Don’t Come Home a Hero

by jfclover

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The day began when Pa asked Hoss and me to check the south pasture and see if it was suitable for a thousand head of cattle, but no one could imagine that the lush, green valley had turned into a battlefield.  No one thought that insanity was a possibility in the south pasture of the Ponderosa, but when Hoss and I saw the makings of a war, I realized that from that day forward, anything was possible.

~*~*~*~*~*~

It didn’t take much for me to become restless.  We’d been stuck inside the house, held hostage by the power of a spring storm for the better part of a week.  Cabin fever had plagued us all, and I was desperate to walk out the front door and saddle my horse.  Pa knew me better than anyone, and he knew that a good long ride would do me a world of good.

“On our way, Pa.”

My father stood from behind his desk.  He shook Hoss’s hand and then mine.  “Be careful, Boys, and remember what Roy said.”

“Don’t worry, Pa.   If Jeb Carter and his gang of thugs are anywhere on the Ponderosa, I think Big Brother and I can handle them.”

“Let’s hope so, but don’t play hero.”

“I won’t.  I’ll leave that up to Hoss.”

Pa rolled his eyes.  “Get out of here and be back before supper.”

Like a private taking orders from his captain, I saluted.  “Yes, Sir!”

~*~*~*~*~*~

I could’ve ridden like the wind, but that wasn’t Hoss’s style.  He always said I was in too big of a hurry.  “Can’t you do anything slow-like?”

It wasn’t really a question, and I never bothered with an answer.  After all these years, my brother was well aware that moving slowly wasn’t my style, never would be.  Hop Sing said it was my nature, that slowing down meant that I was injured or no longer living.  

We rode like a couple of old maids, slow and easy.  I wouldn’t feel the wind in my hair, and I wouldn’t feel every muscle in Cochise intensify as he raced across the long, flat meadow, but I wouldn’t complain either.  We were out of the house and doing something worthwhile.   My mood had improved already.

After reaching the last rise before we crossed into the south pasture, I mentioned to Hoss how nice it was to be out and about instead of cooped up like a bird in a cage.   He agreed, and even if he didn’t realize what he’d done, he straightened his back and sat taller in the saddle.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

A shot rang out.  Then a second and third.  “What the hell?”  Hoss and I dismounted and slapped the rumps of our mounts, who were smart enough to run back down the rise rather than into the pasture and the sound of gunfire. 

Hoss tilted his hat.  “What do you think?”

“Carter?”

“Could be.”

“But who are they shooting at?”

“That’s a good question, Little Brother.  A very good question.”

We didn’t have answers, but just a few feet away and on Ponderosa land, a war had broken out.  Gunfire exploded from both sides of the meadow.  Smoke clouded a clear, blue sky, and we didn’t know who was shooting at whom.

Lying flat on the ground, I tapped my brother’s arm.  “Let’s go.”

We shimmied our way to the top of the ridge and looked down.  Shots still rang out.  Some from the left and some to our right.  Gunfire and smoke were our only clues.  We couldn’t see the men holding the rifles until a man wearing a brown vest and a bright white shirt twirled and fell from behind a boulder.

I squinted for a better look.  “Is that Amos Jenson?”

“Looks like him, but I can’t be sure.”

“What’s Carter got against him?”

“Joseph.  I don’t know any more than you do.”

Hoss and I stayed hidden long enough to watch two more men fall, two decent, ordinary men who were our neighbors and had no business settling a dispute in the middle of our lush, green meadow.  We wouldn’t be moving cattle until the war was over, and the men who fired their weapons were put behind bars. 

When Cochise whinnied, Chubby answered.  They hadn’t moved far down the slope, and it was time we got the hell out of Dodge.  Pa said don’t be a hero, and we decided to heed his words.  This was Roy Coffee’s job, not ours, but as soon as I reached for my horse’s reins, a shot came out of nowhere, sliced through my back, and sent me flying to the ground.

~*~*~*~*~*~

The stench of alcohol and blood hung in the air and penetrated deep inside my lungs.  Sweat beaded my forehead, and the pain in my right shoulder hit me like a runaway train.  Soiled rags had been piled in the corner, and metal instruments lay on a tray, but I was alone.  No one could answer my questions.  No one could tend to my needs.

Sleep came, and when I woke a second time, Paul Martin and my father towered over me like a couple of vultures hovering its prey.  Although they each spoke, their words were unclear.  I wasn’t dismissing either of them, but I couldn’t make sense of the conversation, and my eyelids were heavy, too heavy to remain open.

I slept, and woke, and slept again.  My shoulder still ached, but the pain had cooled, and the sweat that had dotted my forehead was gone.  A chair had been pulled next to the bed, and my father slept.  His left cheek rested on his fisted hand, but he must have sensed that I was awake.  He smiled and sat taller in the chair.

“Good morning, Joseph.”

“Pa.”

“Didn’t I tell you not to come home a hero?”

I was no more a hero than the man in the moon, but I’d leave it to Big Brother, Hoss, to set the story straight.

The End

2 – 2026