Alias Joe Cartwright…. What Happened Next
Joseph Cartwright stood before the firing squad, trying to be brave. He was filled with so many emotions: anger at being unjustly killed, frustration that he had come so close to contacting his father, sorrow for his father and brothers - would they ever know what had happened to him? - and finally, fear. He’d been shot before –he knew what it felt like. Just to stand there and wait for it to happen was almost more than he could stand. He took a deep breath and bit his bottom lip, trying to stop it from trembling. His body tensed involuntarily as he heard Captain Merced give the order, "READY…AIM…FIRE!" As he felt the bullets tear into him, knocking him down, he screamed…and sat bolt upright in bed, breathing heavily. As he opened his eyes, he was momentarily confused. Where was he? Was he dead? Gradually he realized he was in his room, in his bed. A dream, it was just a dream, he told himself. He was safe on the Ponderosa.
He jumped at the sound of his door opening; he looked over to see his father entering, holding a lamp. "Joseph? Are you alright?" Pa asked in concern.
"Yeah…yeah...I...I’m fine," Joe responded.
"You don’t look fine, son. Are you sure you’re alright?" Ben asked, putting a hand on Joe’s shoulder.
"Yeah," Joe answered, managing a half-smile, "Just had a little nightmare. No problem. Really. "
Ben was unconvinced. "You want to talk about it?"
"No, no, it was just a dream, it’s over now…I.I think I’ll just go back to sleep," Joe tried hard to fake his enthusiasm for the idea, smiling and nodding at his father.
Ben didn’t buy it, but knew it was pointless to try to force his youngest son to talk when he didn’t want to. "Alright, son, if that’s what you want, but remember I’m here if you change your mind." He gave Joe’s shoulder a squeeze before walking to the door. He looked back at Joe one last time before closing the door. "Pleasant dreams, Joseph, goodnight."
"Goodnight, Pa," Joe replied, forcing another smile for his Pa’s benefit.
When his father had gone, Joe took another deep breath and drew his hands down over his face. He couldn’t get the feelings of terror out of his mind. The Captain was really going to murder Joe to save himself. If Mort Billings hadn’t sent that telegram to Pa…
He may have fooled his father, but he knew he would not be doing any sleeping for the rest of the night. He got out of bed, and moved to sit by the window.
He though back to the events of the morning. He had never felt such intense relief in his life when his father came riding through the gates of Fort Mead. Joe had done everything he could to convince the soldiers of his innocence, but still they were about to execute him. It gave him some comfort that Sergeant O’Rourke believed him, and had tried hard to save him. He couldn’t remember ever being more frightened than he was when he was standing there waiting to die. All sorts of things had flashed through his mind- how unfair it was, how his death would grieve his family, how much he wanted to live, how scared he was to die. He thought harder about that last one- he wasn’t so much scared of being dead; his father had fully convinced him that he would join his mother in Heaven when his time came. However, the dying part he was less sure of, certainly death by firing squad was not appealing. Come to think of it, Joe couldn’t wasn’t sure there were any good ways to die.
Joe shook his head. He didn’t want to relive these feelings, and this certainly wasn’t helping him calm down. He moved past the memory of nearly being executed and recollected the events following his family’s arrival at Fort Mead. He and his father thanked Sgt. O’Rourke for saving his life, and they went back to the guardroom.
The soldier on duty seemed surprised to see the Cartwrights come in. "I want my clothes back," Joe said flatly, but there was anger just beneath the surface.
The guard indicated for Corporal Borden to return the clothing he had stolen. The jailed man reluctantly stripped down to his boots and underwear, and handed the clothes out to Joe. "And the hat," Joe reminded. That was passed through the bars to Joe, too. Joe looked back at the guard. He said nothing but his expression clearly communicated that he wasn’t about to change clothes right there in front of everyone.
"Uh...ah…Mr. Cartwright, there’s a supply closet just over here…should be enough room in there to change your clothes," the guard suggested, and opened the door for Joe. The guard was unnerved that he had very nearly participated in the execution of an innocent man, and the revelation of his commanding officer’s involvement in such a scandal.
"Thanks," Joe replied, entering the room. He emerged a few moments later, looking more like himself. He dumped Borden’s clothes on the desk as he passed by, and picked up his gunbelt, which had been removed from the prisoner. Ben and Hoss hurried to catch up with him, as he continued out of the room without a backward glance.
The three Cartwrights rode back to Lode City in silence. Each was too overwhelmed by the morning’s events to speak. They remained lost in their own thoughts until they reached the hotel. Little Joe didn’t really care where they were going, just so long as it was away from Fort Mead, but he was unsure of why they’d come to the hotel.
"Pa, I don’t need to rest, I just want to go home," Joe began, thinking that was the reason why they were there.
Ben had dismounted, and was securing Buck to the hitching post. "I couldn’t agree with you more, Joseph," Ben responded, smiling at Joe’s look of surprise. "I want to get home, too. We’re not staying here, we just need to collect your things, and see Mort Billings. Then we can get on our way."
"My things?" Little Joe’s face reflected his confusion.
"That other fella, the one who was pretending to be you, he was staying here. All your stuff’s up in room four," Hoss explained.
"Oh," Joe replied, but he still looked confused.
As the Cartwrights entered the hotel lobby, Mr. Weems hurried to get behind the desk. "My son will be checking out now," Ben informed him.
"Of course, Mr. Cartwright," Mr. Weems nodded, looking curiously at Little Joe. "Now there’s something different about him…somehow…I’ve got it! The mustache! He’s shaved the mustache!"
"Yep, that’s it," Hoss laughed, then continued in a stage whisper, "See our Pa don’t rightly approve of facial hair. That’s what we had to talk to him about before. He saw things our way, and shaved it right off. Looks better, don’t he?"
"Yeah…yeah…he really does…makes him look real different…" Mr. Weems trailed off, still looking intently at Little Joe.
"Come on, Joseph, let’s get your things and go," Ben ordered in a mock-stern tone.
Little Joe just shrugged and followed his father and brother up the stairs. When they got to the room, Hoss began packing up, while Joe looked to his father for an explanation.
"Well, do you really want to take the time to explain this whole confusing mess to that man, or would you rather just get out of here?" Ben asked, knowing the answer.
Little Joe smiled, "Just get out of here- the sooner, the better!"
"Alright, Little Joe," Ben slapped his son’s shoulder, and they headed downstairs, for Hoss now had everything packed.
As they walked through the lobby towards the door, Mr. Weems called out, "Just a minute there, Mr. Cartwright!"
All three men turned around.
"There’s the matter of the bill, gentlemen."
The Cartwrights exchanged glances. "Of course," Ben finally answered, and pulled some money from his pocket. He figured it was worth a few bits to be done with the whole matter quickly.
"Now, let’s find Mort Billings," Ben stated, as they left the hotel.
"What for, Pa?" Little Joe asked, then remembered the promissory note he’d been carrying. "Oh…the five thousand dollars!"
"Well, that too," Ben answered, "But mainly because he sent me this telegram." Ben pulled the folded piece of paper from his pocket:
Ben Cartwright
Ponderosa Ranch
Virginia City, Nevada Territory
Meet me in Lode City STOP
Urgent STOP
Mort Billings
Little Joe raised his eyebrows but did not comment.
Mr. Billings’ office was just two doors down from the hotel, and the Cartwrights were pleasantly surprised to find him there on a Sunday. He was seated at his desk, and rose to greet his guests. "Ben! Thank goodness you’re here!" Mort looked behind Ben to see Hoss, and then Joe enter the room. "Little Joe! Why, Ben, that’s what I send word to you about. Some fellow met with me yesterday, claiming to be Little Joe, wanting that five thousand dollars I owe you. Well, I figured he’d bushwhacked Joe and stolen that note. I didn’t let on that I knew he was a phony. I just told him I couldn’t get the cash until Monday, when the bank opened. He wouldn’t take a check- he wanted cash real bad!"
"Yeah, I’ll bet he did!" Joe put in. "He was a convicted murderer, on the run from the Army."
Mort Billings had paled at Little Joe’s words. "A murderer? My Lord! I figured him for a thief for sure, but a murderer…." Mort sank back down in his chair. "You’re lucky to be alive, Little Joe!"
"You don’t know just how true that is," Joe replied wryly. "I think I owe you my life," Joe continued more seriously. "If you hadn’t sent Pa that telegram, the Army would’ve executed me, thinking I was that Borden fellow. He hit me over the head and switched our clothes."
"My goodness…" Mr. Billings breathed. "I figured you must be in some kind of trouble when that fellow – Borden, you say – tried to get the money, but…well, I’m just glad everything turned out okay."
"Yes, so are we," Ben shook Mort’s hand warmly. "I can’t tell you how grateful I am."
"Don’t mention it, Ben," Mort insisted. "Now, if you want, I can give you a check for the five thousand."
"What?" Ben asked. "Oh, yes, the money. I’d almost forgotten," Ben laughed.
"Well, if you want to just forget about it, Ben…"
"No, no," Ben interrupted, and the two men laughed. Mort wrote out the check and Ben placed it safely in his pocket.
"Well, I hate to rush off, but we need to get back to the Ponderosa. We have a long ride ahead of us."
"Of course, Ben. I need to get on home myself. I don’t normally come into the office on Sunday, but I figured this would be the easiest place for you to find me. Have a safe trip home."
"Thank you, and thanks again for that telegram," Ben added, giving Mort another firm handshake. Joe and Hoss also shook Mr. Billings’ hand, and then the three of them left the office.
Ben put an arm around each of his sons as they walked back to their horses.
The three of them were quite tired when they arrived home. They were pleasantly surprised to find that Adam had told Hop Sing to hold dinner for them, and they sat down eagerly after washing off the top layer of trail dust from their faces and hands. As they ate, Ben filled Adam in on the events of the day, with some help from Little Joe and Hoss. Joe tried to make light of it, but his hands were shaking. The rest of the family pretended not to notice. Joe changed the subject to the food; Hop Sing’s cooking tasted especially good after what he’d been living off of recently. Army food wasn’t great to start with, but Army prison food… Joe made a joke about how bad it was, and they all laughed.
Soon the family finished their meal and retired to the living room. Adam had more questions about what had happened to Joe. "You said this Sergeant O’Rourke saved your life. How? Pa said they were just about to shoot you when he rode in."
"Well, first off, he tried to send a telegram to Pa, to prove my identity. It got intercepted somehow by Angus Borden. That’s when he knew for sure that I was telling the truth about who I was," Joe answered hesitantly.
"You said that was the first thing. What else?" Adam prodded, when Joe stopped speaking, and showed no signs of starting up again.
"He had said there was nothing else he could do to help me, but then he managed to delay my execution."
"Delay it how?" Adam felt like he was pulling teeth to get each statement from his younger brother.
"He ah…he loaded all the rifles with blanks."
Adam hadn’t been there, and so he didn’t fully realize the implications of Joe’s statement, but Ben did.
"We heard rifle fire when we were almost to the Fort. Do you mean to tell me that they actually fired at you?’ Ben spoke, aghast.
Little Joe nodded mutely.
An awkward silence fell over the room, as each of them considered the horror that the youngest Cartwright had experienced, being put before a firing squad, and indeed hearing the shots intended to kill you.
Sitting there quietly, Joe realized how exhausted he was. Since his capture by the Army, intense feelings of anger, frustration, and fear had kept Joe on edge. Then he experienced the adrenaline rush of relief. Now that those strong emotions were fading, Joe felt drained. He soon excused himself to go up to bed. The others followed, as they were also tired. Little Joe changed into his nightshirt and sunk into his bed, grateful to be sleeping in it once more. He also was glad to get those clothes off. They felt dirty, contaminated somehow. Tomorrow he would ask Hop Sing to wash his jacket the next time he did laundry. He closed his eyes, expecting to sleep like a rock until morning.
Joe shook his head "Yeah, right," he thought. He had spent most of the night sitting by his window, after his nightmare. Joe hoped Adam and Hoss hadn’t heard his screams; he was sorry he had awakened Pa, both because he knew his father was tired, and because he wished his father hadn’t known. He hated having nightmares; it made him feel like a little kid, scared of monsters in the dark. He just wanted to forget all about what happened at Fort Mead. He figured if he kept busy enough, he just wouldn’t have time to think about it, and that would be that.
Little Joe blinked and rubbed his eyes. It wasn’t quite dawn yet, but it would be light soon. No point in trying to go back to bed now. He dressed and went outside, and started his chores. The crisp cool air of early morning was invigorating, and Joe decided to do Hoss’ and Adam’s chores as well. He figured he might as well, since he was up. He grinned, imagining their reaction to finding their little brother awake and working when they got up.
He was just sitting down to breakfast when Pa and Adam came down the stairs. "Well, you’re certainly up bright and early this morning, Joseph." Pa greeted him.
"I guess since I went to bed early, I woke up early, too," Joe rationalized. He just didn’t say HOW early he’d gotten up….
"Hmmmm. Maybe we should send you to bed early every night," Adam suggested, producing the expected protest from Joe.
"That’s enough of that, boys," Ben admonished. "Now let’s eat. Speaking of food, where’s Hoss?"
Ben’s middle son was just coming down the stairs, and heard Ben’s question. "I’m right here, Pa," he answered, coming into the dining room. "Dang, you mean I’m the last one to the breakfast table? I don’t recollect me ever being the last one. How’d you manage to get here afore me, little brother?"
"Me?" Joe asked, with a wounded expression. "I’m never late for breakfast."
They all laughed, and the rest of the meal passed pleasantly. Adam and Hoss were surprised to find their chores done for the morning, and thanked Little Joe. Then they discussed their work for the day. Ben wanted Hoss and Adam to ride up to the north pasture and check on the herd there, and Little Joe was to take one of the hands and repair a damaged section of fence in the west pasture.
Little Joe finished breakfast first, and excused himself from the table. "Guess I’d better get started. See you later." He went to the bunkhouse and got Hank to help him. The two men loaded a wagon with the supplies they’d need, and headed out to the west pasture. The damaged area of fence was larger than Joe had expected, and he started working arduously at his task.
As the day progressed, the work went quickly, and they had nearly finished by noon. Joe intended to complete the job, then get back for lunch. Hank had gone over to get another board from where they had stacked the lumber on the ground. When he picked up the wood, the telltale rattle of a snake startled him. Quickly, he drew his gun and shot the reptile before it could strike. Joe had been busy securing a fence post and hadn’t seen what happened, but when he heard the gunshot, he jumped nearly out of his skin.
"What the HELL do think you’re doing?" Joe exploded, his voice rising nearly an octave as he shouted.
"Take it easy, Little Joe! Gees…There was a rattlesnake. I shot it. Would you have rather I got bit?" Hank defended himself with more than a bit of sarcasm.
Joe couldn’t think of a reasonable reply, which just made him angrier. "No, I wouldn’t rather you’d have got bit," he finally retorted, matching Hank’s tone. "I just wish you’d use some common sense before you go shooting up the place!"
"Joe, it’s like I told you. There was a snake. I was hardly ‘shooting up the place.’" Hank was now getting angry, too. He didn’t know what had set off Little Joe’s famous temper, but he wasn’t too keen on being yelled at by some kid, even if he was the boss’ son.
Joe realized that he had to patch things up with Hank. He didn’t want Pa to get wind of this. He wanted nothing more than to mount Cochise and ride away as fast as he could, but he knew if he did that, Hank’d tell Pa for sure, and he’d have to explain the whole incident in addition to dealing with Pa’s anger over him not finishing the job. He took several deep breaths trying to calm himself, trying to think of what to say next.
"Yeah, you’re right," Joe finally said, hesitantly. "I don’t know what I flew off the handle about. You just startled me, I guess."
Hank didn’t think that was much of an explanation, but had no interest in fighting with Little Joe, and was satisfied that Joe had offered some form of apology. He was willing to let it slide and get on with the work. "Forget about it," he smiled at Joe, and Joe smiled back. They resumed the repair job, and were soon finished, much to Joe’s relief
When they got back to the ranch house, the lunch hour had passed, so Joe went into the kitchen hoping to make a sandwich. To his pleasure, he found Hop Sing had already prepared some, and he happily ate while the little cook chopped vegetables and chattered in Cantonese.
*************
Hoss and Adam returned to the house late that afternoon. As they were stabling their horses, they were surprised to see Pa ride in.
"Hello, boys, how was the herd?"
"Fine, Pa," Adam answered. "There’s plenty of hay and the fence is in good repair."
"Good, good. You had no trouble then?"
"No, sir," Adam answered.
"Have you seen your brother?"
"Now why did the mention of trouble make you think of Little Joe?" Adam asked with a smile.
"We ain’t seen him, Pa," Hoss answered, ignoring Adam’s remark. "We only just got back ourselves. I reckon he’s got that fence done by now, though."
"I hope so. I suppose he’s around here somewhere," Ben said. Having seen to their horses, the three Cartwrights headed for the house.
"Hey, Hop Sing!" Hoss called, as they entered the front door and placed their gunbelts on the credenza.
Soon the cook appeared from the kitchen, spoon in hand. "Finally, you come home. Supper leady two hour." With that, Hop Sing turned to go back to his cooking.
"Oh, Hop Sing, I can’t wait two whole hours! You got anything I can eat now?" Hoss implored.
"Hop Sing fix good lunch, send with Mr. Adam and Mr. Hoss. Now you want more food. Spoil appetite for supper. Humph!"
"Oh, no, no Hop Sing, I ain’t gonna spoil my appetite for supper, that’s for dang sure! And that lunch you packed for me and Adam was just fine. Plumb delicious, in fact. It’s just that all that ridin’ made me hungry. How about just a couple of sandwiches to tide me over until dinner?"
Hop Sing rattled off a tirade in Cantonese and then ordered Hoss to follow him to the kitchen. In reality, Hop Sing had roast beef and fresh bread already sliced, so making the sandwiches would take only a few moments. Hop Sing was always prepared to feed the Cartwright brother who was most appreciative of his talents.
Adam followed Ben to the study, where Ben started sorting the mail. "You’ve been to town," Adam observed.
"Yes," Ben replied, slightly distracted by his task. "I sent a telegram, picked up the mail, then went by to see Roy. We ended up having lunch together at the hotel."
Adam nodded as he listened to his father recount his errands, then asked, "Who’d you send a wire to, Pa?"
"To General Thompson, the Military Commander for Nevada. I think Sgt. O’Rourke should receive a commendation for his actions above and beyond the call of duty."
"Yes, he should. That’s very thoughtful of you, Pa."
"Well, it’s the least I could do."
Ben and Adam gazed at each other for a few moments, then Adam looked away. "God, Pa, every time I think of Little Joe in front of a firing squad…" Adam’s voice, thick with emotion, trailed off, and he shook his head and pressed his fingertips into his forehead.
"I know," Ben replied softly. "I can’t imagine the terror he must have felt."
"I have this image of him, standing there helpless, waiting to die. I can’t get it out of my mind." Adam admitted.
"Adam, do you realize they were seconds away from firing when I rode up? When I think of all the what if’s – what if Hoss and I hadn’t run into that soldier in the desert, what if Angus Borden had headed for Mexico instead of hanging around Lode City to get that money, what if I hadn’t been riding as fast, if…if…if!" Ben closed his eyes and ran a hand over his face. "It gives me cold chills down my spine."
The two men sat in silence for a few moments, then Adam asked, "Pa, how’s Little Joe handling this?"
"You know your brother," Ben replied. "He wants to work things out on his own. The thing is, this isn't really a problem to be solved…it’s more of…well…an experience to come to terms with. How would you feel, Adam, if you were condemned to die -for a crime you didn’t commit- then put in front of a firing squad…then hearing the guns fire…I can’t stand it, Adam! I can’t stand to think of what he must have gone through, but then I can’t seem to think of anything else, either," Ben finished and lowered his head, covering his eyes with the palms of his hands, as if to block the mental images of his youngest son at Fort Mead.
Adam wordlessly put his hand on his father’s shoulder. Adam understood his father in ways his younger brothers never could. Although Ben could be the most demonstrative with Little Joe, he had a history with his oldest son that allowed them to communicate without words. Adam had seen Ben through the death of two wives, a trek across the prairie, poverty, loneliness, despair. He’d also shared some of the happiest times of his father’s life; marriages, the births of Hoss and Joe, and Adam had been by his father’s side as together they’d built the Ponderosa. Ben sometimes treated Adam as a peer rather than a son, a trusted friend in whom he could confide. Through his firm grip on his father’s shoulder, Adam let Pa know that he shared his pain and fear for Little Joe, and he would do what he could to help his brother. Adam had helped raise Joe, and sometimes his role blurred between older brother and father. At this moment, he was feeling quite paternalistic towards his youngest brother. Pa had asked how he would feel if placed in the same situation, but Adam saw no need to answer aloud. Obviously anyone would feel helpless and frightened, two emotions that didn’t sit well with his headstrong independent little brother. They would have to tread lightly around Little Joe for awhile. When he was upset, he became almost impossible to live with.
"Little Joe had a nightmare last night," Ben broke the silent tableau.
"Why am I not surprised?" Adam interjected without humor.
Ben continued, "He said he couldn’t remember what it was about, but I have a feeling I would need only one guess."
"Yeah," Adam agreed, and privately resolved to do nothing to antagonize his youngest brother for awhile. He remembered with regret how he’d teased Joe only that morning. Joe hadn’t really overreacted, though. Adam suddenly put two and two together, "Pa, do you think that’s why Joe was up so early this morning? He never went back to sleep after his nightmare?"
"I think it’s very likely, son," Ben replied, "He wouldn’t thank us for noticing, though."
"I understand. Don’t worry I’ll be careful for awhile. I’ll explain to Hoss, too," Adam offered.
"Explain what to me?" Hoss rounded the corner, still chewing the last bite of his sandwich.
"Our baby brother is having nightmares again," Adam answered. "Pa and I think they might be related to what happened to him at Fort Mead."
Hoss’ face darkened as he digested this information. "I wanted to give that Angus Borden a fat lip, and when I found out that Captain Merced was in on the whole thing, I could’ve ripped his arms off!"
Adam hid a smile beneath his cupped hand. "Well, I don’t think pulling the arms off an officer will help Joe, but maybe we should try to stay out of his way for awhile."
"Ohhhh," Hoss’ expression changed as realization dawned. "Yeah. I see what you mean. He’d just as soon bite your head off as look at you when he’s upset about somethin’ and don’t want nobody knowin’ about it."
"Yeah," Adam laughed, "Only his mercurial behavior is a dead give away that something IS wrong."
"Boys, boys," Ben cautioned, "This is no laughing matter!"
"No, Pa, of course not." Adam was instantly serious again. "But Little Joe won’t talk to us about his problems when he gets like this."
"Like what? I ain’t noticed him actin’ different. Maybe we’re jumpin’ the gun a bit," Hoss offered.
"Always the optimist," Adam responded. "Or didn’t you think it strange that our baby brother was up early enough not only to beat us to the breakfast table, but do all of our chores first."
"Hmmmm," Hoss pondered. "I guess you’re right, at that. You think Joe ain’t sleepin’ ?"
Adam’s reply was cut off by Hop Sing. "Dinner leady. You come eat now, or food get cold!"
"Where do you suppose Joe could be?" Ben wondered aloud.
"Little Joe say he go see about new stock," Hop Sing answered, even though he knew the question wasn’t directed at him. "He say maybe he help hands break horses this afternoon."
Ben scowled. He didn’t like the idea of Joe trying to ride broncs after working hard all morning, and not getting much rest the night before. Ben’s thoughts were interrupted as their subject walked through the front door. Joe was dirty and looked tired, but otherwise okay. Ben breathed an inward sigh of relief.
***********
Ben awoke with a start, his body covered in sweat. He took several deep breaths, but could not shake the vivid dream images from his mind. He was riding Buck at a full gallop, going towards Fort Mead, but no matter how fast he rode, he couldn’t reach the Fort. He heard rifle fire in the distance and spurred Buck on even faster. Finally the Fort came into view, and he heard the rifle fire again. He rode through the gates of the fort just in time to see the body of his youngest son slide down the wall into a pool of blood. "JOSEPH" he screamed, jumping off his horse and running to his son’s side, but it was too late. Joe was gone.
Ben got out of bed, thinking that moving around would help dispel the lingering feelings of overwhelming horror and grief he’d felt in the dream. So this is how Little Joe feels after a nightmare, Ben thought wryly. He himself couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a nightmare. He’d always sympathized with Joseph when his son experienced them, but never understood how real the feelings of terror from a dream could be.
Although it was the middle of the night, Ben decided to go downstairs, maybe get a cup of coffee. Anything to get himself fully awake and clear the dream from his mind. When he got downstairs, though, he found he wasn’t really thirsty. He determined to go outside, walk around a little, breathe some fresh air. That would surely clear his head.
He walked out onto the porch. It was a beautiful clear night. He gazed up at the stars, and filled his lungs with the crisp night air. Yes, this was a good idea. Ben found the dream was fading from memory with each breath. He became aware of a light coming from the barn. Who could be in there at this time of night ? he wondered, and went to investigate. He belatedly thought of his gun, but decided against going to the house to retrieve it. He slowly opened the barn door…and saw Little Joe, dressed only in his nightshirt, brushing Cochise.
Little Joe looked up, startled to see his father there. "Uh….hi, Pa…I was…ah…just…ah"
"Grooming your horse?" Ben finished for him.
Joe smiled nervously. "Yeah...yeah, Pa, I was just....g.g.grooming my horse." His voice trailed off as he realized how absurd it sounded. Ben had taught each of his sons to take proper care of the livestock, but this was a little ridiculous. However, Joe had a talent for manipulating conversation away from himself, and an idea came to him.
"What're you doing out here, Pa?"
Ben had a pretty good idea why Little Joe was in the barn, and he also knew quite well that Joe was diverting attention away from his earlier question by changing the subject. He decided to play along, though, hoping his son would finally open up to him.
"Well, I had this sudden desire to...ah...groom my horse." Ben said seriously, and picked up a brush and began using it on Buck.
Joe's eyebrows climbed. "In the middle of the night, Pa?" he asked, disbelieving.
"Why not? After all, that's what you're doing, isn't it?" Ben replied, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.
Joe studied the brush in his hand, and then the floor. He knew neither he nor his Pa woke up in the middle of the night with irresistible urges to brush horses. Why had Pa come out here? Did I wake him when I came out?
Ben saw Joe's inner struggle and decided to push just a bit. He stopped brushing and looked at his youngest son. "Joe, I didn't really come out here to groom Buck." Ben spoke as if revealing a great secret.
Joe raised his head to meet his father's gaze. Where was Pa going with this?
"You know," Ben continued as he left Buck’s stall, and entered Cochise’s, "Hoss says that animals make the best listeners. You can tell them anything, and they won’t interrupt, or offer advice, or judge you. They just listen."
"Hoss talks to animals?" Joe asked softly.
Ben smiled. "I think we all do, at times. We spend so much time with our horses, it sometimes seems like they know us better than anyone else."
"You came out here to... to talk to Buck?" Joe asked uncertainly.
Ben wasn’t sure how to respond. He’d always taught his boys the importance of being truthful, and that wasn’t the truth, but he didn’t want to close the door he’d managed to crack open, either.
Joe interpreted Pa’s reluctance to answer as an affirmative, and was curious. What had upset his father?
"You want to talk about it?" Joe asked awkwardly, thinking of all the times Pa had said those words to him, but he couldn’t remember ever having said them to his father. He had no idea how he would help his father with whatever it was that was bothering him, but he was willing to try. He wondered if his father ever felt so unsure when offering to help him. No, of course not. Pa always knows what to do.
Ben thought about his response for a moment. He had prayed for guidance to help his son. Perhaps that’s why he had the nightmare. He had a way to relate to Joe, to open a conversation about the events none of them could bring themselves to talk about. He didn’t want to recall the dream he’d just recently banished from his mind, but if it would help his son, he would do it, he decided with conviction.
He walked over to a shelf and removed some blankets. He folded one and placed it on a bale of hay. He sat down, and motioned for Joe to join him. When his son was seated beside him, Ben placed a blanket around his shoulders, and another across his lap. "You must be cold," he explained.
Joe hadn’t realized how cold he was until he felt the warmth of the blankets, and so didn’t protest. He looked expectantly at his father, wondering what he was about to hear.
"I had a dream, a nightmare, really." Ben began slowly.
"You, Pa?"
"Yes," Ben put his hand on Joe’s knee. "I guess what happened at Fort Mead affected me more then I thought."
Joe became a little uncomfortable at this; he didn’t want to think about Fort Mead, or anything that happened there, but he remembered this wasn’t about him; it was about Pa.
He waited for his father to continue.
"You never seem to remember your dreams, but mine was so vivid, so real. I couldn’t get it out of my mind, even after I woke up. I decided to come out here to try to get awake enough to be able to think of something else."
Joe froze. Ben had unwittingly described exactly what his son had done. Did Pa know?
Ben felt his son’s muscles tighten. That confirmed his earlier suspicions about why his son was there. He hadn’t meant to make Joe believe he was talking about him, though. He decided the only way to prove that to Joe was by forging ahead and describing the dream.
"Do you want to hear about it?" Ben asked his son.
"The dream, Pa? Your dream?" Joe asked hesitantly.
Ben smiled, "Of course, my dream. Was there another one?" He asked innocently.
"Come on, Pa, we both know what you’re really getting at! I had another nightmare, and couldn’t sleep, so I came out here to tell Cochise all my problems!" Joe was angry now, believing his father was being patronizing.
"Watch your tone, Joseph," Ben warned. He wasn’t taking disrespect from his son, regardless of how upset he was. He continued more gently, "Joe, look at me. I’ve never lied to you, have I?"
Joe shook his head wordlessly.
"The truth is that I had a nightmare and came outside to get some fresh air. I thought it would make me feel better, and it did. I noticed the light in the barn, and wondered who was in here at this time of night. I had no idea it was you."
Joe gazed solemnly at his father as he spoke, and then looked down at his hands when he’d finished. "I’m sorry I lost my temper. I thought…"
"I know, Joseph," Ben reassured. "It’s alright." Ben put an arm around his son’s shoulders, and hugged him closer. "Now, you said you wanted to hear about my dream. Do you?"
Joe was silent for a moment, then met his father’s eyes. "Yeah, Pa," he said simply.
Ben began describing the events of his nightmare to Little Joe. He felt his son start to tremble when he got to the part about hearing the rifle fire as he rode to the fort, and he paused a moment in his narrative.
Staring down at his hands, Joe spoke in a voice that shook as much as the rest of him. "I’ve never been so scared in all my life, Pa. I thought they would kill me, and you’d never know what happened to me. And Captain Merced knew who I was and was going to kill me anyway. He’d even lied to you about me being there! It seemed like every time I nearly made contact with you, something messed it up." Once Joe started talking, it seemed he couldn’t stop, and his words continued in a torrent. "I was so…frustrated! I wanted to escape somehow, but there was no way, and I didn’t want to die! Not that way! And then they stood me up in front of that wall, and they…fired…OH GOD, Pa!" Joe collapsed into hysterical sobbing, and his father held him tightly.
"Oh, Joseph," Ben murmured, stroking his son’s soft curls and rubbing his back. "I’ve got you now, you’re alright." Ben continued wordlessly comforting his youngest son, allowing him to release his pent-up emotions, until his tears slowed.
Part of Joe wanted to pull away from his father’s arms, but another part was feeling very safe and secure, and Joe wasn’t ready to give that up just yet. Finally, he sat back and rubbed his hands across his face, then looked up at his Pa.
Ben looked into Joe’s eyes, again feeling the terror of nearly losing his youngest child, and spoke softly. "Every time I think about what could have happened I get shivers down my spine. That was my nightmare, Joseph. I get there just a little too late." With this revelation, Ben grabbed his son again and hugged him close, thanking God that Joe was alive. For surely it was a miracle that he had not arrived a moment later. He wished the Lord had seen fit to allow him to arrive a few moments earlier though, he thought wryly. Smiling through his tears, he pulled back from the embrace and looked at his son.
"I can’t imagine what you went through, son, but I’d do anything to be able to change it." Ben’s voice was deep with conviction.
"Well, I wouldn’t change that part where you come riding up at the end, Pa," Joe replied with a laugh that was tears beneath the surface.
Ben smiled back. That was his Little Joe. He would be all right now. He would still have feelings about what happened to work out for himself, but he would be willing to talk, now that the initial barrier had been broken. Ben sighed deeply, and sent an unvoiced prayer of thanks heavenward.
"Why don’t we go back in the house, son. I think we might have a couple of hours left before daylight," Ben put his arm around Joe as they left the barn.
"You know," Joe observed pleasantly, "I may actually be able to sleep tonight!"
Ben laughed, and clapped his son’s shoulder. He privately decided that no one would disturb Little Joe’s slumber in the morning. After all, Ben thought, he’s been doing his brothers’ chores for the past few days; they could do his tomorrow.
Ben accompanied his son to his room, and stayed until he was tucked in. He couldn’t resist brushing back Little Joe’s hair and placing a kiss on his forehead, and was pleased that Joe did not protest.
When he finally returned to his own room, he removed his robe and sank into his bed. Perhaps he, too, would sleep in tomorrow, he thought with a smile, as he drifted off to a dreamless sleep.
*****END*****
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