A Letter From Away

– March 2026 Round-Up Challenge –

By Marcella Petillo

Hoss came out of the barn, wiping his hands with a rag, and raised his eyes to a deep blue sky, without a cloud and without wind. It was hot; a little rain would have been a blessing, but there was no trace of it on the horizon.

The sound of hooves distracted him, and he saw his father turn the corner of the hay barn and stop near the stable.

He took Buck’s reins while Ben dismounted, staring fixedly toward the far end of the yard, and Hoss followed his gaze.

Back there, Joe was busy chopping wood.

Sweat ran down his bare back; his body was tense with the effort, the axe coming down with a dull noise and a crash on the logs that he split with a single blow, sending splinters of wood flying around him.

Precise, powerful, effective blows that engaged all his muscles and his strength while he dripped with sweat under the sun.

Hoss and Ben exchanged a look of understanding, worried, aware, helpless.

Hoss watched his brother strike yet another log and shook his head, lowering his eyes; Ben started toward the house, watching his son’s tanned back stretch, shiny with sweat, as he prepared to strike, raising the sharp axe to bring it down on the log, as if it were an enemy to strike, a pain to annihilate.

Ben and Hoss knew.

They knew who the enemy was.

They knew on whom Joe’s pain and anger were being poured out.

The house door opened, revealing a smiling Hop Sing carrying in his hands a tray with a pitcher of lemonade and some glasses.

He set the tray on the table under the porch and, chirping in Chinese, went up to Joe, smiled at him, then his tone became serious,

“Now, number three son, stop splitting wood and go drink fresh lemonade! Enough wood, enough sweating under the sun, you drink, and you rest!”

Joe barely smiled and ran his fingers through the damp curls, stretched arching his back, almost staggered, groaned softly, and went to the water trough.

He worked the pump and let the water splash over his neck and aching shoulders. He wet his chest and arms, passed his wet hands over his face and through his hair, then went toward the porch where Ben and Hoss had already sat down, and Hoss handed him a glass full of lemonade.

Joe felt the cool liquid go down his throat and realized how thirsty he was; he drank it greedily, then held out his hand for more.

The second glass was drunk in sips, enjoying the taste and the freshness, and finally, he thanked Hop Sing,

“Thanks, that’s just what was needed!” and he sighed loudly while he smiled at the Chinese friend and at his family.

Ben had never stopped watching his son. His face was thinner than usual, the shadows under his eyes revealing difficult nights and lack of rest, and that tendency to tire himself physically almost to collapse.

“You look tired,” and he looked Joe straight in the eyes.

“I am tired; in fact, I am really exhausted.”

“Why Joe? No one asks you to work so much; it isn’t necessary, you know that.”

“Why? You know why! You know why Hoss and I have to work more, you know very well why…”

Joe’s face twisted in a grimace of anger. He sprang up from the chair, grabbed his shirt, and headed with long strides toward Cochise, who was tied to the fence, saddled and ready to move.

He leapt into the saddle in one motion and spurred his horse while Hoss’s voice followed him,

“Joe, come on, don’t be like that!”

In a moment, he had disappeared behind the hay barn, and they heard the thunder of the horse’s hooves driven into a gallop.

Hop Sing silently gathered the tray and the glasses; he looked at Ben, who had lowered his head, serious-faced, while Hoss was still staring at the spot where Joe had disappeared.

“The young son is suffering…,” he murmured softly. “He has much anger and much pain. He misses…”

Ben stirred, “I know, my friend, I know, I only wish I could help him!”

*****

Two months ago

“You’re a damn selfish man, you know that? A damned son of a bitch!” Joe was furious as he yanked Adam by the lapel of his jacket. He wasn’t shouting, his voice was low and lethal, a deep anger was shaking him,

“This thing will kill him, and you don’t care! You’re his firstborn, the one he has always counted on, but it’s not your problem, right? You go wandering around the world and abandon your family; my father could die from it, and you don’t care!”

“He’s my father too, Joe, and of course I care! But he understood, he accepted it; Hoss did too. Why can’t you?”

Adam tried to keep calm; he felt that Joe was upset and beside himself, and he didn’t want to hurt him further, but his brother’s total lack of acceptance of his departure, now decided, worried him on one side and irritated him on the other.

“We’ve already talked about it a lot, Joe. Here I feel caged. I know this is my home, and it always will be, but in my future, I don’t see the Ponderosa; it isn’t my dream. I need to go… I’m not like you and Hoss.”

And so Adam had left with the promise that he would write to let them know he was well, where he had arrived, and how he had settled.

The whole family had been there to say goodbye to him, knowing that they would hardly see him again, but that was a subject that had not been faced; too difficult, too painful, and besides, as people say: Hope is always the last to die.

In the following days, everyone felt the emptiness left by Adam. When Joe and Hoss came back from work, they often found Ben sitting in his armchair with a book in his hand that he wasn’t reading, his look thoughtful, with eyes lost in the void.

As a consequence, Joe had become protective and attentive toward his father. Small things apparently: a cup of hot coffee suddenly brought, a little glass of his favorite brandy, the pipe packed with the best tobacco, a squeeze on the shoulder while passing near him.

He watched him secretly, and when he saw that shadow of regret in his eyes, he would have liked to have Adam in his hands to beat him hard!

As the weeks passed, his feelings had changed: less sense of absence and more anger.

A fury barely controlled that he vented by working hard, sometimes to exhaustion, which had worried the whole family, including Hop Sing.

They didn’t know how to help him.

They did know instead that he slept badly, and he had also lost weight, even though he ate regularly.

They hoped that time would help him because there wasn’t much they could do except let him feel their presence.

*****

Present

The long gallop had helped Joe get rid of the anger, and now he felt emptied while he sat on the ground, with his back leaning against a pine trunk, in the cool of the woods.

He had so many thoughts swirling in his head, so many sensations, that he almost felt overwhelmed by them.

After taking a long drink of water, he set the canteen on the ground and took something from the pocket of his shirt.

A crumpled envelope.

A letter.

A letter from Adam that he had not opened yet.

It had been burning in his pocket for a couple of days. He had picked it up in Virginia City together with all the rest of the mail, and he hadn’t told anyone.

On the envelope, his full name was written in the unmistakable and neat handwriting of his older brother.

A personal letter from Adam addressed to him, only to him.

He opened the envelope with fingers that were almost trembling.

*****

My dear Joe,

I am sitting in front of the ocean, facing a boundless horizon, and I thought of you, yes, of you in particular!

Several weeks have already passed since I left, and I don’t know when this letter will reach you, but I wanted to try to explain… I need to explain to you what I feel in this moment, sitting in front of this immensity, scanning a horizon so vast that the eyes get lost far away, and my heart jumps in my chest with the desire to reach its boundaries.

We did not part well, I know. I felt all your anger and your pain. Leaving you was painful for me as well, and I miss you every day. I miss all of you, but I cannot ignore the force that pushes me to go forward, to go beyond what for a lifetime I have known as a safe harbor, but a harbor in which I had always been anchored, that prevented me from raising the sails and putting out to sea toward the life I dreamed of, going beyond boundaries and expectations, wishing to reach that distant horizon, in the discovery of new countries, of different cultures, of new lands.

You, together with Hoss and Pa, are anchored to the land.

The Ponderosa is your whole life; you have never desired anything else except that blessed land that you call home, and I know that you will be the best of ranchers, that you will carry on our father’s legacy with success.

Your heart is tied to that land; you’ve never wanted anything more than to grow up and grow old at Ponderosa.

I have not.

I was born different.

My spirit has always felt constrained, and although I loved the Ponderosa, I never felt it as mine.

I did my duty, but now the time has come for me to listen to my desires. That my spirit may chase its dreams of boundless horizons and deep waters.

Can you understand me?

Can you try to understand what I feel and feel so deeply?

Do not hate me, Joe, please!

I have never shown my heart so openly; you are the only one with whom I felt I wanted to do it.

Soon I will embark for Europe. I do not know when I will be able to reach you with another letter, but I will do so as soon as possible.

In the meantime, stay in good health, be happy, and fulfill your dreams.

Your brother forever,

Adam

*****

The sheet slipped to the ground, and Joe let it fall; one hand came up to cover his eyes while he bent his head back and rested it against the trunk.

He remained motionless, for how long even he himself did not know, while he was invaded by sensations he had never felt before.

His brother’s words had struck him deeply.

He found himself thinking that in all those years, he had never really understood who Adam truly was; what feelings moved him, the things he loved, or what made him suffer.

He had taken it for granted that the family would remain united, growing what had been their father’s original dream. The Ponderosa had prospered also thanks to Adam’s work, but his brother had different dreams—could he really blame him for that?

Joe felt that the knot of anger, which had choked him for so long, was loosening, and he let it go.

He breathed deeply while understanding made its way into his soul, and he accepted the difference, the complexity of a soul that had opened itself to him without filters, as never before that moment.

At last, he stood up with a smile on his lips and called Cochise, leaping into the saddle,

“Come on, boy, let’s go! They’re waiting for us at home!”

The End