Betrayal #3

~A MATTER OF TRUST~

by jfclover

I was tempted to seek out Archibald Alexander, the mighty healer of the sick and maimed.  My life had become more frantic as days progressed, and if coffee had been a magic cure, I’d have been a new person by now.  I drank cup after cup to combat my anxiety the week after I’d returned from the cabin, but it only worsened my symptoms, causing havoc with my everyday life.  Demons visited often when I slept, and exhaustion was a daily curse I fought during daylight hours.

Without morphine, my entire life was muddled and barely worth the effort to venture through another day, but my father thought it best that I follow a normal routine.  Although mornings were the worst, dressing, shaving, even running a brush through my hair tested the boundaries of my sanity.  I was far from pleasant; I belittled anyone who made a comment or asked a stupid question, and there were plenty of stupid questions. 

“How do you feel, son?”

“I’m fine,” I lied every morning at breakfast.  What was I supposed to say?  Gee, Pa.  Isn’t the world a wonderful place?  I’m so happy to be alive.  I could barely dress after my body seized up on me and restricted every move I tried to make.  My hands shook so badly I cut myself twice trying to shave my damn face.

My father expected too much.  Living in his world without morphine was a grueling effort.  I wasn’t becoming healthier, and knowing my symptoms were only enhancing as the days progressed, I feared the worst.  But Pa wanted me cured, restored to the days of happy-go-lucky Little Joe Cartwright.  I was far from restored to anything.

““`

When Pa and I had returned to the house the night I’d come clean about my addiction, a lamp had been left burning by my father’s chair, but the room was empty.  My brothers had gone upstairs, leaving Pa and me the time we needed to sort things out.  I assumed Adam had told Hoss the whole miserable story, saving me from having to explain exactly what went on in the cabin.  I hoped Adam was gentle and didn’t reveal everything.  There were times when a man’s actions were best left untold. 

Pa and I talked late into the night.  At first, I hesitated, but I finally told my father a couple of shots of whiskey would help steady my nerves and make the telling easier.  He was reluctant although he honored my request, choosing brandy instead.

“Guess I could use a drink too, son.”

Adam had been right.  Pa blamed himself for not knowing what was taking place under his own roof.  Apologies were frequent and heartfelt.  Although deeply shaken by what I’d revealed, my father kept implying it was his fault, not mine.  He’d known men whose lives had been controlled by too much laudanum or alcohol, but he’d never once thought it was a possibility within his own family.  “I thought it was over, Joseph.  I confess I’d put Davis and the kidnapping out of my mind long ago.” 

Dr. David Davis was aware of the effects of morphine.  He knew the consequences.  He knew that constant use of the drug could rip a family apart.  Not only would I suffer, but my family would also suffer, and that had been his intention all along.  Bringing my father to ruins, watching his slow decline was the doctor’s primary goal.  He couldn’t compete with Ben Cartwright’s wealth, holdings, or power within the community, but he could destroy the closeness we’d always shared as a family.

Pa searched for answers while I tried to hold my own as the evening progressed.  I tried to take blame but as the night wore on, we came to a mutual understanding.  By midnight, we’d blamed the good doctor, setting ourselves free and looking for a way to move forward.

“Is it over?” 

I wasn’t sure whether to be honest with Pa or not and when I hesitated, he knew the answer.  “I want to say it’s over,” I said, forcing my mind in the right direction.  “I want to say I’ll never give myself another injection, but I can’t make that promise.”  

My answer hit Pa hard.  He was speechless, and while I watched him nervously work his fingers, I wanted to change my answer and tell him what he wanted to hear, instead, I said nothing at all.

“It’s late, Joe.  We best turn in.”

““`

Pa’s cure to most problems he couldn’t solve with words was hard work.  “Hard work cleanses the soul and lifts the spirit.”  I’d heard the saying before, and as the three of us headed out to work several days after we’d returned home from my weekend of hell, I heard those same words again.

I had been given a few days to rest up and pull myself together after Adam explained to Pa my ordeal at the cabin.  I drew the shade in my room and slept off and on.  I had no energy and no real desire to get out of bed.  Pa woke me when it was time to eat—three squares a day—but my appetite had vanished, and it was slow to return.  Just the sight or smell of food caused my stomach to revolt and quickly, I grabbed the bowl, once again feeling the effects of life without morphine.

There were times I apologized to my father for not being the son he’d always hoped for.  Other times, I begged him to go away, get out of my room, and leave me the hell alone.  I shivered constantly, crawling under heavy quilts only to throw them off minutes later.  Everyone thought they had the right to walk in and out of my room at any time day or night, and the constant interruptions nearly drove me insane.  I was fighting invisible after-effects, and I was tired of being put on display.

On rare occasions, when I ventured outside to the corral or the barn, my legs nearly gave way after only a few minutes of standing around doing nothing.  Pa wasn’t pleased with my progress and so his answer, to what he presumed was a simple medical problem, was to have the doctor pull a miracle cure from his little black bag. 

My father sent for Paul Martin.  The doctor had been out once before to check my shoulder wound and at the time, I figured it best to tell him about the injections before I removed my shirt.  I didn’t want anyone else to be as traumatized as my brother had been when he first laid eyes on my arms.  After reporting I was healing up nicely, he’d given Adam high praise for tending the wound so well. 

The doc and I talked for an extended period that day.  He’d asked my father to leave the room so he and I could have a private conversation.  I was greatly relieved by his request.  “I thought this might happen, Little Joe, but when there were no visible signs and no frantic calls from your father, I supposed you’d fared better than I’d expected.”

“I never meant it to go this far, Doc.”

Paul was quick to apologize.  “Oh no, son, I’m not insinuating any of this was your fault.  No one’s to blame but the man who did this to you.  After weeks of being forced to take the drug, it only makes sense that you were bound to run into this kind of trouble when the morphine was withdrawn.  I will say this, though,” Paul said as an afterthought.  “I wish you’d come to your father or me before you started … self-medicating.”

“Self-medicating?”

“That’s what you’ve been doing, isn’t it?”

“Yeah … I guess.”

“So, tell me this?  How are you feeling now?”

Although it was a viable question, and there was nothing funny about the situation, I chucked anyway.  “Besides horrible?”

The doctor grinned.  “Yes.”

“I’m tempted to ride into Chinatown every waking hour, Doc.”

Paul understood my need for morphine, but he let that part go.  “I want more than “horrible,” Joe.  Tell me what feels horrible, what are your symptoms?”

“Everything,” I said, trying to hold back the endless flow of tears that had also become part of my new life.  “Where do I begin?”

Paul said nothing; he sat forward in the chair and waited for me to continue.

“Okay, the constant roaring in my ears for starters.  The headaches.  My stomach cramps so hard that I have to curl up like a baby in this bed until it finally calms down enough that I can straighten out my legs and lay there like a normal person.  I can barely stand the smell of food and if I try to eat, I lose most of it anyway.  I’m tired all the time and … on occasion, I’m a bit disagreeable.”  A smile crossed Paul’s face at my last remark, and I knew Pa had filled him in on the worst scenarios.  “Want me to go on?” 

“Well, I figured as much, and I’m sorry, Joe.  Sorry it has to be this way.  But, what I will say is there will be an end to all this misery if you continue to do exactly as you’re doing now.”

“That’s a big if, Doc.”

“I want you to come see me twice a week.  Can you do that?  Can you sit a horse and ride to town?”

“Why?  You don’t trust me?  Is that what this is all—”

Paul held his hand up to stop my sudden reaction.  “This isn’t about trust, Joe.  This is about making sure you regain your health.  Little things like a strong heartbeat, clear eyes, energy, and an increased appetite.  I want to keep track of your headaches.  I want you to be able to eat a decent meal and keep it down.”

Carrying on a simple conversation with the doctor drained all the energy I had.  I wanted to crawl back in bed and sleep.  “Will I ever feel normal again?”

Paul sighed and shook his head.  “From what I’ve read in the most current medical journals, doctors are beginning to discover morphine is a much more addictive drug than they first understood it to be.  Since a needle is used rather than mixing a powder or using laudanum a spoonful at a time, morphine hits the system much faster and more aggressively.  Don’t get me wrong, son, morphine is a miracle drug.  In the right hands, it’s a very impressive painkiller, although now they’re finding when the drug is administered over a lengthy period, the patient suffers a different type of trauma when the drug is taken away.”

“I know all that, Doc.  It’s called craving, but how long will the craving last?  When will I make it through the day like a normal person?”

“I wish I had an answer, Joe, but I don’t.  It takes time.”

Paul didn’t have any magic cure like my father had hoped for.  Time was the only answer he could give, and when he closed his bag and left my room, I walked to the end of the hall and listened from the top of the stairs while he and my father had their own private conversation.

“Morphine isn’t a new drug, Ben, but we don’t know all the facts about its powers of dependence.  The studies are just now coming out.  From what I’ve read, and from the way Joe talks about his experience and his overwhelming desire to keep taking the drug, it appears to be much more addictive than doctors and scientists initially realized.”

Nothing new, I’d heard all that before.  I was so tired that I was tempted to go back to my room, but I remained hidden, leaning heavily against the wall, and heard the doctor out.

“What are you saying?”  Pa asked.  “When will this ever end?”

There was a lengthy pause, but I didn’t dare show my face while I was eavesdropping on their conversation. 

“What this all boils down to is the boy may be addicted for life.  If he starts injecting himself again, I’m afraid it will kill him.  He’ll need more and more morphine to make it through each day.  That’s what addiction is all about, Ben.  Do you understand what I’m saying?”

I couldn’t hear if Pa said anything in reply, and there was a prolonged silence until Paul continued.

“I’m afraid what Joe is fighting now is a deep depression.  He doesn’t feel well; he doesn’t know if he’ll ever feel normal again.  What the boy needs is to get back to work and out of that darkened room where he’s shut himself away from the rest of the world.”

That’s all I needed to hear.  Paul hadn’t been completely honest with me, but he was laying it all out for Pa.  Maybe it was a trust issue after all—a pact he’d made with my father. 

What no one knew, and what Adam hadn’t mentioned or perhaps forgot, was I still had my little black bag.  I still had morphine tucked under my mattress.  And though I prayed every day for strength to leave it alone, if I wasn’t strong, if I couldn’t go another day, I knew what I had to do.

““`

By nature, Pa went with the doctor’s advice, and the following morning he sent the three of us out to round up steers before we moved the herd to their new pasture.  Today was my first day back to work.  I was the son of a rancher, and this is what a rancher’s son did.  I was genuinely surprised by how good it felt to sit a saddle and run Cochise as I’d always done before.  I’d only been away from work for a week but a week ago, I was a completely different person.  I wouldn’t even venture to guess how long I could last before my body gave way.

“You up for this today?”  Adam asked as we rode side-by-side.

“I think so.  I feel pretty good.”

“That’s good, Joe.  I’ve been worried about you.”

“Me?  Why?”

“Well, with you cooped up in your room all day, I have to admit I was becoming concerned.”

“I dunno.  Guess it’s time I got up and joined the living.”

“I think so, too, but if you need to take a break or head back home just let one of us know.”

My body was far from fit and by mid-morning, my energy was fading, although I managed to keep up with my brothers until we broke for lunch.  After a couple of bites of cold fried chicken, I lay back in the grass and closed my eyes.  Within seconds, I was sound asleep, and by the time Hoss shook my shoulder; the sun had drifted low in the sky.

“What time is it?”  I asked, feeling confused and generally out of sorts.  I sat up, realizing I was dressed, boots and all, and I’d been sleeping, but not in my bed.  There was an unexpected smell of horse dung as a breeze washed across my face.  I’d fallen asleep in a pasture.

“Time to go home, little brother.”

“Go where?”  I couldn’t quite get the facts straight in my head.

“Home.  It’s almost suppertime, Little Joe.”

I blinked a couple of times to clear the webs and comprehend the situation.  “So you sat here all day while I slept away the afternoon?”

“Well … yeah.”

With my senses restored, I realized what was really going on.  “Pa told you not to leave me alone, didn’t he?”

“Aw, Joe.  It ain’t like that.”

“Where’s Adam?”

“He left a while back.  I couldn’t just leave ya here sleepin’, now could I?”

“You coulda woke me up after lunch.”

I stood up, but I rose too quickly.  I was dizzy, and I threw my right hand out to steady myself against the trunk of a tree.  Forgetting my shoulder was far from healed and gave me fits at inopportune moments, pain soared, causing me to cry out in frustration.  So, for immediate gratification, I cursed loudly and kicked the damn tree.

“What’d ya go and do a fool thing like that for?”

“Shut up and leave me alone, Hoss.”

I walked straight toward Cochise mounted and rode toward the house.  I wasn’t a little kid who needed to be watched every minute of the day.  If I couldn’t be trusted, then I didn’t belong on a working ranch.  I told Adam I didn’t want Pa to know, and this was why.  No one would ever trust me again.  I’d be watched day and night now that Doc had told Pa I’d never be fully cured. 

I stabled Cochise, walked straight through the house, and up the stairs to my room.  I barely had my jacket off before there was a light tapping sound at my door.  “Go away,” I hollered.  The door opened anyway.  Why did they bother to knock? 

“You won’t speak to me with that tone of voice, Joseph,” Pa said after he plowed into my room, closing the door behind him.

“Sorry.”

“You don’t sound sorry to me.”

I was angry, and even though I tried to maintain control, I ripped off my hat and threw it toward the only chair.  “Maybe I don’t want to be treated like a five-year-old kid,” I said louder than necessary.

Pa’s hands flew to his hips; his weight held evenly in a solid stance.  “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“It means I don’t need my brothers watching over me all day.  I can take care of myself.”

“You’ve been sick, Joseph,” Pa said, relaxing his arms to his sides.  “You’ve been holed up in this room for nearly a week.”

“I’m not sick, Pa.  I’m an addict.  I always will be according to the doc.  Are you gonna watch over me every day for the rest of my life?”

“If I have to.”

“Then I’m leaving.  I’ll find somewhere else to live.”

“Oh, you will.”

“If I have to.”  I turned away from my father’s icy-cold stare; he knew I meant every word.

“I want you downstairs to supper in five minutes.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Joseph.  It wasn’t a request; it was an order.”

“I’m not hungry,” I repeated slower this time.

“Five minutes.”

Pa walked out of my bedroom before he said something he’d regret.  We were all on edge, and it didn’t take much for me to start an argument over just about anything.  I loosened my gunbelt, letting it drop to the floor before flopping down on my bed.  Living under my father’s roof was no longer an option.  I had to make a change, but what?  Where the heck would I go? 

Pa didn’t wake me for supper.  Clothes and all, I fell asleep where I’d fallen onto the bed.  I woke at some point during the night to find Adam removing my boots and laying a quilt over me.  He never said a word.  It was my brother’s way.

““`

I washed and changed my shirt, nothing new or unusual about that except I made it through the simple morning routine without my stomach seizing or my hands trembling like willows in the wind.  I was the last one to sit down at the breakfast table.  Nothing unusual about that except I wanted to make my own plans for the day.

“I need to ride into town this morning, Pa.”

“Oh?”

I caught Pa glancing at my brothers, and I couldn’t help but wonder what was going through his mind.  “Doc … um … he wants me to ride in twice a week.  You know, check to see if I’m getting any better.”

“I didn’t realize,” Pa said weakly.  “He didn’t mention that the other day.”

“Well, that’s the plan.”

“Why don’t I ride in with you?”

I glared sharply at my father.  Suddenly, we were back into that whole issue of trust and without having to say anything outright, Pa understood my meaning.                                                                       

“All right, Joseph.  Ride in alone.  You might as well check for mail while you’re in town.”

“I will.”

Hoss gave Pa a concerned look; much different than the one I gave only moments ago.  My brother was worried, and his troubled gaze deepened the lines in his face.  He thought my father should be forcing more control and not let me ride to Virginia City alone.  As one last-ditch effort, Hoss asked if I wanted him to ride along with me.  I told him thanks for the offer, but I thought I could manage just fine by myself.

““`

“I’m surprised to see you so soon,” Paul said.  “Are you feeling any better today?”

“Some,” I said, although it was far from the truth.  Each day became harder to get through than the day before, but I didn’t want the doctor running to my father with that kind of information.  “Pa’s got eyes following me day-in and day-out.  You’d think I didn’t have a lick of sense when it came to handling my life.”  Although I found no humor in my last statement, the doctor smiled.

“It’s understandable, Joe.  Your father’s worried about you.  He blames himself, you know.”

“Yeah, I know.  We’ve been all through that.  It’s just … Pa doesn’t understand.”

“Give him time, son.  Your father’s scared.  He almost lost you once, and he’s not about to let it happen a second time.”

I shrugged my shoulders.  “Pa doesn’t trust me anymore.”

Paul hesitated.  The truth hovered like a heavy black cloud; I could feel the walls closing in, and I wanted to bolt from Doc’s office and end this mindless conversation.  “I’ll repeat what I said, Joe.  Your father is worried and scared.  Don’t be too hard on him.  Remember, he’s the only father you’ll ever have.”

The doctor’s words were meaningless to me, and when he finished giving me a lecture on his idea of what my father truly felt, I buttoned my shirt and said goodbye.  Pa wasn’t worried; he was embarrassed I’d brought a drug like morphine into our home.  Under his careful watch, I’d done the unthinkable.  I’d brought disgrace to the family and dishonored my father.  The lack of trust would ruin any relationship we’d ever had.

““`

The steady rhythm of my boot heels against wooden boardwalks gave way when I turned off C Street, making my way through the back alleys leading toward Chinatown.  I questioned whether I was doing the right thing or making another huge mistake.  It wouldn’t be the first time I messed up and the way my heart was pounding, I gave my intentions a second thought.  I was as nervous as I had been the first time I’d ventured into this part of town, asking questions and receiving few answers.

But before I arrived at my destination, the narrow street was filled with a throng of men and women—all of Chinese descent.  More people than I could count poured out through doorways and stood in front of the house of Wong.  All were dressed in their native attire, their palms pressed together and their eyes contacting no one.

I would’ve asked what was happening but as a white man, I was in the minority.  Let’s just say I was the only white man overlooking the growing crowd, a crowd who appeared to be standing in some sort of silent vigil.  I felt out of place, and the last thing I wanted to do was draw attention.  Slowly, I backed down the street and into an adjoining alleyway leading back to the main part—the white part—of town.

“Hey, Little Joe.”

I nearly jumped out of my skin when I heard my name called.  “Sheriff—” I fought to steady my breath.  Roy Coffee was the last person I wanted or needed to see.

“Whatcha doin’ down here in Chinatown?”

“I … um, came to see a friend.”

“What’s goin’ on?”  Roy asked, after seeing the crowd lining the street.  “Some kinda weddin’ or a funeral?”

“I’m not sure.  Everyone’s kinda quiet so maybe a funeral.”

“You’re probably right … about the funeral, I mean.”

“Yeah, I was just heading to the post office,” I said, anxious to get away.  I still had to pick up the mail or Pa would have my hide.

“Tell your pa he needs to come see me so I can beat the pants off him at cribbage.  You know, he ain’t no good at that game.  Bet I’ve made more money off Ben than anyone else I know.”

“I’ll tell him,” I said with a quick wave goodbye as I stepped up onto the boardwalk.  Leave it to Roy Coffee to start yammerin’ about something unrelated as soon as you tell him you have somewhere else to go.

“Oh—Little Joe,” he said, calling me back just as I’d thought I’d made a clean getaway.  “I ran into Art Peterson this mornin’.”

I was in no mood for any of Roy’s stories about the Petersons.  That part of my life was over, and I’d moved on though I would always regret my foolish mistakes.  Jesse had married a traveling preacher, and God knows I didn’t want to hear the happy couple was starting a family or … or anything else.  If they were moving back to Virginia City, I couldn’t just stand around and watch.  I’d be forced to leave although I wanted to run away now; I forced myself to stand still and listen to what Roy had to say.

”Well, Art and his wife, Lillian, received a wire from the preacher, Alexander’s his name if I remember right.  You remember the preacher, don’t ya, Little Joe?”

“I remember.”  How could I possibly forget the day my life changed forever; the day I rode past Jesse’s house and straight into Chinatown to buy my first vial of morphine?

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news cuz I remember you used to be kinda sweet on that little gal, but it seems Jesse come down with the typhus.  I guess the preacher come down with it, too, but he managed to beat it somehow.  Jesse didn’t, son.  I’m afraid she didn’t make it.  Art’s drivin’ a wagon down as soon as possible to bring her body …”

As I stared over Roy’s shoulder at nothing, the landscape became murky and gray while the sheriff continued his long-winded recollection of this morning’s conversation with Jesse’s father.  His words became a babbling blur, a never-ending stream of meaningless words.  Let the memories of the golden-haired love of my life rest in peace.  I may have cut him off mid-sentence when I turned and walked away.

““`

I rode Cochise hard.  I met up with my brothers on the south road, and we rode back to the house together.  Although they talked about their morning, chasing strays, I didn’t mention Jess.  I didn’t say anything at all; I just rode—mindless and numb.  The possibility Jess might someday return always lingered deep in my mind.  “Things didn’t work out with the preacher,” she’d say.  Then, I’d ask her to be my wife, and all those late-night fantasies—Jess lying beside me, touching, caressing—would come true.  Nothing but silly dreams, but they were all I had.  I’d kept the dream alive for so long and now, along with the dream, Jess was gone forever. 

“Got the last of them strays this mornin’,” Hoss said as we walked out of the barn.  “We can start movin’ ‘em out tomorrow if that’s what Pa wants.”

“I’m sure he will,” Adam said to Hoss, but he was looking at me.  “You up for riding out with us tomorrow, Joe?  We could sure use an extra pair of hands.”

“I’m up for it.  Why wouldn’t I be?  That’s what we do, isn’t it?  We move cattle from one place to another, and then we move them back again.  Don’t take much of a man to do that?”

Hoss turned his attention to me.  “What’s eatin’ ya, little brother?”

“Nothin’.  Nothin’ at all.”

Although I kept walking, I saw Adam grab Hoss’ arm; a sign he needed to back off.  I walked into the house alone, and after leaving my gunbelt and hat by the front door; I headed straight for the stairs.  I wanted to be alone.  I wanted to dream one more time.

“Little Joe?”

Not now, Pa, not now.  I sighed overloud and stopped in front of Pa’s desk.  “What?”  I said without much enthusiasm.

“How was your visit with Paul?”

“I’ll live.”

Pa stood from his chair and walked around to the front of the desk.  “Something the matter?”

“No.”

“Did you pick up the mail?”

I dropped my head and then looked up at Pa.  “I’m, sorry.  I forgot.”

“Well, no problem.  I’ll ride in later.”

“Can I go now?” 

I didn’t wait for an answer. 

““`

Jesse lay next to me on our deep feather bed.  Our lives together—our marriage had been blessed by God and both of our families.  I loved my wife and she loved me.  Nothing in this life would ever destroy the bond we had with each other.

As I reached out across our bed, I cried silently, feeling deep despair for what should have been.  I embraced her remains—a skeleton—white and cold.  Her golden-blonde hair was matted and caked with earthly debris; her pale, silky skin turned to dust.  No eyes to light up when she saw me, only a deep hollow void where hazel once sparkled with the joy of life.  No lips to touch, to kiss, to love …

I woke, cold and shivering, even though I was wrapped in a heavy, winter quilt.  The pain of Jesse’s death hung over me, crushing me, and leaving me empty inside.  As I curled into myself, I realized my life meant nothing.  I’d made my choice long ago; the choice had not been Jess. 

I tried my best.  I tried to be strong, but living this day-to-day life was fast becoming a losing battle.  Nothing mattered.  I’d failed Jesse: I’d failed my father and brothers.  I couldn’t pretend to be the honorable son or the decent brother everyone expected.  I hadn’t promised Pa.  I hadn’t promised anyone I’d never use the drug again, and as much as Adam praised me and encouraged me to stay strong, I just couldn’t imagine this life of hell any longer.  I rolled to the edge of the bed, slipped my hand under the mattress, and reached for the little black bag. 

After settling my back against the headboard, I pulled out the items inside.  My hands trembled.  My body ached with anticipation; relief was only moments away.  I released the little tie that opened the bag, removed the syringe and vile, and then stared at each item I laid on the quilt.  My eyes began to tear and I blinked repeatedly, knowing these were the last tears I would ever shed.  I uncapped the needle and eased the tip into the vile, loading twice the normal amount.  I rolled up my sleeve and straightened my right arm.

Tears fell as I touched the tip to the crook of my arm.  I should have said goodbye; I should have done a lot of things differently, but the end was in sight.  No more pain, no more hell on earth—

“JOE!”

I jerked my head toward the sound of my brother’s voice as he barreled into my room, grabbing the needle from my hand and throwing it to the floor, crushing its contents with the heel of his boot.

“NO!”  I sobbed.  “Adam, no.”

“This isn’t the answer.”

“Oh, God.  Yes, it is.”  I covered my face with my hands and turned away from my brother.

“Why, Joe?  Why after all this time?”

“It just is.” 

“Why?”  Adam shouted, grabbing hold of my chin and forcing me to look up at him.

“Because I killed her.”

“Killed who?”

“Jesse’s dead.”  My brother was silent, but I saw the look on his face.  He knew I was guilty just as I knew it myself.  “I let her go, and now she’s dead.  Don’t you see?  It’s my fault; everything’s my fault.” 

“How is Jesse’s death your fault?  Tell me, Joe.  I don’t understand?”

“She didn’t love him, Adam.  She didn’t love the preacher; she loved me, and I let her go.”

“Listen to me,” Adam said, squaring my shoulders to face him head-on.

I was spent.  I stared across my room but at nothing.  I even failed at death.  Why, when life was so hard, did Adam force me to go on?  The roaring in my ears was louder now; it filled the room, canceling out any other sounds.  My hands lay limp in my lap, but my brother’s voice broke through the raging river.

“You beat this once, Joe.  Don’t let something you had no control over affect the rest of your life.”

“But I loved her, Adam.  I love her still.”  I turned away again.  I wanted to believe my brother’s words.  I wanted to be strong, but as soon as Adam let go of my shoulders, I rolled to my side, away from my brother, away from the world where I was forced to remain whether I wanted to or not. 

“Will you come downstairs with Hoss and me?”

“No.  Just leave, Adam.”

“I’m not leaving you up here by yourself.  Pa’s still in town; he’s probably having supper with Roy, but Hoss has whipped up something for the three of us to eat.”

I rolled back to face Adam.  “Why’s Pa in town?”

“He rode in to get the mail a couple of hours ago, and he’s not back yet.”

“Please, Adam.  Please don’t tell Pa.  He doesn’t need to know about this.”

“Joe,” Adam pleaded.  “Pa needs to know; you know that as well as I do.  He’ll help you through this, you know he will.”

“No, Pa won’t understand,” I begged like a child.  “Besides, it’s over, and I’m fine now so just let it go.”

Adam sat down on the edge of my bed.  “Why won’t you listen to Pa?  What’s he done to upset you so much that the two of you can’t talk anymore?  You’ve always been able to work things out.” 

“I don’t know,” I said.  “It’s not just Pa.  It’s everything.”

 “Have you talked to Paul Martin about any of this?”

“Any of what?  Paul said I’m fine.”

“I don’t think you are.”

I felt anger rise within.  “So you’re a doctor now, too?” 

I was mad.  I pushed Adam aside, climbed out of bed, and crossed the room, distancing myself from my brother.  As I flattened the palm of my hand against the windowpane, the glass was still warm, even though the sun would be setting soon.  I’d be alive to witness another sunrise tomorrow.  I was so close, so close to ending the pain. 

Adam walked up behind me, but he remained silent.  I remembered my dream, and my body suddenly trembled at the eerie sight of Jess’ dead body, lying beside me.  “I thought someday she’d come back to me.  I always dreamed of the day we’d finally be together.”

Our reflections showed on the glass panes.  Adam was gazing out the window just as I was.  My eyes became unfocused as I remembered another time when Jess stood on her parent’s front porch, waving to me as I drove into the yard.  Hugging tightly to my arm I raced the buggy to our special meadow, hoping for a kiss or two before day’s end.

“I’m tired, Adam.  I just need to sleep.”  I realized my brother’s hesitation.  He didn’t want to leave me alone.

“Why don’t I sit with you for a while?”

I was too tired to care.  I crossed the room and lay down on the bed.  It didn’t matter if Adam stayed or if he went downstairs to eat with Hoss.  I didn’t know whether I’d gotten through to him about Pa, but what did it matter? 

Adam covered me with the quilt.

““`

I’d just closed my eyes when Pa burst into my room.  His rigid stance and blaring voice, “Joseph,” brought me from lying belly down on my bed to bolting upright and finding his silhouette blocking the dim, hallway light.  My father had one hand gripping the doorknob, the other flat against the wooden frame, and before he relaxed his unyielding position, my brothers flanked him on either side. 

“What?”  I said, running my hand through my hair and adjusting my eyes to the dim light.

Pa turned to Adam and Hoss.  “Will you give us a minute alone?”

“But, Pa …” Hoss began.

My shoulders fell forward; I shook my head in disbelief.  Leave it to Adam to run straight to Pa.  I glared at my brother, who I thought I could trust but no, he’d ventured behind my back and told my father everything about this afternoon.  For a moment, Adam’s eyes met mine before turning to leave, dragging a concerned Hoss with him.  But my eyes remained on Pa, still unsure what to think about this sudden outburst.

My father crossed the room and pulled the chair up close to my bed.  He was a man on a mission, and there was no small talk.  He jumped right in with his accusations.

“I had supper with Roy,” Pa said.  “He mentioned he’d seen you.”

“Yeah, we talked.”

“He mentioned something quite disturbing.”

“He told you?”  I fell back against the headboard.  Hadn’t I thought enough about Jess for one day?  Now Pa was going to bring it all up again, and here I’d blamed Adam.  Guess I’d been a little too hasty to accuse but why the tone of voice?  Why did Pa sound so mad?  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Well, I do.”

Where was the sympathetic look I expected to see?  Where was the understanding, the words that would smooth things over and shed some light on my future now that Jesse was gone?  Pa’s eye bore into mine as though it was my fault she was dead.  Adam had tried to assure me, but it was obvious Pa thought otherwise.

“Why you were in Chinatown?”

“Chinatown?” 

“Yes, Joseph, Chinatown.”

“It’s none of Roy Coffee’s business to tell you what I do or where I choose to go.”

“Do you care to explain?”

I nearly laughed.  I knew exactly what Pa was thinking, but that wasn’t the case at all.  “It’s not what you think.”

“Then maybe you could tell me what I should think, Joseph.  What else could there possibly be that would lead you to that part of town?”

“Not now, Pa.”  I rolled to my side.  I’d gone to visit a friend, to see Mei, but the funeral got in the way.  Let him think whatever he wanted.  There would be no discussion, and if my comings and goings bothered my father then so be it.  Right now, I couldn’t care less.

“He also told me about Jesse Peterson.”

I closed my eyes; I didn’t want to go there again.  “There’s nothing more to talk about, Pa.  She married the preacher, and now she’s dead.”

“Joseph— there’s plenty to talk about.”

“Please, Pa …”

I wasn’t facing my father, but it wasn’t hard to hear the scraping of chair legs or listen to him close the door after he walked out of my room.  I was fooling myself if I thought Pa would ever trust me again.  Although he tried to smooth things over, just the mention of Chinatown had put him in such a state of anger; our lives would never be the same again. 

““`

Melancholy settled throughout our home, leaving a stillness; an eerie silence where once there was laughter and a sense of family.  Pa and I avoided each other; in fact, I spoke to no one.  The four of us behaved as strangers, all functioning separately but forced to live under one roof. 

Most days I kept to myself, and maybe it was only my imagination that caused me to feel the way I did, but I didn’t know if I could remain where I wasn’t wanted, needed, or trusted.  I did exactly as I was told, and I stayed out of everyone’s way as much as possible.  I visited the doc just like he’d asked then returned home and reported to Pa although that was the beginning and end of our conversations.  Adam and Hoss stayed clear of me and my sullen mood most of the time.  I couldn’t blame them.  I wasn’t much fun to be around.

I hadn’t been back to Chinatown to visit Mei; Jesse’s death consumed me.  I knew I should ride over to the Peterson’s and extend my condolences, but just the thought of seeing Mrs. Peterson or little Johnny’s face was not an option.  I wasn’t strong enough.  Not now, maybe never.

Since the day Adam burst into my room, I hadn’t reached for my little, black bag.  What my brother hadn’t realized at the time, I’d learned to always keep a backup, just in case.  I was making it through each day.  Some days even seemed close to normal or at least what I remembered normal to be.  Pa never mentioned Chinatown again, although I often wondered if he had people, he considered friends out watching my every move.

Pa and I had lost our way.  If we were in the same room, we argued.  It didn’t matter how the discussion started, it always ended up the same.  By the end of the day, I was exhausted.  Generally, I’d skip supper and head straight to my room, and I found out weeks later Pa often did the same.  Our lives were in turmoil.  Our lives together were miserable.  No one had an answer, no one had derived a plan that might clear the air and set us back on track.

So, life went on.  Cattle needed moving, fences needed mending, and everything else that materialized on a ranch the size of the Ponderosa needed tending as well.  Instead of settling in, I grew more restless as days and weeks progressed.  I wasn’t happy at home, and I knew I was the cause of everyone else’s unhappiness.  The more I considered the situation, the more I realized I was the one who’d have to leave this house if there was ever to be peace in the family.

““`

I wanted to see Mei once more before I made any permanent decision to give up the life I’d always known.  She’d been kind to me in my desperate state, and she hadn’t looked down on me as a drug addict who only came to purchase morphine.  I assumed the crowd I’d witnessed last time I was there had lined the streets to honor Mei’s uncle, but I was never sure.  If Mr. Wong had died, it was up to Mei and her aunt to earn a decent living.  I rode out before dawn, failing to mention to Pa or my brothers where I was headed.

Pa would imagine the worst.  He’d never understand why I wanted to pursue a friendship with a Chinese girl, especially a drug dealer’s niece.  And if I’d been honest and told him where I was going, there would have been another confrontation, and I didn’t have the strength to fight.

I rapped on the makeshift door of the house of Wong.  Of all the times I’d come to this place, I was more nervous today than on any other occasion.  I stood with my hat in my hands when Mei opened the door.  She palmed her hands and bowed slightly before extending an invitation and letting me inside her home.

“Hello, Mei.”

Again, she palmed her hands and bowed from the waist.  “Mei not see Mr. Joe for long time.”

“No, I guess not.”

“I get,” she said, turning and walking toward the back room.

“No,” I said pointedly.  “I mean … that’s not why I’m here.”

She was confused by my statement.  “No want morphine?”

“No.  I … actually, I came to see you.”  I was more nervous than ever.  Maybe it was wrong to come here after all.  Mei was a Chinese girl, I was a white man, and a white man would never be welcomed in the Chinese community if not invited or not making a purchase of some kind.  “Is your aunt here?”  Maybe my visit required a chaperone.

Mei bowed her head.  “Aunt no want live after uncle die.”

“So … you’re all alone now?”  Mei took a step back.  I saw fear in her eyes, and I realized I’d frightened her.  “I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean—“

“No want morphine?”  Again, she questioned the purpose of my visit.

“No,” I said softer this time.  “I don’t use morphine anymore, at least not today.”  There was an awkward silence, so I hurried to explain.  “I just came to say hello.”  But I thought of this young girl alone, who had to have an income to survive.  “How will you get by?  How will you live?”

“Morphine,” she said like I was a schoolboy dunce.  “I sell morphine.”

“No, no you can’t do that.  It’s too dangerous.”  What was I saying?  Why was she going to listen to me; it was the only way she knew how to survive.

“You need morphine.  Make Mr. Joe happy.”

Maybe Mei wasn’t as young and naive as I originally thought.  She sure wasn’t stupid, and she wasn’t shy about wanting to sell the profitable drug.  I’d heard about opium dens here in Virginia City, and even though they were hidden and not advertised to the public, we all knew they existed in Chinatown. 

But a vial of morphine was different.  It was portable.  A man didn’t have to spend hours smoking opium to obtain that mind-numbing feeling.  I remember Pa talking to Adam one night.  I was eavesdropping—something I had to do if I ever wanted to know anything that occurred in the adult world—and Pa was telling my brother what Roy Coffee had said about so many dens cropping up throughout the area.

“The dens are growing in number,” Roy told Pa during a private conversation and Pa repeated what the sheriff said to my older brother.  “You know as well as I do, Adam, Roy has no jurisdiction over that part of the city.”  I listened for a good, long time to understand what they were talking about.

“Roy’s becoming concerned,” Pa continued.  “Opium’s the decline of any decent, hard-working man.”  Adam looked unsure, and Pa kept explaining.  “The larger problem is these men return day after day until their businesses falter and everything they’ve worked for their entire life is in ruin.”

“So, what’s Roy planning to do?”

“That’s the problem, son.  Roy has no control over the Chinese, and he can’t arrest a man who insists on destroying his life.”

I learned a little about opium that night.  I learned Pa, Adam, and Roy thought an opium den was a bad thing.  I was fourteen years old when I overheard their late-night conversation, and I came to understand my father regarded opium as one of the evils of society.  Never in my wildest dreams did I consider that, only a few years later, I would fall victim to morphine, which I gathered was not much different from the pleasure men derived from opium.  It was faster, maybe more powerful.  I didn’t know.

“You want share tea?  I make.”  Mei asked after a prolonged silence.

“Yes.  That would be nice.”

We sat down at the same lacquered table Mei had directed me to that Sunday morning so long ago.  I could almost imagine the warmth and overall calm morphine provided during my near collapse after church services.  Along with the tray of tea and two small, hand-painted cups, she brought a small vial and a brand-new syringe.  “For Mr. Joe,” she said, before bowing and setting the tray on the low table.

As tempted as I was, and as my heartbeat rose in anticipation, I said no to Mei.  Maybe we couldn’t be friends after all.  Maybe I was just another paying customer, and she needed to make sure I continued that way.

“I’m sorry, Mei,” I said, reaching for her hand.  “I don’t want the morphine.  I thought maybe we could be friends.  Do you understand what I’m saying?  No morphine.”

“Friends?”

“Yes.”

“But … you not Chinese.  You white man.”

“Yes, I am, but I still think we could be friends.”

“What about elders?  Not right Mr. Joe and Mei be friends.”

“Elders?  You have no family left.  If you don’t want me here just say so.”

Mei shook her head.  “Mr. Joe no understand.  Mei must do right by honorable elders.  Would be disgrace if she not collect money for purchase from Mr. Joe.  All eyes on Mei to prove worthy.”

I wasn’t sure what to say, but I understood her meaning.  I was an intruder in this community.  I was only good for the money I could provide.  “I understand.”

“Elders must think you come for morphine.  Then Mr. Joe and Mei be secret friends.”

A smile hinted at the corners of her mouth, and I smiled back at the girl who’d quickly worked everything out in her mind.  She needed to show the elders, whoever they were, that I was a customer, not just a friend.  I pulled eight dollars from my wallet; the amount I paid her uncle.  “Here,” I said, laying the bills on the table.

Mei looked down at the vial of morphine.  “You want?”

“No, but I wouldn’t want to upset the elders.”

“Not right.”

“It’s okay.  I don’t want any trouble.”

“Mr. Joe very generous man.”

I had a handle on how the process worked.  Mr. Wong worked for someone higher up who’d supplied him with the drug, and now Mei had stepped in and taken over the business.  No income would be lost, and she could take over her uncle’s role if she showed a profit at the end of the day.  “One more thing. You need to drop the Mister.  It’s just Joe.”

“Just Joe.”

“Joe,” I said, chuckling slightly.

“Oh, I get.”  She smiled.  “Joe.”

“Right.”

Again, I was graced by her smile, timid, but they’re all the same.  “I better go,” I said.  “You be careful and—don’t let strangers in the house.” 

I remembered Pa’s words when he’d leave on business trips.  I was just a kid but so was Mei, and I hoped she wasn’t in over her head.  I rose from the ornate pillow I’d used for a chair.  Mei stood too.  She bowed slightly and without thinking, I reached out for her hand.  Sensing fear, she backed away.  The gold flecks, which had danced in her eyes only moments ago, were gone.  “Mei,” I said softly.  “I’m sorry.  I never meant to dishonor you in any way.”

She didn’t respond.  I’d frightened her.  I picked up my hat and turned to leave the small, restrictive shanty Mei called home.  My intentions had been honorable, but she saw my friendly gesture as threatening.  I could have kicked myself for not thinking.  Our customs were much different, and I needed to keep that in mind if I chose to return.

““`

It was over three weeks before I summoned the courage to revisit Chinatown.  I’d been to see Paul for my regular checkups, but I’d avoided Mei.  Although I was becoming stronger physically—I’d gained weight, my heartbeat had slowed to within a range Doc was satisfied with—even the roaring in my ears and insufferable stomach cramps were seldom a problem anymore.  But nothing had been resolved at home.

Pa remained distant.  His face had grown hollow and deeply carved lines of unnecessary worry had settled in permanently.  And if he spoke during supper, it was nothing more than the bare minimum.  Even where the ranch was concerned, there seemed to be a loss of interest.  Harmony between the four of us had slipped away.

As I strolled through back alleys, I felt as giddy as a schoolboy.  It was foolish for me to be seen walking casually through Chinatown, but it was the young girl named Mei who kept me coming back.  I needed a friend.  I hoped she did too.

The door opened before I had a chance to knock.  An elderly, gray-haired woman dressed like Mei, wearing black pants and a black shirt buttoned high at the neck, stood with a full, wooden pail. 

“Excuse me. I’m looking for Mei?”

“Mei not see anyone.  Go ‘way.”  The old woman still held the bucket, and from what I could tell, if I didn’t do as she asked, she wouldn’t think twice about throwing its contents at me.

“Mei is my friend,” I pleaded.  “I’d like to visit with her.”

The woman raised the bucket and took aim.  I quickly stepped back, away from her and the entryway.  But somehow, I’d gotten through to the old woman, and she set the bucket down and motioned me to follow.  That’s when I realized the pail was full of human waste.  I was safe for the moment, but I didn’t dare want to offend this woman now that I had been waved inside.

I followed her to the same bed where Mei’s uncle lay dying.  Mei quickly turned her head away when I entered the room.  Her left arm was splinted, but she raised her right hand, trying to cover the cuts and bruises marking her face.  I knelt on my knees and reached for her hand.  One eye was swollen shut.  Her bottom lip was puffy and cracked, while evidence of a knife cut crossed under her chin.

“My God, Mei, who … who did this to you?”  I was so shocked by her appearance that my voice faltered; the simple question was whispered aloud.  And when there was no reply, I looked up at the old woman.  “Who did this to her?”  This time, I spoke with urgency.

Her anger was evident in her reply.  “White man.”

The old woman looked down on me as if I’d been the one who’d attacked Mei.  To her, we were all alike, brutal and uncaring.  I’d seen it so many times before, even the way Hop Sing was often treated by outsiders.  The Chinese had been ostracized since they’d first set foot in this country, but why Mei?

With her eyes still covered, she wouldn’t look up at me.  A tear slipped down her cheek as she tried to keep herself hidden.  I wondered if I looked similar in any way to the man who’d hurt her so badly.  Did we all look the same to a girl like Mei, to the old woman? 

I finally stood, turning my back on the young girl I called friend.  I glared at the old woman, but I kept my voice even.  “Tell me his name?”  

“Not know name.”

“Would you recognize him if you saw him again?”

The old woman looked away.  I knew right then she would never give me the man’s identity, the man who’d beaten and maybe disgraced Mei as only a man could.  What I didn’t realize at the time was the Chinese community would deal with the guilty party in their own way.  They had no need for white man’s sheriff or white man’s law.  I took a step forward, looping my thumbs over my gun belt.  When Mei called out my name, I turned back around and knelt on the floor beside her cot.  “I’m here, Mei.  I’m right here.”

I glanced at the old woman, hoping she’d give us a minute alone, but that was not her intention at all.  Mei reached out with her free hand, which I held between both of mine. 

“Who did this to you?”  I persisted.

Mei’s stare was fixated on the old woman; the man’s name would remain a secret.  I sat with her long enough that the old woman finally figured I was a safe bet and left us alone.  But when she returned, only a few short minutes later, she had a loaded syringe in her hand.

“What’s that?”  I said, turning to face her directly.

The old woman looked down at Mei.

“Oh no, you don’t.  She’s doing just fine without your help.”  The old woman began rattling off words in Chinese.  I stood and grabbed her wrist.  “NO!  Not now, not ever.”

“You want?”

“No, I don’t want, and Mei doesn’t either.  Get out, old woman,” I cried, grabbing the syringe from her hand.  “I’ll take care of her myself.  Now, get the hell out!”

I escorted the old woman to the door and waited until she’d stormed halfway down the alleyway before I walked back to sit with Mei.  I didn’t know who the old gal was or when she’d return or how big a hole I’d dug by acting unfavorably, but I’d held her off for now.  I saw no other choice; I had to protect my friend.

By nightfall, I was prepared for anything or anyone who entered uninvited.  I kept a sharp eye on the door even though I remained sitting on the floor next to Mei.  I’d had her drink tea I brewed myself, and I wiped her face and neck with a cool cloth.  Not only was I in trouble with the old woman and probably the entire Chinese community, but I was in even deeper trouble with my father.  I’d left at sunrise and hadn’t returned.  Yeah … I was in deep for sure.

Pa would be pacing the floor or worse, silent and brooding.  My brothers would reassure him; tell him he needn’t worry, but whichever tactic he found useful, there’d be no peace until I returned home with a darn good explanation.  Even then, the odds were against Pa and me reconciling, no matter what I used as an excuse. 

The link binding my father and me had broken.  Weeks of silence between us had left permanent changes in the way we related to each other.  I felt more like a boarder than part of a family, where love and respect meant everything to me.  Pa and I had been at odds for so long that I didn’t know whether the damage was repairable or not.  We’d pushed each other to limits we’d never had to face before.  We’d disregarded the true value of each other.  As I looked down at Mei, hurting but silent, holding my hand as her only lifeline, I knew this was where I belonged, and where I was needed most.

I missed my father.  I missed what we’d had between us.  Sitting here with Mei, I learned in one night what worrying over someone you felt responsible for was all about.  Maybe I’d been too hard on Pa all along.  I’d said words I can never take back.  All this time I blamed him for not trusting me when all he cared about was my safety—that I remained alive and well—and not end up a casualty of morphine.

I couldn’t conceal my smile, thinking over the action I’d taken when I’d kicked the old lady out of Mei’s house.  I’d become the big brother, the protector, the one in charge of someone else’s existence.  Like Adam, when he saw me through the worst days of my life, it finally clicked inside my head.  Adam felt responsible, just as I did now, just as my father always had and always will.

““`

I sat at Mei’s bedside for two days.  There’d been no interruptions from the outside world, Chinese or otherwise.  She was well enough to sit up, eat, and drink, and before we discussed any plans, she explained the proper way to brew tea.  I listened and I learned, but I learned more than just how to brew a proper cup of tea.  She explained who the old woman was, and she touched on other matters concerning various Chinese customs.

“Mei-Lien is aunt’s brother’s wife.” 

It took me a minute to work the relationship out in my mind.  “What does Mei-Lien’s name mean?”  I asked as we fought boredom while Mei’s body healed.

“Mei-Lien mean beautiful lotus.”

“So, Mei means beautiful?”

“Yes.”

“You are beautiful, but I’m not so sure about Mei-Lien being a beautiful anything.”  Mei smiled.  Whether it was the compliment or what I’d said about Mei-Lien, I wasn’t sure.  “Quite beautiful.”

“Mei accept generous compliment from friend with kind heart.  Friend help Mei live, not die like Mei-Lien want.”

“You’re saying that old woman wanted you dead?”

“Mei bring disgrace to house.  You save Mei from hand of death.  Now must leave house of Wong or face much ridicule and shame.”

“Leave?  But I don’t understand.  Where will you go?”

“Mei-Lien try to save Mei from life she must live now.  Blame white man for death.”

“I’m sorry Mei, but what life?  Why are you better off dead than—“

“Mei dishonored.  Now she sold as slave.  Never marry.  Never have family of own.  Mei-Lien know of such things.  No want see Mei suffer at hand of others.”

I realized now the white man had not only beaten Mei, he’d raped her also, and by no fault of her own, everything in her world had changed.  Maybe deep down I already knew, but I didn’t know the harsh consequences that would follow.  The old woman wasn’t trying to ease Mei’s pain; she planned to end her life with one single injection.  Mei had no one to turn to now, her life was not her own.  “Then you’ll come home with me.”

Mei smiled but shook her head.  “No can go with friend.”

“Yes, you can.”  I stood up from the floor cushion and began pacing the small room.  “If you don’t come with me, they’ll find a way to kill you or sell you as a slave.  I won’t let that happen, Mei.”  Mei bowed her head but said nothing, and again, I knelt on the floor and picked up her hand.  “Please let me help you.  I don’t know about the Chinese, but in the white man’s world, that’s what friends do for each other.”

“You good friend.  You only friend, but I no belong in white man’s world.”

“Okay … how ‘bout this,” I said.  My mind was whirling in a hundred directions, trying to sound convincing even if I had no idea what to do.  “Come to the ranch until we can figure something else out.  You need time to heal.  You need decent food, and you already know I can’t cook; I can’t even make a decent pot of tea.”  Mei was listening, and although I hadn’t quite convinced her this was for the best I kept trying.  “We have a Chinese cook on the Ponderosa.  His name is Hop Sing and he’ll fatten you up, and you’ll be feeling your old self in no time.”

Mei was hesitant and when she finally looked up, her expression gave way to doubt.  “Mr. Joe sure this best?”

“Yes,” I chuckled softly.  “Mr. Joe sure.”

I’d finally gotten through to her.  Now, we just had to find a way out and not be seen leaving Chinatown.  “Think you can sit a horse?”  Mei gave me a questioning look, but I saw no other choice.  “We can ride double.”  Her look remained uncertain.  “You and me.”  I pointed to her and then to myself.  “On the same horse.”

Mei nodded.  “Yes.”

“Good.  Pack what you’ll need to get by, and we’ll leave as soon as it’s dark.”

~~~

I held Mei’s hand, but I had to drag her from her uncle’s house.  She was frightened, and I understood her concern, but we needed to hurry and not be seen traveling together.  We moved from shadow to shadow up dark and narrow alleyways until we made our way to the livery where I’d left Cochise two days ago.  James, the boy who often slept overnight inside the livery, knew me well.  It was late, and I was glad he was awake and had stepped outside for a smoke. 

“Hey, Little Joe,” he said as we approached.

“Hey, James.  I came for Cochise.”

The sandy-haired boy, about fifteen or sixteen, dropped his cigarette to the ground and twisted the sole of his boot until nothing remained of the orange glow.  “I … um, I gave your horse to Hoss, Little Joe.  He … he come in a couple of days back.  Said you’d probably left town, and he took the horse home with him.”

“That’s okay,” I said, knowing he felt embarrassed over his decision to let the horse go.  “Don’t worry about it.”

“I thought you was gonna bust my … oh, excuse me, ma’am.”

I started to smile but thought better of it and quickly changed the subject.  “You got any horses to rent?”

“Sure, I do.  You know, Hoss was askin’ lots of questions, but I didn’t have no answers.  I hope you ain’t mad about me givin’ ‘way your horse.”

“I’m not mad.  I just need a rental and saddle.”

“One for the girl, too?”

“No, she’ll ride with me.”

I seated myself in the saddle and helped Mei up behind me.  She’d brought a small bag with her; I looped it over the horn.  Not knowing if she’d ever sat a horse before, I told her to wrap her arms around me and hang on tight.  As soon as we were out of town, I felt her head, resting between my shoulder blades, and it wasn’t long before she’d fallen asleep.  Slowly, I walked the horse home.

““`

A buttery veil of light illuminated the front porch, a welcome sign; however, my arrival home at this time of night wasn’t one of my best ideas.  I hadn’t left town like everyone assumed, and I’d returned home with a guest—not a normal guest but a female, Chinese guest.  On the other hand, the one thing I excelled at over the years was explaining.

Even though Pa and I had our differences—more now than ever before—my father had always been a firm believer in human rights, and ancestry was never a factor.  Above all, Pa was a fair man when it came to various nationalities, and if I played my card right, he would have no choice but to listen and understand that I had no other choice but to bring Mei here to the Ponderosa.

Before I had a chance to dismount, Hoss came running out the front door and across the porch.  “Joseph!  He shouted.  “Pa, it’s Joe,” he hollered over his shoulder.  “We thought you done took off for good, Little Joe.”

“I need help, Hoss.”

“What?  Who ya got there?”

“I’ll explain in a minute.  Help her down, will you?”

As soon as Hoss reached up, Mei’s arms tightened around my waist, and as her legs stiffened, the rental lunged forward until I reined him in.  “It’s okay, Mei. This is my brother.  He’s kinda big, but he’s a friendly sort.”

“I won’t hurt you none, ma’am.  I promise.”

I glanced down at Hoss, and when Mei finally loosened her grip, she let my brother help her down, and by the time I had both feet on the ground, Pa and Adam had joined us.  Mei was frightened.  I couldn’t understand how she felt surrounded by three large men, so I drew her close to me before I began the introductions.

“I’d like you to meet my friend, Mei,” I said, looking straight at my father.  “She needs a place to stay, and I told her she’d be welcome here.  It won’t be long; just a few days.”  Pa’s fisted hands moved to his hips as he glared down at the two of us.  Not the greeting I’d hoped for, although I concealed my anger in front of Mei.  He had every right to be upset with me, but not with our guest.  “I can explain.” 

When no one said a word, I headed toward the house, holding Mei’s hand in mine.  Footsteps followed me across the front porch, and I walked straight to the spare room where I deposited Mei’s small bag on the bed.  “Do you need anything?  Tea?  Maybe something to eat?”

Mei shook her head and then slowly took in her new surroundings.  There wasn’t much to see: a neatly made bed, a sewing rocker, a pie table, and a ladies’ writing desk Pa had bought for Mama when he found her running her fingers across the surface in Cass’s Mercantile just before Christmas.  My father was a generous and considerate man, but tonight, he’d emerged from the house like a fire-breathing dragon from some age-old fairytale.

I wanted to reassure Mei, but I needed to talk to Pa first and make sure we could stay.  I wasn’t sure about anything.  “I’ll be back in a little bit,” I said, briefly touching Mei’s shoulder.  “Why don’t you get settled in?  I have some explaining to do?”

She picked up her cloth bag and hugged it to her chest before sitting down on the edge of the bed.  Everything about the Ponderosa and this house was foreign to her, and it would take time to adjust.  There were new voices, an entirely new environment, and new types of food she’d probably never tasted before.  I hoped she’d feel more comfortable after I introduced her to Hop Sing and explained how we treasured him as a member of our family.

“Please don’t be afraid,” I said.  “Pa and my brothers are all nice people once you get to know them.  It’s late, that’s all, and if they don’t get their beauty sleep, it tends to make everyone grumpy.  Don’t worry; everything will be fine tomorrow.”

I closed the bedroom door, not knowing if Mei understood all I’d said, but I’d check back later and make sure she had everything she needed.  I found three sets of eyes staring at me when I turned around in the dining room.  I pointed to the living room, not wanting Mei to hear our discussion.  “Let’s sit in there,” I said.

We all took our usual spots, Pa and Adam in their chairs, Hoss and me on the settee.  I didn’t get a word said before Pa started in.  “What’s the meaning of this, Joseph?”

“If you’ll give me half a chance, I’ll explain.”  My father’s look told me I’d said the wrong thing … as usual.  “I’m sorry, Pa.  That didn’t come out quite right.”

Pa cleared his throat, and I waited to be reprimanded in front of my brothers for speaking my mind.  I was eighteen years old, and I still had to watch what I said to my father.  When would he ever realize I was a man, and I needed to be considered as one?

“What are your plans for this girl?  Surely you don’t intend on keeping her here?”

“Why?  Because she’s Chinese?”

“Yes, Joseph.  Because she’s Chinese.”

“I don’t understand.”  I was angry.  I stood from the settee and ended up behind Adam’s chair, distancing myself from my father.  “She has no family and nowhere else to go.  Why are you acting like this, Pa?  You’d take in a stray dog, but not a Chinese girl.  Why?”

“Cut the drama, Joe,” Adam said, looking over his shoulder.

“You stay outta this.”

“Joseph,” Pa said sternly.  “Sit down so we can discuss this like civilized adults.”

“Okay, I’m sorry.  I just don’t—”

“First,” Pa interrupted, “why don’t you tell me where you’ve been for the last two days?”

I glanced at both brothers and back at Pa.  “I’ve been with Mei.”  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Hoss shaking his head while Adam’s cheeks filled until he let out a long, slow breath of air.  “But not the way you think.”

“Why don’t you tell me what I’m thinking, Joseph?”

I prayed Pa would listen, would let me explain without interruption.  I took a deep breath, and I began my nonstop story.  “I brought Mei here because she’s sick … well, actually she’s not sick, she’d been beaten and … and possibly taken advantage of, and her relatives, an old woman named Mei-Lien, would have either sold her as a slave or killed her for dishonoring the family, which wasn’t her fault but the fault of the man who did this to her.  I couldn’t let that happen, Pa.  Do you understand what I’m saying?  She’s my friend.  I stopped the old lady once, but she would have come back if I’d left Mei there.”

Okay.  I took a deep breath.  It was all out in the open, and I watched for Pa’s reaction, but my father’s attention was drawn to the dining room.  Hop Sing stood outside Mei’s bedroom door.  He crossed the room and came to stand next to my father.  “What Little Joe say is true.  No make little girl go back undeserving family.”

“Thank you, Hop Sing,” Pa said before turning back to me.  Although Hop Sing knew the ways of the Chinese, my father didn’t seem impressed with his remark.  “I’m sure what Hop Sing says is true, but having her here in this house will only bring—“

“Bring what, Pa?  Trouble?  A fellow human being needs our help, and you’re ready to turn her out without even listening to what I’ve said.”

“Joseph, I need to know more,” Pa said.  “How do you know this girl?”

“The girl has a name, Pa.  Her name is Mei.”

“All right.  Her name is Mei.  Now, start explaining.”

“She’s a friend of mine.”

“Go on.”

“It’s a long story, Pa.  I met her a long time ago.”

“And?”

“Does it really matter?”

“Yes.  It matters to me.”

“Okay.”  I tried to keep my voice steady and just say the words calmly.  “I met her a few months ago when I bought morphine from her uncle.”

Pa slammed his hands on the arm of his chair.  “Oh, that’s great, Joseph, just great.”

The battle had begun, but I wasn’t backing down.  “Do you want to hear the story or not?”  I said overloud.

“Don’t you raise your voice to me, boy.  I’ve had about all I can take.  And now, I find out you’re still making trips to Chinatown.  When is this going to end, Joseph?”

“I don’t think you’re giving Joe a chance,” Adam said.  “Let the kid explain.”

Hoss’ head bobbed in agreement, but my father was hanging tough.  He glared at all three of us, but I was willing to talk, to explain whatever Pa wanted to hear.  “I’m sorry I raised my voice.”

Pa sat rigid in his chair and seemed to be fighting demons of his own.  He remained silent.  He wouldn’t look at me; instead, he fixed his eyes on the fireplace.  I remained silent also.  “My apologies, Joseph.  You may finish your story.”

There was something in my father’s voice, I hadn’t heard for a very long time.  A softness, a gentleness; a breaking down of the unyielding wall we’d created between the two of us.  I repeated my story slower this time, hoping Pa would understand the seriousness of Mei’s situation, and that I didn’t intend to abandon her when she needed me most.  

“You have to understand, son, we may end up with the entire Chinese community on our doorstep.”

“Were you listening to me, Pa?  If she goes back, they’ll either sell her or kill her.”

Pa leaned forward in his chair.  The worry lines intensified, but his voice remained calm.  “She’s here, and there’s nothing we can do tonight, but what are your plans?”

“I don’t know, Pa,” I said, rubbing my hands nervously up and down my thighs.  “It’s just … I didn’t know what else to do.  I didn’t know where else to go.”  Again, I complicated my father’s life, and when no one said anything, an awkward silence filled the room.  “I should probably check on Mei.”

“It’s late,” Pa said.  “I think we should all turn in, you too, Joseph.  It’s been a long day, and it’s too late to decide anything tonight.”

I wasn’t sure what Pa meant, but he was right about one thing.  I was tired, and tomorrow was soon enough to figure things out.  Pa and my brothers started upstairs, but my father turned back around.  “Joseph?”

“Yessir?”

“You did the right thing, son.”

My eyes suddenly burned; I swallowed the lump in my throat.  “Thanks, Pa.”

I should have said more.  Pa was trying although he’d caught me off guard and left me nearly speechless.  I crossed the room and knocked before opening the door just slightly.  “Can I come in?”

There was no answer and when I stepped through the doorway, Mei was still sitting on the bed, clutching her bag with both hands.  I had good news, and I wanted her to know she had been welcomed into this house.  “Is everything okay?”  Her eyes met mine.  Still, she said nothing.  I sat down beside her.  “Tell me what’s wrong?  Is it something I did?”

“No.  Joe have gentle soul.”

“Something’s bothering you.  Are you scared?  There’s no need to be.”  I sat with my hands in my lap.  I didn’t dare touch her for fear of frightening her more.  “We all sleep upstairs, which is why I gave you this room.  From down here, you won’t even hear Hoss snoring.”

“You stay?”

“Here?  In this room?”

“Yes.”

Pa would have my hide.  “I’ll stay till you fall asleep.  Will that help?”

““`

I planned to be the first one up the following morning, but when Hoss tapped on my bedroom door, I knew I’d slept in late.  I hurried to dress and flew down the stairs, wanting to check on our houseguest before having breakfast with the rest of my family.  To my surprise, Mei was already seated at the table next to my father.  I smiled, gave her a quick wink, then took a seat beside her.

“Good morning,” I said, wanting Mei to feel as comfortable as possible in a house full of men—big men.

“It seems our houseguest was up early, helping Hop Sing cook breakfast,” Pa said.

“You were?”  I said, looking toward Mei.  “You don’t have to do that.  You’re a guest in this house.”

“Joe help Mei.  Mei return favor.”

“Okay,” I said.  “That’s fair, I guess.”  I glanced at a plate of, well, something that looked sort of like a rolled-up pancake.  “Hey, what’s this?”

“Hop Sing call pancake.  He say Mr. Hoss eat anything.  He say you very hard to please.”

“Me?”

Pa and my brother erupted with laughter at my expense.  Even though they were right, I felt slightly embarrassed, but there was no way I’d let on to Mei.  I’d eat the darn things no matter how bad they tasted.  I picked up the platter and smelled the so-called pancakes. 

“You gonna pass them things, little brother, or just sit there sniffin’ all day?”

I scooped one up and passed the plate to Adam.  He took one and Hoss took three.  “Feel free to dig in, big brother,” I said, watching Hoss’ eyes light up with enthusiasm.

“Don’t mind if I do.”  Hoss cut the thing in half and popped it in his mouth.  He made a big deal of chewing this funny-looking pancake while the rest of us sat and watched.  Soon, a smile crossed his face.  “My compliments, Miss Mei.  This here pancake is the best thing I ever ate … oh, no offense Hop Sing.”

“That all right, Mr. Hoss.  Hop Sing stir batter.  Help Missy Mei.”

“Oh, well, in that case, I’ll say thanks to both chefs.  These is mighty fine tasting.”

Hoss ate anything, so naturally; he found Mei’s cooking to his liking.  I felt encouraged and forced to take a bite of my own.  I smiled at Mei, who, with her hands resting in her lap, her one arm still in a splint, waited patiently for my opinion.  “Delicious,” I said.

“You like?”

“Yes, very much.”

“Better than Mr. Joe cooking?”

I glanced at my father.  “You see, Pa, Mei was stuck in bed and had to rely on me for her meals.”

“You have my sympathy, Mei,” Adam said.  “I’m not sure how you survived.”

“That’s right, Miss Mei.  Ain’t nothin’ worse than Little Joe’s cookin’.”

“Hey,” I grumbled.

“Okay, that’s enough, boys.  Let’s not forget we have a guest at our table.”

Mei’s adjustment under a white man’s roof was my main concern, and I felt we’d just made a start in the right direction.  The lighthearted banter brought a smile to her face, and any reluctance she may have had about coming with me would hopefully vanish sooner than later.

Not only was Mei smiling, we all were.  For the first time in months, we carried on with easy conversation throughout our meal.  Pa was talking and laughing right along with the rest of us.  Hoss and I were joking, and at times even Adam joined in with his own style of humor.

“How about I show you around the ranch this morning?” I polished off every bit of food on the table.  “Is that all right with you, Pa?”

“I don’t mind, but make sure you watch yourself,” he said.  “And I suggest you don’t stay gone too long.”

“What’s that mean?”  I wasn’t sure what my father was referring to.  Did he think I’d disrespect Mei or seek out a vial of morphine?  After this morning’s conversation, I almost felt like he trusted me again.  Had I read more into his lightheartedness than I should have?

Pa hesitated to comment, and after wiping the corners of his mouth with his napkin, he glanced at Mei before he spoke.  “Just don’t take any unnecessary chances, and I’d also advise you not to go near Virginia City.”

“I was planning to go down by the lake, but what exactly are you saying, Pa?”

My father glanced at my brothers and then back at me.  “I think it’s best that no one realizes we have a guest staying with us on the Ponderosa.  Do you understand my meaning?”

“Yeah, Pa.  I’m sorry.  I didn’t at first.”  I realized now what Pa meant, and even though he was trying to be discreet, I’m, sure Mei understood every word.  I was the brainless wonder this morning.  Pa trusted me, but the Chinese community worried him.  He was only thinking about our safety, nothing more.  “We’ll just take a short ride.”

“All right, Joseph.  Then we’ll see the two of you for lunch?”

“Sounds good, Pa.”

““`

I helped Mei into the buggy but quickly decided against driving to my favorite spot by the lake.  I had no intention of Mei and I becoming more than just friends and the lake, the little path down to the water’s edge held too many memories.  One too many times, I’d taken women there, Jesse, and then Suzanna.  Although it had been months, the memories of those days were still fresh in my mind.

I took a different road this time, one that led to an overlook of the ranch house and valley below.  I was determined to forget the past and enjoy the day with Mei, and that’s exactly what we did.  I let the horse hit on his comfortable gait as we rode through tall, majestic pines.  It was a perfect day.  The sky was a brilliant blue with a thin string of clouds to the east.  Mei seemed at peace, and with what she’d been through, I felt honored she’d let me be part of her life.  I hoped we would always remain friends, but at some point, she’d have to leave the Ponderosa and find her way, but today was ours to just sit back and enjoy.

I’d made a conscious decision as Mei and I rode along, enjoying our ride in comfortable silence.  I was also at peace, the first I’d known in a very long time, and with that long-forgotten ease of body and mind, I made a promise to myself.  Later that night, I asked Adam to follow me upstairs.  “I have something for you,” I said as the two of us stood together in my room.  I lifted my mattress and pulled out my little black bag.  “Here,” I said, handing it to him.

My brother was speechless.  He held the bag with both hands, feeling its contents.  “Is this what I think it is?”

“Yep, sure is.”

“You’ve had this in your room all this time?”

“Yep.”

“And you’ve never once—“

“Nope.  Never once, thanks to you.  It’s yours now.  Do whatever you want with it, Adam.  I know this may sound strange, but I had an epiphany today.” 

My brother smiled at my choice of words.  “I just can’t believe—”

“This little, black bag has been under my mattress this entire time.  I know you thought you’d crushed the last of it when Jesse died, but an addict never runs that low on his supply.  I could have reached for this bag anytime, day or night, and no one would have been the wiser, but I didn’t, Adam, and you’re the reason I made it through.  You kept me strong.  You made me fight my way back.”

Adam continued to hold the bag with both hands, staring as if it was worth its weight in gold.  “You know this is all Pa thought about during the two days you were gone.”

“I figured as much.”

“Then I have one request.”

“What’s that?”  I thought this would be simple, but nothing ever is, and I suddenly feared what Adam might say.

“Sit down and talk to Pa, Joe.  He deserves to know what goes on in that head of yours.”

“He doesn’t trust me, Adam.”

“He would if you gave him a chance.”

I nodded.  Adam was right.  I’d given my father every reason to lose faith, and first thing tomorrow morning, I would sit down and try to make things right.

“I’m proud of you, Joe.”

Adam’s statement meant a great deal to me, and if I spoke to Pa—if I bared my soul and apologized for the months of anguish I’d put him through—then maybe I could make him believe in me again.  I missed my father.  I wanted him to need me and trust me, and if I chose my words wisely, our lives could take on new meaning, one of hope and a future together.  At least it would be a start.

The End

The next and final story in this series: Betrayal #4