{"id":4695,"date":"2008-04-28T00:46:51","date_gmt":"2008-04-28T04:46:51","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?p=4695"},"modified":"2025-02-27T12:12:31","modified_gmt":"2025-02-27T17:12:31","slug":"doubt","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?p=4695","title":{"rendered":"The French Piano Player – #3 – Doubt (by pjb)"},"content":{"rendered":"

Summary:\u00a0<\/span>A serious misunderstanding threatens Joe’s relationship with Hoss. This is part of a series and refers to events portrayed in “The French Piano Player” and “Be Still, My Soul.”\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Rated:<\/span>\u00a0T \u00a017,000<\/span><\/p>\n

The French Piano Player Series:<\/strong><\/p>\n

The French Piano Player<\/a>
\nBe Still My Soul
\n<\/a>Doubt<\/a>
\nThe Love of His Life<\/a><\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 Doubt<\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

<\/div>\n
*Thanks to Debbie for her insights and encouragement!<\/em><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
Prologue<\/em><\/strong><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
Adam<\/span><\/strong><\/div>\n

All his life, my little brother has been out to prove himself.\u00a0 He’s ridden horses he wasn’t old enough to handle, gotten into fistfights with men he wasn’t big enough to take, and stared down the barrels of guns drawn by men who were faster than he was.\u00a0 Almost from the time he was old enough to talk, he was pestering Pa and me to let him do more around the ranch.\u00a0 He wanted to hold the branding iron when he was seven.\u00a0 He wanted to ride drag on cattle drives when he was eight.\u00a0 And don’t even get me started about the broncs.\u00a0 He waited until his ninth birthday to ask Pa if he could start breaking them, but he’d been after me about it for years before.<\/p>\n

And sometimes he didn’t ask, he just did.\u00a0 Cartwright family history is replete with stories of Little Joe trying to do something for which he wasn’t old enough, or big enough, or just plain ready.\u00a0 When he was ten, he heard us talking about a wolf that was threatening the herd, and he took it on himself to ride out on his little pony, Pa’s rifle in hand, to take care of the wolf.\u00a0 He didn’t get very far before one of the hands caught up with him and delivered him back to Pa, who had his own inimitable way of expressing his displeasure with his youngest son.\u00a0 When Joe was twelve, he snuck out at night to take his first shot at breaking those broncs he’d already been forbidden to touch.\u00a0 That escapade landed him in bed with a broken leg and his first concussion.\u00a0 When he was fifteen and the proud possessor of his first gun, he heard about a bank robbery in town, and he and his best friend, Mitch Devlin, formed their own posse and lit out after the robbers.\u00a0 To their credit, they actually caught up with the robbers; however, since they had not yet mastered the skill of apprehending suspects, they were promptly taken hostage.\u00a0 They managed to escape, but in the process, Joe was shot in the leg, his first bullet wound.\u00a0 Those four days are probably responsible for more of Pa’s white hair than any other single event in his life.<\/p>\n

I admit that I generally didn’t think much about my brother’s tendency to reach too far.\u00a0 I always saw Joe as merely high-spirited, excitable, a pampered pup with too much energy and not enough to spend it on.\u00a0 A daredevil personality competing against the world for the sheer joy of the game.\u00a0 I never considered the possibility that some of his antics could be coming from a darker place.<\/p>\n

You see, as it turned out, my brother’s endeavors weren’t just about proving himself to the world. \u00a0Until everything fell apart a few months ago, none of us had an inkling that, in some far corner of his mind that even he didn’t quite understand, Joe was somehow trying to measure up within the family, to earn what he didn’t believe he would otherwise receive, what he didn’t trust to be given to him freely, regardless of his merit.<\/p>\n

The love of his family.<\/p>\n

Three months earlier<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

Hoss<\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n

He didn’t slam the door.<\/p>\n

Funny.\u00a0 Pa’s been after him his whole life not to slam doors, and he always does it anyway.\u00a0 Not this time.\u00a0 This time, he closed the door quiet after him, like he was trying to sneak out of my life.<\/p>\n

I couldn’t say anything.\u00a0 Everything in me wanted to yell at him to just sit down and stay put, but I couldn’t do it.\u00a0 I couldn’t yell at him any more.<\/p>\n

I already done enough.<\/p>\n

Pa’s gonna have a fit when he finds out what I done.\u00a0 ‘Course, he’s gonna have a bigger fit when he finds out what I didn’t do first.\u00a0 I can just hear him now:\u00a0\u00a0“How could you have let your brother go into that place?\u00a0 Why didn’t you keep an eye on him?\u00a0 You knew what could happen in there!\u00a0 You were supposed to look out for him!\u00a0 You promised! \u00a0Now look what’s happened!”<\/em><\/p>\n

Pa’s right.\u00a0 We shouldn’t have gone in there at all.\u00a0 We took too big a chance.\u00a0 Thing was, we weren’t gonna be in San Francisco that long, and Joe wanted to see his friends at that saloon with the funny name.\u00a0 The Singing Dove.\u00a0 Peculiar name for a saloon, if’n you ask me.\u00a0 Anyhow, Joe got to know some of these people pretty good when he was living here, and he figured it would be right cold for him not to at least stop in to say howdy while he was in town.<\/p>\n

I could understand that.\u00a0 I knew some of them, too.\u00a0 Not the way Joe did, of course, but we’d had some drinks a couple of times.\u00a0 Back when Adam and I were looking for Joe, more’n three years ago now, we went in that saloon and asked for him.\u00a0 Funny thing was, he was working there then, and we didn’t even know it.\u00a0 He was using his ma’s name, DeMarigny, instead of calling himself Cartwright, and they just called him Frenchy.\u00a0 Plus, when him and Robin ran off to get married, Joe didn’t even know how to play the piano.\u00a0 So, when they told us there was a French kid there who played the piano, we never thought it might be our little brother, and we kept looking.<\/p>\n

About a year and a half later, we happened back into the same saloon, and that was how we found him.\u00a0 He was real sick by that time.\u00a0 Seems his wife had got killed a year before, and he’d spent pretty much that whole year drinking.\u00a0 It took a powerful lot of doing, but we got him better and took him home to the Ponderosa.\u00a0 Doc says he’s never gonna be a hundred percent-I guess drinking did something to his heart-but Joe says he’s close enough, and he does everything he can, and a bunch of stuff he probably shouldn’t.<\/p>\n

Which is how it was that me and Joe were in charge of the cattle drive to San Francisco.\u00a0 Pa was real nervous about my little brother going, but Joe kept pestering him until finally he said it was okay.\u00a0 I don’t think Joe knows that Pa checked with Doc first.\u00a0 I didn’t blame Pa.\u00a0 That boy may have more lives than an old tomcat, but you don’t want to get to the last one this young.<\/p>\n

Before we left, Pa took me aside and made me promise to keep a close eye on Joe.\u00a0 I knew it was important to him, so I made like it was a big deal and promised him real solemn.\u00a0 Truth is, it wasn’t nothing more than what I’ve done every day of that boy’s life ‘cept for when he lived in San Francisco, and even then, I spent most of my time out looking for him.\u00a0 I held Little Joe when he was just a few minutes old.\u00a0 You don’t do something like that and then stop watching out for somebody.<\/p>\n

Joe used to complain that Adam acted more like a pa to him than a brother.\u00a0 I ain’t never told Joe, but sometimes, I feel more like a pa to him, too, even though I ain’t but six years older than he is.\u00a0 Like when he was little, and he’d get real scared at night, I always knew it.\u00a0 Everybody always says nothin’ wakes up ole Hoss.\u00a0 Truth is, nothin’ wakes up ole Hoss except his little brother needing him.\u00a0 I don’t know how I knew, but I almost always did.\u00a0 Most times, Little Joe couldn’t really tell me what he was so scared of, but it didn’t matter none.\u00a0 I’d bring him in bed with me, and I’d tell him not to worry about nothin’, how he just had to trust ole Hoss and everything was gonna be all right.\u00a0 We’d pull the covers up over our heads so Pa couldn’t hear us, and I’d tell him stories about the ranch-the animals, the lake, the mountains, how someday we’d go fishing here or hunting there or camping some other place.\u00a0 He always wanted to hear about horses, so I’d tell him how someday we’d catch us a bunch of wild mustangs and we’d ride like the wind on them ’cause we’d be the best danged cowboys anybody ever seen.\u00a0 After a while, he’d fall asleep, curled up against me.\u00a0 Sometimes, I’d just watch him sleep, and I’d promise him how nothin’ bad would ever happen to him as long as I was around.<\/p>\n

Turns out that wasn’t the truth after all.\u00a0 Last night was bad.\u00a0 It was real bad.\u00a0 And I was right there, and I didn’t do nothing to stop it.\u00a0 I just made it worse.\u00a0 I made it so bad that now he’s gone, and it’s all my fault.<\/p>\n

I gotta admit, I didn’t pay much attention after Joe went upstairs with Judith.\u00a0 I didn’t expect him to do that, but a man’s business is his own.\u00a0 I settled in to play poker and relax until Joe was ready to leave.\u00a0 Them sailors is pretty good, but I was holdin’ my own.\u00a0 Still, I had to pay pretty close attention to what was goin’ on, ’cause one of them looked like the type who might’ve had a couple of aces hid up his sleeve.\u00a0 So, I didn’t really see when Joe came back downstairs and went back over to the piano.\u00a0 I guess I thought he might have sat in for a few hands, but I wasn’t worried about him.<\/p>\n

After a while, his music started to sound funny.\u00a0 Now, I ain’t like my brothers.\u00a0 I don’t know nothin’ about music.\u00a0 I know what I like, and that’s about it.\u00a0 I usually like what Joe plays.\u00a0 This didn’t sound right, though.\u00a0 It sounded real dark and scary, like that feeling you get when you’re walking down the street alone at night and you hear somebody behind you click off the safety on their pistol.\u00a0 Plus, it sounded like he was hittin’ a lot of wrong notes.\u00a0 I thought maybe it was some kind of fancy playing that I didn’t understand, and I just let him be.\u00a0 When it didn’t get better, though, I folded and turned away from the table.<\/p>\n

That’s when I saw the bottle.<\/p>\n

When you’re big and strong like I am, you don’t get to lose control.\u00a0 Somebody like Joe can do it and barely leave a dent.\u00a0 Not me.\u00a0 From the time I was little-well, little compared to now-Pa told me that I had to be careful I didn’t hurt nobody.\u00a0 I always took that seriously.\u00a0 I always kinda thought of my temper like some big, mean old bull in a pen.\u00a0 You gotta keep that pen closed, ’cause if that bull gets out, he’s liable to smash everything before you know what happens.<\/p>\n

But that night, when I saw that while I’d been sittin’ there, playin’ poker and drinking beer, my little brother was drinking most of a bottle of whiskey-well, I lost control.\u00a0 The bull got out of his pen, and that whiskey bottle was the red flag wavin’ in front of him.<\/p>\n

For a minute, all I could see was the way Joe looked that night we’d finally found him.\u00a0 When I walked into that sad room of his, my little brother was laying there, dying, right in front of me.\u00a0 There was almost nothing left of him, ’cause he’d drunk it all away.\u00a0 His eyes were all red, and his skin was all yellowed, and he was wheezing and coughing up blood.\u00a0 I didn’t even recognize him at first.\u00a0 My own brother, and I didn’t know him. \u00a0Hadn’t been for the picture of his mother on the bureau, I don’t know if I’d have looked again.\u00a0 But I looked, and I knew him, and I knew he was gonna die if’n we didn’t do something.\u00a0 Adam brought the doctor, and we got him out of there and to a hospital.\u00a0 He dang near died about four or five times while he was in the hospital, and once, early on, he was in a coma for almost four days.\u00a0 Sometimes, he’d get all agitated, fighting against the restraints they’d used to tie his hands and swearing like a sailor when nobody would untie him.\u00a0 Other times, he’d think Robin was still alive and he’d call for her, and when she didn’t come, the look on his face was enough to break your heart. \u00a0I used to sit by his bed for hours at a stretch, whether he was awake or not, holdin’ his hand and talkin’ gentle to him, just like I did when he was little and scared.<\/p>\n

After watching what Joe went through to get better, and what Pa and Adam went through-and me, to be honest-I swore to the good Lord and the memory of Joe’s ma that it wouldn’t ever happen again.\u00a0 It had been long enough now that I didn’t think it could still happen.\u00a0 I thought Joe had learned his lesson and knew better than to touch that stuff.\u00a0 He could handle a couple of beers, but as far as I knew, he hadn’t had whiskey since before we found him.\u00a0 If I’d thought for a second there was a chance he’d ever drink whiskey again, or that he’d ever be drunk on anything, I’d never have let him get anywhere near a saloon.<\/p>\n

So, when I saw that bottle was more’n half empty, and I saw Joe-well, the bull saw red.<\/p>\n

I grabbed him by the arm and yanked him to his feet.\u00a0 “What the devil do you think you’re doin’?” I roared in his face.\u00a0 He jerked back when I yelled.\u00a0 His eyes were all red and didn’t look like they were focusing.\u00a0 He blinked real hard.\u00a0 He opened his mouth like he was gonna talk, but he started to cough, and I could smell the whiskey.<\/p>\n

“Ain’t you learned nothin’ by now!”\u00a0 I was shaking him as I yelled.<\/p>\n

He tried to pull loose, but I grabbed him tighter and pulled him close so he couldn’t look away.\u00a0 He stumbled, and he kicked over the bottle.\u00a0 The look on his face when he saw that he’d spilled the rest of the whiskey-I tell you, it like to have made me sick.\u00a0 He looked like it was the blood of his best friend staining that floor, he was so sad.<\/p>\n

“I asked you a question, boy!\u00a0 What the devil’s the matter with you?\u00a0 Ain’t you got no sense?\u00a0 Don’t you remember what happened to you last time?\u00a0 Don’t you remember how you almost died?\u00a0 Don’t you remember what Pa and Adam and me went through, trying to save your worthless hide?\u00a0 Are you tryin’ to do all that again?\u00a0 What the hell is wrong with you, Joseph!”\u00a0 And on and on, until Joe looked like he was shrinking in my hands.\u00a0 I was madder than I’ve ever been about anything, and I wasn’t holdin’ back nothing.<\/p>\n

“Hoss-”\u00a0 he started.<\/p>\n

“What?”\u00a0 I shouted.<\/p>\n

“Hoss, I-“<\/p>\n

“What?\u00a0 What is it you want, boy?\u00a0 You wanna kill yourself?\u00a0 Is that it?\u00a0 You wanna finish off what’s left of your heart?\u00a0 You want more whiskey?\u00a0 Is that what you want?\u00a0 Well, here!\u00a0 Drink it!\u00a0 Drink all of it!”\u00a0 I threw him down on the floor, and he landed on his hands and knees in the spilled whiskey.<\/p>\n

For a moment, Joe didn’t move.\u00a0 Without looking up, he whispered, “Hoss-“<\/p>\n

I couldn’t stand it any more.\u00a0 I turned on my heel, grabbed my hat and stormed out. \u00a0If he didn’t care what he did to himself, fine.\u00a0 Let him do what he was gonna do. \u00a0Let one of his friends clean up after him.\u00a0 They were used to this from him.<\/p>\n

It seemed like the smell of whiskey followed me for blocks.\u00a0 Every place I looked, I saw more drunks-sailors, cowboys, men in fancy business clothes, and almost anybody else you can think of.\u00a0 Staggering down the sidewalks, stumbling around, puking in the gutters.\u00a0 It was like I was the only person there who wasn’t drunk.\u00a0 I never hated a place so much as I hated that city that night.<\/p>\n

I don’t know how far I walked before I figured it out.\u00a0 It was more than being mad. \u00a0I was scared. \u00a0I don’t know when I’ve ever been that scared.\u00a0 All I could think was that it was happening again, he was gonna start drinking and get himself all sick again, but maybe this time we’d be too late, or maybe it would be too hard on his heart, or maybe something else, and this time, he’d die.\u00a0 I knew I had to get him out of here, away from that whiskey and this place and these people who let him drink himself near to death before and didn’t look like they would lift a finger to stop him this time either.<\/p>\n

I turned and ran through the streets, dodging people, all the way back to that saloon.\u00a0 When I got there, I burst through the doors, trying to catch my breath.\u00a0 I looked around the room, and it felt like a cold hand was squeezing my heart.\u00a0 He wasn’t at the piano.\u00a0 He wasn’t at the corner table with Judith.\u00a0 He wasn’t at any of the other tables.<\/p>\n

He wasn’t anywhere.<\/p>\n

Ruthie was hanging on a poker player.\u00a0 She ignored me until I was right beside her.\u00a0 Then, she looked up, real casual, almost daring me to say something.<\/p>\n

“Where is he?”\u00a0 I demanded.<\/p>\n

Ruthie shrugged.\u00a0 “What do you care?”<\/p>\n

“He’s my brother.”\u00a0 I gave her the hard stare I use when I want to scare big men, but that little lady didn’t seem to care.<\/p>\n

“You left him.”<\/p>\n

It was like she stabbed me.\u00a0 I could feel the bull wanting out.\u00a0 I breathed him down.\u00a0 “I know.\u00a0 But I’m back.\u00a0 Now, where is he?”<\/p>\n

She looked me dead in the eye.\u00a0 She wasn’t scared of me, not even a little bit.\u00a0 “He left,” she said.<\/p>\n

“Are you sure?”\u00a0 I wouldn’t have put it past her to have him stashed away upstairs, sleeping off his binge.<\/p>\n

“Yeah,” she said.\u00a0 “He’s gone.”\u00a0 She sounded like she was telling the truth.<\/p>\n

“Where did he go?”\u00a0 If I thought I was scared before, it was nothing compared to this.\u00a0 I could feel my stomach turning over, like I was the one who was drunk.<\/p>\n

“He didn’t say.\u00a0 Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to work.”\u00a0 She turned her back on me and draped her arm around the poker player.<\/p>\n

“Miss.”\u00a0 I waited until she looked up.\u00a0 “Miss-if’n you see him-will you tell him I’m looking for him?”<\/p>\n

She looked at me for a minute.\u00a0 Something in her eyes softened, just a tiny bit.\u00a0 “Yeah,” she said finally.\u00a0 “I’ll tell him.”<\/p>\n

I tipped my hat.\u00a0 “Thank you, miss,” I said.\u00a0 I looked around the room.\u00a0 The folks who worked there were watching me, all except Joe’s friend, Judith.\u00a0 I knew without asking that not one would have told me anything different.<\/p>\n

The saloons were closing down and the streets were getting quieter when I finally saw a man about Joe’s size, stumbling along the sidewalk in front of me.\u00a0 He passed under a streetlamp, and I saw the green jacket.\u00a0 “Joe!”\u00a0 I yelled.\u00a0 “Joseph!”\u00a0 I hustled to catch up with him.\u00a0 It didn’t take much trying.\u00a0 He was walking real slow and deliberate, like he was trying not to weave, but he kept losing his balance, and it was costing him.<\/p>\n

“Where the dickens you been?” I asked, like it was any other night.\u00a0 He didn’t answer, didn’t even look up.\u00a0 He just kept looking down at his feet, like that was how he’d make them go where he wanted.\u00a0 I reached for him, but he jerked away and fell over. \u00a0He almost hit his head on the base of the lamppost. \u00a0That was when I saw the bruises on his face and the cut over his eye. \u00a0“What the-who did that to you?”\u00a0 He sure hadn’t been in any shape for a fight when I left him at the Dove.<\/p>\n

“I’m fine,” he muttered.\u00a0 I could hardly understand him, he was slurring so.\u00a0 I reached for him, and he pushed my hand away.\u00a0 “Can do it myself.”<\/p>\n

I couldn’t help but chuckle.\u00a0 I’d been hearing them selfsame words from him ever since he was old enough to talk.\u00a0 “If’n you say so,” I said.<\/p>\n

“Say so,” he said.\u00a0 I could feel my smile fade as I watched him.\u00a0 It was enough to break your heart.\u00a0 He couldn’t seem to figure out how to get his feet back under him.\u00a0 I watched for a minute and then reached down to help him up.\u00a0 He smacked my hand away.\u00a0 After a few tries, he rolled over on his hands and knees and pushed himself up, holding onto the lamppost until he was standing up.\u00a0 He let go of the lamppost and swayed a little, but he stayed standing.\u00a0 After a minute, he started walking again, real slow, holding one arm against his stomach like it hurt.\u00a0 Much as I wanted to, I didn’t hold him up.\u00a0 But I stayed close enough to catch him if he fell.<\/p>\n

At last, we got to the hotel.\u00a0 Neither one of us had said anything the whole way back.\u00a0 I walked behind him up the stairs, just in case.\u00a0 I was surprised to see that he knew which room was ours.\u00a0 He waited while I unlocked the door, and I stood back to let him in.<\/p>\n

Inside, he still wouldn’t let me help him at first, even though it was clear he was done in.\u00a0 I tried to unbutton his shirt, and he kept shoving me away, even when it knocked him off his feet and back onto the bed.\u00a0 He was still hard to understand, he was slurring so bad, but he kept talking about how I should leave him alone, and more about something being not good enough.\u00a0 Finally, though, he stopped fighting me, and I got him undressed, cleaned up and into bed.<\/p>\n

It didn’t take long before the whiskey caught up with him.\u00a0 I held the basin while he was sick. \u00a0I knew it hurt him; I already tore up a sheet to bind the ribs I was pretty sure he’d cracked. \u00a0When he was done, I tried to give him a glass of water to rinse his mouth, but his hands were shaking so bad he couldn’t hold it, so I held it for him.\u00a0 Afterward, he laid back on the pillow, and I thought he was falling asleep at last, so I snuck out to empty the basin.<\/p>\n

When I came back, he started to talk again.\u00a0 It was awful, what he was saying.\u00a0 I couldn’t hear him real clear, but what I could hear made me just about broke my heart. \u00a0He wasn’t making much sense, and he was still hard to understand, but it sounded like he was talking about something that wasn’t good enough, and I finally figured out that that something was him.\u00a0 He said something about Judith that I couldn’t catch.\u00a0 Then he talked about how I was right to be mad and he didn’t blame me.\u00a0 He said he didn’t deserve anything and everybody should just leave him in the gutter where he belonged and wash their hands of him, because he was just a worthless drunk and not worth the bother. \u00a0In another man, it might have sounded like self-pity, but the way Joe was talking, it sounded like he was just stating facts that no sensible person would quarrel with, like the sky is blue or water is wet. \u00a0And that just made it sadder.<\/p>\n

Listening to him, I couldn’t say anything.\u00a0 I couldn’t believe he could think like this about himself.\u00a0 I had a lump in my throat the size of a watermelon.\u00a0 I held onto his hand for all I was worth and tried to tell myself that he was just drunk, he didn’t really mean any of it.\u00a0 Finally, I managed to say, “We’ll talk about it in the morning.”\u00a0 I couldn’t say nothing else.\u00a0 He was so drunk he wouldn’t have heard me anyway.\u00a0 But there was something in his eyes, just for a second, just before he closed them, that scared me.<\/p>\n

I didn’t sleep much.\u00a0 I couldn’t.\u00a0 Everything I’d yelled, and everything Joe’d said about himself, kept running around in my head.\u00a0 Every time he stirred, I woke up.\u00a0 He was talkin’ in his sleep, and I couldn’t understand much of it, but it sounded like the same things he was saying before he fell asleep, about not being good enough.\u00a0 When he’d say that, I’d reach across the space between our beds and try to wake him from whatever bad dream he was having.\u00a0 He’d wake a little bit, enough to stop talking, and then he’d fall back to sleep.\u00a0 I wanted so much just to take him in my arms and tell him it was okay, the way I did when he was little, but I didn’t have the nerve.\u00a0 After what I’d said, he’d likely push me away anyway.\u00a0 I couldn’t have stood that.<\/p>\n

I finally fell asleep just before sunup.\u00a0 When I woke up, Joe’s bed was empty.\u00a0 I didn’t hear anything at first.\u00a0 Then, I heard the quiet sound of the door opening.\u00a0 I went out to the other room in time to see Joe, all dressed and carrying his satchel, starting out the door.<\/p>\n

“What are you doin’?”\u00a0 My head felt fuzzy from not sleeping.<\/p>\n

He ducked his head.\u00a0 He didn’t look me in the eye.\u00a0 He was holding himself all stiff and careful, like his whole body hurt.\u00a0 He pointed to the table.\u00a0 “It’s all there,” he said.\u00a0 His voice sounded dead.<\/p>\n

“What is?\u00a0 What’re you talkin’ about?\u00a0 Where’re you goin’?”<\/p>\n

Joe shook his head.\u00a0 “I’m sorry,” he said, real quiet.\u00a0 “For everything.\u00a0 I’m sorry.”<\/p>\n

“Joseph, what are you talkin’ about?”\u00a0 He wasn’t making no sense at all.<\/p>\n

“Hoss.”\u00a0 For the first time that morning, he looked right at me.\u00a0 The scary look in his eyes from last night was still there.\u00a0 He was so pale that his bruises stood out.\u00a0 “It’s all right.\u00a0 I understand.\u00a0 It’s not your fault.\u00a0 Don’t worry about me.\u00a0 I’ll be fine.”\u00a0 And he slipped out the door and closed it behind him, real quiet.<\/p>\n

“Joe!\u00a0 What in tarnation-”\u00a0 I snatched up that note and read it.\u00a0 By the time I saw what it said and struggled into my clothes, he wasn’t nowhere in the hall.\u00a0 I ran downstairs, and he wasn’t in the lobby.\u00a0 I ran out the door and looked up and down the street, and I didn’t see him anywhere.\u00a0 I ran up and down the streets of San Francisco all day, but I couldn’t find him.\u00a0 It was like he’d walked out that door and off the face of the earth.<\/p>\n

I went over to the Singing Dove.\u00a0 They all said they hadn’t seen him.\u00a0 I couldn’t tell if they were lying.\u00a0 I tried to give the bartender money to answer questions, like we did when we hunted for Joe last time, and he just slid it back across the bar and walked away from me.<\/p>\n

That was when I knew that I wasn’t gonna find him if he didn’t want to be found.\u00a0 He had people in this town who would help him hide.\u00a0 I was gonna need help to find my little brother.<\/p>\n

With a heavy heart, I went to the telegraph office and wired Pa to come to San Francisco as soon as he could.<\/p>\n

Joe<\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n

It’s not so bad here.\u00a0 It’s familiar, anyway.\u00a0 When Robin and I lived in this building, we were just down the hall.\u00a0 Maybe I shouldn’t have come back here, but I knew the place, and I knew the landlord would take me back.\u00a0 Even with everything that went on, we always paid the rent, and that was all he cared about.<\/p>\n

I never thought I’d be back here again.<\/p>\n

I know what’s going to happen.\u00a0 Hoss will probably send for Pa, and Pa will try to talk me out of this.\u00a0 He’ll tell me I misunderstood, or that Hoss was wrong, or something like that.\u00a0 He’ll say pretty much anything to patch things up.\u00a0 Thing is, that won’t change what happened.<\/p>\n

Because I didn’t misunderstand anything.\u00a0 Hoss was right.\u00a0 I know, because I was right, and all he did was agree with me.\u00a0 And it doesn’t matter that I was drunk.\u00a0 I knew what I was saying, and I meant every word.\u00a0 Anyway, the truth is the truth, drunk or sober.<\/p>\n

Like the truth about me and Judith.\u00a0 After I got shot, the night Robin died, Judith was the one who nursed me.\u00a0 When I first started playing again, I was pretty worn out by the end of the night, and Judith would walk home with me, even though I insisted I didn’t need help. \u00a0In the beginning, she just walked with me to the building. \u00a0It didn’t take long before she was coming upstairs, and then she was staying the night with me, and then she just sort of moved in.\u00a0 And when I started drinking more and more, she stepped up and tended to me.\u00a0 She never once yelled at me for being such a drunk.\u00a0 She must have thought I’d get past it.\u00a0 When I didn’t, she stayed anyway.<\/p>\n

I was so stupid and drunk that I thought she was helping me just because she was Robin’s best friend.\u00a0 Every once in a while, I saw a flash of something else, but I didn’t pay it much mind.\u00a0 It never crossed my mind that she could love somebody like me-a lousy drunk, dirt-poor, as pathetic as they come.\u00a0 After Hoss and Adam rescued me, she came to the hospital, and then to the house, to visit.\u00a0 But as I got better, she got more guarded, until finally she stopped coming at all.\u00a0 I thought it was because she felt like Pa disapproved of her, since she’d lived with me even though we weren’t married. \u00a0Funny thing was, Pa didn’t think anything of the sort.\u00a0 In fact, he was grateful to her.\u00a0 He knew that there had come a point where she was pretty much all that stood between me and death.<\/p>\n

It wasn’t until last night, when she looked at me, that I finally put the pieces together, and I knew why she’d been with me, and why she’d stayed.\u00a0 Maybe I knew before and I just couldn’t believe she would love me.\u00a0 She wasn’t family.\u00a0 She didn’t owe me anything.\u00a0 God knew, it wasn’t like I was doing anything for her, except maybe the obvious.\u00a0 But she stayed, and she took care of me.\u00a0 She got me home when I was so drunk I could hardly stand up, and she held my head when I was sick, and she let me hold her at night when I was scared and lonely and had no idea how to get out of this big, black hole that just got bigger and blacker every day.<\/p>\n

I just used her.<\/p>\n

That sounds so ugly.\u00a0 But it’s true.\u00a0 I never thought of her as anything other than Robin’s friend.\u00a0 How I could have spent so long with her, day after day, night after night, and never have known she loved me-well, I just don’t know.\u00a0 The only answer, which is completely wretched, is that I wasn’t thinking about her.\u00a0 I was thinking about me, and about Robin and our baby, and about Pa and Adam and Hoss, and how all of them were lost to me forever.\u00a0 I drank more and more, trying not to think about any of them.<\/p>\n

And I never once thought about how Judith felt.<\/p>\n

If I had, I’d never have gone into the Dove last night.\u00a0 I’d never have done that to her-come strolling in, all healthy and strong, clean-shaven and tanned, the good-looking Cartwright kid, with money in my pocket and a smile on my face and a family to go home to.\u00a0 All the parts of me that she never got to have.\u00a0 Better she should have remembered me as that skinny, sickly fellow with wild hair and bloodshot eyes who couldn’t put two sentences together without taking a drink in between.<\/p>\n

Things started off fine.\u00a0 Phil said he was glad to see me, and he gave us a couple of beers on the house.\u00a0 Hoss and I sat with Ruthie and Eileen, just relaxing with a couple more beers, and a couple more.\u00a0 Then, Ruthie suggested that I play something.<\/p>\n

Now, I’ve played a few pianos since I left the Dove.\u00a0 My piano at home is magnificent, with that rich bass that sounds almost like bells. \u00a0The piano at our church in Virginia City has a proper and dignified tone, and there’s never a speck of dust on it.\u00a0 Still, that old upright at the Dove, with its yellowed keys and gouged-up cabinet and tinny sound, and those notes way up at the top that stick whenever it rains-well, it may sound foolish, there’ll always be something special about that one.\u00a0 It was the first piano I ever played.\u00a0 It was the only one Robin ever heard me play.\u00a0 A lot of the best moments of my life were spent at that banged-up piano, playing while she sang.\u00a0 Almost from the first day I saw it, I’ve never been able to look at that piano without seeing her standing beside it, with that long dark hair and those blue eyes and the smile that just made everything else seem like it couldn’t possibly matter.<\/p>\n

I finished my beer in a couple of swallows, got another and sat down at my piano.\u00a0 I meant to play something upbeat and cheerful, I really did.\u00a0 After a couple of minutes, though, I found myself sliding off into other things.\u00a0 Maybe it was just being here that did it.\u00a0 My beautiful wife was shot and killed in this room, just a few feet from where I sat.\u00a0 This was the place I’d come to when I’d left my family, after Pa slapped me across the face and said terrible things about the woman I loved, and even though he was dead wrong about her, part of me knew he thought just as poorly of me for choosing her. \u00a0And this room, this very chair, was where I drank myself damn near to death.\u00a0 I can’t say for sure what it was.\u00a0 All I know is that, the more I played, the more I was playing about the dark, desperate memories this room held, known and secret.\u00a0 I felt like I was drowning in the music, going under for longer and longer stretches, until finally I wouldn’t come back up and it would all be over.<\/p>\n

Eventually, I made myself stop.\u00a0 The saloon was silent.\u00a0\u00a0Nice work, Cartwright.\u00a0 You really know how to bring down a room.<\/em>\u00a0 I tried to think of something to play that would make the people smile.\u00a0 Before I could figure it out, though, there was a light hand on my shoulder, and that low, dark voice that used to moan so sweetly in my ear said, “You look good, cowboy.”<\/p>\n

It was like she’d thrown me a rope. \u00a0Everything in me started to hum.\u00a0 She was the only one who could get my attention like this when I was in the depths.\u00a0 Even if it was just for an hour, I’d take it.\u00a0 The glimpse of daylight, the chance for survival.\u00a0 The boost I needed to climb up onto solid ground again.<\/p>\n

I had to swallow hard before I could look up.\u00a0 I said, “So do you, lovely lady.”\u00a0 It was true.\u00a0 The red curls, the big brown eyes, the sweet, sad smile, the curve of her bosom in that green dress-she was one fine-looking woman.\u00a0 I rested my hand on her hip and gave her my best smile.\u00a0 She smiled back like she’d expected just that, and she leaned down for a kiss.\u00a0 It started like a simple kiss between old friends, but in just a second, we both knew it was going somewhere else completely.\u00a0 She drew me to my feet, and I followed her like a puppy, up the stairs to her room.<\/p>\n

Okay, I knew that my motives weren’t even close to pure.\u00a0 Call it being in the wrong place at the wrong time.\u00a0 That old piano; the beers; the way just being in the Dove made me feel all unsettled; remembering how it was during that year after Robin died, when I didn’t want to feel anything because nothing I felt was good, when I’d lost Robin and the baby and wished so badly that I could go home, but knew I’d already burned that bridge good and proper.\u00a0 When all those feelings were churning up again, and I could feel myself starting to slip toward that blackness that almost swallowed me last time, there was Judith again, offering warmth and comfort like she used to.\u00a0 And I took her up on it without thinking, even for a second, about why she was offering.<\/p>\n

Afterward, she didn’t say anything.\u00a0 I didn’t worry about that at first.\u00a0 I just held her close, feeling her softness, smelling her light, sweet perfume, and trying to ignore that cold, clear light in the corner of my mind that said that something really wrong had just happened.\u00a0 Two old lovers getting together again-what could be wrong with that?\u00a0 We were adults, we both wanted it, and we weren’t hurting anybody.\u00a0 Sure, I knew Pa would have found something wrong with it, and probably Hoss would give me an earful later, but it wasn’t like we were married to other people or something.<\/p>\n

“Jude?\u00a0 You okay, sweetheart?”\u00a0 I kissed her temple, trying to be casual, like what had just happened wasn’t a big deal for either of us.<\/p>\n

“How much longer are you in town?” she asked softly, still looking at the ceiling.<\/p>\n

“Probably leaving in the morning,” I said.\u00a0 “Just need to pick up the papers on those cattle we delivered, and we’ll be on our way.”<\/p>\n

She was quiet after that.\u00a0 Finally, I asked, “Is something wrong?”<\/p>\n

“How long have you been in San Francisco?” she asked.<\/p>\n

“Couple of days,” I admitted.\u00a0 It was actually more like a week.\u00a0 We’d had some actual business to tend to, like dinner with a potential buyer, but most of the week had been a vacation.\u00a0 Just a chance to have fun and blow off steam without thinking about anything.\u00a0 Plus, I wouldn’t have admitted it, but I had to work up the nerve to come back here.\u00a0 Something in me knew it wasn’t going to be as easy as I’d have thought, to come back to the scene of some of my best and worst memories.<\/p>\n

“I guess I’m lucky I caught you, then,” she said.\u00a0 There was a sad, hard edge in her voice that I didn’t remember hearing before.<\/p>\n

“I wouldn’t have left town without coming to see you,” I said.\u00a0 It wasn’t quite a lie:\u00a0 I wouldn’t have left town without wanting to see her.\u00a0 If I’d missed her here, I’d have been disappointed, and not just because I’d have missed what we just did.<\/p>\n

“Sure.”\u00a0 She sat up and reached for her chemise.\u00a0 We’d flung our clothes all over the room in our haste to get them off.\u00a0 I could see a stocking dangling from the corner of the mirror.\u00a0 One of my boots was lying under a chair, and the mate was nowhere in sight.<\/p>\n

“Judith?\u00a0 Honey, what’s wrong?”\u00a0 I was honestly confused now.\u00a0 I reached to touch her, but she moved away from my hand.<\/p>\n

“Nothing you’d ever understand,” she said.\u00a0 The bitterness was abrupt and startling, like reaching into the picnic basket and finding a snake.<\/p>\n

I sat up in bed, watching as she dressed.\u00a0 “Try me,” I said.<\/p>\n

She turned to face me, buttoning her dress.\u00a0 “Am I ever going to hear from you again?”<\/p>\n

“Of course,” I said.\u00a0 “I don’t know when I’ll be in San Francisco again, but I’ll come see you then.”\u00a0 It was true, every word of it, but tears welled up in her eyes anyway.\u00a0 “Sweetheart, tell me what’s wrong.\u00a0 I promise, whatever it is, I’ll fix it.”\u00a0 She was starting to scare me.<\/p>\n

She turned her back on me, but I could see her reflection in the mirror as she put her hair back up with those ivory combs she’s had as long as I can remember.\u00a0 It was clear even to me that there was something she wanted me to know, but she didn’t want to have to say it.\u00a0 She wanted me to figure it out.\u00a0 Thing was, I had no idea what I was supposed to figure out.<\/p>\n

“Judith, what is the problem?”\u00a0 I was starting to get irritable myself.\u00a0 I wasn’t any good at these guessing games.\u00a0 They made me feel stupid and helpless.\u00a0 When she didn’t answer, just kept fussing with her hair, I snapped, “You know, Robin used to do this, too-try to make me guess what I did wrong.\u00a0 Thing is, that list is pretty long, and I need a little help.\u00a0 Would you please be kind enough to tell me which of the three million and forty-seven sins I’ve committed is the one that’s bothering you at this particular minute?”\u00a0 I didn’t even care that I sounded nasty.<\/p>\n

She finished fixing her hair.\u00a0 Over her shoulder, she said, “You can just leave the money on the bureau.”\u00a0 The words sliced into me like a knife.<\/p>\n

Then, with one hand on the doorknob, she turned and looked at me, plain and unguarded, and I finally understood.<\/p>\n

She’d been in love with me all along.\u00a0 She still was.\u00a0 And she knew I wasn’t in love with her, and I never would be.\u00a0 I swear, I’d have given anything in that moment to fall in love with her.\u00a0 I refused to lie to her, though.\u00a0 Give me credit for that much.\u00a0 She deserves so much better than me, always has.\u00a0 She deserves someone who loves her back.\u00a0 Not somebody like me.\u00a0 I don’t deserve her.\u00a0 I’m not good enough for the likes of her.\u00a0 I’m not good enough for anybody.\u00a0 I came up here and used her to make myself feel better, and I never even asked so much as how things were going for her.\u00a0 I’m not good enough to lick her boots.\u00a0 I watched her walk out that door, head held high, and it felt like everything inside me that was even a little bit good or decent came crashing down, with only my worst parts left standing.<\/p>\n

I knew right then what I should do:\u00a0 get dressed, get Hoss and get the hell out of there.\u00a0 Habits are strong, though.\u00a0 Stronger than most men realize.\u00a0 Especially bad ones.\u00a0 Even the habits you think you’ve beaten-they’re never really beaten.\u00a0 They just lie in wait, and when you’re not paying attention, they sneak up on you and hit you over the head.\u00a0 Give them the right circumstances, and they’ll bushwhack you every time.\u00a0 In that place, at that moment, with those people and those feelings and that battered upright piano, my old habit got the drop on me, and I surrendered to it.<\/p>\n

I wanted a drink in the worst way you can imagine.\u00a0 I wanted it more than I wanted anything else-more than my family, my home, my life, air to breathe, anything.\u00a0 I’ve had times since I went home when I thought I needed a drink, but this made all that look like child’s play.\u00a0 I wanted to climb into the bottle and drown.\u00a0 It scared me, how much I wanted that drink.<\/p>\n

But it didn’t scare me enough to get me to walk away.<\/p>\n

Let me say right up front that I don’t blame Hoss, not even a little bit, for not stopping me.\u00a0 He was playing poker when I stumbled down the stairs, and I don’t know if he even knew I was back.\u00a0 I don’t think he expected that I’d do what I did, but I don’t know if he was surprised.\u00a0 Besides, I’m a grown man.\u00a0 It’s nobody’s job to rescue me.\u00a0 If I want to do something stupid, I can do it, and it’s nobody’s fault but mine.\u00a0 I’m the one who went upstairs with Judith even though I didn’t love her.\u00a0 I’m the one who told Phil to give me the glass and the bottle.\u00a0 I’m the one who poured that first drink, and I’m the one who drank it.\u00a0 And then I poured the second one, the third one, and all the ones after that.<\/p>\n

By the time Hoss figured out what was happening, I was as drunk as I can ever remember being.\u00a0 I couldn’t understand everything he was saying, but he yanked me up from the piano bench and yelled in my face and threw me down on the floor, in the spilled whiskey, and kept yelling.\u00a0 I don’t know when I’ve ever seen him so mad.\u00a0 Even drunk, I knew I deserved whatever he said or did.\u00a0 It was the first time in my life I was ever scared of him.<\/p>\n

And then, he stopped yelling, and he just stomped out.\u00a0 All I could do was watch him go.\u00a0 I was still where I’d landed, on my hands and knees in the puddle of whiskey, and I watched him slam the doors open like he wanted to break them off.\u00a0 After he left, the room was so quiet you could have heard a teardrop hit the floor.<\/p>\n

Nobody said anything to me at first.\u00a0 I don’t know if they were embarrassed or if they thought I was.\u00a0 I waited for a minute to see if he was coming back, but he didn’t.\u00a0 So, I hauled myself up by hanging onto the piano.\u00a0 I sat on the chair for a few minutes, trying to stop the room from spinning.\u00a0 Ruthie brought me a glass of water.\u00a0 She didn’t say anything, and neither did I.\u00a0 I drank a little bit, but it just made me feel sick, so I put it down, real carefully, next to the piano.\u00a0 I didn’t want them to have to clean that up on top of the whiskey I’d already spilled.<\/p>\n

I’d tossed my hat and jacket and gunbelt on top of the piano when I came downstairs.\u00a0 Slowly, deliberately, I stood up and reached for them.\u00a0 I put the hat on first.\u00a0 Then, I put on the jacket.\u00a0 Then, I started to put on the gunbelt, but I thought that I should have put it on before I put on the jacket, so I took off the jacket and the hat and laid them down.\u00a0 Then, I realized that I didn’t have to take off the hat to put on the gunbelt, so I put the hat back on.\u00a0 After I did that, I thought for a minute.\u00a0 Jacket or gunbelt.\u00a0 Something came next.\u00a0 I picked up the jacket, and then I put it down and picked up the gunbelt.\u00a0 I usually didn’t have a problem buckling it, but this time, it was really complicated.\u00a0 I couldn’t remember what the ties at the bottom of the holster were for, so I just left them loose.\u00a0 I patted my head to be sure I had my hat, and I put on my jacket.<\/p>\n

“Night, everybody,” I said, real casually, like it had just been a typical night.\u00a0 Which, in a way, it had been.<\/p>\n

“You okay, Frenchy?”\u00a0 Ruthie asked softly.<\/p>\n

I smiled for her.\u00a0 “Don’t worry about me,” I said.\u00a0 “I’m just fine.”\u00a0 Then, I drew her closer.\u00a0 “Take care of Judith, will you?”\u00a0 I could feel my eyes welling up a little bit, but I fought it back.<\/p>\n

Ruthie looked from me to her.\u00a0 Judith was sitting at a corner table by herself.\u00a0 Ruthie looked back at me, and I knew she probably knew everything.\u00a0 “Sure,” she said.\u00a0 She\u00a0 kissed me on the cheek.\u00a0 “You sure you’re okay?” she asked quietly.<\/p>\n

I tipped my hat to her and winked.\u00a0 “I’m fine.”\u00a0 Say what you will about me, but I’m good at getting along when I’m drunk.\u00a0 I’d have to be.\u00a0 Otherwise, I’d have been dead a long time ago.<\/p>\n

I made my way to the door and turned back.\u00a0 Judith’s eyes were fixed on the bottle in front of her.\u00a0 I tried to catch her eye, but she wouldn’t look up.\u00a0 I thought of going over to her and saying something, anything.\u00a0 But there was nothing to say.\u00a0 Nothing I could do to make things better.\u00a0 She’d thrown her heart away on the most worthless of all worthless men, and the best thing I could do for her was to get the hell out of her life.<\/p>\n

The cool, wet air outside perked me up a little bit.\u00a0 I stood in the middle of the sidewalk, trying to remember which way to go to get to our hotel.\u00a0 I couldn’t even remember its name, and we stay there every time we’re in town.\u00a0 I just knew what it looked like.\u00a0 I stood there, trying to remember, and a couple of fellows bumped into me.<\/p>\n

“Hey!\u00a0 Look where you’re going!”\u00a0 I tried to sound tough, but even I could hear how I was slurring.\u00a0 They just laughed and kept going.\u00a0 I wasn’t even enough for them to fight with.<\/p>\n

After a while, I started walking.\u00a0 I figured that I’d have to find the hotel sooner or later.\u00a0 I knew I could walk from there to the saloon, so it couldn’t be that far.\u00a0 If only I could remember when to turn.\u00a0.\u00a0.\u00a0.<\/p>\n

I don’t know how long I’d been walking when a man in a shiny black suit stopped me.\u00a0 “Excuse me, friend, I wonder if you could help me,” he said.\u00a0 His hair was slicked down, and his mustache looked like he’d done the same to it.\u00a0 He had a friend with him who was dressed pretty much the same.<\/p>\n

“Sure,” I said.\u00a0 “Whaddya want?”<\/p>\n

“Well, sir, we’re new to San Francisco, and we were wondering if you could recommend some place where a man might partake of a bit of refreshment and perhaps a friendly game of cards.”\u00a0 Even his smile looked oily.<\/p>\n

“The Singing Dove,” I said.\u00a0 I started to turn around to point, but I lost my balance.\u00a0 The next thing I knew, both of them had grabbed me, and one of them was reaching into my jacket.\u00a0 “Hey!” I yelled.\u00a0 I elbowed him before he could get my wallet, and he didn’t take that well.\u00a0 Next thing I knew, one of them was holding me while the other was beating me.\u00a0 I tried to get free, or to kick, or to do anything else, but two sober men against one drunk just aren’t very good odds for the drunk.\u00a0 People just walked on past as the two fancy men beat me up.\u00a0 I remember doubling over when it felt like a punch cracked a rib, but that’s pretty much all I remember until I woke up in some doorway.\u00a0 I don’t know how I got there, if I walked or crawled or if they dumped me so they wouldn’t leave the sidewalk a mess.\u00a0 My head was aching, my ribs were sore, and my wallet was gone.\u00a0 On top of which, the world was still spinning from everything I drank, and I could tell my stomach wasn’t going to put up with any of this for much longer.<\/p>\n

I hauled myself up by the doorknob.\u00a0 I felt downright miserable, the way you do when all you really want is to curl up and sleep until it’s a week later and everything is over.\u00a0 I stood up, dizzy and sore.\u00a0 I could feel myself swaying.\u00a0 I leaned against the building until the dizziness passed a little bit.\u00a0 I tried moving one foot forward, barely picking it up.\u00a0 I didn’t fall.\u00a0 I moved the other one, holding my arms out for balance.\u00a0 I stayed standing.\u00a0 Slowly, I worked my way across the sidewalk, where there were lampposts and I could see better.\u00a0 It felt like it took forever to get there, but I figured it didn’t matter.\u00a0 It wasn’t like I had anything better to do.\u00a0 One step at a time, I made my way along the edge of the sidewalk, hoping that I was going in the right direction, because I knew I only had so much walking left in me.<\/p>\n

After a while, I started to think about just finding a bench and sleeping there.\u00a0 It wasn’t like I’d never done that.\u00a0 On nights when Judith was working and I’d had to get myself home, I sometimes didn’t quite make it.\u00a0 More than once, she came along and woke me up and got me home.\u00a0 I don’t know how I escaped being shang-haied, I really don’t.\u00a0 They usually like to take drunks.\u00a0 Probably, I was too much of a drunk, even for them.<\/p>\n

I spotted a bench.\u00a0 At the rate I was shuffling along, I could be there pretty soon.\u00a0 I’d sleep there.\u00a0 I tried to move a little bit faster.\u00a0 Relief was in sight.<\/p>\n

“Joe!\u00a0 Joseph!”<\/p>\n

It sounded like Hoss.\u00a0 I didn’t stop, though.\u00a0 It might not be.\u00a0 It could be the fancy fellows again.\u00a0 I kept going, just like it would make any kind of a difference.<\/p>\n

“Where the dickens have you been?”\u00a0 It was Hoss.\u00a0 He didn’t sound mad any more, but I figured he might be.\u00a0 It wasn’t like he wouldn’t have a right to be mad.<\/p>\n

He reached out, and I tried to dodge him, but it was more than I could do.\u00a0 I lost my balance and fell over.\u00a0 I tried not to make any noise that would show how much my ribs hurt.\u00a0 He said something I couldn’t hear over the roar in my ears, and I just pushed him away and told him I’d get up myself.\u00a0 I probably looked like those damned tortoises when they’re on their backs, the way I couldn’t get myself up because my ribs hurt so much.\u00a0 Finally, I turned over on my hands and knees and used the lamppost to steady myself as I stood up.\u00a0 I let go slowly and swayed a little.\u00a0 I had to grab the lamppost, but I stayed standing.\u00a0 I let go again, and this time, I didn’t feel like I was going to fall.\u00a0 Even so, I held up my hand so Hoss would know not to touch me.\u00a0 I was afraid that if I fell down again, I wouldn’t be able to get up at all.\u00a0 So, he stayed back, and we made our way to the hotel, step by step by painful step.<\/p>\n

When we got back to the room, Hoss started to unbutton my shirt for me.\u00a0 I remember pushing his hand away and trying to do it myself, but the buttons were really, really tiny, and my fingers were huge, and I couldn’t seem to get them to work.\u00a0 He let me try for a while before he reached in and did it for me.\u00a0 I don’t remember anything else until I was in bed.\u00a0 That part I remember clear.<\/p>\n

I closed my eyes, and the bed started spinning.\u00a0 My eyes snapped open, and I grabbed for a bowl or something.\u00a0 Like magic, the bowl appeared just in time, and I delivered most of what I’d drunk, plus most of what I’d eaten for dinner.\u00a0 Hoss had bound my ribs, but they still hurt like hell.\u00a0 He gave me some water, and I rinsed out my mouth and wished for a drink to cut the pain.<\/p>\n

Hoss disappeared for a minute.\u00a0 When he came back, he sat down by the bed.\u00a0 I tried to tell him that I didn’t blame him, or anybody, that it was all my fault, every last little bit of it.\u00a0 I didn’t want him to feel bad about what happened.\u00a0 I told him how I didn’t love Judith even though she loved me, and how only a truly awful person would treat someone like I had, especially after all she did for me.\u00a0 I told him how I didn’t blame him for being mad at me, because I deserved it for letting him and Pa and Adam down so badly. \u00a0I didn’t blame him for leaving me there at the Dove. \u00a0He was right to do it.\u00a0 I told him that I knew I was just a worthless drunk, and I didn’t blame him or anybody for washing their hands of me.\u00a0 It was the sensible thing for them to do.\u00a0 I didn’t deserve them, not my big brother or Judith or anybody else.\u00a0 I said, what kind of a person goes out and gets this drunk after everything they did to save my life last time.\u00a0 A stupid, selfish, worthless dog, that’s who.\u00a0 They were good people, and they shouldn’t be spending so much time on somebody like me.\u00a0 Truth was, I was just too much trouble.\u00a0 They deserved so much better.\u00a0 Sometimes, I said, you just wear out your welcome.\u00a0 When that happens, it’s okay for people to turn you loose, like those stubborn mustangs that you can’t break and you just waste a lot of time and men until you admit it and give up on them.<\/p>\n

I meant what I was saying.\u00a0 Even drunk, I knew I was speaking the absolute, unvarnished truth.\u00a0 But something in me wanted to hear Hoss say something against it all anyway.\u00a0 He knew how much it mattered to me, what he thought.\u00a0 Even though he’d be wrong, I wanted to hear him tell me I was out of my mind to think like that, that of course I was good enough.\u00a0 I wouldn’t believe him, but I wanted him to try, to fight me.\u00a0 I wanted to hear him say that he wouldn’t ever turn his back on me.\u00a0 To give me a reason to think that, just maybe, even all the bad things I’d done weren’t enough to change anything between us.<\/p>\n

But he didn’t say anything back.\u00a0 Not a word.<\/p>\n

His silence shook me to the deepest parts of my soul.\u00a0 He was holding onto my hand, but he didn’t say anything. \u00a0I could tell he felt bad about what I was saying, but he didn’t deny any of it.\u00a0 He didn’t deny the part about Judith and how awful I was for treating her like that.\u00a0 He didn’t deny what I said about his being mad at me, or everything being all my fault.<\/p>\n

He didn’t deny the part about washing his hands of me.<\/p>\n

Some people might think that’s not such a big deal, that he just didn’t deny anything.\u00a0 But I knew what that silence meant.\u00a0 See, when I was thirteen, our foreman was accused of robbing a bank.\u00a0 I remember how we all went Virginia City for the trial to show him we were on his side.\u00a0 I’d never seen a trial before, and most of it was kind of boring.\u00a0 One thing I remember, though.\u00a0 When it was time for the jury to go out and decide, the judge told them what the law was that they were supposed to follow.\u00a0 One of the things he said was that, if you say something to a man, and it’s the kind of thing he would normally deny, and he doesn’t deny it, under the law, it’s just like he’s admitted it outright. \u00a0Hoss was there with us, and he heard the judge say that, same as I did. \u00a0So, when Hoss didn’t deny any of those things I said, I knew that he knew what he was doing.\u00a0 It was just exactly the same as if he said everything himself, every last word.<\/p>\n

All this time, I’d thought that my life had ended when Robin died.\u00a0 Afterward, I’d cobbled together something that looked like a life, but I’d always thought my real life, who I was, died in that saloon on a warm September night with my wife and our unborn child.\u00a0 At that moment, though, in that fancy San Francisco hotel room, I knew I’d been wrong.\u00a0 Even after the shooting, there was a spark that had survived the worst thing that had ever happened to me.\u00a0 I was still alive, right up until the moment my big brother sat by my bed and didn’t lift a finger to contradict me when I said I knew I wasn’t good enough for him to bother with any more. \u00a0He looked so sad, admitting that.<\/p>\n

That was when the last little spark of life in me died, just as sure as if he’d stomped it out with those great big boots.<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n
\n

Ben<\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n

“I wasn’t sure you’d come,” I said quietly to my youngest son.<\/p>\n

It was been just over a week since we’d gotten the wire from Hoss.\u00a0 The wire had given me no information.\u00a0 Hoss isn’t much of a writer even when he’s got plenty of time, and the message was as disturbing as any I’ve ever received.<\/p>\n

COME TO SAN FRANCISCO AS SOON AS POSSIBLE STOP URGENT PROBLEM WITH JOE STOP WILL EXPLAIN WHEN YOU GET HERE STOP<\/em><\/p>\n

I’d wired back immediately, wanting to know what type of problem.\u00a0 Hoss’ response was vague, but he confirmed that my youngest son was not ill.\u00a0 Not that it mattered.\u00a0 Hoss doesn’t overreact.\u00a0 He and Joe are so close that I couldn’t imagine a problem with Joe that Hoss couldn’t handle.\u00a0 So, in a way, it didn’t actually matter what was happening:\u00a0 we were going to San Francisco.\u00a0 I say “we,” because Adam refused to hear of remaining at home.<\/p>\n

Even once we’d arrived, I still couldn’t get an explanation about what had happened.\u00a0 I wasn’t sure Hoss fully understood it, either.\u00a0 He wouldn’t say much, only that something had happened to upset Joe and the boy had disappeared and it was all Hoss’ fault.<\/p>\n

“Do you have any idea where he is?” I asked.\u00a0 I couldn’t ever recall seeing Hoss so distressed.<\/p>\n

“No, sir,” Hoss said.\u00a0 “He jest left this note.”\u00a0 He handed it to me.\u00a0 The note was smeared and crumpled from much handling, and Joseph’s handwriting isn’t easy to read in the best of circumstances.\u00a0 Still, I had no problem deciphering the words my son had written, although his message escaped me:<\/p>\n

Hoss-<\/em><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n

I’m sorry.\u00a0 Tell Pa and Adam I’m sorry.\u00a0 I’ll be staying here.\u00a0 It’s for the best.<\/em><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n

I wish I could have done better by all of you.\u00a0 I understand.\u00a0 It’s not your fault.\u00a0 Take care of each other.<\/em><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n

Have a safe trip back to the Ponderosa.<\/em><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n

Joe<\/em><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n

P.S.\u00a0 I had to borrow some money.\u00a0 I’ll send it back to you as soon as I can.<\/em><\/p>\n

Adam looked pensive.\u00a0 “Have you checked that saloon where he used to work?”<\/p>\n

Hoss flinched as if Adam had struck him.\u00a0 “They say he hasn’t been there,” he said.\u00a0 Maybe it was something in his eyes, but I had the feeling someone had said a whole lot more to him.<\/p>\n

“Let me try,” Adam said.\u00a0 I suspected he’d seen the same thing I had.\u00a0 He picked up his hat and gunbelt.\u00a0 “I’ll be back.”<\/p>\n

He returned an hour later to report that he’d waited outside until Ruthie came and had asked her to convey a message.\u00a0 “Tell my little brother that our father is at the hotel and would like to see him,” he’d told her.<\/p>\n

“When will she see him?” I asked.<\/p>\n

“I don’t know,” said Adam.\u00a0 “I had the feeling it wouldn’t be too long.\u00a0 It wouldn’t surprise me if she knows just where he is.”<\/p>\n

“Are you certain he wasn’t in there?”<\/p>\n

“She said he wasn’t, and I didn’t see him,” said Adam.\u00a0 “If he was there, he was hiding pretty well.\u00a0 We’ll see how Ruthie does.\u00a0 If Joe doesn’t come by in the next day or so, I’ll pay her another visit.”<\/p>\n

As it turned out, there was no need.\u00a0 Later that afternoon, when Adam had dragged Hoss out for a walk along the pier, there was a quiet knock.\u00a0 My heart pounded as I opened the door.<\/p>\n

“Hello,” Joe said, as if to a stranger.\u00a0 The shadow of a bruise lingered on his cheekbone.<\/p>\n

“I wasn’t sure you’d come,” I said quietly.\u00a0 I wanted to reach out, to hold my boy tightly.\u00a0 But he stood just over arm’s-length away, and he wasn’t coming closer.\u00a0 So, I respected his distance without quite knowing why.<\/p>\n

“I’m here,” he said.\u00a0 His manner was just as distant.<\/p>\n

Since he was tiny, I’ve been looking in his eyes for clues.\u00a0 With Joe, that’s where you look if you want to know the truth.\u00a0 Even if he manages to keep his face from showing his feelings, his eyes give him away every time.\u00a0 I’ve seen them show every emotion known to man, from outrageous joy to the blackest grief. \u00a0They flash with life and love. \u00a0They are the most reliable barometer of his heart that I know.\u00a0 Today, what I saw shook me more than any earthquake.<\/p>\n

My son’s green eyes were hard.\u00a0 Cold.\u00a0 Dead.<\/p>\n

“Please, sit down.”\u00a0 I wasn’t at all certain he would, but he did.\u00a0 “Would you like some coffee?”\u00a0 It was like entertaining a stranger.<\/p>\n

“No, thanks.”\u00a0 His voice was as dead as his eyes.<\/p>\n

My heart ached.\u00a0 I sat next to him on the settee.\u00a0 He didn’t move, closer or away.\u00a0 He kept looking straight ahead.\u00a0 It was as if I hadn’t sat at all.\u00a0 “Son, what happened?”<\/p>\n

He said nothing for a long minute.\u00a0 I waited.\u00a0 Finally, he asked, “What did Hoss say?”<\/p>\n

“He said you’ve decided to stay in San Francisco.”<\/p>\n

“That’s right.”\u00a0 We could have been talking about the weather, or cattle prices, or any of a dozen other innocuous topics, for all the emotion in his voice.<\/p>\n

“Will you tell me why?”\u00a0 I tried to be gentle.\u00a0 I wanted to put my arm around him, but the rigid way he held himself told me that my touch was not welcome.\u00a0 After a minute, I rested my hand on his shoulder anyway.\u00a0 He didn’t pull away, but he didn’t lean into me as he would normally do, either.\u00a0 Briefly, he closed his eyes, as if in pain.\u00a0 Other than that, it was as if I’d done nothing at all.<\/p>\n

“What did Hoss tell you?”<\/p>\n

“Very little.”\u00a0 It was true.\u00a0 Hoss was consumed with his own guilt.\u00a0 All he said was that he’d been wrong.\u00a0 I needed to hear the story from Joe.\u00a0 “Tell me,” I whispered.<\/p>\n

“I got drunk,” he said at last.\u00a0 It was a confession and a challenge, all in one:\u00a0\u00a0I did this incredibly stupid, dangerous thing.\u00a0 What are you doing to do about it?<\/em><\/p>\n

It was my turn to close my eyes.\u00a0 Foolishly, I’d thought this battle was behind us.\u00a0 “What happened?” I asked, with different meaning this time.\u00a0 I wanted to know what drove him to throw away his hard-won sobriety.\u00a0 He’d been so careful for so long.\u00a0 I knew that he hadn’t done this by accident.<\/p>\n

Joe shook his head.\u00a0 He wasn’t going to answer the question.\u00a0 That much was clear.<\/p>\n

“Have you had anything to drink since then?”\u00a0 I didn’t want to harp on it, but I wouldn’t pretend I wasn’t worried.\u00a0 Hoss hadn’t seen him in over a week.\u00a0 Anything could have happened in that time.\u00a0 I didn’t know why some men could stop drinking at any time and for others, it seemed almost like an addiction.\u00a0 I only knew that my youngest son seemed to be in the latter group.<\/p>\n

“No.”\u00a0 No explanation, but no offense taken, either.\u00a0 That was something, I supposed.<\/p>\n

I tried a different tack.\u00a0 “What happened with Hoss?”<\/p>\n

He stood abruptly.\u00a0 “You need to talk to him.”\u00a0 He picked up his hat and headed for the door.\u00a0 He’d never taken off his jacket or gunbelt the whole time.<\/p>\n

“Just a minute, young man.”\u00a0 I didn’t want to assert my fatherly authority-it felt too harsh, too overbearing-but I’d do it rather than let my boy walk out of that room and, as far as I knew, out of my life.\u00a0 “I asked you a question, Joseph, and I want an answer.”<\/p>\n

He turned to face me.\u00a0 The dead eyes brimmed with tears.\u00a0 “Ask Hoss,” he said hoarsely.\u00a0 He turned away and started to open the door.<\/p>\n

“I’m asking you.”\u00a0 In two steps, I’d crossed the room and slammed the door shut.\u00a0 Pinning him against it, I said, “I want an answer, and I want it now.\u00a0 Tell me what happened with Hoss.”<\/p>\n

His head was bowed, his forehead against the door.\u00a0 I laid one hand on his shoulder.\u00a0 He pulled away, flattening himself against the door.\u00a0 “I can’t,” he said.\u00a0 “I can’t.”\u00a0 He wasn’t being obstinate or rebellious.\u00a0 The deadness in his voice was being strangled by pain.<\/p>\n

“Joseph,” I breathed.\u00a0 I tried to turn him around, to hold him, but he jerked away.<\/p>\n

“Just let me go, please.”\u00a0 It was as close to begging as I’d ever heard from my son, and it tore at my heart.\u00a0 I stepped back, releasing my hold on the door.<\/p>\n

Without another word, my son slipped out into the hallway and was gone.<\/p>\n

And that was when I realized that not once had he called me “Pa.”<\/p>\n

Adam and Hoss returned from their walk a short time later.\u00a0 I told them about Joe’s visit.\u00a0 Hoss sat down heavily, apparently overcome with the realization that he’d missed his brother by mere minutes.<\/p>\n

I sat across from him and looked him in the eye.\u00a0 “I need to know what happened,” I said firmly.\u00a0 “You have to tell me everything.\u00a0 Now.”<\/p>\n

Adam<\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n

We all sat in silence when Hoss finished his story.\u00a0 It didn’t make sense, any of it.\u00a0 Maybe Hoss was wrong to get quite so angry, but I could see how he’d have panicked.\u00a0 I’ll never forget how bad Joe looked when we found him in that seedy little room.\u00a0 He was dying from drink.\u00a0 All the doctors thought it was a miracle that he wasn’t already dead.\u00a0 I don’t think Joe ever knew how many days and nights Hoss spent beside his hospital bed, holding his hand and talking him through the agony of withdrawal, wiping sweat from his fevered brow and never letting on that there was any chance Joe might not make it.\u00a0 If those two hadn’t already had a special bond, I think that might have done it.\u00a0 It made sense that the idea of Joe going through that again-of all of us going through it again-could have made Hoss lose control.<\/p>\n

But for the life of me, I couldn’t see how Joe was so distraught about what Hoss had done.\u00a0 Sure, Hoss lost his temper, but he’s done that before.\u00a0 People underestimate Hoss.\u00a0 He may be gentle most of the time, and he may have a long fuse, but you don’t want to be the one who pushes him so far that he finally gets angry.\u00a0 Believe me.\u00a0 I’ve done it, and I’ve had the bruises to show for it.\u00a0 This sounded like a typical Hoss-style blow-up:\u00a0 a few moments of temper, followed by a wagonload of remorse.\u00a0 Joe knows that pattern as well as any of us.\u00a0 Besides, Joe came back to the room under his own steam, with Hoss, and he let Hoss put him to bed and tend to him.\u00a0 Even drunk, my little brother isn’t fool enough to do that with someone he doesn’t trust.<\/p>\n

The only answer was that something happened after that.\u00a0 So I asked.<\/p>\n

Hoss shook his head.\u00a0 “Nothing,” he said.\u00a0 “He talked for a little bit and fell asleep.\u00a0 Didn’t make no sense.\u00a0 Kept beating himself up about how he was just a worthless drunk and not good enough for anybody to want around.\u00a0 It just broke my heart to hear him.”<\/p>\n

“What did you say?”<\/p>\n

“I told him to just go to sleep, and we’d talk in the morning. \u00a0I couldn’t say nothin’ else. \u00a0He went to sleep right away.\u00a0 An’ I just sat there, feeling so plumb awful about what I’d done to him.\u00a0 After a while, I went to bed.\u00a0 When I woke up, he was just leaving, and there was the note.”<\/p>\n

We all sat there without speaking.\u00a0 There was still something not making sense.\u00a0 I had absolute confidence that Hoss had told me each and every event, but something was still missing.\u00a0 And the only one who could fill in that blank space was Joe.<\/p>\n

“I’ll be back,” I said.\u00a0 I figured Pa and Hoss had plenty to talk about without me.<\/p>\n

I didn’t know Joe’s regular places in San Francisco, other than the saloon, so I started there.<\/p>\n

“He ain’t here,” said the bartender.<\/p>\n

“When was he last here?” I asked.\u00a0 The bartender looked me up and down and said nothing.\u00a0 I slid a ten-dollar bill across the bar.\u00a0 He pocketed it.<\/p>\n

“The night he was here with his big brother,” he said.<\/p>\n

“He hasn’t been back at all since?\u00a0 Not even for a minute?”<\/p>\n

“Not since.\u00a0 Didn’t figure the big one would stand for it, I guess.\u00a0 That one got pretty riled last time.”<\/p>\n

I thanked the bartender and left.\u00a0 I wracked my brain, trying to remember the name of that church where he’d almost gotten a job.\u00a0 An Episcopal church, named for some saint.\u00a0 I had no idea where it was, but I figured it must have been within walking distance of where he used to live.\u00a0 I remembered being at his room that night we found him, so I headed that direction.\u00a0 Maybe somebody in Joe’s old neighborhood would know where the church was.<\/p>\n

It took some doing, because all those tenements look alike, but I found the building where he and Robin had lived.\u00a0 I was standing in front of it, trying to figure out which direction to go, when the door opened, and my brother came out and stopped dead when he saw me.<\/p>\n

“I was looking for you,” I said.\u00a0 He just stood there.\u00a0 He wasn’t giving anything away.\u00a0 “Is this where you live now?”\u00a0 He nodded.\u00a0 “Well, then, let’s go inside.\u00a0 You and I need to have a little talk.”\u00a0 I reached for his arm, but he jerked it away.\u00a0 Ten years ago, he’d have bolted down the sidewalk to get away from me.<\/p>\n

“I can’t,” he said.\u00a0 “I have to go to work.”<\/p>\n

Dread flooded through me.\u00a0 As casually as I could manage with my heart in my throat, I asked, “Are you back at the Singing Dove?”<\/p>\n

Joe shook his head.\u00a0 “I’m not that stupid,” he said quietly.<\/p>\n

I didn’t know how to answer him.\u00a0 Finally, I said, “Can you be a few minutes late?\u00a0 I really need to talk to you.”<\/p>\n

Joe regarded me for a long minute.\u00a0 I couldn’t tell what he was thinking.\u00a0 Ironic.\u00a0 Time was when anything in his mind would have been readable on his face.\u00a0 My little brother was the worst secret-keeper I’d ever met.\u00a0 He’d always tell you far more than you ever had any desire to hear.\u00a0 But now, when I actually wanted to know what was going on in his head, he was as inscrutable as some old Indian chief.\u00a0 It was as if someone had drained Joseph Cartwright of all the life and passion that made him who he was, and they’d left behind some older, emotionless shell.<\/p>\n

Finally, abruptly, he turned to go back into the building.\u00a0 At the door, he paused briefly, not looking back.\u00a0 I understood that this was all the invitation I would receive.\u00a0 Without a word, I followed him as he led the way inside.<\/p>\n

We climbed the narrow stairs to the third floor.\u00a0 The place still smelled musty, of mold and mildew and dust and peeling paint.\u00a0 How he could stand to be here was beyond me. \u00a0I couldn’t imagine what was so bad that this was the preferable alternative. \u00a0I stood behind my brother in the narrow hallway as he turned the key to unlock a door that I could have opened with a half-hearted kick.<\/p>\n

Nobody had bothered cleaning the room in some time.\u00a0 The cheap bureau was scratched and dusty.\u00a0 The warped mirror on the wall was streaked.\u00a0 Dust balls lurked in the corners.\u00a0 The only evidence of Joe was his satchel on the lone chair, and the bed, typically unmade, the threadbare coverlet tossed aside.\u00a0 I moved his satchel to the floor and sat on the chair.\u00a0 “Have a seat,” I said.\u00a0 It was less of an invitation than an order, and he heard it as such.\u00a0 He remained standing.<\/p>\n

“Joe, I need for you to tell me what happened,” I said.<\/p>\n

“Ask Hoss,” he said.\u00a0 If the voice hadn’t been so dead, it would have been belligerent.<\/p>\n

“I did,” I said.\u00a0 “And from what he told me, I can’t figure out how you two reached this point.\u00a0 So either he got something wrong, or he left something out.\u00a0 You need to fill in the gaps.”\u00a0 He said nothing.\u00a0 I stood and approached him, softening my voice.\u00a0 “Joe, if this is where you really want to be, we’ll respect that.\u00a0 But I don’t think it is.”\u00a0 I’d moved closer as I spoke, until I was standing right in front of him.\u00a0 Just like when he was a kid, I lifted his chin, forcing him to meet my eyes.<\/p>\n

“Tell me what happened,” I whispered.\u00a0 The chin in my hand quivered.\u00a0 I held firm as tears welled up in my little brother’s eyes.\u00a0 I tried to put my arms around him, but he delivered a solid left to my stomach, and I doubled over, releasing him.\u00a0 He sprang for the door.\u00a0 I tackled him, pinning him to the floor.\u00a0 He tried to flip me over his head, but there wasn’t enough space in the tiny room, and he just knocked me into the wall.\u00a0 I scrambled to my feet and hauled him to his, trying to be careful of his cracked ribs.\u00a0 He took a swing at me and missed.\u00a0 I delivered a sound right cross to his jaw that knocked him backward, onto the bed.\u00a0 He started to get up. \u00a0I grabbed his arms and held him fast.<\/p>\n

“Listen to me!\u00a0 Cut it out!\u00a0 I mean it!”\u00a0 He struggled a little bit.\u00a0 Then, just like that, all the fight went out of him.\u00a0 I’d never seen him cave in so fast.\u00a0 I knew then how much this whole thing had taken out of him.\u00a0 I sat down next to him.\u00a0 He was almost doubled over, arms crossed tightly across himself as if he were in pain. \u00a0“Are you all right?\u00a0 Did I hurt you?”\u00a0 I tried to get him to straighten up so that I could check his ribs, but he held himself too tightly.\u00a0 “It’s okay, Little Brother, just relax.”\u00a0 I rubbed his back in large, slow circles.\u00a0 After a while, I felt the tension gradually release beneath my hand.\u00a0 I pulled him close and held him securely, the way I used to when he was a kid.\u00a0 “It’s okay,” I murmured.\u00a0 “It’s all going to be fine.”\u00a0 I kept saying it until I felt him start to shake, and the dam broke.\u00a0 In the dismal gray light of that dingy little room, I held my brother while he sobbed in a way I hadn’t heard since he was five years old and finally understood that being dead meant that his mother was gone forever.<\/p>\n

Eventually, he drew back, swiping at his eyes with his sleeve.\u00a0 I smiled slightly.\u00a0 No matter what, that kid has never learned to carry a handkerchief.\u00a0 I handed him mine and waited as he composed himself.\u00a0 He started to give me back the handkerchief, and I shook my head.\u00a0 “Are you okay?” I asked.\u00a0 He patted his ribs as if that was what I’d meant, and he nodded.\u00a0 “Tell me what happened,” I said quietly.\u00a0 And he did.<\/p>\n

I was right:\u00a0 Hoss had left out some parts. \u00a0Important parts. \u00a0Not because he’d overlooked anything, but because he just didn’t know.\u00a0 Joe talked about what it felt like to be back in that saloon, with all those dark memories swirling around, reminding him of what had happened there and how hard he’d made everything for everybody. \u00a0He talked about Judith, how he felt he’d taken advantage of her and used her when she was in love with him.\u00a0 He talked about how he’d failed us all, again and again, and that the drinking was only part of it.\u00a0 He talked about the sense he’d always had of never measuring up, never quite being good enough.\u00a0 He said he understood why Hoss did what he did, but he didn’t explain what he meant by that.\u00a0 He just said Hoss was right, and he didn’t blame him.<\/p>\n

I wanted to tell him that he was being far too hard on himself, but I was determined to hear him out before I told him he was wrong.\u00a0 I needed to hear it all, and he needed me to hear him.\u00a0 I’d always known he felt driven to compete with the rest of us, but I’d never realized before that day just how shaky my little brother’s sense of his own adequacy was.<\/p>\n

His account of what happened in the saloon when Hoss realized he was drunk was right in line with Hoss’ version, except for one thing:\u00a0 Joe hadn’t seen how scared Hoss was.\u00a0 All he saw was the anger.\u00a0 His own shame masked everything else.<\/p>\n

The pieces were starting to fit.\u00a0 I listened as he told me what happened after Hoss left the saloon, how he got himself out of there and tried to find his way back to the hotel.\u00a0 He talked of the men in the black suits who beat him up and robbed him, and of his futile attempts to defend himself.\u00a0 He told me how he felt when Hoss found him, and the humiliation when he fell over, right there on the street, and couldn’t get up.\u00a0 A strange, sad pride flickered as he recounted getting himself to his feet and making his way back to the room under his own power.\u00a0 The idea that he actually counted this as an accomplishment caused my heart to ache.<\/p>\n

For someone as drunk as Joe had been, he had remarkable recall.\u00a0 His account of what happened then was just the same as Hoss’.\u00a0 He described Hoss binding his ribs and putting him to bed.\u00a0 Then, looking away, he told me what he’d said after that.\u00a0 Almost word for word, it was as Hoss had said.<\/p>\n

“What happened next?”\u00a0 I asked, as gently as I could.<\/p>\n

“Hoss agreed with me.”<\/p>\n

“What?”\u00a0 Hoss hadn’t said anything about that.\u00a0 It couldn’t be true. \u00a0It just couldn’t.\u00a0 Hoss would never do that.\u00a0 I’d stake my life on it.\u00a0 Carefully, knowing that I’d finally arrived at the center, I asked, “What exactly did he say?”<\/p>\n

“Nothing.”<\/p>\n

“I don’t understand.”<\/p>\n

“He didn’t deny it.\u00a0 Not a word.\u00a0 He just sat there and said nothing.\u00a0 He never said I was wrong about any of it.\u00a0 He didn’t deny anything.”<\/p>\n

Oh, dear God.\u00a0\u00a0<\/em>The last piece of the puzzle slid into place.\u00a0 “And you thought, by saying nothing, he was agreeing with you,” I said slowly.<\/p>\n

“He was.”\u00a0 Joe’s dead voice was back.\u00a0 “You know Hoss.\u00a0 He wouldn’t actually say anything hurtful, but he can’t lie, either.\u00a0 So, he’d admit it by just keeping quiet and not denying the truth.”<\/p>\n

I exhaled slowly.\u00a0 It all made sense now.\u00a0 At that moment when Joe hit bottom, when he was drunk and overwrought and not thinking clearly, when he already believed his actions to be unforgivable, when a lifetime of struggling to measure up had crashed around him, when he felt so ashamed and unworthy and utterly unlovable-at that terrible moment, his big brother, the person he trusted more than anyone else, didn’t tell him he was wrong to think that way.\u00a0 Didn’t say there was nothing Joe could do to drive him away.\u00a0 Didn’t tell him he was good enough, no matter what.<\/p>\n

For a moment, I knew how Hoss had felt, sitting there at Joe’s bedside, hearing him say those awful things about himself.\u00a0 I’ve never felt so powerless in my life as I did right then, trying to figure out the magic words that would convince my brother that he’d gotten it all backward.\u00a0 I wanted to shake him and tell him he was crazy, that this was Hoss we were talking about, and that he had to know, deep in his heart, that he was wrong about our brother.\u00a0 I wanted to recite, chapter and verse, the thousands upon thousands of ways Hoss had taken care of him since the minute the boy was born.\u00a0 I wanted to marshal the most compelling, eloquent arguments ever made, to overwhelm him with sheer irrefutable logic until he recognized that I was right and that Hoss would never, ever abandon him, no matter what he did.<\/p>\n

“Joe, you’re wrong.”\u00a0 I held his arms, shaking him slightly to get him to look up.\u00a0 “You’re as wrong as you can be.”\u00a0 I could hear the desperation in my own voice. \u00a0I didn’t know how he’d gotten so mixed up and far away, but I had to bring him back.\u00a0 “Hoss didn’t keep quiet because he agreed with you.\u00a0 He did it because he was so upset by what you said that he couldn’t say anything.\u00a0 He didn’t know what had happened with Judith, how you felt about being at the Dove, or anything.”<\/p>\n

“But I told him-” \u00a0His voice broke.<\/p>\n

“I know you did,” I said quietly.\u00a0 It wasn’t the moment to tell him that he’d been so drunk that Hoss had had difficulty understanding him.\u00a0 The balance of the truth would have to suffice.\u00a0 Gently, I said, “It was hard for him to hear because he cares about you so much.\u00a0 It was so hard that he couldn’t say anything right then.\u00a0 I promise that if he’d known what you were thinking about his silence, he’d have figured out a way to tell you how wrong you were.\u00a0 I’d stake my life on it.”<\/p>\n

After that, we sat there, not talking, for what felt like a long time. \u00a0The irony was inescapable:\u00a0 if anyone had said about me or Hoss or Pa even half of what Joe said about himself, Joe would have been the first to defend us.\u00a0 He would have beaten the speaker to a bloody pulp without a moment’s thought, and he’d have been proud to do it.\u00a0 But when it came to himself, he was more than willing to believe the worst.\u00a0 So, he sat here for a week, alone in a musty room in a broken-down tenement, nursing his cracked ribs while he convinced himself that he’d failed everyone so completely that we didn’t want any more to do with him, and that we were right to feel that way.<\/p>\n

The room’s one window looked over an alley.\u00a0 The little bit of daylight that we’d been seeing by was fading fast.\u00a0 I lit the lamp on the bureau.\u00a0 Joe just stayed where he was.\u00a0 He was clearly drained.\u00a0 The elder brother in me wanted to him to put him to bed and let him get some sleep, but I resisted.\u00a0 I knew that Hoss and Pa would be anxious to hear from us, and I didn’t want to make them wait any longer than necessary.<\/p>\n

“Will you come back over to the hotel and talk to Hoss?” I asked.\u00a0 “I know he wants to talk to you.”<\/p>\n

“What’s there to say?”\u00a0 His voice was slightly less dead, slightly more panicked.\u00a0 But it was something.\u00a0 Encouraged, I sat down beside him and pressed on.<\/p>\n

“He can tell you to your face why he didn’t say anything,” I said, trying to sound merely reasonable.\u00a0 “If you’re going to walk away from your family and your life, don’t you think you’re entitled to an explanation first?”\u00a0 It was the wrong question.\u00a0 I saw that immediately:\u00a0 Joe didn’t feel entitled to much of anything.\u00a0 I tried a different approach.\u00a0 “I think he’d like a chance to explain,” I said.\u00a0 “If nothing else, it would be a kindness for you to give him that chance.”<\/p>\n

Joe dropped his head into his hands.\u00a0 I could barely hear his words.\u00a0 Something about already knowing the truth, about not being good enough.\u00a0 My heart ached to hear him.\u00a0 I didn’t know where these wounds had come from.\u00a0 I’d had no idea that they were even there, much less that they went so deep.<\/p>\n

I laid my hand on the back of his neck, the way I’d seen Pa do a thousand times.\u00a0 He didn’t lean into my hand the way he did with Pa, but he didn’t pull away, either.\u00a0 Quietly, I said, “The only thing you ever had to do to be \u2018good enough’ was just to be exactly who you are, warts and all.\u00a0 And if you don’t believe me, ask Pa and Hoss.\u00a0 They’ll tell you the same thing.\u00a0 I guarantee it.”<\/p>\n

He didn’t say anything for a while.\u00a0 Finally, he looked up.\u00a0 With his curls all mussed and the tear tracks on his face, he looked like a little kid again.\u00a0 “I’m afraid,” he whispered, just like that little kid.\u00a0 I could see the fear.\u00a0 Fear that I was wrong.\u00a0 Fear that he was right.<\/p>\n

I ran a hand through his hair.\u00a0 He was long overdue for a haircut.\u00a0 “So’s Hoss,” I said.\u00a0 “Afraid of losing you.\u00a0 We all are.”<\/p>\n

He said nothing for a while, a far cry from the Joe who couldn’t have kept a thought to himself if you paid him.\u00a0 I waited, my hand resting lightly on his neck.\u00a0 Abruptly, without a word, he rose and crossed the tiny room to the bureau.\u00a0 He upended the chipped white pitcher, emptying the last few drops into the washbowl.\u00a0 He started for the door, carrying the pitcher, and I stood.<\/p>\n

“I’ll get it,” I said.\u00a0 I didn’t know who he might run into in the hall, but I thought he’d probably be more comfortable not seeing anyone until he’d cleaned up a bit.\u00a0 The gratitude in his eyes as he handed me the pitcher told me that I’d guessed right.<\/p>\n

“Down the hall, on the right,” he said. \u00a0He sounded exhausted.<\/p>\n

I nodded and went to fetch the water, reflecting on the fact that I’ve seen Joe in fistfights and gunfights.\u00a0 I’ve seen him go after men twice his size.\u00a0 He’s ridden the orneriest broncs. \u00a0He’s fought off rustlers and Indians and robbers of every stripe. \u00a0He was handling cattle when he was only ten years old. \u00a0And when he was nineteen, he had the guts to defy our formidable father and leave everything he’d ever known to marry the woman he loved. \u00a0He’s taken more chances than any man I know.\u00a0 He’s done dozens upon dozens of foolhardy and dangerous and incredibly courageous things.<\/p>\n

But as I filled that pitcher, it occurred to me that what he was about to do now-going over to the hotel to hear what Hoss would say-just might be bravest thing I’d ever seen my little brother do.<\/p>\n

Ben<\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n

“You need to eat something, Son,” I said gently.\u00a0 This wasn’t something I usually needed to say to my middle son, but these weren’t usual times.\u00a0 I’d ordered dinner to be brought up, knowing that Hoss didn’t feel like going out any more than I did.\u00a0 We were waiting for Adam to come back from wherever he’d gone, hopefully with news of Joseph.<\/p>\n

“Pa, I’m so sorry,” Hoss said for the hundredth time.\u00a0 “Whatever made him go, I’m sorry.”<\/p>\n

“I know,” I said quietly, patting his arm.\u00a0 I did know.\u00a0 I knew that there was just no way that Hoss would ever have done anything to hurt anyone intentionally, least of all his little brother.\u00a0 Somehow, something had been misconstrued.\u00a0 But I’d heard Hoss’ story, and I had no idea what it could be.\u00a0 Only Joseph could answer that question.<\/p>\n

Eventually, we stopped playing at eating dinner.\u00a0 I tried to read the newspaper, and Hoss paced the length of the room.\u00a0 “Pa, I think we should go out and look for them,” he announced.<\/p>\n

“Hoss, we need to stay here in case Adam comes back,” I said.\u00a0 His use of “them” had not escaped me, but I wasn’t about to raise false hopes.\u00a0 Considering the way Joseph had left me earlier, I had wishes, but not expectations, about his returning.<\/p>\n

Hoss harrumphed and continued pacing.\u00a0 Just as I was about to tell him to sit down, a knock on the door echoed through the room.\u00a0 We both froze.\u00a0 Even though Hoss was closer to the door, he didn’t move.\u00a0 After a moment, I crossed the room and opened the door.<\/p>\n

Adam looked at me, then Hoss.\u00a0 None of us spoke. \u00a0Something in my eldest son’s eyes cautioned against it. \u00a0Then, he turned to his left and said softly to someone we could not see, “You ready?”<\/p>\n

And with that, Adam stepped aside and allowed my youngest son to enter the room.<\/p>\n

Joe’s bravado would probably have been convincing to anyone who hadn’t known him his entire life.\u00a0 The deadness was gone from his eyes.\u00a0 In its place was what could have passed for arrogance on the street, but what I, his father, recognized as fear.\u00a0 Fear of what, I had no idea.\u00a0 I caught Adam’s gaze, but I could read nothing there.\u00a0 From his expression, you might have thought he wasn’t at all concerned about anything.\u00a0 Then, I saw that Adam’s hand rested, with studied casualness, against his brother’s back.\u00a0 I could probably count on one hand the number of times I’d seen him do such a thing.<\/p>\n

“Hoss.”\u00a0 Joe’s voice was barely more than a whisper.\u00a0 He swallowed hard.\u00a0 “I-”<\/p>\n

But he got no further, because his big brother gathered him into his arms and held him close.\u00a0 “I’m sorry,” said Hoss over and over.\u00a0 “Whatever it was I did, I’m so sorry.”\u00a0 I couldn’t tell for certain, but I thought my middle son might be crying.\u00a0 I couldn’t see Joseph’s face at all.\u00a0 He was saying something, but with his face hidden against Hoss’ chest, I couldn’t make out the words.<\/p>\n

But Hoss could.\u00a0 He drew back a little bit and looked down at his brother.\u00a0 In all my life, I don’t believe I ever saw him look so sorrowful.\u00a0 Lightly, he smacked the back of Joseph’s head.\u00a0 “You dang fool,” he said with mock gruffness.\u00a0 “Where in tarnation did you ever get an idea like that?”\u00a0 He pulled Joe into a fiercely gentle hug that somehow protected the cracked ribs.\u00a0 I smiled; only Hoss would have remembered that in such a moment.\u00a0 He whispered something to his little brother that I couldn’t hear.\u00a0 “And don’t you ever forget it,” he added softly. \u00a0I saw Joe’s shoulders start to shake, and I knew that, if he hadn’t been crying before, he was now.\u00a0 Watching my sons, I had need of my own handkerchief.<\/p>\n

Even Adam’s eyes were suspiciously bright.\u00a0 He reached over and took the linen square from my hand.\u00a0 At my questioning look, he said quietly, “I’ll tell you later.”<\/p>\n

Epilogue<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

Adam<\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n

The trip back to the Ponderosa was pretty strained. \u00a0The hands who had helped with the original drive had been sent back with the remuda and the chuck wagon before Pa and I ever got to San Francisco; Hoss had already decided that he was staying there as long as it took to find Joe.\u00a0 So it was just the four of us on the trip back, which was just as well. \u00a0There was nobody else on the stage for most of the trip.\u00a0 That was definitely just as well.\u00a0 We all needed some time to deal with everything, and it was easier without an audience.<\/p>\n

Joe kept watching Hoss when he thought Hoss wasn’t looking, and Hoss did the same to Joe, and so they kept catching each other at it.\u00a0 It took a couple of days before they could find that funny.\u00a0 Most of the time, Joe looked out the stagecoach window or slept.\u00a0 It wasn’t until we were east of Sacramento that he leaned against Pa to sleep, which he used to do all the time.\u00a0 He didn’t talk very much, but neither did the rest of us, so his silence wasn’t all that conspicuous.<\/p>\n

I think it almost broke Hoss’ heart to realize that Joe actually believed Hoss could walk away from him.\u00a0 Hoss and I have talked about it at some length.\u00a0 It hurts him terribly to think that his little brother could have doubted him that way.\u00a0 I’ve tried to explain that what Joe doubted was himself, and not Hoss at all, but Hoss is having a hard time with that distinction.\u00a0 From where he sits, there’s no question that anybody would love that boy to pieces, and he just can’t see how Joe wouldn’t know that.<\/p>\n

Neither of us ever realized how much of our cocky little brother’s attitude was show.\u00a0 I don’t think even Pa understood that fully, and he probably knows Joe better than anybody.\u00a0 We all knew about Joe’s constant need to prove himself, of course, but we never saw just what was driving it.<\/p>\n

Joe knows it’s going to take a long time to fix what happened.\u00a0 He’s told Hoss that the problem came from inside himself, that it wasn’t about Hoss at all.\u00a0 He goes out of his way to find ways of showing Hoss that he’s sorry for doubting him.\u00a0 Hoss, for his part, does almost the same thing.\u00a0 He told me privately that he doesn’t want Joe to feel bad about what he thought.\u00a0 So, between Joe apologizing and Hoss reassuring, it’s been exhausting around here, but everybody’s making progress.<\/p>\n

Looking back, I have to wonder whether any of this would have happened if he hadn’t gone off to San Francisco originally.\u00a0 If Joe hadn’t left when he did, the way he did, maybe he’d have been able to build his foundation to be secure enough to handle the types of the things he’s lived through in the past few years.\u00a0 But he jumped out of the nest when he was still a kid in some important ways, and when everything fell apart, he made some bad decisions.\u00a0 It turns out that some of those decisions are still haunting him.\u00a0 Maybe they always will.<\/p>\n

Every man has his demons.\u00a0 Clearly, we’d all underestimated what went on in Joe’s mind.\u00a0 At least until he married Robin, I’d always thought of him as my flighty, carefree baby brother, living for the moment, not concerned about much more than the next fast horse, pretty girl and cold beer.\u00a0 Now, I find myself wondering how I missed so much.\u00a0 I remember all the years I accused Pa of coddling Joe, overprotecting him.\u00a0 Maybe Pa had caught a glimpse of something Hoss and I didn’t see.\u00a0 Maybe, without even knowing it, he was trying to shore up that foundation a little bit more.<\/p>\n

The splash catches me by surprise.\u00a0 I look out my bedroom window to see Joe, dripping wet, climbing out of the horse trough.\u00a0 Hoss is laughing himself silly.\u00a0 Even from up here, I can hear Joe sputtering.\u00a0 He’s gesturing wildly, trying to be furious and indignant at getting dumped, but not doing any of it very well.\u00a0 He lights out after Hoss, but they’re both laughing so hard that they don’t get very far.\u00a0 Joe tackles Hoss, knocking him off balance, and they both fall to the dusty ground, rolling around.<\/p>\n

“Hoss!\u00a0 Joseph!”\u00a0 Pa’s voice thunders.\u00a0 My brothers stop in mid-roll.\u00a0 “What are you doing?\u00a0 Fighting like common hooligans!\u00a0 There’s work to be done yet!”\u00a0 He’s sounds serious, but I can tell that he’s not really.\u00a0 It’s been too long since his younger sons have laughed together like this.\u00a0 Just this once, my father will let the foolishness slide.<\/p>\n

“Yes, sir!”\u00a0 It’s hard to be respectful when you’re streaked with dirt, but they’re trying.\u00a0 They’re fighting to keep straight faces, but even from here, I can see it’s a losing battle.\u00a0 I can’t see Pa’s expression, but I’m guessing it’s about the same.\u00a0 Every time Hoss manages to look serious, Joe pokes him, and then Hoss tries to grab Joe.\u00a0 In the privacy of my room, I don’t have to hide my smile.<\/p>\n

I turn from the window.\u00a0 It’s time to get back to work.\u00a0 My brothers are waiting.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

\n

Next Story in The French Piano Player Series:<\/strong><\/p>\n

The Love of His Life<\/a><\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n

Disclaimer:<\/span>\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.<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n

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

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

Summary:\u00a0A serious misunderstanding threatens Joe’s relationship with Hoss. This is part of a series and refers to events portrayed in “The French Piano Player” and “Be Still, My Soul.”\u00a0\u00a0<\/p>\n

Rated:\u00a0T \u00a017,000<\/p>\n

The French Piano Player Series, links to all the stories within the series included.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":142,"featured_media":4679,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"template-full-width-post.php","format":"standard","meta":{"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[23],"tags":[16],"class_list":["post-4695","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-drama","tag-joe","wpcat-23-id"],"a3_pvc":{"activated":true,"total_views":2023,"today_views":0},"jetpack_featured_media_url":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/04\/piano.jpg?fit=1600%2C1200&ssl=1","jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"jetpack-related-posts":[{"id":4649,"url":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?p=4649","url_meta":{"origin":4695,"position":0},"title":"The French Piano Player – #4 – The Love of his Life (by pjb)","author":"pjb","date":"April 30, 2008","format":false,"excerpt":"Summary: \u00a0In the conclusion to \"The French Piano Player\" series, the Cartwrights face their greatest challenge as they learn what a man's heart can bear, and what it means to love--and to let go. \u00a0The previous stories in this series are \"The French Piano Player,\" \"Be Still, My Soul,\" and\u2026","rel":"","context":"In "Drama"","block_context":{"text":"Drama","link":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?cat=23"},"img":{"alt_text":"","src":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/04\/piano.jpg?fit=1200%2C900&ssl=1&resize=350%2C200","width":350,"height":200,"srcset":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/04\/piano.jpg?fit=1200%2C900&ssl=1&resize=350%2C200 1x, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/04\/piano.jpg?fit=1200%2C900&ssl=1&resize=525%2C300 1.5x, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/04\/piano.jpg?fit=1200%2C900&ssl=1&resize=700%2C400 2x, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/04\/piano.jpg?fit=1200%2C900&ssl=1&resize=1050%2C600 3x"},"classes":[]},{"id":4700,"url":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?p=4700","url_meta":{"origin":4695,"position":1},"title":"The French Piano Player – #1 (by pjb)","author":"pjb","date":"April 28, 2014","format":false,"excerpt":"Summary:\u00a0When a violent argument with Ben drives Joe from the Ponderosa, the Cartwrights learn that sometimes, you can look straight at a man and never really see him.\u00a0\u00a0 Rated:\u00a0T \u00a016,300 The French Piano Player Series, links to all the stories within the series included.","rel":"","context":"In "Drama"","block_context":{"text":"Drama","link":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?cat=23"},"img":{"alt_text":"","src":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/04\/piano.jpg?fit=1200%2C900&ssl=1&resize=350%2C200","width":350,"height":200,"srcset":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/04\/piano.jpg?fit=1200%2C900&ssl=1&resize=350%2C200 1x, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/04\/piano.jpg?fit=1200%2C900&ssl=1&resize=525%2C300 1.5x, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/04\/piano.jpg?fit=1200%2C900&ssl=1&resize=700%2C400 2x, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/04\/piano.jpg?fit=1200%2C900&ssl=1&resize=1050%2C600 3x"},"classes":[]},{"id":4683,"url":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?p=4683","url_meta":{"origin":4695,"position":2},"title":"The French Piano Player – #2 – Be Still, My Soul (by pjb)","author":"pjb","date":"June 28, 2008","format":false,"excerpt":"Summary:\u00a0This is the sequel to \"The French Piano Player.\" Joe's return to the Ponderosa proves to be more difficult than he or his family expected, to the point where questions arise as to whether he can stay on the Ponderosa, or whether he will go back to his life as\u2026","rel":"","context":"In "Drama"","block_context":{"text":"Drama","link":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?cat=23"},"img":{"alt_text":"","src":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/04\/piano.jpg?fit=1200%2C900&ssl=1&resize=350%2C200","width":350,"height":200,"srcset":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/04\/piano.jpg?fit=1200%2C900&ssl=1&resize=350%2C200 1x, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/04\/piano.jpg?fit=1200%2C900&ssl=1&resize=525%2C300 1.5x, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/04\/piano.jpg?fit=1200%2C900&ssl=1&resize=700%2C400 2x, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/04\/piano.jpg?fit=1200%2C900&ssl=1&resize=1050%2C600 3x"},"classes":[]},{"id":1471,"url":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?p=1471","url_meta":{"origin":4695,"position":3},"title":"A Little Night Music (by the Giggly Sisters)","author":"The Giggly Sisters","date":"August 20, 2009","format":false,"excerpt":"Summary:\u00a0 Ever noticed the piano that materializes at Ponderosa celebrations?\u00a0 The Giggly Sisters investigate further as Ben organises a musical soiree. Rated:\u00a0 K+ \u00a0WC \u00a02200","rel":"","context":"In "Humor"","block_context":{"text":"Humor","link":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?cat=4"},"img":{"alt_text":"","src":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/04\/bonanza31.jpg?fit=573%2C389&ssl=1&resize=350%2C200","width":350,"height":200,"srcset":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/04\/bonanza31.jpg?fit=573%2C389&ssl=1&resize=350%2C200 1x, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/04\/bonanza31.jpg?fit=573%2C389&ssl=1&resize=525%2C300 1.5x"},"classes":[]},{"id":12136,"url":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?p=12136","url_meta":{"origin":4695,"position":4},"title":"The Rebirth of Joe Cartwright (by DebbieB)","author":"DebbieB","date":"August 1, 2003","format":false,"excerpt":"DebbieB passed away Christmas 2021. Any reader wishing to read this story should e:mail the Brandsters:\u00a0 Brandsters2020@gmail.com","rel":"","context":"In "Drama"","block_context":{"text":"Drama","link":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?cat=23"},"img":{"alt_text":"","src":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/10\/feature-2.jpg?fit=338%2C338&ssl=1&resize=350%2C200","width":350,"height":200},"classes":[]},{"id":7614,"url":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?p=7614","url_meta":{"origin":4695,"position":5},"title":"Night Music (by DJK)","author":"DJK","date":"May 9, 2014","format":false,"excerpt":"Summary:\u00a0Adam is surprised with a little night music. A story for the halloween season. Rated:\u00a0K+\u00a0 Word count:\u00a01471","rel":"","context":"In "Adam Cartwright"","block_context":{"text":"Adam Cartwright","link":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?cat=1005"},"img":{"alt_text":"","src":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/05\/grand-piano.jpg?fit=600%2C600&ssl=1&resize=350%2C200","width":350,"height":200,"srcset":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/05\/grand-piano.jpg?fit=600%2C600&ssl=1&resize=350%2C200 1x, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/05\/grand-piano.jpg?fit=600%2C600&ssl=1&resize=525%2C300 1.5x"},"classes":[]}],"jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4695","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\/142"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=4695"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4695\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/4679"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=4695"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=4695"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=4695"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}