Proof of a Man

By Bakerj

Clinging to the horn, Joe eased a stiff leg over his saddle and dismounted.  Wrenching off his hat, he ran a hand through matted hair in a futile attempt to neaten his appearance.  Squinting up at the unwelcome sight of the sun spreading its dawning tendrils across the horizon, he cursed under his breath.  Stiff-backed, he trudged to the barn and took care of Cochise before making for the house.  Drawing a deep breath, he opened the door and went in.

“It seems your errant brother has finally returned.”  Ignoring the looks his oldest gave him, Ben got up when Joe crossed the room to the stairs.  “Where have you been, young man?”

Joe turned.  Ben started with dismay at the dirty clothing and fresh bruises.  He barely recognized his youngest.

“You know where I’ve been.”

“From the stink of you, I can guess you spent the night in a saloon again.”  Joe’s shrug notched his temper up a level.  “Joseph, this ranch depends on everyone doing their job.  You can’t do that after staying out all night and coming home in this state.”

“I can do my job.”

“No, you can’t!”  Ben took grim satisfaction from Joe’s wince, but he shook his head and instructed, “Get out of my sight and clean yourself up.”

Shrugging again, Joe turned, adding, “If it bothers you, take the day outta my pay.”

“Get back down here!”  Ben loomed over his son.  “I will not have such insolence, do you understand?”

“Fine.  Can I go?”

No apology could be less heartfelt, and Ben was stumped.  Giving a huff, he threw out his arms in surrender. “Yes, get out, just go.”

Shoulders slumping when Joe disappeared from view, Ben walked back to the table and collapsed into his chair.  “When will this end?”

“We can’t go on like this.”

Ben couldn’t agree more with Adam, but he was running out of options.  “I’ll talk to him again.”

“We’ve all tried talking.  What good did it do?”

“Yeah.  My jaw’s still aching.” 

Hoss rubbed his bruised chin while his eldest touched his colorful black eye and insisted, “We’re past the point of talking.  Joe needs to stop the drinking and brawling and get back to work.”

Ben nodded and picked up his coffee cup.  “I just wish I knew what’s eating him.”

*****

The object of Ben’s concern lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling.

If asked, Joe would have difficulty explaining what was happening either.  To his family, the problems began two weeks ago.  To Joe, it started the night he’d encountered John C. Regan.  Once the heavyweight champion, the ex-pugilist was an expert with his fists who carried a grudge against his father, and Joe experienced all the man’s viciousness. 

Thoughts of what happened seeped back.  Sucker punched from behind and too stunned to do anything when Regan’s massive hands curled into the back of his jacket; he’d been yanked upright, spun around, and a mighty fist landed like a sledgehammer.  His neck snapped back so hard he thought his head would come off.  Sent flying back into the alley, Regan followed.  

It wasn’t a fight.  He’d been in plenty, but they were nothing like the storm of fury and pain he met that night.  

Joe flung an arm over his face, trying to blot out the memory sunk deep into his soul. Regan’s fists slamming him over and over.  Each punch ground the bully’s knuckles deeper into his flesh.  The way Regan’s knees pinned him down, and every poisonous, whiskey-soaked word the brute spat at him. 

Hoss told him he’d been near beat to death.  From the constant pain he’d been in for weeks afterward, Joe could believe it.  His face so swollen he’d barely been able to drink, let alone eat.  

The look on Pa’s face was awful when the doctor told him to watch that the bruising on his torso didn’t spread or swell.  He would’ve laughed at the hissed question, “How will I know?  He’s one massive bruise,” if he could’ve.  But cracked ribs made laughter impossible.  Of all his injuries, these had taken the longest to heal.  The doctor told him he’d been lucky, but Joe didn’t feel lucky.  

Wrenching up, Joe paced the room.  Anger tightened his chest like water pushing a dam.  Every day the force built and built, and he was beginning to crack under the pressure.

He moved to the window.  Below, his family prepared to ride out for their day’s work.  His father gathered up his reins, and Joe stepped back into the shadows as, sure enough, Pa’s eyes raised his way before they rode out.

Once on the road to recovery, Pa told him the story of Adah Menken and Regan.  A man she’d never been able to stop loving.  He’d asked where Regan was, and Pa explained he’d left Virginia City, on the stage for Salt Lake, the following day.  Adah had gone with him.  The hurt in his father’s face stopped him from asking more.  Pa also told him how Hoss took Regan on.  He was grateful, he was, yet somehow this stoked the anger. 

Swinging his head around when the door opened, he winced, regretting the hasty movement.

“I didn’t ask for a bath.”

“Father say, Little Joe need bath, he get bath.”

Joe continued to stare out the window with gritted teeth and crossed his arms, ignoring Hop Sing, and the fact that he should help him bring up the cans of water.

The heat penetrated his skin, dissolving the dirt and soothing the bruises.  Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea?  The door opened again, and the little Chinaman returned to collect the discarded clothes.  Keeping a hostile gaze on him, Joe waited for the lecture.  When the door closed, he sank deeper into the steaming copper bath and sighed.  Yet, it bothered him that Hop Sing hadn’t attempted to scold.  Had he thrown in the towel on him too?

Joe’s mind drifted back to that first trip to Virginia City after his long recovery.  He’d relished the chance to meet friends and have some long-overdue fun.

“We was beginnin’ to think we’d never see you again.”  Slapping him on the back, Mitch laughed, and pushed a beer into his hand.

Joe supped the lukewarm nectar, savoring the woody flavor as it swilled around his mouth.  It was good to be back with friends, who filled him in on events while he’d been absent.  Three beers in a loudmouthed miner at the back of the saloon obtruded on his notice.  Leaning against the bar, he watched the man from over the top of his glass.  A big man with a barrel-like chest and loud, real loud – he didn’t like him.

“Joe?  I said, do ya wanna come fishin’ Sunday?”

“Huh?  Oh, sure, Mitch sounds good.”

He’d turned back to the bar.  Sure he’d forgotten all about the big man when his arm was nudged, spilling his drink.  He turned and looked into the face of the loudmouth.

“Sorry, kid.”

It was a friendly enough apology, and Joe’s friends were already returning to their beers.  The words were out of his mouth before he’d even formed the thought.  “Watch where you’re going, clumsy.”

Joe saw Mitch gape.  No man would let that pass.  Dodging the fist swung at him, Joe slammed his into the man’s middle.  The miner was big but slow.  The fight was on, and a battle royal erupted.

Evicted by Sam, Joe scowled to think the threat of a bill for damages would likely only come his way.  Sam knew Pa was the one who’d pay. 

Mitch whistled between his teeth and teased, “Your pa’s sure gonna be mad.”

“Why? Taint none of his business.”

“Wait ‘till he gets a look at your face.  He’ll make it his business.”

“I’m a grown man.  It’s got nothing to do with him.”

Joe ignored the hoot.  Having reached the parting in the road, he turned his horse and broke into a canter.  

“See you Sunday!”  Joe gave a wave in acknowledgment.

Mitch had been right.  Pa had made it his business.  However, he’d made allowance for Joe’s pent-up energy, following his convalescence, but cautioned him not to repeat the performance.  That should have been enough.

Joe stretched his aching body to ease out the kinks and pondered why it hadn’t.  What was it that drove him to bait those other men?  Relaxed by the silky warmth, his eyelids drifted shut – to the image of Regan.  Water sloshed over the floorboards, and Joe scrambled out of the tub.

*****

Flitting about the living room, Joe tried to keep from looking at the brandy decanter.  Snatching up Adam’s book, he dropped into Pa’s chair.  The soft leather encased his slim frame, and the comforting scent of tobacco and bay rum wound around him.  He ran fingertips down the smooth page and tried to read the words that refused to capture him.  His knee bounced a rapid rhythm.  Slamming it shut, he tossed the book back onto Adam’s seat and resumed his prowling. 

He stopped to stare at the game of chess Pa and Hoss were playing. After picking up and replacing pieces one after the other, he abandoned the board and set off again.  All the while, his eyes strayed to the decanter.  They’d be back any minute for lunch, but…  He strode to the table and poured himself a glass. 

“Just one,” he lied. 

He was downing his third when they walked through the door.  Joe watched them freeze when they spotted him, the heavily depleted decanter, and the almost empty glass halfway back to the table.  Feeling like a kid caught raiding the cookie jar, embarrassment added an edge to his temper.  With arrogant bravado that sent a chill through him, he reached for the decanter again.

“What d’you think you’re doing?”

“Having a brandy.”

“At this hour?”

“I’ll pay for it.”

His father crossed the room like a charging bull.  Snagged under the armpit, he was pulled hard against him.  

“You think I’m worried about the brandy?”  

“Don’t fuss.  I’m a man, not a kid.”

“Then start acting like one,” Adam demanded.  “All we’ve done lately is worry about you and your stupid shenanigans.”

Joe twisted out of his father’s grip.  “No one asked you too.”

“You’re our brother, course we’re gonna worry about you.  We just don’t understand what’s gotten into you?”

Joe turned on Hoss.  “Nothing’s gotten into me.  Mind your own business.”

Clutched by the forearms, Joe was forced back to face his father.  He winced, hearing the desperation in Pa’s voice.  “What’s eating you?  We can’t help if you don’t tell us?”

Joe couldn’t bear it.  Pa thought him weak, not a grown man capable of defending himself.  Emotion welled, pushing outwards in his chest, causing him almost physical pain.  “Leave me alone!”  

With a shove, he pushed his father away, who staggered, almost falling.  Spun around, the fist sent him crashing to the floor, and his oldest brother bore down on him.

“Adam!”

Stopping, Adam glared at his father.  “You gonna let him get away with that?”

Ben shook his head.  Adam’s anger was understandable.  He would’ve felt the same, except he’d been looking into Joe’s eyes and seen the shock and horror staring back at him.  At that moment, he realized Joe hated his behavior just as much as everyone else, maybe more.

Joe pulled himself up.  Chest heaving, his voice shook from the effort of breathing.  “I don’t need your help.”

Pushing past Adam, he headed for the door.

“Little Joe- ”

“Don’t, Hoss, don’t!”  Joe flung out a hand, holding his brother at bay.  “Just leave me alone.  I can take care of myself!”

They stared at each other.  Four men frozen, suspended in time.  Ben’s heart quickened.  Beside him, Adam breathed like an impatient stallion straining to break free.  Hoss glanced from Joe to him, a huge bear cub looking for guidance from its parent, and Joe … hands wound so tight his fingernails must’ve dug deep into his palms.  Even from here, Ben saw how he quivered, a mass of pent-up crumbling fury.

“Leave me be,” Joe gasped, and grabbing hat and gun, dashed out the door.

“I’ll get him.”

Ben’s hand shot out to stop Adam. “No, wait.  We need to think about this.”

“You ain’t gonna let him go like that?” Hoss almost begged.

“Just for a minute,” Ben repeated.  “We’ve got to try and get to the bottom of this if we’re to help.”

“But how can we iffin he won’t tell us what’s wrong?”

“I know, I know, but … give me a moment.”

He turned his back to think.  He didn’t need to see them to know how they felt, one seething indignation, the other surging unhappiness. 

The sound of hooves took them running to the door.  Joe galloped break-neck out of the yard and disappeared into the distance.

Adam flung out a hand.  “Great!  No doubt heading to Virginia City and the nearest saloon.”

Ben closed the door and walked, head down, to the fireplace. Joe needed help.  In his current mood, it frightened Ben to think of the trouble his boy could run into.  Reaching a reluctant decision, he cut a look at Adam, “All right, go bring him back.”

****

Hooking a toe around its leg, Joe pulled back the chair.  The table, tacky from spilled beer and whiskey, stuck to his fingertips.  The Silver Dollar swam with the usual aroma of liquor, sweat, and sawdust.  Looking around, he didn’t spot any friends grabbing a sneaky afternoon beer.  Of course, he shouldn’t be there either, but who cares?  Joe snorted at the joke, sending up froth to tickle his nose.  He took a large gulp, hoping the liquid would cool the anger the ride in hadn’t.  The tinkle of the piano provided the background to the cacophony pressing on his ears.  Joe settled deeper into the chair.  Across the packed room, loud guffaws rose above the hubbub, drawing his gaze to a group of men.  Somewhere in the middle was the source of the laughter.  His heel began to tap the floor. 

A finger scratched over the table, drawing a pattern in the grime.  Joe watched the spiral of soft crud form under his nail.  Brushing it away, he took another gulp of beer.  At the side of the room, the piano player launched into another tune.  Joe cringed.  He swore the guy only knew three, and this one was hit-and-miss.  The belly laugh drew his gaze back to the huddle.  Joe tilted his chair, balancing on two legs, and frowned.

Sam passed behind him, and Joe craned his head to ask, “Hey, Sam.  Who’s the comedian?”

It took the bartender a moment to realize who Joe was referring to.  “Miner.  New in.  Likes to arm wrestle.  But, he’s a friendly enough fella.”  Sam added, giving Joe a look.

Joe turned away and wrapped his hands tighter around the beer glass.  The rough surface of the course cut vessel chafed his skin.  Taking another swig, his lips drew back in distaste.  The beer had lost its flavor.  His shoulders hunched, hearing that laugh again.  Then, the crowd parted enough to give a view of the man taking on all comers.  Joe’s eyes narrowed.  The man was big, real big.  Joe’s heel drummed faster, and his lips curved into a smile.

*****

Adam rode past the Opera House, the smart new building a testament to the kind of place some wanted the brash Virginia City to become.  Delighted to see signs of culture, Adam had high hopes for the venue, but it had also brought Adah Menken back into Pa’s life.  He turned his horse toward C Street and Joe’s saloon of choice.

Pushing back the bat-wing doors, the wall of heat and din hit him.  It took a moment for Adam to locate Joe.  He stared, hardly believing what he saw.  His little brother had done lots of stupid things but never single out the largest man in a place, square up like an arrogant cock, and taunt him into a fight.  He’d pulled Joe out of sticky situations in the past, but this filled him with disgust.  Pa’s instructions or not, if Joe wanted trouble this bad, let the fool have it.  He would have left right then if Sam hadn’t caught his eye.

“Please, Adam, can’t you do something?  I can’t afford to have any more tables an’ chairs busted up.  I’m running out of places for folks to sit!”

Giving Sam a resentful look, Adam lifted his hat, crammed it down harder, and resigned himself.

Taking a punch that knocked him across the saloon, Joe landed at his feet.  Seizing the opportunity and Joe, Adam dragged him kicking and protesting out the door.  Being on the brunt end of his brother’s protests didn’t improve Adam’s temper, but he waited until they were outside before releasing his spleen.

“Let me go!  I don’t need you buttin’ in!”

“Pa told me to fetch you, and I’m gonna.  What the heck were you thinking back there?”

“Mind your business.  I could’ve beat that guy!”

Adam gave his younger brother a shake that rattled his teeth.  “Don’t be an idiot.  That gorilla would’ve pounded you into the floor.”

“I could’ve!”  Adam rolled his eyes.  Joe’s voice hitched up a notch.  “Dammit!  Why can’t you see?  I ain’t no coward. I could’ve stood up to him and Regan… ”

“Regan … what’re you talking about?”

Surprise slackened Adam’s grip, and Joe twisted free.  Staggering back, Joe ran a shaking hand across his mouth.  “Nothing.  Just leave me alone!”

Revelation dawned.  The arrogant cockfight he’d just witnessed made sense, and the rest fell into place.  How were we so blind?  Adam took a determined step forward, and Joe backed away.

“Stay away.  I mean it.  Let me be!”

Like lightning, Adam moved and clipped Joe with a punch that sent him dazed to the ground.  Flinging his brother into his saddle, he mounted and scooping up Cochise’s reins, headed for home.

*****

The lead rein tightened.  Adam glanced sideways to see Joe straighten in his saddle.  He’d hated to do that, but it was the only way to get Joe to leave without a fight.  Keeping his gaze fixed between his horse’s ears, the stubborn cuss didn’t speak or look at him.  Adam smiled to himself.  He needed time to think anyway.

They’d all been foolish in their complacency after their brush with John C. Regan.  Joe’s physical wounds had recovered, but they’d overlooked the emotional toll it’d taken on him.  Everything he’d done began to make perfect sense.  

Adam grimaced, wondering how his younger brother could believe he’d ever be a match for the likes of Regan.  Hell, he’d been loath to take on Regan, yet his seventeen-year-old kid brother was torturing himself for feeling less of a man because that animal almost killed him.

****

When they reached home, Joe found himself snagged under the armpit and marched him into the house.  He caught the shake of the head Adam gave Pa and Hoss as he walked him to the stairs.

“Get to your room while I talk to Pa.”

Joe flashed Adam a venomous look but said nothing.  It suited him to be left alone, anyway.

Sending his jacket flying into a corner, Joe threw himself onto the bed.  Tense fingers laced behind his head.  Soon someone would be up to talk.  What would he say?  Right at that moment, he only wanted a drink.  Pitching off the bed, he paced the floor.

*****

“Joe thinks these men he’s fighting are Regan?” Hoss asked.

“No.  I’m saying in Joe’s head, he’s trying to prove that he can beat Regan.”

Ben sat forward.  “I think I understand.  Joe’s trying to prove that what happened with Regan didn’t make him less of a man.”  When Adam nodded, he asked.  “What can we do?  How can we help him?”

“I think we need to let Joe know what happened.”

Always proud of his sons, Ben was never more so when they looked after each other.  “I’ll talk to him first.”

*****

Even though he expected it, the knock made Joe jump.

“Can I come in?”

Attempting a relaxed position back on the bed, he replied, “I guess.”

Ben entered carrying a bowl, cloth, and some liniment.  “Adam tells me your face needs attention.”

Startled, Joe’s fingers touched his cut lip.  He’d forgotten about that.

After wetting the cloth, Ben took hold of his chin.  Joe’s hand shot up to stop him.  “I can do it.”

His father held his look.  “I know you can.”

Joe’s hand dropped. 

After a moment, Ben said, “That night Regan attacked you- ”

“Forget it.”

“No.  I need to tell you.”  Joe clenched his jaw but let him continue.  “I found Regan in Adah’s room.  He’d been pushing her around, and I told him to make his play.  He backed down and left, and I thought that was the end of it, but I was wrong.  I hadn’t counted on him getting back at me by hurting you.  When I found him in the saloon, he couldn’t pick up a gun because of his cut knuckles.”  

“From hitting me?”

“After that, I was ready to fight him any way he wanted.”

“But, Regan would’ve- ”

“Killed me?  I know.  I’d let anger override my good sense.  Fortunately, Adam didn’t.  He let Hoss fight him.  Regan was a brute who enjoyed hurting people.  But he was a coward.  He didn’t have the guts to take you on in a fair fight.”

The words slid into Joe, making his stomach quiver as if he’d drunk ice water.  “I’m glad you didn’t take him on.”

“So am I.”  His father’s hand came to rest on his shoulder.  “Your brothers want to talk to you.  Is that all right?”

“Sure.”

After giving his shoulder a squeeze, his father left the room.

Hoss peeked his head around the door. 

“Get in here.  I ain’t gonna bite your head off.”

Hoss grinned, grabbed the chair, and straddled it, leaning his arms on the back.  “Pa asked me to tell you about that night with Regan.”  To Joe’s surprise, he said nothing more.  A minute ticked passed before his words came, considered and slow, “When he came into the saloon, I introduced myself to him. Can you believe that?  He ordered drinks for everyone like he were celebrating.”  The depth of anger that entered his brother’s eyes startled Joe.  “It were you.  He were celebrating beating you. 

“I’ve seen Pa mad before, but nothing like that night.  When he ran out, leaving you, I knew something were wrong.  He weren’t thinking straight and tried to push Regan into a gunfight.  Instead, Regan goaded Pa into a fistfight, coz he’d beat him easy.  I told Pa to let me, but he weren’t listening to nobody.  Adam had to grab him, so I could take him on.”

Joe blurted, “Yeah, and you beat him.”

“I almost didn’t.  That man was mean as all get out an’ pounded me good.  I was almost down.  If Adam hadn’t told me to stop boxing and start wrestling, he would’ve beaten me.”  Hoss dropped a large hand on Joe’s knee.  “It were the hardest fight I ever had.  You were too bashed up to see, but I was in pretty bad shape.”

Joe’s hand found his big brother’s.  Things between him and Hoss were … special, and he felt bad for his previous anger.  “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

“Aww, why should you?  But I hated how that yahoo blindsided you.”

Joe shrugged and let himself admit what he’d been fighting all along. “I don’t think it would’ve made a difference.”

“Dang sure, it wouldn’t!  He’d had pummelled you good either way.”

Joe gave a gasp, and a laugh broke free.  The first in weeks.  It felt good.

Hoss got up and patted Joe on the shoulder.  “Adam wants to talk next.  I’ll go get him.”

Adam entered in his usual quiet way and walked soft-footed to the chair.  Joe watched him the whole time without speaking, but once he sat down, he crossed his arms and told him,  “Go ahead.”

“You know how mad Pa was, ready to take on Regan bare-fisted?”

“Yeah.  You held him back, and Hoss fought him.”

“That’s right, but do you know why it was Hoss?”  He found himself fixed with that steady, serious look that always held Joe’s tongue and attention.  “I didn’t want to fight that man-mountain.  I’d never have stood a chance against him.”  Disbelief ran through Joe.  Adam wasn’t afraid of any man or anything.  He searched his older brother’s face looking for signs of mockery but saw only earnestness.  “Regan was a swine, who used his fists to intimidate and control people.  It made him feel big to beat up on others.  Even if that meant fighting dirty, like with you.”

Sounding more dismissive than he intended, Joe replied, “I shouldn’t feel bad about Regan beating on me.  I get it.”

Adam leaned forward.  Intensity burning off him. “Do you?  Because I never want to see what I saw earlier again.”

Joe’s eyes dropped, and he swallowed hard before answering in a small voice, “You won’t.  I was a fool, I know that.”

Adam stood and gave Joe a playful punch on the arm.  “Glad to hear it, fella, but you’re not a fool. You’re just a seventeen-year-old with more spunk than brains.”

Joe laughed, “Is that what you think?”

“Of course, you’re certainly no coward, and you’ve got nothing to prove.  To you or anyone else.”

“You really believe that?”

Adam’s dark eyes searched his.  “Don’t you?”

“I guess.”

“There’s no need to guess.”

“Thanks.”

Adam smirked, “That’s what smart, big brothers are for.”

When Adam reached the door, Joe asked, “Can you ask Pa to come back up?”

A knot began to form in his stomach.  This whole time he’d behaved like a jackass and deserved punishment rather than understanding.

“You wanted me?”

Joe stared into his father’s smiling face.  “Yeah, Pa … I, well … I’ve been thinking an’, well … I owe you an apology for the way I’ve been acting.”

Ben sat down and rested a steady hand on his knee.  “I owe the apology.  I didn’t understand.”

The generosity of the words and kindness that he’d known all his life were too much.  The dam began to crumble.  He broke his gaze, unable to look his father in the eyes when he confessed his haunting shame,  “I … I couldn’t help it, Pa.  He just kept hitting me.  I begged.  Begged him to stop.  I’m so sorry.”

“Is that…?  Joe.  Anyone would’ve.  You’re no less of a man for that.”

His throat too tight for speech, Joe reached for his father’s hand.  When it was squeezed tight, the pain and shame dropped away like shedding skin. 

After a moment, he asked, “Will it work out, Miss Menken and Regan?”

“Adah loves Regan, and in his own way, I think he loves her, but the man hasn’t managed to change in all these years.  I’m afraid I don’t see that happening now.  I wish I did.  God knows I want only happiness for Adah.  She’s a wonderful, magnificent woman and…. ”

“And you loved her.”

 “Yes, I loved her.”

“I really liked her.  She was … all right.”

The laugh his father gave was soft and held a hint of sadness.  “She was, wasn’t she?  And, what about you? Are you all right?”

Joe smiled.  “Yeah. I’m fine.”

***The End***

[Mar 2021]

If you enjoyed my story, please consider scrolling down and leaving a reply to let me know. 

Episode Ref:

The Magnificent Adah:  Writer Donald S. Sanford