{"id":4901,"date":"2014-04-29T15:21:05","date_gmt":"2014-04-29T19:21:05","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?p=4901"},"modified":"2026-07-29T13:09:17","modified_gmt":"2026-07-29T17:09:17","slug":"the-barn-cat-series-2-the-most-important-thing","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?p=4901","title":{"rendered":"The Barn Cat Series – #2 – The Most Important Thing (by pjb)"},"content":{"rendered":"

Summary: \u00a0<\/span>In the sequel to \u201cThe Barn Cat,\u201d Ben discovers what is\u2013-and isn\u2019t\u2013-most important about his youngest son.\u00a0\u00a0Rated:<\/span>\u00a0T \u00a0WC \u00a036,000<\/span><\/p>\n

The Barn Cat Series:<\/strong><\/p>\n

The Barn Cat<\/a>
\n The Most Important Thing<\/a><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0The Most Important Thing<\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Laughter and applause fill the dining room<\/strong> as Hop Sing places the birthday cake in front of my son. Shouts of \u201cHappy birthday, Joe!\u201d come from all directions as he readies himself for the all-important ritual.<\/p>\n

\u201cHappy birthday, Pa!\u201d A small, high voice chimes in, and we all laugh again. At three, Jennie is now old enough to wish him a happy birthday on her own, and that sweet little voice is a delight to hear.<\/p>\n

Joe slides the cake over slightly so that it is directly in front of her as she perches on his left knee. \u201cYou ready?\u201d he asks with his most serious expression, brows drawn and mouth pursed. At her vigorous nod, he says, \u201cOkay. One, two, three\u2014blow!\u201d The tow-headed angel blows with all her might at the cake, and Joe subtly adds a puff of his own to extinguish the candle.<\/p>\n

\u201cBravo!\u201d shouts Candy. He reaches over to stroke the child\u2019s hair. \u201cGood job, Jennie!\u201d My granddaughter beams and wriggles with pleasure, and when Candy winks at her, she giggles. No two ways about it: Joe\u2019s daughter is just as much of a flirt as her father.<\/p>\n

Conversation mingles with the clinking of china as plates are passed to the head of the table where I insisted Joe sit tonight. \u201cYou\u2019re the guest of honor,\u201d I pointed out as we all moved from the living room to the dining room.<\/p>\n

\u201cPa, I\u2019ve lived in this house for thirty-nine years,\u201d he grinned. \u201cI don\u2019t think you can call me a guest anymore.\u201d For just an instant, the same memories flashed between us, but neither of us said it aloud. There had, in fact, been times when he\u2019d lived elsewhere. During his marriage to Alice, and before that, when he was in Oregon at the Collins place. But always, he\u2019d come back. This was his home.<\/p>\n

\u201cAll right, you\u2019re not a guest, but you are sitting in the place of honor, and that\u2019s all there is to it, young man,\u201d I said, smoothing over the moment with a bit of extra heartiness and a hand on his shoulder.<\/p>\n

\u201c\u2018Young man\u2019? Can you still call him that?\u201d Candy laughed as he held a chair for his wife. He and Sarah were married right here in our living room last December. Joe was his best man.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019d better watch yourself,\u201d Joe cautioned. \u201cYour birthday\u2019s only a couple months from now.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBut his hair\u2019s never gonna be as gray as yours!\u201d Jamie chimed in, and Louise giggled beside him. They\u2019ve only been married since June, and they\u2019re already expecting their first child. I know Joe and Candy have teased Jamie mercilessly, but they\u2019ve wisely kept their comments out of my hearing.<\/p>\n

And so, Joe sits at the head of the table, with Claire at the foot in the proper hostess seat. I sit at Claire\u2019s right hand, where I can feel Joe\u2019s questioning look, but I pretend not to notice. The truth is that I can see him better from here. Tonight, what I want is to watch my son\u2014the only one who shares my blood\u2014and to remember other years, other times.<\/p>\n

He went gray young, just as I did. His hair is still thick, but it is more wiry than curly now. Whenever Adam comes to visit, the ribbing is inevitable: Adam has lost most of his hair, but the monk\u2019s tonsure that remains is nearly all black.<\/p>\n

I no longer chide Joe about the length of his hair. Even if the calendar hadn\u2019t decreed him too old for such comments, I would still have refrained. The child of my middle age has grown into the man who bears the weight of the Ponderosa on his shoulders. This is the son who defied me so that his brother could pursue his dreams. He has stood tall through hardship and sorrow, the one I leaned on as grief and loss threatened to consume me when Hoss died. And though I\u2019d never have faulted him for staying away, he came home after Alice\u2019s death, and he resumed his work with fierce intensity.<\/p>\n

Never once in the years since his brothers have been gone has he even hinted that I am too old to run the ranch. Instead, he has smoothly assumed tasks that were once mine, handling them so quietly that at first, I didn\u2019t even notice I\u2019d been relieved of them. Even before he married Alice\u2014has it really been eight years since her death?\u2014I began to hear ranch hands referring to Joseph as \u201cMr. Cartwright.\u201d I\u2019ll admit that my feathers were a bit ruffled, but Jamie set me straight.<\/p>\n

* * * *<\/p>\n

\u201cHe\u2019s the bull of the woods, Pa,\u201d Jamie said simply. \u201cHas been for a while.\u201d<\/p>\n

I thought back to the days when I\u2019d been \u201cthe bull of the woods\u201d\u2014the toughest one of them all, the one who could command respect from even the most ornery hands. The mantle had passed, and I hadn\u2019t even noticed.<\/p>\n

That evening, as Joe settled in at my desk to work, I pulled up a chair. \u201cWhat\u2019re you working on?\u201d I asked in my most casual voice.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat railroad bid we talked about,\u201d he said, barely looking up.<\/p>\n

\u201cI didn\u2019t realize we\u2019d decided about that.\u201d I tried to keep the edge out of my voice.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt makes sense,\u201d said Joe, still writing. \u201cWe\u2019ve got that stand of fir up above Greyrock Ridge. We can supply what the railroad needs for less than Fuller can, and we\u2019ll still end up with a good profit.\u201d<\/p>\n

Less than Fuller can<\/em>. Once, that would have meant Barney Fuller, my chief competitor. Now, Joe was talking about Barney\u2019s son, Rodney. The mantle had passed there, too.<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t you think we ought to talk about this?\u201d I tried not to sound put out that he\u2019d already made the decision.<\/p>\n

At that, he looked up. \u201cTalk about what? Don\u2019t you think we should do it?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI didn\u2019t say that. I just thought\u2014well, this is a big contract, and we should talk about it.\u201d<\/p>\n

Joe laid down his pencil. His brows were drawn. \u201cI don\u2019t understand,\u201d he said. \u201cDon\u2019t you want to do it?\u201d<\/p>\n

I don\u2019t want to be left out<\/em>, I wanted to say. I don\u2019t want to you to run on ahead without me<\/em>. But I couldn\u2019t say the words out loud without sounding like a petulant old man who was afraid of being left behind.<\/p>\n

In the next instant, he understood. \u201cI\u2019m sorry, Pa,\u201d he said, his voice softening. \u201cI just assumed you\u2019d want us to do this. You\u2019re right; I should have asked you first.\u201d<\/p>\n

His words sent an unexpected shaft of pain through my heart. Time was when he\u2019d have taken my question as an insult, a suggestion that he didn\u2019t know what he was doing, that he wasn\u2019t old enough or smart enough to make this decision. I\u2019d have understood that. Many was the time he\u2019d railed at me, shouting, \u201cI\u2019m not a child anymore!\u201d As though it had happened this morning, I recalled the time when he was seventeen and he wanted to be a temporary sheriff over in Rubicon. When I\u2019d said that I didn\u2019t like the idea and that perhaps he should tell them to find someone else, he\u2019d snapped, \u201cYou mean \u2018find someone older,\u2019 don\u2019t you? Someone who isn\u2019t the baby of the family?\u201d He\u2019d spent his life following in the footsteps of Adam and Hoss, and they\u2019d left very large boots to fill.<\/p>\n

But Joseph had filled them. His brothers would have been proud. I know I was.<\/p>\n

We sat across the desk from each other, not speaking, for what seemed like a long time. I wanted to say something honest, and yet I didn\u2019t want to admit my sudden insecurity. I opened my mouth to speak. Then, a slight movement caught my attention, and I couldn\u2019t help smiling.<\/p>\n

The chair in the corner was so far in shadow that its small gray occupant was nearly invisible. Curled up on the seat, only a single triangular ear revealed where the cat\u2019s head tucked into its body. As I watched, the ear flicked again as though displeased at what it was hearing.<\/p>\n

I looked back to see Joe smiling somewhat sheepishly. \u201cI should have asked you,\u201d he repeated, and for an instant, I thought he was referring to the cat being in the house.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, son,\u201d I said. \u201cYou don\u2019t need to ask me for permission to do anything with this ranch. You\u2019re the bull of the woods.\u201d His eyes widened as they used to back when he was a young boy who\u2019d discovered that he hadn\u2019t managed to keep a secret from his old pa after all. I pretended not to notice as I continued, \u201cBut I would like to know what\u2019s going on, maybe put in my two cents.\u201d<\/p>\n

The man behind the desk nodded his understanding. Probably no one else would have noticed the slight crinkle between his eyebrows as he tried to discern whether I was upset. Bull of the woods he might be, but first and foremost, he was my son. He might be as tough as nails to the rest of the world, but in this house, he was the one I leaned on, the one I\u2019d laughed with and cried with a thousand times, the one I\u2019d held to give and receive comfort. The one I trusted with the Ponderosa. The one I\u2019d trust with my life.<\/p>\n

Just then, the cat stood and stretched stiffly. The arch in its back wasn\u2019t what it had once been. Its gray fur was slightly ragged with age. Even so, it jumped lightly from its chair to Joe\u2019s, stepping onto the desk. It sat beside the papers as though aware that they should not be messed up, blinking its large green-gold eyes at me. The crinkle between Joe\u2019s brows relaxed, and his hand stroked the cat as he said to me, \u201cWhat do you think of this job? Do you think it\u2019s a good idea?\u201d<\/p>\n

I listened as he outlined the various aspects of the deal. He was right: this was a good contract to bid on. I asked a few questions as he explained the terms, but the decision was clear. The cat lay down, sphinx-like, still avoiding the papers. Joe continued to stroke the once-silky fur with one hand as he gestured with the other.<\/p>\n

\u201cI think it\u2019s an excellent idea,\u201d I said truthfully when he\u2019d finished. \u201cI think we should do it.\u201d I rose, feeling my hips creak. \u201cAnd I\u2019m going to leave you to work out the numbers, and I\u2019m going to bed.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSleep well, Pa,\u201d my son grinned. He took up his pencil again, and by the time I\u2019d reached the stairs, he was engrossed in the papers before him. I watched as he read, his hand still resting on the gray cat. Finally, I hauled myself up the stairs, leaving Joe to his work.<\/p>\n

* * * * *<\/p>\n

Maybe it\u2019s always this way for a parent. You\u2019re going along from day to day, and suddenly, you look at your child and he\u2019s no longer a child, hasn\u2019t been in years. Joe\u2019s thirty-nine, which means that Adam is fifty-one. As if it\u2019s not enough that my youngest child is nearly forty, I have a child who is in his fifties. A child<\/em> who is in his fifties<\/em>. The words don\u2019t even make sense. It\u2019s incredible, this notion that a person I once held in my arms, whom I bathed and diapered and taught to walk and talk, is now more than half a century old.<\/p>\n

Life hasn\u2019t turned out at all the way I expected, not even a little bit. So much tragedy\u2014first, the loss of my beautiful wives, and then Hoss, and then Joe\u2019s Alice and their baby. And Adam leaving, first as a youth going to college, and years later, as an adult following his dreams. It\u2019s not at all what I expected.<\/p>\n

I\u2019m proud of Adam, of course. What father wouldn\u2019t be? My son is a professor. He\u2019s traveled to Europe to study the architecture of Paris and London and the ruins of Rome. He\u2019s helped to design buildings in major cities. Now, he\u2019s even writing a book. I can\u2019t even imagine such a thing, but one day, hopefully soon, I\u2019ll get a package in the mail, and there it will be\u2014a book written by my son, with his name emblazoned on the cover. Not that I expect that I\u2019ll understand most of it\u2014it\u2019s about architecture, which I know next to nothing about\u2014but that\u2019s not what matters. Adam is doing what he loves\u2014studying, teaching, sharing knowledge. How can I begrudge him that?<\/p>\n

I don\u2019t, I truly don\u2019t. Before Joe met Claire, though, I worried. It was hard enough that it was just the two of us here. Not to say that Jamie and Candy aren\u2019t important members of our family, but\u2014well, it\u2019s not the same. Not to me, and not to Joe. He\u2019s spent his entire life on this ranch. It\u2019s in his blood. When I\u2019m gone, there will be nobody here who shares his bloodlines, his memories. Nobody who remembers when he was Little Joe Cartwright, quick-tempered and dashing, falling in love three times a day and riding the wildest horses\u2014<\/p>\n

I have to stop there. Even after all these years, those memories bring me up short. I pour water into the washbowl and splash it on my face, less to clean away the day\u2019s dust than to reroute my thoughts.<\/p>\n

Thank God for Jamie and Candy, Claire and Jennie. I couldn\u2019t bear to think of Joe as the last one on the Ponderosa, left alone here when I die. Not that I don\u2019t think he could handle it. I know he could. There was a time when I\u2019d have doubted, but no more. Over the years, I\u2019ve seen time and time again that there is nothing Joseph can\u2019t handle. Miracle after miracle, more than any of us could have dreamt.<\/p>\n

I think again of my boys as infants. They kicked and cried, their tiny faces red with exertion. Adam\u2019s little legs were sturdy, Hoss\u2019s were chubby, and Joe\u2019s were almost scrawny. Their tiny feet punched at the air as they struggled against the helplessness of infancy. I recall how I took each in my arms on the day of his birth and pushed aside the blankets to count fingers and toes. Ten fingers. Ten toes. I thought the question was settled.<\/p>\n

I taught each of them to walk. With tiny hands clutching my work-roughened fingers, each of my babies made his unsteady way across the floor, step by uncertain step, until it was time to let go. Adam\u2019s first steps were determined, his little face creased with concentration. Hoss seemed to be down as much as he was up, plopping down on a well-diapered bottom and immediately crawling to the nearest leg or piece of furniture to haul himself back up, his lone tooth making his grin all the more appealing<\/p>\n

And Joe. . . .<\/p>\n

I sit on the edge of the bed, remembering. Some milestones are only supposed to come along once. If there has to be a second time, it\u2019s harder, the victory bittersweet. It\u2019s not the same the second time. You know you should cheer at the triumph, but the voice in the back of your mind still protests the fact that it had to happen at all.<\/p>\n

I take off my boots and set them by the bureau, side by side. Idly, I notice that they\u2019re looking worn. I should ask Hop Sing to polish them. Or perhaps I should do it myself. Not everyone is fortunate enough to have a pair of boots. I should express my gratitude for such a blessing by taking better care of them.<\/p>\n

As I turn back the bedclothes, I hear Joe passing my door. Before he proposed to Claire, he asked me whether it would be all right if they lived here in the house with me. I was certain that his primary concern was for me and my safety as I might become less steady, and so I protested. I wasn\u2019t a doddering old fool. I could live on my own; I didn\u2019t need a keeper. Besides, they should have their own home. When I said as much, though, his eyes darkened, and I realized that concern for my safety was only a small part of it. He\u2019d had a home of his own with Alice. He still owns that parcel\u2014it was my wedding present to them\u2014but I could see in his eyes that the thought of building another home there was a hard one. I could understand that, I supposed. I\u2019d never had to face that particular challenge, but it made sense to me that there might be places which his heart still reserved for Alice. He and Claire needed a fresh start in a new place. And this, after all, was his home.<\/p>\n

So, I swallowed as much pride as I could manage and agreed to let the newlyweds move in\u2014on one condition. \u201cYou\u2019re taking the large bedroom,\u201d I informed him.<\/p>\n

\u201cI can\u2019t take your room!\u201d Joe protested. \u201cWe\u2019ll be fine in mine.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNonsense,\u201d I said. \u201cIt doesn\u2019t make sense. There will be two of you. You should have the larger room, and I\u2019ll take your old room.\u201d It was the only logical choice. When Adam visited, he stayed in his old room. Neither of us could have brought ourselves to move into Hoss\u2019s room. Unspoken, but real, was the recognition that one day, Joe and Claire would have children, and when those little ones were too old for a cradle in their parents\u2019 room, that room would be needed again. Not now, but someday. The dream of putting lively little ones in the room of one who had loved children so much felt right.<\/p>\n

But that was a discussion for another time. I eventually prevailed, as I had every intention of doing. Now, after four years, Joe\u2019s old room feels every bit as much my own as the large bedroom once did. He tried to insist that I keep the carved mahogany bedstead I\u2019d ordered from San Francisco as a gift to his mother on our first anniversary, but I pointed out that it would never fit in this room.<\/p>\n

And so, I now sleep in the bed that I spent so many hours sitting next to during those hard times after Joe\u2019s accident. As I drape my clothes on the bedside chair, I remember the countless hours I spent sitting there and how desperately I prayed as my boy, only eighteen and full of life, struggled against the ominous darkness that threatened to take not only his leg, but his spirit\u2014and possibly even his life.<\/p>\n

I climb into the bed\u2014my bed\u2014and I turn down the bedside lamp. The moonlight is bright, illuminating the sheer white curtains at the window. As I close my eyes, I find myself remembering that time, all those years ago, when I finally learned the most important thing about my youngest son. . . .<\/p>\n

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *<\/p>\n

Little Joe slept fitfully. I kept the compresses on his head cool and moist, but they didn\u2019t seem to soothe him. The wooden frame that kept the weight of the bedclothes off his right leg was harsh and bulky. In the lamplight, the boy looked even younger and more frail than in daylight.<\/p>\n

Nothing seemed to soothe him. Hoss massaged his good leg, his arms, and even his neck and shoulders when he could do so without disturbing his brother too much. Adam played quiet, gentle pieces on his guitar. I read to him in the softest voice I could manage, and when I couldn\u2019t read any more, I still kept up a low murmur in the hope that he would rest better just knowing that someone was near. \u201cEasy, son,\u201d I said, stroking his hair. \u201cJust take it easy. You\u2019re going to be all right. What you need now is rest.\u201d<\/p>\n

But he couldn\u2019t seem to keep still. His eyes were closed, but he turned his head from side to side as though trying to find a comfortable position. Small grunts escaped him. I couldn\u2019t tell whether he was awake and trying to tell me something, or sleeping but in too much pain to keep silent. \u201cSettle down, Joe,\u201d I murmured. \u201cPa\u2019s right here.\u201d<\/p>\n

I dipped the compress into the water again and wrung it out. As I turned back to Joe, a most remarkable thing happened. A small gray cat\u2014more like a half-grown kitten, really\u2014appeared from nowhere, jumping up on the bed and walking from the foot up toward Joe\u2019s head. When it reached his chest, it climbed onto him and curled up, just as though it was well-accustomed to doing so. In the deep quiet of night, its purr sounded loud and deliberate, almost daring me to interfere. I started to rise so that I could remove the creature, but before I could lay hands on it, my son\u2019s movement stopped me.<\/p>\n

Without opening his eyes, Joe reached up with both hands and found the cat. One hand caressed the small head while the other stroked the soft back. The purring grew louder. The cat lifted its head, rubbing its whiskers against his hand.<\/p>\n

With that, my son\u2019s restlessness melted away. I watched, fascinated, as his hands slowed and eventually stilled. His agitation faded, and the pain noises stopped as he slipped into a deep sleep.\u00a0\u00a0 Even when his hands slipped off the cat, the cat never budged.<\/p>\n

I hadn\u2019t realized that I, too, had dozed off until I woke to the light footfall of Hop Sing. For reasons I\u2019ll never quite understand, I didn\u2019t let on that I was awake. Instead, I watched from behind barely-open lids as he set Joe\u2019s breakfast tray on the night table, cast a guilty look at me, and scooped up the cat. He whispered something in Chinese, but I don\u2019t know whether the cat understood him any better than I.<\/p>\n

* * * * *<\/p>\n

The grandfather clock struck nine, but the night felt much later, darker. I knew I should turn in, but my mind was still wrestling with the question of what, if anything, we could do for Joseph.<\/p>\n

Weeks had passed since Doc finally operated on his leg. He\u2019d taken a good bit of the flesh and muscle, but he\u2019d been able to avoid amputation. It was a miracle, make no mistake. We\u2019d all thought it a certainty that Joe would lose the leg. When Doc finally came downstairs that night, blood spatters on his normally pristine white shirt, I could hardly stand up. Behind him, Hop Sing carried an oddly shaped oilcloth package that I knew had to contain whatever Doc had cut from my son\u2019s body.<\/p>\n

\u201cIs he all right?\u201d I managed. Hoss rested his hand on my shoulder; dimly, I noticed that his hand was cold, his grip tight. Adam stood ramrod straight, just as his grandfather would have done when facing pirates on his ship.<\/p>\n

Doc\u2019s pale blue eyes searched our faces. Then, he broke into a small smile. \u201cI didn\u2019t cut it off,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat?\u201d The words made no sense. Hop Sing slipped past the doctor, heading for the door. I knew where he was going: to bury the contents of the oilcloth package in the back, where we disposed of whatever we no longer needed, such as the pile of testicles left after a day of castrating the new calves. If there were bloody cloths in the package that were beyond salvage, he would spread them out to dry, and then they would be burned.<\/p>\n

\u201cI didn\u2019t have to take his leg off,\u201d said the doctor. \u201cI took the affected tissue and muscle, but the leg itself is still there. It won\u2019t be perfect, but hopefully, with time, he won\u2019t need more than a cane.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWait\u2014you didn\u2019t cut his leg off?\u201d Hoss sounded confused. I didn\u2019t blame him. I didn\u2019t understand, either.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou said you didn\u2019t have a choice.\u201d There was an angry iron note in Adam\u2019s voice.<\/p>\n

\u201cI didn\u2019t think I did.\u201d The doctor looked perplexed. Apparently, he\u2019d expected us to greet the news with whoops of joy, not disbelief and hostility.<\/p>\n

\u201cPaul.\u201d My use of his name rather than his title was deliberate. \u201cIs my son going to be all right?\u201d<\/p>\n

He nodded. \u201cI think so.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou think?\u201d Adam\u2019s jaw was tight.<\/p>\n

\u201cThere are never any guarantees,\u201d said the doctor. He was responding to Adam, but he was looking at me. \u201cInfection is always a possibility. Complications of all sorts can happen. But barring any of that\u2014yes, he should be fine.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBut is it gonna be any good to him?\u201d Hoss asked. \u201cWill he be able to walk?\u201d<\/p>\n

Doc\u2019s face fell, just a little. \u201cHe should,\u201d he said. \u201cBut he\u2019ll probably need a cane. He\u2019ll need to do exercises to strengthen what muscle there is. It\u2019s not going to be like before. He\u2019ll probably always have some discomfort, but hopefully, it\u2019ll lessen as time passes and the leg heals.\u201d He looked from one of us to another. \u201cThe important thing is that the leg is still there. Now that the infected part is gone, his fever should go down, and he should begin to recover nicely.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cCan I see him?\u201d I could hardly hear my own words, but the doctor nodded.<\/p>\n

\u201cOf course,\u201d he said. \u201cYou all go on up. I\u2019m going to have myself a cup of coffee if there\u2019s any left.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat? Oh, of course.\u201d I didn\u2019t recall whether we\u2019d emptied the coffeepot sitting on the long, low table in front of the settee, but at that moment, I didn\u2019t care. I just needed to see my son with his two legs.<\/p>\n

And I saw him, of course. We all did. We could barely make ourselves leave even for essentials like sleep. His fever took time to abate, and we had a rough few days after the operation before it finally broke. But there was something else, something we couldn\u2019t quite put our fingers on. Doc had told us that the pain would be bad, but it seemed to me that Joe was struggling with more than just pain. Not that he said anything; quite the contrary. But there was a heartbroken, faraway look in his eyes, as though he was remembering a beautiful place that he would never see again.<\/p>\n

Naturally, the whole thing would have hit him hard. After months as an invalid, he faced many more months of restriction and pain. Even when the worst of recovery was behind him, the permanent limits would remain to be faced: no more dancing with pretty girls, no more running up and down the stairs. If I had anything to say about it, no more breaking ornery broncs. I didn\u2019t know whether he\u2019d even be able to ride. I\u2019d seen his leg, and even with the bandages, it was so impossibly thin that I didn\u2019t see how it could bear a man\u2019s weight. I couldn\u2019t imagine how he would ever walk without assistance.<\/p>\n

Still, he had the leg, and that was something. A very, very large something, and I didn\u2019t have to be reminded to be thankful.<\/p>\n

But as the weeks passed and his body should have been healing, his spirit was still caught in the web of hurting and fear that had consumed him ever since the accident. Try as I might, I couldn\u2019t quite see where the problem was. Doc warned us not to push; he said that Joe needed to recover at his own pace, and we should let him rest. If he wanted to talk about anything, he certainly knew where to find us\u2014right at his bedside. But he didn\u2019t talk, and I often had the sense that he wasn\u2019t listening when we spoke.<\/p>\n

Then one evening, just as the clock struck nine, I looked up to see Hoss trudging down the stairs from Joe\u2019s room. His face was red, as though he\u2019d been weeping. Immediately, alarm bells sounded in my mind.<\/p>\n

\u201cHoss, what is it? What\u2019s wrong?\u201d I pushed past the table, reaching the bottom of the stairs at the same time as my son.<\/p>\n

It was as though he couldn\u2019t make himself look at me. \u201cI found out what the problem was,\u201d he said. \u201cJoe told me.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat is it?\u201d I hadn\u2019t heard Adam coming in from the kitchen, but now he was beside me.<\/p>\n

Hoss\u2019s voice was beyond sorrowful. \u201cHe didn\u2019t know,\u201d he said. He raised his head to meet our perplexed looks and clarified his words: \u201cHe didn\u2019t know Doc didn\u2019t take his leg off.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat? How could he not know? Couldn\u2019t he feel it?\u201d Clearly, the notion didn\u2019t make any more sense to Adam than to me.<\/p>\n

Hoss shook his head. \u201cDoc had told him about something called phantom pain, where people think they feel the leg after it\u2019s been cut off. That\u2019s what he thought he was feeling all this time. He said when he woke up, he asked Adam how much, and Adam told him Doc had taken a fair bit, so he thought that meant he\u2019d cut it off.\u201d<\/p>\n

My eldest son\u2019s eyes widened. \u201cMy God,\u201d he breathed. Reflexively, I glared at his misuse of the Lord\u2019s name, but he didn\u2019t seem to notice. \u201cI tried to tell him\u2014he must not have understood\u2014I can\u2019t believe\u2014oh, my God\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cEasy, Adam,\u201d said Hoss. \u201cIt ain\u2019t your fault. With all the laudanum he\u2019s been taking, it\u2019s a wonder he understood that much.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHoss is right, son,\u201d I said, but to be honest, whatever Adam had or hadn\u2019t said wasn\u2019t my main concern. Hot tears blurred my vision as I thought of Joe lying in bed, thinking the worst and none of us even suspecting. No wonder he\u2019d been so despondent, so lifeless. Eighteen years old and facing life without his leg, and not so much as a word of encouragement or comfort from his family. He must have felt so alone, so frightened.<\/p>\n

I swiped at my eyes with the back of my hand. \u201cI\u2019ve got to see him,\u201d I said, pushing past Hoss to head up the stairs.<\/p>\n

Joe was dozing when I opened the door. \u201cHey, Pa,\u201d he said drowsily.<\/p>\n

I approached, my steps slow and heavy. Joe squinted at me as though trying to figure something out. Then, a shadow passed over his face, and I knew that he knew.<\/p>\n

\u201cJoseph. . . .\u201d My voice faded.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s all right, Pa,\u201d said Joe. He started to push himself up to a sitting position, but my hand on his shoulder stopped him.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou just rest, son,\u201d I said. I stood by the bed as though I had no idea what to do next\u2014which, in fact, I didn\u2019t.<\/p>\n

Joe reached up and tugged gently on my arm. \u201cSit down,\u201d he invited. I sat, and Joe rested his hand on mine. \u201cIt\u2019s all right,\u201d he said quietly.<\/p>\n

I pressed my lips together to keep control. \u201cI should have known,\u201d I said finally. \u201cI\u2019m so sorry, Joe. I should have realized. . . .\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHow?\u201d Joe asked with surprising reasonableness. \u201cHow were you supposed to know? It\u2019s not like we ever talked about it. First I was sick, and then I was taking all that laudanum, and then. . . .\u201d His voice trailed off.<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd then you were grieving,\u201d I finished. \u201cAnd none of us knew why, and we should have. I should have guessed\u2014or I should have asked.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAsked what? How I felt? You ask that every day.\u201d<\/p>\n

I shook my head. \u201cI knew something wasn\u2019t right.\u201d He was trying, but I couldn\u2019t let him take the blame. Not for this. \u201cThe way you were acting\u2014I knew something was wrong. I should have figured it out. I\u2019m so sorry.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cPa.\u201d Joe\u2019s voice was just the slightest bit unsteady now. \u201cPlease. Don\u2019t do this.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t do what?\u201d<\/p>\n

Joe swallowed hard. \u201cI don\u2019t want to talk about it anymore. You did the best you knew how. You thought I knew. You didn\u2019t know what Doc had told me about that phantom pain, and you figured I could feel my leg. It wasn\u2019t your fault, so just\u2014please, don\u2019t say any more.\u201d<\/p>\n

He looked away, his jaw clenched as though he was determined to keep control. Maybe I was asking too much of him right now. Everything he and Hoss had talked about, and then finding out about his leg\u2014that would have been a full day right there. But for me to come in here after all that and ask him to be strong and brave and forgiving\u2014it wasn\u2019t fair, not right now.<\/p>\n

I took his hand. I could tell that he was waiting for something else\u2014one more apology, or some other comment about how we\u2019d all been wrong.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re a very brave young man,\u201d I said. It wasn\u2019t what I\u2019d planned to say, and the abrupt turn of his head toward me revealed that it wasn\u2019t what he\u2019d expected, either. I squeezed his hand as I continued, \u201cI can\u2019t pretend to understand everything you\u2019ve been going through, but I suspect that if I\u2019d been in your place, I\u2019d\u2014well, I\u2019d have been scared right out of my mind.\u201d<\/p>\n

The admission was so startling that Joe looked up at me. He was easy to read now. He wanted to reassure me, to tell me it hadn\u2019t been so bad. But Joseph had never lied to me about anything important, and we both knew that if he said that, it wouldn\u2019t be the truth.<\/p>\n

He closed his eyes, biting his lip. He was worn out in body and soul. So was I. And so, without thinking, I said the one thing we both needed to hear.<\/p>\n

\u201cCome here, son,\u201d I murmured.<\/p>\n

Joe started to push himself up, but before he could do more, my arms were around him, pulling him up to a sitting position and holding him close. He rested his head against my shoulder as I stroked his hair. He felt so thin, so frail. He\u2019d been so brave, fighting so hard and so alone. His arms went around me, clutching me, and I held him tighter. He started to tremble. I felt his body jerk with a single catch of breath, and his scalding tears began to soak my shoulder. For the first time in this whole wretched ordeal, my boy clung to me as sobs shook his wiry frame, as though months of terror and loneliness and heartache and physical agony were finally breaking through their flimsy barriers to flood his heart.<\/p>\n

At last, he quieted. He lifted his head from my wet shoulder, and I loosened my grasp just a bit. As he sat back, I handed Joe the handkerchief I\u2019d used just a few minutes earlier, and he wiped his eyes and blew his nose.<\/p>\n

\u201cI didn\u2019t expect that,\u201d he admitted as he handed back the handkerchief.<\/p>\n

I just smiled and brushed his hair back from his moist face. \u201cFeel better?\u201d<\/p>\n

Joe considered the question as I released him and poured a glass of water for him. \u201cI don\u2019t know,\u201d he said with uncharacteristic candor. He drank and handed the glass back. His face, so pale from weeks of being inside, was gaunt and tear-stained and utterly exhausted. My heart ached at the thought of what my boy had endured, and tears welled up in my own eyes as I stroked his cheek.<\/p>\n

\u201cThink I need a shave?\u201d he quipped.<\/p>\n

To my surprise, I chuckled at his attempt to lighten the moment. Another time, I\u2019d have made some joking response, but my emotions were still too near the surface, like exposed nerve endings that burned at the lightest touch. The best I could manage was \u201cMaybe tomorrow.\u201d He bit his lip slightly, and I knew that he needed for me to back up a bit, to lessen the intensity of my reactions. He\u2019d already had all the storms he could handle for one day.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ll tell you what,\u201d I suggested as lightly as I could. \u201cHow about you lie back and rest, and I\u2019ll read to you for a while?\u201d<\/p>\n

For a moment, he appeared to be tempted. Then, he shook his head. \u201cI think I just want to go to sleep,\u201d he said. His eyes were somber now, and they asked me to understand.<\/p>\n

I didn\u2019t want to, but I did. I needed to be with him\u2014to talk, to listen, to hold him and make certain that he truly knew how sorry I was. But what he needed now was quietude. Rest. Solitude. The oblivion of sleep. A chance not to think. To let the churning of his mind and heart begin to settle, as stormy seas gradually calm down after the fiercest gales have passed.<\/p>\n

So, I helped him to lie down. \u201cSleep well, son,\u201d I said, rising. \u201cYou call if you need me.\u201d A small smile let me know that he found comfort in the familiar words. I\u2019d been saying the same thing every night since he first got hurt.<\/p>\n

\u201c\u2019Night, Pa,\u201d he said. Eighteen he might have been, but at that moment, he looked both childlike and wise beyond his years. Wrestling with life-changing terror, as Jacob once wrestled with the angel, will do that to a man.<\/p>\n

I leaned down and brushed his forehead with a kiss. It had been years since I\u2019d done such a thing\u2014at ten, he\u2019d told me flatly that he was too old\u2014but as I straightened, I saw in his eyes that this time, it was all right.<\/p>\n

He watched me as I blew out the lamp and headed for the doorway. \u201cGood night, Joe,\u201d I said. As I drew the door closed, I heard him whisper again, \u201cGood night, Pa.\u201d<\/p>\n

* * * *<\/p>\n

The next morning, as I approached Joe\u2019s room to retrieve his breakfast tray, I could hear Hoss. \u201cHey, Little Brother, how\u2019re\u2014hey, what\u2019s that doin\u2019 there?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s what doing where?\u201d Joe\u2019s voice was groggy in spite of the cup of coffee Hop Sing had reluctantly included on the tray.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat cat!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat cat?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat one!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat one?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat cat lyin\u2019 right there!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cLying right where?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cRight there! On your bed!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOn my what?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYour bed!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019re you talking about, Big Brother?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDadburnit, Joseph, there\u2019s a cat lyin\u2019 right there on your bed!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat cat?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat one!\u201d Hoss\u2019s roar nearly lifted the door off its hinges.<\/p>\n

I waited until I was certain my face bore no trace of a smile before I entered. \u201cMorning, Joseph,\u201d I said. \u201cYou all done with your breakfast?\u201d<\/p>\n

For a second, he looked worried, as if his little companion was about to be ousted. Carefully avoiding any glance in the direction of the cat curled up at the foot of the bed, I reached over and picked up the tray. His expression slid into confusion.<\/p>\n

\u201cHoss, would you mind picking up the mail this morning? Adam had to go down to Carson City to meet with Hank London about that timber contract for Gold Hill.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHuh?\u201d Hoss was still staring at the cat, which had remained motionless through the entire conversation. \u201cOh, sure, Pa.\u201d He looked helplessly at the cat and then at me as I studiously avoided looking down.<\/p>\n

\u201cJoe, you need anything?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cCould somebody just get me my book?\u201d His voice was hesitant, as though he was still waiting for the explosion. Hoss, who looked slightly dazed, handed it to him. Then, with one last look from me to the cat, he shook his head and left the room.<\/p>\n

\u201cAll right, then. I\u2019ll be downstairs if you need me.\u201d I left the room, chuckling to myself.<\/p>\n

* * * * *<\/p>\n

As the crisp autumn days grew colder, I found myself watching Joe for signs of\u2014well, I wasn\u2019t certain what. He still seemed to tire so easily. Hoss reminded me how pain can wear a man down. I couldn\u2019t argue with that, and certainly, Joe had had more than his fair share of pain over the past several months. Now, every night, he and his brothers did the exercises Doc had prescribed to strengthen the remaining muscles in Joe\u2019s leg. With the night air moving from chilly to downright cold, the boys had set up an area in the living room, right near my desk, with a mat and weights and other odds and ends that they\u2019d added to the routine. Even when I was across the room in my chair, I could hear Joe grunting as he worked. His brothers cheered him on, and I tried to concentrate on what I was reading, having been firmly instructed by my sons early on that they could manage without me.<\/p>\n

One night, I put down my book. As casually as I could, I ambled over to where Joe lay on his back. His right leg was bent, and he was trying to push against Hoss, who was holding his foot. His face was red and scrunched up, his eyes closed and his hair damp with sweat. \u201cCome on, Joe, harder!\u201d Hoss urged. \u201cPush me away! Come on, you can do it!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cKick him, Joe!\u201d Adam was holding Joe\u2019s shoulders. \u201cKick him away!\u201d Joe\u2019s left leg started to rise, and Hoss held it down.<\/p>\n

\u201cCome on, Little Brother! You kick me away, or I\u2019m gonna land right on top of you!\u201d Hoss kept pushing for another minute, but if Joe was moving him at all, I didn\u2019t see it.<\/p>\n

Finally, Hoss said, \u201cOkay, that\u2019s enough.\u201d He sat back, setting Joe\u2019s foot carefully on the floor. Still breathing heavily, Joe didn\u2019t answer or open his eyes.<\/p>\n

Adam released Joe\u2019s shoulders. \u201cWe\u2019re done,\u201d he said, getting to his feet.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat was quite a session,\u201d I observed.<\/p>\n

Joe\u2019s eyes popped open. \u201cHey, Pa,\u201d he managed.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou boys are working pretty hard.\u201d I tried to sound casual, but Adam\u2019s glance let me know that I hadn\u2019t quite succeeded.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe\u2019ve got to do something to wear him out,\u201d he said. \u201cOtherwise, he\u2019s going to drive us all crazy before winter even gets going.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSort of like when he was a young \u2019un and you used to send him outside to run in circles before supper so\u2019s he could sit still at the table,\u201d said Hoss. Joe propped himself up on one elbow as he accepted the glass of water Hoss was offering.<\/p>\n

I chuckled at the memory. Then, like a fist in my gut came the realization Joe would likely never run anywhere, ever again. I turned away and walked to my desk as though I\u2019d just remembered something on it. Unfortunately, I\u2019d put everything away when I stopped work before supper, and so I had to move to the other side and fumble in the drawer.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat are you looking for?\u201d asked Adam as he helped Joe stand.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat? Oh, nothing important. I\u2019ll deal with it in the morning.\u201d I slammed the drawer with more force than necessary as Hoss handed Joe his crutches. I searched my brain for some topic other than what I\u2019d just seen. \u201cAdam, you didn\u2019t tell us what Richard had to say,\u201d I recalled suddenly. Richard was one of Adam\u2019s college friends. They had both studied history and architecture. Over the twelve years since they\u2019d finished their studies, they had remained faithful correspondents, and Adam regularly read aloud Richard\u2019s tales of city life. This morning\u2019s mail had brought a new letter from Boston.<\/p>\n

\u201cRead us his letter,\u201d said Joe. He made his way over to the settee and sank down on it, clearly worn out. \u201cIt\u2019d be good to hear there really is a world out there instead of just a lot of snow.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, read it to us,\u201d Hoss chimed in.<\/p>\n

An odd look crossed Adam\u2019s face, but almost immediately, he assumed a neutral expression. \u201cI think it\u2019s upstairs,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou want me to go get it?\u201d Joe offered.<\/p>\n

\u201cSure, why don\u2019t you?\u201d Adam said. \u201cI\u2019m kidding,\u201d he said as his brother started to pick up his crutches. \u201cHe didn\u2019t have much to say. He\u2019s working on a design for a new building they\u2019re going to build in New York.\u201d Richard was now considered one of the leading architects in the east. I occasionally wondered whether Adam might have achieved similar status, had he not chosen to come home after college.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat kind of building?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cFor businesses,\u201d said Adam. \u201cA newspaper office, mainly, but maybe stores as well. Richard says it\u2019s going to be nine stories high.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNine stories?\u201d Hoss whistled appreciatively.<\/p>\n

\u201cThey just built one in Boston that\u2019s five stories high,\u201d said Adam. \u201cRichard says that the fellow who\u2019s hired them said he wants his to be the tallest building in the country.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHow would you get up to the top floor?\u201d Joe asked, nudging his crutches with his left foot.<\/p>\n

\u201cProbably they\u2019ll have those rising rooms,\u201d said Adam.<\/p>\n

\u201cI rode in one of those once,\u201d I recalled. It had been a strange experience to feel the tiny room moving and to walk out of it on the third floor of the hotel. I wasn\u2019t at all certain I\u2019d want to ride in something like that all the way up nine floors.<\/p>\n

\u201cWouldn\u2019t want to be up on the ninth floor if\u2019n I needed to use the outhouse,\u201d Hoss commented, and Joe chortled appreciatively.<\/p>\n

\u201cThey\u2019ll have water closets in the building,\u201d said Adam. \u201cThat\u2019s pretty typical in city buildings now.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt sounds like a very important project,\u201d I said, settling myself in my chair and lighting my pipe. \u201cRichard must be very excited.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI guess he is.\u201d Something in Adam\u2019s tone was odd. I looked up from my pipe, but he\u2019d already assumed his usual spot in the blue velvet chair and taken up his book.<\/p>\n

\u201cHey, Joe, want to play checkers?\u201d Hoss suggested.<\/p>\n

Joe yawned. \u201cNo, thanks,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n

\u201cAre you all right?\u201d The question was out before I could stop it.<\/p>\n

Joe shrugged. \u201cSure,\u201d he said. \u201cJust a little tired. Those slave drivers wore me out.\u201d He yawned again. \u201cIn fact, I think I\u2019m going to turn in. Good night, everybody.\u201d He picked up his crutches and made his way across the room and up the stairs.<\/p>\n

When I could no longer hear him, I turned to my older sons. \u201cWhat do you think? How\u2019s he doing?\u201d<\/p>\n

The glance that they exchanged said it all, but I waited. Finally, Adam said, \u201cIt hasn\u2019t been that long. He\u2019s still having a lot of pain, so there\u2019s only so much we can do.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBut is he improving?\u201d I pressed.<\/p>\n

\u201cSome,\u201d said Hoss. \u201cBut it\u2019s like Adam said. It ain\u2019t been that long. Another few months, and I bet he\u2019s ready to put weight on that leg.\u201d I tried to sort out whether he sounded confident or merely hopeful even as his words echoed in my head: another few months. It had already been four months since the surgery, six since the accident. At the rate Joe was recovering, it would be years before he could walk normally.<\/p>\n

If he ever does.<\/em> For the second time that evening, I felt as though I\u2019d been punched in the gut. I drew on my pipe, nodding, just like I\u2019d heard exactly what I\u2019d expected and it was perfectly fine.<\/p>\n

Half of that was true, anyway.<\/p>\n

* * * * *<\/p>\n

\u201cLet\u2019s get goin\u2019, Little Brother!\u201d Hoss shoved back his chair, his grin so wide that his round cheeks nearly hid his eyes.<\/p>\n

\u201cDo I get to finish my coffee?\u201d asked Adam with pretend grumpiness.<\/p>\n

\u201cSure, Older Brother,\u201d said Joe. \u201cYou just sit back and take your time while Hoss and me get all those strays rounded up.\u201d Time was when Joe would have been irked by the notion of doing all the work, but today, he was as excited as a young boy.<\/p>\n

The snows had melted, the birds had returned, and the scent of spring was in the air. Bitter winds had been replaced by soft breezes. The air grew mild and sweet. We watched with grateful relief as enormous piles of snow shrank and disappeared. The boys moved Joe\u2019s exercise equipment back out to the barn. Some evenings, I heard them out there talking and laughing long after the exercise was done, just because it was spring and they could.<\/p>\n

It had been a year, almost to the day, since the chestnut stallion crushed Joe\u2019s leg. May 13th would be exactly a year. I hadn\u2019t nearly put the memory of that day behind me, but Joe never mentioned it. All he\u2019d talked about for weeks, even before the snow started to melt, was getting back on a horse, riding like the wind, being independent and useful again. I knew how it had chafed when he had to ride in the buckboard as his brothers rode alongside although, to his credit, he\u2019d kept his complaints to a minimum.<\/p>\n

Now, after months and months of suffering and healing, the day was here. Doc Martin had given his consent for Joe to try riding. As with all Doc\u2019s consents, it had come with conditions: a quiet horse, a short ride, and Joe was to be very, very careful. The two \u201cverys\u201d were directly from Doc himself and were accompanied by a wagging finger that my son pretended to take seriously, but the truth was that he was too excited to pay attention to admonitions, stern or otherwise.<\/p>\n

As I walked the doctor to the door, he said in a low voice, \u201cThis may not work, you know.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat do you mean?\u201d Startled, I glanced to where my sons were laughing and making plans for Joe\u2019s first ride.<\/p>\n

\u201cThe pain may be more than he can stand.\u201d The doctor\u2019s eyes were somber.<\/p>\n

\u201cI wouldn\u2019t worry about that,\u201d I said heartily. \u201cThis is Little Joe we\u2019re talking about. He handled the last year, he\u2019ll handle this.”<\/p>\n

My old friend looked as though he wanted to say something more. Then, he put on his hat and said, \u201cLet me know how it goes.\u201d We said our farewells, and I closed the door behind him, annoyed at the cold water he\u2019d thrown on this triumph.<\/p>\n

I turned back and looked\u2014really looked\u2014at Joseph. He was sitting on the settee, his right boot resting on the table. As I watched, he reached down and picked up his crutches. With skill born of months of practice, he got to his feet and headed to the kitchen with his brothers.<\/p>\n

And not once did he put any weight on his right leg.<\/p>\n

I shook my head to rid myself of the niggling worm of worry. Riding used different muscles from walking. The horse would bear most of his weight. Besides, he was a natural rider. He\u2019d make whatever adjustments he needed to.<\/p>\n

That evening felt like a Christmas Eve from back when the boys were young. Joe was practically bouncing in his seat at the supper table, barely eating as he talked a blue streak about where they would go the next day. The rest of us just laughed at his excitement, but the truth was that we all shared it.<\/p>\n

The next morning was like Christmas itself. Joseph was up before dawn, clattering down the stairs and shouting for Hop Sing. A night\u2019s sleep had done nothing to quiet his chatter. As if their brother weren\u2019t there, Hoss and Adam exchanged long sighs and comments about how nice it was to have such a quiet, peaceful meal, and wasn\u2019t it good to know that they\u2019d be riding out where the only sounds were the wind in the trees and the chirping of the birds. And as for me . . . my heart was too full to do more than watch them all. It was a day I\u2019d thought would never come again, and all I could do was give thanks.<\/p>\n

Finally, we all headed outside. The hands had already saddled the horses\u2014all four of them. Adam had kept Joe\u2019s pinto exercised through that long year, but the horse had clearly been disconcerted by the change in riders. Not only was Adam larger and heavier, but his style of riding was quite different from Joe\u2019s. Adam rode the way most of us did\u2014serviceable, without much thought, focusing on the result rather than the technique. For Joe, riding was almost like a dance with the horse. His movements were so subtle that it looked as though the horse was responding to his thoughts\u2014and perhaps it was.<\/p>\n

Now, Cochise nickered at the sight of Joe. \u201cHey, boy,\u201d said Joe. He balanced on his crutches, stroking the black and white neck. \u201cReady to go for a ride?\u201d He\u2019d spent the winter months grooming the pinto, and now the moment had come.<\/p>\n

\u201cHey, Joe, what\u2019re you gonna do with your crutches?\u201d Hoss asked suddenly.<\/p>\n

Joe shrugged. \u201cI don\u2019t need \u2019em when I\u2019m riding.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBut you will when you get off the horse,\u201d said Adam. He perused the horse for a moment. Then, he reached over and took Joe\u2019s rifle out of the scabbard. \u201cGive me a crutch,\u201d he said. Joe relinquished his left crutch, and Adam slid it into the scabbard. \u201cNot bad,\u201d he said. \u201cWe\u2019ll figure out something better for tomorrow. Now, let\u2019s get going.\u201d<\/p>\n

That was all my youngest son needed to hear. He took hold of the saddle and dropped the right crutch.<\/p>\n

\u201cLet me give you a hand.\u201d I started forward as Joe took a deep breath.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ve got it.\u201d His hands were in position as though he was about to do his infamous swing mount. One quick bounce, and he hoisted himself up, swinging his right leg wide to clear the saddle.<\/p>\n

The next instant, he was on the ground, clutching at his knee and screaming.<\/p>\n

\u201cJoe!\u201d I knelt beside him as he tried to catch his breath. \u201cEasy, boy, just stay still. What happened?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe hit his leg on the saddle,\u201d Hoss said grimly.<\/p>\n

The hands had come running at the commotion, and Adam shooed them away as I helped Joe to sit up. His face was white, and his chest heaved. He hid his eyes with his hand, and I met Hoss\u2019s gaze as I shook my head.<\/p>\n

\u201cJust give him a few minutes,\u201d said Hoss in a low voice. \u201cHe\u2019ll be all right.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cLet\u2019s get him inside,\u201d I said in an equally low voice.<\/p>\n

Joe\u2019s head snapped up at that. \u201cI\u2019m all right,\u201d he said, his voice breaking. \u201cIt was just a bad mount. Haven\u2019t done it in a while.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSon.\u201d That was all I said, but his eyes grew round even as tears of pain glistened.<\/p>\n

\u201cI can do this,\u201d he insisted. \u201cDoc said I could.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cJoseph.\u201d I didn\u2019t want to have this conversation within earshot of the hands. Adam held out Joe\u2019s crutches, and my youngest son shook his head, lips pressed together. \u201cLet\u2019s go, son,\u201d I said. Hoss helped Joe to his feet, holding him securely as Adam offered the crutches again. Not looking at any of us, Joe took them. Then, he lifted his chin, his eyes silently beseeching me to change my mind. I shook my head; the lump in my throat prevented words from passing. I pretended not to see his chin quivering as he headed into the house.<\/p>\n

\u201cCharlie, you can unsaddle Buck and Cochise,\u201d said Adam over his shoulder. To me, he said, \u201cWe can come back at lunch. Maybe by then. . . .\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo,\u201d I said. \u201cYou boys go take care of the strays. We\u2019ll be all right here.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI shoulda helped him mount up,\u201d mumbled Hoss.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s not your fault,\u201d I said. It was nobody\u2019s fault, except maybe a chestnut stallion now long dead.<\/p>\n

As my elder sons rode out, I went inside to find my youngest in his usual place on the settee, his head bowed\u2014whether in pain or defeat, I couldn\u2019t tell. Everything in me wanted to take him in my arms and try to shield him against this fresh disappointment, but I restrained myself. Instead, I approached loudly, my boots clicking firmly on the wooden floor.<\/p>\n

\u201cHow\u2019s your leg? Any better now?\u201d I asked as I seated myself on the table in front of the settee. My stomach twisted as he shook his head.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s never gonna work, is it?\u201d His voice was dull, thick with tears.<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t know,\u201d I said honestly. \u201cMaybe with time. . . .\u201d<\/p>\n

He lifted his head. His face was wet and shiny. \u201cIt\u2019s been a year. How much time does it need?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t know,\u201d I said again. \u201cBut it was a bad injury, and that operation was serious. It\u2019s like Doc said\u2014he had to cut out a lot, and those nerves take a long time to heal. Maybe a year just isn\u2019t long enough.\u201d I laid my hand on his arm. \u201cI\u2019m so sorry, son. I know how much you were looking forward to this.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI could try again later.\u201d There was still so much hope in his voice. \u201cMaybe . . . maybe somebody could help me mount up.\u201d<\/p>\n

My heart ached. I knew what it cost him to say that. As gently as I could, I said, \u201cBut what about once you\u2019re in the saddle? Think about pressing your leg against the horse\u2019s side.\u201d I waited, and when he looked away, I knew he understood. \u201cYou\u2019re not ready yet,\u201d I said. \u201cSomeday, when there\u2019s less pain, we\u2019ll try again.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhen there\u2019s less pain,\u201d he snorted. \u201cThere\u2019s never going to be less pain.\u201d Sometimes, it seemed that the lines between self-pity and justifiable disappointment, anger and frustration were paper-thin.<\/p>\n

I cast about for something to say that was both encouraging and true. Finally, I just patted his arm. \u201cMaybe you should lie down for a little while,\u201d I suggested.<\/p>\n

But Joe shook his head. \u201cI\u2019m all right,\u201d he said. His voice still wasn\u2019t completely steady, but bless his heart, he was trying.<\/p>\n

\u201cOkay,\u201d I said as though I believed him. \u201cI\u2019m going to get some coffee. You want some?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, thanks.\u201d I waited another minute, but when he said nothing more, I went out to the kitchen. Normally, I\u2019d simply have called for Hop Sing, but this time, I wanted something more.<\/p>\n

Our cook was kneading bread dough so industriously that I knew he\u2019d heard everything. \u201cHop Sing,\u201d I said in a low voice.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, Mistah Cahtlight.\u201d He didn\u2019t look up<\/p>\n

\u201cWhere is Joe\u2019s cat?\u201d<\/p>\n

His head shot up. \u201cHop Sing not know what Mistah Cahtlight talk about.\u201d He looked back down at the dough, kneading fiercely. The bread would undoubtedly suffer for it.<\/p>\n

\u201cHop Sing.\u201d I hadn\u2019t spent more than thirty years as a father of sons for nothing. I waited as he worked the dough, the heels of his hands pressing the mass, fingers flipping it a quarter turn, heels pressing again. Finally, when he could knead no more without creating a doorstop instead of a loaf, he deposited the dough into the large blue bread bowl and covered it with a towel. Still, I waited.<\/p>\n

\u201cHop Sing make soup,\u201d he said. He tried to get around me to the basket he used to gather vegetables, but I took a step to the side, blocking his way.<\/p>\n

\u201cThe cat, Hop Sing. Where is it?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHop Sing not know\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe needs it.\u201d<\/p>\n

The little man stood still. At last, he looked up at me. \u201cHop Sing find.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThank you.\u201d I poured myself a cup of coffee and returned to the main room where my son sat, silent and unmoving. \u201cI\u2019m going to take the ledgers out on the porch,\u201d I announced. If Joe heard me, he didn\u2019t let on. I made a great show of gathering my books and coffee and going out the door, closing it loudly behind me. I spread everything out on the table. As I began my work, Hop Sing slipped out the kitchen door, and I heard him calling in Chinese. I tried to focus, but the truth is that I was more aware of his movements than of the numbers before me.<\/p>\n

Finally, he came out of the barn with a gray cat in his arms. Not looking at me, he scurried across the yard and into the kitchen. I let my pencil fall as I pictured the cat wandering through the main room and over to the settee. In my mind\u2019s eye, it jumped up on the settee, settling itself beside my son. After a moment, his hand came to rest on the soft gray fur, and he put his head back, eyes closed, as the rhythmic purring soothed his hurting heart.<\/p>\n

* * * * *<\/p>\n

\u201cYou boys take care,\u201d I said as Hoss and Adam mounted up. The other hands were already mounted and organizing themselves to ride out. At the familiar din of lowing cattle, eager horses, and men calling to each other, a rush of longing flooded through me. At that moment, I wanted nothing more than to ride out with them, to spend long days in the saddle with the sun beating down and the dust in my nostrils, sitting by the campfire at night with the cold at my back and the heat at my front as I sipped bitter coffee and ate bland beans.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou behave yourself, Shortshanks,\u201d Hoss called. \u201cI don\u2019t wanna come back an\u2019 hear that you done lost the Ponderosa in a poker game!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI ain\u2019t making any promises,\u201d Joe called back. The edge in his voice was well-disguised, but I could hear it. It wasn\u2019t the first cattle drive since his accident, but watching his brothers ride away never seemed to get easier. He balanced on his crutches and raised one hand, and Adam and Hoss waved back as they turned and rode out. Then, without looking at me, he headed across the yard through the still-swirling dust to the barn.<\/p>\n

By lunchtime, the quiet had settled in. The only sounds in the house were the crackling of the fire and the faint sounds of pots and pans clanging as Hop Sing cooked. Gratefully, I closed the ledger as Hop Sing came around the corner to announce lunch.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ll get Joe,\u201d I offered, stretching. I marveled at the peace of the yard as I went to the barn. \u201cJoseph! Lunch is ready!\u201d I entered the cool darkness and paused to let my eyes adjust. \u201cJoe!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m right here.\u201d His voice sounded tired.<\/p>\n

\u201cBarn looks good,\u201d I offered. He\u2019d swept and organized everything that is inevitably left in disarray after the drive has left. His pinto and my buckskin stood in their stalls, munching hay, surrounded by the empty stalls. \u201cWhy don\u2019t we turn those two out for a while?\u201d I suggested.<\/p>\n

Joe shrugged. \u201cSure.\u201d He unhooked the ropes that kept the horses contained, nickering to them. Understanding their cue, the pinto came out of the stall, and the buckskin followed. I opened the corral, and the two ambled in as though recognizing that this was all the excitement their day would offer.<\/p>\n

I closed the corral behind them and turned back to Joe. He looked worn out. Concern flickered in my mind. Don\u2019t be silly<\/em>, I chastised myself. These first few days would be hard for him, but we would find our own rhythm soon enough. We always did.<\/p>\n

Still, I found myself watching him over lunch. His color was higher than I\u2019d noticed earlier, but I put it down to the strain of the morning\u2019s work. No matter how he tried to hide it, the fact was that even barn chores were more difficult while balancing on crutches. That, coupled with being left behind like a child, was undoubtedly all that was bothering him.<\/p>\n

Thus assured, I turned my attention back to my meal. Later, I would wonder if it would have made any difference at all to have pushed him for information. Doc claimed that it wouldn\u2019t, that while we might have postponed it, we would simply have been staving off the inevitable. Still, I can\u2019t help but think that even the postponement would have been worth so much.<\/p>\n

But it is always easier to judge the past than to assess the present. At the time when it mattered, I chose to respect my son as an adult working through his own challenges instead of coddling him like a child. If he blames me for that choice, he has never said.<\/p>\n

In any event, so went the first few days after everyone departed. Joe remained quiet and withdrawn, and I watched him more closely than I let on. At least once a day, I inquired into how he was feeling, but the only response I ever received was a shrug and his standard response of \u201cFine.\u201d Only on the last day, when the world changed, did he say anything more. By then, it was too late.<\/p>\n

On that day, I announced at lunch that I planned to go into town. \u201cDo you want to come?\u201d My invitation had two purposes: one was the pleasure of my son\u2019s company, and the other was to try to pull him out of his doldrums.<\/p>\n

But Joe shook his head. \u201cNo, thanks,\u201d he said. \u201cI think I\u2019m just gonna stay here and take it easy.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAre you feeling all right?\u201d I tried to sound casual, as though he routinely declined invitations to town. The truth was that I couldn\u2019t recall a time when he\u2019d ever said \u201cno\u201d to such a suggestion.<\/p>\n

He didn\u2019t look up from his plate. \u201cJust a little tired,\u201d he said. \u201cIt\u2019s probably just from doing Hoss and Adam\u2019s chores.\u201d<\/p>\n

It was the closest he\u2019d ever come to complaining about his workload since the day the chestnut fell on him. I peered more closely. His eyes looked remote, as though he was focusing on something other than our conversation. His jaw was tight. His cheeks were flushed. I reached over to lay a hand on his forehead, and he didn\u2019t jerk away.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re running a fever,\u201d I said as though he wouldn\u2019t have known. \u201cWhat\u2019s the matter?\u201d<\/p>\n

He shrugged again. \u201cI don\u2019t know. I\u2019m just tired.\u201d<\/p>\n

He obviously wasn\u2019t interested in eating, so I pushed back my chair. \u201cCome on. I\u2019ll give you a hand getting up to bed.\u201d That he didn\u2019t argue should have sounded an alert as urgent as any army bugle, but still I didn\u2019t understand. I helped him to his feet, calling over my shoulder for Hop Sing to put on some broth to heat. I handed him his crutches, and he made his way over to the stairs, where I took them and said, \u201cI\u2019ll help you up.\u201d Again, he made no objection, and again, I didn\u2019t recognize what was right in front of me.<\/p>\n

A few minutes later, he was sitting on his bed as I knelt to remove the boot from his right leg. Unprepared, he let out a yelp of pain as I tugged. I looked up to see his eyes closed and his lips pressed together.<\/p>\n

\u201cHang on, son,\u201d I said. I worked the boot loose and slid it off, and he relaxed visibly. I fetched a nightshirt from the bureau as he unfastened his trousers, but when I turned back, he was struggling to remove them without bending his right leg. \u201cI\u2019ve got that,\u201d I said, sliding them off. The same ensued when he tried to take off his drawers. As he pulled the nightshirt over his head, I took advantage of the opportunity to look at his leg.<\/p>\n

The leg was red, warm and swollen. \u201cJoseph.\u201d I heard the slight quaver in my voice. \u201cHow long has your leg been like this?\u201d<\/p>\n

He didn\u2019t pretend not to know what I meant. \u201cA couple days,\u201d he said. \u201cI just worked too hard, that\u2019s all. Probably strained it.\u201d<\/p>\n

I inspected the leg as best I could. At my instruction, he lay back and turned on his side so that I could see the back of the calf. I tried to assess whether the angry scar seemed redder than usual. \u201cI\u2019m going to have Hop Sing make up a poultice,\u201d I announced finally. \u201cSee if we can\u2019t get that swelling down.\u201d I tried to ignore the niggling worm in the back of my mind that suggested some sort of a connection between the leg and the fever. It was just a coincidence. It had to be.<\/p>\n

Joe nodded his agreement to the poultice as he shifted himself on the bed until his head reached the pillow. \u201cThat should help.\u201d<\/p>\n

As I drew the covers over him, I could see in his eyes relief that he didn\u2019t have to worry anymore because I was taking care of everything. I stroked his curls, doing my best to sound calm and certain as I said, \u201cYou get yourself some rest. Hop Sing will bring up the poultice and some broth for you, and I\u2019ll stop by Doc Martin\u2019s to let him know what\u2019s going on.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDoc doesn\u2019t have to come out here,\u201d Joe protested. \u201cIt\u2019s just a strain.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd a fever,\u201d I reminded him. \u201cAnyway, that\u2019ll be his decision. You just take it easy and listen to Hop Sing. I\u2019ll be back soon.\u201d<\/p>\n

And so I left him there. In the days to follow, I told myself that it wouldn\u2019t have made the slightest difference if I\u2019d stayed. I couldn\u2019t have stopped what came. I might even have made matters worse. At least this way, Doc got the message sooner. But the message would have been different. . . .<\/p>\n

I returned just ahead of sunset. The lamp burned in Little Joe\u2019s window as I rode up. My horse received only the most cursory of care before I went inside, more anxious than I\u2019d let myself admit. As I came through the door, Hop Sing came downstairs. His face was grim.<\/p>\n

\u201cHow\u2019s Little Joe?\u201d I demanded without preamble.<\/p>\n

Hop Sing shook his head. \u201cFever up. Leg not good. Hop Sing think leg have infection.\u201d<\/p>\n

The unavoidable piece fell into place with an ominous thud. Without taking off my coat or my gun, I ran up the stairs to my son\u2019s bedside.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, young man, what have you been up to?\u201d I made my voice deliberately hearty, but my stomach dropped at the change a few hours had wrought.<\/p>\n

His eyes were bleary, his color high. He trembled beneath the quilt as though he lay naked and uncovered in the cold night air. Still, at the sight of me, he managed the most faint of grins. \u201cPa.\u201d<\/p>\n

I swallowed hard as I crossed the room. \u201cHow\u2019re you feeling, boy?\u201d I asked as I lifted the compress to rest my hand on his brow.<\/p>\n

He shook his head. \u201cNot good.\u201d<\/p>\n

I dipped the compress into the bowl of water on the bedside table, wrung it out and replaced it. He nodded slightly to let me know that it felt good. \u201cHow\u2019s the leg?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cStill hurts.\u201d If he was admitting it, \u201churts\u201d was undoubtedly an understatement.<\/p>\n

\u201cI left a message at Doc\u2019s office for him to come out,\u201d I said. \u201cHe was out when I got there. Mrs. Martin said she\u2019d send him out when he came back.\u201d All he did was to bite his lip, but that was enough to tell me how bad he really felt. \u201cDon\u2019t you worry, son,\u201d I said as I stroked his hair. \u201cWe\u2019re going to get you all fixed up. By the time your brothers get back, you\u2019ll be as good as new.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSure,\u201d he murmured.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou try and get some sleep now,\u201d I said. \u201cI\u2019ll see about having Hop Sing make up another poultice.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201c\u2019Kay.\u201d His assent was barely audible, and his eyes closed as he spoke.<\/p>\n

I took advantage of his oblivion to move the covers from his leg. He grunted in his sleep when I moved it, and this time, I saw the faintest streaks of red emanating from the scar. \u201cLord, have mercy,\u201d I breathed. I didn\u2019t know when or how, but Hop Sing was right. Joe\u2019s leg was infected, and it was bad.<\/p>\n

I don\u2019t recall now if any of us ate supper that night. Hop Sing kept making up fresh poultices, and I alternated between tending Joe\u2019s leg and trying to bring down his fever. All the while, I tried to remember exactly what I\u2019d said in the message I\u2019d left with Rose Martin. Had I mentioned the fever? Had I described the leg? Had I told him to hurry?<\/p>\n

I must have said something that conveyed urgency, because late that night, when anyone else would have been long asleep, Paul Martin\u2019s buggy drove into our yard. \u201cDoc\u2019s here,\u201d I told Joe as I replaced the drying compress on his forehead with a fresh cool one. \u201cHe\u2019s going to take care of everything. Soon, you\u2019ll be feeling just fine.\u201d I couldn\u2019t tell whether he heard me, but it almost didn\u2019t matter. By that time, I was trying to reassure myself as much as Joe.<\/p>\n

Hop Sing led the doctor up the stairs as if Doc hadn\u2019t made this trip dozens upon dozens of times. The little man stood like a sentry in the doorway while the doctor set down his bag and removed his coat. I told Doc as much as I could, and Hop Sing filled in with details about what kind of poultices he\u2019d used and how often.<\/p>\n

Finally, there was no more for us to say. Doc moved the quilt and assessed the leg with a frown. Then, he leaned over and laid his hand on Joe\u2019s forehead. \u201cJoe, can you hear me?\u201d he asked.<\/p>\n

Joe grunted. His eyes opened, but they didn\u2019t seem to be focusing. \u201cHey, Doc,\u201d he murmured. The doctor slipped the thermometer into his mouth, and it seemed forever until he removed it, studying it with a frown.<\/p>\n

\u201cHow long has he been like this?\u201d he asked me.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe said his leg\u2019s been swollen for a couple days,\u201d I said. \u201cThe fever\u2019s more recent. He hadn\u2019t complained, and I just recognized it earlier today.\u201d I didn\u2019t mean to make excuses, but all at once, I felt judged. I forced the words out: \u201cWhat do you think?\u201d<\/p>\n

His eyes met mine. He jerked his head toward the door, and I followed him into the hall. Hop Sing stood with us as the doctor said in a low voice, \u201cI\u2019m not going to kid you, Ben. This is bad. It\u2019s come up fast and hard, and if we don\u2019t act just as fast, he may not survive.\u201d<\/p>\n

My stomach lurched. Beside me, Hop Sing stood ramrod straight, his face completely immobile. Only the horror in his eyes revealed that he understood. We glanced at each other, and then I said the words aloud: \u201cYou\u2019re saying we need to cut off the leg.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes.\u201d No mincing of words. \u201cIt\u2019s the leg or his life, Ben.\u201d He made it sound like a choice, but it was no choice at all.<\/p>\n

Silence swirled around us. I could hear Hop Sing breathing. I tried to force out a word, but no sound came from my lips. Doc\u2019s pale blue gaze was intent. If I said nothing, he would do it because it had to happen. All I had to do was to stand there. He would do the rest by himself. When Joe woke up, I could tell him I wasn\u2019t responsible, that it wasn\u2019t my fault.<\/p>\n

Except that I was responsible. I was responsible because he was my son. My blood. No matter what, no matter how old he was, I would never cease to be responsible for him. No matter where, when or how. It was part of the territory of fatherhood. Of family. Of love.<\/p>\n

There was so little that I could do at this moment, but at least I could do this. As his father, I owed it to him not to leave this decision to someone else.<\/p>\n

I swallowed hard. Finally, I forced the word out.<\/p>\n

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

* * * * *<\/p>\n

Steam from the pot of boiling water hung thick in the air, coating the window and the mirror. Every cloth and bandage in the house was piled onto a wooden tray on Joe\u2019s bedside table. Lamps had been gathered and lit and set all around the room. The chair had been pushed over to a corner of the room. The fire was stoked to keep away any chill. The night table from Adam\u2019s room stood on the other side of the bed at Doc\u2019s right hand. It bore a metal tray that had been held in the boiling water until Doc decreed it sterile. Now, the tray lay untouched, waiting for the instruments that would remain in the boiling water bath until the last possible minute.<\/p>\n

\u201cHold the lamp closer.\u201d Doc was bent over my son\u2019s leg, studying it. \u201cBring it over here,\u201d he said, gesturing toward the inner side of the leg. He turned the leg toward him and leaned over to see the inner part of the knee.<\/p>\n

I held the lamp as close as I dared: he needed enough light to see, but I didn\u2019t want him to bump it. I barely breathed as he examined the area right above the knee, slowly moving up the once-muscular thigh. He flipped up the edge of Joe\u2019s striped nightshirt, pushing it up well above his hip. Without thinking, I reached over and replaced the fabric to preserve my son\u2019s modesty. With only the slightest glance at me, Doc moved the nightshirt again so that the entire leg was uncovered, and this time, I resisted the urge to interfere.<\/p>\n

On the doctor\u2019s instruction, we carefully turned Joe onto his stomach. Even in his half-conscious state, my boy was clearly trying to hold back, but small whimpers of pain escaped him with each movement of his leg. Again, the painstaking examination of every inch of the leg. I bit my lip at the flaming red and blackening flesh on the lower part of what had once been his calf. How could it have gotten so bad so fast? As instructed, I held the lamp close as the doctor bent his head to the area behind the knee. I didn\u2019t know what he was looking for, but I prayed that whatever he saw would be good for Joe.<\/p>\n

Finally, the doctor straightened. \u201cI\u2019m going to try to leave the knee,\u201d he said in a low voice. Hop Sing leaned in closer as he continued, \u201cIt\u2019s going to depend on what I find when I get in there, but from what I\u2019m seeing, I believe I can take the leg here\u2014\u201d and he touched a spot about two inches below Joe\u2019s knee. He fixed me with a stern blue gaze. \u201cI won\u2019t do this to him twice. If I see anything at all that gives me concern when I open up the leg, I\u2019m going higher. I\u2019m telling you that now because once I start, there won\u2019t be time to argue. You\u2019re going to have to trust my judgment.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI do.\u201d I don\u2019t know how he heard me, but he nodded.<\/p>\n

\u201cAll right, then. Let\u2019s turn him back over.\u201d We did as instructed, and Doc looked up at me. \u201cAre you ready?\u201d<\/p>\n

Was I ready<\/em>? Had there ever been a more absurd question? Could a father ever be ready to stand beside the man who would take a saw and cut off the leg of his youngest son? I took Joe\u2019s hand, so strong and yet now so limp, and I squeezed it to let him know that I was there, that I had done all I could. His fingers curled around mine. God help me<\/em>, I pleaded, my head bowed.<\/p>\n

Then, I took a deep breath. I laid my son\u2019s hand gently on the bed. I turned to the doctor and stood as tall as possible against the grief that threatened to crush me.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes,\u201d I said. \u201cI\u2019m ready.\u201d<\/p>\n

Long afterward, Paul Martin told me that the operation took nearly forty-five minutes. I wouldn\u2019t know. I held that lamp steady, and I did my best not to watch as Hop Sing took firm hold of Joseph\u2019s leg, lifting it up, and the doctor positioned his knife between the strong, square brown hands. The sickly sweet odor of ether made my stomach turn. The tourniquet was tied tightly two-thirds of the way down my boy\u2019s once-muscular thigh. I clutched the lamp as the knife sliced into my son\u2019s flesh and deep red blood oozed out. I closed my eyes when the doctor laid the knife on the tray and picked up the saw. Moments later, I heard the saw strike the bone. I heard the doctor say something\u2014I don\u2019t know what or to whom\u2014and the saw began to grind its harsh way through Joe\u2019s shin. I tried to take deep breaths, to pretend that I was in a forest felling a tree, to will myself to be anywhere else, but I couldn\u2019t shut out the sound that would haunt my dreams for months. When I heard the first bone snap, I felt as though someone had punched me. Doc spoke again, and this time, he said my name.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat?\u201d I could barely breathe, much less speak.<\/p>\n

\u201cAre you all right?\u201d<\/p>\n

I nodded. There was no choice. I had to be all right.<\/p>\n

\u201cJust hold on. We\u2019re almost there.\u201d I nodded to show I\u2019d heard, and the grinding of saw against bone began again. I never knew blood had such a pungent odor. I squeezed my eyes shut, trusting that I was holding the lamp in the right place. Another snap. I heard the doctor say something, and Hop Sing responded, but to this day, I have no idea what they said. More words, and I heard Hop Sing step away from the bed and then return. Then, I felt the lamp being taken from my hands.<\/p>\n

\u201cAll right, Ben, you\u2019re done,\u201d said Doc.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat?\u201d The words made no sense.<\/p>\n

\u201cI want you to leave. Hop Sing can handle it from here.\u201d His voice was not unkind, but neither did it allow for argument.<\/p>\n

I opened my eyes. The little Chinese man who had been our family\u2019s mainstay throughout Joe\u2019s life stood across the bed from me. He held a handful of cloths against the place where my son\u2019s leg used to be. The cloths were soaked with blood. Little Joe\u2019s blood. Deep, violent redness staining the snowy whiteness. As I watched, a drop fell to the towel that was already sodden with the essence of my son\u2019s life. Hop Sing\u2019s head was bowed so that I could not see his face, but my boy\u2019s blood dripped between his fingers. He reached for a clean cloth, pressing it against the leg to catch more blood, dropping the useless one behind him.<\/p>\n

For a moment, I wanted to protest. I was Joe\u2019s father; I should see this through.<\/p>\n

But then, I looked past Hop Sing, and I saw the oilcloth package on the floor by the bureau. The dark gray cloth was wrapped around something long and narrow. The tiniest drop of bright red blood had seeped out onto the floor. I began to tremble.<\/p>\n

\u201cBen. Go.\u201d The doctor\u2019s voice was sharper now. I was distracting him at a time when he could ill afford distraction. Blindly, I stumbled from the room, pulling the door closed behind me. I made my way down the hall to my own room, where I barely closed the door before I fell to my hands and knees and vomited.<\/p>\n

I don\u2019t know how long I stayed there before there was a light rap on the door. \u201cJust a minute,\u201d I managed. I didn\u2019t get up, though. I sat back and could do no more. After a minute or so, the door opened.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s over,\u201d said Paul Martin. He sounded exhausted.<\/p>\n

\u201cThank you,\u201d I whispered. How hard this must have been for him. He\u2019d brought Joe into the world on an October day much like this one. On that day nineteen years ago, my beautiful, shrieking baby boy had had two legs with which he kicked vigorously, and nobody ever foresaw the day when one of them would have to be cut off.<\/p>\n

Pull yourself together<\/em>, I told myself. Joe was going to need me. Joe was going to wake up, and he would need me to be strong.<\/p>\n

The tears that spilled over then scalded my face. I dropped my head into my hands and let my grief overwhelm me. \u201cMy boy. . . .\u201d I choked again and again.<\/p>\n

After a time, I became aware of someone sitting beside me. I raised my head to see Hop Sing. Only once before had I seen tears in his eyes, and that was the day we buried Marie.<\/p>\n

He laid his arm around my shoulders. In all the years I\u2019d known him, he\u2019d never done such a thing, and it finished me. Sobs wrenched themselves from deep within me; for a time, I could hardly draw breath. Eventually, I realized that I was being held. The notion that someone else would be the strong one, if only for a brief time, was so sweet that I let go and allowed myself to grieve for my son.<\/p>\n

Finally, I sat up. Doc was squatting in front of me. I hadn\u2019t heard him leave, but now he held out a glass. \u201cDrink this,\u201d he said. I took the glass. He poured again and handed one to Hop Sing. He waited while we both drank the brandy, and then he poured a glass for himself.<\/p>\n

\u201cJoe,\u201d I said, straightening. \u201cHe\u2019s going to wake up, and we\u2019re all in here and nobody\u2019s with him\u2014\u201d I tried to scramble to my feet, but my legs were asleep, and Doc and Hop Sing caught me.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe won\u2019t wake up for a little while yet,\u201d said Paul as he eased me down to the floor. He refilled my glass. \u201cIt\u2019s all right,\u201d he said at my hesitation. I sipped as he refilled Hop Sing\u2019s glass and his own.<\/p>\n

The three of us sat on the floor, drinking and not speaking. At last, I said, \u201cI\u2019m sorry. I need to clean up\u2014\u201d I gestured to the befouled floor.<\/p>\n

\u201cHop Sing clean,\u201d said the little man with gentle firmness.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo,\u201d I said. \u201cYou took care of my boy. You don\u2019t need to clean up in here.\u201d I placed my hand on his. \u201cThank you, my friend,\u201d I said. \u201cMrs. Cartwright would be so grateful.\u201d As I knew it would, the mention of Marie seemed to overwhelm him for a moment. Then, he rose.<\/p>\n

\u201cHop Sing clean up,\u201d he said in a tone which would accept no argument. \u201cMistah Cahtlight wash up, go back to Li\u2019l Joe.\u201d I looked to Paul, who nodded his acquiescence.<\/p>\n

\u201cThank you,\u201d I whispered. I managed to stand this time, and I set the glass on the washstand and poured water into the basin. I splashed water on my face as Hop Sing busied himself cleaning up and the doctor gathered the glasses and decanter. Then, I turned to my two dear friends. Again, I said the words that were so heartfelt and yet so inadequate: \u201cThank you.\u201d<\/p>\n

Slowly, I walked down the hall to where Joe slept. One foot in front of the other, because I could. Because I had a foot to put in front of another foot. But Joe didn\u2019t. For the rest of his life, he would have only one leg, one foot. I remembered how Marie had held the infant Joe in her arms and untucked the blanket from his legs. \u201cLook, Ben!\u201d she said. \u201cTen little toes!\u201d At the time, it seemed merely sweet, a charmingly motherish thing to say. I\u2019d been through that with Adam and Hoss, and I was used to it. All babies had two legs, two feet, ten toes. It was how life was.<\/p>\n

At Joe\u2019s door, I paused. The room still smelled of blood, coppery and pungent, even though all traces of the operation had vanished. I knew without asking that Hop Sing had changed my son\u2019s bed, even with him in it. Nothing would have been more important to him than making sure his Li\u2019l Joe had been taken care of.<\/p>\n

The outline of the frame showed through the blankets. I\u2019d forgotten that we\u2019d tucked it under the bed, out of the way. Once, it had covered an injured leg; now, it covered a stump and an empty space. An observer would never have known anything changed. If Joe had merely awakened and looked, he\u2019d never have known the difference. But I knew. I knew that what would have been under there yesterday wasn\u2019t there today, never would be again. I knew that my son\u2019s life had changed forever. Doc had taken more than a leg. He\u2019d taken everything the boy had known about how to live in our world. I felt the tears welling up as I looked at him, pale and motionless.<\/p>\n

Then, he moved slightly. That was all I needed. I hastened into the room, snatching up the washbowl as I passed the washstand. Joe had always had a hard time with anesthesia of any type, and ether was the worst. I set the bowl on the floor and stroked his hair, not bothering about whether he was awake enough to know. \u201cIt\u2019s all right, boy,\u201d I whispered, not because I thought he could hear me, but because I wanted it to be true. I kept stroking and whispering, and eventually, his eyelids fluttered.<\/p>\n

\u201cPa?\u201d I could barely hear the word.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m right here, Joe,\u201d I said, leaning close. \u201cIt\u2019s all over. You\u2019re going to be fine.\u201d<\/p>\n

He squinted as though trying to see me through a thick fog. \u201cGone.\u201d<\/p>\n

My stomach lurched. At that moment, I wanted nothing more than to pretend I didn\u2019t know what he was talking about, but I couldn\u2019t do that to him. I couldn\u2019t make him ask a second time. \u201cYes,\u201d I managed. \u201cAnd you\u2019re going to be just fine. I promise.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cLeg,\u201d he whispered. \u201cGone.\u201d<\/p>\n

I swallowed hard. \u201cSome of it,\u201d I said. I wanted to reassure him, to convince him and myself that it wasn\u2019t as bad as it seemed, but his eyelids were fluttering like injured butterflies, and I knew this wasn\u2019t the time to get into the whole matter. So, I asked, \u201cYou feel sick?\u201d For a few moments, I wasn\u2019t certain he\u2019d understood the question; then, he nodded. \u201cI\u2019ve got the bowl right here,\u201d I said. His eyes closed again. Moments later, he was pushing himself up and grabbing for the bowl. I positioned it and held him up enough to make use of it; then, I set it on the floor and eased him back down. I poured water into the bedside glass and lifted his head enough to enable him to sip without choking. It was all so familiar, except that it wasn\u2019t: this wasn\u2019t a broken bone or gunshot wound or fever. All those things healed, leaving him as good as new. But not this time. He would never be as good as new again.<\/p>\n

He was reaching for me. I caught his hand in mine, holding it against my cheek. \u201cI wish,\u201d I whispered. I didn\u2019t know whether he heard me, but he didn\u2019t ask any more.<\/p>\n

* * * * *<\/p>\n

The lamplight was warm, the scent of woodsmoke comforting. Darkness fell early this late in the autumn. As soon as Joe had been well enough to eat regular meals, I\u2019d started taking mine up to his room so that we could eat together. He didn\u2019t eat much anyway, but I hoped that my presence would make mealtime feel slightly more normal.<\/p>\n

I tried to keep up casual dinner conversation as I balanced my plate on my lap and Joseph moved his food around his plate without actually eating anything. \u201cSon, you need to get something in your belly,\u201d I said when it became clear that he had no intention of doing more than rearranging his food.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m not hungry.\u201d It was his standard response at every meal these days.<\/p>\n

I knew I should try to get him to eat, but all at once, I was just too tired. The days had been long and demanding as I tried to balance nursing my son with running the ranch. A letter had come for Adam from his friend, Richard, and I found myself longing for the freedom to go off to New York and watch people building what had to be the tallest structure in the world, complete with rising rooms and indoor water closets. It occurred to me that if things had been different, Adam might have been able to take such a trip. He might even have been able to work with Richard on such an exciting project.<\/p>\n

If things had been different. . . .<\/p>\n

At least we had reached the point where Doc no longer made daily calls. Once he\u2019d assured himself that there was no sign of infection and that he\u2019d trained me adequately in caring for Joe\u2019s stump, he reduced the frequency of his visits\u2014reluctantly, in my opinion, but with a nod to balancing our needs and those of his other patients. It had to happen, but I could see that it cost him. I suspected that he\u2019d never stop worrying about my boy, any more than I would.<\/p>\n

The doctor had warned us that even after Joe\u2019s fever faded, it would take time before he was strong enough to be out of bed. \u201cAnd then, there will be the other things to manage,\u201d he said. I was grateful that he didn\u2019t feel the need to elaborate. There would be time enough for that later.<\/p>\n

Joe\u2019s fork clattered as he dropped it on the tray. \u201cI\u2019m done,\u201d he said as though I was going to challenge him, but I just nodded.<\/p>\n

\u201cLet\u2019s change your bandage, and you can go to sleep.\u201d I set my half-empty plate on his full one and moved the tray to the floor by the door. Then, I brought over the small tray from the bureau. This one held the necessary supplies\u2014alcohol, clean cloths, freshly boiled bandages that hung by the stove to dry. Keep the wound scrupulously clean<\/em>, the doctor had said more times than I could count. I didn\u2019t need for him to enumerate the dangers infection could bring, especially after a siege of this nature. And so, I\u2019d become as adept as any nurse at cleaning the healing wound and wrapping the bandage around the stump so that it stayed in place.<\/p>\n

Even so, I still had to steel myself before I drew back the covers.<\/p>\n

Part of the routine involved Joe lying back and looking away as I worked. I started to reach for the pillows that I\u2019d propped behind him so that he could sit up for supper. His hand on my wrist stopped me. \u201cNo,\u201d was all he said, but the tightness in his voice told me everything.<\/p>\n

\u201cAre you sure?\u201d I tried to sound matter-of-fact. He hadn\u2019t looked at his leg since the operation, even with its bandages.<\/p>\n

He nodded. As casually as possible, I drew back the covers. The initial shock of seeing only one leg below the hem of his nightshirt was something I suspected would never quite leave me. I was careful not to look at his face as I busied myself sliding up the nightshirt just far enough to expose the bandages. I unwound the strips of cloth and removed the pads, examining them for evidence of seepage or infection. Joe said nothing as I inspected and cleaned the healing wounds, but when I reached for the fresh bandages, he put out his hand to stop me.<\/p>\n

\u201cWait.\u201d His voice was hoarse. I looked up from his leg, and his face was white, his eyes fixed on what was left of his right leg. I moved the tray from the bed and reached for the covers to hide the stump, but again he stopped me.<\/p>\n

\u201cJust\u2014\u201d The sentence faded, but the meaning was clear. I stepped back and watched in silence as my son reached out to touch the place where his leg ended. His fingers hovered; then he yanked his hand back as though he\u2019d nearly touched a hot stove. A minute later, he tried again. This time, when his hand came to rest on his leg, he caught his breath sharply, as if in pain.<\/p>\n

\u201cJoe.\u201d I moved closer, and he shook his head, holding me off even as his breathing grew rougher. For what seemed an eternity, I waited\u2014for what, I wasn\u2019t sure. Later, I would put words to what I knew instinctively that night: Joe needed to see, to touch, to grieve, and he needed to do it on his own. It was his leg, and he needed to make his peace with it.<\/p>\n

Slowly, his fingers explored the flap of skin Doc had sewn over the place where the rest of his leg had been. The stitches were gone, but the scars that outlined the flap were still raw, like reddish rope. All color had drained from his face.\u00a0\u00a0 His jaw was clenched. Still, he reached down with his other hand as though he would gain more information. His breathing began to sound strangled. Deep, guttural moans escaped him as he bent low, his forehead nearly touching his knee.<\/p>\n

Then, he lifted his head, grief dark and naked in his eyes. \u201cIt\u2019s gone.\u201d He bowed his head again, his forehead nearly touching the place where his leg ended. \u201cIt\u2019s gone,\u201d he breathed, his voice breaking.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, Joseph.\u201d I wrapped my arms around him as best I could, my cheek resting against his trembling back as he bent low over his leg. \u201cHang on, boy,\u201d I whispered. \u201cJust hang on.\u201d<\/p>\n

Eventually, the shuddering stilled. His breathing quieted, and I felt the tension in his body ease. I loosened my grip, and he sat up, clearly exhausted.<\/p>\n

\u201cAre you all right?\u201d I asked without releasing him.<\/p>\n

He exhaled as though he\u2019d been holding his breath for a long time. He shrugged, but he sat up straighter, subtly moving from my embrace. He studied his leg for another minute, and then he said, \u201cSo, that\u2019s it.\u201d The words were simple. The anguish of finality resonated.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe should probably get it bandaged,\u201d I began, but he was shaking his head.<\/p>\n

\u201cJust leave it,\u201d he said. His voice was still ragged. Even so, I had the sense of a storm having passed.<\/p>\n

I supposed it wouldn\u2019t hurt to leave the leg unbandaged for a while. The wound was healing well, with no sign of infection. \u201cDo you want to lie down?\u201d<\/p>\n

My son snorted. \u201cYou know what I really want?\u201d I raised my eyebrows in question, and he said, \u201cA drink. Not water,\u201d he added as I started to turn to the pitcher on the night table.<\/p>\n

I considered his statement briefly. Well, why not? He was certainly old enough. He wasn\u2019t running a fever. He hadn\u2019t had any laudanum since morning, and his leg probably hurt. There wasn\u2019t any medical reason to say \u201cno.\u201d And as far as I was concerned, he deserved it.<\/p>\n

I went downstairs, returning a few minutes later with a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. A slight grin tipped the corners of his mouth; I\u2019m sure he thought I would bring up the decanter of brandy. Give the old man a little credit<\/em>, I nearly said.<\/p>\n

I poured each of us a drink. Before I could move to the bedside chair, he slid himself over to make room for me on the bed. I sat, we clinked our glasses and drank, and I poured another round.<\/p>\n

We were probably on our fourth or fifth round before either of us spoke. \u201cI knew this was gonna happen someday,\u201d he said, holding out his glass.<\/p>\n

\u201cKnew what was going to happen?\u201d I poured as I tried to make sense of his words.<\/p>\n

\u201cThis.\u201d He gestured with his free hand. \u201cI always knew it would happen. From that first day I woke up after that damned horse rolled on me, I knew someday, I\u2019d wake up and my leg would be gone.\u201d He tossed back his whiskey and held out his glass.<\/p>\n

I didn\u2019t chastise him about his language as I ordinarily would have. Instead, I refilled both our glasses. \u201cWhat made you think that?\u201d<\/p>\n

He shrugged. \u201cI dunno,\u201d he said. \u201cBut when I was sick last year and Doc kept trying stuff\u2014every time, I thought, \u2018This is it.\u2019 And when he operated, I really thought it was gone and I was just feeling that phantom pain. Then, when it wasn\u2019t gone, it was like a miracle, but I still knew it wouldn\u2019t last. It just\u2014it just couldn\u2019t. Not feeling like that.\u201d He stared at the amber liquid without drinking.<\/p>\n

I didn\u2019t know what to say. Naturally, I\u2019d dreaded the idea of amputation, but the truth was that I\u2019d truly believed for a long time that Joe\u2019s leg would heal. The day he tried to mount his horse had been the first time I allowed myself to realize that Joe might never recover completely. Still, I\u2019d maintained my faith that even if his leg might not be perfect, it would be sufficient to let him return to normal life. The line between faith and denial was sometimes difficult to identify.<\/p>\n

\u201cHow\u2019s the pain now?\u201d I asked after a while.<\/p>\n

\u201cA little more of this, and I won\u2019t be feeling any pain at all.\u201d His words were slurring slightly, and he belched. I knew it was probably time to put the bottle away, but the truth was that I didn\u2019t want to. For the first time in a very, very long time, I wanted to keep pouring until I was blind drunk.<\/p>\n

Slightly to my surprise, Joe drained his glass and handed it to me. \u201cI\u2019m tired,\u201d he mumbled, flopping back against his pillows. It was no wonder, I reflected as I rose and set the glasses on the night table with the bottle. He\u2019d had a long, hard siege\u2014not to mention a fair bit of whiskey on an empty stomach.<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t worry, I\u2019m fine,\u201d he said as though he\u2019d read my thoughts. I must have looked startled, because he emitted a tipsy giggle.<\/p>\n

I rebandaged his leg and settled him in for sleep. By the time I\u2019d cleaned up the medical supplies and loaded up the tray of dirty dishes and glassware, my son was snoring softly. I chuckled as I blew out the lamp and rested my hand on his shoulder.<\/p>\n

\u201cGood night, Joseph,\u201d I whispered even though I knew he couldn\u2019t hear me. \u201cCall if you need me.\u201d I left the door ajar, just in case.<\/p>\n

As I reached the top of the stairs with my tray, a movement below caught my eye. I squinted through the whiskey haze. The gray cat was sitting beside the settee, watching me. As I descended to the living room, the cat never took its eyes off me. At the bottom, I paused, but it didn\u2019t seem at all daunted by my presence.<\/p>\n

\u201cGo on,\u201d I told it, jerking my head toward the staircase. The cat didn\u2019t move, and I shrugged as I went on to the kitchen. A few minutes later, I returned to the living room to find it gone. I thought of going upstairs to see whether it was in Joseph\u2019s room, but instead, I sat down in my red leather chair, leaned my head back, and closed my eyes\u2014just for a minute, I told myself.<\/p>\n

When I opened my eyes, my neck ached and my head pounded. Too-bright sunshine streamed in the dining room windows. A blanket had been draped over me. The rich earthy aroma of strong coffee wafted from the coffee pot which sat beside a cup and saucer on the low pine table.<\/p>\n

I groaned. The gray cat paused on its way down the stairs to stare at me. Maybe it was the whiskey, but I\u2019d have sworn its expression bespoke approval.<\/p>\n

* * * * *<\/p>\n

I tried to focus on my work, but Joe\u2019s silence was so loud that I couldn\u2019t concentrate. Every time I stole a glance out of the corner of my eye, the picture was the same. His jaw was clenched, his eyes clearly not seeing the yard before us. If it hadn\u2019t been for the light breeze that ruffled his unruly curls, he might have been carved from stone.<\/p>\n

I forced my attention back to the papers on the table. No matter what hardships befell us, we still needed to keep the ranch running. I took up the letter from a cattle buyer in Kansas City who had heard about our beef from a mutual acquaintance. \u201cHmmm,\u201d I said aloud as I read, but Joe showed no sign of having heard, much less of any interest in what was provoking my reaction.<\/p>\n

I considered the options. Hoss and Adam would be home at the end of the week. We\u2019d need to round up the cattle and drive them to a point at which we could load them on trains bound for Kansas City. I knew how many head we had ready to move\u2014any rancher would know that without having to check the books\u2014but what I didn\u2019t know was how far we would need to drive the cattle, much less whether we would even have the manpower to do so.<\/p>\n

I laid down the letter, considering. Time was when I wouldn\u2019t have had to think twice about such a question. But things were different now. Joe obviously couldn\u2019t drive cattle any more, and I couldn\u2019t leave him alone here. The thought flashed through my mind that there might never come a day when I would feel comfortable leaving him on his own, but I closed my eyes against it for an instant. Surely he would learn to function well enough to be on his own. He\u2019d lost a leg, but someday, he\u2019d learn to manage.<\/p>\n

In the softening of the late afternoon light, I saw movement by the barn. I peered across the yard, and the small shape emerged from the shadow. It was the gray barn cat that Joe was so fond of\u2014at least, it looked like it. To be honest, I couldn\u2019t tell one cat from another, and I didn\u2019t even know how many of the cats running around the ranch were gray.<\/p>\n

This one was on the trail of something. As I watched, it darted across the yard after something I couldn\u2019t see. I snuck a glance at Joe and was quietly gratified to see that he seemed to be watching the cat, too.<\/p>\n

We sat without speaking as the cat dashed back and forth after its prey. It crouched low, waggling its back end until it leaped forward like a bullet. I allowed myself another glance at my son; if he wasn\u2019t smiling, at least he wasn\u2019t frowning. Right now, that was something.<\/p>\n

I was about to speak when the cat dashed toward the porch, stopping abruptly at the bottom step. I waited for Joe to call it, but he was silent. To my own surprise, I clucked to the cat. \u201cCome here,\u201d I called. The cat perked its ears and favored me with a brief look before turning its attention back to Joe. \u201cCome on up,\u201d I invited, and this time, the cat simply ignored me.<\/p>\n

I was about to call it again when it lifted a paw as though about to ascend the stairs. Then, something\u2014some invisible prey\u2014caught its attention, and the cat did a most incredible thing. In a single, graceful motion, it twisted to face the direction it had come from, leaping high into the air\u2014at least five feet\u2014and smacking its front paws together as though catching something. It landed with the lightest thump and proceeded to eat whatever it had plucked from the air.<\/p>\n

\u201cHow about that?\u201d I was honestly impressed. Joe made the smallest grunt of acknowledgement, and I shook my head. \u201cI guess nobody ever told that little one that cats can\u2019t fly!\u201d<\/p>\n

Joe said nothing. We watched together as the cat finished its snack and sauntered back across the yard to the barn. Just as I was about to suggest that we head inside, Hop Sing appeared to announce supper. I started to get up, intending to pick up Joe\u2019s crutches for him, but before I could do more than rise, he\u2019d gotten them himself. I gathered up my papers while he organized himself to stand\u2014crutches in one hand, the other on the arm of the chair, his balance adjusted just so as he transferred one crutch to his other hand. Hop Sing, who\u2019d stood quietly by, came forward to help Joe down the two steps from the upper porch, but Joe shook his head.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ve got it,\u201d was all he said, but there was something in his voice I hadn\u2019t heard since his operation, and I looked up, startled. The slight furrow between Hop Sing\u2019s brows told me that he\u2019d heard it, too. It was the impatience of the Joe we\u2019d known before, the one whose childhood refrain had been, \u201cBy self!\u201d Hop Sing looked up at me as Joe maneuvered the steps, and I shook my head: we were both close enough to help if he needed us, but if he wanted to do this by self, I was willing to let him try.<\/p>\n

For one who had been on crutches for so long, Joe still seemed hesitant about the steps. Doc had told us that it was different now. Joe needed to learn a whole new way of balancing, and that would take time and practice. \u201cYou have to let him do it on his own as much as you can,\u201d the doctor had told me out of Joe\u2019s hearing. \u201cHe\u2019ll let you know when he needs help.\u201d<\/p>\n

Joe placed the crutch tips on the bottom step. Carefully, he swung his foot down to that level, but he nearly toppled over. \u201cI\u2019m all right,\u201d he snapped as we both stepped forward instinctively. When neither of us moved back, he glared from one to the other. \u201cI\u2019m fine,\u201d he insisted. With no further unsteadiness, he made his way into the house.<\/p>\n

The little gray cat was still darting around the yard after whatever insects it deemed worthy of the hunt. I tapped the bottom edge of my papers against the table. I couldn\u2019t help feeling as though I was supposed to be learning some larger lesson here, but all I could think was that Adam and Hoss were going to be home soon, and they wouldn\u2019t know to be proud of Joe for getting down two steps without falling. Hoss especially would be devastated when he finally saw Joe\u2019s loss for himself. Knowing Hoss, he would want to coddle and hover until Joe lost his already-limited patience. Adam would likely be on the other side, pushing Joe to do the best he possibly could. And in the middle of it all would be my youngest son, who was trying to figure out how to meet challenges he could never have anticipated.<\/p>\n

The cat leaped again. I didn\u2019t know what the larger lesson was, or if there even was one. All I knew was that I had a remarkable son. One way or another, we would figure out this new life together<\/p>\n

* * * * *<\/p>\n

Down in the root cellar, I had just lifted the dusty crate with its jars of string beans when I heard the voices, faint but unmistakable, in the living room. For a moment, I couldn\u2019t move. They\u2019re his brothers, I told myself. They won\u2019t say the wrong thing. But I hustled up the stairs with my load, hoping to somehow forestall whatever comments were coming.<\/p>\n

I deposited the crate in the kitchen and rounded the corner to the sound of Hoss\u2019s ribbing. \u201cYou lazy cuss!\u201d he chortled. \u201cGet your sorry carcass off that settee before I pound you!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHoss! Adam! So good to see you!\u201d I called loudly.<\/p>\n

But my attempt at distraction came too late. Just as I reached the dining table, Hoss came around the end of the settee and stopped dead. Later, he told me that he\u2019d spent every night since they got my letter trying to picture what he would see, and he\u2019d thought he was ready. But no amount of imagining could have prepared him\u2014or anyone\u2014for the sight of that pinned-up trouser leg. He blinked as though he simply couldn\u2019t believe it, as though the leg must be bent underneath Joe. Then, the truth that would not be denied settled across his features like bitter ash from a forest fire. His eyes widened, and his jovial grin rounded to an O of unbelieving horror.<\/p>\n

\u201cJoe,\u201d he breathed. \u201cYour leg. . . .\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, it\u2019s gone.\u201d My youngest son\u2019s voice was defiant.<\/p>\n

Adam stepped in then. \u201cPa wrote us,\u201d he said, carefully looking only at Joe\u2019s face. \u201cSaid you\u2019re coming along real well.\u201d His voice was so matter-of-fact, but I heard how deeply he was hurting for his brother.<\/p>\n

\u201cI am.\u201d The words wobbled ever so slightly. \u201cHow was the drive?\u201d<\/p>\n

Hoss swallowed hard. \u201cJoe, I\u2014\u201d His words trailed off.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou boys must be hungry,\u201d I announced far too heartily. \u201cWhy don\u2019t you go and wash up? Supper won\u2019t be ready for another hour, but I\u2019m sure we can rustle up a snack in the meantime.\u201d But it was clear from their faces that there was nothing they wanted less at this moment than food. I tried to think of another distraction, but none came.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m gonna tend the horses.\u201d Hoss\u2019s deep, booming voice was a mere whisper. Before any of us could challenge the veracity of his statement\u2014Hoss would never have come in without first tending to his horse\u2014my middle son was out the door.<\/p>\n

I rested my hand on Joe\u2019s shoulder. \u201cYou\u2019ve been up for quite a while,\u201d I reminded him. \u201cFeel like taking a rest before supper?\u201d At first, I thought he hadn\u2019t heard me, but then he nodded. As Adam looked on, I retrieved Joe\u2019s crutches from under the settee and helped him to stand. When he had his balance, he tucked the crutches under his arms and made his way to the stairs, where he transferred the crutches to his right hand and took hold of the banister with his left. He rested the crutches on the step above him and pulled himself up so that his foot rested on the same step. A deep breath, and repeat. His eldest brother and I watched as he took the stairs, one at a time, pausing to rest at the landing and then pushing on. Not until he reached the top did I go up. \u201cGood job,\u201d was all I said, but he knew why I was there. Without comment, I matched his slow, labored pace as we headed down the hall. When we reached his room, he sat on the edge of the bed and let the crutches clatter to the floor. His jaw was set as he pulled off his boot, and I waited for him to lie back before I spread the afghan over him.<\/p>\n

\u201cDo you want a little painkiller?\u201d I asked. Slightly to my surprise, he nodded. I opened the bottle slowly, almost giving him a chance to change his mind, but he simply waited. When he had swallowed, he lay back and closed his eyes.<\/p>\n

I wanted to tell Joe not to judge his brother too harshly. I had no doubt that Hoss felt terrible about his reaction, maybe almost as awful as he did about the fact itself. His immense love for his little brother, the shock of the reality, and the fatigue of the long ride had all overridden his natural sensitivity for a moment.<\/p>\n

But I knew, as Joe did, that this wasn\u2019t an isolated incident. People would stare, would whisper, would make thoughtless comments a thousand times and more. Pity, horror and fear would mark his encounters with strangers and his reunions with old friends. Still, I knew that no reaction would ever hit him as hard again. No one else\u2019s response could ever matter to him as much as Hoss\u2019s did.<\/p>\n

I rested my hand on Joe\u2019s curls. \u201cGet some sleep, son.\u201d I meant to leave, but as my boy closed his eyes, the mask dropped and he pressed his lips together against the anguish. Without a word, I sat on the bed, stroking his hair until sleep claimed him.<\/p>\n

Eventually, I made myself rise. I smoothed the quilt and arranged items on the night table until I had to admit that I was stalling. I blew out the lamp and, with one last look at my sleeping son, I left the room, leaving the door open in case he called for me.<\/p>\n

The living room was empty when I went downstairs. I wondered briefly if Adam had joined his brother in the barn. I poured a more generous brandy than I normally would and swallowed it in a single gulp. Then, I poured another, and this time, I sipped in my usual fashion.<\/p>\n

I was finishing my third brandy when Hop Sing came out of the kitchen to announce that supper was ready. \u201cWhere everybody?\u201d he demanded.<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t know.\u201d I could hear the weariness in my voice. \u201cLittle Joe\u2019s sleeping,\u201d I added, daring him to complain.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhere Mistah Adam and Mistah Hoss?\u201d The little man didn\u2019t sound quite so strident.<\/p>\n

\u201cProbably in the barn,\u201d I said. \u201cI\u2019ll call them.\u201d With uncharacteristic reluctance, I set down my glass and headed out to the barn in search of my older sons.<\/p>\n

They looked up as I entered the barn. Naked grief was clear in their faces, grief and something more. I couldn\u2019t tell for certain in the fading light, but it looked as if Hoss might have been crying. Adam looked as grim as I\u2019d ever seen him.<\/p>\n

\u201cSupper\u2019s ready,\u201d I said when neither of them spoke. When they didn\u2019t move, I added, \u201cJoe won\u2019t be coming down. He\u2019s asleep.\u201d They flinched, and I knew my words had struck home.<\/p>\n

I turned away, both to leave and to hide my sudden anger. They still had their legs. For them to be hesitant to come in and see their crippled brother infuriated me. How dare they?<\/p>\n

Without a word, they followed me into the house and took their places at the table.<\/p>\n

Normally, the conversation would have been lively. Hoss and Adam would have recounted their adventures and misadventures on the trail, and I would have brought them up to date on the happenings at the Ponderosa. Instead, knives scraped against plates and serving spoons clinked against bowls. When at last all the dishes had been passed, the sounds of chewing and swallowing seemed to echo in the silence.<\/p>\n

As I set down my fork, I looked up to see Hoss\u2019s gaze fixed on me. \u201cWhat?\u201d I asked when it became apparent he was not going to speak first.<\/p>\n

\u201cIs he okay?\u201d<\/p>\n

It was an innocent question, born of a brother\u2019s love, but I stared at my middle son as though I\u2019d never seen him before. Before I could stop myself, I spat out the words: \u201cHe\u2019s nineteen years old, and he\u2019s crippled for life. How \u2018okay\u2019 could he possibly be?<\/p>\n

Hoss looked as stunned as though I\u2019d slapped him. Adam said, \u201cTake it easy, Pa,\u201d and there was a touch of heat in his voice.<\/p>\n

Everything I\u2019d buried for the past four weeks\u2014all the terror, the rage, the heartbreak\u2014burst out like a geyser. \u201c\u2018Take it easy\u2019? \u2018Take it easy\u2019? And just how do you suggest that I do that?\u201d I pointed to the stairs with a shaking finger. \u201cI stood up in Joseph\u2019s room beside Doc Martin as he took a saw and cut my son\u2019s leg off. Do you know where it is now? Hop Sing buried it behind the barn. Your brother\u2019s leg, buried just like it was a dead animal.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cPa\u2014\u201d Adam began, but I couldn\u2019t stop.<\/p>\n

\u201cI was there when that boy woke up, and I looked him in the eye and told him that this time, we really had cut his leg off. And every day since then, he has fought for some semblance of normalcy, and I have done everything I can to help him believe that some day, he will lead a useful, productive life when the truth is that I have no idea whether that is even possible.\u201d I rose and fixed my older sons with the fiercest glare I could muster. \u201cAnd you want to know if he\u2019s okay, and you think that I should take it easy? I\u2019m sorry that your brother and I are not handling this situation as well as you think we should. I expected that you would understand. Apparently, I was wrong.\u201d I threw my napkin onto my plate and stormed across the living room, ignoring the calls of, \u201cPa, wait a minute!\u201d that followed me up the stairs.<\/p>\n

My boots thundered as I headed down the hall to my room. The sight of Joseph\u2019s room brought me up short. I\u2019d completely forgotten that I\u2019d left his door open. I listened as hard as I could for the even, regular breathing that would have reassured me that he\u2019d slept through my tirade, but I heard nothing. Just when I\u2019d assured myself he was still asleep, I heard the long exhale that meant he\u2019d been holding his breath.<\/p>\n

I pushed open the door wider. \u201cJoe?\u201d No answer. \u201cI know you\u2019re awake.\u201d No answer. I crossed the room and rested my hand on Joe\u2019s shoulder. \u201cI\u2019m sorry, son,\u201d I said. \u201cI didn\u2019t mean for you to hear all that.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt doesn\u2019t matter.\u201d But his words didn\u2019t match his tone. My heart twisted, and I tried to remember just what I\u2019d said. The last thing I\u2019d wanted was for him to know how hard this had been for me. What I was going through was nothing compared to how he must have felt every time he looked down at where his leg used to be.<\/p>\n

I tried to change the subject. \u201cFeel like some supper?\u201d I wasn\u2019t surprised when he shook his head. \u201cYou really should eat something,\u201d I added as though that would make a difference.<\/p>\n

\u201cHey, Little Brother.\u201d Hoss\u2019s large form was silhouetted in the doorway. I hadn\u2019t heard him approach. \u201cCan I come in?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSure.\u201d<\/p>\n

I stepped back from the bed and lit the lamp as Hoss came near. He laid his hand on Joe\u2019s foot and cleared his throat. \u201cI just want to tell you how sorry I am about before.\u201d His gaze was focused on Joe so intently that I might as well not have been present. \u201cThat was downright thoughtless of me, and\u2014well, I know you know I\u2019d never do anything to hurt you on purpose, but I\u2019m sorry anyhow.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI know.\u201d Joe\u2019s voice was softer now. \u201cIt\u2019s okay. You didn\u2019t mean anything. It just caught you by surprise, that\u2019s all.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI wish I coulda been here.\u201d Hoss\u2019s voice was softer, too. \u201cI know there ain\u2019t nothin\u2019 I coulda done to change anything, but I still wish I\u2019d been here when you woke up.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI know.\u201d I could barely hear Joe. \u201cBut you\u2019re here now.\u201d<\/p>\n

I slipped out of the room before Hoss could respond. Whatever else he and Joe needed to say was between them.<\/p>\n

In the hallway, I encountered Adam leaning against the wall, clearly waiting his turn. His eyes were still dark with anger. I gestured to indicate that he should follow me to my room. Once there, I closed the door behind us and turned to face him.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m sorry,\u201d I said before he could speak. \u201cYou\u2019re right. I just\u2014it\u2019s been hard on both of us, and\u2014I\u2019m sorry.\u201d I turned away, busying myself with arranging brushes on my bureau until my son\u2019s quiet voice stopped me.<\/p>\n

\u201cHow much did Doc have to take?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe was able to save the knee.\u201d I could almost hear Adam thinking, considering. I turned back to him. \u201cI don\u2019t know what he\u2019ll be able to do. Doc says the\u2014the stump has to be completely healed before he can even think about a wooden leg, and it might not work anyway\u2014he says that for some people, the wooden leg is so uncomfortable that they prefer not to use it. But if he can, he might just need a cane instead of crutches, and he\u2019d be able to get around better.\u201d For the first time since the night of Joe\u2019s operation, I felt tears welling up. \u201cI\u2019m trying so hard to encourage him, to help him believe that he\u2019s going to be able to live a normal life\u2014work and marriage and children\u2014and half the time I feel like I\u2019m lying to him. I don\u2019t know anything about how to live with one leg. I don\u2019t know what I\u2019m doing. I\u2019m just trying to take it one day at a time and hope that somehow, it all works out.\u201d<\/p>\n

My eldest son is the least demonstrative member of our family. Now, he surprised me by putting his arm around my shoulders. \u201cLet\u2019s sit down,\u201d he said, guiding me over to the bed and settling us both at its foot.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe\u2019s going to be okay,\u201d Adam said at last, as though he\u2019d thought through the options and reached a sound conclusion based on logic and reason.<\/p>\n

\u201cIs he?\u201d I hated the question, but I had to know.<\/p>\n

Adam nodded. \u201cThis is Joe we\u2019re talking about.\u201d The slightest chuckle lightened my son\u2019s words, and we released each other. \u201cAnd if you think that ornery little brother of mine is going to settle for spending his life sitting in a rocking chair watching the world go by, I think you\u2019re in for quite a surprise.\u201d His voice took on a reflective note. \u201cA long time ago\u2014back before his first operation\u2014he asked me what I thought a man might be able to do with only one leg\u2014if he could ride and bust broncs and rope and drive cattle.\u201d He chuckled again. \u201cLooks like we may be finding out after all.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBusting broncs?\u201d I don\u2019t know why I hadn\u2019t expected that. As Adam said, this was Joe we were talking about.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, probably not right away,\u201d Adam said. \u201cBut one of these days. . . .\u201d He shrugged, and I clenched my fist as a wave of longing broke over me to see my youngest son back on a bronc.<\/p>\n

I hadn\u2019t realized that I\u2019d looked away until I felt Adam\u2019s warm hand on my shoulder. \u201cHe\u2019s going to be okay,\u201d he repeated. \u201cWe all are.\u201d He squeezed my shoulder slightly. \u201cYou don\u2019t have to do this alone. Hoss and I are here, and so\u2019s Hop Sing.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd Joe,\u201d I added. And the cat<\/em>, my mind chimed in, unbidden.<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd Joe,\u201d Adam agreed. He let go of my shoulder. \u201cDo you suppose he and Hoss would mind a couple of visitors?\u201d<\/p>\n

I smiled. \u201cThey\u2019d better not.\u201d As Adam and I headed down the hall to Joe\u2019s room, we could hear them talking in low tones. Well, they had a lot to talk about. We all did, and if we were going to find our way through this thicket, we were going to need to talk about it together.<\/p>\n

* * * * *<\/p>\n

Winter was long that year. Snow had started in late October, and by January, we felt as though it would never end. Outside, it seemed that the entire world had gone white. Inside, the color was frustration.<\/p>\n

Last winter had been so different. With Joseph still needing so much care, there had been a focus for much of our energy. The winter itself had been milder, almost as though the Almighty had been holding back, not giving us more than we could handle after such a rough year.<\/p>\n

Sometimes, it seemed almost ironic that Joe was doing so much better this year, without his leg. Now that he no longer had to cope with fever and weakness and constant intense pain, his old energy was returning. It was the timing that was problematic: all that energy and nowhere to spend it. I was reminded of other winters when the snow had kept us all housebound, and forced inactivity had led us all to crave solitude even if it meant heading out into icy winds and bitter cold that froze your breath.<\/p>\n

At least Hoss and Adam could go outside and shovel the paths to the barn and the corral; Joseph, of course, had no such ready escape. Even so, he insisted on doing his part. As soon as a path had been cleared to the barn after each snowstorm, he was picking his way along it, placing his crutches as carefully as possible and shrugging off all offers of help. It was all I could do not to stand in the doorway each time, watching him make his halting way across the yard. Bundled in every layer I could convince him to wear, he still fought for balance with each step. It could take as long as half an hour for him to reach the barn, but reach it he would, and on his own. That he was often covered in snow from numerous spills was of no interest to him; he simply dusted off his clothes and got to work tending the stock with as much enthusiasm as he\u2019d shown when he was a boy newly entrusted with their care.<\/p>\n

Of course, I fretted. He sported as many cuts and bruises as he had back in his school days, but unlike then, these were not the result of horseplay or fighting. Now, the marks were the byproduct of his labors as he lost his balance while trying to manage with just one crutch, or even none at all. On the snow, he had the sense\u2014or self-preservation\u2014to use both crutches, but once inside, having both hands occupied was clearly something he deemed too inconvenient. Many times that winter, I came into a room or the barn to find him hopping, his crutches tossed aside. I cautioned him to be careful, but the truth was that seeing that spark of energy, of life, of the old Joe, who would not be held back, was too precious. For the first time in far too long, he had the bit in his teeth, and he was bound to go as fast and as far as he could.<\/p>\n

Part of that distance was covered on horseback. His brothers and I practically had to sit on him to keep him on solid ground until Doc gave his approval, but the day finally came. The snow was melting, the bitter winds had softened, and the instructions were clear: a short ride in the yard at nothing faster than a walk. \u201cIt\u2019s a different way of balancing,\u201d Doc admonished him, but I knew my son wasn\u2019t listening. He\u2019d heard the only words he cared about. The rest was for someone else to worry about.<\/p>\n

Joe insisted on saddling the pinto himself. He managed it with such ease that I knew he\u2019d been practicing for this moment during those winter hours in the barn. Adam had taken the right stirrup off the saddle, and he\u2019d fashioned a device almost like a second scabbard to hold the crutches in place so that Joe would have them when he reached his destination.<\/p>\n

If Joe was at all anxious, he gave no sign. The rest of us followed suit with varying degrees of success. Memories of his last failed attempt flashed through my mind, but I held my tongue. A glance at his brothers confirmed that they were thinking of the same day. Even the pinto nickered and tossed his head, though it was impossible to know whether it was nervous or merely excited. Only Joe seemed not to be worried. This was a celebration, and failure had no place at the table.<\/p>\n

\u201cEasy, boy,\u201d he murmured as Cochise tossed his head. He stroked the black and white neck, and the horse settled down.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou want a hand?\u201d Hoss offered. Clearly, his mind was in the same place as mine.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m fine,\u201d said Joe, waving him off. I held my breath for fear that he would attempt his old swing mount as he had the last time, but to my relief, he didn\u2019t. Instead, he bent his knee, bounced slightly, pulled himself up\u2014how strong his arms had become from months of crutches\u2014and he slid his foot into the stirrup. Then, he swung his abbreviated right leg over the saddle without so much as brushing the leather, and he settled himself in the saddle.<\/p>\n

For a long moment, none of us spoke. We didn\u2019t move. I couldn\u2019t have if I\u2019d wanted to. My boy was back on a horse for the first time in nearly two years. I had to swallow hard to keep my composure.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell?\u201d I looked up to see a wide, wide grin on my son\u2019s face. His eyes glowed as he asked, \u201cAm I going alone?\u201d<\/p>\n

That startled me into speech. \u201cGoing where? Doc said\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t worry, Pa, I\u2019m fine.\u201d It was clear that Joseph had decided that whatever Doc might know about medicine, he didn\u2019t know horses and he certainly didn\u2019t know what kind of a rider Joe Cartwright was.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou just take it easy, Shortshanks.\u201d Hoss seemed to have found his voice, but it bore traces of telltale roughness. \u201cYou ain\u2019t doin\u2019 nothing crazy today.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI never said I was!\u201d Joe\u2019s voice fairly squeaked with innocence, but his eyes danced with mischief. \u201cYou coming?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDadburnit\u2014all right!\u201d As always, Hoss couldn\u2019t deny Joe anything.<\/p>\n

\u201cI think some fresh air would do us all good,\u201d said Adam. Translation: my little brother is not going anywhere without me to keep an eye on him<\/em>. \u201cWhat do you think, Pa?\u201d he added as he fetched his own saddle and mine.<\/p>\n

I started to say that I thought Joseph should stay right there in the yard the way the doctor had decreed. Then, my eyes met Joe\u2019s. He was watching me, not moving.<\/p>\n

I could stand firm. I was his father; if I forbade him from leaving the yard, he would do as I decreed. The choice was mine.<\/p>\n

Time tumbled back nearly two decades. Just as I had with Adam and Hoss, I\u2019d taken Joe into the saddle with me even before he could walk. Unlike his brothers, though, he\u2019d never shown the slightest nervousness, even when the horse trotted. His high-pitched giggles of glee rang sweetly through the summer air, his chubby fingers grabbing handfuls of mane. As time passed, the childish refrain of \u201cFaster, Pa!\u201d evoked laughter from the hands who watched him grow. Once he was on his own pony, keeping him from racing off to his next adventure was a constant struggle. Then, when he was turning fifteen and I traded with Winnemucca for the paint pony he\u2019d had his heart set on, it was as though I\u2019d given him wings.<\/p>\n

So much had changed since then. Now, there were a dozen good reasons to say \u201cno\u201d\u2014and only one to say \u201cyes.\u201d<\/p>\n

Because my son had asked me to.<\/p>\n

I held his gaze for a long moment. Then, I raised my finger in a warning gesture. Over the pounding of my heart, I said in my sternest voice, \u201cYou wait for me to get saddled up. And so help me, if you do anything foolish, you won\u2019t be able to sit in a saddle for a week!\u201d<\/p>\n

He laughed with such relief that I knew he understood. But the time had come. All the worries, the fears, the pain and anguish and trepidation about the future\u2014it was time to lay them down.<\/p>\n

Because Joe Cartwright was back in the saddle.<\/p>\n

* * * * *<\/p>\n

\u201cAll right! That\u2019s enough!\u201d I slammed down my fork and glared at Joseph.<\/p>\n

I was at my wit\u2019s end. His latest foul mood had been going on forever, it seemed. Whatever anybody said, he managed to take it as some sort of insult or criticism. In the past, I\u2019d have sent him off to restock line shacks, just to get some peace and quiet around here while he worked off whatever head of steam had built up. Failing that, a trip into town had often served to set him right. Obviously, the line shacks weren\u2019t an option now. Maybe town, though.<\/p>\n

I considered the question as Joe snatched up his own fork and stabbed a piece of beef, dropping it from the platter to his own plate. I could almost hear his thoughts as he fumed about whatever indignity he believed that he\u2019d suffered. Hoss was rolling his eyes in frustration, but Adam\u2014somewhat to my surprise, my eldest son didn\u2019t look disgusted at his baby brother\u2019s tantrum. Instead, he was regarding Joe thoughtfully; I could almost see the pieces of the puzzle fitting together in his brain.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m going into Virginia City tonight,\u201d he announced. \u201cAnybody want to come?\u201d<\/p>\n

Joe\u2019s head snapped up. His expression was a mixture of anticipation and apprehension, and no wonder: he\u2019d made precious few trips out in public since losing his leg. Part of it had been his lengthy recovery, of course, but part of it had been an understandable self-consciousness. Doc had said that he would need to wait at least a few more months before he could be fitted with an artificial leg. Although some fellow back east named Hanger was supposedly making great progress creating artificial limbs that were more than just sticks, the information Doc had gotten so far confirmed that fitting Joe for such a leg would be a complicated process and that the stump would have to be completely healed before any weight could be placed on it.<\/p>\n

All of which meant that, for now, any appearance in public meant that everyone would see Joe Cartwright with only one leg. Not that it was a secret, of course, and not that it was anything to be ashamed of, but Joe\u2019s hesitation was understandable. It was one thing to deal with Doc or our ranch hands; it was quite another to subject himself to the stares and whispers of Virginia City. The first time he\u2019d gone into town, Milt Curry had come into the mercantile, taken one look at that pinned-up trouser leg, and turned to go so fast that he\u2019d knocked over an entire display of sewing notions. Joe had been left balancing on his crutches as Milt crawled around the floor, picking up buttons and chasing after spools of thread that had rolled under the counter right where Joe was standing.<\/p>\n

\u201cI think that sounds like a fine idea,\u201d Hoss announced. \u201cWhat do you think, Little Brother? Feel like a trip to town? Scenery\u2019s got to be better than sitting around here.\u201d<\/p>\n

Something flitted across Joe\u2019s face at that moment that I didn\u2019t recognize. Then, he grinned as if he\u2019d solved a puzzle. With an odd note in his voice, he said, \u201cI think it sounds like a fine idea.\u201d I peered at him, but he\u2019d turned his attention back to his supper.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, then, let\u2019s finish up and get going,\u201d I said. I caught the briefest of glances between my older sons, almost as though they hadn\u2019t expected me to go along, but I decided to ignore it. I hadn\u2019t spent much time away from the Ponderosa since Joe\u2019s injury, and a trip to town would be a nice change of pace for me, too. I almost assured them that their old man wouldn\u2019t get in the way of their fun, but in the next moment, I caught another glance, and I decided that it wouldn\u2019t hurt them to sweat a little.<\/p>\n

Half an hour later, we were on our way. At my insistence, Joe rode with me in the buggy. I still wasn\u2019t all that comfortable with the notion of him riding long distances anyway, especially when he was tired, and he tended toward fatigue by late in the day. Slightly to my surprise, Adam tried to talk me into letting Joe ride, but I was adamant. Grumbling, Joe tossed his crutches behind the seat and climbed up into the buggy, a maneuver he\u2019d worked on until he could manage without assistance. I was barely in my seat when he reached over and took the reins. If he noticed my raised eyebrows, he didn\u2019t let on.<\/p>\n

At one point during the trip, I noticed that Hoss and Adam had dropped back. I turned to see them conversing earnestly. Perplexed, I turned back. \u201cSomething going on with your brothers?\u201d I asked Joe.<\/p>\n

He shrugged. \u201cNot that I know of.\u201d He sounded completely unconcerned, but again, I caught the slightest hint of something.<\/p>\n

It was nearly dark by the time we reached Virginia City. I couldn\u2019t believe how good the lights of town looked. The faint sounds of tinny pianos and good-natured shouts and laughter spilled out into the dusty streets. Joe reined in the buggy in front of the Silver Dollar and grinned. \u201cHere we are!\u201d he announced like a train conductor.<\/p>\n

Hoss and Adam rode up behind us. \u201cThis the first stop?\u201d Hoss asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cLooks like it,\u201d I said. I climbed down from one side as Joe disembarked from the other.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, let\u2019s get in there and get us some beer!\u201d Hoss sounded just a little bit too enthusiastic, and I stopped.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s going on?\u201d I demanded.<\/p>\n

My hunch was right: all three of them stood there like they\u2019d been caught with their hands in the cookie jar. \u201cPa, why don\u2019t you and Hoss go on,\u201d Adam suggested. \u201cJoe and I\u2019ll catch up to you.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s going on?\u201d I repeated, letting an ominous note creep into my voice. Adam looked me dead in the eye, and suddenly I knew what my eldest son had planned.<\/p>\n

Look, I know that my sons are men. I also know\u2014all too well\u2014that men have certain needs. My youngest son had been homebound for a very, very long time, with very little company other than me, his brothers, Hop Sing, the doctor, and our ranch hands\u2014in other words, men. Apart from our few trips into Virginia City, my hot-blooded son\u2019s last contact with any woman had predated his accident. As the last piece clicked into place, I found myself face to face with certain information that, quite frankly, I could have lived without knowing.<\/p>\n

\u201cPa, let\u2019s go get us a drink,\u201d Hoss said again, pulling at my arm.<\/p>\n

All at once, I was tired. It wasn\u2019t the kind of thing I approved of, but right then, I found that I just didn\u2019t care enough to try to stop it. After months and months of taking care of my son, I wanted a night off. If that made me a bad father, so be it. I wanted a night free of responsibility. I wanted to sit back, have a beer, maybe play poker, and not think about what else might be going on. Joe was old enough to make his own decisions, and as long as he exercised proper discretion, I wasn\u2019t going to be the one to stop him.<\/p>\n

\u201cLet\u2019s go,\u201d I said to Hoss, and if I\u2019d had any questions left in my mind about my other sons\u2019 plans, the utter relief that crossed my youngest son\u2019s face laid them to rest. I turned and headed into the saloon, wondering only how it was that Hoss had drawn the short straw in this particular match.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou can go with your brothers if you want,\u201d I said as we reached the door. \u201cYou don\u2019t have to watch over me.\u201d<\/p>\n

One of the wonderful things about Hoss was his utter lack of guile. \u201cI ain\u2019t watchin\u2019 over you, Pa,\u201d he said. \u201cFact is, I reckon that once I get inside, I ain\u2019t gonna notice nothin\u2019 you do for the rest of the night.\u201d He favored me with a broad wink and a grin, and I followed him in, wondering which one of us had just been taken off the lead rope.<\/p>\n

I honestly couldn\u2019t say when Adam came in. He strode up to the bar and ordered a beer as though he\u2019d just had one of the best days of his life. His grin was positively irritating in its satisfaction. Since I hadn\u2019t seen Hoss in at least an hour, I was pleased enough for company, but I could have managed without his attitude.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhere\u2019s your brother?\u201d I tried not to sound too fatherly, but I obviously didn\u2019t succeed, because his grin turned into a smirk.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe\u2019ll be along,\u201d Adam said. He lifted his glass toward me as though in a toast and took a healthy swig.<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t you think somebody ought to . . . walk back with him?\u201d There was no better way to phrase it. The truth was that, while I certainly appreciated my son\u2019s right to whatever entertainment he might like, I was concerned about his maneuvering the sidewalks of Virginia City alone on a Saturday night when ill-mannered drunks would be out and about.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe\u2019s fine,\u201d said Adam in that infuriating tone he uses to let me know I\u2019m hovering. \u201cI left him in very good hands,\u201d he added.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m more concerned about after he leaves those . . . very good hands,\u201d I snapped.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe\u2019s a big boy,\u201d Adam said. \u201cAnother beer, Cosmo.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI told you, it\u2019s not what he\u2019s doing now that concerns me.\u201d I was starting to move beyond annoyance.<\/p>\n

\u201cAll he\u2019s missing is a leg,\u201d said Adam. \u201cHe\u2019s still got everything else he needs.\u201d<\/p>\n

Before I could decide whether my eldest son was being inappropriately vulgar or merely sensible, a shout came from outside. Joe. Adam and I exchanged one wild-eyed look before we charged outside to see Little Joe delivering a left hook that knocked Clint Walker off the sidewalk and into the street.<\/p>\n

\u201cSon of a bitch!\u201d my son was yelling. \u201cYou broke my crutch!\u201d Clint started to stand, and Joe slammed him over the head with the other crutch. The fellow crumpled to the street, out cold. Balancing on the remaining crutch, Joe leaned down and picked up the other one, muttering to himself.<\/p>\n

I found my voice. \u201cJoseph? What\u2019s going on?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat? Oh, hey, Pa.\u201d He nodded toward the unconscious man in the street. \u201cWould you believe that stupid jasper broke my crutch? Gonna have to get another one tomorrow. Feel like a drink? I\u2019m dry as a desert!\u201d He tossed the broken crutch into the street and hobbled past us into the saloon. Adam raised one eyebrow at me before he turned to follow his brother inside.<\/p>\n

I stood on the sidewalk, not sure what had just happened. Clint Walker moaned as he sat up. He pushed the broken crutch to one side and struggled to his feet. I watched as he stumbled off into the night. I could hear my sons laughing inside as though they hadn\u2019t a care in the world.<\/p>\n

I picked up the pieces of the broken crutch. After a minute, I tossed them back into the street and went inside, where I found that Hoss had rejoined his brothers. Joe bought a round for all of us, and we settled in at a table and drank just like it was any other night.<\/p>\n

* * * * *<\/p>\n

Sometimes, it just didn\u2019t pay to be a pillar of the community.<\/p>\n

A few days earlier, Reverend Abbott had taken me aside after the Sunday service. An old friend of his was a missionary who was trying to build a hospital somewhere up in Idaho Territory. He was in the midst of a fundraising trip and would be coming through Virginia City. He wished to meet with as many influential citizens as possible. This last statement was accompanied by the kind of overly-sincere nodding that is only convincing from a man of the cloth.<\/p>\n

So, I agreed to host a supper for the Reverend Zuckerman. I\u2019d originally suggested a full-fledged party, but I was advised that the reverend frowned on such gatherings. I suspected that his position had less to do with disapproval of festivity than it did with practicality: the more separate meetings that could be arranged, the more opportunities he would have to secure meals from members of the congregation.<\/p>\n

On the drive home, I told my sons about Reverend Abbott\u2019s request. They displayed their typical enthusiasm for such an affair.<\/p>\n

\u201cDid you say Thursday? Because I\u2019m leaving Wednesday for Sacramento so I can meet with O\u2019Hara about that timber contract,\u201d said Adam.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe gotta get that herd moved over to the south pasture,\u201d said Hoss. \u201cShouldn\u2019t take more\u2019n a week.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI forgot to tell you, Pa\u2014those line shacks up by the north border need to be restocked,\u201d said Joe. \u201cI\u2019m leaving in the morning, but I won\u2019t be back until at least Friday.\u201d He propped his peg leg against the front edge of the buggy. We were still waiting for the artificial leg that Doc had ordered from that Hanger fellow in Virginia. It had to be made to Joe\u2019s precise measurements, but according to what Doc had learned, it included a foot. We were told that it actually flexed at the ankle and looked like a real leg, and it could be worn all day without too much discomfort. Joe would even be able to wear a boot. In the meantime, he was using a peg leg which, while uncomfortable and somewhat precarious, allowed him to walk with just a cane rather than using crutches. It did not, however, afford him enough stability to go off for several days alone to restock line shacks.<\/p>\n

Not that it mattered this time. \u201cNone of you will be going anywhere,\u201d I said firmly. \u201cThe reverend has asked us to host this supper, and we will do it together\u2014as a family.\u201d I fixed each of them with a stern eye.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe didn\u2019t say anything about it to me,\u201d said Hoss.<\/p>\n

\u201cMe neither,\u201d said Joe. \u201cIn fact, I bet he\u2019d be just as happy if I wasn\u2019t anywhere near his friend.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe\u2019s got a point,\u201d said Adam. From the time six-year-old Joseph had been caught taking bets on a frog-jumping contest to his discovery at age nine that the hedge behind the church was an excellent place to kiss girls, it could fairly be said that my youngest son\u2019s years in Sunday school had been . . . eventful. It could also fairly be said that none of his teachers had been sorry to see him leave her class.<\/p>\n

Even so, I was adamant. If I had to spend an evening listening to a preacher making a pitch for money, my sons would be by my side.<\/p>\n

And so it was that, four days later, I found myself half-dozing while the Reverend Zuckerman droned on about some theological point or other and his wife worked on her embroidery. Needless to say, my sons were nowhere to be seen.<\/p>\n

Just as my temper was beginning to rise, I heard the buckboard drive up. At last. The other guests weren\u2019t due for two more hours, but having the boys here to soak up Zuckerman\u2019s piety would help. At the least, it would deflect his attention from me.<\/p>\n

But minutes passed, and the door didn\u2019t open. Fully half an hour had elapsed before Hoss came through the door.<\/p>\n

\u201cHoss!\u201d Even I could hear that my voice was too hearty and tinged with desperation. \u201cCome in and meet our guests!\u201d Pleasantries were exchanged, and I added, \u201cWhere are your brothers?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIn the barn,\u201d said Hoss. \u201cLittle Joe broke his leg.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAgain? That boy. . . .\u201d I shook my head in frustration.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe broke his leg? Oh, the poor, poor lad. Is he in much pain?\u201d Reverend Zuckerman\u2019s words oozed with pity.<\/p>\n

Hoss shook his head gravely, but I saw the flicker in his eyes. \u201cNot at all, sir,\u201d he said. \u201cDon\u2019t know if we\u2019ll be able to save it this time, though.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThis time?\u201d Mrs. Zuckerman sounded horrified, and Hoss nodded again.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s the third time in as many months,\u201d he said. \u201cI reckon you know how it is, ma\u2019am. Only so many times you can fix a leg. Sometimes, you just gotta get rid of it.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSurely you can fix it again,\u201d I said, meeting Hoss\u2019s gaze squarely.<\/p>\n

Hoss shrugged. \u201cAdam\u2019s tryin\u2019, Pa,\u201d he said. \u201cHe\u2019s been tryin\u2019 to nail it together, but he ain\u2019t havin\u2019 much luck.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNail it?\u201d Mrs. Zuckerman\u2019s eyes were so round that I could see white all around the pale blue.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes\u2019m,\u201d said Hoss in his most unconcerned manner. \u201cSometimes, you just gotta cut the broken part right off and nail the rest together. Makes it a little shorter, but it pretty much works.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAre you all right, my dear?\u201d Reverend Zuckerman looked pretty pale himself as he fanned his wife with his handkerchief.<\/p>\n

\u201cWould you like some more lemonade?\u201d I offered with a quick glance at Hoss to let him know that the joke was over. I didn\u2019t want Mrs. Zuckerman passing out on our settee. They could end up staying for days if that happened.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, that one\u2019s finished,\u201d announced Adam as he came in the door with one arm around Joe, who hopped alongside him.<\/p>\n

\u201cCouldn\u2019t you fix it?\u201d Hoss asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cNope,\u201d said Joe. He caught sight of the visitors, and his eyes twinkled. \u201cBut it\u2019s not like it\u2019s a waste. There\u2019s plenty of things we can do with that old leg. I bet it\u2019ll make a fine fire. How\u2019re we fixed for kindling?\u201d He let go of Adam and hopped over to the settee. \u201cHow do you do?\u201d he asked, extending his hand. \u201cI\u2019m Joe Cartwright.\u201d He shook hands with Reverend Zuckerman and made a great show of hopping over to the blue chair by the stairs, his empty pant leg flapping. \u201cDoggone pants,\u201d he muttered in a stage whisper. Seemingly unconcerned about the visitors, he tied his right trouser leg into a knot just below his knee. \u201cThere, that\u2019s better. I\u2014hey, Pa!\u201d<\/p>\n

But it was too late. Mrs. Zuckerman had fainted dead away.<\/p>\n

* * * * *<\/p>\n

A light tap on my door was followed by the entry of Hop Sing with a tray. He smiled to see me awake. \u201cMistah Ben sleep good?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ve slept better,\u201d I said, but it was wonder he could understand me. My nose was so stuffed up and my throat so raw from coughing that my voice had gone from deep to an unpleasant combination of nasal and gravelly.<\/p>\n

I was already propped up on several pillows, but Hop Sing set down his tray and instructed to me lean forward. I obeyed, and he adjusted them until they suited him. Then, I was permitted to lie back as he placed the tray across my lap.<\/p>\n

I smiled my thanks, but the truth was that I couldn\u2019t have cared less about breakfast. Not being able to smell meant not being able to taste. On the other hand, the cup of steaming gray-green liquid next to my coffee cup made me grateful for this temporary impairment. I recognized it as one of Hop Sing\u2019s herbal remedies. While I wouldn\u2019t dispute their effectiveness, the fact is that they routinely taste like something you\u2019d either feed to a cow or clean out of the barn.<\/p>\n

\u201cHave the boys already eaten?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n

Hop Sing nodded. \u201cAte and gone. Not want to disturb father.\u201d<\/p>\n

I supposed I appreciated their concern, but I\u2019d have preferred an opportunity to talk to them about what needed to be done. I knew that we had horses that needed breaking and calves that needed to be castrated and branded. I knew, too, that all three of my sons would be out there, taking care of the ranch work as I sneezed and coughed my way through the day.<\/p>\n

While I still wasn\u2019t completely comfortable with the idea of Joe on horseback, I couldn\u2019t deny that getting back out there working with his brothers had done him a world of good. I drew some reassurance from the fact that the new artificial leg had indeed lived up its reputation, both in function and in appearance. Doc said that the fellow who invented it, James Hanger, had studied engineering before he lost his own leg in the war. As I watched my boy learn to walk again, I gave thanks for Mr. Hanger\u2019s ingenuity. Granted, he still limped, and he still needed the cane, especially when he was tired. On the other hand, watching Joe ride now, a person who didn\u2019t know any better might not realize that anything was different.<\/p>\n

But it was. Joe wouldn\u2019t admit it, but riding wasn\u2019t as easy for him as it had once been. After a long day in the saddle, he was worn out. Still, when he was on a horse, he was the old Joe who could run like the wind, and that was worth everything.<\/p>\n

The herbal potion\u2019s pungent odor penetrated my congestion. I cringed, but drank. Hoss and Joe would be up in the north pasture. Hoss and a few men would be at the branding fire, and Joe and some others would be rounding up the calves. Spring had brought so many new calves that we were still catching up, but they would be well worth the effort.<\/p>\n

Adam would likely spend the morning in the corral working on the horses with some of the hands. Even in spite of the nastiness of Hop Sing\u2019s brew, I smiled as I remembered the old days when I\u2019d dropped into the saddle of a bronc that would buck and twist in an effort to rid itself of my weight. Then, my smile faded as I recalled the chestnut stallion that had cost Joe his leg. For an instant, I had a vision of my youngest son on a bronc, and I closed my eyes against it. Thank heaven Adam had more sense than to allow such a thing.<\/p>\n

\u201cMr. Cartwright!\u201d<\/p>\n

The shout from downstairs cut through my thoughts. Without taking time to identify the voice, I set the tray aside and scrambled from the bed, grabbing my dressing gown as I bolted from the room. \u201cI\u2019m right here!\u201d I tried to yell, but my voice was choked by my cold.<\/p>\n

When I reached the top of the stairs, I saw one of the hands trying to get Adam to sit down. My eldest son grimaced even as he pushed Cody away with his right. \u201cIt\u2019s nothing,\u201d he insisted in that irritated voice that means he\u2019s in pain.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat happened?\u201d I demanded as I barreled down the stairs.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m fine,\u201d Adam insisted. \u201cIt\u2019s nothing. I just landed wrong.\u201d I looked at Cody, who shook his head slightly.<\/p>\n

\u201cYour back?\u201d A few years earlier, Adam had wrenched his back in a fall from a horse. Every now and then, it acted up. It looked as though this was one of those times.<\/p>\n

I sent Cody back out to the corral and sat on the table across from my son. \u201cHow bad is it?\u201d I asked. I saw in his eyes that he knew what I was asking, and he shook his head.<\/p>\n

\u201cNot too bad,\u201d he said. \u201cI must have twisted when I landed. I\u2019ll put some heat on it, and I\u2019ll be fine by tomorrow.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou won\u2019t be fine by tomorrow,\u201d I said. In the past, he\u2019d routinely been laid up for a week or more when his back acted up.<\/p>\n

\u201cSure, I will,\u201d he said. \u201cBesides, who else is going to do it? Hoss? You? I\u2019m all we\u2019ve got now.\u201d For an instant, I thought I heard a tinge of bitterness in his voice.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe\u2019ve got hands who can break the horses,\u201d I said. \u201cCody and Frank will be fine.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThey\u2019re not going to be able to get them all ready by the twentieth,\u201d said Adam. \u201cWe need somebody else.\u201d His voice trailed off, and I knew that he was thinking the same thing I was: Joe<\/em>. Even at eighteen, Joe had been one of the best any of us had ever seen on a bronc. I could only imagine what these three years would have meant to his development of that skill. If it hadn\u2019t been for the chestnut, we wouldn\u2019t have had to think twice.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe\u2019ll talk about that later,\u201d I said, rising. \u201cYou need to get some rest, and so do I.\u201d I helped Adam to his feet, and unexpectedly, he chuckled.<\/p>\n

\u201cFine pair of invalids we are,\u201d he muttered as we headed upstairs.<\/p>\n

\u201cIf you don\u2019t watch yourself, I\u2019m going to put you on a desk job,\u201d I said. In response, Adam emitted a noise that could have been anything from a snort of disgust to a grunt of resignation.<\/p>\n

By suppertime, I was feeling enough better that I put on my dressing gown to go downstairs. As I headed toward the stairs, I heard sharp voices coming from below. The first words I could identify came from Adam, who was demanding, \u201cHave you lost your minds?\u201d<\/p>\n

Now what? I almost turned to go back to bed. The last thing I was the mood for was their bickering. Hoss and Joe were both shouting, and I couldn\u2019t make out what either was saying. When I reached the top of the stairs, I saw the three of them standing in a circle, gesturing wildly as the volume climbed. \u201cEnough!\u201d I thundered.<\/p>\n

They all stopped and looked up. Hoss was a mess, but that was typical after a day of branding. Joe looked dirty and disheveled\u2014not unexpected, but somehow, it was more than I\u2019d have anticipated.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s going on?\u201d Luckily, my nose had cleared enough that my voice sounded more normal.<\/p>\n

\u201cYour idiot sons,\u201d Adam snapped.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat do you mean? What happened?\u201d They both looked reasonably whole. Whatever had gone on, it couldn\u2019t have been too bad.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, what were we supposed to do? Wait for you? Major Jenkins will be here on the twentieth!\u201d Joe shot back.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat are you talking about?\u201d But I already knew. Between Hoss\u2019s guilty swallow and Adam\u2019s fury, I knew exactly what had happened. \u201cJoseph!\u201d I made my way over to them, glaring for all I was worth. \u201cWhat did you do today?\u201d<\/p>\n

He looked up at me defiantly. \u201cI did what had to be done,\u201d he said. \u201cHoss is too big, and Adam got hurt, and Cody and Frank\u2014well, they\u2019re just not good enough. Not for as fast as we need those horses.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHoss.\u201d The threat in my voice was unmistakable.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt ain\u2019t his fault,\u201d Joe cut in. \u201cI told him what I was going to do.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd he didn\u2019t try to stop you?\u201d But my words were directed toward his big brother.<\/p>\n

\u201cOf course, he did,\u201d said Joe. \u201cBut he knew and I knew that we didn\u2019t have a choice. We couldn\u2019t afford to lose a whole day, and there wasn\u2019t anybody else.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHoss,\u201d I said again, and he looked me in the eye this time. \u201cWhere were you when your brother was risking his life like a damned fool?\u201d<\/p>\n

Hoss straightened at that. \u201cPa, maybe it wasn\u2019t the best choice, but like Joe said, we didn\u2019t have no others, and\u2014well, fact is, he can still break broncs.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe came to the corral with me,\u201d Joe cut in. \u201cAnd he stayed there and watched for\u2014oh, the better part of two hours. He didn\u2019t go back to the branding until he\u2019d seen with his own eyes that I could handle any bronc we had.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWith one leg,\u201d I snapped.<\/p>\n

\u201cOne and a half,\u201d he shot back.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s not enough,\u201d I said. \u201cFrom here on out, you stay out of that corral.\u201d<\/p>\n

But my son shook his head. \u201cI can\u2019t do that, Pa,\u201d he said. \u201cWe have a deadline, and there\u2019s nobody else.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBesides, Pa, he really can do it,\u201d Hoss interjected. \u201cYou should see him. It took him a couple to get his stride, but\u2014dadburnit, Pa, he looked like he used to up there.\u201d For a second, I\u2019d have sworn I saw my son\u2019s eyes glistening, but it didn\u2019t matter. This wasn\u2019t a decision to be based on what used to be. This was Joseph\u2019s life at stake.<\/p>\n

\u201cJoseph, I\u2019m not kidding around!\u201d I shouted as best I could with a raspy throat. \u201cYou are not to get on a bronc! Is that understood?\u201d<\/p>\n

Instead of answering me, he turned and stalked out of the room faster than I\u2019d have thought possible. I turned from watching him to his brothers. \u201cAnd I expect both of you to see that he obeys me.\u201d I started to walk away, but Hoss\u2019s voice stopped me.<\/p>\n

\u201cThis ain\u2019t about the leg, is it?\u201d<\/p>\n

I turned back. \u201cWhat do you mean?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt ain\u2019t about him only havin\u2019 one leg. You wouldn\u2019t want him on those broncs if he had two good legs, either.\u201d<\/p>\n

The ticking of the grandfather clock was loud and ponderous. Finally, I said, \u201cCould you blame me?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, sir, I couldn\u2019t,\u201d said Hoss. \u201cBut that ain\u2019t a reason to keep him from doing what he can. And he can do it, Pa. Truth is, I don\u2019t know when I\u2019ve ever been as scared as when I saw him drop down in that saddle, but he did it. And when he got thrown, he got back up there and tried again and again\u2014and you know what? He finally rode that horse to a standstill.\u201d His eyes were glistening again. \u201cI don\u2019t recollect when I ever seen him that happy. The look on his face. . . .\u201d He was silent for a few minutes. Then, he met my gaze. \u201cPa, I know you want to protect him, but I\u2019m askin\u2019 you anyway\u2014don\u2019t take that away from him.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd what if he breaks the other leg this time\u2014or worse?\u201d I was grateful that Adam said it, because I couldn\u2019t have gotten a word out right then.<\/p>\n

\u201cI reckon he\u2019s thought about that,\u201d said Hoss. He looked from his brother to me. \u201cWe been taking care of that boy for a long time now, and I reckon it\u2019s pretty much a habit. Thing is, he don\u2019t need nobody to take care of him. He\u2019s a grown man, and he can do pretty much anything any other man can do. Mebbe he can\u2019t run and he can\u2019t dance, but other than that\u2014truth is, I\u2019d bet on Joe against any man I\u2019ve ever met.\u201d He held my gaze, and I had to fight not to look away. \u201cCome down to the corral tomorrow and watch him,\u201d he said after a long minute. \u201cIf you watch him and then you still say \u2018no,\u2019 well, I won\u2019t say no more about it. But give him that chance. Let him prove to you what he can do.\u201d He watched me, and when I said nothing, he headed out the door\u2014whether to wash up or to find his brother, I didn\u2019t know.<\/p>\n

After the door closed behind him, I became aware that Adam was watching me. \u201cIt\u2019s too dangerous,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s dangerous for anyone,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n

\u201cMore so for him,\u201d my eldest son insisted. \u201cHe can only use one stirrup. He can\u2019t feel the other one.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIf he only uses one, that\u2019s less chance of getting a foot caught.\u201d I was surprised by my response.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat if he comes off the horse and has to get out of the way fast? Even now, his balance isn\u2019t all it needs to be.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s why there\u2019ll be hands in the corral, just like always.\u201d I waited for Adam\u2019s next point, and when none was forthcoming, I shook my head. \u201cI don\u2019t know,\u201d I said. \u201cI need to think about this. And you need to lie down,\u201d I added in my firmest voice. If I couldn\u2019t take care of one son, I could certainly take care of another.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, Pa,\u201d said Adam in a singsong voice, rolling his eyes to show he understood exactly what I was doing.<\/p>\n

Maybe it was cowardly of me, but I couldn\u2019t make myself join Hoss and Joe for supper. I pled illness and went back to my room. The truth was that the more I thought about the notion of Joe on a bronc, the more I wanted to punch something. Lord have mercy, will it ever end?<\/em> I leaned back against my pillows, spooning up my soup and letting it trickle back into the bowl. Would the day ever come that we could go back to a normal life?<\/p>\n

I was dozing when a tap at my door announced my youngest son. Before I could speak, Joe came in. As he generally did after dinner, he\u2019d taken off his leg to give the stump a rest. Still, it always took a second for me to adjust to seeing his trouser leg flapping.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou feeling any better?\u201d he asked as he settled himself on the foot of the bed and leaned his crutches against it.<\/p>\n

I shrugged. \u201cI\u2019ll be all right.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou want me to get you anything?\u201d<\/p>\n

I smiled. \u201cNo, thanks.\u201d<\/p>\n

I knew that he hadn\u2019t just come to visit. Even so, for several minutes, we sat in silence. Just as I was about to broach the subject that I knew was on his mind, he said, \u201cYou have to trust me.\u201d<\/p>\n

Of all the ways he could have said it, this was the hardest to answer. \u201cIt\u2019s not a matter of trust,\u201d I said. \u201cIt\u2019s a matter of reality. It\u2019s not safe for you to be trying to break broncs.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s not safe for anybody,\u201d he said. \u201cIt wasn\u2019t safe when I had two legs, but you never stopped me then.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI should have.\u201d The words were out before I could stop them. \u201cI don\u2019t blame you, Joseph. I blame myself. I knew that horse. I should have forbidden you to ride it. What happened to you\u2014it was my responsibility to keep it from happening, and I failed.\u201d It was what I\u2019d thought a thousand times, but before that moment, I\u2019d never said the words aloud.<\/p>\n

I forced myself to look up then, to meet my son\u2019s eyes. He looked stunned. \u201cBut\u2014you didn\u2019t have anything to do with it,\u201d he protested. \u201cYou weren\u2019t even here.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBut I knew what you were going to do, and I didn\u2019t stop you.\u201d It was the truth that had dogged my waking and sleeping hours for years.<\/p>\n

Joe shook his head in irritation. \u201cPa, you\u2019re wrong,\u201d he said. \u201cI\u2019d have ridden that horse no matter what you said. I was convinced I could handle it. Even if you\u2019d said no, I\u2019d still have done it.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI appreciate the try, Joe, but the truth is that what happened\u2014well, I should have stopped you. I won\u2019t stand by and let something like that happen again.\u201d<\/p>\n

Joe rose. Balancing on his crutches, he met my eyes, man to man. \u201cYou couldn\u2019t have stopped me last time, Pa,\u201d he said. Before I could answer, he was out of the room, the unspoken words still hanging in the air.<\/p>\n

You can\u2019t stop me this time, either<\/em>.<\/p>\n

I was just dozing off when another tap on my door woke me. I frowned at the sight of Adam standing in the doorway. \u201cYou should be in bed,\u201d I informed him.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe\u2019ve got to hire somebody to break the broncs,\u201d he said, ignoring my statement. \u201cTomorrow, I\u2019m going to go into town and see who\u2019s available.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019ll do no such thing,\u201d I said. \u201cYou shouldn\u2019t even be up now.\u201d<\/p>\n

My eldest son\u2019s eyes were somber with a glint of heat. \u201cIf I don\u2019t do it, who will? Joe? You know as well as I do what would happen\u2014he\u2019d come home and say he couldn\u2019t find anybody good enough and that he\u2019s the only one who can get the job done.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat about Hoss?\u201d I felt certain my middle son wouldn\u2019t lie to me.<\/p>\n

Adam shook his head. \u201cHe\u2019s needed for the branding,\u201d he said. \u201cYou heard him. He lost half the afternoon watching over Joe. They\u2019ve got to catch up on that. Besides, it\u2019s my fault we need someone, so I\u2019ll take care of it.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t be ridiculous,\u201d I said. \u201cIt\u2019s not your fault you got hurt. It happens.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI should have been more careful,\u201d Adam insisted. \u201cThe least I can do is find somebody else to fill in until I\u2019m ready to go back in.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re not going anywhere.\u201d He didn\u2019t look any more convinced by my words than Joe had, and I found myself wondering when I\u2019d lost authority in my own home. \u201cI\u2019m going to write to Major Jenkins and tell him we need an extension,\u201d I added as though this had been my plan all along. \u201cI\u2019m sure he\u2019ll give us another three weeks.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cTwo,\u201d said Adam. \u201cI can be back at work by next week.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNot if you keep getting up,\u201d I said. \u201cNow, get yourself back to bed. Tomorrow, I\u2019ll send one of the men into town with the letter for the major.\u201d Adam still looked distinctly unsatisfied, but he merely bade me a good night and left, his slow gait evidence of the significant pain he was experiencing.<\/p>\n

I was half-waiting for Hoss to come in, but apparently, he felt he\u2019d already stated his case. He merely poked his head in the door to wish me a good night on the way to his room.<\/p>\n

I blew out my lamp and settled in for sleep, but pictures of my one-legged son on a bronc darted in and out of my mind like a swarm of minnows in a stream. Finally, sleep claimed me. . . .<\/p>\n

\u201cHey, Pa! Look!\u201d Joe dropped onto the back of an enormous chestnut horse.<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cJoseph! What are you doing on that beast?\u201d I tried to shout, but I could barely make a sound.<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cYou shouldn\u2019t let him ride,\u201d said Adam as he leaned on the fence beside me. \u201cHe\u2019s only got one leg, you know. He could be killed.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cHe coulda been killed doin\u2019 this with two legs,\u201d Hoss retorted from my other side. \u201cIt\u2019s dangerous work.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cThen he shouldn\u2019t be doing it.\u201d My voice was hardly audible.<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cBut he loves it,\u201d said Hoss. \u201cAn\u2019 he\u2019s good at it. He\u2019s the best.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cIf you don\u2019t let him do it, you\u2019ll lose the army contract,\u201d said Hop Sing in<\/em> much better English than usual.<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cBreaking horses is dangerous work anyway,\u201d said Doc Martin. \u201cIt\u2019s a different kind of balancing. If he gets hurt, I may not be able to fix him this time.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cI can handle it,\u201d Adam said. \u201cWith Joe crippled, I\u2019m the best one for the job.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cHe ain\u2019t crippled,\u201d said Hoss hotly. \u201cHe\u2019s just a little banged up.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cHe\u2019s only got one leg!\u201d I snapped.<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cOne and a half,\u201d Hoss retorted.<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s okay, Pa, I\u2019ll take care of it,\u201d said Adam. \u201cI\u2019ll do it all.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cJoseph! Get off that horse!\u201d I tried to yell, but my youngest son just waved to me.<\/em><\/p>\n

The chute opened, and the chestnut lunged forward, leaping and bucking for all it was worth. \u201cRide \u2019im, Joe!\u201d Hoss shouted.<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cGet down, you damned fool!\u201d Adam yelled. \u201cLet me do that!\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cLi\u2019l Joe want some soup?\u201d Hop Sing offered.<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cBe careful, Joe!\u201d My voice was raspy, but Joe waved as though he\u2019d heard me.<\/em><\/p>\n

Then, with one mighty buck, the chestnut sent my boy flying through the air. Helpless, we all watched as he crashed headfirst into the fence and landed in a heap on the ground. The horse danced victoriously as we all leaped to the dirt and tried to run to Joe.<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cJoseph! Are you all right?\u201d No matter how much I ran, I couldn\u2019t seem to get closer.<\/em><\/p>\n

Two of the hands grabbed the chestnut and led it, prancing and snorting, out of the corral. Adam reached Joe and turned him over. \u201cYou damned fool,\u201d he muttered. He looked up at me and shook his head. \u201cI said it was too dangerous.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2014what\u2019s wrong? Joseph, are you all right? Can you hear me?\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

Adam shook his head again. \u201cLooks like he broke his neck this time.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

Doc frowned. \u201cI can\u2019t fix that. I\u2019m sorry, Ben. I told you this was dangerous.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cYou can\u2019t mean\u2014no! No, he can\u2019t be\u2014no! Joe, wake up! Wake up, son!\u201d Hot tears coursed down my face as I tried to get near my son.<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cDadburnit, I\u2019m sorry, Pa,\u201d said Hoss, who had somehow made it to Joe\u2019s side. \u201cI reckon I was wrong. I really thought he could do it.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cYou told me he\u2014you said\u2014I listened to you!\u201d I flung myself forward in an attempt to get to where Doc was pulling a blanket over Joe\u2019s head. Hot tears poured down my cheeks. \u201cYou said he could do this! You said he\u2019d be fine!\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

Hoss shrugged. \u201cLooks like I was wrong,\u201d he said. \u201cI\u2019m sorry, Pa, but you know that this is how Joe would have wanted to go.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cGo? No, he can\u2019t go! He can\u2019t be dead!\u201d I yanked at the blanket, but it was as though it was bolted in place. \u201cLet me see my boy!\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m sorry, Ben,\u201d said Doc. \u201cYou had your chance. You could have stopped him, but you didn\u2019t.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cI told you not to let him ride,\u201d said Adam.<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cHop Sing find cat,\u201d said Hop Sing.<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cLet me see him!\u201d I demanded. But they took my arms, dragging me away as I shouted, \u201cJoseph!\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cPa! Pa, wake up. It\u2019s just a dream, Pa.\u201d<\/p>\n

I sat up abruptly. Adam was standing by my bed, his hand on my arm. My heart was pounding, and my breath was short. I reached up and found that my face was indeed wet with tears.<\/p>\n

\u201cAre you okay?\u201d Joe\u2019s voice had never sounded more beautiful. He came in and sat on the other side of the bed. \u201cYou okay, Pa?\u201d<\/p>\n

I had to smile. How many times had I come to his bedside after a nightmare and asked the same question? I rested one hand on Joe\u2019s even as I nodded to Adam and to Hoss, who stood behind him. \u201cI\u2019m fine, boys,\u201d I said, wiping my eyes as surreptitiously as I could manage. \u201cYou all get some sleep,\u201d I added to show that I was still in charge.<\/p>\n

Even in the moonlight, I could see that they all looked troubled. Although I normally set great stock in the truth, at this moment I reached for a lie. \u201cMust have been that herb tea Hop Sing gave me just before I went to sleep,\u201d I said. \u201cI sure won\u2019t be drinking that again.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou sure you\u2019re okay, Pa?\u201d Joe wasn\u2019t ready to believe my excuse. Not surprising: he\u2019d always been the most difficult one to hide from. I wondered what he\u2019d heard me shouting in my sleep.<\/p>\n

I nodded. \u201cI\u2019m sure,\u201d I said. \u201cYou all get to sleep, or you won\u2019t be worth anything in the morning.\u201d Reluctantly, the three of them headed back to their rooms. The last thing I saw before I closed my eyes was Joe\u2019s worried face in the doorway. Once their footsteps had faded away, I opened my eyes again. I had a decision to make, and if this dream was any indication, two of my sons were going to be very unhappy with my choice.<\/p>\n

I was awake before dawn. My body, wretched betrayer, felt so much better than it had the day before that I couldn\u2019t even consider staying in bed. I forced myself to wash, shave and dress, listening as I did for evidence that my boys were doing likewise.<\/p>\n

I opened my door and came face to face with Hoss in the hallway, hand raised to knock. \u201cMornin\u2019, Pa,\u201d he said. \u201cYou feeling any better today?\u201d<\/p>\n

I nodded. \u201cIs Joe up?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYep.\u201d His blue eyes were solemn. \u201cPa\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

But I held up my hand. \u201cLet\u2019s just have breakfast.\u201d<\/p>\n

Hoss and I were well into our meals when Joe came down the stairs. He still had to hold to the banister to keep his balance on descent. I\u2019d tried, and failed, to imagine what it might be like to step down without being able to feel the floor beneath my foot. That my son did it all day, every day, never ceased to amaze me.<\/p>\n

I could feel him watching me as he slid into his chair. As pleasantly as I could, I said, \u201cGood morning, Joseph. Like some coffee?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSure.\u201d He poured himself a cup, but it was clear that his mind wasn\u2019t on breakfast. Just as I was about to speak, he set his cup down. \u201cWell?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cJoe.\u201d Hoss\u2019s voice held a warning.<\/p>\n

Anger flashed in Joe\u2019s eyes, but before he could speak, I held up my hand. \u201cJoseph, I\u2019ve been giving this a lot of thought.\u201d I took a deep breath, steeling myself. \u201cI\u2019m sorry, son. I can\u2019t let you do it.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBut, Pa!\u201d His mouth worked as he tried to frame his argument, but no more words came out.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m sorry, Joe,\u201d I said again. \u201cIt\u2019s just too dangerous. The answer is no.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cPa, he can do it,\u201d said Hoss. \u201cCome down to the corral and watch him.\u201d<\/p>\n

I shook my head. \u201cMy mind\u2019s made up,\u201d I said. \u201cI\u2019m going to write to Major Jenkins and tell him we need an extension on the contract. He\u2019s a reasonable man. I\u2019m sure he\u2019ll agree to it.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBut we don\u2019t need an extension! I can do this, Pa. I can break a bronc as well as any man on this ranch! Hoss told you\u2014I can do this!\u201d But the slight wobble in his voice told me that he knew that arguing was pointless. He slammed his chair back and stormed out of the house. Minutes later, I heard him riding out.<\/p>\n

Only then did I turn to Hoss, who had been watching me without speaking. \u201cHe could die this time,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n

\u201cAnybody could,\u201d said Hoss.<\/p>\n

\u201cBut it\u2019s more likely for Joe.\u201d<\/p>\n

Hoss shook his head. \u201cYou ain\u2019t never stopped Adam. How many times has he hurt his back gettin\u2019 thrown?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s not the same thing.\u201d I drained my coffee cup and rose. \u201cI want you to take my letter into town this morning. I don\u2019t know when Joseph will be back, and this needs to get out today.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, sir.\u201d My middle son was polite, but I could tell that his heart wasn\u2019t in it. It wouldn\u2019t be fair to say that he was as devastated by my decision as his younger brother, but he wasn\u2019t far short of it.<\/p>\n

Later that morning, I rode down to the corral. I\u2019d half-expected to see my youngest son there, but the hands said they hadn\u2019t seen him all day. I watched as Cody and Frank worked the broncs. Joe was right; they were good, but not good enough. Certainly not as good as Joe had once been.<\/p>\n

I rode up to where a group of hands were branding cattle. Joe hadn\u2019t been there, either. Irritation flared as I rode back to the house. Joseph was too old to go off sulking simply because he hadn\u2019t gotten his way.<\/p>\n

Except that he hadn\u2019t gone anywhere. Not yet, anyway. When I rode into the yard, he was strapping his bedroll to the back of his saddle. He looked up briefly as I rode up, returning his attention to his gear.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat are you doing?\u201d My voice was sharper than I\u2019d intended.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m going away.\u201d His words were clipped.<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t you think that\u2019s something we ought to discuss?\u201d I dismounted and tied my horse\u2019s reins to the hitching rail.<\/p>\n

Joe just shrugged. I waited for him to say something about how he was leaving because I\u2019d made it clear that we didn\u2019t need him\u2014in other words, something that would enable me to dismiss him as a child. But he didn\u2019t rise to the bait. He simply finished preparing his mount as though the discussion was finished.<\/p>\n

But it wasn\u2019t, not by a long shot. \u201cJoseph\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cPa, I need to go away.\u201d He still wasn\u2019t looking at me.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s something I need to do.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThis isn\u2019t a good time,\u201d I said. \u201cWith Adam laid up, I need both of you here.\u201d It was true. It just wasn\u2019t the whole truth.<\/p>\n

He didn\u2019t answer. His back was stiff. He clutched the edge of his saddle as if for control.<\/p>\n

I rested my hand on his shoulder. \u201cWhat is it, boy?\u201d<\/p>\n

He jerked away. \u201cI\u2019m not a boy!\u201d<\/p>\n

I tried to lighten the moment. \u201cYou three will always be my boys, no matter how old you are.\u201d I waited for him to soften, but he didn\u2019t move. Fine. \u201cJoe, I don\u2019t know what\u2019s going on, but I need you here at least until Adam\u2019s better. If you still want to go away then, we can talk about it.\u201d By then, whatever it was would likely have blown over anyway.<\/p>\n

For a long minute, he didn\u2019t move. Then, he snorted softly, shaking his head. I waited until he untied his bedroll before I headed into the house.<\/p>\n

At supper, he was uncharacteristically quiet. Sulking after all<\/em>, I mused. I\u2019d expected more of him. As soon as we\u2019d finished eating, he mumbled his good night and headed upstairs. Hoss looked perplexed, but I wasn\u2019t inclined to fill him in. I settled into my leather chair with a book and my pipe, determined to rest and relax. Hoss bade me good night and went upstairs.<\/p>\n

Perhaps an hour had passed when a movement caught my eye. The gray cat was strolling across the living room as though it owned the house. Irked, I set down my book. Cats had no business in the house. I\u2019d tolerated the animal\u2019s presence when Joe was ill, but he was well now. It was time to put an end to this nonsense.<\/p>\n

I strode to the front door and opened it. \u201cOut,\u201d I said firmly. The cat didn\u2019t appear to notice. \u201cI said, \u2018out\u2019!\u201d I said more loudly. The cat paused, gazing at me with those inscrutable green-gold eyes. I took advantage of its attention to scoop it up, plunk it down on the porch, and close the door behind it. That settled, I returned to my chair and my book.<\/p>\n

* * * * *<\/p>\n

The next few weeks were uneventful. Adam was back at work by the time Major Jenkins had responded favorably to our request for more time. Granted, my eldest son came in from the corral at night with more aches than he once would have known, and he spent the evenings in bed with hot towels on his back, but we were going to meet the new deadline with time to spare.<\/p>\n

Joe said nothing more about leaving. In fact, he wasn\u2019t saying much about anything these days. He was polite and nothing more. And it wasn\u2019t just with me, either. More than once, I heard Adam try to engage him in conversation, only to be met with one-word answers. Even Hoss didn\u2019t seem to be able to get through to him. The only person I ever heard him speaking with was Hop Sing, in Chinese, and even those conversations were brief.<\/p>\n

The day after Major Jenkins pronounced the horses acceptable, Joe came home with the mail. \u201cIs Adam around?\u201d he asked, not quite meeting my eyes.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe\u2019s riding fence. Why?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWire came for him.\u201d Joe handed me the remaining mail. \u201cI\u2019ll take it out to him. Where is he?\u201d<\/p>\n

Something in his voice caught my attention. \u201cIs everything all right?\u201d<\/p>\n

Joe just shrugged. \u201cWhere\u2019s he riding?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAlong the north pasture. Joseph, is something wrong?\u201d<\/p>\n

He looked at me squarely for the first time in days. He shrugged as though he didn\u2019t know the answer. \u201cI\u2019ll find him.\u201d He was gone before I could ask again.<\/p>\n

That night at supper, I put the question to Adam. I didn\u2019t usually pry into his personal life, but this situation was unusual enough that I was willing to make an exception. \u201cJoe mentioned that you got a wire today. Who was it from?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHuh? Oh, it was from Richard.\u201d Adam\u2019s voice was casual, but there was an undertone of something I didn\u2019t quite recognize.<\/p>\n

\u201cIs everything all right? How\u2019s his building coming along?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe\u2019s run into a couple of problems,\u201d said Adam. \u201cHe had some questions.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou ought to go out and see him in person,\u201d Joe said. \u201cMaybe you can help.\u201d<\/p>\n

All three of us stared at Joe. It was the last thing I\u2019d have expected him to suggest. Before I could speak, Adam said, \u201cCan\u2019t. Too much to do here. I\u2019ll just wire him with the answers.<\/p>\n

\u201cThere\u2019s nothing keeping you here.\u201d Joe\u2019s voice was tight.<\/p>\n

\u201cJoe, I\u2019ve got a lot to do,\u201d said Adam in his too-patient big-brother voice. \u201cBesides\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201c\u2014the Ponderosa can\u2019t function without you, isn\u2019t that it? Hoss and Pa and I aren\u2019t enough. Without you, the ranch would just fall apart, wouldn\u2019t it?<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat are you talkin\u2019 about?\u201d Hoss demanded.<\/p>\n

Joe leveled his gaze at Adam. \u201cTell them.\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam glared back. \u201cWhat have you been doing? Reading my mail?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cJust listening,\u201d said Joe. \u201cAnd yeah, I saw what that wire said. He didn\u2019t just ask you about his building. He asked when you\u2019re gonna give him an answer about that job.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cJob? What job?\u201d It was the first I\u2019d heard of any such thing.<\/p>\n

\u201cMy private correspondence is none of your business.\u201d Adam was seething now. He met my stare defiantly. \u201cYes, Richard\u2019s offered me a job. He wants me to come east and work on his building. And I\u2019ve turned him down. Several times, in fact.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBut\u2014why?\u201d My mind was a jumble. Ever since Adam had left for college, I\u2019d always wondered whether he could be lured away for good. Somehow, I\u2019d thought that matter was settled after Joe\u2019s accident. With me getting older and Joe crippled and Hoss being the only one who could handle the heavy lifting\u2014and none of us being able to do things like break broncs\u2014I\u2019d assumed that Adam knew we needed him and that that would be enough.<\/p>\n

But as I looked into my eldest son\u2019s eyes, I saw more than just anger at his little brother\u2019s revelation of his secret. I saw conflict and longing and frustration. I saw a man determined to do his duty, even if it meant giving up his dreams.<\/p>\n

And I knew in the pit of my stomach that the Ponderosa was not Adam\u2019s dream.<\/p>\n

I don\u2019t remember what else was said. After supper, Adam stormed out to the barn, and I heard him riding out in much the way I\u2019d have expected of Joe. I sank into my desk chair and tried to focus on the papers on my desk, but all I could see was the set of Adam\u2019s jaw as he announced that he had turned down the job offer. Several times, in fact.<\/p>\n

\u201cPa.\u201d<\/p>\n

I looked up to see Joe standing in front of me. His voice was quiet and intense. \u201cI\u2019m leaving in the morning.\u201d<\/p>\n

I closed my eyes and drew a deep breath. When I looked up, he was still standing there. \u201cNot tonight, Joseph,\u201d I said. \u201cI can\u2019t discuss this right now.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThere\u2019s nothing to discuss,\u201d said Joe. \u201cYou asked me to wait, and I did. Adam\u2019s made it clear he\u2019ll be here for whatever you need. So, I\u2019m going.\u201d Without waiting for a response, he walked away, up the stairs, leaving me wonder when\u2014or whether\u2014our family would ever be whole again.<\/p>\n

Hours later, on my way to bed, I heard low voices in Hoss\u2019s room. Adam had returned and announced his intention to turn in; now, his door was closed and no light peeped out from beneath it. At Hoss\u2019s closed door, I hesitated, then knocked. The voices stopped abruptly. Then, Hoss called, \u201cCome in.\u201d<\/p>\n

I opened the door to see Joe sitting on the bed and Hoss in the armchair. Both looked somber. I wanted to tell them that it was all right to feel hurt and confused and angry, but I couldn\u2019t find the words. Instead, I met Joe\u2019s eyes, now dark with emotion, and all I could say was, \u201cWill I see you at breakfast?\u201d<\/p>\n

His expression softened slightly, and he nodded. There had been a time when he and I could have talked about anything, when he had no secrets from me. We\u2019d weathered some of the hardest times a father and son could, and we\u2019d done it together. To have him leaving now with no explanation, no details\u2014I felt as though somehow, my loving son had grown into a stranger.<\/p>\n

I saw Hoss looking at Joe with a meaningful nod, almost as though he was trying to encourage Joe to say something. Almost imperceptibly, Joe shook his head. Whatever their secret might be, I was clearly not invited to share it.<\/p>\n

The next morning, over a nearly-silent breakfast, I wrestled with the notion that my son\u2014my youngest, and with only one leg\u2014was going to go away, and I didn\u2019t even know where or for how long. \u201cHave you decided where you\u2019re going?\u201d I asked finally.<\/p>\n

He looked slightly surprised. \u201cNot yet.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhen can we expect you back?\u201d<\/p>\n

Surprise faded into discomfort. \u201cI don\u2019t know.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou are coming back, aren\u2019t you?\u201d That from Adam, with a sharp edge of irritation.<\/p>\n

But Joe didn\u2019t seem offended by his brother\u2019s tone. Instead, he just said, \u201cI\u2019ll be back.\u201d It sounded like a promise.<\/p>\n

* * * * *<\/p>\n

After all that time when Joe was unable to work, a person would have thought we\u2019d be used to handling the ranch without him. In fact, it was just the opposite. He might have been laid up or limited for the better part of two years, but ever since he\u2019d been able to work again, he\u2019d thrown himself into his tasks with gusto. I hadn\u2019t realized how much he was doing until he was gone. We hired another man to pick up the slack, and we ended up hiring a second because one wasn\u2019t enough.<\/p>\n

Although Joe wrote regularly, his letters didn\u2019t say much. He was fine, the weather was good. Occasionally, he\u2019d tell of some interesting incident or amusing tale, but for the most part, I laid down his letters with no more information than when I\u2019d opened them, save for the most important point: he was all right.<\/p>\n

He never mentioned his leg. Of course, he didn\u2019t. There was no reason to. As long as there was no problem, why would he mention it? Or so I told myself as I lay awake, staring out my bedroom window at the moon and wondering whether he was outside or inside, cold or warm, comfortable or in pain. His letters were coming from someplace up in Oregon, but he\u2019d never said why.<\/p>\n

One day, when I was in town, I decided to stop in and see Roy Coffee. I opened the door to his office, only to hear him say, \u201cWell, here is he right now.\u201d<\/p>\n

A lean man stood in front of Roy\u2019s desk. He was about my age, with a weather-beaten face and scruffy ginger beard. He wore a black patch over his right eye. At Roy\u2019s words, he broke into a smile that was warm and sincere despite several missing teeth.<\/p>\n

\u201cMr. Cartwright,\u201d he said, extending a calloused hand\u2014his left. His right arm hung at his side. The hand was withered, motionless. \u201cIt\u2019s a pleasure to meet you.\u201d His voice sounded oddly smooth and cultured, considering his hardscrabble appearance.<\/p>\n

\u201cHow do you do, Mr.\u2014\u201d I shook his hand as I waited for someone to supply the missing information.<\/p>\n

\u201cCollins, Neil Collins,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n

\u201cMr. Collins is in town on business,\u201d said Roy. \u201cCame here lookin\u2019 for you.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat sort of business are you in, Mr. Collins?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n

His grin widened. \u201cI\u2019m a rancher\u2014and please, call me Neil.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m Ben,\u201d I said. There was something about his manner that made me feel as if I already knew him\u2014or at least, that he already knew me.<\/p>\n

\u201cI know,\u201d said Neil. \u201cYou boy talks about you a lot. Fine young man. You should be proud.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou know Little Joe?\u201d He couldn\u2019t have caught me farther off-guard if he\u2019d punched me.<\/p>\n

Neil chuckled. \u201cHe\u2019s been working for me most of the summer. Fine cowboy. You taught him well.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t understand.\u201d That was an understatement. I could barely catch my breath.<\/p>\n

Neil glanced at Roy. \u201cWhy don\u2019t we stop cluttering up the sheriff\u2019s office and go have ourselves a beer?\u201d At my dazed nod, he opened the door and gestured for me to go out ahead of him.<\/p>\n

A short time later, we were ensconced at a table at the Silver Dollar. \u201cI take it you didn\u2019t know where he went,\u201d Neil said.<\/p>\n

I shook my head. \u201cHe said he needed to go away. Wouldn\u2019t say why or where.\u201d<\/p>\n

Neil sipped his beer, nodding. \u201cI don\u2019t think he came looking for my place,\u201d he offered. \u201cFact is, he showed up one day when we were busting broncs. Watched for a while, then said he\u2019d make me a deal. He\u2019d ride the next three to a standstill. If he did, I\u2019d pay him for all three at fifteen dollars a head. If he rode less than all three, I didn\u2019t have to pay for any.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSound like Joe,\u201d I admitted.<\/p>\n

\u201cI asked him if he\u2019d ever busted broncs before, and he told me he\u2019d grown up doing it.\u201d I nodded to let him know it was true. \u201cSure enough, he rode all of them to a standstill. I paid him for them and told him I had more where they came from if he was interested. He\u2019s been riding for me ever since.\u201d<\/p>\n

I had to ask. \u201cDid he tell you\u2014I mean, did you know about his leg?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNot for almost two weeks after that. I knew he limped some, but lots of men do. I only found out because I went out to the bunkhouse one night and I saw it lying on his bunk.\u201d He took a long drink. \u201cHe asked me if that changed anything. I said not as long as he understood that if we ever needed kindling, we might be looking to him.\u201d<\/p>\n

I chuckled.\u00a0\u00a0 I could understand why Joe would have been drawn to this man with his down-to-earth manner.<\/p>\n

Neil continued, \u201cHe told me afterward that he thought I might give him a chance because I knew what it was like to be different.\u201d He paused, and when I didn\u2019t ask, he grinned. \u201cStagecoach accident. Long time ago. My wife and my boy and me were heading down to San Francisco to visit friends. That\u2019s where I went to school. The ranch was her pa\u2019s. I was going to be a teacher. I always loved books.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cLike Joe\u2019s eldest brother,\u201d I nodded.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe\u2019s told me,\u201d said Neil. He drank and continued, \u201cNot ten miles from home, wheel hit a rock on a blind curve, and we went over the side, down into a ravine. Mabel died right there, and my boy\u2014he hung on for a little while, but not long enough.\u201d His gaze softened as if he were seeing them again. \u201cHe\u2019d have been just about Joe\u2019s age now. He was just a little fellow, but he had that same fire, too.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m so sorry.\u201d<\/p>\n

He nodded to show that he knew I spoke as one who understood that kind of loss. \u201cFact is, Joe was wrong. He\u2019s not different at all. He\u2019s just missing a leg.\u201d I drank to avoid commenting, but Neil was still talking. \u201cTo be honest, I don\u2019t know that I\u2019d have let him on a bronc if I\u2019d known about his leg, but I\u2019m glad I did. Would have been a shame to sell him short. He\u2019s one of the best I\u2019ve ever seen on a horse. Better than a lot of redskins I\u2019ve known.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThank you.\u201d It was all I could say.<\/p>\n

\u201cThank you,\u201d he responded. \u201cThat boy\u2019s been a godsend. My foreman was in an accident in June, and he\u2019s just now getting back on his feet. If Joe hadn\u2019t come along when he did, I don\u2019t know how I\u2019d have managed. I\u2019ve been getting the sense that he\u2019d like to come home, but he says he won\u2019t leave me in the lurch. Says you and his brothers can manage just fine without him.\u201d He drained his beer and signaled for another. \u201cThat true?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWe\u2019ve got some experience,\u201d I said quietly. Neil cocked his head as if in question, so I asked, \u201cDid he ever tell you how he lost his leg?\u201d<\/p>\n

Neil shrugged. \u201cNever came up.\u201d He rose from the table, dropped a coin on the bar, used his left hand to pick up the two fresh glasses of beer that were waiting, and brought them back to our table, all without comment.<\/p>\n

\u201cThanks.\u201d I started to reach into my pocket, but he shook his head.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou can get the next round,\u201d he said. He took a long drink and set the mug down. His face was serious. \u201cI don\u2019t ask a lot of questions about people\u2019s pasts,\u201d he said. \u201cIf there\u2019s something I think I need to know, I ask. With your boy, I\u2019m a whole lot more interested in how long I get to keep him than in something that happened before we ever met. If I could get him to stay on as my foreman, I\u2019d be a happy man. But that\u2019s not going to happen, and we both know that.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMeaning?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMeaning he belongs here. I just hope that one of these days, another fellow like him comes along. I\u2019m getting too old to be doing everything myself.\u201d He drank again. \u201cBut now, you\u2019ve got me curious. What happened?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAccident with a bronc.\u201d<\/p>\n

Neil\u2019s eyebrows shot up. He whistled softly. \u201cI knew he had grit, but that\u2019s something else again. I don\u2019t know that I\u2019d have wanted to try again after that. I wouldn\u2019t have gone looking for one, that\u2019s for sure.\u201d<\/p>\n

I nodded. \u201cThat\u2019s Joe for you.\u201d<\/p>\n

Neil grinned. \u201cMust have been quite an experience, raising a boy like that!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, it was!\u201d I laughed.<\/p>\n

\u201cFor what it\u2019s worth, you did a fine job,\u201d Neil said, suddenly serious. \u201cHe\u2019s one of the best men I\u2019ve ever met.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThank you,\u201d I whispered.<\/p>\n

We drank in silence while the moment settled. Then, Neil said, \u201cJoe wasn\u2019t the only reason I was looking for you. I came down here because he says you raise the best beef cattle in the west, and I\u2019m looking to expand my herd.\u201d<\/p>\n

I chuckled. \u201cHe\u2019s very loyal. He\u2019s also right.\u201d<\/p>\n

Neil laughed. \u201cAnd every bit as modest as his pa!\u201d We talked for a while about cattle, and I invited him out to the Ponderosa to meet Joe\u2019s brothers.<\/p>\n

As we headed out of the saloon, I had to ask. \u201cHe didn\u2019t come with you, did he?\u201d Neil shook his head. \u201cWhy not?\u201d<\/p>\n

Neil grinned. \u201cOfficially\u2014I needed him to run the place while I\u2019m gone.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd unofficially?\u201d<\/p>\n

The grin softened into something slightly sad. \u201cBecause we both knew that if he came back here now, he\u2019d never leave.\u201d There on the dusty sidewalk, he laid his hand on my shoulder and met my gaze squarely, as if to be sure I heard him. As horses galloped past and people shouted and whistled and life went on up and down the street, his quiet words made my heart pound with gladness: \u201cYour Ponderosa\u2014it\u2019s in his blood.\u201d<\/p>\n

That night, after Neil had bedded down in our guest room, I knocked on Adam\u2019s door. \u201cCome in,\u201d he called.<\/p>\n

I opened the door to see him sitting at his desk. \u201cWhat are you doing?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cJust writing a letter.\u201d His tone didn\u2019t invite further comment, but I pressed anyway.<\/p>\n

\u201cTo Richard?\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam shrugged. \u201cHe had some questions.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMaybe you should go out there and answer them in person.\u201d<\/p>\n

For a second, he looked as startled as if I\u2019d slapped him. Then, his composure returned. \u201cPa, we\u2019ve talked about that,\u201d he said. \u201cYou need me here. Hoss and Joe\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201c\u2014will handle the ranch just fine,\u201d I finished. \u201cThey may not do everything the way you do, but we\u2019ll be fine.\u201d I leaned forward and rested my hand on his arm. I had to be sure he heard me. \u201cYou need to follow your own dreams. You\u2019ve pushed them off to take care of everything since Joe\u2019s accident, and I\u2019m eternally grateful to you, but\u2014well, you heard Neil Collins. Joe\u2019s perfectly capable of running that ranch. There\u2019s no reason he can\u2019t run this one.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cPa, I think Neil may be overestimating Joe a little,\u201d Adam began, but I shook my head.<\/p>\n

\u201cOr maybe we\u2019ve been under<\/em>estimating him.\u201d I sat back, and Adam raised a skeptical eyebrow. \u201cHoss was right. We\u2019ve all gotten used to thinking of Joe as someone who needs to be protected, when the truth is that\u2014yes, he\u2019s missing a leg, but that\u2019s just not the most important thing about him. There\u2019s so much more to your brother, just the way there\u2019s so much more to you than being a rancher. I\u2019m not saying that you don\u2019t do it well, because you do. But you know, and I know, that this isn\u2019t where your heart is.\u201d My son swallowed hard, and his eyes glistened for just a second, but it was enough. I rose and pointed to the paper on his desk. \u201cI\u2019d appreciate it if Richard can wait for you until Joe gets home, but if he can\u2019t\u2014well, Hoss and I\u2019ll manage.\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam nodded. I couldn\u2019t help thinking that in his place, Joe would have jumped up, hugged me, and then flung himself into his chair, scribbling furiously about his new plans. But that wasn\u2019t Adam\u2019s way. The discussion wasn\u2019t over for him. He would need to think and talk about this until he was truly settled with the notion. It was probably a good thing that Joe wasn\u2019t going to be home for at least another month, because it would likely take Adam that long to recognize that I meant it\u2014we really would be all right.<\/p>\n

At last, Joe came home, just as he\u2019d promised. He rode in unexpectedly one morning as we were finishing breakfast. Hoss\u2019s whoop must have been heard all the way to Virginia City. Joe\u2019s hair was wild and his whiskers were rough, but he\u2019d never looked better to me. He\u2019d ridden hard to get home before Adam left, and he\u2019d barely made it, but they would have a chance to say goodbye.<\/p>\n

Later, as Joe scrubbed off layers of trail dust, Hoss finally confessed to me that he\u2019d known all along what his brother had been doing. It was what they\u2019d been talking about that night I interrupted them. Joe had recognized that as long as he stayed on the Ponderosa, there would be things he simply would not be permitted to do. This, in turn, would mean that Adam could never leave although it was clear that his heart was elsewhere. So, Joe had headed out with the intention of working on other ranches and coming back with references. That was why he\u2019d kept his letters so vague: he wouldn\u2019t tell me the truth, and didn\u2019t want to lie. From his perspective, the success of his plan depended on being able to come home with proof that he could do everything he\u2019d done before, including busting broncs.<\/p>\n

All that day, my heart was flooded with joy every time I caught a glimpse of my beautiful, scruffy, exhausted son. I suggested that we take the day off from work and spend the time together, but Joe just laughed and reminded us that he\u2019d be around for a long, long time. Still, even after a festive welcome-home supper and a late evening of laughter and stories about our times apart, I couldn\u2019t resist the chance to say one more goodnight as I passed his room. To my delight, he urged me to come in and sit down, and he told me everything.<\/p>\n

Settled in the bedside chair where I\u2019d spent so many hours, I had to ask. \u201cAnd what if I\u2019d still said no?\u201d<\/p>\n

Sprawled on the bed, his head pillowed in his hands, he grinned. \u201cNever crossed my mind.\u201d He stretched like a big cat, blissfully content. His crutches were propped in the corner. His saddlebags were tossed by the bureau. His leg lay on the floor by the night stand, next to his boots. Down the hall, Adam was sorting through his books, deciding which ones to take and which to leave here. He was still calling his trip a visit, but I knew better. The winds of change were blowing through the Ponderosa. We had some adjustments ahead of us, but I knew in my heart that whatever challenge came, we would meet it together.<\/p>\n

Just then, the cat strolled into the room as casually as if it did so every night. In fact, I hadn\u2019t seen it once the entire time Joe was gone. It was as though the cat knew exactly when and where to find him. It hopped onto the bed, climbed up on Joe\u2019s chest and rubbed its whiskers against his cheek.<\/p>\n

\u201cSomebody missed you,\u201d I commented.<\/p>\n

\u201cI think so,\u201d said Joe. He stroked the cat\u2019s fur. \u201cIt\u2019s good to be home.\u201d I could have heard the purring from across the room.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s good to have you home,\u201d I said. An understatement, to be sure. I wished him a good night and got to my feet, my knees creaking. At the door, I turned back once more. \u201cSleep well, son.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cShould I call you if I need you?\u201d His eyes danced.<\/p>\n

My heart overflowed with joy, pride and love. \u201cYou won\u2019t,\u201d I said, knowing it was true.<\/p>\n

And I stepped out into the hall, closing the door behind me.<\/p>\n

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

The grandfather clock downstairs chimes twelve. My memories have been keeping me awake tonight. Good ones and hard ones\u2014there\u2019s no controlling which will choose to visit. Even after all these years, there are times when memories of one of my lost loves\u2014Elizabeth, Inger, Marie\u2014or of my incredible Hoss\u2014can still reduce me to tears. I expect it will always be that way. In the same way, I will always miss Adam, even though he writes regularly and visits whenever he can. Recently, his letters have included mention of someone named Emily. He says that she teaches literature at a girls\u2019 school, and they met in a library. Hopefully, she will visit with him soon.<\/p>\n

How blessed I\u2019ve been to have so many wonderful people in my life, even if some have not stayed nearly long enough. At times, I find that I want to say something to one of them that only that person would have understood. It\u2019s the kind of moment that makes their absence so much sharper, even as it floods my heart with gratitude and love for the precious gift of having known them at all.<\/p>\n

Still, we\u2019ve had so many more blessings, Candy and Jamie chief among them. While I feel confident that Joe would somehow have shouldered the load of the Ponderosa even without them, it\u2019s meant the world to both of us to have them working alongside him. The three of them work together in a harmony that brings back bittersweet memories of the days when Adam, Hoss and Little Joe worked the Ponderosa together. Of course, the balance is far different now: the boy once known as Little Joe is now the acknowledged leader. Sometimes, I have to hide my smile when he barks at them or the hands, because I know that he sounds exactly the way I once did. The bull of the woods, to be sure.<\/p>\n

It\u2019s been twenty years, almost to the day, since I stood beside Paul Martin as he took a saw to my son\u2019s leg. Paul is gone now. It\u2019s another loss that I feel daily. Without him, Joe would never have lived to manhood, much less learned how to get along after his accident. Because of Paul Martin, Joe became the man he is, respected and loved by all who have the privilege of knowing him. When Paul died, it was Joe who arranged for his widow, Rose, to be taken care of. He organized the townspeople to establish a fund, and from that, she receives a generous payment each month. It\u2019s a pension, Joe says. Paul earned every penny, and the town is merely paying back.<\/p>\n

I hear whispering out in the hall. Quietly, I open my door a crack to see Jennie standing in the doorway to her room\u2014the room that once belonged to Hoss. She gestures frantically, whispering, \u201cCome here, kitty! Come here!\u201d<\/p>\n

The old gray cat sits unmoving by the closed door to Joe and Claire\u2019s room. If it hears Jennie, it gives no sign. I wonder whether it is deaf or simply ignoring the child. In the shadows, I can almost see again the kitten that climbed onto Joe\u2019s bed all those years ago, unconcerned about anything except our boy. I remember the young cat that brought solace to my son in the depths of his struggles. So often, it appeared at just the right time, as though it knew his need.<\/p>\n

The gray cat must be twenty-one by now. Remarkable. I never even knew cats lived that long. Maybe they don\u2019t.<\/p>\n

Maybe this one is special.<\/p>\n

There\u2019s been no scratching or meowing to announce the cat\u2019s presence. It merely waits. Then, the door at the end of the hall opens, just enough. The cat slips inside the room. The door closes behind it. Jennie sighs and goes back into her own room to curl up and dream of tomorrow.<\/p>\n

And I close my door and do the same.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

The End<\/p>\n

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

In memory of Jennie, the gray cat, who died on May 26, 2009, at the age of twenty-one.<\/em><\/p>\n

She was special.<\/em><\/p>\n

Author\u2019s note: Thank you so much for reading my story. I\u2019ll be delighted if you\u2019d like to leave a review, but if you do: please, please, please\u2014don\u2019t mention that Joe\u2019s leg was amputated. Some people read reviews before they read the story, and that would spoil the story for them. If you want to tell me privately what you think of those parts, feel free to send me a PM or e-mail. Thanks!<\/em><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Historical notes:<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

James Edward Hanger was a Civil War veteran who lost his leg in the war.\u00a0 Upon returning home, he put his prior studies in engineering to use to create the first articulated, double-joint prosthetic leg, bending at both the knee and the ankle.\u00a0 He obtained his first patent for \u201can artificial limb\u201d in March, 1863.\u00a0 Hanger Orthopedic Group, Inc. is still in business today.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Richard Morris Hunt was a nineteenth-century architect.\u00a0 Among his notable achievements was the construction of the New York Tribune building in 1874.\u00a0 This skyscraper was located on Park Row on a site which is now part of the access ramp for the Brooklyn Bridge.\u00a0 Originally nine stories high, it was one of the first high-rise elevator buildings.\u00a0 Hunt also founded the first architectural school in the United States.<\/p>\n

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

Summary: Ben discovers what is\u2013and isn\u2019t\u2013most important about his youngest son.<\/p>\n

Rated:\u00a0T \u00a0WC \u00a036,000<\/p>\n

The Barn Cat Series, links to all the stories within the series included.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":142,"featured_media":14574,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"template-full-width-post.php","format":"standard","meta":{"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_feature_clip_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":false,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2},"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_members_access_role":[],"_members_access_error":""},"categories":[23,41,1007],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-4901","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-drama","category-hurtcomfort","category-joe-cartwright","wpcat-23-id","wpcat-41-id","wpcat-1007-id"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_featured_media_url":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/wp-content\/uploads\/2017\/07\/gray-kitten.jpeg?fit=135%2C90&ssl=1","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4901","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=4901"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4901\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/14574"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=4901"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=4901"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=4901"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}