By
Debbie B
“He’s
dying, Ben, there’s just no easy way to say it.
I’m sorry…I’ve done all I can for him, and I believe he’s given it his
all as well, but he’s tired, Ben…and in so much pain.”
The
physician had to turn away from the man standing before him. Ben Cartwright stood with his head bowed low,
tears slowly making their way down his weather-worn face to pause momentarily
at the end of his chin before releasing themselves to drip onto the toes of his
boots. Paul watched as the grieving
father’s body began to tremble and from deep within the man, Paul could hear
the rumbling that began low and built in volume as his sobs forced his grief to
spew forth into a blood curdling scream.
“NOOOOO!”
shrieked Ben, “NOOO!” he sobbed once more before staggering toward the steps.
Gripping
tightly to the railing, Ben stopped at the foot of the staircase and turned
around, facing the physician who had tended to his family’s aliments for many
years.
“He’s
not going to die!” he stated in a demanding voice. “Do you understand me? Joseph is not a quitter, I will not allow him
to die!” stormed Ben in an angry voice, all the while waving a fist in the air.
Adam
was snapped to attention by his father’s harsh words and he moved to approach
his father.
“Pa…you’re
not God…you can’t allow or disallow Joe to die, or give him the will to live
for that matter,” said Adam, his voice shaky.
The
news that his youngest brother was dying had taken him completely by surprise,
though he knew that Joe’s life lay in the balance, he had been unaware that his
brother had completely given up.
Ben
turned his wrath on his oldest son. The pink
color of his lips turned white and his jaw could be seen tightening.
“Don’t
you dare speak to me in that tone, young man.
I meant what I said…Joseph is not going to die…I won’t let him!”
Ben
jerked himself around and stomped up the stairs, leaving his two sons and the
doctor staring in wide-eyed disbelief at one another. Minutes later, the slamming of the door
jarred the windows in the house.
Hoss
swallowed, and brushed his thick fingers through is thinning hair. Adam pinched the bridge of his nose and Paul
Martin, who at this minute, was hating his job, lowered himself into his
friend’s old red leather chair. For
several long minutes, the trio remained silent, lost in their own thoughts and
fears, worry for both father and brother causing them to choke on their
unvoiced sorrow and dread of what the next few hours might bring to the family.
Adam
positioned himself on the arm of his chair and glanced first at his brother and
then at the doctor. He noted the tear
filled eyes of his sibling and knew that Hoss was fighting back the tears that
threatened to spill forth. The family
physician appeared tired and worn from the many nights that he stood vigil over
the young man in the upstairs room.
Adam, his own eyes beginning to cloud, watched as Paul’s eyelids began
to droop and seconds later, the doctor slipped into dreamland and dozed
comfortably in Ben’s chair.
“Adam?”
Adam
glanced up, seeing that Hoss had moved to stand in front of him. His words were lodged in the back of his
throat rendering him unable to utter a sound.
“What’d
ya reckon will happen to Pa…if’n Joe…Joe…well, ya know?” stammered the big man.
Adam
could only shake his head, his own lips pinched tightly to form a straight,
taunt line across his face. “I don’t
know,” Adam managed to answer in a low whispered voice.
“It’ll
probably kill him as well, Hoss.”
Adam
heard the deep moan that escaped his brother’s lips, and looked up to see that
the tears had finally flooded the blue hue of Hoss’ eyes and spilled over their
rims. Adam stood to his feet; his heart
ripped into shreds for the sorrow that had branded his middle brother’s facial
expressions. He heard the sobs that tore
forth and stood witness to the massive body as it trembled with deep seeded
grief.
“Hoss…don’t…please…”
stammered Adam as he gripped his brother’s massive shoulders with hands that
shook. “I can’t do this…without you…”
Hoss
was shaking his head from side to side; his young face had twisted into
tormented distortions that left his features almost grotesque in its
appearance. Hoss tossed back his head;
his eyes squeezed tightly shut and his fists balled into rock hard knots. He looked as if he were about ready to blow
up, for his face had turned beat red.
Suddenly, his heart-wrenching wail shattered the unsettled silence of
the great room.
Paul
jumped to his feet, startled awake by the loud, uncontrollable sobbing of the
man across from him. Adam too, had been
shaken by his brother’s sudden breakdown and he clasped tightly to his brother
and pulled the weeping man into his arms.
Adam
felt his throat swell with emotion as he held Hoss to his chest. From across the room, Paul watched, unable to
find words that would console the distraught man. He glanced at Adam’s face and saw that the
elder son had tears as well that ran freely down his own cheeks, though his
weeping was more controlled, more reserved than that of his younger brother’s.
For
several minutes the two brothers clung tightly to one another, until at last, Hoss
pulled free of the arms that held him.
He pulled, from his back pocket, a bright red handkerchief and blew his
nose with great force. When he finished,
he looked with reddened eyes and tear strained cheeks, at his older brother.
“I’m
sorry…Adam,” he stammered. “I reckon, I
jist lost it there, for a moment,” he sniffed.
“It’s
alright, Hoss…I…I did too,” answered Adam.
“It’s to be expected, brother…we stand to lose a lot.”
“Half
our family. I reckon Pa won’t be much a
mind to go on livin’, if’n Joe don’t…make it,” Hoss muttered as he sat down on
the settee.
“Probably
not…you know as well as I do, how much he loves that boy,” Adam said, moving to
poke at the dying embers in the fireplace.
“I
think I’ll go up and check on Joe…and your father,” Paul said, moving to the
stairs. He paused and turned slowly
around to face the brothers.
“Hoss…Adam…”
he began. His soft voice drew the
brothers’ attention to the physician. “I
just want you both to know…Joe doesn’t blame either of you for what happened.”
Hoss’
blue eyes shifted directly to Adam’s hazel eyes and the two stared at one
another without muttering a word.
“He
told me as much,” continued the doctor.
“He asked that I tell you both not to fret yourselves none, about what
happened. It was an accident, and he
knows that.”
“Joe
said as much?” inquired Adam, looking again in Hoss’ direction.
Paul
forced a smile, hoping that it might bring a smidgen of comfort to the
pair. Paul knew that Adam and Hoss both
blamed themselves in part for what had happened to their younger brother.
They
had bet the youngest member of the family that he could not ride the wild
sorrel stallion that the three of them had captured the week before and who,
since his capture, had tossed every cowboy on the ranch on their behinds. Joe had laughed heartily at his brothers and
taking their bets had climbed onto the stallion’s back. The ride had lasted only about the length of
time that it took ole Cyclone, as the boys had dubbed the horse, to twist
around in a high bucking circle and tossing Joe into the air. When Joe hit the ground with a resounding
thud, having fallen directly under the stallion’s hooves, the horse had tried
to avoid trampling the body beneath him.
But Cyclone moved in one direction and Joe had tried to roll away, but
ended up going where the horse’s sharp hooves had proved deadly. The sharp snapping of bones, the ear-piercing
screams and the frightened snorting of the stallion as he tumbled to the
ground, crushing the boy beneath him, had brought waves of fear and remorse to
the two older brothers who witnessed the event.
“He
said not to blame yourselves,” Paul repeated and then turned to ascend the
stairs.
Hoss
gulped and moved closer to Adam. Adam
tried to turn his head; Hoss’ piercing blue eyes were fixed on his older
brother’s face and the elder of the two could not bring himself to meet his
brother’s piercing look.
“Adam…”
“Don’t
say it, Hoss…regardless of the fact that Joe don’t blame me…I blame me. I’m the fool that made the dare and then I
was stupid enough to offer him a five dollar bet; and we both know, Joe can’t
say no to a dare or a bet,” groaned Adam.
He raised his head at last, looking directly into Hoss’ dense blue
eyes. “And now, for a five dollar bet,
my kid brother will most likely die!”
Before
Hoss could make an argument, Adam stood quickly to his feet and started to the
front door. Hat in hand, he paused,
looking back at the sad face of his middle brother.
“I’m
going for a ride, I’ll be up at the lake…if things change and you need me,” he
said silently as he went out the door, closing it softly behind him.
“Joseph,”
Ben muttered in a low, gentle voice.
“Can you hear me, son?”
Ben
sat as close to the bed as he could get with the chair that he had pulled along
side. He gazed into the boy’s face,
studying his son’s features for several long moments. It was easy to see that Joe was lost within
the boundaries of a deep, drug induced slumber.
His breathing was regular and so shallow that Ben had to stare for
several minutes at his son’s chest to see the slight rise and fall of the boy’s
breaths.
Joe’s
face was void of color, except for the dark bruises that marred his
features. The pressure of his hand to
the boy’s brow, told Ben that Joe’s fever was still elevated and he made short
work of the covers, moving them around so that they tucked neatly along Joe’s
body in an attempt to keep the boy warm.
Ben
brushed his fingers tenderly through the wayward curls that were dampened from where
he had gently washed Joe’s face. The boy
remained motionless, unaware of the loving hands that tended to his needs or of
the tears that had rolled gently down the front of his father’s face.
“Please…Joseph…try,
son…you can’t give up. I know that you’re
hurting…but you can overcome the pain…please, Joe…I…I can’t lose you,” sobbed
Ben as he lowered his face to the side of Joe’s and wept.
Ben
remained as such for several long minutes, fighting to control the grief that
had overcome him. His head had begun to
hurt and he felt the knots in his stomach tighten, leaving him feeling as if he
might not be able to keep down his supper, not that he had been able to eat, he
had only picked at what someone else had piled onto his plate for him.
The
distraught father hauled himself up from the chair in which he sat and moved to
the washstand where he poured fresh water into the basin and washed the
remnants of tears from his face. As he
dried off, he stopped and gazed at the reflection of himself that stared back
at him from the mirror on the stand. Ben
leaned forward, getting a closer look and then groaned softly.
“I
look like hell,” he whispered to himself.
“I could use a shave, too,” he muttered.
Ben
brushed his hand down the side of his face, feeling the bristles that had
sprung up on his cheeks. He couldn’t
stop the long sigh that escaped passed his lips; he was tired, worn completely
out. When he looked across the room at his
son lying in the bed, he felt a surge sweep through his body and he determined
that he’d force himself to keep going.
His son needed him, and until Joe could actually open his eyes and
looked at him, Ben vowed to remain by the boy’s side and be there…just in
case…in case Joe asked for him.
Ben
tossed the towel onto the table and returned to the bed. Joe had moved slightly, trying to find a
comfortable position where his broken bones might rest easier, surmised Ben as
he took his place next to the bed.
Joe
had moved his hand from beneath the blankets and now it rested along his
side. Ben couldn’t refrain from picking
it up and tenderly holding it within his larger one. Unconsciously, Ben’s fingers gently caressed
the back of Joe’s hand. There was a
large, dark bruise that covered the tops of the slender fingers and stood out from
the others and Ben briefly wondered how the bruise came to be where it was.
He
knew that Joe’s body was covered with bruises.
The fall from the horse alone, had been enough to bruise any
broncobuster worth his salts. The
condition of his son’s body, shortly after being trampled and then nearly
crushed to death by the weight of the horse, had turned his son’s flesh several
distinct shades of black and blue. Bones
had snapped in both of Joe’s legs, his right arm had been broken in two places,
he suffered from a severe blow to his chest cavity, breaking four or five of
his ribs when the horse landed on top of him.
Joe’s head had been cut, probably from the saddle when the horse rolled
and the doctor had determined that the boy had also suffered a bad concussion
as well.
Ben
fought the urge to scream out. The
picture of his son, lying sprawled in the dust, blood dripping from his nose
and mouth and the sounds of his piteous cries were still vivid in his mind. Adam, then Hoss, had been the first ones to
reach the wounded lad, and by the time Ben had arrived, Joe was just beginning
to slip into an unconscious state of mind.
He had been carefully carried to his room, stripped and placed into his
bed. Ben, with his older sons’ help had
bathed Joe and cared for his injuries as best they could until the doctor had
arrived. By that time, Joe had regained
consciousness, though not for long.
Ben
remembered the frightened look he had seen in the emerald eyes, and suddenly
felt his own filling with tears. He
brushed them away and returned to his musings.
Joe had tried to keep from crying out, but the pain that had consumed
his body, had been too much for the boy to restrain himself. His outbursts ripped at the hearts and souls
of his family. The sight of Joe
thrashing about in the bed, begging for the doctor to stop the hurting, and
then finally crying out in anguish for his father, had been nearly more than
the family could stand.
For
one of the few times in his life, Ben had felt completely useless to help his
son. Joe’s injuries were far beyond his
knowledge and Ben had had to rely on his old friend, the doctor, to ease Joe’s
suffering. When Paul had entered the
room and ordered everyone out, Ben refused to leave. In spite of the physician’s constant demands,
Ben had stayed and watched…from the sidelines, how Paul had pieced together his
son’s broken bones, and stitched the many cuts and the large gash on Joe’s
head. He had suffered through his own
kind of pain, his own suffering; one that only a father watching his dying son
fighting for his life could feel...the helplessness of being unable of doing a
thing, except stand back and watch, and wait and pray.
Ben
had been doing a lot of that over the last few days. How long had it been…three, maybe four days
now that Joe had been fighting for his life? Ben shook his head to clear away
the cobwebs for it seemed as if time had stopped and the days had run together
and the nights were endless and still there was no change.
Joe’s
cries had been such that Paul felt he should increase the amount of morphine he
was already giving his patient, in order that Joe might be more
comfortable. Now, with the dosage being
at the highest possible level, there was nothing more that could be done,
except for praying.
Ben bowed his head, closing his eyes tightly and still clinging to his son’s hand, began praying in a soft whispered tone.
At
the doorway, Paul was stopped in his tracks, overhearing the muffled whispering
coming from within the room. Only the
soft glow from the light lit the room.
Shadows danced along the walls, uncaring that the darkest shadow, called
death, waited nearby. Paul could hear
the rattle that hinted to the grim reaper, that time was drawing close. The physician felt the shudder as a chilly
wave of uncertainty pulsated through his veins.
Paul stepped into the room, Ben had fallen silent and it appeared to the
compassionate doctor that his friend had finally given in to his weariness and
had fallen to sleep.
Silently,
Paul made his way over to his patient.
Ben had leaned against the back of the chair and had indeed fallen to
sleep, his hand clinging gently to that of his son’s. Pulling the extra blanket
from the foot of the bed, Paul carefully spread it over the sleeping man. When he finished, he turned to the boy in the
bed. Joe had not moved other than
removing his arm from under the blanket.
Paul
pressed his hand to Joe’s brow worried that the boy’s fever had not started to
come down. He pulled back the blanket and inspected the wraps he had placed
around Joe’s chest to keep the broken ribs from moving, and the plaster casts
he had applied to Joe’s broken arm and then further raised the blanket,
checking on the ones on both legs. When
he finished, the doctor tucked the blanket in, around Joe’s body. The signs were all there, life was ebbing
further and further away, and Paul guessed that soon life as it were known,
would be no more.
Paul
crossed the room and took a seat in the other chair. He would stay close tonight rather than
napping in the spare room downstairs. He
sensed that before the evening was over, things would be forever changed in the
Cartwright household and that perhaps his services would be needed in a
different manner than from what they had been in previous nights.
Paul
pressed his head against the back of the chair, and not meaning too, fell into
a dreamless sleep.
“Pa….”
The
near inaudible sound jarred Adam from his thoughts and he quickly turned from the
window where he had been standing, staring out into the blackness of night, and
moved to the side of the bed. He leaned
down surprised to see that Joe’s eyelids were fluttering.
“Pa,”
he said, nudging Ben from his nap.
“Joe’s trying to wake up.” His
voice held a mixture of hope as well as fear.
“Joseph,”
Ben cooed as he placed himself on the edge of the bed, next to his son. “That’s it son, open your eyes.”
Ben
glanced around the room at the men who had joined him. He noted the glimmer of hopefulness on Hoss’
face and the expectant look in his oldest son’s eyes and then glanced again at
Joe, who had begun to moan softly.
“Pa…”
“I’m
here Joseph. Your brothers are here as
well,” Ben explained. “Can you open your
eyes?” The question sounded more like a
plea to those that heard it rather than the question it was.
Paul
had centered himself on the opposite side of the bed and was checking his
patient’s pulse. Ben glanced in that
direction and up at Paul’s face. He need
not ask, he could see the answer written in the physician’s expression. Joe was getting weaker.
“Pa…please…hold…me,”
the jumbled words finally made sense and Ben quickly did as his son had asked.
The
others helped Ben to move Joe enough so that he could get behind the boy and then
hold Joe firmly, yet with care, in his arms.
Ben felt Joe nuzzle his body against the warmth of his father’s and the
closeness of having his dying son embraced within the folds of his arms, caused
Ben’s eyes to water.
“Cold…so…cold,”
murmured Joe.
Adam
grabbed the blanket that had been used by his father and added it to the ones
already covering his brother.
“Here
Joe, here’s another blanket,” he whispered.
Adam
was finding it hard to speak, for the emotion of watching his brother, who had
begun to shiver and then struggle for each breath that he took, was
overwhelming. Adam hated seeing Joe in
such a condition. The boy was known for
his zest of life, and to see that zest die and his brother’s life dwindling
slowly away, ripped the heart out of the boy’s oldest brother.
Ben’s
eyes sought Adam’s and without voicing their fears aloud to one another, each
knew what the other was feeling.
“Mama…”
Joe struggled with his words.
“Want…to…hold…mama…”
Hoss,
who stood close by, scratched his head. “What’s
he meanin?”
“I
don’t know,” whispered Ben.
Joe’s
fingers clutched the front of his father’s shirt and somehow Joe managed to
open his eyes. His other hand he moved
over his head, and to Adam, who watched, it appeared that Joe was trying to
point to something.
“Mama…”
The sound was so muffled that it appeared non-existent and the others were not
so sure that they had heard the word.
“The
picture…he wants his mother’s picture,” Adam said suddenly as he reached for
the miniature cameo photo that rested on the table next to his brother’s
bed. Quickly he placed it in his
brother’s hand, folding Joe’s fingers over the tiny frame.
“Here
Joe, here’s your mama.”
Unexpectedly,
Adam’s eyes filled with tears. The
single act of touching his brother’s hand and feeling the coldness therein had
confirmed his worst fear…his brother’s time was drawing near. He quickly removed himself from the group and
walked out into the hallway and remained until he could bring his emotions
under control.
Ben
could feel the rapid pounding of his heart deep within his chest. His rising fear and growing grief, he tried
to keep at bay, knowing that soon, he’d not be able to stop them from
surfacing. But for now, the last thing
he wanted was to allow his youngest son to see the sorrow that Ben was sure,
showed on his face.
Joe’s
eyelids fluttered once more and he eased opened his eyes. They frantically searched the space above his
head for his father’s face. Tiny
droplets of water beaded over the green hue that colored the boy’s eyes and
when he blinked, they rolled haphazardly down from the corners.
“I’m…sorry…Pa,”
Joe whispered.
“I…I’m…just…so…tired.” The words
were forced from the back of his throat, draining his body with the effort that
it took for him to speak.
“You’ve
nothing to be sorry for sweetheart,” Ben whispered in return. “You’ve tried your best…and it’s…it’s…”
A
sob caught in his throat and Ben couldn’t say the word, nor could he speak the
words that he knew in his heart that his son needed to hear. Ben could not force himself to tell Joe that
it was okay, that he need not fight any longer, that it was…was…
“Tell
him, Pa!” Adam said aloud.
The
sharpness of his tone drew everyone’s attention to the grief stricken young man
standing at the foot of the bed. All
eyes stared at Adam as he gripped the footboard with his strong fingers.
“For
God’s sake tell him it’s okay…he needs to hear it from you
“NO!”
Ben practically shouted as he hugged Joe closer to him.
Hoss
muffled a sob and turned his head away to hide his own tears and to avoid
looking at the grief on both his father and older brother’s face.
“I’ll
do no such of a thing,” Ben growled at Adam.
Ben glanced down at Joe, who lay nestled in his arms. The boy’s eyes were still opened and had
fixed themselves on his father’s face.
“Joe?”
Ben said, “I want you to keep trying, son.
I know it’s hard and I know that you are in a lot of pain, but Joseph…please…”
Ben glanced around the room and pinching his lips tightly, looked down at
Joe. “Please don’t give up…I can’t bear
the thoughts of losing you, son.”
He
heard the three gasps from the others and when he looked up at them, they were
all staring at him as if they could not believe what they had just heard.
“Well,
it’s true,” Ben whispered to them.
“It’s
selfish, Pa…and you know it!” snapped Adam.
“I
don’t care…”
“You
don’t care? What about him?” Adam
pointed at his brother who had closed his eyes.
“Just how much more suffering do you want him to endure, before you’re
willing to let him go? For God’s sake,
Pa…”
“That’s
enough, Adam!”
“Pa,
Adam…please…don’t fight,” muttered Hoss.
“Joe don’t need to hear such talk…not now,” pleaded Hoss, giving a
sorrowful look at each.
Ben
took a deep breath and nodded his head in agreement.
“You’re
right Hoss. Adam, I’m sorry son,” Ben
said, looking up to find his elder son walking out of the room. Ben glanced up at the doctor who had remained
silent during the confrontation.
“So
I’m selfish…” Ben murmured and then turned from looking at his old friend.
He
did feel guilty for not telling Joe that it was okay, that he knew that Joe had
fought bravely in an attempt to overcome the pain and the injuries. Ben knew in his heart that the longer Joe
lingered, the more pain he was forced to endure, but still, Ben’s heart wasn’t
ready just yet to let go of the boy that he loved more than his own life. God had not finished His job as of yet…for
Ben’s heart still felt the fear of giving his son back to God.
The
night lingered on as Ben listened with a troubled heart to the moans and groans
that continued to slip past his son’s lips.
The boy’s thrashing about on the bed as the pain converged on his body
and the tiny tears that seeped from beneath lowered lashes, all tugged at the
heartstrings of the man who stood vigil over the dying boy.
“Oh…please…”
Joe cried out in his delirium as he drew in deeply to fill his lungs.
Joe’s
head tossed back and forth on the sweat soaked pillow. His cries were softly voiced, his eyes opened
occasionally, but the world around him was unseen for his injuries had taken
control of his world and nothing that his father or the doctor could do now,
could bring comfort to his tormented body.
Ben
watched with heavy heart. Never had he
felt so discouraged, or helpless. He
sighed deeply, he had no one to turn too, even the doctor had given up for the
pain medication no longer brought the relief that his son needed.
Briefly,
Ben had forgotten that there was a higher source, a Supreme Being that he could
turn too. Ben was deeply lost in his own
grief, his own pain, and the grief and pain had dulled his thinking and had
been cause for his failing faith in that Supreme Being.
“OHHHH GOD…PLEASE!”
The
words, muddled by the suffering and fever that had consumed his body, slipped
softly from Joe’s mouth as his body arched in pain.
Ben
dropped to his knees beside the bed, taking Joe’s hand in his two. “Joseph?” he whispered, but received no
response. Joe had pinched his eyes
tightly shut and seemed to have fallen into unconsciousness.
The
tears swelled in the dark ebony eyes and spilled over onto the blanket that
covered his son. Ben wept softly for
several long minutes. His son’s words
had reached into his troubled soul and reminded the father that there was
another Father who had once felt as he was now feeling. Quietly, Ben began to pray.
Nearing
the end of his prayer, Ben glanced over at his son, seeing the agony that he
suffered, and knowing that Joe had fought long and hard and that now it was up
to him to let his son go.
Swallowing
hard, Ben muttered, “Not my will, but thine, oh Lord, be done.” Ben had at last,
surrendered his son to God.
A
feeling of peace washed over the troubled man, easing his spirit in a way that
he had not expected. The feeling
surprised Ben Cartwright. He raised up
and placed himself on the edge of the bed, next to his son. Ben leaned down and kissed Joe’s cheek,
brushing his fingers through the mass of thick curls.
“Joseph,”
Ben whispered when he could at last find his voice. “I love you, son.”
Ben
swallowed again. Saying goodbye was
never easy, letting go, even harder. But
in a matter of a few seconds, and with a muttered request, Ben’s faith had been
re-established and he had trusted that God would be merciful to his son.
“I
know you’ve tried your best, and I know you’re tired…it’s okay, Joe, I’m proud
of you. It’s time for you to rest,
son…you don’t have to keep on trying…I understand, now.”
Ben
felt the pressure of hands on his shoulders and was surprised when he turned
and saw Adam and Hoss standing silently behind him. Both had tears in their eyes, but they each
gave their father a small smile and a nod of their heads. Each understood what it had taken for their
father to give his youngest son the release that was needed to relieve his
suffering.
Ben
had been dozing in the chair next to the bed.
His head rested on the side of the bed, for he had refused to leave his
son’s side. In the chair across the
room, Hoss snored softly. Adam stood at
the window, watching the rise of the morning sun as it poked above the high
mountain peaks. It was going to be a
glorious day, but not one in the household was aware of that fact as of yet.
Joe
turned his head to one side, his eyes fluttered and then opened. The first thing that he saw, was his father’s
form, slumped forward and the silver mass of hair resting on the bed next to
him. His tired lips formed a smile and
with his left arm, he moved his hand until his fingers brushed lightly at his
father’s head.
Instantly,
the tender touch brought sudden awareness to the sleeping man. Ben’s eyes sought his son’s face, and when he
saw that Joe’s eyes were opened and that the boy worn a slight smile on his
face, Ben smiled broadly.
“Joseph!”
he cried.
Adam
turned from the window, surprised to see his father bending over his
brother. Quickly he rushed to the
bedside.
“Pa?”
he questioned, fear filling every fiber of his being.
Ben
glanced up, smiling at his oldest son.
“It’s
alright, Adam, Joe’s awake,” beamed Ben.
“Howdy,
big brother,” Joe said in a strained voice.
Adam
laughed lightly and sat down on the edge of the bed, on the opposite side from
where his father stood.
“Hello
yourself,” teased Adam. “Don’t you know,
you gave us quite a scare!”
“I’m
sorry,” Joe grinned weakly.
Joe
turned to his father, his smiled faded.
“I am sorry, Pa…I didn’t mean to worry you.”
Ben
pushed his lips into a smile as he caressed his son’s face. “It’s alright son…I…I…” Ben gulped. “I’m glad that you’re better now.”
Hoss
had awakened and stood smiling, at the foot of the bed. “Hi ya, Punkin,” he grinned, pleased to see
his brother awake and talking with the family.
“Hi
yourself, ya big galoot,” Joe teased.
The
doctor wandered into the room then, and stopped, gazing at the scene before
him. “Well, now…what do we have here?”
he said merrily as he moved to the side of the bed.
“Mornin’
doc,” grinned Joe.
“Mornin’
doc…is that all you have to say for yourself young man…after what you have put
the four of us through?” Paul smiled and
turned to Ben. “I don’t think this young
man is too old yet for a trip to the woodshed, Ben, once he’s on his feet
again.”
“Aw…come
on Doc…”
The
small circle of men, laughed. The relief
that Joe had somehow managed to defy death’s request, showed on each tired face
that stood over him, smiling.
“Ben,
I need to examine my patient, why don’t you three go downstairs and have some
breakfast?” Paul suggested as he herded the others from the room.
Ben
nodded his head, but hesitated before moving from his spot on the bed. The others filed quietly out into the
hall. Ben smiled down at Joe, taking
Joe’s hand in his. His throat grew thick
with emotion and when he tried to speak, his words came out strained.
“Welcome,
back Joseph,” he whispered. “I thought
for a while that I was going to lose you.”
Joe’s
eyes filled with tears, but he willed them away.
“I wanted
to give up, Pa…but something wouldn’t let me.
I kept trying to move closer to the bright light, but a voice kept
telling me to turn back…that it wasn’t time yet. I remember hearing my voice, telling the
light that I was tired, and that I needed the warmth of the light to stop my
pain, but it kept repeating the same words over and over. ‘Go back…for it is
not yet time’. That’s what the voice in
the light kept saying.”
Joe
fixed his eyes on his father’s face.
“And then I heard you praying…you told God…’not my will, but Thine be
done’…and right then, all the pain went away,
Ben
felt the tears fill his own eyes, and when he blinked, a single tear slipped
from the corner of one eye. He leaned
down, brushing his lips across Joe’s brow.
When he raised up, he smiled down at his son.
“God
moves in mysterious ways, Son. I can’t
explain exactly what happened, but I am thankful that God sent you back to
us. I suppose it was a test…”
Joe
looked perplexed. “A test? What kind of test…and a test for who?”
Ben
pressed his lips together; he seemed to be thinking. After a short paused, he smiled at his son.
“A
test of faith, Joseph…my faith. You see,
Adam said it best, when he told me that I was being selfish in not letting you
go. But I wasn’t ready to let you
go…I…I…couldn’t face life without you, son.
At that moment, I didn’t have enough faith to believe that God would…or
could…get me through the sorrow. It was
only after hearing you plead with God to help you, that I understood that
before God could help you…I had to give you back to Him.”
Ben
smiled and brushed again at the wayward curls.
“I was the one walking through the valley of the shadow of death. I was the one that feared the evil…death,
loneliness without you, grief, sorrow…I forgot that God was still with me and
that His rod and staff would provide me with the comfort I needed, should you
die. And until I remembered that, and
put all my trust and faith in God, not just part of it, He couldn’t help
you…because in God’s eyes, I was still holding on to you.”
“I
know it’s hard to understand sometimes, Joe, I don’t fully understand it, but I
do see, now, how God works. He doesn’t
want just half our faith, but all of it.
It’s easy to trust God when things are going our way. It’s different when things go wrong, to
depend on God and not ourselves…and many times throughout our lives, we forget
that. We forget that God is God, both in
good times and in bad. We fail to
remember that the God on the mountain is also God of the valley…and that He is
with us always.”
Ben
paused. “I’m sorry son…”
“For
what, Pa? You don’t have anything to be
sorry for. Aren’t you always telling us
that we’re only human? That’s all you
were doing…being human…being a father, fearful for his son’s life. Didn’t you teach us that even God feared for
His son’s life? And that even God had to
give His own son up? Then if God feared
for Jesus’ life, why is it so wrong for Ben Cartwright to fear for one of his
sons?”
Ben
smiled broadly and patted Joe’s cheek.
“It isn’t wrong son…its only human, and even God understands that…He’s
the one who made us, remember?”
“Does
that mean you passed the test?” Joe grinned.
“I
suppose…it did teach me a lesson though…I was straddling the fence…that’s not
what God wants…we have to be on one side or the other…however be it.”
Joe
laughed softly. “I have a feeling, Pa…that
you’re on the right side of that fence!”
“If
you two have finished, I’d like to check my patient, now,” laughed Paul Martin.
Joe
and Ben had forgotten that the physician was waiting to do just as he had
stated and both laughed lightly. Ben
rose from the bed, clinging still to Joe's hand.
“I
love, son,” he whispered before releasing Joe’s hand so that he could leave.
Joe’s
expression became serious and he swallowed the knot that had thickened his
throat.
“I
know…and I know how hard it was for you, last night. Thanks, Pa…for having enough faith to entrust
me to God. I love you, too.”
THE
END
November
2003