Blood and Granite

by jfclover

The shot came out of nowhere.  Resounding against rock and pine, Joe’s horse reared, and I watched my little brother sail from his saddle to the hard-packed ground.  After pulling Chub to a halt, I knelt on one knee and tried to steady Joe’s shoulders, but when deep lines etched his face, I saw how much pain he was in. Only moments ago, he was chatting about a new gal in town named Jayne that he planned to take riding. Though I barely caught wind of his musings, I wish that I’d paid more attention.

Though nothing about the shooting made sense, I looked through a wide cluster of trees for a shooter. Nothing. No one. What the heck happened? And then I looked down at Joe. “Where were you hit?”

His features became even more severe when he tried to speak.  “My back.”

I had to roll him over. I needed to see for myself, and because we were miles from home, my whole body trembled at the thought of traveling with Joe in such a miserable state.

“I’ve gotta move you, Joe.  I’ve gotta see what kind of trouble we’re in.”

His watery eyes begged me to stop the pain, and though I couldn’t bring comfort, I had to see what we were dealing with.  As I rolled him over, the wind picked up and pushed its way through the treetops.  A spring storm was worrying, and I could gauge its determination to be a nuisance by the constant roar.   The situation could turn troublesome if I didn’t find shelter and get the bullet out of my brother’s shoulder as soon as possible.   

Joe’s life was in my hands, and I was scared to death.  Any wrong move on my part could prove to be a fatal mistake, and that wasn’t an option.  How could I tell Pa?  How could I tell anyone that I let my brother die on a mountain where a solid ridge of salt and pepper granite looked down on the two of us? 

When I turned Joe onto his stomach, his shoulders curled in toward his chest rather than flattening onto bits of shale that covered the path we’d followed most of the day.  With our business out of the way, we’d stopped over in Placerville for dinner and a good night’s rest in one of the newly built hotels.  Old Hangtown was booming.  The mines were producing as much gold as Virginia City produced silver.  Both towns were booming, but none of that mattered.  The bigger question was, how would I get Joe to Doc Martin’s before it was too late?

The small, round hole in Joe’s jacket was dark rimmed from the burn mark, but that only told me that he’d been shot.  The real damage didn’t show, and to see what we were dealing with, I had to strip my brother down to his bare skin. With any luck, I could remove his jacket and shirt without causing him excessive distress.

By the time I got the horses bedded down for the night and started a fire, our daylight had faded into streaks of pink and purple, which only made the task more challenging.  And then the rain began, but luck was on our side.  The shower was brief and wasn’t as much of a nuisance as it could’ve been.

I forced Joe to drink, although he’d all but given up.  There were even times when I checked his breathing.  He hadn’t said a word.  He hadn’t moved a muscle.  Nothing about the situation made me comfortable.

The knife I kept in my saddlebag would have to do.  It was larger than I would’ve chosen for the job, but it’s all I had, and if Joe was going to live a long and happy life, the bullet had to come out.

My fire burned bright, and I held the knife over the flame until I was sure it was safe.  I hated the thought of cutting my young brother’s flesh, but I had no choice.  It had to be done, and the sooner the better.  Infection would kill the kid if I didn’t get moving, and I couldn’t stand the thought of losing my best friend.

I took a deep breath.  “This is gonna hurt.”

Joe didn’t respond.  It took all his strength to manage the pain, but I didn’t expect an answer.  It wasn’t a question anyway, just a statement that had to be said.  With a bedroll under him, and another rolled up to make a pillow, I’d put off the inevitable long enough.  It was time to open him up and get that damn hunk of lead removed.

A piece of Joe’s shirt had been pushed deep inside by the bullet.  The wound was high, more shoulder than back, and I wondered if bone had been shattered.  After the initial cut, blood pooled, and even though we were only inches from the fire, Joe began to shiver.  The cool night air didn’t help, and the wind had picked up speed.

I’d have to use my finger, and finding a small flask of whiskey in my brother’s saddlebag was just the ticket.  It only took a minute to find the bullet and ease it out, and I was able to wrap Joe up and lay his jacket over his shoulders so he could warm up some.

The only shelter we had was the pines.  As far as I knew, we were miles from a line shack, but Joe was a fighter, and if our luck continued to hold, he’d still be alive by morning, and we could start for home.

Though I wasn’t a praying man, I said a good, long prayer in hopes that the Almighty would grant me a kindness and keep our family whole.  I couldn’t imagine life without my little brother.  The kid meant a lot to me—to all of us—and losing him to a senseless bullet would be a giant waste. 

Why the shooter had aimed at my brother was unknown, which is why I sat with one eye open and a loaded shotgun across my lap.  I was ready for trouble.  We weren’t carrying money.  We had nothing of value, yet my young brother was shot in the back.  The world didn’t make sense.

Not only did I watch out for the shooter, but I wanted to keep an eye on Joe.  The kid was having a rough time.  He was cold and then hot, then cold again.  Blankets and coats covered him until he threw them off but reached out for them within minutes.  I knew the trauma a bullet could cause, and Joe had all the symptoms that fever and infection could bring on, and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do to help.

Morning came none too soon.  Joe had been restless all night, and I wasn’t sure whether he could ride or not.   The sooner we found out, the better.  If I could make it to Doc Martin’s by nightfall, Joe had a darn good chance of seeing his next birthday.

*~*~*

“We’re ready, Hop Sing.”

Eighteen candles topped the cake that Hop Sing carried and set in front of my little brother.  All of us, including Joe’s best friends, Mitch and Seth, were gathered around the dining room table to celebrate another year in my young brother’s life.

Little Joe had a tough go on top of that mountain, and though we never found the shooter, I wondered if he was after the mule deer Joe had spotted not long before he was sent flying from his horse.

There were moments on the way down that I wondered if he was going to make it.  His constant fever nearly took him from us, but the Almighty didn’t want me to feel blame for the rest of my life and did me a big favor.  He saved Joe from dying.  He saved me from feeling that awful kind of guilt that comes when you do your best, but in the end, you failed the ones you love.  A gift was given to me on top of that mountain, and I’ll always treasure its value.

“Happy Birthday, Little Brother.”

The End – 1 – 2026