Fables and Truths

by jfclover

Word passed quickly through Storey County.  Rustlers had been combing the area for easy pickings. Strays that wandered away from the main herds were easy to steal, especially on larger ranches where herds were separated by mountainous terrain.  A hot running iron disguised the brand, and the stolen cattle were ready for immediate sale to any unsuspecting buyer. Friends and neighbors gathered at the Ponderosa, discussed the problem, and decided an overall search for the thieves should begin immediately.

Since I’d been stuck inside the schoolhouse taking my final exams, I wasn’t allowed to go with Pa and my brothers on the last cattle drive to Sacramento but with my schooling now complete, I’d become a full-fledged Ponderosa ranch hand.  Maybe I was the lowliest man on the list of seasoned cowboys but given the chance, I would soon prove my worth to the men I’d be working alongside day in and day out. Pa seemed to think I was over-eager about certain things, but I knew I had it in me to be the best ranch hand ever.  Maybe I was too eager, but I was ready to show Pa and everyone else I was worth my weight.  Well, maybe I was worth a bit more than my actual weight.

Tomorrow, we would all ride out and get an exact tally of the cattle that hadn’t gone to market last month. Pa teamed Hoss and me together and gave us the area near Angel’s Point.  Since it was mostly canyonland where cattle often nestled in too deep, they needed human brains and muscles to free their hooves from rocky crevices so they could rejoin the herd.  I was agile and I was strong, and I’m sure Pa had that in mind when he picked Hoss and me to ride through the narrow ravines.

Pa had been adamant, though, and my father always had the last word in any conversation. “If you see signs of rustlers, don’t you dare go after them alone.”  Hoss and I nodded our heads and the subject was closed.

It was a clear, bright morning and I felt on top of the world.  My first day as a truly bonafide ranchhand had finally come, and I was prepared to do my job well.  I vowed to stay focused, to remain alert, and cautious if need be.  I tended to get carried away sometimes but now that I was fully grown, I also vowed to leave my childish behavior behind and prove myself a worthwhile hand.

Adam and I often went ‘round and ‘round with each other.  We’d argue over anything and everything and during our heated discussions, we usually ended up offending each other with words we could never take back.  In fact, just this morning Adam told Pa he thought Hoss should take Jake along with us as though I wasn’t good enough to get the job done.  ‘Course I argued the point until Pa stepped in and told Adam straight out that I was more than capable of doing my part on the ranch.

I’ll admit I was glad Pa had let me ride out with Hoss, who was my best friend in the whole world.  He wasn’t like Adam who still considered me a wet-behind-the-ears kid.  In Adam’s eyes, I would remain the baby of the family forever but truth be told, it was my eldest brother I wanted to impress more than Pa or Hoss or any other hand on the ranch.

“Joseph will use his head.  He’s a vital part of this ranch, and he’ll do the right thing, won’t you, Son?”

“Sure, I will, Pa.  You can count on me.”

I ate Pa’s words up—a vital part of the ranch—was music to my ears.  Pa had faith in my abilities even if Adam didn’t, and I would show big brother I could handle anything as well as he could, maybe even better.

By noon, Hoss was eager for a break, and we sat down to eat lunch.  We’d counted thirty-seven head and still had thirteen more to find before we headed back to the house.

“Them beeves is hiding everywhere, ain’t they, Joe?”

“You got that right, brother.  They ain’t got the brains God gave them.”

“First rule of ranching, Little Joe.  Cattle ain’t got no brains.  They’ve got to be the stupidest farm animals God ever put on this earth.”

“I’ll remember that, Hoss.”  I chuckled but my brother overheard me and didn’t understand why I was laughing.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing.  Guess I was just thinking of—it’s nothin’, Hoss.”

“Now, come on, Joe,” he said sternly.  “Don’t be like that.  Don’t leave me hangin’.”

“Okay, you really want to know?”

“Course I do.”

“Okay then picture in your mind what Adam’s remark would have been if I’d said cows didn’t use the brains God gave them.”  I leaned back against a bent-trunked tree and crossed my arms, waiting for Hoss’ reply.

“You see, Joe, Adam’s smarter’n me and he would have told you—“

“No, Hoss.  Stop right there.”

“Huh?”

“That’s where you’re wrong, brother.  Adam ain’t no smarter than you are.  He just has a way of saying things that make everyone else feel stupid.”

“Ah, come on, Little Joe. “

“You know I’m right, Hoss.  Adam would have given me a whole speech on cattle and the size of their brain, and how they get into such a fix, and on and on until I’d wished I’d never said anything in the first place.”

“Yeah, sometimes he does run on but that ain’t no reason—“

“Don’t you see, Hoss?  Adam doesn’t ever think I’ll be old enough or smart enough to handle jobs on the ranch.  Like today.  He wanted Jake to come with us because I’m not good enough to dig cattle out of … of whatever mess they got themselves into.”

“Adam’s just watchin’ out for you, Joe.  He just don’t use the right words sometimes.”

“Watchin’ out for me?”  I shook my head and pushed myself up from the ground.  “If Adam had his way, I’d still be in school.  I’d be sent off to some college until I was old enough and smart enough to handle the job of digging brainless cows out of mud holes and tight crevices.”

After my last remark about my older brother, I stood and walked toward my horse.  I’d let my mouth run like a fool kid, and while I gulped lukewarm water from my canteen, Hoss gathered up the empty cloth sacks Hop Sing had packed full of food and stuffed them in his saddlebags.

“We best find the rest of them steers or we’ll be out here till nightfall.”  That was Hoss’ way of getting me back on track, and he was right.  I shouldn’t have said all those things about big brother but in turn, Adam knew how to throw a silent punch.  Maybe it wasn’t his intention, but I felt everyone he’d ever thrown.

Hoss patted my shoulder before we mounted.  The conversation was over. There were no lingering aftereffects, no hurt feelings, and no one walked away mad. That was how Hoss and I got along.  We said our piece and moved on.  Brothers—friends—a kinship I’d never want to live without.

An hour later, I’d only marked three more head on the tally sheet.  “Where do you think they’re all hiding, Hoss?”

“Danged if I know, Little Joe.  We’ve scoured this entire area at least three times.  I suppose we’ll have to circle wider this time ‘round.  Ten head don’t go missin’ that easy.”

“You think it’s them rustlers?”  I felt my stomach tighten and I looked up at Hoss.  His facial expressions usually gave way to his thoughts, and when his eyes narrowed into tight slits, I knew he was working hard on an answer.

“Maybe, but I ain’t seen no tracks leading away.  Have you?”

“No, but wait!  You hear something?”

“Huh?”

“This way, Hoss.”  My brother followed me around a tight bend and from the ridge above; we looked down toward the floor of a narrow ravine.  “There’s the last of our cattle, Brother.”

“You’re probably right.  You see anyone down there?”

I stood in my stirrups to get a better look, but all I could see was ten cows trapped in a three-sided canyon.  “No—you?”

“Wait.  Down there by the stream.”

Again, I stood from my saddle and saw the two men who’d stolen Ponderosa cattle.  “Yeah, I see them now.”

“We best go tell Pa what we found.”

“Hoss, wait.  We can get them.”

“We better do as Pa said, Joe.”

“No—we can get them, Hoss.  Look, there’s two of them and two of us.”   I tried my best to convince Hoss we could take them by ourselves, that we didn’t need outside help.  “We can get the jump on them easy.  They’re trapped.  It’s a box canyon and they’ve nowhere to run.”

“Joseph …”

I started down the narrow rim of the ravine and Hoss had no choice but to follow or let me ride into their camp alone.  Wasn’t that what Pa said?  “Don’t go in alone.”  I knew Hoss would back me—that’s the kind of brother he was. Though he didn’t argue the point, he was probably cursing me under his breath.  After riding halfway down the gully, I moved Cooch off the main path.  Chubby followed right behind and into a heavily wooded area where we tied both horses.

“We’ll walk in from here, Big Brother.”

“Just hold your horses, Little Joe.  We best make sure there’s only two of ‘em down there.”

“I ain’t seen no others.”

“I ain’t neither, but the last thing we need is to end up surrounded by a bunch of rustlers we ain’t counted on.”

“Why don’t you start down from here and I’ll circle to the left.  That way they’re trapped for sure.”  Hoss was nervous.  Worry shadowed his eyes, but I wasn’t intending to back down.  This was my chance to shine, to show the world what I was made of, and I planned to see it through.  “Ready?”

“Make sure you keep your head down and don’t try nothin’ fancy till I get down there, you hear?”

“I ain’t a stupid kid, Hoss.  I know exactly what I’m doing and besides, we’re at Angel’s Point.  I’ve heard all them old trapper’s stories about this place and you have too.  Ain’t nothin’ bad ever happens here.  This land is almost sacred.”

“Sacred or not, Joe, remember to keep your head down and your guard up.”

I wasn’t about to let on that I wasn’t as sure of myself as I pretended to be, but my gut told me we could do this.  I was a good shot.  I’d been practicing with a six-shooter since I’d turned fifteen and to Pa and Adam’s dismay, I was fast and on target 99% of the time.  Adam reminded Pa how a man who was known to be a fast gun would often be called out.  I usually ignored most of my brother’s snide remarks, but that time I’d heard every word.  I was fast and others would soon find out how fast.  Was that a curse or was I just lucky to be skilled in that area?  So far, I hadn’t had the chance to find out.

My father had let me practice all I wanted, but I wasn’t allowed to wear a gun until I turned sixteen when Pa gave me a fancy new Colt for my birthday.  I was so proud of my pearl-handled gun, so honored my father felt I was old enough to be trusted to wear a sidearm, maybe I took my new status a bit too far.  Sure, I’d shot a squirrel rifle since I was ten or eleven years old, but a sidearm was different.  It meant I was a man; I was old enough and smart enough to respect the advantages and disadvantages of carrying a gun in plain sight.

I shook off the memories.  Our plan appeared sound but I wouldn’t know if I didn’t get moving.  Try as I might, I found myself daydreaming once again as I picked my way down the narrow slope.  What did rustlers look like? Were they old and toothless?  Were they unwashed with a smoky, greasy smell?  This wasn’t the time or place to be caught off guard, and moving off to the left, I kept my eyes on the two men who’d finished up at the creek and were kneeling next to their campfire.

When a twig broke under my bootheel, both men stood from their squat positions and turned in my direction.  I pulled my gun before I continued into their camp.  But what I saw was not anywhere near what I’d expected.  The rustlers were boys—young boys—younger than me.

“Hold it right there,” I said in my deepest, grizzliest voice.

They seemed surprised to see me and raised their hands, letting their tin cups fall to the ground.  I hollered at Hoss to join me but rather than looking away from the young thieves, I heard my brother circling the campfire and my confidence soared.  We’d found the rustlers and they were only kids—unarmed kids at that.

They had no guns, no holsters, no rifles that I could see, and their eyes glistened with fright.  They’d been caught red-handed, and now they would pay the price for stealing Ponderosa cattle.  I remembered Pa’s directive.  “Don’t go in alone.”  Well, Pa didn’t know we were dealing with two boys younger than me or that Hoss and I could handle the problem with such little effort.

Neither boy had looked back at Hoss.  Their eyes were on me, and the heavy Colt I had pointed in their direction.  “What’s this all about?”  

One boy started to cry and the other became the spokesman of the two.  “We was hungry, mister.  That’s all.”

“And so you stole ten head of cattle?  Sorry, fellas.  I ain’t buying that story at all.”

I felt more relaxed than I should have.  Hoss and I had the drop on the boys and there was no way they were going to escape so I lowered my pistol.  Hoss holstered his gun as we tried to make sense of the situation.

“Why so many cattle if you was just hungry,” my brother said from behind the two boys.

Both boys were startled and turned their heads at the sound of Hoss’ deep voice.  And when they saw my brother’s size, they huddled even closer together.

“We’re sorry, mister,” said the eager, young spokesman.  “We thought we could sell the rest and … and—“

“And what?”  I hollered.  “These are my father’s cattle.  They’re not yours to sell.”

“We won’t do nothing like this again, mister.  I promise.”

I glanced up at Hoss.  They were only kids who’d made a mistake in judgment.  Did they deserve a second chance, or should we haul their carcasses into town?  “What’d you say, Hoss?”

Hoss glanced and me and shrugged his shoulders.  “Fine, you’re free to go, but if my brother and I catch you ‘round these parts again, we’ll haul you into the sheriff faster’n you can—“

“Thank you, sir.  Th … thanks,” the boys each stuttered, nearly tripping over their own feet as they backed away.  “We didn’t mean no harm, honest.  We’s just—“

“Get outta here,” I said and holstered my gun.  These kids weren’t a threat, only stupid.  “And don’t bother comin’ back ever again.”

“Guess they’ll stay good and hungry,” Hoss said.  “Maybe we should have given them somethin’ to eat.”

“They can go snare a rabbit like everyone else, Big Brother.”

Hoss chuckled.  “Yeah, guess you’re right.”

“Think we did the right thing, letting them go?”  I looked over my shoulder.  I probably would have run as fast as my legs would carry me, but the boys were slow to leave camp.  As Hoss began kicking dirt over their campfire, a gunshot cracked loudly through the canyon walls.

“No!”  I screamed.

Burning pain spun me like a kid’s toy top.  I don’t know if I grabbed my side first or fell to the ground before a second shot was fired.  I turned my head and watched my brother’s face grimace before he fell forward barely missing the burning fire in his downward spiral toward the canyon floor.

“Hoss!”  

Another shot skidded beside my shoulder, kicking up dirt and rock and keeping me from moving toward my brother.  I kept to the ground and covered my head with my hands until … I’m not sure how long I lay unmoving.  But, I heard laughter—the sound of a young boy’s giggles sounded close by.  Had they moved in closer for the kill?

Beads of sweat tickled my forehead, as I loosened my gun from its holster.  I held the weight steady in my hand but also hidden from sight.  And when I heard whispering behind me, although I couldn’t make out their words, I flipped to my back and aimed at the largest surface—the boys’ chests.  First one and then the other, and each boy spun in place and hit the ground with a sharp, crashing thud.  There was no struggling effort from either.  I’d shot both boys dead.

After pressing my hand to my side, I raised myself to a sitting position.  Hoss lay facedown on the ground, and the two boys lay face up as if staring, accusing, threatening retribution.  My mind soared with guilt, and a horrible sense of dread like I’d never known before washed over me.  And when my stomach churned like thunder, I rolled to my side and heaved my lunch into the dust-covered coals of the boy’s campfire.  But, there was Hoss, still unmoving, and totally unaware of my actions.  Was my brother dead too?

I swiped at my mouth with the back of my hand, still holding my gun as I scooted toward my big brother.  “Hoss?”  I holstered the Colt and placed my hand on my brother’s shoulder.  “Hoss?”

Although he was still breathing, he’d been shot in the back, and we were far from home.  Really far—and how was I to lift my brother onto his horse?  Could he ride?  Could we make it home in time for Doc to remove the bullet?

Blood soaked my brother’s shirt, and the rusty-red stain was becoming a larger pool across his back.  I pressed my hand to the wound and Hoss tried to squirm away from my pressured touch.  “I’m right here, Brother.  You’ve been shot.  Don’t try to move.  I’ve got to stop the bleeding.”

“Joe?  Little Joe?”

His voice was faint and breathy, and I took a deep breath of my own before I spoke again.  “Lay still, Hoss.  Don’t try to talk.”

I pulled off my shirt and even though I wasn’t sure what to do, I ripped it into strips to wrap around Hoss’s wound.  I’d watched my brother tend animals before—hurt raccoons and foxes and even a deer that had been shot in the shoulder but not killed. This is what he’d done with most injuries.  He’d wrapped the wound tightly.  I did the same.

But the problem was getting my brother home.  The canyon was too rough for a travois, and I didn’t think Hoss could sit up long enough to ride.  He was barely conscious, and there was no way I could hold him in the saddle.  Damn if I knew what to do.

“The bullet, Joe.  Get … get the bullet.”

“What?”

“Get … get it … out.”

“Hoss, I can’t—“

“Little Joe … the knife.  Fire.”

My breathing came faster now, and I needed to steer Hoss in a different direction.  I pressed my hand tight against my side where the boy’s bullet had nicked my hide.  My skin burned like fire but was nothing a stitch or two wouldn’t cure, maybe even just a bandage, but Hoss.  He was asking the impossible.

“My … pocket.  The knife, Joe.  Hold … hold over fire.”

I swallowed my nervous fear and dug inside my brother’s pocket where he always kept the small pocketknife Pa had given him for his birthday years ago.  I’d seen him sharpen it often.  He even oiled the tiny hinge, which kept it looking and working like new.  I stirred the remaining cinders with a stick until they burned with a bright, orange glow, then I exposed the blade and set it atop the hot, fiery coals.

But when I pulled Hoss’ shirt out from under his belt and saw the damage the bullet had caused, I turned my eyes away.  And when I had the nerve to look a second time, I was able to center my thoughts rather than just stare like a frightened kid doing nothing to help my brother.

“I need your saddlebags, Hoss.  I need supplies.  I’ll be right back, okay?”

Hoss didn’t move and when I reached for his shoulder, my eyes begin to burn, but I didn’t have time for tears.  After brushing my hands across my cheeks, I charged up the hill to the horses where I hoped Hoss had something of value in his saddlebags.

When I returned, I dumped the bags upside down on the ground.  A flask of whiskey I never knew my brother carried with him nearly made me smile.  He also had a clean shirt I could use as a bandage.  An apple, two strips of jerky, and a crumbled piece of hardtack were the only other items inside.  I’d grabbed both canteens off our mounts so I was as ready as I could be.  But how could I take a knife to my brother?  My God.  Just what was he asking me to do?

“Hoss?”

“Mmm … ”

“You okay?”

“Yeah … good as gold, Little Brother.“

“Here.  Bite down on this.”  I slid a slice of jerky between my brother’s teeth.

I stared down at the wound.  How deep would I have to go?  When I reached for Hoss’ knife—not realizing how hot the damn handle would be—I promptly dropped it back onto the coals and cursed my stupidity.  After wrapping Hoss’ shirt around my hand, I reached for the knife a second time.  As I examined the wound, the entire area was tinged red with a charred circle of black soot surrounding the bullet’s entrance.  I touched the torn muscle and ragged skin with my fingertips and my breathing halted once again.

“I can’t do this, Hoss.  We’ll have to wait for Pa or the doc.”

Hoss moved his hand slowly and pulled the slice of jerky from his mouth.  “Little Joe,” he said, pushing air up from his belly to form the words.  “The bullet.  Get it out, Boy.  I … I trust you to …”

After those few simple words, my brother’s hand went slack, and the strips of jerky fell to the ground.  Hoss had passed out—lost consciousness—and I needed to get the job done before he woke again.  As I poured whiskey over the blade, my hand trembled and a cold chill came over me as though I’d fallen into a damp, dark cave with no way out.

Although I’d seen Hoss do this before and figured it was the right thing to do, I hovered the blade over his back, but I couldn’t make that first cut.  The wound was hot to the touch, and I was wasting precious time.  I took a deep breath, gripped the knife with white knuckles, and pierced my brother’s skin.

Even though I’d remained huddled next to Hoss most of the night, I shivered and clenched my teeth tightly together.  And, as the bright morning sun found its way over the mountaintops and into our camp, the air held a frosty bite and heavy dew had settled over the land.  I’d wrapped Hoss with both bedrolls and had him use my jacket as a pillow on the uneven ground.  And though his moans and groans were slight, my brother was suffering, and I was the cause of his pain.

I hadn’t touched the two dead boys.  Their bodies lay where they had fallen yesterday.  I had nothing to cover them with nor did I have a shovel to bury them, so they were out in the open for me to stare at now that daylight was upon us.  Had they been runaways? Were they just kids trying to make a buck or two selling off other people’s cattle?  That’s what one kid had said, but they seemed so young to be out on their own with such big moneymaking schemes.

When Hoss began to stir, I grabbed one of the canteens and held it to his lips.  “Here.  Take a drink.”  Although he tried, most of the water ran down his chin and onto the ground.  “Let’s try once more, Big Brother.”

I felt his forehead with the palm of my hand and, as I expected, his skin was hot and clammy.  I’d been lucky and I’d thanked God for small favors.  The bullet wasn’t terribly deep, and Hoss had remained unconscious the entire time I’d played doctor.  The fact he was still alive was encouraging, but I’d heard talk of people dying of infection even after a bullet was removed.  How was I to know if my brother was dying?  How long did it take infection to set in?  So many unanswered questions.

I’d done all the right things, hadn’t I?  I’d heated the knife and I’d poured whiskey over both the knife and the wound.  That was right, wasn’t it?  God, how I needed Pa and Adam to ride up and help my brother get home.  How would they ever find us?  Would they ride up to Angel’s Point and see us deep between these canyon walls?  But then it came to me out of nowhere. The distress call—fire three shots in the air.  I checked the saddlebags for extra bullets but there were none.  Hoss hadn’t fired his gun.  He still had six shots and I had four.  I had no extra bullets to waste.

Was it too early in the day?  Should I wait?  God … I didn’t know what to do and I couldn’t take the chance of firing too many shots too soon.  I would wait another hour and give Pa and Adam a chance to ride this way.  Would they gather up a posse first?  Damn.  I cursed our situation.

I’d been such a fool to lead Hoss into this mess.  “Don’t go after them alone.”  Pa’s words hit me with such force; I brought my knees to my chest and held my head in my hands knowing this whole, incredible disaster was my fault.  I could see it all now.  Adam’s accusing eyes and Pa’s look of disappointment at the choice I’d made.  I was to blame for my brother being shot and two dead kids lying only a few feet away.

Only a fool kid would go after rustlers alone and that was me—a fool kid.  No one would turn their back on thieves no matter what age or how innocent they looked.  A thief was a thief, and Hoss and I had both made the mistake of letting them walk away. Kids—that’s what we kept telling ourselves, but we paid a price.  We’d baited ourselves for disaster.

Hoss was growing more uncomfortable.  His face was pale and small rivulets of sweat marked his cheeks.  I kept wiping his forehead with a damp cloth, but he needed the doc, and we were miles from the house or from Virginia City.

I smiled and let my hand go lax against my brother’s frame.  The best sound ever rang out through the morning stillness—three shots had been fired, and I stood to my feet and fired three back.

“They’re here, Hoss.  Pa and Adam are here!”

Doc Martin stayed with Hoss for the better part of the afternoon.  And, when Pa asked if he’d stay for supper, he declined the offer and turned toward me.  His eyes narrowed as he smiled and squeezed my shoulder.  “You did a fine job, Son.”

I nodded my head but what could I say?  I felt uncomfortable around everyone and kept my eyes aimed toward the floor; anything to avoid the accusing glares from Pa and big brother, Adam.

“Hoss could have died if you hadn’t removed that bullet when you did.  I’m proud of you, Little Joe.”

“Thanks, Doc.”  Though my spirits should have soared, I felt miserable and wondered what Adam and Pa were thinking.

Maybe the doctor was proud but certainly not my father.  Pa hadn’t said two words since we’d arrived home.  I understood how worried he was about Hoss, but he’d chosen not to speak to me about the incident, at least not yet.

After running up to Pa and Adam when they first arrived at our camp, I directed them straight to Hoss.  “He’s been shot.  He’s in a bad way.”

Adam and Pa both knelt, each hovering over my big brother with deep concern.  And with their fingers probing his back, Hoss began to stir.  Pa spoke to Adam in low tones I could barely make out, and it wasn’t long before I felt like an outsider, an unnecessary person.  A nobody.

“It’s my fault Hoss was shot,” I blurted like a flitting jaybird.

Adam gave me a quick glance, but Pa’s hands and eyes never left my unmoving brother.  I knew Pa had heard me, and in the silence of the moment, I felt even more ill at ease.  I kicked my toe in the dirt and turned away from everyone but moments later, Adam was standing beside me, resting his hand on my shoulder.

“Let’s take a walk.”  I nodded, but I was too afraid to open my mouth.  What stupid thing would I say next?  “What happened, Joe?”

I pointed to the two boys lying prone on the ground.  “One of ‘em shot Hoss.”

“And?”

“I had to stop them.”

Adam turned so he was facing me dead-on.  “You?  You killed both boys?”

I nodded again.

Adam blew out a long, loud breath and shook his head in disbelief.  “We’ll have to take them to the sheriff, Joe.”

“Do we have to?  Maybe we should just bury them here.”

Adam grimaced.  Adam always did the right thing.  “I don’t think so, Joe.  The sheriff needs to know what happened.”

“Okay.” I sulked at my brother’s righteousness.  “If you think that’s best.”

“I do.”

I didn’t bother to argue.  What was the use?  Pa would agree with Adam. I was outnumbered.  I had no choice but to face the sheriff and tell my side of the story.

“Hoss was asking for you, Little Joe,” said the doctor.

I glanced at Pa, hoping to be excused.  He unlocked his arms and smiled. After thanking Doc Martin, I raced up the stairs to Hoss’ room.  I stood by the door, noting the unpleasant smell of sickness as soon as I crossed the threshold.   Dressed in a nightshirt, my brother lay flat on his back.  A blanket covered his legs and most of his chest.  

“Hey … Punkin.”

“Hoss—” Noting how he struggled to breathe, I was afraid to walk farther inside the room.  

“Come here, boy … come sit by ol’ Hoss.”

I moved closer to the bed and touched my brother’s hand with the tips of my fingers. “Doc says you’ll live.”

“Doc tells me you saved my life, Little Joe.”

“You didn’t give me much choice.”

“Huh?”

“Don’t you remember?  You told me everything to do.  You told me I had to get the bullet out.  You said you trusted me to … ”  I let my words trail away.

“You sure about that?”

“‘Course, I’m sure.  You told me to get the knife out of your pocket.”

“Oh, Joe.  I didn’t say nothing of the sort.”

“You did, Hoss.  Why would I make it up?”

“You sure you didn’t let them old trapper’s tales ‘bout Angel’s Point go to your head?”

“Don’t be silly.  Why would I do that?”

“I ain’t sure.”

I stared past my brother at a small, oval picture of his ma.  I’m sure it was Hoss’ voice.  I know my brother’s voice.  “The bullet, Joe.  Get the bullet.”  Was I losing my mind?  Who was I trying to convince?  Me?  Hoss?  A woman named Inger?

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

Hoss tried sitting up and I pushed him back down on the bed.  “I don’t think you’re supposed to be moving around.”

“You … you seem outta sorts, Joe.  Something wrong?”

“I said I was fine, Hoss.”  How could he possibly forget our conversation?  I never would’ve dug for that bullet without Hoss guiding me every step of the way.

“Doc check that wound of yours?”

“It’s nothin’,” I said, twisting to the side.

“What wound?”  I turned and faced the door where my father stood with his hands planted on his hips.  His voice startled me, and I turned back to Hoss, hoping Pa would let the question drop.  “What wound?”  Pa repeated.

“Joe?  Didn’t Doc look at your side?”

“I said it’s nothin’, Hoss.  I gotta go.”

“Hold on there, Young Man.”  Pa blocked the doorway and wouldn’t let me pass.

“It’s nothin’.  Why doesn’t anyone ever listen to what I say?”

I pushed past my father and ran into my bedroom.  I slammed the door behind me.  My “scratch” was nothing compared to what Hoss had suffered through, and I took care of it myself without my father or the doctor poking and prodding when my own brother had nearly died.

Moments later, my bedroom door opened, and Pa stood frozen, his large frame blocking the hall light, and his voice, though soft, carried across the room.  “Joseph?”  I chose not to answer when he called my name.  I needed time to think, time to figure out just what happened on that mountain.  “May I come in?”

Although I’d flopped down on my bed after running from Hoss’ room, I rolled my feet to the floor and faced my father.  “It’s only a scratch.”

“Mind if I take a look?”

No one in this house was ever going to let me grow up and decide things for myself. “Would you believe Adam if he told you it was only a scratch?”

“I might.”

“So why won’t you believe me, Pa?”  My words came out harsher than they should have but this time, Pa didn’t correct my ill-mannered behavior.

“Because you’re not Adam.  Because you’re Joe, and I have reason to believe your claim of “just a scratch” might not be the honest truth.”

“You should be with Hoss, not me, Pa.”

“Is that what you think?”

“Yessir.”

“Who do you think sent me to talk to you?  Who can’t rest comfortably because he’s worried about his little brother?”

“Hoss?”

“I’m not sure what all happened out there, Son, but I have two injured boys, not just one. Although I admit I didn’t know you’d been hurt until moments ago.  Why didn’t you say something, Joe?”

“Because it’s nothing, Pa.  How many times do I have to—”

“You put up a brave front, Joseph, but I think it’s time you let me check that scratch.  If nothing else, do it for your brother.”

I stood from the bed and slowly unbuttoned my shirt then pulled it to the side so Pa could see for himself it was nothing.  When he ran his fingers across the ragged burn I caught my breath, but there were no tears, no crying out.  I tried not to flinch.

“You’ll probably end up with a scar,” Pa said.  “I bet Hop Sing has something that will help “the scratch” heal a bit faster.”

“A scar?  You think?”

“Yes, I think.  Son, you were shot.”  Pa slid his long fingers alongside the wound, inspecting it a second time.  “Do you have any idea how lucky you were the bullet only grazed your side?”

“I never really had time to think about it, Pa.”  I flopped down on the edge of my bed and Pa sat down beside me.  It was time to confess my wrongdoings.  “I’m sorry I disobeyed you.  It wasn’t Hoss’ idea to go after those two, it was mine.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah—really.”  My father hinted at a smile as his hand crossed my shoulders.  “You already knew that, didn’t you?”

“Let’s just say, I suspected as much.”

“I should have listened—actually, I did listen to what you said, but—I’m sorry.  We should have waited.”

“Yes, you should have waited.”

“Is Hoss really gonna be okay?”

“Paul thinks he’ll be just fine thanks to you.”

“Hoss made me dig for that bullet.  He told me what to do, Pa.  It’s like he was guiding me through the whole procedure even though he was unconscious a lot of the time.”  I looked up at my father.  “I thought about all the animals he’d cared for over the years and that he was never afraid to tend their broken bones or … or whatever ailed them.”

Pa nodded his head, his lips formed a straight line, and when I felt his hand tighten against my shoulder, I thought maybe I said something out of turn.  “Even though you found it necessary to go after the rustlers after I asked you not to, I’m proud of you for keeping your head when your brother’s life was at stake.  I’m grateful, Joseph.  You rose to the occasion, and I know it took a great deal of inner strength for you to do what was necessary.”  Pa’s hand tightened again, and for the first time since the shootings, I began to relax.  “Without realizing, you’ve learned a great deal from Hoss over the years, and this time, you were put to the test.  You didn’t panic and you did what mattered.  You saved your brother’s life.”

I didn’t have an answer.  I felt unworthy of praise after what I’d done to cause the shootings to begin with.  There was a long, uncomfortable silence as I waited for Pa to address the reason we disobeyed him and took on the rustlers alone.  My heart beat a little faster with anticipation, wondering how I’d explain why I’d chosen to disobey and then dragged my brother along with me.  But the discussion never came.  Instead, Pa stood from my bed and faced me head-on.

“I’ll send Hop Sing up to dress that little scratch of yours and then I think your brother would like to see you.”

“Is that all?”  

“Is there more?”

“No, sir.”

If Pa wanted answers, he would have asked by now.  He would have hounded me until I relived the day’s events, until he knew every detail, beginning to end.  But he’d let the matter drop, and while part of me felt fortunate; another part thought he deserved an explanation.

Adam and I left the two dead boys with the sheriff before riding home, and I knew the matter wasn’t over.  The sheriff said the county would pay for the boys’ burials, and I wasn’t to worry about a thing.  But somehow, I still worried.  Their deaths gnawed at me even after a long discussion with Adam on our way home earlier in the day.

“What’s bothering you, Joe?”

It’s as though Adam could read my mind, and he was offering me the chance to tell him everything that took place at Angel’s Point.  But my mind was already messed up, and I didn’t need to be ridiculed for my behavior by my oldest brother.  I didn’t need him telling me what he would have done in my place.

Would he have killed those boys?  Would have let them go?  No—I already knew the answer, but I needed to talk.  I needed someone to understand the pressure I was under.  Was Adam that person?  Would my explanation convince him I had no other choice but to fire my gun?

“I killed two people, Adam.  Two boys who should be running and playing, eating ice cream and watermelon, and learning how to read and figure, but they can’t do anything now, and it’s my fault they’re dead.”  I tried to steady my voice, but I could see their faces and see their young bodies lying on the ground.  “I was scared, Adam scared they’d shoot Hoss again, and I aimed straight for their chests, knowing I couldn’t miss from such close range.”

Although I’d blurted out my thoughts, nothing I said sounded convincing, and I turned my head away.  I could hear Adam calling my name, and I finally turned back and looked straight into his dark, shaded eyes.  Maybe he understood.  Maybe he could help me through the pain I felt inside.

“Joe—” he said, reaching out to lay his hand on my arm, but Sport began to prance and the moment passed as my brother fought to correct his mount.

“It’s okay, Adam.”

I started to ride forward.  I wanted to leave the ugly thoughts of death and dying behind.  I needed a moment’s peace.  I needed to be a boy again and dream of fishing with my friends or playing kid games and not being part of the adult world I thought I craved more than anything else.  Yesterday, my life had changed, and how was I to leave those memories behind and just be a kid again?

Adam caught up with me, and I saw the look on his face, but was it a look of pity or disgust?  I wasn’t sure how he felt, and I was too afraid to ask.

“Let’s try this again, Joe,” he said as we plodded forward.

“It doesn’t matter, Adam.”

“Oh, but it does.  You’ll never be the same person you were before the shootings, and I think it’s best if you talk it out.”

“What’s there to talk about?  I did what I had to do.”

“Exactly my point.  You found yourself in a situation you’d never experienced before, and you did exactly what you had to do.”

“Maybe there was another way.  Maybe if I’d—”

“I know they were just boys, Joe, but what would have happened if you’d stopped to think things over?  What if you’d hesitated?”  Adam grabbed Cooch’s reins and he looked me in the eye.  “You and Hoss would have been killed, and we’d be burying the two of you instead of the two young men who opted to carry guns of their own.”

My eyes filled with tears as I pictured Hoss lying dead on the ground, and I swiped my hand across my face.  I didn’t want Adam to know how upset I really was.  He already thought of me as a little kid and crying only made things worse.

“Believe me, Joe.  You did the only thing you could’ve done.  Any man in your shoes would have done the exact same thing.”

I nodded after hearing my brother’s heartfelt words.  Maybe Adam was right.  Maybe shooting those boys had been my only option.  Maybe in time, the vivid memories would fade, and life would make sense once again.  Wait—had Adam called me a man?

For the next three nights, I slept in Hoss’ room.  I listened to him breathe, and I watched as his pale, sullen cheeks returned to a rosy, healthy glow.  Hoss was on the mend, and Doc said he’d be up and around in another week or so.

Hoss and I didn’t need words between us to know what the other was thinking.  Simple eye contact or a gentle touch of his hand on mine let me know what he was feeling.  He would tell me to bury the past and move forward, and I was starting to feel like maybe that was the right thing to do.

What Adam had said made sense.  If Hoss had died because of those two young thieves, I never would’ve forgiven myself for dragging him down that ravine along with me.  Sitting next to his bed, knowing I’d done my best under trying circumstances, I made a lifelong promise.

I’d never use my power of persuasion to lure Hoss into any kind of trouble again.

The End

6-2014