he can’t help believing they’ve wasted their time and perhaps their lives. Joe loves his brothers more than anything, but wishes they’d go to sleep. If he has any hope of going to look for help, he needs to leave while it’s still dark and they’re sleeping. Even with them in such bad shape, his brothers are bigger and stronger than he is, and there’s no way they’d let him go off in the wilderness alone. He’s been waiting for them to doze off for hours. The odds aren’t on his side. The Cartwrights aren’t known for giving up at anything, and Adam and Hoss are living up to their reputation. They’re keeping a close eye on him. 

Habits don’t die as easily as men. 

“What could he say?” Adam asks. “He knows how badly he’s hurt Pa and that it’s nothing short of a miracle that we’re alive. He’s made enough bad decisions to last a lifetime. What can he say to change that?”

“He could say he’s sorry,” Hoss retorts. “That counts for something. Are you sorry, Little Joe?”

Hoss sounds so hopeful that it makes Joe feel even worse. His throat hurts, but he blames it on the sand and not on his big brother’s misguided expectations. It’s easy to blame everything on the sand. It fills his lungs like he’s drowning. 

Yet, Joe is sorry. There’s no way to make up for the hurt and the trouble he’s brought upon his family. He’s very, very sorry and wishes he could tell his brothers he loves them, but there are some things you just can’t say out loud. There’s nothing he can say that will make any difference. Adam is right, and for once, Joe doesn’t hold it against him.

Silence hangs over them, and he looks up at the stars, fire sparks against the night sky. He knows a lot about the stars. His brothers taught him. Understanding the stars is one of many ways to find your way home. 

As a boy, Joe was always getting lost. Knowing he was prone to wander, his brothers and pa taught him what to do. With their help, he learned how to leave a clear trail so your family could find you. Instead of panicking, he learned to keep busy: gather sticks, build a fire, or find something to drink or eat. Like his friends, he learned early to heed the wilderness, to give it a healthy helping of respect. His childhood was a litany of lessons, many that had kept him from getting killed time and time again. The answers were all around him. Hoss explained that weather moved west to east. If worse came to worse, he could follow the clouds home. The most important thing, his pa used to say, was not to become frightened. Pa always said to remember that you are not as lost or as far away from help as you think you are.

“Joe? Do you hear me, boy?”

Hoss places his hand on Joe’s shoulder. It’s all he can do to keep himself from leaning into it. He deserves his brothers’ anger, not their comfort. 

“How are you feeling, Hoss?” he asks, afraid to hear what the answer might be. 

All night, Joe has been terrified that his big brother is bleeding inside and that no one will be able to do a thing to save him. Adam said the bruising around his abdomen was a bad sign, and Hoss was in so much pain that they were afraid that something was broken inside. 

If Hoss is dying, he’s being awfully polite about it. Hoss has never been much trouble. Joe can’t remember how many times he’s heard his pa say that. Pa is proud of his brothers. Joe’s proud of them too. He’s looked up to him for his whole life, and they’ve taught him most everything that he knows. It’s just been a while since he took the time to remember. 

“I’m all right, little brother,” Hoss answers gently. “I ain’t hurting much no more.”

Joe turns to Adam. The fire’s dying out, and he can feel the cold of the desert night pressing against him. The darkness is deep all around them. He should have packed for the cold as well as the heat. Pa had warned him, had even piled woolens and an overcoat on his bed, but he didn’t listen. Adam is wearing layers. Hoss says they slowed the bullet. Joe smiles in the dark. For once, he’s glad his oldest brother is so practical. It might well have saved his life.

“How bout you?” Joe asks. “You all right, Adam?”

Adam’s lost a lot of blood. The bullet cut across the back of his calf. It shouldn’t have come close to killing him, but the blood wouldn’t stop flowing, no matter how much Joe tried to tamp down on it. Adam practically passed out before he finally got it to stop. By that time there was blood everywhere, drenched into the burning sand. 

Before it got so dark, Joe could still see his brother’s blood on his hands. He couldn’t spare enough water to really wash them because his brothers needed every drop they had. He rubbed them raw and bleeding with sand, but wasn’t able to get rid of all of it. In the darkness, he can’t see the blood any more, but he remembers.

“I’m fine, buddy,” Adam says. His voice is softer now. He remembers too.

Joe’s head is aching worse than he’s letting on. An hour ago, he took a good swig of whiskey from the flask from his saddlebag. He tried to give Adam some for the pain, but his brother just glared and shook his head. Hoss stared at him so sadly that Joe had to look away. He’s not about to apologize for bringing the whiskey. He’s not going to apologize for drinking it either.

They don’t approve of his drinking. There are so many things his brothers don’t approve of, Joe could hang his hat on them and call it a day. That’s what this whole thing’s about. The reason they’re out here. He may be a fool, but he knows full well his pa would never have sent all three of his sons across the desert to buy a stallion, even for the best bloodlines in the world. No. For some reason, Pa and Adam were convinced if they got him away from town, he’d remember how to act like a Cartwright again. 

It’s hard to think clearly when his head is aching like a herd of cattle just stampeded through it. He can hardly see out of one of his eyes. He wonders what’s left of his face. She wouldn’t be impressed, but there’s nothing he can do about that. It’s probably for the best anyways. There’s no point in worrying about a woman he’s not likely to see again. 

Her name is Leah, and Joe isn’t sure that he loves her. He might love her some day, but there hasn’t been enough time to find out. She is one of the reasons he’s been so mad at his pa and brothers for the past few months. Pa always taught him that it’s the inside of a person that counts, but Pa took one look at her outside and decided he already knew everything he needed to know. Adam and Hoss followed his lead and did the same. Joe believes that she is more than what she does for a living. Of course, it doesn’t hurt that she’s the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen, yet he tells himself it’s her soul that he cares about. He writes her terrible poetry in the dark.

After all, he is only seventeen.

Even though he should know better, he misses her, and it’s all he can do to keep from crying. He is terribly tired. Hoss hears him and moves closer. Joe starts to pull away but can’t do it. He leans into his brother’s warmth like it’s the sun. 

“There’s got to be something we’re not thinking of,” Adam says. “I know the horses are gone, but we can’t just sit here waiting to die. Can’t leave tracks in the sand. No way for Pa to trail us…”

“Adam, there ain’t no better shelter than this for the next hundred miles. This here’s the only shade before we hit the great basin. Pa’s gonna come looking here first. If we go wandering, the three of us would die before the sun sets again. Water’s running low. We’re almost out of food, and you got a leg that ain’t fit for walking.”

There’s really nothing to say. Adam is quiet then, scuffing dirt into the fire. Joe pulls out from under Hoss’ arm. He doesn’t deserve to be comforted, and he can hardly stand to listen to his brothers trying to figure out how to stay alive. It’s all his fault anyway. Grant Randall tracked him out into the desert. The man would never have known about the money if Joe hadn’t been fool enough to stake it in that last game of poker. He won the game, but lost in every way that matters. He’s been in over his head for a long time and knows it, but he doesn’t seem to be able to stop. 

His transgressions are as old as the proverbs and not nearly as interesting. 

He’s been fodder for the gossips for months now and has gladdened the hearts of everyone glad to see the high and mighty Carwrights paying their dues. There’s nothing high and mighty about waking in an alley with the taste of blood and rotgut in your mouth. He’s been finding his way home, but he can’t ask his family to keep on saving him. 

Playing the prodigal. He’s getting good at it.

After a while, Adam asks “What choice do we have, Hoss? We need to face facts that no one is going to just happen to pass by!” 

Adam sounds thirsty. Joe reaches for the canteen he’s got tucked beside him. He’s been doling out water to his brothers, while pretending that he’s taking a turn as well. They’d never accept water from him otherwise. He’s no saint. He’s been helping himself to the whiskey, only because his brothers won’t take any of it. Handing the canteen to Adam, Joe’s surprised when he takes it. Hoss also takes his turn. He figures they must be worse off than he thought, when they don’t try to argue that they don’t need it. 

The night’s drifting towards dusk, and finally his brothers are sleeping. Their breathing is perfectly in sync with each other. Adam and Hoss always gotten along. They’re easy with each other, in a way that he doesn’t quite understand. Huddled together under a shared blanket, they actually look warm. He wishes he could join them, but the fire’s fading. He reaches for the flask and takes a small sip. It’s a different kind of warmth, but it will have to do. He should find something to keep the fire going. There’s scrub growing all around. It’s poor kindling and hard to gather in the dark, but it will have to do. 

He trips as he’s leaving, and he can’t believe they don’t wake up. As he gets farther away from the camp, it occurs to him that he’s worried about the wrong kind of fire. It will be dawn soon, and his brothers will hardly need to stay warm once the sun is overhead. There’s something more important for him to do. 

Old lessons are coming back to him, as golden light spreads over the plain. He’s remembering all the things his family taught him. He’s forgotten how far you can see in the desert. It’s a barren land with hardly the shadow of a rock for shelter, and as far as he can tell, there’s no one around. Yet his pa is nearby, he just knows it. It’s not something that makes sense or that he’d want to explain to anyone. He’s spent the last year pushing his family away, and now all he wants is to be found.

Don’t wander. He’s been given this command his entire life and can hear it now. Adam and Hoss are going to be awfully riled up when they find out he’s gone, but he figures they’re already mad at him. They might as well be mad about something that he’s trying to get right. He’s not sure where he’s heading, but he knows what he has to do. His brothers need help more than they need fire. He can’t sit around and wait for them to die. Not when the whole thing is his fault.

His pa has got to be around. Joe can hear his voice. He can hear all their voices. It must be a mirage of sound. 

They tell him, “If you get lost, don’t move. Stay where you are. We’ll find you.”

Undaunted, he keeps moving. Little Joe Cartwright has never been good at following directions.

**********

Hoss

“He’s gone!”

Hoss wakes violently to the sound of a canteen clattering against the rocks. It’s such a hard waking, he’s unprepared for the raw pain in his belly. Randall’s hired man hit him hard with the butt of that rifle and he still doesn’t feel right inside. His body’s been crying out for sleep, and he hardly got any of it last night. But none of that matters. It doesn’t take a genius to know that Little Joe’s in trouble.

“Damn it! Where would he go?” Adam is shouting.

Of course, Adam never really shouts, but it’s obvious that he’d like to. Hoss squints into the morning sun trying to make sense of what he’s woken up to. The air is colored strangely in the desert. Unrelenting and bright, it makes young men look old before their time. Adam looks like he’s a decade older than when they set off from the Ponderosa.

“Calm down, Adam,” Hoss says, trying to sit up again and make sense of what happened while he was sleeping.

“Why should I calm down?” Adam asks, angrily. “The fool kid’s gone, and there’s nothing you or I can do about it. I promised Pa I’d look after him, and he’s damn well made that impossible. I can’t believe I’ve been defending him! He’s a spoiled, self-centered-“

“He’s looking for help,” Hoss interjects softly. “He’s tryin’ to make things right in his own way.”

“Lots of help,” Adam mutters and kicks sand onto the smoking embers of the fire. “What do we do now? I should never have fallen asleep…”

Hoss takes a deep breath and tries not to panic. They’ve found some shelter next to a rock formation that resembles a cupped hand. It’s little more than a shadow on the ground, but it protects them from the worst of the sun. Barely morning, it’s already so hot that sweat streams off his face and drips onto the sand. 

“Why do you think he left?” Adam asks, looking as dejected as Hoss has ever seen him. For once, Adam doesn’t seem to know what to do next.

“He’s looking for Pa,” Hoss says without thinking twice, and immediately he knows it’s the truth. 

It’s the one thing they all have in common. When trouble comes to call, they go looking for Pa. It’s an instinct that has served them well for many years, but it feels like a foolish one right now. 

“That’s ridiculous,” Adam protests. “Pa’s at home, and Little Joe knows it. He’s probably finishing up with the branding, worrying about Joe, and guessing that we’re half way to Salt Lake City by now.”

Adam’s probably right, but Hoss can’t help but feel that he’s wrong. It’s nothing he can explain, but he also feels like Pa’s nearby. He watches as Adam cringes, reaching for the back of his leg. Streaks of red branch out from the wound. It needs a good cleaning, but there’s nothing they can do here. Joe poured a stream of his whiskey over the wound, before Adam told him to stop. Blood poisoning or not… they’re looking at pretty much the same thing. With Joe gone, there’s no need to pretend with each other. Without food and water, they are slowly dying.

Hoss stands up, but pain makes him double over. He’s probably just tired and dizzy from going without eating for so long. He can hardly think about Hop Sing’s good cooking still tied to his saddle. He’s been fretting about the horses since the gunshots scattered them. Somehow, he can’t bring himself to worry about the animals now. Horses lost in the desert don’t matter much next to the worry he feels over Joe. He’s spent the past seventeen years looking after the boy, and he’s not prepared to lose him now. It’s time to find him before it’s too late. 

“Sit down, Hoss.” Adam’s voice is gentle this time. He’s not angry any more. He’s sad, as sad as Hoss has ever seen him. There’s no mistaking the fact that Adam believes their little brother is as good as dead.

“We gotta look for him,” Hoss says, miserably. He tries to remember what Little Joe was wearing. Was he covered up enough from the sun? Did he bring his hat? Did the boy even remember to bring his canteen?

“Hoss, use your head,” Adam says softly. “You and I aren’t in any shape to make it a hundred feet. We’ve got to wait for him. Joe’s in better shape right now than either of us. We’ve taught him what to do. We’ve just got to hope that he finds what he’s looking for and makes it back here before it gets much later in the day.”

“What if he doesn’t remember?” Hoss asks, and he’s not a bit surprised when Adam doesn’t answer. It’s a strange question, but they both understand why he’s asking it.

For a long time, it hasn’t seemed like Joe’s remembered anything they taught him. He’s been running wild and breaking his pa’s heart. That’s the real reason they made the trip. Little Joe needs to remember who he is and what he knows. Pa and Adam came up with the idea together. Hoss came along for the trip, because that’s what you do for a brother. They’d do the same for him, if he was the one in trouble.

And there’d been plenty of trouble. They’ve all taken turns for the trips into town, bailing Joe out of one scrape after another. He’d been drinking and brawling and spending time with the wrong kind of women. He’s played so much poker that his pockets seemed to have sprung a leak. The shootout in front of the livery had been the last straw. Joe shot the man in self defense – there were several witnesses. Yet, Pa was desperate to get his youngest son away from town before he got himself killed or ended up on the wrong end of a rope. They all agreed that something had to be done about Little Joe. 

Hoss doesn’t know what to make of it. His brother has never been all that rebellious before, despite having a temper that sometimes blazes out of nowhere. Cheerful as a boy, he idolized his father and tagged along after his older brothers, sometimes driving them crazy by being constantly underfoot. How could a boy who’d been loved so much make so many bad decisions?

Hoss reaches for his canteen. Oddly enough, it seems like there’s more water in it than there was last night. He wouldn’t put it past his little brother to pour some of his own water back in theirs. Did Joe set off into the desert with nothing more than a flask of whiskey and an empty canteen?

He hands it to Adam and watches as his older brother comes to the same conclusion. Joe left them all the water. If they survive, Hoss can’t imagine what they’re going to tell Pa. They promised to take care of their little brother. The thought brings tears to his eyes, and he has to blink them away.

“Do you really think Pa is coming?” 

Adam sounds like a little boy. It’s a wistful question that that makes Hoss smile. There’s no reason why Pa should be coming. It will likely be a week before anyone realizes they are gone. The horse broker will telegram Virginia City to find out what’s taking so long, but by that time they’ll be dead and covered by the sand. He wonders how his pa will be able to grieve and move on if he can’t give his sons a proper burial. 

He fights off that kind of thinking. He’s no quitter, and neither is Adam. In some ways, Little Joe is finally living up to what their pa taught them, going off like that and trying to find some help. Putting others before himself. And that’s what he tells Adam.

Adam replies, “Well, it’s a comfort that Joe’s returning to the great Cartwright tradition of long odds and lost causes.”

Another thought comes to Hoss right then, and it makes him smile. “You know Adam… you and I ain’t never going to live it down iffen Pa finds our bodies lying here around a campfire and Joe lying out in the desert all by his lonesome. Can you imagine the ruckus he’ll stir up in Heaven if he didn’t think we at least tried to find Little Joe?”

They look at each other and start laughing..

“We’d never hear the end of it,” Adam says, wiping his eyes. “Can you imagine spending eternity with Pa complaining that we didn’t look after our little brother.”

Hoss smiles. “Angels couldn’t get him to quiet down about it. I reckon we ain’t got much choice, if we want any peace and quiet in Heaven.”

They start to pack up, pouring all the remaining water into two canteens, careful not to spill a drop of it. They gather blankets, jackets, and their meager supply of jerky into their saddlebags, which they hang over their shoulders. Everything else stays behind. Neither wants to pass by the bodies of Randall and his henchman. Hoss hates that he had to shoot them; it never gets easier, but they really had no choice. When a man sets out to kill another man, there’s nothing to be done but beat him to it. Randall was going to shoot his little brother. With the barrel of his revolver aimed at Joe’s head, Randall kept talking about Joe cheating him at poker. He planned to steal their money and kill him to settle up, but there was no way they were going to let that happen. Adam got shot while throwing himself into harm’s way to save his brother. Hoss would have done the same thing. The same quality links them all together, this compulsion towards heroism. 

Even if they don’t live through the end of the day, they can live with themselves, and that’s what really matters. 

Adam raises his canteen, lifting an eyebrow laconically.

“A toast,” he says. “To impossible odds and impossible little brothers.” 

Hoss smiles sadly, and they clunk their canteens together. 

“All right then,” he says to his older brother. “What are we waiting for?”

Stumbling across the sand, they can’t help but hold on to each other. They can barely walk, let alone save the day. They’re probably not going to survive this, and they know it. But they remember what their pa has always taught them. They’re not about to lose their little brother.

Besides, everyone has to die sometime.

**********

Ben

He’s tired. 

Surely, it has been one of the worst days of his life. He glances over at Roy Coffee, his traveling partner through all this, and his face is equally grim. This was supposed to be uneventful ride across the desert. While he won’t admit to actually following his boys, he will confess he was traveling in the same direction. Roy came to him the day after the boys left, casually mentioning to his old friend that he was needed in Salt Lake to testify at an upcoming murder trial….

“Interested in tagging along?” he asked Ben, casually chewing on a piece of hay.

Was he interested? Ben could hardly hold still while Charlie saddled his horse and Hop Sing fixed his supper.

He’d sent the boys off with the best of intentions but had slept fitfully after they left. Worries kept slipping into his dreams. His boys were in trouble. He knew it, and yet he felt too foolish to say it out loud.

Adam and Hoss were grown men, and Joseph was well on his way. It was time to trust his boys. That’s what he kept telling himself. A father has to let go sometime. This trouble with Joseph had only brought home the fact that he was getting too old for this sort of thing. His long years of fathering were finally catching up to him. Finally, Adam persuaded him to let them go.

“A long ride through the desert with his older brothers for company,” Adam said with a wry smile. “That should be enough to make home look pretty good..”

They planned the trip together although they had argued about which route they should take. Ben preferred the direct passage. The more traveled the road, he argued, the safer the journey. Adam preferred to take the scenic way around the basin. He wanted to ride through the unique rock formations that cast their strange shadows across the plain.

“Pa,” Adam said gently, resting his hand on his father’s shoulder. “Let me take care of this. I’ll take care of Joe. You take care of the ranch and all the things that have been piling up around here. Relax. He’s a Cartwright, and he just needs to get away for a while. A couple weeks of hard riding will do him good.”

Ben sighed at that. He didn’t know what he would do without Adam. He couldn’t imagine life without any of them. His oldest two sons had never been much trouble. They were fine young men, a pleasure to raise and work next to. Raising them made him feel like he knew what he was doing. Joseph, on the other hand, had been an exercise in humility. He’d taught his youngest son as best as he could. However, Ben hadn’t taught himself what to do if he failed…

“Ben! Ben, can you hear me?”

Roy’s voice is practically lost in the whirlwind of heat and sand. They have been riding hard across rough terrain for two days, and he knows they need to slow down. The going is too hard for the horses, and the burden of the additional two horses has slowed them down even more. Ben doesn’t think he will ever forget the look on Roy’s face when they first spotted Adam’s horse in the distance. When the pinto appeared over the dunes, Ben first believed he was seeing things. He doesn’t think he will ever get over the shock of seeing those much loved horses wandering in the desert with no riders in sight. 

Joseph, even during the worst of his troubles, always took care of his horse.

There’s been no sign of Hoss’ horse or the boys, and they’ve been looking all day. Searching is nearly impossible, and the strange air of the desert plays tricks on his mind. Several times he’s been convinced he’s spotted them, but it’s always been the wavering heat of the sand. 

“Ben!” Roy is shouting over the wind. “We gotta stop and water the horses. They won’t make it much farther!” 

“We can’t stop. It will be dark soon!” Ben feels desperation like he’s never known before. They’re battling time. He can’t remember why he thought it was a good idea to send all three of his sons off together. A father tries to teach his children what he knows. He tries to lay a foundation that will serve them well during their lives. He can’t help feeling like he has somehow failed. Dealing with Joseph is his responsibility, and he shouldn’t have passed it off to his older sons. In some ways, it was a relief to let him go. 

He has been very angry with Joseph. Angry, and if he’s being honest with himself, embarrassed. To have his boy running wild has been a shock to his pride. And Joe knows it. He’s noticed his youngest son watching him over the table at dinner and has seen the hurt look on the boy’s face. Joe has never been good at hiding his feelings. When he’s in trouble, everyone knows about it. 

“Ben, I’m telling you that we need to set up camp while we can still see,” Roy shouts over the wind. “You’re not going to do a bit of good for your boys if you do yourself in!”

“I’ve got to find them before it gets dark,” he shouts back.

Roy looks frustrated, and Ben doesn’t blame him. He knows he can be a stubborn man, and it’s a fact that he raised equally headstrong boys. Keep riding, he urges himself, even though he has absolutely no idea where he’s going. 

Suddenly, Roy stops so abruptly that Ben almost runs into him. He pulls hard on the reins and starts to chide his old friend for his poor riding, but Roy is pointing across the butte. In the distance – how far away, he can’t say – a plume of gray smoke is rising. It is twisting and curling upward, a spire against that huge sky. 

“Indians,” Roy mutters. It’s not really a question, but Ben answers anyways.

“No,” Ben says, his conviction rising with the plume of smoke. “It’s my boys. Let’s ride.”

He hands Cochise’s lead to his old friend and spurs on his own horse. He doesn’t look back to see if Roy is keeping up. The wind is hot and unforgiving against his face, but for once he doesn’t mind. The distance ahead of him feels like a wasteland. But Ben is remembering what he taught his sons. In the desert, you can see for miles. Again and again, he told them. If you are lost, light a fire.

Don’t be afraid. I will come to you.

**********

Joe

He stands back and watches the smoke rise. He feels like it will rise forever. The dust around him is swirling in the blazing pitch of the fire.

For once, he’s done all that he can. 

All the same, Joe can’t stop crying. His eyes are so swollen from the smoke he, he can hardly see. He backs away from the intense heat. The sand around him feels like it’s boiling, becoming a bubbling pool of thirsty ground.

It’s a good fire. He’s known how to start a fire since he was a child, and he’s been very careful to position it out in the open away from the brush. He backs up a ways and sits down in the shadow of a boulder. There is no way he can go any further. He’s set the fire in the best spot he could find. It would take a miracle, but he knows that the plume of smoke will be visible for miles. Anyone traveling in the vicinity will be sure to see it.

He’s almost out of time. It’s been hours since he felt thirsty, and he knows full well that’s not a good sign. He can feel his body shutting down. His lips are swollen and blistered, his throat so dry he can’t even swallow. The flask of whiskey lies abandoned in the sand. It’s useless to a man who only needs water. Joe tries to stand but is too dizzy now. It will be over soon enough, and he’s grateful for that. The driving headache is easing now. Everything is getting a lot easier…

Stretching out, he feels like he’s lying on an island. Wavering heat surrounds him like water. He’s certain he will never be thirsty again. He hasn’t done a thing to deserve this steam flowing all around him. Everything is reversed and distorted. Hot and cold, wet and dry, anger and love. He’s had it all wrong and upside down. He’s wasted so much time. The horizon is shimmering with beautiful colors. Golden, pink, and red. Twilight in the desert. He is praying for his brothers, his father, his old life that is slipping away like sand through his fingers.

He’s hearing his name, and it sounds so real. He hears his pa calling. The world is shaking; it’s not letting him go. The shaking hurts him, and he tries to push it away, but it’s more stubborn than he is. He opens his eyes to the most vivid mirage he’s ever seen. He’s either dying or in Heaven, but Pa leans over him, holding water to his blistered lips. Living water. He’s never understood what that meant before.

Tearless and crying. He’s being held by the only man he knows whose will is fiercer than the desert. He’s holding on tight and won’t let him go. 

“Come back,” his pa whispers again and again.

Joe doesn’t know if he remembers how. But at least he’s trying.

**********

Adam

As he predicted, Adam and Hoss have collapsed in the only shade they can find, underneath a solitary pinon tree. They can’t go any farther. 

Hoss never cries, but Adam can feel him shuddering next to him. He’s beside himself with grief at the idea of the boy dying alone in the desert. Adam won’t let his mind go there. He can’t. Practical unto to the end, he is racking his brain for one more solution. He refuses to give up until he takes his last breath.

And then he sees the smoke rising. In the desert, you can see for miles, but he knows this smoke is not far away. The gray column of smoke punches the sky defiantly. Adam knows immediately who set it. After all, he’s the one who taught him how to light a fire a dozen years ago, almost as a distraction, during the dark days after Marie had died. 

His throat is too hoarse to talk any more, but he jabs Hoss in the shoulder and points. Hoss’ eyes widen, and he smiles gleefully. They both know it’s Little Joe. The boy’s remembered what he’d been taught after all. It doesn’t solve a thing, but it makes them feel better. There could be worse ways to die.

Drifting, Adam’s eyes are closing and he’s fading away. He’s glad Hoss is next to him; it feels companionable this way. He’s done what he can, and there’s no way he can do much more. The air no longer feels like heat rising. It laps around them like water, though it smells of desperation and smoke….

**********

“Adam? Son? You’ve got to wake up.”

It’s an order, and Adam has always been good at following orders. He opens his eyes and manages to smile at his terribly worried father.

“What took you so long?” he whispers.

His lips taste like water. He hears another voice talking loudly. Oddly enough, he’s not all that surprised to see Roy Coffee in the middle of the desert, patiently holding a canteen for Hoss and talking up a storm.

Ben Cartwright smiles, a real smile, for the first time in days. 

“Welcome back,” he says. It’s obviously not what he wants to say, not by a long shot, but they understand each other just fine. 

Adam is remembering now. He feels his failure rushing back to him, and he needs his father to know it.

“Joe,” he whispers, “we lost him.”

Ben pushes his grown son’s hair back off his face, a gesture he usually reserves for Little Joe.

“We found him,” Ben says, his voice choked with emotion, and moves so Adam can see his little brother, lying back against a saddle. 

In the yellow light, Joe looks awful and barely alive, yet his eyes are open and he’s looking at Adam. Windblown, his face is covered with soot, and his guilt’s hanging all over him, like a small child who has been caught playing with fire. Hoss is stirring at his side, moaning and complaining that he’s hungry. Adam feels a stab of pain on the back of his leg; his pa is trying to take a closer look at his wound.

“Got to get that bullet out,” Pa’s fretting. “Fever’s setting in.”

Adam knows that real pain’s on its way. No matter how gentle his pa will try to be, there’s no getting around it. Sometimes you have to go through some hurting to get better. He steals one more look at his little brother to see if he’s awake. 

Joe’s looking at him so sadly, he looks younger and older than he really is. It’s hard to explain, but right away, Adam knows that something has changed. His relationship with his little brother is more intense than his others. Adam held Little Joe on the day he was born, a red-faced, squalling baby, mad as hell. There’s something about being there at a beginning that makes you want to see it through, and his brother is no exception. 

Nobody gets him angrier than Little Joe. The kid’s caused a lot of heartache, and he doubts it’s over yet. Adam’s sure there’s more to come, and yet forgiveness washes over him like a stream in the desert. 

Little Joe seems to understand, and he’s sorry. Adam can see that he’s willing to try. Before closing his eyes, the boy starts to say something under his breath but it’s lost in wind sweeping down from the Great Basin. By the time the wind settles down, Joe’s finally asleep. The remaining three sink into exhausted relief at being together and alive at the end of this day. Ben reaches for his youngest son’s hand, and Hoss turns to his older brother. 

“What was Little Joe saying to you?” Hoss asks quietly.

Adam couldn’t hear what Joe was trying to say, but it doesn’t matter. There are many ways to talk about love, but not all of them need to be said out loud.

The End