A Young Man’s Journey #2

by jfclover

“I need you to go to town this morning, Boys.  Hop Sing needs supplies, oh, and pick up the mail while you’re there.  I’d also like to see you two back here at a reasonable time.  There’s a lot to be done today.”

“Sure, Pa.” 

I can barely get the bacon and eggs on my plate before Pa starts his list of chores.  Just once, I’d like to have a day that isn’t filled from sunup to sundown.

“You expecting a letter, Pa?” 

“You never know, Hoss.  We haven’t heard from your brother, Adam, for quite some time now.”

“You think he’s still in Boston?”

“I have to assume he is, Joe, why?”

“No reason.  Just wondered.”

My oldest brother left home just a few months ago—a new career choice, so to speak.  I remember doing the same thing a few years back.  I thought I wanted a new career too but for different reasons than my brother.  Adam is an educated man.  He was eager to use his architectural skills the last time he returned from Boston but there just isn’t much here on the ranch to keep a mind like his occupied.

On the other hand, Pa and Hoss, and I are quite content with how things are.  There’s never a dull moment keeping a ranch this size running smoothly.  Hence—no loafin’ off time from sunup to sundown.

I’d thought I was so grown up when I joined the army at seventeen.  I was so eager to prove myself—to be a man like Adam and like Hoss.  I knew it all, at least I thought I did.  Maybe I was no different than anyone else that age.  No one could have persuaded me differently.  Whereas Adam went back east to college, I enlisted in the US Army—a much different career choice than my oldest brother. 

Hoss is the only one out of any of us that has always been content watching over the land and taking pride in what he does.  I’m not saying the rest of us aren’t proud but Hoss always knew what was important to him without having to leave and find his happiness or his manhood elsewhere.  Even Pa left home at an early age to fulfill his dream when he went to sea.

I envy my brother’s contentment.  There are times I still get restless even though I know I will never leave the Ponderosa again in search of something I know is right here.  This is my home, my land, and this is the family I cherish.

~~~

Hoss pulled the buckboard up in front of the mercantile.  “Take about an hour to fill this order, boys,” Jake said, looking down the list of supplies.  That’s what Jake always said.  I think he knew if Hoss and I made the trip into town, we also wanted an excuse to stop in the saloon and have a beer or two.

“Sounds good, Jake,” I said.  “Might as well walk down and pick up the mail for Pa.  Then we’re free to do whatever.”

“I suppose you’re itchin’ for a beer already?”

“Aren’t you?”

Gus handed us a few letters and The Atlantic Monthly, an eastern publication that Adam had subscribed to and Pa now read.  It was too high-brow for Hoss or me but I think it made Pa feel connected to Adam somehow.  I shoved the papers into my pocket and my brother and I were off to the saloon.  After a couple of beers and a few tall tales from Bruno the bartender, explaining the big brawl we missed the night before, we were back loading up the wagon and heading home.

We unloaded Hop Sing’s supplies to his satisfaction while he made us some sandwiches then Hoss and I were off again.  Pa said he wished he could come with us, but there was too much paperwork he had to contend with.

“Oh, the mail.”  I reached into my pocket and tossed it on Pa’s desk before my brother and I left.  “I put the mail on your desk, Pa.  Have fun,” I said.  He smiled unconvincingly and ran his hand over my shoulder, half pushing me out the front door.

We rode out to the south pasture and found problems almost immediately. These stupid bovines are dumber than dirt.  They tear down a fence when they see a green patch of grass on the other side.  Hoss and I would have to come back tomorrow and repair this whole area.  “Three posts down here, Hoss,” I yelled, as he held up two beefy fingers indicating two more on down the line.  We might actually get something worthwhile accomplished if we didn’t have to keep repeating the same jobs over and over.

“Looks like we’ll be back here tomorrow fixin’ fences,” I said.

“Yep.”

We were both bone-tired and ready to ride back to the house.  With Adam now gone, Hoss and I had to pick up the slack of a third man.  Pa wasn’t quite ready to hire an extra man to replace my older brother, and I think in the back of his mind, he hoped Adam would tire of the East and their staunch eastern ways and return home.  I wasn’t holding my breath. 

It had been obvious for months, at least to me, that Adam was looking for something he would never find here.  He wanted to make a name for himself, Adam Cartwright, architect, not Adam Cartwright, Ben Cartwright’s oldest son.  The feeling wasn’t foreign to me.  I’d known it all too well.

I patted Cooch’s rump after Hoss and I had stabled out mounts and we were both looking forward to good food and a good night’s sleep.  Start—stop—start—stop all day long, trying to lure strays away from broken sections of fence until we could get back out there tomorrow.  I was beat.

“Pa!” I yelled as we walked in the front door.  “Home, Pa.”

“I’m right here, son.” 

Hoss and I rid ourselves of hats and gun belts and strolled over to tell Pa about the fences.  Something was wrong.  I could tell as soon as I turned the corner towards his desk and saw his slumped shoulders and the worried expression on his face.  Adam, I thought.  Something’s happened to my brother. 

Hoss and I both stood like wooden soldiers, waiting for the news.  I wondered if Hoss’s thoughts were the same as mine.  Pa looked up at me and then looked back down, picking up an envelope and handing it to me.

“This came for you, son.”

“Me?”  I looked at the front of the envelope.  “Wonder who it’s from?”

“Ain’t ya gonna open it?”  

“The postmark’s from Santa Fe, Joe.”

“Santa Fe?”

“Who do you know down there, Little Joe?”

“I didn’t think I knew anyone but—” I tore open the envelope and started to read.  “Maggie.”

I glanced at Pa and back at the letter.  “Maggie, from the hospital in Santa Fe.”  “Seems she and Tommy Bolton, my friend from the army, got married some time back.”  I was reading along and telling Pa and Hoss as I went. “He’s missing and presumed dead.”  I read on down.  “Wants me to come—”

I looked back at Pa.  I knew this was what had him upset.  He’d already figured this letter had something to do with my time in the army just by the postmark and my total lack of acquaintances in Santa Fe.  “Says I’m the only one—” I looked up again before reading the rest.  “—the only one who would understand.”

It had been a rough time for me and for Pa when I left the army.  We both suffered under the circumstances of my so-called treason and desertion and when all was said and done, we both came away with a much better understanding of each other.  As soon as the two of us returned to the Ponderosa, Pa made it his mission to rid the army of the colonel, the one man who had made my life a living hell. 

Just as quickly as he started tracking down important people in high places, he was shot down with unexpected news.  There was no record at all of my serving nearly two years in the US Cavalry, no treason, no desertion, nothing at all.  Sergeant Cartwright did not exist.  The colonel had every record of my enlistment and time served mysteriously removed.  Pa had people searching, trying to find some kind of paper trail.  There was none.  I never existed.

He’d spent months and months, obsessed with finding a satisfying outcome that would never be. I kept telling him it wasn’t worth it.  What’s done is done.  Let it go.   Finally, out of the blue, it was over.  He realized his efforts were in vain.  He had no recourse but to give up—put an end to this seemingly endless amount of searching for records that were nonexistent.  It also ended his involvement in trying to remove the colonel. 

I had put it behind me at some point.  I’m not sure when it happened—it just did.  I didn’t care anymore.  Pa, on the other hand, was a driven man.  One single man—this high and mighty colonel—had hurt one of his sons, and this man needed to pay.  My father’s hair grew whiter and lines showed deeper on his face as he pursued every angle and every trick in the book.  It took the three of us, his three sons to finally convince him to stop.  Stop the madness that was driving him to an early grave.

“So what are ya gonna do, Little Joe?  You goin’ down there?”

“I don’t know, Hoss.”

Pa would never stop me from going to help a friend; on the other hand, I’m sure he was praying I wouldn’t go.  Before anything else was said, Hop Sing stood next to the dining room table threatening a cold dinner if we didn’t come to the table now.  I tucked the letter in my pocket.  This would take some thought.

Pa was deathly quiet during supper, and it was obvious to both my brother and me where his mind was.  I didn’t say anything simply because I didn’t know what to say or what I was going to do.  Tommy was a good friend.  He’d stuck by me through it all.  I’d gotten a letter from him a few years ago when they were all finally released from the stockade, and he said he’d met a girl.  He didn’t tell me who or how it happened.  I guess he was waiting to see if things worked out, and I assume now this girl was Maggie O’Grady.  I’d never heard anything about their marriage until today.

I was the first to excuse myself from the table, and I headed outside to think.  My mind was racing with thoughts of Maggie and Tommy both.  Santa Fe was a long way from here, and how did she think I would ever find one man when she didn’t know whether he was dead or alive?  I didn’t know anything about Santa Fe except the Comanche were known to leave their reservations in Oklahoma and raid settlements in that area.  How could I go alone?  What did she expect me to do?

It wasn’t long before I heard the front door close and footsteps coming toward me.  I turned to look and it was Pa; his hands deep in his pockets and walking slowly.

“Nice night,” I said.

“Yes, it is.”

I was leaning on the top rail of the corral, a place I found myself often if I was trying to sort things out in my mind.  Pa leaned back against the wooden rails and was scuffing the dirt with the toe of his boot.

“I don’t know what to do, Pa.”  I wasn’t really looking in his direction, but I saw his head nod up and down.

“It’s a tough decision, son.”

“He’s my friend.”

“I know.”

I figured out real quick I wasn’t going to get the answers I needed from my father.  It would be my decision whether to stay or go.  Part of me was scared to death to ride to Santa Fe by myself.  It was foolhardy; it didn’t make sense.  I didn’t know of any other alternative.  Who could I take with me on this kind of manhunt?  Hoss was needed here, and it wasn’t fair to put him in that kind of situation anyway.

“I wanna help.  I just don’t think I can do it alone.”

Pa tried to keep it from me, but I heard him sigh anyway.  It was a sigh of relief even though I didn’t say I wasn’t going, I didn’t say I was.

“I wish I knew more about the situation.”  Pa nodded and I continued.  “I don’t know why or where … she must think he’s still alive or she would never have written.  How long has he been missing?  Where do I look?”   I was rambling, thinking out loud was more like it.

“Those are good questions, Joseph.”  Pa was letting me work this out myself without his interference.  I didn’t know what I was thinking or saying at this point.

“Should I send her a wire—no, writing would be better—but that may take too much time.  Maybe he’s in some kind of danger of being killed?  Maybe he’s already dead.  It took some time for that letter of Maggie’s to arrive here.”

Pa turned to me, and his hand slid across my shoulder.  “Maybe you should get some sleep, son.”

“Yeah, I’m beat.”

“Maybe we can come up with a solution in the morning.”

“Yeah.”

I started to walk toward the house and turned to see Pa still standing at the corral.  “You comin’?”

“In a while.  Goodnight, son.”

Of course, sleep wouldn’t come.  I didn’t think it would even as tired as I was mentally and physically.  Hoss and I needed to repair that fencing tomorrow, and there would be something else the next day and the day after that.  If I left on this fool’s mission, I’d leave my family strapped.  Hoss can’t do it alone.  How long could I wait before giving Maggie an answer? And what was that answer going to be?

At some point during the night, I fell asleep.  The sun was now coming in through my bedroom window, indicating I’d overslept.  I dressed and hurried downstairs.  I’d made my decision.  My father may try to dissuade me, and that was only normal.  He would have me list the pros and cons, and I understood that too.  The bottom line was Tommy Bolton was my friend, and Maggie O’Grady had kept me alive in the hospital when I’d all but given up.  It was a debt I needed to repay.

~

I rode along trails I’d ridden before where memories of the past were still a part of me.  This time, I would ride even farther, not by much, but to a small settlement on Navajo land.  There hadn’t been many details in the letter, which I kept in my pocket reminding me why I was making this trip.  I figured I should arrive tonight or if I’d miscalculated, sometime tomorrow.

It was a long time in the saddle.  Had there been a stagecoach with a more direct route, Pa would have insisted I be on it.  Horseback was really the only means of transportation to this remote area of the world.  This was Indian country, and the promise of a railroad hadn’t made it this far west yet.

I’d been lucky so far and hadn’t encountered trouble whatsoever on my way south.  No sign of any tribes or young renegades—hostiles, a word that still gave me chills, and only one wagon train heading west.  I had stayed the night with two young couples from Missouri and two from Illinois last night and enjoyed a real meal, a feast it felt like to me, instead of my steady diet of jerky, hardtack, and an occasional apple.

Maggie had sent simple directions in her letter, and I’d followed them religiously so far.  Getting lost in this part of the world could prove disastrous.  I’d end up somewhere in Mexico, and I preferred not to let that happen.  If I hit the big river, I’d know I’d gone too far.

I reached in my saddlebag for the last apple when I noticed something on the horizon a little to my left.  I squinted, thinking that would help some, but it was still too far off to tell.  Mirages were constant in this part of the country.  I knew Cochise and I were ready for this trip to end, and I hoped it was the right settlement, the one Maggie had written about.  We turned that direction and as we got closer, it became clear there were small, one-story adobe structures ahead.  I slipped the apple back inside my saddlebag and kicked Cooch a little faster. 

There were shirts and pants, flapping in the gentle breeze on clotheslines, and I could smell a hint of smoke, rising in thin streams from small chimneys.  This had to be the place.  The structures were settled in the only grove of trees for miles around like Maggie had described, while the rest of the land was barren and dry.

Maggie must have been watching for me to ride up.  I wondered how she knew I would come.  She ran out to greet me like we were long-lost friends and had known each other forever.  I barely dismounted before her arms were around me, and tears streaked her face.  I’d forgotten how little she was, and I also remembered how Tommy towered over me.  He was much thinner than Hoss but just as tall.

“Thank you for coming, Joe.  I didn’t know what else to do,” she said, grabbing my hand and leading me into the small adobe house.  “I have a surprise for you.”

I couldn’t leave Cochise saddled for long, but she seemed so excited that I would let her show me her surprise and come back out later.  She walked in front of me into her darkened, one-room home and then stood to the side so I could see who was right in front of my eyes.

“Captain,” I said, shocked beyond belief to see him sitting at the small, wooden table in the center of the room.

“Sergeant,” he replied.

“I don’t understand.”  I was so taken aback that I fumbled my words. 

“Long story, Cartwright.”

Maggie pulled a chair out and had me sit down with the captain.  She picked up a bottle and two glasses and set them on the table.  “Benjamin will tell you what’s been happening while I stable your horse.”

I started to stand.  “I can see to my own horse, Maggie.” 

She gently pushed me back down on the seat of the chair and was out the door before I could say another word.  The captain poured us each a drink, and we each raised our glasses in a toast.

“To better days,” the captain said.

“To better days,” I replied.

I think we both waited for the other person to start talking and after the second drink was poured I figured it might as well be me.

“You haven’t changed a bit, sir.”

“Let’s get one thing straight, Cartwright.  I left the army as soon as all of your men were released from the stockade.  They spent a year behind those walls, and the day they were discharged, I left along with them.  I am no longer your Captain, and I am no longer sir.  If you will call me Ben, I will call you Joe.”

“Seems kinda strange … Ben.”

“You’ll get used to it.”  A friendly smile crossed his face, and we clinked our glasses together and then downed the shot.

 “Let me start at the beginning, and that will bring us to the reason you’re here with us now.”

“I’d like to hear.”

I had a feeling this was going to take a while, and I leaned back in the chair.  All I’d eaten today was a piece of jerky, and I could already feel the alcohol, so I covered my glass with my hand when the captain started to pour me another.

“We all left Bent’s Fort together.  Problem was, we didn’t know what to do with ourselves.  Jake Simmons and Albert Andrews left the group and headed back home, Illinois, I think.  The others headed out to who knows where.  That left four of us with nowhere to go and no plans for the future.  Long story short, we decided to see if anything was left of the Cheyenne camp we’d been ordered to destroy.”

He poured himself another shot before he continued.  I wasn’t sure how much of the story I really wanted to hear.  As far as I could remember, there was nothing but death and destruction so why would they want to go back?

“As you can imagine, the camp was deserted so we continued south.  I can’t really say why we were all just wondering.  That’s when we stumbled into a Navajo village.  Come to find out, there were survivors of the massacre; a few women and a few young children, and the Navajo had taken them in.  Not all tribes will do that, you know, but the Navajo are basically a friendly people.”

I was shocked to hear anyone had survived.  I don’t know where they hid or how they got away, but it really didn’t matter now.  All that mattered was that some were lucky enough to still be alive and find a new home.  “Go on,” I said.

“Well, they saw our uniforms and at first they were unwilling to talk or let us in their camp.  The chief’s brother spoke enough English that we were able to explain we were just passing through and meant them no harm.  They invited us to stay and share a meal before we moved on.  Where we were headed, we were still uncertain.  What we didn’t know, and I don’t think the Navajo knew either, was that some of their people were sick.

“We didn’t realize until two or three days later when three of the men came down sick.  By then, we were close to Santa Fe, and I could rely on Dr. Willis to diagnose and treat them.  As soon as he detected cholera, he had us all stay there at the hospital in case more of us came down with the disease.  One of us had contracted the disease—we lost Freddie Peters.

I nodded.  I remembered him well.  “Hank?  Is he still with you?”

“Turn around.”

I swung my arm over the back of the chair and turned to see the doorway blocked with my men.  I stood up from my chair and looked at them all.  There, right in front of me stood Hank and Bonehead and Charles.

“I can’t believe it.  I can’t believe you’re all here.”  After they all moved into the little room and we managed a few handshakes and pats on the back, I remembered Tommy and the reason I was there.  “So where’s Tommy?”

I really knew how to silence a room.  They all looked at the captain and remained silent and let him explain.  There weren’t enough chairs for everyone inside Maggie’s small house so we moved our conversation outside.  We looked like a band of tribesmen ourselves as the five of us sat around a small campfire so I could find out about my friend

“The Cheyenne were still raiding settlements.  The colonel was still burning camps and killing everyone in them.  Back and forth until no one was safe. We had all bought new clothes in Santa Fe and rid ourselves of our cavalry uniforms so we were no longer army and that’s how we ended up here with our own small settlement.

“We figured we could hunt and farm like the Navajo and start a new life.  None of us wanted to return to our former lives as you did, Joe, so even though this is Navajo land, we became friends with the People and we stayed.”

“You still haven’t told me about Tommy.”

“I’m getting to that.  Just hold your horses.”

“Sorry, Captain.”  I heard the men laugh, and I realized what I’d said.  “I mean Ben.”

“Don’t worry yourself none, Sergeant, we call him Captain too.”  I shrugged my shoulders and smiled at my men.

“Hard habit to break.”  I saw the captain roll his eyes, still holding his arm with his free hand.

“Anyway, so two of the men left Santa Fe with new wives: Tommy and Maggie and Bonehead and Lucy.  My friend, the good doctor, said to us jokingly he never wanted to see us in his hospital again after we’d taken his two best nurses and left him shorthanded.”  I winked at Bonehead.  I’m sure he’d found a fine wife in Lucy. 

“We started out with nothing and found the Navajo people loved trinkets.  We had little money between us, and we traded trinkets with them for food and supplies until we could grow our own food and get our houses built.  That first winter was tough, but we managed.

“I’m getting off track here, Joe. Tommy and Charles and I had set out for the Navajo camp to do some trading.  Before we got close enough to see the camp, we would smell the smoke and see it clouding the air.  Something was wrong and we all had a real bad feeling.  We kept riding.  We sat above the camp looking down at the destruction.  Nothing left but black remains.  It was so reminiscent of before.  We didn’t know if the People were dead or alive.  We didn’t know if they’d escaped or not, but we were fairly sure who had caused the damage.

“The Navajo People had told us during our last visit they’d been informed they would have to leave this place come fall—the land wasn’t theirs anymore.  Let’s just say it saddened us all.  I wouldn’t have had any authority if I’d stayed in the army, and I certainly didn’t have any connections as a civilian.  When the government made a decision to move Indians, they had no choice but to go.”

I’d heard this same story so many times before.  Move the People from their land.  But why were they burned out?  What’s the point if they had to leave anyway?  As much as I didn’t want to believe it was still happening, I believed, as the captain did, who had done it and why.  I figured he would soon get to the part about Tommy and the reason I was here.

 “Go on, Captain.”

“The three of us sat there staring down at the camp but not believing what we saw.  These people had become our friends—our neighbors. These were people who had fought the white man only if they were forced into a situation where they had to defend themselves and who had given us a part of their land to settle on and build our homes.

“As I said, we knew it had recently happened—probably only a day had passed.  Smoke still hung in the air over the Navajo camp.  We had come to trade and had a burro with us loaded down with supplies and some trinkets we’d bought from an old-time trader.“

“What was the trader’s name?” I interrupted.  I knew it wasn’t essential to the captain’s story, but I was curious.

The captain laughed.  “Some old guy named Captain Jack.  Been tradin’ this route for over twenty years.  Why?”

“He saved my life.”

“You know, Joe.  He asked me about you once.  I’d forgotten all about that.” I found that really strange.  Why would he even care?

“Tommy went wild, screaming like a crazed warrior, didn’t he?” the captain said more to the others than to me. “He pulled his rifle from its scabbard and held it overhead like an Indian lance and then kicked his mount into a run and raced down the ridge and into the camp sending ash and black cinders everywhere.  Up and down the camp from one end to the other.  He rode like a madman.  Charles and I stayed put, waiting for him to calm down some before we would even look for any sign of life or maybe a trail leading away.”

I closed my eyes as the horrors of that night so long ago hit me.  They hit me hard.  Again, I could hear the cries, the screams, just like it was yesterday.  The bullet grazing my head … Eli.  It had been years and all but forgotten until now.  The days spent in that cell.  The beatings, the visions.  It was all so fresh in my mind.

“Give me a minute.  I’ll be back.” 

I stood from the group of men.  I needed a little time to myself.  I thought this was all in the past.  I walked away.  I knew exactly how Tommy felt.  I might have done the same.  I knew rage and anger.  He’d seen it before, and he saw it again, just like I was now.

Why?  I’d asked myself so many times.  The answers never came.  There were no answers.  There was no good reason.  There was only a madman in charge.  Why was he still at the fort? Why was he still in command?

Now I felt like a fool.  Can’t take it, Cartwright?  If you cry, the boys will call you a baby. Boy, I sure hadn’t thought of that one for a while.  I turned when I heard footsteps behind me.  It was the captain. 

“Sorry,” I said. 

“Forget it.”

“It’s all so fresh in my mind.  How could he?”

“The colonel?”  I nodded.  The man was an animal—a no-good, evil man.

“So what happened next?”

“The three of us came back here.”

“So there weren’t any survivors?”

“That’s not what I said.”

“Oh, so—”

“The People had found out at some point that they were next on the colonel’s list.  They fled the camp with most of their belongings, leaving their lodges intact, and at night which has always been the colonel’s pattern, who could tell the difference.”

I found myself grinning at the captain, but that still didn’t explain Tommy.

“And?”

“We didn’t find out until later.  We met up with Captain Jack again, and he told us where he thought the People were headed.”

“I need to meet this guy.”

“Well, you might get the chance.”

“Really?”

“He sold his trading company.  Said he was getting too old to be traipsin’ ‘cross country.  Said it was a job for a younger man.  He married himself a Navajo woman and settled not too far from here.”

“Why not here with the rest of you?”

“Too many people.  Said he had to ease himself back into civilization, but I doubt ever will.  Been a loner too long.”

“And Tommy?”

“We came back to camp later that night.  Tommy couldn’t get past what he’d seen.  Maggie said he paced the house all night.  She couldn’t get him to eat or come to bed.  By morning, he was gone.”

“So you think he went to find the People?”

“Not sure, Joe.  That’s the problem.  We left Bonehead and Hank here with the women, and Charles and I went looking.  We followed his trail for a while but lost it a few miles out.”

I nodded my head.  I’m sure that’s what he did unless he thought he could take on the US Army alone and he’s not stupid, just upset and frustrated over the way things were and always will be with the colonel in charge.

“Maggie sent you that letter out of frustration, Joe.  We had come back without her husband, and she didn’t know where else to turn.”

“Is there a telegraph close by?”

“No, just mail.”

“I need to let my pa know I made it here.  He tends to worry.”

“Your father?  Worry?  I never would’ve known.”

I laughed along with the captain before we got serious again.

“You think he’s still alive?”

“I haven’t heard otherwise.”

“What do we do now?  How do we find him?”

“We’ll leave tomorrow morning and see Captain Jack.  He may be able to guide us in the right direction.”

We made an early night of it, knowing we’d be up by sunrise and ready to ride.  Maggie and Lucy cooked for all of us, and I ate more than ever as they kept piling food on my plate till I thought I would bust wide open.  Whiskey made the rounds, but I noticed the captain was still in charge.  He corked the bottle and called it a night.  We all followed suit.

I bunked with the captain that night.  I knew by now I would never call him Ben or Benjamin.  It would always be the captain or sir.  That’s how it all started, and that’s the way it would always be.  We talked for a while.  I told him things he didn’t know about my days in the stockade.  I told him how I only saw my men once for about five minutes and then I was locked in a cell by myself.   I told him about the beatings and the funny mushrooms I was forced to eat, which I didn’t know at the time were meant to drive me mad.  I was scared of everything then and did whatever the colonel wanted. 

“Did you know about the paper I signed?”  He shook his head.  “Did you know the colonel erased my name completely?  There is no record of me being in the army.  No record at all.”

The more I revealed to him, the more shocked he became.  “I never knew, Joe. 

He said he never knew the extent of my torture or about the paperwork.  His apology was sincere, and he all but begged me to forgive him for taking me back to the fort.  He never thought the colonel would resort to such tactics.  I really shocked him.  “I’m sorry, Joe.  Had I known—”

“What could you have done?  Nothing—” I answered before he could say anything more.  “It’s all in the past.  It’s all forgotten.”  There was an unsettling period of silence after that.

“Nite, Joe.”

“Nite, Captain.”

It was quiet after that.  Don’t know if he fell right off to sleep or not.  I wished I could but sleep wouldn’t come.  I’d stared at the ceiling for so long, I finally got up and went outside.  I’d slipped on my pants and boots, but the cool night air made me shiver. 

The memories were fresh in my mind as if the events of that time had happened only yesterday.  I was a lost soul, a beaten man in the sense that I didn’t know my own mind anymore.  I didn’t know what was real and what wasn’t.  I never wanted to feel like that again.

Cooch was standing nearby under the lean-to with the other mounts.  Now I wish I’d left him at home.  I’d let Raven get killed but not Cooch, not the best horse any man could have.  I needed to get word to Pa and Hoss, and I hoped we’d pass a town with a telegraph.  A letter took too long.  I meant to ask how long Tommy had been missin,g but it had to be weeks by now.

~

Our day started at sunrise, and I was already tired and saddle-sore.  Between the long trip down and staying up half the night, I could have slept till noon.  Maggie and Lucy loaded our saddlebags with food and supplies, enough for at least a week’s time.  We each carried two canteens, which was my idea, and we were off to Captain Jack’s.  We left Bonehead, Hank, and Charles with the women.  Everyone feared the colonel and another attack, even if it was white men this time; the man was a constant threat and a menace to anyone in the area.

I was anxious to meet the man who’d saved my life when I’d lost all hope and was slowly dying of hunger and thirst in the desert.  I owed Captain Jack, and I felt I owed Maggie too.  If we could bring Tommy home alive, my debt to her would be paid in full. 

We came to a narrow but fast-flowing river and had to ride down a way to cross.  During certain times of the year, it would be impassable, and Captain Jack would then be isolated from any neighbors at all.  I guess that’s the way he liked things, his own Ponderosa with no one close by to crowd him or get in his way.

Up into the mountains we rode; the captain and I.  It was slow going now, traversing back and forth as we went.  Finally, the thin string of smoke from his cabin signaled we were almost there.  Captain Hayes drew his gun and fired a single shot into the air.  “Gotta let him know we’re coming, Joe, or he’s apt to shoot us on sight.”  I was beginning to get a better sense of how much the man valued his privacy.

Another twenty yards ahead, I saw a lone figure sitting on an old wooden bench in front of a tiny, rundown gray-shingled shack.  With his long gray beard and coonskin cap, he was still dressed in buckskins, something I vaguely remembered.  His rifle rested across his lap, and he looked very much at ease as the two of us rode into his sacred land.

His woman made her presence at the doorway, looked us over and then went back inside.  After leaning his rifle next to the cabin, he stood and walked towards us.  He walked right past the captain and looked straight up at me.  “Boy in desert.”

I dismounted quickly and extended my hand to the man who’d saved my life.  “Yessir,” I said.  “Joe Cartwright.”

He reached out and shook my hand.  “Didn’t know if you’s gonna make it or not, Joe Cartwright.”

“Call me Joe.”

“Joe.”

“I’m beholdin’.”

“Don’t start that, son.  Don’t be beholdin’ to no one.  Get you in a peck of trouble it will.”

“Thanks then.”

He nodded, and the conversation was over.  The captain dismounted, and the two of us followed the old trader inside.  It wasn’t long before a jug of some mighty strong moonshine was passed between us and Tommy’s story was being told.

I watched Jack, whom I couldn’t rightly call Captain and confuse both men I was with, as he sat quietly taking everything in that the captain had to say.  He reminded me of Pa, sitting there calmly collecting the facts before jumping in and confusing the issue.  Something I often had trouble doing.

He seemed to be mulling it over and finally, he spoke.

“We leave in the morning.”

“What about your wife?”

He looked at her, and I saw a hint of a smile under all that hair that covered his face.  “Morning Sun knows how to take care of things while I’m gone.”

“We will ride north.  I think I may know where the People have gone.”

It was settled.  We got the answer we came for, and Jack would show us the way.  There wasn’t much room in the cabin, and the captain and I would sleep outside so Jack could have one last night alone with his woman.  Not knowing how long we’d be gone or exactly where we were going, I pulled some paper from my saddlebag and scribbled out a brief letter to Pa.  The chances were slim I’d be able to mail it, but it was ready just in case.

We were three now; three men on a mission.  Jack didn’t seem bothered at all by having to leave his sanctuary, high on the mountain.  If he was, he didn’t let it show.  He knew shortcuts and trails that the captain and I never would’ve found on our own.  I touched my hand to my canteens as the sun blazed in the summer sky with mirages as clear as Lake Tahoe up ahead.

I hated this land.  I hated it with good reason.  It brought nothing but memories I’d tried to forget.  I kept pace with the two captains and wondered what they were thinking.  No one said much at all.  I was hot, tired, and just plain miserable, but the day was only half over with several unpleasant miles ahead.

Jack pointed toward the foothills ahead. “Water,” he said.  “A nice little stream.  We can rest the horses.”

My head pounded from the heat, as I’m sure the two captains’ did too.  What I wouldn’t have given for a cool stream of water back then.  That part of my life was over, and I had to concentrate on what needed to be done, not the past and all that went with it.

We soon pulled up next to the little creek as it cut a jagged path through the dry terrain and let the horses have their fill.  I dunked my head in the water and let the coolness trickle down my face and chest.  When I shook my head like a dog, shedding cold water on both my companions, my so-called friends gave me one mighty push, and I flew into the water backside first.  I don’t think I’ve ever felt better or laughed more hysterically.

Jack said he didn’t think we’d have to travel too much farther, and after our little rest and my unexpected bath, we were mounted and ready to ride.  We followed the small meandering stream up into the foothills.  Of course, the People would need water, and this was the route we would follow.  If this one didn’t pan out, he said there were many more.

We rode until nightfall with no sign of Tommy or the People.  “Navajos are experts at covering their tracks,” Jack said, letting us know we could easily be heading in the right direction and not to give up hope.  “We can keep going if you want.”  Jack looked tired.  He was not a young man.

“I’m beat,” I said, taking the pressure off the other two men.  The captain was about Adam’s age, and I’d often joked with my older brother about him being an old man.  Jack was twice my age if not more.  “I’m ready to stop if you are.”  I would take the brunt of their jokes, which I was sure I would be forced to suffer through later.

After a meal of tortillas and beans, we settled in for the night, each of us using our saddles for backrests and sipping Jack’s jug of moonshine he’d conveniently brought along.  The conversation was easy and relaxed.  Jack told us some of his many adventures along the trail from St. Louis to Santa Fe.  How he’d fought the Dog Soldiers and Mexicans in the early days, and later his young sons came to travel along with him.

We all grew quiet and reflective.  I thought of Pa and Adam, traveling cross-country together and how different my life had been.  I’d always had a place to call home but not my oldest brother.  Maybe that’s why he traveled now.  Maybe he always would.

“Once I find boy crawling in the desert,” he said.  “Same boy tries to stab Captain Jack with his knife.”  I looked straight at him.  Why did he have to bring all that up?  What did he expect me to say?  I turned my eyes away from him.  I’d thought about it enough today.  I was through thinking.

There was silence. 

“What!”  I nearly shouted. They were both staring at me like I should say something.

“Nothing, Joe.”  Captain Hayes didn’t want a fight on his hands, but the silence indicated to me I was supposed to respond to Jack’s comment.  I wasn’t going to talk about it.  There was nothing to say.

“I’m going to bed.”  I rolled over, turning my back to both of them.  Assuming I had fallen asleep, it wasn’t long before they were talking among themselves.  I wasn’t asleep, and I heard every word.

“No need to bring up the past, Jack.  It’s all but forgotten so just drop it.”

“He thinks about it all the time.  I see it in his eyes.”

“So why bring it up?  Why make it worse?”

“He thinks because it was long ago, it is over but it’s not.  There are still demons that haunt him.”

“What makes you think that?”

I was wide away now but I didn’t move a muscle.  This I had to hear.

“I had three sons–joined the army soon as they were able.  I lost two at Shiloh.  My third son came west to fight Injuns he said.  He figured they must be as ignorant at the Nigra’s back home.  He got in his head they were a menace to society and it was up to him to do something about it.”

For the life of me, I couldn’t understand what his own sons had to do with me.

“He weren’t raised that way till my sister got hold of ‘em.  My boys traveled with me one trip a year.  The rest of the time, they stayed with her in Missouri and took in some schoolin’.  But my oldest boy was always different.  He listened to my sister and her husband and he believed every word they said about Nigra’s and Red Men and them weren’t good words neither.  I know much about young men.  There are signs.  You just gotta watch for ‘em.”

“Signs?”

“He wears something under his shirt—a medallion—something spiritual maybe.  He touches it often.”

“I don’t understand,” Hayes said.  “What does that prove?”

“Watch how his hand reaches down and touches one of his canteens even when he’s not thirsty.”

“I think you’re overreacting, Jack.”

“This country scares him.  He needs to face the truth.”

“Go to sleep, Jack.”

The Captains were quiet now. The conversation was over.

We mounted up the next morning after coffee and bacon.  I could tell all eyes were on me.  I hadn’t slept much after I’d overheard their little talk, and I was in no mood to be friendly.  Let them think whatever they want. Unlike my brother, Adam, the only thing wrong with me was the fact that I was content at home, and now I was back in the land of devils.  Hot and dry and miserable—there was nothing I appreciated about the sights and sounds of this part of the country.  Captain Jack had gotten it all wrong last night.  I was here to take Tommy back home to Maggie, and that was the end of it.  I’d ride back to the Ponderosa and have done my duty as a good and loyal friend.

The captain broke the silence early on, but with a different subject—a subject that wasn’t about me.  I was pleased, and we joked and had as much fun as we could as we plodded along.  Jack was fairly quiet.  He had already guided us up and away from a certain area and when I’d asked why we were changing direction, he was much more thorough in his explanation of sacred burial grounds than he needed to be.

I knew what a burial ground was, I just didn’t know it was ahead of us and when he went on and on about it, I grew frustrated and out of sorts.  He was up to something, and I just didn’t know what.

“Waystation up ahead,” Jack called out to the two of us.  I think we were all ready to get out of the saddle for a while and have a decent meal.  It was midday and hot and my heart wasn’t in this mission like it should have been. 

Even in the heat of the day, there should’ve been smoke trailing from the chimney or cookstove, a barking dog or horses in the corral, ready and waiting for the next stage passing through. 

We rode in slowly and cautiously, taking in the nothingness as we slowly crept forward.  Captain Jack was the first to dismount—Hayes and I followed.

“I’ll check inside,” Jack said.  I was relieved to hear those words.  This whole place gave me the creeps.

“I’ll look in the barn.  Wait here, Joe, the captain said.

I walked around the yard looking for any sign of life, but the place looked like it had been deserted except for a few items of clothing hanging on the line as if they’d been blowing out here haphazardly for days on end.  I was walking to the well to see if maybe it had gone dry, forcing the station agent to leave this place when Jack came running out of the small building.

“Joe stop!” I turned in his direction to see what all the yelling was about.

“Smallpox,” he said as he headed my way.  “Don’t touch anything.  Where’s Hayes?”

“In the barn.  I’ll get him.”

“You stay put!  Don’t touch the bucket.” 

I’d never heard Jack raise his voice before.  He was scared and he had good reason.  Smallpox could spread like wildfire.  He stood at the entrance of the barn but he didn’t go in.  He backed away when the captain came out.  I heard them talking, but I couldn’t make out the words.  The captain walked toward me leaving Jack behind.

“Mount up.”

“Why?  What about Jack?”

“Do as I say.”

The captain and I rode in silence for a couple of miles when I stopped my horse, demanding an explanation.  “What’s this all about?”

“We’re just going to make camp up here in these bluffs, Joe.”

“What about Jack?”

“He’s going to deal with the man and his wife and burn the station.” The captain hesitated and looked straight at me.  “He touched the bodies, Joe.”

“Jack’s an old man.  We could have at least stayed and dug the graves,” I said.

“I tried to tell him that.  He was adamant that I got you out of there.”

“Why?”

“Come on.  Let’s get our camp set up then we’ll talk.”

I felt like I was listening to my oldest brother and my father telling me what to do like I didn’t have a brain in my head.  I was frustrated with this whole situation and was ready to turn back and go help Jack when the captain grabbed my arm. 

“He wants it this way, Joe.”

We moved forward into the bluffs just ahead and set up camp.  From here we could look down and see the station—it blazed in the valley below taking the barn with it.  Someone must have set the horses free or taken them before we’d arrived.  There should have been a milk cow and chickens and if so, they were gone too.

We could see Jack riding slowly toward us.  I needed that explanation before he made it to camp.  “Well?”  I said.  “What’s up with Jack?  What’s he have against me?”

“Against you? The captain seemed to be trying to suppress a laugh, and I wasn’t finding anything funny.  “Joe, he’s trying to protect you.”

“Why?  I can do my share.”

“Since that day he found you in the desert, he’s felt protective of you, almost like a father would a son.  He couldn’t hang around Santa Fe to see if you lived or died but he had Dr. Willis send a message on to St. Louis about your wellbeing.  For some reason, only he’s aware of, Joe, he cares for you.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I’m just telling you what I know.”

“Why should he care what happens to me?”

“First time I met Jack, I was still in uniform,” Hayes said.  “I’d just left the fort on my extended leave.  He asked if I knew a young man named Cartwright. That was right after I’d found out from my friend Dr. Willis that you were alive and had gone home to Nevada.  After I told him of your whereabouts, he didn’t say anything but he seemed pleased to hear the news.”

Our conversation stopped when Jack rode into camp and tethered his horse some distance from the captain’s and mine.  Then, without a word, he proceeded to set up a separate camp away from ours.  When I started to walk toward him he shouted at me to stay where I was. 

“I will still lead you if you stay a ways behind,” he said.  “You come close and I will turn back.  You’ll be on your own.”

I had questions I wanted to ask the old man but I didn’t want to shout at him from a distance—they weren’t that kind of questions.  I had no choice but to obey his orders for now.  The time would come and I would eventually get the answers I needed from Captain Jack.

I had thought I could mail this letter at the waystation.  Pa would be getting his feathers ruffled if I didn’t get word to him soon.  There had been no town, no stage passing—nothing that would permit me to send this simple letter home. 

Morning came and we were on our way with Jack distancing himself out in front and the captain and I playing by his rules.  A gauzy white haze covered the sky as we rode in an easterly direction covering the sun’s rays and making the morning ride a bit more tolerable.  We’d remained in the bluffs, staying close to the small creek that ran through ravines separating each and every rugged hill.  It was slow going and I just hoped Jack had figured right and we weren’t heading in the wrong direction.

By noon, we pulled away from the water and started climbing.  I noticed the hills were full of caves—places for anyone to hide. I sensed the captain getting a little uneasy in the saddle.  His eyes darted from side to side as did mine, looking for any sign of movement along our route.

We were looking for a peaceful band of people but still canvassing the area for any signs of young renegades.  But it was only the captain and me that seemed to be wary of the hidden dangers.  Jack plodded along reminding me of how an old Indian would ride away from his camp and his people to be left alone to die.  I knew it was only my imagination nevertheless it sometimes unnerved me. 

This whole part of the country unnerved me, and with nothing else to do but sit here and think, I thought of way too many things.  I thought back to the conversation I’d heard between the captains.  It bothered me that Jack thought he had to be my protector; that I couldn’t handle myself.  I knew he’d seen me at my worst, but that was a different time and under different circumstances.

We were nearing the top of the bluffs when Jack took a trail that veered south, a somewhat hidden trail the captain and I never would’ve found on our own.  About a mile in were the People, now living in caves rather than their normal lodges.  Jack had stopped and moved himself to the side, waving the captain and me in first.

I rose up in my stirrups, lifting myself up from the saddle.  The first person I saw was Tommy Bolton.  He was dressed in buckskins and carried a rifle but his long, shaggy blond hair was unmistakable among this band of Navajos.  I waved my hat over my head, hoping he’d know it was me.  I sure didn’t want him to shoot first and ask questions later.  A big old grin crossed his face and he raised his rifle high above his head in an energetic greeting.

I jumped off Cochise, and we gave each other a bear hug only he had to show off and lift me up off the ground.  After some more back-slapping and handshaking, we finally calmed down enough to pull the captain into our one-sided party.

I’d missed my friend and wished there was a way we could stay together.  Tommy’s life was here with Maggie, and mine was on the Ponderosa, at least until I found the right woman, although I would still make that same land my home.

“What the heck are you doing here, Joe?”

 “Maggie wrote me a letter.”

“Maggie?”

“Yes, your wife.  She’s worried about you.  She doesn’t know if you’re dead or alive.”

The excitement of meeting after all these years was gone.  Silence filled the air. 

“The People, I feared for their lives.  I couldn’t let it happen again, Joe.  I had to make them safe.”

“And you’ve done a fine job, my friend.  You make a man proud.”

“I’ll second that,” said Hayes.

“Thanks, Joe, Captain.”

The three of us sat and talked long into the night, catching up on the last few years.  Captain Jack wouldn’t come near anyone, and he sat by himself away from the camp.  He wouldn’t budge, not even when I offered him a meal the Navajo women had made for him and the rest of us.  “Got my own food right here,” he said clutching his saddlebags.  “Now git.”

I didn’t need to stand there and get yelled at so I went back to sit with Tommy and the captain. I told my friend he was a lucky man and assured him he’d married the prettiest girl this side of the Mississippi. 

“Are the Eastern girls prettier, Joe?”

“Not the ones I’ve ever seen.”

“Then she must be the prettiest little gal in the whole US of A,” he said.

“If you’re smart, you’ll head back home tomorrow and not leave her by herself any longer.  She might just up and find herself a new fella—a handsome, stable one like me.” 

That did it.  Tommy was on top of me, wrestling me, kicking up dust, and rolling me over tree roots until I took it all back.  “I was only kidding,” I said.  “Have mercy, my friend.”

We joked and told stories, one after another, and they got more comical and more ludicrous as the night went on but as time passed, we ended up in a serious conversation.  The last time I’d seen my friend was when I’d first been thrown in the stockade.  We never saw each other after that day.  I found out he’d been fed stories about me as I had about my men although every story was untrue and part of the colonel’s plan.  He’d heard I’d turned my back on my men, saying they were at fault, not me, and that I was turned free for testifying against them.

If not for Captain Hayes, Tommy and the rest of my men would have always thought that of me.  They would never have known the truth.  I understood my men believing everything they were told and why not?  It made sense.  I was gone, and they were still being held prisoner in the stockade.  I was grateful for the captain and always would be.  Without him standing up for me and telling the truth, Tommy wouldn’t have thought twice about shooting me on sight.

I worried about Jack.  I knew the incubation period was a couple of weeks for smallpox, and I knew it was highly contagious.  We couldn’t stay here with the Navajo that long and as far as I knew, he wasn’t sick—yet.  I needed to get Tommy home to Maggie so I could return home.  I didn’t want to hang around here any longer than necessary.  The People were safe now, and there was no reason not to head back.

“We’ll leave in the morning?  I said to Tommy and the Captain.  I watched Tommy’s face closely when he didn’t give me an answer.  “You can’t stay here forever.”

“I know.”  He seemed to think about it for a minute and finally gave me an answer.  “Tomorrow.  We’ll head back tomorrow.”

When morning came, I walked toward Jack to tell him our plans.  “Stop right there,” he said.

“Fine—we’re leaving here shortly.”

“Good,” he said in a rather grumpy voice. “I’ll be ready when you are.”

~

The captain and I were anxious to go, but Tommy was still saying his goodbyes.  The horses were saddled, and the women in the camp had packed our saddlebags with food for the trip.  I smiled and thanked them the best I could as did the captain.  A woman held out a bag for me and nodded her head toward Jack.  “Thank you,” I said and walked back toward him, setting it down far enough away that he wouldn’t get sore at me again.

Jack was mounted before the rest of us, and he started down the trail that would lead us back to the stream, which we would follow through the narrow ravines and past the burned-out way station and on through the desert.  Then I could head back home—back to my own mountains and the smell of sweet pine in the air.  I still carried the letter to Pa and I would probably carry it the rest of the way home.

The sudden explosion of rifle fire echoed through the canyon walls.  I grabbed my rifle and raced forward on foot with Captain Hayes yelling at me from behind.  A renegade—a sniper had fired at Jack, but why?  He lay on the ground unmoving.  I held my spot behind a large boulder and waited for another shot so I could locate whoever it was.  Hayes and Tommy were alongside me in no time.

“Where’s it coming from, Joe?”

“I don’t know.  I can’t see a blasted thing.”

The three of us scanned the bluffs but saw nothing.  The Navajo men from the camp grabbed their rifles and scattered in every direction, high above us, waiting to take aim at the unwanted intruders. There was no sign whatsoever of who had fired at Jack.

“We can’t leave him there,” I said.  “He may still be alive.”

“Well, you can’t go to him while the shooter’s still out there, Joe,” the captain said, nearly wedging me against the rock.

“You stay here then, and I’ll circle around.”

“I’ll head this way, Joe,” Tommy said, pointing in the opposite direction.

“Good, let’s go.”

I skirted the edge of the ravine, running from tree to tree and boulder to boulder, hiding the best I could but from who or how many I didn’t know.  I feared they had followed us in—into this secret hiding place.  I still couldn’t see anyone, and I hoped Tommy was having more luck than I was.

Another shot rang out.  I turned quickly toward the sound but with the echo, I still wasn’t sure where it had come from.  Another and then another.  The Navajos had rifles too and I couldn’t tell who was firing at whom.  I felt very alone and realized my mistake after heading out alone.  I needed to get back to the captain.  Again, I darted through trees and rocks, making my way back toward the camp.

Hayes was firing down the trail we had taken in.  “See anything?” I said.

“Shot came from that direction,” he said, pointing his rifle but holding his fire.

“Tommy?”

“Don’t know.”

Another shot.  This time from another spot on the bluff.  Then another and another.  I saw Jack move his arm, and I knew then he was still alive, but the area was too much out in the open to try and drag him to safety.

“Jack’s alive,” I said.

“Leave him be for now, Joe, or you’ll both wind up dead.”

I felt useless not being able to see who was firing at us.  Sporadic shots came from every direction, which made leaving this spot almost impossible.  I wanted to check Tommy.  I’d come this far, and I couldn’t let him or Maggie down now.

“Cover me,” I said, and took off down the hill in the direction I’d seen Tommy go.  It was broad daylight, and still, I was unable to see who was after us.  I wasn’t sure which way to go until I heard a slight rustle in the low ground cover to my left.

“Tommy—”

I knelt down over him, laying my rifle on the ground and raising his head.  “It’s not that bad, Joe—just caught my arm.”

“Thank God,” I said, feeling relieved.  “Can you walk?”

“Sure, help me up.”

I grabbed my rifle and pulled Tommy to his feet.  He wrapped his good arm around my shoulder and we walked slowly back to camp.  A shot was fired, and I heard someone cry out and then fall.  The sounds were deceiving and seemed to encircle us from every direction. I handed Tommy over to a woman who could tend his wound and keep him safe and then headed back to the captain.

“Find Tommy?”

“Yeah, brought him back to camp.  He got hit in the arm but nothing too serious.”

“That’s good.”

“See anyone?”

“Sure don’t,” Hayes said.  “I can’t figure this one out.  I don’t know if they’re after us or the Navajo or both.”

“Who would be after us?  Who would even know we’re here?” 

I was just as stumped as the captain.  I could still see Jack, lying as still as he could.  I didn’t know if he was awake or not, and I didn’t know how much blood he’d lost, but he was smart to play dead until this siege was over.  We held our positions all day, firing random shots if we saw something or someone move.  It was a precarious situation—they fired—we fired but to my knowledge, no one else fell.

It would be dark soon, and that worried me more than this whole day of uncertainty had.  Whoever was out there knew our position, but we didn’t know theirs.  The captain and I discussed different strategies but nothing much came of our day-long conversation.  There was really nowhere we could go.  We just had to keep a sharp eye out in case they moved in closer, forming a central attack.

I was tired and I’m sure everyone else was too.  It had been a long, agonizing day.  Jack had been down on the ground for hours without moving a muscle.  Dusk was upon us, and it would soon be dark.  No fires had been lit and even the children were pulled to the back of the caves and kept quiet.

And we waited.

I had checked on Tommy earlier, and he was sitting up and eating, but it was his right arm that was wounded, and he was worthless to us if we were attacked.  The Navajo men were still scattered and in position and all we could do was wait, but I was restless.  This wasn’t my strong point, sitting and waiting.

It was too soon to let down our guard.  Jack finally inched his way back toward us, and I nudged the captain when I saw him start to move.  “He won’t come all the way if we’re here,” I said.

The captain and I relinquished our spot and planted ourselves in front of one of the caves along with Tommy, and two other Navajo men.  They had now come down from their lookouts and guarded their own homes after darkness fell.  Jack was safely hidden where we could still see him, but we knew better than to try to go near him.

The women brought out food and even though it was served cold, and it was something I didn’t recognize, it filled our empty stomachs.  We didn’t hear any sounds within the caves and figured the children had been put to bed after a long day of hiding in the dark and keeping their voices down. 

I thought of Pa and how challenging it would have been for him, trying to keep me subdued and quiet for an entire day when I was a little kid.  Then I remembered the letter, still in my pocket after all this time.  Poor Hoss.  He would take the brunt of Pa’s worry and frustration over not hearing from me.  I owed him, and I knew he’d be ready to pound me once I got home.

~~~

They came out of nowhere, charging the camp.  Uniformed soldiers on horseback, some firing rifles, and some carrying lit torches high over their heads.  I pushed Tommy behind me, and the four of us guarding our cave pulled back inside its walls firing at will as they rode toward us.  Wounded soldiers flew through the air as their mounts fell to the ground.

It was total chaos, and we were outnumbered ten to one, but we held our ground.  They kept coming and kept firing.  Children screamed as the rifle fire echoed and blazing torches few past us and into the depths of the caves.

There he was, sitting tall in the saddle; his wild blonde hair swirling against the black night sky.  His pistol had found its mark.  I raised my rifle, but before I could fire, I was slammed into the cave wall; another flash of yellow met my eyes before my head hit the rock, and I slumped to the ground.

Moving slowly at first, shaking away the dizziness and utter confusion, I looked up, trying to focus my eyes in the darkness, as the remaining soldiers evaporated into the night, leaving their dead and wounded behind.  I coughed repeatedly as smoke filled my lungs in the harsh, pungent air that surrounded us.

In front of me, in the middle of so many lifeless bodies, kneeling down on one knee was Jack.  I was surprised to see him in the middle of camp.  He was rolling a man to his back—the infamous blonde man we knew and all hated.  I walked over and stood next to the body.  I didn’t understand.  What was this man to Jack—this man who’d made my life a living hell?  I was ready to jump for joy until Jack looked up at me with tears in his eyes.

“He’s my son, he said, as the tears tracked down his face, finding their way through his mountain-man beard.  “He tried to kill you.”

I couldn’t move.  I couldn’t speak.  I knew then who had killed the colonel.  What could I say?  What words of comfort should I say to this man who protected me like his own?  The man saved my life by killing his own son.  My eyes suddenly filled with tears, and a lump grew heavy in my throat.  I’d dreamed of this day.  I’d cursed the man for years, and I felt sorrow and regret, sorrow for the father, sorrow for my protector.

My body jerked unexpectedly when the captain walked up behind me, resting his hand on my shoulder.  I couldn’t find the words to tell him what had happened.  Maybe he already knew.  Jack pulled out a blue bandana from his hip pocket and laid it out carefully over his son’s face and then stood and walked away.

“Joe?” I took a deep breath and looked up at the captain.  “Tommy Bolton’s dead.”

I covered my face with my hands.  I didn’t want to see anyone, and I didn’t want anyone to see me.  “Oh God no,” I cried before the tears finally fell.  When I pulled myself together, I looked back at the captain, and the nightmare of the evening’s events consumed me.  “The colonel was Jack’s eldest son.”

The look on the captain’s face said it all, as if seeing my reflection in a mirror.  Neither of us moved or said another word.  I would have to take my friend’s body back to his wife to be buried—that streak of yellow hair that pushed me out of harm’s way.  Now I would have to explain to his widow that Tommy was dead, not me.

~

We left camp the next morning with Jack guiding us back home, leading the colonel’s horse with his son’s lifeless body, belly down across the saddle, and me doing the same with Tommy.  Only one Navajo died, and over thirty young soldiers for what?  A man’s hatred for a race of people that never did him any harm–a man who learned hate at a young age and carried it throughout his life until the day he died.

I feared for Jack.  If the sickness didn’t kill him, I wondered if losing his last son the way he did would be the final blow.  I thought of my father, wondering how he would cope, having to witness the death of a son.  I found it unimaginable and by his own hand.  I didn’t pretend to know how Jack felt, his final son was gone.

We rode nonstop until the settlement showed on the horizon, and Tommy would be home.  “I leave you here and go home to my woman,” Jack said, only pausing for a minute in the early dawn.  This wasn’t the end.  I would visit him one more time before I left this place, I now knew for sure was the devil’s kingdom.  Now I had to face Maggie.  I left Tommy tied to the saddle and started toward the entrance of her little adobe home.  The soft glow of a lamp slowly lit up the window, and Maggie opened the wooden front door.

She knew before she saw the body that Tommy was gone.  The captain stayed with the body until I helped Maggie back inside.  She had her back to me, busying herself making coffee.  She tried to hide the tears, and I walked up behind her and wrapped my arms tightly around her gently, shaking body.  Together, she and Tommy had made this place their home, and what would become of her now?

“I should go help the captain,” I said. “Will you be all right?”  She nodded, but there were no words.

That was a stupid thing to say, and I cursed myself as I walked out the door.   But I left her alone, thinking I would give her some time before I explained what had happened and how he died.  I found a shovel in the lean-to and went to find the captain.  He had already started digging the grave, and I noticed another marker and read the engraving on the small white stone. 

Thomas Joseph Bolton

May 1864 – September 1864

Our Beloved Son

To say I was stunned was an understatement.  “I didn’t know,” I said, just above a whisper.

“It will keep Maggie here forever, I’m afraid,” the captain replied.

“This is no place for a woman alone.”  But I knew what the captain was saying and I knew Maggie may never leave this place. 

Bonehead and Lucy and Charles, Hank, Maggie, the Captain, and I said our final goodbye to a husband and a friend as the sun showed its brilliance over the faraway horizon.  I would make Maggie a stone, similar to the one she had for their child before I left to say a final goodbye to Captain Jack.

“He saved my life,” I said later when Maggie and I had a chance to be alone.  “He would have come home safe if not for me.  I’m so sorry, Maggie.”

“It’s what Tommy wanted, and it makes me proud to call him my husband.  He talked about you all the time,” she said.  Then she took my hand and held it between her own.  “Look at me, Joe.”  I could barely meet her eyes.  I was the one to blame for her husband’s death.  How could she ever forgive me?  “Tommy had more respect for you than any man he’d ever known.  You were like a brother to him.  He loved you, Joe.”

I loved him too, but I couldn’t speak.  I just nodded my head.

We cried together.  We cried for the senseless loss of a man we both loved.  I held her and she held me until the tears were gone.  I told her I would stay on a few days, but then I would have to go.  After a week had passed and I’d done some minor work around her house, we said our final goodbyes.  I left her alone in a home that once housed a family of three, and I joined Captain Hayes for our final night before I would leave this place, but I knew the memories would be with me forever.

“I’d be glad to ride along with you part of the way, Joe,” said the captain.

“You don’t think I can handle it on my own?” 

“That’s not what I meant—just thought you might like some company.”

“I’m sorry, Captain.  It’s been a long day, and I’ve let this whole thing get to me.”

“Maggie will be fine, Joe.  She’ll find her way.  She’s a tough little bird, you know.”

“Yeah.” 

“Listen,” he said, “you need some sleep if you’re heading out in the morning.”  I looked at the captain.  He’d stuck with me through everything, and he still felt the need to take care of me.

“You’ve been a good friend, Captain.”

“We’ve been through a lot, haven’t we?”  He smiled, and I had to agree.  We’d become like brothers too.  We cared deeply for each other just like Tommy and I had.  I respected him, and I think he felt the same about me.  It would be hard to leave a friend like the captain.

“We sure have.”

~

I rode through the dry, sandy flatlands and then up into the mountains, which I had once called Jack’s own little Ponderosa.  I spotted the trail of smoke coming from his cabin, showing signs of life, but whose?  It could just be his woman by now.  I fired a single shot into the air announcing my arrival, and I rode in closer.

From the darkness of the small cabin, Jack appeared.  He came out to greet me and a smile showed more in his eyes than behind the full grey beard that covered most of his face.  I knew the scare was probably over.  He had not contracted the disease.  I grinned from ear to ear when I saw that big old trailblazer-turned-mountain-man still dressed in buckskins and waving me in.

I jumped down from Cooch and shook the old man’s hand.  I don’t think he thought he would ever see me again.  He pulled me inside the cabin where his woman stood at the table, gutting a wild turkey, and I found myself looking away from the sight.  Jack saw the look on my face and he laughed out loud. 

“We have a big feast tonight.”

We ventured back outside in the fresh mountain air and away from the sight of the turkey.  I was grateful, and Jack sensed my instant relief.  We walked and talked, and he pointed out little things on his land, even a doe with its fawn in the distance.  After his years of travel, he’d settled here, and I found that he loved this place as much as I loved my own home. 

We ate the wild turkey, which his woman, as he called her, fried like a chicken, with all the fixin’s the Indian culture provided.  My mind wandered to my big brother, Hoss, and I could picture the look of satisfaction on his big, round face after enjoying a meal such as this. 

I missed my family, and I dreaded the long ride home.  I’d become fond of these men, these men who had become part of me, men who became like family in the absence of my own–a surrogate father and two brothers—one gone now but not forgotten.  We’d been through a lot together and had formed a tight bond that would last a lifetime.  Jack pulled out his jug of corn whiskey, and I was reminded of another time with another brother.  A time that ended badly for me—another time I would not forget.

I was becoming melancholy and withdrawn, and I wanted to enjoy my last night with Jack.  We hadn’t talked of the colonel yet, and I think that’s why Jack pulled out the jug and had me follow him back outside next to a small, steady campfire he’d built earlier to combat the night’s chill.  He needed a bit of courage, and maybe I did too if we were going to sit together and talk of unpleasantness and still remain friends.

“Don’t get me too liquored up, Jack,” I said.  “I’ve got a long ride tomorrow.”

“Can’t take it,” he said.  I cringed at the familiar words.

“I can take it.”

The jug passed between us, and I knew my pulls were much less severe than Jack’s.  He intended to get plowed, and I had no desire at all to ride through the desert in that condition.  When he’d finally had enough and still had half a brain left, he was ready to talk. 

“I buried my third and last son,” he said.  “A man hated by many and loved by few.  Maybe only I, as a father, loves his son.  He was a good boy, a decent boy, and I blame myself for what he became.” I started to speak, but Jack held up his hand, and after another drink, he went on.

“He learned to hate at an early age, Joe, and so did his two younger brothers.  None of my sons joined the army to protect the innocent.  They joined the army to kill.”  He took one more drink and passed the jug on to me.  I set it on the ground in front of me within Jack’s easy reach.

“We had some Indian trouble early on during one of my trips west with the boys.  Their mother had died giving birth to the boy and when he grew old enough, it was just the four of us off on an adventure.  My boys were young and impressionable and when they saw a settlement that had been raided and burned to the ground by the Apache, their lives changed.  That one single incident made more of an impression on them, especially my oldest, than anything else in their young lives.  They all seemed to change after that, and a hatred of the red man brewed deep within them.

“I decided not to bring them on the next trip and left them with my sister in St. Jo.  They begged to come with me, and I told them if they did a good job with their schooling, I would take them with me every other time.  This was before the war, and tensions were high.  I think they learned more about hate from their teachers and my sister’s husband than anything they would have learned with me.

“Soon as they were old enough, they all three joined up.”  Jack picked up the jug before he continued.  He looked straight at me.  “I didn’t know when I found you in the desert, Joe, that my son was responsible.”

“Would it have made a difference?”

“No.  You needed help, and I helped. When I ran into the captain years later, he filled me in on your whereabouts.  He also filled me in on the reasons you were left alone in the desert.  I knew then what my son had done.  I knew then what kind of man he’d become.”

I took the jug back from Jack.  My mind raced with memories of long ago.  Memories—spirits—whatever they were or had become, it was because of Jack’s son.  It was because of the colonel that the demons still haunted me.  It was because of that same man that Tommy was dead.

“It’s long passed, Jack.”   

His son, the colonel, was dead, and I would respect that.  I would not tell him the rest of the story.  I would not tell him about the man with the power to destroy my life or ruin my career in the army.  I would not tell him of the hatred I’ve carried all these years. 

“I’m really tired, I said, handing the jug back to Jack before I changed my mind and drank the whole thing dry. “I wanna get an early start in the morning.  I stood up and stretched out my back.  Jack stood too. 

“I’m sorry about your sons.” 

That’s the best I could do.  I just wanted to go home and away from here and the memories that came with this land, a desolate land with few trees and even less water.  Land I would always remember, and land that would haunt me forever.

“Goodnight, son.”  I headed to the lean-to where I would spend my last night here on Jack’s mountain.

Son.  What if I’d been one of Jack’s sons?  Would I have felt the same, done the same?  Would I have used the army as an excuse to kill?  Sleep wouldn’t come easy as I contemplated how my life might have turned out had I been Jack’s son rather than Ben Cartwright’s.  Were we all predestined?  I would have plenty of time to think before I returned home and put my life, the life I knew, the life with my father and my brother, back in the forefront of my mind.

~

Ben Cartwright – Virginia City, NV. (stop)

On my way home (stop)

Joseph Cartwright (stop)

 ~

My short, scribbled letter never got mailed but remained in my pocket.  I rode through a no-name town halfway home and was able to send a telegram.  I stayed the night in a soft bed in a small hotel after having my first bath in I don’t know how long and a big juicy steak along with a couple of beers in the local saloon.

The trip so far had proven uneventful, and I was grateful for that.  I was lonely and realized how much I needed people, especially my family, in my life.  A young senorita came up to me in the bar and, for a few pesos, she would make me forget all my troubles.  I smiled at the lovely young lady but turned her down.  As I lay in bed alone that night, I wondered why I had refused her offer.

I had been gone for weeks, and I was bone-tired but ready to get back to work with Hoss, whether we were fixing fences or chasing reluctant steers, it was home, and I welcomed the routine.  I didn’t think I would ever leave the ranch again once I got there.  A short trip to Virginia City and back sounded like heaven after sitting this saddle for so long.

Finally, I made it to Carson.  I was almost home, but it was dark and I was too tired to make it all the way.  One more night and again I booked myself a room and enjoyed a long, steamy bath before heading out for a beer.  A fight broke out in the saloon, a fight over North and South and how the Confederates should have pulled out of the Union and stayed out.  How they never should have given up, and how President Grant didn’t know his head from a hole in the ground.

These were men who knew nothing about anything.  Men who’d never served for one side or the other and only knew how to mouth off and get people riled.  The war was over—said and done.  Innocent people died just like the innocents I’d tried to protect and failed.

I thought back to the days before the war when Adam and I fought over the same issues.  Neither of us was right or wrong, and neither of us would know the truth unless we had been there fighting for what we believed in and then wondering if it was all worth it. 

I was so certain in those days of my youth that I was right and he was wrong.  I turned my back on my family.  I left home to prove myself a man.  I owed my brother an apology.  I owed Pa and Hoss an apology.

I never made it to that war although I would have had circumstances been somewhat different.  I was primed and ready to go.  I would have fought for the South, while my oldest brother may have enlisted too and been my enemy—an enemy I’d have been ordered to kill.  It’s strange how things work out and finding out who the real enemy is after all.  So much had changed these past few years.  I miss the ease of youth.  I miss my oldest brother who I may never see again.  I miss Tommy.

Hoss is the only one of us three with a lick of sense.  I knew that now, and I would learn to be more like him.  He’s the best there is and has been my closest confidant for as long as I can remember.  He would now be my teacher—I would learn from the best, and I would start tonight. 

I walked down to the livery before these yahoos decided to pull their guns, and I got myself shot.  I’d heard enough out of these no-brained fools, yakkin’ it up in the saloon, and suddenly I wasn’t as tired anymore.  Cochise and I rode with excitement.  He knew he was close to home, and he was as ready as I was to be bedding down and staying put for the rest of our lives.

When we rounded the barn, he bobbed his head up and down and let out a long whinny.  I started to laugh then realized what time it was, and everyone would be sleeping.  I jumped down and ran my hands over his velvety nose. 

“You deserve a rest.  Come on.”  

I led him into the barn, trying to keep the doors from squeaking too loudly.  I lit the lamp and removed the tack, lifting it onto the railing next to his stall.  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw something move.  I laid my hand over my pistol and unfastened the loop then stepped away from Cooch only to find my father and my brother pointing their colts in my direction.

I raised my hands along with my eyebrows so they could see the whites of my eyes.  “Don’t shoot.”

“Joseph,” Pa said, lowering his gun safely to his side.

Pa seemed stunned, but Hoss couldn’t stop laughing as he too lowered his gun.  We all burst into tears and laughter, and bear hugs and back-slaps and then walked to the house together.  I was home and flanked on both sides with the heavy bulk of their arms wrapped around my shoulders.

We sat at the dining room table and talked until I couldn’t keep my eyes open any longer.  The strong coffee Hop Sing provided wasn’t doing the trick, and I bid them goodnight after I’d told them the basic aspects of the trip.  By the looks on both of their faces, some parts saddened them, and some shocked them as well.

It had been a trip of endings and farewells.  A trip I needed to take to make myself whole again.  We would talk again in the morning. I would tell them more about Captain Jack and Tommy and Captain Hayes and how they’d become a part of my life, I would always cherish.

~

Years passed, and I often thought of my friends and wondered what they were doing.  Had the captain stayed on in their small settlement on Navajo land?  Had Maggie found a new husband and had more children?  Was Jack still happy on his own little Ponderosa?  The answers soon came to those questions and more.

I had been breaking a new string of horses all morning when Hoss came down to the corral and told me we had a visitor up to the house.  I was glad for the interruption.  I wasn’t a young man anymore, and after two or three rag-tailed mustangs, I was ready to give my spot up to the younger men I’d hired for the job.

“Who?” I said.

“Come on and get cleaned up,” was all he said.

We rode into the yard together and tied up out front of the house was a reddish, brown bay that looked vaguely familiar.  I was fooling myself to think it was a horse I would remember from all those years ago.  Hoss opened the front door, but he nodded for me to go in first.  The sound of my father’s deep voice stopped suddenly when we entered the house.

I turned toward the dining room and shook my head, surprise written all over my face.  “Captain,” I said, as he stood from his chair to greet me.

“Joe—”

“This is some surprise,” I said, glancing at Pa and seeing a smile cross his face.

“It’s been a long time.”

“Sure has.  What brings you to Nevada?”

“Why don’t the two of you go wash up before you join us,” Pa said.  “I’ll try to keep the captain entertained till you get back.

“Okay.”  I was a filthy mess, and Hoss didn’t look much better.  “Don’t go anywhere.  I’ll just be a minute.”  I flew up the stairs like a kid, and within minutes I’d washed myself up some and changed my shirt.  At least I was a bit more presentable now.  I headed back down; my feet barely touching the stairs, I was so anxious to hear why the captain was here and if he’d kept in touch with everyone else. 

Pa slid a cup of coffee across the table to me and refilled his and the captain’s.  “We’ll wait a minute for Hoss if that’s all right with you, Joseph.”

“He better not take all day.”

“It’s lunchtime.  I’m sure he’ll join us shortly.”

I sipped my coffee, but I could already feel the adrenaline soar through my body.  A couple cups of this and I’d be as jittery as the mustangs I’d left back at the corral.  I looked toward the stairs as Hoss hurried down and took his seat across from me and next to the captain.

“Well,” I said.  “What’s going on, Captain.  You re-enlist?” 

“No, can’t say that, but I have been working with the army on another project during the past four years.”

“What kind of project?”

“You.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you.”

I looked at Pa.  I was at a loss as to what the captain was talking about.  “You know about this?”

Pa just tilted his head in such a way that I knew he knew more than I did at the moment.

“When you left us over four years ago, it hit me, Joe.  I realized what all you had done for the sake of mankind, and I also realized how you’d been treated for trying to save innocent native people along with Tommy Bolton, Eli, even though he wasn’t a soldier, and the rest of your men.

“After the colonel was dead and buried, I remembered something your father had written to me years ago in a letter.   He said your name had somehow been erased by the colonel, showing Sergeant Joseph Cartwright had never served a day in the army.  I don’t know how he managed it, but he did.  There was no record of you whatsoever.”

I knew all that and nodded before glancing over at Pa.

“Well, I began sending letters.  I had a few connections, not many after I left, but a few.  I explained what happened to the Cheyenne under the orders of the colonel stationed at Bent’s Fort, mainly what happened to you.  At first, my letters were ignored.  Guess they thought I was crazy, and because your name didn’t exist, it was hard to prove you were actually there.

“Tommy was gone and Eli, but I sent letters out to every man who served under you, and I started receiving replies.  Finally, I was sent an invitation to meet with General Ellis.  I knew I’d have trouble convincing him by myself, but with Charles, Hank and Alex, Bonehead, and three more out of the other five of your men met me that day in the general’s office.”

“I can’t believe it.”  I smiled at the captain.  “I can’t believe they’re all still around.”

“Well, two of your men had moved back east and couldn’t make the trip but they each sent me a letter, verifying you were their sergeant and the dates and a brief explanation of the battle with the Cheyenne.”

“What a group, a team. A great team of men.  I always said they were the best the cavalry had to offer.”

“I’ll agree with you there, Joe.  They weren’t just fond of you; they respected you more than anyone else.  That’s why each one of them went to great lengths to step up and continue the fight.”

Had I been alone, I might have cried for these men I held in such high regard—men who stood by me and tried to do the right thing under the orders of a madman.

“As I was saying, to say the general was shocked was an understatement.  How could nine of us be wrong?  After much discussion and letters back and forth to Washington, I have something for you, Joe.”

Captain Hayes handed me my sergeant stripes.  I held them in my hand, fingering the raised material.  “Thanks,” I said.  “This means a lot.”

“Oh, but there’s more.”

“More?”

“Stand up, Sergeant.”

“Yessir.”

Captain Hayes walked around the table and pulled a small black case from his pocket.  Inside was a medallion of some sort that he took out and pinned above my breast pocket. 

“This is the Medal of Honor, Sergeant Cartwright, for one who most distinguishes himself by his gallantry.  Your father let me bring this to you rather than have you travel back to the Arizona Territory to receive it from General Ellis at Fort Grant.

“You knew?”

“Yes, son.  The captain has kept me informed through this whole ordeal.”

I looked back at the captain.  “I don’t know what to say?”

The captain shook my hand.  “I was glad to see justice served.  You deserved this a long time ago, Joe.”

I tilted the medal up so I could see it clearly.  I then felt the medallion I’d kept against my chest all these years.  So many died that day, the young boy I’d killed.

We sat back down at the table, and Hop Sing served us all lunch, and then he caught my eye from across the table.  I smile and a slight bow from the one who also thinks of me as his son, let me know he’d been listening and was pleased with what he’d heard.

My brother didn’t speak, but his blue eyes glistened with unshed tears.  Hoss was proud of his baby brother, and as I nodded in his direction, he smiled a tight-lipped smile back at me.

Captain Hayes stayed with us that night, and long unanswered questions were finally resolved.  Jack had died the following winter.  The captain had ridden up to see him in the spring, and the house was empty, and a new grave with CJ carved into a stone lay alongside his son’s.  The woman was gone, and the captain had no idea what had become of her.

Maggie married a Navajo and had a child, a boy, and is with child again.  She still lives in the same house as the captain had once said she always would.

We were all up early.  The captain ate breakfast with us then he was ready to go.  Pa and Hoss stayed at the table and said their goodbyes.  The captain and I walked outside together.  It was a beautiful, warm spring morning—a good day for a ride.

“Where do you go from here, Captain?”

“Well, I still have my home in the settlement, and two other families have settled there now so maybe it’s time to give the place a name, but I may travel a while before I head back.  I’ve never seen the coast, and I think I might like to do that.”

“I can’t ever thank you for all you’ve done.”

“That’s what friends are for, Joe.  You taught me that.”

I smiled up at the captain after he’d mounted the bay.  We shook hands and he told me to thank Hop Sing again for filling his saddlebags and to my father for his hospitality.  I knew I’d never see my friend again.  This would be it.

“Two canteens?” I said.

He reached down and patted them both. “Two canteens.”

The End

8 – 2011