With an Open Heart

2026 Round-Up Challenge

By Marcella Petillo

They had been traveling together for a day and a half.

It was rare that Ben Cartwright and his son Joe could enjoy each other’s exclusive company.

Work on the ranch absorbed them completely, each in his own duties, and the whole family was busy keeping a ranch as large as the Ponderosa running.

The opportunity had presented itself suddenly, and Ben and Joe had set out together on horseback for an important work commitment.

They had spent hours in harmony, chatting, enjoying the moment granted to them, strengthening their already deep connection as they rode close together and without hurry.

Ben loved all his sons; he would have given his life for each of them, but with Joe, the connection had always been special, ever since his birth, and it had deepened over time.

His youngest, the most sensitive, the one who felt things deeply, had an impetuous and impulsive character that had required great patience and discipline on his part. All those things together had made Joseph who he was, and he would not have wanted to change him for anything in the world.

Joe turned toward his father, pointing to the small town that had appeared at the end of the road they were traveling. He smiled at him the way only he knew how,

“Pa! We’re here! What do you say to a bath, a nice steak with potatoes, and a cold beer?”

“Excellent idea, Joe!” Ben returned the smile and urged Buck forward. He was eager to reach the hotel, shake the dust off himself, and get rid of the fatigue of the journey.

In the afternoon, they would meet their friend Tim Holland to talk about business and contracts, but right now, he only wanted to wash, eat, and rest.

Many hours on horseback had left their mark, but one glance at Joe convinced him that his young and exuberant son also needed the same things.

Later, fresh, full, and rested, they presented themselves at the door of Tim’s beautiful house just outside town, admiring the wide green spaces, the gurgling stream, and the garden full of flowers of every kind, in a celebration of colors and scents that lifted the spirits.

Tim himself opened the door and warmly invited them inside, calling loudly for his wife, Lizzie.

Tim had been a silver prospector in Virginia City; he had struck it rich with a vein that had made him an important man.

He had met the Cartwrights as suppliers of timber to shore up the tunnels of his mine, and they had become good friends.

The silver vein had been exploited until it was exhausted, and Tim, now wealthy, had preferred to move to his wife Lizzie’s hometown, where he raised purebred bulls.

Lizzie arrived breathless to greet the Cartwright friends, trying to calm her six-month-old son, a beautiful baby with lungs of steel!

She hugged and kissed both Ben and Joe, apologizing for the screaming and crying, but Willy was teething and was irritable and inconsolable!

They laughed together; Ben said he had already gone through that when Joe was the same age and behaved the same way, shouting at the top of his lungs to express his discomfort.

A wide smile appeared on Joe’s face as he held out his arms toward Lizzie,

“Let me hold this little fellow for a while, maybe he’ll get distracted and calm down!”

Lizzie did not even try to hide her relief, and the screaming baby passed into Joe’s waiting arms in one smooth movement.

Maybe it was the surprise, maybe it was that Joe began talking softly to Willy in a low, musical voice, making faces and smiling; the fact was that the little one suddenly calmed down and began making small gurgling sounds, smiling at his new friend, stretching out his little hands to touch, pull, and grab whatever was within reach.

Ben, who was talking with Tim, turned and saw his son holding little Willy in his arms, wrapping him, supporting him, protecting him as if he had never done anything else in his life.

Joe’s bright smile, his softened eyes as he was completely absorbed in the mysterious dialogue between himself and the baby, struck Ben, who was seeing his son from a perspective he had never known before.

They talked business, concluded it, had dinner together, and laughed when Lizzie asked Ben to lend her Joe as a babysitter for a few weeks, until the teething was over.

Sitting in an armchair with little Willy asleep in his arms, Joe surprised them when he murmured, more to himself than to the others, “I’d like that…”

The mother lifted Willy from Joe’s arms to take him to bed, and the Cartwrights said goodbye to their friends.

One night at the hotel, and the next day, they would set out again toward home.

As Lizzie said goodbye and kissed Joe on the cheek, she told him, with an expression both serious and sweet, “You will be a wonderful father, Joe!” and she did not miss the spark in his eyes when he replied, “I hope so, I really hope so!”

On the way back, Ben noticed his son’s unusual quietness.

Joe seemed distracted, absorbed in something that had not yet found a way to come into the open. His eyes lost in the distance, he rode beside his father, answered his questions, then fell into long silences. Serious-faced, calm, but with evident thoughts that kept him focused and little inclined to conversation, something rather unusual for him.

Ben knew his son well; he knew Joe would speak only when he was ready, so he focused on the landscape, leaving Joe free to work through his thoughts. Ben was a patient man; he would wait, hoping that Joe would want to share what had been troubling him since their departure.

That evening, camped along the trail in a small grassy clearing among rocks that provided shelter and safety, they dined on spit-roasted rabbit, thanks to Joe’s catch, canned peaches supplied by Hop Sing, and plenty of strong black coffee.

Lying close together beside the campfire, their backs resting against overturned saddles, they watched the sky grow dark and the night advance, revealing a quilt of stars above them; a myriad of bright, pulsing points—constellations, the Milky Way, quadrants of the sky that Ben, as a former sailor, knew well and had taught his sons to recognize, so they could travel safely even at night without losing their way.

“Pa?…” Joe’s voice rose hesitantly in the comfortable silence between them, and Ben understood that the moment had come.
“Tell me, Joe, I’m listening.”
A sigh, a hoarse voice, a nervous cough…
“Pa… do you ever feel lonely?” Joe shifted in the darkness. “I mean… really lonely? You know, after Mama’s death… I mean…”
Ben wondered where his son was going with this, but he had no time to answer because Joe continued, overlapping his words in his anxiety to express his thoughts,
“I feel lonely, Pa. For some time now, I’ve felt truly lonely. It’s like a weight pressing on my chest. I couldn’t understand it before, but everything became clear when I held Willy in my arms yesterday. Having that little life in my hands, seeing him cry and then smile, and babble, and laugh with joy and sleep… oh, God, Pa, I wished he were mine!”

Joe continued speaking with his father, openly, revealing his most intimate thoughts,

“I know I have you, and my brothers, and friends, the work on the ranch, but sometimes I feel empty, I feel something missing, almost a longing… how can I miss something I’ve never had? That I don’t even know yet…

I came close to it, but I lost… I lost so much… Pa, I lost the girls I loved and with whom I wanted to build a family! How did you manage to endure the loss of three wives you loved? Every loss has left me empty, a furrow in my soul that has never been filled again. Would like a family, a wife who loves me, and children to raise!

Will I ever have a family? Am I asking too much, Pa?”

The river of words stopped as suddenly as it had begun, and Joe let out a long sigh.
He had opened his heart to the man he loved most in the world, the only one with whom he felt he could open himself completely, knowing he would not be judged but comforted, supported, and, above all, loved unconditionally.
Deep down, he did not even need an answer, not now, but only the steady and unwavering presence of his father.

In the darkness, between sky and earth, two hearts touched deeply, anchoring themselves to one another.
In the darkness, Ben’s hand slid onto his son’s arm and remained there.
In the darkness, the warm, deep voice of a father spoke to his son, loved more than ever,
“I’m here, son, I’ll always be here, you can count on it, but now rest; you need to sleep, you’re tired, and so am I. Rest tonight, and tomorrow we’ll talk along the way about everything you want, and we can talk whenever you want and if you want to. Good night, Joe, sweet dreams…”
“Good night, Pa, thanks…”

The End