The One Left Behind

by jfclover

“It’s just for the weekend, Pa.  We’ll leave Friday afternoon and return before supper on Sunday.”

“I’d feel better if one of your brothers went along.”

“Pa, I’m eighteen years old.  I’ve handled a rifle since I was twelve.  What could possibly go wrong?”

Ben wasn’t going to list the possibilities that ran through his mind.  Three young men venturing into the mountains for a hunting weekend didn’t sit well with him at all.  Anything could go wrong, and were these boys old enough or wise enough to deal with a situation if it got complicated?

“I promise we will all be careful.  Andy and Jess are both as responsible as I am.”

“That’s what worries me, son.”

“Aw, come on, Pa.  That’s not fair.”

Ben slid his arm around his youngest boy’s shoulders.  “I’m sorry, son.  I wonder if something happened out there; if one of you got injured, would you be able to handle it properly?”

“Sure we would, Pa.  You don’t need to worry about me all the time.  I’m a big boy now.”

“Yes, you are, Joseph.”  Ben stepped back and looked at his young son.  He was only asking for a weekend away from home with a couple of friends.  Maybe it was time to let go.  “All right, son.  You may go.  But promise me you’ll all take it slow and use your heads.”

“Pa—” he said, flashing a big smile at his father.  “Don’t worry.”

“Hey, you guys.  Why don’t we make camp over there by the stream?” Jess said, pointing to his right.

“Fine by me,” Andy agreed, glancing my way.

“Don’t you guys want to go any farther?  We could make it another couple of miles before dark.”  It was way too early to stop.  We had a long way to go.  Now we’d be in a big rush tomorrow.

“We’ve got all day tomorrow, Little Joe.  What’s the hurry?”

“We haven’t come very far, Jess.  If we’re going to find an elk or a deer, we have to climb a lot higher than this.  You know they don’t come down this far this time of year.”

I was outnumbered this time around, and I didn’t want to make a big deal of it, so we headed down to the stream to make camp.  We would have a long ride and not a lot of time to hunt tomorrow.  I couldn’t understand why they both wanted to stop and make camp so early.

While Andy collected firewood and I got the horses settled for the night, Jess set up the camp.  Once our chores were completed, we grabbed our poles and walked into the trees, listening for the sound of rushing water that ran down the stream’s rocky bed.  We smiled at each other, taking in the white splashing splendor we all hoped was loaded with big rainbow trout.

Jess pulled the first one out of the water, and I wasn’t far behind.  By the time we had six good-sized fish among us, we were ready to cook them up.  Pulling some cornbread from my saddlebag that Hop Sing had sent along, I shared it evenly with my two best friends.  Andy thought he was some kind of fancy cook, so when our campfire was ready, Jess and I sat back and let him do all the work.  I made the coffee, though, which was about all I was good for in the cooking department.

We ate our fill and licked our fingers clean, then Jess reached deep in his saddlebag and pulled out a bottle.  If any of our fathers found out he’d brought this along, there’d never be another hunting trip until we were old and gray.  He took a long swig and handed the bottle to me.

“Where’d you get this?” I asked him.

“My pa’s stash,” he said.  “Go ahead.  He’ll never miss it.”  I glanced at Andy.  “You knew about this, didn’t you?”

A big smile crossed his face.  “Drink up, Little Joe.”

My whole body shivered, and I felt the hot, burning sensation clear down to my belly.  My cheeks puffed up tight, and I let out a long breath, trying to keep my eyes from tearing up when I saw Andy waiting for his turn, so I passed the bottle over to him.  Now I knew why we’d stopped early.  I hadn’t been informed of the hidden bottle, and even though I wasn’t much of a whiskey drinker, we passed the bottle around in a circle until every last drop was gone.

Jess started in with the ghost stories, and it didn’t take long before our laughter calmed and we became so spooked that none of us wanted to leave the bright light of the fire to go relieve ourselves.  I knew we’d all have a good time together, and we did.  I also knew there were things I would leave out of my story when I told my father about our adventures after I returned home.

The three of us woke to the warm morning sun shining on our faces.  None of us was too quick about getting up for obvious reasons, but if we were going to hunt at all and be back home by tomorrow, we needed to get moving.  We eventually got ourselves packed up and started up the mountain.

The three of us kept our eyes focused mainly on the ground, looking for tracks of any kind.  There was nothing so far, and common sense told me we needed to be higher up the mountain this time of year, so we kept moving forward.  I pulled out my jacket from my bedroll and slipped it on as the air grew cooler.

Jess had taken the lead, and he stopped unexpectedly.  “Did you hear something?”

Even though I hadn’t heard what he had, I got down from Cochise.  “Let’s walk from here.”   We all pulled our rifles from their scabbards and tied our horses by the side of the trail.  “Spread out.”

On foot now, with Andy and Jess flanking me on either side, the three of us moved forward as slowly and quietly as possible.  The ground was covered with scrub and knotted tree roots, which made for slow going anyway.  Slowly walking forward, the only sound I heard was the wind brushing the upper branches of the trees.

There was a movement to my right, and we all turned to look.  I saw Jess lift his rifle and aim, but I couldn’t see what he saw.  He fired.  Andy and I started moving in his direction when Jess frantically screamed out.

“Oh God!   I didn’t mean it!  Run!” he yelled at the two of us.  I saw panic written across his face when he turned quickly and took off running back down the mountain.

When I turned back to the spot where Jess had aimed his rifle, I understood what had happened.  Stepping out from behind four separate trees stood Bannocks, staring straight at Andy and me.  They raised their bows, and we both ran for our lives, following Jess down the mountain.

Jess hadn’t killed a deer; he’d shot a man, a Bannock.  I flew passed Andy and leaped in the air to clear the low-growing scrub.

“NO!”  I screamed before lunging forward and landing face down, with the tip of an arrowhead stuck fast in the back of my leg.  My rifle flew from my hand.  I scrambled furiously to get up, but it was no use and I fell helplessly back to the ground.

Andy stopped abruptly when he heard me scream, scrambling back, he yanked hard on my arm, trying to pull me up.  “Go!  Run!” I pleaded.  “Tell my Pa what happened!”

“Joe—”

“GO!  NOW!”

Taking one last look at the four men now approaching, Andy backed away cautiously and ran as I lowered my head back to the ground.  I could only pray they’d both get clean away and bring Pa back to beg these people for my life before the inevitable happened.

Pain radiated through my leg like fire, although I lifted my head slightly when I heard small twigs crack under the weight of their footsteps.  I could do nothing to change the situation I was in, and I was now surrounded by four hostile Bannocks.  One of them nudged me in the side with the tip of his foot while another bent over to pick up my rifle.

I rolled to my side, wishing I could curl into myself to ease the fire; instead, I was grabbed by both arms and hauled up from the ground.  I closed my eyes, trying my best to balance on one good leg and ignore the pain in the other.  I jerked forward, and tears filled my eyes when the shaft snapped, leaving only the arrowhead behind.

I wanted to scream, and I wanted to cry, but I didn’t dare.  I had to stay strong.  I couldn’t show weakness in front of these men; men, maybe, but no older than me.  I had to be stronger than I’d ever been before in my life.  I raised my head high, showing them I was a man, not a scared little boy.

I couldn’t walk on my own, so a man on either side held me up, dragging me between them until we reached their ponies.  Together, they hoisted me up and across the rump of a horse, pulling my hands and feet tightly together, tying them securely under his belly.  As my face beat against the pony’s rough hindquarters, I didn’t have the strength to do anything about it.  To them, I was no better than a slain carcass thrown over the horse’s rump, and each and every step was a constant reminder of the arrow embedded deep in the back of my leg and the constant pain that came with it.

We traveled higher into the mountains for what seemed like forever until we finally reached our destination.  I ran my tongue slowly across my dry, chapped lips, trying to stay alert enough to find out what would become of me next.  The brave riding our mount swung his leg over his pony’s head and slid down the side.  He loosened my bindings and shoved me to the ground.

“Oh God!”  I cried out when I landed, helpless and in pain.  Grabbing hold of my wrist, dragging me steadily behind him through their camp, I tried desperately to keep my leg from touching the ground.

I must have passed out.  I woke suddenly, screaming out to anyone who would listen. “NO, oh God—don’t take my leg.”  Someone was cutting.  I heard low murmuring voices, although I didn’t think they were aimed at me.  I pleaded with them to stop until someone stuck a stick between my teeth, which ended my yelling, but didn’t begin to stop the pain I was in.

When I opened my eyes again, it was dark except for the flames of our campfire burning brightly next to me. “Andy?”  I called out.  “Jess?”  I blinked a couple of times as I searched the sky, finding no stars and no moon up above, but the campfire …

A hand rested on my chest, and it scared me, making me jerk involuntarily.  I turned my head to the side and saw a dark-haired woman kneeling down next to me.  She spoke softly, then leaned closer, holding a buffalo horn to my lips.  She mumbled something else, and I opened my mouth to drink.  It was only water, but as soon as I started coughing and choking and she pulled it away.

I was confused.  Why was I here with this woman and not with my friends?  I tried to sort it out in my mind, but I was suddenly hit with blazing-hot pain shooting through my leg, surpassing any other thoughts I might have.  I started to shiver, and the woman placed her hand on me again.  When she scooted away, I thought she was leaving, but she reached for a second bearskin and pulled it gently across my legs and chest.

I don’t remember too much about that first day.  I slept on and off, and I drank from the buffalo horn when it was pressed to my lips.  The woman had been with me earlier, feeding me some kind of broth from a hollowed-out gourd.  I guess she had been the one chosen to care for me because she was the only person I’d seen since I was brought to the camp.

I was alone now, which scared me some not knowing who might come in next or what my fate might be, I was at least able to move some.  I felt around under the blankets and realized my left thigh was wrapped tightly in bandages.  That’s when I also realized I was naked and had been all along in front of that woman.

As I lay flat on my back, I strained to lift my head and search the lodge for my clothes.  They were nowhere in sight, and I was in no condition to get up and find them.  Without warning, the flap flew open, and there she was again.  Being buck naked under the bearskin, I wasn’t that thrilled about her seeing me in my altogether.

She carried some kind of pouch with her, and she knelt down on the floor to my left.  I was scared to look, but my eyes never left her.  There was no bowl of food or horn of water this time.  She set the pouch down and eased the blankets back down passed my wound.  I quickly reached down with both hands to cover myself from this woman’s eyes.

I looked up at her and she smiled back at me.  I couldn’t think of anything worth smiling about.  I was a man, and she was a woman, and I was lying on my back without a stitch of clothing on.  Maybe she was laughing at my embarrassment, or she was embarrassed like me, but my hands weren’t leaving that spot.

She started unwrapping the strips of animal skins that served as a bandage.  I still had my hands in place, but she didn’t seem to care one way or another.  She pushed on my shoulder and motioned with her hand, wanting me to roll on my side.  I did what she asked, and she was behind me now.  This was worse than ever.  It was bad enough when Doc Martin embarrassed me, but this was a woman, and feeling the heat radiating from my face, I’m sure I’d turned some shade of red.  I couldn’t see her at all now; much less know what she was doing back there.

I jerked forward, trying my best not to cry out when she ripped something away that had covered the wound.  I wasn’t sure which was worse—the inability to breathe or the pounding in my chest when she began scraping away the remains. When it was finally over and I was able to breathe normally again, I felt something cool and damp being pressed tightly against the wound, then she lifted my leg up and wrapped a new bandage securely in place.

The woman’s hand gently tugged on my shoulder, and I fell back, totally exhausted, against the thick buffalo skins.  I was thankful she’d finally finished whatever doctoring she’d done, but the burning in my leg seemed worse now than it had before.  She said something to me I didn’t understand and patted my shoulder before she stood and left me alone once again.

“Bannocks,” Ben mumbled to himself as he paced in front of the grand fireplace.

He turned back to the boys. “Are you sure that’s what they were wearing?  Were their heads shaved up over their ears?”

Andy and Jess sat along with their fathers on the settee, directly in front of Ben Cartwright, while he fired question after question at the two young men.  Telling their fathers what had happened on the mountain was one thing, but sitting in front of Joe’s father was a whole different experience.

“Tell me once more exactly where you were when Joe went down.”

Jess looked sideways at Andy before he spoke.  “We was right above Palmer’s Ridge.  The three of us was walking along together and I thought I saw a deer.”

“You thought you saw,” Ben nearly shouted.

“Yes, sir,” Jess said, his voice becoming shakier the more he tried to explain.  “I took aim and fired.  It was an accident, Mr. Cartwright.  Anyone could have made the same mistake.”

“Not anyone, Jess.  You made the mistake.”

Adam didn’t speak, but he rested his hand on his father’s shoulder.  Shouting at these boys wasn’t getting them the information they needed to search for Joe.

Ben glared at Adam and then directed his next question to Andy.  “Did you see this deer too?”

Andy dropped his head. “No, sir.”

Ben looked back at Jess.  “So you saw the rack on the animal before you fired.”

“Well—”

“So you didn’t care if it was male or female,” Ben said, looking at Jess and then at his father sitting next to him, when he felt the second squeeze from Adam’s hand.

“Answer, Mr. Cartwright, Jesse,” his father demanded.

“I didn’t see a rack.”

Keeping in mind this was another man’s son, it was all Ben could do not to grab the boy up and shake some sense into him.  “So you shot a man by mistake and took off running.  Joe and Andy followed you, and Joe went down.”

“He made me leave him, Mr. Cartwright.  He made me run so I could get back and tell you,” Andy pleaded for the distraught father’s understanding.

It was Jess who infuriated Ben, not Andy.  “So you two got away, and my son is now a captive of the Bannocks.  Do I have everything straight?”

“Yes, sir,” the boys said in unison.

Jess’ father stood up and faced Ben.  “I don’t know what to say, Ben.  I thought the boy knew better.  I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?  Just how’s that going to get my boy back?”

“Pa—” Adam said softly.

Both fathers stood, pulling their sons up with them.  Tears filled his eyes as Andy turned back to Ben.  “I’m sorry, Mr. Cartwright.  You know Little Joe’s my best friend.”

“Thank you, Andy,” Ben said, in a calmer voice, even though his words of apology were no consolation whatsoever.

Ben walked to the door, and both sets of fathers and sons followed behind him.  Andy’s father was the last out the door.  He stopped and turned to Ben.  “What do you plan to do, Ben?  The Bannocks are hostile.”

“I don’t know, but I’ll tell you one thing.  I will get Little Joe back.  I will get my boy back alive.”

Walking back across the room and sitting down in his red leather chair, Ben picked up his pipe and held it unlit in his lap.  He knew his eldest sons waited patiently for some kind of plan or some words of wisdom, and he fought for the right words to say.  He was as lost as they were when he raised his head and looked them straight in the eye.

“What in God’s name are we going to do?”

“Well, we can’t just ride into a Bannock camp like we owned the place.  We have to think this out,” Adam said.

“We can’t just leave him there,” Hoss said, hoping Adam wasn’t planning to sit and think too long since his little brother had been captured, and who knew what was happening to him now.

“That’s not what I meant, Hoss.  We are going to have to sneak him out of there somehow.  They’re never going to just let him walk out of their camp.  If we’re lucky and Joe’s still alive, we have to think like a Bannock but smarter,” Adam said.

“You think he’s already dead, don’t you, Adam?”

Adam lowered his head.  When he looked back up, he glanced at his father and then set his eyes on his brother.  “If Jess killed the man he shot, they’re not likely to let Joe live either.”

As much as he didn’t want to say those simple words to Hoss and his father, it was the truth.  None of them were naive to the ways of the Bannock.  An eye for an eye.  It didn’t matter which boy killed the brave.  They had captured one of them, and more than likely, Joe would be tortured in some deranged manner before he died.  He knew his father was also aware of some of the acts of torture, but he would only think it; he would never speak those words aloud.

“Let’s see if we can get some sleep, and we’ll talk in the morning,” Ben said before he rose from his chair and headed across the room.  He stopped at the base of the stairs and rested his hand on the post.  He looked back over his shoulder.  “Make sure you say a prayer tonight for your brother.”

Hoss and Adam watched their father slowly climb the stairs.  They could tell by his posture he was a broken man who held little hope of ever seeing his youngest son again.

I drank—I ate—I slept.  That was pretty much the routine for the first couple of days.  The woman would come and doctor my wound, and I’d long given up trying to cover myself in front of her.  Any shred of modesty I’d once had was truly gone.

I woke to find her pulling things down from the sides of her lodge and carrying them out through the large flap on the front of the structure.  There seemed to be a lot of unusual noise in the camp this morning.  Something was up.  Almost everything the woman kept inside her lodge was gone.

The flap opened again, and a man walked in with the woman following close behind.  Towering over me, he looked at her and then down at me.  In his hand, he held a long piece of deerskin.  He pulled me up by the arm, and I hopped uncontrollably on my good leg until I was able to balance.  The woman took the cloth from him and proceeded to dress me.  She wound it around my waist and spread my legs, threading it in between.  I stood there looking straight ahead.  I didn’t think I could be more humiliated, but I was.

They said words to each other, and he bent down and slid his hand behind the back of my legs.  He hefted me up over his shoulder.  I tried to keep silent when he wrapped his arm tightly around my wound.  Once he had me settled, he ducked down and carried me out the doorway.

After lowering me to the ground, he walked away without looking back, so I tried to concentrate on the movement in the camp and not the constant throbbing in the back of my leg.  Three other women came over and helped the woman take down her lodge.  I realized all the other lodges were down and loaded on the backs of packhorses.

The whole Bannock camp was moving out.  I didn’t know if they were taking me with them or leaving me here to fend for myself.  If I were forced to go with them, there would be no chance of my family finding me ever.

Stopping next to me with a pony in tow, the big man hauled me up off the ground, and I balanced myself against the side of the horse.  He pulled out a piece of rawhide from his waistband and tied my wrists together, then glared at me with his coal-back eyes when I couldn’t manage to stand still.

Giving me a leg up on the pony’s back, he pulled out another strip of rawhide from his waistband and tied my ankles together under the horse’s belly.  I rarely rode bareback and certainly not without pants or boots.  I tried to adjust myself and get the animal’s backbone centered, but this was going to be a tough ride no matter what I did.

Within minutes, we were moving forward.  Everything had been quickly packed and loaded onto the ponies.  I had watched the woman do her own loading when the other women left.  Apparently, this was women’s work because there were no men around to help.

She tied my pony’s reins to the last packhorse and then tied them all in a line behind hers.  I noticed everyone had a horse blanket but me.  I was just a white man, a captive, so why should I rate a blanket?

There must have been about sixty or seventy people in all; men, women, and children with their pet dogs running alongside, barking nonstop.  So, while the men moved the small herd of ponies, the women took care of their homes.

I wondered if the man who had come and hauled me from the lodge was the woman’s husband.  I’d been out of it half the time, but I don’t remember a man sleeping in her lodge.  I wasn’t sure of many Bannock customs, but I assumed that a man and his wife would share the same lodge.  Maybe she wasn’t married or maybe she was a widow, and since they were taking me with them, perhaps I would live long enough to find out.

I knew my family could show up at some point and get me out of this mess, I just didn’t know how or when.  If I could just stay alive long enough, I would be rescued, and since Hoss was the best tracker I knew, it wouldn’t be hard for him to pick up the trail and take me home.  I didn’t know why they’d kept me alive, but my thoughts at this point were on my family and my ultimate rescue as we started traveling down out of the mountains and toward the desolate high plains.

My backside had never been this sore before.  There were times when the entire band of people would stop to fill their empty pouches in nearby streams.  They’d let their ponies drink, but I was left tied on the back of mine, doing a balancing act as he lowered his head to the drink.  I rarely took my eyes off the woman, and like all the other women, she would make sure her belongings were tied down securely whenever they stopped to rest.  She’d move next to me, pulling first on my arms and then my legs, making sure I was also secure.

The women and children didn’t seem to mind the long, difficult journey through narrow trails and rough mountain terrain.  Some rode their ponies, and some walked alongside.  They laughed and carried on constant conversations, but not with the woman I was with.  We were the last ones in line, so maybe that was the reason.

The children who were old enough ran and played as we moved forward.  The younger ones were tied on the backs of the pack horses, atop all their meager belongings.

No one talked to me except the woman who had cared for me.  People passed by and ignored me, even turning their heads away like I was a fatal disease.  The woman didn’t even talk to me; she just glared at me with disgust when she walked by.

I wondered if they were waiting until we got wherever we were going to kill me.  A big celebration.  Kill the white man.  I just hoped it would be a quick death, but from stories I’d heard, that wasn’t their way.  It was no secret that the Bannocks were known for making their prisoners endure unbearable amounts of pain before death finally came.

I was scaring myself.  I needed to put that whole business out of my mind.  Looking up, I scanned the area ahead.  I could see for miles now and wondered if Pa and my brothers were watching as we marched along.  Were they following from behind, just waiting for the right opportunity to grab me and end this nightmare?

Knowing my brother Adam like I did, he was probably driving Pa and Hoss craz,y plotting out the best way to rescue me.  Would they ride in quietly at night and snatch me away, or send for the cavalry?  I suppose they had to go over every option, but whatever the plan, I hoped it would happen soon.

We traveled nonstop for five days, five long days heading east and away from my home.  The land wasn’t as lush and green as their camp in the mountains had been, and I wondered if I was the reason they’d decided to leave.  The hunting had been plentiful where we were, and I didn’t think it would be nearly as good out here in the middle of no-man’s-land.  I always thought the only time they moved their camp was when they ran short on food, or the grass in the meadows where their ponies grazed was depleted.  I guess I was wrong.

I’d only been allowed off my horse at night.  The woman came herself and untied my legs so I could get down from the pony, then she immediately retied my ankles back together.  She mainly used hand movements rather than trying to speak to me, since I obviously didn’t understand a word.

I sat off by myself.  I felt so alone.   I wasn’t allowed too close to the woman or too close to the fire.  I was a white man who didn’t belong with these people.  I was an outsider, a nobody who was last in line after their ponies or dogs.

By the sixth day, I was starting to lose track of time, but we finally reached our destination.  I was untied and allowed to get off my horse.  My wound had been given almost a week to heal, but my legs were shaky from sitting so long.

The woman retied my ankles loosely this time so I could walk but not run.  I just stood there like a fool.  What was I supposed to do now?  Where was I supposed to go?  Finally, the woman picked up a stick and pointed away from us to a small grouping of trees down by the stream.  She held out her arms and laid the stick across them as if she were carrying a bundle of wood.

“Wood?”  I said.  She got mad when I spoke to her, but I didn’t understand, so she pointed towards the trees again.  She started yelling at me and hitting my back over and over with her stick.  Was I supposed to go get firewood or disappear from her sight?  I guessed I would go get wood and come back.  I felt so simple-minded, so foolish around her; around everyone.

I picked up as many dry twigs and small branches as I could carry and limped back to the camp.  At least my leg was healing, and I didn’t have to deal with the constant throbbing like I had before.  I don’t know why I didn’t just keep walking.  I don’t know why I came back.  Deep down, though, I knew.  I couldn’t risk another arrow.  Someone would rescue me soon and I needed to stay healthy and be able to ride when they came.

I dropped the wood next to the fire she had already started with the few twigs she’d picked up close to her lodge.  Sounding like a mad blue jay protecting her young, she ran towards me, scolding me again.  She pulled a small rawhide whip from her waistband and started hitting me, so I quickly turned my back to her and covered my head.  What had gotten into her?  What the hell did I do now?

She stopped just as suddenly as she’d started, and she pointed next to her lodge, which had been set up, apparently by the women, while I’d been gone.  I bent down and picked up the wood, and carried it to the side.  Pointing down at the ground, I looked at her, and she nodded her head.  I stacked it neatly next to the lodge, hoping she wouldn’t have need for that dang whip again.

For a small woman, she was quite skilled at handing out punishment.  I felt my back burning, although I couldn’t tell if it was bleeding or not; it sure was uncomfortable.  I’d noticed the whip hanging from the belt at her waist, but up until then, I didn’t realize it was meant for me.

I stood and waited for the next set of instructions, and it didn’t take long for her to bark them out at me.  Now that I was healed up enough to get around and do a day’s worth of work, she had changed from gentle caretaker to overbearing tyrant.  Never again would there be the light touch on my shoulder or the gentle words meant to ease my pain.

With her whip still in her hand, she used it to point to two buckets sitting next to the fire and then straightened her arm toward the creek down below.  I had enough sense to figure this one out, so I picked them both up and headed straight for the water.  The thought of running ran through my mind again, but I would be patient and wait.  My family will be here soon.

These people were so quick at taking apart and putting their homes back together, I was truly amazed.  In no time at all, they had their lodges back up and their belongings back inside.  Even though I would have to sleep on the ground rather than my soft bed at home, it really wasn’t that bad, and if I was going to do chores for this woman all day, I would have to be content sleeping on the pile of soft furs at night.

It had become obvious to me that the men’s job was to secure the new sight for their camp, and it was women’s work to put it all back together.  Most of the women had men, husbands, I guess, but not the woman I was with.  My guess is she was maybe twenty-five or thirty years old.  She was an attractive woman, slim and petite with small features and big brown eyes, but when she got mad and started screeching at me, making me feel like a dang fool, all those pretty little features vanished quickly.

That night, after we ate a meal of some kind of roots she’d boiled over the fire, my whole world changed again.  I was not allowed inside her lodge anymore.  I was tied to a pole outside next to my pile of wood when she was done with me for the day and ready to go into her lodge for the night.  I had no bearskin fur under me like before, only dirt.  They hadn’t brought me here to kill me.  They brought me here to be her slave.

I’d seen one of the braves with a bandage around his shoulder before we made this trip.  He must have been the one Jess shot.  He didn’t die, so I wouldn’t die.  It was all falling into place now.  They were never going to turn me loose, just let this woman use me to do her chores since she had no man of her own.

I’d heard about tribes capturing whites for slaves, but it was mostly children they were after, and I was certainly no child.  I remember Pa telling me stories about such things when I was young and would want to ride out on my own.  I had to always be on the lookout and always be aware of my surroundings.  That was one of the reasons he would never let me ride off the Ponderosa unless I was accompanied by him or one of my brothers.

It was up to me to escape.  It would take a miracle for my father and brothers to find me in this godforsaken place.  I didn’t know the land, and the Bannocks had probably done a good job of hiding their tracks by now.

They’d led their small group of ponies around a different way from the trail the women had traveled, and within days, any sign that we’d made this journey would probably be gone.  We were well east of the Ponderosa, although we were still in Nevada, but it wasn’t anywhere I was familiar with.

My only means of escape would be stealing one of their ponies, and I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to pull it off or not.  They were pretty well-guarded day and night.  There are simply no hiding places for miles on end, so I’d have no chance at all without a horse.  It was way too many miles for me to make it home on foot and avoid being recaptured.

There was always the possibility that Pa and my brothers thought I was already dead.  If I could be smart like Pa, think like Adam, and read the signs along the way like Hoss, then maybe I’d have a chance.

I thought about Pa.  He’d be grieving somethin’ fierce.  He’d beat himself up for letting me go hunting in the first place.  He would blame himself for this whole thing, even though it wasn’t his fault.  The situation went terribly awry.  I guess that’s what he feared and why he hesitated so long before he finally let me go.

“What could possibly go wrong?”  I’d said to him.

He was aware of all the things that could go wrong.  Well, now I was too, plenty.  So, here I was, lying in the dirt outside the woman’s lodge, no better than a tied-up dog.  I didn’t know what was in store for me tomorrow or the next day; more of the same, I suppose.  I was the only person I could rely on now.  I was the one who had to put some kind of plan together if I was ever going to make it back home.

“They’ve vanished off the face of the earth,” Ben said, after a quiet dinner with his two eldest sons.  He knew what lay heavy on their minds, but no one chose to talk about it.

Hoss had seen the look on the faces of his father and brother as they dragged themselves home earlier in the day from yet another week of endless searching for Little Joe.  They were faces of exhaustion and despair.  Were they giving up?  Was he reading each of them right?

“They’re somewhere, Pa, and I’m gonna find Little Joe if it takes me the rest of my life,” Hoss said.

“What makes you think he’s still alive?”

“Because I just know, Adam, that’s why.”  Hoss glared at his older brother, daring him to even think his little brother was dead.

When they were home, which wasn’t but a night or two in between trips these past few weeks, it was Ben who paced the room, but tonight it was Hoss.  Maybe they were ready to give up, but he wasn’t.  The Bannocks may have vanished for the time being, but they’re still out there somewhere, and Joe was with them.

“I’ll find Little Joe.  I’ll leave in the mornin’, and I’ll come back after I find him and not a minute before.  You mark my words.”

“Hoss, wait,” Ben called out, but his son was done talking.

Adam and Ben stood silently as Hoss’ heavy footsteps crossed the room and headed up the stairs.  Ben stood from the table, making his way to his overstuffed chair by the fire, and Adam followed, planting himself close to his father on the settee.  “You still think there’s a chance?” Adam said.

“We’ve searched every day for the past month, and nothing.  No word, no sighting; nothing at all.  When we first found their camp, right after the boys told us what happened, we should have marched right in and demanded to see Joseph.”

“Pa, you know that wasn’t a possibility.  Maybe with the Paiutes, but not—”

“We should’ve done more,” Ben cut in.  “We should’ve gotten him out of there then.  But now—what do we do now?  Captain Avery at Ft. Meade won’t give me the time of day.  “One missing boy isn’t worth a war with the Bannocks,” he’d said.  “Well, it would be worth it if he had a son of his own.  I’ve written to his superior, but as of yet, no return answer.  Where do I turn next?  How do I get someone’s attention without starting a war of my own?”

“So you think Joe’s alive.”

“You know as much as I do, Adam.”

“That’s not what I asked.”  When there was no answer, he continued.  “Are you going to let Hoss go back out?”

Tears formed in Ben’s eyes, and he looked up and away from his oldest son.  Hoss wasn’t thinking straight, and he was apt to take unnecessary chances and get captured himself but how could he not let him go; not to try one more time when he held out hope his youngest might still be alive and still be praying to be rescued by his family; the family who had let him down.

“What choice do I have, son?  What if Joe is alive?  How could I live with myself if we all gave up now?”

The Bannocks made sure I knew my place.  I was the woman’s slave, and that was my fate for the rest of my life.  The woman had a name.  She was called Una, and I’m not sure why, but she tried to explain what her name meant, and if I understood her right, it meant she remembered her husband, but I was not allowed to speak her name.  I was not allowed to speak at all.

She called me Hok’ee.  She sat down beside me one day and tried to explain.  She held up three fingers.  I nodded that I understood.  White men did have a brain, although I’m sure I was the only one in camp who believed it.  She drew with a stick in the dirt—one man standing alone and two men running away.  She pointed at me, the man standing alone in the dirt.  Abandoned, left behind, I thought.  I nodded again.  I was the one left behind, left here to be her slave, while my two best friends went back home to their families and did what normal white boys do.

I stood up from my seat in the dirt.  My heart raced.  I walked away from her and faced the open plains, trying to steady my breathing.  It wasn’t getting me anywhere to think about what should be and what wasn’t.  My name is Joe Cartwright, not Hok’ee, and I shouldn’t have been the one left behind.  I didn’t do anything wrong.  How could I explain I wasn’t the one who shot that brave; the brave who was close to my age, who had healed enough to ride out on hunts with the other men while I stayed behind doing woman’s work all day every day with no chance of doing anything else for the rest of my life?

This was a life sentence, and because the brave lived, I lived.  I would need to think long and hard, planning my escape and keeping myself from getting killed, but as soon as the time was right, I would leave this place and never look back.

For the time being, I would do as I was told and not make waves.  Pa would be so proud.  I watched the camp closer now, and it wouldn’t take long before I knew everyone’s daily routine.  I would be aware of what every man and woman’s job was and where their children played.  I would know how many dogs roamed the camp that could spot me and bark.

Almost every day, men left camp to hunt or trap, and the women were constantly busy doing what needed to be done at camp.  They hung skins to dry in the sun, then they scraped them for days, making sure they were pliable and soft to the touch.  Some of the women were busy making new costumes for their husbands, themselves, or their children.  Most of the clothing was plain, while others were more decorated for special occasions.  They sat in groups.  They talked and laughed, but their hands never stopped sewing or beading, or fringing or scraping.

The women took pride in their work, but as always, Una was not invited to join in.  She was almost as much of an outcast as I was, although she at least had a warm lodge while my home was outside in the dirt, tied to a pole.

For whatever reason, Una was shunned by the others in the camp.  This meant she received no portion of the hunt for herself.  When an animal was butchered, it was divided up between each household, no matter whose husband, father, or brother had made the kill.  Una was forced to beg for their scraps if there was anything left after the children had fed their dogs.

If the hunt only brought rabbit or squirrel that day, she got nothing for there was none to spare.  If she didn’t eat, I didn’t eat.  Sometimes there was only enough for her, and I sat off to the side watching her savor the one or two bites she was given.

I was always tied securely at night and released in the morning for chores.  I gathered wood and chopped it, but I was never allowed inside her lodge, so I stacked it outside in neat piles.  She would then carry in what she needed for the night herself.

Every day, I would make numerous trips, carrying water up from the creek, and I had the unpleasant job of cleaning the hollowed-out gourd she used for a chamber pot.  But she also taught me the art of scraping hides if she was lucky enough to find one no one else wanted or needed and had been discarded behind someone else’s lodge.

Una would take me with her to dig up roots of plants, or there were times she’d carve the bark from the trees with her knife, and after she’d boiled these things down, it would be our meal for the day.  There were always leftover piles of carcasses out some distance from the lodges where the other women had discarded what they didn’t need.  Una needed tools like everyone else, and she scrounged for everything she could get her hands on.

I couldn’t believe she was serious the first time she pointed down to the animal remains.  I’d already covered my nose and mouth from the smell.  When I balked at touching the maggot-infested parts, her hand went immediately to her whip, and she sent it tearing across my back until I moved forward and did as I was told.

Evenings and nights were the hardest.  I was tied to my pole and left alone.  Sometimes I would see a father teaching his son as young as five years old how to use his own little bow for the first time.  They would stand together for hours practicing over and over until the young boy would finally learn the proper technique.

I watched again tonight as the father praised his young son for learning so quickly, the ways that would allow him to become a brave warrior and a good provider.  It wouldn’t be long before the young boy would be allowed to go on hunts with his father.

I pictured myself as that little boy standing proudly next to my own father as he taught me something new.  I missed my family so much this time of day that I could barely keep from falling apart.  I knew it had been too long now for them to attempt a rescue, but in the far reaches of my mind, I still held out a glimmer of hope that someday I might see them again.

Nights were becoming cooler even out here in this barren land where trees were obsolete, and the smoky haze-like mountains were barely visible off to the west.  Brown tufts of grass sprang out of dry, cracked ground, and even the stream lost its frothy luster as it meandered off to who knows where.

Since the days were still hot and I was only dressed in this breechclout, my skin had turned dark like the people I lived with.  My leg healed nicely thanks to Una’s diligence when I first arrived.  I sometimes thought back to those first few days and how kind she had been, caring for me day and night, making sure I would live.  I should have realized my fate when they didn’t kill me right off.  I guess you could say I was a little naïve the first time she pulled her whip, setting me straight as to my never-ending status within the camp.

But I did see the old Una periodically.  My feet had become callused, and it didn’t bother me to traipse over the countryside barefoot like it had those first few weeks.  I had definitely lost weight, even though I didn’t have my pants anymore to gauge myself by.  The two of us would go days at a time without eating anything except boiled roots or bark, but if there was a scrap of meat she’d begged from one of the other women, she’d begun to share with me even if we each only got one bite.

Sometimes I would lean back and dream it was a big steak dinner and I was sitting with Pa and my brothers.  I could picture Hoss sitting across from me, rubbing the palms of his hands together in anticipation before he picked up his knife and fork.  His face would light up, and his big blue eyes would shine brightly as soon as he dug into that first bite.  He’d run his peas into his potatoes and scoop them all up together.  Yeah—better it was me that got left behind rather than my brother, Hoss.  He wouldn’t like this at all.

Hoss tracked all day and slept in the woods at night.  He’d headed for the high mountain passes first, knowing they would be snowed in and impassable within the next couple of months, but he found nothing.  He got up every morning doing the same thing he’d done the day before.  Day after day, night after lonely night, he moved forward.  A new moon appeared in the sky, and he knew he’d been gone a month.  He’d grown weary, and it was time to start back home

He thought if he could find Red Hawk or Spotted Eagle, the two young Paiutes he’d befriended when he was just a boy, they might be able to help him.  They might know where the Bannocks had set up their new camp and maybe even join him in a raid to get his brother back, but in all of his wanderings, he saw no one.

Over the ridge stood a worn-out cabin showing a thin string of white smoke, a signal to Hoss his longtime friend who had a good heart, even though he often demonstrated a surly disposition to strangers was home.  In his younger days, Ol’ Dakota was known as the most successful trapper in all of Nevada.  He preferred to live alone and had made this side of the mountain his home.

“Better that way,” he’d said.  “No one botherin’ you when you don’t wanna be bothered.”

Squinting his eyes into narrow slits, when he saw a man traversing the mountain on horseback, he was glad to see it was Hoss Cartwright riding up and not some stranger or renegade Injun he’d have to deal with in a way that might not be according to the law.  Dakota pulled out a jug of his homemade brew and fixed enough rabbit stew for both of them.  They sat together in the warmth of the cabin, eating and drinking while Hoss explained the situation with his young brother’s capture almost two months ago.

“I ain’t found nothin’ to keep me goin’ in one direction or another,” Hoss said.

“I’ll keep a lookout, Hoss, but I ain’t seen no one ‘round these parts for months.”

Hoss thought Dakota seemed happy enough living by himself on the mountain, but he couldn’t imagine not having his family all under one roof, and with one member missing, his home wasn’t complete.  He worried himself constantly, wondering if Joe was even alive or if his father and brother were right and he was chasing a ghost.

“Nope,” he told himself time and again.  “Joe’s alive and someday I’ll find him.”

The day Hoss returned home, he rode slowly and dejectedly into the yard, pulling Chubb up before entering the barn.  No sooner than he could get down off his horse, Ben had come out of the house and gathered up the loose reins.  Adam heard him ride in. He set down his pail and headed out of the barn.  Hoss dismounted. Without saying a word, he started untying his bedroll and then stopped unexpectedly, dropping his chin to his chest.

Ben handed Adam the reins and slid his hand across the big man’s shoulders.  “It’s all right, son.  It’s all right.”

“No, it ain’t, Pa.  It ain’t all right.”  Hoss reached for his saddlebags and bedroll and walked toward the house and away from his family.

“Will you get Chubb settled?”  Ben asked his eldest son.

“Yeah.  I’ll be there in a minute.”

Hop Sing made a fresh pot of coffee and fixed Hoss something to eat.  Hoss had lost weight, and Ben could see the look of complete hopelessness in his son’s eyes and the uncharacteristic way he carried himself into the house.  “Son—”

“Just wait for Adam, Pa.  I only want to talk about this once.”

Adam took his time caring for the biggest gelding on the ranch.  He looked across the top of the stall where the smallest gelding stood.  Had he been right all along?  He’d said the words to Hoss he’d believed were true, but deep down inside, he’d always held hope he’d been wrong.  He brushed Chubb’s back harder and harder when he thought of what his youngest brother had endured before the relief of death took the pain away.  He knew how the Bannocks felt about the white man and how they prided themselves on intense forms of torture.

He set down the brush and leaned back against the side of the stall.  He knew how stubborn and quick-tempered Little Joe could be.  He prayed the boy had kept his mouth shut for once, and with any luck, he didn’t have to suffer long.  He straightened back up and patted Chubb on the rump.  He did the same for the pinto in the adjoining stall, then left the barn, not terribly anxious to hear what Hoss had to say.

They gathered in their usual places around the dining room table.  Hoss glanced at both men, then back down to the cup he held with both hands.  He’d let his family down.  He’d promised not to come home without Little Joe.  Hop Sing welcomed him home and set down a large plate of sandwiches in the middle of the table.  Hoss nodded his thanks to the Chinaman and even though he was hungry, he couldn’t eat a bite.  Ben poured a second cup of coffee and waited for Hoss to say something, anything.

“I looked everywhere; everywhere I could think of, Pa.  There ain’t no tracks.  There ain’t no trails.  There’s no sign or nothin’ I could follow.  I’ve been up and down mountains, through valleys and canyons that I thought were hidden from the white man and nothin’.”

He reached up and rubbed his hands down his face, then planted his elbows on the table.  Ben thought back to his conversations with Army majors and colonels and how they’d told him one white boy wasn’t worth stirring up the Indians, and here was Hoss, a one-man Army bound and determined to do it on his own.

“It’s like you said, Pa.  They’ve disappeared into thin air.  That’s the only thing I know for sure.  Besides that—” He shook his head.  “I’m sorry, Pa.”

“Stop right there, son.  There is nothing for you to be sorry about.  You did your best.”

“Well, my best weren’t good enough, was it?  I’m heading back out as soon as I get me a bath, a hot meal, and a night in a soft bed.  He’s out there, Pa.”

“Hoss— “

“Don’t neither of you say nothin’ else.  I’m gonna find that boy.  He’s countin’ on us.  I promised you I’d find him, and that’s exactly what I aim to do.”

Una had ponies of her own; not the best, rather ratty and old, but they were mine to tend.  After weeks of menial chores, she’d agreed to let me care for them.  I still had to finish my other jobs first, but at least I would be doing something worthwhile, something I enjoyed.  She kept me hobbled, of course, and I didn’t think that would ever change, but the horses were far enough away from camp that it might be my chance to escape.

She would always try to explain with her hands or draw pictures for me in the dirt when she wanted me to do something different.  I was slow at learning the language since I wasn’t allowed to speak, and she’d become frustrated with me, pulling the whip from her waistband and giving me quick, short lashes across my back.  “Hok’ee!” she’d yell, and then gibberish I didn’t understand would fly from her mouth.  I’d cover my face or the back of my head when her whip sliced sharply through my skin.

But the lashing stopped as soon as it started.  Something in Una had changed.  I could see in her eyes that she was feeling my pain, but it was her duty to keep me in line, making sure I always knew my place.  She’d study my back when welts appeared and shake her head like it was all my fault, and I guess in her way of thinking, it was.

She’d leave me standing there so everyone in camp could see, go off inside her lodge, and come back with a small leather pouch.  Grabbing hold of my arm, leading me around to the side of the lodge where we couldn’t be seen by the others, she’d spread some awful-smelling salve on my back.

She hit me less now than she had at the beginning.  When we’d first settled here, she was determined to set me straight, but it wasn’t long before I started to notice a pattern.  It was always worse for me when other women were watching, but when we were alone, when it was just the two of us, she took the time to draw in the dirt or show me with her hands so I could understand.

The men in the camp had nothing to do with me at all.  I was less than the dirt they walked on, but the women and children were different.  It was their job to tease and humiliate me every chance they got.  Young boys would run up and trip me while I carried a load of wood, laughing hysterically when I’d fall flat on my face.  When both hands were full, carrying buckets of water up from the stream they’d run past me, throwing dried horse dung in my buckets so I’d have to make the trip again.

The young girls were even worse.  They would take aim and throw sticks and rocks at me.  Their favorite game was to wait till my hands or arms were full and slip a snake or a mouse down the back of my clothes.

I made the mistake only once when I dropped my firewood and grabbed a girl’s arm.  It was the first time a snake had been dropped in my clothing.  I don’t even know which one was her mother, but every woman in the camp came at me.  I knew I’d be punished.

Shouting at me all at once, they stripped me of my breechclout and tied me spread-eagled to stakes on the ground.  Mothers whispered in their daughters’ ears, like I would understand, and the girls giggled and took off running.  I must have baked in the sun for an hour or more.  Sweat beaded and rolled off my body.  My heart pounded with anticipation.

When the girls returned, they held their hands behind their backs and circled me.  I watched each one of them as they pranced and laughed, making sure they kicked up the dirt until it found its way into my mouth and eyes.  When their mothers decided it was time, the girls were allowed to show me what they’d kept hidden.  Some had found little snakes, while others found bugs and lizards.

Lying naked in front of young girls was horrifying, but it didn’t seem to be an issue among the girls or their mothers.  Now their fun would begin, and I prayed I’d make it through their sick little game.

With the sun still blazing overhead, I lay flat on my back, unable to move a muscle on the hard-packed ground.  I could feel each and every little creature they’d dropped on my sweat-soaked body as they crawled and slithered down between my legs, across my chest, and down along my neck, looking for shade.  Seeing the panic in my eyes and watching me suffer proved most satisfying.

Women and children circled me like vultures, clapping and singing and laughing at my expense.  I didn’t know which I felt worse about: my nakedness or everything else.  After about an hour, they were tired of the game and returned to their lodges.  I’d been left staked and alone.

Una stood over me.  With sadness in her eyes, she pulled her knife from its sheath and cut through the rawhide, freeing me from the stakes.  She helped me to stand, and we walked to her lodge together.  I’d learned my lesson well.  Never touch, never speak, never do anything any other human would do.

The time had come for me to leave.  I’d been taunted and humiliated, day after day, week after week, until I decided I had to go now; now before the man known as Joe Cartwright was gone forever.  I was becoming Hok’ee, and it was up to me not to let that happen.  I forced myself to remain awake most of the night so I could work out a plan.

The men left early the next morning to hunt while the women did their normal morning chores.  I brought Una her water and left to tend the ponies.  This was it.  This was my chance, and I took it.  I’d brought a sharp tool of Una’s and cut through the rawhide that bound my ankles, vaulted on her best pony, and I was away from the camp in nothing flat.  Joe Cartwright was back.

I headed west toward the mountains and my home.  The further I rode, the farther I was from the camp.  I rode like the wind for a couple of miles, then slowed the old horse down to a nice, gentle lope.  I was on my way.  I almost giggled to myself, wondering why I thought this would be hard.  Why had I waited so long?

The Bannocks were becoming a thing of the past, and I was feeling proud of myself for finally taking the chance.  No more days spent wondering if I would be whipped or scolded for messing up menial chores.  No more being humiliated by women and children.  I was free and I was going home.

I kept the old boy at a decent pace until I heard the thundering sound of hooves approaching me from behind.  I kicked furiously and the pony’s sides, praying he had enough left in him to run once again, but he didn’t, and I slowed the poor animal to a stop.  It wasn’t his fault.  It was mine.  I was stupid to think I could actually get away when I was out in the open and could be seen for miles, which is exactly what happened.

I didn’t turn around again.  I stared at the mountains and waited until I was pulled from the animal’s back and grabbed by the hair, jerking my head back so my neck was taut, and a leather collar could be wrapped around and secured.

As I fought for each breath I took, my wrists were tied together in front of me with a thin string of rawhide.  A lead rope was fastened to the collar and held firmly by one of the braves.  He managed a steady pace on his horse while I was forced to keep up from behind.  Another man rode past me with my pony in tow.

I had ridden for miles; therefore, it was miles back to camp over hot, sandy terrain.  As calloused as they were, the soles of my feet were still in no shape for this kind of abuse, and any blisters that had formed were now giving way.  I knew if I fell, they would only drag me the rest of the way back, and when I soon began to falter, I heard the men’s laughter, which gave me the strength to stay upright a little while longer.

The continual pace in the heat of the day was taking its toll.  I feared things I thought I was seeing, but something told me they couldn’t be real.  Flashing pictures of my past crossed my mind, and when I tried to grab hold, they quickly faded away.  I could barely swallow, and my eyes burned with unshed tears.  I wasn’t going to make it past today, and I was ready to say my final prayer.

My feet slid out from under me, forcing my body to the ground, and without missing a beat, I was hauled behind the pony like a travois.  My back took the brunt of the fall, and I felt the skin burn away as I was dragged for what seemed like a lifetime across the ground.

The pony finally slowed, then came to a stop, filling my eyes with a layer of fine dust.  I couldn’t help but cough as I pushed myself up, making it onto my knees.  I tried to steady the pain when I looked up at the brave who sat atop his horse, grinning down at me, quickly jerking the rope attached to my neck.  My head fell to my chest, knowing I couldn’t get to my feet again and slowly I fell to the ground.

I felt very little pain as strips of cloth were removed from my back and replaced with new ones.  Her gentle hands and calming voice almost lulled me to sleep while she worked diligently, repairing the damage to my back.  She had control of my life and she had control of my pain.  My eyelids were heavy, my mind blurred, and before I would fully wake she would lift my head, placing the hollowed-out gourd to my lips, allowing me to drink.  It was an unfamiliar bitter taste but whenever I woke, I was given more of the numbing drug.

Day after day it continued; a routine pattern of laying herb-soaked pieces of cloth, which smelled like ones Hop Sing often used, followed by the foul-smelling salve I’d remembered from times in the past, which she’d pulled from her medicine bag.  An ever-present fire roared through my body, but as soon as the drug took effect, the pain became a distant memory.  My eyes slowly closed, taking me to another place where bizarre dreams often led to violent nightmares of men without faces, dragging me to the edge of the earth where I was released to demons, pulling me into their world of eternal fire and unrelenting pain.

Forever failing to free myself from their talon-like hands, I fell deep in a sea of terror but in the distance behind the constant noise and laughter, I heard her soothing voice murmuring the same sing-song words, bringing me back to the world of the living, and slowly sweeping away the images that had dominated my mind only moments ago.

But today my life changed.  The drug was taken away.

Tears filled my eyes as I tried to understand why.  How could she be so cruel?  Pain surfaced worse than ever, making me cry out and beg for relief when each hour that passed only added to my despair.  I was at the mercy of this woman called Una, who, with tears in her eyes, only shook her head no.

Her hand smoothed my hair from my face as she changed one cloth for another, wiping the continuous beads of sweat tracking evenly down my face, but it didn’t stop the pain, and I detested her touch.  Just another form of torture from the woman I once thought to be so gentle and kind.  Once again, the tables had turned, and I was powerless in every way.

There was to be no relief; no more losing myself in sleep since she’d taken away the only thing that made my life bearable.  As much as I pleaded, praying she would understand, tears seeped from my eyes when she turned her head away.  I lay there exhausted and praying for death as I cried for my father, who was never going to come.

I wanted to scream; tell her to get out and leave me alone.  I hated her now as much as I hated her people. Their only distraction from their miserable lives was watching me suffer.  Pain and humiliation at my expense was the game they played, and it would be played until the day I died.

It took another three days before the fire was brought to a mere simmer, and I could breathe without gasping for air.  She kept the same routine day after day, never leaving my side and never surrendering to my demands for the drug I’d craved.  I knew now why she had stopped, but if I’d had the strength, I would have killed for it then.

She’d tended the soles of my feet along with my back, and they were wrapped with some type of bandage.  I sure as hell wouldn’t be running now, and at this point, I hoped I could eventually walk.  I realized she wasn’t trying to kill me; she was literally trying to save my hide.  Her gentle ministrations made me think she was doing everything possible to keep me alive.  Maybe this was her only chance to keep a white boy as a slave, and if I escaped or, god forbid, died, she was left alone from now until the end of her life to fend for herself.

I wasn’t sure if being kept alive was the best thing.  I knew what awaited me outside this lodge when I healed up enough to work.  I was back to a life I hated; a life where I’d never be free.  My family wasn’t coming, and I would live here with Una and her people from now on.  I was eighteen years old, and that seemed like a very long time.

The weather had changed since my attempted escape, and a cool breeze hit my body as Una helped me walk outside for the first time in nearly a month.  I was weak, but within another week, I would be back doing my regular chores.  Pa always said things happened for a reason, but I was having a tough time knowing what those reasons might be.  I would live the life I’d been given and try not to ask, “Why me”?

She kept her arm wrapped around me, steadying my wobbly legs.  A few feet away, set a good-sized boulder, and she slowly guided me in that direction.  I reached out, putting my hand down first, then lowering myself to sit on the rock.  Una held out her hand, letting me know to stay put, and she headed back to her lodge.  When she returned, she brought a piece of clothing she was working o,n then sat on the ground beside me while she stitched pieces of the deerskin neatly together.

The monotonous, mind-numbing existence with the People was how my life was to be.  I would obey orders and do as I was told.  I would try and find the good in these people, even though I knew the taunting and humiliation would soon start again.

Weeks passed and life went on with no unusual events, but today there was news from another band or tribe, and a young boy rode excitedly through camp.  He shouted to all the people what he’d seen and what he knew to be the truth.  Of course, I was usually oblivious to the messages he would bring, but this time, there happened to be words I understood: pony soldiers.

The men gathered that evening in the smoking lodge in the middle of the camp.  I could smell the sweet fragrance of their pipes as the important men of the band held counsel.  Our lodge was set on the outskirts, far away from anyone else, but I could still tell something significant was happening.

I wouldn’t be allowed to know anything until Una was ready to inform me, and I went about my own business.  When my back was healed and the soles of my feet were as good as new, I was allowed to tend the ponies again.  While they grazed on harsh, bitter grass most of the day, it was my job to take two at a time down to the stream for water.  I’d checked their hooves and filed them when needed.  They had grown winter coats, and I hoped that before winter set in, I’d be given the same consideration and a bit more to wear than this breechclout.

I was out of the lodge and back sleeping under the stars.  Una felt a kindness towards me on some level, and she’d pushed out a bearskin from under the side of her lodge on the first cool night.  I wrapped it around myself, but at first light, I felt a tugging, and I realized her fear.  Would she be punished for treating me too much like a human being?  Were there limits for Una I hadn’t realized before?

She’d mellowed since my last ordeal.  Her whip never left her belt, although she always made sure it was there.  Maybe in her eyes, I’d become the kind of person I was sent here to be.  I noticed how the rest of the people treated her.  It seemed odd to me that when the rest of the camp shunned her, she was allowed to keep a slave like me.

It was early morning and cold when the bearskin was pulled back into the lodge.  I wrapped my arms around myself and curled up tightly, trying to keep warm, but the next thing I knew, Una was standing next to me, kicking at the soles of my feet.  I turned abruptly, then tried to give her my best smile, but this was no way to start the day.

“Hok’ee,” she said.  She raised her hands, palms up; her way of telling me it was time to get up.

I rubbed my hands over my eyes, got up off the ground, and realized what was happening in camp.  Lodges were coming down, and she needed me to get busy with hers.  Within a couple of hours, our pack horses were loaded, our own ponies mounted, and we were traveling northwest, back toward the mountains.

I didn’t know if Una thought the temptation to bolt would be too great for me to resist, or if it was just for show so the rest of the band would see she was doing things properly.  Una tied my ankles together under the horse’s belly and my hands behind my back.  This was a horrible way to ride, and I had to sit almost erect on my pony’s back, but this time she allowed me a blanket, which I tried to thank her with a smile rather than words. I was forbidden to speak.

We traveled all day.  I remained on the pony’s back until we stopped for the night.  Una was forced to treat me with indifference since we were in the presence of the other women and children.  She’d become lax about keeping me tied at her lodge, but during the trip, I found it to be a whole different story, and we were right back where we started.  I couldn’t help but notice the looks I got from the rest of the women.  The more I was treated like a slave, the more apt the children were to taunt me and kick at me or throw rocks and sticks at me.

When we stopped for the night, I was tied before gathering sticks to build her a fire.  We’d begun to share meals together the last few weeks, but I was forced off to the side, away from her and away from the fire.  It was what had to be done, and I realized that now.  Una and I didn’t eat that night.  We didn’t eat the next day.

We rode on forever, almost twice as far as we had before.  The men rode ahead, looking for a place to settle, and when we finally stopped, I scanned the area where we’d set up our home.  It was a beautiful sight.  We were back in the mountains with dense forests of cedar and pine and a vast open meadow close by.  There was also an ice-cold stream, and the absence of wind and dust, which blew on the plains.

It took no time at all for poles to be set and lodges pulled tightly around them.  Cook fires were started, and children played.  Dogs barked as men walked through camp carrying squirrels and rabbits for their wives to prepare.  By day’s end, you’d have thought we’d been there forever.

The ponies needed a place to graze, and they had a fine meadow in this new land.  It would serve them well after the never-ending search for grass at our last camp.  There’d be a lot more game also, which was better for everyone, especially for Una and me.

It was cooler in the mountains, and in no time we’d see the first flakes of snow.  Grabbing my arm and pulling me around to the side of her lodge, Una handed me a gift.  A long pair of deerskin pants.  I nodded a thank you, but she turned away quickly, leaving me standing there alone.

I felt rather silly holding pants I couldn’t put on, but my ankles were tied, and I wasn’t about to untie them myself.  If I got caught, no matter what the reason, there would be hell to pay.  I’d finished my morning chores, so I sat down by the side of the lodge with my new pants lying on my lap.

She came out of the lodge calling my name, and when her eyes suddenly narrowed, I knew she was mad.  She reached down and snatched up the pants.  I stood and reacted by grabbing her arm.  I think I scared her, and before I knew it, she’d pulled the whip from her waist.  I pleaded to her with my eyes, pointing repeatedly down to my feet.

It finally registered, and not knowing if she would have used the whip or not, she tucked it back through her belt and shoved the pants at my chest.  Looking at me like it was my fault I was tied, she pulled her knife from its sheath and cut through the rawhide.

With arms crossed, waiting, I gave her a sheepish grin before pulling them on.  They were perfect, soft, and warm next to my skin.  I still didn’t have a shirt or shoes, but this was one hell of a start.

As winter approached, a warm pair of moccasins and a deerskin shirt soon followed.  I didn’t know if it was being back in the mountains or the fact I was wearing pants again, but I felt more like a man than I had in a very long time.  Once again, the thought of escape entered my mind.  The winter months would be hard and not the proper time, my tracks too easy to follow, but come spring, after the snow melted and buds formed on the trees, I would rethink my plans.  In the mountains, there were places to hide.  There were boulders and trees, hidden caves and deep ravines.

It proved to be a hard winter, and I’d about given up hope of seeing my family again.  I became an obedient slave and was resigned to doing my work without complaint.  I was allowed to build a lean-to, and I was given two bearskins to keep me from freezing to death.  It was still bitterly cold, but I managed to survive.  Food was always in short supply for Una and me, and after the coming of winter, it was close to nil.  If there was no leftover meat for the two of us, we’d go without anything for days at a time.  There was too much snow to dig for roots, although there were times I couldn’t stand it any longer, and I’d pull off bark and boil it down, so we’d have something to warm our bodies and end the constant pangs of hunger.

Spring was a blessing for us all.  The days warmed, and the hunting and trapping became easier.  The women and children ventured out of their lodges, and many activities that had been put on hold for the long winter months sprouted again throughout the camp.

As I thought back over the past few months, I realized how much of my manhood I’d given up to become the person I was expected to be, but not everything inside had been destroyed.  With the onset of spring, a fire started to burn inside me, and I was ready to take charge of my life once again.

I hated to think what would happen this time if I were caught attempting to escape.  I’d barely survived the last go-round, and the next form of punishment would undoubtedly be worse.  I would have to outrun and out-hide the best of them.  Maybe I would have more luck on foot than trying to steal a pony.  Maybe Una would keep my absence a secret, but at what cost to her?  I couldn’t imagine what they would do to her when they discovered I was gone.  Would they blame her for not keeping me tied?  I’d really have to think this through.  I couldn’t let my escape bring her harm.

The next few days passed routinely, and I went about my normal set of chores.  I did them first, as always, then went to tend the four ponies.  I mumbled silly nothings to Una’s pony every time I took him for water in order to familiarize him with my voice in case I decided horseback would be a smarter way to go than on foot.

I held the reins in my hands and walked casually, mumbling quietly so no one would be the wiser.  Not seeing or hearing the children hiding down by the stream, watching my every move and listening to my forbidden voice, would wreak havoc for the remainder of the day, but I was oblivious, and after the second set of horses drank their fill, I took them back to their meadow.  I felt bold about my escape plan and headed back home with a silly grin on my face.

Every woman in camp stood with their children in front of our lodge.  I stopped suddenly; every nerve in my body became alert.  I looked for Una and found her standing away from the group with her head bowed down to the ground. Had the children overheard me and run back to tell their mothers?  Had I been so full of myself that I became unaware and let down my guard?

The women circled me like vultures.  I saw the look in their eyes.  I stood perfectly still.  A sharp kick suddenly came from behind, and I fell forward, landing hard on my hands and knees.  My legs were pulled out from under me, and I was face down in the dirt.  Out came their whips, slashing across my back and legs until a leather collar with a rawhide leash was secured around my neck.

Hands grabbed at my waist, pulling me up from the dirt, and knives were drawn from their sheaths.  My new shirt and pants were slashed and ripped from my body.  Traces of blood ran down my chest, arms, and legs.  I coughed and I gagged as I tried to pull the collar away, but my hands were seized and tied behind my back.  The children’s white, even teeth showed against their dark native skin as they laughed and danced in circles, clapping and singing out with pride and anticipation of what would come.

The group of women marched me to the center of camp, leaving me to stand in front of a tall wooden pole set deep in the earth.  A young woman stood on the shoulders of another and attached the leash to the top of the pole.  My neck stretched.  My heels lifted high off the ground.

My hair had grown longer, and I could feel it sweeping across my shoulders when my head was tilted back, and my face pointed straight to the cloudless sky.  The women had done their job well, and I gasped for air and tried hard to swallow.

The women were finished and returned to their lodges.  I was strung up like a carcass, and I became the children’s entertainment for the rest of the day.  They were eager to get on with the game, throwing rocks and hitting me with sticks, then slamming their bodies into me, crushing me into the pole, and trying every trick they knew to make me lose my footing.  When I didn’t cry out and I didn’t let on how humiliated and exhausted I was, they finally got bored and left me alone.

It wasn’t long before the sun disappeared and heavy, dark clouds took its place.  I stared at the ever-changing sky.  I couldn’t shift my weight, and my calves were in knots.  I was so tired of it all; tired of living in the dirt, tired of eating people’s scraps, tired of being constantly brought to my knees and humiliated.  Was I ready to die?  Was I ready to end it all?

It started to rain …

All I had to do was let my legs go slack.   Hung by this collar in a Bannock camp somewhere in the mountains of northern Nevada, having no doubt Pa and my brothers had given up their search long ago.  There would be no rescue parties out looking for one lost white boy who had been captured nearly a year ago, who was too tired to fight any longer, and was ready to make this his last day.

I closed my eyes.  Rain pelted my face.  The sound of hooves pounded the ground as the men rode back into camp.  They moved in close to me, kicking up mud, and whooping and laughing at the disobedient white boy.  What had I done to deserve punishment this time?  Was it their turn to play the game now?  I didn’t have enough energy to care.

Riding up close so the rump of this horse hit my shoulder, the brave sent me spinning.  I tried to keep my toes touching the ground when he sliced through the binding that held my wrists, and snap, the leash was gone.  I grabbed the pole and slid to the ground, but I hung on tightly when my body began to shudder with spasms.  Tremors seized both legs, making it impossible for me to stand.  It wasn’t long before I felt someone’s presence, and I lifted my head away from the pole.

I heard her voice, her soothing words, and then she gently spread a blanket across my shoulders.  She told me to stand, and I pulled myself up the pole.  I wrapped my arm around her shoulder.  She stood patiently until I was ready, and we crossed the camp.

She lowered me to the ground on the side of her lodge under the protection of my lean-to.  I was finally out of the rain, but I shivered, wrapping the blanket tighter around me, as I curled tightly in a ball.  She went back inside her lodge but returned holding a small gourd in her hand.  She bent down next to me and held the warm soup to my lips.

The camp was quiet now; even the dogs had found shelter.  The rain nearly stopped, but small rivulets made their way down the side of Una’s lodge.  As soon as I’d dodge one, another found its way down my back.  I’m not sure why I cared.  I was already soaked to the skin.

Feeling something besides water, I jerked forward, thinking it was an unwanted animal looking for shelter.  When I turned back to make sure it was gone, I realized it was Una motioning me.  I looked at her with uncertainty, and she motioned again, so I rolled under the loose edge of her lodge.

She stood over me and pointed where she wanted me to sit.  Reaching down, she took the wet blanket from across my shoulders and hung it up close to the fire.  I shivered as it slipped across my skin, but she handed me another.  I wrapped it around my shoulders, but I wasn’t sure if I shivered from the cold or the fear of being inside her lodge.

She handed me more water to drink, but by the time I finished, she was sitting in front of me with a knife in her hand.  With my eyes never leaving the pointed tip, I watched it come toward me, then carefully sawed through the collar still choking my neck.  I brought my hands out from under the blanket and felt the raw skin the collar had left behind.  Setting the knife down on the ground between us, she reached for a pot she had sitting in hot coals.  She filled me a bowl and one for herself.  It was only roots and leaves and a small amount of bear fat, but I drank till the bowl was empty.

For the first time since I’d lived with these people, I was sitting upright inside a lodge instead of lying flat on my belly.  And for the first time, I was able to notice all the different items that were kept inside a lodge.

Everywhere I looked, deerskin bags and different-sized pouches were hanging neat and orderly, making use of all the space available.  A fancy costume, which hung off to my left, was beautifully decorated with beading and fringe and a bright symbol painted on the front of the tunic.  I wondered if it had been her wedding gown.  Did it hold a special place in her heart?  Even though it was similar to the ones I’d seen the other women wear for celebrations, I had never seen this one on Una.

After picking up her knife and sliding it back into its sheath, she reached for another pot.  She dipped a cloth in the heated water and scooted closer.  With one hand, she held my chin.  She cleaned my face with the other.  I think she was satisfied with the outcome, but I didn’t want to stop there.

I raised my hand to my face and knew I was in desperate need of a shave.  I pointed to the knife she’d just put away.  I couldn’t just reach for it myself.  I pulled at the hair on my face, and once again, I pointed to the knife.  Now she understood, but I saw the guarded look in her eyes.  She hesitated only briefly, then slid it out from the sheath.

I kept my smile to myself as I watched her watching me.  She seemed truly fascinated, seeing a year’s worth of growth fall in a neat little pile.  I almost found a reason to smile.  I’d thought about what Adam would look like after a year of beard growing.  I scraped off as much as I could.  Running my hand back over my face, guessing I’d done all I could, I smiled at her and handed her back the knife, and, for the first time since I’d come to this camp, she smiled at me.

She lowered her eyes—embarrassed?  I didn’t know what to think.  Was she embarrassed to show a natural emotion—a moment of happiness in this miserable place?  I wanted to reach out to her, tell her it wasn’t the end of the world, and to be happy, even if it was only for a few moments of her life.

But I was tired—incredibly tired.  My body ached, and I just needed to lie down and try to get some of my strength back before the sun came up again tomorrow.  It had been a long day, and I knew it was time for me to leave her lodge.  When she finally looked up, I pointed to my chest and then to the side of her lodge.  She shook her head back and forth.

She lowered the blanket from my shoulders and wrung out a clean, wet cloth.  She scooted closer to me; our knees almost touched.  Starting with my neck, she tried to soak away the dried blood where the collar had been.  As gently as she’d been with my face and neck, she moved on, removing the mud and the caked-on blood from each of my wrists.

Because I’d only bathed in cold streams, I savored every moment of the warm water touching my skin.  I closed my eyes, taking pleasure in the soothing, even sensual touch of another human being.  I was living a dream.

Motioning me to lie on my stomach, I gladly did as she asked.  Lying on numerous layers of bearskins and considering the number of welts and cuts scattered across my back and legs, I almost fell asleep as she took great pains to clean each one.

Next, she pulled out the foul-smelling salve she’d used before, so I lay as still as I could while she smoothed it over any areas she thought necessary.  Her fingers kneaded the tight muscles in my shoulders, then she manipulated my calves until the memory of today’s tribal game was a thing of the past.

My eyelids grew heavy; I was floating.  I lay unmoving on the soft layers of bearskins and followed her with my eyes when she stood and moved about without making a sound, returning the things she’d used back where they belonged.

She crossed the room and stood over me, then covered me with a bearskin, pulling it up over my shoulders.  She spoke a few words before she moved to the other side of the fire and lowered herself to the ground, covering up also.  I didn’t know what would happen to either of us if I were found inside this lodge, but I was too tired to move.  I was so warm and content that I fell asleep.

Before the light of day, I felt a hand on my shoulder.  It was time for me to leave.  I nodded that I understood and slipped out under the side of the lodge into the gray of the cold, damp morning.  I sat under my lean-to and thought of Una.

If circumstances had been different, if she weren’t Bannock and I weren’t her white slave, would she care for me?  Would I care for her?  Those thoughts ran through my mind, and as ridiculous as they were, I couldn’t help but wonder.

My thoughts came to a sudden end when people started emerging from their lodges, and the day began.  The rain from the day before was gone, and blue skies prevailed.  Cook fires were started, and like always, I started ours before I headed to the creek for fresh water.  My legs felt normal again with no lingering aches or spasms, which brought my thoughts back to Una.

The day progressed as it usually did, and by the time the sun set, I was ready for bed.  I crawled under the bearskin and leaned my back against the lodge for warmth, and again, the flap was raised.  I looked at her with trepidation as she motioned me into her lodge.  Again, she showed me where to sit.

Common sense told me I shouldn’t be there, that it could only lead to trouble for us both.  She lowered herself in front of me and slid the bearskin cover from my shoulders.  I studied her closely this time, how different she looked in the low light of the fire.  She appeared younger, more fragile, as if I was seeing her soft, delicate features for the first time.

She knelt down on her knees and reached for her braid.  She loosened the weave on one and did the same with the other.  Her fingers worked the hair apart until a mass of long, silky hair fell loose around her shoulders.  She pushed it all behind her and removed the sheath from her belt.

I was uneasy, anxious.  Blood raced through my body as she slowly slipped the opening of her dress over one shoulder, then the other, revealing her delicate collarbone and then her soft, smooth breasts.  Realizing I was staring, I quickly shifted my gaze back to her dark, doe-like eyes, which only drew me closer to her world.  She stood up slowly and loosened the strip of rawhide that served as a belt.  Her dress slipped down slowly, exposing her slender frame.

I was shaken at how thin she was; how this life as an outcast had taken its toll.  I thought of how many days we’d endured with only scraps of food.  How we managed to survive anyway, day after miserable day.  As different as our lives should have been, mine had become equal to hers.

I realized for the first time since I’d been captured, I had no bindings at all.  This was my chance to escape; my chance to run; instead, I stood up in front of her, mesmerized as she reached out for my hand and placed it firmly against her breast.

I’d seen this woman every day for months, but I‘d never thought of her in this way until last night.  A woman with needs the same as mine—the same needs as any human being.  A need to be cared for—a need for human touch.  I saw a hunger in her eyes.  I saw the need.

Her breast felt soft and tender in the palm of my hand, but I hesitated to move.  Even though I sensed my own needs, I also sensed fear.  I wanted to touch every part of this woman, and I wanted her to touch me.

When I raised my hand and cupped her face, she stepped forward and circled my waist with her arms. I brushed my lips across her cheek and down her neck, feeling an instant response as her body trembled next to mine.  I lowered her to the ground, and we sank deep into the soft piles of fur beneath us.  With the absence of white man’s foreplay, she removed my breechclout, quickly guiding me inside her.  I tried, but I couldn’t hold back, and my immediate performance couldn’t have satisfied her at all.

My heart raced, and I flung my arm across my forehead.  Una lay alongside me; her hand moved slowly across my chest.  Minutes after I’d caught my breath, she was reaching for me again.  I raised her up; I pulled her on top of me, and she took me inside her again.

We lay side by side.  I cradled her close, and her head rested on my shoulder; our needs had been met.  I prayed she would give me more than a minute to recover if she wanted to go again, but for the moment, she seemed quite content, and so was I.

Una had tears in her eyes.  I ran the back of my fingers down the side of her face, and I smiled, but my smile was not returned.  As much as I wanted to stay with this woman for the rest of the night, I knew it was time to go.  Maybe another time, when the demand wasn’t so great, I could slow her down and show her a side of lovemaking she was unaccustomed to.

I reached for my breechclout, slipped it back on, and pointed to the side of her lodge.  She shook her head no and pulled me back alongside her.  She covered us both with the bearskin.  Our legs and arms entwined, and before long, we were both sound asleep.

Dry, calloused hands grabbed my arms, yanking me out from under the warmth of the bearskin and away from Una.  I heard her scream and scramble to get away, but when I struggled to turn back to help, a knife scraped up my neck and caught right under my chin.  The blade nicked my skin and before I could stop what was happening, a new thicker collar with the same damn leash was slapped tightly around my neck.

I grabbed at the collar as I’d done before, but my hands were yanked away as I gulped helplessly for tiny fragments of air.  Blood stained my hands, and my frantic coughing stopped when I was kicked hard from behind, sending me flat to the ground.

I was pulled up by the leash, and my hands automatically went to the collar again.  I was pulled outside and felt the cold pre-dawn air hit my warm, half-naked body.  While one man towed me across the camp, the other pushed me from behind.

Although I had a pretty good idea of where we were going, my hair fell forward and covered my eyes as I tried to see my way in the early morning light.  Goosebumps covered my rail-thin body as I stumbled helplessly till we reached our destination.  There were no poles standing erect like yesterday, but we were heading for the same spot in the center of camp.

When we stopped, I was immediately shoved flat to the ground.  A moccasined foot pressed hard against my back, making sure I didn’t try and move.  I couldn’t see anything except his other foot standing close to my face, but I heard him joke and laugh to his friend each time he’d give a swift jerk of the leash, and I’d gag and cough all over again.

I knew about fear; I’d been scared of many things in my life, but this time was different; different than yesterday and different than the day I’d tried to escape.  I’d done the unthinkable, and so had Una.  If I’d only left the lodge sooner.

My hands were pulled behind me and tied tight.  As the wet rawhide dug into my raw wrists that Una had tried to repair just a few hours ago, I prayed they would leave her alone; prayed it was only me they were after.  But there was a commotion behind me.  I tried to move my head, but the leash was jerked tight.  I heard sobbing, and my body flinched when she was thrown to the ground against me.

I couldn’t grab the collar to relieve the pressure.  I was hoisted straight up from the ground by the leash.  I saw stars that weren’t there, and I began to sway.  The brave slackened the leash and grabbed hold of my arm, steadying me against his muscular frame.  I heard his laughter as I blinked again and again.  I wasn’t naïve; he knew exactly what he was doing, and this was all part of the game.

Una was pulled up from the ground, and the same two men stood her directly in front of me.  Tears slipped from her eyes, but I held mine in check.  I had to stay strong.  I was powerless to help her, but I would act like a man, and if that meant my untimely death, so be it.

They had been kind enough to dress her, though she was barefoot, and her hands were also tied behind her.  They pushed us together, face to face, until there was not a morsel of air left between us.  Long strips of dripping wet rawhide were wrapped tightly around us from our chests down to our ankles.  We didn’t dare move, or we would have landed like a felled tree.  We were tied so tightly together, we had to alternate our breathing.

Men, women, and children ventured out of their lodges as the new day began.  Cook fires were started, and men rode off on their ponies to hunt.  Dogs barked and children played.  I’m sure we were noticed, but we were paid no mind.  Were we to stand like this till the men returned?  Had Una seen this done before?  Was she aware of our fate?

She rested her head on my chest, and the brave standing guard jerked on her leash, pulling her head away and challenging us to keep our balance.  She tried to look up at me, but we were tied too close together.

We stood there as one, smelling the food that was cooking in large kettles and watching the day begin.  It was a given that we wouldn’t eat or drink anytime soon.  I had no idea how long they would leave us in this ridiculous position, but I prayed it wouldn’t be longer than either of us could stand.

The voices got louder as the camp came to life, but no one came near us.  The women started forming groups and doing their chores together; activities where Una was never allowed.  I closed my eyes, trying to block it out, but I couldn’t help hearing the scraping of various hides or women talking among themselves while their children ran and played.  Just a normal day in a Bannock camp.

We stood this way for hours, and I knew I couldn’t hold myself up much longer.  I had to relieve myself, but my hips were pressed tightly to Una, and I didn’t know what to do.  I knew this was part of their entertainment, my total discomfort, and maybe my ultimate humiliation.

Having relieved herself earlier, I’d felt the warmth, splashing against my feet, and even though I held off as long as I could, eventually I had to let go.  I knew it was soaking her dress, her legs, and her feet too.  I didn’t have to wait long before I heard arrogant laughter from the guard.  I shot him a look I should have kept to myself.  He jerked the leash this way and that, making it nearly impossible for us to stay on our feet.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered to Una, knowing those two words might end my life.

Humiliation was their game.  How far would they go?   How much more could we take?  Would the white slave eventually cry out, begging for his life to end?  Didn’t they realize nothing fazed me now?  What the hell else could they possibly do that hadn’t been done before?

The rawhide had long since dried, and I was helpless to ease Una’s pain.  If either of us moved or even breathed at the wrong time, the thin strips cut deeper into her soft, tender skin.  I tried to keep my mind off last night when our bodies joined together as one.  I’d felt so alive, I never wanted it to end.  But here we were now, and I knew we would never be together again.

I opened my eyes after my head had fallen forward, and the leash was quickly jerked back by the guard.  I heard my stomach growl loudly, maybe in protest since I couldn’t speak, and I almost laughed out loud.  I was so tired and I was becoming slap-happy, and this wasn’t the time or place.  My legs were growing weaker every hour we stood tied together, and I felt myself starting to sway, catching myself just in time before I took her down to the ground with me.

I wondered if it was possible to fall asleep on my feet.  The noise in the camp was growing louder, even though I hadn’t heard the men ride back in yet.  Mothers were calling out for their children, and I watched as they all came running past us as if we weren’t even there.  No rocks—no sticks.  I was somewhat confused.  Were they saving up for later, or was this it?  Make us stand here until we both pass out—then what?

Women emerged from their lodges in their finest costumes, ones like I’d seen inside Una’s lodge last night.  They were painted with bright, colorful symbols with beadwork running throughout.  They gathered their children inside their lodges, and when they emerged again, they were also dressed in their finest.  A celebration was going to take place at our expense.  More than likely, Una was already aware, and therefore, she knew what to expect, but I was left to wonder.

Her legs were starting to give out and I could feel the strain on my back.  I nudged her slightly with my knee, and she managed to stand back up straight, but within minutes, she was starting to fade once again.  Even though she was a very small woman, there was no doubt I could feel every ounce of her weight.  My legs were tied tightly to hers with no way to spread my feet further apart.  We weren’t going to last much longer.

In the distance was the faint sound of hooves—

As they rode into camp, men whooped and hollered, raising their bows high above their heads.  One brave reached behind him to loosen the ties, then pushed the huge eight-point elk off the rump of his mount.  Women came running and greeting their men before grabbing the elk’s antlers and dragging him away.

After the men sent a group of young boys off to care for their ponies, they left for their lodges to dress for the celebration or execution, I wasn’t sure which.  Una was practically limp now, and it took every bit of strength I had in me to hold us both up.  My legs were shaking, and painful spasms wracked through my shoulders and back.

I was light-headed and drop after drop of salt-burning sweat dripped into my eyes.  I tried to suck in more air, and I locked my knees tight.  Then I saw the brave who’d been left to guard us pull his knife from its sheath.  He slit through the strips that bound us together and I stood alone, watching Una fall away from me.  I started to bend down, but the guard cautioned me to stay back, then jerked her leash until she stood once again.

He nodded to a man across the way then slit through the rawhide on both our wrists.  With the tip of his knife, he marked two Xs on the ground, then pushed Una down on top of one and me on top of the other.  He handed us each a small tool shaped much like a shovel.  I watched as Una started to dig, so I followed her lead.

When the holes were deep enough, a second man came to assist the guard.  They each took hold of a leash and towed us both to the rear of the camp, where extra lodge poles were stored.  Although I didn’t know if either of us had the strength left to lift one up, I figured the whole pole thing had to happen at some point.

With shaky, almost worthless legs, we tried our best to keep from falling.  I knew better than to help Una, so I concentrated on just keeping myself on my own two feet.  Next, we were ordered to each pick up a pole and carry it back to the holes we’d dug.  After we had settled our poles in the ground, we moved the dirt back in place.  I saw the guard glance across the camp and nod his head again.

My leash was tied loosely to my pole, and Una’s to hers.  Our wrists were once again tied behind our backs, but our feet were left free.  I was so tired I wanted to back up and lean my whole body against the damn pole, but Una stood perfectly still.  If she didn’t back up, I knew I better not either.

The guards were finished with us, and we were left alone.  Una mumbled something to me but of course, I didn’t understand.  I wondered if it was an apology.  I wondered if she thought it was all her fault that this had happened to us.  I looked at her and shook my head, but I didn’t know if she knew what I meant.  I’d been in this camp so long I could have easily learned the language, but without being able to speak and not being spoken to, I was at a loss, and I didn’t know more than a few useless words.

A drum sounded, deep and rhythmic.  The festivities were soon to begin.  Men appeared from their lodges dressed in their own bright costumes with feathers tied from their headbands and their faces painted with black and red stripes.  Red paint or some kind of dye in their hair, along with bear fat, allowed it to stand straight up from the tops of their heads.

Torches were lit and burned brightly in a semicircle around the center of camp, and a large bonfire was started a few yards in front of us.  I could smell the freshly slaughtered elk being prepared over cookfires, and soon everyone would gather together for their evening meal.  I ran my tongue across my bottom lip.  I was so dry, so desperately thirsty that even the smell of meat cooking made my stomach turn.  I should have savored the smell, but tonight that wasn’t the case.

I was so weak; I didn’t know how much longer I could remain on my feet.  Una looked worse; she was totally spent.  Her head hung forward.  His chin rested on her chest, and her white, parched lips were slightly parted.  I could hear her raspy breathing as her chest moved slowly in and out.  The collar was restricting her breathing, if she could just stand up straight—

My heart sank.  I swallowed the lump in my throat when every man, woman, and child in the camp started walking our way.  They gathered themselves around the large bonfire, bringing their carved-out bowls of food along with them.  For the People, it was a festival, a celebration.  For the two of us, it was the end of our miserable existence.

I tried looking away, ignoring what was happening, but it was no use.  I’d vowed from the beginning to keep a look of fear contained in front of people whose only pleasure was to inflict unreasonable amounts of hurt.  I looked into the eyes of every man, woman, and child as they moved like pack animals, inching their way closer, circling the fire, then fanning themselves out as the crowd grew in numbers.

With their hunger now satisfied, the game would begin.  The men separated themselves, forming a tight circle facing the center, while the women and children backed away, giving them plenty of room for whatever came next.  Between the torches and the fire, the camp glowed brightly, like the beginning of a new day.  In the background, the low beat of a drum kept perfect time with the beating of my heart.

But the beating quickly grew to a deafening level as men began their native dance.  I watched each brave closely.  Their movements were lively and bold; chanting loudly as they lowered their lance to the ground, and then high above their heads; back to the ground then off to the side, turning in constant circles, stepping higher each time around.

I didn’t know what it all meant, although I’m sure Una did.  I held my head high and kept my eyes straight ahead, and before long, women and children were allowed to join in the dance, and the screeching roar of voices doubled in volume to a level that echoed vibrantly through the silence of the mountains.  Women wailed and children blew hand-carved whistles as they jumped alongside their parents in a state of frenzied joy.  It was definitely a gala event, but as suddenly as it had started, the drums stopped, and everyone stood still.

I hated these people.  I hated my life.  I hated the waiting.

My heart pounded heavily against my chest as a young brave walked toward us.  I could sense the hatred in his eyes and in the bright light of the fire; I could see the angry red scar on his shoulder.  It was him, the one who’d been shot.  He pulled his knife as he walked closer still.

An overpowering feeling of fear raced through my entire being, bringing the chill of death’s grip, like demons that surfaced in nightmares.  This was my nightmare, only this time it wasn’t a dream; this time I was awake with no one to step in to force them away.

He stood directly in front of me–glaring at me, but I held my ground and didn’t let my eyes leave his.  He raised his knife, and he moved unexpectedly, slashing through Una’s leash.  She had nothing left.  She fell helplessly to the ground.

He motioned to the guard, and with the knife, a mere extension of his hand, he pointed down at her.  He backed away, directing the guard to take her away.  The man reached down, taking hold of her wrist.  He dragged her limp body across the camp with no sense of decency or remorse.  I stood silently watching until she was passed the fire and out of sight.

I looked back at the brave with the scar.  How could he be so cruel?  She didn’t deserve that kind of vile, loathsome treatment.  She was human, not an animal being led to slaughter.  I wanted vengeance in the worst possible way.  I wanted to see him suffer.  I wanted to drive a lance straight through his heart; instead, I stood perfectly still.  I awaited my fate.

The brave walked behind me, slicing away the rawhide from my wrist, leaving my arms to fall limp at my sides.  Then, moving back in front of me, I felt the force of his anger when his strong fingers took hold of my chin, and with the tip of his knife, he pointed to the scar on his shoulder.

Pulling pieces of rawhide from his waistband, he tied one around my chest and another around my legs, securing me tightly against the pole.  With his eyes focused back on mine, he brought the knife up toward my face and sliced through the thick leather collar.

This time, a thin, string-like piece of rawhide was placed firmly up under my chin and secured again around the pole.  He screamed words of anger in my face before he turned to the people and raised his lance over his head. Drums started pounding again with their deep booming rhythm as men, women, and children repeated their ritual dance.

This was it.  My time on earth had come to an end.  I thought of Pa and my brothers and how they would never know what had happened to me.  There was no doubt they’d already pronounced me dead, even though in my mind I could picture the three of them riding into this secret valley; guns firing into the night sky, and then rescuing me from the demons and taking me home alive.

My smile gave way to sadness.  It was only a dream.

The children were allowed first go.  They threw rocks and sticks and then scraps of food and bones from their dinner, which they threw with elation at every part of my body.  Leftover stew was smeared on my face and in my hair, then dripped down my chest and my back.  The bigger boys came up and kicked my shins, stepped on my toes, or elbowed me in the gut.  One look at the expression on my face and the younger ones found their antics exceptionally funny, and along with their snickers and giggles, they were quick to imitate.

The women beamed with excitement for their turn at me, and after due course, they sent their children away.  The women came forward as one.  Some carried tools; tools they used for everyday jobs.  They found joy and pleasure in scraping them along the front of my chest until small droplets of blood appeared.

A young woman stood in front of me, dipping her finger in my blood and painting it across my eyelids and lips, while the next one would spit in my face.  I was tied so tight to the pole that I was forced to endure anything and everything they did.  I didn’t know what kind of ritual this was.  I didn’t know what it all meant, but just when I’d gotten used to the pattern, it changed.

A small group of younger women stood shoulder to shoulder in front of me, blocking my view and the view of the rest of the people.  They moved in tighter together, then, taking turns, they each ran their hands between my legs.  I couldn’t turn my head, and I continually had to look in the eyes of those who found pleasure in shaming me.  A girl, probably younger than I, reached into my breechclout and stroked me until I became fully aroused.  I closed my eyes to their stares and soft giggles.  I tried my best not to react, but I was a young man, and it was impossible to do.

They continuously circled around me, taking great delight in my obvious discomfort.  Every woman who passed touched me again and again, prolonging the agony.  Angry words were spat in my face—the laughing, the whipping, the arousal without pleasure.  I tried forcing my mind in another direction, but it was hopeless.

I was so tired.  All I could taste was my own blood, and I stood helplessly with an erection that wouldn’t end.  I just wanted to close my eyes and never have to see these people again.  Unexpectedly, the women were pulled away, and I could hear their muffled laughter, after leaving me for all to see the condition I was in.

I knew everyone in camp was staring at what the young women had done.  I tried to relax; I tried to make it go away, and the longer I dwelled, the longer it lasted.  I was mortified.  The drums stopped, and a man approached.

I had never had to deal with men before, but the brave with the scar seemed to be in charge of my fate.  I had been kicked and stomped on by the children and embarrassed by the women.  What was next?  What else could he do but kill me?  I wanted Pa to know I tried.  I really tried.  I’d been planning another escape, but I’d waited too long.  Now, I was waiting to die.  The waiting was the hardest part, and Scarman seemed in a hurry to get it done.

Pa had read to us all our lives about Jesus and how he was nailed to the cross.  I didn’t think of myself as Jesus, but I was beginning to understand how he must have felt when no one came to his rescue because no one was coming to mine.

My eyes filled with hot, burning tears, but I blinked them away.  All along, I thought I was ready to die, but at this moment in time, I knew I wasn’t.  I was too young to die.  There were things I had left to do; a life I wanted to live.  I wanted to be back on the Ponderosa.  I wanted to fish with Hoss and argue with Adam.  I wanted to ride Cochise faster than I should.  I wanted to tell Pa how much I loved him and how much I …

A knife caught under my chin, and thoughts of home and family quickly vanished.  I swallowed the lump in my throat, but I kept my eyes straight ahead.  I tried to ready myself.  Be brave—be strong—don’t show signs of weakness.

Scarman’s eyes became narrow slits as he forced the sharp blade tighter under my chin.  With my neck stretched high, I didn’t dare swallow; I tried not to flinch as this was only the beginning of the game.  The cut wasn’t deep, but he held up the bloody tip for me to see.  His angry eyes stared straight into mine.  What did he expect of me in the position I was in?

He backed away and cleaned the blade across his thigh.   He slowly circled me, and I dreaded my fate when he was out of my sight.  The rawhide strips from my chest and legs suddenly fell from around me, making the one under my chin pull tighter.  He came to stand in front of me once again.

He held the blade inches from my face, making sure I was aware that the next step included his knife.  The tip touched my shoulder.  Skinned?  Was I to be skinned alive?  His blade was sharp, and I felt like my body was being split in half as he made a slow, straight line from my shoulder across my chest to my waist.

My breathing came short and uncontrolled, and I prepared myself for the next cut.  I wanted to shout at this man.  It wasn’t me that shot you–It wasn’t my fault.  I was her slave—I did what I was told!  Fear and hate consumed me.  I was paying for another man’s mistake.  I braced myself.  I waited to be mutilated.  I was afraid to look down; afraid of what I’d see, but I felt droplets of blood trickle down my chest.

He brought the tip of the blade to my right shoulder and came down at an angle and crossed the other line.  I shuddered at his touch.  I stared at the angry brave, and my mind pleaded for a quick end, but it was a battle I would lose, and he would win.  He’d waited an entire year for his chance at revenge.  He pointed to the puffy red scar on his shoulder, a small X in comparison to the one he’d carved on my chest.

He wiped the blade again on his pant leg and then placed it back in its sheath.  He backed away from me and crossed his arms in front of his chest.  A slow smile crossed his face, and he nodded his head at his handiwork.  I saw him look at another man.  He was handed a long warrior’s lance.

An odd thought came to mind.  I remembered Pa telling me that Indians were deathly afraid of people who weren’t right in the head; crazy people, and for that insane reason, I started to laugh.  Call me crazy, but I decided I’d go out like a complete lunatic.  I spread my legs and lifted my arms high above my head.  I spread them wide.  I screamed to the heavens above as loud as I could.  Maybe then I wouldn’t have to hear my own cries when his lance drove straight through my heart.

The last rawhide was cut, and I heard people’s voices, men and women both, whispering to each other as I lay on the ground in a heap – alive.  The brave with the scar stood over me, looking down at my crumpled form with his lance still clutched in his hand.  He pulled me to my feet, and he pointed away from camp and into the darkness.

He shouted at me when I stumbled and fell backward.  He grabbed my wrist and pulled me back to my feet.  I stood there as weak as a newborn.  He yelled at me and pointed the lance away from the camp.  I started to back away from him.  He followed, still screaming and jabbing the lance in my direction.  I finally turned my back to him, and I ran into the blackness and beyond

Drums pounded, loud and frantic, along with the beat of my heart.

Knowing I’d left her behind, I turned back only once to see a huge flash of light in the sky; fire blazing high above the camp.  The drums, the music, and the voices still shouting, and I ran until I heard them no more.

I ran and I ran, and I ran …

The Return

I ran through tall grasses and low-growing bushes, I ran around rocks and trees. 

I climbed giant mountains and slid down ravines, splashing in fast-running streams.  

I ran through the night until morning; the nightmare now seemed like a dream.

“It’s been over a year, Hoss.  Do you really think you’re going to find him?”

“Quiet down, Adam.  Pa’s gonna hear you.”

“I don’t care.  You both need to face it.  Joe’s dead.  He’ll never walk through that door again.”

“You don’t know that.”

Adam’s arms flew in the air in disgust.  “What’s it gonna take?  What makes you think he could possibly be alive after all this time?”

“Because I know—because I know Joe—and he ain’t …”

Hoss couldn’t say the final word that ran through his mind and everyone else’s.  He stood up from the settee.  He left the room and the constant exchange of mixed opinions.  He’d had the same conversation before; he didn’t want to have it again.

Ben stood in his dressing gown at the top of the stairs.  He hadn’t planned to eavesdrop on his sons’ conversation.  He’d scolded his young son, Joseph, many times over for that same infraction, but he’d heard everything that was said and when Hoss marched up the stairs and brushed right past him without saying a word, he knew it wouldn’t be long before his kind-hearted, most compassionate son would head out once again to look for his little brother.

Hoss had ridden through half of Nevada and parts of eastern California since Joe had gone missing.  The man had a one-track mind.  He was determined to find his little brother and bring him back home.  Although Adam had made peace with the loss of his young brother, the thought never crossed the big man’s mind.

He’d pack his gear and ride out for two weeks at a time, searching for the boy but never finding any indication of where he’d been taken.  He’d return home, rest up for a day or two, and leave again.  His brother was somewhere and was crying out to him, desperate to be found.  Hoss did have an ally in Hop Sing, who had never said a word aloud, but there were indications of his displeasure with the two eldest Cartwrights’ way of thinking.

Ben and Adam were realists and knew the chances of finding Joe after that first week with no sign whatsoever were slim.  The army had been no help at all.  “Can’t spare troops for just one captive.  Happens more than you think, Mr. Cartwright,” the captain had said, “and we can’t go lookin’ for every kid that’s been taken.”  Although somewhere in both their hearts, Adam and Ben each held the slightest bit of hope that by some miracle Joe would walk through the front door, that’s exactly what it would take, a miracle.

Hoss had never given up hope, and he never would; not until he saw Joe’s lifeless body with his own two eyes.  He told his family to do whatever they had to in order to keep the ranch running, but they’d have to do it without his help.  He was sorry, but he couldn’t stay home and be of any use until he’d brought his young brother home.

Something had changed in Hoss over the last few months.  He’d always been the peacemaker, not the outspoken member of the family.  He was a man on a mission.  He’d set his mind on just one thing, and if Joe could be found on faith and determination alone, he was the man to get the job done.

Adam heard the bedroom door close and looked up to see Ben standing at the top of the stairs.  When his father started down, Adam picked up the decanter, pouring them each a glass of brandy.  He handed one to his father.

“He’s leaving again, isn’t he?”

Adam nodded his head.  “Looks that way.”

Ben sipped his drink and then turned away from Adam.  He’d seen the look on Hoss’s face every time he’d returned home after finding no trace of Bannocks or Joe.  He’d left home all through the winter months and into spring when storms and heavy snows were a constant worry.  Hoss had been lucky so far, but taking chance after chance looking for the boy had taken its toll on the eldest Cartwright.

How could he possibly convince his middle son that he had to go on with his life?  Joseph was gone, and miracles weren’t of this world.  An eye for an eye was the Bannock way.  It should have been Jess.  Not that he wished death on any young man, but Joe had been the sacrifice, the one left behind.

The realization came for Ben just a few short weeks ago.  He woke suddenly one night and came halfway down the stairs, stopping on the landing and listening.  For reasons he would never understand, he thought he heard his son’s maniacal laughter echoing through the house.  The banked fire offered sufficient light as his eyes darted from one corner of the room to the next.  In a state of confusion and hope, he called out for the boy.  When no answer came, he steadied himself and grabbed tightly to the railing.  He was alone in the room, and he cursed himself for being such an old fool.

Tears fell from his eyes; grief and longing for the boy he loved—the boy who was taken from him–the boy he would never see again.  He’d faced reality that day but never spoke aloud the reason why.  His older sons would think he’d lost his mind if he repeated that pitiful story.

Ben woke early the next morning after hearing an unusual amount of racket in the kitchen.  Hoss was standing alongside Hop Sing, packing food for yet another trip into the wilderness.  Both men looked up when Ben walked in, although no words or greetings were spoken.

“I see you’re leaving again,” Ben said, crossing his arms in front of him.

“Yep.”

“How long this time?”

“Don’t know.”

Ben realized he’d used the wrong tone of voice.  This wasn’t the conversation he wanted to have with his middle son before he left.

“Will you at least tell me which direction you’re planning to go?”

Hoss stopped stuffing his sacks and turned to his father.

“I know you and Adam don’t approve, but—”

“Son, it’s not a question of approval—”

Hoss held up his hand to stop his father.

“Okay. I’m riding back up towards ol’ Dakota’s place.  I’m gonna see if he’ll let me use his cabin for a base camp of sorts.  I’ll head out from there.”

“That’s a two-day ride, isn’t it?”

“Yessir.”

“How long will you be gone?”

“That I can’t answer, Pa.”

Hoss lifted up his two heavy sacks and threw them over his shoulder.  “Thanks, Hop Sing.”

The little Chinaman nodded to Hoss then stepped out of his way.  He’d practically cleaned out the pantry and even pulled food from the cellar for this trip.  Ben realized that with the large measure of supplies Hoss had packed, he planned to be gone a good deal longer than usual.

Ben followed his son out of the kitchen, resigned to the fact he’d never change the big man’s mind.  He took one final look, memorizing every feature and taking in the smallest of details, as Hoss fastened his gunbelt and slapped on his hat.  He picked up the large bags he’d set on the floor, then stopped and looked at his father.

“Take care, son.”

“I will, Pa,” With the animosity of the previous conversation now gone, Ben extended his hand, and Hoss shook it firmly.  “Maybe this time.”

“You’ll be in my prayers.  You be careful now and don’t let Dakota fill you too full of that homemade brew of his.”

Hoss smiled down at his pa.  He knew his father was trying to make light of a serious situation.  “I’ll watch myself.”

“Hoss!  Hoss Cartwright!”  Dakota yelled, waving his hat over his head after spotting the big man riding up the hill.  Hoss doffed his hat in return and dismounted a tired Chubb in front of the old mountain man’s cabin.

Hoss extended his hand, happy to see a friendly face after a two-day ride.  It had been a long, hard couple of days, riding with a pack horse in tow, and Hoss had grown weary.  It had been so long since Little Joe had disappeared, he was beginning to lose hope of ever finding the boy dead or alive.  As much as he tried not to, and would never admit it, he was afraid he was thinking more and more like his father and older brother.

“Dakota,” Hoss said to the old-timer.

“Didn’t think I’d see you back up here so soon, Hoss.  What brings you this time?”

Hoss shook his head.  He tightened his lips.  “Same reason as before, I’m sorry to say.”

“Still lookin’ are you?”

“Yessir.  Still lookin’.”

“Well, stable them horses, and I’ll set out the jug.  Looks like you could use a drink.”

“I need a favor, Dakota.”

“Okay.  What’d that be?”

“I’d like to use your place as sort of a base camp if that’s all right with you.  If I can head out from here, it’d save me a heap of time.”

“Fine by me, on one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“You don’t come back without a mess of rabbits or a deer slung over the rump of that horse of yours.  I ain’t got enough rations ‘round here to feed a big man like you.”

Hoss smiled and nodded to his friend.  “Be my pleasure.”

The two men laughed and slapped each other on the back after the deal was made.  Dakota was only funning with Hoss, but there was a bit of seriousness to his words.  He was getting too old and too stiff to go out hunting and trapping, especially if there was a young, healthy man like Hoss around.

Hoss settled Chubb and Nellie for the night, bringing them both a bucket of fresh water and pulling out a bag of oats for each.  Both horses had worked hard for him over the past two days, and he appreciated them more than most men would.

Hoss hadn’t told Dakota he’d packed two large sacks of supplies for the old man.  He grabbed them up and carried them inside.  Ducking his head to get through the low door, inside the cabin was warm and welcoming after sleeping outside in the cool night air.  As soon as Hoss made his way inside, Dakota poured his famous brew into two tin cups.

Hoss set his belongings on the table and picked up the cup, taking a healthy drink before unpacking his goods.  “Brought you a little somethin’.”

With a look of unease, Dakota glanced at Hoss before reaching into one of the sacks.  “What’s this for?”

“Just thought it might help feed the two of us while I’m here.”  Hoss knew the man wouldn’t accept charity, but if he offered it up like this, maybe it wouldn’t seem that way at all.  There were jars of asparagus and string beans, cabbage, and carrots.  There were peaches and pickles, and a huge bag of potatoes.  The second sack had two smoked hams and six large slabs of bacon.

“I ain’t hardly got room in this here cabin for all them vittles, Hoss.”  Dakota knew Hoss to be a generous man, but this was a godsend.   Meat was hard to come by, and he’d often had to resort to berries and roots.

“Ain’t nothing’.”

He finished unloading his sacks onto the table and sat down in a chair opposite Dakota.  Giving the old man a smile, he downed the rest of his drink in one big gulp.  His cheeks puckered up, and he blew out an extended breath.  “That’s mighty fine whiskey.”  Hoss started to pick up the jug when he heard a sound from across the room.

“What was that?” Hoss said.  Feeling down the side of his leg for his gun, he heard a low moaning noise inside the cabin.  “You tending some critter?”

Dakota chuckled at the uneasy look on Hoss’s face.  “Oh—that’s just a half-breed I found hidin’ in a cave when I’s out hunting ‘bout two or three weeks ago.  He’s just a young’un, maybe fourteen, fifteen years old.  My guess is whatever tribe he’s with must’ve threw him out.  He was about half-starved and mighty fevered when I come up on him.  He ain’t said a word but he mumbles to hisself and cries out sometimes.”

“You don’t say,” Hoss said, looking down at the boy curled up on the floor in one of Dakota’s bearskin furs.

“I feeds him some—he eats—falls back to sleep and that’s about it.  His fever seems to be gone now and he knows enough to go outside to relieve hisself, but as I said, he don’t never say nothing. I don’t know if he’s gonna make it or not.  Ain’t nothin’ but skin and bones.”

Hoss shook his head still looking down at the lump on the floor.  “You know what tribe?”

“Cain’t tell, Hoss.  He only had on one of them under drawers kind of things, you know, a breechclout they‘s called.  He had a big X carved into his chest.  Took a few days of doctoring on my part.  I aim to tell you, he did some squirming and hollering when I tried to fix him up.  Almost had to tie him down to do it. You could tell he’d been tied up before; still had the marks on him.  He might’ve been a slave er somethin’ to them dirty Injuns.  Hard to tell.”

“You sound like you ain’t too fond of Indians no more, Dakota.”

“Some’s just mean, Hoss,” he said, feeling his eyes start to burn. “It just weren’t right what they done to that boy.  Ain’t his fault he’s a half-breed.”

The two men sat and talked and drank from the jug, then cooked themselves up some of Hoss’ ham and beans for supper.  “Mighty fine food you brung, Hoss.  I ain’t ate this good since I don’t know when.”

“Glad you’re enjoying yourself, you old coot.  You gonna eat it all in one sittin’?” 

“Bet I could.”

“What about the boy?  Don’t he wanna eat?”

“He don’t eat much.  Does good to finish up a bowl of soup.  I try to feed him once a day, but some days he won’t eat nothin’ at all.”

Hoss didn’t comment.  He wondered what kind of shape his young brother would be in if he was lucky enough to find him.  He wished this boy could talk.  Maybe he’d seen his brother.  Dakota didn’t know if the youngster was Bannock or Paiute, so it would be just short of a miracle if the kid had ever run into Joe.

The boy hadn’t stirred all evening, not even to go outside.  He kept himself rolled up tightly in the bearskin in the corner of Dakota’s cabin.  Hoss found himself glancing off and on at the boy, and eventually, he couldn’t stand it any longer.

“You sure he’s still alive under there?” Hoss asked, tilting his head toward the lump on the floor.

“Yeah, he’s alive.  That’s just his way.  He don’t come out much.”

“You wanna check on him or somethin’?”

“Hoss, you gotta relax.  He’s fine.”  He scooted his jug across the table.

“I don’t want no more.  I’m going to bed.”  He stood up and picked up his bedroll.  He couldn’t think about the boy in the corner any longer.

“Now, Hoss, you’s company, so why don’t you—”

“I ain’t takin’ your bed, so don’t even start.  I’m fine on the floor like the boy.”

Dakota stood up and pulled another bearskin from the corner of the room.  “Here, sleep on this, then if you’re gonna be so dang stubborn about it.”

“Thanks.  That’ll do just fine.”

Hoss spread out the fur and lay down on top.  He pulled his bedroll over him and used his saddlebags for a pillow.  Dakota knelt down and banked the fire, then crossed the room and climbed into the only bed in the tiny cabin.  Minutes later, Hoss heard the faint sound of snoring.

With the light from the fire, he studied the back of the boy who slept facing the rough cabin wall.  He couldn’t get the kid off his mind.  He just had to find Joe this time.  He’d promised his family he’d look for him for the rest of his life if that’s what it took, but every trip had become more and more discouraging, and he thought this trip might be his last.

He’d get up and start out early in the morning, north this time.  He hadn’t done any tracking in that direction so far.  If he could just stumble upon some sort of trail or some kind of sign that any band of Indians had been through the area, he might finally get somewhere.  He thought he’d ride in a wide circle and be gone four or five days.  If nothing panned out, he’d come back to Dakota’s and start out again in a different direction.

Hoss woke early.  The morning sun was just starting to show on the horizon.  He hadn’t slept all that well and wished he’d had about four or five layers of bearskin under him instead of one, but he was warm and protected much like the boy in the corner and not sleeping out in the damp and cold woods.

The old man was still snoring, although louder than before.  Hoss picked up his boots, his bedroll, and his saddlebag,s then crept quietly out of the cabin.  He stopped outside the door to slip his boots on and headed to the lean-to to saddle his horse.

He’d already decided he’d leave Nellie behind.  She came mainly to carry the sacks of supplies for Dakota and oats for both animals; things he didn’t want to load on his own mount.  When Chubb was saddled and ready to go, he patted him on the rump and turned to go back inside the cabin.  In his rush to get out quietly, he’d forgotten his gunbelt.

Standing at the cabin door was the boy, and Hoss stopped immediately.  The last thing he wanted to do was frighten the youngster.  He focused on the plaid flannel shirt and faded long johns, Dakota’s hand-me-downs.  A head full of curly brown hair fell past his shoulders.  The boy was barefoot, and it looked as though he’d never owned boots or worn a pair of moccasins.  His feet were torn and scarred from months, maybe years, of abuse.  A true castaway.

Neither man nor child moved.  Hoss stared at the boy, and the boy stared back, but Hoss’s features tightened as he stared even harder.  Could it be, or was he hoping for that miracle everyone talked about?  He blinked repeatedly.  He dropped to his knees and, just above a whisper, he said his young brother’s name.

“Joseph?”

The boy didn’t move

No.  His eyes were playing tricks, but could it be the dream he’d prayed for?  Could the dream have become real?  He wanted it to be, and under the mass of curls covering half the boy’s face, he saw fear in the youngster’s eyes.  Rightly so,

“Joe?  It’s me, Hoss.”

The last thing he wanted to do was frighten the timid boy.  He was scared to move forward, and he held his ground.  He understood how Dakota had made the mistake of thinking the boy was a half-breed.  That’s exactly what he looked like.  The old man was also right about his age.  He did look fifteen years old.  The young man Joe had become over the past couple of years wasn’t there anymore.  Left in his place was a boy, a frightened young boy.

The cabin door opened, and Dakota peeked out.  The boy turned and shoved past him as fast as he could.  “I see you met the boy.”

“That ain’t no boy.  That’s my little brother.”

“You’re what?”

Dakota had never met Little Joe.  Ben and Hoss were the only Cartwrights he knew.  Hoss had often talked about his brothers, and he thought he had a pretty good picture of them in his mind, but he never thought the boy was a brother to Hoss.

Dakota closed the door behind him and crossed his arms in front of his chest to ward off the morning chill.  He moved closer to Hoss.  “You’re tellin’ me that boy in there’s the one you been looking for?”

Hoss nodded and swallowed the lump in his throat; he had no words.

“Well, I’ll be a son-of-a—” He moved his hands to his hips and shook his head.  “Don’t that beat all?”

“He don’t know me,” Hoss whispered as if Joe could hear through the closed door.

“That makes two people he don’t know.  He don’t know who he is neither.”

“Yeah, that’s right, he don’t.”  Hoss looked directly at Dakota.  “What do we do now?”

Dakota mulled the question over in his mind.  “Go back and unsaddle your horse.  You ain’t going nowhere this morning.  He trusts me.  I’ll go talk to him.  Tell him you’re comin’ back in, but you don’t mean him no harm.”  Dakota chuckled.  “Your size probably scared him half to death.”

“Yeah, probably did.  I’ll go tend my horse.

Hoss walked away from Dakota and toward the lean-to.   He patted Chubb’s rump, lifted the stirrup, and loosened the cinch.  He reached up and grabbed both ends of the saddle but stopped unexpectedly.  Joseph— He’d found his brother, but at what cost?  The boy was no more than a skeleton. The boy had been starved and mistreated. A frightened youth who didn’t know his given name.

Hoss heaved the saddle off Chubb and set it down on the ground.  Soon, he would have to go back inside.  He would have to get Joe to trust him, the same as he trusted Dakota.  Time and patience, he thought, and he had enough to last a lifetime.  He’d do everything in his power to get the boy back, back to the real world where he had family that cared about him and loved him.  He sucked in a deep breath and headed back to the cabin, back to Little Joe.

Opening the door slowly, not wanting to frighten the boy, he ducked through the opening, coming in just far enough to close the door behind him.  In the corner of the room, Joe was again on the floor, wrapped in the bearskin and not taking his eyes off the big man.  Hoss removed his hat and gunbelt and sat down in a chair, hoping he looked smaller, less intimidating.  He didn’t know what to say, so he said nothing.

“This here’s Hoss, boy.  He’s the man I been jawing about.”  He sat down on the floor next to Joe.

The big man scared him, and he scooted away from Dakota until his back hit the wall.  The old man looked up at Hoss and then back at Joe.  “Hoss done brought us a whole mess of vittles.  You won’t have to eat my cooking no more.  We’re gonna eat like kings, boy.”

Hoss sat completely still, hoping that if Joe looked at him long enough, it might spark some kind of memory. He was afraid to move and afraid to speak.  For now, he’d let Dakota do all the talking.

“You want somethin’ to eat?  Hoss brought ham and some bacon all the way up the mountain for you and me.  Want I should put some of it in your soup this time?  Be mighty good.”  Dakota knew better than to touch the boy or move any closer.  “You stay right here.  Me and Hoss’ll fix you right up.”

Dakota’s old bones creaked when he pushed up off the floor.  He hadn’t had time to dress yet, and his bowed legs were more accentuated in his long johns than they were if he’d slipped on his trousers.  “Why don’t you bring in some wood, Hoss, and I’ll cut some ham for the boy.”

Joe pulled his knees to his chest and wrapped the bearskin tighter around him.  He was glad the big man was gone.  He was the biggest man he’d ever seen, and he knew that man could hurt him; hurt him bad.

The soup was hot enough, and after tasting it, Dakota turned back to the boy.  “Mm-mm, that’s mighty tasty if I do say so myself.”

Hoss smiled up at the old man.  “Think I can try feeding him?”

Dakota handed him the bowl and spoon.  “You can try.”

Hoss set the soup on the table, then reached down and slipped off his boots, still trying to shrink his height.  He picked up the bowl and walked slowly across the room, lowering himself down next to Joe.

Joe was near panic; heart racing, head pounding.  He could hear the drums—he could see the flames.  Why was this man coming towards him?  There was no escape.  His body trembled—he pulled frantically at the bearskin to cover his head.  Hoss turned back to Dakota.  He’d done the worst thing he could’ve.  He tried too soon, and he’d scared his young brother.

“It’s all right, J—boy.  I’ll leave you alone.  Maybe you’ll eat somethin’ later.”

Hoss set the bowl on the table and slipped his boots back on.  Without a word, he slipped out the door.  Dakota stood up from his chair and followed.  The old man knew what Hoss was going through, and he’d try his best to help.

Hoss was mad, mad at his own stupidity.  He’d just told himself he had all the time in the world, and what had he gone and done?  Forced himself on the boy when the boy wasn’t ready.  “Stupid,” he said.  “Just plain stupid.”

“What?”

Hoss turned around quickly, not realizing Dakota had followed him outside.

“Did you see what I done in there?”

Dakota stayed silent.

“I rushed him.  He weren’t ready and I rushed him.”  Hoss kicked hard at the dirt, sending a small cloud of dust in the air.  “That boy’s like a frightened animal caught in a trap.  He’s injured and there’s no escape.  I just about pushed him over the edge in there.  I done that.  I done that to my own little brother.”

“Hoss, you didn’t know—”

“If I’d used the brains God gave me, I’d know better.  Stupid!  What I went and done was just plain stupid.”

The old man knew better than to say anything else.  Hoss would have to work things out for himself.  He’d figure it out soon enough and realize he wasn’t to blame.  It’s what happened to the boy ‘fore he got there.  That’s what’s to blame.

Hoss heard the latch on the door as Dakota let himself back inside.  Maybe the old man could be of some comfort to the boy.  Hoss wasn’t about to go back inside with Joe so scared of him.  He’d leave for the day, hunt maybe.  He’d promised the old man a deer.

By early afternoon, Hoss had killed and dressed out a decent-sized buck.  He carried it on the back of Chubb. Dakota had somehow coaxed Joe outside, and they were sitting together, enjoying the sun on a small wooden bench outside the cabin.

Hoss was nervous about riding back in, but what else could he do?  He slowed Chubb as much as he could, hoping Joe wouldn’t see him as a threat, then he turned his mount toward the lean-to rather than riding any closer to the man and boy.  Normally, he would’ve been excited about bagging a deer that quick, but all he could think of was Joe.

Dakota was pleased with himself.  He’d gotten the boy to sit outside, even though he did nothing but stare at the ground until he heard a twig snap.  Joe’s head jerked u,p and there he was, back from the hunt, the big man.  He tried to maintain control and not show fear, but it was too much for him.  A low moan started deep in his throat, and he began to rock back and forth.

When Dakota stood from the bench and opened the cabin door, the boy made a desperate attempt to get back inside and away from the man who could hurt him.  He stumbled frantically, falling twice to his knees before making his way to the safety of his bearskin.

Figuring that would be the case as soon as they saw Hoss ride in, Dakota left the boy alone and walked over to greet his big friend.  Hoss hadn’t missed seeing Joe scramble like a wild man to get back inside.

“That’s a beauty, Hoss.”

“Yeah,” he replied, untying the buck.

“Takes time, Hoss.  The boy was scared of me, too, at first.”

Hoss nodded.  Dakota was right.

“Come sit a spell.”

“I ain’t goin’ back in there and scaring him all over again.”

“Come on.”

The old man, still only dressed in his long johns, motioned for Hoss to follow him to the outside bench.

“When you first told me that was your brother, I didn’t tell you everything I’d seen, but I think maybe you need to know the truth.”

“Truth about what?”

“Sit down, Hoss.  I’ll explain the best I know how.”

Hoss was too nervous to answer, and he already knew he wasn’t going to like what the old man had to say.

“It was rainin’ the day I found him.  Me and my mule, Sara, took shelter in a cave a couple of miles from here.  I thought I was alone till I built a fire.  That rain made it mighty cold, and I needed to warm these old bones before I headed back home.

“I heard a noise, and just like you the other night, I thought I was in there with some kind of animal.  I carried my rifle and took a piece of wood from the fire, using it to light my way so I could make sure I weren’t in a wolf den or something.  I don’t know if there’s even a word for what I saw, but that brother of yours was a pitiful sight.  He was just this side of human, I tell you, and Hoss, I don’t mean that with no disrespect.”

“Go on.”

“Well, he’s on the ground, clawing at the dirt and shaking his head back and forth, making animal-like sounds down deep in his throat.  He was half crazy’s what he was, Hoss.  When he looked up and saw me standin’ there with that torch, I ain’t sure which one of us was more scared.  That’s when he crawled on all fours back further into the cave.  It took me half the night to get close enough to tame him some.

“Still don’t know how far he’d come or when he’d last eaten, but I think he was close to dying that day.  That poor boy was starved to death and scared of everythin’.  I think he just wore hisself out with all that clawing the walls and digging at the ground, and he just fell over from pure exhaustion.  I scooped him up in my arms, laid him across old Sara, and I brung him home.

“I kept tryin’ to get water down him.  I think the boy slept for about three days straight, less I held up his head so he could drink.  I started giving him some soup after about four or five days, but I had a real hard time at first getting that down him.  He’s a stubborn cuss when he wants to be.”

The tears came; there was no holding them back.  Hoss held his hand up to Dakota; he couldn’t listen to anything more.  What had happened to his brother?  What in God’s name did they do to him?  His brother would need a large helping of that Joe Cartwright determination to make the journey back to his old self, provided his mind would let him.

Dakota went inside the cabin, saw the boy huddled in the corner, and came back out with his jug.  He handed it to Hoss before he sat back down.  “I know it don’t seem like much of a comfort to you right now, but the boy’s come a long way, Hoss.”

Hoss held the jug on one knee. “I can’t begin to thank you for what you done, my friend.”

“You’d a done the same for me.”

The following day passed slowly.  Hoss didn’t enter the cabin, and Joe never ventured outside.  With chores needing to be done, chores the old man had neglected over the years, Hoss kept himself busy, but as hard as he worked, he couldn’t keep his mind off his brother and the story the old man had told.

Neither brother had seen each other since Hoss rode in with the deer, so Dakota came outside periodically, giving Hoss reports on the boy and the one crucial thing that had changed.  The boy refused to eat.

“He can’t go on like that.”

“Seems he done give up, Hoss.  We’re gonna lose him.”

Hoss leaned the axe against the cabin wall.  “Not if I can help it.”

Hoss threw his hat at the wooden bench and wiped the sweat from his forehead.  He marched into the house and dished up a bowl of soup from the kettle hanging over the fireplace.   It was time to set things straight.

“Come on, boy.  Time to eat.  I already blew on it and it’s just the right amount of hot.”

It was the big man with the big voice, and Joe froze.

“Boy!”  Hoss shouted.

Fear seized Joe, and he nearly lost control of his bladder.  He remembered the cave.  Hunger, thirst, and cold, so desperately cold.  He’d slipped outside and dug for roots.  He’d stripped bark from trees, but hunger became overwhelming, and he crawled further into the cave.  He was going mad, truly mad, and he clawed at the walls, and he clawed at the dirt floor, but he couldn’t let go of his life.  Tears stained his cheeks, and he dropped his hands to the floor, but it felt different somehow.  Smooth.  The cabin.  He was inside the cabin, not in the cave.

He pounded the floor with fisted hands until a bear-sized hand reached across him and grabbed a tight hold of his wrist.  The big man had found him.  He’d thought he was safe, but would the game begin?  Would his hands be tied?  Would he have to wear the leather collar?

Two men sat inside the cabin.  One big and one small, but he saw no way to escape.  He wasn’t in the lodge.  He wasn’t inside the cave.  Where was he now? Where had they taken him?  Where were the drums and the bonfire?  He shook his head to clear his thoughts.  No.  No.  Not again.  He wouldn’t be held prisoner again.  And where was Una?  Was she dead?  Could he still save her?

A spoon bumped his lip.  He opened his mouth; the spoon slipped in.  Meat, he tasted meat—a good hunt today.  He closed his eyes.  He savored the taste like he’d done when Una shared a meal with him.  The spoon touched his lips again. Meat was good.

Hoss glanced at Dakota with a big grin on his face.  He’d fed his brother.  Dakota stood up, dipped a cup of water, and traded Hoss for the empty bowl.  Hoss held the cup to Joe’s lips.  He waited for his brother to drink

He’d try again later, and since Joe ate one bowl without too much trouble, he just might eat another.  He had to get the boy fattened up before he could even think of taking him home, and there was no way he’d ever gain an ounce eating only one bowl of soup a day.  Tomorrow, he would get him up and moving and see if he could work up more of an appetite.

He was a two-day ride from home.   Joe didn’t have decent clothes or a pair of boots to wear.  How would he get him home?   He’d worry about that later.  He had to get Joe well enough to travel, better yet, he had to keep his young brother alive.

For the next two days, Hoss set up a routine.  Joe would sit up and eat twice a day, then roll back in his bearskin and sleep.  Hoss had added potatoes to the soup, and Joe managed to eat every bite.  He was still weak, and Hoss knew it would take time, but time was all he had.

Hoss had been firm, but he hadn’t rushed the boy, just like you didn’t rush Joe Cartwright.  Joe had always done things at his own pace, and that part of him hadn’t changed.  Even though they still had a long way to go, Hoss began seeing glimmers of the old Joe.  It made him smile.

He tried to coax his brother to come out from under the bearskin and sit in a chair at the table, but Joe wasn’t ready to move that far.  He stayed awake longer, though, and seemed to be listening to the two men talk even though he had yet to speak himself.

During the night, Joe would dream, and Hoss could hear him mumbling, so he knew his brother still had a voice, but he could never make out the words.  Sometimes the boy seemed caught in a nightmare, thrashing about under his cover.  Hoss wanted to reach out and reassure him, tell him he was safe, but he still feared he might scare him.

Hoss tricked him somewhat on the third day.  Joe had left the cabin to go outside and do his business, and Hoss hid the bearskin under Dakota’s bed.  When Joe came back through the door, still wary of the big man, he walked straight to his corner.  He stood for a long time staring at the bare spot on the floor, then finally turned at looked at the two men sitting at the table.

Hoss felt bad, tricking his brother like that.  He looked so lost and forlorn.  “Take my chair,” Hoss said.  He stood and moved away from the table.

Joe looked at Dakota, and the old man nodded his head.  “It’s all right, boy.  Come and sit yourself down here by ol’ Dakota.”

Joe looked cautiously at Hoss, but he forced one foot in front of the other.  He crossed the room and sat down.  He kept looking back and forth between the two men.  It didn’t seem like either of them was out to hurt him, at least not right then, but he’d keep his guard up and be ready to run.

Once Joe was settled, Hoss walked slowly to the fireplace and spooned up a bowl of soup from the kettle.  He didn’t want to scare the boy after making so much progress.  He walked slowly to the table and set the bowl down in front of Joe.  He set the spoon to the left, then stepped back away.

Joe studied the spoon for a long time before picking it up and sinking it into his bowl.  He raised it to his mouth, then stopped, looked up, and realized both men were watching him.  Hoss and Dakota turned their eyes away.

He ate slowly and deliberately, and when he had finished, he set the spoon to the left, just like he’d found it.  He rested his hands on his lap.  He’d learned how to as he was told, and the men seemed pleased.  They had treated him well.  Dakota gave him a change of clothes.  Joe was happy to be wearing long pants again.

Hoss didn’t push.  One new thing a day was enough.  Dakota had told him to stay as long as he needed.  “I’m kind of getting used to people being around.”  Tomorrow, Hoss would see if he could get Joe to go outside with him; maybe walk some, maybe talk some.

He thought about what they could talk about.  Would it be all right to tell him about the Ponderosa, Pa and Adam and maybe Cochise?  If he told him about his own life, maybe Joe would eventually tell him about his.

A week passed, and Joe slowly came out of his shell.  He joined the world of the living.  The three men sat down to eat meals together after Hoss worked quickly to build a third chair.  Color crept back into Joe’s face.  There were days he and Hoss walked and days they leaned their chairs back against the side of the cabin, and Hoss talked.  Progress was being made.

Hoss never stopped talking. He told him of adventures he used to have with his own little brother back when they were just kids on the Ponderosa.  He told him how his own young brother had to go away and how much he missed him and wished he could come home soon.

He talked about his Pa and his older brother, Adam.  He told him how the three brothers had different mothers but the same father.  “It don’t matter one single bit that we’re only half-brothers.  We was all raised together; we all love each other, and we’d all die for each other.”

Joe thought over what this big man had said.  Die for each other.  Die for each other.  The thought raced through his mind repeatedly, and his mind became consumed with Una.  He’d left her alone to fend for herself.  He had to go back.  He had to regain his strength.  He would eat and sleep and take walks with the big man called Hoss until he was strong enough to go back and take her away from a life of misery and despair.

The Fire 

He remembered seeing flames rise high into the sky as he ran from the camp.  He had to know.  He had to know if she was alive.  She needed him.  Die for love.  If he could convince Dakota and the big man to go with him, they might have a chance.  They were his father and his brother now.  No need for blood between them to be family, just like the big man had said.

Dakota had worked hard fashioning a pair of moccasins for Joe, and he slipped them on for the first time.  He smiled at the old man – “his father” – and wore them proudly.  He showed Hoss his new footwear and pulled the big man outside the cabin.  He pointed out into the trees.  He wanted to walk.

Hoss fell in beside Joe, and they walked for miles.  He was proud of his little brother and what he’d accomplished so far.  He almost looked human again and not like the godforsaken sight he’d first laid eyes on.

He still wore only long johns and a shirt, but he had the addition of shoes and a warm vest Hoss had crafted from one of Dakota’s bearskins.  Joe’s hair was long and unruly, and he wore a leather band around his forehead to keep the wildness out of his eyes.  After living with the Bannocks for a year, he knew no other way.  Even though he’d been with Dakota and then Hoss for a few weeks, he wasn’t ready to give up his Indian ways.

Joe still hadn’t spoken, and it concerned Hoss.  He knew the boy could speak.  He’d heard him cry out in his sleep, but during waking hours, he was silent.  Hoss was no expert on how the mind worked, but he couldn’t help but wonder what Joe dreamt about at night that gave him the ability to speak, then nothing at all during the day.

In his own dreams, he would pick his little brother up, throw him on the back of Nelly, and they would ride down the mountain, heading straight for home, where Joe could find peace after living a year of hell.  Joe was getting stronger and healthier, and Hoss knew it wouldn’t be much longer before his dream would come true.

Nelly wasn’t the prettiest or the fastest horse around.  She was sturdy and built lower to the ground.  She had served Hoss well as a pack horse, but Joe was ready to ride.  Not thinking it was the best idea, he’d never been able to say no to Little Joe, and he wasn’t able to start now.

“I don’t have a spare saddle, boy,” Hoss said.  He stood with his hands on his hips and shook his head.  He was tired of calling him boy.  It was time he had a name, and what better name than his own?

“Sit down here, boy.  We need to talk.”

Joe began trusting Hoss.  The big man hadn’t tied him up or made him sleep outside like a dog.  He’d been able to stay inside the cabin where a fire kept him warm.  They let him join in for meals.  He wasn’t made to sit all alone.

Dakota had given him clothes to wear instead of taking them away.  Joe liked both men, father and brother, but in the back of his mind, he would always be wary.  Things could change in an instant.  He’d been slow to catch on with the Bannocks; slow to learn his place, but he was smarter now and would forever keep a watchful eye over those who could do harm.

He stopped his musings, looked around the lean-to, and found two sturdy wooden buckets.  Handing one to Hoss, he turned one over for himself, then plopped himself down on top of it.  He looked back up at the big man and waited.  Hoss did the same with the other bucket, but he found no comfort in having to squat down that far or sit on something that small.

He leaned forward, resting his big, beefy arms on his thighs.  He looked at Joe.  “You need a name, boy.  I can’t ride out if’n you ain’t got one.  Joe seemed to be thinking it over, but of course, he didn’t speak.

“Joe.  How about Joe?”

Joe understood.  He’d been named before.  Hok’ee was his name.  “Joe” seemed okay to him.  He nodded his head.  He wasn’t Hok’ee anymore.

Hoss pointed to Joe’s chest.  “Joe.”  He pointed to his own chest.  “Hoss.”  Joe nodded again and smiled at the big man.  “Joe” was fine with him.

Hoss waited for a reaction, but he got nothing.  Maybe someday.  “Come on then, Joe, let’s go for that ride.”

Joe jumped up and found an old saddle blanket lying off to the side.  He shook it out.  The last thing he wanted to do was sit on a spider or maybe her nest.  He spread it across Nellie’s back and led her outside.  He grabbed hold of her mane and vaulted up on her back, then centered himself for comfort.  He grinned at Hoss, who seemed to be frozen in one spo,t and motioned him to get mounted too.

They rode longer than intended, but Joe didn’t seem afraid of being far from the cabin, and Hoss didn’t have the heart to turn back.  It was almost like old times, and he savored every minute spent riding with his young brother.

Hoss never stopped talking but always left an opening, hoping Joe would add something, anything.  That still hadn’t happened, and he was dumbfounded as to how to get that first word spoken.

The sky had darkened, and raindrops started to fall.  It didn’t seem to bother Joe.  Hoss figured the boy was used to working, rain or shine, and had learned to pay it no mind, but Hoss wasn’t that keen on ending up soaking wet, and he turned to Joe.

“We better turn back before we end up looking like a couple of drowned rats.”

Joe understood and turned Nellie back toward the cabin, but Hoss didn’t miss the look in his young brother’s eye or the hint of a smile forming.  He knew that look, and before he could utter a sound, Joe was off like a bolt of lightning.

The boy was a sight to see.  He settled himself low and tight on his mount and, like the master horseman he’d always been, horse and rider became as one, sailing around trees and under low branches, cutting left and then right, never missing a step.  Hoss couldn’t help but smile at the antics. The Little Joe he knew and loved was surfacing more and more.

Hoss sighed with relief when he rode up the final hill leading to the cabin and saw Joe had arrived safely and was tending Nellie.  He knew he should scold the boy and tell him how foolish that little stunt had been, but the look of sheer joy in his brother’s eyes stopped him cold.  He gently clapped him on the shoulder.  “Nice ride, Joe.”

Had I died and gone to heaven?  When I climbed on the back of that horse and the time was right, I felt the wind in my hair, and I let the tightness stored up in my body give way to freedom.  Old Nellie reminded me of Una’s ponies, not a lot of spunk left in her, not like the pony I will have of my very own someday.

I’d been so envious of the Braves when they rode their ponies out of camp on their daily hunts.  For as long as I can remember, my feet and hands were bound, and I was forced to walk at a snail’s pace, but today was freedom, and the big man, Hoss, didn’t care.  Hoss was my friend, my “brother.”

Dakota stood outside the cabin laughing hysterically when I rode back into our camp looking like the drowned rat my “brother” had mentioned earlier.  Where’d you leave Hoss?” he yelled, so I could hear over the falling rain.  I smiled at him and pointed down the hill.

“Guess he’ll be comin’ along,” he said, still laughing as he slipped back out of the rain.

After we ate our supper of bacon and beans, I watched Dakota and Hoss play a game.  “Checkers,” Hoss called it.  I watched closely as they moved red and black pieces on a red and black board.  I’d seen them play this game before, and I was starting to figure out what they were doing.  I hadn’t seen the People play, but maybe they had.

I looked up at Hoss, and I could tell right off he was gonna lose the game in the next move.  He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest.  He studied the board, then he looked down at me.  “You see somethin’ I don’t, Joe?”

I nodded.

Hoss looked back down at his pieces and then again at me.  He shrugged his shoulders and looked over at Dakota, who looked at me with a scowl.  “If you know so much, you make the move.”

I reached across the board and moved Hoss’ black piece over three of Dakota’s red ones.  I smiled up at Hoss.  “I’ll be a son-of-a-gun,” he said. “Joe knows how to play checkers.”

Grinning, I nodded my head.  Hoss stood up from his chair and waved his big old hand across the board.  “You take my chair and play with Dakota since you know so much more’n me.”

I jumped right up and sat down in his chair.  I couldn’t believe he was letting me play the game.  I liked this big man more all the time

I wanted to ride again the next morning, but Hoss said we had to do our chores first, and if there was time, we could ride.  I was okay with that.  He had hauled half a tree from behind the lean-to over in front of the cabin.  The big man was very strong.

He picked up an axe that leaned against the side of the cabin and handed it to me.  “Get to work, Little Joe,” he said, clapping me on the shoulder.  “We need us some firewood.”

Something felt wrong.  My throat tightened, and I began breathing faster.  I tried not to let it show, but I was suddenly afraid.  Now I was Little Joe.  Was I not a man anymore, a friend, or a “brother”?  I hurried to chop the wood.  I worked up a sweat.

Hoss had gone back inside the lodge with Dakota.  Sometimes he would come out and check on me.  He’d nod his approval.  “Slow down, Little Joe.  It ain’t all gotta be done in one day.”

Little Joe again.  I wasn’t a man, and I realized that now.  I’d tried to do things right.  All along, I thought he was my friend, my brother, but I’m smarter now.  I would never let someone own me again.  I’d given up plans to rescue Una; I’d never get in and out alive.

I would have to escape from this camp before things got worse; before I was whipped and beaten and carved again with a knife.  If I could just make it through today, I would make my escape tonight.  I couldn’t wait as I’d done before.

I’d already shed my vest, and I was now getting rid of my shirt.  It was soaked with sweat, and I‘d grown accustomed to a lesser amount of clothing.  I threw it in a heap by the side of the cabin and kept chopping as fast as I could.  If I could get it all done, maybe Hoss wouldn’t hurt me.  He was awfully big, and I knew he could hurt me bad.

Branches and twigs cracked as Hoss came back up from the stream below.  He’d hauled buckets of water for Dakota.  I watched him carefully as he carried them into the cabin, then he came back out, and I could sense he was behind me.  His big hand came around in front of me, holding a canteen filled with cold water.  I set down my axe and slowly turned around to face him.

I saw the look on his face, a look I hadn’t seen before.  What the heck was he staring at me like that for?  His hand came toward me, and I squeezed my eyes closed tightly and turned my head to the side.  I waited for him to hurt me.

“Joe,” he said softly.  “Little Joe.”

He had a sadness to his voice that I hadn’t heard before, but my arms hung limp at my sides; the canteen had fallen to the ground.  Again, I’d waited too long.  I should’ve already gone.  I was caught in his trap with nowhere to run.

His finger slowly traced the X the wounded brave had left on my chest.  I’d forgotten it was there.  It didn’t hurt anymore; it was just there.

“Joe—” He kept repeating the name he had given me.  I stood perfectly still.  I didn’t move a muscle.  What did he want from me?  But the sadness was still there. “I’m so sorry,” he said.

I became lost in my world of pain and humiliation.  I couldn’t get back to the present.  I couldn’t get back to Hoss and Dakota, to Nellie and Chubb, to my new home away from the camp.  I couldn’t stop the tears from leaving my eyes.  I started to shiver.  I couldn’t open my eyes.  I thought I might wet myself.  I was very afraid.

“Joe.”  The big man said.  “Little Joe!” He shouted.  He grabbed my arms and shook me.  “JOSEPH!”

I couldn’t open my eyes.  I was trapped in a world of terror.

“JOSEPH!”

I wanted to scream at him, tell him to go away and leave me alone.  I’d die before I was going to be a slave to him or anyone ever again.

“JOSEPH! JOSEPH!”  He shook me hard.

I opened my eyes.  I stared into his–sky blue.  He looked different somehow.  He was crying too.  My head was spinning.  I closed my eyes tight, but his face was still there.  I opened my eyes.

“Hoss?”

He stared back at me.  “Joe?”

“Hoss?”

He let go of my arms, but he kept his stance just inches from me.  A smile started across his face.  It got bigger and bigger until I thought he would burst.  His eyes lit up, but the tears didn’t stop.

“You know me,” he said, barely above a whisper.  “You know me.”

I nodded at Hoss and swallowed the lump in my throat.  “You came.”

“I came.”

The next day, we were mounted on Nellie and Chubb and ready to leave the mountain and head for home.  Dakota was quiet that day.  He helped us pack, not that either Hoss or I had much to take with us, but he was melancholy all the same.  He’d given me his long johns and shirt and the moccasins he made me, and I knew that left him short of clothes.

“I’m gonna bring you back a whole new set of store-bought clothes as soon as I get settled and have a chance to get to town,” I said to my friend.  I owed him much more than clothes.  I owed him my life.  He didn’t say anything; he just nodded his head.  I wish we didn’t have to leave him alone on this mountain, but that’s the life he chose.

“Don’t you eat that whole buck in one sitting, you old coot.”  Hoss waved as we turned to leave.

Leaves fluttered on large cottonwood trees, and wildflowers bloomed along the winding paths Hoss and I rode.  The sky was a brilliant blue, and there were still touches of white winter snow on the highest peaks of the mountains. Things I hadn’t noticed for a very long time were right in front of me, begging to be seen.

I was eager to get home.  Pa and Adam, and even Cochise had burst through my mind as soon as I’d recognized Hoss for who he really was.  I’d told myself what happened had happened, it was over now, and I was going home.  I’d tried to put my year with the Bannocks out of my mind, but so far I wasn’t having much luck.

If I dwelled on that part of my life, I worked myself up.  I became anxious and upset.  Hoss could always tell.  My breathing became rapid, and without realizing what I was doing, the back of my hand ran nervously across my lips.  In my state of panic, I tried my best to keep from falling apart.

“It’s all right, Joe.  Let it all out.”  I’d look over at him and nod my head.  I needed him so much right now.  I don’t know what I’d do if he ever left my side.

We rode slowly down the mountain, and on the second night of our trip, Hoss pulled up his mount, saying he was tired and ready to make camp.  There was a lot of daylight left, and I really didn’t think he was tired at all, but he knew I was physically and mentally spent, so he did it for me.  That was his way; that was my brother, Hoss.

I tended the horses while he unloaded our gear and gathered wood for a fire.  Dakota had packed us enough food for the trip, and we’d left plenty behind for him.  I smelled the coffee already boiling and walked back and plopped down next to the fire.  I felt good and happy to be alive.  If I could keep my mind in the present, I could keep my sanity.  Hoss reached into the sack of food and grinned at the abundance.  I kept my smile to myself. Some things never change.

“What do you wanna eat, Little Joe?  We done finished up all the ham back there with Dakota, but he’s thrown in half a slab of bacon I could fry up.”  He pulled out the biscuits and bacon and poured each of us a cup of coffee.  I leaned back against my saddle, content to sit and watch my brother cook us a meal.

Hoss put the fried strips of bacon, along with a biscuit on a dented tin plate and handed it to me.  I held it with both hands and stared at it, and for no reason, nerves raced through my stomach, and my appetite was gone.  Hoss noticed my reaction. I held the plate in my hands but didn’t take a bite, and I got a strange look from my brother.

“Ain’t you hungry?” 

“No.  I’m sorry, Hoss.”

I picked up the skillet and walked down to the stream to give it a quick wash.  I knelt down on the edge by the rushing white water, and it hit me.  This was the same spot Andy and Jess and I had fished in that day we stopped to camp on our way up the mountain.  I slowly sat back, dropped my head to my knees, wrapped my arms tight around my legs, and I cried.

I heard Hoss walk toward me, but I couldn’t raise my head.  He sat down next to me and rubbed my back with his large, comforting hand.  I finally looked up, but not at Hoss.

“We camped in this very spot that first night,” I said.  I took a deep, shuddering breath before I continued.  “I thought it was too early to stop.  We would be in too much of a rush the next day.”

Hoss’s hand never stopped circling my back, and he remained silent while I talked.  “Jess had stolen a bottle of whiskey from his pa, and we all drank and laughed and had a heck of a good time.  We even told ghost stories and scared ourselves enough that we were too afraid to go to sleep.”

Hoss chuckled at the thought.  I laughed along with him, then I turned and looked at him.  “I’m scared, Hoss.”

His hand squeezed tightly on my shoulder, and he pulled me toward him.  “I know you are, Joe.  It’ll get better.  It’ll take time, but I promise you one thing.  I won’t never leave your side and I won’t let nothin’ like what you been through ever happen again.”

I guess I wasn’t worried about it happening again.  I just needed to get what did happen from inside my head, but I didn’t know how.  I didn’t know how to keep my mind on other things, and as much as I tried to do just that, that’s what my world had become.  I didn’t know anything else.

“I lived in a cave.”  I don’t know why I said that out loud or why I was telling Hoss.

“Dakota told me that’s where he found you.  How long was you there?”

I thought about that question, but I didn’t know the answer.  I shrugged my shoulders.  “I lived there a long time, I think.  I didn’t know if they were after me or not.  It was dark and wet, and I was cold.  I was scared they’d find me and take me back.”

“You mean the Bannocks?”

“Yeah.”

“The one Jess shot is the one who branded me with the X on my chest, and then he sent me away from the camp.”

“But you don’t know how long you was there by yourself in that cave, do you?”  Hoss thought back to what Dakota had seen when he first discovered his little brother so close to death.

“Maybe a month.  Maybe longer.  I don’t know.”

“Lord Almighty, Joe.  What did you find to eat?  How’d you keep yourself warm?”

“I went out at night for food until I couldn’t no more, and I—I can’t talk about it right now, Hoss.”

“Come on, Joe, you can tell me,” Hoss pleaded.

“I can’t.  I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

I stood up and walked away.  I couldn’t say any more.  The more I talked, the more I remembered, and I didn’t want to remember.  I wanted to forget.

We slept side by side next to the fire that night, and I got up knowing today would be a better day.  If I didn’t talk about things, would they go away?   I made the mistake of bringing things up last night, and I needed to let it go, bury it deep like a bad dream, and I would be okay.

We were getting close to home now.  Hoss stopped on top of a ridge, and we looked down at hundreds of cattle grazing in the meadow below.  Ponderosa cattle.  I was home.

“Pretty sight, ain’t it?” Hoss tilted his hat back on his head and rested his hands on his pommel.

“Sure is.  Hoss?”  He moved his eyes away from the cattle and turned his attention to me.  “You’re the only one that came looking for me.”

“Someone had to stay home and run the ranch.”

“The ranch can run itself,” Pa always said if there was a problem.  “Pa and Adam think I’m dead, don’t they?”

Hoss squirmed slightly in his saddle, and I knew right then I was right.

“Joe—”

“It’s okay.  I understand.”

“No, you don’t.”  He turned Chubb closer to Nellie and me.  “We all come lookin’ for you when this first happened.  We couldn’t ride right into the Bannock camp, though.  We tried to come up with a plan; some way to steal you outta there, but when we come back, you was gone; the whole band was gone.”

Hoss was becoming uneasy, and that wasn’t my intention.  “I understand.  I would have thought the same thing,” I said.

My big brother looked up at the sky.  He took a deep breath and looked back at me.  “I knew you was out there, and I knew you wasn’t dead.  I just couldn’t find you.  I been searching since the day they took you, Little Joe.”  He stopped for a minute before he said more.

“I’ll confess this, though.  When I got back to Dakota’s this last time, I was starting to think maybe Pa and Adam were right and I was wrong.  I thought maybe I was chasing a ghost.”

I reached for his arm.  “I’m glad you didn’t give up.”

“Pa said it would take a miracle, and I think that’s just what it was.  ’Ol Dakota thought you was a half-breed.  If I hadn’t seen you with my own two eyes, I ain’t sure what would have happened.”

I shrugged my shoulders.  “Let’s go home.”

It was late afternoon when we rode into the yard.  The ranch was quiet.  No one ran out to greet us as I’d imagined.  “Don’t know where everybody’s at,” Hoss said.

We both dismounted and led the horses into the barn.  “Surrey’s gone, Joe.  Must be something going on in town.”

Hoss reached for the bucket of grain, and I went to fetch fresh water for our mounts.  Old Nellie had done a good job bringing me home, but I sure was glad to see Cooch waiting for me in his stall.  I wondered how he got home.  I walked over to him and slipped my hand under his velvety nose.  He bobbed his head.  He remembered.

“Well, I don’t know about you, big brother, but I could use a hot bath.”

“You go ahead.  I’ll put the horses up and be right behind you.”

I opened the front door and looked into the great room.  I was home.  Something I’d dreamed about for so long but never thought would happen.  I shut the door and leaned back against it.  My eyes took in every corner of the room and everything in between.  It was just like I pictured in my mind, even the same smells of Pa’s tobacco and Hop Sing’s cooking.  Hop Sing—I turned the corner to see if he was in the kitchen.  I thought he’d come running out to see who was in the house since Hoss and I weren’t expected, and Pa and Adam were gone.

He wasn’t there.  Must be a sick cousin somewhere, or he was off playing Fan-Tan and losing his week’s wages.  The kitchen stove was still warm, and I threw in some more wood and set a couple of kettles on to boil; my first hot bath in over a year.

I started feeling uneasy standing by myself and hoped Hoss would hurry and get done in the barn.  This was silly.  I was a grown man, and I was scared, standing alone in the house I’d lived in for close to twenty years, minus one.

It was the minus one I couldn’t shake.  Hoss had said it would take time, but I didn’t think I’d be this anxious about things standing in my own kitchen, around everything familiar.  No one would hurt me here, I knew that, so why the uneasy feeling?  Why did I feel like someone was hiding and would jump out and pounce on me like a wildcat leaping from its perch and knocking me to the ground?  Defenseless—I felt defenseless and afraid, but why?

I scanned the room—my heart beat unnecessarily fast.  No one was there but me.  I knew that, so why did I feel this way?  Pa thought Hoss was chasing a ghost, but now the ghosts were chasing me.  I needed to busy myself and take my mind in a different direction before I fell apart right there in the kitchen.

Coffee.  I’ll make coffee.  No, the water will be hot before the coffee is ready.  Staring at the open shelves of the pantry, I saw that every shelf was full of jars and cans of food.  There was sugar, flour, coffee, and oats; everything a man could want was there.  I started shaking again.  I closed my eyes, hoping the feeling of doom would go away.  I couldn’t help but think how many meals I’d missed or how many times I’d eaten a bowl of boiled bark, which had to last me all day.

Hoss walked into the kitchen.  Water spewed over the top of the pots.  It hissed and bubbled up as it hit the hot surface of the stove.  He glanced at the pots and then at me.  “You okay?”  I was breathing too fast, and sweat dotted my forehead.  He knew I wasn’t.

“I’m fine now,” I said, and even though I couldn’t look up, my breathing began to slow.

“Let’s get you in that bath then.”

I nodded.  I felt relief as soon as Hoss walked into the room.  The five-year-old kid who was scared of monsters in the dark disappeared.  This had to stop, and it had to stop before Pa and Adam got home. I didn’t want to embarrass myself in front of them.

I took my bath right there in the kitchen.  It was heaven on earth. The water was so hot it turned my skin bright red.  Resting my head against the back of the tub, I savored the smell of Hop Sing’s herbs that Hoss had thrown in, making the room and me all smelly.  My brother pulled up a chair and sat down with me as if nothing had happened before.

“Know something, Hoss?”

“What’s that?”

“This is the first hot bath I’ve had since—”

“Joseph, you gotta put all that remembering right outta your mind.  You’re home and you’re safe and—I’m sorry, I shouldn’t—”

“Yeah, I know.  I’ll try.”

Hoss was right, and I tried, but it wasn’t long before my eyes closed and my mind drifted to Una, the warmth of her cloth on my forehead, her gentle manner.  How she tended my wounds and rid me of the never-ending cramps in my legs.  How we wrapped ourselves around each other after seeing to each other’s needs when—

I shot up.  Water rained down from me and out over the edge of the tub.

Terror—complete and utter terror.  My heart raced—my eyes darted to every corner of the room until settling on my brother’s face.  He was well aware of the panic—the terror.

I was naked and cold, not knowing what to do next.  “I’m sorry.  I was remembering … stuff.”

Hoss just sat there, a stunned look on his face.  I was a mess.  A damn mess.  He didn’t know what to say.

“I think I’m done now.  Your turn, brother.”

He stood up and handed me the towel he had draped over his leg.  I dried my hair and wrapped the towel around my waist.  “I don’t need no bath right now.  Let’s go find you somethin’ to wear.”

I stopped outside my bedroom door and glanced at Hoss before I reached for the handle.  Everything looked exactly the same as the day I’d left.  There was a sunken spot on one of my bed pillows, which I found to be rather strange.  I looked up at Hoss.  He noticed the same thing.

Hoss’s lips tightened together, forming a line, and he slipped his hands deep in his pants pockets.  “Pa comes in here sometimes.”

I couldn’t imagine the grief I’d caused my father, not knowing if I was dead or alive, not having a body to bury to make things final.  Having to stand by and watch Hoss leave, time and again, looking for a son he thought was dead.

I put those thoughts aside.  I walked across the room and opened my dresser.  All my clothes were neatly folded and stacked in the drawers.  I was getting colder, and I hurried to dress.  Pa had banked the fire downstairs before they left, but it was chilly upstairs.

“We should get you a fire started in here, so you don’t freeze to death tonight.  I’m gonna go get some wood.  You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.”  I wondered if he could read my mind.  Maybe he saw me shiver.

I sat down on the edge of my bed and pushed the hair from my face.  I pulled on a pair of boots.  They were tight.  My hair had grown, and maybe my feet had too.  That’s great, Joe, a scrawny-looking kid with too much hair and big old feet.  My feet had never been quite the same after my attempted escape.  They’d ache sometimes, but maybe now that they were back in boots …

I pulled a belt out of my top dresser drawer before my pants fell clear to the floor.  It was two holes tighter than it was before.  I felt anxiety taking hold.  Stop, Joe.  Don’t go there.  Just let it go—let it go.

I walked around the room getting the feel of my boots.  They would take some time to get used to.  I stopped in front of the mirror, which hung on my bedroom wall.  Understanding now how thin my face was, it was a wonder Hoss recognized me at all.  Wait till Pa sees my hair.  He won’t even have time to say hello before he marches me off to the barber.  I picked up my brush and ran it through, but it didn’t look much different, so I sat back down on my bed.  I waited for Hoss.

He didn’t take long, and I stayed put until he got the fire started.  “I’m starved,” he said.  “How’s ‘bout we rustle up some grub?”

“Okay.”

I followed him out of the room and back downstairs.  It was a lot warmer down there, and it felt good to me since I felt cold most of the time.  I’d always liked the cold and snow, and I was always the first one in this family to run out the door and make the first snowball of the year.  Now, just the thought made me shiver.

Hoss stood studying the pantry and finally made his decision.  He pulled down a jar of peaches and set them on Hop Sing’s table.  “I’m gonna go get us a couple of steaks.  Wanna come with me?”

“I’m okay here.  I’ll get the fire going again.”

I would be fine.  Just keep busy; that’s the ticket.  I picked up some wood and threw it inside the stove before I grabbed the coffee pot and headed to the pump.  When that was done, I opened the jar of peaches.  Peaches and steak—a meal fit for a king.

Hoss came back.  He carried enough meat for more than just the two of us—don’t go there, Joe.  Don’t go there.  I tried to control my breathing before Hoss noticed I was losing it again.  I turned my back on him and stood to face the plates and glassware.  I didn’t know if he was watching me or not.  I braced my hands on the counter until my breathing began to slow.  Okay—that’s good, Joe. That’s better.

I reached up and grabbed two plates, two saucers, and two cups, but they rattled noisily in my hands.  I carried them across the room and set them down by the peaches.  I looked up at Hoss.  He had his back to me and was busy unwrapping the steaks and setting them in the frying pan.  I knew he didn’t want to keep asking me every other minute if I was okay, so this was his way of letting me work it out by myself.  He and I both knew I wasn’t okay.

“Can we just eat in here?”

“Fine by me, little brother.”

Hoss was a happy man when he sat down in front of a big juicy steak.  He picked up his knife and fork and sawed into his meat like a man on a mission.  After he got that first bite in his mouth, he looked across the table at me.

“Ain’t you hungry?”

“I was just thinking.”

“About what?”

‘I don’t know.  Everything, I guess.”

“You mean ….”

“There wasn’t much meat for—well, sometimes we’d go a month or more without.”

“A month?  Don’t them Bannocks know how to hunt?”

I didn’t know how much I wanted to tell him.  He felt bad enough already.  How could I explain what my situation was without making him feel worse?

“I lived with a woman.  Her name was Una.”

“You what?”  I realized I didn’t say that right.  I needed to rephrase.

“It’s not what you think.  I was—I—”

“You was what, Joe?”

“She was a widow, and they had shunned her from the rest of the camp.”

“And that’s who you lived with?”

“Yeah, sort of.”  I looked up at those trusting blue eyes, and I couldn’t tell him the rest.

“When the men went out hunting, they all shared the meat with the rest of the camp, but not with us.”

“I could wring every one of their necks for treating you like that.”  He cut another bite of his steak and popped it into his mouth.  “Why’d they shun her?  Just because she’s a widow?”

“I was never sure.  I didn’t learn enough of the language to understand a lot of things.”

“So what did you eat if you didn’t have no meat?”

“Lots of things.  Just not meat.”

I started slicing into my steak.  I cut a small bite and chewed it for a long time before I was able to swallow it down.  I don’t know why it bothered me.  I’d been eating ham and bacon for a couple of weeks, but I was having trouble with my steak.

“Guess I’m not real hungry tonight, Hoss.  Maybe you can finish mine.”

“Joseph.  You gotta eat more than that, boy.”

“Not tonight, Hoss.”

We left it at that.  I didn’t want to talk anymore.  I just wanted to forget and not be reminded all the time.  “When do you think Pa and Adam will be back?”

“Don’t even know where they’re at, Joe, but they should be home soon, I reckon.”

It was childish, but I was nervous about seeing Pa and Adam.  I knew they’d be glad to see me and all, and I didn’t know why I felt this way, but they felt like strangers.  Hoss had befriended me before I even knew who he was.  That was different and wait and the longer I wait for their return, the worse I feel.

“Come on, Joe,” Hoss said as he cleared away our plates.  “If you ain’t gonna eat nothin’ I cooked, you can at least let me beat you at checkers.”

I smiled at my big brother.  “You got a deal, but I ain’t about to let you win.”

After I beat Hoss for the second time, the front door flew open, and I heard Pa’s voice.

“I swear, Adam.  If that man dares to speak to me ever again, I’m going to—”

I glanced at Hoss, then jumped up from the settee and ran up the stairs as fast as I could.  I slammed the door behind me.  I got down on my belly and slid under my bed.  I was shaking uncontrollably. I prayed I was safe.  I was inside the cave where they wouldn’t find me.

Hoss stood up quickly.   He blocked his father’s path to the staircase.

“Was that—”

“Yessir.  We got back this afternoon.”

Ben tried to get passed Hoss and to his youngest son.

“Pa, wait.  Just hold your horses.”

“Why?  Joseph’s up there!”

“Let’s talk for a minute, and then you can go.”

“What in God’s name is there to talk about?  I want to see my son!”

“Not like this.”

Ben’s hands flew to his hips.  “Not like what?”

Adam had been silent.  He listened to what Hoss had to say.  He took hold of his father’s arm and tried to guide him to his chair by the fire.

“Let go of me,” Ben cried.  He shook his hand from Adam’s grip.  “Okay, Hoss, what’s this all about?”

“Let’s all sit down for a minute, and I’ll tell you what you need to know before you see Little Joe.”

Hoss glanced quickly at Adam, then back at his father.  “Okay, first of all, that’s one scared boy up there.  He’s been through a lot, and I may be the only person he trusts right now.”

“But I’m his father and this is his brother,” Ben said.  He nodded toward Adam.

“I know all that, and so does Joe, but you can’t go barging in his room and give him a big hug like I know you want to do.  You’ll only scare him, Pa.  He ain’t quite hisself yet.”  Hoss watched his father calm down and listen to reason.

“Somethin’ you said when you walked through the door must’ve scared him, and that’s why he ran.  You gotta be careful with Joe right now.  You gotta treat him like a newborn.  His mind keeps flashing back to them Bannocks and what they done to him. He’s afraid it will happen again.  Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Ben was horrified and blessed.  His son was home, but had he actually frightened the boy?  “I don’t even remember what I said.”

“What do you want us to do?” Adam asked.

“Let me go up by myself, and I’ll see if I can bring him back down.” Adam and Pa were very anxious.  “It may take a minute.  It may take an hour.  I don’t know.”

Both men nodded, and Hoss left them behind.  He headed up the stairs.

I heard the door open; heavy footsteps crossed the room.  With my back to the door, I couldn’t tell who’d come in.  I didn’t do anything wrong.   Why wouldn’t they believe me?  I didn’t do anything—

“Joseph?”

I curled tight in a ball, hoping they wouldn’t find me, and put the collar back on.   I didn’t do anything wrong.  I heard footsteps again.  Could they hear my heart beating?  It was slamming against my chest.  I knew they could hear, and my mind took me back …

My cave is dark.  Maybe they won’t find me after all.  If I crawl to the way back where it’s even darker, I’ll stand a better chance.  The ground is cold and damp—I lie in a warm river.  I wish for a blanket.  My legs are wet, yet I shiver.  I try not to make a sound.  I can’t let them find me, but I’m cold—my teeth begin to chatter.  They’ll surely hear me now.  I have to be quiet.  Quiet like a mouse—if I’m a mouse, they’ll step on me and I’ll be dead.  I don’t want to die.  I’m so cold.

“Little Joe?”

I’m Hok’ee—good.  They’re looking for someone else.  It’s dark, but I see the fire—a big fire.  I’m so cold.  I need to move closer to the fire, and I’ll be warm.

I started moving across the cave on my belly.  I need to get to the fire.  I can see it in the distance, but it’s a long way off.  I can’t let them see me.  I’ll stay flat on the ground.  I’m out of the cave, getting closer to the fire.  I’ll be warm soon.  Not too much farther.

“NO! GOD! NO!”

“Joe!  It’s me, Hoss.  Joe.  It’s me!”

I stared at the big man clutching my arms—blue eyes—brother.  “Oh God, Hoss.”

“It’s okay now.  I got you.”  He pulled me up from the floor.  He wrapped his big arms around me and held me tight to his chest.

“It’s bad.”

“I know it is.  You just hang on to old Hoss.  I got you now.”

“Okay.”

We stood together like that for a long time.  Hoss was so warm, and I was so cold.  I didn’t want to move away from him, but after a time, I nodded; I was all right, and I took a step back.  My pants were wet.  I looked up at Hoss.  He tightened his lips and nodded.

“There’s plenty more clothes for you to change into.  Don’t you worry yourself none.  It was an accident.  Can’t be helped.”

I slipped off my boots and pants, and he reached into my dresser for a clean pair of trousers.  He found a pair of long johns and had me put them on first.  Maybe now I’d be warm.

“Pa and Adam are waiting, aren’t they?”

“Yeah, whenever you’re ready.  You take all the time you need.  I’ll wait here with you.  There ain’t no hurry at all.”

Hoss and I sat down together on the edge of my bed.  I looked straight ahead.  “They didn’t let me speak,” I said.  “I wasn’t allowed to talk.  When I heard Pa say those words I got scared and I ran.  I didn’t want them to hurt me again.  I mean—”

“I know, Little Joe.  It scared you, and that’s okay.  But you know Pa wouldn’t hurt you for anything in the world.  He loves you.  You know that, right?”

“Yeah, I know that.”  I smiled at Hoss, but I needed to talk some more.  “I was that woman’s slave, Hoss.  That’s why the people wouldn’t let me speak.  That’s why I didn’t get anything to eat.  That’s why they—”

I didn’t look up to see his reaction.  I already knew what it would be.  “My mind keeps going back, and I get scared.  It’s all so real.  Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“I think so, Joe.  I just ain’t never been through what you’ve been through.”

“I know.”

We sat together in silence.  I didn’t say anything more.  I was so tired I just wanted to sleep, but I knew I had to go downstairs and see Pa and Adam.  I almost laughed out loud.  Maybe they were as nervous about seeing me as I was about seeing them.

“You ready?”

“I think so.”

Hoss clapped me on the shoulder, and we stood up together.  He stayed right next to me as we walked out of my room.  We stopped at the top of the stairs and looked down.  Pa stood up from his chair, and Adam’s head slowly came into view around his own blue chair.  Before he stood, a slow smile crossed his face.

I looked back at Pa.  He looked scared, but I was the one who was scared, not Pa.  We both started moving toward each other at the same time.  We met at the bottom of the stairs.

“Welcome home, son.”  Tears filled his eyes.  I wanted him to take me in his arms and hold me against his chest.  I wanted to smell bay rum and pipe smoke, but he just stood there staring like he was seeing a ghost.

“Hi, Pa,” I said.  “It’s good to be home.”  I glanced at Adam.  “Good to see you too, brother.”  He didn’t speak, but he winked and nodded his head.

This was really awkward.  I finally stepped passed Pa and sat down on the settee.  “So, what’s been happening around here?” I asked, breaking the silence.  “What did I miss?”

I looked up at Hoss.  He came down the stairs and planted himself on the hearth across from me.  Pa came to stand beside me.  He stopped for a minute and started to reach out to me, then moved to sit in his own chair.

“Do you need something to eat, Joseph?”

“No, sir.  Hoss and I already ate.”

“Drink?”

“No,” I said, shaking my head.  “I’m good.”

I’d never felt uncomfortable around my own family before.  I didn’t know what they expected me to say, and I didn’t know what I wanted them to say.  We all sat there like we didn’t know one another at all, and maybe we didn’t.  I wasn’t sure what Hoss had told them, but I knew I didn’t want to just sit.  I didn’t want to talk either.  I tried to get away.

“I’m really tired, Pa.  Would you mind if I went up to bed?”

“Of course not, son,” Pa said, leaning forward in his chair.  “Whatever you want to do.”

“Okay—I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

I looked at Hoss.  I wanted him to come up with me, but I was too scared to ask.  I was safe in this house, and I knew I could trust everyone, but I needed Hoss to be with me.

“Nite.”

They all chorused their goodnights, and I headed back up to my room.

“Joe told me something when we was up there that I need you to know,” Hoss said, after hearing Joe’s door close.

“What’s that, son?”

Hoss glanced toward Adam and back at his father.  “He told me they kept him as—as a slave for some widow woman.  He weren’t never allowed to speak the whole time he was with them people.”

Ben suddenly remembered what he’d said to Adam when they walked into the house.  “Al Sheppard,” Ben said.  “I was furious with Al Sheppard at the Cattlemen’s meeting.  I said if he ever spoke to me again, I was going to strangle him, but I don’t think I got that far before I saw the two of you.”

“It don’t mean nothin’, Pa.  Joe knows you weren’t talking to him.  He must’ve got into some kind a trouble for talking or something.  Anyway, they only fed him and the widow enough to keep them alive.”  He glanced again at Adam.

“I don’t know what else they done to him; maybe he’ll talk more later; I don’t know, and it don’t matter.  I fixed me and him a steak tonight, and he could only manage one bite.  He ain’t used to eating much, so don’t push him just yet.”

Ben shook his head. “I scared the boy, my own son.  I need to go talk to him.  I need to set things straight.”

“Maybe you ought not do that tonight, Pa.  Maybe wait till mornin’.”

“I hope you’re right about this, son.  I don’t feel right about waiting that long.”  Even though he wasn’t comfortable with the idea, he hoped Hoss knew best and he would go with the plan and not force himself on Joseph and risk scaring him any more than he already had, but just for tonight.

“We should probably all get some sleep.  I have a feeling tomorrow’s going to be a long, hard day.”

“That sounds good, Pa.”

“Hoss?”

“Yessir?”

“It’s good to have you home.”

“It’s good to be home, Pa.”

“Oh, and Hoss?”

“Yessir?”

“Thank you.”

Hoss nodded.  “Everything will be fine, Pa.  Just like I told Little Joe.  It takes time.”

Ben did as he was asked to do and headed upstairs to his own room.  Adam and Hoss stayed put, neither quite ready for bed.  Adam studied his brother.  The big man looked exhausted and troubled, but Adam wanted to know more.  He wanted to know the parts Hoss was leaving out, by not wanting to upset his father any more than he had to.

“I know it’s late and I’m sure you’re tired, but what’s really going on with our little brother?”

Hoss didn’t have the strength to tell his brother everything.  He was too tired.  “I don’t know where to start, Adam.  The boy’s in bad shape.”

Adam sat back in his chair.  He wouldn’t press the issue any further.

Exhaustion won out, and Hoss broke down.  Tears filled his eyes when he thought of his young brother.

“Should’ve seen him when I found him, Adam.”  Hoss shook his head at the memory.  He was nothin’ but a skeleton wrapped up in a bearskin on Dakota’s floor.”  He tried to look his brother in the eyes, but it was too hard.  “He was dying, Adam.  Another week and he would’ve been gone for sure, we never would’ve—”

“If it wasn’t for you, Hoss—”

Hoss didn’t answer his brother.  When he was ready, though, he looked back up at Adam.  “He can’t get them thoughts about what happened to him outta his head, and it’s the saddest thing you ever saw.  It hits him for no reason, and it’s like he’s right back with them people, and it’s happening to him all over again.”

Adam thought over what Hoss had said.  He’d read about men who’d survived wars or Indian raids and were never quite the same afterward.  He’d only caught sight of Joe for a second before the boy flew up the stairs.  He could barely remember what he’d seen; he’d been so shocked when he’d walked through the door.  Then, when Joe did come down, the poor kid seemed so uncomfortable and lost.

Ben stopped in front of Joe’s door and listened for anything; anything at all before he made his way down the hall to his own bedroom.  This didn’t feel right, but he’d given Hoss his word he’d wait until morning.  How his son ever survived that year with the Bannocks, he may never know or begin to understand.  It was hard to get Joseph to talk about things that bothered him under normal circumstances, and he knew he couldn’t push.  As hard as it may be, he’d have to be patient and wait until his son was ready to open up and let it all out.

He knew his young son would spare them all the graphic details at any cost to himself.  He would have to relive it all over again if he tried to explain.  Ben also knew the only way Joe was able to get through a tough situation was to talk it out, and at some point, that would have to happen.

He sat in his bedroom chair.  Sleep wouldn’t come easy tonight.  He remembered a very young Joe, who would tap on his door, come into his room, and they would cuddle up together in this same chair and talk over what was bothering him or what wrong he needed to right.

But tonight, Ben felt oddly ill at ease, just like his own son.  After a year of being held captive, Joe was alive, and Ben had been denied the chance to touch him, to hold him, to make sure he was real and not just a dream.  He wanted to take Little Joe in his arms, tell him how much he was missed and how much he was loved.

He dared to think what Joe had been through and what it would take to get the two of them to feel at ease with each other after what he’d inadvertently said as he’d walked through the door.  Joe feared him, and that weighed heavily on Ben.

How had he missed seeing Chubb and Nellie in their stalls?  His thoughts were on that meeting in town and how furious he’d become listening to that hot-headed, dim-witted Sheppard go on and on, but Sheppard was the least of his worries, and he couldn’t care less if the man was right or wrong or what the committee decided to do.

Bending over to remove his boots, he tried to think how he would approach his son in the morning.   He was sure this wasn’t the welcome Joe had expected, and he chastised himself for causing such a dreadful scene.

He hadn’t even taken the time to remove his gunbelt after the fiasco downstairs.  He untied the rawhide around his leg and stood up, unbuckled his belt, and threw it down in the chair.  He changed out of his clothes and crawled between the cold sheets.

“I’m beat, Adam.  I’m gonna check on Joe and maybe sleep in his room tonight if he wants me to.”

Adam stood and did the unexpected.  He wrapped his arms around his big brother and hugged him tightly.  “I’m proud of you,” he said, then turned quickly before Hoss saw the tears in his eyes.

Hoss tapped gently on Joe’s bedroom door, then slowly pushed it open.  The lamp was turned low, and Joe sat cross-legged in the middle of his bed.  “Hi.  Can I come in?”

“Yeah, I thought you might be up.  Everyone else go to bed?”

“Yep.” Hoss crossed the room and sat in the chair next to the bed.  “Been a long day, hasn’t it?”

“Yeah.”  Joe wanted to ask Hoss if Pa was mad at him, but he couldn’t find the words.  He sat quietly with his hands resting in his lap.  “Guess we should all get some sleep.”

“Thought I’d make me up a bed in here tonight if’n that’s okay with you.”

“I’d like that.”

Ben didn’t know what woke him, but he slipped on his dressing gown and carried a low-burning lamp out into the hallway.  The house was quiet, but the light coming from the fire downstairs glowed much brighter than it should have after it was banked for the night.  Had his grown sons forgotten one of the most important rules in the house?  He hurried down the hall to the top of the stairs and looked down into the great room.

Joseph sat with his legs crossed under him on the table in front of the fireplace. Wrapped tightly in the old blanket that had hung over the railing for years, he didn’t look up.   Ben hesitated briefly, thinking about everything Hoss had said, but decided he couldn’t wait any longer to physically touch his youngest son.

“Joseph?” Ben said, in a loud whisper.

Joe turned immediately and saw his father standing at the top of the stairs.

“Am I interrupting?” 

Joe shook his head and turned back to face the fire.  Ben steadied himself, holding the handrail as he descended the stairs.  His stomach fluttered with nervous energy.  With a shaky hand, he set the lamp on the table next to Adam’s chair and carefully took two steps forward.

“Son—”

Joe looked up at Ben, his face wet with tears.  He slid his feet off the table and stood up to face his father.  Ben held his arms out in front of him, and Joe stepped forward.  Father and son wrapped their arms tightly around each other.

“Joseph,” Ben mumbled, over and over, stroking the back of Joe’s head.

Hoss and Adam stood at the top of the stairs.  They watched the long-awaited reunion.  They both thought the same thing.  This was their moment, their time together.  They would go back to their rooms and wait until morning.  There would be plenty of time tomorrow for all four men to come together as a family.

The Long Journey Back

“He’s off somewhere in his mind again,” Adam said, shaking his head and then pulling his bandana out to wipe the small beads of sweat from his face.

“It happens all the time, don’t it?”

“Seems to be.”

“You got any ideas?”

“Nope, not a one.”

“Joe—Little Joe!”  Hoss yelled across the open field to his little brother.  “Joseph!”

I heard someone calling my name, and I let the hammer slip from my hand.  I turned toward the sound, seeing both brothers standing down the fence line, looking my way.  Hoss was waving his hat high above his head, motioning for me to come and join them.

“Lunchtime,” Hoss yelled, cupping his hand next to his mouth.

I looked down at the hammer lying on the ground, nearly buried in the tall grass, but I didn’t know why it was there.  I was nailing up new barbed wire just a minute ago, and now Hoss was saying lunch.  I thought we just got here.  Oh well, my brother’s stomach obviously knew more than I did.

We all sat together under a big old cottonwood tree and ate our lunch.  I’d been home for a couple of months, and I still didn’t have the kind of appetite my family thought I should.  I knew both brothers were watching me so they could report back to Pa.  After eating all of my sandwich, which should be enough to avoid a scene, Hoss held out an apple, but I shook my head.

Adam handed me a canteen and I took a long draw before I settled myself in the sun and out of the shade of the tree.  I lay back, resting my hands behind my head, and thought I’d close my eyes for just a minute until my oldest brother decided it was time to get back to work.  I hated him to be mad at me, but I don’t think I got very much done this morning.

I was being watched all the time by Hoss or Adam, and especially by Pa.  I didn’t mind it when I first got home, and we were all grateful for miracles, as Pa called it, and content to just be together. I felt protected, and I was glad to have my family close by, but now it was non-stop, the whole time I was awake.

I couldn’t go anywhere on my own, do anything on my own, or even have time to think on my own.  If I was too quiet, something was wrong.  If I wasn’t hungry, something was wrong.  If I wanted to go to my room, something was wrong.  Everything I did was wrong.  I needed time to myself without someone always watching me.  I knew they all meant well, but—

“Joe, come on, sleepyhead, time to get cracking,” Hoss said, kicking at the sole of my boot.

“What?”

“You fell asleep, Joe.  You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.  Must’ve fell asleep.”  I ran my hand over my face and looked at my brothers.  They both stared at me.  “What?”

“Nothin’, little brother.  Just thought we’d finish that fencing so we could head on home.”

“Fencing?”

“Yeah, fencing.”

“Oh … right.”

I stood up and started across the field before Adam made a remark about my state of confusion.  I was having a hard time keeping my mind on work.  It seemed worse than normal today, and I couldn’t figure out why.  I couldn’t concentrate or remember what I was doing.

I stopped in the middle of the open field, and it suddenly came to me, I needed my hammer.  I headed back to the tree where we’d eaten lunch, and I looked all around, but it wasn’t there.

“Whatcha doin’, Joe?”

I looked up at Hoss, not realizing he stood right behind me.  “My hammer—I”

“I think you left it where you was workin’.”

“Oh.”

Don’t panic, Joe—stay calm—follow the fence, but I didn’t follow the fence, I’d walked the wrong way, and I was standing next to Cochise.  I could feel sweat beading on my face; I grabbed hold of his silky mane.  I hoped it would pass.  I needed to control my life.  I didn’t want to be like this.  I didn’t want memories interrupting my new life, not when it affected my work.  I couldn’t even close my eyes at night; it was always worse at night.

“NO!” 

Not the collar.

“Joe?”

I jerked my head away—the brave—the knife

“You okay, boy?”

Blue eyes stared at me, holding the hammer.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me, Hoss.”

I leaned my head against my horse, his mane, so soft and warm.  I couldn’t look at Hoss, and I didn’t want Adam to see me like this.   I could see it in his eyes.  That sad, pitiful look; there he goes again, the crazy boy.  I know that’s what he thinks, and if this keeps up much longer—

As soon as I’d returned home, Pa took me to see Doc Martin, after a quick trip to the barber, and the doc said I was fine.  Even though I was still too thin, Hop Sing’s cooking would take care of that in no time.  Nothing else was wrong with me, he’d said, but he was wrong about that.  Everything was wrong.  Every day, the work got harder.  I couldn’t tackle the simplest jobs anymore.

“Let’s pack it up for today,” I heard Adam say.

“You stay next to your horse, Joe.  I’m gonna help Adam for a minute, and then we’ll start for home.”

I stayed put until they were ready to leave.  They’d both come in the wagon, and I’d ridden the paint.  I didn’t recognize the area around me, so I kept close to the wagon.  I wasn’t tied; it was much easier to ride.  We rounded a big building, but I was afraid to get down off the pony until they said it was all right.

“Ain’t you gonna stable your horse?”

I nodded, and then I got down.  I held the reins and walked inside the dark building.  I stopped once I got inside, but right on my heels were the two men leading the team.  Without moving, I waited for instructions on what I should do next.

“Right here, buddy.”

I looked toward the voice, but I couldn’t move.  It was dark and cold, and the reins slipped from my hands.  I didn’t know what to do, but I knew I’d done wrong.  I couldn’t run; I waited too long.  I felt the collar—tight around my neck.  I couldn’t swallow—couldn’t stop the tears.  I stood like a scared little boy and waited to be hurt again.

“He’s suffering from a form of fatigue,” Paul Martin said to the three men sitting in the great room, hoping for an explanation as to the youngest Cartwright’s most recent troubling behavior.  “Joe’s been without proper nutrition for the past year.  He’s been tortured mentally and physically.  It can also be caused by sleep deprivation.  Do any of you know if he gets a full night’s sleep?”

All three men looked at each othe,r shrugging their shoulders in response.  “What can we do, Paul?”

“I don’t know what’s going on in that head of his, Ben, but it’s on the same lines as battle fatigue. You’ve all heard of that.”  Three men nodded, and the doctor continued.  “When men come home from a war, their minds can’t forget the horrors they’ve seen or the trauma they’ve endured.  It’s something like that with Joe.  He’s obviously having memory flashes of his time with the Bannocks.  That’s when he goes off into another world, and you see him staring at nothing or losing track of time or becoming afraid.”

“But he knows we’d never lift a hand to him,” Hoss said.

“He loses all concept of what’s real and what’s not, Hoss.  He’s right back there in that camp.  He can’t see you anymore.  He only sees the people who hurt him, and that’s why he’s so afraid.  I know it seems odd and irrational to you, but his mind is playing tricks on him, and it’s something he needs to work through.”

Hoss looked at his pa and wondered if he understood all that Paul was saying.  As much as he tried, his mind couldn’t comprehend the abstract workings of the brain.  He just wanted the cure.

“I would suggest someone sleeps in his bedroom with him for maybe the next week or so.  See if he’s sleeping at night.  See how many times he wakes up and can’t fall back asleep.  That could have a lot to do with this worsening of his symptoms.  I know I’m asking a lot, and I strongly suggest you all take turns, but he should be getting better by now, and that’s not the case.”

Paul knew the boy’s illness was tearing his family apart.  It wasn’t a physical illness but a mental one; one that wasn’t visible like the scar on his chest.  He wished he had a magic powder that would bring Joe back from his tormented mind, but he didn’t, and these three men would just have to take things slow and hope Joe could overcome the memories of the past year that were driving him mad.

“What if he’s not sleeping?  How are we going to make him sleep?”  Ben asked, thinking easier said than done.

“Physical labor will help,” Paul said.  “He’s strong enough to chop wood, clean the barn, or work with his brothers.  Keep him busy, but don’t leave him alone.  Don’t give him time to sit and let his mind go off in that direction.  I don’t know if that will help, but maybe it will help some.”

Ben stood up when he saw the doctor reach for his bag.  “Thanks, Paul,” he said, walking him across the room.  Ben reached out and opened the front door for his long-time friend.

“I wish I could do more, Ben.”

“I know you do, and I appreciate everything you’ve done.”

Ben walked back through the great room and sat down in his chair.  His two sons hadn’t moved and seemed deep in thought; no one knew quite what to say.  Hoss looked across at his father.  “We can’t let him get no worse, Pa.”

“I know that, son.  I’m just not sure what we can do.”

“I’ll sleep in there with him tonight, and one of you can tomorrow,” Hoss said.

“That would be fine, son.”

“I think I’ll check on him ‘fore we sit down to supper.”

“See if he’ll come down and eat with the rest of us,” Ben said.

“Sure thing, Pa.”

Hoss pushed himself up from the hearth and made his way up the stairs to his brother’s bedroom.  He tapped on the door but walked in without waiting for an answer.  Fear flooded his mind when he didn’t see Joe on the bed.  He quickly scanned the room to find his little brother curled up on the floor in the corner; no blanket, no pillow, no nothing.  He walked softly across the room and knelt down behind Joe.

“Joe?”  He said, just above a whisper.  He nudged his little brother’s shoulder.  “Joseph?”  The boy began to stir but was mumbling something Hoss couldn’t make out.  “Time to get up, Joseph.”

“Mm—”

“Rise and shine, little brother.”  A sudden jerk almost sent Hoss flying backward.

“I didn‘t do nothin‘!”

“It’s okay, boy.  I know you didn’t.”

Hoss pulled Joe to his feet, but Joe fought as hard as he could.  He screamed words he’d never said aloud before.  Hoss had hold of his arms as Joe stared right at his face with no recognition at all.

“Joseph!”

Ben and Adam came bounding through the doorway.  “What’s going on?”  Ben yelled to his middle son.

“He don’t know who I am, Pa.  He’s trying to fight me.”

Ben rushed in between them, pushing Hoss off to the side.  He took hold of Joe’s arms in the same manner Hoss had done.  “Joseph—It’s Pa—Joseph!”

The rage became less until Joe’s knees gave way, and Hoss stepped in to help his father lay his brother on the bed.  Sweat dotted Joe’s face, and he shivered uncontrollably.  He rolled to his side.  Pulling his knees to his chest, he wrapped his arms around his legs.

“Put some more wood on the fire, Hoss!  Adam, get some more blankets!”

Trying to keep his own tears in check after seeing his son so far gone, Ben sat down next to Joe on the side of the bed.  Tears soaked his pillow, but the boy didn’t even blink.  Ben knew he was still there in the camp, and he didn’t know how to bring him back.

He caressed his son’s arm and pushed fallen curls from his face.  He talked in a deep, calming voice, hoping Joe could hear him and recognize him as his pa and not the enemy who dominated his mind.

Adam returned with the blankets.  He spread them evenly over his brother, straightening out his legs in the process.  The old Joe would have turned on him, told him to get out, and leave him alone.  This “new” Joe only did what he was told, afraid he’d be hurt if he didn’t obey, although at times he tried to fight; tried to get away.  It was a mixed bag, and no one ever knew what to expect.

“I’ll stay with him, boys.  You go on down and eat your supper before Hop Sing flies off the handle.  I’ll be down later.”

“Want me to bring you somethin’ up here, Pa?”  Hoss asked.

“Thanks, but no.  Not right now.”

After a time, the tremors eased, and Joe fell asleep.  Ben pulled a chair up close to the bed, never taking his eyes off his son.  This wasn’t the first time this had happened, and the whole process was draining on Joe and the rest of the family.  Ben felt like he’d just wrestled a bear, but he’d just wrestled his own son, not knowing when or why it would happen again.

Someone would always have to be with Joseph.  What if he were alone and something like this happened?  Was he able to shake it off by himself?  Would he end up harming himself in some way?  Ben thought of all the possibilities and knew whether the boy liked it or not, someone would have to stay with him all day and all night.

Leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees, Ben closed his eyes and cupped his head in his hands.  How were they ever going to get past this?  How could he bring Joe back?  The doctor didn’t have much to give them as far as a cure or viable steps to take, but Ben knew that would be the case before he’d even called Paul out to the house.

Joe looked so young and peaceful; the fear and the rage were gone.  His boy had been through hell, and it was up to Ben to help him find his way back.  He and Joe had always talked things out, tough things, tough situations.  Joe had always been one to hold things in and try to solve his own problems, but this one overwhelmed him, and he was unable to do it alone.  There was nothing more Ben could do, and he quietly slipped from Joe’s room.  He would join his sons for supper.

No one felt much like eating, and when they were finished, Hoss went up to check on Joe, even though his father had said he was sleeping.  He opened the door and found his little brother’s eyes open and looking straight at him with recognition this time.

“Hey, Little Joe.”

“Hey,” Joe said, sitting up and propping his pillows behind him.

“What time is it?”

“Bout eight o‘clock.”

“Was I sleeping?”

“Yeah.  Don’t you remember nothin’?”

Joe thought back over the day, then ran his hand slowly through his hair. He looked down, somewhat confused, seeing he was dressed in his nightshirt, which seemed odd so early in the evening.  Little things were starting to come back, but he was having trouble piecing them all together.

“Well, I remember we went out to do fencing and—and I remember eating lunch.”

“Yeah.  Anythin’ else?”

“I was cold, and I moved out of the shade—and the sun was warm.”

“And—”

“And now we’re home.” As much as he tried to remember more about the day, that seemed to be about it.

“Well, you missed dinner.  You hungry?”

“I don’t know.”

“You tired?”

“How’d we get home, Hoss?”

“You don’t remember nothin’ else?”

Joe studied his brother.  Hoss knew more than he was telling him, and he tried once again to make sense of his day but shook his head.  He felt uneasy when he realized he couldn’t piece together most of the day.  The last thing he remembered was lunch, and now it was almost time for bed with nothing filling the gaps in between.

“Why can’t I remember, Hoss?”

“Beats me, Joe.  The doc was here.”

“The doc—today?”

“Yeah.  He left a little while ago.”

Joe glanced at the piles of blankets on his bed.  He pushed them aside, then swinging his legs from the bed, he walked toward his window.  He stared but only saw his reflection in the mirrored pane of glass.  Why was so much of his life a blank?  He turned back around to Hoss.  Joe took mental stock of his body—no broken bones, no fever.   “Why was the doctor here?”

“Well—”

“I ain’t hurt or nothin’.  Why’d you send for the doctor?”

Hoss wasn’t sure what to say or how much he was supposed to say, and it made him nervous and uncomfortable.  He figured Joe would remember what happened in the barn, or what happened in this room, and especially that the doc was here.  No one told him whether he could tell Joe or not.

“Hoss?”

“He thinks maybe you ain’t sleeping at night, Little Joe, and when you get tired like that, you start thinkin’ ‘bout all that stuff that happened to you with them Bannocks.”

“You didn’t answer my question.  Why did you have to call the doctor?”

“Well—you—you just weren’t yourself and—”

“I did something, didn’t I?  Tell me what I did, Hoss.”

“It weren’t nothin’, Joe.”

Joe crossed the room and stood directly in front of Hoss.  “Why?  Why was the doctor here?”

“Joe, it’s just that you got scared again—”

“Again?”

“Well, sometimes you think we’s gonna hurt you or somethin’.”

“What does that mean?”

“Maybe you should talk to Pa, Joe.”  Hoss had never been so uncomfortable with his young brother before.  He wasn’t clear on what to say.  The doctor hadn’t talked about that.

“I don’t want to talk to Pa.  I want you to tell me what I did that made you call the doctor.”  Joe was furious.  What had they all been keeping from him, and for how long?

“We had to tell Pa.”

“Tell him what?”

Hoss took a deep breath before he explained.  “You didn’t know who me and Adam were when we was out in the barn, and you kind of broke down and thought we was gonna beat you up or somethin’.”

Joe’s body went limp.  How many times had this happened?  More than once if they had to talk to the doctor about it.  “So what happens now?”

“Well, me and Pa and Adam’s gonna take turns sleeping in here with you so we know if you’re sleeping through the night or not,” Hoss said, but he knew right off Joe wasn’t going to be happy with the arrangements.

“That’s what Doc said to do?”

“Yeah.  Just for the next week.  Hey Joe, how ‘bout something to eat?”  Hoss said, trying to change the subject.

Joe walked back to the window.  “I’m really not hungry, Hoss.”

“Aw, come on, Joe.  Come downstairs with me.  Pa and Adam’s waitin’ for us.”

“I said no!  Just leave me alone.”

Hoss started to leave.  He opened the door and then turned back to his brother. “If’n you change your mind—”

“I won’t.”

I can’t do this.  I can’t have them stare at me twenty-four hours a day.  Don’t they know that only makes things worse?  I might as well go back to the Bannocks.  There’s no difference anymore.

I know when my mind starts to go there, but I thought I was stopping myself.  Now, I’m starting to get the picture.  What’s real in my head is coming out for everyone else to see.  It’s ten times worse at night, and now they’re all going to be here in my room to see for themselves how crazy I am.  Little Joe, the circus sideshow.  Don’t they know I don’t want to be like this; I don’t want to remember all the time?

I heard a knock at the door, but I didn’t want to see anyone, and I sure didn’t want to talk.  I just wanted to be left alone, but there it was again, only this time I heard the door open.

“May I come in?”

I turned from the window when I heard my father’s voice.  “Looks like you already are.”

He walked toward me and slid his hand across my shoulders.  “Can we talk for a while, Joe?”

I was trapped.  It was already starting.  I didn’t have five minutes to myself.  What could I tell my father?  No?  Get out and leave me alone?  “Sure.  What do you want to talk about?”

“Let’s sit down.”

Pa took a seat in my desk chair, and I sat on the edge of my bed.

“Hoss says you’re not hungry tonight.”

“He’s right.”

“He also said he told you about the sleeping arrangements.”

“Yeah.”

“It’s just for a week, Joseph.”

“Yeah.  He said that, too.”

“We’re only trying to help you, you know.”

“I know.”

“Then why all the hostility, the anger?”

How could I make him understand?  How could I say anything without making it worse?  I knew what Pa was saying.  I knew he’d do whatever the doctor told him to do, but I didn’t want them to see me like that, and I felt like a captive being watched all the time.  I looked at Pa and said what I had to say.

“I feel like a prisoner in my own home, Pa.”

“Go on,” he said.

“It doesn’t feel any different than when I was with the Bannocks except I know you’re not going to beat me or—anything.”

“Or what, Joseph?”

“Nothing.”

“Talk to me, son.”

I shook my head.  I couldn’t tell Pa all the things they did to me.  Once was bad enough, and I wasn’t going to make him sit and listen to all the torture and humiliation I went through.

“I can’t, Pa.”

“It wasn’t your fault, son.  It happened, but it’s over now.”

I shot up off the bed.  “It shouldn’t have happened to me!  I didn’t do anything wrong!”

“You’re right.  It shouldn’t have happened to you, and I’m sorry you had to live like that when—”

“You’re sorry?”  You don’t know what all they did to me, Pa.  “Jess should be sorry.  It should have been him, not me!”  I was yelling at my father, and there was no reason except that I had lost control.  “He hasn’t even come here to tell me he’s sorry!”

“Son—”

“I hate him, Pa!  I hate what he did to me!”  Oh God, I could feel it starting.  Not now, please, not now.

“Joe, come and sit down.”

“I don’t want to sit down!  I don’t want to talk about it!  Believe me, you don’t want to know!  Do you understand?”  I was pacing the room like a caged animal.  I couldn’t sit down.  I was mad at Jess.  I was mad at the Bannocks.  I was mad at everyone.

Pa came toward me, and I turned in the other direction.  He reached for my arm.  “Don’t touch me!”  I was going there, and I tried to make it stop.  I was scared, and he kept coming toward me.  I didn’t want to go there.  I didn’t want to remember— “Get away from me!”  My heart pounded, and it was getting hard to breathe.  I tried to get away—I had to get away.

They grabbed me, ripped my clothes.  I couldn’t get away.  I covered my head before they pulled out their whips.  I could feel rocks hitting my legs and my back.  They were kicking me and pulling my hair.  I crouched down on the ground so they wouldn’t hurt me again.  Not the collar.  I had to get away.  I ran.  I pounded on the side of the lodge.

The brave grabbed my hands, but I fought this time.  I fought back hard—I yelled, and I kicked.  They weren’t going to get me.  I could feel the whip.  I stood naked and I wanted to cry, but I wouldn’t cry.  I wouldn’t let them see me cry.  I needed my pa, but he wasn’t coming.  Why wouldn’t he come?

I stopped everything when the force of the slap almost knocked me to the ground.  There was blood on my hands, and it was running down my arms.  Blood stained my clothes.  Blood was everywhere, on me and on the man who—who wasn’t a brave—Pa?

The fog started to lift; my mind began to clear.  I was home, in my room, not …

Pa shouted for Adam and Hoss as he held my wrists in his hands.  There was no fight left in me, but there was blood everywhere.  Blood on my father.  Had I fought my father?  I thought it was—I was so sure.

“Get some warm water and bandages,” he yelled across the room.

“Pa?”

“It’s all right, son.  You’re all right now.  You’ve hurt your hands, but we’re going to get you all fixed up.”

“My hands?”  I had gone there again.  I felt it coming, but I didn’t know when I—I was sitting and talking to Pa—Oh God—not Pa.  “What happened?”

“Your window broke, and you’ve cut your hands on the broken glass, Joe.  Just sit in this chair and we’ll wait for the water and bandages.”

“My window?”

Hoss came in with a bowl of water, and Adam was carrying bandages and alcohol while Pa continued to hold my hands out in front of me.  Hoss set the bowl in my lap, and Pa gently slid both hands down in the water.  “We need to check for glass, but let’s have him soak for a minute first.”

The water turned red.  Hoss had left the room and was walking back in with another bowl and pitcher of water.  The bowl on my lap was removed, and a new one was put in its place.  Pa picked my right hand up and checked for any shards of glass, then he wrapped that hand in a towel.  He did the same with the other.

I was sick to my stomach.  What had I done?  I didn’t see any marks on Pa, so I didn’t think I’d hurt him, but what if I had, and what about next time?  I knew there’d be a next time, I just knew it, and who would I hurt then?  I prayed it was just me, but what if—

“They both look okay,” I heard Pa say.  “Let’s bandage him up.”

My hands were wrapped with white strips.  I’d sat unmoving the whole time Pa and Hoss played doctor.  Pa had me stand up, and he removed my blood-splattered nightshirt while Adam stood next to me with a clean one.  I saw the pain in my father’s face as his eyes traced the red scar on my chest, the visible reminder left for all to see.  The clean shirt was quickly slipped on.

The covers were pulled back on my bed, and Pa helped me in, then picked up the pillows, propping them up behind me.  I was tired; I just wanted to sleep.

“Think you can eat something?  How about a sandwich?” Pa asked, as he meticulously straightened the blankets on the bed like he did every time I was sick or hurt.

“Okay.”

I wasn’t hungry, and my hands were starting to throb.  They lay useless on my lap.  Looking across the room toward my window, I tried to remember how it had broken.  It obviously had something to do with me and the fact that I was fighting my own father.  I watched Adam as he bent down and picked up broken pieces of glass from the floor.  Hoss and Adam carried the mess of bloody water and broken window panes out of my room.  If I could only remember.

Pa sat down next to me on the edge of my bed.  “You okay, son?”

“What happened?  How did my window break?” 

“Let’s not worry about that right now.  Let’s just say you got upset.”

“Upset?  You mean crazy, don’t you, Pa?”

“Joe—”

I looked away from Pa.  Everyone in my family had seen me go off like the crazy person I’d become, and I’m sure they all thought I’d lost my mind entirely.  I didn’t know how to stop it from happening. I’d get scared, but how long was I there, and what brought me back?  What if I went there someday and never came back?

Stop.  Stop or you’ll be right back there, Joe.  Pa was rubbing my arm in a slow, gentle motion, back and forth, back and forth, and it relieved the tension and calmed the voices and the fear I knew could come back.

“I’m sorry I broke the window,” I said without looking up.

“Let’s not worry about that.  Hoss will replace it tomorrow.”

I nodded, but I still couldn’t look up.  I was embarrassed, and I felt like a fool.

Pa sat with me for a long time, just rubbing my arm until my eyes grew heavy.  He stopped, though, when Hoss walked in carrying a tray.

“Brought you some supper, Little Joe, but it looks to me like I’m gonna have to feed it to you myself.”

I studied my hands, which really hurt, and wrapped up like they were; it was almost the same as when they were tied.  I was useless then, and I was useless now.

“I guess you will, brother.”

Pa smiled and patted my arm before he eased himself up off the bed, leaving Hoss to take his place.  “I’ll let you eat.  I’ll be up later, Joseph.”

I tried to smile at Pa.  He tried to smile back.

Hoss brought the beef and cheese sandwich to my mouth, and I took a bite.  Setting it back on the plate, he picked up the glass of milk.  “Wanna wash that down?”

I swallowed, and he tilted the glass just enough so I could drink.  When he picked up the sandwich again, I turned my head.  “Come on, Joe, just a couple more bites,” he pleaded.

One more.  I could do one more.  I opened my mouth and was given a big thank you from my brother when he grinned, and his whole face lit up.  I wasn’t trying to make him mad or unhappy, I simply wasn’t hungry; something Hoss couldn’t understand at all.  One more drink and I would be done for the day, but how long could I hold the dreams back, especially at night?   I didn’t dare fall asleep with someone in my room.  It always was worse at night.

Hoss set the plate and the glass of milk back on the tray.  “I thought I’d sleep in here with you tonight, Little Joe.  Is that okay?”

I nodded at Hoss.  Someone had to, and I was glad it was him.  For some reason, if I went crazy with Hoss around, it didn’t seem quite so bad.

Plans changed, and my father would be my nighttime companion.  I guess that whole window thing must have upset him.  Hoss had brought up a cot for Pa even though I knew his plan was to stay awake all night and watch over me, which meant neither of us was planning to sleep.

He brought a book with him and pulled the chair up closer to my bedside table so he would have enough light to read.  “I brought up one of your favorites, Little Joe, Moby Dick.”

He was right.  It was one of my favorites.  Pa stood next to the bed, arranging the covers to perfection again before he was ready to start.  “You ready?  Need anything?”

“I’m ready.”

“Call me Ishmael.  Some years ago—never mind how long precisely—” Pa started, and I settled back, making myself comfortable while he read the story aloud.  “I thought I would sail about a little—” The words were familiar, and my mind relaxed at the sound of his voice.  I tried to stay awake, but I was so worn out from all that had happened.  I let my mind soak in the words of my favorite story of adventure, and soon they faded away.

Holding me tight against her soft, warm body, my fingers reach up and move the sweat-soaked tendrils of long, black hair from her face.  She pulls me tighter against her warm, soft body, and I feel myself wanting her again.  Kissing is not the native way, and when I try, she turns her head to the side so my lips move slowly across her chin and down her neck.  Again, I’m inside her; a slow, melodic rhythm starting to build.  The simple tune plays until we reach the mighty crescendo.

I don’t dare scream or make a sound.  Oh, God!  I grab my neck.  I try to pull it away.  I can’t breathe—can’t breathe.  Someone holds me down, but I fight to get away.  Salty tears—I taste them on my lips.  I fall to the floor—instantly back on my feet.  I look for her—she’s not there.

“NO!  NO!”

He grabs me again, but I’m trapped on my back.  I try to push him away, but he’s stronger than me.  I fight—kick—scream—the strength of a boy, not a man.  Calls more men—big men—I can’t fight them all.  This is the end—more afraid this time.  “Just kill me!”  I hear myself scream.

She wraps her arms around me and rocks me back and forth as tears soak the front of her dress.  My whole body shakes.  My head rests on her chest, and she rubs my back, trying to settle the storm that’s raging within me.

My heart stops racing; I’m better now.  I push back away from her, and I see it isn’t her at all.  It’s my father; his voice was soothing and calm.  Oh God—what have I done?

“Pa?” I say in a small, shaky voice.

“Everything’s all right, son.  I’m with you now.”

When morning came, clothes had been set out, ready for me to put on.  Pa must have woken up earlier and gone downstairs for breakfast.  I was alone and wondered how I would dress, bandaged up like I was.  My hands were stiff and sore, and there were traces of blood against the bright, white strips.

When I glanced across the room, I saw a board nailed up over my window, and I remembered some of the night before.  I remembered Pa wrapping my hands, and I knew I was the one who had broken the window, but why?

This was almost laughable.  I slipped into my pants, but I couldn’t do the belt.  I got my arms in my shirt, but couldn’t do the buttons.  I wasn’t even going to try the boots.  Pa wouldn’t be happy, but I had no choice.

I bounded down the stairs like nothing was wrong.  Forks stopped in mid-air as all three members of my family stared from the dining room table and watched me cross the room.  Adam couldn’t keep the smile off his face as he stood from his chair to finish dressing his little brother.

“Thanks.”

“Where are your boots, Joseph?”  Pa asked. I gave him a look I’m sure he didn’t appreciate.

“I’ll get them,”  Hoss said, leaving to go upstairs.

Pa placed slices of bacon on my plate, and Adam scooped me up some eggs.  My right hand wasn’t in as bad a shape as my left, and I really didn’t want to be fed like a baby, so I picked up my fork and tried to balance the eggs from the plate to my mouth.  Even though everyone watched, I didn’t do too badly, making it work on the second or third try.

That seemed to end the watchful eyes, and everyone continued with breakfast.  Hoss stood next to me with my boots, and I twisted in my chair and let him put them on.  Pa cleared his throat, meaning he was ready to move on with the day.

“I want the two of you to try and finish up that fencing today,” Pa said to my brothers, and I looked up to see them both nod at Pa.

“What about me?”  I said.

Pa focused his eyes on my hands and then looked back up, meeting mine.  “I have other plans for you.”

“Oh.”

“See you, little brother,” Hoss said, before heading out.  Adam winked at me and followed Hoss out the front door.

Pa rested his elbows on the table and cleared his throat.  I set my fork down and looked up at him, hoping he didn’t want to talk, especially after last night.  I knew he wouldn’t let it slide, but I was glad we didn’t have to discuss it with my brothers around to hear all the details.

“Do you remember anything about last night, son?”

“Last night?”

“Yes, last night.”

“You were there.  I slept all night, didn’t I?”

“Eventually,” he said.

“You mean the window?”  It was so hard to remember when my mind went, but it obviously went far enough, if I put my hands through my bedroom window.

“I started reading to you.  You closed your eyes—” Pa paused for a minute. “Do you remember what happened after that?”

I shook my head.  Even if I could remember, I didn’t want to talk about it.  Pa obviously saw it all, so why ask me if he already knew?

“Okay.  I had your brothers saddle our horses.  I want us to take a ride this morning.”

“Okay—where?”

“Just finish up and we’ll go.”

I had no idea how Pa knew this was the very spot my friends and I had camped that night, right here, close to Palmer’s Ridge, but he did.  I also had no idea why he thought he needed to bring me back, but it looked like we were staying a while.

With my hands bandaged like they were, I was useless, and Pa seemed content with me sitting and doing nothing as he pulled a coffee pot and cups from his saddlebag.  He scrounged for wood, and it wasn’t long before he had a small fire going and the pot set to boil.

“Why did we come here, Pa?”

It was a beautiful spot.  Boulders lined the stream where my so-called friends and I fished that night, and tall cottonwood trees provided endless shade on warm summer afternoons.  When the coffee was ready, Pa handed me a cup.  It felt good to just sit and do nothing, and if the memories didn’t come, we could call it an enjoyable day for father and son.

I could always tell when something was on Pa’s mind.  I guess it was like anyone else.  He didn’t look right at me, and I thought maybe he was waiting for me to say something, but it had been his idea to ride up here, so I decided to just sit back and relax and drink my coffee.

“Joseph?”

“Mm?”  I said, blowing over the top of my cup.

“I want you to tell me everything that happened to you after you and your friends left this spot.”

“You’re not serious, are you, Pa?” I sat up straight, never thinking this was what he had in mind.  My day spent relaxing with my father just crumbled beneath me.

“I’m very serious, son.”

“But why?”

“I think it’s the only way to get you through this.”

“What if I don’t want to talk about it?”  I said.  I jumped up and walked away from my father and down to the stream.  I listened to the roar of the white water as it splashed over rocks in its path.  The same roar was inside me now.  There’s no way I was going to tell my father what happened in that camp—no way.

“Son—” I cringed when I heard Pa’s voice.  He’d followed me to the creek, and I knew it wasn’t over.  If he thought for one minute I was going to tell him anything about the past year, he was sorely mistaken

“NO, PA!  You don’t want to know.”

“I’m sure there are things I don’t want to hear, but that’s where you’re wrong.  I want to know everything.”  He rested his hand on my shoulder.

“Why?”  I said.  I turned sharply and looked him straight in the eye.  “Why talk about it?  Why?”

“I want you to come over here and sit back down so we can talk without yelling at each other.”

It was obvious who was doing the yelling, and it wasn’t my father.  He held my arm and guided me as if I were still a child.  We sat down together, but what could I say that would satisfy him, so he’d leave me alone?

“Just start at the beginning, son.”

“Fine,” I said.  “I worked for this woman—”

“You were that woman’s slave.”

“If you already know, Pa, what’s the point?”

“I want the truth.”

I swallowed hard.  “Okay, I was her slave.  What more do you want to know?”

“Everything!”  Pa all but shouted.

I could feel it coming on.  Is that what Pa wanted?  Did he want to see me go mad out here in the middle of nowhere?  I could feel my heart pound, deep and hard in my chest like the drum pounded in camp, and the music and the laughter—

I stood and started pacing.  Fight it, Joe—fight it.  I turned and looked back at my father.  He was standing now, but he hadn’t moved toward me

“I won’t do it, Pa.  There’s nothing to be gained.”  He wanted answers I wasn’t willing to give.   Not now—not ever. He took a step toward me, and I raised my hand up, telling him without words to stay right where he was.  “Okay,” I said, “if this is what you want.  I worked all day.  I slept all night.  Same thing the next day and the next and I just wanted to leave those people and come back home to my people, my family—end of story.”  There—it was said.

I looked away, but I could feel Pa’s eyes boring into me, waiting for more.  Well, he got all he’s going to get.  Did he know I was close to the edge?  Did he know I could go off any minute and hurt him?  It scared me to think of what could happen, and I wasn’t going to let it.  I wasn’t going to let him take me there.  Someone would get hurt, and if it wasn’t me—

“Joseph—”

“NO!  There’s nothing more to tell.”  I walked away and headed toward the horses.  I turned back around before I mounted Cochise.  “I’m sorry, Pa.”

Ben stood.  He watched his son ride away.  His plan had failed.  He knew he was walking on eggshells, but nothing else had worked, and he was grasping at straws.  Somehow or another, Joe had to face the events of the past year before he could heal.

The doctor offered no real suggestions but to see if the boy slept through the night.  There had to be more he could do, and as Joseph’s father, it was up to him to find a way.  He had to get Joe to talk.  That’s the only way his son would ever be free.

He gathered up the pot and cups and doused the fire before he followed his son back home.  Paul had suggested all three men take turns sleeping in Joe’s room, but there was no doubt, Ben would stay with him again tonight.

Ben quickened his pace.  If Joe hadn’t gone home ….

He rode into the yard and straight into the barn.  There was the pinto, already stabled between the two larger geldings.  All of his sons were home, and with a sigh of relief, Ben attended his own mount before heading into the house.

When he finished, he walked slowly across the yard and opened the front door.  There in front of him was the perfect family scenario.  Two sons playing a game of cards while the other was deep into a new novel he’d received in the mail only yesterday.  If only he could capture the moment and make it last forever.

Before greetings were made, the moment was stilled when Hop Sing rounded the corner announcing dinner was ready and everyone better come to table before food get cold.

Ben’s eyes were on Joseph.  Even as he shed his hat and gunbelt on the sideboard, he watched his son wait for Hoss to make a move.  Mechanically, though, the boy stood, making his way to the table without looking at his father.  Ben knew he had to tread lightly.  He would leave well enough alone for now, but not forever.

I excused myself halfway through dinner.  The conversation was awkward, and everyone else seemed as uncomfortable as I.  They tried to be sneaky, but they watched to see if I would eat; to see if I made a wrong move, which I didn’t.  I was well aware.  Pa was upset with me, but it couldn’t be helped.  I wasn’t saying anything else, and the sooner he figured that out, the sooner things could get back to normal.

I barely got to my room and kicked off my boots when there was a knock at the door.  I never had a minute to myself.  The door opened, and Adam stuck his head in.

“May I come in?”

“Looks like you already are.”

“Not if you don’t want me here.”

“Come on in,” I said.  “You get stuck with me tonight?”

“No, just thought you might want some company—talk maybe.”

“About what?”

“Anything—everything.”

“Not really,” I said.  “Did Pa send you?”

“No.  We’ve hardly said two words to each other since you’ve been home.”

“Is that my fault, too?”

Adam pulled a chair next to my desk.  “Why so defensive, Joe?”

“I don’t know.”  I was so tired of explaining everything to everyone.  I didn’t know what to say anymore.  “I’m sorry.  I just—it’s just—I don’t know.”

Adam sat there.  He stared at me, just like Pa.  Everyone wanted answers I couldn’t give, and I didn’t know what to say anymore.  “I hate being watched all the time.  I hate everyone sitting around waiting for me to—to go crazy—especially you.”

“Why me?”

“I don’t know!”  I said.  I got up from my bed and crossed the room.  I turned back to him and there he sat—mister calm and collected. “Because you already think I’m crazy, okay?  Maybe I am.  Maybe this will never end, and I’ll stay crazy forever.  I don’t know anything anymore, Adam.  Can you understand that?”

“Joe, I never for once thought—”

“Don’t lie to me, brother.  I see it in your eyes.  I know what you’re thinking.  My crazy little brother—touched in the head—a disgrace to the family name.  I may be touched, but I’m not stupid.”

Adam didn’t answer right away because he knew everything I said was true.  I didn’t blame him.  I’d think the same thing if I were him.  What else could he think?  I turned back to the window.  I didn’t want to see the look of pity in his eyes.  I’d seen it too many times before.  When I heard him stand up from the chair and walk across the room toward me, I stiffened.

“Anything I can do to help?”

I shook my head, but I didn’t turn around.  Tears burned my eyes.  There was no argument.  For the year I spent with the Bannocks, I thought if I could escape and make it back home, everything would be all right.  Life would be normal, but now I knew I’d brought shame to the family.  I couldn’t be trusted to act like a civilized person.  No one ever knew when I would go crazy, not even me.

I heard the door close, and Adam was gone.

The nightmare begins.  It’s nothing I can’t handle.

I wait for the worst to happen, a helpless child, a meaningless life.  I try to concentrate, focus my mind on anything but the raw terror that will take hold, but this time I wake.  Soft, gentle snoring—my father sits in the chair.  He’s fast asleep.

I won’t be a burden any longer.  I lower my feet to the floor, and in the dead of night, I make no sound.  I pick up my boots and slip out the bedroom door.  The demons become stronger every day, and I won’t bring shame to my family.  I won’t tie them down.  I only want to set them free.

My hands are shaking, and I fumble nervously to fasten my gunbelt and pick up my coat and hat.  I’ll get a job on someone else’s ranch, and if I go crazy there, I’ll just move on; no questions asked, no sets of eyes, preying on me like vultures.

I fear every minute, awake or asleep, I’ll hurt either my Pa or my brothers.  I can’t live like this, and they shouldn’t have to either.  I know this is for the best, and they will know it too.  “It just takes time, Little Joe.” Those were Hoss’s words when I first came home.  Time doesn’t cure a crazy person, but in time, Pa and my brothers will be thankful I left.

After striking the match to light the lantern, I lift the saddle on top of Cochise.  He shows his displeasure, considering I’m waking him in the dead of night.  I reach for his silky black muzzle, and he blows softly into my hand.  I mumble simple nonsense words to him, and he agrees with me; it’s time for the two of us to move on.

I start to reach for the lantern when a movement catches my eye.  My father stands at the door.  Obviously, I’m a failure at escapes.  My timing has never been right.  He crosses his arms and leans against the open door.  I’m going to have to come up with a pretty good reason before he’ll let me pass.

He doesn’t speak—he waits for an explanation I don’t readily have.  I finish tightening the cinch, and after sliding my hand down my pony’s rump, I move slowly toward my father.  “I couldn’t sleep.  I was just going for a ride.”

“Mm—” he said, and I knew my explanation didn’t fly.

“I won’t be gone long.”

“This isn’t the answer, son.”

“It’s just a ride, Pa.  Don’t add more to the story.”

“You know I can’t let you leave,” he said.  He took a step closer.

“I’ve thought it over, Pa.  It’s my life and I think I know what’s best.”

“You think it’s best to leave your family—leave people who love you and would never harm you?”

“That’s not it, Pa.  You don’t understand.”  My father stayed calm, but I could feel heat rush through my body.  I couldn’t tell him the real reason; he would deny everything to get me to stay.

“Maybe you should explain.”

He knew it was more than a ride.  He knew I was planning to leave for good, and there was no way for me to explain.   It’s just the way it had to be.

“Tell me about the woman.”

“What?”

“The woman in the camp.  Did she have a name?”

“Pa, she really doesn’t have anything—”

“Did you love her?”

“Love?  You’re starting to sound as crazy as me, Pa.”  I turned my back on my father.  Why was he doing this?  What did he hope to gain?

“I’ll ask you again, Joe.  Did you love her?  How did you feel when you left her behind?”

“What do you want from me?  How could you think I would love a woman who owned me?  A woman who whipped me at will and then shouted at me when I didn’t understand.  A woman who made me sleep outside like a dog.  Why would you ask such a question?”

“You tell me.”

I was pacing now.  The barn walls were closing in, and my plan for a quick escape had failed.  Beads of sweat inched their way down my face, and even though the night air was cool, I was burning up inside.  I turned and faced my father, and even though it was against my better judgment, I told him what he thought he wanted to know.

“For the life of me, Pa, I don’t know why you want to hear this, but here goes.  You want to know how humiliated I was when they stripped me of my clothes and tied me to the ground spread-eagled.  Do you want to know about the snakes and lizards and—

“Or do you want to know how women touched me where a man shouldn’t be touched in front of everyone in camp, and then walked away laughing because they’d done their job well?  Do you want to know how they let their children throw rocks and sticks and scraps of food I would have eaten off the ground, given half the chance?  What, Pa?  What is it you want to know?”

I saw tears in my father’s eyes, but he had asked for it, and now he was going to hear it all.

“Do you want to know about the time I tried to escape?  I was nearly killed when the game of the day was having an Indian brave drag me along the ground behind his pony and tear the skin from my body.  Do you want to know that I wasn’t allowed to speak for an entire year or that I was whipped and tormented almost every single day?  Do you want to know about the collar they kept fastening around my neck?  What?  What more do you want to know?”

I had screamed it all to my father, and my voice was starting to go.  I’d told him, and now he knows.  I hope he’s happy. “Now you’ve heard it all, Pa.  That’s my year in a nutshell.”

Pa started towards me, and I backed away.  I didn’t trust myself.  I was breathing hard, trying to fight off the devil himself, and the last thing I wanted to do was to find out I’d assaulted my own father.

“You didn’t answer my question, son.”

“What?”  What did I possibly leave out that he wanted to hear?

Then it hit me.  I hadn’t answered the question my father had asked.  Did I love her?  I looked up at him and felt my world crumble before my eyes.  I did love her.  I did leave her behind.

Pa reached out for me before I lost the strength to stand on my own.  He wrapped his arms around me, pulling me tightly to his chest.  “I loved her, Pa.”

“It’s all right, son.  It’s all right.”

“There was a fire—” I’d tried all this time not to think of what had happened the night I was banished from the camp.  “She—” Pa pulled me even tighter against him.  I couldn’t finish, but he knew as well as I did that she died the night I was set free.

I eased myself away.  I took a step back. “She—she cared for me, Pa,” I said.  “She kept me alive when—” I looked into my father’s eyes and found the strength to go on.  “So many times she brought me back when I nearly died; when I didn’t know if I even wanted to live, she made sure I did.”

“She sounds like a wonderful person, Joe.”

“She was, Pa.  She was as much of an outcast as I was.  She didn’t deserve—” I turned away.  I couldn’t say anymore, and I couldn’t stop the tears.  I felt Pa’s hand on my shoulder, and I turned around to face him once again.  “I loved her, Pa.”

Tears flowed as I grieved for the woman I’d loved and lost.  “I couldn’t save her.”   Again, my father pulled me close.  He comforted my trembling body.

The dark of night had faded to the gray of dawn.  I don’t know how long Pa held me, but I began to free myself from some of the misery I’d held in for so long.  My thoughts of escaping a family who loved me were foolish.  I realized that now.  I needed each one of them just as I’d needed Una’s simple touch in those defining moments of my life.

I knew there was more to say.  Pa and I would talk again.  I would tell him more about Una, the things she taught me, and the kindness she showed me.  She was a part of my life; a woman I loved and owed my life to.

I leaned back from my father’s embrace.  He looked at me with tear-soaked eyes, but I had to break the connection.  “Guess I should let Cooch off the hook,” I said.  I lifted the stirrup and unfastened his cinch, then lifted the saddle from his back.  “Don’t think he was that anxious to leave anyway.”

Pa lowered the wick on the lantern.   I’d lost control as I sometimes do, and maybe I’d said more than I should have, but we’d settle all that another time.  It was out in the open now, and I was ready to talk about anything he wanted to hear.

“I could sure use a cup of coffee.”

A big smile crossed Pa’s face.  Still, no words were said.  Again, his arm crossed my shoulder, and we stepped out of the barn, closing the doors behind us.   The sun appeared bright on the horizon; a brand-new day had begun.

I made it through the next couple of weeks without any kind of incident, whether I was alone, which wasn’t often, or with my family.  There were no guarantees in life, but it was a start.

It was Saturday night, and I was going to town with my brothers.  Finally, a night out, and I was anxious to sit back and relax, have a couple of beers, and just have some good, clean fun.  We rode into town, tethered our horses, and walked inside the ever-rambunctious Bucket of Blood.  This wasn’t Adam’s first choice of saloons, but he’d let me choose this time.

“I’ve got the first round,” he said, stepping up to the bar.  Hoss and I found a table near the back of the room; that way, we could see all the action, and maybe Adam wouldn’t be bothered by it so much, and I wouldn’t have to watch him roll his eyes.  I couldn’t believe how long it had been since I’d sat and had a beer with my brothers.  Joe Cartwright was back and ready for action.

It wasn’t long before Jess and Andy came to mind.  They were the last two people I’d sat inside the saloon with and planned our weekend trip.  I wouldn’t think about that now.  I was here to have a good time and not sit here and dwell on the past.

Different people came up to me one at a time, clapping me on the back and welcoming me home.  I guess the novelty of it would wear off soon, but for now, I kind of enjoyed the attention.  Adam and Hoss understood and sat back in their chairs, letting me enjoy the limelight.

Hoss went up to get three more beers, and that’s when I saw Andy walk into the saloon.  He looked right at me.  I saw him hesitate, and then a big smile crossed his face, and he walked straight towards our table.  He had tears in his eyes.  I stood up from my chair, and he wrapped his arms around me.

“Good to have you back, Little Joe.”

I took a step back from him.  “It’s good to be back.  Hey, pull up a chair.”  It was great to see my friend.  “Looks like we need one more beer, Hoss.”

Hoss slid his own glass over to Andy and headed back to the bar.

We talked like old friends do, skipping over the uncomfortable parts we might talk about someday, but not tonight.  He’d found a girl he planned to marry.  A girl we’d both gone to school with.  I remembered thinking once that it should be me with my two best friends, doing what white boys do, but it wasn’t Andy’s fault the way things turned out, and I didn’t blame him at all.  I was happy for him.  I wished him and Amanda the best.

The four of us laughed and got along well.  We told stupid jokes and watched the pretty saloon girls flit around in their short satin dresses, giving us all a little taste of what none of us would have tonight.  A little gal named Sally walked over and handed me a beer.  “This one’s on the house, Little Joe.”

I pulled her down to sit on my lap.  “You on the house too, Sally?”

She stood right back up and waved her finger in my face, letting me know she’d have none of that kind of talk.  We all laughed, including Sally.  She leaned down and whispered in my ear something I couldn’t share with my brothers or Andy.

Adam saw him first.  He nudged my elbow, and I looked up to see Jess walk into the saloon.  I’d already given up on any kind of apology from him.  I’d let it go, but the friendship we’d once shared would never be the same.

When he glanced our way, I looked past Andy, giving him a tight-lipped smile.  He staggered awkwardly towards our table, and Andy was quick to turn around.  He stood and grabbed Jess by the arm to steady him before he fell clean across our table.

“Time to go home, Jess.”  I didn’t understand why Andy tried so hard to move him away from our table.  Jess was drunk, and he looked like he’d been drinking all day.  Andy spoke to him again and tried to pull him away.

“Wait,” I said.  “What’s this all about?”

“You, Cartwright,” said Jess.

“What about me?”  I stood from my chair.

“You ruined my life.  That’s what.”

“I what?”

“It’s all my fault the Injuns got you.  Everyone in town hates me, and even my father thinks I’m no good.  That’s what!”

“Jess—”

“It’s okay, Little Joe.  I’ll get him outta here,” Andy said.

I started to leave the table and help Andy, but Adam took hold of my arm.  “Leave him be, Joe.  There’s nothing but trouble there.”

I pulled my arm away, but maybe Adam was right.  I glanced at Hoss, and he motioned to my chair.  Sitting back down, I picked up my beer and leaned back.  I thought over what Jess had said.

“You really think that’s true, what he said, Adam?”

“I imagine it is, Joe.”

I’d never thought of it that way.  I guess people would think that of him, but it was an accident; a stupid accident that went terribly wrong.  Obviously, my coming home hadn’t helped his situation at all.  Everyone would remember who shot the Bannock and who got left behind.

It would be a story fathers would tell their young sons, trying to keep them safe under their protective wing just a little while longer.  My father didn’t want me to go on the trip.  He knew all too well what hidden dangers lay in wait for three young men, having the time of their lives.  One trying to outdo the other and forgetting to pay attention like we’d been taught our whole lives.

But I can be rather persuasive, and Pa finally gave in, knowing I wanted to prove I was smart enough and sensible enough to be that grown-up man who knew the dangers and how to handle himself if something went wrong.  I guaranteed my friends did too.  That was my mistake, not his.

I knew Pa cursed those final words. “All right, son, you may go.”  I can’t imagine what he went through during the past year; the pain and sadness he must have felt.  To search—to let go.  To bury a ghost—to pray for a miracle.  I realized my pain had been no worse than his.

I’d also made a promise to Ol’ Dakota, a new set of store-bought clothes.  Getting Pa to agree to let me ride back up into the mountains wasn’t going to happen anytime soon.  I wasn’t ready to ride up there either, but maybe with my brothers, brothers I could always count on and trust that we’d keep each other safe.  It would be a trip I’d be willing to take.

It was my turn to buy the next round, and when I saw Miss Sally swinging her green, satin skirt and heading our way, I held three fingers up and saw her nod that she would get the beers while I enjoyed life with my brothers.  I was at ease with them both, and a night out at last.  We would plan our trip to Dakota’s another day.  Tonight I was Joe Cartwright, no longer living in the past.  The future was mine; my family would see to that.

The End

2-2011

* Lines are taken from Moby Dick by Herman Melville