when<\/em> they find me, they\u2019ll do the same to me as they did to all those others. I know that, sure as I know I\u2019ve got to gasp in another quick breath.<\/p>\nI can still hear them screaming. The little, balding man with the checkered suit had begged for mercy. He should have known better. The savages who shot our stagecoach full of fire-tipped arrows don\u2019t know anything about mercy. All they know is hate. And death. But not an easy death. No. Never an easy death. Not even for that fine lady and her fine pearls. All those fine manners sure didn\u2019t make it any easier on her. She ended up screaming just as loud and long as the rest of them.<\/p>\n
But no one\u2019s screaming now.<\/p>\n
It\u2019s quiet. Too quiet. My heart\u2019s beating so hard I can feel it in my throat. And it\u2019s loud. How can I make it shut up before they hear it, too? I wish\u2026.<\/p>\n
It\u2019s wrong. I know it\u2019s wrong, but I wish someone else would start screaming again so those savages couldn\u2019t hear my heart beating like it is. Of course, no one\u2019s going to scream if they\u2019re all already dead. And I\u2019m pretty sure they\u2019re all dead, every one of them.<\/p>\n
There\u2019d been a lot of \u2018em, too. That stagecoach had been so filled up with people I\u2019d ended up riding on top. And when the coach fell over, I fell farther than all the rest of them, clear on down the rocky hill and into the creek at the bottom. Far enough away for those savages to forget about me for a while\u2026at least until there wasn\u2019t anyone else left to do all that screaming they seemed to like hearing so much.<\/p>\n
I couldn\u2019t help any of \u2018em. I could barely even help myself. About all I could do was use all that screaming to my advantage. It let me know the Indians were busy enough that I could pull myself through the water without them noticing.<\/p>\n
I couldn\u2019t get away. Not exactly. But maybe I could reach these reeds. Maybe the reeds could hide me well enough\u2026or at least long<\/em> enough that the Indians might lose interest.<\/p>\nBanged up as I am, I didn\u2019t get very far. My leg\u2019s broke. A couple of ribs must be, too; I reckon that\u2019s what\u2019s makin\u2019 it so hard to breathe\u2026that and this fear I can\u2019t seem to swallow. About all I can do now is pray I didn\u2019t upset too many rocks crawling over here. It\u2019s dark. Full night, now. So maybe\u2026maybe those Indians won\u2019t notice a few overturned rocks.<\/p>\n
They\u2019re getting closer. There\u2019s a rustle in the brush above me\u2026can\u2019t be more than ten yards away.<\/p>\n
Oh, God, please<\/em>! Please don\u2019t let them find me!<\/p>\nI\u2019m shivering. I clamp my teeth shut, trying\u2026trying so hard to stop them from clattering together, but my head\u2019s spinning, and I can\u2019t. I just\u2026can\u2019t.<\/p>\n
I see one of \u2018em now. The moon\u2019s bright enough and he\u2019s\u2026he\u2019s close enough. I still can\u2019t tell what tribe he\u2019s from. I\u2019ve never seen war paint like that before. He\u2019s covered nearly head to toe in it, unless\u2026. Is that blood?<\/p>\n
I can\u2019t breathe. I can\u2019t let myself breathe. Can\u2019t move. Can\u2019t\u2026.<\/p>\n
\u201cHey!\u201d<\/p>\n
Where\u2019d that voice come from? That brave looks as surprised as me. Maybe\u2026maybe he thinks it\u2019s me. He\u2019s not moving this way anymore, and he\u2019s\u2026he\u2019s looking into the trees, to where that voice came from.<\/p>\n
\u201cHey, you miserable coward!\u201d the voice calls out again; and I swear it sounds like\u2026. \u201cIf you want to go after someone, how about trying someone who can actually fight back?\u201d<\/p>\n
Adam<\/em>? No. It can\u2019t be Adam. It can\u2019t\u2026can\u2019t be Adam.<\/p>\nWhoever it is, he\u2019s caught that brave\u2019s attention. The rustling sounds get more distant. After a while, I don\u2019t hear them at all. I don\u2019t hear anything but the creek\u2026and the thumping of my own heartbeat\u2026and these blasted shivering gasps that never quite fill my lungs.<\/p>\n
I think maybe\u2026maybe I\u2019m safe for now. It\u2019s getting a little easier to breathe, and the shivering\u2026well, I guess it\u2019s not so bad anymore, either. And\u2026look\u2026. Just look<\/em> at all those stars.<\/p>\nI can almost forget I was ever on that stage\u2026like I\u2019m a kid again, laying on the ground so I can anchor myself to look for shooting stars.<\/p>\n
Adam used to point out all the constellations. I don\u2019t remember too many of their names\u2026but I recognize some of the shapes.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat\u2019s that one, Adam?\u201d I find myself whispering. I don\u2019t know why. I sure don\u2019t expect him to answer me. But, for some reason, I\u2019m not surprised when he does.<\/p>\n
\u201cCassiopeia.\u201d<\/p>\n
Then the feel of the sun on my face pulls my eyes open, and I realize I\u2019ve fallen asleep.<\/p>\n
No! I wasn\u2019t supposed to fall asleep! They could still be out there!<\/em><\/p>\nPanicking makes me tense up, and all the pain I was in before comes back. It\u2019s even worse now. I can\u2019t help but cry out.<\/p>\n
Dammit<\/em>! If they are still out there, they\u2019ll have heard me, for sure.<\/p>\nBut the man I hear shouting doesn\u2019t sound like an Indian at all. It\u2019s not Adam, either. \u201cOver here, sarge! One of \u2018em\u2019s still alive!\u201d<\/p>\n
Sarge?<\/em><\/p>\nBefore I can make sense of who said that, something blue catches my eye. An army uniform<\/em>? It is<\/em>, isn\u2019t it? I feel a new kind of warmth settle across me, and then I see someone\u2019s given me his blue army coat.<\/p>\n\u201cEasy, son,\u201d a grizzled old voice says softly. \u201cYou\u2019re gonna be alright, now.\u201d<\/p>\n
I look up at him, and for a second\u2026just for a second, I see Adam smiling back at me.<\/p>\n
When I blink, my brother\u2019s gone and all I see is a wind-ravaged face with gray stubble. But it doesn\u2019t matter. It was Adam. I know it was. No one\u2019s ever going to be able to tell me different.<\/p>\n
My brother, Adam, saved my life last night\u2014that messenger who came by two months ago be damned. Adam wasn\u2019t lost at sea. He\u2019s not lost at all. He\u2019s right here, just like he\u2019s supposed to be. Just like\u2026.<\/p>\n
\u201cWatch that leg, Williams,\u201d the grizzled voice says. \u201cLooks like a clean break, but all this mud ain\u2019t helpin\u2019, any. Don\u2019t fuss, son,\u201d he says to me, then. \u201cYou just let us do the work, ya\u2019 hear?\u201d The man with the gray stubble smiles down at me and pats my shoulder.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s okay, Joe.\u201d I can feel Adam\u2019s breath in my ear. \u201cJust go back to sleep for a while. Before you know it, you\u2019ll be as good as new.\u201d He brushes his hand over my hair and rubs my temple with his thumb. And I know I can trust him.<\/p>\n
So I do. I go ahead and close my eyes, knowing full well that Adam\u2019s right there with me. Right where he\u2019s supposed to be.<\/p>\n
XxXxX<\/p>\n
Ben<\/strong><\/span><\/em><\/p>\nNo. Not again. Please, God, not again. I can\u2019t bear it. I can\u2019t\u2026.<\/p>\n
\u201cPa?\u201d<\/p>\n
Hoss reminds me that I\u2019m not alone in this. Hearing his voice, as quiet and uncertain as it sounds, helps me to draw breath, to fill my lungs\u2026to give me strength. But his eyes, when I finally meet them, almost take that strength away again. How can a grown man look so much like a frightened boy? Do I, too, look that way? Or worse\u2026like an old man, finally broken by the burdens of life?<\/p>\n
\u201cIs it\u2026is it Joe?\u201d<\/p>\n
His eyes move my own to the crumpled paper in my fist. Surprised at my carelessness, I unfold my fingers, and then, finally, remember to nod. \u201cYes.\u201d My voice sounds small. Too small. I clear my throat and pull my back up straight. \u201cYes. It\u2019s Joe. He\u2019s alive, Hoss. He\u2019s hurt, but he\u2019s alive.\u201d My throat constricts around the words. How can it be so hard to speak them, when the one word I dread more than any other isn\u2019t among them? He\u2019s alive<\/em>. My youngest son is still alive. But for how long? For how much longer?<\/p>\nI find my eyes drawn again to the telegram.<\/p>\n
Stagecoach attacked. Company assets must be secured. Come soonest. Inform sheriff. One survivor. Joseph Cartwright of Virginia City. In the infirmary. Fort Ruby.<\/em><\/p>\n\u201cI\u2019ll get fresh horses.\u201d Hoss pulls me from my thoughts\u2026dark thoughts I want no part of.<\/p>\n
Have I told him where we need to go? I\u2019m not sure. I don\u2019t remember.<\/p>\n
Come soonest<\/em>.<\/p>\n\u201cYes, Hoss. Thank you, son.\u201d<\/p>\n
Come soonest<\/em>.<\/p>\nIt doesn\u2019t matter where, does it? Hoss would go to the ends of the earth if he had to, like he\u2019d been so ready to do for Adam.<\/p>\n
\u201cThey ain\u2019t looked everywhere, Pa,\u201d <\/em>Hoss had insisted. \u201cThere\u2019s got to be somewhere they ain\u2019t looked. An island, maybe. Pa, we can\u2019t just\u2026. They can\u2019t just tell us he\u2019s lost. He can\u2019t be lost, Pa. He just\u2026. He can\u2019t.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\nMy fingers curl tightly around the paper once more. \u201cJoe\u2019s still alive.\u201d A whisper is all I can manage. It\u2019s also all I need. The words are meant for no one but myself.<\/p>\n
XxXxX<\/p>\n
Hoss<\/strong><\/span><\/em><\/p>\nFor just a second or two, I think I forgot how to breathe. Mister Patterson, that agent for the stage line, he\u2019s been arguin\u2019 with Pa and me for days now. It started back in Virginia City when he told us that telegram had been meant for him, not Pa.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt isn\u2019t safe, Mister Cartwright.\u201d<\/em> He\u2019d said it like that ought to matter, as though whether or not the road was safe should be enough to keep Pa and me from reachin\u2019 that little brother of mine…my only brother now. \u201cI shared that information with you as a courtesy, but you must wait until the army announces the road is secure. Likewise, I have a duty to secure company assets. You, on the other hand\u2014\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\u201cHave a duty to my son!\u201d<\/em> Pa didn\u2019t have to say much more than that. Even the horses could see we weren\u2019t about to let anythin\u2019 stop us from reachin\u2019 that fort. They seemed as anxious as we were to get on the trail.<\/p>\nFrom then on, the arguments were about anythin\u2019 and everythin\u2019. Patterson always wanted to stop for the night before it was full dark, but Pa and me just wanted to keep pressin\u2019 on. Then he wasted time each mornin\u2019 not only pickin\u2019 up the camp, but also clearin\u2019 it. Me, I didn\u2019t much care if any of them Indians followed us or caught up with us. Fact is, I was bristlin\u2019 for a fight, and the more days we spent on the trail, the more fight I had in me.<\/p>\n
But then, when we got to that fort and that captain was ready to turn us away, the agent who\u2019d been fightin\u2019 against us started fightin\u2019 for us. And I plumb forgot how to breathe.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019re argument, Captain<\/em> Richards, is as far from sound as any I\u2019ve ever heard.\u201d It was the strangest thing, hearin\u2019 Patterson talk like that. He sounded\u2026I could swear he sounded just like Adam. \u201cTurning these men away for already having taken a road you deem unsafe would do nothing more than put them right back on that very same road all over again.\u201d<\/p>\nHe sounded so much like Adam I half wanted to pull him into a bear hug. But he wasn\u2019t Adam. He wasn\u2019t even close to bein\u2019 Adam. And all I could do was ball my hands up into fists until that captain finally called a corporal over to take us to Joe.<\/p>\n
And now\u2026now I\u2019m forgettin\u2019 to breathe all over again. Because Joe\u2026he sure don\u2019t look like Joe. My little brother\u2026Little Joe\u2026he ain\u2019t never still. He\u2019s always movin\u2019, even in sleep. But that man lyin\u2019 there ain\u2019t even twitchin\u2019. He\u2019s as still as\u2026.<\/p>\n
No. I ain\u2019t even gonna think it. My little brother\u2019s alive. He may not be movin\u2019, but he\u2019s alive. And we sure didn\u2019t come all this way to watch him die.<\/p>\n
XxXxX<\/p>\n
Ben<\/strong><\/span><\/em><\/p>\n\u201cJoseph?\u201d<\/p>\n
He\u2019s too silent, too still, and his arm feels so slight in my grip. It\u2019s almost as though he\u2019s a child again, so<\/em> like a child that simply touching him spurs memories long abandoned, even\u2026forgotten. A moment from long ago comes awake in my thoughts so clearly, so vividly, and so welcomed that for an instant I am afraid to breathe lest I chase it away again.<\/p>\nThe child\u2019s squeals that draw me to the top of the stairs at first frighten me, and then they anger me for having pulled me from the sweet bliss of slumber. And then, finally, they fill me with more joy than I\u2019ve known for a time beyond measure as my gaze falls upon my sons, all three of them, breaking a strict rule against roughhousing inside. Adam tickles young Joseph until the boy\u2019s giggles erupt into a cackle of laughter that elicits a howling hoot from Hoss, whose intervention turns both brothers, the oldest and the youngest, against him. Chairs are pushed, scratching across the floor\u2026and still I watch, unwilling to disturb this\u2026treasure<\/em>.<\/p>\nMy boys are laughing again, after so many weeks in somber silence. My Marie is gone, and yet, my boys are laughing. And I can\u2019t help but chuckle along with them. It\u2019s a sense I\u2019d never thought to know again, but my smile is as real as theirs.<\/p>\n
When Adam takes Joe into his arms and calls a truce, Joe wraps his small hands around his oldest brother\u2019s neck and Hoss leans heavily against them both until all three fall to the floor.<\/p>\n
I\u2019m not sure how it started, who rescued whom, but all three of my boys are whole again, as am I.<\/p>\n
But that had been long ago.<\/p>\n
\u201cAdam.\u201d The name spills from my lips without thought. The moment of sweet joy turns bitter, choking me with the harsh, horrific knowledge that my oldest son is gone. He\u2019s\u2026gone.<\/p>\n
\u201cD\u2019you see him?\u201d<\/p>\n
Hearing Joe\u2019s whisper takes what\u2019s left of my breath. I open my eyes to see him looking at me, and\u2026he\u2019s smiling.<\/p>\n
\u201cJoe!\u201d My hands engulf his, and his smile deepens.<\/p>\n
\u201cD\u2019you see him?\u201d He\u2019s waiting for me to answer, but to me, the question lacks meaning\u2026or importance, until\u2026. \u201cDid you see Adam?\u201d<\/p>\n
XxXxX<\/p>\n
Hoss<\/strong><\/em><\/span><\/p>\nIt\u2019s a good thing Pa\u2019s sittin\u2019 down. The color drained clear out of his face when Joe asked if he\u2019d seen Adam. Good lord. I don\u2019t feel too well myself. Did Joe forget? That doc said Joe got awfully banged up fallin\u2019 down them rocks. And then layin\u2019 in the water like he did for so long\u2026.<\/p>\n
Maybe he\u2019s just confused. Bein\u2019 sick can do that to you. It can jumble up your thinkin\u2019. But\u2026what do we do now? Do we tell him? Do we let him go on believing Adam\u2019s still alive?<\/p>\n
Dadburnit, Adam<\/em>! Why\u2019d you have to go off to sea like that, anyway? I\u2019d like to throttle you good for that. You shouldn\u2019t\u2026. You shouldn\u2019t have\u2026.<\/p>\n\u201cHoss?\u201d Joe\u2019s lookin\u2019 at me<\/em> now. \u201cWhat\u2019s wrong?\u201d<\/p>\nMaybe he thinks I\u2019m mad at him. I\u2019ve got to simmer down. I can\u2019t let Joe think I\u2019m angry at him. Bein\u2019 angry at Adam\u2019s no good, either. But how do I tell Joe what\u2019s wrong? I can\u2019t tell him about Adam. Not again. Not now. Maybe I can just\u2026. \u201cWhat\u2019s wrong<\/em>, little brother, is the way you went off and scared Pa and me half to death!\u201d<\/p>\nJoe\u2019s confused, alright. His eyebrows are gettin\u2019 all bunched up. \u201cI didn\u2019t\u2026just go off. You knew I was headed to\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t mean it that way, Joe. Not like with Ad\u2014\u201d Damn. I didn\u2019t want to say that. Pa\u2019s lookin\u2019 even paler now. \u201cThis wasn\u2019t your fault, Joe. I know that. It\u2019s just, when we heard about what happened to you\u2026.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou didn\u2019t have to worry.\u201d How can he do that? Go from all confused to smilin\u2019 like there ain\u2019t nothin\u2019 wrong?<\/em> \u201cAdam was lookin\u2019 out for me.\u201d<\/p>\nAdam? Dangnammit<\/em>! \u201cJoe, Adam can\u2019t have\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\u201cHe was there, Hoss.\u201d Joe sounds stronger all of a sudden. Oh, his voice is still soft. But his words\u2026his words are strong. Like he\u2019s convinced himself what he\u2019s sayin\u2019 is true.<\/p>\n
\u201cJoseph.\u201d Pa\u2019s got both his hands around Joe\u2019s, like maybe he\u2019s tryin\u2019 to give Joe strength. \u201cAdam\u2019s gone<\/em>, son.\u201d Funny thing is, Pa don\u2019t sound as strong as Joe.<\/p>\nAnd Joe\u2019s still smilin\u2019. \u201cHe\u2019s back, Pa.\u201d Yeah, Joe\u2019s still smilin\u2019, but his eyes are tearin\u2019 up, even so. \u201cHe\u2019s\u2026he\u2019s not lost anymore. He\u2026found his way home.\u201d Joe\u2019s voice is startin\u2019 to choke up now, too.<\/p>\n
\u201cJoe\u2026.\u201d Pa\u2019s voice is even more choked up than Joe\u2019s. I guess he can\u2019t say anything else.<\/p>\n
I\u2019m not sure I can, either. But I\u2019ve got to, don\u2019t I? \u201cJoe\u2026even if Adam\u2026even if he could make it home, he couldn\u2019t have found you out there. He wouldn\u2019t have known\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHe was there, Hoss\u2026just when I needed him most. That Indian\u2026almost found me. Another second\u2026and\u2026he would\u2019ve found me. But then Adam\u2026Adam called him out. Adam led him away.\u201d The tears are fallin\u2019 now, but Joe ain\u2019t gonna give up that smile, is he?<\/p>\n
\u201cIt couldn\u2019t have been Adam, son.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBut it was. It was<\/em>, Pa!\u201d<\/p>\nDadburnit<\/em>. \u201cJoe, I don\u2019t know who it was. All I know is\u2026I\u2019d sure like to see him so I could thank him.\u201d<\/p>\n\u201cYou will.\u201d Joe\u2019s voice is gettin\u2019 softer. \u201cI\u2019m sure you\u2019ll see him.\u201d My little brother can\u2019t seem to keep his eyes open anymore, either. \u201cYou just\u2026wait. Adam\u2019ll show up. Right when you need him most.\u201d<\/p>\n
If that ain\u2019t the dadblamed dumbest thing Joe\u2019s ever said. I wish I could holler at him. You know when I needed Adam most, little brother? I needed him when Pa showed me that telegram. I needed him out on the trail, when I didn\u2019t know if you\u2019d even be alive by the time we got here. I needed him when\u2026.<\/p>\n
But I have to swallow all these thoughts. I can\u2019t say any of it. And swallowing it all is like filling my gullet with some kind of hot, burnin\u2019 poison that\u2019s makin\u2019 me go plumb crazy.<\/p>\n
I\u2019ve got to stop panting like this. And my hands are all balled up into fists again. I can\u2019t keep thinkin\u2019 about Adam this way.<\/p>\n
Why doesn\u2019t Pa say something? Why\u2019s he sittin\u2019 there so quiet?<\/p>\n
Well, if Pa ain\u2019t gonna say anything, I guess maybe I\u2019ve got to. \u201cYou just\u2026.\u201d What I\u2019ve really got to do is breathe, but\u2026. \u201cYou get some more sleep, little brother. You hear?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou just wait, Hoss. You just\u2026wait.\u201d And that\u2019s all he\u2019s gonna say. Joe\u2019s breathin\u2019 slow and steady now, like he\u2019s listened to me for once. Just like that, he\u2019s asleep again.<\/p>\n
I still can\u2019t breathe and I sure can\u2019t think about sleepin\u2019.<\/p>\n
But Pa\u2026. Pa could use some sleep. He\u2019s holdin\u2019 onto Joe\u2019s hand with both of his, like maybe he\u2019s afraid to let go. I guess maybe he is. And I guess maybe I don\u2019t blame him none for it, either. I just wish\u2026I sure wish he could\u2019ve done that with Adam.<\/p>\n
Dadburnit<\/em>, Adam! Why\u2019d you have to\u2026.<\/p>\nHell, I can\u2019t stay in here like this. I can\u2019t breathe at all in here anymore. All this smell of sickness\u2026and medicine\u2026and\u2026. I could almost swear I\u2019m suffocating. I can\u2019t do it. I can\u2019t stay here. I\u2019ll just\u2026. I\u2019ll tell Pa I\u2019m goin\u2019 to check on the horses. I\u2019ll tell him\u2026.<\/p>\n
Or maybe I don\u2019t need to tell him anything. He\u2019s got his eyes closed now\u2026and his head\u2019s bowed down low enough he can pull Joe\u2019s hand right up to his forehead. It almost looks like he\u2019s prayin\u2019. Maybe he is. And\u2026maybe he should. And\u2026.<\/p>\n
Maybe that\u2019s what I ought to do, too. Outside. Where I can breathe.<\/p>\n
Dangnammit, Adam. Can\u2019t you see we need you here right now?<\/p>\n
\u201cAdam will show up. Right when you need him most.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\nIf only prayin\u2019 could be enough to make that true, little brother. I wish to Heaven prayin\u2019 could be enough to make it true.<\/p>\n
XxXxX<\/p>\n
Ben<\/strong><\/em><\/span><\/p>\nHeavenly Father, please help Joe to understand that his brother is\u2026is lost to us, that Adam is in Your hands now, in\u2026good<\/em> hands, where his restlessness can find\u2026has<\/em> found the peace he could never seem to find here on this Earth. Forgive me, Lord.<\/p>\n\u201cForgive me, Adam<\/em>.\u201d The words escape my lips unbidden. Why, when my prayer to the Lord could be held silent, made within, why did I find the need to speak aloud to Adam just now?<\/p>\nMy eyes fall to Joseph and I see those words have not disturbed his sleep. Perhaps\u2026perhaps it\u2019s time\u2026finally time to speak them, in truth.<\/p>\n
\u201cForgive me, son. I shaped you into the man you were to become.\u201d I say the words to Adam, although Joseph is the man I see before me\u2026Little Joe, who\u2019s spirit was shaped by Adam as much as Adam\u2019s had been shaped by me. \u201cI am responsible for your restlessness. I am the one who kept you from finding any sense of peace. I wanted to give you a home, a true home, a place to set down roots; yet in my desperation to give you that home, I kept<\/em> you from one, taking you from place to place for all those years, your first years of life. I taught you that sense of restlessness. However hard I tried to do otherwise, the legacy I gave to you was one of wanderlust, not roots.\u201d<\/p>\nTears are falling freely now, tears I\u2019ve contained for all these weeks, tears I\u2019ve held inside along with the words I could never bring myself to speak.<\/p>\n
\u201cForgive me, Adam, for forcing you to give your brothers the roots I could never give to you.\u201d<\/p>\n
You didn\u2019t force me, Pa<\/em>. Adam\u2019s voice sounds in my head, in my thoughts. I must shun them, argue against them. They\u2019re a dream, a wish, nothing more\u2026my own, desperate hope to absolve myself for failing him.<\/p>\n\u201cAdam, my son, I relied upon you, I depended upon you far more than was my right.\u201d The words are hard to speak, and yet I speak them, because I must. \u201cI denied you the chance to be, simply, a child, to cherish the excitement of new discoveries.\u201d<\/p>\n
You gave me more discoveries than Hoss and Joe combined could ever know, Pa. Don\u2019t you see that?<\/em><\/p>\n\u201cNo. I\u2019m dreaming. I\u2019m hoping. I\u2019m\u2026wishing. But I know the truth. You worked. All your life, you worked. You worked hard, always so\u2026so very hard.\u201d<\/p>\n
And yet that memory comes again, the laughter of all three of my sons. Yes, all three. Adam did laugh, didn\u2019t he?<\/p>\n
\u201cHard work clears the path to Heaven.\u201d The voice reaches my ears now, not merely my thoughts.<\/p>\n
Stunned, I look again to Little Joe. His eyes remain closed. His chest is rising and falling in a slow, peaceful, steady rhythm. His hand, still in my tight grip, is wet now from my tears.<\/p>\n
Old fool<\/em>. Setting Joe\u2019s hand down gently, I turn to dig my handkerchief from my pocket, only to discover I\u2019m no longer alone. There\u2019s a man standing beside me. And for an instant, just for an instant, I imagine it to be Adam. It is an instant that eases the pain in my heart ever so slightly.<\/p>\n\u201cIdle hands are the devil\u2019s tools.\u201d He speaks a phrase I said often to Adam, a phrase I would use to inspire my son to take on all of that hard work. But the man speaking that phrase now is smiling, not scolding. \u201cIn my experience,\u201d he tells me, \u201cmen who work hard play hard, too. Have no fear, Mister Cartwright, your young son will do both before long. The doctor has assured me he is recovering quite nicely, perhaps even\u2026miraculously.\u201d<\/p>\n
My gaze lands on the Bible he\u2019s carrying.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m the chaplain here, Mister Cartwright, the Reverend Jacob Miller.\u201d<\/p>\n
Rising, I reach out to shake his hand and belatedly realize I\u2019ve yet to wipe from my own the salty wet trails of my tears. He takes my hand nonetheless, encircling it with both of his, much as I had done with Joe\u2019s.<\/p>\n
\u201cI hope you\u2019ll excuse the interruption\u2026.\u201d He speaks bluntly, yet not without compassion. \u201c\u2026And<\/em> the observation, but from what I\u2019ve borne witness to just now, you\u2019re being far too hard on yourself. Something tells me your grief isn\u2019t entirely about young Joseph\u2019s accident?\u201d<\/p>\n\u201cI\u2019m sorry, reverend.\u201d I try to extricate my hand, but the chaplain seems unwilling to let it go. Confused, I look at him more closely. His eyes are warm and inviting, like a campfire on a cold, desert night. And I feel compelled to explain. \u201cI\u2019m afraid my son\u2019s\u2026accident<\/em> is simply reminding me how fragile we are. You see, we\u2019ve only just lost his oldest brother.\u201d I stumble on the word \u2018lost,\u2019 feeling its weight on my tongue\u2026and in my bones.<\/p>\n\u201cDo you hold yourself at fault for both?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo. Of course not. I simply\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019re simply a father, blaming yourself for failing to protect your progeny.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI suppose so. Yes.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cTell me about him, if you would.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cJoseph? Why, he\u2019s\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHis brother, actually.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHis brother?\u201d<\/p>\n
The reverend nods. \u201cThis son is sleeping soundly and is not in need of your protection just now. As is the other, you can be sure. But you\u2019re not<\/em> sure about that one. I\u2019d like to have the chance to find out why.\u201d<\/p>\nXxXxX<\/p>\n
Hoss<\/strong><\/em><\/span><\/p>\nBrushing the flanks of my borrowed horse ain\u2019t helpin\u2019. Neither is talkin\u2019 to him. But I do it anyway. Joe\u2019s always talkin\u2019 to that horse of his, and it seems to help him. So maybe I ought to keep at it, at least for a while longer.<\/p>\n
\u201cIf we were home right now, I\u2019d saddle you up and head into Virginia City. I\u2019d go straight to the Bucket of Blood and take on the biggest yahoo I could find.\u201d The horse blusters and stomps his right foreleg, almost like he\u2019s arguin\u2019 with me. \u201cYou\u2019re big; I\u2019ll give you that. But you ain\u2019t no yahoo. And Joe\u2019s the one who busts mustangs. I got too much bulk to move like he does.\u201d<\/p>\n
I\u2019m not sure if the way the horse is shakin\u2019 his head means he\u2019s arguin\u2019 again; but I ain\u2019t aimin\u2019 to talk about me<\/em> anyhow. \u201cNow Adam<\/em>, he could move right. He\u2019s the one who taught Joe. He sure was proud of that little brother of ours. He\u2019d stand at that corral for hours when he could get away with it, just so he could watch Little Joe bust them broncs. He sure was proud of Little Joe. And Joe\u2026he sure did look up to Adam. We both did. Adam was\u2026he was\u2026.\u201d<\/p>\nDangnammit, Adam!<\/em><\/p>\nNo. I don\u2019t need to be brushin\u2019 no four-legged animal. I need to be punchin\u2019 a two-legged one. But I can\u2019t, can I? All I can do is throw that blasted brush as hard and as far as I can.<\/p>\n
I sure didn\u2019t mean for it to hit that fella\u2019 comin\u2019 in the livery.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy, you\u2026!\u201d He don\u2019t bother finishing his sentence. He\u2019s already runnin\u2019 toward me. He even throws the first punch, hittin\u2019 me square across the jaw.<\/p>\n
No. I didn\u2019t mean to hit him with that brush. But I sure am lookin\u2019 forward to hittin\u2019 him with my fists now.<\/p>\n
XxXxX<\/p>\n
Ben<\/strong><\/span><\/em><\/p>\nFor two months I\u2019ve been fighting to keep the pain hidden\u2026to keep my heart shielded and to tether my thoughts to my two, living sons, the ones who\u2019ve been at my side since Adam boarded that stage years ago.<\/p>\n
Yes, Adam has been gone for years. That simple fact has made it\u2026easy\u2026to believe he\u2019s still far from us yet not entirely unreachable\u2026to think I might find a letter in the mail someday soon\u2026and to still harbor some hope for his return.<\/p>\n
But now\u2026now I find his story coming to the fore. My fight has been lost and I don\u2019t even remember throwing a single punch. I simply\u2026gave in, surrendering to a man of God for no reason other than that he asked.<\/p>\n
And still the words are coming, even when there\u2019s no need to say anything more. \u201cAdam felt a connection back east, I suppose, a connection to his mother and to the sea, which her family has plied for generations. I had hoped\u2026prayed<\/em> for his connection to the Ponderosa to be stronger, but there were times, so very many times when he expressed the desire to go back there, to get away from what he saw as the desolation, the hardship out here.\u201d<\/p>\nMemories of the accident during Adam\u2019s wolf hunt with Joe flood my mind. It had<\/em> been an accident, of course, an horrific yet faultless accident. Adam had targeted the wolf without knowing his brother had been so close. Later, while Joe had struggled physically simply to survive, Adam had faced a different struggle, an emotional battle against guilt for having pulled his trigger at the wrong time, against fear for his brother\u2019s life and against anger at the desolate spaces out here in the west. Had he ever really stopped fighting that battle?<\/p>\n\u201cWhat kept him from leaving sooner?\u201d The reverend\u2019s question once again pulls me back to the room, a small, quiet room beside Fort Ruby\u2019s infirmary.<\/p>\n
I take a deep breath of the dusty, slightly manure-scented air wafting in through the open window. It only strengthens the memories. \u201cA sense of duty, I suppose, an obligation to his brothers and me.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIs that the only reason? Or do you think that perhaps his heart was in two places at once? That perhaps he felt the need to leave, but he felt a stronger pull to remain among you, here, with his family?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cPerhaps. He\u2026saw to it that Joseph was ready to stand on his own. He took great pride in his young brother, almost as though he were Joe\u2019s father, himself.\u201d Because I allowed him to do so\u2026maybe even because I expected him to<\/em>. Yes, I took Adam\u2019s childhood from him, and then I expected for him to willingly give to Joseph what I\u2019d never given him. I sacrificed one son\u2019s childhood for the sake of another\u2019s.<\/p>\nAbraham had been willing to sacrifice a son to show his faith in God. But I\u2026I had thoughtlessly sacrificed one son\u2019s wellbeing to show nothing more than my faith in myself, in my ability to build something grand, something I\u2019d stubbornly believed would be enough to keep all three of my sons rooted beside me, to keep them from ever having the need to go anywhere else.<\/p>\n
\u201cFrom everything you\u2019ve just told me,\u201d the reverend goes on, \u201cI would say Adam did well in this life. He left a fine legacy with his brothers.\u201d<\/p>\n
How can he say that?<\/em> And to sit there so calmly\u2026. He\u2019s even smiling, for Heaven\u2019s sake!<\/p>\n\u201cMy son<\/em> had more things to do in this life, Reverend<\/em> Miller.\u201d The man\u2019s title slips bitterly off my tongue. \u201cWhat would have been\u2026what should<\/em> have been Adam\u2019s legacy is lost to us! He left no children, no\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\u201cChildren are not a man\u2019s only mark on this world, Mister Cartwright. Adam\u2019s presence here touched many people, I\u2019m sure, and his influence upon each of them is his legacy. His influence upon his brothers is surely a superb<\/em> legacy, wouldn\u2019t you agree?\u201d<\/p>\n\u201cIt isn\u2019t enough. It just\u2026isn\u2019t enough!\u201d My fisted hand strikes the arm of the chair, jolting me to the core.<\/p>\n
\u201cSo says his father on Earth. But his Father in Heaven clearly thought otherwise. Would you argue with God about whether or not it was time to call your son home?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes!\u201d The admission strikes me a nearly physical blow. Closing my eyes, I inhale as deeply as I can, and then, \u201cYes,\u201d I repeat in a much softer, less frenzied tone. I feel myself sinking deeper into the hard, wooden chair beneath me, my bones bent, my spirit broken\u2026like a horse that has had its flanks bloodied too often from the spurs of thoughtless drovers.<\/p>\n
I can\u2019t fight any longer. I can\u2019t\u2026pretend.<\/p>\n
I feel broken. I\u2019ve been blaming myself, angry<\/em> at myself; yet now I discover a different anger, a deeper<\/em> anger. \u201cIt was too soon.\u201d I can hardly speak, can hardly\u2026think. I just can\u2019t imagine never seeing my son again, never\u2014<\/p>\n\u201cWhat about Joseph?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat?\u201d His question startles me, pulling me from a dark, immeasurable void.<\/p>\n
\u201cBy all rights, he should be dead. From what I understand, it\u2019s a miracle he survived that fall. It\u2019s also a miracle those Indians left him be for so long. And still another miracle he\u2019s doing so well now.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat are you saying?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019re angry with God for taking one son, and yet He\u2019s blessed you thrice over by returning another. Joseph is the only one who survived that incident, Mister Cartwright. One man out of so many. There has to be a reason for that, a purpose to it, don\u2019t you think?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIf\u2026if you\u2019re comparing me with Abraham, you\u2019re\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo, not at all. Abraham had a choice. You did not. But\u2026think on something else for a moment. If Adam were given a choice to answer God\u2019s call or to allow his young brother to do so, he would choose to answer it himself; would he not?\u201d<\/p>\n
Joe\u2019s voice echoes in my memory, \u201cAdam was lookin\u2019 out for me.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\u201cNo. It can\u2019t be.\u201d The words escape my lips as my gaze looks inward. I can still see Joseph lying hurt\u2014so terribly hurt\u2014and yet not broken. In his smile I see a strength I find bewildering\u2026perhaps even\u2026enchanting\u2026a strength I wish I could find within myself.<\/p>\n
\u201cI beg your pardon?\u201d The reverend\u2019s own bewilderment pulls my gaze back toward him. He, too, has a sense of strength about him, the strength of faith.<\/p>\n
\u201cJoseph\u2026.\u201d I find the words hard to utter. Surely Joseph\u2019s faith has been misplaced. \u201cHe\u2026he\u2019s convinced his brother saved him.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMaybe he has good reason to be so convinced.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHow can you say that?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThe Lord works in mysterious ways, Mister Cartwright. We\u2019ll never know the truth behind all of His mysteries. But there are some truths you can be assured of with your sons. Adam was clearly a strong and courageous man\u2014as is his young brother, to have survived long enough for those cavalry men to find him.\u201d<\/p>\n
Reverend Miller\u2019s words remind me that the cavalry men found Joseph alive only because the Indians had failed to do so themselves.<\/p>\n
And now Joe\u2019s quiet voice begins thundering through my head. \u201cThat Indian almost found me. Another second and he would\u2019ve found me. \u2026Adam called him out. Adam led him away.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\nI allow more of Joe\u2019s words to spill from my own tongue. \u201cHe\u2019s not lost anymore.\u201d When I notice the reverend watching me, I feel compelled to explain. \u201cIt\u2019s something Joseph said of his brother\u2026that\u2026 he\u2019s not lost anymore. He found his way home.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cPerhaps we should add wisdom to Joseph\u2019s list of proficiencies. Both of your sons were lost for a time. Now both are found. Both are right where they are supposed to be, Mister Cartwright. I dare say it is you<\/em> who is lost now.\u201d<\/p>\n\u201cYes.\u201d I am lost. I am so very lost. Without Elizabeth. Without Inger. Without Marie. And now\u2026now Adam. How can I not be lost?<\/p>\n
\u201cI encourage you to listen to your sons\u2026.\u201d<\/p>\n
My sons. I should have three. Three<\/em> sons. Three fine sons to\u2014<\/p>\n\u201c\u2026The one lying in that cot with faith in his heart\u2026.\u201d The reverend\u2019s words drill into my thoughts, separating my sons, tearing them from one another in my mind\u2019s eye. \u201c\u2026And the one who has found his place with God.\u201d<\/p>\n
God help me, I just want my sons to be whole again. I want my\u2026soul<\/em>\u2026to be whole again. And now this man of God suggests that I listen to my missing son, my\u2026dead<\/em> son. \u201cHow can I? How can I listen to a man who\u2026who has been silenced?\u201d<\/p>\n\u201cHe\u2019ll only remain silent if you don\u2019t<\/em> listen.\u201d<\/p>\nHow<\/em>? But the question, itself, remains silent. And before I can say or ask anything more, the door opens.<\/p>\n\u201cMister Cartwright?\u201d Although the doctor\u2019s expression is guarded, somehow I know the news he brings is not about Joseph.<\/p>\n
\u201cHoss?\u201d My middle son\u2019s\u2014my eldest<\/em> living son\u2019s name comes unbidden, as though\u2026almost as though I am repeating what has just been whispered in my ear.<\/p>\nThe doctor\u2019s eyes soften and his mask slips away, revealing something I can only imagine is frustration. \u201cI understand he\u2019s been\u2026introduced\u2026to the bull of the fort, if you will.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThe bull of the fort?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s a turn of phrase lumbermen use to\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes, yes, I know. But what exactly are you telling me?\u201d<\/p>\n
He sighs heavily as his frustration melts into\u2026amusement? \u201cI suggest you follow Corporal Harris, Mister Cartwright. It\u2019s best that you see for yourself.\u201d<\/p>\n
XxXxX<\/p>\n
Hoss<\/strong><\/em><\/span><\/p>\n\u201cDammit, Hoss! You\u2019re mad at me<\/em>, not him!\u201d<\/p>\nAdam<\/em>? Can\u2019t be Adam. I\u2019m hearin\u2019 things. I\u2019m\u2014<\/p>\n\u201cYou don\u2019t even know who this man is!\u201d<\/p>\n
I can\u2019t be hearin\u2019 Adam. There\u2019s a lot of men around\u2026a lot of yellin\u2019 going on.\u00a0 I know that\u2019s all I\u2019m hearin\u2019. Funny thing though\u2026I don\u2019t know where all these men came from. In fact, I don\u2019t even remember comin\u2019 out of the livery. All I know is I\u2019m out in the street now. And whoever that was who sounded like Adam, well, he was right. I\u2019m fightin\u2019 with a man I don\u2019t even know. And I don\u2019t even know why.<\/p>\n
And I sure don\u2019t know how come I\u2019m on the ground now. That last punch must\u2019ve packed a wallop. I guess maybe that\u2019s on account of the fact I stopped fightin\u2019 and started thinkin\u2019\u2026all on account of the fact I could\u2019ve swore I heard Adam.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m sorry, Hoss.\u201d<\/p>\n
Whoever that is, he\u2019s got no business soundin\u2019 like Adam. Trouble is, I can\u2019t seem to open my eyes to look at him.<\/p>\n
\u201cI didn\u2019t mean to hurt you.\u201d<\/p>\n
Yeah, but you did, didn\u2019t you? You hurt all of us.<\/p>\n
I guess maybe it didn\u2019t hurt so much right off. We all figured you\u2019d come home. But you never did. You never did come home.<\/p>\n
I\u2019ve got to go with the turn and tide of things<\/em>.<\/p>\nI remember Uncle Gunnar sayin\u2019 that. And I remember how you got that sort of faraway look in your eye when he said it, too. Like you envied him. Like you wanted to see all them places he saw, all them countries and oceans. But you saw how his life turned out. He could\u2019ve got Joe killed when he was leadin\u2019 that band of Comancheros. He did the right thing in the end\u2014but dangnammit<\/em>, Adam! You and Uncle Gunnar were about as different as night and day. And you sure weren\u2019t no Viking. You were as honest as a man could be. A good man. A good brother. My<\/em> brother. Mine and Joe\u2019s.<\/p>\n\u201cHoss?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cPa?\u201d I can\u2019t say any more than that. I\u2019m sputterin\u2019 too much from all this water someone\u2019s thrown in my face. But at least I can open my eyes now. Pa\u2019s kneelin\u2019 next to me\u2026and someone\u2026someone I don\u2019t know is kneelin\u2019 on the other side. Someone who\u2019s got a mess of cuts and bruises on his face.<\/p>\n
\u201cI didn\u2019t mean to hit you so hard.\u201d The stranger\u2019s smilin\u2019 through a split lip. \u201cBut you dropped your guard and my fist vas already coming.\u201d He sounds a bit like Uncle Gunnar. \u201cDat vas some fight, ya? Ve gave the men a run for their money!\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI guess we did, didn\u2019t we?\u201d I test the soreness in my jaw, and then let both Pa and the stranger help me get up. Now I can\u2019t help but see all those men\u2026all those soldiers slappin\u2019 each other on the back and passin\u2019 money around. I reckon they\u2019d been betting on who would win.<\/p>\n
\u201cHoss!\u201d Pa don\u2019t sound as happy as that blond-haired soldier. \u201cWhat on earth were you thinking, son? Brawling in the street, in the middle of\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI wasn\u2019t, Pa. I wasn\u2019t thinkin\u2019. I don\u2019t even know how it started.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou hit me vit a horse\u2019s brush!\u201d That blond man\u2019s still smilin\u2019, so I guess he ain\u2019t still mad.<\/p>\n
\u201cI reckon I did, didn\u2019t I? I\u2019m sorry about that.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOh, nie! Nie! Don\u2019t be sorry!\u201d He slaps me on the back like all them other men are doin\u2019, and I stumble for just a second, just enough to get a worried look from Pa. \u201cI\u2019ve been in need of a good fight since we found dat stagecoach.\u201d And suddenly that blond stranger ain\u2019t smilin\u2019. \u201cA gruesome ting dat vas. All dose people. I\u2019ve been fighting mad ever since, but the Indians vere already gone. There veren\u2019t no one to fight.\u201d He spits blood into the sand. \u201cDo you know the man ve found out there? De man who\u2019s in the infirmary now?\u201d<\/p>\n
I look to where he\u2019s pointin\u2019 and it\u2019s like I can still see Little Joe lyin\u2019 in that bed all banged up but resting good and peaceful. Like he ain\u2019t banged up at all; he\u2019s just real tired. Like he figures he\u2019s gonna wake up tomorrow and be just fine.<\/p>\n
I see Pa lookin\u2019 that way, too. He\u2019s got that sadness in his eyes, the one he\u2019s been carryin\u2019 since we heard about Adam. But the fear he had on the ride out here\u2026well, at least that\u2019s gone now. Joe\u2019s gonna be fine. And we ain\u2019t leavin\u2019 him alone until he is.<\/p>\n
That stranger\u2019s still lookin\u2019 at me, still waitin\u2019 for me to answer. \u201cHe\u2019s my brother.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOh, nie! He can\u2019t be your broder! You\u2026you are like me, ya? Big as any Norseman! Dey call me the bull of the fort. Not a man here as big as you and me.\u201d He slaps me on the back again; this time, I don\u2019t stumble. \u201cBut dat man in there\u2026. Nie. He is too small to be your broder!\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWell, he is<\/em> my brother. And I\u2019m mighty grateful you found him when you did.\u201d<\/p>\n\u201cIt vas Villiams who found him. Strange ting dat vas, too.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cStrange?\u201d Pa beats me to asking.<\/p>\n
But instead of answerin\u2019, the blond fellow waves another man over toward us. \u201cHey, Villiams! Come here! Tell dese men how you found that one who survived out there.\u201d<\/p>\n
The man who answers is a young\u2019un. Almost looks too young to be in the cavalry. He looks young enough I figure he should be back home, gettin\u2019 looked after by his older brothers. But maybe\u2026maybe that look I\u2019m seein\u2019 ain\u2019t so much about bein\u2019 young as it is about bein\u2019 scared. There\u2019s something in his eyes, a haunted sort of look.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s all right,\u201d the blond fellow tells him; and he puts a hand on the younger fellow\u2019s shoulder, almost like a big brother might. \u201cBe honest. Tell dem vat you told us.\u201d<\/p>\n
Williams\u2019 eyes meet mine and he swallows so hard I can see his Adam\u2019s apple bobbin\u2019 up and down. He glances toward the blond fellow again, and at that man\u2019s nod, he turns back to me and Pa. \u201cA shadow,\u201d he says. \u201cI saw a shadow. A\u2026a man. He weren\u2019t wearin\u2019 a uniform. He was all dressed in black. He called out to me, sayin\u2019, \u2018Over here<\/em>,\u2019 and he waved at me, sort of\u2026sort of like Ollie did just now. I shouted back at him, askin\u2019 who he was, but he just started movin\u2019, and he waved me to follow him. Next thing I knew, that injured man hollered out, like he was hurtin\u2019 somethin\u2019 awful. A\u2026and the shadow man was gone.\u201d<\/p>\nIn my own mind, I can\u2019t help but see Adam. And I can still hear Joe tellin\u2019 us that we didn\u2019t have to worry about him.<\/p>\n
Adam was lookin\u2019 out for me<\/em>. Joe had said that like he\u2019d been so sure it was true.<\/p>\nBut it can\u2019t have been Adam. It just\u2026.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat do you mean, gone<\/em>?\u201d Pa asks. He looks like he wants to believe it same as I do.<\/p>\nWilliams shrugs and shakes his head. \u201cHe was jest gone. A patrol tried to find him. It ain\u2019t safe out there just now. We figured we ought to find him for his own good. But he wasn\u2019t nowhere.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cPa?\u201d I want him to tell me Adam\u2019s out there. That somehow he found his way back from bein\u2019 lost at sea. And that somehow he\u2019d ended up out there, all those miles north of home\u2026all those miles away from where he should have been headed.<\/p>\n
And I can see Pa wants to tell me exactly that. But he can\u2019t. Because he knows as well as I do that it can\u2019t be true. Because even if Adam beat all them odds and ended up out there with Joe, he sure wouldn\u2019t have disappeared. He\u2019d have stayed with Joe all the way back here. He\u2019d be in this fort right now.<\/p>\n
And then, as Pa shakes his head and pats my back, and starts steering us both over toward the infirmary, I remember hearin\u2019 Adam shouting to get me to see I\u2019d been fightin\u2019 the wrong man. And somehow I can\u2019t help but start believin\u2019 that maybe it was<\/em> him I\u2019d heard\u2026that maybe Joe was right. That maybe Adam did<\/em> find his way back to us. And that maybe Adam really is watching over us. And that maybe, just maybe, he really is right where he belongs.<\/p>\nXxXxX<\/p>\n
Epilogue<\/em><\/strong><\/span><\/p>\nBen<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\nThe squealing laughter of children\u2026.<\/p>\n
There is no greater sound on this Earth. I welcome it. I cherish<\/em> it. Just yesterday, Joseph tried to silence that sound, to keep it from reaching me and disturbing my sleep. With five rambunctious children, he faced a monumental feat. And an unnecessary one. Silence does not help me sleep. No. It does just the opposite. Silence opens my mind to feelings of emptiness\u2026of loneliness\u2026of loss. Silence reminds me of those whose voices can no longer reach me.<\/p>\nBut Joseph\u2019s children\u2014my grandchildren\u2014remind me of so much more\u2026of three boys who lived and loved\u2026who worked and struggled\u2026who laughed\u2026and wept\u2026who filled my life and made it whole.<\/p>\n
Joseph\u2019s children remind me that every moment spent together is a blessing, and that all the moments spent apart are neither to be hated nor feared. Those moments together can buoy us through the tempests that seek to keep us feeling incomplete when we\u2019re apart.<\/p>\n
Remembering those moments, valuing them, that<\/em> is the key to a full life, to a good life. What has been, what has come and gone, is as much a gift to me as this moment.<\/p>\nYes, even this moment is a blessing. I am a feeble, old man\u2026an ancient, weathered creature who has grown too weary to climb from this bed. And yet this moment is a gift; it is as valuable to me as all the moments I\u2019ve left behind me. Because I know how to catch that small boat Hoss\u2019s uncle, Gunnar Borgstrom, could never quite reach.<\/p>\n
Because I know how to listen.<\/p>\n
Years ago, when I had been lost in grief after losing Adam, a wise man told me that my son\u2019s voice had been silenced only because I had stopped listening. It took another wise man\u2014my own son, Joseph\u2014to teach me how to listen again. To listen anew. And now\u2026now listening is all I ever do. And it is enough. All that squealing laughter just beyond my bedroom door fills me with a sense of fullness\u2026of home. And the one laugh that rises above the others, the laugh of a full-grown man who has also learned the potent value of memories\u2026the laugh of my last living son, my Joseph\u2014Marie\u2019s Little Joe, Adam\u2019s young charge and Hoss\u2019s dearest friend\u2014that laugh, more than any other, reminds me that a life lived honorably and well, a life spent spreading smiles and laughter\u2026and touching others with gifts of hope, of faith and of courage\u2026such a life plants seeds that are destined to keep growing long after the man or woman who lived it has faded to dust.<\/p>\n
Surely, the seeds left by my wives and sons have grown as vast as the stars blinking down at me through my open window.<\/p>\n
Yes. I have been blessed. And now, as I close my eyes, relishing the sound of children at play despite the late hour, I can almost hear my oldest boy pointing out constellations and telling his brothers stories of ancient Greece.<\/p>\n
I can even feel his breath on my ear as Adam whispers, \u201cWelcome home, Pa.\u201d<\/p>\n
And now I know with more certainty than anything I\u2019ve ever known before, that we are all, truly, right where we\u2019re supposed to be.<\/p>\n
XxXxX<\/p>\n
end<\/em><\/p>\n(or a new beginning?)<\/em><\/p>\n<\/p>\n
Old Reviews:<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\nReviewer: sklamb Signed starstarstarstarstar<\/p>\n
Date: 30 Nov 2013 01:56 pm Title: Right Where He’s Supposed to Be<\/p>\n
I cried almost all the way through this story–again–but they are healing tears, reminders that our most important relationships don’t have to end with death. Thank you so much for this superb study of that most difficult of subjects!<\/p>\n
Author’s Response:<\/em><\/p>\nI’m glad they’re healing tears. So much in life is ever changing, we need to find ways to appreciate and even enjoy what was, even long after it’s gone–whether the “what” involves people, relationships, places or whatever. It can be hard to find peace after a loss, but it’s soooo necessary!<\/em><\/p>\nReviewer: Maria Vaz Anonymous<\/p>\n
Date: 19 Nov 2013 10:45 am Title: Right Where He’s Supposed to Be<\/p>\n
I liked it very much and im the end I was in tears! Thanks a lot for these pleasure moments reading!<\/p>\n
Author’s Response:<\/em><\/p>\nThank you! Yes, a good cry can provide great comfort every now and then!<\/em><\/p>\nReviewer: Belle Signed<\/p>\n
Date: 19 Nov 2013 06:56 am Title: Right Where He’s Supposed to Be<\/p>\n
A great story that is both sad and uplifting. Please don’t go there again! \ud83d\ude42<\/p>\n
Author’s Response:<\/em><\/p>\nThank you, Belle! And no, I have no intention of ever going back there. (shudders) \ud83d\ude09<\/em><\/p>\nReviewer: Cheaux Signed starstarstarstarstar<\/p>\n
Date: 16 Nov 2013 01:55 am Title: Right Where He’s Supposed to Be<\/p>\n
Well done, Freya. Not only answering Inca’s challenge, but fulfilling the ML Birthday challenge, too (in my opinion) because you told a story that made me laugh and cry and not sit passively by. That’s the best kind of story there is and reading it is right where I want to be.<\/p>\n
Author’s Response:<\/em><\/p>\nThanks a million, Cheaux! I’m so glad it made you both laugh and cry! And I’m thrilled to hear you suggest that I met ML’s b-day challenge too, albeit a bit late. I had wanted to take that challenge, but couldn’t make the attempt without going all out. And I couldn’t seem to get inspired. Who would have thought Inca’s challenge would provide the key? \ud83d\ude00 Anyway, thank you, Cheaux! This feedback from you means a lot! \ud83d\ude42<\/em><\/p>\nReviewer: Laurie Anonymous starstarstarstarstar<\/p>\n
Date: 15 Nov 2013 07:44 pm Title: Right Where He’s Supposed to Be<\/p>\n
Powerful story! Thanks!<\/p>\n
Author’s Response:<\/em><\/p>\nI’m glad you enjoyed it, Laurie! Thank *you*! \ud83d\ude42<\/em><\/p>\nReviewer: BluewindFarm Signed<\/p>\n
Date: 15 Nov 2013 02:19 pm Title: Right Where He’s Supposed to Be<\/p>\n
Heartwarming and still a tear jerker… I brought along a second shamwow because my first shamwow (the one used while this was a WIP) was still soaking wet.<\/p>\n
Healing and heartache go hand in hand. Family provides the grounds for heartache, but family also is the balm to heal the soul. A wonderful story that speaks volumes for the love the family had for each other, as well as the love you have for the family!<\/p>\n
Well Done!!!<\/p>\n
Author’s Response:<\/em><\/p>\nWell, I suppose I’m glad you had 2 shamwows handy! I’m glad you enjoyed it–um, so to speak! \ud83d\ude09 It’s nice to have a “feel-good” sort of cry now and then, like the kind of cries I could get watching Highway to Heaven. Yes, I do love those boys, every one of them! \ud83d\ude42 Thank you for the kudos!<\/em><\/p>\n <\/p>\n
<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
When tragedy strikes twice in as many months, the Cartwrights discover that the strength of love, the bonds of family and the sense of wholeness can truly transcend mere mortality.<\/p>\n
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