Summary: \u00a0\u00a0Some wounds heal with barely a trace; others leave scars too painful to touch.\u00a0 Can a father know the difference?<\/p>\n
Rated:\u00a0 T \u00a0WC \u00a02200<\/p>\n
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author.\u00a0 The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise.\u00a0 No copyright infringement is intended.<\/p>\n
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To Reach for the Stars<\/strong><\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u201cOne man scorned and covered with scars still strove with his last ounce of courage to reach the unreachable stars\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u201d <\/strong><\/em><\/p>\n \u2013Miguel de Cervantes<\/strong><\/p>\n <\/p>\n The moon crawled silently across an ebony sky devoid of stars.<\/p>\n Joe Cartwright, alone on foot, walked softly along the narrow path he knew by heart.\u00a0 Below him, barely visible in this darkest hour before dawn, was a weathered cabin beside a silver stream. \u00a0He didn\u2019t need to see it to know it was there.\u00a0 Always<\/em>.<\/p>\n The cabin had been a favorite hideout growing up.\u00a0 Long ago abandoned by its owner, it had been alternately Black Beard\u2019s lair, Robinson Crusoe\u2019s island, or King Arthur\u2019s castle\u2014the locale of whichever book his older brother Adam was reading to his impressionable younger self.\u00a0 It had always been a magical place; a place to slay dragons and be a hero; a place to dream what might be.<\/p>\n He opened the door and stepped into the past.\u00a0 Four years ago this very morning, his princess had come here to live happily ever after.\u00a0 Always<\/em> they\u2019d promised.\u00a0 But she was as ethereal as the dream they\u2019d shared and had vanished just as quickly.<\/p>\n \u201cKeep a warm place for her in your heart,\u201d his Pa had said, \u201cbut don\u2019t carry her on your shoulders for the rest of your life.\u00a0 She wouldn\u2019t want it that way.\u201d<\/p>\n Even now she was in his heart, but never the time and the place and the loved one all together.\u00b9<\/p>\n *****<\/p>\n Ben and Adam were already eating heartily when Hoss ambled into the dining room and took his seat.<\/p>\n \u201cLittle Joe coming?\u201d asked Adam.<\/p>\n \u201cNo,\u201d Hoss replied, ladling gravy over his biscuits.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat do you mean, \u2018No\u2019?\u201d asked Ben.<\/p>\n \u201cHe ain\u2019t goin\u2019 nowhere with us today, you know that.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAnd why is that exactly?\u201d asked Adam.<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s April 23,\u201d Hoss said simply.<\/p>\n Ben dropped his fork on the plate and sat back in his chair with a great sigh.<\/p>\n Adam looked from his father to his brother, at first not grasping the significance of the date. \u201cOh,\u201d he said, at last understanding. The silence continued for several minutes before Adam inquired, \u201cDo you want me to go after him?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo,\u201d Ben said. \u201cLet him be for now. If he hasn\u2019t come home by supper, I\u2019ll go.\u201d<\/p>\n *****<\/p>\n The evening meal was a solemn affair, each Cartwright painfully aware of the unoccupied chair at the table. \u00a0Hop Sing removed the plates of half-eaten food and brought in the coffee pot without a single rant.<\/p>\n \u201cDadburnit, Pa,\u201d Hoss said. \u201cI just don\u2019t understand it. He lost Amy two years before Laura and he doesn\u2019t disappear on the anniversary of her death.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou\u2019re right, Hoss,\u201d Ben said, sadly nodding.<\/p>\n “Why\u00a0do ya think that is?” Hoss pressed further.<\/p>\n Ben smiled slightly at his middle son’s earnestness in trying to grasp why Joe did what he did.\u00a0 Hoss\u00a0never needed a reason to defend\u00a0or protect his little brother, but he was sometimes sorely tried at understanding what motivated\u00a0Joe.\u00a0 You’re not the only one, Hoss. <\/em>Ben looked across the table at his first born for help.<\/p>\n Adam put down his coffee cup and cleared his throat.\u00a0 \u201cAhem.\u00a0 While it’s true that Little Joe was with\u00a0Amy at the end,\u00a0Hoss, she died in her father\u2019s house, in her own bed.\u00a0 She was still first and foremost her father\u2019s daughter.\u201d<\/p>\n Seeing his father\u2019s subtle nod, Adam continued, \u201cLaura, on the other hand, had clearly articulated her choice to leave her father and marry Joe; much to Captain White\u2019s dismay if you\u2019ll recall.”<\/p>\n Leaning forward, Ben rested his hand on Hoss\u2019 forearm, “Laura died in Joe\u2019s arms . . . in their house . . . in what was to be their marriage bed .\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0on their wedding day. \u00a0That kind of scar doesn\u2019t heal easily, son.”\u00a0\u00a0If ever<\/em>.<\/p>\n \u201cI reckon.\u00a0 Just wish there was somethin\u2019 we could do,\u201d Hoss answered simply.<\/p>\n \u201cAside from the obvious?\u201d Adam swallowed his words into his napkin, but Hoss heard anyway.<\/p>\n \u201cAw, Adam,\u201d Hoss said.\u00a0 \u201cWhy would you want to do a thing like that?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cA thing like what?\u201d Ben queried, his tone a little sharper than before.<\/p>\n Adam looked from his brother to his father and back again before he finally said what he\u2019d been thinking for years, \u201cYou could tear down the cabin so he couldn\u2019t go there and wallow in self-pity.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDoggone it, Adam .\u00a0.\u00a0.\u201d Hoss blustered and started to pull his arm away, but Ben had tightened his grip and held Hoss fast.<\/p>\n What had been a quiet\u2014albeit sober\u2014suppertime had turned suddenly into a battlefield.\u00a0 And Joseph isn\u2019t even here!\u00a0 How does he do that? <\/em>\u00a0Ben wondered again how his youngest son was able to create chaos from afar.\u00a0 \u201cThat will be enough,\u201d he said still firmly gripping Hoss\u2019 arm, but looking at Adam.\u00a0 \u201cIt\u2019s still daylight.\u00a0 I\u2019ll track him down and put an end to this annual ritual once and for all.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou\u2019re not going to be able to track him, Pa,\u201d\u00a0Hoss said.<\/p>\n \u201cWhy not?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHe didn\u2019t take Cochise; she\u2019s favoring her right foreleg a bit and he was gonna let her rest up for a few days.\u00a0 I\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0I think he might have taken one of the newly-broke horses he\u2019s been working with.\u201d<\/p>\n So that\u2019s part of it; Hoss is worried that Joe got thrown and is lying hurt somewhere.\u00a0 <\/em>Ben\u2019s stomach did a flip at the thought, but soon settled.\u00a0 No.\u00a0 <\/em>He didn\u2019t know how he knew, he just always did when one of his boys was injured.\u00a0 Joe wasn\u2019t physically hurt, but Laura\u2019s death had left a scar, of that much he was certain.<\/p>\n \u201cHoss, I\u2019ll find him and bring him home,\u201d Ben said at last, reassuring his son with a pat on the arm.\u00a0 \u201cDon\u2019t you worry.\u201d<\/p>\n Adam arose from the table and said quietly, \u201cI\u2019ll saddle your horse.\u201d<\/p>\n *****<\/p>\n Ben went up to the lake first, hoping against hope that he would find Joe at his mother\u2019s grave, pouring out his heart or seeking solace in the tranquil beauty of the place that was so like Marie herself.<\/p>\n When Joe was younger, Ben would find the hastily-scrawled notes he left at his mother\u2019s grave; missives that shared life\u2019s latest indignity or fervent dream; that told funny jokes or bespoke secrets so heart-breaking that Ben wept to read them.\u00a0 But read them he did, embracing any means of better understanding his enigmatic son.<\/p>\n Alas, this evening no fresh-picked lilacs graced the mossy mound, nor were there any scraps of ink-filled paper tucked into the headstone\u2019s crevices to enlighten him.\u00a0 Ben knelt before the stone.\u00a0 Marie.\u00a0 Help me.<\/em><\/p>\n A soft pine-scented breeze stirred the branches above him and brought back memories of their summers together by the lake and oh-so-many dreams.<\/p>\n Maybe Adam is right.\u00a0 Maybe I should have razed that cabin after Laura died; gotten rid of the painful memories; allowed my son to heal instead of constantly tearing at old wounds.\u00a0 Well, it isn\u2019t too late for me to do right by my boy. <\/em><\/p>\n *****<\/p>\n No light emanated from the cabin as he approached in the creeping twilight, and there was no horse tied outside or in the nearby lean to. Perhaps Joe didn\u2019t come here after all.<\/em>\u00a0 Not knowing his son\u2019s whereabouts was not a comforting thought, but it was momentarily preferable to imagining\u00a0his son alone in a dark and empty sepulcher\u00a0brooding over a life only dreamed of.<\/p>\n He opened the door quietly and entered. Ben hadn\u2019t been to the cabin since the day they had seen Laura\u2019s father off, but he remembered the layout well enough. To the left was a small bedroom, and sure enough, stretched out on the bed was Joe.<\/p>\n The cabin was rapidly being swallowed by darkness, but there was still\u00a0enough light left for him to spy a kerosene lamp on the mantel. Ben groped for the nearby matches and lit the lamp, carrying it into the bedroom. His heart caught when he saw that Joe had fallen asleep reading Laura\u2019s diary. Oh, Joseph.<\/em><\/p>\n Suddenly Ben shivered. \u00a0Even though it had been a warm spring day, there was a decidedly winter-like nip to the evening air, and he wished he had his jacket. \u00a0He took a quilt from the foot of the bed, spread it over his son and then went to start a fire. There was plenty of kindling and wood and the fire caught easily, drawing well. This fireplace has been used, and recently. \u00a0Just how often does Joe come here?<\/em><\/p>\n Ben turned up the lamp and looked around the cabin in earnest for more evidence of occupation. \u00a0No dust; no cobwebs. The cabin has been cared for. <\/em>He went into the alcove at the right which served as the kitchen. There\u2019s water; the pump doesn\u2019t need priming. And there are staples in the larder; nothing perishable, but food, nonetheless.<\/em><\/p>\n Returning to the chair by the fire, Ben sat down wearily and put his head in his hands. What are you doing here, Joseph? \u00a0Didn\u2019t I warn you not to carry her on your shoulders the rest of your life? <\/em><\/p>\n Emotionally exhausted, Ben sank back in the chair. \u00a0As he did so, he saw the cradle Adam had made as a wedding present for the young couple. It still sat by the fireplace, another testament to unfulfilled dreams. \u00a0Oh, Marie . . . how can I help our son heal?<\/em><\/p>\n \u201cYou already have, mon ch\u00e9ri.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n \u201cMarie?\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n \u201cOui.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n \u201cAm I dreaming?\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n \u201cMais oui. \u00a0Shhh. \u00a0All will be fine, you will see. \u00a0Our son is all right.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n \u201cHow can you say that? \u00a0Look at this place!\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n \u201cAnd what is wrong with this place?\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n \u201cWhat\u2019s wrong! \u00a0It\u2019s a damn tomb, that\u2019s what it is!\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n \u201cShhh, my darling. Do you not visit my grave? Tend it carefully? \u00a0Plant flowers? \u00a0Re-read our love letters?\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n \u201cYes, but\u2014\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n \u201cDo you not remember lying in our bed gazing at stars so brilliant it seemed we could almost touch them?\u00a0 <\/em><\/p>\n \u201cYes, but\u2014\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n \u201cDid you not tell me that we must always reach for the stars to keep our dreams alive?\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n \u201cYes, but\u2014\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n \u201cNon, ch\u00e9ri, there is no difference. \u00a0Here there is solace. \u00a0Here our son finds peace and joie de vivre. \u00a0Open your eyes.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n His heart racing, Ben awoke with a start as a log snapped and fell to the hearth, showering the darkened room with sparks. \u00a0Marie? <\/em><\/p>\n Regaining his composure, he looked around the cabin and\u00a0slowly began to\u00a0see\u00a0it through her eyes . . . a bouquet of lilacs on the table, clean floors and windows; freshly laundered drapes. \u00a0Joseph must have been working nonstop since sunup, not moping around morose and bereft as I\u2019d imagined.<\/em><\/p>\n With sudden clarity Ben remembered that Matthew White had taken his daughter\u2019s body back to New Orleans for burial. Joe had no grave to visit; no headstone to lean against or carved name to caress with his fingertips; no real memories of a life shared, only a life promised. \u00a0Only this house. \u00a0This is the only place Joseph has to cherish her memory and their dreams.<\/em><\/p>\n Rising from the chair, Ben made his way around the room truly seeing for the first time the home his son had\u00a0so lovingly restored and furnished\u00a0for his wife to be\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0. the pictures, the rocking chair, the sewing basket, a dried mud pie on the mantel.\u00a0 This cabin is Laura\u2019s headstone: \u00a0a monument to hope everlasting and dreams yet to come.<\/em><\/p>\n Tiptoeing into the bedroom, he watched as Joe drew deep, even breaths and saw the smile upon his face. \u00a0Joseph has healed. \u00a0A scar\u2014after all\u2014is no longer a living wound. \u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n *****<\/p>\n Ben stood outside the cabin, drinking in the night sky.\u00a0 Seldom in his recollection had the stars shined as brightly; he knew every constellation, every cluster.\u00a0 He taught each son how to find his way by looking up at the heavens.\u00a0 Strange that I had almost forgotten to look up.<\/em><\/p>\n \u201c<\/em>You could almost touch them,\u201d Joe whispered.<\/p>\n Ben smiled and put his arm around Joe\u2019s shoulder, drawing him close.<\/p>\n \u201cAlways remember, son\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0. it takes courage to keep striving for the unattainable.\u201d<\/p>\n Joe leaned his head against his father\u2019s shoulder, content in the warmth of his embrace.\u00a0 Taking turns, they named the constellations as the stars traversed the velvet sky and disappeared one by one into the pre-dawn light of April 24.<\/p>\n Turning, Ben said, \u201cYou know what I think, Joe?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat Pa?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThis cabin could use a coat of paint.\u201d<\/p>\n \u2014The End\u2014<\/p>\n October 2010<\/p>\n End notes:<\/p>\n \u00b9 \u00a0\u201cNever the Time and the Place\u201d is a poem by Robert Browning.”<\/p>\n The Truckee Strip\u201d was written by Herman Groves (Season 1)<\/p>\n \u201cThe Storm\u201d was written by Denne Petitclerc (Season 3).<\/p>\n Author\u2019s notes:\u00a0 Many thanks to Paula for her encouragement and the beta read.<\/em><\/p>\n Disclaimer: All 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.<\/p>\n \u00a0<\/strong><\/em><\/p>\n <\/p>\n