Jinx

By Bakerj

Joe directed his glittering smile at the prettiest girl he’d seen in a while and tipped his hat.  “Morning, Miss Clyde.”

“Morning, Mr. Cartwright.”

He eased his smile wider at her copying his mock formality and pushed himself off the post he was leaning upon.  “Haven’t seen you in a while, Becky?”

Big blue eyes shone out from under her bonnet. Deep cornflower blue, drawing him in.

Joe gazed at Becky, marveling at the changes.  Gone was the skinny rake of a girl he’d known.  Her trim figure now curved in all the right places.  The round puppy face had vanished, too, and her lips were about as luscious and rosy as any he’d seen.  He wondered what kissing them would feel like.

“We’ve been real busy on the ranch all spring.  I haven’t gotten to Virginia City for months.  Pa let me come today to buy a store-bought dress from the dress shop.”

He smiled at her excitement and sidled up alongside.  Looking at the box tied with string, he plucked at it with curious fingers. “Oh? I bet it’s a pretty dress.  Any dress you wore would have to be.”

Blushing, Becky moved the box out of reach.  “It’s a late birthday present.  I turned seventeen in January.”

“I thought there was something different about my favorite gal.”

“Joe Cartwright, I am nothing of the sort!”

He assumed the appearance of an injured puppy.  “But Becky, you know you’re my favorite gal.  Ain’t I your favorite guy?”

“What a fibber you are.  You never even asked me out.”

His hand gracefully hooked hers.  Bending, he brushed her fingertips with his lips.  When they quivered, his smile took on a wolfish slant.

“We can soon set that right,” he murmured.  

Becky drew a breath and attempted to withdraw her hand.  He held tight.

“The church social’s in two weeks. Would you allow me to escort you?”

Instead of accepting, the young woman stared at him, a slight frown creasing her forehead.  Puzzled by her uncertainty, he wondered what held her back.  A qualm struck him.  Did Julia and Amy make a difference?  In his deepest, darkest parts, he knew the truth.  Did Becky guess his secret?  Was she wondering if he was worth the risk?

“Very well, I would be delighted.”  His confidence soared again. He’d caught his prize.  “Now I have to go. Pa’s waiting for me in the mercantile.”

Only the tips of her fingers now rested within his.  Still not letting go, he teased, “Are you in such a hurry to get away from me?”

“Little Joe! You are incorrigible.”

He laughed and began to release her.

An explosion of shots startled him.  Two drunken men galloped past, swaying in their saddles, guns blazing.

Becky’s fingertips jerked, bringing his gaze back to her.  Horror drenched his eyes.  Blood spurted from her neck.  As she dropped, Joe fell with her, supporting her in his arms.  He yanked her hat aside and pressed a hand over the gushing wound, desperate to stem the flow of the life-giving liquid. 

Holding her tight against him, he begged, “Becky, hold on, you’re gonna be all right, just hold on.”

Glancing around, he screamed for someone to fetch the doctor.  The stark fear in the cornflower blue eyes terrified him.  Helpless, he watched the life leave them.

“No, Becky, no, please.” 

She was gone.  The vibrant, entrancing creature had gone.

Around him, chaos descended.  Women screamed, men shouted, and charging down the boardwalk came Rubin Clyde.  Unaware of the turmoil, Joe’s only focus was the father, who dropped to his knees beside him and reached for his daughter.  Dragging her to his chest, Rubin sobbed her name in keening wails.

Joe stared at the blood, the lifeless eyes that minutes before had been full of life, the grief of the father, too raw, too painful.  Unable to bear it, Joe staggered to his feet.  A crowd had begun to gather as people rushed over.  Barely conscious of them, Joe backed away.  His place filled by the others joining the commotion, like water flowing around a pebble.

Drifting toward the livery, he didn’t notice or care about the stares he received.

***

“I like to know how that rascal slipped away.”

Chuckling, Hoss replied, “You know Little Joe, Pa. Any chance to get out of boring legal business, and he’ll jump at it.”

Ben Cartwright harrumphed, tightening the cinch on his saddle.

He’d come into Virginia City to sign some contracts and collect the mail.  He’d meant to go alone, but Joe and Hoss had wheedled their way along.

“Well, he better be back soon or-” Ben broke off, interrupted when Hoss cried out his younger brother’s name, and ran across the stable.

Alarmed, Ben turned to see his youngest, covered with blood, standing in the doorway.

“What happened, boy?”

Frantic, large hands were run over him, trying to find the injury.  They were pushed away by impatient, blooded ones.

“It’s not me.  The blood’s not mine. It’s Becky’s.  She’s dead.”

Joining Hoss, Ben told him, “Go see what’s happened.  See if you can find Doc Martin, too.”

With Hoss sent on his errand, Ben led Joe to an upturned crate and sat him down.  Untying his blanket from its bedroll, he draped it around his son’s trembling shoulders.  Kneeling, he placed a hand on Joe’s knee.  Under his touch, the pants felt wet with blood.

“Can you tell me what happened?” A million miles away, Ben had to repeat the question to Joe.

“She’s dead, Pa.  She just died in my arms.”  Joe stared at his hands.  “I couldn’t stop the blood.  It’s my fault.  If I hadn’t talked to her, she’d have been safe in the mercantile.  Oh God, it’s my fault!”  

The pain in his son’s eyes turned like a knife in Ben’s heart.  Hearing Hoss, Ben turned to see Paul Martin following behind.

“Ran into the doc on the corner.  It’s all over town.  A girl’s been shot outside the mercantile.”

“It’s Becky Clyde, Ben.  Two drunken cowboys shooting off their guns accidentally hit her.  The bullet took her in the neck, straight through her carotid artery.  She’s dead.”  Paul lifted Joe’s head.  The blank gaze told him all he needed.  “He’s in shock.  I’m not surprised.  He was right there holding her when she died.” The three men looked at each other.  Pity filled their souls for the young women and the family who’d lost a child. “Bring him over to my office.  We’ll get something hot and sweet into him.  Then you can take him home.  It’ll pass soon enough.”

***

They arrived home in time for dinner.  Although Joe had drunk the coffee offered by Doctor Martin, he wouldn’t allow them to clean him up before they left.  Rejecting their offers of help, Ben and Hoss watched Joe disappear to his room.

As he struggled to undo the buttons coated in thick, slippery blood, his fingers began to shake.  Trying not to think about where it came from, he filled the basin to wash it off.  Turning red under his hands, tiny splashes disturbed the water.  He let the tears fall as he scrubbed.  His thoughts tormented him.  It had happened again.

Joining Ben and Hoss at the table, Joe mumbled, “Sorry, have I kept you waiting?”

His father’s warm smile reassured him.  “No, that’s fine. How are you feeling?”

Pa’s hand reached to cover his in a gesture of comfort, but when he spotted how his hand had been scoured raw and almost bleeding, he grabbed it and turned it over, lamenting, “Joe.”

“Couldn’t get the blood off.”

“Son… ”

Joe pushed himself up from the table and blurted, “I’m not hungry,” before he flung away and careened out the door.

Seeing his father start to get up, Hoss stopped him.  “Give him a minute.”

***

First Julia, then Amy, and now Becky.  Three lives lost because of him.  If he hadn’t stopped Becky, talked to her, she would have been safe.  She wouldn’t have been standing there when that bullet…

Joe paced the barn, but the activity failed to relieve the growing knot tightening inside him.  A flash of temper sent a fist ramming into a post.

“Feel better?”

Rubbing split knuckles, he hunched a shoulder at Hoss.  “Maybe.”

“There weren’t nothing you could have done.”

“I could’ve not talked to her.  If I hadn’t, she’d still be alive.”

“You don’t know that… “

“Yes, I do!  It’s my fault she was there.  I kept her talking – me, for my selfish reasons.  I’m to blame.”

“You can’t blame yourself for what happened.  Did you know those yahoos were gonna come firing their guns like idiots?  Well, did you?  ‘Cause unless you did, I can’t see how you were to blame.”

The words made sense, but something deep inside him rejected them.  Grabbing a saddle blanket, he tossed it over Cochise.  Hoss came up behind him.

“Why don’t you come inside?”

Joe shook his head.  “I’ve got something I need to do.”

***

By the time the Clyde’s ranch came into view, his nerves were raw.  Part of him didn’t know why he’d come. The other part urged him down to the house.

Rubin came onto the porch as he rode up.

“Mr. Clyde, I hope you don’t mind me visiting.”

“You’re welcome, son. Step down and come in.”

Hovering at the door, Joe waited.  Rubin picked up the coffee pot from the stove.

“Sit down, lad, have a cup of coffee.”  Joe’s eyes drifted around the room.  Noticing, Ruben added, “Ma is sitting with the child in her room.  You’ll excuse her if she doesn’t come out.”

Joe swallowed.  Sliding into the seat offered, he glanced at the doors to the bedrooms, wondering which one held the body.

Pouring the coffee, Rubin told him, “Funeral’s tomorrow.”

“Sir, I wanted to tell you how sorry I am.”

“Thank you, son.  I’m grateful you were with her when she passed.  It’s comforting to know she had someone she knew by her side.”

Shaking hands gripped the cup for something solid to hang onto.  The gratitude from this father he’d betrayed made him feel sick.  Unable to contain his guilt, he poured out his confession. “I’m so sorry I kept her on the street with me.  If I hadn’t, if I’d only let her go, she wouldn’t have been there.  She’d had gone into the mercantile and been safe with you.”

The fist slammed onto the table made Joe jump.  Breath caught in his throat, seeing Rubin’s face contorted with rage.

“You’re telling me if it weren’t for you, my little girl would be alive?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Get out, Cartwright!  Get out of my house before I forget you’re a guest and put a bullet in you!  Do you hear me?  Get out!”

The crescendo of words slapped Joe in the face.  Stumbling backward, he grabbed the doorframe.  Desperate to make amends, he offered, “If I could change places with Becky, I would.”

Rubin clutched the sides of the table, knuckles white.  “But you can’t, can you? Get out now, d’you hear me? Get out!”

Scrambling to his horse, Joe galloped away as if distance could wipe out the words and stop the guilt.  What did think would happen?  For the man to forgive him?  Why should he do that?  What right had he even to expect it?

He made no mention to anyone of where he’d been or what had happened.  His shame crushed him, keeping him silent.

With a heavy heart, Ben watched his youngest drift through supper and slip off to his room.  He’d received a message about the funeral earlier.  He prayed it would help Joe find solace.

***

Arriving at the Clyde’s, they joined the large turnout from the community.  Ben wasn’t surprised at the crowd.  Rubin was respected, and Becky well-liked.

The family plot set beyond the house behind a grove of pine trees was a pretty spot.  Rubin had arrived in the Washoe with his parents and set down roots around the same time as Ben.  His parents were buried in that soil now, along with Rubin’s first-born son.

The family gathered at the gravesite.  Adam being in Sacramento on business, Ben, Hoss, and Joe joined the throng of people. 

Supported by her son, Mary Clyde wept throughout the service.  When it ended, people moved forward to present their condolences.

On spotting Joe, Rubin’s stoic front dissolved.  Breaking away from his family, he pointed an accusing finger.  “What’s he doin’ here?  Get him outta here.  That boy’s got no right at her funeral.  It’s his fault my little girl’s lying there cold in the dirt.”

“Rubin, please.”

“Your boy’s a jinx.  You hear me?  I’m letting all you fathers out there know!  Keep your daughters away from Little Joe Cartwright if you want them to stay alive!”

“That’s enough!  This wasn’t Little Joe’s doing.”

Pale and silent, Joe let the verbal assault hit him and sink deep.  All his fears were confirmed.  But they had to know he was sorry.  Straightening up, he stepped past his father’s protective frame.

“Please, Sir, I need to tell you… ”

Spittle hit his face and cut him off.  Large hands wrenched him back to place him behind his father.  Others moved between Rubin and the Cartwrights.

Paul Martin appeared at his father’s side.  “He’s upset.  Best take Little Joe home.  Give him time to calm down.”

Pa flung an arm around Joe’s shoulders, pulling him around.  Jerking his head at Hoss, he told them, “C’mon, we’re going home.”

“That’s right, Ben, take that jinx away!”

He let Pa wipe the spit off his face before he mounted.  They rode back, but just before they reached the ranch house, Joe pulled Cochise to a halt.

“I’m going for a ride.”

“Rubin was just lashing out.  He didn’t mean it.”

“Didn’t he?”  His reins trembled under the hands that gripped them tight.  “I need to be alone.”

Peeling Cochise away, Joe set him to a gallop.

It wasn’t until late into the night that Joe returned.  Walking to his room, he was in time to see the light under his father’s room vanish when the lamp was turned down.

***

“Joseph, this has to stop! You can’t keep blaming yourself for what happened.”

Joe kept his head down.  This latest explosion was due to his refusal to accompany Pa to town.  Since the funeral, Virginia City had become an unpleasant place.

Rubin Clyde’s words had spread like wildfire around the burgeoning town.  Any gossip was welcome, but dirt about the wealthy Cartwrights was eaten up by those who had reason to dislike them or were just plain jealous.  It was eagerly repeated by the spiteful, happy to pander it as truth.  Conversations stopped when Joe walked into rooms.  Whispering went on behind his back.  Seeing him coming, mothers steered their daughters across the street.  Worse was the avoidance by people he’d looked on as friends.

Pa just didn’t understand.

“You know the sheriff is doing his best to identify those men.  You’re not to blame, and you’re not a jinx.  It’s time you stopped wallowing in this guilt.”  In silence, Joe put down his fork, dropped the napkin he’d been gripping, got up, and walked to the door.  “Joseph!  Get back here!”

Ben heard the door slam and began to rise.

“Let him go.”

Ben thumped the table. “Hoss, this has to stop.”

“It’s been harder for him than you know.  People have been talking, and he asked some gals to the dance and got turned down flat.”  Hoss scrunched his napkin and tossed it down.  “Not that he told me.  I had to find out from Mitch.”

“Because of what Rubin said?”

“Yeah, an’ I reckon some of the hands are needling him.”

“I won’t allow that.”

“Neither will I, iffin I catch them.  But like I said, Little Joe ain’t talking.”

“I can’t believe this jinx rubbish is continuing.”

Hoss pursed his lips.  “You know what some folks are like.  They ain’t got nuthin’ better to do than to find pleasure in the misery of others.”

Ben stared at his plate and drew a breath.  He hadn’t noticed anything different when he’d been to Virginia City, but then people may have been a mite more careful around him.  “Tell me, how bad is it?”

***

Hoss wasn’t surprised to find his brother already out at the branding pens when he got there.  Tying Chubb off, he strolled toward the firepit.

In the thick of it, Joe was dragging a roped calf to the fire.  The calf twisted and turned, fighting the whole way, when the rope snapped.  Free of restraint, it careened toward the men, knocking one into the fire and scattering the others.  Hoss broke into a run.  The man rolled free, howling.

Patting down the man’s back, Hoss asked, “You okay, Tex?”

“Yeah, no thanks to Jinx!  He ain’t safe to be around.”

Hoss stiffened.  “What did you say?”

Joe, who’d dismounted and rushed up to help, stopped short.

“Him!  He’s a damn jinx.  I tell you, we shouldn’t have to work with him.”

“You shut your mouth.”

Tex smirked, “You fighting Jinx’s battles for him?”

The lithe figure of his younger brother flew past him to punch Tex on the jaw.  Startled, Hoss grabbed Joe, hauling him back.

“Stop it!  That loudmouth ain’t worth it.”

Wrenching free, Joe swung onto Cochise.  Watching the flash of black and white ride away, Hoss turned back to confront Tex.  Mashing his fist into the man’s shirt, he brought him face to face.  

“You talk about my brother like that again, an’ you’ll answer to me, got that?”

“Sure, Hoss, sure.”

Releasing him, Hoss retrieved Joe’s abandoned rope and ran a finger over the frayed material.  Looking up, he faced a group of silent, apprehensive, grim-faced men.  They really believed this jinx stuff.  He held up the broken end for them to see.

“The rope just wore through, that’s all.  Could’ve happened to any of us.”

Hoss knew he should keep working, but his worry for Joe won out.  Leaving the men to carry on, he mounted Chubb.

Behind him, Tex spat on the ground.  His bravado returned at Hoss’ departure.  “Still say the kids a jinx, an’ we shouldn’t have to work with him.  I’m heading for town.  Who’s with me?”

***

Hoss found his brother sitting on a large boulder, tossing stones into the deep blue water of the lake.

“You gonna sit here all day?” he asked, lowering himself next to him.

“Thought I might get some peace here.”

Hoss cut Joe a sideways look and chose to ignore the snarky tone.  “The rope had frayed.  It would have busted soon enough.”

Joe fiddled with a stone, letting this information sink in.  Sending it spinning out over the lake, he snapped, “I should’ve checked it.”

He turned to climb down, but Hoss snagged his arm.

“It were an accident and could have happened to any of us.”

“But it didn’t.  It was my rope.  I didn’t check it.  You would’ve, Adam would’ve.  It was me who didn’t.”

Shaking off his brother, Joe jumped down.  Hoss followed.  He wasn’t going to let Joe walk away.  A hand on his shoulder, he spun Joe about and gave him a shake.

“Pa’s right.  This wallowing has got to stop.  You should’ve checked the rope.  Is that what you wanna hear?  So you made a mistake.  You gonna let that rule the rest of your life?  Becky dying was terrible. I know that.  But you ain’t got no call to keep blaming yourself.”

“Haven’t I?”  Hoss heard the break in his brother’s voice. “What about the others?  Julia, Amy, and now Becky? They’re right.  I am a jinx.”

“What?  You weren’t to blame for Julia or Amy.”  Hoss bent so that he could see Joe’s averted face.  The bleakness there startled him.  “You can’t carry that kind of weight around on your shoulders.”

“She died in my arms.  I felt her blood drain away. I saw her eyes.”

Hoss’ beefy hand encircled his brother’s neck, hooking him into his chest.  Tears pricked the big man’s eyes, hearing the suffering in his brother’s voice.

“There ain’t no meaning to it, and sometimes it’s hard to understand, but it weren’t your fault.  That’s all you got to remember. It weren’t your fault.”

***

Climbing off the stage, Adam stretched to unkink his back.  Stagecoach travel was his least favorite mode of transportation.  Catching his bag, he decided to wash the dirt from his throat before hiring a horse and heading home.

He wasn’t hopeful of finding any of his family in town.  His business having concluded ahead of time, he’d arrived back two days early.

Reaching the batwing doors of the saloon, he halted at the words that hit him.

“Little Joe Cartwright?  Nah, the only nickname that kid should have is JINX Cartwright!”  Laughter followed, and the loud voice continued, “I tell you, he’s the biggest jinx ever.  Never mind the gals.  Ain’t nobody safe around him!”

The laughter petered out.  Seeing the men around him move away, Tex turned and looked into Adam Cartwright’s cold eyes.

Adam leaned on the bar.  “Go on, Tex.  You were saying.”

Tex swallowed.  “Just a joke, Adam.”

“I don’t care for jokes like that.”

The sweat broke out on Tex’s brow. “Didn’t mean nuthin’.”

“Good.  Now, shouldn’t you get back to the ranch?”

Tex grabbed his hat and scurried out the door, followed by the other members of the Ponderosa crew.

Adam scanned the room and saw men turn their backs.  What had been going on while he was away?

***

“You’re saying everyone thinks Little Joe’s a jinx?”

“Yeah, and he believes it too,” Hoss replied.  “Got it into his head that coz Julia and Amy died, he’s to blame for them and Becky.”

The look on Adam’s face told Ben his opinion on that kind of thinking.  He couldn’t resist rising to Joe’s defense.  “I know it’s foolish.  But he’s only eighteen with a lot of growing up left to do.”

“I think he grew up quite enough, thanks to Julia.”

He cut his eldest a dark look.  “It’s hard enough to lose someone you love, but to lose two and at his age.” 

Ben’s eyes wandered to his desk and the portraits of the three wives he’d loved and lost.  He understood that kind of pain.

“With Becky dying, it ain’t surprising he’s feeling shaken,” Hoss added.

Adam crossed his arms.  “Joe’s a tough kid.  He’ll get over it.  What I don’t understand is why anyone else believes it?”

Ben shook his head.  “They don’t, not really.  Rubin was upset and angry, looking for someone to blame.  Little Joe gave him an easy target.”

Adam gave Hoss his ‘trust Little Brother’ look before asking, “What about Tex?”

“He can pack his gear.”

“Wait a minute, Pa.  We don’t wanna give him a reason to continue spreading that stuff around town.  ‘Sides, long as he’s here, I’ll keep him so busy he won’t have the energy to talk.”

The two men smiled at Hoss’ determined face.

“All right, he can stay, but keep him away from Little Joe.”

***

Ben draped the coat around Joe’s shoulders.

“The nights are getting chilly.  You don’t want to be sitting out here in your shirt.”  Encouraged by the gleam of the smile he caught in the half-light, Ben sank onto the porch step.  “I think I owe you an apology.”

“For what?”

“For not taking your loss of Julia and Amy more seriously.  I thought being young, you’d get over the loss quicker.  I was wrong, and I’m sorry.”  Joe shifted under his coat but stayed silent.  Ben took that as his cue.  “You can’t torture yourself like this.  Losing people is one thing, but blaming yourself for their loss is another.”

“If I hadn’t been with Julia, Millain wouldn’t have felt jilted.  He wouldn’t have killed her.  It’s the same with Amy.  If I’d just got her out of the barn, seen she was safe instead of fighting Jessup.”

Strong hands rubbed comforting circles on his son’s back.

“Joe, sometimes things happen that we have no control over.  When I met Inger, I could have stayed with her in Illinois.  We could have been happy there.  But I wanted to continue west, to find my dream.  If I hadn’t, we wouldn’t have met those Indians.  Am I to blame for that?”  Ben’s hand gripped Joe’s shoulder, holding him still and silent while he continued, “And your mother when she asked me for that stallion.  Oh, Joe, how she wanted that animal.  Your mother was a fine horsewoman, but that horse was so powerful.  Still, I let her have her way, and she loved riding him.”

“I remember.  Ma riding the horse and me in front.”

“You do?  You were so young, I’m surprised…  Yes, she took you up, but only to trot around the yard.  It would’ve been far too dangerous to take you out riding.”

Joe shifted to look at his father.  He didn’t know.  Joe hadn’t many memories of his mother being so young when she died.  But his most vivid was on that horse.  He recalled how he urged her on. How it was like flying as they raced along.  He loved the power, speed, and how his squeals of delight mingled with the music of her laugh.  But, if Pa didn’t know, he’d keep his mother’s secret.

“Should I have let her have that horse?  If I hadn’t, she wouldn’t have died.  Should I do what you’re doing and blame myself?”

“Of course not!”  The words were angry, but the next moment Ben felt the tension leave Joe’s back.  “I guess you may be right.  But, I kept Becky outside, Pa, no one else.”

“Did you know they fired into the store too?  If Becky had been inside, she might still have been hit.”

“You mean it?”

The childish hope in the voice moved Ben closer to encircle his son with his arm. “I wouldn’t lie to you.”

They sat still and silent for a few moments.  Then Joe leaned in to rest his head on his shoulder. “Thanks, Pa.”

Ben smiled in the dark and tightened his hug.

***

“Lookee here, boys, here comes Jinx, watch out.”

“Shut up, Tex, there ain’t nothin’ wrong with Little Joe, an’ we’re all getting sick of your big mouth.”

Joe pulled Cochise to a stop.  “Everythin’ okay, Bill?”

“Yeah.  Just a few to do.”

Joe’s eyes flicked over the men.  Seeing the sullen Tex, he asked, “No problems?”

Bill glanced across at Tex and confirmed, “No problems.”

He rode off, a smile spreading across his face.  No one on the ranch had mentioned he was a jinx in days, and he had a feeling no one would.

Things had been improving, but Church on Sunday had been tough.  Seeing the Clyde’s without Becky was a raw wound, and Rubin had ignored them all.  It hurt Joe more for his family’s sake than himself, but he had to accept there was nothing he could do about that.

The knot in his chest had eased.  He’d let go of his guilt.  There were still times when a wave of doubt hit him, but he’d remember Pa’s words, “Dealing with guilt, whether real or imagined, is part of life.  A hard part, but still a part,” and ride it out.

***

The mirror reflected a person Joe didn’t recognize.  He hadn’t been this nervous since he asked his first girl to dance at a neighbor’s barn-raising when he was fourteen.  Breathing deep to steady his jittery heart, he fumbled with his string tie, exasperated to find himself all fingers and thumbs.

“Need some help?”

Joe rolled his eyes.  The last thing he needed was his older brothers teasing him.  Still, he turned to Hoss, allowing him access to the offending article.

Hoss tied the bow and then surprised him by saying, “Don’t you worry none, it’ll be fine.”

Joe’s smile held a hint of sheepishness for being caught out in his fretting.  “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.  After all, we can’t have a Cartwright turning up at the dance looking like a ragamuffin.”

Joe laughed, and the pleased look on Hoss’ face made him smile.  The big galoot was doing his best to help.  Slapping Hoss on the back, they headed out the door. 

***

Everything was going well except, Ben noticed, Little Joe hadn’t asked one young lady to dance.  He’d spent the evening with either his family or his male friends.  When diminutive Florence Wallace stomped over and demanded in her high-pitched voice, “Little Joe, if you don’t ask me to dance right now, I swear I’m gonna burst.” He could have kissed her.

Laughter breaking the ice, Joe was soon enjoying himself with the young ladies.  If anyone muttered the ugly word that had plagued him, no one heard it.

Refilling his punch glass, Joe turned.  Hoss was there with Mark Clyde at his side.  Mark and Hoss had been friends until the tragedy.  Joe swallowed.

“I just wanted to tell you.  I don’t hold nothin’ against you for what happened.”

Stunned, Joe took the hand stuck out to him.  Overwhelmed, he choked, “Thanks.”

In church the next day, he risked a glance over at the Clyde’s.  Catching his eye, Mrs. Clyde smiled at him.  His heart lurched, and he ducked his head, fighting back the tears.

Life was hard.  Grief didn’t vanish overnight, and no act of bravado could mend it in an instant.  Sometimes, it called for patience.  Hurt needed time to flow over it, erasing it like a river wearing the bank. An impulsive nature made this a hard lesson for Joe to accept.  But when he felt the warm embrace of his father or the playful punches of his brothers, he knew he could.  Their strength was his strength.  Thanks to them, he would be fine.

*** The End ***

April 2019

If you enjoyed my story, I hope you will consider scrolling down and leaving a comment.

With thanks to my patient and long-suffering beta, Pat.

Eps referenced:
The Julia Bulette Story
The Truckee Strip