By
Debbie B
Joe
opened his eyes. His head throbbed. He blinked several times trying to bring the
ceiling into focus. Joe tried to raise
his arm to rub at the soreness in the back of his head but his arm refused to
obey his silent commands. When his head
refused to turn so that he could look at his arm, fear began seeping into every
pore of his body. Suddenly he shivered,
he was cold, though he was sure that the sun was still shining, his room seemed
to have taken on a chill and Joe wondered if it was his fear that had caused
him to shiver instead. He tried moving
his other arm, but it too refused. Joe’s
fear was growing fast, and he heard himself scream.
“PA!
PA!”
Joe
struggled mentally to command all parts of his body to move but nothing seemed
to be working. He tried cutting his eyes
to look at his arms, which were stretched over his head and then downward at
his legs, which were spread apart as far as they could go. His heart thumped wildly, he had been
stripped of his clothes!
“Dear
God,” Joe cried aloud. “What’s happening
to me!” he screamed, fear ripping away every ounce of courage that he had.
Joe
felt the tears as they slipped slowly down the sides of his face. He wondered why he could feel their dampness,
yet could not move a muscle in his body.
How had he hit his head? Who had
carried him upstairs and placed him on his own bed? When had this happened? And more so, who had removed his clothing and
left him naked and so vulnerable?
Joe
lay for several minutes, dragging in large gulps of air to fill his lungs and
to steady his breathing. Pa, Adam and
Hoss had left early that morning for the spring-round up. Hop Sing had gone along to cook for the men,
as usual. Joe had not been allowed to go
this time for he had been sick for days and his father had refused to allow him
to accompany them. He had only been out
of bed a few days when it was time for Ben and his brothers to leave, therefore
Ben had been adamant that Joe stay at home and rest. At first Joe had been disappointed but after
giving it some thought, decided that staying home would be a nice change.
He
had gone to the barn to care for the animals; that was the last thing that he
could remember. How he had came to be
naked on his bed, why his head throbbed as it did, and why he could not move
his body was still a mystery to him.
Suddenly
the door opened. A faint aroma filtered
through the air. Joe tried to turn his
head to see who had entered his room, but the person stayed just outside of his
line of vision. Joe sniffed the air; he
could not recall where he had smelled the scent before. He shut his eyes tightly as fear tightened
its fingers around the walls of his heart.
Suddenly his senses told his mind where he had smelled the offending
odor. His eyes popped opened as terror
washed over his nude body, and Joe began trembling uncontrollably.
“NO!”
he screamed. “You’re supposed to be
DEAD!”
What
followed that discovery, became a living nightmare for the twenty-one year old
Joe Cartwright. His pain, his suffering,
his abuse lies beyond words, for no interpretation could possibly describe the
horror that shook the walls of the once serene home of Ben Cartwright.
Joe’s
body was filled with more pain than he had ever imagined possible. Joe’s mouth ached from having been forced so
widely opened for such a long period of time.
His lower body was raw from all the misuse that these giant men, who
were subjects of Lin Wong’s and obeyed his every command, had done.
Joe
felt his body and the will to live dying slowly and painfully. His body was bleeding, both inside and out
and common sense told the boy that he wasn’t long for this world.
He
was totally unaware when two days later the four men had gone. His eyes had fixed themselves on the ceiling
and had remained thus for several hours.
His skin was sticky from hours of constant sweating and beneath the
thick layer of glistening beads Joe’s flesh was on fire with fever. His hands were knotted in tight balls where he
had formed fists early on and had never released his fingers. His chest heaved with the effort that it took
to breathe, and from his nose, blood and mucus mixed and dripped from his
face. His lips had been torn opened, the
corners of his mouth were split as well and both sides had bled. The blood had dried and caked on the sides of
the boy’s face leaving areas of crusty yuck on his once handsome features.
The
boy made no sound as Wong stood over his dying treasure and gazed into the
dulled and sightless eyes. The spark had
at last been extinguished; the twinkle had faded, the will broken.
Wong
sat on the edge of the bed and tenderly fingered the damp curls for the last
time. He felt a sudden rush of sadness
for the dying boy. The Little One had
fought long and hard, practically half a lifetime, and still, Wong had known
from that very first day, in a remote wilderness schoolhouse, that the life of
this golden child of his desires would one day belong to him to control and do
with as he pleased.
Wong
leaned down, kissed the boy’s brow and then rose slowly to his feet. “It is almost finished Little One. I have but one thing left that you must do,”
whispered Wong.
With
that, Wong withdrew from Ben’s night-stand a sliver plated handgun. Wong stood over Joe and pointed the pistol at
the boy. Slowly the hazel eyes seemed to
focus and follow his tormentor’s movements.
Wong
lowered the gun, laughing softly and then checked the chamber, shook part of
the bullets into his hand and then spun the cylinder around.
He
pried apart the fingers of Joe’s left hand and placed the pistol into Joe’s
palm. Slowly, he moved both hand and gun
until the barrel rested on the inside of Joe’s mouth. Wong smiled.
When the boy pulled the trigger and the gun went off…no one could accuse
him of having murdered the boy. His
hands would be washed clean. All anyone
would ever know was that the four dead men downstairs had raped the boy, and
the boy, first having killed them, had hidden in his father’s room. Fear and total disgrace for what he had
committed had overwhelmed the boy so much that he had taken his own life.
“Pull
the trigger Little One, and end your misery now. It is finished.”
The
trigger clicked, one time, then two and nothing happened. Wong’s eyes turned dark with anger, he had
removed only part of the bullets, why had the gun not fired?
He
held out his hand to the boy. “Give it
to me!” he ordered.
Joe
slowly removed the pistol barrel from his mouth and turned the gun around and
pointed it at Lin Wong.
“I
said give it to me!” Wong shouted.
He
made a grab for the gun, but Joe’s twisted finger pulled back on the trigger
and three times the gun fired, leaving in their wakes, three large holes in the
middle of Wong’s chest. The Chinaman’s
body slammed against the wall behind him.
The force of the bullets held the bloody body for several seconds
against the wall before allowing it to crumble to the floor in a heap. The blood had smeared along the wall, the
Chinaman’s guts had splattered about the surface behind him and dripped slowly
to the floor.
It
was finished, after years of torment the golden child of Lin Wong’s desire had
been the victor after all. But there was
no glory in Joe’s victory, only shame, sorrow, disgrace, abomination and
self-hatred. Joe turned the gun around
and placed the barrel back into his mouth.
His tearless eyes closed as his finger pinched the trigger. It was time to end it all; it was time to
die.
“JOSEPH!
NO!”
“Ya
reckon, he’ll ever get over this?” Hoss asked sadly as he and his father stood
at the doorway of Joe’s padded room and watched from the window.
“No,
I reckon not, son. Joe’s alive, that’s
about all,” Ben said sadly. “He’s just
the same as dead, to us, to himself, to anyone.”
Ben
wiped the tears from his dark eyes. It
had been two years since finding the carnage that had been strewn throughout
his house that fateful day he returned home.
He had been terrified of what he had found when he had opened the front
door and nearly tripped over the four half-nude men, the blood that had ruined
the carpets and the furniture, even the woodwork and the walls had been
stained.
Ben’s
first thoughts had been of his youngest son and the horror that the boy surely
had suffered. When the three shots had
rang out from his upstairs bedroom, he had had no idea what he might have found
when he had rushed to his room.
The
sight of Joseph holding the pistol in his mouth, the dead Chinaman, the blood
splatter walls and furniture…it all still haunted his dreams.
It
was only by the grace of God that the pistol had already been emptied when Joe
had pulled the trigger. Ben’s heart had
stopped beating, the bile had risen in to his mouth, and when he saw first hand
what had been done to his baby, Ben had been sick, had vomited all about the
room, adding to the chaos, and the stench of death and destruction.
It
had taken the help of many of their closest friends who had loved Little Joe,
as his family had to get the boy the medical help he had needed. Many surgeries and hundreds of hours of care
had repaired the broken and abused body to near normal with very little
problems. The body had healed in time,
but the mind…that was another story.
Ben
watched as Joe sat in the middle of the bed with his legs folded in Indian
fashion while he rocked back and forth.
The boy clung to his favorite childhood toy, Scruffy. The ragged old stuffed dog had been a
Christmas gift from his brother Adam, many years ago. That had been another time, a happier time
for the family, so unlike this day.
The
pressure of his oldest son’s hand pressing into his shoulder interrupted Ben’s
thoughts. “It’s time to go, Pa,” Adam
said softly.
He followed
his father’s gaze and looked through the window. Joe was smiling at them from the opposite
side and waving his hand in the air. His
lips moved, but no words came forth. But
each one of them, Adam, Hoss and his father, knew what Joe had mouthed.
“Bye-bye!” It was the only thing that he could say,
speechless as he was.
Adam
felt the tremors that caused his father’s shoulders to begin trembling. It was like this, each and every time that
they visited the boy. Ben would break
down and it would take days for him to come to terms once more that Little Joe,
as he had been before, would in all probability, never be again. For them, Little Joe was just that, Little
Joe, third and most enduring son of Ben Cartwright.
“Pa?”
“I’m
coming Adam. You and Hoss go on…I’ll be
along in a minute. I just want to say
good-bye to him, one more time.
“Pa…you
know what the doctors said. Joe needs a safe and secure environment, he needs
watching constantly and he needs special care.
Those are things that we can’t give him, things that he can only get
here, in the hospital.”
“I
know that son, but what about love, and compassion. What about being at home…where…”
“Where
he can relive his nightmare, daily? Come
on, Pa…even you wouldn’t want that for Joe.
Look at him, he’s happy here, and he feels safe and he’s…”
“All
alone, Adam. He has no one to tell him
that he’s loved, or no one to hold him, no one to…play with him. He’s like a little boy, all over again. And I want…I need to do those things for
him…before it’s too late!”
The
tears had formed in his dark eyes once more and as he wept, Adam and Hoss could
only watch. There were no words to
comfort their father for what he had lost and for what he had been denied in
having his youngest son at home with them.
And there were no words to make Joe into the man he had once been, no
medicine that could wipe from his mind the horror that he had suffered. He had locked himself away behind a wall so
thick and so high that no one could reach him.
Little Joe had left them, he had gone on a journey, a one way journey
and he’d likely never return. The only
consolation that his family had was that he was alive, physically, and that
periodically they could come by and visit the man-child and watch him at his
childlike antics for as long as they wished.
“Pa,
we’re going to miss our train,” Adam said.
“Alright
son, I’m ready.” Ben smiled suddenly and
waved his hand at the boy on the opposite side of the window who was smiling
and waving back at him.
Ben
blew a kiss and turned from the window.
He vowed to return. He would find
a way to have his son with him, even if it meant selling the Ponderosa and
moving to
A
year later, Ben would realize his dream.
“ADAM,
HOSS! GET IN HERE, QUICKLY!” shouted Ben
from the front door of his massive log home.
He
scanned the letter once more, his mind not fully comprehending the words neatly
written on the fine stationary. His face
was aglow by the time that Hoss and Adam reached their father, who by this
time, had stepped out onto the boarded porch.
“What’s
wrong, Pa?” declared Adam as he gasped for breath.
“Is
the house on fire?” Hoss said huffing.
Both
young men had come from different sections of the yard where they had both been
working. Adam took a deep breath and
watched the mixed emotions that played across his father’s face. He glanced quickly at Hoss to see whether or
not his brother had noticed the strange glow in Ben’s dark eyes. Adam noticed the sudden accumulation of tears
that sprung unannounced into the depths of the chocolate eyes that looked at
him so oddly.
“No,
silly…the house is not on fire,” laughed Ben, making a sniffing sound with his
nose.
“Read
this,” he smiled as he handed the letter to his oldest son.
Adam
took the paper from his father’s hand, realizing for the first time how the
work callused hand trembled. He eyed his
father carefully.
“Are
you all right, Pa?” he asked before continuing with the letter.
“I
am now,” he laughed lightly and then brushed away the dampness that shone on
his face. “Go ahead, read it.” Ben pointed to the paper.
Adam
cleared his throat and began reading aloud.
Dear Mr. Cartwright,
It is with great pleasure that I write this
letter to you. I know that this particular
letter is one that you have been waiting a very long time to receive. It brings great joy to my heart to inform you
that we here at Boston Clinic have deemed Joseph well enough at last to return
home.
After giving great thought to and considering
the progress that your son has made since your last visit, a panel of
physicians, both medical and psychological, have determined that Joseph has
reached a point where he no longer benefits from the care that we provide here
at the institution.
What I am trying to say, Sir is that we feel
that Joseph has progressed as far as his limited ability will permit, Joseph
has reached his potential. We feel it
would be in your son’s best interest now to return to you and be reunited with
his family and loved ones.
There are certain factors that I feel I must
advise you on should you and your family decides to reacquaint Joseph with his
family. I will be blunt…the house that
you call home, we feel, must not be the house in which you bring Joseph home
to.
It is
my opinion, and I do believe, that just to have your son enter that house where
he has suffered such horrible abuse would set your son back to where he was
nearly two years ago when Joseph first arrived.
The memories that might surface in regard to the boy’s assault could
evoke adverse affects on an already unsteady and unhealthy mind.
My suggestion would be to consider relocating
to a different area of your ranch, rebuilding, or give consideration to move
here, to
Give it some thought, do what you think best
for your son and then let me know what you have decided. Should this be more than you feel you are
capable of handling, there are several good homes in the
I know you have always stated that someday,
God willing you would find a way to have your son home with you. Mr. Cartwright, I believe that now is that
time. He most likely will never be the
man that you remembered from by gone years, but you will have your little boy
again.
I await your reply.
Your humble servant,
Dr. Stephen Harman
There
was silence on the porch of the Cartwright home. No man uttered a word, for each man seemed
lost to the emotions that thickened their throats and the water that filled
their eyes, clouding their vision.
Hoss
made a sniffling sound. Adam coughed to
clear his throat. Ben dabbed at his
eyes, and then laughed lightly, breaking the tension.
“Well
boys, what you think? Do we bring Joseph
home?” Ben said softly.
“Course
we do…ain’t this what we been awaitin’ for, all these years?” stammered
Hoss.
He
held no doubts in his mind; he’d been willing to bring his baby brother home
three years ago, had they let him. No
matter to him that his little brother’s mind was now that of a small
child. Or that without a miracle always
would be, but Little Joe was still his brother, still a part of this family and
in Hoss’ way of thinking, this was where the boy belonged, at home on the
Ponderosa.
“Yes,”
Ben muttered softly.
“The
doctor says he should not be in this house…what about that?” Adam, always the
one to think everything through to the end and then make a decision, considered
an alternative. “We could sell out; go
back to
Ben
studied both faces and then smiled as he placed a hand on each shoulder. “Let’s go inside, I think we have a lot to
talk about before we make a final decision.”
An
hour later, father and sons were still trying to come up with a way that would
allow them to bring the youngest family member back home.
“Well,
there’s no doubt in my mind, Hoss, it’s clear that you don’t want to sell the
ranch, let alone move all the way to Boston,” Ben said as he sipped his brandy.
Hoss
gulped and scrunched up his face.
“Nosir, I ain’t no city boy, that’s fur sure. And I sure ‘nough don’t wanna sell this
place.” Hoss stood to his feet and moved
slowly across the room, his large beefy hands stuffed into the pockets of his
trousers. Suddenly he stopped in front
of the fireplace and turned, facing his father.
“Pa,
ya know I’d do anythin’ for Little Joe…anythin’.” He swallowed, his eyes filled with
tears. “But, somehow…I just don’t think
sellin’ out is what Joe would want us to do…if’n he were thinkin’ right.”
Hoss
plopped down on the massive stone hearth.
“There’s gotta be another way.”
There
was another lull in the conversation as the three sat, deep in thought. Adam was the first to break the silence.
“I
wouldn’t mind
“I
started to say himself…but that’s not to be, is it? At least the way we knew him, before…before…”
Adam’s
long sigh could be heard across the room where Ben sat in his brown leather
chair. He watched his eldest son, recognizing the inner turmoil that Adam was
suffering. His eldest son had been so
overwhelmed with guilt, once he had returned home to find his younger brother’s
life in ruins. Adam, steadfast and
strong, had crumbled to his knees when he had seen the damage done to his
brother’s body. The blood, the bruises,
the broken flesh, Joe’s face blackened by the beatings, his broken body that
had been abused and injected with a paralyzing and sexual enhancing drug repeatedly
by Lin Wong and his evil cohorts, had almost driven the ever protecting Adam
over the edge. The vow he had made years
before to Joe’s mother that he would always look after and protect her son from
life’s adversaries, broken, and shattered, just like her son. The enormity of it all had nearly destroyed,
not only Joe’s life, but also Adam’s as well.
“I
think I know what you were trying to say, son.
Your brother belongs at home…here, this ranch is his home, and this is
where Joseph needs to be. He needs to be
here in the wide opened spaces, the endless prairies, the mountain tops, to
feel free, to ride, to fish, to…to…live in peace?” Ben’s voice faltered.
“Peace,
security, comfort, to live unafraid…but how, in this house?” Adam stood to his feet. His face was a mixture of troubling emotions
as he walked to the foot of the steps and then back, where he stood facing both
his father and brother.
“I
say burn it!”
“Burn
it? Burn what, son?” Ben said anxiously
as he got up and moved around the table in the middle of the great room.
“This
house…I say, bu…”
“Burn
the house?” shouted Hoss as he jumped to his feet. His sky blue eyes were wide and he glanced
nervously at his father. “What in blazes
is he talkin’ about?”
“I’m
not sure,” commented Ben as he turned his attention back to Adam. “Son, what do you mean by ‘burn this house’?”
“Don’t
you get it Pa? The doctor said that Joe
shouldn’t be in this house because it could cause a relapse. So, since we’ve all basically said that none
of us want to actually live out our lives in
Adam
began pacing the floor once more. “I
know Pa…” he said in a quiet calm voice filled with compassion, “that this
house has a million good memories for you and for Hoss and I. But that’s all they are, memories, and with
or without these four walls, we will still have our memories. They’re up here and in here.” Adam tapped his head with the tip of one
finger and then moved to his heart.
Ben
ran his hand over his face and then glanced first at Hoss and then up at
Adam. “What do you suggest, then?”
“We
take only what we really want to keep, our treasures, pictures, clothing, whatever
furniture you want to keep. You’ve
already destroyed your red chair and your bed and replaced them with new
ones. Why not replace the things that
are still in this house that could cause Joe to relapse…why not replace…this
house?”
Adam
turned back to his chair and sat down.
He smiled slightly at his father, “I never did think this blue velvet
chair matched all this red leather and red satin.”
Ben
snickered and nodded his head. “It
wasn’t my idea, it was…Marie’s…” stammered Ben.
“She took a liking to that chair one day when we were in
When
he glanced up, there were tears in his eyes.
“I think I’d like to keep it…if you wouldn’t mind?” he said softly.
Adam
shook his head and grinned. “I wouldn’t
mind,
“So,
does that mean we’re gonna burn her down?” Hoss said. He was still a bit confused at what his
brother was suggesting. “Where are we
gonna live if’n we do?”
“The
barn…at least for a while,” Adam suggested.
“WHAT!”
yelled Hoss.
“We’ll
build another house. We have the lumber,
the manpower, all we need is a design,” Adam laughed lightly. “And you know I can take care of that.”
“Your
brother’s absolutely correct, Hoss. Joe
has no memory of…any of this,” Ben opened wide his arms and swept them through
the air. “So he’s not losing a
thing. His memories start the day he
walks through the door…of our new home!”
Ben smiled. “I’m getting too old
to climb those stairs anyway,” he laughed and turned to Adam. The excitement of it all began building in
momentum as he smiled at Adam. “You
design whatever you fancy, son, just make my bedroom on the ground floor!”
Hoss
and Adam joined in on the light laughter.
“How about if I put Little Joe’s room right next to yours? That way, when he needs you, you’ll be close
by…Hoss and I can take the upstairs and I’ll put a couple extra rooms up there,
for guests?”
“And
you make Hop Sing bigger kitchen…need more room for me too!” muttered Hop Sing
as he carried in large slices of fresh baked apple pie and sat it down on the
table.
He
turned to his family, wiping away at the tears that had suddenly filled his
dark, almond shaped eyes.
“It
be good, to have little boy child back with family. House no matter, only wood and glass…little
boy matter, him made of heart and soul…much in need of love and many hugs. Hop Sing will help care for man-child same as
when little boy always under Hop Sing feet.”
Hop Sing smiled broadly and then bowed.
“Hop
Sing much love number three son, same if were own son…no matter that thoughts
locked behind wall in head. Family break
through wall, but first, must reach into heart…that where life begin…in
heart…not head!”
Another
bow to the family he claimed as his, and Hop Sing disappeared into his
kitchen. Ben stood to slip an arm around
each of his sons and drew them close.
“In
the morning, we’ll decide what stays and what goes. Choose carefully, keep only what means the
most to each of you. There was no
evidence that Joe’s attacker came anywhere near your rooms, so your furniture
will most likely be spared. As for Joe’s
room, and especially mine, everything but personal items, whatnots and clothing
will have to go. If he should ever start
to remember, I don’t want anything around to cause him an ounce of pain or
suffering, understood?”
“Yessir.”
“Absolutely.”
It
was agreed among them, they’d save only those items and pieces of furniture
that meant the most to them, and anything that might cause a reoccurrence of
anything unpleasant for their loved one, would be put to the torch.
Ben
shuffled through all of his papers, making stacks to be boxed and labeled and
then stored in the root cellar. His clothes,
photographs and keepsakes were removed and the breakables wrapped carefully in
newspaper and packed into wooden barrels along with items from Adam and Hoss’
rooms as well.
Going
through Joe’s room was the hardest for Ben.
He stood in the center of the room and glanced around. His heart beat wildly at the rush of memories
that came tumbling down upon him. In his
mind’s eye he saw first the tiny crib where Joe had slept as an infant and then
the little bed that Joe had dubbed his ‘big boy’ bed. Ben felt the sting of tears as his eyes
stared at the small table that still stood in the corner next to where the bed
had once filled the major part of the room.
The cameo portrait of Marie still lay face up on the crochet doily that
she had made, many years ago. The bed,
where Joe had slept, as a young boy and then as a young adult where he had been
savagely abused, was gone now.
Ben
closed his eyes; flashes of blood mixed with semen forced his eyes tighter
shut. He muffled the groan that
threatened to surface. Images of chains,
where Joe had been held against his will, the dirtied linens, the smell of
death…it was all there, years after actually having taken place and suddenly
Ben felt no remorse for the decision that he had made. The house would be burned to the ground. It stood no longer as a tribute to his
accomplishments, it was no longer his castle, no longer his home where he could
rest his weary spirit, but more a prison than a place of sanctity and peace.
Ben
ran his hand through his silver hair.
Why had he not realized that before now?
What had kept him from saying to himself, that nothing mattered…nothing
that is, except his sons? He had
subconsciously, without being aware, grown to hate this house, for all the
heartache, the chagrin, the mental-anguish and the sorrow and despair that had
taken place in the rooms upstairs. Had
that been the reasons he had thrown out his own bed, because in it, Joe had
been made to suffer such indignities and humiliation? His favorite leather chair, where Lin Wong
had sat and watched and possibly had even cheered on Joe’s rapists, had long
since been tossed out as well. The
walls, where Wong’s blood and guts smeared and ran, had all been washed clean,
along with the carpets, but still, Ben had never been able to allow himself to
spend one night in the room. He had
instead, had his personal things moved to another room, further down the hall,
for his room had been desecrated. And
the price had been his son’s adulterated body and spirit, the shattering of a
young life and the end of what might have been.
By
the end of the first week, everything that the Cartwrights held sacred had been
removed from the house. Adam and Hoss
went from room to room with kerosene cans dousing everything with the flammable
liquid.
Outside,
a gathering of ranch hands and friends, including Roy Coffee, Paul Martin, the
Devlins and several more stood with Ben, waiting for Hoss and Adam to emerge
from the house. They were silent,
respectful; their hearts heavy with compassion for they were all aware of what
the Cartwrights were willing to sacrifice for the boy whom they all loved.
“Today,”
said Ben when Adam and Hoss had joined them, “is the beginning of a new life,
not just for Adam, Hoss and myself, but for Joseph, who will be coming home
soon.”
Ben
turned to face his friends. “We thank
you for your love and your support.
Without your silent strength, your willingness to help, and your gentle
compassion, we could not have gotten to this point. It is with a humble heart that today, we end
a dream…my dream, made many long years ago.
In a way, it’s sad, but I know that this is something I have to do …for
my son. Today, I have a new dream…and that
is, to bring my son home and with God’s help, the help of my family and our
friends, I have hopes that one day, my son Joseph, will be the man that God had
once destined him to become.”
Ben
lowered the torch that he held in his hand and allowed Adam to put a match to
the oil soaked cloth that was bound around one end. Slowly, Ben stepped up to his home of which
he had been so proud, and gazed with tear filled eyes at what had once been his
castle. For several long moments he
stood, speechless and then gradually lowered his arm, setting the blaze that
would bring to the ground, the house that he had for many years, called home.
Behind
him, Adam and Hoss stood side by side.
Hoss’ eyes dripped tears as he watched the flame ignite and quickly
begin to burn.
Adam
stilled himself against the anger and the hatred that only he knew still
flickered deep within himself for the one man who had brought his family down,
into the pits of hell and who had singularly all but destroyed his family. Adam’s face was void of all emotion as he
stepped up to his father’s side and laid his arm about the older man’s
trembling shoulders. Seconds later Hoss’
arm lay atop Adam’s as together the Cartwrights gathered strength from one
another.
The
fire lit the night and the glowing flames could be seen for miles around in all
directions. The wind was but a gentle
breeze as the fire raged and then, hours later burned itself out. Nothing remained of the beautiful log house
except the memories made there and the embers that still flickered softly far
into the second night. By the morning of
the third day, a soft steady rain fell from the heavens above, quickly dousing
the smoking remnants buried deeply beneath the rubble.
Ben
stood within the framework of the barn door and gazed across the yard where the
house once stood. He sipped slowly at
his coffee. The gray mist of morning
began to slowly fade away and the brilliant rays of the rising sun, filtered
through the branches of the tall Ponderosa pines. Ben was wrapped in his private thoughts and
was unaware when Adam joined him, his own mug of hot coffee with steam gently
rising and held firmly between both hands.
“Well,
today’s the day,” he said softly as Ben turned.
“Yes…I’m
anxious to be on my way. I’m overjoyed
at the prospect of seeing Joe again,” smiled Ben.
“I can
tell,” teased Adam with a slight grin.
“I’m just as excited for you, and I can’t wait for you to bring him
home. It will be good to have the kid
back in the house…the new house, which by the way, should be just about ready
by the time you get to
“We’ve
got some of the men that volunteered to clear away the rubbish from the fire
and others that volunteered to haul the logs down from the timber camp,” Hoss
explained as he joined his father and brother.
“Almost all of the hands here and the ones at the lumber camp have asked
it they could help with the buildin’…there’s about fifty men,” smiled
Hoss. “I told’em to come ahead, the more
the merrier and the quicker we’ll have things ready for Little Joe,” Hoss said,
and Ben could detect the excitement in the large man’s soft voice.
They
had moved outside of the barn and sat on stools in the warm morning
sunshine. “Sounds as if you boys have
everything under control,” smiled Ben.
Ben
stood to his feet and headed for the barn where they had made temporary living
quarters. He paused when he neared his
sons and smiled. “Guess I’d better get
going, I sure don’t want to miss that
“I’ll
hitch the team for ya,” Hoss said as he started to the corral.
Adam
watched his father’s face and the expressions that he made, unaware. The hard lines that had, over time, creased
his father’s brow and had aged the senior Cartwright seemed to have softened. Ben’s eyes glowed with a natural happiness
that had long since vanished and the constant smile that graced his handsome
face was genuine rather than forced.
It
pleased Adam to see his father looking so content, it had been too many months,
two long years really since Joe had had to be taken so far from home. Adam had known how hard making that decision
had been for Ben and how for weeks afterward, Ben had moped around the house,
refusing to eat, not sleeping and had even begun drinking in excess. It had only been after their first trip to
Adam
crossed the yard to the buggy and climbed in next to his father. When he turned and looked into the chocolate
eyes, all doubts he might have had as to Ben reaching his goal dissipated. Ben would accomplish what he set out to
do…and that was to see his youngest son make a full recovery.
‘Love
conquers all’. Ben had preached that all
of his life, he believed in it, he lived by it, and he would prove it, to the
world if need be.
When
the coach pulled up to the gate of the Boston Clinic, a light but steady rain
had begun to fall. Fog had rolled in
from the sea shrouding the hospital in a gray cloak of dampness. As the driver pulled to a stop at the main
gate in order to speak with the gatekeeper, Ben leaned his head out the window
to gaze up the long cobblestone drive that would ultimately lead him to his
son. He frowned slightly, for in the
bleakness of the fog the large stone building looked somewhat despairing. The coach lurched forward and Ben pulled his
head back inside, leaning back against the cushion of the seat. He could feel his heart pounding with
excitement, for soon, he would see the boy whom he loved more than life
itself. It mattered little to him, that
Joe would not recognize him. Time,
prayed Ben, would remedy that…time, and lots of love…lots of hugs and cuddling,
patience and understanding, all of which Ben was ready to shower on his son,
for he would accept his son in any condition, without doubts, and without
regrets. His heart yearned to love his
son again; his arms had been empty for much too long and now they ached as well
with the need to hold the boy.
What
was it that Hop Sing had said…that a house was just walls and windows, but a
boy was made of heart and soul…and like the walls of a house crumble over time,
so shall the walls that Joseph had built around his heart. Ben smiled, confident that he could help pull
down those boundaries around Joe’s heart and that once down, his son would be
free to live and love as he had once been.
Ben
paid the driver and picked up his carpetbag.
Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, Ben rapped gently on the
door. Ben waited several moments before
knocking again, thinking that perhaps he had not been heard. He stepped back, glancing up at the window,
not really expecting to see anyone, but wondering just the same what might be
taking the doorman so long to respond.
The
door opened suddenly, catching Ben by surprise.
The aged old doorman smiled a warm greeting.
“Oh…hello,”
Ben said, returning the smile. “My name
is Ben Cartwright; I believe Dr. Harman is expecting me.”
“Yes,
please, come in. The doctor is in his
office, this way.”
Ben
followed the man down a long narrow hall until they had reached the doctor’s
office. The manservant tapped lightly on
the door and then pushed it opened. The
doctor sat behind his desk, seemingly going over some papers that he held in
front of him.
When
he glanced up, to see who had entered, he quickly set aside the papers and
stood to his feet. The doorman backed
slowly out of the room as Dr. Harman rounded the corner of his desk, smiling
broadly as he clasped Ben’s extended hand.
“Ben! How nice to see you again,” greeted Stephen.
“It’s
good to see you, Stephen,” said Ben.
“Here,
let me take your things,” Stephen said as he took Ben’s hat and coat and neatly
laid them on a chair. “Please, have a
seat.” Stephen pointed to a comfortable
chair in front of his desk. “I hope your
trip was not too tiring?”
“Yes,
it was long, but everything went quite well,” explained Ben as he made himself
comfortable.
“Good,
I’m glad.” Stephen had returned to his
own chair and sat down, folding his hands in front of him. “I suppose you’re anxious to hear all about
Joseph…and no doubt to see your son?” he smiled.
“Yes…most
anxious!” replied Ben as he grinned from ear to ear. “I hope he’s well?”
“Oh
yes, he’s just fine. You’ll be
surprised, Ben, he’s finally been able to let us take him outside, in the
yard. He seemed very frightened at
first, but as the days went by, he finally got to where he enjoyed being
outside more than in.” The doctor
laughed, “in fact, most days we have to fight with him just to get him back
inside…he can be quite stubborn when he sets his mind to it!”
Ben
laughed, nodding his head in agreement.
“Yes, I’m well aware of his stubborn streak.”
“I
have to be honest, Ben, I was beginning to get worried about Joseph. After your last visit, he seemed to withdraw
further into himself. There were times
when I stood at his door and watched him, he had started to mumble…no…there
were no words.”
Stephen
corrected himself when he saw the spark of hope ignite Ben’s wishful eyes.
“But
it did appear that he was talking to himself…and Ben…sometimes he would
cry. Oh, there were no tears…there never
has been since he’s been here, but the expressions on his face made him look as
if he were crying. I don’t know what
brought on the peculiar behavior. I
started noticing that he would stand for hours at his window, just gazing out
and waving as if he were waving good-bye to someone. I often wondered if it was you that he was
waving at. It was shortly after you left
that I decided to try taking him outside.
It took several attempts to get him over the fear of leaving his room
and weeks before I was able to coax him out into the yard.”
The
doctor laughed lightly. “Now I have to
coax him back inside…he really does like being out…the fresh air and warm
sunshine have done wonders for his physical appearance, and his attitude. Why, just looking at him, one cannot tell
that he isn’t…well…anything other than the handsome young man they’re seeing.
Just wait…I’ll show you when it stops raining.”
“Where
is he now?” Ben asked.
He
didn’t bother to hide his excitement from the good doctor; he wouldn’t have
been able to anyway because his hands literally shook.
Stephen
pushed back his chair and rose to his feet.
“Joe’s
in his room. Most all the other patients
are in the activity room, but Joe prefers to keep to himself. He never has gotten accustomed to being
around a crowd. It tends to upset him. So, on days like this, I let him stay in his
room. He spends most of his time gazing
out the window…and always, Ben, he looks to the west…never the east.”
“That’s
where home’s at…to the west…Stephen, you don’t suppose…” began Ben.
“Anything
is possible Ben. The boy’s not a
half-wit like some of our patients…he’s not stupid either. He’s just hidden his true self away somewhere
in the furthermost corner on his brain…where he feels safe. And where he doesn’t have to deal with his
memories, or the pain, or the horror of what happened to him. Joe is in there…somewhere…and honestly Ben…I
believe someday, something will happen to trigger his mind and snap him out of
his stupor. There are days that I see
something in him…something of an inner struggle and I know that all it will
take is one simple…something…and he’ll be back.
He’s locked himself in a shell…he knows that he’s safe there…and
unreachable…for now. All we need is the
combination.”
Stephen
smiled and rested his hand on Ben’s arm.
Beneath his opened palm, he could feel the tremors that surged through
his friend’s body and he gently tightened his grip.
“We
here at the clinic have done all we can at this point to help your son,
Ben. It’s time now for you to take him
home…to love him…to share yourself with him.
He needs you, and I honestly believe that if anyone can find the
combination, you’re the one to do it.”
While
the two men had been talking, Stephen had maneuvered Ben out of his office and
down the hall. After a short walk,
Stephen paused, for they had reached Joe’s room.
“Look
at him Ben…watch his face when he sees you.
I’d like to think that he recognizes you or that at least there is
something about you that he connects with.”
Ben
peered through the window in the door and watched his son. The very sight of his son forced tears into
the chocolate eyes and though his vision was temporarily blinded, Ben
smiled. Joe sat, with legs folded
beneath him, in an oversized but comfortable chair. In his hand he held a picture book and
instantly Ben recognized it as the one that Adam had brought to give to his
brother on their last visit. Clutched
tightly under his arm was Scruffy. Joe
was slowly turning the pages of his book and pointing to the pictures; his lips
moved but no words were coming forth, for Joe had not spoken one word since
that fateful day that his father had found him.
“We
moved him to a regular room some time ago, Ben.
I didn’t feel as if he needed to remain in the padded room, Joe never
attempted to harm himself since being here, though we did take some precautions
when we moved him into his own room.
Would you like to go in and say hello?” Stephen smiled knowing that Ben
would not refuse the offer.
“Need
you ask?” Ben said in a shaky voice.
Stephen
opened the door and allowed Ben to enter.
Joe was absorbed in his picture book and was unaware that he had a visitor,
until Ben spoke softly. Stephen had
backed out of the room giving Ben time alone with his son, for which Ben was
grateful.
“Hello,
Joseph,” Ben said in a gentle voice.
He
eased his way slowly over to the bed and sat down on the edge. Joe’s hazel eyes had widened in surprise at
the man who had entered his room and he watched him cautiously as Ben sat
down. He sat silently in his chair,
clutching Scruffy; the picture book still opened across his lap.
“What
are looking at?” Ben asked, careful not to move too swiftly. He was afraid that he might startle the young
man who was more childlike than he cared to admit.
Joe
glanced quickly down at his book and then back at his father. The reaction told Ben that Joe knew what he
was talking about and the small gesture gave him hope. Ben smiled warmly at his son, his heart
aching to take the boy into his arms and press him tightly to his breast, but
Ben fought against the urge. Not yet,
his brain warned his heart…not yet.
“May
I see the book?”
Joe’s
brows drew together, forcing his handsome face into a frown. When he snapped shut his book and pressed it
protectively to his chest, Ben jumped, caught off guard by the sudden movement. He fought to hide his disappointment by
smiling warmly at the young man, not wanting to frighten him.
“Well,
maybe next time,” he cooed softly.
He
watched in silence for several moments until he noticed Joe begin to fidget and
then quickly tried to think of something to say that would not cause any alarm.
“Joseph,
is that Scruffy you have hidden under you arm?” Ben gazed warmly at his son.
Joe
took a quick glance down at the stuffed toy that was exactly where Ben had said
it was, and then turned surprised eyes up at his father. His man-child son surprised Ben by smiling at
him and then pressing the little toy to his breast. Ben nodded his head slowly; some things never
change, he thought as he gazed into the cherubic face of his youngest son.
“Scruffy
sure does look like a nice puppy. He
looks sort of scruffy too, doesn’t he? I
think you picked a perfect name for that little doggie. Why, I remember the Christmas that…” Ben
continued smiling, but inside his stomach was churning…he had forgotten how it
felt to talk to a little boy, and though he tried, he still could not bring
himself to accept the fact that here before him was a child of
twenty-three. Without warning, Ben felt
the rush of tears cloud his eyes and he quickly dabbed at the tiny beads of
water before they rolled down his face.
He’d momentarily forgotten that Joe wasn’t who he was supposed to
be. Ben gulped and then swallowed to
relieve the thickness in his throat.
Joe
laid the book aside, got out of his chair and crossed over to where he was
standing over his father. He surprised
Ben when he held the little stuffed dog out and allowed Ben to take Scruffy
from his hands. Ben held the toy tightly
as a rush of memories crashed down upon him.
When he lowered his head, a tiny teardrop slipped from the corner of his
eye and ran slowly down the side of his face.
Joe
watched the man for just a few short minutes and then snatched the toy from
Ben’s hands and then returned to his chair.
Confused, Ben stood quickly to his feet, which caused Joe to cram the
toy behind his back. Realizing that his
son must have thought that he was going to take the toy away from him, Ben
smiled.
“It’s
okay son, I’m not going to keep your toy.
Say, it’s stopped raining, would you like to go outside for a little
while?” Ben asked softly.
Joe’s
face broke apart with the happy smile that covered his face. He shook his head up and down as he stood up.
“You
wait right here, and I’ll ask Doctor Harman if it’s alright.”
Ben
started toward the door but stopped as Joe began making strange sounds deep in
his throat. Ben spun around fearing
perhaps that Joe might be strangling.
“Joseph,
what’s wrong, son?” Ben hurried to inquire.
He was taken back by the unhappy frown that had replaced the happy smile
from moments ago.
Joe
had a strange look on his face. Ben
could see that nothing was physically wrong with his son but that Joe seemed
upset.
“Don’t
you want to go outside?”
Joe
nodded his head yes.
“Then
I have to find Stephen and go ask him.
I’ll be right back, son,” Ben explained.
Ben’s
hand was on the door handle and when he turned it and began to pull the door
opened, Joe grunted again. This time
when Ben turned around to look, Joe stomped his foot angrily and then turned
his back to his father.
Ben
almost burst out in laughter, for he had not seen his youngest son perform that
little bit of defiance in many years.
“Joseph…Joseph,
look at me,” Ben said with a touch of authority in his voice.
Joe
slowly turned his head and looked over his shoulder to peer at his father.
“Turn
around, please,” ordered Ben.
Joe
hung his head, bringing to Ben’s thoughts visions of by gone days when a very
young Little Joe had stood before him in much the same way.
Ben
stretched out his arm, and feeling a bit unsure of himself, gently cupped the
quivering chin with the tip of his fingers.
Ben felt an overwhelming sensation flow through his body at the feel of
his fingertips brushing Joe’s flesh. It
had been the first time in nearly two years that the father had had physical
contact with his son.
Ben
half-expected Joe to wrench free, or pull away from him, but when Joe’s eyes
met his, Ben saw something flicker. He
saw confusion mixed with trust, a small amount of uncertainty mingled with a
measure of fear. Quickly Ben rushed to
reassure the boy.
“Joseph,
I will be right back, I have to ask the doctor if it’s all right to take you
outside. Do you understand, son?” Ben
said in a voice full of tenderness and understanding.
Joe
bobbed his head up and down, but refused to return his father’s smile.
“Good,
now you be a good boy, and I’ll be right back.”
As
Ben turned to leave, Joe grunted again.
Ben was at a loss for words; the hazel eyes had taken on a look so
doubtful and so full of misery that Ben froze.
“What
is it, Joe?”
Joe
used his fingers and moved them in a way that crossed his heart. Ben gulped, his knees suddenly felt weak and
for a second he feared he might have to sit down. He knew what his son was asking, and that
knowledge nearly knocked Ben off his feet.
Ben
dropped his hand from the door handle and moved to within inches of his
son. He yearned to touch the boy, to
take him into his arms and hold him, but he was more afraid of scaring the boy
than he was of satisfying his personal need.
“I
promise…I cross my heart, I will be right back,” Ben almost sobbed.
God,
he thought, how many times as a child had Joe requested from him, that same
promise…for the same reason…because he was leaving. Had his leaving been the reason for his son
spending endless hours standing at the window?
Was he waiting and watching for his father’s return? Was there something deep within his son’s
heart and soul that refused to forget completely, the one person in his life
that he had always trusted and believed in?
‘Oh
God, Joseph,’ murmured Ben silently, ‘my precious son, have I failed you by
leaving you here all alone when you needed me more than at any other time in
your life?’
Ben
closed the door softly behind him as he stepped out into the hall. Lost in his thoughts, he practically knocked
the doctor down.
“Ben,
you seem upset…what’s wrong?” Stephen asked.
“I’m
not sure…but for some strange reason, I get the feeling that Joe knows me…or at
least feels something akin to recognition. He just asked me to promise him that
I would come back…he’s always made me promise.
I’d have to go away on business and he’d get so upset and beg me to
promise him that I’d come home. You see,
his mother died when he was very small and my leaving always scared him…just
like now,” stammered Ben.
The
physician rested his hand on Ben’s shoulder and grinned at him. “I told you Ben, Joe has made
progress…whether or not he can or will allow himself to go any further, I can’t
say for sure. But he responds well to
kindness, he’s frightened when he sees some of the other patients become
distraught and a few times when we’ve had to restrain a patient, Joe went crazy
on us as well. I did not put restraints
on him, since you had told us that that had been part of his abuse, but we did
have to sedate him in order to get him to calm down.”
“I’ve
been watching from the window…and I like what I see already. I think Joe has done remarkably well for a
first visit. Now, I suppose you’re going
to ask me if you may take him out into the yard, am I right?” smiled Stephen.
“Absolutely,”
Ben snickered.
“Then
feel free to take him where ever you like, as long as you stay on the hospital
grounds…just in case. Our goal for him
is to become completely comfortable with being with you and to do so we must
gently coax his dependency on me over to you so that the transition from
hospital life to home life will be as stress free as possible,” Stephen
explained. “Go on, take him outside.”
“Thank
you, doctor.” Ben hurried back to the
room and when he opened the door, Joe had been standing at the window gazing
down at the walkway beneath his room.
The boy spun around, seeing that his father had returned. A smile spread across his face. Ben crossed the room in three giant steps,
stopping directly in front of the grinning boy.
“See,
I told you, I’d be back…haven’t I always kept my promises to you, young man?”
Joe,
still smiling and clutching Scruffy tightly under one arm, only shrugged his
shoulders.
“Well
young man, I always have and you, my dear son, will learn all over again that
you can trust me, I am a man of my word.”
Ben pointed to the door.
“Now
let’s go,” Ben held out his hand, hoping that Joe would feel safe enough to
place his smaller hand into Ben's waiting one.
Joe
glanced down at Ben’s hand and then up into the dark loving eyes. The smile was gone, but his eyes shone
with…with…what, Ben wasn’t sure. The boy
refused the proffered hand but grinned at his father as he bounced from the
room, casting anxious glances over his shoulders to be sure that Ben was
following him.
Time
seemed to be passing quickly for Ben as the days withered away into weeks. He watched daily the antics of his younger
son and though Joe was no longer a little boy in body, he certainly seemed so
in mind and spirit. There were moments
when Ben felt the frustration almost over powering when Joe refused to do as he
was asked, or when he became so over wrought that he pitched a tantrum. Then, there were the quiet times when Joe
would sit next to Ben under the shade of a tree and listen while Ben told him
stories of his home and his two older brothers, and of his pinto, Cochise. Joe never got bored with the stories, and his
attention was endless as Ben rattled on and on.
Joe often smiled, and once or twice had giggled though the sound was
inaudible. The hours spent in the
company of his son were precious hours for Ben, he had come to love deeply the
man-child. His unconditional love for
the boy had always been in his heart, but Ben was learning to love in a
different way, the son whom he had almost lost so tragically.
The
way that Joe looked at him and even watched him when the boy thought his father
was not aware tugged at Ben’s heart, for deep within the hazel depths of his
son’s eyes a tiny spark had appeared.
Ben lived minute by minute, hour by hour, day by day with the fervent
prayer that somehow, some way, Joseph as he had once been, would find his way
back to his father…to his family…and to himself. Ben had no knowledge of what that rebirth
would bring in its wake for his son. But
Ben knew without even having to think about it, that no matter what might
spring forth from Joe’s memories or fears, no matter what terror might surface,
he vowed on his own life to be there always for his son. Joe might suffer if faced with his demons
once again, but surely God in all of His greatness would be steadfast in His
mercy to bring them all up from the depths of the living hell that Lin Wong had
created for his son and for his family.
“Joseph,
I have something for you son, I’d completely forgotten about it until this
morning,” said Ben as he pulled a small leather pouch from his coat
pocket.
Joe
watched in wide-eyed wonder as Ben lowered himself down next to him on the
grassy knoll where he had been sitting. When
Ben turned the pouch upside down, Joe gasped lightly as the tiny, hand carved,
wooden soldiers spilled from the pouch.
He glanced up at Ben, his eyes shining happily and then smiled.
“Go
ahead, they’re yours. Your brother Adam
carved them for you when you were just a little boy…you played with them almost
every day after he gave them to you,” Ben said in a voice that was full of
emotion.
He
was forced to swallow, for his throat had suddenly closed up and he needed to
take a deep breath to keep from letting go of the urge to cry. Ben picked up one little soldier dressed in
blue and handed it to his son. Joe
looked carefully at the man in blue that his father held in his opened
hand. He looked up, into Ben’s eyes and
then shook his head no, pointing to a slightly larger soldier dressed in bright
red. Ben laughed lightly, and then
picked up the red one, handing it to Joe.
“This
was always your favorite little soldier, Joseph,” Ben said softly. “Could you possibly remember that?” he
whispered while watching Joe sort the men according to their colors.
“I
have something else for you,” he told his son.
“Look, your brother Hoss made this for you.” Ben reached into his other pocket and pulled
out a miniature carved wooden horse and placed it in Joe’s out stretched hand.
Joe
grabbed at the horse. His eyes had
turned a strange shade of green and Joe got quickly to his feet, the model
horse, painted black and white, lovingly by his older brother, clutched tightly
in his hands. Ben rose as well, watching
the strange reaction and the puzzling expressions that Joe made. When Joe looked up at his father, there were
a thousand unasked questions shining in Joe’s eyes.
“Hoss…your
brother…painted it to look like Cochise…your horse back home. You remember, I told you about him
yesterday,” Ben said in a calm voice that hid his excitement, for he was sure
that the carving had sparked a memory.
“Do
you like it?”
Joe
held the horse close to his chest and nodded his head.
“Then
it’s yours to keep…take it with you if you want to,” smiled Ben, pleased that
Joe liked the carving.
He
watched as Joe studied the horse and tenderly ran his fingers over the body of
the wooden figure. Joe turned bright
eyes up at his father as he pretended that the horse was galloping along in the
air. When he’d finished, Joe stuffed the
gift into his coat pocket and sat back down to play with the toy soldiers.
“Ben,
I think he’s ready to go. Joe’s done
wonderfully well since you’ve come. I’m
very pleased with the progress he’s made…and I might add, with the progress
you’ve made,” Stephen said lightly.
“My
progress…what do you mean?” Ben asked, puzzled by the doctor’s statement.
The
two men were seated comfortably in Stephen Harman’s office.
“I mean,
when you first came here, you were about as scared as your son was,” laughed
the doctor. “You walked around that boy
as if you were on egg shells, but now…after all these weeks, you treat him
like…a son…and as a father should. You
are very attentive toward and supportive of him. In spite of his handicaps, you have still
maintained the father image by correcting him when he’s done something that he
shouldn’t have. You’ve praised and rewarded him when he’s done what you have
asked of him, or when he’s achieved a goal that the two of you have set for
him. You’ve been just wonderful,
Ben…wonderful and it shows, on your face as well as Joe’s.”
Ben
pinched his lips together and let his head drop slowly down. He felt honored with the unexpected praise, but
in his heart, he knew that he had only been doing what any father would have
done, had he loved his son as much as Ben loved his youngest son. When he raised his head and looked at the
doctor, his eyes were aglow with pride.
“I
don’t deserve the praise…I only do what comes naturally, Stephen. It’s Joseph that deserves the praise; he’s
trying hard…really hard. It seems as if
he strives to please me…and he does…I only wish that…” Ben’s voice trailed off.
Stephen
noticed the sudden disappearance of the smile that had moments ago graced Ben’s
face. He knew that the gentleman was
struggling with some inner problem that dealt with his son.
“Only
what?” Stephen asked, his voice filled with compassion for the man and his
son.
Ben
and Joseph Cartwright had gotten to his heart.
Never in all of his thirty years of practicing had he ever met a man
more determined to bring his son back from the living dead, than Ben. Nor had he ever met a young man more willing
and so anxious to please the man whom he had found loved him more than life
itself.
Ben
glanced up; his eyes had misted. “I only
wish that Joe would allow me to touch him, to take him into my arms and
just…hold him…hug him. I’ve wanted to do
that since the very first moment I saw him, weeks ago, and though we’ve come a
long way…that is one thing that Joe has yet permitted me to do.”
“Ben,
I understand…or at least I think I do…but in time. I know that’s just about the only advice I’ve
given you since coming here, but it is true.
Time heals all wounds…and love conquers all. Joe knows that he’s loved, he can feel it,
and he can see it every time you look at him.
He hears it in your voice, and in the way that you say his name. Now all that is needed is time…please, I know
it’s hard, but be patient, let Joseph do that in his own time…let…”
“DR.
HARMAN! COME QUICKLY!” shouted a nurse
from the doorway.
“What’s
wrong?” Stephen said as he jumped to his feet and started toward the door.
“Four
of our male patients are fighting,” she shouted as together they ran down the
long corridor.
Ben
had jumped to his feet as well and was following closely behind the doctor and
his nurse. Elsewhere, orderlies were
running in all directions toward the outer room.
“They’re
in the breeze-way, doctor,” the nurse called.
“I’m having the attendants take the others back to their rooms. Mr. Cartwright, your son is already in his
room,” the nurse called over her shoulder.
“Ben,
you go ahead to Joe’s room. I’m sorry,
but the rooms all go into lock down when something like this happens.”
Ben
stopped; he was at the intersection in the hallway where he needed to turn to
go to his son’s room. Quickly he headed
in that direction. He was just in time
to watch as two of the attendants ushered Joe into his room. Joe’s face wore a look of panic and when he
looked up and saw his father, Joe began reaching out with his arms toward Ben.
Ben
rushed to his son’s side, but the attendant barred the doorway. “I’m sorry Mr. Cartwright, but nobody is
allowed in a patient’s room when something like this happens…”
“But…”
“No
buts, I’m sorry sir, it’s the rules.
You’ll have to go to the front lobby and wait until things are
cleared.” One attendant pointed down the
opposite end of the hallway. “Just wait
there.”
The
attendants had had to force Joe into his room after he had seen his
father. Joe had begun to struggle
against the hands that literally pushed him through the opened doorway and into
his room. Once inside, one attendant
pulled a key from his pocket and locked the door from the outside.
Ben
watched very dismayed with the way in which his son had been shoved into his
room. When the attendant turned, Ben was
waiting for him.
“You
didn’t have to be so rough with the boy!” he growled angrily.
“Boy?”
laughed one of the men. “He ain’t no
‘boy’, he’s a full grown man…and we have to treat those like him, like a
man. Sir, if we handled them as if they
were little boys, they’d kill us…look at him…he’s a lunatic!” spat the man and
then laughing, followed after his partner.
It
was then that Ben saw the terror on his son’s face. Joe stood on the opposite side of the door
that separated him from his father and was frantically looking at him through
the small window. Joe was yanking and
pulling, pounding and beating on the door, and had he been able to voice his
fear, Joe would have been screaming and shouting as well.
Tears
formed in Ben’s dark eyes. There was
nothing he could do to take away his son’s fear. No way to take the distraught boy into his
arms and hold him and reassure him. It
broke Ben’s heart to watch as Joe pleaded silently with only his eyes, which
were huge in size and so, so frightened.
Ben
stepped up to the window and placed his hand on the glass. Joe quickly placed his hand over his
father’s, separated only by the thick layer of glass.
“Joseph…be
quiet, son…please stop that pounding.
You’re going to hurt your hands,” Ben said loud enough to be heard
through the glass. “Listen to me
precious…I’ll be back…I promise, Joe…I’ll be back just as soon as I can,”
called Ben.
“Look
Joe, look.” Ben stepped back so that Joe
could see him better and then took his fingers and made a cross over his
heart. “See Joe, I promise…I cross my
heart…I’ll be right back!”
Joe
watched; the panic was very real to him, the fear that his father was leaving
him became too overwhelming. When one
of the clinic’s doctors met Ben outside the door to Joe’s room and forced him
to move on down the hall, Joe began beating his fists on the door once more and
continued until Ben was out of sight.
“Pa! Pa!”
The
words were so pathetically spoken that Joe was unaware that he had made a
sound. The young man, who had tried so
hard to come back from his darkened hideaway and had failed his first attempt, slumped
to the floor exhausted.
“Hurry
up! Open this door!” demanded Ben as he
kept glancing from the window where he could see his son curled up in the far
corner of his room, to the nurse with shaky hands, who tried to turn the key in
the lock on the door.
Once
the nurse had the door opened, Ben pushed his way around the robust woman and
went straight to the corner where Joe had sat down and curled his body into a
tight ball.
“Joseph?”
Ben said in a soft voice as he squatted down in front of his son.
Joe’s
head was resting on his knees and he refused to look up at his father.
“Joe,
I came back son, just like I promised.”
Ben paused. “Please, son, look at
me…please?”
Slowly
Joe raised his head. When his eyes met
his father’s he was surprised to see the tiny tears that shone on Ben’s
face. Cautiously, the young man raised
his hand and using one finger, carefully touched the single teardrop that had
stopped midway down Ben’s cheek.
Ben
took a deep breath, afraid to move for fear of sending the frightened young man
back into his shell. The thickness
within Ben’s throat caused him to swallow.
His eyes never wavered from his son’s face as Joe studied his face in
return.
Without
warning, Joe’s eyes filled with tears…the first in over three years. He surprised Ben by rising up and wrapping
his arms about his father’s neck. When
Joe began to weep Ben’s last ounce of reserve shattered as he laced his arms
about the trembling boy’s body, and for the first time in three years, held his
son tightly to his breast. Joe’s head
was pressed against his father’s heart and Ben had entwined his fingers into
the thick mass of dark ringlets that crowned his son’s head where he planted
kiss after kiss.
“Joseph,
oh Joseph…” Ben whispered repeatedly until his emotions became such that he
could no longer even whisper the boy’s name.
“I love you, son…I love you,” he murmured after he had stopped crying.
Joe’s
response to his father’s words of love was to grasp tighter with his arms as he
clung to the man who held him. For a
long time, Ben sat in the floor holding his son. When Dr. Harman slipped quietly into the
room, he smiled down at Ben.
“You
have no idea Ben, how that sight fills my heart with joy!” he whispered.
Joe
had moved as close to his father as he could get and was sleeping, his head
resting in Ben’s lap. Ben fingered the
soft curls and smiled at the doctor.
“I
hadn’t the heart to wake him and make him get in the bed,” whispered Ben. “I’ve waited much too long for this moment to
spoil it now,” he smiled.
Stephen
nodded his head in agreement. “Here, the
least we can do is cover him up,” he muttered and then tossed a light blanket
over Joe’s body. “He might want this
when he wakes up.” Stephen picked up
Scruffy and handed the stuffed toy to Ben, smiling. “And here’s a pillow for your back, I know
you can’t be comfortable sitting there in the floor like that.”
“I’m
not, but I wouldn’t move for a million dollars.”
“Somehow,
I didn’t think you would,” laughed the doctor.
“I’ll be back in a little while to check on you. In the mean time, I’ll have the nurse bring
you some coffee and a sandwich to munch on.”
“Thank
you Stephen, coffee would be nice…though I’m not sure I can eat anything.”
“Try…doctor’s
orders,” he laughed. “I’ve made
traveling arrangements for both you and Joseph.
The day after tomorrow, you can take your son home.”
The
doctor’s broad smiled showed his pleasure in delivering Ben the message. And from the glow on Ben’s face and glimmer
of unshed tears in Ben’s eyes, the doctor knew just how much the message had
meant to this wonderfully kind and loving father.
Ben
shook hands with the kind doctor and bid farewell to all that had played a part
in his son’s care over the last two years.
Joe stood silently next to his father and watched as the doctor and
nurses took turns shaking Ben’s hand or giving him a hug. His dark hazel eyes glanced from one face to
the other, but always back to the face that had become so familiar to him.
When
the doctor took Joe’s hand into his and shook it vigorously, Joe smiled
slightly and then glanced up at his father, as if seeking approval. Ben returned the smile and gently placed his
hand on the young man’s shoulder.
“We
best get going, Joe, it wouldn’t do for us to miss our train,” Ben suggested as
he turned to pick up their carpetbags.
For several moments Joe stood silently, watching his father. When Ben turned toward the door as if to leave, Joe make a loud grunting sound that caused Ben to stop, hand on the door, and turn back around. Joe’s face had lost the happy smile and had taken on a look of sheer panic. His breathing had become something akin to panting and he was shaking his head back and forth.
Ben,
having become accustomed to his son’s strange manner of communication, smiled
reassuringly. “It’s alright, Joseph,
this time you’re going with me.
Remember, I told you yesterday that we’d be going home today, both of
us?”
Joe’s
frown vanished as he glanced from his father’s face to the doctor’s.
“That’s
right Joe, today is the big day…you get to get out of here!” laughed Stephen as
he grabbed the door and held it opened for Ben and his son. “Take care of yourself, Little Joe,”
cautioned Stephen while he watched Ben gently guide Joe through the doorway.
“Keep
us informed, Ben…we’ll be anxious to hear how well Joe does,” the doctor
called.
“Don’t
worry, I’ll write as soon as I get home,” answered Ben.
When
the door had closed and Ben stood alone with just himself and his son waiting for
the driver to bring the coach around, Ben chanced to glance over at Joe. Joe was preoccupied with watching a pair of
robins fighting over a fat juicy worm.
Ben could not help but smile as he watched Joe, for memories of long ago
suddenly filled his heart and soul. His
son looked healthy and strong, his body muscular and fit in spite of the time
spent in the hospital and as Ben studied his son’s features, he felt his heart
swell in pride. Regardless of the fact that Joe had somehow managed to lock his
true self away behind an enormous wall, Ben loved his son with all of his
heart. Ben smiled when Joe glanced at
him and was rewarded with a smile in return.
Ben
took a deep breath and sighed. He’d come
so very close to losing this boy who stood next to him. He felt his heart flutter at the memory and
he was forced to take a deep breath and let it out slowly. Joe was coming home, that’s all that
mattered.
“Here
comes our carriage, son,” Ben said at last.
He
took a step back as the driver climbed down and gathered their things, placing
them in the back of the carriage and then returned to open the door for his
passengers. Ben started slowly forward
but stopped suddenly as he felt a hand entwine its fingers around his. Quickly, he peered over at Joe who only
looked at him with big green eyes that showed his uncertainty.
“It’s
okay son, I’m not going to leave you…this time,” Ben said gently as he
tightened his grip on the hand that clung to his.
Ben
stepped up to the coach and allowed Joe to enter before him. When Joe was settled on the soft leather
seat, Ben climbed in and made himself comfortable, as well.
“It’s
only a short ride to the train station, after that, we’ll really be on our
way. It will take some time to get all
the way home but we’ll be just fine,” assured Ben, giving Joe a quick glance
out of the corner of his eye.
“Did
I tell you that I wired your brothers yesterday and told them that we’d be
leaving today?” Ben questioned.
He
was trying to keep Joe’s attention on pleasant things, least he become
fearful. It had been nearly two years
since he had first brought Joe to this place and as the coach passed through
the huge iron gates for the trip home, Ben’s own thoughts were ones to ponder. The decision to bring Joe to the Boston Clinic
had been the hardest that the senior Cartwright had ever been forced to
make. But seeing Joe now, sitting next
to him, smiling contentedly, Ben knew that in spite of his earlier misgivings,
he had made the right decision.
Joe
had been worse than a trapped and wounded animal; he had been more of a mad man
at first, fighting them in every way imaginable as he ripped and tore apart
first one thing and then the next. He
had slung things and thrown whatever his hands touched with no regard to what
or whom those things had made contact.
Oft as not, Paul Martin had been summoned and with a mild sedative, Joe
was drugged to prevent him from hurting himself. He was watched day and night by his family,
and to give them relief, close friends had volunteered to help out, giving the
three Cartwrights time for much needed rest.
At
times it had been Joe’s rages that kept the family torn and then there were the
long silent times that Joe was almost docile and seemed lost in his own world,
a world where he allowed no man to enter.
It was only after long days and longer nights of pure hell that the days
began to dwindle away into weeks and when Joe’s state of mind went from bad to
worse, Ben knew that his son had slipped beyond his reach. He had finally been forced to admit that if
Joe were to ever find his way back, Joe would have to have help from sources
other than what he, Adam or Hoss could offer.
It had been a gut wrenching ordeal, to leave Joe alone at the clinic and
just walk away. But that had been the
doctor’s orders, and if placing his son in such a place would speed his
recovery, then leave he would, though begrudgingly so.
His
son’s refusal to acknowledge his father or his brothers had broken the hearts
of the three people who had loved him most.
Ben, as well as Adam and Hoss, had all suffered in some way by the
things that had been done to their youngest family member and the suffering had
continued when they’d made the choice to place Joe into an institution where he
could get the proper care.
Each
silently held within the chambers of their hearts, a well of guilt that they
had not been present when Joe’s attackers had converged on him. They fought privately their own demons,
knowing facts rather than imaginings, they tended to curse themselves for what
they believed they could have prevented, had they not left the boy home
alone. Individually they wrestled with
the idea that some times, things just happen and that no amount of ‘what ifs’
could change what really took place. It
was as if Ben, Adam and Hoss had each found themselves in a boxed canyon with
no way out, and that the evil man who had caused such pandemonium in their
lives had somehow been the victor in his wicked schemes to destroy them. The foul stench that left its residue in their
mouths was a tough bit to swallow. But
Ben vowed, if it took him the remainder of his life, he’d never stop trying,
never give up believing that one day the real Joe Cartwright would be reborn
and this nightmarish experience would somehow be cast into a sea of
forgetfulness.
It
had seemed like a lifetime, the long hard days, first on the train and then
riding in the stage non-stop for hours.
The weariness was beginning to take its toil on both Ben and Little Joe. At first, Joe had been contented to stare out
the window at the passing scenery for the first few hours of each day, but by
late afternoons he would grow weary and begin to fidget. Ben had tried distracting the boy with his
little wooden soldiers and that had worked for a while but after a short time,
Joe had even grown bored with them. By
early evening, Joe had become sleepy and when he’d fallen to sleep, his head
gently resting on his father’s shoulder, Ben sighed in relief, welcoming the
small reprieve and more thankful that he and Joe had been the only passengers
on the stage since departing the train.
He was tired as well, and could hardly wait for the stage to reach the
next stop so that he could stretch his legs and have something other than a
sandwich to eat.
Joe
moaned softly and shifted his body around trying to get comfortable. It was hot and stuffy in the coach and his
forehead had beaded with tiny droplets of perspiration. Ben tenderly brushed back a stray lock of
Joe’s damp hair and was shocked at how hot his son’s brow felt.
“Joe,
wake up, son,” he said in a soft voice.
Ben had turned so that he could face Joe and gently he shook the
boy. “Joseph, wake up, son!” he
continued to whisper.
Joe
finally managed to open his eyes and silently he searched his father’s
face.
“Are
you feeling all right, son? You feel
hot…like you’re running a temperature,” said Ben as he placed the back of his
hand against Joe’s forehead for the second time.
Joe
scrunched up his face and placed a hand to his head.
“You
have a headache?” Ben guessed aloud.
Joe
nodded his head yes and then pointed to his stomach.
“And
a stomach ache as well?”
Again
Joe nodded.
“We’ll
be stopping soon; perhaps we can get something to settle your stomach. I’m not sure about your head, but maybe
something to eat will help, it’s been several hours since you ate a sandwich,”
Ben explained.
Joe
momentarily closed his eyes and when the stage hit a rut in the road, the
expression on Joe’s face left Ben with a feeling that his son might be sick at
any minute. Quickly he reached for his
canteen and removed the plug.
“Here,
Joe, take a drink,” he said as he eased the canteen to Joe’s lips.
Joe
grasped the canteen in both hands and turned it up slowly, sipping the cool
water. When he finished, he handed it
back to his father and leaned his head back against the seat and closed his
eyes again. Ben popped the cork back
into place and placed the water container on the vacant seat across from him. Joe, who had moved and now had propped
himself up against Ben’s shoulder, shivered violently, causing his entire body
to tremble in the process.
Ben
unfolded his coat, which had been resting next to him, and spread it out across
Joe’s shoulders and lap, being sure to cover Joe completely. He watched as Joe’s expressions varied with
each bump in the road, making it appear that Joe was suffering in some unknown
way. After watching for several moments,
Ben feared that Joe was getting sick. It worried him, for they were still a
full day, maybe even a day and a half from home, and in the middle of no man’s
land, with little hope of finding a doctor should one be needed.
By
the time that the stage stopped, two hours later, Ben was beside himself with
worry. Joe’s fever had seemed to climb
and the boy could not stop shivering. To
add to matters, the second that the stage rolled to a jolting stop, Joe jumped
from the coach and vomited repeatedly.
“Come
on son, let’s get you inside and settled,” Ben said as he slipped his arm about
the trembling shoulders and guided Joe into the way station. He turned back to the driver, “I’ll come back
for the bags,” he called.
“Don’t
fret ya self none, Mr. Cartwright, I’ll brin’em inside for ya,” the driver
said.
“Thank
you,” Ben called across his shoulder. “Come on son.”
Ben
allowed Joe to lean against him for support as he maneuvered his son through
the door and into the large opened room.
He scanned the room quickly with his eyes, hoping to see a cot or bed.
“Over
here, Mister,” a middle aged woman said as she came into the room from the
kitchen. “The boy sick?” she asked as
she pointed to a single room off to the side that housed a bed. “Oughta put’em in there, if’n he is…don’t
want none of the other passengers to catch whatever the kid’s got,” she said.
“There
are no other passengers, ma’am, just my son and I,” Ben explained to the
woman. “Here, Joe, lie down,” instructed
Ben as he helped Joe to the bed. He
grabbed the covers and quickly tossed them back.
As
Joe leaned back against the pillows, Ben moved his legs up onto the bed.
“Best
take his boots off,” growled the woman, “don’t want the linens to get all
dirty, have to use’em again when the next stage stops for the night,” she
continued to grumble.
Ben
glanced up at the woman, frowning slightly as he did so. He chose to keep his comments to himself as
he turned his attention back to Joe and began tugging at Joe’s boots. Once he had them off he pulled the blankets
up around Joe’s chin and carefully tucked them in.
“Would
you mind getting me some cool water and a cloth, I need to bathe his face,” Ben
asked as he pulled a chair up to the bedside.
“Water’s
in the kitchen, so’s the towels, help ya self, mister, I gotta go help Charlie
with the horses,” mumbled the woman.
Ben
pinched his lips tightly together to keep from voicing aloud his thoughts as
the woman headed for the door. Suddenly
she stopped and turned back to Ben.
“Soup’s
on the stove, if’n the boy’s hungry and feels like eatin’,” she said in a more
kindly voice. “There’s a bottle of
whiskey on the shelf as well, if’n ya want a drink.”
When
Ben met her blue eyes, she smiled at him, changing the hardened expression on
her face to one of compassion. The blue eyes
took on a faraway look and then just as quickly, the look was gone but her
expression remained soft as she turned her eyes on Joe who had by this time
fallen asleep.
“I
had a son once, be about your boy’s age now, if’n he lived,” she said sadly and
then without another word, turned and walked out of the room.
Ben
sighed deeply. “One never knows about people, Joe,” he muttered more to himself
than to his sleeping son.
During
the night, Joe tossed and turned. His
brow beaded with sweat nearly as soon as Ben wiped away the dampness. Occasionally his eyes would flutter open and
he’d gaze about the dimly lit room until he found his father’s face, always
smiling down at him. Ben would swipe the
cool cloth across Joe’s brow and tenderly brush back a stray lock of hair in
doing so. His expression, though
worried, remained the same and once Joe was sure that Ben had not left him, and
had seen the reassuring smile that his father kept especially for him, Joe
would close his eyes once more and return to his thrashing about.
“Time
to get up, Mister,” the woman called from the door where she had stood for
several moments, rapping gently. “Stage
is almost ready to leave.”
“We’ll
be right there, ma’am,” Ben answered and then turned back to Joe who had sometime
earlier fallen into a deep, restful sleep.
As he gazed down into his son’s face, Ben was almost hesitant to wake
the boy, for the sound sleep was what Joe needed most. But with his fear that Joe’s fever might
spike and the ever present worry that there was no doctor nearby, drove Ben on
to wake his son.
“Joseph,
time to get up son, we need to get a bite of breakfast and then get
going.” Ben gently nudged his son until
Joe finally opened his eyes. He was then
rewarded with a smile, which aided in relieving his worry.
“How
are you feeling this morning?”
Joe
nodded his head up and down as Ben felt his forehead for any signs of
fever.
“You’re
warm, but not like last night. Come on,
up with you!” he smiled while tugging lightly on Joe’s hand and pulling him
upright.
Joe
made a face and turned pleading eyes up at his father.
Ben
laughed. “Yes, you have to, lazy bones,” he teased. “By this evening, with any luck, we should be
on the outskirts of the Ponderosa. Your
brothers are going to meet us there with the wagon. Now, come on!”
Ben
gave one final jerk and Joe was on his feet.
His body pressed against Ben’s and when Joe slipped his arms about his
father and hugged him, Ben paused briefly and returned the hug, surprised by
Joe’s obvious affection.
Joe
pulled back, gazing into his father’s eyes, studying Ben’s face intently and
then allowed his arms to drop to his sides.
Ben watched, amazed that Joe had allowed himself to be held, for it was
uncommon for Joe, in his present condition, to allow anyone other than the
doctor and now his father, to touch him.
“I
love you, Joseph,” Ben heard himself whisper softly.
A
tiny configuration of a smile tugged at the corners of Joe’s lips, and Ben could
have sworn that he had seen the makings of tiny teardrops begin to form in the
hazel eyes. Joe turned away suddenly and
grabbed his pants from the foot of the bed and began dressing himself. Within minutes, both father and son appeared
at the table and helped themselves to the bountiful breakfast that the woman
had placed before them.
Joe
picked at his food and ate only a minimal amount of his breakfast, but Ben said
nothing, for he felt that perhaps Joe’s stomach might still be giving him
trouble. About an hour later, his
assumption proved correct when he was forced to call out to the driver to stop
the coach so that Joe could rid his belly of the burning acid that made him
vomit.
“Better?”
asked Ben, concerned for his son’s well being.
Joe
nodded his head yes and then slowly climbed back into the coach. Ben climbed in beside of him and then turned
to call to the driver.
“We’re
ready now, Will,” Ben said.
He
turned to Joe and noticed the paleness of his son’s face and the beads of
moisture that had begun to accumulate on Joe’s brow. When Joe began to shiver, his father covered
him with a warm blanket that the lady from the way station had provided.
“Try
to rest, son,” encouraged Ben. “By this evening, we should meet up with Adam
and Hoss and the minute we get home, I’ll send one of them for the doctor.”
Joe
leaned his head against the window frame and closed his eyes. Inside, his stomach was churning and the
tossing about of the coach did nothing to ease the discomfort. He gritted his teeth against the growing
pains that ripped across his mid-section and when he turned to see his father
watching him, he leaned over and rested his head against Ben’s shoulder.
“I
know you feel badly, son, but just hang on, it won’t be long now, I promise,” Ben
whispered.
Twice
more they were sanctioned to stop at posts along the way. Joe had curled his body up into a tight ball
on the empty seat across from Ben. His
fever had begun an uphill climb and from time to time he moaned and tossed
about on the narrow seat where he lay.
Ben
kept a constant watch, a fresh canteen handy and repeatedly washed the pale
face of his son. “Take it easy,
From
time to time, Ben watched the passing landscape, looking for something familiar
that would assure him that their journey was nearing an end. Joe had begun to fight against the hands that
tended his sweat-coated brow and Ben was finding himself hard pressed to keep
the boy calm. Each time that he would
try to place the cool cloth to Joe’s head, Joe would sling his arms upward and
knock Ben’s hands away. Ben was quickly
growing weary and hot for the temperature inside the swaying coach was near
unbearable. As Ben studied the unhappy
expressions that Joe made, he was sure that for as badly as he felt, Joe must
have felt ten times worse.
Ben
felt the stage begin to slow and could not refrain from sticking his head out
the window. A sudden wave of relief
washed over his person when he spied Adam and Hoss waiting at the fork of the
road. They had driven the buggy, which
pleased him that Joe could be made more comfortable than he had been lying on
the narrow bench seat of the stagecoach.
“Whoa!”
he heard the driver call.
“Joe,
we made it, son,” Ben muttered, glancing quickly down at Joe, who refused to
open his eyes.
The
second that the stage stopped, Ben popped open the door and jumped down. He smiled broadly at his sons as Adam and
Hoss stepped up to welcome him home.
“Good
to see you, Pa,” Adam said, shaking his father’s hand.
“Yeah,
Pa, we missed ya. Ya got Joe with ya?”
Hoss asked excitedly as he peered into the coach.
Ben
nodded his head as he shook each son’s hand.
“Yes, but I’m afraid your brother is sick. Help me get him down and into the buggy. Adam, get our bags, please.”
Ben
stepped back into the coach and slipped his arms beneath Joe’s head, raising
him up into a sitting position.
“Come
on, son, let’s get you out of this hot, stuffy stage and into the buggy where
you will be more comfortable.” Ben
backed out, holding on to Joe’s hands and helped to guide his son down and out
into the open.
Joe,
still feeling queasy and now frightened as he gazed at the strange men who
gathered around him, suddenly pulled back, freeing his hands from his
father’s. He turned as if to re-enter
the coach.
“No,
Joe, it’s alright, son. These are your
brothers that I’ve been telling you about.
They’ve brought the buggy so that we can go home,” Ben said in a soft
voice.
Joe
studied Ben’s face and then slithered over as close to him as he could
get. Ben took Joe’s hand into his and
smiled. “This is Adam, and this is
Hoss,” he said as he pointed to his older sons.
“Yeah,
Short Shanks,” smiled Hoss, his heart in his throat.
Joe
had not really changed, instead he’d gotten a bit older and though his mind was
that of a boy, to look at him, no one could tell that he was anything other
than the good looking young man he appeared to be.
“Joe?”
greeted Adam as he studied his brother’s face.
Adam
felt the lump that had unexpectedly appeared in his throat. He thought he had prepared himself for this
moment, but the very sight of the boy whom he had helped to raise, and the
uncertainty that he saw flickering in the frightened eyes that stared back at
him had almost been his undoing. He
swallowed several times to open his air way, and he was forced to blink away
the tears that sought to bubble up in his equally dark hazel eyes. The emotion he felt surprised him, for he was
well aware of the fact that he had missed his little brother, but to this
extent, he was almost overwhelmed.
Joe
shied away from the two hands that were offered to him and took another step
back. Ben caught his arm and prevented
him from moving away.
“Let’s
go,” he said softly to Adam and Hoss.
“He’s not feeling well at all and I want to get him home and in the
bed. Hoss, since you rode your horse,
would you mind riding into town and fetching Doc Martin out to the ranch? I’m afraid that Joe might have the influenza.”
Hoss’
bright blue eyes opened wide. “The influenza?
But isn’t that…”
“Yes,
that’s why we need to get him home.
Please, son, hurry.”
“Sure
thing, Pa, I’ll be back in a jiffy,” Hoss said as he looked once more at the
brother who had been separated from his family for more than two years.
Hoss
quickly mounted up and was gone before Ben and Adam could get Joe situated in
the buggy. Adam drove while Ben sat in
the back with his arm around Joe’s shoulders and Joe’s head resting against
him.
By
the time that Adam reached the ranch house, Joe was nearly delirious with the
high fever that burned his body. Ben,
who had been keeping his attention trained on his son, looked up when the buggy
stopped. His dark chocolate eyes opened
wide in wonder at what he was seeing.
The old house was completely gone; the rubble had been cleared away and
in its wake rose one of the most beautiful homes that Ben had ever seen.
He
stepped precariously from the buggy, his open mouth a testament to his
surprise. The speechless man took a
couple of steps forward and then stopped and turned to his eldest son.
“Adam,
I’m at a loss for words…”
Adam,
seeing the pleased expression on his father’s face, smiled broadly. “Do you like it?” he asked, half-afraid that
Ben might not really be as pleased as he seemed.
Ben
closed his mouth, but his eyes shimmered with happiness. “Do I like it?” he stammered. “It’s beyond words…it’s
beautiful…it’s…it’s…everything and then some…of what I imagined it would be.”
Ben
stepped near to Adam and placed both of his trembling hands on his son’s broad
shoulders. “Thank you, Adam, thank you,”
he muttered in a voice filled with emotion.
Without
saying another word, he gathered Adam into his arms and held him tightly for as
long as his son would permit.
When
Adam at last pulled back, he smiled happily.
“Let’s take Joe inside and get him settled, and then I’ll show you
around while we wait for the doctor.”
Ben’s
throat had filled with such emotion that he was only able to nod his head. Joe put up little resistance to being helped
down from the buggy and into the house.
At the entrance, Ben paused, unsure where he was supposed to go. He looked questioningly over at Adam.
“This
way,” smiled Adam, pointing the way. “I
put your room and Joe’s on the main level, just like we talked about. They’re down this hall,” he said, leading his
father who now was practically carrying Joe in his arms into a big room.
Hop
Sing who had slipped ahead of them into the room, grabbed the coverlet and the
blankets and pulled them aside so that Ben could lower Joe down unto the soft
bed.
“Hop
Sing mighty glad, Boss come home and glad that Lil’tle Joe come home too, where
he belong!” he whispered, bowing graciously at his boss.
“I’m
glad to be home,” Ben answered in return.
“It’s such a magnificent home, too!” he added.
When
Joe moaned softly, Ben’s attention was turned back to the young man in the
bed.
“Hop
Sing, please, bring me some warm water and soap, don’t forget the towels, I
need to bathe Joe off, he’s burning up and I might add, covered in trail dust.”
“Yessir,
Hop Sing be right back,” muttered the faithful servant as he padded quietly out
of the room to fulfill his boss’ request.
Adam
moved a chair over to the bed so that Ben could sit down next to Joe.
“Thank
you, son,” Ben murmured softly as he sat his tired body down and smiled up at
Adam. “It is good to be home.”
“It’s
good to have you home, Pa…both of you. I
just hate that Joe’s sick, I was hoping that…”
Ben
sighed deeply and turning his eyes upward, still smiling up at Adam. “Yes…so was I,” he whispered in a thick
voice.
Adam
stood back and watched while Ben gently brushed back a stray curl that had
fallen across Joe’s dampened brow. He
smiled at the tenderness that was within his father’s touch and wondered how
such a large powerful man could be as he was, kind, caring, loving and
tender. Adam could feel within himself
the love that flowed from his father as Ben caressed his brother’s face, and
deep down, where no man least expected, Adam felt a yearning for that same
tender touch of his father.
Looking
into Joe’s face, Adam realized just how lucky his kid brother had always been
in the way that he had been able to express his innermost feelings so openly
and freely and without fear of repercussion.
That is until his horrifying experience had sent him running inward,
deep within his own mind and heart, to a place where his demons could not
penetrate the invisible wall he had built as a shield of protection.
Adam
was drawn from his musing by the slamming of the door. He had been unaware how quickly that the time
had passed and seemed surprised when Hoss appeared in the doorway with the
doctor following closely on his heels.
Hoss
smiled broadly at his father and tossed his thumb over his shoulder at the
physician who stood behind him.
“Lookit
who I found headin’ out this way,” the big man chanted.
Ben
stood to his feet and turned.
“I
was coming by hoping that you might be home already. I was surprised to run into Hoss out on the
road,” explained the good doctor.
Paul
grasped his friend’s hand into his own and shook it until Ben felt as if it
would break.
“Ben,”
he said in a deep breath, “it’s so good to have you back!” sang Paul with a
wide grin on his face.
“It’s
good to be back,” Ben paused and glanced at Joe. With a toss of his head toward the young man
lying in the bed, Ben grinned. “It’s
even better…now that I have my family all back together with me.”
“I
agree, Ben. Now, if you don’t mind, let
me have a look at this cub of yours,” the doctor laughed.
Ben
stepped aside to give Paul the space he needed in which to make an examination
of his patient.
If
Ben had thought for one moment that the time spent alone wrestling Joe in the
stage when Joe had first begun to get sick, had been wearisome, he found out
three days later the true meaning to the word tired.
From
sun up to long after sun down, Ben, with the aid of his sons stayed by Joe’s
bedside. The boy’s fever raged higher
and higher until even the kindly physician feared for Ben’s youngest son. When Joe slept, which was seldom, he tossed
about so badly that it often took two of them to hold the boy in the bed. Joe fought constantly against the loving
hands that cared for his every need and had become so fierce in his battle
against them that Paul had suggested that he be restrained in the bed. Ben had stood frozen to the spot, unable to
believe what he had heard.
“NO!”
Ben practically shouted at his old friend.
“No one is going to tie, chain, or anything else, this boy to the bed,
do you understand?” he demanded, his dark eyes glowing like red embers from a
hot fire.
“Ben,
calm down, it was only a suggestion,” Paul said, startled somewhat at Ben’s
sudden anger.
Ben
took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
His lips were pinched into a fine straight line. The weariness and worry showed in his eyes
when he looked into the face of his friend.
“I’m
sorry, Paul,” he said in a softer more controlled voice. “I shouldn’t have spoken to you like
that. It’s just that, with all that Joe
went through, restraining him to the bed might be…”
“It’s
alright, Ben, it was foolish of me to even suggest it. I wasn’t thinking,” Paul said as he placed a
hand on Ben’s arm.
They
were interrupted when Joe began thrashing about once more. Paul smiled at Ben. “Well, that reprieve was short lived,” he
whispered as he and Ben stepped up to the bed.
Ben
pressed the back of his hand to Joe’s forehead.
“He’s still burning up.”
“Much
too hot, Ben,” Paul frowned. “Let’s
bathe him off again. This time we’ll use
some alcohol, that should help.”
The
afternoon droned on and on and by nightfall Ben and the doctor were nearly
beyond going. Hop Sing had come and gone
all day, furnishing the pair with fresh buckets of water that he drew regularly
from the bottom of the well, where the water was the coldest.
By
supper time Hoss and Adam returned from their chores and offered to take their
turns at tending to their brother.
“No,
I’ll stay with him,” Ben argued.
“But,
Pa…”
“NO! I don’t want him waking up and not knowing
where he is or worse, where I’m at either.
I’ll stay.” Ben lowered his body
slowly down into the chair.
“Right
now he’s sleeping peacefully, so let’s just be quiet and not wake him. Paul said rest is what he needs most right
now.” Ben yawned and covered his mouth
with his hand.
“I
could use some fresh coffee,” he hinted.
“I’ll
get it for ya, Pa,” Hoss whispered and quickly removed himself from the room.
Adam
stood at his father’s side and for several moments studied his brother’s
face. Joe had lost weight, his face
appeared pale and thin and there were dark circles under his eyes. Adam sighed and allowed himself to sit on the
edge of the bed. Carefully, so as not to
wake the sleeping boy, Adam picked up Joe’s hand and held it in his. The flesh was warm from the fever that still
lingered and the opened palm was damp with sweat. Adam’s thumb gently caressed Joe’s hand. Adam swallowed hard and turned to his father.
“I
never really got to welcome him home,” he whispered in a husky voice.
Ben
saw Adam swallow noting the tenderness that swelled up in his oldest son. He placed a hand on Adam’s knee and squeezed
gently.
“You
can tell him when he’s better, son.”
“I
know,” Adam muttered, turning his head so that he could see his father
better. “It’s just that…well…I wanted
his homecoming to be something special.
You know…the start of his new life, this new house, the first memory
of…meeting me…and Hoss.”
Adam
quickly diverted his face so that his father might not be able to see the tears
that had filled his dark eyes or the way in which he clinched his jaws firmly.
When
he sniffed softly, Ben stood and placed his arm about Adam’s shoulders. “I understand son, I too, had special
thoughts in mind as to how Joe’s homecoming might be. And I’m sure Hoss did as well. But he is home…and he is going to get
better…”
Adam
nodded his head and placed Joe’s hand under the blanket. When he rose, his handsome face was bright
with hope and he gave his father a smile.
“Yes,
he’s home…that is all that matters right now, isn’t it?”
Ben
was awakened by the soft whining sounds that came from the bed. Quickly he leaned forward and felt Joe’s
brow. It was covered with a thick sheen
of sweat and Joe had begun tossing his head about on the pillow that was damp
beneath his head.
Ben
quickly soaked a cloth in water and cleaned Joe’s face.
“Shh…take
it easy, son,” Ben whispered as he sat on the side of the bed and tenderly
dabbed at the beads of moisture.
Briefly,
Joe stopped his thrashing about and for several minutes was quiet. Ben took the time to pour the water from the
basin and refill it with fresh water. As
he worked, he would glance over his shoulder to assure himself that Joe was
still sleeping.
“How’s
he doing?”
Ben
was surprised by the unexpected voice from the doorway, but smiled as Adam
slipped quietly into the room.
“He’s
sweating, I think the fever might be breaking.
God only knows, it’s about time,” Ben sighed.
“Three
days…not counting the time on the stage, I would have to agree with you,
“Pa…”
“ADAM!”
Ben said, his mouth opened in wonderment as he twirled around and looked down
at the bed. “Tell me you just heard
that!”
Adam
had joined his father at the bedside and together they stood, staring down at
the boy who had not uttered a word in over two years.
“I…I…think
it was Joe,” Adam said and then turned to Ben, smiling.
“Joseph,”
cooed Ben as he sat down next to his sleeping son. “Joseph…wake up son.”
Ben
glanced anxiously at Adam and then back to Joe.
He placed his hands on either side of Joe’s shoulders and gently shook
the boy.
“Joe,
this is your Pa…please son, open your eyes!”
Ben
tried for several minutes to coax his son into waking up, but all Joe was able
to do was to toss his head and flutter his eyelids. Ben was disappointed and it showed on his
tired face. It took everything within
him to keep the tears from rolling down his cheeks. He leaned down and kissed the side of his
son’s face.
“Please,
Joe…come back to me…please,” Ben murmured softly as he pressed his cheek
against Joe’s and fought against the tears that threatened to spill.
Adam
choked down a sob and placed a hand on his father’s back. “Pa…”
Ben
held up his hand to stop Adam’s remark.
“Adam, don’t say it…I’m sure that Joe will come back to us…in
time.” He raised his head slightly and
peered up at Adam. “I have to keep
believing that…I have too!”
The
fever had reached its highest peak yet and the physician feared that unless
something happened soon, he would lose his patient. Around the bed, standing solemnly stood Ben
Cartwright, Adam, Hoss, the doctor and even Hop Sing. The little Chinaman dabbed softly at the fine
mist that had collected in his almond shaped eyes as he peered down at the
young man whom he loved as much as if the boy had been his own flesh and blood.
They
had taken turns throughout the long night at keeping their loved one packed in
ice, in order to attempt to lower the raging fever and now as the early dawn
began to fade away into morning, it appeared that the treatment had worked.
“I’m
not sure, Ben, but he does feel cooler.
We’ll give him a little more time and if the fever goes on another
rampage, we’ll just have to add more ice,” Paul explained as he pressed the
back of his hand to Joe’s brow.
Ben
pulled his chair closer to the head of the bed and leaned over, brushing his
long slender fingers through the dampened locks of chestnut hair. He spoke not a word, but deep within his
heart, he prayed a prayer that God would find it in His mercy to bring Joe from
his fever-ridden slumber and back where he belonged.
“I’ll
stay with him,” he muttered. “You go and
get something to eat,” he ordered lightly.
“Ben…”
began Paul.
“No…I’ll
not leave him, not for a second,” Ben said, looking up into the physician’s
face. “I want to be here, when he wakes
up…” His voice faltered slightly. “I
made him a promise a long time ago that I would not leave him…not
again…ever…and I aim to keep that promise.”
Paul
gulped and nodded his head. He had
watched how Ben’s energy had begun to dwindle away slowly as the long hours
began taking its toll on the weary father.
Ben’s face was shadowed by the growth of hair that sprouted on his chin,
his eyes were slightly dull and dark shadows had begun to form under the tired
eyes. But the devoted father had made a
promise to his son, and Paul knew that nothing he could say or do would
convince the loving man to break that promise.
So Paul indulged Ben Cartwright, but with admiration. Paul turned to the
others and gave them a knowing look. It
was obvious that Ben needed time alone with his son.
“Come
on then, we’ll go and have a bite to eat, Ben.
But afterwards, I want you to eat something as well, no!” he held up his
hand to silence Ben’s protest. “It’s
doctor’s orders,” he said with a gentle smile.
“I’ll
try to eat a little, but only up here and only if Hop Sing will bring me a
tray, please,” he said, looking in Hop Sing’s direction.
“I
bring tray,” nodded the little man as he turned and padded quietly out of the
room.
The
others filed out behind him. Hoss
clamped his large beefy hand down on his father’s shoulder and squeezed
gently. When Ben turned his head upward,
Hoss smiled encouragingly.
Ben
stood to his feet and followed the others to the door. When they had all gone, he closed the door
tightly and returned to his chair to sit down, leaning his head against the
back of his chair. His eyelids suddenly
became heavy and though he fought the urge to close his eyes, he was soon
asleep.
“Pa…”
“Pa…”
“Pa!”
Ben was awakened by the soft muttering and glanced directly at his son. Joe was moving his head from side to side. Ben watched with growing excitement as his son’s eyelids fluttered and attempted to open.
“Joseph?”
he whispered as he moved to the edge of the bed and began caressing the face of
his son.
“Pa?” muttered
Joe.
Ben
took a deep breath; his voice trembled, making it difficult for him to speak.
“Joseph…open
your eyes…son,” he encouraged.
He
waited, barely able to breathe as Joe struggled to do as his father had
insisted.
“That’s
it, son…try again!”
“Pa…Pa!”
came the weak
cry.
The
eyelids batted several times until at last they flickered upward and remained
that way. Ben’s own eyes filled
instantly with tears and when he blinked, the tiny droplets rolled slowly down
from the corners of his eyes. His face
twisted into a smile as he watched Joe try to focus his own beautiful eyes on
his father’s face.
“Pa?”
“I’m right here, son,” Ben said, smiling down at the boy. “Joe…you can talk…son!” Ben’s voice was trembling.
“Of…course I…can,” Joe smiled faintly.
“But…you weren’t…” Ben hesitated, suddenly aware that his son was speaking to him as if nothing had ever happened to him.
“Joseph…” began Ben.
“Pa…is something wrong? You’ve been…crying?” Joe asked as he raised his hand and let a slow dripping tear run onto the tip of one finger.
Ben’s words stuck in his throat as he continued to smile down into his son’s face.
“No…nothing’s wrong, Joe. I was only worried about you…you’ve been so sick.”
“How long have I been…this way?” puzzled Joe who seemed unable to take his eyes off his father’s face. “I feel like…I’ve been gone for…ages,” he whispered.
“Joseph…the length of time doesn’t matter. What matters now is that…you’re…back.”
Ben lost his reserve then and surprised Joe by pulling him up into a sitting position and grabbing him into a tight hug. His long arms wrapped about Joe’s body as Ben pulled his son to his breast and held him. The sound of his weeping was soft as he pressed his head against the side of Joe’s.
Joe responded to the affection by wrapping his own arms about his father. His quivering chin and the tears that filled his eyes were unexpected.
“Pa…please…don’t cry. I’m fine now…just a little weak, that’s all. Please Pa…I don’t understand why you’re crying!” sobbed Joe.
“Joe…oh son…thank God…you’re back, you’re back!” wept Ben as he muttered over and over until he finally was able to get control over his emotions.
When he released Joe and helped Joe back down against the soft pillows, the shine of tears lingered on his dampened face. He smiled and brushed the hair from Joe’s forehead.
“I love you, Joseph.”
“Pa…I…I…don’t understand,” muttered Joe, obviously confused by his father’s actions. “You said I was back…where have I been?” Joe studied his father’s expressions intently.
“Don’t you know?”
“No…I thought I was just sick…is there something else?” quizzed Joe.
“No…” Ben said quickly. “You’ve just been sick, that’s all, son…that’s all,” Ben rushed to assure his son.
“Your brothers are in the dining room, I’ll call them for you,” smiled Ben as he stood from the bed. He stopped at the door and turned back to face Joe, smiling, “Welcome back, son.”
“ADAM! HOSS! GET IN HERE, QUICKLY!” shouted Ben from the open doorway.
Within seconds, Hoss and Adam could be heard running down the hall. Paul and Hop Sing were close on their heels and when the two brothers burst into the room, they stopped suddenly, causing the doctor and the family servant to collide into them.
“What’s wrong, Pa?” Adam asked anxiously, as he watched the odd expression on his father’s face.
Ben, who stood with the door, opened inward blocking Adam’s view of the bed where Joe lay waiting, smiled broadly.
“Say good morning to your brother,” he said calmly.
“What?” stammered Adam as he and the others filed into the room.
Adam turned to the bed, stunned that Joe had opened his eyes at long last. Hoss eased his way up, next to his older brother and gazed down at their younger brother.
“Short Shanks?” he said in a faltering voice.
“Hey, Hoss…Adam,” Joe said and then smiled at both of them.
“Little Joe?” Adam muttered as he and Hoss stepped up to the bed.
“Were you expecting someone else?” Joe smiled weakly.
Adam turned questioning eyes over at Ben who stood at the foot of the bed watching his older sons’ reactions to their brother.
“I told you Adam, he’d come back to us,” Ben grinned.
“Ya know who we are?” Hoss wanted to know as he sat down in the chair that Ben had used.
Joe giggled softly and then looked up at his father. The smile faded slightly. “Is he serious?” he asked Ben.
Joe turned to his brothers. “You both look like you’ve seen a ghost…what’s wrong with the two of you? Of course I know who you are.” Joe raised his hand and pointed over the top of Adam’s shoulders. “That’s Doc Martin and…hey…Hop Sing…I hope you brought me something to eat…I’m hungry,” Joe grinned.
“In a minute, young man,” Paul said as he inched his way between Adam who still stood near the end of the bed and Hoss who had remained sitting in the chair. “I want to examine this boy,” he turned to Joe, “and then, you may have anything you like to eat…within reason,” he smiled when Joe scrunched up his face knowingly.
“Alright Doc, as long as it isn’t oatmeal…you know I hate that stuff,” grumbled Joe good-naturedly.
“Don’t worry young man, I remember,” laughed the doctor. Paul turned to the others, “if you will excuse us?”
“Oh…yes…sure. Adam, Hoss, come on…we’ll wait in the main room.” Ben began his way to the door but stopped. “Joe…” his words stuck in his throat.
“Pa…I’ll be fine…honest,” assured Joe.
Ben could only nod his head and then, with one last glance at his son, followed Hoss and Adam out into the hallway.
Once the door was closed, Joe turned quickly to the doctor. “Pa sure is acting strange…what’s happened that he isn’t telling me?” Joe’s voice was still weak and he spoke his words slowly.
Paul hesitated before speaking. He took a deep breath and then began. “Joe…you’ve been sick, that’s all…”
“No…it’s more than my just being sick. Pa…and Adam and Hoss seemed surprised at something. It’s like I’ve been gone for a long time and I’ve just come back from…where ever. Pa even said something about me being back.” Joe leaned back against the pillows, seemingly lost in thought.
“What happened to me? I mean, I know I’ve been sick, cause I feel weak and my head hurts some, but what happened...before I got sick…what was Pa talking about? I don’t understand…” stammered Joe. His chin had begun to quiver and he sought the kind doctor’s eyes.
“I can’t remember getting sick…or what I was doing when I got sick.” Joe paused. “I can’t remember…anything, except waking up a few minutes ago,” he stated in a worried voice.
“Joe…don’t fret yourself about what you can or cannot remember. That’s not important…what’s important right now, is that you’re better…and you’ve made your father an extremely happy man,” smiled Paul.
“But I don’t understand…why can’t I remember?” Joe pushed on with his doubts.
“I don’t know, son…perhaps that’s what the good Lord wants for now…”
“But why?” Joe demanded.
“Joe, please…”
“NO! I want to know…the last thing I remember was being in the barn. Pa, Adam and Hoss had left for the round up…and I had to stay home because I’d been sick and Pa was afraid that if I went along with them I might have a relapse and…” he stopped suddenly and turned wide eyes up at the doctor.
“That’s it isn’t it?”
“What?” Paul asked as he sat down next to Joe on the bed.
“I must have had a relapse…that’s why I’m still sick. I probably got dizzy and passed out, that’s how come my head hurts, I hit it…didn’t I?”
“Is that what you remember, Joe?” Paul was careful for he did not want to stir up memories that might cause problems for his patient.
“I…I’m…not sure, Doc…” Joe stammered. He gave the physician a worried look.
“Well, don’t try to force yourself into remembering, son. We’re all just happy that you’re awake now…you gave all of us a fright, you know,” Paul smiled as he checked Joe’s vitals.
“I’m sorry…I didn’t know,” whispered Joe. He smiled suddenly, “Pa sure seemed pleased to see me!”
Paul stopped, took one of Joe’s hands into his own, which surprised Joe, but he said nothing until Paul was able to meet his stance.
“There’s much more to this than me just being sick, isn’t there?” he asked the doctor watching while Paul’s fingers gently rubbed the back of his hand.
Paul looked directly into the hazel eyes that studied his every move. “Yes, Joe…much more…so much more that it’s all better left in the past. Things happened, things that are not worth worrying about…things that caused your family a lot of grief and unhappiness and…”
Joe’s expression became troubled. “Did I do something…wrong…was I the cause of Pa’s worries…”
“NO!” Paul answered quickly. “You’ve been nothing but a joy to your father…always, Joe. He’s never stopped loving you for one solitary moment…in fact, I believe the man loves you more now that ever before. You see, Joe…Ben thought he’d lost you forever…”
“Why? Please Doc, ya gotta tell me why! I don’t understand…” begged Joe, his chin beginning to quiver for the second time. This time the tears filled his eyes as he looked directly into the compassionate doctor’s face.
“Something bad happened to me, didn’t it?” he stammered.
“I won’t lie to you Joe…yes…and for a while, you went away. Your mind shut down to the things…and the people around you. You were like a little boy…until you got sick recently…and then…well…you must have snapped out of it. I really can’t explain how that happened, or why, but for whatever reason…you’ve come back…and that has made your father…and your brothers, all very happy,” smiled Paul.
“How long? I mean…how long have I been away?”
The doctor felt unsure as to just how much he should tell the young man, but decided that the truth was better told now.
“Almost three years,” Paul said softly.
There was total silence in the room. The doctor’s eyes never wavered from the young man’s face. He watched the silent tears that dripped down Joe’s downcast face and gently he tightened his grip on Joe’s hand. When Joe raised his head, the sadness was evident in his expression.
“No wonder Pa was crying…” gulped Joe. “Three years…that’s a long time,” he stammered.
Joe began to sob as Paul pulled the boy into an embrace. “Shh…Joe,” he whispered.
When Joe stopped crying, Paul rose from the bed and opened the door. “BEN!”
Ben entered quickly, taking in the tear-drenched face of his son. He glanced at the doctor for an explanation.
“I think Joe wants to talk to you…he has questions,” Paul explained, “Ben,” Paul whispered softly, “be honest with him.”
Ben nodded his head and allowed the doctor to slip out of the room. When he’d gone, Ben shut the door, leaning against it briefly to take a deep breath to steady his pounding heart. When he turned, he smiled at his son and moved to the bed where he sat down.
“Joseph…” he began slowly.
“What happened to me, Pa? I want to know…all of it,” Joe was quick to interrupt. “Doc Martin said I’d been away for almost three years…how can that be?” He turned troubled eyes up at his father.
Again, Ben took a deep breath, unsure of just how much of Joe’s missing past he should expose.
“Pa? Please…I want to know.”
“Joe, it’s a long story…couldn’t we discuss this at a later time? I mean…you need to rest and…”
“
“No,” Ben answered honestly, his voice low. He dropped his head afraid to look at his son for fear that Joe might see the swell of tears that clouded his vision.
When he felt Joe’s hand over his, he looked up at last.
“Pa…I’m not afraid, if that’s what you’re worried about…not as long as you’re here with me. And, I’d rather hear it from you than from anyone…because I have a feeling that a lot of others know and I have no idea. It isn’t fair…to me, so please…”
“Alright son…I’ll try to tell you,” Ben responded. “But it’s not going to be easy…for either of us.”
“You tell me when you get tired and I’ll stop,” Ben instructed.
Joe nodded his head.
“I’ll start by telling you this much…I love you son, I always have and I always will.”
“I know that, Pa…I’ve never doubted that,” smiled Joe.
“Then I hope you’ll understand why I had to do what I was forced to do. Afterwards, after everything happened, and after your brothers and I tried everything within our power to help you, I had to make the decision to send you away…”
“Away? Where…why?” asked Joe, more puzzled than ever.
“Joe, you had been beaten, severely, you almost died because of it…”
“By whom?”
Ben faltered and then began again, determined not to admit to his son who had been the cause of all his abuse.
“By some men who showed up here, at the ranch, shortly after your brothers and I left for the round-up. They took you prisoner and…tortured you…until you were almost dead. Then they left you to die…that’s when I found you. It was three, maybe four days later and you didn’t know who I was…you didn’t recognize your brothers. Son, you didn’t even know your own name…and you stopped talking…completely, until you woke up this morning.”
Joe looked amazed. “You mean, I haven’t spoken a word in almost three years? How long was I in that hospital?”
“That’s correct. At
first, we kept you here, and Paul took care of you. He had to operate several times to fix some
broken bones and all,” again Ben skipped over the complete truth. “But with your mind all mixed up, you became
very violent and it took your brothers and I every minute of everyday to take
care of you. We were afraid that you
might…hurt yourself. After about six
months, Paul suggested that I take you to
“
“Yes, and son…believe me…leaving you there was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. You have no idea of how that made me feel. I couldn’t eat, I couldn’t sleep, I even began to doubt myself and I turned to drinking…far more than I actually needed and…”
“I’m sorry…Pa…I…” the tears began to well in Joe’s eyes.
“Don’t be, son…please don’t cry…it wasn’t your fault, or mine…it’s just the way things were. None of us could do anything about it…it…just happened that way,” Ben explained.
“Okay, so I was in
“Almost…and then one day, I got this letter from your doctor, Stephen Harman…and he said I could come for you. He said you were ready to come home. Joe, it was the happiest day of my life.”
“But…my mind…I was still…like a little boy? Gosh, that must have been so hard for you,” commented Joe. “I’m sorry Pa, I wish…”
“No, son. I told you, you are blameless in this…you have no reason to be sorry. I loved you regardless of what condition your mind or your body was in. I didn’t care. I only wanted you home, where you belonged. It was a dream come true for me…”
“So you brought me home and what happened next…I got sick, when?”
“On the way home. That’s when you began running a high fever. I would have stopped, to let you rest, but there was no doctor, so we pushed on until about three days ago. That’s when we met up with your brothers and we brought you here…home,” Ben finished.
“What about this house? It isn’t the same one, is it?”
Ben shook his head slowly from side to side. For a fraction of a moment, sorrow filled his eyes, but when he looked in to the questioning eyes of his son, he willed away the loss of his home.
“No, we thought that bringing you back into the house where you were attacked, might be asking too much of you, so your brothers and I decided to burn the old house down. Adam designed this one, especially for you and me,” smiled Ben.
Joe glanced around the room, pleased at what he saw and then back at his father. He smiled slightly. “Thanks, Pa,” he muttered softly and then lowered his head. His hand was still clinging to his father’s.
“For what, Joe?” his father asked as he tightened his fingers around Joe’s.
Joe glanced up; tears filled his hazel eyes once more. “For not giving up on me…and for taking such good care of me…but mostly, for loving me and willing me back to where you knew I belonged.”
Joe leaned forward and embraced his father. Ben’s arms entwined themselves around his weeping son as he fought against his own tears.
“I only did what any father would have done,” he whispered in Joe’s ear. “And that’s loving his son unconditionally.”
The days passed quickly and with each passing day, Joe’s health improved. When the day came that the doctor issued his last order of taking it slowly, Joe was jubilant.
“Where do you think you are going, young man?” quizzed Ben who had found his youngest son in the barn saddling his pinto. Ben wore a slight smile on his face, and his eyes showed their pleasure at seeing his son so well at last.
Joe whizzed around surprised to see his father standing in the doorway of the barn, his hands firmly planted on his hips. His own eyes were glimmering with merriment.
“For a ride,” Joe smiled. “Please Pa…it’s been such a long time,” he begged.
Ben’s heart melted at the look on his son’s handsome face.
“Alright, son, just promise me you won’t be long…and that you’ll be careful,” ordered Ben gently.
“I promise,” laughed Joe as he led his horse from the barn.
Ben watched as Joe swung himself up, into the saddle.
“I’ll be back by supper time,” he called as he spurred his horse into action.
Joe knew exactly where he was going. It was the same place he’d always gone when he was troubled or worried or just needed to be alone. His father and brothers had hovered over him for weeks now, like old mother hens and Joe had begun to feel smothered by all the attention. He had almost sighed loudly, his relief, when his father had finally allowed him out of his sight for the first time since coming home.
Oh, he understood his family’s worry, their fears for his welfare, his safety, even his health, but nonetheless, Joe was thankful for the break and for the freedom to be by himself.
He reined his mount to a stop just beyond the clearing where, nearly twenty years earlier his mother had been laid to rest. Joe rubbed at the soreness his behind suffered and laughed softly to himself. After not riding in three years, his butt hurt and though hard pressed to admit it, the short ride had made his entire body stiff and achy.
For more than an hour, Joe sat alone. He’d paid his respects to the mother he
barely remembered and then had wandered down to the lake, where he perched himself
atop a large boulder. From his high rise
seat, he was able to see out across the crystal blue
He was amazed at the memories that he could recall of his early childhood and of his young adult life with the family he loved deeply. Yet he marveled at this own lack of inability to recall the most recent past and all that his father had explained to him of what had transpired.
Joe had more unanswered questions that yearned to have answers, put he had sensed in his father a hesitancy to supply those answers. He had tried to approach his brothers, but their responses had always been the same, ‘Talk to Pa’.
Joe had finally given up asking either of them and when he’d finally gotten up enough nerve to face his father about it, Ben had put him off by telling him, ‘some things are better left alone.’
The answer had angered him and left him filled with even more questions. He had begun to speculate and those speculations had frightened him and left him feeling unsure of himself, both feelings that caused him undo stress. He had begun to have headaches and stomach aches, neither of which he was willing to burden his family with. After a time, Joe had begun to have nights where he slept little or none at all. He needed answers and he needed them soon.
At last, Joe returned to his horse. He’d been gone nearly four hours and he was sure that by now, his father had begun to worry about him. It hadn’t been his intention to worry his father; he’d been so lost in his own thoughts that the time had slipped away too quickly.
When Joe rode into the yard, his father was just finishing saddling his horse. Adam and Hoss were already mounted up and all three had looks of relief written on their faces that they all tried to hide. Joe smiled to himself as he dismounted.
“Going somewhere?” he asked casually. His face broke into a smile at seeing the exchange of relieved glances that his brothers traded with their father.
“Hmm…” stammered his father. Ben lowered his head and then scratched the back of his head as if deep in thought.
“We were just going to look for strays,” Adam quickly muttered, turning to his middle brother. “Come on, Hoss,” he added and then kicked gently at his horse.
Hoss followed his older brother’s lead. “See ya,” he called out as he rode from the yard.
“Joe…I was beginning to worry,” Ben stated as he wrapped Buck’s reins around the hitching post.
“I’m sorry,
“It’s alright, son. You look tired,” Ben observed as he walked with Joe to the house, one arm slung across the younger man’s shoulder.
“I am,” Joe laughed lightly. “I’ve not ridden in so long, I ache all over,” he said with a cheeky grin.
“Why don’t you go lie down until supper is ready? I’ll wake you then?” suggested Ben.
They had reached the front door and Joe stopped. He placed his hand on Ben’s arm, preventing his father from entering the house. Ben was puzzled and his face slipped into a frown.
“I’d rather talk to you…if you have time?” Joe asked in a serious tone.
Ben sensed his son’s need, yet he was unsure and more frightened than he cared to admit about where Joe’s talking would lead them. He took a deep breath.
“Joe…”
“Pa, you can’t keep putting me off. Someday I’ll find out…someone will let it slip…but I’d rather you be the one to tell me.”
Ben took a second breath, deeper this time, and let it out more slowly. He pointed toward the side porch that Adam had designed off the new kitchen. Once they were settled, and Hop Sing had brought them both a tall glass of cool lemonade, Ben spoke.
“Alright, son…ask away.”
Joe took a sip of his drink and sat the glass down on the table. He kept his fingers wrapped tightly around the glass in hopes that his father would not see how badly his hand shook. His other hand, he hid in his lap.
“You said I was beaten and tortured,” he stated slowly.
He looked into his father’s eyes and saw a hint of fear flash in the dark depths.
“I want to know by whom…and why, and…I want to know what was done to me.”
He saw his father’s body tense and noted how Ben turned his head to keep from looking directly at him. For several moments neither of them spoke.
“Pa…please?” Joe begged softly.
Ben pinched his lips tight together. When he opened his mouth to speak, his voice was shaky, for he feared Joe would not stop his interrogation until he had all the facts. And what then, what would happen to his son, once he knew the horrid truth? One hurried glance at his son, and Ben began to explain.
“There were five of them. Four, we never learned their names. Those four men were already dead, lying in the great room when I came inside. I was horrified at the sight…four dead men lying in my floor…the blood…all over the house…”
“Who killed them?” Joe asked as he scooted to the edge of his seat. He had fixed his eyes on his father’s face.
“We never knew for sure, son, probably the fifth man…or…”
“Me?” Joe asked softly.
“Maybe…but considering the condition you were in when I found you…not very likely,” explained Ben.
“The fifth man…who was he, and where did you find me?”
Ben dropped his head and covered his face with both hands. He was struggling to stop his body from trembling. He groaned softly, his heart was in his throat.
“Joseph…please, son!” sobbed Ben.
Joe leaned back in his chair and watched how his father struggled with the unspoken knowledge. Joe could see how his father suffered and he knew that whatever the secret was that had yet been revealed to him, it had caused great amounts of heartache for all four of them.
At last he leaned forward and grasped Ben’s trembling hands and pulled them away from the face hidden behind them. His father’s eyes had filled with tears, and Joe could see the anguish that his father tried so hard to conceal. Joe swallowed, his mouth felt dry, as if someone had stuffed cotton inside. At last he drew a breath from deep within and asked the forbidden question, knowing in his heart that his father would never deny him the truth. He was ready; it was now or never.
“Who was it?” he demanded, his voice commanding, yet full of compassion for his father.
Ben raised only his eyes to look up at his son.
“Lin Wong,” he said barely above a whisper.
Joe felt his body go numb. He thought he’d been prepared for whatever his father was about to reveal to him…but this…he would never have dreamed! The very mention of the man’s name sent terror to his pounding heart. His hands shook violently and he suddenly found it hard to breathe. He rose, grabbing the back of the chair to steady himself and then without a word, turned away from his father. He took several faltering steps before stopping.
Ben had stood to his feet as well and was immediately behind his son. He placed a hand on each of Joe’s shoulders and gently turned the boy around. Ben saw the tears that flowed unchecked from the frightened eyes and instantly knew that his son now realized what had been done to him.
Joe’s crying began slowly as Ben gathered his son into his arms. Minutes later the sounds had grown into heart-wrenching sobs as Joe leaned heavily against his father for support.
Ben’s fingers laced themselves around Joe’s head and within the thick curls as he cradled his distraught son’s head as it rested against his shoulder.
“We thought he was dead, Joe. Hoss shot him, you saw for yourself the last time. We believed it was finished; we…” Ben could not continue, his own emotions were too raw.
“I’m so sorry, son…if I had thought…if I had only known…I would have…”
Joe jerked free from his father’s embrace. He stomped from the porch, leaving Ben standing alone. He stopped in the middle of the yard and turned back, brushing at his face with the sleeve of his shirt. The desperation showed in his eyes and in the twisted expression on his face.
“Well, you didn’t know, did you!” he blared. “And he raped me…didn’t he?”
Ben lowered his head, unable to meet the imploring eyes that scrutinized his face for the answer.
“ANSWER ME! THAT BEAST RAPED ME!” screamed Joe, staggering slightly as he voiced his fury.
The tears ran down his face and dripped from his chin. Ben moved from the porch into the yard and stood before his trembling son. Neither had noticed that Adam and Hoss had returned and sat silently on the horses, listening.
“Yes Joe…he raped you…repeatedly,” whispered Ben.
His heart shattered by the devastation he witnessed on his son’s face.
Joe stopped crying and fixed his gaze on his father’s expression. He clinched his jaw tightly; his breathing shallow and his fingers had folded in fists so tightly that his father could see the knuckles turning white.
“Where is he?”
Joe swallowed.
“Dead.”
Joe’s lips form a shadow of a smile.
“How?”
“You killed him.”
His hazel eyes opened wide in disbelief.
“I killed him? How?”
“You shot him with my gun.”
“Your gun?”
The boy’s brow furrowed in confusion.
“Yes…the one I kept in my night-stand.”
“I was in your room?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
The fragment of a smile disappeared.
“I suppose because that’s where he took you.”
Ben heard the soft groan that escaped his son’s lips.
“That bastard raped me in my own father’s bed?”
Joe’s head lowered, his chin quivered and his entire body trembled in repulsion.
“I’m so sorry, son!”
Joe met his father’s eyes; his own had filled again with tears. Joe surprised his father by laughing softly.
“Ah! My final and ultimate degradation!”
The sobs were wrenched from his heart, and the tears ran unchecked down his face.
Joe walked away from his father, back to where he had left his horse tied. Without a word or backward glance, he mounted up and rode away.
Adam and Hoss joined their father.
“Ain’t ya goin’ after’em?” asked Hoss fearfully as he rushed over to his father.
“No…leave him be…for now,” Ben said sadly. “He was bound to find out sooner or later. Who knows, he might even have remembered. No…he was right all along…better to hear if from me than from someone else. At least this way, he knows that I was honest with him.”
Ben turned and went inside. He’d give his son his space, his time needed to accept the facts and then, if Joe wasn’t back by bedtime, he’d go looking for him. Ben had a pretty good idea where the boy would be, so for now, he wasn’t really worried…much.
Ben knew the way by heart. Hadn’t he traveled this same path a million times over the passing years? Ben pulled Buck to a stop and laced the reins over the same low hanging branch that held Cochise. As Ben rounded around the horse’s rump, he tapped gently on the horse’s backside so that Buck would not be spooked and kick out at him.
Slowly, he made his way into the clearing. It was, as he knew it would be. Joe squatted on one knee, his face hidden by one hand. Ben could hear the soft weeping sounds and they tugged at his heart. How much more must his son be made to suffer because of one man? The thoughts troubled him, was Joseph strong enough emotionally, to deal with the knowledge, or would he slip away from his family once again and hide in his childhood where he’d only recently returned? Ben’s heart quivered with the doubts and fear.
“Joseph?” whispered Ben as he slowly approached his son.
Joe raised his head. He had not heard his father approach him. Slowly he rose to his feet. When Ben stood before him, Joe surprised his father by embracing him. The young man buried his face in the hollow of his father’s neck.
“I’m sorry I yelled at you, Pa,” wept Joe.
Ben cupped his hands tenderly around Joe’s face and forced his son to look him in the eyes.
“I’ve told you, Joe…you have nothing…absolutely nothing, to be sorry for!”
“I’m not sorry I killed him…I’m glad he’s dead,” stammered Joe.
“So am I, son.”
“I only wish that…”
Ben smiled lovingly at Joe. “You wish what, son? Tell me…please.”
“I wish that I didn’t feel so…so…dirty!”
Ben led Joe to a nearby rock and ordered him to sit.
“Let me explain something, son. Maybe it will help how you feel about yourself,” Ben explained.
He reached into his vest pocked and pulled out his money pouch. From it he pulled a large paper bill.
“See this, Joe? What is it?” he asked, holding the bill up so that Joe could see it clearly and know without a doubt what it was.
“Money…its a hundred dollar bill,” answered Joe, not sure where his father was going with his little speech.
Ben smiled at his son.
“That’s right, son,” he said, “I am going to give this to you, but first, let me do this.”
Ben proceeded to crumple the bill up. He then asked, “Do you still want it?”
Joe was more puzzled than ever, but he wasn’t going to refuse the money his father offered him. He nodded his head yes.
“Well,” Ben then replied. “What if I do this?”
He dropped it on the ground and started to grind it into the dirt with his boot. When he picked it up, the bill was crumpled, and dirty. He looked down at Joe and smiled.
“Now, do you still want it?” Ben asked again.
Once more, Joe nodded his head.
“Joe,” said Ben softly as he sat down and placed his arm
around his son. “Son, you have just
learned a very valuable lesson. No matter what I did to the money, you still
wanted it because it did not decrease in value. It was still worth a hundred
dollars. Many times in our lives, we are dropped, crumpled and ground into the
dirt by the decisions we make and the circumstances that come our way. We feel
as though we are worthless. But no matter what has happened or what will
happen, you will never lose your value. Dirty or
clean, crumpled or finely creased, you are still priceless to those who love
you. The worth of our lives comes not in what we do or whom we know, but by WHO
WE ARE.
You are special, Joseph... Don't EVER forget it.”
Ben stood to his feet and took Joe’s hand into his. He placed the bill into Joe’s hand and folded his son’s fingers over the bill.
“I love you Joe, unconditionally, in any shape, form or condition. You may feel dirtied by what happened to you…but to me, you are as pure as the day you were born.”
Ben moved his hand from Joe’s and cupped Joe’s quivering chin, tilting his head upward. Ben smiled and leaned down and kissed his son’s forehead. When he’d finished, he turned and left the weeping young man alone with his thoughts.
It was late by the time that Joe slipped into the house. He wasn’t at all surprised to find his father still waiting up for him. He smiled silently and pressed his hand down on Ben’s shoulder. Ben’s eyes fluttered in surprise and then opened.
“Were you waiting up for me?” teased Joe.
Ben laughed, “I suppose I was.”
“I’m glad…’cause I wanted to say something to you,” Joe said almost shyly.
“What might that be, son?” Ben asked as he pushed himself up straight in his chair.
He noted that the haggard and frightened look was gone from Joe’s face and he felt himself relax somewhat.
Joe gave his father a tiny smile.
“I just wanted to say thanks. I know I’ve said it many times…but I wanted to say it again.”
“You’re welcome, son,” smiled Ben.
“You know, Pa…after listening to what you said…about self value…I know now that I can live with knowing that I was…raped,” Joe said seriously.
Then he made a lopsided smile.
“I just hope I never remember, ‘cause I’m not too sure that I’d even WANT to live, if I knew what things he actually did to me.” Joe paused and took a deep breath. “You understand…don’t you?” Joe said in a near pleading tone of voice.
Ben rose to his feet and rested an arm around the back of Joe’s shoulders. His fingers entwined themselves in the thick curls at the base of his son’s head.
“Yes…believe it or not…I do understand, son.”
Joe gazed happily up at his father and smiled.
“Somehow, I knew you would.”
When Joe went to his room, Ben stood before the fireplace and poked at the
dying embers. He hoped that his son
would never be faced with the memories of his abuse. He prayed it into being, for Joe Cartwright
had been reborn, and all the evil things that had been done to him by the
wicked Lin Wong were cast into the sea of forgetfulness. And when many, many years later, Joe took his
final breath and exchanged this life for the next, his father’s prayers had
been answered, for Joe never was forced to relive the nightmare that had for
years afterwards, haunted the dreams of his loving, compassionate father.
THE END
August 2003
·
While trying to come up with
words of wisdom that Ben could use to comfort his son, I happened to receive a
beautiful story about a twenty-dollar bill. I took the privilege of changing
that twenty into a hundred but the moral of the story remained the same, no
matter how dirty or wrinkled it became, it never lost its value. The same is true with people…no matter what
life throws at us, or how far we allow ourselves to sink into the muck of
everyday living, we never lose our value, not in God’s eyes or in the eyes of a
loving, earthly father.
·
Bev Young, for sending that
special email in just the nick of time, both Ben Cartwright and myself thank
you! DLB