{"id":11685,"date":"2015-09-13T18:50:23","date_gmt":"2015-09-13T22:50:23","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?p=11685"},"modified":"2025-02-18T19:10:47","modified_gmt":"2025-02-19T00:10:47","slug":"first-step","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?p=11685","title":{"rendered":"First Step (by Cheaux)"},"content":{"rendered":"

Summary: \u00a0<\/strong>For fiercely independent Little Joe Cartwright, asking for help is the hardest thing to do. \u00a0 \u00a0A Camp in the Pines short story.<\/p>\n

Rated T \u00a0\u00a0Word Count\u00a06254<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

First Step<\/strong><\/p>\n

October 1857<\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

A clear blue sky, the scent of pine. \u00a0Icy crystals of wind-blown snow from the mountaintops mingle with swirling red and gold leaves amid a backdrop of evergreen. \u00a0The black and white foal stands out against the vibrant background and yet I would have missed him altogether if his wind-whipped mane and tail had not caught my eye.<\/em><\/p>\n

The boss mare of the small herd sniffs the air. \u00a0She decides I pose no threat and resumes grazing signaling the other mares to follow suit. \u00a0Most foals stick close to their mothers. \u00a0The pinto, however, is spirited and adventurous, chasing first a butterfly, then a squirrel to the outer limits of the clearing. \u00a0After a while, he stops to nurse, giving me more time to study his perfect conformation. Too soon, the herd moves off over the rise and his dam nickers, but before he follows, he looks straight at me with his head up and his ears forward.<\/em><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

ooOoo<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

My school is located in a farming community on the California Emigrant Trail. \u00a0Older students like me sit in the back of the room. \u00a0Even so, sliding into my seat undetected is hard. \u00a0A quick index finger to my lips silences those who turn to stare, but the new schoolmarm calls me out straight away.<\/p>\n

The former teacher, Miss Pardee, left last summer when Brigham Young recalled the Mormons to Salt Lake City and the school closed. \u00a0At 15, I figured I would be going to work full time on the Ponderosa alongside my Pa and brothers. \u00a0Pa had other ideas. \u00a0He set about looking for a new teacher and found Miss Abigail Jones and her mother holed up at the Hotel Nevada on Mill Street in Genoa following their harrowing journey across the 40-Mile Desert.<\/p>\n

Convincing them to settle permanently in the valley did not take much doing–especially after he assured them he knew an architect who would be thrilled to design and build a home to their specifications. \u00a0I doubt Adam shared Pa\u2019s enthusiasm, but he did design and oversee construction of a house, and when the new term started last September, I found myself in the back row once again, much to my displeasure.<\/p>\n

The new teacher and I got off to a rocky start. \u00a0For one thing, I am not Adam. \u00a0For another, Miss Jones is not Miss Pardee. \u00a0Week in, week out since September my father has been called to school to straighten out some trouble. \u00a0The callouses on my bottom are so thick I have had to shorten my stirrups. \u00a0There is no way Hoss got tanned at my age, but because I\u2019m the shortest in the family, Pa forgets sometimes how old I am. \u00a0It really is unfair if you think about it.<\/p>\n

Worse than being late this morning, Miss Jones catches me daydreaming\u2014the ultimate sin in her book. \u00a0The punishment involves staying after school to clean blackboards and chop wood for the stove.\u00a0 Tame as chores go, but listening to the accompanying lecture dulls my senses to the point where only rudimentary comments escape my lips.<\/p>\n

\u201cYour tardiness and lack of attention are disrespectful, not only to me but to your classmates. \u00a0The one thing I cannot abide, Little Joseph, is disrespect.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cPa feels the same way, ma\u2019am.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI am not surprised to hear your father sets high standards for you and your brothers. \u00a0What is a mystery is your attitude in the classroom. \u00a0Your permanent record reflects a much different student than the one before me now. \u00a0Why is that?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI would rather be a rancher.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou don\u2019t apply yourself or manage your time well. \u00a0The things to be learned in my class will serve you well in this life, rancher or not. \u00a0Look at your brother\u2014refined, college-educated, a student of art and literature\u2014as an example of what education can do for you.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cUh huh.\u201d<\/p>\n

She drones on and my thoughts drift to the pinto I saw that morning. \u00a0Too young now to leave his mother, by next summer he will be ready to catch and train. \u00a0I begin formulating a plan and making a mental list of the gear I will need when my line of sight fixes on the big wet flakes piling up on the windowsill. \u00a0My eyes widen.<\/p>\n

“I have to go!”<\/p>\n

“Well, I never!” \u00a0Miss Jones huffs, taking offense at my rudeness.<\/p>\n

“And I’ll never get home if it continues to snow like this.” \u00a0I shove my slate and books into my saddlebag and head for the coatrack.<\/p>\n

\u201cI am not through with you, young man! \u00a0We will continue this conversation tomorrow.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBegging your pardon, ma\u2019am, but that\u2019s unlikely.\u201d \u00a0I leave the teacher standing in the middle of the room with her mouth opening and closing like a goldfish.<\/p>\n

ooOoo<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Three days pass before the weather clears enough to permit travel down to the valley. Pa sends Hoss along to make sure I arrive safely or maybe to see I get there at all given my non-stop complaints about ol\u2019 fish face. \u00a0Miss Jones ignores me throughout the morning but at lunch, she asks me to stay behind when everyone else goes outside to eat. \u00a0She acts all official and wastes no time getting to the point. \u00a0Her left hand rests on a mountain of books and paper like it is a stack of bibles.<\/p>\n

\u201cThe local constabulary informs me there is a high probability of your getting snowed in this winter thereby missing several weeks of school. \u00a0In this stack are a number of books\u2014math, history, literature\u2014along with tests and essay questions, which should carry you through the winter. \u00a0If you study hard, pay attention in class, when you are able to get here, and complete all assignments whether in classroom or at home, you may take the exit exam at the end of April and possibly\u2014if you pass\u2014graduate a year ahead of time.\u201d<\/p>\n

I cannot believe what I hear so I ask why.<\/p>\n

\u201cAn inattentive and unwilling student is a drain on my limited resources. \u00a0Of course, your father must agree and you must be the one to convince him of the efficacy of this option.\u201d<\/p>\n

Persuading my father to alter any course other than the one he has already charted is not easy. \u00a0I seek allies. \u00a0Hoss is in favor.\u00a0 Adam is not. \u00a0Pa eventually gives in, either tired of the arguments among us or happy about having all three sons working together at last on the ranch he built from scratch. \u00a0My bet is on the latter because by January, he talks of nothing else but our going on the annual cattle drive at summer\u2019s end as a family, and\u2014surprise!\u2014offers me a bribe.<\/p>\n

\u201cIf you receive a grade better than a C, you may have one month off before signing on as a full-fledged ranch hand,\u201d he says after dinner one night.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo kidding, Pa?\u201d<\/p>\n

He laughs and wags a finger at me. \u00a0\u201cChores must be done as usual, young man. \u00a0Aside from that your time will be your own, as long as you let me or your brothers know where you are and what you are doing.\u201d<\/p>\n

Hoss gives me a big slap on the back and Adam, for once, keeps his comments to himself. \u00a0I have not mentioned the pinto to anyone yet, but there will be time enough for that after the exam.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019d better start preparing then. \u00a0Excuse me. \u00a0I\u2019ve got some reading to do.\u201d<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

ooOoo<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

The homework is hard and often mind numbing. \u00a0Miss Jones picked the worst books ever written. \u00a0Pride and Prejudice<\/u>? \u00a0What a load of horse manure! \u00a0At least Sense and Sensibility<\/u> has a duel in it!<\/p>\n

Snowfall in the Sierras is extremely heavy and we are housebound for weeks on end more than once during the winter of 1858. \u00a0Studying at least gives me something to do. \u00a0Subjects like geography and history are fun because Pa used to sail the world and he spends long days bent over an atlas showing me places and telling stories that make the dry facts come alive. \u00a0Algebra is a pain, but I like geometry.<\/p>\n

“‘Course you do, shortshanks, ’cause you’re always figurin’ out the angles for everything you do.”<\/p>\n

“Ha ha. \u00a0You\u2019re so funny, Hoss.” \u00a0However, that got me thinking as to how I could use geometry in Genoa\u2019s billiard parlor. \u00a0Of course, getting inside would involve some serious parental persuasion!<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

ooOoo<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

By mid-March, the trails are clear and my rear end is once again planted in that blasted last row. \u00a0The difference is now there is not only an end to schooling in sight, but Marcie Grogan is sitting in front of me. \u00a0Whenever she tosses her rose-scented wavy black hair over her shoulder, my stomach tightens and the base of my spine prickles. \u00a0More than once I have to pull my shirttail out to hide the bulge in my pants.<\/p>\n

The next six weeks pass quickly. \u00a0I pay attention in class and turn in my daily assignments as Miss Jones requires. \u00a0My enthusiasm for the end of school begins to dim the more time I spend with Marcie because I realize I will not be seeing her as often once I pass the exam. \u00a0We spend our lunch periods together and she lets me carry her books when I walk her home after school. \u00a0Pa gives me a hard time about being late for evening chores, but I catch Hoss and Adam exchanging smirks.<\/p>\n

Testing day comes in early May. Marcie rewards me with a kiss behind the oak tree when the exam is over and we make plans to attend the Fourth of July barn dance at Eagle Ranch. \u00a0When Miss Jones hands me the results and I read the note at the bottom, my face falls. \u00a0\u00a0Even the sight of the pinto grazing near Clear Creek fails to lift my spirits on the way home.<\/p>\n

I barely get through the door when Pa rounds the corner from the kitchen and stares at my saddlebags.<\/p>\n

\u201cHi, Pa!\u201d I say in my cheeriest voice. \u00a0\u201cDo I smell roast beef? \u00a0Boy, I sure am hungry!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDid you pass?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, I passed Adam on the way in. \u00a0Hoss is in the ba\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cJoseph.\u201d<\/p>\n

No sense in delaying. I hand over the paper.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou got a B!\u201d \u00a0Pa\u2019s elation fades, however, when he read the teacher\u2019s note written on the bottom. \u00a0His eyes narrow, waiting for an explanation.<\/p>\n

\u201cIf I get the paper done by next week, she\u2019ll pass me and I won\u2019t have to repeat the term.\u201d<\/p>\n

Pa continues to stare, disappointment etched in every line of his face. \u00a0Seeing his reaction is worse than hearing him yell and almost as bad as being tanned.<\/p>\n

The front door swings open hitting me in the butt. \u00a0My brothers fall silent the moment they see the two of us standing stock-still. \u00a0Adam mutters something about dinner and heads for the kitchen. \u00a0Hoss sticks his hands in his front pockets and follows along with his head bowed. He sure does hate when I get in trouble.<\/p>\n

Pa has not said anything, but I know he wants more. \u00a0\u201cI started the project when Miss Jones assigned it\u2014honest, Pa\u2014but things didn\u2019t work out the way I intended.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cJoseph, the road to hell is paved with good intentions. \u00a0Your problem is you don\u2019t plan ahead or manage your time.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cPlan ahead for what?\u201d Adam asks as he comes around the corner. \u00a0\u201cBy the way, dinner\u2019s ready.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYour brother neglected to turn in an assignment and received an incomplete for the term. \u00a0He won’t be joining us on the cattle drive after all.\u201d \u00a0Pa moves to take his seat at the dining table next to Hoss.<\/p>\n

A long, low whistle precedes the \u201cNice going, kid,\u201d Adam whispers in my ear before sitting.<\/p>\n

I stand still, my fists balled, and bite my tongue. \u00a0Hit him or run for the stairs. \u00a0I am considering both options when Pa yells.<\/p>\n

\u201cJoseph! \u00a0Sit down.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m not hungry.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI didn\u2019t ask if you were hungry. \u00a0I asked you to sit down. \u00a0Hop Sing is waiting to serve.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, sir.\u201d<\/p>\n

I take my usual seat on Pa\u2019s right and drink the glass of milk Hop Sing pours, but don\u2019t take any food when the platter come to me which earns me another rebuke. \u00a0Pa stabs a piece of beef with his fork and drops it on my plate.<\/p>\n

\u201cDo you expect me to cut the meat for you?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, sir.\u201d \u00a0My face burns. \u00a0I concentrate on slicing the meat into tiny little pieces\u2014the better to hide under the potatoes and peas. \u00a0\u00a0A dog would be handy to have at a time like this.<\/p>\n

Throughout dinner, Pa lectures on time management, planning ahead, and thinking before acting. \u00a0Of course, my know-it-all, college-educated brother has to add his two cents.<\/p>\n

\u201cThinking things through once isn\u2019t enough. \u00a0One should always have an alternative plan to achieve a desired outcome,\u201d he says.<\/p>\n

No doubt his alternative plan is filled out in triplicate, notarized, and distributed to all interested parties. \u00a0Such remarks from Adam are standard, but Hoss\u2019s next words sting.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe\u2019re talkin\u2019 Little Joe here. \u00a0All the thinkin\u2019 and plannin\u2019 in the world ain\u2019t gonna change an outcome \u2018cause he\u2019s just a lightning rod for trouble.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIf you all are through using me as a punching bag, I\u2019d like to be excused.\u201d \u00a0I do not wait for an answer but pause at the top of the stairs to hear any remarks. \u00a0There are none, and that makes me even angrier. \u00a0My plans for writing the paper had fallen apart through no fault of my own, but did anyone care or bother to ask why? \u00a0No!<\/p>\n

From my room, the view of the pastures, trees and mountains fails to bring me any solace, and when my gaze falls on the corral by the barn, my mood darkens further. \u00a0A few yearlings mingle about, but there is no pinto among them, nor would there be now. \u00a0Another plan dashed to pieces.<\/p>\n

A knock on the door interrupts my self-pity.<\/p>\n

“It’s open,” I say, surprised when Adam enters instead of Pa. \u00a0“What do you want? \u00a0\u00a0Come to take another pot shot?”<\/p>\n

“No. \u00a0I came to offer help with your paper if you need it.”<\/p>\n

“I don’t.” \u00a0The words tumble out without my thinking. \u00a0Elder brother knows many people and maybe he could help. \u00a0\u00a0Not asking is foolish.<\/p>\n

“I see. \u00a0Well, I need your assistance with finishing the roof tomorrow and I thought we could help each other. \u00a0Quid pro quo<\/em>. \u00a0Tit for tat. \u00a0\u00a0One hand washes the other.”<\/p>\n

“I know what it means. \u00a0I’m not stupid.”<\/p>\n

“Never thought you were. \u00a0If anything, you’re too smart for your own good.\u201d<\/p>\n

I turn away from the window and study him. \u00a0When Adam lectures me\u2014which is at least ten times a week\u2014he stands tall with his arms folded across his chest. \u00a0Now he is sitting at my desk, leaning forwarding with his elbows on his knees, fingers intertwined\u2014a posture he adopts when engaged in earnest conversation with Pa as equals. \u00a0Interesting. \u00a0I flop on the bed opposite him and wait.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhen you sign on to the payroll full time, being a Cartwright won\u2019t mean a damn thing. \u00a0If anything, you\u2019ll need to work harder and longer to prove yourself to the men.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m no tenderfoot!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, you\u2019re not. \u00a0You know your way around a ranch and horses. \u00a0Cattle are different. \u00a0When you are told to do something, do it. \u00a0Ask questions later, but not then\u2014lives depend on your quick response to commands. \u00a0There is no room for ego or pretense. \u00a0You don\u2019t know how to do something, say so. \u00a0Ask for help when you need it. \u00a0And the best way to demonstrate knowledge is to show, not tell. \u00a0Your expertise, as you develop it, will speak for itself. \u00a0In the long run, all a cowboy has is his reputation.\u201d<\/p>\n

My eyes never stray from Adam while he speaks and his gaze on me never wavers. \u00a0The moment is\u2014strangely\u2014one of the most intimate ones we have shared since he returned from college. \u00a0I acknowledge his comments with a nod, but I can tell he wants something from me in return.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe had to write a research paper on some aspect of local history using original source materials\u2014books, diaries, newspapers, the usual. \u00a0I wanted to do something different. \u00a0Tom White Feather agreed to tell me the Indian legend surrounding Pyramid Lake, but he up and died of the influenza before we could talk.\u201d \u00a0I swallowed the lump in my throat and took a deep breath. \u00a0\u201cCan you help me find someone else who knows the story?\u201d<\/p>\n

A mask settles over Adam\u2019s face. \u00a0He sits back in the chair and stretches his legs out, cocks his head to one side and stares at me. \u00a0For a long time. \u00a0I feel like a bug under glass.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m impressed by your unusual approach,\u201d he says at last. \u00a0\u201cI\u2019ll do what I can, if you–\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201c–help with the roof.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cQuid pro quo<\/em>?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cTit for tat?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOne hand washes the other.\u201d \u00a0Adam stands and extends his arm. \u00a0I rise to meet him and shake his hand. Working together instead of butting heads feels good.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy are you willing to help me, Adam? \u00a0You were against my graduating at sixteen.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI am still philosophically opposed, but,” he raises an open hand to silence my impending protest, “I changed my mind for two reasons. \u00a0One, Miss Jones\u2019 rationale for broaching the idea in the first place.”<\/p>\n

“Let me guess . . . I’m a drain on her resources.”<\/p>\n

“Something like that. \u00a0Her altruism appears focused more on herself than you. \u00a0When she refused to show me your permanent record, I wrote to Miss Pardee, who surprised me by agreeing you should be given the opportunity to take the exam.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cShe did?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, but for different reasons.”<\/p>\n

“Which were?”<\/p>\n

“Read for yourself,” he says, and pulls a letter from his shirt pocket. \u00a0I skip the pleasantries and get to the part he marked.<\/p>\n

. . .<\/span><\/em><\/p>\n

Although we have come a long way since Plato blamed left-handedness on inept mothers, there are still educators who equate intelligence with the dominant hand. \u00a0Joe\u2019s left-handedness affects his penmanship, not his intellect. \u00a0His approach to problems is often inventive and his solutions are creative.<\/span><\/em><\/p>\n

I found your brother to be an attentive, if somewhat boisterous, student with a quick mind and wit. \u00a0He willingly participated in class projects, offering encouragement to others less skilled or knowledgeable without attempting to elevate his own status or making them feel inferior. \u00a0He is exceptionally patient with younger children and will one day make a wonderful father and\u2014dare I hope\u2014perhaps a teacher. \u00a0<\/span><\/em><\/p>\n

If not sufficiently challenged, however, Little Joe can become bored and prone to pranks. \u00a0The more often I funneled his energies and enthusiasm into productive channels, involved him in decision-making, asked for his opinion, and encouraged him to take a leadership role in the classroom, the better off we all were! \u00a0<\/span><\/em><\/p>\n

Chinese philosopher Lao Tzu said a journey of a thousand miles begins with one step. \u00a0Given what you shared about the current circumstances, my recommendation is Little Joe should be afforded this opportunity to take the first step into his future.<\/span><\/em><\/p>\n

. . .<\/span><\/em><\/p>\n

I hand the letter back to Adam. \u00a0\u201cEarlier you said my finishing school early was a mistake.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI still believe it is unwise to end your formal education at sixteen, but after watching you this winter, I’m convinced Miss Jones\u2019 classroom is not the place for you. \u00a0You learned a great deal through independent study. \u00a0There is no reason you cannot continue learning in the same vein as long as you live. \u00a0A self-educated man is, after all, still an educated man.”<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s the second reason?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou actually passed the exam!\u201d<\/p>\n

A slow grin spreads across my face and I throw a pillow at him for his backhanded compliment. \u00a0He leaves the room laughing. \u00a0Hoss must have been listening because he sticks his head in the door and gives me a thumbs up. \u00a0Pa, too, has waited in the wings and we talk for an hour. \u00a0The offer for the month\u2019s vacation stands if the paper is finished on time.<\/p>\n

In my dreams, I ride a black and white pinto around Pyramid Lake, Marcie\u2019s ample bosom pressed against my back, her arms held tightly around my waist.<\/p>\n

ooOoo<\/p>\n

We start roofing the next day after morning chores. \u00a0\u00a0Only my good mood keeps me from commenting on the second-floor addition itself. \u00a0What Adam thinks we are going to do with all these extra bedrooms is beyond me. \u00a0Nevertheless, I listen as he explains what he wants.<\/p>\n

While Adam unloads stacks of shingles from the wagon and places them near the ladder, I head upstairs, easing out onto the roof through the window at the end of the hallway. \u00a0My feet know the way from countless late night excursions.<\/p>\n

\u201cJoe? \u00a0Joe! \u00a0Where the devil are you?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cRight here older brother,\u201d I say from above, reaching out to steady him when he startles and the ladder starts rocking.<\/p>\n

\u201cConfound it! \u00a0How did you get up there?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThe usual way.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou are going to break your neck one of these days,\u201d he says, heaving a bundle onto the roof.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m not the one who almost lost his balance a moment ago.\u201d \u00a0You have to know when to joke with Adam, and from the sour look on his face, this is clearly not the time so I change the subject. \u00a0\u201cI understand what you want done.\u00a0 I helped you and Pa with the shed, remember?\u201d<\/p>\n

He watches me work with a critical eye, and makes a few suggestions, but the comments dwindle as I go along. \u00a0When I finish the third course, he says, \u201cgood job,\u201d which from him is high praise.<\/p>\n

We continue working the same way:\u00a0 Adam pitching the bundles up, me nailing the overlapping shingles to the shakes, him pointing out what to look out for, and sprinkling in a few \u201cattaboys.\u201d<\/p>\n

By noon, my clothes are soaked through. \u00a0\u201cThrow me the canteen would ya?\u201d I ask.<\/p>\n

\u201cSure thing. \u00a0Joe, you\u2019re almost to the ridge. \u00a0When you finish this course, let\u2019s take a lunch break. \u00a0No point in you getting sunstroke up there.\u201d<\/p>\n

The water is sweet and cool going down and I pour the rest over my head before dropping the empty canteen to the ground. \u201cSounds like a plan, brother.\u201d \u00a0Standing to stretch, I reach my hands over my head and twist to the right and left to work out the kinks in my shoulders. \u00a0White light surrounds me and a loud ka-boom shatters the air.<\/p>\n

ooOoo<\/p>\n

My body tingles all over when I wake in bed. \u00a0I don\u2019t know how I got here. \u00a0I do remember Hoss saying \u201cLordy\u201d an awful lot, and Adam beating me with his hat because I was smoldering some. \u00a0I must have gotten a humdinger of a sunburn because every inch of my skin is raw.<\/p>\n

\u201cStop touching me!\u201d \u00a0I protest as Hop Sing places vinegar-soaked cloths on my hot flesh.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re lucky to be alive, son.\u201d \u00a0Pa\u2019s voice catches and the sound upsets me more than laying naked on the bed.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s okay, Pa. \u00a0I\u2019m fine.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSure you are. \u00a0Go to sleep.\u201d<\/p>\n

Every time my eyes open, someone new comes into focus. \u00a0Hoss appears, disappears, and reappears like a magician. \u00a0Same with Pa. \u00a0One minute he is sitting on my left and\u2014blink!\u2014he is standing on my right wearing different clothes. \u00a0Eventually, I can stay awake for more than a few minutes and that is when I notice funny fern-like marks on my chest. \u00a0\u201cWhat is this?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBruising. \u00a0They\u2019re called lightning flowers,\u201d Adam says.<\/p>\n

\u201cPouring water over your head undoubtedly saved your life, Little Joe.\u201d<\/p>\n

When did Doc Martin get here? \u00a0On the other hand, maybe he never left. \u00a0I am still disoriented. \u00a0\u201cMost of the electricity passed over rather than going through you. \u00a0Left you a little singed around the edges, I\u2019m afraid.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWe\u2019re gonna start calling you Little Ben,\u201d Hoss jokes, wiping a tear. \u00a0\u201cYou know, for Ben Franklin.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI know my memory is a little fuzzy, but I don\u2019t remember any storm.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNot at the ranch, son. \u00a0Up at the lake. \u00a0I have seen this type of lightning during my time at sea. \u00a0It could strike the mast of a ship even if the storm was miles away and the sky above clear.\u201d<\/p>\n

Pa asks me to sit up so he can help me put on a clean nightshirt only my legs won\u2019t move, and that causes a bit of a ruckus.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019ll walk again, Joe,\u201d Doc says. \u00a0\u201cThere is nothing wrong with your legs. \u00a0It\u2019s merely a matter of re-educating your brain to send the right signals to your muscles.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t care about walking as long as I can ride.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo riding,\u201d says Doc.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ll put all of the tack under lock and key if I have to, young man,\u201d Pa adds.<\/p>\n

\u201cShucks, Pa, Little Joe would as soon ride bareback as not.\u201d<\/p>\n

Pa shudders and scowls at Hoss for putting the idea in my head. \u00a0\u201cNo riding!\u201d he repeats.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

ooOoo<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

The paralysis proves temporary but muscle control is another matter. \u00a0My limbs jerk and spasm when I least expect it leading to some interesting consequences, like giving myself a black eye. \u00a0Pa worries about the danger a knife in my hands might present and winds up cutting my meat at meals, which makes me giggle. \u00a0Hoss and Pa do not get the joke, but Adam does. \u00a0He calls it gallows humor and says I am an expert at finding amusement in the darkest subjects.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou could write for William Jernegan\u2019s new publication, Joe,\u201d he says when I bemoan the lack of something to do other than exercises. \u00a0\u201cNothing wrong with your mind and you have just the sort of perverse sense of humor Bill appreciates.<\/p>\n

\u201cHow so?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, let\u2019s see.\u201d \u00a0Adam leaves my bedroom and comes back with The Scorpion, <\/em>Genoa\u2019s hand written rag sheet. \u00a0\u201cListen to this obituary. \u00a0\u2018Cosmo Conklin died Saturday.\u2019 \u00a0Aside from who and what, the other basic tenets of journalism\u2014where, when, and why\u2014are missing. \u00a0How would you tell it?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe got family?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo. Why?<\/p>\n

\u201cWouldn\u2019t want to offend a widow or anyone.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOf course not, but this is hypothetical. \u00a0How would you write it? \u00a0Bill hopes his Territorial Enterprise will someday be known for its sharp writing and wit.\u201d<\/p>\n

I close my eyes and think on it a bit while Adam continues bending and stretching my legs to stimulate the nerves.<\/p>\n

\u201cOkay, I got it. \u00a0\u2018Cosmo Conklin took advantage of a full cistern on Saturday night to take a bubble bath up on the roof of the Genoa Bar and Saloon. \u00a0Unfortunately, the purveyor of suds slipped on foam and, according to eyewitnesses, hopped to his death.\u2019\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNot bad for two minutes of thought,\u201d he laughs. \u00a0\u201cBill is looking for stringers.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cStringers?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNewspaper correspondents retained on a part-time basis to report on events. \u00a0First issue will go to press in December if the printing press gets here on time.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cA real printing press?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSecond hand, but yes, a real printing press. \u00a0Bill\u2019s rented space at the Nevada Hotel.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy? \u00a0I\u2019m mean, why start a paper in Genoa?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cLots of activity over in Gold Canyon and up Six-Mile Canyon lately. \u00a0Prospectors coming in every day from California. \u00a0Bill is speculating on people\u2019s hunger for real news and not rumor, although, as I said, he\u2019s not above \u2018stimulating\u2019 the readership from time to time.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou think I could be a reporter?\u201d \u00a0I am curious because it is something I never thought about. \u00a0A detective, yes, but not a reporter.<\/p>\n

\u201cThere are a lot of things you can do in this world, Little Joe,\u201d Adam says seriously.<\/p>\n

My leg jerks. \u00a0Although he is holding my ankle, my foot strikes him full on in the chest, knocking him backwards into the wall. \u00a0He thinks it is an accident. \u00a0I know different.<\/p>\n

He tries to reassure me. \u00a0\u201cI\u2019m all right.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m not. \u00a0Leave me alone.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s okay, Joe.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cGet out!\u201d<\/p>\n

The door clicks shut and I hear Adam\u2019s boots on the wooden stairs as he trots down no doubt to find Pa and Hoss. \u00a0In the silence that follows, I begin counting my losses, those over the last few weeks and those yet to come: \u00a0the deadline for turning in the paper last month, the Fourth of July celebration last week; the cattle drive at the end of summer.<\/p>\n

Muffled voices from the great room drift upstairs. \u00a0I imagine Pa is saying I\u2019m alive and that\u2019s all that matters, and I should count my blessings. \u00a0I know better. \u00a0\u201cThere\u2019s a lot of things you can do in this world, Little Joe.\u201d \u00a0<\/em>Yeah. \u00a0From a wheelchair. \u00a0If I can\u2019t control my legs, I can\u2019t ride.<\/p>\n

I stop counting. \u00a0I refuse to talk or eat. \u00a0I all but give up sleeping. \u00a0All I do is cry. \u00a0Pa thinks it\u2019s because I\u2019m frustrated with my lack of progress. \u00a0No one knows it\u2019s the loss of the pinto that depresses me more than anything else.<\/p>\n

Doc Martin reasons with me, asking me to be patient, says the nerve connections will happen if I give it time. \u00a0He\u2019s seen it before. \u00a0Blah, blah, blah. \u00a0Pa tries lecturing, cajoling, pleading. \u00a0Hoss straight out begs me to start living. \u00a0Adam looks at me. \u00a0The bug-under-glass feeling is back.<\/p>\n

The next morning I wake up and see writing in Adam\u2019s bold hand on the mirror.<\/p>\n

A journey of a thousand miles begins with one step.<\/p>\n

Tucked into the corner of the frame is Miss Pardee\u2019s letter. \u00a0Her voice is clear, \u201cHis solutions are creative.\u201d \u00a0<\/em>Adam\u2019s words are too. \u00a0\u201cAsk for help when you need it.\u201d \u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n

I call the family together and tell them about the day the pinto came into my life and the plans I had made.<\/p>\n

\u201cWill you help me round him up?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHow do you know where the herd is, shortshanks?\u201d \u00a0Hoss asks.<\/p>\n

\u201cClear Creek.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat was almost a year ago. \u00a0You don\u2019t know where they might be now.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI saw the pinto the day of the exam.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cEven if Hoss and I can find the herd, there\u2019s no guarantee we will be able to catch the horse.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAdam\u2019s right, son, I\u2019m concerned you are setting yourself up for a big disappointment.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBigger than not walking?\u201d \u00a0I study their faces. \u00a0Despite what the doctor has said, I can see they also have doubts I will recover. \u00a0\u201cEven if I can\u2019t ever ride again, Pa. \u00a0I need him. \u00a0I can\u2019t explain it, but we\u2019re connected somehow.\u201d \u00a0Again, the looks pass between them. \u00a0\u201cPlease, Pa.\u201d<\/p>\n

Therapy resumes and I try harder. \u00a0I am out of bed before long, but only with assistance. \u00a0My arms are better, but my legs behave like one of those jointed puppets, kicking out or buckling on their own.<\/p>\n

One Saturday, Adam takes me in the buggy to Genoa. \u00a0Although I am grateful to be getting out of the house, I do not relish going to see Doc Martin. \u00a0When we drive past his office and down into town, I start to panic.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhere are we going? \u00a0I don\u2019t want anyone to see me.\u201d \u00a0Meaning Marcie, of course. \u00a0I look up and down the street hoping she is not out shopping.<\/p>\n

\u201cTrust me, kid. \u00a0Everything will be fine.\u201d<\/p>\n

We pull off onto a side street in front of a very nice house. \u00a0\u201cDid you build this?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, I swore off designing private residences after Miss Abigail\u2019s house. \u00a0This is William Ormsby\u2019s home. \u00a0I brought you to meet a young girl who works here. \u00a0Her name is Sarah Winnemucca.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWinnemucca?\u201d \u00a0I gulp. \u00a0\u201cChief Winnemucca?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, his daughter. \u00a0She is a companion to Ormsby\u2019s daughter, Lizzie, and she speaks English very well.\u201d<\/p>\n

Sarah is on the porch waiting for us and she comes down to the buggy so Adam can make the introductions. \u00a0Except for her facial features, Sarah does not look like a Paiute at all. \u00a0Her dress is what any white girl wears and her long hair is curled. \u00a0She is a little younger than I am and, while not exactly pretty, she has a great smile and a generous heart.<\/p>\n

\u201cHello, Little Joe. \u00a0I understand you would like to know about the Stone Mother who sits on the eastern shore of Pyramid Lake.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, if you wouldn\u2019t mind. \u00a0I mean, if it\u2019s all right to tell a white man.\u201d<\/p>\n

She has a lilting laugh. \u00a0\u201cIt\u2019s not a secret, Little Joe. \u00a0But it is rare for someone your age to want to understand Paiute legends.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSarah,\u201d Adam says, \u201cwhy don\u2019t you take my place in the buggy while I go in and have a few words with Mr. Ormsby.\u201d<\/p>\n

When Sarah talks, her voice mesmerizes me. \u00a0She relates how the Great Father and Mother had many children but the Great Father\u2014angry with his sons for fighting all the time\u2014separates them, sending one with a girl to the west to become the Pit River tribe and the other to the east with a girl to become the Bannocks. \u00a0Distraught, the Great Father returns to his home in the sky. \u00a0Many years later, the sons return bringing many warriors for battle. \u00a0The Great Mother sits on a hill, her heart breaking as she watches her sons fight. \u00a0She cries and cries for many moons until a lake of tears forms in the valley and she turns to stone with her basket at her side.<\/p>\n

ooOoo<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

I still lack the fine motor skills that make holding a pencil possible, so I dictate the paper to Adam. \u00a0He resists the temptation to make corrections or additions to my words as I say them. \u00a0At least the penmanship will pass muster with Miss Jones even if the unconventional research does not.<\/p>\n

The diploma is small consolation for missing the cattle drive, but means a lot to my father and, in some respects, to my brothers, too, I suppose. \u00a0I am not surprised Hop Sing prepares a celebratory meal to which Doc Martin and Sarah Winnemucca are invited. \u00a0He serves Mulligatawny soup, which Sarah delights in, having never before tasted curry. \u00a0I suspect he chose that dish because it is easy for me to eat without parental oversight.<\/p>\n

After dinner, Adam suggests we go out to the front porch for coffee and dessert. \u00a0I am the last one out the door, concentrating so hard on moving my legs in tandem with the crutches that I bump into Pa. \u00a0He turns around and grabs my arms to steady me, then steps aside.<\/p>\n

Standing in front of me in the yard is the pinto, head high, ears forward.<\/p>\n

I move toward him but his ears go back and he sidesteps a little. \u00a0Maybe it\u2019s the crutches he is afraid of, or all the people around me. \u00a0I wave everyone off to the side and when they settle quietly on the porch, I put the crutches down. \u00a0I am too afraid to move in case I jerk, so I remain still, hoping my legs do not buckle.<\/p>\n

He moves forward and reaches out his neck, sniffing the air. \u00a0I stand still. \u00a0Bit by bit, he comes toward me. \u00a0I follow the long lead with my eyes and see Hoss over by the corral holding the end of the rope. \u00a0I start humming \u201cCamptown Races.\u201d<\/p>\n

The horse takes a step back, then adjusts to this new information, and continues until he reaches me and nuzzles my shirt and all around my torso and head. \u00a0When he blows in my face. I blow back into his nostrils and slowly raise my hand to stroke his neck. \u00a0Long, even strokes and he sighs.<\/p>\n

We are one.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

ooOoo<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

July 1859<\/p>\n

I did not go on the cattle drive last year, but I continued working with my horse. \u00a0Hoss stayed home with me and continued my therapy while Pa and Adam were on the drive. \u00a0\u00a0Maybe it was his stronger hands that got my muscles to work again, or all the standing, stretching and reaching to groom Cochise that helped. \u00a0Whatever the cause, I started walking on my own in the spring of 1859 and was riding by summer.<\/p>\n

The blue sludge that confounded the gold diggers turned out to be silver and a bonanza. \u00a0The area north of Gold Hill became Virginia City and a destination for miners from all over the world. \u00a0Bill Jergensen\u2019s instincts proved correct and the Territorial Enterprise is still operating out of the office in Genoa.<\/p>\n

Even Miss Jones relocated to the Comstock to teach in the new school there once \u201cproper ladies\u201d started arriving with their families. \u00a0She has her cap set for poor Adam and he avoids her at all costs.<\/p>\n

I finish grooming Cochise by braiding his mane and tail for the Fourth of July race. \u00a0Marcie Grogan and I, and a few friends are picnicking up on Mt. Davidson to view the fireworks tonight. \u00a0I am nervous about the loud ka-booms and bursts of light, but Marcie assures me she will hold me tight to her ample bosom.<\/p>\n

The darkness that followed the white light consumed me for a time.\u00a0It took a wise teacher, a loving family, and a wonder horse to help me take that first step into my future.<\/p>\n

The End<\/p>\n

September 2015<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Tags:\u00a0 \u00a0Family,\u00a0Joe \/ Little Joe Cartwright<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

<\/g><\/svg><\/i> \"Loading\"<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Summary: \u00a0For fiercely independent Little Joe Cartwright, asking for help is the hardest thing to do. \u00a0 \u00a0A Camp in the Pines short story.<\/p>\n

Rated T \u00a0\u00a0Word Count\u00a06254<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":9,"featured_media":1805,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"template-full-width-post.php","format":"standard","meta":{"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[30,40],"tags":[120],"class_list":["post-11685","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-prequels","category-challenges","tag-citp","wpcat-30-id","wpcat-40-id"],"a3_pvc":{"activated":true,"total_views":2690,"today_views":0},"jetpack_featured_media_url":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/04\/laketahoe.jpg?fit=960%2C640&ssl=1","jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"jetpack-related-posts":[{"id":14355,"url":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?p=14355","url_meta":{"origin":11685,"position":0},"title":"Cartwrights Forever (by JC)","author":"JC","date":"June 2, 2017","format":false,"excerpt":"Summary: A tribute in rhyme for everyone who loves the Cartwrights, especially those who love to write about them. 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