The Shooting

by jfclover

Lucky is a man who finds love, but luck hasn’t been on my side.  When the sheriff came out to the house and asked if I would stand in for him for the next five days, I jumped at the chance.  Pa’s look of surprise was anticipated, although I wasn’t expecting him to shout, “No!”

Roy and I turned our heads in unison, but I spoke up first.  “Five days, Pa.  What can happen in five days?”

“I think you know the answer, Joseph.”

“That was Rubicon and a whole different scenario.  The sheriff isn’t planning some kind of heist, are you, Roy?”

“Of course not.”  Roy stepped toward my father.  “Joe’s old enough and smart enough for the job, Ben, but you already know that, don’t you?”

“I’d rather you didn’t, Son.”

I reached for my father’s arm and grabbed hold.  “No need to worry, Pa.  I’ll be fine.”

Chapter One

Since Roy had to catch the eight o’clock stage to Sacramento, I spent the night on a cot in one of his cells.  I wasn’t an early riser, and riding to town before dawn didn’t suit my fancy at all.  As I walked him down to the depot, he gave me a list of instructions to follow.

Roy Coffee was a black-and-white sheriff.  There were no gray areas.  The law was the law, and violators would be punished.  He had the same expectations of a weekend sheriff.  I agreed to fill in to the best of my ability, and he was satisfied that I could do the job.  As he rode out of town, I reviewed his list of dos and don’ts, and I was ready to go.

I needed to let a few of the townsfolk know I was in charge.  The banks and the major saloons were first on my list.  Then came the mercantile and millinery, the local seamstress and tailor.  Any place that might be easy to rob or where an unnecessary brawl might occur.  By the time I made the rounds, I was starved and slipped into Daisy’s Café for breakfast, and because I was acting sheriff, my platter of bacon and eggs was on the house.

“As much as I appreciate your kindness, Daisy, you don’t need to feed me for free.”

“But it’s my pleasure, Little Joe.  After all the money you’ve spent in here over the years, it’s the least I can do.”

“You were one of the first businesses on C Street.”

“I sure was.  Just a couple of months after the city was christened.  It’ll be ten years next month.”

“Really?  It doesn’t seem possible.”

“You were a wild one back then.  Your Pa or one of your brothers was always riding to town and dragging you home.”

“Yeah.  Fun times.”

Daisy and I went way back.  I remembered her wedding.  A joyous occasion, but it wasn’t long after that poor old Claude tripped over a tin can and broke his neck.  The whole town showed up for the funeral, and since no one had bought the café when Daisy tried to sell, she reopened and ran the place just as she had before.  With all of Claude’s money, she could’ve done anything she wanted, toured the world, or built a fine house in any major city, but this was her home, and this is where she wanted to stay.

After leaving the café, I wasn’t sure what to do next, so I strolled down the boardwalk to the office, sat down, and propped my feet on top of Roy’s desk.  In no time, I was sound asleep.  When I woke, I lowered my boots to the floor and sat up tall.  That was no way for a sheriff to act.

I didn’t know what Roy did all day.  When I found a stack of wanted posters in one of the desk drawers, I thumbed through them.  There were around twenty-five in all.  Murderers, horse thieves, bank robbers, stagecoach robbers – the list was endless.  There was even a lady killer nicknamed – Mac, Mac the Magnificent—a Canadian who found the States more appealing, and apparently, she excelled at her craft.

It was time for another stroll down the boardwalk.  This time, I made it as far as the Bucket of Blood and killed a half hour talking to Bruno.  I should have brought lengths of leather.  At least I could’ve fashioned some new lariats.  I was bored out of my mind and tried to think about what to do next.

The next three days were the same.  Stroll, eat, nap.  Stroll, eat, nap.  Virginia City had never been so dull or uneventful.  One more day like those three, and Roy could gladly have his town back.  I’d rather be busy on the ranch than sitting on my can all day doing nothing.

The final day had come, and I wanted to shout for joy.  Boredom isn’t my strong suit, and hanging around town with hundreds of saloons calling my name wasn’t fair either.  I wondered if Roy ever took time for a cold one.  Was it allowed? Heck, I was only a weekend replacement and this was my last night on the job, so what could one beer matter?

After eating a pleasant supper at Daisy’s—and leaving the amount owed on the table—I made my way to the Silver Dollar.  “How about a cold one, Sam?”

“Coming right up, Little Joe.”

I was the stand-in sheriff, and the bartender still used my childhood nickname. When would it ever end?  He set the beer down in front of me.  “No charge, Little Joe.”

I didn’t have the strength to argue.  “Thanks, Sam.”

Counting the hours until Roy’s stage pulled in seemed silly, but that’s exactly what I did.  By mid-morning tomorrow, I’d be a free man, head back to the ranch, and put my life back on track.

From the minute I put on the badge in Rubicon, my days were numbered, but Virginia City had been the complete opposite.  I had too much time to think.  Working hard kept a man’s mind off things he’d rather forget, but this week had been pure hell.  

My brain never let me forget what a fool I’d been and how the town reacted when I fought the deputy marshal in the middle of C Street.  I’d been duped by the best female liar in the world, taken in by her beauty and flirtatious ways.  She had my head spinning and my heart pounding, and then the dirty truth revealed itself just three months ago in front of half the town.

“That’s my wife.”

It’s a wonder anyone ever spoke to me again after all that went down that night.  Even Hoss was at a loss for words.  Men and women stared in disbelief as I walked away.  Joe Cartwright – wife stealer.  Shame wracked my entire body, and for the next several weeks, I didn’t leave the protection of the ranch.

When Roy called on me for the job, all was forgotten and possibly forgiven.  No one cared enough to give the weekend sheriff any trouble, and they could have.  They could’ve made my life a living hell.

I wanted to say it was over, but does a man ever get over a love like that?  Other lost loves come to mind on occasion, and forgetting anyone who passes through our lives remains part of us forever.  Even a wretched piece of work like Emily McPhail will haunt me till the day I die.

My daydream ended when loud shouts came from a poker player across the room.  A young man had risen from his chair and aimed his Colt at the fella across from him.  Eyes shifted in my direction as I loosened the loop of my pistol and meandered through the crowd toward a man who was unknown to me.

“Put the firearm away,” I said.

“Who the hell are you?”

“Holster the gun and walk away.”

“Get lost, Little Man.  This ain’t your problem.”

I pointed to the badge on my jacket.  “This says it is.”

Things happen fast when tempers flare and a man loses control.  My plan to talk him down failed, and when he turned his gun on me, I drew and fired.   As close as I was, my target didn’t stand a chance, but he tried anyway.  His pride wouldn’t let him back down, and he chose death instead of lowering his pistol and walking away.  Although it was a senseless killing, I had no choice.

Adrenaline took over.  I tried to hide the fact that every nerve was on high alert, and I was afraid to speak.  Would my voice betray me?  I found two people I knew and turned my attention to them.

“Jake?  Larry?  Would you carry him down to Doc’s?”

“Sure, Joe.”

I felt a hand on my shoulder.  “Ain’t nothing else you could’ve done, Little Joe.”

Sam tried to reassure me, but I’d just killed a man, a man younger than myself, a man with his whole life ahead of him.  I didn’t know his name or next of kin, but he’d have to be buried as soon as Doc filed an autopsy.  I’d ask around, but there were a fair number of men named John Doe lying on Boot Hill.

Killing was a sin.  My father believed that with all his heart.  Tomorrow, when my run as sheriff was over, I’d have to tell Pa and Hoss that I killed a man because of a silly dispute over cards.   Though I racked my brain, I couldn’t see how things could have turned out differently.

When I returned to the office, I scrubbed my face with both hands before writing down what happened so Roy would have an account of the day’s activities.  Though I’d tell him in person, this was just a backup with every detail I could remember written down on official paper.

The following morning, I met the stage and welcomed Roy home.  I was never so happy to see the grizzled old mustached man in my life.

“Welcome home, Sheriff.”  I extended my hand to greet him.  “Let me carry that bag for you.”

“Good to see you, Little Joe.  Everything go smoothly?”

“Pretty much.”

We started down the boardwalk.  “Problems?”

“Just one.  I’ll explain when we get  back to the office.”

Without hesitation or interruption from Roy, I told the story.  I showed him the paper with all the facts and said that the John Doe would be buried today.

“I’ll have to see the body, Son.”

“Let’s go.  He should still be at Doc’s.”

Back down the boardwalk, we went.  I opened Paul Martin’s door and we walked inside.  Roy took one look at the dead man and turned to me.

“Do you know who this is?”

Chapter Two 

I unsaddled my horse, thinking he’d be glad to see his stablemates, but all three were gone.  It was haying season, and everyone had a job to do.  Although I was disappointed and had hoped for a decent welcome home, I’d have to shelve that little fairytale and get on with my day.  Even my story about the shooting would have to wait until suppertime.

With everyone in the house busy, Hop Sing had gone for supplies.  He’d probably find a game of fantan while he was in Chinatown and return a wealthy man.  Though I should’ve met him on the road to Virginia City, I didn’t see anyone traveling back or forth, and since the day was half over, I didn’t think Pa would expect me to ride down to the fields to help, but he’d have me up bright and early tomorrow morning.  I could count on that.

Just like the last five days, I was on my own.  After making a sandwich, I headed out to the front porch to eat and wait for the family to ride up.  I propped my feet on the table and leaned back in the chair.  I’d nearly fallen asleep when a stranger on a red bay rounded the side of the barn and rode up into the yard.

With his hat dipped low on his forehead, I couldn’t make out his features.  Assuming he was a friend of my father’s, I stood from the chair and left the comfort of the porch to greet the man. 

“Are you Joe Cartwright?”

“I sure am.  What can I do for you, Mister?”

“You acquainted with a man named Jake Coons?”

My heart jammed into my throat.  I couldn’t speak if I wanted to, but I knew why the man had come.  I’d killed his brother, and he was out for revenge.  The shot came from close range, and the bullet forced me to the ground.  When I tried to bring my legs to my chest, I failed, and the outlaw fired again.

Chapter Three

“Ride for the doctor, Candy.  And hurry!”

“Hoss, carry your brother upstairs.”

Pa’s voice was a godsend, but I couldn’t form any words to thank him. I could feel the beat of Hoss’s heart as he hauled me inside, into the coolness of the house and away from the heat that threatened to burn me alive.  But the heat came back with a vengeance.  My entire body was on fire, and I pushed at the hands that held me down.

“God help me!”

“Easy, Joseph.  Lay still.”

“No!  Leave me be.” 

“You’re bleeding, Son.  I have to stop the bleeding.”

As much as I yearned for comfort in my father’s voice, it made no difference.  Pain radiated like the sun hitting a brick wall.  Sheer seconds passed in between violent tremors—over and over and over again until even my breathing became halted and shallow.  Nothing could quiet the hideous pain.

“How long do you think he lay out there, Pa?”

“It’s hard to tell.  The wounds are just seeping, but if Paul doesn’t get here soon, I fear …”

“I know it looks bad, but you can’t think like that, Pa.  Ain’t nothing bad gonna happen to my little brother.”

Chapter Four

“I brought the chair with me, Ben.  Maybe Hoss could carry it inside.”

“Are you sure he can’t stand on his own?”

“I’ve done everything possible.  The bullets severed the nerves in both legs, but you already know that, Ben, and you have to accept the fact that Joe will never walk again.  Do you want me to tell him?”

“I should be the one, Paul.”

I turned my head when Pa walked into my room.  It had been five weeks since the shooting, and maybe this was the day I’d be set free.  The wounds had been bad.  When Pa and the doc thought I was sleeping, they chatted like jaybirds, and all I ever heard Doc say was, “I’m sorry.”

I don’t know what he was sorry about.  I thought he did a fine job of patching me up.  The pain was gone.  I did as he asked and hadn’t tried to move off the bed.  I felt good for the first time in a long while and was more than ready to get on with my life.

“Doc’s downstairs.”

“Good.  Is he going to let me out of this dang bed?”

“Yes.”

I tried to shift my weight and slide my legs over the side, but I didn’t realize how weak I’d become.  I couldn’t move my legs an inch.  I glanced up at Pa.

“Seems I don’t have enough strength to—“

“Son …”

That little nerve that tingles at the back of your neck when something isn’t right flared up like a lit firecracker.  “What’s the matter with me?”

Pa sat on the edge of the bed.  He reached for my arm and gripped it tighter than necessary.  “The bullet severed the nerves in your legs.  Your right holds some promise, but Paul insists that it’s too early to tell.  He asked me to give you the facts and not raise your hopes for a full recovery.”

“What are you saying, Pa?”

“Paul brought a rolling chair out from—“

“You joking, right?  This is just a bad dream, isn’t it?”

“I’m sorry, Joe.”

I turned my head and faced the window.  The sky was blue with a few puffy clouds high above.  I pictured myself on the back of Cochise and realized that could never be.  Nothing would ever be the same again.  I was a cripple, a good-for-nothing pitiful human being that would have to be cared for until the day I died.  Maybe death would be a blessing for all.

“Why don’t I have Hoss help you downstairs?”

“You mean carry me, don’t you, Pa?  Carry me down in the mornings and carry me back up every night.  Carry me wherever the damn chair won’t go.  How about the outhouse, Pa?  Can I count on Big Brother for that, too?”

“I know this is difficult—“

“Difficult?  Is that what we call doing nothing for the rest of my life?”

“Let’s take things one step at a time, Son.”

“That’s funny, Pa.  Have you already forgotten that I’m the son who takes no steps?  That’s what it’s all about, you know.   You have a worthless son who can’t do for himself.  The crippled Cartwright boy.  ‘Poor Ben.’  That’s what they’ll all say.  Is that what you want?”

“Is that what you want, Joseph?  It sure sounds that way.”

“Just leave me be, Pa.”

“I’ll leave you be for now, Joseph, but I expect to see you downstairs for supper.”

“I don’t think you understand.”

“I understand plenty.  It’s you who has the problem, and it’s you who will have to make peace with the situation.”

“Fine.”  I turned my head.  The conversation was over.  Pa took the hint and left my room.

I didn’t make it down for supper that night, and I didn’t show my face for the next three days.  No one complained, and no one came to visit.  Hop Sing brought my meals, but he didn’t have time to chat.  It was a lonely existence, and I was darn sick of being alone, but that wasn’t all.  I’d be damned if I was going to spend the remainder of my life in a rolling chair.

Pa told me to figure things out, but I couldn’t find my way.  Nothing made sense anymore.  My life was over.  Joe Cartwright was as good as dead.

Chapter Five

Without waiting for an answer, a knock on the door brought my father into my bedroom.  “You have a visitor, Son.”

“I’d rather not see anyone.”

“It’s Mrs. McPhail.”

“What?  No, Pa.  I have nothing to say to that woman.”

“I understand, Joseph, but—“

“No.  Not today.  Not ever.”

“All right.  I’ll send her away.”  

My father started out of the room, but I called him back.  “Pa?  Help me get dressed.”

“Does that mean you’ll see her?”

“Yeah.  I’ll see her.”

I didn’t bother with boots.  Dressing was enough of a struggle.  I wasn’t about to greet the woman from my bed, and Pa helped me to my bedroom chair.  As far as I was concerned, Emily could stand.  This was one helluva social call.

Pa left, and I crossed my hands in my lap, but that was no good.  I tried resting my palms on the arms of the chair.  That way, I’d have something to grip rather than lose my temper.  Why in God’s name had I agreed to this?  Why had my father let her inside the house?

She knocked and just like my father, she walked in before I could speak.  “Hello, Joe.”

“Does your husband know you’re here?”

“No, but I—“

I held up my right hand.  “No explanation needed.  I’d offer you a seat, but I doubt you’ll be staying long.”

“Oh, that’s okay.  I heard about the accident.”

“It was no accident, Emily.  A man rode into the yard, shot me, and left me for dead.”

“Is it true … about your legs?”

“It’s true.  I’ll never walk again.”

“Joe, I’m sorry.”

“Go home, Emily.  There’s nothing for you here.”

Several minutes later, the front door closed behind her, and only moments after that,  Pa stood just inside my bedroom doorway.

“I’m ready to go downstairs.”

“I think Hoss is in the barn.”

Nothing more was said.  If my father thought Emily was the reason—in an odd sort of way— he was right.  After seeing her and hearing the pity in her voice, I was eager to get on with my life.  I wouldn’t be pitied by anyone, least of all a lying, cheating, miserable woman like Emily McPhail.

Chapter Six

My eyes welled with tears when I first laid my eyes on the cane-seated, wooden chair.  I should’ve been thankful to Paul for finding one so fast, but I wasn’t thankful at all.  The only thing that came to mind were crippled old men who were past their prime and a chair was a godsend.  I took no pleasure in dragging myself around while others walked and ran.

The first thing on my list was sending Cochise out to pasture.  Without a rider, he needed to be free.  He had a long life ahead of him, and he didn’t need to spend any more time with a man who’d never ride again.

Hoss stood beside me.  I hadn’t even said thanks.  Pa would say there was no need for rudeness, no matter what the situation might be.

“Thanks, Brother.”

“You don’t need to thank me, Joe.”

I ignored his comment and reached for the wheels of the chair.  Maybe I should name my slick new convenience Cochise II. It would take time to learn the ropes, but all I had was time.  I maneuvered the chair toward the front door.

“Let’s get some fresh air, Hoss.  I’ve been cooped up in this house for weeks.”

My brother smiled and opened the door wide.  I managed my first trip outside without any problem, but the porch was unreachable, and I began to see how things would work from now on.  There would always be limitations.  There would always be obstacles I couldn’t overcome.

“You’re doing real good, Little Brother.”

“Yeah … real good.”

“What’s the matter, Joe?”

“Nothing.  I’m sure you have better things to do than hang around with me.”

“Nope,  today, I’m all yours.”

“Was that Pa’s brilliant idea?  Lose two sons instead of one?”

“Huh?”

“It’s simple, Hoss.  I can’t do a day’s work, and if you’re my nursemaid, that’s two of us doing nothing and two new hands Pa will have to hire.”

“Don’t be silly.”

I stared at my worthless legs.  Life was so simple before I got shot.  If Roy hadn’t asked me to take his place, there’d be no chair and no worthless human being drifting through life without purpose.

“Wanna go see your horse?  He probably wonders what happened to you.”

“Not right now, Hoss.”

“Maybe later.”

“I want you to do something for me.”

“Sure.  What do you need?”

“I want you to set him free.”

“Do what?”

“Cochise.  I want him turned out.”

“You ain’t serious, are you, Joe?”

“Will you do that for me?”

“Yeah, but .…”

“Thanks.”

Having stared at the barn long enough, I turned the chair back toward the house.  Hoss was quick to catch on, and he opened the door so I could wheel myself inside.  I’d had enough fun for one day.

“It doesn’t make sense for me to live upstairs anymore.”

“You want to move down here?”

“I think that would be best, don’t you?  For God’s sake, Hoss.  You can’t be expected to haul me up and down the stairs every day.”

“Want me to bring some of your stuff down?”

“Sure.  Whatever you think a cripple might need.”

“Don’t talk like that, Little Joe.”

“I only speak the truth, Big Brother.”

Chapter Seven

Weeks passed, and we were heading for an early winter.  The last leaves of autumn clung to their branches when an early snow covered the ground in white.  Life was different now, and I began to notice things I’d always taken for granted.  Different smells and sounds were often the highlight of my day.  I found that some of Adam’s old books were a comfort to me, although I know he’d find humor in that simple revelation.

The crisis of losing all feeling in my legs was over.  I accepted my fate and was living my new life until that first snow, until I felt trapped and isolated, and unsettled by my surroundings.  I couldn’t explain it to Pa or Hoss or Candy.  I didn’t understand it myself.

I’d been a faithful churchgoer during the last few weeks.  Somehow, Pa talked me into accompanying him, and it turned out to be my big adventure of the week.  At times, I listened to our new, young preacher.  Other times, I might’ve dozed. That’s until Pa’s elbow slammed into my side.  Even at nearly thirty years old, my father didn’t hesitate to correct.

When Hoss and Candy heard that Pa and I were planning our first trip to church, the two of them raced into town and fashioned a ramp up to the back door.  The preacher thought it was a fine idea and invited the two of them to join me on Sunday mornings.  They usually had other plans, but I enjoyed time alone with my father.  

I’d built up enough strength that I could haul myself into the bed of our buckboard.  Pa would hoist the chair in beside me, and off we’d go.  We’d pull up to the back door early so I could get inside the building before the rest of the congregation gathered to watch the poor cripple maneuver his way to the side aisle.  Even though I’d lost most of my clumsiness, I still felt awkward and didn’t appreciate an audience gaping and snickering behind my back.

I hadn’t lost everything after the shooting.  I still had an eye for beauty, and the new, young organist was a very pretty lady.  It was hard not to stare, and there were times I had to divert my attention back to the preacher, where I should’ve been looking all along.  I didn’t need another dig from Pa’s elbow.

In the end, I knew better than to stare or even think I had a future with any woman.  I doubt looking was a sin, but I often rode home with sinful thoughts rummaging through my head, but a man could dream, and all I had left were dreams. 

Winter was a lonely time.  Hoss and Candy had jobs to do, and Pa had ledgers and finances to worry about.  When I overheard a conversation one night, I found that Pa had hired two men to fill my shoes.

At first, I wanted to strut like a peacock.  My value as a ranch hand proved that before the shooting, I’d been worth my weight in salt, but that was then, and this was now.  Because of me, Pa had to shell out an extra weekly paycheck, but life wasn’t fair, though I didn’t have the energy to dwell on things I couldn’t change.  I’d rather think about the lovely organist or how Cochise would fare amongst his own kind if I let him run free.

“Supper on table.  You eat now.”

Pa stood from behind his desk, and I rolled toward the table.  We knew better than to upset our cook.  My dining room chair had been removed and placed in my downstairs bedroom in case I was fortunate enough to have company.

“Where’s Hoss and Candy?”

“They planned to head into town once they finished with the livestock.”

“It must be Saturday.”

“It sure is.”

Pa and I filled our plates and dug in.   My brother was forgoing a good meal, but Hoss would never miss a meal entirely.  They’d get a bite in town.  It made sense to go that route if they were working closer to Virginia City than the house.  I couldn’t blame either of them for wanting a night on the town.  It’s what men were supposed to do.

I hadn’t asked Pa about church tomorrow.  Ice still covered parts of the roads, and my father wasn’t one to take chances.  I’d miss hearing the organist play, although it was time I got a hold of my feelings and quit thinking about her.  It was a useless dream, and it was high time I faced facts.  No woman wanted a cripple.  She’d have to be touched in the head to fall for a guy like me.

A Tale of Two Cities was this weekend’s entertainment.  Adam and Pa had read the story years ago, but my tastes were different then.  Of course, my elder brother made fun of my selections, but back then, I couldn’t wait to get my teeth into the newest dime novel on  Mr. Cass’s shelf.  Dastardly Dan and Frontier Mike.  Zebulon’s Winter Palace and Marvin the Marvel.  Those were the best, and I read each one at least ten times, mostly when I was laid up with a broken bone or a gunshot wound.  Someday I might have to count all the times I’d been shot, but it took only one irritated outlaw to change my life forever.

My shooter was never caught.  Even after Roy’s posse spent days in the saddle, he was still at large, still causing trouble, I suppose.  Ancient history.  I’d put the would-be killer out of my mind months ago.  There was no reason to dwell on a fella who may never be found.

We gathered in front of the fireplace on Sunday morning.  There’d be no outing, no weekly adventure, but a bit of excitement was thrown my way.

“Guess who we saw at the International House last night?”

“Where do you want me to start, Big Brother?”

“Never mind.  I’ll tell you or it’ll take all day.”

“Well?”

“Miss Carter.”

“Who?”

“Miss Carter, the organist.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“She asked about you.”

“Me?”

“Yeah.  She said you wasn’t in church last week.”

“Why does she care?”

“Don’t rightly know, Little Brother.  Guess you’ll have to ask her yourself.”

The look in Hoss’s eye was his way of goading me into seeking the lady out and having a little chat.  Perhaps he learned that from our older brother.  That sly little grin said it all.

“Not interested.”

“You don’t fool me none, Joseph.  I seen what pew you sit in and I seen you watching her play that organ.”

“I’m sure half the congregation watches her play.  Maybe you haven’t noticed, Big Brother, but she’s very good.”

“You might be right, Joseph, but I weren’t born yesterday.  I seen the look in your eye when you watch her, and it ain’t got nothing to do with musical talent.”

Pa blasted into the conversation.  “That’s enough, Hoss.” As he looked straight at Candy and Hoss, he stood from his overstuffed chair.  He wasn’t much for matchmaking, and he already knew what I knew.  No woman wanted a cripple. “Let’s get to bed, Boys.  We’ve got a long day tomorrow.”

Chapter Eight

I’d never been an early riser, and with nothing to do most days, I didn’t see the point of watching the sunrise.  When Pa poked his head in to say they were leaving, I gave a quick wave and drifted back to sleep.

After months of practice, I could dress myself.  Pulling on boots was still a challenge, but when someone—maybe Doc—suggested I wear slippers, I practiced harder.  I may be a damn cripple, but I didn’t have to look like one.

Though I hadn’t mentioned the odd twinge I had in my right leg to anyone in the house, I wondered what it meant.  Was it an actual feeling or just a hopeful wish that maybe someday …

Hop Sing didn’t change the rules for me.  I was due at the table alongside everyone else, and when that didn’t happen, he carried on, but he’d throw his hands in the air and fix me whatever I wanted any time I wanted.

“What you want now?”  His bark was worse than usual.  I must’ve interrupted something important.

“Just coffee.”

“No eggs?  No bacon?  You sick?”

“No, I’m not sick.  Just not hungry.”

He handed me a mug of fresh coffee.  “You too pale.  Need fresh air.”

“It’s a bit chilly out there.  Maybe later.”

“Later is good.  Make sure you do what Hop Sing say.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Me and my mug rolled out of the kitchen.  It was too early in the day for yelling and too early to sit outside.  Even though it was nearly spring, the morning temperatures were still too cold for sitting on the porch doing nothing.

By noontime, it warmed up enough that I didn’t need my winter coat, and I took Hop Sing’s advice.  I headed outside, made my way up the ramp Hoss and Candy built, and rolled down to my usual spot. I wasn’t there five minutes before a rented carriage pulled up in the yard, and a woman disembarked.

Though I couldn’t stand, I rolled forward as a kind of greeting.  She walked right up to the porch and said, “Hello, Mr. Cartwright.”

“Miss Carter.”  Damn, she was a pretty woman.

“Since we’ve ever been properly introduced, I shouldn’t have come calling, but the reverend and I feared something might be amiss, and I volunteered to drive out.”

“I assure you that nothing is amiss.  It’s that my father isn’t fond of traveling to and from town on icy roads.”

“I thought that might be the case.”

“My apologies, Miss Carter.  May I offer you a seat?”

“Thank you.”  She gathered her skirts and walked up the ramp.  The chair to my left was the only other one on the porch, and she had to step around my footrests to get by.

“You’re new to these parts.”

“Somewhat, I guess.  My brother and I moved here a while back.  We’re originally from Missouri.”

What does your brother do?  Maybe I know him.”

Something in her facial expression changed.  Her smile faded, and she clutched her hands in her lap.  “My brother was killed in a shootout.  He wasn’t fast enough, and now he’s dead.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I miss him more than you know.”

“It’s my fault.”

“What?”  She seemed surprised by my comment, and I needed to clarify.

“For asking so many questions.”

“Oh … yes …well, it’s all said now.  We don’t need to speak of it again.”

I never meant to upset her.  That’s the last thing I wanted to do.  “Could I take you to supper sometime … to make up for having such a big mouth?”

“That’s not necessary, Mr. Cartwright.”

“Call me Joe.  It may not be necessary, but I’d be honored to have the pleasure of your company.”

“All right,”

“Friday night?  Around seven?”

“That would be lovely.”

“One other thing.”

“What’s that?”

“I don’t know where you live.”

Chapter Nine

It may sound strange, but I was scared to death.  Driving to town to pick up my date was my first solo outing.  Pa or Hoss or Candy had accompanied me everywhere over the last several months.  I’m sure my father was beside himself, but if I were ever to become independent, driving the carriage alone brought me a step closer to the life I used to have.

I couldn’t be Papa’s little boy forever.  It was time I found my way.  Life on a ranch wasn’t suitable for wheelchairs and cripples like me.  A job in town just might be the ticket.  Paul had mentioned the possibility of working a desk job, but at the time, I balked at the notion, although I was starting to see things clearly now.  I needed to feel useful.  I needed a purpose.

I prayed I wouldn’t embarrass myself in front of … my God.  I didn’t even know her first name.  I was out of practice and felt like a fool.  After the debacle with Emily McPhail, I vowed never to date anyone again, but things change.  People change, and Joe Cartwright was willing to take another chance.  Pa always said that life was full of second chances, and I had decided to act on that theory.  Good or bad.  Right or wrong.  I was ready.  I needed to know that my life wasn’t over.

When I arrived at the widow McGee’s boarding house, I started to reach for my chair, but Miss Carter had seen me pull up and came waltzing out the front door as gay and carefree as a schoolgirl.

“Hello, Miss Carter.”

“Please call me Mary.”    

“All right.”

She seated herself next to me, a little too close by anyone’s social standards, but I had no complaints.  I enjoyed the feel of a woman beside me, even if I couldn’t actually feel anything but a bit of warmth.  It seemed an odd thing to think about, but I don’t remember feeling any hot or cold sensation after the shooting, but my mind had a way of playing tricks.  I had a beautiful woman sitting next to me, and the feeling of warmth was nothing more than a pleasant memory.

I picked a restaurant where I could maneuver the chair without difficulty.  The tables weren’t packed in like sardines, and Alfonse was a good friend.  He’d make sure I was seated without much hassle.  

“How does a good steak sound?”

“Delicious, Mr. Cartwright.”

“Whoa.  It’s just Joe.  None of that mister business tonight.”

“Okay … Joe”

Without too much difficulty, I got into the chair and rolled up on the boardwalk.  I wanted to pat myself on the back for a job well done, but it was too early in the evening to think that nothing bad could happen.

Conversation with Mary came easy.  Though she didn’t tell me much about her life before moving to Virginia City, I felt we got on better than expected.  First dates were normally awkward and often embarrassing for one or both parties, but I found her charming, and most of all, she had a great sense of humor.  If Hoss could join our table, he’d be roaring with that barrel-chested laughter that could shake windowpanes.

We talked until I noticed Alfonse turning the key in the front door.  He wanted to close, and we were the only patrons left in his restaurant.

“It’s time to go.”

Mary glanced around the room and drew her hand to her lips.  “Oops.  I think we’ve overstayed our welcome.”

I laid a few extra coins on the table and rolled toward the door.  “Thanks for everything, Alfonse.”

“You and your lady friend are welcome any time, Joe.”

Hoisting myself into the carriage wasn’t as easy as getting out, but I managed without incident.  I was due another pat on the back, but that would have to come later.  Right now, I was interested in making a good impression and nothing more.

When I pulled up in front of the boardinghouse, Mary took hold of my hand and smiled.  “I had a wonderful time, Joe.”

Though I tried to contain my excitement, I’m sure it showed through in spades.  I felt as giddy as a young man testing the waters with his first love.  I’d been afraid to put myself in a situation like this, but Mary had boosted my confidence more than I ever expected a woman could.

“May I see you again?”

“I’d love that.”

“Is tomorrow too soon?”

“Tomorrow’s fine.”

“Two o’clock?”

“I’ll be ready.”

As much as I wanted to, I didn’t dare lean in for a kiss.  Patience was a virtue, but it was a hard one to swallow.

I didn’t roll into a quiet house.  In fact, as soon as I drove into the yard, Hoss flew out the front door.  “Let me help you, Little Brother.”

I wasn’t about to turn down his offer.  I was bone tired and couldn’t unhitch the buggy alone anyway.  “Thanks, Brother.”

There wasn’t a question in my mind that Hoss wanted to hear every detail of my first excursion alone, but he’d have to wait till we were inside.  I could picture Pa and Candy trying to give the impression that they weren’t interested, but I knew they were also wanting to hear a minute-to-minute report of my first evening out since the shooting.

Hoss pushed me across the yard.  In the beginning, I balked at anyone wanting to help me, but I grew weary of always being disagreeable and had grown to appreciate a helping hand.

“How’d everything go, Son?”

“Okay.”

“That’s it?” Hoss bellowed.  “Just okay?”

“Better than okay.”

“Come on, Little Joe.  Me and Pa and Candy’s been waiting all night to hear about that little gal.”

“You’re saying you had nothing better to do than sit around waiting for me to come home and tell tales about a nice girl like Mary?”

“Doggone it, Joe.  You know what I mean.”

“I had a good time.  I’m seeing her again tomorrow.  End of story.”

When my brother glanced at Pa, my father’s lifted eyebrow told Hoss to give up his interrogation and move on to something else.

“How ‘bout a game of checkers, Joe?”

“Not tonight, Hoss.  I’m tired.  I’m going to bed.”

As I rolled toward my bedroom, I listened to everyone’s “good nights” and waved my hand over my head just before exiting the room.  I wanted to lie in bed and remember everything that was said between Mary and me.  I didn’t need to let on to the family, but I was a very lucky man.

Chapter Ten

Hop Sing was a man of many talents.  When I said I needed food for a picnic with a young lady, not only did he climb out of bed early to fry an entire chicken, but he also set me up with wine and cheese and fresh-cut vegetables—more than I ever asked for.

Mary and I lay side by side on a blanket by the lake.  I could almost pretend my legs weren’t useless, but, of course, they were and always would be.  My goal was to find the positives in life, but there were times like these where I couldn’t get past the negative, where my mood would change in an instant, where the dark took over the light, and I withdrew from everything around me.

When Mary squeezed my hand and asked if I was all right, I realized what had happened.  “I’m sorry.  My mind … I’m sorry.”

I embarrassed myself in front of a woman I was trying to impress.  She’d have the wrong impression of me before our courtship even began, and if she agreed to see me again, I might call it a miracle.  We talked long into the afternoon, and I got a real feeling of how her life had been before moving to Virginia City.

“We were dirt poor, Joe.  There were days when my brother and I weren’t fed anything but boiled roots.  Fatback was a luxury, and a real piece of meat was nonexistent.  We slept on wooden pallets that kept us inches from the dirt floor.  When rain fell, Ma set out buckets to catch the water and keep the floor dry so we wouldn’t catch our death.

“My father left the family in ’59 to fulfill his dream and find gold in Colorado.  He fancied being rich, and maybe he was, but he never had the urge to share any of that wealth with his family.  We never saw him again.

“There’s not much more to tell, Joe.  When Mother died, my brother and I headed west.  He’s all I had.  He meant the world to me, but he’s dead, and I can’t bring him back.”

“Life isn’t always fair, Mary.”

She turned on her side and stared straight into my eyes.  “Have you ever killed a man, Joe?”

God, how I wanted to say no, but I couldn’t lie to her.  “Yes.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“More than one?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you what they call a fast gun?”

“Fast enough, I guess.”  I raised up on my elbow.  “Why don’t we change the subject?  This isn’t the type of conversation a man wants to have with a lady.”

“How many men have you killed?”

“I thought we changed the subject.”

“I need to know.”

“Why?”

“You won’t tell me?”

“I don’t know the answer.”

She looked away.  “That many …”

“No!  Not that many.  It’s not something I’m proud of, and it’s not something I want to discuss.”

“Whatever you say.”

“That’s what I say.  Now, would you like something to eat?  There’s plenty of fried chick—”

“I’m not hungry.”

“A glass of wine?” 

“I want to go home.  I’m not feeling well.”

What the hell just happened?  Hop Sing will have my hide if I return with all this food and try to explain why we didn’t find joy in all his early morning labor.

“Please.  Maybe the wine will—”

“No.  Take me home.”

She stood and busied herself straightening her skirt and adjusting the jacket she wore despite the warmth of a sunny summer day.  Standing and stomping away from her seemed like a dream come true; instead, I hauled myself into my chair and then reached down for the blanket.   She must’ve realized I couldn’t carry everything, and—in a huff—she snatched up the basket of Hop Sing’s uneaten food.

Nothing more was said about the violence of gunfights and death.  Nothing was said at all.  I dropped her off at the boardinghouse and left without saying a word.  The two-day relationship had run its course.  I handed Hoss the reins when I returned.  He happened to be in the barn, but I doubt he was expecting me this early in the day.   

“Hey, Joseph.  How’d it go?”

“It’s over.”

“What?”

I didn’t bother to explain. I rolled into the house and straight into my room.  Even though I heard Pa scoot back from his desk, I shut the door behind me.  My life wasn’t worth a plug nickel, but the family didn’t need to know everything.

As I twisted both legs to shed myself off the chair, a sharp pain— more like a cramp—grabbed at my right hip and knotted up the back of my leg.  I reached behind me and tried to ease the tension, but the muscle took its own sweet time to relax.

I didn’t know what to think.  This was something new.  Unlike the twinge I had a few days ago, I reveled in the fact that I actually felt pain.  Real live pain, but what did it mean?  How could I feel a cramp when my legs had been numb and useless since the shooting?

I could’ve rolled into the living room and told Pa, but what if this was normal and Doc had forgotten to mention such things?  What had I been told, and what was believable fantasy?  I was so put out by Mary’s and my conversation that everything became chaotic in my head.  Did the cramp even exist?  Damn if I could set things straight.

Chapter Eleven 

Morning came, and I asked Hoss if I could tag along.  I didn’t want to be alone all day with my thoughts. “Happy to have you, Little Brother.”  Repairing fence was a tedious chore that no one wanted but had to be done.  Cattle were our main source of income, and keeping the beeves contained and the rustlers at bay was a full-time job.  

When Hoss finished filling the wagon, he left room for my chair at the back of the bed.  Always the chair.  It wasn’t just tiresome for me; it was a chore for everyone, but my brother never said a cross word.  It wasn’t his nature to complain.

I wanted to say something on the way out, and I tried to tell him at lunch, but when the day was done and we’d pulled into the barn, I was ready to talk.  “Something happened last night.”  I felt like I was confessing a sin.

“What’s that, Little Joe?”

Hoss wouldn’t stand still.  He pulled at the harness and released the restraints from our matching pair of grays.  I couldn’t wrangle my thoughts into a comprehensive story while he was busy moving this way and that.

“Would you stop a minute?”

“Huh?”

“Stop what you’re doing.”

‘Okay.”  The sheepish look on my brother’s face nearly made me laugh, but the subject was too serious to give in to distraction.

“I had a cramp.”

His confused look was even worse.

“In my right leg.”

“What’s that mean?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, I do.  It means you got feeling in that leg.  It means it ain’t useless no more.”

“I can’t imagine—”

“You better start imagining, Joe.  Have you told Pa yet?”

“No, and I don’t want you saying anything either.”

“But this is good news, ain’t it?”

“Maybe, but I don’t want to get Pa’s hopes up if it’s nothing.  Maybe my legs are supposed to cramp.  I don’t know.”

“You need to see the doc.”

“I know, and I will.”

“Tomorrow.  I’ll drive you in.”

Supper was a quiet affair.  Hoss was dying to say something to Pa, but I had faith that he’d keep his new knowledge to himself.  I climbed into bed earlier than usual.  No one had asked about Mary, and I’d put her on the back burner anyway.  I didn’t need someone hounding me about unpleasant times I’d rather forget.  No one finds killing a man a glorious moment except for a gunslinger with another notch on his gunbelt, but as much as she made me out to be one of them, I wasn’t.

The first cramp had me grabbing the back of my leg, but I considered it happy pain.  If Hoss was right …  how could I get my hopes up when Paul Martin said I didn’t have a prayer of walking again?  The second time my right leg seized, it brought tears to my eyes.  Not happy tears though.  I don’t ever remember hurting like that before.  Maybe I had, but the thought of a cramp catching me off guard and causing such agony left me breathless.  I’d see Doc Martin tomorrow and let him explain the strange events.  Hoss and I were wasting time guessing.

Chapter Twelve

“I’m glad you came to see me, Joseph.”

Hoss pressed his fist on top of Paul’s desk.  “What’s it all mean, Doc?”

Paul glanced at me before he answered.  “Of course, I can’t be sure, but we should all think positively.”

Looks of bewilderment passed between Hoss and me as we waited for more of an answer.  “I’m very happy to hear this, Son, and this is what I want you to do …”

By that afternoon, Hoss had become my faithful nursemaid.  Since exercises and bouts of heated cloths were part of the process, my father had to be told.  Candy was in on the festivities, too.  He seemed to enjoy the part about slapping on hot rags that warmed the muscles before Hoss jerked my legs back and forth like he was sawing lengths of firewood.  

I put up with their snarky remarks about my skinny, white legs and kept my temper to a minimum.  As if either of them had legs anyone would call pretty.  Those comments should be left for the ladies rather than healthy young men whose future was on the line.

The exercises were unpleasant.  I held my breath until Hoss noticed my puffy, red face and told me I might want to breathe.  Hot and miserable.  Back and forth.  The ordeal was exhausting, but I could feel the pain, and that’s what got me through the first day.

My legs had been useless for months, but when I gave in to my disability, my world became less challenging, not only for me but for the family too.  My anger subsided as I eased into a structured way of life, learned my limitations, and realized that although my reality had changed, I was still a living, breathing human being.  No longer would my family coin the phrase the Joe Cartwright tragedy.  I created a new chapter.

Today, my chapter expanded to hope, and with hope, there were endless possibilities.  Candy and Hoss worked as hard as any two men on God’s green earth to bring that hope alive. I needed to be thankful for men who cared enough to see this thing through.

My father was so pleased to see his sons working together for a common cause.  No one wanted me to remain a cripple, but I was part of the action and making a contribution.  I felt good, but I kept my emotions at bay.  I didn’t want to blow out the candles before Hop Sing baked the cake.

The routine had been set up for twice a day.  Doc said at this point, he couldn’t see the harm.   Even though I wasn’t in pain, tattered nerves appeared to lie right under the surface and were itching to get out.  My mind often played tricks.  I thought I felt pain.  I wanted to feel pain, but it wasn’t there.

By the end of the first week, I’d begun to lose hope.  Nothing had changed.  Nothing had happened at all, but Hoss and Candy cheered me on.  Although each of them acknowledged that my mood had darkened, they never gave up.  With every twice-daily session, they drove me harder than the day before.  Maybe I didn’t see a happy ending, but those two did.

Since my exercises came before and after a long day’s work, Pa had to pick up supplies and stop in for the mail, a chore that normally fell on Hoss’ or my shoulders.  He asked me to go with him, but I begged off, saying I was too tired to sit for hours on the seat of a wagon.  One day, when he returned, he rifled through the mail and handed me a letter.  It smelled of perfume.  

With no return address, the missive was a mystery correspondence until I ripped the envelope open and began reading.

Dear Joe,

You must think me a fool for egging you on like I did the last time we were together.  You planned an outing by the lake, and I ruined a beautiful day by insisting on an answer that didn’t matter one way or the other.

I hope you’ll accept my apology.  I was wrong to press you as I did.  It was uncalled for and upset us both.  If you’ll see me again, I promise things will be different.

Your friend,

Mary

After slipping the letter into my shirt pocket, I rolled to my room.  I had a lot to consider, and I couldn’t think with a crowd of men wondering who penned the letter and what was said.  Whether they got a whiff of the scented missive, I wasn’t sure, but it would keep them wondering far into the night.

Chapter Thirteen

Two weeks had passed and I wondered if the rotation of hot cloths and aggressive movements would do a damn thing for my legs.  Had Doc been wrong?  Had he given me false hope?  

As soon as Candy finished with the heat, Hoss started in.  He bent my knee to my chest, then pulled it out straight.  Bend.  Straight.  Bend.  Straight.  Over and over.  After sitting a saddle all day and then having to bend over me had to be the worst job in the world.

“Only three more, Little Brother.”

I hadn’t even thanked him for spending half of his downtime working my legs.  Bend.  Straight.  Bend.  Straight.  Relax.

“That’s all for today.”  Hoss stood and reached down to help me up off the floor.  “Give me your hands, Joe.”

I lifted both arms, and without thinking, my right knee bent as if pushing up was as normal as it had been before the shooting.  We stared at my leg.   The bewildering circumstances had us speechless.  That’s until Hoss started laughing.

“What the heck?”

“Pull me up,  Brother.”

After hauling me to my feet, Hoss wrapped his arm around my waist, and we stood there like a couple of fence posts that weren’t sure what to do next.

“Do you got weight on that leg?”

“Yeah.”

“What now?”

“I don’t know.”

“You wanna sit?”

“No.”

“You wanna take a step?”

“Sure.”

“Whenever you’re ready.”

My left leg wasn’t progressing as fast as my right, and neither could hold my weight. A cattleman’s life counted on having two working legs.  Breaking broncs and riding fence.  Chasing wild mustangs and ornery steers.  Every cowboy’s chore was done on the back of a horse. 

My leg didn’t move forward by itself.  It needed urging, and that was up to me.  The dang thing had bent by itself, so why wouldn’t it take that first step?

“I can’t.”

“Sure, you can.  Try again.”

Pa and Candy came to watch the circus clown perform, but nothing happened.  My leg wasn’t cooperating with my brain, and I couldn’t do a damn thing about it.  I had disappointed everyone, and their expectations were shot all to hell.

“Get the chair, Hoss.”

I rolled out to the front porch and prayed no one would follow.  Misery didn’t need an audience, and after trudging up the ramp, I turned my face to the setting sun and leaned my head back against the woven cane.  I tried and failed.  Hopefully, the family would see things my way and not insist on a promise of victory that would never come.

Before I could dwell any longer on my misfortune, Mary came to mind.  I’d tucked her letter away and let the memory of her pretty face escape to places unknown.  Like everything else, she became part of my past.  A life without hope.  A life without love.  A life with no future.

Chapter Fourteen 

After Hoss hitched the buggy, he attached my chair to the back.  “I won’t need that, Brother.”

“You sure?  You never know.”

“Not this time.”  I needed time away, time to think and brood without worrying that someone might interrupt my thoughts with their positive attitude.  I was tired of putting on a happy face every time I entered a room.

Pa followed me out to the porch the night before and tossed out the same list of platitudes.  “Maybe next time.  Don’t give up hope.  It takes time.”  I’d heard them all before, and I’d grown tired of the constant barrage.  I’d given up almost a year of my life.  What did he want from me?  What did he expect?

He wanted me whole again.  Well, damn it.  So did I, but wanting wouldn’t get the job done.  Praying wouldn’t either, and my father prayed every night.  If his god couldn’t perform a miracle, how could a mortal like me?

The breeze kicked up as I drove down a road that aligned with the lake.  There was nothing more beautiful than staring out over clear, blue water, and I needed a distraction.  The lake had always been the right place to reflect on life and on my future.  If I included Mary in that future, were we doomed for more harrowing arguments?

Before I knew what had happened, she’d put me on the defensive.  She invoked an anger I hadn’t let show since my youth.  Hammering away at a man isn’t a good trait to have, and I didn’t appreciate being thrust into a corner with no way to come out fighting.

Gunfights happen.  Backed into a corner like Mary had done with me is how men died.  Battle lines are drawn, and before the war is over, one of those men lies dead on the ground.  Whether it was a simple conversation or flagrant curiosity, I’ll never know, but I’ll never forget how that made me feel.

The smart little breeze turned into gale-force wind, and I pulled the carriage to a stop near an outcropping of boulders.  If I’d been anyone else, I would’ve climbed out and tried to calm the horse, but cripples weren’t like everybody else.  Cripples stay seated, gathered the leather fabric with both hands, and pray for a miracle.

But Joe Cartwright didn’t always follow the rules.  After securing the reins, I turned in the seat before lifting my left and then my right leg onto the running board.  I eased both legs closer to the ground before maneuvering myself to follow.  In the end, my boots hit the sandy soil, and I was standing.

The involuntary smile didn’t last long, and when I tried to move my right leg forward—still holding onto the buggy with a firm grip—success didn’t come.  The leg refused to move, and I was trapped neither here nor there.  I’d positioned myself in no man’s land.  And then I got mad.

“Move, you son-of-a-bitch!”

Lightning streaked the sky with a fury, and the resounding crack of thunder sent the horse charging down the length of the lake and beyond.  Having no choice, I had to let go, and that’s when the miracle happened.  I remained standing, but what came next?  My crippled legs held me erect for the first time in nearly a  year.  I wanted to praise my father’s god.  I wanted to sing Hallelujah!  But I’d come to a junction.  Which way should I go?  Do I fall to the ground, or do I try to move forward?  Those were my options, and I adjusted my mind toward the latter.

“Easy, Joe.”

My voice didn’t hold much confidence.  A skittish horse would’ve paid more attention than my useless brain.  But I was standing.  I had to remind myself of the miracle.  If only I had a stick or a chair, even a table to lean on, maybe I could lift my leg, but I had nothing, no way to regain my balance.

My arms should be of some use, but what could they do but flail uselessly?  I’d wasted enough time thinking, and I scooted my right boot an inch, maybe two, across the sandy soil.  My arms behaved in accordance, and with my knees locked, I did the same with my left until, inch by inch, I was able to lean against the outcropping.

Every breath signaled my weakness, but there wasn’t any pain.  My legs could be strong again.  I could feel each muscle aching to be of service, but my situation at the moment was dire.  I was miles from the house.  The horse had run off and left me with nothing.  God knows I couldn’t walk that far.

Chapter 15

 I had to give in.  The driving rain got the best of me, and I took cover under the outcropping.  If I were lucky, the horse headed back to the barn, and the obvious would be assumed.  Just how long it would take my brother and Candy to mount up and start a search was one of life’s mysteries.

My jacket and trousers were drenched.  I was soaked to the skin, and dusk brought on a chill I could’ve done without.  My good fortune had taken a back seat to the storm.  If the weather had held, maybe I could’ve found a stick to lean on and followed the dang horse home, but I was only dreaming.  I was at least three miles from the house, not an easy walk for a man with two useless legs.

I tipped my hat lower on my forehead, and a stream of water poured down my jacket.  “Smart move, Joe.  Any other brilliant ideas?”

I pulled my jacket closer around my neck, but with everything so wet, it didn’t do much good.  I needed to be rescued.  I didn’t want to spend the night hovering under boulders that were too old and unforgiving to do me much good.

Lightning grazed the sky, and thunder came roaring through like a steam engine traveling across the prairie.  I pressed my back tighter against the rock and shivered.  My brother always said I didn’t eat enough, and I was beginning to think he was right.  A little more fat on my bones and maybe I wouldn’t be freezing my butt off in the middle of nowhere, but darkness was the real enemy.  There’d be no moon or stars to show my brother the way.  Pounding rain had washed away any tracks the buggy would’ve left, and I hadn’t made a point of telling anyone my plans for the afternoon. Would anyone think to look by the lake?

A normal routine wasn’t part of my makeup since the shooting.  I was home-bound, tied to my chair with no reason to leave except Pa’s insistence that I attend services on Sundays, where, of all places, I met Mary.  Leaving the house seemed necessary if I were to court a woman properly, and it did me good to venture out.  Everyone said so.  Said my disposition improved, but they were sidestepping the obvious.  I was always a better man when a woman entered my life.

I drove this direction to consider my options, to decide whether to continue my relationship with Mary or not.  Somewhere along the way, the thought came to me that everyone should have a second chance.  God knows I’ve had my share of second chances.  Hell, the shooter left me for dead, but I’m living proof that I deserved a second chance.  Of course, when I developed pneumonia from sitting outside in the rain, my second chance might’ve been for naught.    

“Joseph!”

The sound was faint, but nothing ever sounded better than my brother’s booming voice.

“Hoss!”

“Joe?”

“Down here!”

Hooves drew closer, and as my brother approached, I inched my way up the face of the rock and stood like a real man.  Both knees were locked in position, and I waited.

“Joseph?”

“Hoss!”

Chubby stopped in front of me, and my brother dismounted.  Candy followed right behind and did the same.

“We saw the buggy about a mile back, but the horse had broken away and made his way back to the barn nearly two hours ago.

“Lightning scared him.  Took off like a banshee.”

“Hey.  You’re standing!”

“That’s right.  I’m also freezing to death.  Think we could head home now?”

“Let’s get you up behind Candy.”

“I’ll need a little help.”

“Don’t worry none.  I gotcha.”

Candy removed his slicker and threw it over my head.  “Here.  You need it more than I do.”

““`

I was coddled and fussed with for over an hour after we returned home.  Pa was beside himself.  I should’ve realized he would be, and I tried to calm his fears.

“I’m fine, Pa.  Just a little wet.”

Hustled into a nightshirt, dressing gown, and slippers, I was moved close to the fire to warm up.  Hop Sing brought cup after cup of hot coffee, and Pa never left my side. 

Hoss knew better than to say anything about seeing me stand when he and Candy arrived at the outcropping.  We’d talked about it earlier, and he understood my wishes. Filling my father full of lost hope was the last thing I wanted to do, but when I was sure I was whole again, he’d be the first to know.

Had it been fate or providence?  Had I anticipated such an occurrence and not realized?  I’d left my chair at home.  It wasn’t in the back of the buggy where it was normally stored when I left the house.

It’s funny how things work out.  Although I didn’t know how long it would take, I knew my brother would find me and get me home.  As soon as he saw Comet head for the barn, he would’ve saddled his horse and taken off.  If I knew my father—and I knew him well—he didn’t want Hoss riding alone at night, and Candy had no choice but to saddle up and ride through the wind and rain to give Hoss a second pair of eyes.

My only thoughts before I closed my eyes and fell asleep that night were about Mary.  Tomorrow I would remedy the situation.  Her letter was encouraging, and if she’d take me back, I was ready for round two.

Chapter Sixteen

“Where are you heading this early, Son?”

“To town.”

“I don’t mean to interfere, but you know the roads are a mess.  Is this task so important that you can’t wait an hour or two?”

“To be honest, Pa, I hadn’t given the roads much thought.”

My father rounded his desk and sat on the arm of the settee. My whole family used little tricks like sitting rather than standing to make me feel more comfortable about my condition, although as much as I appreciated their efforts, it only made things worse.  It made me realize how different my life was from theirs.

“What’s so important in town, Joseph?”

“Mending fences.”

“Mary?”

“Yeah.  I didn’t like her choice of discussion, and I’m afraid my temper got the best of me.”

“I’m sure you’ll work things out.”

“I hope so.”

I did as Pa suggested and waited an hour.  Hoss and Candy were heading out too, and Hoss hitched the buggy.

“Anything else, Little Brother?”

“No, but thanks.  Looks like I’m good to go.”

Pa walked into the barn just in time to lift my chair into the buggy.  “Thanks, Pa.  I should be home before supper.  If I’m not, you’ll know things went well, and I’m taking Mary out to some fancy restaurant.”

“Take care, Son.  Oh, and good luck.”

“Thanks.”

The roads had dried, but the deeper ruts were more pronounced than before.  I dodged what I could, although there were always some that sent me airborne.  I was in too good of a mood to let a rough road sour my disposition, and in no time, I pulled up in front of the widow’s boarding house, but before I could fasten the reins, old Mrs. McGee slipped out her front door.

“Is that you, Joe Cartwright?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“You looking for Miss  Mary?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“She ain’t here.”

“Do you know where she might be?”

“Last I saw, she took off down the hill.”

I was a bit confused.  The only thing downhill from the boardinghouse was the graveyard and six-mile canyon.  “You sure she went that direction?”

Her hands flew to her hips, and she gave me an exasperated scowl.  “I got no reason to lie.”

“Yes, Ma’am.  I didn’t mean …”

“Be off with you then.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

I moved the carriage forward and wondered if I should look down the hill or come back another day.  Since I wasn’t expected, I couldn’t get in a huff because she had plans of her own.  As far as she knew, the courtship had run its course.  There was no good reason for her to think I’d show up at her door unannounced.

Moving at a gentle pace gave me time to scan the countryside.  While tall, magnificent pines were left for mountain dwellers to admire, Virginia City was just the opposite.  Along with cloudless skies, the wide-open space forced a man to appreciate the vastness of the dry, dusty landscape.  Though it didn’t take long, I spotted a woman making her way up to C Street.  I might not have known Mary well, but I knew the dark silhouette was the woman I came to see.

“May I offer you a ride, Miss Carter?”

“Joe?”

“At your service, Ma’am.”

I held out my hand and helped her into the buggy.  She didn’t shy away; in fact,  she scooted so close that her hip touched mine, and every feeling a man has when he sits next to a pretty woman coursed through me like a speeding bullet.  Why the heck bullets came to mind irritated me.  Killings and death were behind us … at least I hoped so.

“Have you eaten lunch?”

“No.  Have you?”

“No, but if you’ll join me, I could be persuaded to have a bite.”

“Mr. Cartwright.  I’d be honored.”

I drove down to Daisy’s.  The food was good, and no one had to put on airs.  We could be ourselves and enjoy our time together without pretense.  We each ordered “The Special.”  Daisy assured us we wouldn’t be disappointed, and she was right.  The meal exceeded my expectations, and although Mary wasn’t too talkative, she seemed to enjoy our time together.  Whether we could get that brilliant ray of sunshine back into the relationship, I wasn’t sure.  I was willing to try almost anything, but Mary was so quiet, I couldn’t pretend to know what she was thinking.

When we got situated back in the buggy, Mary wrapped both hands around my left arm.  She snuggled as close as a woman could be to a man without sitting on my lap.  Part of me felt threatened by her aggressive behavior, while a larger part was thrilled at the prospect of what lay ahead if the courtship progressed.

“Can we drive out to the country, Joe?  Get away from all the bustle and noise?”

“Your wish is my command.”

I clicked the horse into a trot and did my best to leave the city behind, but for reasons I’ll never understand, I thought of Emily and the short drive that led me into one of the worst nights of my life.  The embarrassment of finding out the truth in front of the entire town led me to accept Roy’s wish that I become a weekend sheriff, which ended up placing me in a rolling chair.

Were those days coming to an end?    Were my legs going to cooperate and be useful again?  I hadn’t said anything to Pa or Mary, and neither of them would be the wiser until that magical day arrived.

As the horse cantered down the dusty road, Mary began a conversation I didn’t think was necessary.  “I want to apologize again for acting so poorly the last time we were together. It was never my intention to let things go that far.  I’m truly sorry, Joe.”

“It’s water under the bridge.   Nothing more needs to be said.”

“I don’t know what got into me; I couldn’t seem to stop.”

I heard sorrow reflected in her voice, and I wanted to say the right thing, but without rehashing killings and death, what could I say?  I drove out to Kingston’s meadow, a handsome parcel of land where sunsets were a splendor worth waiting for.  We arrived early and would have plenty of time to talk or putter around like a normal couple before the sun went down.

My brothers had found me here, showing off the sunset to another young lady years ago.  Whereas I saw no problem, my father did and sent my old-maid aunts out looking for me.  I was sixteen years old, and I’d heard Adam mention the meadow.  I figured if it was good enough for him ….

I was nearly twice that young man’s age, and the meadow still held the same magic it did when I was a boy.  I’d brought several young ladies riding this way, and every girl and every time was special.

“Here we are.”  I tied the reins, and Mary was kind enough to jump out and get my chair.  “Thanks.  Life is easier with a helper.”

I rolled forward a couple of feet and realized I hadn’t thought things through.  There was nowhere for Mary to sit.  No blanket.  Nothing.  But it wasn’t a problem at all.  Like a feather, she slid onto my lap and wound her left arm around my neck.  In turn, I slipped my arm around her back and held her close.

“Joe?”

“Yeah?”

“Tell me again how many men you’ve killed.”

Not only was I exasperated by her pointless question, I wanted to dump her on the ground and roll back to the buggy without her. 

“I thought we put that subject to bed.”

“I’m afraid not.  I’m also afraid you’ve killed your last man.”

“What in God’s name are you talking about?”

With hate in her eyes, she stood from my lap, pulled a .45 from her coat pocket, and leveled the man-sized revolver at my chest.

Her voice was slick with venom.  “You killed my brother.”

Every nerve in my body twitched, and every muscle tensed in anticipation.  “I did what?”

“You heard me.”

“Okay.  Would you mind telling me when this happened?”

“Joe Cartwright—Mr. Hot Shot sheriff—gunned down an innocent young man over nothing.   Billy never stood a chance against a fast gun like you.”

“The poker player in the saloon?  He was your brother?”

“Twin brother, Sheriff Cartwright.”

I dropped my head.  “I didn’t know.  I’m sorry.”

“It’s a bit late for apologies, isn’t it?”

“You weren’t there.”  Should I use her brother’s name?  Was it too personal to go that route?  I didn’t know the right protocol for something this tragic, but I did anyway.  “Billy drew his gun.  I didn’t have any choice but to fire back.”

“How many notches, Mr. Cartwright?  You never answered my question.”

“ I don’t know, okay?”

“Too many to count?”

I wondered if this was the day.  Would my legs cooperate, or would I be gunned down and left to die in my chair?  She didn’t know about the feeling I had in my leg,s but if they failed to launch me forward so I could grab the weapon, I was a dead man.

“Too bad about your legs.”

Did I see a smirk or maybe even a smile?  “What do you care?”  And then I became aware.  With her hair pulled up and her hat pulled low on her forehead, I didn’t realize that she had been the shooter.  “It was you, wasn’t it?  You were the one who shot me.”

“You’re a smart man, Sheriff.  It took you a while, but you finally deduced the obvious.  Revenge is sweet, Mr. Cartwright, but there must be a final accounting.  An eye for an eye.  Isn’t that what the good book says?”

“Vengeance is mine, says the Lord.  I learned a very different verse, Mary, that’s if Mary is your real name.”

“MaryAnne Coons”

Lord above.  “Mac the Magnificent?” 

“Finally.  You’re a bit slow, aren’t you, Sheriff?”

If I didn’t move soon, I was a dead man.  I’d lived as a cripple long enough, and there were times I wanted to die but looking death in the eye made me wonder if I wanted my wish to come true.  I had to choose between life and death, and I needed to find the answer fast.

“I hate you, Joe Cartwright.  I hate that you shot my brother, and I hate that you didn’t die when I shot you.”

Mary was a small woman, and she held the heavy .45 for a long time.  Her arm had to be tired, and her muscles should be ready to give way from the weight of the revolver.  If my legs betrayed me, I might still have a chance, but knocking her to the ground would be difficult. It was time to make peace with God or lurch forward and live another day.

Chapter Seventeen

“Are you all right, Son?”

“Hey, Pa.  Help me up, will you?”

“Hoss.  Get your brother’s chair.”

“No.  Don’t need the chair.”

Looks passed between Pa and Hoss and Candy.  “What’s that, Joe?”

“Just help me up, Pa.”

Hoss scrambled to my side and helped my father pull me to my feet.  With their assistance, I made it one step at a time to the buggy and climbed aboard.  Pa had tears in his eyes, but he wouldn’t force any dialogue until we were miles away from the gruesome sight.  We left the unpleasantness to Roy Coffee.  He could come by the house and get my statement, then pick up the dead woman and have her buried next to her brother on Boot Hill. 

Even though it looked like I took part in the lady’s demise, I wasn’t the killer.  At some point, Mary had a change of heart, and I was no longer her intended victim.  Before I could bolt from my chair, she raised the gun to her head and pulled the trigger.  We’ll never know why she had a change of heart, but I would often wonder if she had second thoughts and decided that prison was no place for a lady.

Backed by the reddish-orange glow of a stunning Nevada sunset, I could still picture the veil of smoke that hovered around her body.  She couldn’t enjoy the breathtaking display of colors or the warm golden rays descending into hues of purple and pink that signaled the end of the day.  Instead, she chose to fire her weapon, but not until she said her final words.

“It should’ve been you, Joe Cartwright.”

The thunderous blast shattered the peaceful tranquility of Kingston’s Meadow.  I’d brought her to see a sunset, never knowing it would be her last.  Her full name would go on the white, wooden cross adorning her grave.  I’d also make one for Billy, the boy I shot, the shooting that ruined so many lives.

I should’ve known from the beginning that I was being duped by a woman who hated me with every beat of her heart.  She wanted me dead, and she planned my death from day one.  It never crossed my mind that she was anything more than the pretty young woman who played the church organ.  All along, I thought she saw passed my infirmity, that she was interested in the man I had to become after the shooting.

In time, I would walk without help.  The chair could go back to Doc’s, and the two canes I was using now would be tucked away in the attic in case another mishap came our way.

Maybe life itself was a miracle, and maybe the shooting became a way for me to learn new things that would enhance my life.  Mary changed my life twice.  First, with the shooting.  I learned what it was like to be different, to have limitations, and to feel cheated.  I also learned that kindness was given freely and without complaint.  Secondly, I took that all-important step of leaving the house on my own and planning an outing.  Being afraid at my age was something new, but years of confidence had been shattered, and I was alone in the world.

Opportunities like mine don’t come often, but with my family’s help, I came out whole on the other side, and I felt blessed.  Could I have gotten this far without the backing of Hoss and Pa and Candy?  No.  Not a chance.  Am I the luckiest man on earth?  Yeah.  I think so.

The End

Just Joe SJS Challenge

7-2023