Happy Birthday, Little Brother.

by

Beppina.

A lazy moon fought to penetrate the heavy mist clinging to the buildings of Virginia City’s main street. Finger-like wraths wound and eddied across and between the various wood or brick-built properties. The silence was thick enough to slice with a knife.

The lone rider approached Main Street with caution. It was as silent as the grave. Gone were the usual signs of activity. No wagons trailing back and forth or horses standing patiently at the rails. Not a solitary living thing was on the street of Virginia City. It was devoid of life.

The rider eased to the middle of the street, not wanting to be too close to either boardwalk. Something was very amiss.

Although it was dark, it wasn’t late. By Joe Cartwright’s reckoning, it was around six thirty. He’d left home, the Ponderosa, a couple of hours earlier in daylight and had taken a leisurely ride in. Joe wasn’t in a hurry, and the night promised to be eventful. It was his birthday, and he intended to celebrate it in the Bucket of Blood. Joe would have a few beers and some company for a few hours. Since the murder of his wife and then his father’s death in a mining accident during the previous twelve months, he couldn’t face spending his birthday alone.

Joe looked up and down Main Street. Not a light shone from any building. The Mercantile was closed with boards covering the display window. None of the usual goods sat on the boardwalk; even the old rocker was missing. It reminded him of a town encountered years before and brought back unpleasant memories.

Cochise spooked. He’d been surprised by a bole of tumbleweed skittering across in front of his feet. Joe retained his seat as the horse jumped back.

“Easy boy,” he patted the soft neck, ” you’re as jumpy as me. Let’s see what’s goin’ on here?” The horse moved forward, the hitching rail at the saloon their destination.

Most nights, raucous noise would pour out through the bat wing doors. The pungent smell of cigarettes and cigars would be next, followed by the reek of stale beer. But now, nothing.

Joe stood at the entrance. His heart pumped hard in his chest as adrenaline pulsed through his body.

 Was he scared? Was he curious?

‘What the heck…?’ He thought and pushed through one door. The room was in deep shadow. He paused, catching his breath then stepped through. The pale moonlight gave it an eerie effect. From memory, he knew where the oil lamps were and reached for the one positioned at the end of the bar. Fumbling in his pockets, he found some matches and once again thanked his father for the lessons on being prepared. Striking one, he lit the lamp. A puddle of yellow light revealed his surroundings. The tables were still in place, and chairs were random around the room. A thick layer of grey dust covered the whole area.

Slow and cautious, Joe traversed the room. It had no signs of being used. The dust gave evidence of it being empty for many years. He cast a glance back over his shoulder towards the bar. Every sense was on high alert for movement or sound. Joe felt something but could see nothing other than the empty space. His back tingled in anticipation of a surprise attack. He caught a flash of something on the edge of his peripheral vision and twisted his head to see, but it had vanished.

His heart thudded again. Joe was sure he could hear it as it was beating so hard and fast against his chest. A film of sweat had appeared on his forehead, and his shirt clung to his back like a second skin. Joe wasn’t one to show fear, but he felt apprehensive. He continued his survey of the room. The ‘Naked Lady’ still proudly displayed her wares above the bar, though in lamp light, she did look faded. The light showed his reflection in the ornate mirror, along with a crack running from top to bottom.

‘That wasn’t there yesterday,’ he mused.

Forsaking the bar and still carrying the lamp, Joe made his way across to The International Hotel. The damp mist swallowed him up into its depths as he crossed Main Street. He still had the feeling of being observed, but nothing was visible save his horse. The hotel was as deadly quiet as the saloon. No glimmer of light or the slightest sound could be seen or heard. Joe’s footsteps were soundless as he crossed the boardwalk to the closed and shuttered building. He tried the doors and was not too surprised when both swung open. Joe stepped into what had been the plush reception area. By the meagre light of his lamp, he could see how the room had deteriorated compared to his most recent visit just the week before.

Now Joe thought he could hear a gentle murmur of noise coming from behind the closed dining room doors. A thin beacon of light shone at the bottom of those doors leading into the restaurant. Joe stepped forward. Every sense was on edge. Eyes wide in anticipation, ears alert to the slightest change of sound. A cold shiver ran up and down his spine. All the while his left hand hovered close to his revolver in readiness.

But in readiness for what?

Joe’s breath came in short, sharp gasps. Fear and curiosity fought for dominance as he approached the door. The murmuring became louder. Voices talking and laughing. There were people in this room.

He just had to step through toward the light.

His right hand reached for the doorknob. It twisted with the slightest of pressure as he pushed it open. Blinded by the sudden bright light that flooded the room, Joe hesitated in the darkened entry, momentarily frozen in place. All noise ceased, and the following silence hung heavy for seconds.

The crowd turned toward him as he waited for his vision to adjust. He dared to release the breath he held. A cheer erupted as the gathering realised it was Joe in the doorway. And a booming laugh echoed as he heard his name called above the noise. The shout drew his eyes to a table laden with food and the towering man standing at its side.

‘No!’ His thoughts were running riot, ‘It’s not possible.’

“Happy birthday, littl’ brother,” his giant of a brother greeted as he pulled him into the biggest bear hug.

“I’m dreaming. Hoss, you…you’re…you’re dead.”

Again, Hoss laughed, his arm draped across Joe’s shoulders, “We all are, but we’re here for your birthday. Look…” Waving his free arm in an arc, Hoss gestured to the gathered ensemble. “We didn’t want you to spend your first birthday alone. We fixed it to come back for one night, an’ here we are.”

Joe stood dumbstruck. His mind was unable to comprehend what his eyes could see. The room was just as he knew it, unchanged from his last visit, but now it was full of people. Full of dead people.

‘Am I going mad?’ he asked himself. ‘Have I died and not realised it? I’ve not got any injuries. I’ve not been shot. What the heck is happening to me?’

“There’s someone here waiting for you, littl’ brother,” Hoss spoke as he stepped back for Joe to watch the people part for another’s passage. The figure walked forward, arms wide open, a smile the size of the Mississippi gracing his face. Joe felt his heart miss a beat. His breathing accelerated as he let go of the breath he had been holding. Tears coursed down his cheeks as the man Joe loved and mourned stood before him. His father was whole and not battered, unlike the last time he had seen him.

“Joseph.” His arms reached out as he clasped his youngest son into his warm embrace.

Shaking and speechless, Joe leaned into his father’s arms, still not believing what was happening.

“Happy birthday, Son.” Ben’s only words as he held Joe close.

Prying Joe away from his father, Hoss guided him towards other friends waiting to greet him.

“Come on, Joe, let’s celebrate your birthday, and enjoy the time we have.” 

 Time flashed by. Joe was sure he was dreaming, but he was happy to be back in the bosom of his family. He could not believe the faces he recognised. Some were people from his school days but had passed at young ages. Others never met and long departed who were his grandparents. The young women he had loved and lost in his youth. The many strangers whose lives he had touched along the way.

Again, the gathering parted, and two women walked towards him. One caused his heart to race and tears to spill. She was blonde, slight with a gentle smile, and held a small child in her arms. At her side was another beautiful woman.

“Alice. Mama.” Joe caught his breath at the vision of his wife and mother. Both were as he remembered them. Not one day older. Together they reached up to kiss his cheeks in greeting, stroking his face, touching his lips. Alice held the child to Joe, “Meet our baby, Joe. I called him Joseph, for you.” Her voice was as gentle as ever.

“Oui, named for you,” Marie added, her French accent still as he remembered, ” my beautiful Petit Joseph.”

 Embarrassed, Joe cuffed the tears from his cheeks, then wrapped his arms around his mother, wife, and child, hardly believing they were at his side.

 For the first time since losing his family, Joe was at peace and felt joy.

“Can I stay here, Pa?” he asked, hoping for a positive answer, “Is it my time?”

“No, Son. You must go back. Our time here is at an end, and we must return to our place in Eternity.” Ben smiled his sad smile. “We are always with you, Joe. Never forget that and carry it with you.”

Joe’s family gathered around him. One by one, they bid him goodbye. With many tears, hugs, kisses, and a parting ‘I love you’, they disappeared from his sight.

Soon, Joe stood alone in the dark, deserted hotel restaurant. The oil lamp was still burning low. It gave out a soft glow that illuminated the dusty space. All evidence of the evening had disappeared. He looked around. His mind was in turmoil at what he had seen.

‘It isn’t possible,’ he spoke aloud, ‘I can’t have dreamt all this. I saw Pa. I saw Hoss, ‘n Alice and mama. They weren’t ghosts. They were warm an’ solid…like me.’ Joe shook his head to clear his thoughts; was this a vision? A visit like he’d experienced before, or just his imagination conjuring up what he missed so much?

Putting a hand to his face, he felt the damp tracks of his tears. He touched the spot where Alice had kissed him. A breath of wind blew across his cheek like the flutter of butterfly wings as he sighed, “Oh, Alice.”

Back on the street, the damp mist had thickened. The autumn moon, hidden from sight. Joe could just see Cochise standing before the saloon. Deciding to check out the Sheriff’s office, he walked to the jail just a few doors down. As before, all was shuttered and secure. He banged hard on the wooden door, hoping to wake Roy Coffee. It remained steadfast and closed. Joe chanced to look up at the sign above his head. For as long as Joe could remember, Roy’s name had been there. Now, it was blank, devoid of any words. He was more confused than ever.

Deciding he wasn’t going to get any explanations or a bed for the night, Joe crossed over to his horse.

“Let’s go home, Cooch.”

He swung into the saddle and turned his mount towards the trail home. At the edge of town, he stopped. Joe twisted in the saddle and looked back down the main street. The mist still curled and clung to the buildings. Nothing moved, and no lights were visible. He still had the uncanny feeling of being watched as the goosebumps tickled at the back of his neck.

Unable to explain the night’s events to anything other than it was Halloween, he began his ride home to the Ponderosa. The mist lifted the moment Joe crossed the Virginia City limits. The moon reappeared cold and bright to light his way. He would be at the house before midnight. 

As he rode, he tried to explain the evening’s events. His mind told him he had imagined everything that had happened, but Joe shook his head in denial. His heart told a quite different story.

The End

Episode Referenced: Twilight Town, written by Cy Chermak.