For the Love of a Son
(by AMG)
Summary: Despite various trials, past and recent, the Cartwright family gathers back together, growing in number. Includes all the family and some friends.
Note: Not everything in the story is as
specified in the series. You could say I didn’t like the way real life has
affected our Cartwright men, so there are some things the reader may recognise
from the series and some that are out of the Bonanza canon and strictly my
invention. I am also aware that in “Ponderosa Matador”, Hoss bought the book
about matadors in
The epilogue is optional. If you feel that the story does not need it, feel free to treat it as complete without the epilogue.
Thanks: Great Thanks to Becky, my wonderful beta-reader. Without you the story wouldn’t have been what it is :)
Griff stopped digging the hole for the fence post, wondering what he should do. Yet, the approaching rider didn’t seem to pose a threat. His clothes were that of a townie, and moreover, he was alone. Griff reached for the shirt he had discarded earlier in the heat of the day; he knew the look of his back was likely to prejudice the stranger, and he wasn’t about to attract trouble just because someone else could overreact.
“Uhm... Joe is out on the northern pastures,” answered Griff. “Jamie and Mr Cartwright will be at home, I guess.”
“Thank you.” The stranger took in the scene and added, “I’ll take the liberty
to guess you will soon be out of posts.”
The man’s eyes twinkled. “That’s very gracious of you. Thank you, I think I’ll accept the offer.”
“What are you...?” protested the young man, but the stranger just smiled
at him.
“I can manage perfectly well by myself,” Griff gripped the post to take it
from the man’s hands.
Griff relented enough to smirk back, and resumed his work. “You’re not THAT
old,” he teased.
This time Griff actually chuckled. “You’re kidding me, right?”
Griff shook his head, chuckling helplessly, as he began digging the last
hole. “Just this one, and that will be it.”
Complying, Griff stood back, watching the man work. Despite the townie clothes,
work seemed to come to him naturally. The white shirt was hiding coiled muscles
and a powerful chest, which could be seen, since he’d unbuttoned his shirt;
it was a hot day, and Griff himself wanted to shed his shirt, but had to
be mindful of the pattern on his back.
Adam must have been around forty, judged Griff; there was a touch of silver
on his temples, making him look distinguished. He had the appearance of an
active man, and his face had been created for smiling at people. He probably
made friends easily.
He went to the wagon; Adam followed, leading his horse.
***
“Yeah,” Griff eyed the man questioningly.
“No one’s home but Hop Sing; Candy’s ridden out to Joe, and so I think I need to borrow you,” explained Adam and continued, apparently missing Griff’s suddenly narrowed eyes, “I’ll need the buggy, to bring a surprise from town. It’s a rather big surprise,” he added with a smirk. “Could you hitch it up for me, and then go with me to town? You could use a break.”
Griff sized Adam up slowly, warily. “I can’t. I’ve got a job to do.”
Adam opened his mouth as though to say something, then closed it thoughtfully.
“Okay, thanks. I’ll just change and be right back,” he simply said. Griff
felt like he had said something wrong at some point, but couldn’t find any
fault in his reaction, hard as he may try.
He had just hitched up the buggy when Adam reappeared, this time in working
clothes – red shirt, dark jeans, black vest. Candy’s colours, noticed the
young man automatically. A thought began forming in his mind, nagging him
– that man was not a stranger to the household.
There was nothing but a friendly tone to Adam’s voice as he thanked Griff,
but the young man couldn’t shake off the feeling that he had done or said
something to hurt the man.
It still troubled him, when some two hours later he was planting the next
post in the ground. As he thought about it, he was reminded how quickly the
man began to order him around;
he dug into the ground furiously, anger fueled by resentment, when suddenly
under his nose appeared a hand holding a package.
“I’ve had lunch.”
"I’ll manage,” stiffened Griff, but Adam only smiled, never stopping to look
up.
“I know. You would have put every inch of your strength in the task and you’d
finish it on time,” he admitted. “And after two or three such instances you’d
end up with bad back.”
“Mr Cartwright said they were short-handed...” started Griff, but Adam inserted
smoothly, ‘They can spare me. Besides,
I’ve brought some help.”
“The ‘package’ I’ve brought will provide a lot of help – in the future,” this time, Adam looked up, smiling at Griff. “How many Cartwrights do you know?”
“Well,” Griff stopped untying the package and grimaced thoughfully. “There’s
Mr Cartwright, Joe, Jamie... and there was another one, Candy said they were
going to visit him in the hospital... Hoss, I think, or something like that.”
“I have spared them the trip, then.” Adam worked with swift, economical movements.
“Hoss is home.” After a second of silence he asked, “So, you know four Cartwrights,
right?”
“Yeah, why?” Griff was immediately alert.
“Just asking,” Adam shrugged his shoulders, reaching for the post. “Oh, and
will you hand me the...” he looked up, took a quick breath and helplessly
burst out laughing. Griff looked at him with a questioning expression, his
cheeks stuffed with food like a chipmunk. “... the hammer,” finished Adam
in a strange voice, trying hard to control his mirth.
Griff chewed, swallowed with difficulty and handed the hammer over, fighting a smile rising to his lips, for he could guess how he must have looked like. He met Adam’s eyes and both men laughed.
***
“It’s going to rain.”
Griff nodded, loading the last of the remaining supplies into the wagon. “I’m sure glad that’s done.”
“Yep.” Adam put a hand on Griff’s shoulder briefly. “Let’s go home.”
The wind had picked up, and both men moved more quickly. Adam tethered his
horse to the wagon and seated himself beside Griff, who held the reins. The
horses moved on with anticipation of a nice, warm stall and an even nicer
full bucket of oats.
Both men were quiet during the first couple of minutes. Griff was struggling
with himself; he wanted to ask who the man actually was, but would that be
alright with him? If it had been just after he had come to the Ponderosa,
he wouldn’t have bothered to ask. Yet here he was learning that people could
actually be nice. Well, not all. Still, he didn’t know how to treat that
man – as a guest? A ranchhand? He was allowed to issue orders, as Griff had
learned from Hop Sing; yet he came to help him with the work. Maybe they
didn’t trust him, regardless of what Mr Cartwright had said about it. Maybe
he was there to keep an eye on the ex-con... Griff stole a glance at his
silent companion, but Adam had his eyes closed and was clearly relaxing.
Oh, what the heck.
“Why are you here?” he asked Adam. “I mean – are you a ranchhand or a guest
or a friend of Mr Cartwright or who?”
Adam opened his eyes, lowering them to look at his hands. “We know each other.”
Griff digested the answer. Possibly not quite a friend, then. “You’re gonna
stay here some time?”
“I don’t know.”
To Griff, Adam’s voice sounded weary all of a sudden. Almost too soft.
“You know, you just come, make yourself at home, get to work, and I ain’t
ever seen you around here for the last couple of months. If I have the right
to ask, that is,” he finished sarcastically. “I’d like to know where I stand.”
A sigh. “I haven’t been around here for the last couple of years.” Adam kept
looking at his hands. “I’ve come here to convalesce. I guess you can treat
me as any other ranchhand.” A moment of silence, then Adam blinked and added,
“And yes, of course you have the right to know.” He straightened. “Sorry,
I should have thought about clearing that up.”
“It’s okay,” responded Griff automatically, something in Adam’s tone making
him feel sorry for having started the whole interrogation. “Should you be
working if you’re convalescing?” he inquired with some concern.
“I very much should,” Adam raised his eyes at last and smiled softly. “Good
old physical work. Prescribed by the doctor.”
They drove on in more companionable silence. Adam relaxed against the backboard
and stretched a bit; Griff worked his neck slightly and clicked the horses
into a trot. It was getting darker slowly, as the clouds drew closer, but
the wind was refreshing, showering the golden spray of pine scent over the
two people moving on far below the green fragrant peaks.
The shot came out of nowhere, spooking the horses. As they took the turn, Adam spotted a huge tree limb on the road just in front of
them. Griff caught his eyes for a second, then felt air-borne and a sudden
impact whooshed the air out of his lungs. There was some noise – then eerie
silence... There came some shadows leaning over him – he blinked to clear
his vision – they held and pulled at his clothes – he fought them – there
came – a noise... the world collapsed with him into darkness.
***
The wind had picked up. He listened to its howl contentedly for a moment, then idly went back over the last moments. Maybe there
was something he was supposed to remember. It took him some time, but eventually
he was able to figure out that he had been going home with the kid. The practical
part of his mind told him there had been some kind of accident. Otherwise
he wouldn’t be lying in the wet grass... in a drizzling rain... with that
strange lack of feeling in his body that you got from lying too long unmoving...
wait a second, there was something he was supposed to remember...
With a Herculean effort he raised his head and looked around. He felt physically
unsettled when the world did a flip-flop in his head. Good; he had a hold
on reality. He was lying on the grass. With naked shoulders. Forget shoulders
– his legs were naked as well. He stopped for a moment to gather his thoughts.
The kid. He must remember about the kid.
He looked around carefully, moving only his head, until he spotted the boy.
Lying in a heap a few steps away, in his shirt and nothing more. It somehow
made him look much younger, much like a child taking a nap. Much
like... Adam sighed, concentrating. –
like my beloved... – No. He shook his head, very gently though; it still
hurt and did flip-flops with the pines and the horizon.
He shifted slowly to turn in the direction the kid was lying, and inched
his way towards the unmoving body, making the satisfactory discovery of having
all limbs intact. It turned out to be
rather easy to slide over the wet grass, and he reached the kid pretty
quickly.
The kid had been shot. Adam closed his eyes, drew a sharp breath to save
his awareness and get over the boiling rage. The kid had been shot. Why?
Surely no one could have a grudge against someone so young. Adam drew a long,
steadying breath, pulled himself up with difficulty and turned the kid on
his back. The bullet was still inside the muscle. That is, hopefully a muscle.
The shoulder looked like a bloody mess. The pulse was there, quick but rather
strong. Good going, kid. Must stop the bleeding; need fabric or something.
Looking around with more awareness, he spotted something that could have
been dirty, torn clothes. Right. Whoever took their clothes, at least they’d
left their own. He staggered there on all fours, found two pairs of trousers
and a shirt. Prison clothes. A good explanation. When he tried to pull on
the trousers, a spell of vertigo hit him, so strong that it left him lying
on his back, panting, fighting for a precious hold on consciousness. Images
and memories started mixing in his head, those he knew from the long bed-ridden
hours and days and those that were older, those that never before came to
him in that state, and always the laughing
face... NO. He thought he had shouted it but he wasn’t sure anymore.
He dismissed it as unimportant. Can’t let the kid down. Can’t let the kid
down. Have to get up. Have to...
He actually crawled but he got back to the still body. He used a cleaner
end of the kid’s shirt to wipe away most of the blood, and after a second
thought found the familiar leaves in the grass. The rain grew heavier, so
he washed the leaves in it before putting them on the wound. It was a difficult
task to put the trousers on the boy, but eventually he managed it. Have to
keep off the cold as well and as long as possible.
He realised they were both getting soaked. The tree. It didn’t sound like
a thunderstorm – a tree would do.
***
Adam. What happened to Adam? He thought he had moved, but his body was strangely
unresponsive.
Something moved behind him, startling him, and familiar voice murmured, “Woken
up yet, son? Huh? Will you wake for me?”
Griff blinked and turned his head slightly to look in the dark, hooded eyes.
Adam moved and Griff noticed the blood on the side of his head; something
about his eyes looked strange, too. “Adam?”
“It’s alright, it’s me,” answered the familiar soft voice. Adam blinked wearily
and tried to smile. “Don’t move, you’re... hurt.”
Hurt? He then remembered the two
shadows pulling at his clothes, a gun’s report, the pain... He couldn’t move
his arm, he stated with sudden anxiety. “It’s alright,” the soothing voice
came again. “Don’t move it, I’ve put some herbs on the wound.”
“The bullet?” asked Griff hoarsely.
A sigh. “Inside.” Adam glanced at the younger man’s face, then let his eyes
fall to his shirt collar. “I’m not sure if my condition would allow me to
operate on you to get it out.”
At that point, Griff’s eyes fell to the fabric that covered him and his legs
– his feet were bare... “No. No!”
“What’s...” Adam’s eyes sought out the cause of Griff’s distress. “Oh.” His
mind had at some point registered what he had seen on the young man’s back
while tending to the wound, which was explanation enough for Griff’s exclamation.
“Some guys thought it would be fun if we exchanged clothes. They just forgot
to ask our consent. At least you’ve still got your shirt.” He stilled the
movement of Griff’s arm with his right hand. “I suppose they didn’t need
a bloodied shirt with a bullet hole in it.”
“What are you wearing?” asked
Griff, gazing with dismay at the familiar fabric and the all too familiar
imprint of a number on the jacket that covered him. He felt Adam shrug his
shoulders.
“Same as you, minus the shirt,” came the calm answer. “They weren’t kind
enough to leave us two jackets.”
“Aren’t you cold?” inquired Griff immediately with concern in his voice.
“Not exactly,” Adam smiled a lop-sided smile. “You’ve been keeping me warm
quite nicely.” He had been sitting against a tree, with Griff resting on
his chest, their body heat shared that way. Griff sighed, seeking a more
comfortable position. “Easy, son,” Adam’s right arm held him closer, the
left hand adjusting the pressure on the wound. Griff stiffened.
“I ain’t your son.” He immediately knew he had said the wrong thing. “Sorry,
I’m not used to hearing the word. Nothing pleasant to remember about it.”
“Sorry.” Adam apologised almost simultaneously with Griff, then admitted
softly, “I guess I use it a lot.”
“You got a son?”
Silence. The wind whistled a wistful melody among the trees, and the rain
was tapping its soft rhythm with the wet fingers of cold drops, tap-tap,
tap-tap, tap-tap... At last, Griff turned his head to look at Adam. The man
was resting his head against the tree, eyes closed. “Adam?”
“Yes.” After another long spell of silence, Adam sighed and opened his eyes.
“Yes, I’ve had a son. I’ve... There was a fire at our house.”
“Geez, I’m sorry,” whispered Griff. What was it about him that every interrogation
he began, it ended with him being sorry for starting it?
“They haven’t found him yet, must have gotten away and...” Adam’s voice hesitated,
then changed. He spoke more strongly, yet with some strange wistfulness.
“I suppose it’s easier for me to believe that than to... grieve. I’ve never
been good at that. Maybe – just maybe my little boy lives somewhere and is
growing into a fine man... I’m not hurting anyone with such thinking, and
it makes it easier – much easier – to live – to go on.”
The rain tap-tapped, tap-tapped persistently, much like a kid who wants his
parent to play with him and pulls the adult by the sleeve once a second,
without a word, but the persistence speaking volumes. At times, the wind
would whirl the raindrops into little needles, sharpened with the fresh,
moistly heavy pine scent, and drill them into the unsuspecting skin, vulnerable
to them as long as the cold wouldn’t take command over it and allow numb
relief against itself.
Griff closed his eyes wearily and turned his head to rest it more comfortably
in the crook of Adam’s neck. His shoulder was hurting him and a small part
of him wanted to escape the pain.
“I need you to stay alert for me,” said Adam softly, sensing Griff’s tiredness.
“We have to wait for help; neither of us is fit enough to go home by himself,
let alone carry the other one. We need to stay awake and alert. And... if
I start saying strange things, I need you to bring me back to reality, alright?”
“Strange things like what?” mumbled Griff, rousing a bit.
“Like...” Adam shrugged his shoulders. “Don’t know – talking to someone who’s
not there or such... My head isn’t exactly clear. I need you to be alert
to keep me alert.”
“I’ll try. I’ve sure been taught to stay alert,” snorted Griff with sudden
bitterness.
“Prison isn’t the best place to learn life,” admitted Adam softly. Griff
started, then hissed.
“Shh,” the strong yet gentle hands settled him back against the warmth. “I’ve
seen your back – you’re too young for such scars. Too young,” repeated Adam
sadly.
Griff wondered at the tangible sincerity in Adam’s voice. “So bad, huh?”
“I’ve seen worse,” admitted the older man. “Still, it doesn’t justify such
treatment. I’m glad you’re out of there.”
“I’m on parole,” said Griff quietly, closing his eyes and subconsciously
seeking warmth in Adam’s neck. “I still may come back there.”
Adam’s hand found his and squeezed gently. “Tell me about it.”
“To keep you alert?”
“It should,” admitted Adam. “I’d like to hear the whole story and so I’m
unlikely to wander off in the middle.”
“Is that ‘strange talking’?” asked Griff with a half-grin. Adam wouldn’t
be going anywhere, with the way they were seated.
“It’s talking about strange talking,” Adam answered with a matching smile.
“Tell me about the parole.”
Hoss stretched his long legs with a very content air, albeit carefully, pulled
his wife closer to him and grinned at the rest of the family – kids, Pa,
Joe, Jamie and Candy. “I’ve always said there’s no place like home,” he stated
with satisfaction.
Michael, his older son, grinned back, knowing how happy his father indeed
was to be back home. Craig, Mike’s younger brother, snuggled closer to Michael’s
side; the whole commotion of coming home had tired him, and although the
five-year-old would have protested with all his manly pride if it was to
be suggested, he was in dire need of a nap.
Ben gazed at the two lovingly, for the two rapscallions had been missed immensely
on the Ponderosa while Hoss was recuperating in the hospital from his accident
a couple of months ago. He then looked back at Hoss and reminded him gently,
“You were going to talk about Adam.”
Hoss face fell slightly. “Kinda good that he ain’t here. You’d better sit back, it’s a longish story.” Barbara put her hand on her husband’s shoulder. They had all been living in Reno during Hoss’ recuperation, and so she knew the story and could foresee the impact it would have on the rest of the family.
“You know he was married to that little filly, Sally. From what he told me,
and from I’ve heard from some doctors, too, it turns out that she was terminally
ill or something. He knew it from
the beginning... some suspected that was why he married her, you know, no
long commitment. Don’t frown at me like that, Pa, I know it’s not like Adam
to do so. I know he loved her, you can hear it in his voice whenever he speaks
her name.
“Anyway, when she died... You didn’t know that? Well, I thought he would have informed at least you, but... Well. As I was saying, when she died, he took it so peacefully – I mean, he grieved, but there was no such pain in him as there was in you, when Marie...
Well. Sorry. I-I can imagine that
he was preparing himself for that – as much as one
can prepare for that – as she was so ill; he even told me she had lived
longer than what the doctors had predicted. The docs, however, suspect that
it could be when it all started. Don’t look at me that way, I’m getting to
the point! You gotta start from the beginning!
“I met Adam in the hospital. He was quite shocked to find me there, but not as much as I was to see him. He looked dreadful, sunken eyes, hollow face – he was very thin. He just said he was recuperating, but there was something strange in his eyes, and so I asked the doc about him. He’s lost Steven.
He hadn’t even sent a word to you, right? I’ve thought so. He just plain refuses to believe it.
“They tell me he would sit in the empty room at the hospital and talk to
the kid as though he were still alive and there. Ever since they brought him in from the fire – Right, you don’t know about the fire.
Their house caught on fire, and
someone got Adam out of there, unconscious and burned. Adam claimed Steven
had been in the house, but... well... They got only Adam out. Adam doggedly
repeats that Steve must have gotten out somehow. Granted, they haven’t found
the body, but he was just a little feller, and who would look... Sorry, it’s
not even easy to speak about that, let alone do it.
" Adam got very ill afterwards. He’d get high fevers, hallucinations, convulsions. It probably hadn’t improved his state of mind, the doc told me. That was the third hospital he was treated in. They agreed to move him to my room; Adam himself was quite enthusiastic about it. Generally, he seemed to behave normally, but it happened a couple of times that he spoke of Steve as though the kid was still alive, as though he were speaking to him – it seemed like he didn’t know what was going on around him. He’d see things that weren’t there, hear voices that weren’t speaking... I got plain scared the first time he got that strange look in his eyes and started talking about how Steve is such a talented, intelligent kid and will do wonderful at school next Autumn.
“He’s gotten much better during the time we were together. I think he’s just been alone for too long after what happened. If there is someone around to bring him back to reality, he gets over those moods immediately. He is aware of his condition, generally, and takes care to follow the doc’s advice, like he never stays alone for a longer period of time, takes care that there is always someone nearby to talk to, tries to work physically – the doc said the exercise would bring him back into shape and help get over various thoughts. Like now, he went to work with one of the hands; he will likely be back soon, what with the rain looming like that,” Hoss glanced through the darkened window. The room was silent, each man’s thoughts preoccupied with the sad story. The wind knocked at the windowpanes with the first shy drops of rain.
Eventually, Joe raised his head and asked softly, “What... what did he say to coming home?”
“It was his idea,” answered Hoss just as softly, then added with a more animated
air, grinning, “Not that my doc was extremely happy with the decision. But
you know Adam, he can be real persuasive if he wants to be. I must say, home
is a much better place to get back into shape than any old cold hospital,”
he winked. “Adam took care of all the paperwork and everything and one day just came into the room and asked
why I wasn’t packed yet! I think the initiative did him good – he needs to
busy his mind with work, and entertainment, and laughter, and even with the
bossying around he used to do back when he was home.”
“And the kids’ antics,” smiled Joe, but Hoss shook his head quickly, suddenly serious again.
“Be careful about kids with him. I can see they sometimes remind him of Steve
and he should avoid too much thinking... Mike and Craig know when he knows
who they are and when he forgets it. Mike here, especially, is good about
it, and he himself has helped Adam get back to reality two or three times.”
A spell of silence engulfed the little group, accentuated by the growing darkness outside the circle of light casted by the fire.
“All in all,” said Hoss conclusively, “just trust Adam to tell you whether
something’s wrong or not. He can well control his condition by now. He’ll
be fine, given time.”
Ben nodded, either to Hoss or to himself. Joe was gazing into the fire, thinking
about another fire, which had taken two other lives. Candy was playing with
the front end of his vest, thinking about the one Cartwright brother he hadn’t
met yet. Mike pulled his jacket over the sleeping Craig; Barbara smiled at
the kids warmly.
It was Jamie who broke the spell, looking through the window and announcing
softly, “It’s raining.”
Candy got up to look outside. “Yep, raining alright. Griff should be back
any minute now, he’s wise enough to stop...” He halted pensively and wanted
to add something, when Hoss asked, “Griff? Is he a young kid?”
“Not exactly,” answered Candy slowly. “I guess he’s pretty much still a kid,
though. Why?”
“Adam mentioned the name when
he said he was going to help a hand. He said something about fencing.”
“Griff was supposed to be fencing,” agreed Candy, whereas Ben looked a bit
unsettled.
“Pa?” Joe enquired, noticing the slight frown.
“We’ve decided to show Griff that we trust him,” said Ben softly. “Won’t
he take Adam’s presence for an intrusion? Like we’d sent him to check on
Griff nevertheless?”
“Who is that Griff?” Hoss wanted to know, sensing there was more to the young
hand than anyone had told him so far. “Am I missing something here?”
“I’m sure I’ve written to you about the young ex-convict...” started Ben,
and then the name registered with Hoss.
“Right, right – I knew I’ve heard it somewhere – Griff King, right?”
“Yes,” Ben nodded. “We thought it’d be good to show Griff that the whole
world isn’t against him, and seeing as we are shorthanded anyway, we‘ve let
him work alone on the fence today.”
“They should be back by now,” muttered Candy. “I’d like to take a look if
everything’s fine.”
“If they aren’t back when the rain stops, we’ll go look for them,” decided
Joe. “We needn’t make Griff think he’s unable to take care of himself – your
own words.”
“Right,” Candy ran his hands through his hair and came back to his seat.
“Maybe they thought they could finish before the rain, and didn’t. Or it
caught them on the way and they are holed up somewhere waiting for it to
stop.”
“Exactly,” nodded Joe. “I was thinking the same.”
Hoss cleared his throat. “Well, I don’t know about you, guys, but this cold
weather makes me hungry for some hot, delicious stew. There’s nothing like
food to lift your spirits.”
There was a collective groan from around him, but no one could suppress laughter
for long.
“Hop Sing!” called Ben, and the Chinese cook appeared in the room waving
his ladle in the air.
“Why you call Hop Sing? Hop Sing make good stew for Mr Hoss and Mr Adam,
you no interrupt! Mr Hoss puny, need eat! You sit at table, stew ready soon!”
With that, he disappeared back into the kitchen, his angry Chinese ranting
drowned out by the hearty laughter.
Joe collapsed on the sofa, giggling infectiously. “Mr Hoss puny! That’s a
hoot!”
“Now let me just get out of this here chair and I’ll show you, you little
rascal,” threatened Hoss, slowly rising with Barbara’s help. He wasn’t well
enough for a walk longer than a few feet and he knew it, but Joe joined the
game nevertheless and backed towards the table, mock whimpering, “Oh dear,
big bad Hoss is after me! Oh, save me, save me, my hero!” He reached the
laughing Candy and gracefully jumped into his arms. “Oh, my hero, save me,
save me, that brute is coming after me and is going to pound me good!”
“Doggone it, Joe, I cain’t walk when I’m laughing like that!” Hoss admonished
him grumpily, almost out of breath. “But one thing you can be sure of: I
AM gonna pound you good when I get you!”
***
Michael Cartwright looked out of the upstairs window, then at his sleeping brother, then at the door. Decision made,
he tiptoed out into the corridor and to the stairs. When he reached the landing,
his father’s deep voice stopped him in his tracks.
“Are you here to tell me that your brother’s awake?”
The almost-eight-year-old shook his head solemnly and took a couple more
steps down. “Uncle Adam still isn’t back,” he said with soft concern, blue
eyes blinking worriedly under the thick thatch of golden blond hair.
Candy and Joe exchanged glances and rose simultaneously. “Don’t worry, Mike,
we’ll find those two.” Joe smiled at the child. “I’m sure they’re fine, maybe
we’ll even meet them on the way, if they were waiting out the rain somewhere.”
The golden-haired head bobbed once and Mike turned and ran back up the stairs
to sit with his little brother. Candy fumbled with his gunbelt, mumbling
something about silly kids he wanted to thrash for staying out in foul weather,
then put his hat on and waited impatiently for Joe. “Well?”
“I’m coming,” Joe rolled his eyes and winked at Hoss. “Save some stew for
Adam, will ya?”
“I’m not eating,” stated Hoss with an offended, yet dignified expression.
“You never know when a certain
Hoss Cartwright gets hungry and eats your share of dinner for a snack,” declared
Joe philosophically and quickly left, as Hoss was rising slowly from his
chair. Candy grinned, tipped his hat and left equally quickly.
“Now, now, dear,” he could just hear Barbara’s voice. “Don’t get upset over
those silly antics of Joe. SIT DOWN, HOSS CARTWRIGHT, OR ELSE.”
For such a little thing, she had a lot of a voice, concluded Candy, catching
up with Joe. The other man was strangely quiet.
“You’re worried?” asked Candy frankly.
Joe wordlessly went into the barn, entered Cochise’s stall, saddled the horse,
checked the cinch, leaned against the saddle, sighed and eventually admitted,
“Yeah. Maybe it’s silly – maybe I’ve caught it from Pa,” he joked half-heartedly, “but I’m kinda worried about them.
Maybe after what Hoss said – that Adam isn’t well...”
“Yeah,” agreed Candy, mounting. “Come on, there’s just one way to find out
what those two were up to while we were worrying our heads off.”
Joe nodded, and soon they were trotting down the road, looking carefully
right and left. The rain had refreshed the air and it would have been a most
agreeable and leisurely trip,
had it not been for their aim. The longer the road in front of them remained
empty, the more concerned they became – and the more they tried to hide it.
Candy tried to whistle a melody and Joe started humming something, they exchanged
glances – and both fell guiltily silent.
“They should have noticed by now that the rain had stopped,” mumbled Joe
eventually. Candy shrugged his shoulders.
“Maybe they’ve decided to finish the fencing then?”
Joe looked at him strangely, then scratched his neck thoughtfully. “Well,
if they are, and we’ve worried unnecessarily, then I don’t know about Griff,
but Adam will get the thrashing
of his life for worrying us like that.”
“Weeell,” drawled Candy, “I don’t
know about Adam, but Griff certainly will.”
Satisfied with their decision and happier to believe in such a simple explanation,
they clicked their horses into a quicker pace.
“What’s that up ahead?” asked Candy leisurely. Joe strained his eyes for
a moment and answered, “Horses.”
Something in Joe’s voice made Candy sit up straight and urge the horse into
a gallop at the same time as his companion did. Soon they reached a clump
of bushes, where two sorry-looking wet equine beasts munched meekly at the
grass, while still hitched to the front part of the wagon pole, which had
obviously broken off its destined location and had gotten tangled in the
shrubbery together with the harness. One of the horses sported a long, bloody
line across its rump.
“Griff took the wagon,” Candy
answered Joe’s question not waiting for it to materialise vocally. “Let’s
go.”
They didn’t ride long before they spotted the overturned wagon. The horses,
sensing their masters’ reluctance, slowed down until they came to a full
stop a few steps away from the wooden carcass. It had only three wheels,
the fourth having obviously decided to take a lonesome excursion into the
forest nearby; the side was busted.
Joe and Candy gazed transfixed at the wagon and the tree limb on the road
as though they expected the two to come alive and turn into monsters, as
it appeared to the observers.
“You two waiting for a written invitation or what!” called a deep, disgruntled
voice, accompanied by a small cackle which turned into a cough. That startled
the rescue party into action. Griff grinned at them – he had been the one
to cackle at Adam’s comment – while Adam still wore a disgruntled expression.
It seemed for a moment that he’d welcome them with another sarcastic comment,
but instead he simply said, “Griff got shot.”
Joe and Candy winced simultaneously, both at the news and the soaked prison
jacket covering the soaked pair under the soaked tree.
“Easy,” Adam uncovered Griff’s shoulder, to which he had been applying steady
pressure. “Could you bandage it with something? Wash it first,” he suggested
grimly. “I haven’t had anything but rainwater to wash it with. Give him a
blanket, he’s soaked through, we don’t want him to catch pneumonia.” Catching
Griff’s soft snort, he frowned, “What’s wrong?”
“I just remembered,” panted Griff, a wave of pain washing over him as Candy
probed the wound gently, “that you’ve said something about tending to be
bossy.”
A black eyebrow rose into a fine little arch. “I also told you I’m always
right, so it just proves me right – again.”
Joe couldn’t help a snort of his own. “Now I’m sure good old big brother
Adam is home. What happened to your clothes?”
Griff stiffened in Candy’s arms, which were wrapping him in a blanket, and
turned an accusing glare at Adam. “BROTHER?! You’re... you’re another Cartwright?”
The black eyebrow arched neatly again. “And is that important? In fact, yes,
I am, I thought you might have
guessed by now – or maybe I’m not as similar to Pa as I’ve been told,” he
wondered briefly, then shivered and cast a longing look at Joe’s horse. To
his disappointment, he could see no blanket there.
“Sorry, I guess I didn’t think to take a blanket,” apologised Joe meekly,
feeling like a reckless youth again. He pulled off his jacket and put it
around Adam’s naked shoulders. “Just don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?” enquired Adam matter-of-factly, huddling into the warm fabric.
“Like I was twelve and did something thoughtless, okay?” Joe rolled his eyes.
“How was I supposed to know!”
“Don’t – shout,” Adam advised him gently yet pointedly, putting a hand to
his now aching head. “Griff tells me I’ve hit my head, so watch the volume,
lil’ brother, will ya.”
“What happened?” demanded Joe, though at a considerably lower volume now.
Candy stopped washing Griff’s wound and listened with interest, while absently
reaching for his handkerchief to bind the injury.
“Seems like some two gentlemen decided to exchange clothes with us,” Adam
rested his head wearily against the tree trunk. “They didn’t think it necessary
to ask, however, just spooked the horses and put something on the road...
I think I was thrown thrown from
the wagon as it crashed into the obstacle. Woke up naked – found their things;
they’ve left only one jacket, though,” he added with a certain amount of
regret. “That would be it, as far as my memories are concerned.”
“Alright, let’s get moving,” decided Joe. “Candy, you take Griff. Adam –
do you think you can ride?”
“Do you think you can conjure up a horse with some hocus-pocus?” Adam smiled
at him neatly. “Otherwise I don’t see a point in asking, ‘cause my own horse
has vanished into thin air. Maybe they’ve taken it, as well.”
“The horses from the wagon are grazing nearby,” explained Joe with exaggerated
patience. “They’ve gotten tangled in the bushes.”
“How nice of them,” Adam smiled tightly, letting Joe help him up. He swayed and fell against his brother, smiling a very tight smile. “Sorry. I may be able to ride – SLOWLY – but I’m afraid walking may be a bit of a challenge.”
“You hurt your legs?”
“M-m,”Adam shook his head carefully. “They’re a bit stiff – and the world isn’t exactly steady. Besides, I’m barefoot.”
Joe glanced down, then winced guiltily. “Yep. You think you’re gonna make
it to the horse?”
Adam breathed shakily and nodded. “Yeah, just help me over and go help...
Candy?” he risked.
The tall curly-headed man nodded at him. “Pleased to meet ya, Adam.” He supported
Griff, who had walked as far as the horse – which wasn’t far – and was clearly
at the end of his strength. Joe had to bodily lift him into the saddle and
Candy’s arms.
“He’d lost quite an amount of blood before I got to him,” said Adam apologetically
from the pinto’s side against which he was leaning.
“I’ll live,” mumbled Griff with dismay, his eyes closed. “Mother hens.”
Candy chuckled at that, then asked Joe, “You’ll manage with Adam?”
Joe turned at the snort from behind; Adam was shaking his head wearily. “‘Mother
hens’ indeed,” he commented dryly.
Candy adjusted the blanket around Griff, who seemed to be sleeping, and patiently
waited for Adam to mount one of the wagon horses.
“You sure you can ride bareback?” worried Joe, but Adam shot him a deadly
glare.
“Better than you, brother. Let’s get going, Griff needs a doc.”
Candy glanced down at his burden, who had mumbled something sleepily. “He
said: ‘Mother hens’,” he informed them happily. Adam rolled his eyes and
seated himself more comfortably on the horse’s back.
“You may want to ride for the doc,” he advised Joe. “I’ll manage from now
on. Candy will keep an eye on me.”
“I can’t hold Griff and catch you at the same time if you fall off,” warned
Candy, only to have Adam straighten and grate through his teeth, “I don’t fall off horses.”
“Well, with your head...” Candy started to add, but Joe shook his head.
“He’s got a Yankee-type granite head, Candy. Hard to bust open and even harder
to convince. He knows if he falls off, I’ll rub it in until the end of the
world.”
“Amen,” muttered Adam.
“You watch yourself, older brother,” added Joe softly. “Don’t go off riding
if you know you won’t make it.”
“I will,” the older man nodded slightly. “And you get back quickly with the
doc.”
His only answer was a nod and the sound of the hooves of a horse galloping
off.
***
“What the...?” Ben ran out of the house, seeing three horses walk into the
yard and stop. One was carrying a double burden of Candy and a huddled shape
wrapped in a blanket; another was mounted by a familiar dark-looking figure
leaning on the horse’s neck almost leisurely; the third horse was free of
any charge and just trudged quite meekly behind the first two.
“You might want to help Candy with Griff,” suggested Adam in a dispassionate,
polite voice. “Griff’s been shot,” he explained obligingly.
Ben helped Candy with Griff, and when the foreman was purposefully striding
towards the house, Ben put his shaking hand on Adam’s cold one. “Are you...
fine, son?”
Adam eyed him coolly and asked, “Are you asking ‘cause you’ve talked to Hoss
or for some other reason?”
Ben detected no animosity in the tone, however, and so proceeded to help
Adam down, answering lightly, “Both.”
Adam nodded, finding his balance once he was standing on the ground. “Good.
Hoss was supposed to fill you in. Joe went for the doc; Griff’s been shot
and I’ve been told I hit my
head.”
“You have, son,” confirmed Ben. “Should I carry you in? You’re not...”
Adam rolled his eyes with an exasperated sigh and interrupted, “I’ve put
some meat on my bones since the hospital, Pa, and besides I can let you carry
Craig, but not ME; don’t be ridiculous. Let’s just go inside, I’ll lie down,
the doc will come and everything will be happily ever after, alright?”
Inside, Adam cast a guilty grin at Hoss and looked around. “Griff?”
“In the guestroom.”
“Ah.” He sat down gingerly and reached out to the fire to warm his hands,
while Ben instructed Hop Sing about bandages, warm water and medicine. Then
he walked over to sit in front of Adam on the coffee table. “What happened?”
Adam sighed wearily, wondering how many times he was supposed to answer that
question, but hid his annoyance and explained, “Some escaped convicts, I
believe, had set up a trap. The wagon went over, we went flying, they took
our clothes, left theirs. Shot Griff somewhere on the way. After a while,
Joe showed up with Candy. That’s it.”
He winced as Ben started to wash the blood off his head, but then squinted
sideways at Hoss. “You fine?”
“As long as I’m home, I’m fine,” agreed Hoss solemnly. “You had a tremendous idea about coming home.”
“Out of strictly selfish motives, I assure you,” Adam smiled a wan smile;
it would have been a more happy one if Ben hadn’t pressed the fabric against
the cut just then. “It looks like I’m allowed home,” he squinted up at Ben.
“Question is, on what terms.”
He recognised the old familiar look of fury in his father’s eyes, which emotion
then faded to exasperation. “What terms,” mumbled Ben, still busying himself
with Adam’s head. “What terms, he asks me.”
“Well, I’m the prodigal son – easy there, Pa – and I know I haven’t written
and...” he sighed. Ben cupped his face with his free hand and said softly,
“You’ve been through much, son.”
The scene was interrupted by a thudding of little feet on the stairs, and
Mike launched himself in Adam’s arms. “Uncle Adam!!!”
“Easy there, Mike,” laughed Adam, falling backwards on the sofa from the
impact, and closing his arms around the bundle of joy. “I’m here, ain’t missing,
ain’t gone, alright?”
“I was worried,” said Mike accusingly from somewhere in Adam’s chest, hugging
his uncle tight.
“Sorry, buddy,” Adam apologised and tried to sit up. “Uh, Mike?” he asked
after a second. “Help me up, will you?”
“You can just as well remain on your back, young man,” thundered Ben.
Adam snorted. “Young man. Indeed.” He stayed down, though, and patiently
let Ben administer the liniment. When a delicate cool hand rested on his
cheek, he smiled up at Barbara. “Hey, Barb. How’s Griff?”
“As bad a patient as you, it would seem,” she answered with a smile of her
own. “I’ll tell Candy to help you upstairs to your room...”
“I’m not an invalid,” Adam sat up, immediately indignant, yet careful of
Mike clinging to his shoulder, and waved away Ben’s hand. “It’s alright,
Pa, you don’t have to bandage me up, that’s just a scratch.”
“But won’t you need a hand?” inquired Barbara gently, glancing stealthily
at the till now silent Jamie.
Adam rolled his eyes impatiently. “To quote Griff: Mother hens,” he stated
and got up, only to be assisted by the small golden-haired boy at one side
and the rather puny redhead on the other
“May I borrow one of your books, sir?” asked the shy voice. “I’ve never gone
into your room, but I’ve heard you have some fine books...”
Adam growled briefly at Barbara, knowing Jamie didn’t ask just because, then
winked surreptitiously at Hoss and leaned on Jamie just enough to convince
the young man he was being a great help. “I’m not named ‘sir’, Jamie, my
name’s Adam and that’s what I expect you to use, okay?”
“’Kay,” came the answer, together with a smile. “So may I borrow one of your
books, Adam?”
They reached the stairs and began the slow ascent. “Ah... you’d better read
it in my room, kid, I don’t like my books to leave it. I’ve been taught the
consequences the hard way, right, Hoss?” he asked over his shoulder, not
stopping.
“Dunno what you’re talking about,” his brother denied with a dignified air,
but his mouth twitched when Adam sighed theatrically, “Oh, fair Dolores,
how quickly does thy torrero forget...” Mike giggled, and Jamie blinked in
confusion. Adam squeezed the thin shoulder in a way which assured Jamie he’d
get the story once they were out of earshot.
Ben shook his head helplessly with silent laughter, then – when the door
to Adam’s room closed – he asked quietly, “Was that the truth, or is he just
trying to get to know his youngest brother?”
Hoss chewed on his cheek, more serious than Ben would want him to be. “A
bit of each, I’d say,” he said at last. “He doesn’t want to be alone, too.
Maybe it’s just a mood... maybe it’s the mood...” he shrugged his shoulders.
“I guess a bit of each, in any case.”
Ben started with the realisation of what ‘
the mood’ must have meant, but his attention was drawn somewhere else
as Candy left the guestroom. “Barbara, you’d better sit with him. I can’t
stand him as a patient,” the foreman laughed in his usual, open way. “I’ve
left Hop Sing with him, but he’s likely to threaten to go back to China
if Griff doesn’t stop that.” He looked around and asked, “Adam’s in bed?”
“Should be,” grumbled Hoss, but soon gave up the pretence of grumpiness.
“So, how do you like him?”
“Adam?” Candy scratched his neck thoughtfully. “I’m a frank guy, Hoss, and
you know it, so I’ll just shoot right away, though you may not like it,”
he warned. “He’s about the moodiest, grumpiest guy I’ve ever known. Beats
old McPherson by a mile.”
Hoss chuckled, and Barbara hid her smile behind her hand, hurrying to help
Hop Sing nurse the grumpy Griff. Candy shrugged his shoulders and looked
almost apologetic, then slightly rebellious.
“All I’ve heard from him was ‘Turn left’, ‘Watch it’, ‘Go straight ahead’,
‘We’ll take a short cut’ and such. He is one bossy son of a... gun,” he finished
lamely and cast a cautious glance at Ben. No fury in the dark eyes – uff;
he relaxed, whereas Hoss laughed out loud at his comments.
“That’s ol’ Adam alright,” he admitted joyfully. “You haven’t worked with
him yet, you don’t know half of it.”
Candy rolled his eyes in not-at-all-eager anticipation of that, eliciting
new guffaws from Hoss, who then added in a more serious, though not a solemn
tone, “That’s a guy you need to take time to get to know, that older brother
of mine. There’s only one sort of people who know him at the first glance,
and none of us here is that sort, sorry, pal.”
Candy frowned in confusion and not a small amount of interest. “What’s the
sort, Hoss?”
The big man smiled broadly with some inner satisfaction. “Small kids, Candy.
They can always see through that granite head of his and look deeper. And
they never err.”
Griff stretched lazily. He was tired and didn’t really want to dress fancy and go to Mr Cartwright as he’d been told. But it was about something
reeeeeeeeeeeal important, they told him, and so he resignedly changed into
his Sunday best and knocked at the front door.
“Well, Griff, we’ve been waiting for you,” Mr Cartwright smiled from the
doorway. “Come in; surely you know what day’s today?”
Griff blinked, grimaced in thought and meekly offered, “Thursday?”
A roar of laughter from behind Ben’s back greeted him heartily.
“Why, Griff, today you’re off parole!” exclaimed Candy, rushing to shake
the younger man’s hand vigorously. “You’re free as of today, pal!”
“That’s right,” Ben confirmed, chuckling at Griff’s confusion. The young
man did a quick calculation in his head, and was surprised to realise that
he had hadn’t even noticed the days go by, but it really was THE day! He
didn’t pursue the thought, however, for he had just been brought, accompanied
by cheers, in front of a huge cake with his name on it.
“You are a free man, Griff, and that’s a thing to celebrate,” said Mr Cartwright
in his warm, deep voice. Joe and then Jamie shook Griff’s hand vigorously,
Barbara hugged him and kissed his cheek with a lot of wishes of luck, Hoss
pumped his hand until it felt like it was going to fall off, Adam put his
arms around his shoulders and affectionately squeezed a bit, and even Mike
and Craig hurried over with a loud, “Congratulations!”
Griff took a deep breath and blinked to clear his vision. Goodness, those
people were strangers, not related to him, no kin at all, and yet... He didn’t
know what to say, and confessed it honestly.
“I... don’t know what to say.”
“Say: ‘Thank you’,” offered Adam brightly, then pushed Griff slightly towards
the cake. “You’d better start cutting it, son, there are some people here
mighty eager to try it!”
“It’s really for me?” asked Griff, still overwhelmed. A little shadow with
a long thin braid patted his shoulder friendly.
“You free man, you celebrate, Hop Sing make sweet cake for sweet freedom,”
declared the cook with a big grin.
“This is gotta be the best thing that ever happened to me in my whole life!”
Griff’s eyes were as round as saucers and as disbelieving as those of a child
who finds out that Santa does exist and bring heaps of presents despite what
the other kid in the kindergarten had always said. Candy felt strangely and
suddenly moved when he glimpsed the kid he had known in the bitter
man that child had become, and he smiled to cover it.
Griff didn’t feel bitter at all.
He could wallow for hours on end
in this friendly atmosphere where he was a human being and a peer, where
he got loads of wonderful cake, and a glass of brandy, and pats on the back,
and jokes, and teasing, and laughter... if it wasn’t for one thought. As
it were, the thought didn’t appear but after a couple of hours, yet sobered
Griff instantly.
“What’s wrong?” The ever-watchful eyes of Adam Cartwright were first to notice
Griff’s change of mood.
The young man shrugged his shoulders dejectedly, feeling all eyes rest on
him in sudden silence. They were so... Should he... How could he... He sighed
and said simply, “I’m not of legal age yet.”
Candy sucked in a breath through clenched teeth. “Your father.”
Griff nodded, then looked from under his hair at Ben. “I don’t think there
is a way to get a parole from him.”
Ben exchanged quick glances with Adam and asked carefully, “Griff, are you
asking us to help you?”
“Well,” Griff faltered for a bit, then offered almost shyly, “Is there something
you could think of... so that I get free of him, as well?”
Beside him, Adam pushed out his cheek with his tongue, thoughtfully assessing
the young man, before he spoke.
“Griff, I wanted to give you a present... later... but I don’t think it should
wait, actually.” He stood up, pulled out a paper from his pocket and spoke
almost gravely, “I know you hate people deciding on your fate without your
knowledge, but it might just be that this time you’ll see it differently
– at least I hope so.” He handed the paper to Griff and ordered briefly,
“Read.”
Griff had stood up with Adam, but as he read the paper, he faintly slipped
back into the armchair, his face changing rapidly.
“Griff King, as of now I declare you free,” said Adam Cartwright strongly
over his head, although those who knew him well, detected a touch of wistfulness in his voice. “I came to know you as a mature, intelligent man, and
I trust you to make good decisions regarding your life. I’m not here to order
you around,” and a ghost of smile touched Adam’s lips there, “I’m here for
you if you need help. The only thing I expect of you is to be a good, honest
man.”
Griff blinked as though to clear his vision and smoothed out the paper with
a shaking hand. “You... had to talk about it... with my legal father... right?”
“I am your legal father now,” Adam
gazed into the fire, his voice deceptively calm. “If you mean your former
one, yes, I’ve talked to him. Let’s just say I’m persuasive.”
“Why.”
“Why did I do that?” Adam repeated the question in its full form to assure
himself what Griff had meant. Griff nodded briefly, mutely. “I’ve heard of your problems with him and it seemed like a good solution...
and it’s nice to think that I still have a son. I know,” he raised his palm
to forestall Griff’s words. “I know you’re not my son, you’ve told me often
enough,” he smiled softly, “but humour the old man, will you?”
At first it seemed that Griff was ready to burst with something akin to anger,
but then he began chuckling softly. “Methuselah, huh?” he asked, nodding
to himself. Adam smiled in return, though still uncertain whether his gift
had really been a good idea.
“What am I supposed to do now?” asked the younger man almost helplessly,
eventually collecting himself. Adam shrugged and exchanged looks with everyone
else in the room.
“Whatever you want,” he said. “You’re free to do anything.”
Griff almost inhaled those words in exhilaration. “Anything? Like...
anything?”
“Anything. Anything you’d like.”
The violent beating of hooves carried the exhilarated “Yaaaaaaaaaa-hoooooooooo!”
far into the echo, eliciting smiles on all the faces of the people gathered
on the porch of the Ponderosa house, although some of those faces were moist.
Griff King was tasting freedom as fully as he had never before.
Epilogue
The supper had passed silently; the day had been busy and tiresome. They
were comfortably seated in front of the fireplace, when the sound of hooves
announced a visitor. The Cartwrights exchanged puzzled glances, not expecting
anyone at that time of day, especially with a storm building up.
“Griff!” The Cartwrights got up to heartily greet the young man, who had
showed up so unexpectedly. Griff smiled more widely and pulled a smaller
shadow in, which kept hiding behind his trouser leg.
“Business first,” Griff’s smile wavered a little, as he sought out the eldest
Cartwright brother. “Adam, I think you should know that we asked a detective
to search for Steven – me, Hoss, Joe and Jamie. We wanted to make sure he’d
been looked for properly. I got word from him.”
Adam’s hand carefully sought out the sofa’s back, the eyes not looking away
from Griff for a split second.
“He’d woken and slipped out of the window to see his horse,” said the younger
man in a pleasant, conversational tone one used to talk about weather, and
he made a slight pull with his busy hand to reveal his shadow companion.
A solemn child with dark hair, dark eyes, in dark clothing, looked up at
the people in front of him with almost fearful eyes. Adam sank limply to
his knees. “Steve...”
The child blinked nervously and stammered, “I thought you were- gone, Daddy...
I’m so sorry...”
Adam opened his arms with a heart-rending smile and the child raced into
the haven. The father held him tight, both assuring themselves that the other
one was real. Everyone either looked at them or stared hard out of
the window, but all were blinking in that strange, special way as when
the eyes and hearts are cleansing.
Adam heaved a big sigh, holding on to his sobbing son for dear life, raised his eyes to meet Griff’s and freed and extended one arm to him. “Griff, come here, son...”