Finding Hope: A Story of Love and Loss

by jfclover

Chapter 1

My son, Joseph, holds the family record for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.  It’s not an honor that either of my other boys would like to share, but Joe has found himself in scrapes the rest of us might not withstand.  It may sound harsh, especially so near the holiday season, but rather than consider reading bible verses or decorating the house for the usual festivities, our minds have been on getting Little Joe released from Roy Coffee’s jail.

Although we’re obliged to take the charges seriously, I know my son, and I know he would never commit cold-blooded murder.  The sheriff knows it, too, but it’s his job to hold my youngest boy until we can prove his innocence. 

The whole miserable story began two months ago when Adam hired a man named Owen Benson.  His credentials were on the up and up, and the man did his job well.  There were no complaints, but we didn’t know the whole story.  Mr. Benson had a past, and the Ponderosa was nothing more than a hideout for a man who’d committed hideous crimes. 

I’d always said a person’s past was their own business, but I was wrong.  I don’t blame my eldest for hiring the man.  There’s no way to know about a cowboy who’s looking for work until it’s too late, although this time, the whole affair involved my young son.  When Joseph found a mysterious stranger lying dead on a western parcel of our land, it wasn’t long before we knew who the culprit was, and when Owen Benson was found dead in an alley just west of the Bucket of Blood, Joseph was the man Roy found standing over the body.

The mysterious stranger wasn’t really a stranger at all.  Her name was Millie Abbott, and she had just begun working at the Bucket of Blood not more than a couple of months ago.  In fact, she and Owen Benson came to Virginia City the same week, Benson on horseback, and Miss Abbott had boarded an eastbound stage, and that’s what brought Joseph into the mix.  Coincidence?  We didn’t know at the time, but my son soon became tied to both parties. 

The guilt I felt was illogical, but there all the same.  I’d sent my most curious son into town that morning to pick up supplies, and when the eastbound stage pulled to a stop in front of the depot, Joe appointed himself the town greeter.  It wasn’t the first time he’d welcomed a new arrival, but no one had ever gotten him into this much trouble before.

According to Miss Abbott, she didn’t know that Benson had chosen the outskirts of Virginia City to find work.  “If I’d known, I never would’ve settled here.”  That’s what she told my son over a bottle of whiskey at a popular saloon, and he had no reason to doubt her, but there was more to the story.  There always is, and since Joe was infatuated with the young lady, he collected bits and pieces of her life over time.  She and Owen Benson had been married.  As soon as she turned sixteen, her father handed her over to the man he’d hired on as foreman, and they were married by the town’s only preacher.

“Papa thought Owen was a good man.  Papa was wrong, but it was too late.  Owen had done his best to convince my father that he was a gentleman and would always treat me with the respect I deserved.  By the end of the first week, my husband beat me so hard, I couldn’t get out of bed for days.  I left him three months ago.  I ran away but look at me now.  He’s here.  He found me, and he works for your father.”

“There’s no need for worry.  You’re safe with me.” 

Like his feelings, my son also wears an air of confidence on his sleeve.  Don’t get me wrong.  I wouldn’t have him any other way, but Joseph jumps when he ought to hang back.  He makes promises he can’t always keep, and there are often consequences that are too extreme for him to handle.

When Roy understood the entire story, he’d let Joseph go, but we needed more than my word or Joe’s.  We needed proof that my son was innocent to finalize this whole ugly mess.

Chapter 2

I was in no mood for the holidays.  My youngest was behind bars, but my two eldest boys thought otherwise, and a day didn’t go by without them hounding me about traditions we’d adapted over the years.  As much as I didn’t want to celebrate the occasion, Adam and Hoss left after breakfast to find the perfect tree.

“What if the sheriff released Little Joe, and there weren’t no tree for him to come home to?”

I could never argue with my middle boy’s reasoning, and I nodded.  “Do what you think is best, Hoss.”

“We are, Pa.  Don’t worry none about that boy.  He didn’t do nothing wrong, and Roy ain’t going to keep him a minute longer than needs be.”

“You two go on.  I’m heading to town.”

“Tell the kid we’re thinking about him.”

As much as my eldest and youngest fought, there was a kinship between those two that couldn’t be broken.  “I will, Son.  You and Hoss be careful.  A storm could hit anytime.”  

We hadn’t had much snow so far, and the roads were dry, which made travel bearable—cold—but bearable.  Trapsing back and forth to Virginia City had become routine.  I needed to see my boy, and I needed to know if he was any closer to being released.  Because of the frigid temperature, I stabled Buck at the livery next to Cochise and walked up to the jail.  The boardwalks were nearly empty.  People were staying home, staying close to a roaring fireplace, or hovering next to the kitchen stove.

When a gust of wind followed me through the jailhouse door, Roy glanced up from his paperwork and gave me a crusty look.  “Sorry, Old Friend.  It followed me in.”

“Coffee’s on the stove, Ben.”

“Thanks.  I could use a cup.”

“Muscle’s in my top drawer.”

“I could use that too.”  I filled my cup and sat down in front of Roy’s desk.  After I took a sip, he pulled out his bottle and topped off each of our cups.  “How’s the boy this morning?”

“I tried to feed him some breakfast, but he said he weren’t hungry.  I suppose that happens when you got a murder charge hanging over you.”

“Oh, Roy.  You know darn well that Joe didn’t kill that man.  He told you why he was in the alley.  The boy felt sick.  Nothing more.”

“I need some proof, Ben.”

“Then get some.”

“I’ve talked to half the people in town, and no one saw a thing, and since Little Joe found Miss Millie on the Ponderosa, there was bad blood between him and Benson.  Seems to me I saw Little Joe walking the lady down the boardwalk a time or two, which leads me to believe they was more friendly than … well, you know what I mean.  And if Benson killed that woman and left her on your place, am I supposed to think Little Joe wouldn’t want some kind of revenge?”

“Someone killed Benson, Roy, and if you’d do your job properly, you’d realize it wasn’t Joe.”  I stood and set my cup on Roy’s desk.  I was so damn frustrated that I took out my anger on a longtime friend.  “I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean that.” 

“I know you didn’t.”

“I’ll go see Joe now.”

“Leave that gun on my desk.”

Good old letter-of-the-law Coffee.  I laid my gun down and followed him back to the cells.  Covered with two wool blankets, Joe lay flat on his back with his hands tucked behind his head.  The cells were cold.  Roy’s stove didn’t send heat that far back, and even though Joe said he liked the cooler weather, he didn’t have much meat on his bones, and I imagine he had trouble staying warm.  He turned his head when he saw me, but he didn’t sit up. 

“Good morning, Son.”

“Morning, Pa.”

I pulled a chair up toward the cot.  My son’s voice was weak, void of emotion.  Not the Little Joe I was used to hearing.  “You feel okay?”

“I’m fine.”

We hadn’t talked much about Miss Abbot, and I wondered how involved Joe and the new barmaid had become.  Did I dare ask?  If he told me to mind my own business, I’d have my answer, so I plowed ahead.  “Tell me about Miss Abbot.”

Joe looked perplexed by my question.  “Why?  She’s dead.”

“I know that, Son.”

“Then I don’t understand.”

Joe tossed the blankets to the side of the cot and sat up.  “Will talking about her get me out of here?”

“I don’t know, but every piece of information is worthwhile, don’t you think?”

Joe dropped his head.  “I don’t know.”

“She was a pretty girl, wasn’t she?”

“Beautiful.”

Triggering a response was like pulling teeth.  “Smart?”

“Very.”

Ok.  I got it.  Joe didn’t want to talk about Miss Abbot.  I clapped my hands against my thighs and stood.  “Guess I’ll be getting on back.”

My son’s head shot up.  “No!” 

Joe hated nothing more than being left alone, but after glancing upward, I noticed that his green eyes glistened with tears.  I had my answer.  He and the woman had been close, more involved than I realized.  Maybe even intimate.  “She wasn’t just smart or beautiful, Pa.  She cared about people.  She cared about things most women take for granted.”

“She sounds like a decent person.”

Joe nodded.  The wall was coming down, and he was beginning to open up.  “She told me the whole story … about her and Benson.  Her father gave her to him.  Maybe he didn’t know what a bastard that man was, but it should’ve been her decision, not his.”

“I agree.”

“That sonofabitch hit her, Pa.  He sat in a wooden rocker and drank bottle after bottle.   And then he’d beat her.  He treated her like trash, and after months of considering her nothing more than a common whore, she got away from him.  She took back her maiden name and boarded the first stage heading east.”

Hearing the tremor in Joe’s voice broke my heart.  I wanted to say the right thing, but I had no words that could take away the pain.  How deeply had he fallen for the girl?   After hearing the tone of his voice, I realized she wasn’t just a casual acquaintance.  It was much more, and I’d been oblivious to it all.  He never mentioned her, and he never brought her home to meet the family.  It was an affair that he kept to himself.  He wasn’t ready to share her with the rest of the world.

“Tell me about her, Son.”  My heart broke again when Joe’s eyes welled up a second time. 

“I asked her to become my wife, but she said that could never happen.  ‘He’d kill us both.’  I thought she was overreacting, and I told her nothing like that could ever happen … not if I was around to protect her, but I wasn’t around, was I?  I let the love of my life be killed by a brute of a man.  Her death is my fault.”

I rested my hand on Joe’s knee.  “Oh, Son.  You’re wrong.  You couldn’t have known.”

“She did, Pa.  She knew what would happen, and I pushed it aside.  She’s dead because I didn’t believe her.”

“Listen to me, Joe.  Miss Abbot is dead, and Benson is to blame, not you.  I wish I could take away the pain you feel, but I can’t.  Only time, Son.  But there’s more.  We know who killed Miss Abbot, but who killed Owen Benson?  That’s the worry right now.”

“Does it matter?”

“Does it matter?  You’re joking, right?”

“I don’t care anymore, Pa.  Go home and celebrate the holidays.  I won’t be there this year or ever.  A jury will find me guilty, and if I’m not hanged, I’ll spend the rest of my days in the penitentiary.  End of story.”

My son had no middle ground.  He was up one day and down the next.  I wanted to reassure him, but what could I say?  What words could I use to brighten his day, to pull him out of all the gloom and doom that lay heavy on his heart?  When a gust of cold wind blew through the cell window, I’d had enough, and I used my outside voice to get Roy’s attention.

“Roy!  Roy Coffee!”

The sheriff rushed in.  “What in the blazes ….”

“You can’t leave Joseph in this cell.  He’ll die of pneumonia.”

“I agree that it’s a bit chilly, but I don’t have any other—”

“A bit chilly?  It’s freezing, Roy.  Let me take the boy home.  I won’t let him out of my sight.”

“You know I can’t do that, Ben.”

I stood my ground, but letter-of-the-law Coffee was being obtuse.  “Okay.  How about I take Joe to the hotel for the night?”  Cracks began to form in the surly old sheriff’s resolve.  Maybe he had a gentler side all along.

“All right, but you have him back in his cell before breakfast … and don’t let on to the entire town that—”

“My lips are sealed.”

Chapter 3

Joe had no more to say, and before I could suggest that I have a tray of food brought up to the room, he crawled under the heavy blankets and fell asleep.  The International House was a touch more accommodating than Roy’s jailhouse, and Joe took advantage.  I sat back and watched my boy sleep.  He was so young, so vulnerable when it came to hardcase women.  It wasn’t the first time he tried to help someone in need, but he’d fallen hard this time, and trouble followed close behind.  My son was too young to die for something he didn’t do, and any Christmas activities seemed a waste of time. 

Though I woke before dawn, Joseph slept as if nothing were amiss.  He’d buried all his worries, and with a gentle snore, he wasn’t ready to wake.  I slipped down to the kitchen and ordered two specials to be brought up at eight o’clock.  That would give Joe plenty of time to clean up and be ready to eat.

When I returned to our room, I found my son sitting on the edge of the bed.  Still dressed in his street clothes, I realized he had nothing else to wear.  He’d slept in that same shirt and pair of trousers for a while already, and had I been thinking straight, I would’ve brought something from home.  I’d slip down to the mercantile and buy Joseph a change of clothes after I took him back to the sheriff’s jail.  God forbid we didn’t show up soon enough for Roy’s liking.

An early morning storm shot sleet against the hotel window.  Just staring at the weather outside made me shiver, and when a young bellhop rolled a cart to our door with two hot meals, I welcomed him and handed him a generous tip. 

“Here you go, Son.”  Joe took the plate and thanked me.  I poured two cups from the hot pot of coffee, handed one to Joe, and sat down to eat my breakfast.  “Not bad.”

“Bet it’s better than prison food.”

“Yes, Son.  I’m sure it is.”  Joe’s head shot up.  He wasn’t expecting my answer, but I’d grown weary of his sad-sack attitude and dreary remarks.  “I don’t imagine the penitentiary is very concerned with the prisoner’s taste buds.”   I tucked into my bacon and eggs and didn’t look up.  He could sit on the edge of that bed until we were ready to go and wonder what I was thinking.  After finishing my meal and drinking a second cup of coffee, I stood from my chair.  “Time to go.  Roy will be waiting.”

Joe had no words for me, and I began to grow as jaded as my son.  It wasn’t like Joe to keep so much to himself.  He’d been distant and downright disagreeable, and I was losing patience with him.  Enough was enough.

Roy met us at the jailhouse door.  I assumed he’d give us enough time to eat before I returned Joe to his cell, but he seemed awful anxious to drag us inside and out of the sleet and strong gusts of wind.  Joe didn’t find the sheriff’s antics amusing, and since his mood was sketchy to begin with, Roy’s behavior didn’t sit well. 

After pulling his arm out of the sheriff’s grasp, Joe marched back toward the cells and plopped down on the cot he’d used before I hauled him out to the hotel.  A man in the adjoining cell had a wool blanket wrapped around his shoulders, trying to offset the frigid air that blew through the cell window, but Joe didn’t seem to notice.  He was content to lie on the flea-bitten mattress until someone threw him inside a prison wagon and hauled him off to the penitentiary.  Nothing else mattered.  He’d resigned himself to a fate worse than death.

“I ain’t done with you yet, Little Joe Cartwright.  Get back in here.”

Roy’s remark puzzled me, but I think Joe was more baffled than I was, and when I leaned back in my chair and looked toward the cells, he’d rolled his legs over the edge of the cot and was sauntering back into Roy’s office. 

“What now, Sheriff?”

Roy reached inside his top desk drawer and pulled out Joe’s gun and holster.  “You’re free to go.”

“I’m what?”

“Free.  Free to go.”

“Why?  Why now?”

Roy pointed to the man wrapped in a blanket.  “He’s the guilty party.  He’s the fella who shot and killed Owen Benson.”

“I don’t understand.”

“What’s there to understand, Son?  You can thank them brothers of yours.  They jumped in and did my job for me.”

I stood next to Joe and slid my hand across his shoulder.  “What’s this all about, Roy?”

“Them two sons of yours came to town and did a bit of detective work.  Adam sat inside the Silver Dollar, and Hoss took the Bucket of Blood, and each, in their own way, got people talking, and by the time they was done, that biggest brother of yours had the answers they came for.”

“You mean the guy confessed to Hoss?”

“That’s pretty much what happened.  He’d had too much to drink and rambled on about a sister named Isobel and how he followed the dirty scoundrel who took advantage of her all the way to Virginia City.  When Hoss stepped closer and egged the man on, he was quite proud of his gallantry, and without thinking, he let the entire story slip.  His name is Ackerman, Hank Ackerman, and he’ll be taking your place in the courtroom.”

“You’re saying I’m free to go.”

Roy handed Joe his holster.  “Take this boy home, Ben.  Merry Christmas.”

Chapter 4

“It’s cold, Pa.  Go on inside, and I’ll stable the horses.”

“Thank you, Son.”

Since we hadn’t bothered to bring Joe’s horse home, we both had mounts at the livery to ride.  The flurry of snow had ended, and the sun was peeking through an overcast sky.  While Roy and Joe filled out the necessary paperwork, I gathered the horses from the stable and headed back down to the jail.  I felt a lightness I hadn’t felt for a long time.  Our lives were looking up, and I realized how right my sons had been.  Finding the perfect tree for Joe’s homecoming had been a fine idea after all.

Though I thought Joe would be overjoyed at the prospect of being out of Roy’s jail before Christmas, he didn’t say a word on the ride home.  Escaping a trial and whatever came after didn’t seem to brighten his mood.  If my elder sons had done the job they promised and put up the festive decorations, I hoped it would have some effect on Joseph.

When I walked through the front door, I was taken aback by the size of the tree and all the holiday trimmings the boys used to decorate the entire room.  How on earth did they have time to play detective, too?  If you put heart and soul into a project, it’s amazing what can be accomplished, and my older boys had gone above and beyond the call of duty.

“Hey, Pa.”  Hoss bounded down the stairs like a boy of ten rather than twenty-four.  “Ain’t Little Joe with you?”

I smiled at my middle boy.  “He’s stabling the horses.”

“What do you think?”

“I … I’m speechless, Son.”

“Me and Adam thought you’d be surprised.”

“I am at that.  Where’s your brother now?”

“Thought he was out in the barn.  Didn’t you see him?”

I turned to find Adam and Joe walking through the front door together.  “Come in and get warm, Boys.”  When Joseph headed for the stairway, I stopped him.  “What do you think, Son?  Your brothers did quite a job, didn’t they?”

“Yeah.  Looks great, but I’m tired, Pa.  Think I’ll lie down for a while.”

Hoss moved to the side of the stairs to let Joe by, and when his young brother was out of sight, he questioned the odd behavior.  “What’s up with him?”

“I need a cup of coffee.”

My elder sons followed me to the dining room table, and I hollered into the kitchen.  “Is there any hot coffee, Hop Sing?”

“You sit.  I bring.”

Out came a plate of sugar cookies and steaming hot coffee.  “Thanks.”

“Where Little Joe?”

“He went up to his room.”

“I take something to eat.”

“That will be fine.”

After pouring us each a cup, I addressed my sons and told them what I knew about Joe and Miss Abbott.  Whether it was my place to mention the woman and their relationship was something I hoped Joe would understand, but tomorrow was Christmas, and I wanted Joseph to welcome the celebration as we did every year.  I didn’t want this year to be any different, but putting the past behind him wouldn’t be easy.

“—that’s the story, Boys.”

Adam set his empty cup on the table.  “I figured he was seeing someone, but I had no idea it was that serious.”

“He should’ve told us about her.”

“Well, she’s gone, and all we can do now is help him through this.”

“What do you want us to do, Pa?”

I sipped my own cup of coffee.  “I wish I knew.”

Chapter 5

I worried about Little Joe all afternoon, and by the time supper rolled around, I was doubtful I’d be able to coax him downstairs to join the family.  Adam had gone upstairs a while ago.  Said he had a thought and wanted to try it out on the kid.  When they both walked down the stairs together, I stood from my chair and smiled.  I didn’t know what had changed, but Joe was ready to join the living.

“Supper on table.  Come eat now.”

I followed my boys, and we all took our usual places.  Joe had sat on my right since day one, and perhaps it was an omen of what was to come.   I loved the boy more than he knew, and I was thrilled to see him sitting with the family.  Whatever Adam had said to him had a significant effect, and since my mind was blank, I’m glad my eldest had found the right words to say.

After bowing our heads, I offered up a blessing.  I thanked the Almighty for sending my boy back to me and for keeping our family whole.  Without one of my sons, we would be out of kilter, out of sync, and always wondering what might have been.  We’d been teetering on the brink for the last several days, but it was over and done with now.  Giving thanks was the least I could do.

Later that evening, Adam confided in me that he’d gotten Joe to open up a bit more about Millie Abbott.  I asked him to elaborate.

“Tell me a happy story, Joe.”

“What’s that mean?”

“You and Millie.  Is there a special day or place you will always remember?”

Joe’s eyes shot to the ceiling.  He could barely hold it together, but then he started talking.  “She loved to ride.  I’d rent a horse from the livery, and we’d ride down to the lake or over to Grogan’s Meadow.  On the back of a horse, she was fearless.  Her laughter was contagious, and her ….” 

Though my young brother’s voice faltered and nothing more would be told, he’d at least said something worthwhile, and I could respond.  “That’s a nice memory to have, and I bet there are more.”

“Yeah.  I guess.”

“I’m serious, Joe.  The bad times will fade, but keep the good times close to your heart.  You owe her that.”

When Joe looked my way, he smiled.  “Thanks.”

“Thank you, Son. You found the words that I couldn’t.”

Chapter 6

When we sat down for supper on Christmas Eve, it was just the four of us.  Nothing fancy.  No friends dropping by or the gaiety of music.  It was a relaxed atmosphere that we all needed this year.  Hop Sing had done himself proud, but the hit of the night was when Hoss handed Joe a gift that he would always treasure.

“Open it, Little Brother.”

“Now?”

“Why not?”

Joe tugged at the wrapping until he held a hand-carved heart that had been rubbed to a shine with beeswax.   As he smoothed his fingers over the glossy surface, tears welled, and he drew his lips into a straight line.  “Thanks, Brother.”

“I didn’t know your little lady, but I know she meant a lot to you.  This is all I could—”

“It’s perfect, Hoss.  Perfect.”

I was proud of my boys.  Each, in their own special way, had felt the pain of my youngest and had worked hard to see him through.  Time heals, and now that Joe was home and all that nasty business was behind us, we could make it through Christmas and be ready for the new year.  My prayers had been answered.  I was a very lucky man.

~ From our house to yours.  Merry Christmas 1860 ~

Christmas Challenge ~ Just Joe ~ 2025