Until He Turns Eighteen
By
DebbieB
The
laughter around the small wooden table on the side porch where Ben sat
with his
three sons was light and pleasant. Anytime
that Ben could catch his three handsome boys in such a merry mood; it
was like
music to his ears.
He
watched the shining light in Hoss’ blue eyes and snickered when the
heavyset
boy scrunched up his face in a frown.
When he glanced at Adam, his dark hazel eyes were alight with
the same
glow, amused at the gentle banter going on between his two younger
brothers. Joe, on the other hand, had
eyes that glimmered with impending mischief and as Ben watched, Joe’s
emerald
eyes seemed to dart from one brother to the next. Ben
was always amazed, each and every time
that he looked at his younger son, he saw again, the image of his third
wife,
Marie, Joe’s mother and his heart seemed to lurch into high gear at the
memories
that surfaced.
“That’s
how it went,” Joe was laughing, “you should have seen ole man Watkins
run! That ole bull of his was right on his
tail
and he was snorting like that ole steam engine over in
“I
thought old man Watkins said that Edgar was as gentle as a lamb?” Adam
inquired.
Edgar
was Mr. Watkins old bull that Joe had been telling his brothers about. Mr. Watkins had named the bull after his
father-in-law, which had not made Mrs. Watkins happy, to say the least.
“That’s
what he said, until he pulled that red bandanna out of his pocket. That’s when Edgar began acting kind of
funny. Mr. Watkins didn’t pay the bull
any mind, until it was too late, by then Edgar was charging him and Mr.
Watkins
had to run for his life.” Joe laughed
louder. “There wasn’t a thing I could do
to help him, except yell at him to run faster.
You know, brothers, that old goat can run pretty dang fast to be
so old,
why he’s nearly as old as Pa here and…”
“Excuse
me?” Ben refrained from smiling, though with the look on his youngest
son’s
face, it was next to impossible.
“I…I…I…didn’t
mean to imply that your were old, Pa,” stammered Joe as he got to his
feet and
began to fidget nervously with the button on his jacket.
“Well
I should hope not, young man,” Ben said, glancing back and forth
between Adam
and Hoss and noting how they were struggling to keep from laughing as
well.
“I…I…I…better
get to my chores,” Joe said as he slid around the far end of the table.
“That
would be a good idea,” Ben finally laughed at last.
Adam
and Hoss began snickering as well.
“You
know what they say, Pa,” laughed Adam.
Ben
spun around masking his expression of amusement, “No, son, what do they
say?”
“Yeah,
Adam, what do they say…by the way…who
are they?” asked Hoss, gently scratching his head.
Adam
gulped; this conversation had somehow taken on a strange twist.
“Adam?”
Ben said in a low voice, “what do they say?”
Ben was finding himself hard pressed not to laugh out loud.
“Out
of the mouths of babes, cometh the truth?” Adam quoted softly.
Ben
burst out with his deep laughter, surprising his oldest son. “Are you saying that you agree with your
youngest brother?”
Adam
quickly jumped to his feet. “Nosir,” he
said almost too quickly. “I have chores
to do, you coming Hoss?”
“Heh?”
Hoss glanced at Adam who was nodding his head
toward the barn. “Oh…hmm…yeah, I’m
comin’, Adam. See ya Pa!” he called as
he quickly followed Adam.
Ben
snickered and sat back down at the table and picked up his ledger.
“Hey
Pa!” Joe called from across the yard.
He
had saddled his horse and was sitting abreast Cochise as he shouted at
his
father.
Ben
looked up and smiled, secretly admiring the handsome boy.
“What is it son?”
“I’ve
finished with my chores, you said it was alright to go down to the
swimming
hole, remember?” Joe called.
“Yes,
I remember, but you remember, young man,” Ben said as he stood to his
feet and
pointed his finger at Joe. “You be
careful and be home by supper…or else!”
Joe
gave his father one of his winning smiles and tipped his hat. “I’ll remember!” he laughingly shouted.
Before
Ben could seat himself, Joe had spurred his mount into action.
“JOSEPH!”
Ben shouted, trying to gain the boy’s attention. Ben pinched his lips
tightly
and shook his head. “That boy charges
out of here as fast as Watkins’ bull charges after him,” Ben gently
grumbled to
himself and then casting one last glance at his departing son, sat back
down.
“Don’t
worry, Mr. Jenkins, Mitch and I’ll watch out for Rocky, he’ll be fine,
I
promise,” smiled Joe. “The water ain’t
all that deep any ways,” he added.
“Isn’t,”
corrected Mrs. Jenkins. The young mother
had just come from the kitchen and had heard Joe’s last statement. She smiled up at the boy.
“I’m sorry, Joseph, but being a teacher, I
just can’t help myself,” she laughed.
Joe
gave her one of his most charming smiles.
“That’s
alright ma’am, I’m used to it, my oldest brother, Adam, he and my Pa
are
correcting me all of the time.”
Rocky
burst through the door and stopped when his father grabbed him by the
arm. “You remember, young man, you’ve just
learned
to swim, so I want you to be extra careful, you understand?”
Rocky
glanced up at Joe and rolled his eyes, causing Joe to giggle.
“Yessir,
I will,” Rocky promised, “you needn’t worry, Pa, I’m fifteen years old
now
and…”
“I
don’t care if you are fifty years old, you are my only son and I want
you to be
careful!” growled Mr. Jenkins in a light tone, which told all the boys
that he
really wasn’t mad, just worried. When he
reached over and placed his hand on Joe’s knee, it took the youngest
Cartwright
by surprise.
“I’m
putting you in charge, Little Joe, you look out after my boy. He ain’t…ere…isn’t a very good swimmer,” Mr.
Jenkins informed Joe.
“Oh,
don’t worry, sir, I’ll make sure he gets home safely,” stammered Joe,
not
really sure what he was supposed to say to his new friend’s father.
“Good,
I’ll hold you responsible!” Mr. Jenkins
turned back to his son, “well, get going,” he smiled, “and have
fun…just be
careful!” he called as he watched his son mount up and ride off with
his new
friends.
The
three boys rode along in silence for several minutes before Rocky said
anything. He glanced over at Joe who
rode to his right side.
“I’m
sorry about my ma and pa, Joe, but they worry about me all the time and
still
tend to treat me as if I were a little boy.”
Joe
grinned, “I know how you feel, I have two older brothers and they, and
my pa,
still treat me the same way.”
“Yeah,
me too,” Mitch added, “I have an older brother and a sister, talk about
getting
nagged at!”
All
three boys laughed. “Here we are,” Joe
said pointing off in the distance. “Look
Seth and Carl are already here.”
“Hi
ya, Joe!” shouted Seth as he swung by the long rope that was attached
to a tree
limb that hung far out over the top of the water. “Watch
this! Whee…”
Seth
made the rope swing out until he was out over the water and then turned
loose,
dropping down into the water and disappearing under the surface.
“Hey,
that looks like fun!” Rocky said as he jumped from his horse and ran to
the
water’s edge. “Ain’t….isn’t he coming
back up?” he asked worriedly and then glanced at Joe for an answer.
“Sure,
but ya gotta give him a minute, it’s pretty deep right there in the
middle…there he is,” laughed Joe.
He
had begun to shuck his trousers and then his boots.
When he had his shirt off and was down to his
long johns, he grabbed the knotted rope and ran backwards from the
water and
then forward until his feet left the ground.
He swung back over the bank, kicked the ground with his feet to
give
himself more of a boost and then curling his legs upward, waited until
he was
out over the water and then released the rope.
“GERONIMO!!”
he shouted loudly and then splashed into the deep dark water.
“WOW!”
screamed Rocky. “I wanna try that!” he
said and stripping down to his long underwear made a run for the rope. He grabbed on to it, just as Joe’s head popped
above the surface.
“Burr…why
didn’t ya tell me that the water was so cold!” Joe giggled and shouted
at Seth
as he began swimming to the bank.
“Go
ahead, Rocky, try it…just make sure you swing way out until you’re over
the
middle!” warned Joe as he waded in the shallow water along the edge of
the
bank.
“Okay,
here goes!” Rocky repeated the same
action that he had seen Joe doing and soon was swinging precariously
out over
the water’s edge.
“Higher…ya
gotta swing higher,” shouted Joe as he, Seth and Mitch were laughing at
Rocky’s
first attempt.
“NOW!”
called Carl.
Rocky
let go of the rope and as he did so, twisted his body around. By the time he hit the water, he was belly
down and made a loud plop into the water.
“Ouch,”
giggled Joe. “That had to hurt,” he
said, smiling at his companions.
Moments
later a rather beaten Rocky broke through the surface of the water and
began
swimming toward the shore. When he
reached the water’s edge, where it was too shallow to swim, he stood to
his
feet, smiling up at his friends.
“That
was fun!” he laughed, brushing his wet hair out of his eyes.
“Look
at your belly…it’s all red,” laughed Mitch, pointing toward Rocky.
The
boy glanced down at his middle and then rubbed gently at his stomach. “Yeah, and it burns a little,” he commented.
“That’s
called a belly buster,” laughed Seth.
“Next
time try going in feet first!” giggled Joe.
“Come on, let’s do it again,” Little Joe called as he ran to the
rope.
“Hey,
let’s do it together,” Mitch said and laced his fingers around the knot
that
was one higher on the rope than where Joe had twisted his fingers.
“Okay,
get ready!” shouted Joe.
He
and Mitch ran back and then forward and then swung back to the bank for
the
second time, each pushing with their bare feet until they were far
enough over
the water that they let go of the rope.
“Whoopee!”
shouted Mitch.
“Yahoo!”
yelled Joe as both boys plunged into the water.
Seth,
Carl and Rocky stood at the water’s edge, laughing at their two friends. Minutes later Joe and then Mitch’s head both
resurfaced, both boys were giggling.
“Hey
look,” called Joe, pointing from the water.
“It’s
the girls!” snickered Mitch.
The
three boys on the bank turned to face the four girls that were starting
to
dismount. The girls, Cindy Hamilton, who
was the banker’s daughter, Sarah Thornton, the daughter of the local
minister,
Sally Mitchell the daughter of Elizabeth Mitchell who owned a dress
shop in
Virginia City and Lucy Foster who was the niece of Clem Foster, the
town’s
deputy, quickly dismounted their horses and hurried to join the boys.
“Who
are they?” Rocky whispered to Joe who had joined the others.
Joe
smiled at the girls and then glanced at his new friend, “they’re
classmates…we
all go to school together,” he whispered.
“Hi
ya, Little Joe,” Cindy said as she smiled coyly at Joe.
Joe
felt his face begin to redden. At nearly
sixteen, he still felt awkward around the girls, especially Cindy, for
he had a
secret crush on the beautiful girl.
Before
Joe could acknowledge Cindy’s greeting, the other girls all started
talking at
once. Mitch introduced Rocky to the
girls and informed them that he would be starting to school with them
when
school resumed in the next few weeks.
The
boys went back to their rope swing, each taking a turn at trying to
impress the
girls. Joe was no different than his
friends and his antics kept everyone laughing.
“We
brought some sandwiches, you fellas want something to eat?
I bet you’re all hungry!” Lucy said.
She
and Sarah quickly pulled the sacks from around their saddle horns and
hurried
to spread the inviting lunch out for the boys.
Seth and Carl were the first to sit down and grab sandwiches. Joe wiggled his way between Seth and Carl and
plopped down next to Cindy. When the
girl handed him a sandwich and smiled, Joe blushed again.
Mitch
had made himself comfortable sitting next to Elizabeth and Lucy and
Sarah sat
opposite Seth and Carl. The group was
deep into conversation, when Carl noticed that the new boy had not
joined them
for sandwiches.
“Hey,
Joe, where’s your buddy?” Carl asked.
Joe
had just stuffed his mouth with a large bite of the chocolate cake that
Cindy
had baked and brought along to tempt him with.
“I
dunno,” he muttered.
“The
last time I saw him was a couple of minutes ago, I think he took
another swing
on the rope,” Seth said as he glanced over his shoulder at the water.
The
water was smooth, like glass and there were no signs of ripples that
would have
indicated that Rocky had taken a last dive into the swimming hole.
“How
long ago was that?” Joe asked.
He
turned his head and gazed out at the water and then searched the edge
of the
woods with his eyes, hoping that perhaps Rocky had had to take a little
walk
into the thick growth to relieve himself.
“A
couple of minutes ago,” answered Seth.
Seth
had seen the worried look that had suddenly come into his friend’s eyes
and
automatically his own eyes followed the same route that Joe’s had.
Joe
stood to his feet and cupped his hands around his mouth.
“ROCKY!”
By
now all the boys were standing and casting anxious glances all around
them. “Reckon he went for a walk?”
suggested one of the girls.
“No,
he doesn’t know these woods like we do, he wouldn’t chance it,” Joe was
quick
to answer.
“Joe,”
Mitch moved quietly to his best friend’s side.
“Yeah
Mitch?” The soft tone of Mitch’s voice
had quickly drawn Joe’s attention to his companion.
“Ya
don’t reckon he’s still in the water do ya?”
Mitch’s eyes had darkened and grown large with the fear that
such a
thought evoked.
“Still
in the water?” mumbled Joe, his own eyes widening.
Joe
moved down to the edge of the water, staring into the murkiness,
wondering if
Rocky had somehow taken a dive and not surfaced. The
fear caused his body to begin trembling
and he felt very near the edge of panic.
He swallowed and turned frightened eyes at his friends, who by
now had
circled around him and looked at him as if he could provide the answer.
Joe
took a deep breath. “There’s only one
way to find out…”
“How?”
Cindy asked.
“I’m
going in.”
With
that, Joe stripped off his pants that he had donned earlier, when the
girls
arrived. As he walked down the bank and
stood ankle deep in the water, he looked one more time into the faces
of all
seven of his friends.
Taking
a deep breath to fill his lungs, Joe dove smoothly into the water and
disappeared beneath the surface. Under
the water and deep near the bottom, it was cloudy, making seeing
anything next
to impossible. Joe swam around, fighting
to keep his eyes opened as he searched the water for his friend. He felt his lungs begin to burn and knew that
soon, he would have to resurface and come up for more air.
Joe twisted his head about in all directions,
even looking up to judge just how far out into the middle of the water
he might
be and to distance himself as to where they had been landing when they
released
the swing rope.
Feeling
as if he were about to burst, Joe swam for the surface.
The instant his face broke water, he opened
his mouth to refill his lungs and dove for the second time down into
the
water. For several moments, he swam
about, always searching the depths with his anxious eyes.
Joe
allowed tiny bubbles to pass his lips; his cheeks were puffed out and
were
beginning to ache. He pushed himself
downward for one last look, intending to surface, fill his lungs and
then make
a third dive. He turned one last time,
amid the underwater grasses that grew in thick dark patches. The grasses where long and swayed gently with
the soft flowing current and seemed to be waving at him as he swam by.
Suddenly
the grasses appeared to part, and what Joe saw, sent horror’s piercing
arrow straight
through his young heart. His lips parted
and the heart-wrenching scream that sputtered from his mouth sent
hundreds of
tiny air bubbles floating to the surface. Joe was forced to clamp his
lips
tightly so that water would not fill his mouth and though his heart was
beating
rapidly with fear, he began trying to jerk and pull the long tightly
woven
grasses from around Rocky’s body. He was
near panic as he worked. Tears filled
his eyes as he struggled against the greenery that had somehow twisted
themselves
around their prisoner and refused to relinquish their hold.
Joe
glanced up, into his friend’s face.
Rocky’s eyes were opened, and he appeared to be staring at
nothing, his
thick blond hair floated high above his head, next to his arms that
rose above
his shoulders. Joe closed his eyes to
the horrific scene and having no other recourse but to swim to the top
and
refill his lungs, pushed himself upward.
“OH
GOD!” he screamed to his friends, who had been sitting on the bank,
waiting for
his return. “GO FOR HELP…HE’S TANGLED IN
THE GRASSES!” Joe screamed; his voice was high pitched with terror.
Joe
made another dive while the young people on the bank snapped into
action.
“Seth,
go for Mr. Cartwright, he’s the closest, Carl you go fetch Rocky’s
father, and
girls…a couple of you better ride into town and tell the sheriff what’s
happened, and bring the doc back with you!” ordered Mitch.
Everyone
scattered, anxious to help and fearful for not only their old friend,
Joe
Cartwright, but their new friend as well.
“Cindy,
you stay with me, Joe might need some help when he comes up again,”
instructed
Mitch as he and Cindy began to make preparations for when Joe brought
Rocky
up. Neither knew what to expect, and
being young, neither Mitch nor Cindy were prepared for what was about
to
happen.
Far
below the surface, Joe fought a losing battle with the thick growth of
grasses. He could feel his own tears as
they streamed down his face. His stomach
churned and he was hard pressed to keep his lunch down. Try
as he might, he could not keep from
looking up, into the face of his friend, and each time that his eyes
met those
of the other boy’s, Joe felt as if a part of him died along with his
friend.
Joe
popped to the surface, never giving a thought to his two friends who
waited
anxiously or to the fact this his lungs burned as if a smoldering fire
had been
started deep down inside. The only thing
that Joe had his mind fixed on, was freeing Rocky from his underwater
prison.
Time after time Joe rose to the surface and then dove under.
“MR.
CARTWRIGHT! MR. CARTWRIGHT!” Shouted
Seth as he yanked back on his mount’s reins and pulled the horse to a
sudden
stop.
Ben,
who had been sitting at his desk, jumped up at the sound of his name
and ran
from the house, followed by Adam and Hoss.
He watched as Seth’s horse danced in circles and once had to
move to
avoid being stepped on.
“Seth…what’s
wrong?” demanded Ben, suddenly fearful, for Joe had yet to return from
the
swimming hole and he knew that Seth was one of Joe’s friends whom he
had
planned on meeting there and spending the afternoon with.
“You
better come quick, there’s been an accident, hurry!” the frightened boy
urged.
“Adam,
get our horses. Seth, what happened…is
it Joe?” Ben grabbed the halter on Seth’s
horse and stopped the horse’s nervous prancing.
“It’s
Rocky, he dove into the water and didn’t surface…Joe went in after him
and now
we can’t find him!”
The
fear stabbed at Ben’s heart and he felt his stomach do a violent flip
as he swallowed
the hot tasting bile that had filled his mouth.
“Dear
God,” he muttered.
Minutes
later the three Cartwrights were mounted up and racing to the swimming
hole. When they arrived, they found
Mitch and Cindy standing together along the bank, staring into the
water.
Ben
slid from his horse almost before Buck had stopped and raced up to
Mitch.
“Where’s
Joe?” he practically shouted.
When
Mitch turned to face his friend’s father, Ben could see the swell of
tears that
had collected in Mitch’s blue eyes. As
he turned toward Cindy, Ben could easily tell that the girl had also
been
crying.
“MITCH!”
Ben grabbed the boy’s shoulder, giving him a firm shake.
Mitch
pointed toward the water. “In there, he
won’t come out…he’s dove in…at least a dozen times.”
Mitch’s voice cracked and the tears slowly
freed themselves and rolled gently down the boy’s face.
“I’ll
get him, Pa,” Adam said without hesitation.
He
had already stripped off his shirt and had tossed his hat on the ground. Quickly he leaned down and yanked his tight
fitting boots off his feet. Without a
word, he dove smoothly into the water, barely breaking the surface or
making a
splash. Tiny air bubbles began to dance around in the center of the
ringlets that
circled the spot where Adam had gracefully entered the water.
Adam
used his long muscular legs and paddled hard toward the bottom in
search of his
brother. It took only seconds to locate
Joe, and when he swam in behind the boy and placed his hand on his
brother’s
arm to alert the boy of his presence, Joe turned, stunned to see his
brother
behind him.
Adam’s
heart melted, for the look on his little brother’s face told him just
how
deeply the boy was suffering. Adam
glanced over the top of Joe’s head and saw the lifeless body of his
brother’s
friend, swaying with the flow of the undercurrent.
The boy’s eyes had remained opened, though
the spark of life had been extinguished early on. Adam
could only assume that because of the
tangle of undergrowth that held the boy captive, the boy had drowned
almost
instantly and without the knowledge of the others, until it was too
late.
Adam
grabbed Joe’s shoulders and forced his brother to face him. Adam pointed his finger up, indicating the
surface, and gently urged Joe to swim to the surface.
Joe shook his head and pointed in Rocky’s
direction. When Adam released one hand,
Joe tried to make his way back to Rocky.
Adam grabbed again at Joe, catching his arm and pointed toward
the top
of the water. When Joe refused, Adam
tightened his grip and began swimming toward the top, forcing Joe to
swim with
him.
Within
moments, both brothers surfaced above the water. Adam
still had Joe in tow and when they
reached the shallow end, he quickly motioned for his father and Hoss to
help
him.
“NO!
NO!” screamed Joe. “I”VE GOT TO HELP
HIM!” he bellowed as he tried to wrench his arm free of the hands that
were now
holding him.
Adam
gave his father a stern look and shook his head before filling his
lungs and
diving again, into the water. Joe began
to squirm within his father’s arms, his crying and pleading bringing
his
father’s attention back to his distraught son.
“Shh…Joseph,
you’re exhausted, let Adam help Rocky…please son,” Ben said in a
soothing
voice.
Joe
was exhausted and he fell against his father’s body.
Ben wrapped his arms tightly about Joe’s
shoulders, which had begun to tremble.
Joe began to sob as he clung to his father.
“He’s
dead…he’s dead and it’s my fault!” sobbed Joe, very near the edge of
hysteria.
“No,
no, Joseph, it wasn’t your fault, it was an accident,” Ben whispered.
He
cast his eyes up at Mitch and Cindy who had gathered around. Mitch nodded his head, telling Ben what he
needed to know; Rocky’s drowning was an accident. Hoss
appeared with a blanket from his bedroll
and gently wrapped it around his shivering brother.
“It
was…Pa…Oh God…Mr. Jenkins…he told me I would be…responsible…for Rocky.” Joe pulled back from his father’s embrace and
turned tear filled, red rimmed eyes up to look into his father’s face.
Joe’s
breathing was coming in short, quick jabs, making his speech broken and
choppy.
“My…fault,”
he sobbed. “I…I…”
Ben
felt his son’s body go slack in his arms.
“He’s passed out,” muttered Ben, lowering Joe onto the ground.
“Mr.
Cartwright,” Mitch said in a low voice.
Ben
glanced up, seeing the horror in the blue eyes.
He glanced at Cindy when he heard her scream and then pointed
her finger
behind him. Ben turned; Adam was
emerging from the water, Rocky held in both arms. The
young boy’s body was dripping with water
and his arms were dangling at his sides.
Ben needn’t ask, he knew…Joe’s new friend was dead.
“Pa?”
whispered Hoss who had squatted down in front of his father and younger
brother. “Lookit, here comes the boy’s
father,” he pointed over Ben’s shoulder at the group of riders that had
just
arrived.
Ben
turned toward the group. Mr. Jenkins had
indeed arrived, along with Roy Coffee, Clem, and the doctor.
“Stay
with your brother, Hoss,” Ben ordered.
Ben
rose to his feet and went straight to Walter Jenkins who all but shoved
him
aside as he ran toward Adam who was carefully lowering the dead boy to
the
ground. Walter pushed Adam aside as he
dropped to his knees. His
heart-wrenching sobs ripped at the hearts of the small gathering of
friends and
neighbors. Doctor Martin quickly rushed
to the grieving man’s side so that he could examine the man’s son.
Clem
and Roy dismounted and stood next to Ben.
Joe had awakened and Hoss had hauled his brother to his feet and
stood
with Joe’s body leaning against his own.
Suddenly, and unexpectedly, Walter Jenkins rose to his feet and
twirled
around until he faced the youngest Cartwright.
His features began to distort with the hate he felt at Ben’s
youngest
son and took on a grotesque facial cast as he approached Joe.
“YOU!”
he screeched while waving his fist in the frightened boy’s face. “YOU ARE TO BLAME FOR THIS…YOU LET MY SON
DIE!” he ranted, causing Joe to cower and shield his face against his
big
brother’s mid-section. “YOUR
FAULT…YOU…YOU…KILLED MY SON!”
When
Walter Jenkins made a mad grab at Joe and nearly had him yanked from
his
brother’s protective arms, it seemed as if everyone within reach made a
grab at
Jenkins. Adam was closest and was
quickly able to pry the raving man’s hands free of Joe’s shoulders.
Adam
spun the man around, slinging him into Ben’s arms who quickly held
Walter by
the shoulders until Roy and Clem were able to subdue the weeping father.
“Stand
still, Jenkins,” ordered
Ben
and Adam stood with their bodies between Joe and Hoss and the man who
had, in
his grief blamed Joe for his son’s death.
“Get
him out of here,
“Joseph…”
began Ben as he reached out for his child.
Joe
spun around; the tears dripped slowly down his ashen face, his chin
quivered
and his entire body had begun to tremble.
“I…told…you…it…”
Joe gulped and swallowed deeply, “was my…fault…”
The
boy bolted free and began running for the woods in a vain effort to
distance
himself from the people who had gathered around him.
“I’ll
get him, Pa,” Adam called as he jerked on his last boot and began
running after
his brother.
Hoss
watched as his own eyes filled with tears and he quickly dabbed at the
moisture. “I’ll help’em,” he said and
followed Adam into the woods.
The
sheriff had helped Walter Jenkins tie his son across the boy’s saddle
and with
Clem going along, the three took the boy’s body into town.
Paul Martin had remained behind with Ben, who
waited with growing fear for his oldest sons to bring their brother
back.
“Ben,
I’m going back to ride out to the Jenkins’ place. Mrs.
Jenkins might need some tending too, and
then I’ll come over and see about Little Joe.
He’ll probably need something to help him rest, he’s very upset
about
this entire mess,” Paul explained to Ben.
Ben’s
was only half listening to what the physician was saying.
He had moved to the edge of the woods and
stood silently. Paul clamped his hand
firmly on Ben’s shoulder, causing Ben to finally turn and acknowledge
the
doctor.
“Ben,
I said I’d be by the house shortly, I need to see about Mrs…”
“I
heard what you said, go ahead Paul, we’ll take care of Little Joe,” Ben
informed the doctor.
Joe
crashed through the tangle of trees and low hanging branches. He had fallen twice and his upper body, which
bore no shirt, had been scratched and tiny places where the flesh had
been
broken had begun to seep miniature droplets of bright red blood.
“JOSEPH! STOP, PLEASE!”
Joe
glanced back across one shoulder as the sound of his brother’s voice
reached
his ears. His eyes blinded by his tears
and his body still weakened from being in the water for such a long
period of
time caused him to stagger and he whirled around. His
bare foot became tangled in the
undergrowth and he stumbled and fell for the third time.
Before he could free himself, Adam was by his
side, kneeling down next to him.
“Joe,”
cooed Adam, reaching out with his hands to gather his brother into his
arms. Joe tried jerking away from the
loving touch.
“NO!
NO…Please…just…let me…go,” sobbed Joe.
Adam,
with Hoss now next to him, wrapped his arms about his sobbing brother
and
pulled the boy into his arms. The fight instantly left the younger boy
as Joe
clasped tightly to Adam’s vest and poured out his heart.
“My…fault…mine…”
he cried. “Oh…Adam…please…what
have…I…done?”
Adam
glanced up at Hoss and saw the swell of tears in his blue eyes. It was all Adam could do to control his own
emotions and he quickly swiped his own eyes with the back of one hand.
“Nothing
Joe, nothing. You aren’t to blame little
buddy…honest…it was an accident. Your
friend got tangled up in the grasses. Joe…there
was nothing anyone could do,” Adam said, hoping to console his brother.
Joe
raised his head slightly; his eyes still clouded with tears. Adam noted the haunted look in the hazel eyes
that searched his face. Joe was
whimpering softly.
“I…wanna…go
home…please Adam…please?” he said in a tiny voice and then buried his
face
against Adam’s chest.
“All
right buddy, Pa’s waiting for us…think you can walk?” Adam said softly
as he
helped Joe to his feet.
Immediately,
Joe’s legs buckled beneath him. Hoss
caught Joe before he could fall to the ground and easily swung his
brother up
into his arms.
“I’ll
carry ya, Short Shanks,” he whispered as he locked his arms around his
brother
and started back toward the lake, where Ben was waiting.
Joe,
completely worn to a frazzle, allowed his head to rest against Hoss’
massive
chest and closed his eyes.
Seeing
his sons coming toward him, Ben reached out and grabbed Paul’s arm
before the
doctor could walk away.
“Here
they come now,” he said, and hurried forward to meet the threesome.
Paul
hurried along beside Ben so that he could take a quick look at the boy.
“Set
him down, Hoss, let me check him out before you take him home,” Paul
said as he
knelt down on the ground along side of Joe.
Joe
opened his eyes, seeing the doctor’s face looming over him.
“NO!”
he shouted and tried to get up. “I wanna go…home…Pa…please…”
“Easy
son,” Ben said in a soothing voice. “The
doc just wants to check you over and then we’ll go home.”
Ben had taken Hoss’ place on the opposite
side of his son from where Paul was quickly checking Joe’s vital signs.
“Get
the horses ready, will you Hoss? Adam,
give him a hand,” Ben asked.
Ben
held Joe’s hand within his own. His eyes
continually searched his son’s face, noting the strained expressions
that
flickered across Joe’s young features.
Joe had stopped struggling against the doctor’s gentle probing
and laid
silently, his eyes staring at the open sky over head.
Every now and then the boy would blink and a
lone tear would break free from the rim of Joe’s eye and roll slowly
downward. Ben gently brushed back the
damp strains of hair that had glued themselves to the boy’s brow,
wishing that
he could somehow take the pain and grief away that he saw in his son’s
eyes.
“He
seems fine Ben, physically,” Paul said in a soft whisper.
“But he needs to be in the bed, he’s beyond
going now, totally exhausted and drained.
Wrap him in some blankets, he’s still shivering, though I think
it’s
more from nerves, you know, fright, than from being cold.
It’s been too warm to worry about him
catching a cold…or worse…but I want to be on the safe side. Make sure you get him to drink something
warm, perhaps some of Hop Sing’s broth, and keep him in a warm bed
until I can
get out to the ranch to check on him.”
Paul
touched Ben’s arm and silently motioned for Ben to follow him, which
Ben
complied. Adam returned to Joe’s side,
and while his father spoke privately with the doctor, Adam covered Joe
with the
blanket that had been used earlier and helped Joe over to his horse.
“Ben,
Little Joe’s been through an awfully lot today.
He’s seen something that has forever left
its impression in his mind. I dare say,
knowing the boy as I do, he isn’t likely to sleep very well for the
next few
nights, so I want you to give him these, they will help relax him and
let him
sleep. If he knows that you have them,
he most likely will try to refuse them, so just put the powders into
some
water, or milk about thirty minutes before bedtime.”
Paul
placed the small packets of powders into the palm of Ben’s hand and
waited
until Ben had placed them into the pocket of his vest.
“If
you should need me, send word. Right
now, I best be getting over to the Jenkins’ house.”
“Thank
you Paul, for everything. Please give
Walter and his wife our sympathy…though I’m not sure how well received
it might
be,” said Ben regrettably.
“Their
son’s death has come as a shock to them, Ben,” Paul stated.
“Yes,
I know it has.” Ben glanced over at Joe
and shook his head slowly from side to side.
“What a shame…to loose a son in such a way and then to blame
another
man’s son, when he was the only one trying to save that man’s boy.”
“Yes,
Ben…I agree, but Walter Jenkins is a good Christian man, he was only
spouting
off out of grief, I’m sure he didn’t mean it.”
Paul followed Ben’s gaze.
Joe
had mounted up and sat slumped over the saddle horn, waiting for his
father. “Take him home Ben, and shower
him with love and understanding and compassion.
I think that Joe, along with the Jenkins, all have a long, hard
road
ahead of them.”
Joe
was almost asleep by the time that they reached the ranch house. Ben quickly dismounted and hurried around to
Joe so that he could help him down.
Joe’s actions were sluggish and when his feet touched the
ground, his
legs gave out from under him. Ben
slipped his arms about Joe’s sagging body and scooped him up into his
arms.
“Adam,
you and Hoss take care of the horses for us, please.
I’m going to put your brother in bed,” Ben
stated as he began walking toward the house.
Joe
rested his head on his father’s shoulder.
The steady beat of Ben’s heart and the warmth and security that
Joe felt
helped him to relax and he sighed deeply.
Ben glanced down into the boy’s face; Joe had closed his eyes.
When
Ben reached the front door and started to place his hand on the handle,
it
suddenly opened and startled him.
“Hop
Sing,” whispered Ben, smiling.
“Sorry
boss, but Hop Sing see that arms are full,” he smiled softly. “Hop Sing have hot bath waiting for number
three son. It help to warm boy on
outside, I fix Lil’tle Joe hot cocoa to warm inside.”
“Thank
you Hop Sing, I’ll get Joe started on his bath.” Ben
slipped one of the powders into Hop
Sing’s hand and gave his faithful servant a nod of his head.
Hop
Sing returned the silent message with one of his own and padded softly
back
into the kitchen.
“I
can walk, Pa,” Joe said in a tired voice.
“You
sure, son?”
“Yessir,”
replied Joe.
“All
right, but go slowly, I’ll be up in a minute to help you, I just need
to speak
with Hop Sing again,” Ben told his son as he stood Joe on the first
step to the
upper level of the house.
Joe
turned, looked for several moments at the top of the stairs and then
taking a
long breath he began very slowly climbing to the top.
Ben watched until Joe got to the landing and
then hurried to the kitchen to speak once more with Hop Sing.
Once
in his room, Joe went straight to the bed and sat down on the side. He allowed his head to drop, his chin nearly
resting on his chest. Tears once again
filled his eyes but he was quick to brush them away.
As he sat motionless, his eyes began to close
and by the time that his father knocked softly on the door and pushed
it opened,
Joe was asleep sitting on the edge of the bed.
Ben crossed the room and smiled.
“Joseph?”
Ben said in a soft voice. He placed his
hand on Joe’s shoulder and gently squeezed.
Joe’s
eyes popped opened and when he glanced up and saw his father smiling
down at
him, a small smile curved his lips upward and for a brief second, Ben
saw the
tiny glow that shone in the hazel eyes that looked at him.
“Let
me help you, son,” Ben smiled.
Ben
stooped down and pulled Joe’s feet free from his boots and helped Joe
stand. When Joe had unbuttoned his
shirt, Ben helped him pull his arms out of the sleeves.
Joe walked to the edge of the tub and stood
staring into the water where a fine mist of steam still brewed.
“Son,”
Ben muttered, catching Joe’s attention.
“You can’t get in until you take off your trousers,” he smiled.
“Oh,”
Joe uttered, almost surprised with the idea.
Slowly
he undid his pants and allowed them to fall to his ankles.
Joe, preoccupied with his own thoughts, made
no effort to hide the fact that he stood naked before his father, but
Ben had
the good graces to turn his back to the boy.
“You
finish with your bath son, I’ll be back in a few minutes with your hot
cocoa,”
Ben said as he made his way to the door.
Ben
paused at the door waiting for an answer but Joe did not acknowledge
his
father. Ben watched in silence as Joe
stepped into the tub and then slowly lowered his weary body down into
the warm
water. Joe had pinched his eyes tightly
shut, his lips were pressed together as his father turned, troubled by
the
disconcerting expression on his young son’s face, and left his son
alone to
take his bath.
A
short time later, Ben returned and tapped lightly on the door before
pushing it
opened. As he entered, Joe was just
finishing pulling his nightshirt over his head.
The boy turned around and when he spied his father entering his
room,
Joe sat down on the edge of the bed. Ben
set the tray baring Joe’s hot cocoa on the table and poured a mug for
his
son. When he stood before Joe, Joe
glanced up, tears filling his eyes.
“It
was an accident…honest, Pa…I didn’t mean for it to happen,” Joe
muttered and
then hung his head.
Ben
quickly sat the mug down on the tray and then placed himself on the bed
next to
his son. Wrapping his arm about Joe’s
shoulders, Ben gently pulled Joe’s head down onto his shoulder.
“Of
course it was an accident, son. No body
meant for it to happen, but things like that do happen.
It’s sad and regretful when they do, but Joe
it’s a part of life. Dying, I mean. And death, when it comes, isn’t concerned
with the how and why’s of things, only that it was that person’s time
to die,”
Ben explained as he cradled his son close to him in his arms.
Joe
had begun to whimper softly. “I know
about all of that, Pa…but I promised Rocky’s pa that I would watch out
for
him…and I…I…didn’t do what I promised.
Doesn’t that make it my fault?”
Joe
had raised his head and was watching his father. Ben
knew that what he would have to say now,
must be words of comfort for his son and said in such a way as to be of
help to
his youngest.
“Joe,
you were not the only young person with Rocky today.
From what I saw, there were several of
you. Son, can you tell me what happened? I mean, what were all of you doing when you
first realized that your friend was not with the rest of the group?”
“We
had been swinging off the rope, you know…the one you helped me fix last
summer. And we were all having a turn
when the girls showed up with a picnic for all of us.
We all sat down and started eating, that’s
when someone noticed that Rocky was missing.
When we couldn’t find him and someone suggested that he might
have taken
one last swing on the rope, I got scared and dove in…that’s when…when I
found…him.” Joe swallowed hard and
looked away.
“He
was already dead…I could tell cause…there were no air bubbles coming
out of his
nose or mouth,” gulped Joe.
Ben
could feel Joe’s body begin to tremble and for several moments Ben held
his son
tightly, his heart aching for the father who had lost his son, but
comforted by
the presence of his own son, which he felt crushed against him.
“I
should have…been paying more attention to him than to…Cindy,” Joe
whispered.
“Oh
son, Rocky chose to take that last dive.
True, he shouldn’t have, leastwise, without letting the rest of
you
know, but what happened, happened. You
couldn’t have foreseen what would happen, nor could you have prevented
it, and
besides son, there were the others, if you are guilty, then so are
they,” Ben
tried to make his son understand the total situation.
“But
Pa, you don’t understand…I’m the one who invited Rocky to come alone,
and I’m
the one who promised his father that I would make sure he got home
safely. But instead…Rocky’s dead, because
he…”
“Because
he did something very foolish…not because of anything that you did or
didn’t
do, Joseph.” Ben stood to his feet and
reached for the mug of cocoa and handed it to Joe.
“Here,
drink this son, and I want you to try to get some sleep.”
Ben smiled down at his son. “Careful,
it’s still hot.”
Joe
took a sip of the hot drink. He held the
mug with both hands and continued to sip the cocoa until it was almost
gone.
“Thanks,
Pa,” Joe said as he handed the mug back to his father.
Ben
took the mug and replaced it on the tray and turned back to his son. “Now, I want you to go to sleep,” Ben ordered
gently while covering Joe with the blankets.
“Joseph, try not to worry about what happened, at least for now. Things will look better in the morning, they
always do son.”
Ben
bent over and placed a kiss on Joe’s brow.
“I love you Joe,” he whispered tenderly.
Joe
looked deeply into his father’s eyes, and tried to smile.
“I love you too, Pa,” he sniffed, trying hard
not to cry again.
Ben’s
hand gently caressed the boy’s cheek.
When Joe suddenly reached for his father’s hand and held it
tightly
within his own, Ben made no attempt to pull away.
“Pa…I…don’t
want to be…alone right now. Could you…”
“Of
course I will.” Ben removed his hand
then and pulled the chair over to the bed.
“Now, you close your eyes and I’ll be right here when you wake
up,” he
promised.
“Thanks
Pa,” whispered Joe as he snuggled down beneath the warm blankets and
closed his
eyes. Minutes later he was asleep.
It
had grown dark outside and the time had slipped by slowly.
Ben dozed in the chair in which he sat. His
head had dropped forward and he had begun
to snore softly. Joe’s eyes were tightly
closed, and had his father been watching, he would have seen the way
that his
son’s eyes danced around behind the lids.
It was a sure sign that the boy was dreaming.
The soft whimpering sounds, had they been
loud enough, would have alerted his father to the fact that his son’s
dream was
anything but pleasant.
Across
the hall, and down at the far end, Adam had just laid aside his book
and
lowered the wick on his lamp. Hoss, who
had been asleep for hours now, snored softly.
Neither were unaware of the beginnings of their younger
brother’s
nightmare that was soon to shatter the tranquility of the slumbering
household.
“No…no…”
Joe’s sweat drenched head lolled from side to side on his already
dampened
pillow as he fought against the faceless predator who had slipped into
his
dream and had caught him unaware.
The
whimpering started softly and slowly began to grow in volume. Ben, deep in sleep had not yet heard the
murmuring of his troubled son.
“Rocky! Rocky!
Where are you!!”
“NO…OH
GOD…NO!” Joe screamed as he bolted up right in bed.
“HELP ME! HELP ME! SOMEONE…PLEASE…HELP
M….”
“Joseph…Joseph…wake
up son…wake up…Joe…sweetheart…” Ben had awakened with a start and
placed
himself on the side of the bed next to the boy.
He tightly gripped his son’s shoulders and
began gently shaking the boy who thrashed about and waved his arms
frantically
about in the air.
Joe
was gasping for breath, the pupils of his eyes had enlarged, and the
uncommon
fright that caused his body to shiver violently, showed in the hazel
depths. Tears streamed down his face
where the twisted features gave further evidence of the immense terror
that had
invaded the young boy’s dreams.
Adam
was first to burst into the room, followed moments later by Hoss. Both boys stopped in their tracks at the
sight of their younger brother fighting against the hands that so
lovingly were
trying to calm him and bring peace to his confused mind.
“Shh…Joe…Pa’s
here now, precious…don’t cry, son.” Ben
had clasped Joe’s fraying arms and pulled the weeping child in against
his
chest.
After
several moments, Joe began to calm down and his sobs became soft
whimpers. “I’m sorry…Pa…I didn’t mean…to
wake everyone
up,” Joe said in words that were broken.
“It’s
alright son, I know you didn’t mean too.
Are you feeling okay now?” Ben pulled Joe gently back and smiled
down at
the boy.
Joe
swallowed and nodded his head. Behind
his father he saw that his brothers were awake as well.
“Did
I wake you up too?”
“I
wasn’t really asleep Joe, I had just turned down my lamp,” Adam
explained. “I was reading.”
“Oh…Hoss?
Did I wake you up? If so…I’m
sorry.” Joe rested his head back against
his pillow, his countenance was heartbreaking for his family to see, as
he
appeared very unhappy, and down hearted.
“Don’t
make no never mind, Joe. I’ll just go
back to bed and get a couple more hours sleep; it’s awhile afore
daylight
anyway. You need anything?” Hoss
inquired, giving the boy one of his most gracious smiles.
“No,
I’m fine now…honest,” Joe answered. He
glanced around the room at his family and tried to smile.
“I’m sorry,” he said again.
Adam
and Hoss slipped silently from the room, leaving their father to deal
with the
aftermath of their brother’s nightmare.
Joe’s
head was buried deeply into the pillow as Ben sat gently brushing back
the
dampened curls and tenderly caressing his son’s cheek where Ben could
still
feel the moisture from the previous onslaught of tears that had yet to
dry.
“Would
you like to tell me about your dream” Ben encouraged in an affectionate
voice.
Joe
shook his head slowly from side to side.
“Ain’t nothing to tell…it was only a dream,” he said flatly.
“I
heard you calling Rocky’ name…I take it that your dream had to do with
him?” Ben’s voice held all the
compassion he had for he knew that his son had had one of the very
worst days
of his entire life.
“Please,
Pa…” Joe’s voice sounded tiny and frightened as his eyes began filling
with
tears once more. “I don’t want to talk
about it…I’d rather just try to forget…it,” sniffed Joe as he ran his
hands
over the front of his face attempting to wipe away the tears before
they had
managed to steal away.
Ben
could see that Joe was once again becoming agitated and felt it best
for now to
let the subject drop, but he knew that soon, Joe would have to open up
to him
and talk about what had happened up at the swimming hole.
If he didn’t, the matter would grow and
fester deep within his heart and if he weren’t careful, Joe would end
up very
emotionally scarred, perhaps for the rest of his life.
“All
right, Joseph, you just try to go back to sleep. What
you need most right now is plenty of
rest. I’ll stay right here…if you still
want me too?” Ben said as he covered Joe with the blanket.
Ben
saw Joe swallow and then heard him gulp.
“You need sleep too,
Ben
smiled, “Of course it is, son. You close
your eyes and I’ll wait until you fall asleep and then I think I will
lie down
and try to catch a couple of hours of sleep.”
Joe
nodded his head and then snuggled down, turning over on his side, with
his back
to his father. The dream had frightened
him beyond reason and he felt himself shiver from the effects that the
dream
had left with him. Rocky’s face, the
blank look in the vacant eyes, the lifeless body swaying against the
gentle
flow of the current, the body already beginning to bloat from the water
that
his friend had swallowed…it had been a horrific sight…and…reasoned
Joe…it had
been his fault!
Joe
woke finally by mid-morning. He lay
listening but could hear no one moving around down stairs and so eased
himself
out of bed. As he slipped on his
trousers, he heard voices coming from the yard below and he hurried to
his
window to see who it was. His father was
talking to the sheriff, Adam came from the barn and joined them and a
moment
later Hoss rode into the yard and joined them as well.
Joe watched and wondered what it was that had
brought the sheriff out to speak with his father and he couldn’t help
but worry
that perhaps Roy’s errand might have something to do with what had
happened the
day before. Joe turned from the window
and hurried to slip on his boots. He
grabbed
his shirt from the back of the chair slipping it on as he rushed from
his room.
By
the time that Joe made it to the porch,
“Well,
I see you finally woke up,” Ben greeted Joe. “I hope you rested well,”
he
added.
“Yessir. What did
Ben
stood in front of the table as he picked up his papers and thumbed
through
them. He paused and glanced at his son,
worried by how haggard the boy still appeared.
“
“I
think it only proper that we go, but if you would rather not, I’d
understand,
son,” Ben said.
Joe
had dropped his head but slowly raised it and looked up at his father. When he spoke, Ben heard the hesitation in
his son’s voice.
Joe
gulped, “Do I have too?”
Ben
sat down across from Joe and placed his hand over Joe’s.
“As I said, I think it would only be the right
thing to do, but I won’t force you Joe, if you’d rather not.”
“I…I…it’s
just…” stammered Joe and then faltered.
“Just
what, son?” Ben asked. He saw the sad
expression that clouded Joe’s vision as the tears slowly began to fill
his
eyes.
“I don’t
think that I could…face them…not after what I’ve done,” Joe muttered.
Ben
felt as if his heart had stopped beating.
He had been hoping that Joe would have come to terms with the
fact that
his friend’s drowning had been an accident, not his fault.
“Joseph,
you didn’t do anything. Rocky’s drowning
was an accident. Won’t you please try to
believe that? It wasn’t your fault, or
anyone else’s.” Ben was getting worried
that the death of his neighbor’s son might have a lasting affect on his
own
son.
“I
know you’re trying to make me feel better, but Pa…even Mr. Jenkins said
it was
my fault. I should have been…”
“Joseph,”
Ben’s voice had taken on a more authoritative tone knowing that he had
to
somehow get through to his son. “Mr.
Jenkins spoke out of grief, shock, and…
“Anger…I
know all of that Pa, but what he said was the truth…”
“So,
you think I’m lying to you by telling you that it was an accident and
not your
fault at all?” Ben said angrily.
“
The
tears began slipping slowly down his cheek and his father’s heart
softened as
he came around the corner of the table and placed both hands on Joe’s
slim
shoulders.
“I’m
sorry son, I didn’t mean to snap at you, or to upset you,” Ben said. He gently pulled Joe into his arms and held
him tightly. “Why don’t you and I stay
here? I’m sure that Adam and Hoss
wouldn’t mind paying our respects to the Jenkins.”
Joe
buried his face into his father’s chest and allowed Ben to hold him for
several
moments before he pulled away. As he
turned from his father, he dabbed at the tears that still clung to his
chin.
“No…we
should go,” he said as he turned around and gazed up at his father. “I’ll be alright, Pa…as long as…you’re
there.”
Joe’s
entire body was drenched in sweat as Joe tossed from one side of the
bed to the
other. His blankets lay in disarray
where they had been shuffled about to the end of the bed from Joe’s
constant
thrashing about. The sheets, once crispy
and fresh were now torn loose from the corners of the mattress and were
dampened by the moisture that seeped from practically every pore of the
young
boy’s body.
The
nightmare varied little with each haunting dream that Joe had. More than once he had been awakened, shivering
and frightened by the memory of the hollow eyes, the discolored lips
with the
bluish tint, the body that swayed in motion with the undercurrent, and
each
time he cried, blaming himself over and over as the reoccurring dream
haunted
his sleep. This night had been no
different.
Joe
climbed from his bed, his face streaked with the last remains of his
tears. He shoved aside the heavy drapes
and peered through the window into the blackness of night.
The funeral that he had attended earlier in
the week with his family, had been a living nightmare.
Mrs. Jenkins had leaned heavily against her
husband, the sound of her weeping had echoed in Joe’s ears long after
the
service had ended. The distraught woman
had finally collapsed and had to be carried off by her relatives all
the while
wailing her son’s name over and over until Joe could no longer stand
the
piteous shrieking and had bolted from his father’s side and run off.
Ben
found his son an hour later bent over his own mother’s grave, weeping. Nothing that Ben had said had offered any
amount of comfort, so he had sat silently and patiently and waited
until Joe
had cried himself out. Once Joe had
regained a certain amount of control over his disquieting emotions, he
had
obliged his father by riding home with him and allowed Ben to help him
into
bed. Worn totally out emotionally, Joe
had dropped off to sleep almost as quickly as his father had lowered
the wick
in the lamp.
The
pattern had been set, for every night since, Joe had awakened from his
nightmares. His pleas and whimpering had
alerted his
father to his distress and as always, Ben had rushed to his son’s
bedside to
console the distraught boy. Ben watched
daily how Joe’s personality and attitude suffered and how his son’s
guilt
snatched from him, his once happy, vivacious child.
Ben wondered if Joe would ever again be the
laughing, carefree, high-spirited youth that he had been on the morning
before
the accident had occurred. That day
seemed so very long ago now, and Ben yearned to have his son back as
before. No amount of talking or pleading
by any of his family members had brought Joe any closer to an
understanding of
the situation. Ben was at his wit’s end as to how to help his son and
had, on
this particular day, vowed to himself that as soon as he finished
breakfast he
would ride into town to consult with his friend and family physician,
Paul
Martin.
Joe
quietly pulled on his trousers and slipped from his room.
He had given up any hope of going back to
sleep. Besides, he reasoned he didn’t
really want to sleep, he was afraid to.
The face of his friend, the empty eyes that stared out through
the murky
water, the wailing sound of a woman’s voice, the tormented shouts of
the
grieving father, frightened Joe and thus the boy had willed himself to
remain
awake, night after long night. Now the
boy walked around as if in a trance, adding more worries and concern to
his
already anxious family who fretted over his every move.
Joe
fumbled his way through the darkened hall until he stood at the top of
the
staircase. He paused to steady himself
before moving downward. When he at last
reached the last step he glanced up over his shoulder to be sure that
his
father or brothers had not heard the soft noises that the stairs made
when they
squeaked. Feeling that he had managed to
make it to the great-room without alerting his family of his presence,
Joe
slowly moved to the buffet in the dining room.
Once he was squatting down, he began opening door after door
until he
found what he was looking for. As his
fingers wrapped themselves about the tall slender decanter, Joe paused,
closing
his eyes tightly. Just as quickly he
opened them, tears had formed in the deep wells and threatened to spill
over.
“Why…why…oh
why…” he muttered. “The eyes…it’s
always…his eyes,” he whispered to no one as he pulled the decanter of
brandy
from the shelf. Seeing a second bottle,
he took it as well and moved to his father’s red chair.
Joe
sank down into the cushion, careful not to drop the two decanters. He sat one beside him on the chair and then
turned his full attention to the one in his right hand.
He struggled with the top, turning and
twisting it until it finally popped free.
Joe sniffed the brandy and then, placing the rim of the decanter
to his
lips, drank freely of the sweet tasting liquor.
After several large gulps, Joe paused, taking a deep breath and
giving
the beverage time to sink into his stomach.
Again he turned the decanter up and swallowed the free flowing
liquid. His head began to throb and Joe
felt warm all over. His stomach
protested by rumbling and when Joe stood to his feet, he grabbed the
second
bottle from the cushion. When he turned
too quickly, he swayed and was forced to hold on to the pieces of
furniture as
he staggered to the front door.
When
he reached the credenza, he rested, leaning his body against the sturdy
piece
of furniture while he finished off the last of the brandy from his
father’s
decanter. Joe dropped the bottle as he
reached for his hat that hung on the wall behind the door.
As he arranged his hat on his head, he yanked
opened the door with one hand, the other clinging tightly to the second
bottle
and stumbled out into the early morning darkness.
Joe
was able to see well enough to make his way across the yard. He tottered from side to side as he headed
for the barn and once there, quickly raised the latch and pulled opened
the
door. Joe stepped inside and stopped
long enough to drink deeply of his father’s brandy.
Joe heard himself burp and then giggled. Somehow,
he managed to put the bridle on his
horse and led Cochise out into the open.
With no saddle, his brandy still in his hand, Joe managed to
haul
himself up onto his horse and ride out of the yard unobserved.
It
took him over an hour to arrive at the old swimming hole.
The boy slumped over his horse’s neck when
Cochise finally stopped. As Joe slipped
from the back of his mount, he clung tightly to the horse’s mane for
support
and to keep himself from sinking to the ground in a crumbled ball. Once he felt sure that his feet were firmly
planted on the ground, Joe some how, in his drunken state, managed to
walk to
the water’s edge where he stopped and stared into the mucky depths.
“ROCKY!”
Joe shouted at the top of his lungs.
“ROCKY!”
He
swayed and turned the bottle up to his mouth and took a long swig. His arm dropped carelessly to his side, his
fingers entwined around the neck of the bottle.
“WHY’D
YA HAVE TO GO GET DROWNED?” he screamed.
Joe
brushed his hand across his face, cleaning the tears from his eyes. Joe took a step and staggered backwards. As he felt himself falling, he reached out
for a handhold, dropping and shattering the bottle of brandy on the
rocks
beneath the shallow water. Joe toppled
over, cutting the palm of his hand as he fell.
His senses dulled by his drunkenness, Joe was unaware of the
pain or the
blood that seeped from the deep gash. He
lay half in and half out of the water’s edge, sobbing out his sorrow.
“STOP
STARING AT ME! WHY DON’T YOU LEAVE ME
ALONE?” Joe cried loudly.
He
crawled up onto the dry grass and stayed lying on his stomach. When he swiped his hand over his face, a thin
trail of blood from his bleeding hand remained. Joe refused to get up;
he had
begun to shiver, for the water had been cold and the early morning air
cool and
crisp.
“I’m
sorry,” muttered Joe, burying his face in his arms.
“How many times…I gotta say it…I’m sorry…I’m
sorry Rocky…I never meant…for you to die,” Joe lamented.
“Please…please…stop
looking at me…your eyes…they’re so…” Joe felt as if he were dying as he
wept
loudly.
Suddenly
Joe pulled himself to his feet and faced the water again.
He took a couple of small steps forward, his
fingers folded into tight fist and he waved his left hand about in the
air.
“WHY!
WHY COULDN’T IT HAVE BEEN…ME!” Joe
swayed, nearly falling for the second
time. His head had been tossed backward, unbalancing his sodden body as
he
continued to screech.
Joe’s
voice was beginning to crack. “I didn’t
mean for…you to die…” sobbed Joe. “I
tired…to…save you…OH GOD PLEASE…HELP ME!”
Joe
dropped to his knees, his behind resting on the heels of his boots
while his
arms hung haphazardly down by his sides.
His chin was practically resting on his chest; he was totally
unaware of
the man who stood, silhouetted against the darkness, watching from the
shadows
of the trees.
Silently,
the man moved forward, toward Joe and stopped directly behind the
sobbing boy
who had begun to mumble incoherently.
The man gently placed his large hands under Joe’s arms and
pulled the
boy to his feet. As the man turned Joe
about, Joe’s legs buckled and the man was forced to gather the boy into
his
arms or let the boy fall face down into the cold water.
Once
secured, Joe was carried from the shallow water to the edge of the
woods where
he was carefully laid on the soft grasses.
Joe tried to focus his eyes on the man’s face but they took too
long to
clear and instead they closed and remained thus for several long
moments. When he opened them, the man had
moved from
his side and Joe raised his head slightly, looking for the man who had
pulled
him from the water.
As
he pushed himself up on one elbow, Joe felt his stomach do a flop. Suddenly the muscles in his mid-section
tightened
and when the foul tasting fluid filled his mouth, Joe retched. Repeatedly his stomach protested against the
brandy that Joe had consumed and the boy vomited until there was
nothing left
in his belly.
The
coolness of the soft cloth wiping his face refreshed Joe enough that he
was
finally able to focus his eyes. The man
knelt over him, tenderly cleaning away the remains of spittle from his
lips. Joe felt his body shiver and
quickly the man covered him with a warm blanket and tossed some logs on
the fire
that he had built.
“Drink
this,” the man ordered Joe as he held out a tin cup filled with piping
hot
coffee.
Joe
accepted the cup and carefully sipped.
His eyes followed the man about the camp for several minutes
while the
man checked on the horses and picked up a few more twigs to add to the
fire. He hadn’t spoken a word other than
to order him to drink the coffee and Joe wondered if perhaps the man
might be
up to no good. Believing that to be the case, Joe started to get up but
was
stopped by the deep blaring tone of the man’s voice.
“Where
do you think you are going?”
“Home,”
sputtered Joe.
“Lie
down, you’re in no shape to go anywhere,” the man ordered and then
taking the
blanket, rearranged it about Joe’s body.
“Now lay still, if you don’t you’ll only get sick again,” he
said. This time his voice was soft, almost
as if he
cared what happened to the boy.
“Yessir,”
Joe said meekly.
The
man turned away to poke at the fire. Joe
felt the churning in his stomach and though he hadn’t meant to, he
groaned and
then quite suddenly was sick again. Instantly the man was by his side,
holding
Joe’s head in his hands as Joe retched.
When he’d finished, the man dampened the cloth with water and
once more
cleaned Joe’s face.
“I
take it that you’ve never been drunk before,” the man said softly,
smiling
slightly at Joe.
Joe
shook his head, suddenly regretting the motion, for his head had begun
to ache
and his vision blurred. Again the man
smiled and then surprised Joe by brushing back a dampened lock of hair
from his
forehead.
“Your
head’s gonna be hurting something awful before long.”
“It
already does,” moaned Joe. He had
pinched his lips tightly and closed his eyes against the pounding pain.
“Can’t
do anything to help your head, but let’s see what we can do about that
cut,”
the man said softly and left Joe, just long enough to get some things
out of
his saddlebag.
When
the man returned, he carefully began cleaning the cut on Joe’s hand and
within
minutes had a clean bandage tied with a neat little knot to hold it in
place.
“I
don’t have anything for the pain, sorry,” he said.
The man’s lips twitched slightly and formed a
tiny smile.
“Why?”
whispered Joe.
“Why
what?” the man asked as he settled himself next to Joe.
Joe
had raised up into a sitting position and had wrapped the blanket about
his
shoulders. He studied the man’s face,
not sure of the expression in the eyes that watched him just as closely.
“Why
are you helping me?” Joe said.
When
he saw the man’s expression soften, and the man’s eyes fill with tears,
Joe
felt his own tears sting his eyes.
Rocky’s father scooted closer to his son’s friend.
“Because
I owe it to you…because you tried so hard to help my son…and because I
want to
help you,” Walter Jenkins said.
Joe
swallowed the hard knot that choked him.
“But…I let your son…die,” he muttered, confused by this man’s
seeming
kindness.
Walter
raised his head, placed his hand firmly on Joe’s shoulder and shook his
head. “No you didn’t.”
“But
you said…”
“I
know what I said! But I was crazy with
grief…and I was angry…but not at you, son, not really.
Oh, I know I said it was your fault, and that
I held you responsible, and my words added to the blame you were
already
feeling…and I was wrong, Little Joe…so very, very wrong.
I never really blamed you, only
myself…because I allowed Rocky to go along.
I think it was easier for me to blame you, to accuse you rather
than to
admit that I was to blame. You see Joe,
Rocky’s mother had told him that morning that he couldn’t go, because
of some
argument that they had earlier, but I let him go anyway, against his
mother’s
wishes. That’s why it’s really my
fault…that’s why I let you take all the blame, so that I could live
with
myself.”
Joe
could hardly believe the man’s words.
Mr. Jenkins had blamed him for something that he had no control
over. It had been just as his father had
tried to explain, but he had been too wrapped up in blaming himself to
really
understand what his father had tried to tell him.
“Joe,
I’m sorry. I can see what my words…and
my actions have done to you. They have
nearly destroyed your life,” Walter paused and brushed his hand over
his eyes. “I want you to know that I
appreciate what
you tried to do…trying to save my son.
It took courage to keep going down into that water.”
Walter
took Joe by the shoulders and squeezed them firmly.
“Do you understand Joe? You are not
to blame, I am!”
“I…I…think
so, but…” Joe felt his stomach churning again and fought to keep its
contents
down. “I keep having this dream…a
nightmare really…” Joe began sniffling.
“Tell
me about it, please?” whispered Mr. Jenkins.
Joe
glanced up into the man’s face, he seemed sincere, but how could Joe
tell the
man that what haunted him the most was the hollow eyes and swaying body
and…
“Please?”
he heard Walter mutter.
“When
I dove into the water, the first time, I couldn’t find Rocky. But when I dove in again, I found him…he was
tangled in the water grasses. They get
real long, like vines and…he was caught.
I tried to get him loose, but the grasses are thick and I
couldn’t free
him.”
Walter
had moved closer to Joe and when Joe’s chin had begun to quiver, Walter
wrapped
an arm about Joe’s shoulder and pulled the boy close to him.
“Go
on, what about the dream?” Walter asked.
“His
eyes…they were opened…and he had already stopped breathing. I can’t seem to get that image of them out of
my mind…and every time that I go to sleep…I see Rocky…staring at me.” Joe had begun to whimper softly.
“I’m…scared
to go…to sleep,” he confessed.
Joe
had held back his tears for as long as he could but now they dripped
slowly
down his face. When he felt Mr. Jenkins
pull him to his breast, Joe buried his face in the man’s chest and wept. Walter held Joe tightly, his own eyes which
had filled with tears, seeped the tiny droplets as he whispered words
of
comfort to the sorrowful boy held tightly in his arms.
“Please
Joe…try to put it out of your mind. I
know it’s hard, but maybe now, since you know that Rocky’s death wasn’t
really
your fault, you can get past what happened,” Walter tried to explain to
Joe.
“I’ll
try…but it isn’t going…to be easy,” muttered Joe.
Joe
pulled back from the man who held him and glanced up.
The sun had just crested over the tops of the
mountains and the early morning mist glistened like a million tiny
diamonds.
“I
need to get home…my Pa will be worried about me,” Joe said at last and
then
stood to his feet.
“I
reckon he will, Joe,” Walter said as he got up.
Walter
placed his hand firmly down on Joe’s shoulder and gently squeezed. “Promise me something, Little Joe?”
“What?”
Joe asked, searching the man’s face.
“Stop
blaming yourself…and if you can find it in your heart…please forgive me
for
what I’ve done to you.”
Walter’s
voice cracked and he unexpectedly pulled Joe into an embrace. He clung tightly to Joe, who stood rigid at
first and then as the man began to sob, relaxed against the man’s
breast.
“Mr.
Jenkins…sir…” began Joe. “I forgive
you…and, I promise I’ll try to stop feeling guilty, but you gotta
promise me
something too,” he said softly.
Walter
pulled back from Joe, still holding onto the boy’s shoulders. “What…I know what you are going to say…that I
have to forgive myself, right?”
Joe
nodded his head.
“That’s
the same thing that my wife says…that forgiveness has to come from the
heart…that to be able to carry on with life, we have to learn how to
forgive,
not only others, but ourselves as well.
She’s right you know…she usually is.”
Walter smiled softly. “If she
forgives me, and you forgive me…then who am I that I should not forgive
myself?”
“Thank
you Joe…”
“No…I
thank you…you’ve made me see just what my Pa was trying to explain to
me…that
things happen in life…that even bad things happen to good people. But those things shouldn’t stop us from
believing in ourselves or in God…and I’d already stopped believing in
both. I was ready to give up…until you
found me,” whispered Joe.
“Your
father is a wise man, Little Joe. Go
home now and tell him that you finally understand.
He wants to help you son, let him…he loves
you, you know.”
“Yessir…I
know,” Joe made a grimace, “ Though I can’t figure out why sometimes, I
tend to
grate on his nerves,” he whispered.
Walter
helped Joe onto his horse and before Joe turned Cochise toward home,
the man
placed his hand on Joe’s knee.
“Drop
over to visit me sometime…please?” he asked.
Joe
nodded his head, “I will…I promise. It
might be a while though, when my Pa finds out that I drank all his
brandy, I’ll
probably never get to leave the ranch again, until I’m eighteen at
least,” he
smiled.
“I’ll
wait,” Walter said and then stepped back.
Joe
nudged his horse into action and waved his hand at Mr. Jenkins. Walter stood back, watching silently. When Joe was gone, the man gathered his
things and went back home, a changed man.
The sorrow remained and would for a long time, but the
bitterness and
the anger that he had carried with him for so long, was gone now. There had been nothing that he could have
done to save his own son, but he had managed to save another man’s son
from
certain doom. He smiled, his
satisfaction shone in his eyes.
When
Joe rode into the yard, Ben was just leading Buck from the barn. He paused watching Joe slide down from his
horse’s bare back. He had been shocked
to find his son missing, and passed being worried when he had come down
stairs
only to find the empty brandy decanter lying in the floor, and the
front door
opened. When he had raced to the barn and
found Joe’s horse gone, Ben’s fear for his son’s well being had mounted.
That
fear subsided now as he watched Joe walk slowly toward him. He saw that the troubled lines that had
stamped their impressions onto his son’s young features had softened. Ben wondered what had happened to make the
change.
Joe
ambled across the yard, swaying slightly as he did so.
His balance was still off some from the
lingering effects of all the brandy that he had consumed.
As he looked up at this father, he could only
guess at what his father might say and do to him, for it was sure that
his
father knew of his drunkenness.
Ben
took a deep breath to calm himself as Joe stopped before him. He could smell the sour odor of the liquor
and the repugnant smell of vomit and knew instantly that Joe had been
sick. His anger that he had first felt
when finding
his most expensive decanter of brandy gone, and his son missing, faded
as he
looked into the tear filled eyes that searched his, silently begging
for
understanding.
“Joseph?”
Ben said softly.
Joe’s
chin began to quiver and when Ben lovingly touched the boy’s cheek with
his
fingers, Joe fell against his father’s chest and wrapped his arms about
his
father.
“I’m
sorry, Pa…I didn’t mean to worry you…but…but…I couldn’t take it
anymore…”
sobbed the child.
“I
drank all your brandy…and then went up to the swimming hole…I…I…”
“Forget
it son, it doesn’t matter…you came back, that’s all that matters to
me,” Ben
whispered as he tilted Joe’s chin upward so that he could see into
Joe’s face.
“Something
happened to you while you were there…tell me about it, please,” Ben
pleaded.
“I
was drunk…and I went up there to…I’m not sure really, why I went. I guess I thought I could talk to Rocky…maybe
to get some understanding or maybe just to see if I could find some
relief from
feeling so guilty…I don’t really know,” stammered Joe as he looked
teary eyed
up at his father.
“And
did you, son?” Ben asked hopefully, for he had feared other reasons as
to why
his son might drink himself into a drunken stupor and then disappear. The images that his troubled mind had
conjured up had frightened him. The
relief he now felt with Joe entwined within the folds of his arms, was
just as
overwhelming as his fear had been.
“Pa,
Mr. Jenkins was there…he helped me when I fell in the water, and then
again
when I got sick…and he bandaged my hand.
I cut it on the brandy decanter when I dropped it and it broke.” Joe held his hand up for his father to see.
“I
asked him why he was helping me when he blamed me for Rocky’s death. That’s when he explained…just like you
said…he didn’t really blame me. He said
that he was to blame, because he let Rocky go with us when Mrs. Jenkins
had
already told Rocky that he couldn’t go.”
Joe
blew his nose on the handkerchief that his father handed to him and
then
continued.
“Mr.
Jenkins told me that it was easier for him to blame me than to accept
responsibility for what he did, and that was going against his wife’s
wishes. It was hard for him Pa, he
cried…and…so did I.”
“And
then he asked me to forgive him.” Joe
backed away a few paces and then turned around to face Ben. “It was always his eyes…in my dream…they
scared me, Pa…that’s why I wouldn’t allow myself to sleep…they kept
coming
back…staring at me, as if they were accusing me of letting him die.”
Joe
began to whimper. His father reached out
and drew his son back into his arms.
“Mr. Jenkins said we, he and I, should learn to move on…and that
I
should not blame myself, he didn’t blame me and so I shouldn’t either.”
“He’s
right Joseph, I’ve tried to make you understand that from the very
beginning
and…”
“I
know you have Pa, but I couldn’t see past what Mr. Jenkins said to me
that day,
when Adam brought Rocky out of the water.
But now, hearing him tell me, makes things seem different. I can’t explain it, Pa…but I knew you would
never blame me…but I blamed myself and when Mr. Jenkins said that is
was my
fault, I naturally believed him,” Joe explained. “Somehow, it was
easier to
believe that I was to blame than to believe that I wasn’t, maybe
because I already
believed I was.”
They
had moved to the side porch and Ben had sat down. Joe
paced back and forth in front of him,
still struggling to express his feelings.
He stopped and twirled around, looking down at his father.
“When
Mr. Jenkins said that he nearly ruined my life by letting me think I
was to
blame, rather than to admit he that he was really the one at fault, I
stopped
being mad at him. And…I suppose right
then, I felt more sorry for him than I did myself,” Joe admitted.
“That’s what
I was doing…feeling sorry for myself, I mean.
I don’t know why, Pa…but I did.”
“And
now Joseph?” questioned Ben.
“I
don’t feel that way anymore, thanks to Mr. Jenkins.
It was an accident, neither one of us was to
blame, I know that now, in here,” answered Joe as he tapped his chest
over his
heart.
“That’s
right son, and remember, Rocky played a part in his own death. He did something that he knew he wasn’t very
good at doing. He hadn’t had enough
practice but he chose to do something foolish, like jumping into water
that he
was not totally familiar with,” Ben explained.
“Son,
I’m glad that you understand now. I’m
glad that Mr. Jenkins was there, to help you and to explain why he said
what he
did, and most importantly, impressed upon you how wrong he was by doing
so.”
“He
asked me to drop by to visit with him sometime…but I’m not sure if I
can do
that, at least not yet,” Joe said softly.
He
lifted his head slightly and smiled at his father.
“I told him I’d probably be grounded until I
turned eighteen, for drinking all your brandy and coming home with a
hangover.”
Ben’s
face split open with a happy smile, overjoyed to see and hear his son
giggling
again.
“You’re
probably right young man…I’d almost forgotten about the brandy,”
laughed Ben.
“Great…me
and my big mouth,” muttered Joe, which caused his father to laugh again.
“Hey,
what’s so funny?” asked Hoss as he and Adam joined their father and
brother.
“Whew…you
been drinking, Little Brother?” quizzed Adam as he sniffed the stale
brandy
that lingered on Joe’s clothing.
Ben
and Hoss laughed and Joe pressed his hand to his forehead.
“Oh…not
so loud, my head feels like someone hit it with a hammer,” Joe moaned.
“It’s
called a hangover, buddy,” smiled Adam.
“It happens when you drink too much and can’t hold your…”
“How
would you know?” his father suddenly surprised his oldest son by asking.
“Hmm…me? Well…hmm…you see, Pa…it…happened to me…but
only once…” Adam stammered. “Hmm…I got
chores to do…see ya little buddy,” Adam called as he scampered off to
the barn,
leaving his family laughing loudly.
“Come
on son, you best get to bed and sleep it off.
You can sleep as long as you like...and when you wake up…we will
discuss
my empty brandy decanters and why your head hurts so badly,” Ben said
in a
stern voice, though it took all his will power to keep the smile off
his face.
“Yessir…”
Joe sputtered as he turned and headed off to his room.
Ben
watched his son go. He glanced at Hoss
and saw that he was watching Joe as well.
Ben moved to place a hand on the massive shoulder.
“It’s
good to have him back,” Ben said. The
love that he felt for his youngest son made his voice thick with
emotion and he
swallowed several times to clear his throat.
“Yeah,
Pa…it’s good, I’ve missed my little brother.”
Hoss wiped away the lone tear that rolled down his pudgy face
and smiled
at his father. “Ya gonna give him a
thrashin’ for getting’ drunk?”
Ben
laughed, “No, but I think I’ll keep him home…with me…until he turns
eighteen!”
Ben
slowly walked to the front door, leaving Hoss scratching his head and
pondering
the meaning to his words.
THE
END
July
2003