{"id":6209,"date":"2011-11-03T21:45:18","date_gmt":"2011-11-04T01:45:18","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?p=6209"},"modified":"2026-07-30T13:25:10","modified_gmt":"2026-07-30T17:25:10","slug":"missing","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?p=6209","title":{"rendered":"Missing (by Annie K Cowgirl)"},"content":{"rendered":"

Summary<\/strong>:\u00a0<\/span>Ben receives a telegram about his eldest son that brings despair to the whole Cartwright family. Written for November’s C & S Challenge.<\/p>\n

Rated<\/strong>:<\/span>\u00a0K+ (1,600 words)<\/span><\/p>\n

The Long Road Home\u00a0Series:<\/strong><\/p>\n

Missing<\/a>
\nA Father’s Gift<\/a>
\nA Well Deserved Comeuppance<\/a>
\nSomeday Never Comes<\/a><\/p>\n

\u00a0Missing<\/strong><\/em><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
\n

Meteor*
\nConstellation*
\nSuperlative*
\nLeo*
\nRadiant*<\/p>\n

The telegram said \u201cmissing\u201d and in that moment,<\/strong> the world stopped turning. Silence filled the room for what seemed like hours until Hoss found the courage to break it.<\/p>\n

\u201cAre they-are they sure, Pa?\u201d His face was filled with worry\u2014an emotion the man of twenty-two years shouldn’t be acquainted with yet\u2014his hands rubbed together of there own volition. Pulled from his revery by his middle son’s question, Ben stared at the yellow piece of paper, re-reading the terrible words stained forever in his mind’s eye:<\/p>\n

REGRET TO INFORM YOU THAT YOUR SON IS MISSING IN ACTION….<\/strong><\/p>\n

Regret, what a funny way to tell me that my child is unaccounted for, probably\u2014<\/em>No! He shook his head, he could not\u2014dared not\u2014finish the thought. His over-active imagination always seemed to get the better of him and all sorts of scenarios, each one even worse than the one before, filled his heart with dread. He pushed the thought to the side; his family needed him to be strong.<\/p>\n

Finding his voice once more, he finally said,\u201cYes.\u201d The word tore at his soul, apparently he wasn’t the only one to feel that pain. With a cry, the youngest Cartwright fled the room, the front door crashing shut in his wake. Hoss made as if to rise, but his father waved him back.<\/p>\n

\u201cNot now; leave him be for a while.\u201d The bigger man nodded his head slowly before rising and making his way up the stairs and to his own bedroom. With a groan, Ben dropped the letter into his lap and buried his face in his now empty hands.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, Adam!\u201d He moaned. He hadn’t seen his eldest in two years, not since he joined the 9th Massachusetts in hopes of keeping the country united. He remembered the day the boy\u2014man rather\u2014had stood in front of his desk and told him in no uncertain terms that he was signing up to fight in the war. Oh, Ben had tried his darndest to dissuade his child from leaving, but in the end, Adam got his way. He left the very next day.<\/p>\n

\u201cBut what if something happens to you?\u201d He had whispered in his ear, his fatherly fear getting the best of him as they waited for the stage to come in. His son just looked at him, giving him a radiant smile.<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cI promise nothing will; relax, Pa, you worry too much.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

Those had been the last words Ben had heard Adam say before the coach took him away.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou broke your promise, son, and I won’t even\u00a0have the satisfaction of telling you that.\u201d A single drop of water hit the discarded telegram; the tear was followed by another and another until the missive was no longer legible. And still they fell.<\/p>\n

Boom!<\/em><\/p>\n

The grandfather clock announced that nine pm had arrived, startling Ben out of his slumber with its racket. His head jerked up and for a moment he wondered why he was slouched in his red leather chair instead of in his\u00a0bed. Wiping the drowse out of his bleary eyes, he pushed himself up from the seat, making the discarded paper flutter to the floor. The moment he saw the crumpled parchment, it all came back to him with the speed and severity of a Northwester.<\/p>\n

Missing<\/em>, it was a dreadful word full of uncertainty. It meant lost, misplaced…gone. If\u00a0Adam was gone–really and truly gone–Ben didn’t know how he would ever go on.\u00a0He shook\u00a0the fear aside. Turning towards the window, he saw a light shining in the nearly black ranch yard. It was a lantern and in the soft glow, he could make out the form of his youngest sitting on the corral fence. Of their own volition, his feet drew him out of the house towards the lone figure. When he was within ten feet of his son, he halted unsure\u00a0whether he should go or stay.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou don’t have to worry about the horses, Pa, Leonard made sure they were all properly bedded down for the night.\u201d Joe’s words lacked inflection and Ben knew why.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat’s good.\u201d There wasn’t much else he could say to that. The crickets seemed to know that something serious was about to happen and so softened their chirruping to a dull hum.<\/p>\n

\u201cI’m sorry, Pa! I’m so sorry and I’ll never get to tell him that!\u201d In four giant strides, Ben closed the distance between them and placed a hand on his child’s shoulder. The contact was the last straw for the teen and without warning he began to cry, gut wrenching sobs that left him breathless and shaky.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat’s it, boy, let it all out.\u201d Somehow,\u00a0Ben found the youth had slipped off of the railing and was now cradled in his arms,\u00a0Ben’s fingers drew slow, soothing circles on the lad’s back. After a while, Joe drew back,\u00a0swiping his jacket sleeve across his cheeks to rid them of their dampness.<\/p>\n

\u201cI’m sorry, didn’t mean to get your shirt wet.\u201d He gave a hollow chuckle.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo need to apologize to me, Son.\u201d The conversation paused before Joe once again broke the silence.<\/p>\n

\u201cThe last time I spoke to him, we argued and it was about the stupidest thing. Now…now I’d give anything to tell him how I felt…how I felt\u00a0about him. He was the greatest, Pa!\u201d The verb proceeding the superlative bothered Ben, but he held his tongue, knowing Joe wasn’t quite through yet.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy couldn’t I hold my peace for once? Oh God, I may never see him again!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, Joseph, your brother knows, believe me he does. Don’t dwell on the maybes, you\u00a0will<\/em>\u00a0see him again and then you’ll be able to tell him all the things you need to.\u201d Green eyes met brown ones\u00a0and for a long time neither of them said anything.<\/p>\n

\u201cHow do you know?\u201d The question was barely audible, but it smote Ben’s heart. How\u00a0did<\/em>\u00a0he know? Fatherly intuition? No. He didn’t really\u00a0know<\/em>, but something deep down inside of him whispered that Adam was alright.<\/p>\n

\u201cI just know.\u201d He said. As if in confirmation of his statement, something streaked across the darkened sky and both men peered up as one by one the stars seemed to fall from their perch in the heavens.<\/p>\n

\u201cMeteor shower.\u201d Ben murmured, staring in\u00a0awe as the constellations seemed to shine out all the brighter in the rain of light. For hours they stood there watching the nighttime performance, enjoying each others company and the peace that stole over their hearts.<\/p>\n

\u201cDo you think Adam can see this, wherever he is?\u201d Joe wondered aloud. A gentle smile tugged at the corners of Ben’s mouth.<\/p>\n

\u201cI’m sure he can, Son, I’m sure he can.\u201d<\/p>\n

~THE END<\/p>\n

Next in the Long Road Home\u00a0Series:<\/p>\n

A Father’s Gift<\/a>
\nA Well Deserved Comeuppance<\/a><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n<\/div>\n

\n
End Notes:<\/span><\/div>\n
\n

This story is loosely based on one of my favourite poems by Amy Carmichael; the words are copied below.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

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

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

The telegram said \u201cMissing\u201d and she said,<\/p>\n

\u201cWould God that he were dead,<\/p>\n

For this is worse.\u201d And for a terrible hour<\/p>\n

The enemy had power.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

And he painted grievous wounds,<\/p>\n

Tortures unsuccoured,<\/p>\n

Insults dastardly,<\/p>\n

A lingering piteous death,<\/p>\n

Or misery of crowded hospital<\/p>\n

Or hateful prison.<\/p>\n

All sights, all sounds, sharp-edged imaginings<\/p>\n

That cut into the soul, had power with her,<\/p>\n

Until she turned from all, and moaned, \u201cMy God!\u201d<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

And God said to an angel, \u201cGo to her,\u201d<\/p>\n

(He named the house and room),<\/p>\n

\u201cShow her the things that be.\u201d<\/p>\n

The angel flew.<\/p>\n

And shortly after she was made aware<\/p>\n

Of movement all about her; and her gloom<\/p>\n

Rolled up like a fog at dawn; a glorious air,<\/p>\n

As from far mountains blown,<\/p>\n

Like wine revived her spirit. She could see<\/p>\n

On to blue distances\u2014eternity<\/p>\n

Opened its spaces; and she tasted powers<\/p>\n

Of the world to come, and knew<\/p>\n

As she was known;<\/p>\n

Knew herself not forsaken.<\/p>\n

Then as she waited, a great brooding calm<\/p>\n

Filled all her being; and as dew<\/p>\n

Rises in stillness from a field of flowers,<\/p>\n

So from her heart, quieted now as any summer field,<\/p>\n

Soft thoughts rose gently, soothing as a psalm<\/p>\n

Familiar, cadenced; and she looked and saw<\/p>\n

Deep into mysteries; but by the law<\/p>\n

(Which rules the place to which she had been taken)<\/p>\n

Directed, she was careful not to say<\/p>\n

What she had seen, except, being free to tell<\/p>\n

The comfortable world that healed<\/p>\n

Her sorest hurt, she chose<\/p>\n

This as the sweetest: that before they<\/p>\n

Wrote her belov\u00e8d \u201cMissing\u201d, One<\/p>\n

Well-skilled in finding lost things said to those<\/p>\n

Who stood about Him, \u201cLo, another son<\/p>\n

Has need of Me,\u201d and went. . .<\/p>\n

But where,<\/p>\n

He did not tell;<\/p>\n

Only she knew he found him. \u201cIt is well,\u201d<\/p>\n

She said aloud, being unaware<\/p>\n

That she was home, till fearful, violent<\/p>\n

As waters that have sudden broken bound,<\/p>\n

Strong doubts turmoiled her. \u201cDrown,\u201d<\/p>\n

They cried, \u201cYes, drown,<\/p>\n

Poor foolish hope! Who heeds thee?\u201d and they tossed<\/p>\n

Its folly aside,<\/p>\n

And shouted, whispered, cried<\/p>\n

About her hope, \u201cDrowned! Drowned!<\/p>\n

The vision is vain<\/p>\n

For he is lost!\u201d<\/p>\n

But she again<\/p>\n

Affirmed her faith, and on the telegram crossed<\/p>\n

The \u201cMissing\u201d out and wrote instead, \u201cNay, Found.\u201d<\/p>\n

~Amy Carmichael from the book\u00a0Mountain Breezes<\/em><\/p>\n

\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

Next Story in The Long Road Home Series:<\/strong><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
\n

A Father’s Gift<\/a>
\nA Well Deserved Comeuppance<\/a>
\nSomeday Never Comes<\/a><\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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

Summary:\u00a0Ben receives a telegram about his eldest son that brings despair to the whole Cartwright family. <\/p>\n

Rated:\u00a0K+ (1,600 words)<\/p>\n

The Long Road Home series, links to other stories within the series are included.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":159,"featured_media":3717,"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":[39,1008,40],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-6209","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-chaps-spurs","category-family","category-challenges","wpcat-39-id","wpcat-1008-id","wpcat-40-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\/2014\/04\/ontheporch.jpg?fit=400%2C320&ssl=1","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6209","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\/159"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=6209"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6209\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/3717"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=6209"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=6209"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=6209"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}