{"id":2160,"date":"2009-10-08T02:31:00","date_gmt":"2009-10-08T06:31:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?p=2160"},"modified":"2026-07-22T09:42:16","modified_gmt":"2026-07-22T13:42:16","slug":"sunset-on-the-ponderosa","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?p=2160","title":{"rendered":"Sunset on the Ponderosa (by pony)"},"content":{"rendered":"

Summary: \u00a0<\/span>We all know the Cartwrights will live forever in our hearts. This is the simple story of how they reached that destiny. <\/span><\/p>\n

Rated:<\/span>\u00a0K (6,985 words)
\n<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Sunset on the Ponderosa\u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n

\u00a0Joe Cartwright squinted<\/strong> into the sunset and sighed softly.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

The sun, setting behind the mountains far to the west, cast its golden glow over the hard, packed dirt yard of the ranch house. The shadow from the barn was long enough now to reach the porch where Joe sat, absently rocking in the large and comfortable wooden rocking chair.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

It seemed, at first, that the creak of the chair was the only noise. But Joe, his lifetime spent in this home, in these hills, heard all the other many sounds that filled the air. To him, it was as though each of these sounds was an instrument, and each instrument added its music to the orchestra, the orchestra whose symphony was life on the Ponderosa.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

There were the crickets and cicadas and the end-of-day squawkings of the birds. Far away, sounding almost like an echo of itself, came the long, lonesome howl of a single coyote. A squirrel fussed in the uppermost branches of the old pine tree behind the kitchen, and Joe smiled. How well he remembered his brothers\u2019 teasing him that Joe\u2019s laughter sounded like the chattering of a squirrel, but he also remembered his father\u2019s voice as he had whispered to his young son that the most magical thing about Joe\u2019s laugh was that it made others smile too. It seemed a long time ago, and yet only yesterday \u2026<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

They had romped and played in this very yard. It was always Joe who begged and wheedled until Hoss and Adam relented and followed him into the yard, Joe tugging on their hands to hurry them along. Hoss usually gave in first; Adam was almost always engrossed in a book and was reluctant to abandon that world for his little brother\u2019s world of tag or hide-and-go-seek.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Their father – well, he sat in the very chair that Joe sat in now, and he watched his sons running and playing, a look in his eyes of complete contentment. Joe had glanced at him often; Pa had been back in the shadow of the porch, hard to see, and yet even that dark silhouette had been enough to encourage Joe, to comfort him, and he had been brave enough – then – to slip under the lowest branches of the thick bushes, hiding from his brothers while they dutifully covered their eyes and counted to 100.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

It was never difficult to know when Hoss had come near. His boots made the ground fairly tremble, or so it seemed to Joe then, hiding, shivering with excitement. Hoss would thrash and crash through the bushes, hollering, \u201cWhere are ya, Shortshanks?\u201d while Joe clapped his hand over his mouth to muffle his giggles.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Adam, on the other hand, took these games more seriously – as he took just about everything more seriously than did his brothers. He would stalk Joe silently and Joe would tremble with delicious fear when he peeked out to see Adam coming ever nearer. More often than not, Joe would give himself away with a yelp when he imagined that Adam had seen him, although Adam told him time and again that, in fact, he had not seen Joe until he heard that cry.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

But once spotted, both Hoss and Adam would sprint toward Joe in his hiding place, and Joe would leap to his feet and dash wildly for the sanctuary of the porch. If he could get there first, he had won \u2026 but if not \u2026 !<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Joe was quick enough to elude Hoss most of the time. Sometimes Joe even wondered if Hoss let him escape on purpose. But Adam – serious Adam, for whom nothing was ever completely a game – would catch him if at all possible, swooping him off his feet and swinging him around and around. Then Hoss would catch up as Adam swung Joe to the ground, and both of them would tickle him and tickle him, and Joe would laugh and shriek, arms flailing and legs kicking helplessly against his brothers, until all three of them collapsed in a laughing heap on the ground.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Pa\u2019s voice often rang out then. \u201cThat\u2019s enough boys; time for bed,\u201d he would say. \u201cWash up, now; come along.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

And the three boys would stagger to their feet, Joe and Hoss still poking at one another and giggling, Adam slapping the dust off his britches as he walked toward the house and toward the glow of their father\u2019s pipe, an orange glow off in the distance \u2026<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Joe blinked. The orange glow was nearly gone now, and he realized he had been \u2026 dreaming? The sun was almost completely hidden now, only a smudge of brilliant color showing over the top of the mountains. Joe wasn\u2019t sure, but he didn\u2019t believe he had fallen asleep there on the porch. And yet, those voices, the laughter, he had heard them, he really had.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

He stood, a little stiffly, and turned to go indoors. His hand on the latch, he turned one more time to glance into the shadows of the yard, as though he half expected to see a small child darting into a new hiding place, and two older brothers leaned against the tree, covering their eyes, patiently counting to 100.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Joe had already eaten. He had never quite gotten used to his own cooking, but he had prepared a bowl of leftover stew earlier that evening and was not hungry now. Nor was he particularly sleepy, although the day had been a long one.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

More and more, the days were all becoming long ones, Joe admitted to himself as he closed the door, careful not to slam it. Again, the hint of a smile crossed his face. How many times had Pa told him \u2026 ?<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

The large room was as familiar to him as his own face in the mirror. In fact, had Joe given that thought conscious attention, he would have acknowledged that it would be more accurate to say that the room was more familiar to him than his own face.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

The eyes were still as green as ever, but the sparkle had dimmed somewhat over the years. Oh, they were happy eyes, but age did take its toll, and what once was clear had become slightly cloudy until the green eyes had become more smoky than emerald.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

And those rich brown curls \u2026 gone now. The wavy white hair reminded him so much of his own father\u2019s. Still thick, as Pa\u2019s had been until the end, and Joe often wondered if his Pa had ever thought he looked like his own father. Joe would never know, now, for his Pa was gone and Joe could not ask this question, nor any other.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Joe knew he had always looked more like his mother. She had been delicate, slight and slender. And yet something of Ben Cartwright had rested dormant in this youngest son, and Joe had grown to realize that fact only in these most recent years.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

There was a fire in the large stone fireplace, although the night was not cold. Joe took the poker and absently stirred the embers, making them spark and leap, then carefully replaced the tool in its rack. He started to reach for a book that was lying on the table, abandoned, but decided against it, settling instead to the chair that had once been his father\u2019s. His hands were still and empty in his lap, and Joe\u2019s glance fell upon them as he shifted into a more comfortable position.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Ah, those hands. Once smooth and strong, now they showed the years as perhaps nothing else did. In his mind\u2019s eye, Joe was still young and slim, his hair brown and eyes clear. It was easy enough to avoid the truth the mirror told, but Joe could not escape his hands. They were still strong enough, he supposed, but were now etched with the lines of age. Joe turned his hands over and looked at them carefully, and it seemed to him that if one only knew how to read this map, the story of Joe\u2019s life could be told.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Those hands had known hard work and soft caresses. They had fought, and yes, they had even killed, and they had healed and comforted. Joe\u2019s hands had clapped in time to music and had been burned and scarred in a tragedy of long ago. They had reached out to give love, and to receive it, but now Joe was left alone. Not lonely, for he had too many friends and too many memories to ever be lonely, but he was, at the end of the day, alone.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

The house was dark and quiet as the night settled in around the Ponderosa, closing around the ranch house like a warm quilt being tucked, snug and secure, around the shoulders of a sleeping child \u2026.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Another thought, another memory, and Joe smiled, his eyes focused on something long ago and far away.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

He thought he heard a sound behind him but Joe was not alarmed. He blinked, just to be sure he was awake. Just to be sure.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

CHAPTER 2<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

He had suddenly realized that it was always about this time of night that the dreams began.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

How long had it been now? Several months, he was sure of that.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Joe would be settling in for the night, whether in his bedroom upstairs, the bedroom where he had been born, or here in the great living room of his lifetime home, or even outside on the porch on those nights that had been too beautiful to leave and he had delayed coming indoors.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

On so many of these nights now, he had found himself thinking of people from his past, people long gone. Many of them were people Joe had not seen nor even thought about for years and years, and yet, as their faces and voices came to him again, he knew them well.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

There had been people whose memories he held dearly and there were those whose presence in his life had brought sorrow or pain. And always, always, in the morning, he had considered the memories of the night before and wondered why these voices from the past were speaking to him again.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

They weren\u2019t ghosts, and they weren\u2019t dreams, and Joe wasn\u2019t quite sure just what they were. But night after night, they came to him, and Joe would remember and wonder, remember and wonder.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

He thought of Roy Coffee one night, and remembered the many times when Joe, as a youngster, had made a pest of himself to the cranky but soft-hearted sheriff. Why, how many times had Roy even had to put Joe in jail? But it had been his responsibility, as lawman, to do so, and even Joe admitted that there had been several occasions when the evidence had been against him. But Joe had never forgotten the relief that had swept over Roy\u2019s face when Joe was proven innocent and Roy had rushed to the cell door, fumbling with the keys in his hurry to let Joe go free.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Had Joe ever told Roy how much he appreciated that? He realized that he had not. Oh, not that Roy had expected him to, and even the sheriff would have been surprised if Joe had remained in the sheriff\u2019s office for one moment more than necessary, even the moment it would have taken to clasp the older man\u2019s hands and express his thanks.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

But just as this realization dawned in Joe\u2019s mind, he had looked up and was sure he saw Sheriff Coffee smiling at him, and Joe had blurted without thinking, \u201cThanks, Roy.\u201d Joe knew, he knew as well as anything, that Roy had winked at him, and nodded, and then he was gone, and Joe was left staring into the empty darkness and wondering, wondering.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

He remembered Miss Abigail, his teacher, who had been strict with him, and Joe had thought it was because Joe was not as good a pupil as Adam had been. But – only a few nights ago, now – Joe had realized that Miss Abigail had seen in Joe a quick mind, an intelligent mind, yet one in need of discipline. Joe had chuckled when he thought of that. Yes, Miss Abigail knew how to provide discipline, all right. Joe had not appreciated it at the time, and had never thought of it since then, but he had learned to read and to write and to figure, and so many of the boys in that little schoolhouse had not. Was Joe\u2019s success a credit to himself, or to Miss Abigail? He admitted to himself that the spinster schoolmarm deserved the majority of the credit. And upon realizing this, he had looked up – had he really heard the swish of a full skirt? – and seen Miss Abigail giving him an approving nod before vanishing into the shadows.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

He had seen her, he had. He had seen Miss Abigail and Roy, and McBride the barkeeper, who had somehow let him know that he really didn\u2019t despise Joe for the many times Joe had nearly destroyed the saloon with his brawling. In fact, Joe somehow had the impression that McBride kind of liked him, kind of admired him, and had been rooting for him even as Joe had smashed yet another chair over the head of yet another rowdy cowboy. And Doc Martin – oh, Doc Martin! – how many times had Joe felt the kindly old man\u2019s gentle, healing touch, then heard the doctor sigh, partly in relief, partly in exasperation, as he pronounced that he had \u201cpatched Joe up\u201d as well as he could, that Joe would heal or that time would tell, and Joe knew that there was more than the science of medicine in Doc\u2019s devotion to his recovery.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

And then there was the night he was sure he heard the soft padding of muffled footsteps. Hop Sing, he thought immediately, although he had not heard those steps in many years now.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Indeed, even as the memory of the beloved little cook and housekeeper had come to mind, Joe had looked up and there he stood, smiling and bobbing his head, his movements as quick as ever.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u201cHop Sing!\u201d Joe had whispered, and the memories flooded over him of the years he had spent in the watchful care of the faithful friend.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Joe had never thought of Hop Sing as an employee of the ranch. He was a friend – no, even more than that, a part of the family, part of his life. Hop Sing had nursed him, fed him, cleaned him, scolded him, worried about him, celebrated with him, mourned with him.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Joe had grown up under Hop Sing\u2019s watchful eye, never fully realizing or appreciating the little man\u2019s devotion and dedication, simply accepting it as he did the blue sky and the green grass.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

But at the same time, neither had Joe ever realized his own devotion and dedication to Hop Sing. It wasn\u2019t until the little man had become ill that Joe had recognized how much Hop Sing meant to him. He had cared for the cook in those final days, he and Ben, and Joe had fretted and worried because he knew that the broth he carried into that mysterious bedroom was nowhere near as good as the broth Hop Sing had so often carried to Joe\u2019s room upstairs.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

And yet the little man had smiled and nodded and tried to reassure Joe that it was good, yes, it was good, but he wasn\u2019t hungry just now, maybe later?<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

And when the time came, Hop Sing had looked one more time into the face of Ben Cartwright, a man whom he respected and loved, and \u201cLit\u2019 Joe,\u201d whom he loved as a son, and had closed his eyes for the final time, content and at peace.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Ben had pulled the silk sheet over that round, happy little face, and Joe had picked up the bowl of broth, now cold, and carried it slowly into the kitchen, and Ben had found him there later, sitting on the floor, crying, holding the last cookie Hop Sing would ever make. Hop Sing – perhaps realizing what Little Joe refused to acknowledge – had called Joe into the kitchen as he had prepared this batch, showing him just how cookies are made. Joe had not been a good student; why learn how to make cookies when Hop Sing made them better than anyone else ever could?<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

But now Hop Sing was gone, and there would never be another cookie to compare.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Joe had wrapped that cookie carefully and tucked it beside Hop Sing\u2019s body before they closed the box forever and lowered it into the grave on the hillside that had met Hop Sing\u2019s gaze every time he glanced out the kitchen window, checking to be sure the boys were safe, checking to be sure everyone would be home on time for dinner.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

And now, here was Hop Sing again, standing in the living room as if he had never left. And he was smiling, and he bowed a little, and then – quick as ever – he turned to hurry away. But before he did, he reached into the large, deep pocket of his silken robe, and winked at Little Joe before taking a big, satisfying bite out of a very special cookie.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Over the nights of the past several months, Joe had thought of many of the girls and women he had known. Some he had loved, some he had only loved to love, he admitted to himself. He had been particularly troubled one night, and he had thought of Alice, who had died carrying Joe\u2019s unborn – and only – child. Joe had never married again.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

The memory of Alice stepped forward from the shadows one night. Somehow, Joe was not surprised, not frightened. It seemed as though he had almost been expecting her, but of course, that was not possible. Alice had been dead and gone for years. The ashes where their warm and cozy home had stood were covered in a field of yellow flowers that bloomed every spring, and when Joe stood on the hill looking down into the valley, it appeared to him as though God had thrown handfuls of gold coins into the valley, so bright were the flowers, and Joe knew in his heart that had the valley actually been filled with gold coins, it still could never compare to the riches he had known in the little house.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u201cAlice,\u201d Joe had said, simply.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

She had smiled at him, and Joe knew then that she had known, really known, that Joe had loved her, had loved their child, had never forgotten them.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

With one hand, she reached toward him; with the other, she touched her belly, and then looked toward the sky; somehow, Joe had understood the silent message; their child was in Heaven.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Joe had to ask, a question he had carried all those years, and yet his voice was tentative.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u201cIs it \u2026 is it a little boy?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Alice had turned her head to the side and smiled gently, chiding him as she would a child asking to know what was in the presents wrapped under the Christmas tree. Still, as she turned to drift back into the shadows, she had caught his eye and smiled, and Joe knew his child was a son.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

And then, a few nights later, after a lifetime of longing, Joe\u2019s mother had come to her son.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

A voice, soft as a feather, crooning a lullaby both joyful and sorrowful, and Joe had known it was his mother. Although he had not heard her voice since he was a child, and had lived his life with the memory of her voice as elusive as the misty will o\u2019 the wisp that one can reach for and yet never touch, he knew this was the voice of his mother.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Her eyes sparkled and burned bright in the darkness. Her hair was dark and flowed around her face, a face more beautiful than Joe would have ever imagined. They stared hungrily at one another, and although her lips were still, the song continued.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

As the final notes began to fade away, Marie stepped back, although she did not take her eyes from the face of her son.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t go,\u201d Joe cried impulsively, and his mother hesitated. She touched a hand to her heart, then to her lips, and then, slowly, her hand reached toward Joe, Little Joe.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

He tried to jump to his feet, found that he could not, and could only watch helplessly, tears streaming down his face, as his mother faded away, the light from the fire glistening like diamonds on the tears on her own face.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

CHAPTER 3<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

That had been just three nights ago.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Two nights ago \u2026 Joe had jumped a little, startled.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

There it was, that noise again. Behind him.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

He wanted to turn around but he just couldn\u2019t move. Joe stared into the fire \u2026 and then, there it was. A shadow, walking past him, behind the table, in front of the settee, and over by the blue chair.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

And it sat down.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Joe sat frozen in place, moving only his eyes, as he looked toward the chair. He gasped.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

It was Adam.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Adam, his brother. Adam, whom he hadn\u2019t seen for \u2026 how many years?<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Adam had been the only brother, the only son, the only Cartwright who had left home. It had not been an easy decision. Joe had grown to realize that over the years, although he had resented Adam at the time.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Ben had understood. Adam had explained, and Ben had understood. Joe and Hoss, sitting at the checkerboard – why, the same checkerboard that was now just a few feet away from where Adam now sat, smiling – had not understood. Hoss had been miserable, half-heartedly scooting checkers around at random, while Joe had shoved his checkers viciously and glared fiercely at Adam as he and Pa had talked. Joe remembered – now – how lonely Adam had sounded, and yet there was a determination in his voice that could not be disguised.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u201cPa, remember when you were a young man,\u201d Adam had said. He wasn\u2019t pleading, nor was he arguing. He spoke as a man who had studied and worried about a thing until he had come to its only possible conclusion, and now spoke with the confidence that only true conviction can give.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Ben had remembered, Joe recalled. He remembered his own life as a young man, first sailing the wild waters of the oceans, then as a young father and husband moving westward into the wilderness of the unexplored frontier. Ben had lived a full life, finding his own happiness on his own terms, and Adam\u2019s decision was one Ben could respect – and accept.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Not so for Joe.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Joe had considered Adam to be foolish, selfish. How could he leave home, leave his father \u2026 his brothers? Why would anyone want to?<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

For his own part, Joe was perfectly contented to remain on the Ponderosa, and he had said so that night, in no uncertain terms.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Adam had sighed, given his father a brief glance, and turned to face Joe squarely.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u201cJoe,\u201d Adam had said, and Joe\u2019s heart had ached as his brother voiced his name in that rich, musical voice. \u201cI – \u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

And then Adam had stopped. The brothers stared at one another, Adam\u2019s somber brown eyes studying his younger brother\u2019s pleading green eyes as though trying to memorize that face, this moment.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Joe had stared helplessly back, not understanding, his mind and heart a swirl of emotions.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Adam shook his head, so slightly it was as though he did not move at all, arched an eyebrow and pursed his lips thoughtfully, as though considering what to say. But in the end, Adam had merely lifted one shoulder in resignation and turned away, saying only, \u201cGood night, Joe.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Adam had left three days later, three days in which a tension fairly tingled in the air between the oldest and youngest brothers.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Joe had refused to go into town as Adam left to catch a stage on the first leg of his journey, stating loud and clear that he would remain at the Ponderosa, he would stay there all by himself if need be, he would stay there forever, come what may, he would never leave.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

And so Adam had left home and Joe had stood on the porch, legs braced as though he expected a blow at any moment, arms crossed defiantly over his chest, chin high \u2026 and heart broken.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

As for Adam, Joe never knew. He never knew because neither Pa nor Hoss ever told him how Adam had wept as the wagon rumbled and rattled down the road, away from the Ponderosa.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

There had been letters, and even Joe had finally had to grudgingly admit that Adam was doing well for himself, that he sounded happy, that he had perhaps found the life he was intended to live.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

And then the letters stopped.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Of course, they had been so infrequent, because of the inconveniences of time and distance, that it was hard to know just when Adam had disappeared. Joe and Hoss had seen their father at his desk many a night, reading and re-reading Adam\u2019s final letters, hoping to discover a clue as to where his son may have been going or what he may have been doing before he was, suddenly, simply, somehow, gone.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Joe had grieved for Adam, but it had been a dull, restless grief, with nothing to comfort it. There were far more questions than there would ever be answers, and for Joe, the most haunting question of all was whether Adam had ever known that Joe had finally understood.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

And now, here he was.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

It was Adam, all right. There was no mistaking him. Nobody but Adam could look so serious, and yet with a hint of amusement always tickling just below the surface, as though Adam were in on some secret joke that perhaps nobody else knew.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Adam put his fingertips together and touched them to his lips as though hiding a smile as he studied his brother\u2019s face.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u201cAdam,\u201d Joe said, and he was surprised when his brother\u2019s voice replied. Although the hands did not move, Joe was certain that Adam\u2019s lips had not moved either.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u201cHello, Joe.\u201d It was Adam\u2019s voice all right, and Joe\u2019s heart leaped in his chest.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Joe had a hundred questions, a thousand questions, and they tumbled about in his mind and he found himself stammering, trying to sort them out one by one.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u201cWhere – what – when – I mean, how – \u201d Joe sputtered, and could have sworn he heard Adam\u2019s deep, rich chuckle.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Joe bit his lip, staring hard as though determined to hold his brother here before him with the very force of his stare, and then all the questions just seemed to melt away.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u201cAdam, I missed you,\u201d he said simply, and it was as though a wave passed over his brother\u2019s face, and Adam had seemed to almost melt with relief. Then the words came spilling from Joe\u2019s heart, \u201cI love you, Adam, I do! I\u2019m so sorry I didn\u2019t tell you good-bye. I – I understand now, I understand \u2026\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Adam had leaned back in the chair, his smile complete now, and to Joe\u2019s amazement, he opened his mouth and began to speak.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u201cI know, Little Brother,\u201d he said, his voice as quiet and clear as ever. \u201cI know. I knew it all along.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Joe was crying now, his heart suddenly lighter, as though relieved of a burden he had not known he carried.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Adam smiled at him and for a moment, Joe thought Adam was going to vanish.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u201cWait!\u201d he cried, desperate. \u201cI – where did you go? We never knew \u2026 \u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Adam sighed and looked toward the fire, but Joe somehow knew that Adam did not see the flames. Joe thought Adam would not reply, but just as Joe opened his mouth to say it didn\u2019t matter, Adam looked at him, smiled sadly, and began to speak.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u201cI was crossing the ocean,\u201d Adam said. \u201cThere was a storm. I remembered all those stories Pa used to tell us when we were kids; you remember, too? It never occurred to me that the ship would go down; Pa had always come through those storms and I guess I just assumed I would as well. But the ship did go down, and all souls aboard were drowned that night.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Joe nodded, staring at his brother, mesmerized, realizing now that what he had known for years was really, truly true.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Adam was dead. He had died, and was gone.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

And yet – he was here, right here in front of Joe. How could that be?<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Joe didn\u2019t ask that question, knowing somehow that Adam would not give him the answer, and so he sat silently, regarding his brother with serious eyes even as Adam regarded him.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Joe never knew how much time had passed, but suddenly it was as if there had been an agreement reached, and Adam had stood up.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Joe stood up too, but neither brother moved toward the other. It was understood, somehow, that that time had not yet arrived.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Adam looked at Joe and Joe looked at Adam. Joe\u2019s face was open, accepting, and Adam nodded his approval.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Then, with the hint of a smile that had played on his face so many times before, Adam drifted back across the room. Joe stared at him, eyes straining, trying to discern, never sure which moment was the moment that the black form faded completely into the black shadows beyond the firelight \u2026 leaving Joe alone once more.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

And then last night \u2026 Hoss.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Joe was almost not surprised to look up and see his big brother standing beside the fireplace. One foot was propped up on the large rocks, the other standing solid on the floor, just as solid as Joe himself.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u201cHoss,\u201d Joe said, and his voice sounded weak, even to himself.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Hoss had turned and grinned that gap-toothed grin. \u201cHey, Little Joe,\u201d he said, and Joe would have believed in that minute that the last 40 years were but the blink of an eye, and Hoss had never left his side at all.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Hoss chuckled as Joe stared at him, and then Joe found himself laughing a little too. It had always been like that – like this. The brothers, so different in temperament, and yet so finely tuned to one another \u2026<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Oh, the memories! Their schemes and dreams! They had played and fought and worked and laughed, side by side, through thick and thin. Hoss was always there, protecting Joe – although Hoss would have been well advised, at times, to have protected himself from his brother\u2019s schemes, as their father had so wryly pointed out.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Hoss had rubbed a big hand over his receding hair and Joe had grinned in spite of himself to see his big brother once again. Big Hoss, whose strong body was equaled only by the size of his heart!<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Joe had never gotten over the loss of his brother. He had cried inconsolably when Hoss had died. The funeral had been left to Ben to plan; Joe could no more have brought himself to see to the burial of his brother than he could have flown from the rooftop. And even that analogy brought a stab of pain as Joe recalled Hoss\u2019 one-time dream of flight, a dream which Joe had mocked.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

After the funeral, somebody – he never knew who – had handed him Hoss\u2019 big, white, ten-gallon hat. Joe had hung it on the rack beside the door, but every time he saw it, it was as though a knife were twisting in his heart, and so a few days later he had carried it upstairs and put it on Hoss\u2019 bed. He had closed the door and never re-entered the room again.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

But Joe had never closed the door in his heart; he had missed his brother every day of his life.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Hoss turned away from the fireplace. He was still smiling, and yet seemed to be troubled about something, and glanced quickly toward Little Joe.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Unexpectedly, Joe found himself recalling a dance \u2026 oh, how many years ago! Even before Adam had left home, he thought. Joe had been young then, very young, but full of confidence and swagger.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

There was a girl there, a girl Hoss really liked. Joe had known Hoss liked her, but this information was superficial at best. Why, Joe liked lots of girls. It was nothing serious, as far as Joe was concerned, to see Hoss sparking Rachael.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

And that, really, was why Joe had done what he did.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Joe had just returned from the punch bowl, carrying a cup for himself and one for his girl – he didn\u2019t even remember her name now. She was just a girl, one of many, and he couldn\u2019t even remember her name. But he did remember that she had been standing next to Hoss and Rachael.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Hoss was nervous and sweating in his dress shirt and string tie. Joe, dapper and dandy as always, had begun to tease his big brother. Hoss had tried to ignore him, then glared at him, and finally had hissed for Little Joe to just shut up, now, dadburnit, just shut up, Shortshanks.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Little Joe, embarrassed to be called by his brother\u2019s pet name in front of his girl – what was her name? – had flushed and glared back at Hoss.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u201cJust because you\u2019re showin\u2019 off for Rachael,\u201d he had sassed, and Hoss had turned a brilliant crimson.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m not showin\u2019 off for anyone,\u201d he had stammered, and in his nervous determination to defend himself, he had blurted, \u201cI don\u2019t even like Rachael.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

It had not been true, but it had been spoken, and Hoss, mortified, stared at Joe, then at Rachael, then turned and fled from the room.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Rachael, shocked and humiliated, had gone home soon thereafter \u2026 but Joe and his girl had stayed and danced the night away.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Within a few weeks, Rachael was being seen on the arm of another man, and before the year had ended, they had married and moved away.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

And now, with Hoss standing by the fireside and Joe sitting in his father\u2019s chair, Joe knew, somehow, that Hoss had hoped to marry Rachael \u2026 that he had been intended to marry Rachael \u2026 and Joe, with his pride and quick temper, had destroyed his brother\u2019s chance for true love.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u201cOh Hoss,\u201d Joe gasped, as the realization sank in. \u201cOh, I never meant \u2026 I didn\u2019t know \u2026\u201d He clasped his hands before him and cried out in regret, \u201cI\u2019m sorry \u2026.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Hoss pressed his lips together tightly and regarded Joe for a long moment, his blue eyes searching. He nodded, very slowly, and Joe somehow felt as though a decision had been reached, and that something very important had just happened.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u201cPast your bedtime, Little Joe,\u201d Hoss said, and winked. \u201cWhat\u2019s Pa going to say?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

And then he was gone, gone as suddenly as he had arrived, and Joe had sat in the dark and empty room for a long time, whispering, \u201cHoss \u2026. Hoss \u2026. \u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Pa<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

CHAPTER 4<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

And that was last night, and now he was in Pa\u2019s chair again, and there was a noise behind him again, and this time Joe stood up and turned to look.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

It was Pa.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

A mixture of emotions played over Ben Cartwright\u2019s face as he faced his son. Smiles and tears battled for control, and Ben let each of them have its way.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u201cJoseph,\u201d he said, and Joe cried out with delight at hearing that name, that voice, once more.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Ben chuckled and shook his head.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u201cWho would have ever thought, boy, that you would be the one?\u201d he said, and although that was all he said, Joe immediately knew exactly what he meant.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Indeed, who would have thought that Joe would be the son whose years would extend into old age \u2026 that Joe Cartwright would have outlived, not only his father, but his brothers? Yes, he\u2019d been the youngest, but he had also been so often in harm\u2019s way. Ben had feared for his youngest son\u2019s life so many times, despite Joe\u2019s innate confidence, as though the simple fact that he was Joe Cartwright of the Ponderosa was a magical charm.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

And now they stood, face to face and man to man, father to son, a bond between them that had never been broken.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Joe had buried his father.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Unlike the loss of Hoss, Joe had faced this grief quietly. He had grown up; he had come to know that death is but a part of life, and for men like his father, it is the better part of life, for only in death is true life born.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Joe had buried his father next to Hoss and had gone back to the Ponderosa, and he had lived there alone now all these years. He had lived with the memories of his family and those whom he loved, those who loved him.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Without his father there to guide him, Joe had turned to his father\u2019s source of strength, and spent many a night by the fireside, in his father\u2019s chair, reading his father\u2019s Bible. It was not difficult for him to believe, for he had seen in the lives of Ben and Adam and Hoss all the lessons lived out, all the truths proven, and through the testimony of their lives, Joe Cartwright found peace in his own.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

And now he stood, and faced his father, and the years and distance and time itself seemed to fade away.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Ben stepped toward his youngest son, his arms opened wide. Joe took a step toward his father, and then stopped, uncertain, but at his father\u2019s nod, he rushed forward and flung himself into that familiar embrace.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u201cPa, Pa, oh Pa!\u201d Joe cried, and he clutched at his father and felt his warmth, felt that hand, so strong and so gentle, as it smoothed his hair, heard the murmuring words of love and comfort \u2026<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Joe lifted his head and looked up at his father, and saw a light shining in those eyes that Joe had never seen before, and yet it seemed so right, so natural, as if this were the way it had been intended all along.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

And then there, beyond his father\u2019s shoulder – where the dining room should have been, there was instead a meadow, dim at first and then growing more clear, and there was Adam on a beautiful brown horse – Sport? Yes, it was Sport, and there was Hoss on shiny black Chubb. And now, yes, he could see them, there was Buck and there was Cochise, his beautiful and beloved Cochise.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Cochise tossed his head and whinnied, and Joe stepped hesitantly forward, glancing toward Ben as if for approval.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Ben nodded, smiling, and reached himself for Buck\u2019s reins, and Joe took one more step and felt the warm nuzzle of Cochise on his shoulder.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Joe started to ease his foot into the stirrup, suddenly realizing that the aches and pains of the years had faded away, and turned toward his father again, an expression of wonderment on his face.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Ben, already astride Buck, laughed and laughed, and waved a hand of approval and encouragement. \u201cYes, yes, go ahead,\u201d he chuckled and Joe, without once touching the stirrup, flung himself into the saddle as he had a thousand times before, when he was young.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Ben, Adam and Hoss were laughing and talking now as though they might never stop. There was a peace on Adam\u2019s face such as Joe had rarely seen, and Hoss\u2019s face seemed almost to glow. As his brothers turned their horses\u2019 heads, Joe did likewise with Cochise, to follow.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

But before he did, he glanced down one more time, and saw the chair, his father\u2019s chair.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

There was an old man there, his hair silver white, a smile on his face, his eyes closed in rest.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Joe Cartwright sat up straight in his saddle, and he was strong and young. Confused but smiling, he reached up and ran a hand through his hair, and he knew his hair was thick and brown and wavy again, as it always had been, as it had always been intended to be. But then, as he gathered up the reins, his glance fell on his hands, and he was surprised … for his hands, although young again, were still scarred.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

His eyes flickered up toward his father’s face, asking an unspoken question. Ben Cartwright leaned over and touched his son’s arm. The smile on his face was warm and sad, and yet somehow proud, as he softly spoke.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“The scars, son … they are part of who you really are.”<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Joe nodded, not really understanding, but somehow knowing that now, there was all the time in the world to learn. He smiled back at his father, and then, as his brothers laughed, Joe Cartwright let out a whoop and Cochise leaped ahead, his legs flashing and dancing in the sun as the Cartwright family rode out across the Ponderosa.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

The Cartwrights ride the Ponderosa still. \u2026 Sometimes, as the shadows fall, when the sun is setting, you can see them, you can hear them, laughing and singing, together \u2026 together, their hearts pure and true and at perfect peace, as they were always intended to be.<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

The End<\/span><\/p>\n

Disclaimer:\u00a0All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.<\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Summary: \u00a0We all know the Cartwrights will live forever in our hearts. This is the simple story of how they reached that destiny.<\/p>\n

Rated:\u00a0K (6,985 words)<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":70,"featured_media":5894,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"template-full-width-post.php","format":"standard","meta":{"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_feature_clip_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":false,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2},"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_members_access_role":[],"_members_access_error":""},"categories":[23],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-2160","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-drama","wpcat-23-id"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/05\/Lake-Tahoe-Sunset-Blue.jpg?fit=300%2C600&ssl=1","jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2160","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/70"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=2160"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2160\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/5894"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=2160"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=2160"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=2160"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}