The Olive Branch

By Pat

Ben stormed down the stairs and strode across the big room refastening his belt. Adam and Hoss, who had both turned to look at him as he came down the stairs, saw the expression on his face and quickly buried themselves in what they had previously been doing.

Adam, sitting reading, took his feet off the table and glanced across at Hoss who was busy attacking the logs in the great fireplace. Hoss turned and stole a quick glance at Adam, both their eyes met; Adam raised his eyebrows and shrugged. They became aware that their father having downed a large gulp of brandy had turned his withering glare on them.

"Well?" Ben stated more than asked.

Adam lifted his gaze over the book and regarded Ben "Pa?"

"Were you going to say something?" growled Ben.

“No Pa, I wasn’t going to say a thing," said Adam eyes wide in innocence.

"Well that’ll be a first," said Ben, taking another sip from the brandy glass.

"Don’t you think?" started Hoss:

"Don’t I think what?" said Ben turning to scowl at him.

"Don’t…" Hoss screwing up his courage continued, "don’t you think he looked beat up enough without…"

"For your information, young man, I told that brother of yours two days ago that if he got into another fight at school then he would feel my anger"

"But Pa…”

"But nothing, and leave that fire alone. Do you want to roast us alive!"

Hoss slumped, his head sinking into his massive shoulders; he rested the poker against the wall and thrust his hands into his pockets, shuffling his feet and kicking at the stones of the fireplace. "Just think he looked as if he got the worst of it," Hoss muttered half to himself and half to the room at large.

"When I want your opinion, I’ll ask for it," barked Ben.

Hoss seemed to shrink more into himself, and Ben turned to regard Adam. "A twelve year old boy has to learn that when he is told something, he will have to take the consequences, if he chooses to disregard what he has been told."

"I’m not arguing with that, Pa; in fact, I agree with you." Adam shot a look at Hoss who had turned to scowl at him. "But I think Hoss has a point, that it may not have been..."

"That’s enough," interrupted Ben, and glaring at the two brothers, began to speak in a very clipped precise tone. "I am Joseph’s father and what I say goes as far as his behavior and discipline is concerned. He is confined to his room and neither of you, I repeat, neither of you is to go near him. Is that understood Hoss? Adam?"

"Yessir," mumbled Hoss.

"Yes Pa," replied Adam, meeting Ben’s gaze for a few moments and then dropping his eyes back to his book.

At that moment Hop Sing came into the room from the kitchen and stood by the table. "You eat now, or you carry on shout?" Only Hop Sing could get away with such a remark. Ben swung round and glared at the inscrutable face of the cook. He started a reply but thought better of it and turned back towards his two sons. This was not going to be an easy meal.

Hoss grunted something and started towards the table, hands still in his pockets. Adam carefully placed the marker in his book and slipped it down the side of the chair. He pursed his lips and stood slowly, stretched and walked past Ben, across the room to the table.

As Ben turned, Hop Sing asked, "What about Little Joe, he eat now? Boy too skinny."

"No," said Ben slowly, trying to keep his patience, "He does not eat now; he is staying in his room."

"I take him food on tray." said Hop Sing turning back to his kitchen. Ben, downing the contents of his glass, didn’t see the point of arguing with Hop Sing’s back.

The meal was eaten in silence; Hop Sing banged the serving plates on the table and returned to the kitchen. He shortly came out carrying a tray with a plate of stew, some bread and a glass of milk. "I don’t want you staying to talk to him; you just leave the food and come back down here," said Ben staring at Hop Sing, defying the cook to contradict him.

"I do what is necessary," was Hop Sing’s reply and he turned and stomped off across the room and up the stairs.

He came back down five minutes later, the plate untouched but some of the milk drunk. Hop Sing was muttering angrily to himself and nobody wanted to ask what he was saying.

The meal finished, the three men left the table and went across to the fireplace. Ben sank down into his accustomed chair, the leather creaking and sighing as it molded itself into his remembered shape. Hoss stayed standing in front of the fire, staring into the burning embers, and Adam perched on the arm of the sofa, his eyes hooded concealing his thoughts. Hop Sing reappeared and banged a coffee tray down onto the table in front of Ben; still muttering, he turned and started to clear the dinner table, the clashing of the china causing all three to wince.

"I don’t think I want coffee, I’m just going up to bed," said Hoss, anxious to be anywhere but in the oppressive atmosphere of the room.

"You stay away from Joseph!" ordered Ben.

"Yessir, I wasn’t going to… goodnight," replied Hoss, edging back towards the stairs.

Adam stood.

"I suppose you are going to bed too?" stated Ben.

"Well, busy day tomorrow, Pa; always good to get an early start. Goodnight," said Adam as he turned and started up the stairs behind Hoss.

"Goodnight," said Ben, watching them go up the stairs, just glimpsing Adam throwing his arm around Hoss’ shoulders as they went round the corner.

Left alone in the big room, Ben suddenly felt very tired. He took out his pipe and lit it, throwing the match into the fire. He poured himself a coffee and sat back. He knew that he had had to carry out his threat to Joe; he had promised him a hiding if he had gotten into a fight again. He hated beating the boy but what to do if he deserved it? When he had seen the bruises and the bloody nose as Joe had come round the door, his temper had snapped.

His temper had been near breaking point for a quite a while with Joe. The boy had been surly to the point of rudeness with Adam, sulking and making snide remarks whenever the opportunity offered. You’d think the boy wasn’t glad to see his brother home. He had gotten into more trouble than usual at school, if that was possible! And today, not only was he late, but he had been fighting! Only two days after he had warned him of the consequences of fighting again!

He had done no more than dragged Joe up the stairs and given him six hard swipes with his belt, not even giving the boy a chance at an explanation.

"There was no explanation," Ben reasoned with himself. "The boy had been fighting after school and that was that." He had left Joe standing in his bedroom, slamming the door shut behind him. He knew he was angry and didn’t want to actually harm the child. He hadn’t held or comforted him; he hadn’t deserved it. The boy hadn’t even cried.

*********

Joe stood by the bed staring at the closed door. He wasn’t going to cry -- he wasn’t -- but he was aware of his traitorous eyes filling with tears. A sob escaped his lips and he turned, sinking to his knees he buried his face in the bedcovering. He didn’t stay like that for long, however, as he became aware of how sore his face was.

His face -- that was a joke; it wasn’t the only place that was sore now. He couldn’t make up his mind which was worse, the face or the butt. "Come on, Joe, this isn’t getting you anywhere." He stood and walked over to the washstand and looked in the mirror. "Well, don’t you look good today." He grimaced as he saw his reflection in the mirror.

His left eye was really puffy and he wondered if it was going to swell right up and close. He’d seen Adam’s eye look like that, but then Pa had fussed and put stuff on it and made Adam lie down and, and… What was the point? Now Adam was back from college; it was Adam this and Adam that and "Kiss my butt, Adam!!" He glared into the mirror. But it was hard to glare with a puffy eye and lots of bruises and a cut lip and a sharp pain in your side and a really sore butt.

The tears started to well up again, "You’re just feeling sorry for yourself!" But he did feel sorry for himself. He missed Pa and Hoss; it had all been really different since Adam had got back from college, just four months ago.

He had been looking forward to having Adam around again, but he didn’t recognize this sophisticated young man who used long words that only Pa seemed to understand, who had been places he had never heard of, who kept on at him about his school work, how he should try harder, do this, do that, read this, read that. Pa spent hours sitting and talking with Adam and Joe felt as if he was intruding, not wanted.

And Hoss, his Hoss, was really happy to be around Adam all the time now, going places where Joe couldn’t go because he was too little, too small, too young, not wanted. Joe looked up at the mirror and saw the mess that his face had become.

The tears that were now streaming down his face had made tracks on his grubby cheeks. His eyes were red-rimmed, apart from the bruises that were livid on his pale face. His nose was running and the blood had started to seep out again. His lip was swollen, the cut oozing slightly. He jumped as Hop Sing shouted to him to open the door.

"What you done? Look at your face. What your father say?" Hop Sing looked at the pitiful scrap of humanity that stood before him and softened. "Why you fight, fight all the time? Not good, not good." He put down the tray and Joe eyed it warily.

"Come, wash face, cool water, come." Hop Sing picked up the pitcher and poured some water into the basin. He dipped the washcloth into the bowl and wrung it out. "Come". He offered the cloth to Joe. Joe took it and gingerly started to wipe it over his face. It stung but it also strangely made him feel a bit better. "Rinse cloth, do again." Joe did as he was told and Hop Sing seemed satisfied.

Hop Sing took the cloth back and rinsed it out. He squeezed out the water and handed it back to Joe. "Hold over eye, help bruise. Your father, he treat after dinner?"

"I don’t know," said Joe, "I don’t think so, leastways he didn’t say."

"You try eat now?"

Joe considered Hop Sing and wondered how he was going to get out of this one. "I really don’t feel so good; I just want to sleep. It looks real tasty but I don’t think I could chew the meat. My mouth’s real sore."

Joe paused to see how this was being received. "I could manage some milk, though." He picked up the glass and took a couple of mouthfuls. It was true about his mouth being sore and the cut on his lip bled a little into the milk. Joe looked at the swirls of red in the creamy milk and felt his stomach turn. He knew if he drank any more he would probably bring it up, so he put the glass down. "I really don’t want any more, please, Hop Sing." He turned a pleading face to Hop Sing.

Hop Sing stared at him, lips pursed, and relented. "You go bed now." Joe nodded and Hop Sing picked up the tray and went out the door. As Joe closed it behind him, he could hear the string of abuse going down the stairs.

Joe put the washcloth back on the washstand and began to undress. He wondered idly what that sharp pain was in his side, well more his back. Must have been when Jake had pushed him back hard and he had lost his footing and caught his back as he fell on the school steps. "Fool thing" he chided himself, "Fancy letting yourself get caught by Jake and Frank. Stupid!"

He had taken off his shirt and let his pants drop to the floor, his drawers following. He found his nightshirt and was starting to pull it over his head when he let out a yelp. Lifting his right arm had really hurt that something in his side. He stood hugging himself until the pain subsided and then carefully eased the nightshirt on.

As he was tugging it down, he stopped and turned to look at his back in the mirror. He could see a red mark partway down his back over his ribs. His gaze dropped to survey the new bruises added by Pa. He looked over at the washstand and considered. He went over to the washstand and wrung the washcloth out in the water and shook it out. This time he spread it over his buttocks. The cloth was a bit scratchy but it sure cooled everything down.

He had stood there for several minutes, rinsing out the cloth and holding it over his sore behind when he heard footsteps on the stairs. Dropping the cloth, he bounded over to the bed and climbed, a little awkwardly, under the covers. The footsteps had come up the stairs and stopped. He could hear voices murmuring. It wasn’t Pa; it was Hoss and Adam. They didn’t come down the hallway towards his room but stayed down their end of the hall. Then he heard the murmured goodnights and doors closing. Pa must be still downstairs.

Joe didn’t know which way to lie. Certainly not on his back, but lying on his front wasn’t good either. His head and eye were really throbbing now, and he was beginning to feel queasy. The more he tossed about. the more his side hurt. He thought he ought to get up and put the washcloth back on his eye, but he didn’t want Pa to catch him moving about.

Pa. Pa hadn’t even let him explain, didn’t even listen, had told him that he was getting what he deserved, that he would have to learn obedience the painful way. That he had been warned but had chosen to ignore the warning, to disobey.

The tears came again and Joe swung his legs out of his bed and turned to kneel on the floor leaning on the bed. He froze as he heard the steps coming up the stairs, up and up and then stopping. Silence for a few heartbeats, and then the steps turned and started down the hall.

Joe blew the lamp out and leapt back into bed, pulling the covers up around his head. The door opened and a stream of light flowed from the open door across the floor and up the wall. Joe, his head turned to the wall and away from the door, watched as after a few moments the band of light narrowed and disappeared; Joe was left in the dark as the door closed. He listened as the footsteps retraced their path down the hall. Another door opened and closed, and there was silence.

Can you sob silently? Joe stuffed his hand in his mouth to try to stop himself making a noise. Was this how things were going to be now? He couldn’t remember a time when Pa hadn’t come and tucked him in, stroked his hair, kissed him goodnight, even though he knew that Pa knew he was sometimes only pretending to be asleep.

He wanted Pa. Should he go and say that he was sorry. beg him to hear what had happened. How the two boys had jumped him as he came out of school and he hadn’t stood a chance. Why wouldn’t Pa listen? ‘Cos he was too wrapped up in high and mighty Adam, that was why, and didn’t have time for him. "Adam." The name was torn from him; he thought he hated him. He didn’t use to. But he didn’t know this Adam.

Joe got out of bed and went across to the washstand. Picking up the washcloth, he dipped it in the water and held it to his eye. He shuffled across to the window and sank down in front of it, gulping in the cool air; that made his back hurt again. He held his breath and slowly the pain eased. He lay his head down on the window seat, his whole being filled with pain. He was so miserable. He wasn’t sure if he could bear it.

***************

As Ben came down the stairs, he could see Hoss and Adam buckling on their gun belts. "Morning." He presumed that the grunts that he got in reply were returning his greeting. "You’re up early?" Hoss and Adam exchanged glances; Hoss looked down at the buckle on his gun belt that needed all his concentration to fasten.

Adam opened his mouth as if to make a remark to Hoss and then turned to Ben. "Er, yes Pa, we thought that if we made a start now, then we could be back for lunch and have the afternoon to ourselves."

"Well, I better not hold you up then."

"Er no, right, see you later, Pa."

Ben watched them hustle out the door. He knew that they had chosen not to find out what sort of mood he was in and had breakfasted early in order to get away before he came down. Was he turning into a real grouch or what? He had to admit that he seemed to have been in a bad mood for several weeks. There had been problems with a land deal, and then some petty thieving that had meant firing one of the older, trusted hands. It had to be done but had left a bad taste in his mouth.

And then he turned and looked up the stairs. There was another ‘little’ problem up there too. He went and sat at the table, and Hop Sing appeared at his shoulder with some fresh coffee. "Thanks, Hop Sing," he said absently, his mind still on the other problem. What had happened?

Why had Adam coming home turned his loveable, chatty imp into a surly, sulky monster? Ben sipped his coffee and then served himself from the dishes on the table. He sat, knife and fork in hand, staring at his plate. He would find the time to talk with Joe. He and Joe and never had any trouble talking before; he would make the boy talk to him and try to find a way to end this breach in his family.

He hated the way it made him feel, and knew that he wasn’t alone in that feeling. Yes, he and Joe would have a talk and get the whole thing straightened out when he’d finished the ledgers, a task that he had started the day before and abandoned when he couldn’t make sense of the figures.

************

The three men moved across to the fireplace as Hop Sing came down the stairs with a tray. The contents of the tray had not been touched and they could hear the string of Cantonese that accompanied the cook all the way to the kitchen. Hoss had followed the tray with his eyes and it was obvious that he was bursting to say something.

"Well, come on, out with it." Ben glared over at Hoss as he lit his pipe. He had been working on the ledgers all morning and had now found that he had made a mistake on the page before and would have to go over the whole set of figures again.

His mood was not of the best and he knew it. They all knew it. Adam tried to make frantic signals to Hoss to keep his remarks to himself, when they all started up at the tremendous crash that had come from upstairs.

Adam, the first to get to the stairs, started racing up, Hoss close behind. Ben dropping his pipe on the brass plate on the coffee table followed his two sons up the broad staircase, taking two stairs at a time. They raced down the hall to Joe’s room where the sound of the crash had come. Adam grasped the handle of the door and tried to open it. He could only open the door an inch or so.

"Joe, Joe, open the door! Joe can you hear me?" Adam pressed his mouth to the crack in the door and shouted through the gap. "Joe, Joe" They were all shouting his name. There was still no reply from his room. Hoss pushed Adam to one side and put his shoulder to the door. Heaving, muscles straining, the door opened another six inches or so. Ben tried to look into the room. "The wardrobe is on the floor, it’s blocking the door! Joe, Joseph, answer me!" For a brief moment they all stopped shouting and pushing and in the silence heard a faint sobbing. "Come on, Hoss." Adam and Hoss put their shoulders to the door and heaved again.

The door moved enough for Adam to squeeze through. The wardrobe lay on its face on the floor. Books, toys and papers that had been on the top of the wardrobe were scattered everywhere. Joe was kneeling on the floor holding the top of his head and sobbing quietly.

Adam, taking in the situation, made the decision to pull the wardrobe as much as he could, thereby giving Pa and Hoss enough space to squeeze into the room. Pa went straight over to Joe. "Joseph, Joseph what on earth were you doing, boy? Joseph, answer me!" Ben sat on the bed and grabbed Joe’s upper arm. He half pulled, half dragged the boy towards him until Joe was between his legs with his head on Ben’s thigh.

Adam and Hoss stood looking at Joe and Ben looked up at them. "Go on, get the thing back upright and then we can sort this mess out" Adam and Hoss turned and started heaving the wardrobe back onto its feet. Ben looked down at Joe. Joe still had his hands pressed on his head and Ben guessed that he had somehow managed to knock himself. It was incredible that that was all he had done.

He tried to pull Joe’s hands away but Joe wouldn’t let him, making whimpering noises as he determinedly kept his hands on his head. "Joseph, stop this now. How do you expect me to help when you won’t let me see what you’ve done? Joseph!" Ben, realizing he wasn’t getting anywhere, put his hand under Joe’ s chin and pulled his face up to look at him. "Jo…" His voice died in his throat as he saw his son’s face.

Joe squinted up at him with his one good eye; the other was swollen shut. The eye that Ben could see was puffy and red with weeping. Bruises stood out purple on Joe’s pale face. His nose was red and slightly swollen, the cut on his lip livid and sore. There were dark rings under his eyes, visible despite the bruises, a sign that he probably hadn’t slept last night.

Ben grasped Joe’s face with his two hands and looked at him. "Dear God, what did you do to your face?" In his mind flashed the picture of Joe coming round the front door yesterday, the red marks that would later turn into bruises, the smears of blood. And what had he done? Hauled him off and beaten him. What sort of a father had he become that he had ignored his son’s pain and distress and dealt with the behavior only?

"Show me your head, son, show me." His voice, tender now, his hands caressing the bruised damp cheeks. Joe continued to look up at him then slowly tilted his head down and let Ben move his hands away and explore the curly hair. Ben could feel as well as see the large lump forming on Joe’s scalp, the pinpricks of blue and red visible in between the soft hair.

A grunt and a thump told him that the wardrobe had been righted. Ben turned to look at Adam and Hoss; Hoss was bending down to look at the bottom of the wardrobe, probing the wood with his finger. "Look Pa. The foot’s gone. Bet that was why it fell; it must’ve overbalanced."

"More likely Joe was climbing on top and it went over."

"Oh give it a rest, Adam; you’re always on Joe’s case." Hoss turned to confront Adam.

"You think the wardrobe just up and toppled over all by itself?" Adam retorted.

"Hoss," Ben interrupted, "Hoss go downstairs and get Hop Sing to bring up some hot water, towels, the arnica, iodine and witch hazel if there is any."

Hoss tore his glare away from Adam and all concern, came over to Ben’s side and looked down at Joe. “Pa, is Joe OK?"

"He will be; now do as I say and hurry."

Hoss left the room and Ben turned to see what Adam was doing. He was digging amongst the debris on the floor and pulled out a book. He held it up and examined it and whirled round to face Joe. "So this is what you do with my books, toss them on top of the wardrobe. Well that’s the last time I lend you anything."

"Adam!"

"Well, Pa, look at what he’s done to it." And indeed the book was a sorry sight with the cover lining torn and pages bent and twisted. "Alright Adam, but not now, son, not now." Ben placed his hand on Adam’s arm and gently squeezed.

They held each other’s gaze for a few moments and Adam dropped his head. He looked back up and asked softly, “Is he really OK?"

"See for yourself." Ben gently tilted Joe’s head up.

Adam let out a whistle. "Surely he’s not just done that?"

"No, you were both right, it looks like he got a beating yesterday. Get that washcloth, will you? Rinse it out first." Adam brought the cloth over to Ben and Ben placed it on the lump on Joe’s head.

"That washcloth’s sure getting about," thought Joe laying his head on his Pa’s knee.

***********************

When Ben finally came back downstairs, Hop Sing had made fresh coffee. Ben gratefully poured himself a cup and sat down.

"Does he need the Doctor, Pa?" Hoss asked anxiously.

"No, I don’t think so," Ben replied, "they’re mostly superficial bruises."

"Superfish bruises?" Hoss screwed his face up looking perplexed.

"Surface bruises; they’ll mend by themselves," Adam was quick to explain.

Ben regarded Adam thoughtfully for a few moments and then went on, "He has got a nasty bruise on his back; I don’t think he’s cracked a rib but it’s quite sore. He could hardly lift his arm over his head to pull his nightshirt on." Ben sipped at his coffee.

"You’ve put him to bed then?" Adam asked.

"Well he was certainly tired, and after that knock to the head, I don’t want him running around. He has strict orders to stay in bed. Hop Sing brought him up some herb tea."

Adam and Hoss exchanged glances, "You think he’ll drink it Pa?" They’d both had some of Hop Sing’s herbal tea.

"Would you refuse to drink it?" Ben raised his eyebrows and they both chuckled.

"Pa," began Hoss, "You know that tomorrow’s the Founders’ Day Picnic at the church don’t you?"

Ben smacked his hand to his forehead, "I’d forgotten." A deep sigh escaped his lips.

"I mean, what are we going to do about Joe?"

"Well he certainly can’t stay here by himself." Ben spoke to himself as much to Hoss. "I’ll have to stay here with him."

"You’ll not let him go then?" Hoss looked disappointed.

"No Hoss, I’ll not let him go; his behavior of late hardly warrants that sort of outing."

"I may have an idea." Adam was thoughtful, gazing into the distance, "Then we can all go."

"How do you figure that one?" asked Ben

"Trust me Pa, just trust me."

**********************

It was one of those beautiful late spring days, heralding the promise of summer. The air was warm and there was just a slight breeze wafting the scents of the blossoms and flowers. Hoss lifted his head and took a breath down to his boots and back. "Ain’t it just glorious, Pa?"

Ben smiled at this giant of a man. Who could believe that at eighteen he would tower over them all and yet be as gentle as a kitten and relish the beauty in the simplest of things?

"It sure is, son, it sure is. A great day for a picnic."

Ben turned to see Adam coming out of the house with the blankets, "Everything ready, Adam?" He still got pleasure in actually be able to say that. Adam’s days at college had been a trial for them all but especially for him. There were experiences that the two of them had shared that had created a bond. He had talked to Adam as if he were an adult, even when he had still been a small child, sharing dreams, worries even asking for opinions. Ben realized that he had robbed Adam of his childhood, making him grow up long before his time, but he cherished this grown man who knew his innermost thoughts and fears. Ben valued his eldest son’s intelligence and freedom of spirit.

"Just one thing more to load,” said Adam, turning his head to indicate over his shoulder.

Ben and Hoss looked towards the door to see what Adam was referring to. Small fingers held on to the door surround and Joe came through the doorway. His head was down, holding tight on to anything that would give him support. His field of vision was quite restricted and he wasn’t about to trip and fall. He turned and slammed the door shut. He wasn’t really sure why he was there at all; Pa had after all restricted him to his room and he hadn’t thought that restriction had been lifted.

Ben looked at Joseph and his heart went out to him. He just wanted to go and pick up this curly headed child and hug him to him. He knew that Joe would hate that, "Why do they have to grow up?"  he asked for the hundredth time. He turned and was aware that Hoss was regarding him.

Adam threw the blankets into the back of the wagon. "All ready to roll, Pa."

Ben spoke a little more roughly than he had intended, "Come on, Joseph, hurry up, get in the back of the wagon."

Joe lifted his head slightly to one side to survey the scene with his good eye. Hoss and Pa had climbed on to the seat of the wagon, Adam was standing at the back, and all three were looking at him. His face took on a set look that they all recognized.

"Joseph!"

Joe’s eyes flicked up to Pa’s and then down to the ground. He shuffled forward until he reached the wagon

"Let me help..."

"I can do it; I don’t need help, not from you." The words were slightly muffled but the vehemence was evident.

Adam lifted his hands into the air in resignation. "OK, OK, little buddy, whatever you want." Adam vaulted into the back of the wagon and settled himself leaning back on the seat, legs stretched out in front.

"Joseph, stop this nonsense and get in. I would have thought you would have appreciated some help from your brother."

Joe heaved himself into the wagon with some difficulty. It was true; he was his own fool and should have accepted the help. His body and head ached. He had wanted to stay at home but there was no way Pa would let him. The word ‘trust’ had come into the conversation several times.

Having gotten into the wagon, Joe wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself. He couldn’t sit particularly comfortably, he wasn’t going to lie on his stomach and make his discomfort a topic for comment, so he opted to kneel and lean on the side of the wagon as far away from Adam as he could.

Ben observed his sons. "Are you both quite ready? Joseph, hold on." The shrugging of Joe’s shoulders indicated that he didn’t need to be told, and objected to being singled out.

"We’re ready, Hoss, away you go."

Hoss, delighted at being responsible for driving the whole family, flicked the reins shouting encouragement to the horses, and they were away.

*******************

The meadow at the back of the church was already beginning to fill when they finally arrived. Various tables and areas had been marked out at the end nearest the church. The bottom end of the meadow was shadier. The river flowed forming a boundary with the land beyond and the area was dotted with trees. Several wagons were already pulled up under the trees and families waved out as Hoss steered their wagon to a suitable site.

"Look, over there, Hoss," indicated Ben to a sheltered spot. The heat of the sun had made shade imperative.

Hoss pulled up the wagon and Adam, already on his feet, leapt out. Joe stayed where he was, not really sure what he was allowed to do. While Hoss saw to the horses, Ben and Adam came round and released the catch to let the tailboard drop. Adam grabbed the handful of blankets and carried them over to the shade of the tree. He started to spread them out, making a large rectangular area. “There you go, Pa."

Ben turned back to Joe. "Come on." He held out his hand; he had seen how awkwardly Joe had climbed in the wagon. Joe, cussed as ever, clambered across to the back of the wagon and started to climb out, ignoring Ben’s offer of help. Whichever way Joe went, it hurt. As he struggled to get down, Ben put his hands under his arms picked him up and set him down. Joe recoiled and quickly looked around to see if anyone had seen.

"Nobody is bothering about you." Ben glared at this recalcitrant son. "Now get over there on the blankets."

"I could carry something." Joe chanced a quick glance up at his father.

"No, now get."

Joe went and stood on the blankets, unsure as to what to do. Adam had joined Ben at the wagon. He jumped up and started to pull the baskets and cushions to the back where Hoss and Ben lifted them off and carried them over to the blanket. Hop Sing had done them proud, and the smells coming from the baskets were tantalizing them all.

"How about a quick snack now?" suggested Hoss hopefully.

"That food is for when we all sit down and eat and not before." Ben spoke sternly to Hoss, but Adam and Hoss could see the twinkle in his eyes. "Besides, there are things going on down by the church. Why don’t you both go and see; I’ll join you in a while."

Adam and Hoss turned to each other grinning; they nodded at their father and Hoss threw his arm round Adam’s shoulders. They set off together towards the laughter and squealing at the other side of the meadow.

Ben turned; Joe had been standing with his back to them all regarding the river. It had been a late thaw and the river was swollen and running fast. Spray flew up into the air as it tumbled over rocks and logs that were being swept down with the force of the water. The noise of the rushing water was loud, but not loud enough for Joe not to hear his name.

Joe turned as Ben spoke to him. "You are restricted to the blankets. You’re not to set foot off them. Do you understand?"

Joe, somewhat puzzled, looked around him, "The blankets?" The picnic boxes and baskets had been laid on the blankets but there was still plenty of room.

"Do you understand?"

"Yessir." Joe hung his head and regarded the pattern on one of the blankets. "I bet this was smart-alecky Adam’s idea."

"I suggest you sit down and consider your behavior these last few months. I will be wanting to have a serious talk with you and I expect you to come up with some answers."

Joe glanced up at Ben, his eyes starting to fill with tears. Did he mean another ‘talk’, Pa’s favorite word for a hiding? He put his hands behind his back and took a pace backwards, nearly falling over one of the baskets in the process.

"Joseph, sit down now."

Joe dropped cross-legged onto the blanket, wiping his hand across his nose as he did.

"Where…?" Exasperated Ben pulled out his own handkerchief and thrust it into Joe’s lap. "Wipe your nose on that, not your hand or sleeve or any other piece of your clothing."

Ben stared down at Joe for a few moments. "I’m not going to beat you again, not unless you disobey me." He was going to ruffle Joe’s curls but just in time remembered the bump on his head; instead he leaned down and gently brushed the hair off Joe’s forehead, tilted up his chin and looked at his face. "Do as I tell you and I won’t get cross."

"Yessir." Joe twisted his chin out of Ben’s hand and looked down at his knees; he was still clutching Ben’s handkerchief in his hand.

Ben stood up and walked down the meadow. He turned once and looked back, Joe had not moved.

Joe counted to 100 and then looked up. He could just make out Pa joining the group down the other end of the meadow. He could hear the sound of laughter and some cheering. He knew there was going to be table sales and games and stuff. "Didn’t want to go, anyway. Just the same as last year." But it wasn’t the same as last year. Adam hadn’t been here and taken Hoss away.

He stood up and started to walk around the blankets, one foot on and one foot off. He did that several times and then tried to reach the lowest branch of the tree. He could just get his fingertips of one hand on it, but not enough to get a grip. It made his back pull painfully to stretch up so he stopped. He probably could have jumped for it but decided not to bother. He looked around him. The wagons were dotted around the grass; most had boxes and picnic baskets like they did. The horses had been led to stand in the shade of the trees, quietly cropping the grass, their harnesses clinking softly as they changed position.

A bee buzzed around Joe’s face. He brushed it away and sank down onto the blankets; the warmth of the sun was making him feel lazy. He laid on his stomach, cradling his head in his arms, a blade of grass between his teeth. The sounds of the harnesses jingling, the laughter, the rushing of the river all became background noises as he slowly drifted off to sleep.

"Ee-haw Adam, that gal was gonna have a kiss off you or bust!" Hoss had thrown himself down on the blankets and was slapping his knees and laughing uproariously.

Adam glanced across at him out of the corner of his eyes, a sly grin forming slowly.

"What’s all this about a kiss?" Ben stood arms akimbo looking down at his sons.

"Oh Pa, that Claire Jessup has been drooling all over my big brother here."

"She has not been drooling," interrupted Adam indignantly.

"Oh Pa you just gotta see her face whenever she sees Adam."

"Well, that still doesn’t explain about the kiss."

"She was serving on the pie stall…"

"I might have guessed pies would have something to do with it if you were involved."

"Pa, she said that Adam could have a taste of the pies for one sweet kiss.” Hoss slapped his knees and rocked with laughter at Adam’s discomfort. "Wherever we went, she was there offering a taste of her pies. Then her Ma came and hauled her off, carrying on fit to bust. Mrs. Jessup just kept looking back at Adam as if he was a real womanizer and not safe to be let out."

Ben looked askance at Adam, who was looking somewhat abashed, then Ben let out a guffaw and all three laughed together.

"Don’t you lie there ‘tending to be asleep neither," Hoss bent over Joe, who had lain still all this time, and started tickling him.

"Don’t, don’t oh don’t" squealed Joe who tried to protect himself. "Oh please Hoss OW."

Hoss stopped tickling Joe and looked concerned. "Whacha done?"

"Oh, it’s nothing, just a bruise." Joe sat up onto his knees, holding his hand to his back.

Hoss looked at Ben who slightly shook his head, and turned back to Joe, "How’d you do that?"

"I fell."

"What on?"

"Does it matter?"

"I’m just asking that’s all." Hoss turned away and Joe cursed himself for being so short tempered.

"I thought you were hungry?" Adam tried to turn the conversation and was immediately gratified by Hoss’ eyes lighting up.

"Hey, it is time, isn’t it, Pa?"

"Yes, Hoss, I reckon it’s time."

Hoss let out a yell and started opening the baskets, "If Hop Sing ain’t made no pies, Adam, you know who will be only too willing…" He got no further as Adam threw a well-aimed cushion at his head.

For the next few moments, silence fell on the family as the food was unpacked and unwrapped. The choice was enormous. Hop Sing knew Hoss’ appetite, especially if he had been out in the open air. Fried chicken, beef sandwiches, hommity pies, cornbread, biscuits, tiny roast potatoes, a cherry cake, apples and lemonade packed into an earthenware jar in a wicker basket. Hoss fell on the food, returning again and again. Ben and Adam discovered that Hop Sing had packed some plates and napkins and each filled themselves a plateful.

After several minutes of contented chewing, Ben, leaning back against one of the hampers, realized that Joe was not in his field of vision. "Joseph, Joseph!" Ben sat up and looked behind him as he heard movement. Joe was kneeling at the edge of the blanket, plucking at the grass and throwing it down.

Yes, Pa?" Joe turned and looked at his father.

"Get yourself some food."

"I’m not hungry, Pa."

"Do you enjoy lying to me Joseph?"

"I wasn’t lying, Pa. I wasn’t." Joe looked anxiously at his father. He seemed unable to do anything right; Pa was finding fault with everything he did or said. He turned his head away as the tears started to well up. He wasn’t going to cry, he wasn’t, not here, not now!

Ben looked at Joe, struggling with his emotions. He had to ease up on the boy. "Adam."

"Pa?" Adam and Hoss had been taking an increased interest in their food.

"Fix me a plate, not too full."

Adam put down his own plate and took another. He selected several items that he had seen Joe enjoy at mealtimes and put them on the plate. He handed the plate over to Ben.

Ben nodded his thanks, "Joseph, get round here now."

Joe, not wishing to get into more trouble, crawled around to where Ben was sitting. Ben pointed to one of the cushions and Hoss tossed it over to him. Ben put it down beside him and pointed to it. "Sit."

Joe eased himself onto the cushion and Ben handed him the plate. "Now eat. No, don’t look at me; there isn’t much there and they are all things you like. Now eat." Joe did as he was told, realizing as he did so that in fact he was hungry.

Ben, leaning back against the tree trunk, had shut his eyes. Adam was stretched out on the blanket, his hat over his face. Hoss was still peering in the baskets and packages to see if he had missed anything; Joe, sitting cross legged on the cushion, watched in fascination as Hoss found a piece of chicken in the corner of one of the boxes and popped it in his mouth. Hoss turned, and seeing Joe looking at him, winked. "You done eating?"

Joe nodded.

"Can you see anything with that eye?"

"Not really"

Joe moved forwards and immediately felt Ben’s hand on his shoulder.

"Where are you going?"

"Nowhere. My leg’s gone to sleep."

Ben opened his eyes and regarded his youngest son who was stretching out his legs.

Adam pushed his hat back and sat up, "When does the horseshoes start?"

Ben looked down the meadow, "Judging by the people on the move, I should say any time now."

The three brothers turned to look down the meadow. Joe got to his feet and was stamping and rubbing his leg. Hoss looked at Adam, "Well, are you ready for it?"

"As ready as you are."

"Who knows? We might even get a piece of pie." Hoss was up and had started to run down the meadow; Adam was quickly after him and clouted him on the back when he caught up, their laughter drifting back to Ben and Joe.

Ben stood up and dusted down his pants, Joe was watching Adam and Hoss careening across the meadow. Ben looked at him and almost relented, but then changed his mind, something he was later to regret.

"Son, I’d be grateful if you could tidy up for me and put the baskets back in the wagon"

"I can’t reach the wagon from the blanket"

A deep breath, "You are allowed to walk to the wagon with the baskets; when you have finished then you stay on the blanket. Do you understand"?

"Yes sir." Mumbled almost under his breath, Joe was regarding his boots.

"Joseph!"

Joe looked up and met his father’s eyes. "Yes sir."

Ben stayed looking at his son, Joe’s head dropped and he looked down. "All right then, do as you’re told and we will be back in a while."

Ben walked away and Joe kicked one of the baskets. He hurriedly retrieved it before Ben had turned around.

Having tidied up the paper wrappings, boxes and baskets and put them in the wagon, Joe was left to look across the meadow at the crowd. There was a lot of cheering and shouting, and Joe guessed that the horseshoe competition had started. He idly wondered how Adam was doing, as he knew that he had intended to enter. They’d often played games before Adam had gone to College. He realized now that Adam had probably let him win lots of times. They didn’t seem to play games now, but thinking about it, he realized that it wasn’t because Adam hadn’t asked. It was because of his bad temper. "Why did he feel like this? Why couldn’t he try and be friends?"

He lay down on the blanket, chewing on a piece of grass, then rolled onto his back and was kicking his legs up in the air when something yellow and white went past him. Startled, he rolled back onto his stomach and up on all fours. He could see a little girl running down the meadow towards the river. Joe hurriedly looked back to where the people were, but could not see any adult running towards the child.

"Hey!" he shouted, "Hey!" louder still.

The little girl kept running, giggling and laughing to herself.

"Stop!" Joe could see how close she was to the water’s edge.

A scream pieced the air. "My baby!"

Joe turned his head. A woman was running up the meadow but had too far to go. Others had turned following the scream and began to move after the woman.

Joe, forgetting all admonitions, got to his feet and scrambled after the child, "Hey!" he called, "Don’t go there! Oh God no!" The child had disappeared over the edge of the riverbank and Joe broke into a run.

"Oh God, Oh God." He arrived at the edge slightly breathless, the bruise on his back, biting sharply as he gulped for breath. Looking up and down, he cursing his limited vision. The river was in full flow; he could hear nothing above its roar. A tree trunk had been swept down from the mountains. It was jammed into the bank making a barrier partway across the river; shuddering each time it was struck by debris piling up on one side. Joe became aware of a flash of yellow near the trunk, tangled in its branches.

He leapt into the chest-high water, and his breath was taken away by the cold. Forcing his way up to the tree trunk was harder than he thought. The currents were pulling him down the river but he was fighting to go in the other direction; it was difficult to keep his feet and the cold was biting, his breath coming in short gasps. He took another step and found himself in deep water. Panicking, he fought his way up to the surface and gulped in air. He felt so ineffectual; the cold and the strength of the current made every movement a battle.

Taking a deep breath, he sank down in the water; he was unable to see anything but knew he was near where he had last seen the child. Sweeping his hands out in front of him, he made contact with a piece of cloth, a struggling body.

Gripping the child with both hands, he heaved her up above his head and drove on forward to the tree. Lungs bursting, his body made contact with the tree and he kicked up, getting his head above the water. He pushed as hard as he could, although he was aware of his diminishing strength, and half balanced the child on the trunk, keeping her there with his hands. A piercing shrill sobbing gave him the desired reassurance that she was indeed still breathing.

The child began to struggle and it was all Joe could do to hold onto her. He was steadying her with one hand while gripping one of the branches with the other. He didn’t think he would be able to hold on for much longer and was trying to work out how to get up onto the tree trunk when the child was lifted from his grasp.

Joe blinked and looked up. A man was trying to keep his balance on the tree trunk with the child in his arms; he was kissing and hugging her, crying and talking all at the same time. The child was screaming and clutching at the man. Joe began to try to heave himself out of the water when he felt the movement of the tree trunk increase and it started to roll over towards him. The man quickly turned and running and leaping got back onto the riverbank.

The world suddenly exploded all around him. The tree, dislodged from the bank, began to rotate with the force of the river. Spray and debris was thrown up into the air. Joe was pushed down under the water in a flurry of bubbles and foam. Thin branches were scraping and catching at his clothing and skin. As the tree rolled over him, a branch slammed into his shoulder and chest. He was aware of being tumbled and turned over and over; he couldn’t tell which way he should try to go, stones and shale biting into his back and knees. He had to breathe, to breathe. Lights flashed in his head, the pressure in his lungs unbearable. His hands were flailing searching for anything to hold, to grasp to stop his onward rush down. He needed to pull himself up, but which way was up? He needed air or his chest was going to burst.

***********

The scream had drawn everyone’s attention to the woman struggling up the meadow. She was heavily pregnant and running as if through mud towards the river

“My baby, please someone save my baby.”

People started to turn and look down the meadow at the river. Some others exclaimed but many started to run, overtaking the woman and reaching the river before her. A tall man was the first to arrive.

“I’m coming, baby, Papa’s coming” and he jumped onto the tree trunk and throwing his arms out to keep his balance, made his way along the trunk. The force of the river buffeting the trunk made it difficult for him to keep his feet. When he finally reached his daughter he plucked her up and smothered in kisses. “Papa has you safe, baby, Papa’s here.”

He looked down and for a brief moment he locked eyes with the boy in the water who was clutching desperately to one of the branches. He tried to shift his grip on his little girl who was still struggling and shrieking with fear. As he turned his head, he saw the large log hurtling down the river about to strike the trunk. Its glancing blow nearly caused him to completely lose his balance. The trunk started to turn and he had no option but to leap for safety. As he reached the bank, a tall, gray haired man reached both hands out to the boy in the river.

“Joseph.” It was the only word Ben could get out before the sob left him speechless.

Adam came up to Ben’s shoulder. “Where is he?”

Ben unable to speak, unable to see, pointed to the twisting, shuddering tree trunk that had broken lose of the bank and was rolling and lurching towards the middle of the river.

There was no sign of Joe.

Hoss came thundering up, a coil of rope around his arm. “What’s going on? Where’s Little Joe?”

No one could answer. Everyone just stood looking at the river. Hoss looked from his father to Adam but could find no answer in their faces.

“I didn’t know, I couldn’t get hold of him.” The child’s father pleaded with Ben. “There wasn’t time, it happened so fast, I couldn’t…”

Ben eyes fixed on the river, reached out a hand and touched him on the arm.

“Dear God, I’m so sorry,” the man weeping openly, still holding his child, dropped to his knees. His wife sank to her knees beside him, throwing her arms around him and the child, sobbing. The others who had also reached the riverbank stood awkwardly around the group unsure of what to do.

Adam, his eyes scanning the water, had turned and was looking at a willow tree a little further down the riverbank. The branches dipped down into the water; the ends buffeted and shredded by the force of the current.

One branch suddenly and violently jerked down into the water.

“Hoss, Hoss come on!”

Without question Hoss turned and followed Adam. He took the rope from his shoulder and started to tie a loop in one end. Adam stooped down and pulled off his boots, took the loop from Hoss and put it over his head and under his arms.

Adam looked at Hoss, and without a word, Hoss nodded and put the other end of the rope around his shoulder and back. He braced his feet into the ground as Adam jumped off the riverbank.

“Adam!” Ben had turned to his sons but seemed powerless to move.

As the current dragged Adam out into the middle of the river, Hoss took his full weight on the rope. Straining back, he dug his heels into the turf, holding the rope with his hands, unaware that he was burning them raw.

Adam fought to get his head above water and to take a breath. The current had swept him across, level with the willow tree but out into the middle of the river and he had to fight his way back. He was aware of the strength of the water forcing the air from his lungs, the crippling cold and the burn of the rope across his back. Although the water only came up to his shoulders, it bent him over and forced his face down into the waves. Gasping and spluttering, he pushed himself forward. Hoss heaved on the rope, pulling him back to side. As others became aware of the struggle, they ran to Hoss, and holding onto the rope, they began heaving.

“No, no!” grunted Hoss through clenched teeth, “You’ll have him over, go easy, easy.”

Adam had reached the willow tree. Struggling to keep his feet, he took his hands off the rope and began to follow the branches down into the water. “What had he seen? Had it been a hand? What if he was wrong?” He knew that time was running out, he couldn’t stay in the water for much longer, he was finding it hard to breathe.

His hand closed over a small cold hand gripping the fronds of the willow branch.

“Pull Hoss, pull me out.” His voice was barely heard over the roar of the river.

Hoss and the others began to heave hand over hand and pull Adam into the shore and as he got nearer they could see that he had a child’s body in his arms.

The dreadful inertia that had gripped Ben finally lifted and he ran to the riverbank. Adam, strength nearly spent, was struggling to lift Joe up on to the bank. Ben fell on his knees and reached down and took the boy from him. He looked at Adam who gave a brief nod, unspoken words passing between them; Ben, rocking back, laid Joe across his lap. Clutched in Joe’s hand was a willow branch.

Joe wasn’t breathing, his clothes had been torn into shreds; blood was oozing from the many cuts and scrapes that covered his body. Ben fought to keep calm and beat down the rising panic. He knew what to do, had done it before, but never on his own son, his own flesh and blood.

Reaching forward, he quickly checked that Joe’s mouth was clear. The boy was so cold, so still; his eyes shut, his lips blue, the water dripping from his hair. He ran his hands over Joe’s back and up his chest. He couldn’t feel any obvious broken bones under the torn and bruised skin. Ben moved his hands onto Joe’s back and pressed. The boy was so small he had to get the pressure just right or he would break a rib and rupture a lung. Then he grasped Joe’s arms and pulled them up, pressure on the back and then open the lungs.

He was unaware of anything around him. His vision had shrunk to the small body of his youngest son, cold, wet, still. The only sounds were his own as he grunted with exertion. The world had turned gray and silent.

Some of the men had run to Adam and dragged him from the water. He lay on the grass, chest heaving with exertion, shivering with the cold. He pushed himself up onto one elbow and watched Ben. Hoss had sunk down onto his knees, shaking with expended effort, loosening the rope around his back. He looked momentarily at his hands and then at Ben. Others stood around; it was if everyone was holding their breath willing the boy to breathe.

Push and lift, wait; push and lift. How long had he been doing this? How long could his baby son survive without breathing? Nothing around him mattered, nothing disturbed the rhythmic movement of his hands: push and lift, push and lift.

A gurgling choking sound and water poured from Joe’s mouth; he began to cough and retch. Ben continued to rub his hands up Joe’s back as he fought to take a breath. Finally a rasping, groaning breath, and Joe began to cough in earnest. Ben rubbed his back until he was convinced that Joe was breathing; he turned him over and pulled him up flat against his chest. Ben held Joe to him and became aware of the wetness of his own face, tears dripping from his chin, his blurred vision. He looked up, his lips moving but making no sound.

Adam let out a long breath and found that someone had thrown a blanket around his shoulders. Coughing, he pulled the blanket closer and shivered. Hoss clambered to his feet and came over to Adam. He knelt down and put his arms round Adam’s shoulders. Hoss was shaking and Adam realized that he was struggling to control himself. Adam lifted his arm, painfully aware of his rope burns, and rubbed Hoss on the back, feeling him wince. They both looked up at each other and laughed, eyes wet with tears.

Sounds returned slowly; the roaring of the river, a woman weeping, the clinking and jingling of the horses’ harnesses in the distance. An eagle soared emitting its plaintive cry. Colors, bright and clear, burst into Ben’s world.

Ben became aware of the sun burning into his back and head. He could feel Joe’s chest rising and falling as he took faltering, choking breaths. A blanket was thrust at him and he took it gratefully and wrapped Joe in its comforting warmth.

Joe slowly opened his eyes. How was he here? There was a blanket round him and he was in Pa’s arms. The last thing he remembered was the cold, dark water and the pain in his chest. He coughed and wheezed; turning his head, he could make out Adam and Hoss sitting on the grass looking at him. Adam was wrapped in a blanket, wet and coughing. Hoss was kneeling beside him. Joe looked down at his hand clutching the willow branch, then he shut his eyes. He couldn’t work this out, it was too hard, he was just too tired.

“Ben, Ben”

Ben looked into the clear gray eyes of the Parson.

“Ben, Josiah is hitching up your team and will drive you and your boys to Doctor Martin. His son has run on ahead to warn him that you’re coming. Ben?”

Ben nodded his head, then he cleared his throat and swallowed hard. “Thank you.” It was all he could manage to say. His eyes began to fill with tears, as he felt the full force of his suppressed emotions.

The Parson patted his shoulder. “You should be so proud, Ben, so proud.” He looked round nodding at Adam and Hoss; then he looked down and stroked Joe’s head. “We truly have been blessed today.” He looked back up at Ben and smiled. Ben smiled back through his tears.

The sounds of the team and wagon drew their attention; Josiah stopped just beside Ben. Hoss and Adam helped each other to get to their feet. Adam, still shivering, clutched the blanket to him as they stumbled to the back of the wagon.

Ben looked down and gently shook Joe. “Come on, son, we’re going now. Come on.”

Joe opened his eyes, still coughing and wheezing. He started to move to get up and became aware of how sore he was. Stinging pain covered his body; he felt as if he had been skinned. There was a deep ache in his left shoulder and arm, and he had a terrible headache. He gave up trying to work out what else hurt; it was just all over.

Ben helped Joe get to his feet and held him while he stood up. His own legs numb from kneeling so long shook and ached with pins and needles. He bent down to rub his legs and Joe planted an unsteady kiss on his cheek. He pulled Joe to him and hugged him, kissing the top of his head. While in his arms, Joe turned as Adam and Hoss came alongside. Joe pulled himself out of Ben’s grasp and threw his arms around Adam.

“Hey, Little Buddy.” Adam knelt down in front of Joe. Joe was crying and coughing at the same time.

“Sorry, sorry,” was all Joe could manage to choke out.

“Come on, it’s all right now. Joe.” Adam went to rub his hands on the boy’s back but remembering the damage, changed his mind. Instead he very gently put his arms round him.

“I’ve been so cross,” Joe gasped one word at a time. “Sorry. Not olive branch.”

“What?” Adam was confused. Why was Joe talking about olive branches? “What do you mean?”

Joe lifted his hand still clutching the willow branch and handed it to Adam. “Should be olive.” Then he doubled over with a coughing fit.

“Come on. There’s time for talk later.” Ben lifted Joe onto the wagon and climbed on and settled down with Joe leaning against him. Adam and Hoss struggled on and sat down. As soon as they were all settled, Josiah flicked up the horses and away they went.

Ben had his arms around Joe and was looking proudly at his other two sons. Joe, eyes shut, his head against Ben’s chest, was breathing raggedly but deeply. Adam and Hoss were looking down puzzling at the willow branch and then as enlightenment dawned, up at Ben and Joe, broad smiles spreading over all their faces.

*****END*****

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