{"id":6585,"date":"2009-12-06T14:23:00","date_gmt":"2009-12-06T19:23:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?p=6585"},"modified":"2025-02-27T12:22:13","modified_gmt":"2025-02-27T17:22:13","slug":"thanks-brother","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?p=6585","title":{"rendered":"Thanks, Brother! (by mamse5)"},"content":{"rendered":"

Summary:\u00a0 <\/span>A little addition to the episode: “Honor of Cochise” We all know how Pa, Joe & Hoss feel about Adam being wounded, but what is Adam thinking after he’s shot?<\/p>\n

This short story gives you a feel for Adam’s perspective: “Somehow, only God knows how, the kid manages to lift me. I\u2019m not as big as my brother Hoss, but I\u2019m no lightweight either. Yet Joe gets me up into his arms, and as he starts to run back towards camp, he even manages to get off a shot or two. The Indians answer with shots of their own, but still my brother runs.”<\/p>\n

Rated:<\/span>\u00a0K \u00a0 WC 5800<\/span><\/p>\n

Thanks, Brother!<\/strong><\/p>\n

<\/div>\n
\u2018He\u2019s just a kid!!\u2019<\/strong><\/div>\n

One part of my brain is screaming that fact, while the other part simply accepts that he\u2019s not. Not really. He\u2019s a man. A young man, no doubt, but a man. Still, he\u2019s my kid brother. Youthful and daring, undaunted by fear, he\u2019s made his way through the hail of bullets to lean over me, offering his strength. Offering me a chance at life. But how can I take it when the risk is so high? My brother\u2019s life for my own? Could I live with that? Could Pa? No. Yet how can I refuse?<\/p>\n

It\u2019s no longer an issue. What little strength I had is gone now. The mere opening of my eyes and a faint movement of my hand is all I can muster. I don\u2019t think either is noticed.<\/p>\n

I can feel Joe\u2019s presence, hear his harsh breathing as he briefly examines my wound. There\u2019s blood. Lots of it, but he doesn\u2019t have time to do anything to staunch the flow. The whiz of another bullet is close; too close. His hands are on me now, pulling my arm around his shoulders, dragging me upwards until he can manage to get his arms beneath me. The pain is unbearable. White hot. Searing. Whatever breath I had seems to be sucked from my lungs. I want to scream, to yell at him to please stop. \u2018Dear God, stop. Don\u2019t move me.\u2019 But I keep the sound inside. My brother is here, braving the terror, risking so much.<\/p>\n

Somehow, only God knows how, the kid manages to lift me. I\u2019m not as big as my brother Hoss, but I\u2019m no lightweight either. Yet Joe gets me up into his arms, and as he starts to run back towards camp, he even manages to get off a shot or two. The Indians answer with shots of their own, but still my brother runs.<\/p>\n

\u2018He\u2019s just a kid!\u2019<\/p>\n

Part of my brain screams, while the other part answers back<\/p>\n

\u2018He\u2019s not a kid, he\u2019s your brother.\u2019<\/p>\n

You did good, Pa. Looks like you did real good.<\/p>\n

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

Somewhere in that flight of terror I must have blacked out. When I manage to make sense of my surroundings again, I\u2019m stretched out in the dirt, my head and shoulders propped up against a saddle. Through half-open eyes, I see them hovering: Pa, Hoss, Joe. It only confirms my suspicions. It must be bad. Not that I really need their presence to tell me, the pain does a fine job of that.<\/p>\n

Faces swim before my eyes and I struggle to bring them into focus. It\u2019s Pa that I want to see, and I\u2019m not disappointed. He\u2019s there close. I want to tell him about his son. How proud I am of his youngest. But my mouth seems filled with dust and I don\u2019t even try. Instead I strive to pay attention to the conversation above me. I can\u2019t make sense of it, and I feel myself floating again. Someone moans, and I wonder who else has been injured in this insanity.<\/p>\n

We were going home, a simple trip back to the Ponderosa. It had been a rare opportunity for a few days alone, just Pa and his sons . . . and then this. I don\u2019t understand it. There hadn\u2019t been any Indian trouble. Things had been quiet in this area. We never would\u2019ve come this way if it hadn\u2019t.<\/p>\n

Time has no meaning. I have no watch to mark its passage, not that I\u2019m in any shape to use one. I\u2019m sure that I\u2019m floating in and out of consciousness. Everything seems hazy. Unreal. I\u2019m still lying in the dirt.<\/p>\n

There\u2019s a new voice. This one is angry and insistent, arguing with someone. He\u2019s arguing with my father. Pa\u2019s upset. Indignant. And in my usual Cartwright fashion, I want to join the fray. But I don\u2019t know what their fight is about. I do know that my father is struggling to control his temper. Maybe I sense it. His tone pulls at me until I force my eyes open to see the two of them glaring at each other. The new voice belongs to a soldier. He\u2019s vaguely familiar and I know I\u2019ve seen him before. Somehow I sense that this man is important to us. I need to remember who he is, and why he\u2019s here in our camp. Yet there\u2019s nothing but haze where memory should be.<\/p>\n

The pain that was burning before is now a deep-seated ache that takes away all rational thought. My father . . . I need Pa. But I still can\u2019t form the words. My thoughts come and go. The world spins around me, but all I manage is a groan. Doesn\u2019t matter. Pa hears. I feel him next to me, and though my arms move, I can\u2019t muster the strength to pull myself up, or to offer my help. I long to ask him what the fight\u2019s about. What happened? Why are we here?<\/p>\n

Water. I went for water. This much I suddenly remember, but then the memory fades. The only thought that remains is that my pa is with me. His hands are touching me. Trying to offer comfort. I let myself focus on that, letting the closeness of my father take my thoughts back to other days.<\/p>\n

Drums. I hear the steady beat deep within me. I want it to stop, but I\u2019m trapped in this cocoon of pain. I\u2019m hot, burning. Why isn\u2019t anyone helping me? Why can\u2019t they hear me? I\u2019m calling, begging. Pa! Hoss! Joe! Help me! The pain, the pain is so bad. The weight is unbearable, like a heavy anvil placed on my stomach. Get it off! Take it out! But no one comes to me. No one answers my call. I sink back into the dark hole, wondering if it too will be lined with the dirt and rocks that make up my bedding.<\/p>\n

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

The drums are silent. Yet, the silence seems oppressive. I want to open my eyes to see what\u2019s pulled me back from the darkness I was enveloped in. But once again my weakness is evident. No matter how I long to see my father beside me, I can\u2019t make my eyes open or my body move. I wonder if anyone knows I\u2019m still in here. . . still living and breathing within this silent body.<\/p>\n

Movement. Voices. Excitement, I can feel it. A hand slips behind my head, familiar fingers cupped around the nape of my neck. Another hand is on my forehead, the touch gentle. \u2018Pa?\u2019 No, the hand is too small. It must be Joe. There\u2019s something at my lips, at first metallic and cool, then wet and warm. A sip is all I\u2019m allowed, but as the water slides down my throat, I know instinctively it\u2019s all I can handle. My stomach rolls. I feel a new sheen of perspiration on my face, and for a moment I think the fluid will come back up, but the feeling passes. Where\u2019s Pa. Why isn\u2019t he talking to me? I need his deep voice, his reassurance that all will be well. \u2018Pa.\u2019 I\u2019m slipping away again.<\/p>\n

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

Someone\u2019s trying to kill me! I can feel the heat of the knife as it enters my flesh. I try to scream, but no sound emerges. Twisting and pulling, I try to escape the horrible pain, but it\u2019s no use. Strong hands are holding me, forcing me to endure what I no longer have strength to bear. I know the hands belong to my brother Hoss. Their hold is strong but gentle. My Pa is close, too. I don\u2019t know where he\u2019s been or when he returned, but the fact that he\u2019s beside me brings comfort. I hear the voice I was longing for. The one I\u2019ve known and trusted since birth. Does he know how much his sons depend on him? Does he know how much I need him?<\/p>\n

Still, there\u2019s something missing. Someone I need to find . . . Joe. Where are you? Will I never be able to speak for myself again? Am I to die on this God-forsaken piece of ground with no last words? Where is my brother? I have something to say to him.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe\u2019s coming around, Pa. Adam? Adam can you hear me?\u201d<\/p>\n

There he is. Joe. Joe\u2019s here. He\u2019s safe, for now. Whatever\u2019s happening, we\u2019re still together. I try to move, but again the hands hold me still. I look from my father to my brothers and back again. It\u2019s all I can manage for now. I need to rest. I\u2019m so tired . . .<\/p>\n

A new voice is speaking. Something about pulling someone through. Who is he and what\u2019s he pulling? I search for the hands that were holding me, but they\u2019re gone now. Something feels tight around my torso, but the sharp pain of before is gone, replaced with an overpowering ache. That anvil is still there. But maybe . . . maybe it\u2019s a little lighter? Snatches of conversation reach me, but nothing\u2019s clear.<\/p>\n

\u201chard time . . . . Mr. Cartwright . . . bullet deep . . . blood loss . . . . infection . . .<\/p>\n

I want to ask someone, anyone, what\u2019s going on. Where\u2019s the kid? Joe. Joe was here, now he\u2019s gone. I need to know. But my body is weak, and the voices are fading. Next time. Next time I\u2019ll ask.<\/p>\n

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

It\u2019s dark again. Everything is quiet. There\u2019s no one around, no questions being asked or decisions being made. The night is cool but I\u2019m not cold. A fire burns close by, and a blanket covers me. Moving a little on my makeshift bed, I realize that the accommodations have changed. No longer dirt and rocks, I\u2019m now lying on a bed of dried grass covered with a blanket. I wonder, idly, where they found a blanket when all our supplies disappeared with our horses.<\/p>\n

I try to move, but end up moaning instead. The pain is still intense, and it takes several minutes before I can open my eyes. A face appears above me. My little brother is keeping watch, and I wonder at the changes that have taken place in him.<\/p>\n

\u201cAdam? Good to see you awake. You had us worried.\u201d<\/p>\n

I watch him closely, but don\u2019t respond. Even if I did feel up to speaking, I don\u2019t know what to say. Yet I feel the need to talk to him. My body is alive with pain, my throat parched, but all I can think about is my brother. He\u2019s not a boy anymore. No longer the child who sat on my lap or tagged along behind me. He\u2019s kneeling next to me now, offering me water from his canteen.
\nHis sleeves are rolled up, showing skin bronzed from the sun, and a picture suddenly flashes before my eyes, of another time he knelt next to me. The memory materializes, and I suddenly know why I\u2019m longing to talk to him. The words are still to be left unsaid. It\u2019s all I can do to handle the sips of tepid water he offers. I lick my lips, surprised to find them stiff and dry.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s been awhile since you\u2019ve had anything to drink, Adam. Doc says we need to get some water in you.\u201d<\/p>\n

He holds the canteen up to my lips, though I don\u2019t really want more. His gaze is relentless, pleading. I can\u2019t let him down, and so I try. It takes longer than usual to complete the task. As with the rest of my body, the simple act of swallowing water seems to be complicated. Frustration builds within me, but I\u2019m too tired to give in to it. I hope Joe knows how grateful I am when he recaps the canteen. Maybe he reads the thanks in my eyes.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe\u2019ll try again in a little while.\u201d<\/p>\n

Sparks fly from the fire, and I watch lazily as they float upward. I turn my head, but don\u2019t see the one I\u2019m looking for. A hand on my arm brings my attention back to Joe. My brother is sitting beside me again. He\u2019s been talking low, but I haven\u2019t been paying attention. The thing I notice isn\u2019t what he\u2019s saying, it\u2019s what he\u2019s doing. The kid hasn\u2019t lost contact with me since I first woke up. Patting my hand, pushing the hair off my forehead as he checks for fever, keeping his hand on my arm. He\u2019s continually touching me, much in the same way Pa touches him when he\u2019s sick or injured. He\u2019s learned the lesson well, and I\u2019m amazed at the natural way he handles himself. I find myself marveling at the imagined picture of my little brother as a father. He\u2019ll make a good one. Someday.<\/p>\n

I must have been comforted by his presence. The need to find my father seems less intense, and I feel myself drifting again. The fire pops, and Joe\u2019s voice drones quietly on. Even the pain seems less, the ache farther away.<\/p>\n

Sleep must\u2019ve found me, because as I open my eyes again, I see the pale light of dawn. I barely stir before my father\u2019s hand is stroking my forehead.<\/p>\n

\u201cWelcome back.\u201d<\/p>\n

The lilt in his voice is encouraging. Either I look a little better, or Pa figures to heal me with his positive attitude. I hope it\u2019s the first.<\/p>\n

\u201cMornin\u2019.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell . . . \u201c<\/p>\n

Pa\u2019s eyes almost look a little misty as he stares down at me. I know he wants to say more, but he seems a bit choked up. Guess I haven\u2019t been talking much, but I sure didn\u2019t mean to worry him.<\/p>\n

\u201cThirsty.\u201d I manage.<\/p>\n

\u201cI bet you are.\u201d<\/p>\n

He pulls the stopper on Joe\u2019s canteen and holds it to my lips. The water feels good, tastes good . . but it isn\u2019t enough. Pa must know.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe\u2019ve got some broth saved from last night. It\u2019s just rabbit, but it\u2019ll be a good start.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSounds good.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell now, you\u2019re the one sounding good, son. Glad you\u2019re up to saying a few words. You had us worried.\u201d<\/p>\n

I was right. It must\u2019ve been a long night for pa. It\u2019s one of the things I hate most, causing my father any worry. I\u2019ve tried hard over the years, to keep my problems to myself. For the most part, I think I\u2019ve been successful. I can see this will be one of the exceptions.<\/p>\n

It takes several minutes, but my pa\u2019s soon back with a cup of broth. He slowly feeds me, one spoonful at a time. It doesn\u2019t take very many to fill me up. The broth is thin but warm, yet my stomach feels queasy, and I\u2019m ready to quit before the cup is empty. My pa understands me, as he always has, and sets the cup down before I have to ask.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s enough for now. We\u2019ll just take it slow. A little at a time.\u201d<\/p>\n

Nodding my head seems the best I can do right now. Just the effort of eating and drinking has left me exhausted. Leaning back into the saddle, I struggle to keep my eyes open as I look around, trying to make sense of where we are.<\/p>\n

There\u2019s a noise off to my left. It\u2019s Hoss. I can hear him moving around then see him as he moves closer.<\/p>\n

\u201cMorning, Pa.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMorning, son.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, mornin\u2019 Adam. Good to see you awake. How\u2019re you feelin\u2019?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBetter.\u201d I manage, though my voice is faint, even to my ears.<\/p>\n

\u201cGood. We\u2019ll get you a little more comfortable this mornin\u2019 and try to find something decent for you to eat.\u201d<\/p>\n

Obviously Hoss was in on the rabbit meal.<\/p>\n

\u201cHow long does little brother plan to sleep? Joe. Joe!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHoss! Let him sleep.\u201d<\/p>\n

Pa moves towards my brother, his voice stern but his tone relatively soft.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe just went to sleep an hour ago.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat?<\/p>\n

Hoss sounds surprised. Wish I could tell him that I\u2019m curious too.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe didn\u2019t wake me up, but sat up with Adam most of the night.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy\u2019d he do that?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cJust something he needed to do, I think.\u201d<\/p>\n

Hoss nods understandingly, but I wonder what I\u2019m missing. Why would Joe feel the need to sit up with me? It\u2019s usually Pa that keeps watch when one of us is sick or injured. Why would Joe be worried? Yet I remember the way he kept his hand on my arm last night. The way he watched me when he didn\u2019t think I was looking. What is bothering my little brother? Doesn\u2019t he know that he saved me? Doesn\u2019t he know that I\u2019m the one that should be worried? About him. About the risks he takes. The.risk he took . . . for me.<\/p>\n

\u201cPa?\u201d<\/p>\n

Pa looks down at me expectantly. My strength is waning, but I need to know.<\/p>\n

\u201cJoe?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe\u2019s right over there, Adam. Sound asleep, and probably will be for a few hours.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cO . . okay?\u201d I manage.<\/p>\n

Kneeling next to me, Pa lays his hand on my arm, much in the same way my brother did last night.<\/p>\n

\u201dHe\u2019s fine. We\u2019re all fine.\u201d<\/p>\n

I stare at my father, struggling to make sense of the chain of events. Things are confused in my memory, lights and shadows spinning around the vision of my little brother leaning over me. Uncertainty and fear assuaged by strong arms carrying me to safety. It couldn\u2019t have been Little Joe, yet it was. I am certain of it. How did he manage? Where did he find the strength? There is so much I want to ask, but all I can do is stare at my father.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re safe, son. We all are. The Army\u2019s been here, and the Indians are gone. Joe got you back to camp, and an Army surgeon removed the bullet. You\u2019re going to be good as new, but in the mean time, we\u2019re going to camp here and let you get your strength back.\u201d<\/p>\n

While he\u2019s speaking, Pa is smoothing the blanket around me, checking my bandage . . . never letting go of my arm as he reassures me, as if sensing the questions I can\u2019t put into words.<\/p>\n

I watch him closely, the blue sky silhouetting him. The worried look seems to be fading from his face. I have more questions, but they\u2019re fading too. My eyes seem too heavy to keep open, and I relax as the sun warms the earth around me. I feel like I\u2019m floating. Yet I know that things are taking place around me.<\/p>\n

There are the familiar voices of Pa and Hoss, and a new voice . . . a stranger. Idly I listen to his comments, the pieces falling together when he mentions my wound and the possibility of infection. Pa mentioned a doctor, and I think Joe did too. But time seems irrelevant right now. Is he still here? I want to open my eyes, see what\u2019s going on, but the reward doesn\u2019t seem worth the effort.<\/p>\n

And then there\u2019s quiet. Peace. I\u2019m warm, relaxed. Even the pain seems a little less.<\/p>\n

Tempted to open my eyes again, I realize the sun is in a different position. Past it\u2019s zenith but still high in the sky, I figure I\u2019ve slept for several hours. Memories of other awakenings, broth and water . . . bits and pieces of conversations. I wonder how much time has really passed. But there is a difference with this arousing. Pulling my head off the saddle, I look around our camp. The quiet is explained by the absence of people. Only one person remains. My youngest brother has made himself comfortable against one of the large boulders. I watch him lazily, wondering why he looks worried. He must sense my eyes upon him, because he\u2019s getting up and moving towards me.<\/p>\n

\u201cAdam? How are you feeling?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBetter.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cReally? Good. That\u2019s good, older brother.\u201d<\/p>\n

His voice is filled with the sound of relief. I don\u2019t have the heart to tell him how bad I feel, yet I\u2019m not really lying. I am better. Some. Though I\u2019m in no shape to get up and about, I finally feel like my mind is clearer. I hope it lasts.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhere\u2019s Pa?<\/p>\n

Joe settles next to me, a cup in his hand. I know he\u2019s getting ready to push more water or broth on me, but my expression must show my exasperation, \u2018cause he\u2019s answering my question first.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe\u2019s out looking for dinner. Thought you\u2019d like something other than rabbit for dinner.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThought that was Hoss\u2019s job.\u201d I manage to mutter.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt was. But Pa sent him off to the fort instead. He and that doctor went for some supplies, since it looks like we might be here awhile.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSorry.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat are you sorry for?\u201d<\/p>\n

Joe\u2019s expression shows his confusion almost as clearly as his voice does.<\/p>\n

\u201cHolding things up.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNow don\u2019t go gettin\u2019 like that, Adam. None of this is your fault. \u2018cept maybe that you went sneakin\u2019 off to get that water by yourself. Should\u2019ve at least said something so we could\u2019ve given you some cover.\u201d<\/p>\n

I stare at my brother, and my meaning must be clear, \u2018cause he grins.<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, you\u2019re right. Pa wouldn\u2019t have went along with it. Guess I\u2019m still mad that you thought of it before I did.\u201d<\/p>\n

Joe holds the cup to my lips, and I take a few swallows. The broth is still warm, and though it\u2019s not the best I\u2019ve ever tasted, it\u2019s almost good. A little is all I can handle, though, and I\u2019m glad Joe seems to realize that.<\/p>\n

\u201cHelp me . . . sit up.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou sure? Pa won\u2019t want you overdoin\u2019 it.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHelp me.\u201d<\/p>\n

I know I can\u2019t last for long, but I\u2019m tired of staring at the sky. It takes a few minutes, but Joe is gentle and does a good job of getting me settled back against my saddle. It\u2019s hard to take a deep breath, but I manage a couple shallow ones before I speak again.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou alright?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMe? Adam, you\u2019re a hard man to figure out. Course I\u2019m alright. You\u2019re the one that just had a bullet dug out of his gut.\u201d<\/p>\n

It hurts to laugh, so I look away from my brother\u2019s face. Besides, the laughter might turn into something else if I keep looking at him. As usual, his expression is a direct reflection of his emotions. I can read it all there. The humor is a thin mask for the worry. The fear. The relief. He\u2019s been scared, my little brother. Scared for me. How do I reconcile that with my own feelings?<\/p>\n

\u201cAdam?\u201d<\/p>\n

I continue to look towards the skyline, wondering how my own emotions got so out of balance. Maybe being shot does that to a man. Makes him all introspective. Makes him look at things differently. Maybe appreciate people more. Is that what I\u2019m doing? Looking at Little Joe in a different light? Is it being shot that did this, or the fact that my brother laid his life on the line for mine? I know the answer. Know I would\u2019ve done the same. The difference is that we\u2019re talking about Little Joe here. Not me, or Pa or even Hoss.<\/p>\n

\u201cAdam? You sure you\u2019re okay? You aren\u2019t talkin\u2019 and that isn\u2019t like you.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201c\u2019m okay, Joe. Just thinking.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThinking about what?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMe? What\u2019d I do?\u201d<\/p>\n

I take a small breath, wishing that I hadn\u2019t spoke up. It isn\u2019t the time to start this now. We have things to talk about, but I don\u2019t think I have the strength.<\/p>\n

\u201cTired.\u201d<\/p>\n

Joe hesitates, but I don\u2019t look at him. I know that if we make eye contact, I\u2019ll give in and once I start . . . no, we\u2019ll talk later. Moving carefully, I try to get comfortable. I don\u2019t need to look up to know that my younger brother is beside me, first helping me lean forward, then settling me down once more on the blanket. He doesn\u2019t leave my side, even when I close my eyes and let my body relax.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou sure you don\u2019t want more of that broth?\u201d He asks tentatively.<\/p>\n

I swivel my head gently, letting him know both my reluctance to eat more, and that I\u2019m worn out. I hope he doesn\u2019t read anything else into my silence, for I have no desire to hurt my brother.<\/p>\n

\u201cAlright then, you get some rest.\u201d<\/p>\n

He sounds troubled, maybe even upset, but still Joe remains beside me, one hand resting comfortably on my shoulder. I don\u2019t have any idea how long he stayed beside me like that.<\/p>\n

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

The camp is alive with activity, for this morning we\u2019re finally heading for the Ponderosa. Home.<\/p>\n

Almost a week has passed since the good doctor returned from the fort. He brought back a wagon full of supplies, and the rest of our stay has been comfortable at least. But now he\u2019s declared me fit to travel, and Hoss is helping him load the last of the paraphernalia back into the ambulance. The camp once again looks like what it is, a desolate patch of ground, dry and dusty.<\/p>\n

I know the whole story now. The way Cochise had us pinned down. I\u2019ve heard about the misguided soldier who killed innocent Indian women and children. I know the risk my father took to get a doctor for me. And about my brother . . . what he did to save me. That part I knew already, but it was good to hear Pa\u2019s telling of it. Made it seem more real than the hazy visions of my memory.<\/p>\n

Pa has finished saddling Buck, and is tucking the last items into saddlebags. It\u2019s Joe that I can\u2019t locate. He was here just a few minutes ago, quietly going about the work of saddling and packing. But now he\u2019s disappeared again. He\u2019s done that a lot in the days since we last talked. He\u2019s been close by, yet it\u2019s almost as if he\u2019s avoiding me.<\/p>\n

I\u2019m wishing now that I would\u2019ve finished what I started the other day. Why is it so hard for a man to simply say thank you? Why do we get all choked up when it should be so easy to talk to someone close to us? Guess I still have things to learn, at least about little brothers. Seems like I\u2019m always taking the wrong step when it comes to dealing with Little Joe. Or maybe it\u2019s that he isn\u2019t so little anymore, but I just haven\u2019t given up treating him that way. When he picked me up off the ground that day, he proved he wasn\u2019t some wet-behind-the-ears kid. Not that I don\u2019t think he made a stupid move, cause I do. Still, it was a move I would\u2019ve made . . . for my brother.<\/p>\n

\u201cAdam? You sure you\u2019re ready to try this?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSure, Pa. Can\u2019t be any worse than sittin\u2019 around here eatin\u2019 Joe\u2019s cooking.\u201d<\/p>\n

My father laughs at my joke. He knows I\u2019m feeling better if I talk that way. No use worrying him with the telling of my aches and pains. He\u2019s a smart man; knows I\u2019m still hurting. But he also knows that I\u2019m doing better, can handle some short easy days of riding, especially if it\u2019ll get us closer to home.<\/p>\n

\u201cGuess it\u2019s a good thing we turned the skillet back over to Hoss.\u201d<\/p>\n

Now it\u2019s my turn to chuckle, but I find it dying in my throat when I see Joe\u2019s face. He\u2019s coming back from the wagon, and for just a minute I see a look of sadness there. What he\u2019s upset about, I have no idea, but I know instinctively that it\u2019s my fault. No, our talk can\u2019t wait for later down the trail, or even once we get home. It\u2019s time to get things out in the open. Now. Before we leave.<\/p>\n

\u201cPa, I\u2019m gonna walk down and fill my canteen before we mount up. Think it\u2019ll do me good to stretch my legs a little before I get in the saddle.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cGood idea, Adam. You want some company?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSure, if you don\u2019t mind doing without Joe for a few minutes.\u201d<\/p>\n

His knowing glance assures me that Pa has suspected a problem between his sons. Not for the first time am I amazed at my father\u2019s perception.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo. Looks like he\u2019s about ready, too. How about it, Joe? You mind keeping Adam company?\u201d<\/p>\n

For a moment I wonder if my little brother will refuse. After all, it\u2019s a thinly veiled excuse. I\u2019m a grown man, and though I was shot only a few days before, I\u2019m still well enough to walk to the creek for water on my own. But I\u2019m relieved nonetheless, when Joe nods in agreement. Wordlessly he picks up his own canteen and joins me.<\/p>\n

It\u2019s not lost on either one of us that we\u2019re taking the same trail we shared before. This time we\u2019re walking side by side, instead of . . . well, instead of the way we did before. And of course, it\u2019s quiet this time. An occasional birdcall, or rustling of bushes as a small animal moves about. But definitely no gunfire.<\/p>\n

We remain silent, which that alone makes the walk seem strange. Joe\u2019s very seldom quiet. I\u2019m thinking as I walk, struggling to find the right words to say what I have to say without making a big deal out of it. That\u2019s another thing brothers aren\u2019t good at. But we\u2019ve already made it to the big oak, and still I haven\u2019t started the conversation.<\/p>\n

I\u2019ve walked at least ten feet or more past that tree before I realize that Joe\u2019s no longer beside me. Turning around, I see him standing quietly, gazing at the ground as if there\u2019s something important to see.<\/p>\n

\u201cJoe?\u201d<\/p>\n

No answer, so I walk back to stand beside him.<\/p>\n

\u201cJoe, what\u2019s wrong?\u201d<\/p>\n

He still doesn\u2019t answer me, just gazes at the rock-strewn ground. And that\u2019s when I see it. There\u2019s something dark there, a stain in the dirt. Funny that it\u2019s still here, but then there\u2019s been no rain to wash it away. I\u2019m the one staring now, as Joe squats down, his gaze now searching the area around us. I wonder what he\u2019s looking for, but don\u2019t have the nerve to ask. Maybe it\u2019s better that I don\u2019t. Maybe there\u2019s no words needed, just a sharing of the experience.<\/p>\n

Joe stands up, and starts to walk away. The look on his face is one of sadness and I wonder again what\u2019s bothering him. It\u2019s not like him to keep things bottled up inside. That\u2019s more of my way . . .<\/p>\n

\u201cJoe?\u201d<\/p>\n

He turns slowly to face me, and I know I have to get it said.<\/p>\n

\u201cJoe, I\u2019m sorry I didn\u2019t finish our conversation the other day.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s okay, Adam. I know you\u2019re upset with me.\u201d<\/p>\n

His words hit me hard, and for a moment I\u2019m speechless. He starts to walk away again, but I have to stop him.<\/p>\n

\u201cUpset with you? Joe, why would you think that?\u201d<\/p>\n

He stops, but when he finally looks at me, I\u2019m surprised at what I think I see. Sadness. Regret. Confusion. He thinks . . . I don\u2019t know what he thinks.
\nAll this time I simply wanted to tell him how proud I am of him, but in my failed attempt, I conveyed something far different.<\/p>\n

\u201cJoe, I\u2019m not upset with you. Maybe myself, but not you.\u201d<\/p>\n

He\u2019s silent, my brother. Looking from me, to that oak tree, and back.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat day, out here . . . you took quite a chance little brother.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cFigured you were worth it.\u201d<\/p>\n

I know he\u2019s trying to make light of the situation.<\/p>\n

\u201cNow Joe . . .<\/p>\n

He walks away from me, back towards that stain on the ground. When he
\nstops there, I\u2019m finally aware that it\u2019s not just me who\u2019s having a hard time expressing his feelings. All this time I\u2019ve been worried about what I wanted to say, and it might be my little brother who needs to talk.<\/p>\n

\u201cI didn\u2019t have a choice, Adam.\u201d He begins. \u201cIt all happened so fast. When the shooting started and I saw you weren\u2019t in camp, well . . . I just ran. And then, when I saw you laying here. I . . . Adam, I did what I had to do. What you, or Pa or Hoss would\u2019ve done. I did what you all taught me to do. Watch out for each other.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, I guess we did do that, didn\u2019t we?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAdam. I . . . it was . . . You scared me, Adam. I thought I was too late. And then that first night, when we didn\u2019t have any water and you were suffering . . .
\nI thought. Well, I was afraid we were going to lose you anyway.\u201d<\/p>\n

So that\u2019s why he stayed so close to me at first. Guess I need to do a little growing up too. Time to treat the kid a little different.<\/p>\n

I cover the distance between us. The area is quiet, no Indians to fight, no bullets whizzing past. Looking at the remnants of my blood in the sand, I\u2019m grateful all over for the risk my brother took. Laying my arm across his shoulders, I know I\u2019ll never again think of him as little. Younger? Yes. Immature? Probably. Irritating? Definitely. After all, he is my little brother. He\u2019s just not a little man.<\/p>\n

\u201cJoe, the other day . . . when I tried to talk to you. I didn\u2019t mean to give you the wrong impression. I wasn\u2019t upset with you, and I wasn\u2019t doubting you. I was just, well, I just wanted to . . . I wanted to tell you how proud I am of you. And to thank you.\u201d<\/p>\n

This time Joe sounds relieved. Though maybe a little surprised.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou don\u2019t need to thank me, Adam.\u201d<\/p>\n

But when he turns to look at me, I can see the look of pride on his face.<\/p>\n

\u201cLet\u2019s go home brother.\u201d<\/p>\n

Walking back into camp, I see my father waiting for us. Evidently the look on our faces tells him all he needs to know, and his smile is contagious.<\/p>\n

\u201cCome on, Pa. Hoss\u201d Joe calls out happily. \u201cWe\u2019re going home.\u201d<\/p>\n

The End!<\/p>\n

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

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

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

Summary: A little addition to the episode: “Honor of Cochise” We all know how Pa, Joe & Hoss feel about Adam being wounded, but what is Adam thinking after he’s shot?<\/p>\n

This short story gives you a feel for Adam’s perspective: “Somehow, only God knows how, the kid manages to lift me. I\u2019m not as big as my brother Hoss, but I\u2019m no lightweight either. Yet Joe gets me up into his arms, and as he starts to run back towards camp, he even manages to get off a shot or two. The Indians answer with shots of their own, but still my brother runs.”<\/p>\n

Rated:\u00a0K \u00a0 WC 5800<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":34,"featured_media":1242,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"template-full-width-post.php","format":"standard","meta":{"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[23,61],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-6585","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-drama","category-missing-scene","wpcat-23-id","wpcat-61-id"],"a3_pvc":{"activated":true,"total_views":2416,"today_views":0},"jetpack_featured_media_url":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/04\/bonanza31.jpg?fit=573%2C389&ssl=1","jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"jetpack-related-posts":[{"id":3778,"url":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?p=3778","url_meta":{"origin":6585,"position":0},"title":"A Letter to Adam (by Meg)","author":"Meg","date":"November 20, 2011","format":false,"excerpt":"Summary:\u00a0 Amelia writes a letter to her departed brother informing him on the on goings of the Ponderosa including the scams and trouble Little Joe and Hoss had gotten themselves into. \u00a0 Rated:\u00a0K+ (1,210 words) Amelia Series, links to all the stories within the series included.","rel":"","context":"In "Alternate Universe"","block_context":{"text":"Alternate Universe","link":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?cat=7"},"img":{"alt_text":"","src":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/03\/bonanza2.jpg?fit=720%2C475&ssl=1&resize=350%2C200","width":350,"height":200,"srcset":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/03\/bonanza2.jpg?fit=720%2C475&ssl=1&resize=350%2C200 1x, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/03\/bonanza2.jpg?fit=720%2C475&ssl=1&resize=525%2C300 1.5x, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/03\/bonanza2.jpg?fit=720%2C475&ssl=1&resize=700%2C400 2x"},"classes":[]},{"id":1114,"url":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?p=1114","url_meta":{"origin":6585,"position":1},"title":"Another Kind of Ending (by DBird)","author":"DBird","date":"July 16, 2008","format":false,"excerpt":"Summary:\u00a0WHN for \"The Magnificent Adah.\" Adam tries to understand his father's words: there are many kinds of love. Rated:\u00a0K+ \u00a0WC 2700","rel":"","context":"In "Drama"","block_context":{"text":"Drama","link":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?cat=23"},"img":{"alt_text":"","src":"","width":0,"height":0},"classes":[]},{"id":15198,"url":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?p=15198","url_meta":{"origin":6585,"position":2},"title":"Best Friends (by JoanS)","author":"JoanS","date":"March 7, 2009","format":false,"excerpt":"Synopsis: A careless act of Little Joe's puts his life in danger and that of his beloved horse Cochise\u00a0\u00a0 Rating:\u00a0 G\u00a0 (19,000 words)","rel":"","context":"In "Drama"","block_context":{"text":"Drama","link":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?cat=23"},"img":{"alt_text":"","src":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/04\/normal_TQoM2-JC11.jpg?fit=400%2C320&ssl=1&resize=350%2C200","width":350,"height":200},"classes":[]},{"id":16264,"url":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?p=16264","url_meta":{"origin":6585,"position":3},"title":"Becoming A Man (by Christy)","author":"Christy","date":"March 9, 2004","format":false,"excerpt":"Summary:\u00a0\u00a0When the Cartwright brothers have to face their worst nightmare, Little Joe decides to take matters in to his own hands. Will he survive to show his family he really is the man his father raised? Rating\u00a0 G\u00a0 (10,520 words)","rel":"","context":"In "Drama"","block_context":{"text":"Drama","link":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?cat=23"},"img":{"alt_text":"","src":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/02\/ben3.jpg?fit=320%2C240&ssl=1&resize=350%2C200","width":350,"height":200},"classes":[]},{"id":56815,"url":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?p=56815","url_meta":{"origin":6585,"position":4},"title":"If Silence Keeps You (By Wrangler)","author":"Wrangler","date":"May 3, 2025","format":false,"excerpt":"Summary:\u00a0 With word of Ben Cartwright's death, the three Cartwright brothers must decide if they'll keep the Ponderosa going in order to preserve their father's legacy.\u00a0 Meanwhile, it's Little Joe whose nightly dreams propel him to search for the truth about how his father perished and if he's really dead.\u2026","rel":"","context":"In "Ben \/ Joe"","block_context":{"text":"Ben \/ Joe","link":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?cat=1015"},"img":{"alt_text":"","src":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/05\/Screenshot_20250422_124724_YouTube-1.jpg?fit=910%2C720&ssl=1&resize=350%2C200","width":350,"height":200,"srcset":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/05\/Screenshot_20250422_124724_YouTube-1.jpg?fit=910%2C720&ssl=1&resize=350%2C200 1x, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/05\/Screenshot_20250422_124724_YouTube-1.jpg?fit=910%2C720&ssl=1&resize=525%2C300 1.5x, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/05\/Screenshot_20250422_124724_YouTube-1.jpg?fit=910%2C720&ssl=1&resize=700%2C400 2x"},"classes":[]},{"id":45543,"url":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?p=45543","url_meta":{"origin":6585,"position":5},"title":"Because (by Heidi)","author":"Preserving Their Legacy Author","date":"April 12, 2000","format":false,"excerpt":"Summary: Joe has looked forward to his first cattle drive all year, but now that Adam, newly home from college, has offered to lead the drive instead of Pa, Pa has decided Joe had better stay home. 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