Promises

By Bakerj

Chapter One

I couldn’t stop the blood.  It bubbled up between my fingers no matter how hard I pressed.  My chest pumped like I’d run a mile, and I needed to focus hard to hear Pa’s calm words.

“Little Joe.  Fetch some napkins.” 

He’d had to repeat his instructions before I heard him.  It took every ounce of determination to remove my hands.  When I did, my heartbeat increased along with the flow of red liquid.  I scrambled to the dresser, yanked open the drawer, and grabbed a handful of the neatly folded clothes.  I turned back to the chaos of the room.  Blood was everywhere.  On the floor, furniture, walls, me.  How had this happened? 

*****

Hop Sing visiting relatives in Chinatown meant we were on kitchen duty when the hammering came on the door.  I’d thrown Pa a look that said, ‘I wondered who that could be,’ and left him to put away the last dish while I answered.

Mordecai Wright shoved me aside as he barreled through the door.  Rifle in one hand, he pulled his daughter in behind him with the other. 

He bellowed for Pa, who came out from the kitchen.  “Mordecai.  For heaven’s sake, what’s wrong?”

“I’ll tell you, Ben Cartwright.  Your son has defiled my girl.  Take a look.”

He pushed Ruth ahead of him into the middle of the room.  We both stared.  Dragged out without a coat, I could see how the poor girl shivered.  Arms wrapped around her, head down, she curled in on herself.   

Pa’s jaw locked.  His gaze snapped from Ruth back to her father.  “For God’s sake, man.  What are you talking about?”

Mordecai reached forward and pulled Ruth’s arms down.  “Let them see your shame.  You can’t hide it anymore.” 

Ruth’s loose homemade dress could no longer disguise the swelling underneath.  I turned my head and dropped my gaze.  Pregnant and without a husband was the worst situation a girl could land in.  But Mordecai was plain wrong about Adam or Hoss.  They would never do such a thing.

Pa stepped forward.  “Are you saying one of my sons is responsible?”

“There’s going to be a wedding today, and he’s gonna make things right by my girl.”

My mouth dropped when Mordecai swung his musket and pointed it at me.  A rush of panic swept through me like the breath I sucked in.  “Pa …  I swear—”

Pa’s raised hand cut me off.  “I know, boy.  Mordecai, Joe wouldn’t do this.”

“Are you calling my girl a liar?”

Ruth wrung her hands together and moved toward me.  The desperation in her eyes pleaded with me.  “Joe.  Please.  Help me.  You promised.”

What was she saying?  I’d never touched her, let alone promised her anything.  Then I remembered the day we’d all gathered at a neighbor’s house for the Christmas service.

Returning from the outhouse, I spotted Ruth sitting alone.  I’d always had a soft spot for Ruth.  Her ma died when she was ten, yet her Pa didn’t give her a drop of affection.  We hadn’t been best friends, but I’d kept an eye out for her.  I even fought off a few bullies at school.  I’ll never forget the delicious cookies she’d baked to say thanks.  I’d decided to check on her.

“Aren’t you cold?  Come inside.”

“Is the service starting?”  Her voice was soft and tremulous like a mouse that crept through the house afraid of the cat.

“Not yet.”

“I’ll come back in when it does.”

I sat down beside her.  “Something wrong?”  Ruth drew up her knees and tucked her skirts around her thin legs with her little, bony hands.  “Hey, we’re friends, ain’t we?” I prompted.  She smiled, but the bleakness of it touched my heart.  “You can tell me.”

Leaning forward, she rested her chin on her knees.  “Have you ever been in love?”

The question took me by surprise.  Since I’d turned fourteen, girls had shown an interest in me.  At sixteen, I enjoyed talking, flirting, and especially kissing girls, but … love?

“No.  I guess not.”

“Pa never lets me talk to men.”

“Well, I guess he’s being protective.”

“I’m fifteen.  Old enough to wed.”

“That’s still pretty young.”

“Pa says men only want one thing, and they’re all liars.  Is that true?”

“I guess some men are like that, but not all.”

“I didn’t think so.”  I was glad to see her smile.  But as soon as it appeared, it vanished.  Tears pooled in her eyes.  “Would you help me, Little Joe?”

“Sure.  How?”

“Not now.  But, maybe, in the future?  If I’m in trouble, would you help me?  Even if it was big trouble?

“I said I would, didn’t I?”

“You promise?”

Of course, I promised.  Heck, how much trouble could a little thing like Ruth get into?  Now I knew.  I began to feel sick.

“Ruth.  I can’t.  I’m sorry.”

“But … you promised.”

The look of rejection on her face increased my nausea, but no way was I taking the blame for her baby.  The sudden movement at my side made me turn my head, straight into Mordecai’s rifle.  I went down like a sack of potatoes.

The light danced around me.  My vision cleared enough to see Ruth on her knees at my side.  Her face scrunched and anxious.  Sounds buzzed in my ears in waves that made no sense.  Odd words filtered through the haze, ‘decent, liar, truth.’

Mordecai’s voice rose over Pa’s.  “I don’t care what you say.  That bastard ruined my girl’s honor, and he will make it right.”

Pa turned to the quivering girl at my side.  “Ruth, please.  Tell your pa the truth.”

I tried to lift my head, to move, to add my plea to Pa’s. The spinning room stopped my efforts.

Mordecai moved to the door.  “I’m taking them to the preacher.  He’s gonna say, ‘yes’ to my girl, or I’ll put a bullet in him.” 

Pa tried again.  “Let’s calm down and talk about this.”

He leveled the musket at Pa.  It was typical that Mordecai still carried an old Springfield and not a carbine.  But I’d seen men fire off three shots in under a minute with one of those, so I didn’t take it any less lightly.

“You try and stop me, Ben, and as God is my witness, I’ll put a bullet in you too.”

Ruth jumped to her feet.  “Stop it, Pa!  Joe ain’t lying.  It wasn’t him.”

“What?”

“I lied.  I was scared to tell you the truth.  It wasn’t Little Joe.  It was Bobby.”

“Bobby Harper?  That no-account drifter I let work for us?”

“He weren’t no drifter.  He was on his way to a job, and we love each other.”

“I shoulda known, seeing the way you mooned over him.  Didn’t I warn you?  He’s like all men, after one thing.”

“That ain’t so.  Not all men are like that.  Bobby wants to marry me.  Once he’s fixed up, he’s gonna come back for me.  He promised.”

“You believed that and let him touch you without a ring on your finger?”

“He weren’t lying.  He’s honest and kind, and gentle.  He told me.  He truly loves me!”

“You stupid, little whore!”  The slap sent Ruth staggering back.  Pa reached forward to steady her.  “You couldn’t wait to let a man bed you.  What did you do?  Bring him into my home behind my back?  Soil my house with your fornication?”

Ruth wrenched away from Pa.  Fists clenched.  She glared at her father.  “No!  We fucked in the barn like animals!  We did it every chance we got, and I liked it!”

“You filthy harlot!”

The quiet following the explosion that buffeted off the walls was tremendous.  I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the ragged hole in Ruth’s back.  Around it, her yellow dress turned scarlet.  Then she breathed one word, “Papa?” and collapsed like a rag doll.

Pa swayed and dropped to the ground next to the sofa.  “Dear God.  What have you done?  You killed her.  You’ve murdered your daughter.”

Mordecai didn’t reply.  A frozen monolith, he stared at Ruth’s body.  Then, with grim determination, he set the butt of his musket on the floor and began to reload.  Terror crushed my chest and robbed me of breath.  My eyes darted to the credenza.  I hauled myself over, and my fingers groped for my gun belt.  Behind me, Pa yelled at Mordecai, asking what he was doing.

I didn’t stop to wonder why Pa didn’t move.  All I knew was that I couldn’t let Mordecai hurt him, but he’d already rammed his shot home and filled the frizzen pan with powder.  I freed my pistol from its holster as Mordecai pulled the cock back, swung the weapon around, and put it in his mouth.

This time I jumped when it went off.  Hair, skull, brains, and blood hit the ceiling, walls, and door.  I’d never seen a man with the back of his head blown out before.  I never wanted to see it again.

“Little Joe.  Joseph!”  I pulled my gaze around to Pa.  I frowned.  The way he leaned against the end of the sofa wasn’t right.  My eyes traveled down.  The hand pressed into his side ran red with blood.

Now, here I was, holding cloth after cloth over the hole in my father’s side that wouldn’t stop bleeding.

*****

Chapter Two

“We’ve gotta get you to the doctor.  I’ll hitch the buckboard.”

Pa’s hand closed over mine, holding me in place.  “I’ll never make it the way I’m bleeding.  The bullet needs to come out, and the wound cauterized.”

I stared at Pa, and my insides twisted into knots.  I wiped the back of my hand over my mouth.  “I don’t think I can.”

“Yes, you can.  I trust you.”

I took a breath.  He was right.  It had to be done, and there was no one else.  I clamped down my panic.  Pa wouldn’t bleed to death because I didn’t have the guts to help him.

My hands shook while I pumped water to put on to heat.  My heart beat so hard I felt sick.  I’d seen Pa and Hoss do what I was about to, and Hoss talked me through the process the last time.  But watching wasn’t doing.  Dammit!  Why had Adam decided to negotiate changes to the timber contract?  If he hadn’t insisted on Hoss going because he would be ‘less of a distraction,’ I’d be in Placerville now.  Hoss would be here to help Pa.  Instead of a dumbass who couldn’t stop his hands from shaking.

I grabbed the medical chest and went through the knife drawer to find the two I needed, a wide flat one and a smaller sharp one.  I tested the blade with my thumb.  Was it sharp enough to …?  I decided not to take the chance. 

Using the front door meant moving Mordecai’s body, so I slipped out the side door from the kitchen.  The sharp morning air hit my skin like a slap, and my stomach somersaulted.  I made it to the side of the house before I retched.  The knife stayed clutched in my hand while I hung onto the side of the house and lost my breakfast.  When it was over, I slammed my back into the wall for support and bit down on my lip until the wave of dizziness passed.  I had to pull myself together.  I couldn’t afford to be weak now.

After staggering to the trough to throw water on my face, I sat down at the whetstone.  The treadle pumped under my foot.  I didn’t think about what I would be doing with the knife.  I’d break apart then and there if I did.

I’d gathered all I needed.  It was time to get back to Pa.  I went to pick up the bowl of hot water and froze.  Revulsion rose in my throat.  I grabbed the lump of lye soap by the sink and scrubbed my hands.  The pump rose and fell so fast it rattled in protest.  I washed until all traces of blood had vanished.  My cuffs and sleeve were soaked.  That didn’t matter.  I folded them up before going back to the table and collecting the bowl.

*****

I was ready.

Pa’s eyes met my gaze, and he could see the fear I failed to hide.  He squeezed my arm.  “You’ll do fine.  I’ll talk you through.”

Unable to trust myself to speak, I pursed my lips and gave him a feeble smile.

I removed the cloth to expose the hole where the bullet had entered my father’s body after passing through Ruth’s.  I needed to make it bigger and picked up the knife I’d sharpened.  The blade hovered over the wound.  My hand began to tremble.  Like a miracle, when I needed them, Hoss’s words returned to me, “You can’t be shy about this, Little Joe.  They’re already hurtin’, so don’t worry about what you’re gonna do.  When you cut, make it firm and steady.”  I took a breath, tightened my grip, and positioned the knife.

Pa did his best to hide the pain I inflicted on him, but his back arched like a bowstring when I slid my finger into the wound.  It was all I could do not to pull back.  That would have meant starting again.  I couldn’t have dealt with that.  So I kept pushing.

I probed for the bullet and tried not to think what I was feeling were Pa’s insides.  Then my fingertip touched the hard shell of the ball. 

“I’ve found it.”  Blood followed the withdrawal of my finger, filling the hole.  I grabbed the forceps.  The bullet rose through the sea of red like a breaching whale.

“Good … good.” Pa’s words were snatched like the breaths he was taking.  “Now, clean the wound and stop the bleeding.”

Mopping away the blood, I grabbed the whiskey from the medicine chest and poured it into the hole.  Pa stiffened, but I wasn’t done.  I reached for the blade that glowed red hot in the fire.  We looked at each other.  I don’t know who was breathing harder, him or me. 

“Ready?” I asked.

“Press down firm,” he instructed.

I did.

*****

Chapter Three

With the bandage tied, I grabbed the blankets I brought down and covered Pa.  “Would you like a whiskey?”

“Thanks.”

Handing the glass to Pa, I watched him down the contents before adding, “I’ll clear this stuff away.”

I made it to the kitchen table, where I dumped the bowl down and sank into a chair.  Pa’s scream reverberated around my mind, and the smell of his burned flesh filled my nostrils.  I stared at the quivering fingers that could inflict such suffering.  Bile filled the back of my mouth.  I fought it down.  My hands entwined, and I prayed.  I prayed for strength, that Pa would be all right, that there wouldn’t be any infection.

When I returned to the room, Pa opened his eyes.  He took one look at me and frowned.  “Take care of that wound.”

“What?”

“Your head.”

My hand went to my forehead.  The injury surprised me, and I winced when my fingers found the cut.  But any bleeding had stopped.  “It’s fine.”

Pa shook his head, but he was too exhausted to argue and closed his eyes again.  I looked around the room.  Something needed to be done with the bodies.  I trudged up the stairs and pulled a couple more blankets from the chest in the hall.  I turned my head away when I flung the blanket over Mordecai. 

Ruth’s eyes were open, and I closed them before covering her.  My heart broke at the waste of these two lives.  I’d promised to help her.  Why hadn’t I?  Ruth and her baby would still be alive if I’d gone along with the lie. 

I scrubbed my hand over my face.  God, I was tired.  Tilting my head back, I gathered my strength.  The room was a mess, but that would have to wait.  Getting Pa to the doctor came first, and Mordecai had to be moved.  I grabbed his legs and hauled him away from the door.  When I yanked it open, the sight of his buckboard sent me slumping against the door frame with relief.  I could use it and save valuable time.

Once I’d finished loading hay, blankets, bandages, and canteens into the back, my head pounded fit to explode.  I pressed my palms tight against my skull as if that would hold it together.  I needed to shake it off.  We were ready to go, and I wasn’t about to let a headache delay us.  I went to collect Pa.  

*****

“Pa, please, lean on me.”

“But ….”

“You gotta.  You won’t make it if you don’t.  I can take it.”

We made it outside.  After some awkward maneuvering, I got Pa into the bed of the buckboard.  I frowned at the beads of sweat on his brow and the crease on his forehead.  I wished I could take his pain away.

When I jumped back down, my knees almost buckled.  I managed to stay upright only by clinging to the wagon.  I cut a look back to make sure Pa hadn’t seen.  His eyes were closed.  He’d missed the whole thing.

I hauled myself onto the seat and gathered the reins.  As I raised my hands, I cursed at what I’d forgotten.  The effort to climb down again almost made me forget the whole idea, but I couldn’t go without leaving a note.  There was a good chance my brothers or Hop Sing would return before we got back. 

My scrawled message propped on the credenza, I gave one last look around the room.  The idea of abandoning Ruth and Mordecai didn’t sit well.  But what choice did I have?  They were beyond mortal help, and Pa was more important.  I closed the door behind me.

*****

Chapter Four

The road down the mountain was rough. I had Pa well-padded in the back amongst the hay and blankets, but that wasn’t enough to save him from being tossed around.  Plus, I was driving an unfamiliar team.  I caught my bottom lip between my teeth and focused. 

Pa taught me to drive a two-up at ten and Adam a four-up at fourteen.  From them, I learned the how.  Hoss, however, taught me intuition. 

“It ain’t about knowing.  It’s about feelin’.  You gotta pay attention.  Listen to them reins.  If they tense or start to jiggle, settle that team down.  Horses can go from nervous to flat-out panic in a flick of a cat’s tail, an’ once you lost them, you ain’t never getting back control.”

My head jerked up.  The slackened reins between my fingers had allowed the team to pick up too much speed.  Cursing, I tightened my grip easing them back.  Not too fast.  Slow was the key.  Too quick, and the team might spook.  Sweat pricked my top lip as I adjusted the pull on the leather.  Bit by bit until they were back to a walk.  A breath shuddered through my lips, and I chided myself for almost dozing off.  It couldn’t happen again.

The road continued to drop away, and I worked hard to keep the team at a steady pace.  White-hot pain lanced down my neck and across my shoulders by the time we hit the flats.  My brain pulsed, smashing my skull. 

I drew to a halt and reached for a canteen.  I squeezed my eyes shut to clear my blurred vision before taking a gulp and dousing my head.  I hoped it might help.  It didn’t.  Pink drops of water ran down my face.  I wiped them off and clambered into the back to offer Pa a drink.  My stomach lurched.  His flushed face betrayed the fever that gripped him.  I held the canteen to his trembling lips and breathed easier to see him swallow.  I soaked a bandage to cool his skin before grabbing another blanket to tuck around Pa’s shivering frame.  I wanted to stay right there with him, but Pa needed that doctor. 

*****

Hotter than I’d ever known it, the spring sun beat down, sending rivulets of sweat down my neck and back.  I peeled off my coat, allowing the breeze to cool and dry the droplets on my skin.

Dust coated my mouth and turned my throat raw.  I wanted a drink bad, but I needed the water for Pa.  Every time I stopped to rest the horses, I gave him some and doused the bandage again.  All I could do was brush the stinging salty moisture from my eyes and keep going.

The steady drum of hooves and rattle from the harness became the journey’s song.  Every mile harder than the last, I fought the hypnotic rhythm that threatened to seduce me into merciful sleep.  The breaks to take care of Pa kept me focused.  I had one job, one goal.  Get Pa help.

Knives pushed deep between my shoulder blades into my back by the time Genoa came into view.  My excitement traveled to hands blistered and red from the leather and sweat, allowing the horses to break into a faster trot. 

I thumped on Doc Martin’s door and yelled for help. 

“Little Joe?  Good Lord, what’s going on?”

“Pa’s been shot.  You gotta help him.”

“What?  Wait.  What happened to your head?”

“Nuthin’!  I’m fine.  You have to take care of Pa.”  I brushed his hand away with impatience and dragged him through the door. 

Once he saw Pa, Doc galvanized into action.  He called for help to carry Pa inside.  I trailed behind.  The fireworks in my head were getting louder.  They took Pa straight to the doc’s examination room.  I stood in the doorway and watched him undo the bandage.  Around me, the world took on a pink hue and tilted in and out.  The thrum in my ears increased.  Doc Martin turned toward me.  His lips were moving, but I couldn’t hear one word.  Then, it all went away.

*****

Chapter Five

I opened my eyes to an unfamiliar room and Doc Martin. 

“What happened?” I asked.

“You passed out.  Thanks to that knock to your head.”

“How long?”

“You’ve slept twenty-four hours straight.”

“What?”

A hand on my shoulder restrained my upwards jerk.  “Whoa there!  Take it easy.”

“Where’s Pa?  Is he all right?”

“Your pa’s fine.  The fever’s down.  But what I want to know is, did you drive from the Ponderosa with that head wound?”  I winced when he slapped away the hand I put up to feel my head.  “You leave that alone.  I’ve put a few stitches in there, and you’re not messing up my good work.”  

“Sorry,” I mumbled.  “Can I see Pa?”

I entered the doc’s little recovery room.  Evening sunlight basked the interior in a warm glow and illuminated the bed.  When he saw me, Pa smiled, and the weight pressing on me lifted.  He held out a hand.  I grasped it and sat on the edge of the bed.

“How are you?”

“I’m good.”

Doc Martin explained, “I found a tiny piece of cloth embedded deep in the wound.  Most likely from your Pa’s shirt.  That’s what likely started the fever.  But I removed it before infection set in.”  The doc patted my shoulder when I groaned.  “You did a fine job.  You saved his life.”

I shook my head, feeling like an incompetent fool.  The squeeze Pa gave my hand cheered me.  “When can I take him home, Doc?”

Doc Martin chuckled.  “Let’s give it a few days.  I don’t want to risk opening up that wound.”

The image of the bodies lying on the floor of our home came back to me.  “I’ll have to go, Pa.  To take care of things.”

A shadow crossed Pa’s eyes.  He understood what I meant.  “Go via the East camp.  Get a couple of men to help.”

“Okay.”  I bit my lip and glanced at the Doc.  He took the hint and excused himself.  When I looked back at my father, his intense gaze rested on me, wondering what was wrong.  “I’m sorry.  This is all my fault.”

“No … son.”

“Yes, it is.  I talked to Ruth at Christmas.  She asked if I’d help her if she ever got into trouble.  That’s why she came to me.  If I’d just stood by her, like the friend, I said I was.  Lied about the baby.”

“It was too much to ask.”  Pa’s words helped but didn’t convince me.  He laid a hand over my knee.  “No one’s to blame except Mordecai.  He’s the one who should’ve stood by her.”

“Do you think he was sorry?  Is that why he ….?”

“We’ll never know.  But, yes.  Once he realized what he’d done, I believe he couldn’t live with himself.”

Did it help to know that?  Maybe later it would.  Right now, Pa being okay was enough.

We spent the evening together.  Pa wasn’t up to much, so I passed the time by reading to him.  Mrs. Martin brought us supper, and with my appetite back, I tucked into my stew with relish.  Pa watched me with envy in his eyes as he spooned down his broth.  I didn’t stay late since he was tired.  I took the book and returned to my room to read.  The morning would come soon enough, and I wasn’t looking forward to the task that lay ahead.

*****

I slept late and threw on my clothes in a guilty rush.  Pa didn’t mind my oversleeping, and we ate breakfast together. 

We talked about my going home, and he told me again to fetch help from the East camp before adding, “And if you want to wait with the burial ….”

“No.  It’s okay.”

Clamoring voices outside caught our attention.  I grinned at Pa.  Adam and Hoss had arrived.

My brothers hurtled through the door like hound dogs in heat.  Adam spotted his quarry – me!  “For heaven’s sake, Little Joe!  If you’re going to leave a note, at least leave one we can read, and that makes sense.”

Following them in, Doc Martin jumped to my defense.  “That’s enough, Adam.  Joe suffered a nasty concussion yet still managed to save your father’s life and get him here.”

I leaned back in my chair and allowed myself to enjoy the moment.  It wasn’t often older brother found himself on the wrong foot.  His humility didn’t last long, being swept away in the bombardment of questions.   But I needed to know one thing.

“What have you done with them?”

They stopped talking.  For a fleeting moment, their faces reflected their reaction to the sight they walked in on when they arrived home.  I got why Adam had bitten my head off.

He answered, “I’ve had them taken back to their place to be buried next to Mrs. Wright.”

Having that taken off my hands was a relief.  But I made a silent vow to visit Ruth as soon as possible.  “Sorry about the mess.”

Hoss squeezed my shoulder.  “You took care of Pa.  That’s more important.  We left Hank and Tex cleaning.  The place should be spick and span when you get back.”  He then fixed the doc with his penetrating gaze and asked, “When can we take ‘em home?”

I laughed.  We, Cartwrights, were all the same.

*****

Epilogue

I answered the door and smiled at the somber, young cowboy standing on our porch.  “Can I help you, mister?”

“My name’s Bobby Harper.  I’m hoping you folks can tell me what happened to Ruth Wright.”

*****

The warm breeze stirred my curls.  My nostrils filled with the smell of the earth, rich with the scent of pines, aspen, cow parsnip, yarrow, and buttercup.  It seemed strange to enjoy the last pleasures of spring after passing on the news of a person’s death.

Pa’s elbows came to rest next to mine on the uneven wood of the rail.  I wasn’t surprised that he’d joined me. 

“Did we do the right thing?” I asked.

Pa’s arms slipped around my shoulders.  “I believe so.  Knowing about the baby and what happened to Ruth would only have brought him guilt and pain.  However, a sudden, quick illness?  He can accept that and move on.”

Pa was right.  It was enough for Bobby Harper to know he’d lost his love.  The rest would’ve been a burden.  If we spared him that, all to the good.  Deep inside, I held onto the guilt of letting down a friend.  Never would I let that happen again.  If a friend needed me, I’d be there no matter what. 

That was a promise I pledged to keep.

** The End **

May 2022