By
Diana Golding
Adam Cartwright
was falling. What had started as a
gentle slide, had quickly turned into a heart stopping tumble down the gravel
and rock strewn slope, towards the deep ravine that was waiting to claim
him. He tried to slow the speed of his
descent by digging his hands into the dirt among the small rocks that covered
the ground, but he only succeeded in raising more clouds of gritty dust. Sharp grains of dirt found their way under
his eyelids and he wanted to close his eyes against the stinging pain, but he
was watching a clump of trees off to one side, trying to direct his progress
towards them. As he drew level with the
small outcropping, he threw out his left arm and wrapped it round the nearest
trunk, nearly pulling the limb from its socket as he succeeded in halting his
fall.
He watched,
horrified, as his horse disappeared over the edge of the ravine, and could hear
its fading cries of terror as it vanished.
He guiltily thanked God that his own horse, Sport, was at home in the
barn, nursing a swollen fetlock, and it had not been his long time companion
that had fallen to his death a hundred feet below. But then he thought that Sport wouldn’t have
panicked when he heard the rattle of the snake.
Adam hugged the
tree for a few minutes to get his breath back, trying to clear his vision as he
waited. He blinked several times, and
tears streamed down his face as his eyes tried to rid themselves of the dirt
that filled them. Looking down at
himself, he could make out the fact that his black shirt was ripped and bloody
where the rocks had torn at him, and the skin on his hands had been scraped
away. His head was aching fiercely where
it had struck repeatedly against the scattered rocks, and when he tried to
raise his left hand to wipe away a trickle of blood from a cut on his forehead,
he thought that he must have pulled every muscle and ligament in his shoulder
as he had grabbed the passing tree. But
he dismissed all the discomfort, he was lucky to be alive.
Every time he
blinked, Adam felt the scratchy dryness of the dust, but he forced his eyes open
as he started to climb slowly back up the steep slope, keeping to one side
where the ground was firmer and there were more trees, widely spaced but the
only help he had. He found it hard
going; he had to use both his arms as he moved cautiously from tree to tree,
afraid every time he released his grip on one slender trunk, that he might slip
before he could find the safety of another.
He rubbed at his increasingly painful eyes, trying to clear them so that
he could seek out a secure path, but, by the time he reached the road at the
top of the cliff, he could barely see.
He attempted to look round for the snake that had made his horse shy and
take the fatal steps sideways, but his vision was so blurred that he could make
out no details on the ground. He could
only hope that the single shot he had managed to get off had been enough.
He sank down and
sat on the side of the dusty road, cradling his arm, trying to relieve the
agony of overworked muscles and torn tendons in his shoulder, knowing that he ought
to try to make his way towards civilisation, but when he opened his eyes he
realised that he couldn’t see enough to walk anywhere. Everything around him
was a blur, and when he moved his eyes, they sent a pain through his head that
forced him to close them. His shoulders
sagged in defeat as he realised that he was alone and unable to see; he would
have to wait, either for help, or for his vision to clear. It was early morning, no one would be
travelling that lonely mountain road for hours, if at all. He lay on his back beside the road and shut
his eyes; at least if he didn’t blink they didn’t hurt so much. He rubbed at them again and tried to open
them, but stopped immediately, the pain from the small movement was enough that
he didn’t want to try it again any time soon.
Adam had lain
there only ten minutes when he became aware that he could hear the hoof beats
of an approaching horse. He pushed
himself shakily to his feet; lying still had caused his abused body to stiffen,
and his aching head swam as he straightened.
When he opened his eyes all he could see were the bright sparks of stars
swimming in his vision, so he closed them again but the sparks remained. He waited until he thought that the animal
must be close, then tipped his head back and opened his eyes just a fraction,
so he was looking through his thick, black lashes. Tears again slipped from his eyes as they
protested at this mistreatment, but he ignored them. He could see little, but thought that he
detected the shape of a buggy, his ears confirming what he could see only
dimly. He stood in the middle of the
narrow road and held up his right hand, his left hanging useless at his
side. He closed his eyes again as he
heard the horse stop some way off, then approach slowly, halting when it came
near. He heard the soft crunch of wheels
on the dirt road close beside him, but there was no sound from the buggy, so
Adam spoke.
“Can ... can you
help me?” he asked, trying to sound calm, but he heard his voice come out as a
plea. His right hand held his left arm
close to his body and he took a step forward.
Still there was no sound and he thought that the person in the buggy
would leave him there. Then he heard the
rustle of material and felt a hand on his arm.
A light voice
spoke to him. “What on earth happened to
you?” A woman’s voice.
“My horse...we
went over the cliff,” Adam said hesitantly.
Now there was someone near he felt himself trembling with relief that he
was no longer alone.
“I see.”
Adam almost
laughed, it was more than he could do at that moment. “Can you help me?” he asked again.
The woman looked
at the ragged stranger before her, seeing the bloody scrapes and tears to his
head and body, and knew that she couldn’t leave him there. “Have you hurt your eyes?” she asked,
concerned.
“It’s just the
dust.” He put up a hand to touch them,
but pressure on his arm forced it down.
“Don’t do that,
it will only make them worse.” She could
see by the bloody smears round his eyes that he had been rubbing at them with
his hands, and she held his arm so that he would not do so again.
“Where do you
live?” the woman asked.
“The
Ponderosa.” Adam gestured in the
direction of his home.
“That’s not
far. I’ll take you there.”
“No, really you
don’t have to. If I can just get a
horse...” Adam turned towards her and opened his eyes, but all he could see was
a thick mist and patches of light and dark, no detail at all, and he shut them
quickly.
“And do what
exactly? Your own horse might have been
able to take you home, but I doubt that you can see well enough to get yourself
there on a borrowed mount.”
Adam didn’t
argue. She was right, he’d never be able
to find his way home as he was. “Thank
you, I’m very grateful to you. My name’s
Adam Cartwright.”
When she didn’t
reply Adam frowned. “Won’t you tell me
who you are? I would like to know who it
was that rescued me.”
He sensed a
hesitation, then the woman spoke. “My
name is Verity Carlisle.”
The name seemed
familiar to Adam but he couldn’t place it for a moment, then he
remembered. He had heard the name spoken
in town, along with the gossip. They
said that the woman at the old Mason ranch was a recluse. Knowing nods, that said they also thought
that she was probably a little mad as well, always followed this
statement. No one had seen her since she
had bought the place a few weeks before; it was small and isolated, sharing a
section of the Ponderosa’s eastern boundary.
She apparently had just one elderly hand who helped her, and it was he
who came into town for supplies.
“I’m pleased to
meet you,” Adam said with feeling, grateful that she had stopped and helped
him. Verity looked sideways at him,
seeing the sincerity on his dark, handsome face.
She helped Adam
up onto the seat, and he felt it rock as she stepped up onto the other side of
the buggy and sat down beside him. She
slapped the reins against the back of the horse and the vehicle began to move.
After they had
travelled for a few minutes in silence, Verity saw a stream up ahead and pulled
the horse to a standstill. “I think we
should try to get some of that dirt out of your eyes. Just stay there and I’ll help you down.”
Adam baulked at
being so helpless and tried to open his eyes, but knowing the pain it would
cause, his eyelids refused to move and he sat waiting for her, until he felt
her hand on his arm and allowed her to lead him to the water’s edge. He could sense that she was shorter than him
and, he thought as his arm brushed against her, quite slim. He wondered what she looked like; her voice
was light and gentle, a pretty voice.
Did she have the face to match?
Was she fair, or dark? How old
was she? Verity helped him to sit down,
pulled a handkerchief from her pocket, and then dipped it in the cold water of
the stream.
“Can you open
your eyes at all?” she asked. Adam
tried, then shook his head. “Never mind,
I’ll just get some of the blood and dirt from around them.”
Adam was
concerned. “Blood?”
“Don’t fret, I
think it’s just where you’ve been rubbing them with your hands, it’s not coming
from your eyes.” She bathed the cuts on
his face and forehead, and managed to get some of the dirt out of his
eyes. When she had finished, Adam again
put up his hand to rub at them and Verity again stopped him. “I’m going to put this cloth round your eyes,
it’ll help you to keep them shut and stop you touching them until the doctor
can take a look at you.”
As she bound the
handkerchief round his head, Adam felt the relief of having his eyes held
shut. “Thank you, that feels much better.”
“If you wait
there a moment, I will get something to wrap around your hands as well.” Adam heard her move away and, after a few
quiet seconds, he panicked as he thought that he was alone, that she might not
come back. But then he heard the rustle
of her skirts as she returned, and he breathed a sigh of relief. Not being able to see cut to the depth of his
being, he felt vulnerable and useless, feelings that he hated.
After she had
bathed and bound his hands, she spoke as she held his arm. “Let’s get you home.” Adam made to stand but his knees gave way and
he fell against Verity. “I think your
little adventure is starting to catch up with you, take it slowly and you’ll
make it,” she advised kindly, helping him upright again.
She guided Adam
slowly and carefully back to the buggy, and they rode on towards the
Ponderosa. By the time they were
approaching the ranch house, Adam had fallen sideways and had his head cradled
on Verity’s lap. While the bandage
stopped him from opening his eyes, it couldn’t stop him from moving them under
the closed lids, and the pain that caused, mixed with the hurt in his body and
a blinding headache that made him feel nauseous, had driven him to escape in
unconsciousness.
Verity pulled up
short of the house and sat for a few minutes, looking round. She put her hand on Adam’s shoulder and shook
him gently, but firmly. He came to his
senses slowly; he hurt everywhere and had to fight to stay awake. Adam tried to open his eyes to see where he
was, then, as memory returned, he put his hand up and felt the cloth bound over
them.
“Will there be
anyone at home?” Verity asked, and Adam thought that she sounded nervous.
“What’s the
time?” he asked, trying to concentrate on what she was saying.
There was a
pause. “Nearly midday,” Verity reported.
“No. They’ll be back soon though.” Adam remembered his father saying that he was
taking Hop Sing, their Chinese housekeeper, into Virginia City for supplies.
Verity moved the
horse forward and stopped in front of the house. Adam felt the seat bounce as she got down,
and then his rescuer was supporting him in through the front door. Adam stumbled as he tripped over the edge of
the rug behind the settee; he had never noticed that he usually stepped over
the rough edge of the furnishing, worn with the tread of many feet.
“I’ll help you up
to your room, if you like,” Verity offered.
“Thanks.” The comfort of his bed beckoned to Adam and
he gave her directions.
She sat him on
the side of the bed and pulled off his boots, while Adam released his empty gun
belt. He lay down, not bothering to try
to get undressed, it was too much effort, and besides, there was a woman
present, but he knew that he would have to endure the wrath of Hop Sing for
lying in his bed in clothes that were bloody and dust covered. Verity pulled the blankets over him and told
him that she would leave a message for his family, so that they would know what
had happened and could send for the doctor.
“Miss Carlisle,
thank you,” Adam’s words were slurred as his body told him that it had had
enough for one day and forced him into the waiting arms of painless oblivion.
Ben Cartwright
ran into his son’s room and saw the still figure stretched out on the bed. Adam was lying on his right side, turned away
from the door, and Ben could only see his back, which showed him that Adam’s
dusty shirt was torn, with patches of dried blood darkening the black
material. He went to the far side of the
bed and knelt down, observing the cuts and bruises, the bandaging on his son’s
hands and the handkerchief bound over his eyes.
The message, which Ben had found on the low table in front of the huge
fireplace in the living room, had said that Adam was in his room, hurt and in need
of a doctor, but gave no other details.
Adam came awake
to the sound of his father’s worried voice, “Adam, Adam, what happened?”
Adam rolled over
onto his back and groaned; the adrenaline had stopped flowing and he felt worse
now than when he had climbed back up the cliff, he seemed to hurt just about
everywhere. “Horse fell...cliff. Dirt...in my eyes,” he said slowly, as he put
up a hand to take off the cloth that covered them, but Ben stopped him.
“I think you
should leave that alone until Doc Martin gets here, he won’t be long.”
Adam let his arm
drop back onto the covers. “OK.” He didn’t feel strong enough to argue.
“I’ll get you
cleaned up in the meantime. How’d you
get here?” Ben went to the washstand and
poured some water into the basin. Adam
heard the sound of the trickling water and was not surprised to feel his father
begin to unbutton what remained of his tattered shirt.
“Woman helped
me.” Shafts of pain were driving
themselves through Adam’s head and he was finding it difficult to think
clearly.
“Why didn’t she wait for someone to come
home?” Ben asked as he worked at cleaning the many cuts that covered his son’s
upper body, thankful that his legs had been protected by the sturdier material
of his jeans. “Do you know who she was?”
Adam started to
nod, but then thought better of it.
“Yes…Verity Carlisle,” Adam said slowly.
“Well, I must
remember to thank her. What happened to
your horse?”
“Dead…in the
ravine.” Adam’s head was hurting and he
was losing the fight to stay conscious.
“What made him
fall?” Ben wondered. He waited but got no reply, and he realised
that Adam had drifted off to sleep. He
put his hand to his son’s dark hair and stroked it lovingly. He hated for any of his children to be hurt,
it cut him deeply to see their suffering.
But Ben thought that Adam had been lucky not to share the fate of his
dead mount.
When Doctor Paul
Martin entered Adam’s bedroom Ben stood to greet him. “Hello Paul.”
“Hi, Ben. I got your message and came straight
over. What happened?” the doctor asked,
as he took off his jacket and hung it over the chair near the door. Paul was not only a good doctor, but had an
air that told patients, and worried parents, that he was in control.
“I’m not sure; he
said something about falling over a cliff and dust getting in his eyes.”
The doctor nodded
as he washed his hands and dried them on a towel. “Well, let me take a look at him.” Paul moved to the side of the bed and gently
shook Adam’s shoulder. The only sign they
had that he had woken was the deep breath he took. “Adam, it’s Paul. Can you hear me?”
Adam nodded once,
slowly. “Yes, I can hear you, I’m not
deaf,” Adam said acidly. It wasn’t his
ears that hurt.
“I want to take a
look at your eyes. I’m going to take off
the bandage.” Paul unwound the cloth
and, as it came loose, Adam tried to open his eyes. He gasped and shut them quickly.
“Hurts, does it?”
“How many years
did you have to study to diagnose that?” asked Adam sharply.
“Adam!” Ben
exclaimed.
Adam took a
couple of deep breaths. “I’m sorry,
Paul, guess I’m not thinking quite straight.”
Paul felt round
Adam’s head, and found several sizeable lumps that had no right to be
there. “Bang your head as well?”
“A bit,” Adam
acknowledged.
“Well, any pain
you have from that will soon pass. But I
want to look at your eyes. Now, don’t do
anything, let me open them for you.”
Paul put his fingers on Adam’s eyelids and gently lifted each in
turn. As he did so, the fingers of
Adam’s right hand wrapped themselves in the bedspread, and he gritted his teeth
against the pain.
Paul turned to
Ben. “Would you get me some hot water,
and bring it and some salt?”
Ben went to find
Hop Sing, who was in the pantry stacking the supplies they had brought back from
town. Meanwhile Paul examined Adam more
closely. He checked the cuts and
declared himself satisfied at the treatment Ben had given, and he re-bandaged
Adam’s flayed hands, then he wrapped the damaged shoulder tightly, fashioning a
sling to support it. When Ben returned
with the water, Paul mixed some salt into it and, after placing a towel over
the pillows, started to wash his patient’s eyes. Adam found it impossible to keep still and
constantly turned his head away.
“Adam, you must
let me do this. I have to get the dirt
out,” Paul said forcefully.
“I’m trying, but
they hurt so much…” Adam moaned, fearful of what the pain might mean.
Paul looked up at
Ben, who was watching anxiously. “Can you
hold his head still; I must get them as clean as I can.”
Ben sat on the
bed and held his son’s head firmly, while Paul washed out his eyes. Adam fought against them, until finally the
doctor decided that he had got rid of as much of the dirt as he could.
“I’m going to put
some ointment in your eyes, it may sting a bit, but it will help them.”
Adam drew his
breath in sharply and gritted his teeth as Paul used his finger to put the
medication under the eyelids. Then the
doctor wrapped a clean cotton bandage over his patient’s eyes.
“I want you to
keep that bandage on for at least a week.
The dirt has scratched the surface of your eyes and you must rest and
allow them time to heal.”
Adam lay on the
pillows, exhausted by the treatment, and said a weak “OK”
“I’ll make sure
he does as you say,” said Ben.
Paul was putting
on his coat. “Then I’ll see you next
week.”
“I hope to see
you then, as well,” Adam said miserably.
The thought of a sightless week, of not being able to read, or see the
sun, or his family, filled him with dread.
“Yeah, well
we’ll...” Paul stopped himself before he finished the inappropriate
sentence. He motioned to Ben to follow
him as he left.
Ben put his hand
on Adam’s arm. “I’ll be back in a
minute. I’ll just go and see Paul
out.” He realised what he had said only
when Adam turned his face away. Ben
shook his head sadly, and went out after the doctor.
As they left him
alone, Adam again felt the rising panic he had experienced when Verity left him
by the stream. Without his sight he was
helpless, cut off from the world and those he loved. He forced himself to calm down and think
rationally, Paul had said that it would only be for a week. Surely, thought Adam, he could manage seven
days of darkness, but not being able to see was his worst nightmare come true.
As Ben and the
doctor reached the great room that made up most of the downstairs area of the
large ranch house, Ben’s younger sons, Hoss and Joe, greeted the two men. They had heard about Adam’s accident and were
waiting expectantly for news. Paul
turned a serious face to Ben.
“What is it,
Paul?” Ben asked, suddenly afraid.
“Ben, I should
warn you that Adam may have permanently damaged his eyes. I managed to get nearly all the dirt out, but
his eyes are badly scratched. Most of
that will heal, but it may leave scarring that will impair his sight.”
“Do you mean that
he may be blind?” Ben asked softly, horrified at the thought.
“That is a
possibility, though probably not,” Paul tried to reassure the men who were
staring at him. “But it could affect his
vision. The best I can compare it to is
looking through a lace curtain. You can
see well enough, but not clearly. I just
wanted to warn you, but I haven’t told Adam, no point in him worrying about it
all week.”
Hoss stood with
his hands deep in his pockets, his shoulders hunched. “Is there anything we can do for him, to help
him?” Hoss was the biggest of the three
brothers, strong, broad and tall. He
would use that strength to help his family, but knew it was useless in a
situation like this.
“Just keep him as
quiet as you can, make him rest so he doesn’t move his eyes too much, and let
nature take its course.” Paul smiled,
“Fortunately, I don’t think that he’s going to want to move for a couple of
days. And don’t let him even think of
touching those bandages.”
“Don’t worry,
doc,” said Joe. “Even if we have to
hog-tie him he’ll do as he’s told.” This
youngest brother would do anything to ensure that Adam recovered.
Paul nodded,
satisfied that he had done all he could.
Ben let him out of the door and turned to Joe and Hoss. “Well, you heard what he said, peace and
quiet for a week.” Ben smiled
softly. “That will make a nice change.”
They had no
difficulty keeping Adam in bed for the rest of the day, but, despite the
doctor’s prediction, the following morning he insisted on getting up.
“Pa, I’m not ill,
and I feel fine. My head’s stopped
aching and so has everything else.” He wasn’t
being strictly honest, but knew he wouldn’t feel any worse if he was allowed
out of bed. “Paul only said rest. He didn’t say I had to stay here.” Even after so short a time of enforced
idleness, Adam was getting edgy. He
found that the sleep he had had during the previous day had robbed him of a
night’s rest. Normally when he couldn’t
sleep, he would read, but that was not possible and, instead, he had run
through in his mind poetry that he remembered, imagining himself holding the
book and looking at its pages.
“Very well, but
you sit downstairs and don’t move unless one of us is with you.” Ben looked hard at his son, then realised
with a start that Adam couldn’t see him, and the piercing stare would have no
effect. “Do I have your word?”
Adam sighed,
“Yes.”
“All right
then.” Ben helped Adam to dress, then
guided him downstairs and made him sit on the settee. “Can I get you anything?”
“A cup of coffee
would be good.”
Ben nodded and
went into the kitchen. Adam heard the sounds
of his father’s booted feet cross the room, striking hard on the wooden boards,
but then softer as he trod on one of the rugs.
Other sounds intruded on his thoughts.
The crackling that told him there was a fire in the grate, the ticking
of the long case clock beside the front door, bright bird song from outside the
dining room window, which made Adam think that the sun must be shining, and the
chatter of men moving about the yard.
Sounds that had always been there, but which he had ignored for the more
immediate sights of his surroundings and the movement around him; now he
cherished them, they were his contact with the world.
He heard his
father return from the kitchen. “There
you are, son.” Ben guided Adam’s
bandaged right hand to the cup, his left arm being restricted by the sling that
supported his shoulder. Adam took it and
drank slowly. The coffee was hot and a
little bitter, but refreshing, a slightly dusty flavour overlaid with a nutty
bite that he had never appreciated before.
He wondered what else this week would reveal to him as his other senses
replaced that which had been lost temporarily, and was suddenly, surprisingly,
looking forward to the days without sight, and what it would add to his
knowledge of the world around him. No,
he thought, he was not ‘looking forward’, he was listening and feeling forward
to things he had not experienced.
“Son,” said Ben
to get Adam’s attention, “I have to go out for a while, will you be all right?”
“Of course, why
wouldn’t I?”
“Hop Sing’s in
the kitchen if you need anything, just call him.”
“Pa, just go and
stop worrying, will you.” Adam hated
people fussing over him, and he knew that there were jobs that needed
doing. Ben nodded and, picking up his
gun belt and hat, took a backwards look at his son sitting quietly on the
settee. He said a silent prayer that the
end of the week would see him back to normal, and left.
Adam sat,
listening to the sounds around him.
Funny, he thought, the house had always seemed silent before, when he
was alone. Now he heard the creak of the
timbers as they expanded in the morning sunlight, the soft sigh of the breeze
against the eaves, and the movement of people outside. He heard the sound of his father’s horse as
he rode away, then more horses as men left for their assigned tasks about the
ranch. As the hoof beats faded, Adam
became aware of the sound of his own blood as it moved with his heartbeat, and
it made him claustrophobic, it was a noise that he couldn’t get away from. He shook his head to try to rid himself of
the feeling, but it persisted. He put
the cup to his lips to drain the contents and then found that he had already
done so, shocked to realise that he had no way of telling. He leant forwards to put the cup on the
table, but it fell to the floor as he stopped short of the wooden surface. He sighed, and bent down to retrieve it, but
as he did so the increased blood flow started his head hurting again and he sat
back slowly. He wondered how he was
going to manage for the next seven days; perhaps Paul would take pity on him
and make it six.
He lay back
against the settee, trying not to sleep, but his thoughts turned towards it as
a verse ran through his mind:
Care-charming
Sleep, thou easer of all woes,
Brother to Death,
sweetly thyself dispose
On this afflicted
prince. Fall like a cloud
In gentle
showers. Give nothing that is loud,
Or painful to his
slumbers; easy, light
And as a purling
stream, thou son of Night,
Pass by his
troubled senses. Sing his pain,
Like hollow
murmuring wind or silver rain.
Into this prince
gently, oh, gently slide.
And kiss him into
slumbers like a bride. (1)
Adam felt the
first wisps of sleep approach and shook himself awake. He didn’t want to sleep, though he would have
easily given in to the temptation to do so, but he wanted to be able to rest at
the same time as his family. Being awake
when they were sleeping the night before had made him feel lonely and
isolated. He sat up, and became aware of
a peculiar sound from the back of the house.
Curiosity overcame his promise to his father, and he rose slowly. He made his way cautiously past the settee
and held out his hand to feel for the chair where he normally sat, at the
opposite end of the dining table to his father.
He made contact with the smooth wood and felt for the table. He slowly made his way round it, past the
chair where Joe would sit, until he reached the other end, then stretched out
his hand and took a pace forward until he touched the rough surface of the
wall. A sideways step had him by the
window, and he opened it, cocking his head to listen. The noise came again, a flapping like the
wings of a huge bird. Adam frowned and
tried to picture what could be happening at the rear of the house to make such
a sound. He smiled to himself as he
heard quiet expletives in Chinese; Hop Sing was hanging out the washing. Adam visualised what was happening as he
followed the sounds. The washing basket
creaked as Hop Sing picked up an article, then he shook it out, causing the
flapping sound, then a pause as he pegged it to the line. Adam assumed the expletives were directed at
some misbehaving piece of washing, perhaps a shirt with the arms inside out.
Adam remembered
his promise to his father, and started to make his way back to the settee. As he felt his way to the table, he heard a
horse in the yard and recognised the prancing step of Cochise, Joe’s
mount. He hurried so as to be seated
when his brother appeared, but in his rush he caught his foot on the leg of a
dining chair and fell to his knees, banging his already injured shoulder on the
corner of the table. He cursed his
condition quietly and fluently, and Joe chose that moment to enter.
“Just what do you
think you’re doing?” Joe demanded, as he
went to help his brother to his feet and back to his place on the settee. Adam laughed to himself; it was so much what
he would have said if he had found his young brother in the same position.
“I got curious,
it’s my own stupid fault, fell over the chair,” Adam admitted sheepishly. “Please don’t tell Pa or he’ll have me cooped
up in that bedroom for the rest of the week.”
“OK, just this
once, but if I catch you doing anything like that again I will tell him. You must take care of yourself, if you’re
not...” Joe stopped, remembering that Adam didn’t know the possible outcome of
his injury.
“If I’m not
what?”
Joe hesitated
fractionally. “If you’re not to get into
Pa’s bad books.”
Adam noticed the
hesitation and knew that Joe was hiding something. “What is it, Joe?”
“What do you
mean?” Joe asked innocently.
“What aren’t you
telling me?”
“Nothing. I was afraid that you might have hurt
yourself again, that’s all.”
Adam didn’t admit
to Joe that he was right. By disobeying
his father he had hurt his shoulder, and woken up several aches that he had
thought were sleeping and under control.
“Is there
anything I can get you?” asked Joe. “I
came back to make sure that you were OK.
Pa said that he might have to go out.”
“No, I’m fine,
and you must have work to do.”
“Yeah, breaking
those misbegotten broncs that we bought last week. I swear some of them are determined to break
me.” Joe rubbed his back, remembering.
Adam heard the
rustle of Joe’s shirt and pictured the familiar movement. “There’s fresh coffee in the kitchen. Why don’t you have some before you go
back? And you can get me one while
you’re at it.”
Joe nodded, then,
realising Adam couldn’t see his agreement, said, “Yeah, why not.”
Adam heard him go
to the kitchen and pour out some coffee, then return. They sat together talking quietly for half an
hour, until Joe said that he must be getting back.
“Thanks for
coming in, Joe, I appreciate it.”
“That’s OK, but
promise me you’ll do as you’re told.
Adam, I’m sorry that you got hurt, but you must be careful, you know, do
what the doc told you.” Joe’s tone held
a concern that touched Adam’s heart.
“I promise, now
git.”
Adam was seated,
as he had promised Joe, when Ben returned late in the morning.
“Well, I’m
pleased to see that you haven’t moved,” observed Ben.
Adam was glad
that his father couldn’t see the guilty look that would have been in his eyes
at that moment. “Yeah.”
“How about some
lunch, then?” Ben suggested, and guided Adam to sit beside him at the table as
Hop Sing brought out their meal.
Adam was about to
start eating, when it occurred to him that he had no idea what was on his
plate. “What is it?”
Ben looked at him
for a second, before he realised what he meant.
“It’s cold ham, eggs and sourdough bread. Would you like me to help you?”
Adam’s tone was
sharp as he replied. “No. I can manage perfectly well.”
“Sorry son, I
didn’t mean to upset you.”
“No, I’m sorry,
that was uncalled for,” Adam apologised.
“Let me try for myself.” Adam
found it difficult to eat his meal. He
had only a vague idea what was on his fork, and how much, but he was determined
that he would do it for himself. He
wasn’t an invalid and didn’t want any help.
He had eaten only half his food when he gave up, making the excuse that
he had had enough.
Ben took his arm
and led him back to the settee, placing a cup of coffee in Adam’s hand.
“Thanks Pa. I suppose a walk outside in the fresh air
would be out of the question?”
“You suppose
correctly,” Ben agreed. “Maybe in a
couple of days, but right now you sit there and do as you’re told. If you want anything just ask me, I’ll be at
my desk.” Ben saw Adam’s miserable
expression. “Son, I’m sorry about what
happened to your eyes, but you won’t help them heal if you don’t rest.”
“Yeah, everyone’s
sorry.” Adam was tired of hearing the
expression, first from Joe, now his father.
He didn’t want their pity, he wanted to get on with his life.
Adam had sat
quietly for a time but became restless with nothing to do, nothing that he
could do, sightless and one handed as he was.
After many requests, which became increasingly pleading, Ben finally
agreed and allowed Adam to venture outside onto the veranda for an hour, making
his son promise that he wouldn’t move.
Adam sat in the warm, late afternoon sun listening, fascinated by the
sounds that had always escaped his notice before. Behind the cheering and pounding of hoof
beats coming from the corral were mostly the sounds of small wildlife; the
scraping of squirrels, the chirping of birds, or calls from some unknown
creature to its mate. He could hear, far
off, the lowing of the cattle in the top meadow and behind it all the murmuring
of the wind in the trees. He pictured it
all in his mind, and realised that when he thought of his home and its
surroundings, he always saw it bathed in sunlight, warm and peaceful.
He sighed and
settled himself lower in his chair.
Knowing that it would only be for a week, he could find a certain
fascination in his temporary blindness, and the new world it let him into.
Adam heard Ben
approaching; the firm, long strides were unmistakeable.
“Adam, it’s
me. I think you should come inside.”
“OK Pa.” Adam didn’t move.
“Are you all
right?” asked Ben, concerned.
“Yeah, I’m
fine. I was just thinking. We take so much for granted, like being able
to see. But now I can’t, I have a
different perspective on the world. I
can hear things that I never noticed before, and smells. Did you know that from here you can smell the
scent of the roses in Hop Sing’s garden at the back of the house? I’ve never noticed that before.”
Ben sniffed and
raised his eyebrows, he had not noticed the sweet perfume in the air. “So you can,” he laughed. “But that’s enough, come inside.”
Adam did not
resist as Ben held his arm. He had told
his father that he felt fine, but in truth he was tired, his shoulder ached as
did the many bruises, and there was a constant, annoying throbbing in his
head. Ben could see his weary step, and
Adam did not resist when his father suggested that it was time for him to rest,
and that he should go to his room. As
Adam sat on the bed, Ben pulled his boots off for him and saw him settled under
the covers.
Ben lowered
himself into a chair. “Can I get you
anything?”
Adam shook his
head. “No, thanks.” He lay back on the pillows and waited for
sleep to claim him.
Ben was concerned
when he noticed that Adam was breathing faster and a sheen of sweat had formed
on his face. He leaned forward. “What is it, son, are you feeling all right?”
“I’m...I’m
fine.” Adam reached out, searching for
his father’s hand, needing the contact.
“I was just thinking of you and Hoss and Joe. I pictured you all sitting downstairs.” Adam’s grip tightened as he continued. “Then I realised that none of you had a
face.” His voice was breaking as he
spoke, holding back the tears. “Pa, I
couldn’t see your faces. How could I
forget what you look like, how is that possible in so short a time?”
Ben was at a
loss, but he had to find the right words to comfort his distraught son. He took a deep breath, hoping that the words
would come. “Adam, it’s not that you’ve
forgotten, it’s just that you are so used to seeing us that you don’t need to
remember. When you go away for a few
days you don’t forget, do you?”
Adam shook his
head. “I don’t think so, but I don’t
remember having to think about what you look like.”
“No, you don’t
have to think about it. You’re trying
too hard, that’s all. You’re not used to
having to make an effort to remember. If
you stop trying so hard, it’ll come.”
Ben felt Adam’s hold on his hand slacken, but he didn’t let go.
Adam tried to
bring his breathing under control, to relax his mind and body. Slowly it started to work, and his mind
wandered, from scenes of life in Virginia City, to the view over Lake Tahoe,
then the workings of the ranch and the people involved. He could see them all. In his mind he saw three figures riding
towards him. As they approached he
realised it was his family, and he could see each of their faces. He turned his head towards his father.
“You’re right,
Pa. I can see you all, clearly. Thank God,” he finished with a heartfelt
prayer. To see nothing was bad enough,
but to lose the image of his family would be too much to bear.
Ben squeezed
Adam’s hand. “When will you learn that
your Pa is always right?” Ben thanked
God as well. “Now go to sleep, I’ll be
right here.”
Adam settled
himself deeper under the covers. Ben
watched his breathing become regular and light as he fell asleep, and he prayed
that his son would soon be able to look on the faces of his family once
more. He recalled the first time he had
looked into his son’s eyes. The room was
filled with the echo of the last breath that Adam’s mother would ever take, and
Ben could still feel the touch of her hand on his. He had tears in his eyes as he went to the
crib beside the bed and lifted the tiny bundle that would grow into the man
lying sleeping before him. The new born
baby’s eyes opened and gazed trustingly at his father. They were a dusky blue, Ben remembered, that
slowly changed to become a warm brown during his first year.
“Elizabeth,” Ben
whispered, “are you watching over our son?
Can you see his suffering? Please
let him be all right, he doesn’t deserve to be blind. He gives so much, and asks so little. Please don’t let them take his sight. I’d give anything to prevent that
happening.” The tears ran unheeded down
Ben’s cheeks as he prayed desperately for his son.
Hop Sing brought
Adam his breakfast in bed, and helped him to eat it. Adam found that the little Chinaman had a
natural understanding of when he needed help and when he could manage for
himself, and he did not find the assistance so difficult to accept as that of
his family. He stayed in his room until
Ben came to help him dress, and took him downstairs.
As the hours wore
at him Adam became restless and eventually he stood. Ben immediately noticed the movement.
“Where do you
think you’re going?” he asked, rising from his chair behind the desk.
Adam turned towards
the sound of his father’s voice. “I just
thought that I’d stretch my legs.”
“Then let me help
you,” Ben said, but Adam gently eased the guiding hand off his arm.
“Pa, I can
manage. As long as no one’s moved the furniture I can walk round the room.”
“But…”
“Pa, please. I can manage,” Adam said, a little more
sharply than he intended.
Ben watched as
his son felt his way round the settee and walked slowly towards the door. Adam turned and made his way back, carefully
remembering to step over the worn rug.
“There, you see.” Adam stopped abruptly, realising what he had
said. He hung his head and turned away
from Ben before his father should see the stricken look on his face. Adam paced back and forth behind the settee
cherishing the hint of independence it gave him, while Ben watched.
“Pa, I’m fine,
get on with what you were doing.” He smiled.
“Don’t worry, I just need to move a bit, I can’t sit forever.” Adam stretched to ease out some of the kinks
from his back
Ben stayed where
he was for a minute, then, seeing Adam move carefully around the room, went
back to his desk and the books he was working on.
When Ben said it
was time for lunch, Adam insisted on finding his way to the table by
himself. Ben stood nervously beside him,
ready to prevent him hurting himself, until Adam made it safely to his
seat. They ate lunch together, but again
Adam found it difficult, and did not eat much.
Ben returned to
the accounts and Adam sat obediently all afternoon, not that he had much choice
with his father in the room, and he still ached, though he kept that to
himself. Despite his efforts to stay
awake, he found himself drifting off to sleep.
With no stimulus for his eyes and no movement for his body, it was
impossible not to. He could hardly
separate sleeping from waking, only the peculiar and unnatural events in his
dreams told him the difference; dreams of darkness, which left Adam with such a
feeling of deprivation that he woke fearing he had lost both his sight and his
family.
He was awake and once
more contemplating how his other senses had taken over from his sight. Lines from a poem were running through Adam’s
head, lines that now had more meaning for him:
‘To walk abroad
is, not with eyes,
But thoughts, the
fields to see and prize;
Else may the
silent feet,
Like logs of
wood,
Move up and down,
and see no good,
Nor joy nor glory
meet.
Ev’n carts and
wheels their place do change,
But cannot see;
though very strange
The glory that is
by:
Dead puppets may
Move in the
bright and glorious day,
Yet not behold
the sky.
Are not men than
they more blind,
Who having eyes
yet never find
The bliss in
which they move:
Like statues dead
They up and down
are carried,
Yet neither see
nor love ...’ (2)
Adam knew that,
when the bandages were removed and he could see once again, he would not go
about blind to the world around him. He
would be able to appreciate, even more deeply, the wonderful sights that his
home afforded him, the sounds and smells that he had ignored; all his senses
would be heightened. He wondered how
long it would last, before he forgot his temporary blindness and the gifts that
it had given him.
His thoughts were
interrupted by the unmistakeable sounds of his brothers’ arrival; the light
gait of Cochise and the slower, firmer tread of Chubb, Hoss’ horse. The noises faded as Joe and Hoss stabled
their horses, and then Adam heard footsteps approach the house. The added acuteness of his sense of hearing enabled
him to listen to them talking as they neared the front door. They paused before entering.
“What d’ya mean
ya found him on the floor?” asked Hoss.
“He’d been
walking about, and fell over a chair,” Joe confirmed. He had promised Adam that he wouldn’t tell
Pa, but had, at last, confided his concern to Hoss.
“I think we should
get Pa to tell him, you know, what Paul said, that he could ruin his sight if
he don’t do as he’s told.”
“I don’t know how
he’d manage,” said Joe with sympathy, thinking of Adam’s love of books. “If he couldn’t see to read or write, it
would just about finish him.”
Adam sat
motionless, listening to the exchange.
Did they mean that he could lose his sight permanently? He went cold inside as the words sank in. Hoss and Joe entered the house and greeted
their father and brother. Ben rose from
behind his desk and welcomed them home, but Adam sat, silent. Then he got shakily to his feet, and turned
an unseeing face to his family.
“Why didn’t you
tell me?” His voice was low and
angry. Three pairs of eyes turned
towards him, mystified. Ben went round
the settee and took hold of Adam’s arm, trying to make him sit down again. Adam shook him off roughly. “Why!” he shouted.
Ben tried to calm
him. “Tell you what?”
Adam’s lips were
thin, his face rigid with anger, and he barely opened his mouth as he
spoke. “I’m not a child. I’m thirty years old. Grown up enough to be told the truth.” He turned towards his father’s voice. “Tell me!”
“Adam, I...”
“I heard
them.” Adam pointed to where he thought
his brothers were standing. “They were
talking about me being blind!”
Joe and Hoss
looked at each other, wondering how Adam could have heard them. They glanced at Ben and shrugged their
shoulders, bewildered. Ben again took
hold of Adam’s right arm and this time made him sit. “I’m sorry, son. Paul and I thought it best if you didn’t have
that worry.”
“Tell me what
Paul said.” Adam spoke more calmly,
knowing that he would now get the truth.
“He said that
there might be permanent damage to your eyes.
Not blindness necessarily, but poor sight. Only time will tell.”
“What are the
chances?” Adam’s voice shook as he heard
his fears confirmed.
“Paul didn’t say,
but he did say that rest would help.”
Ben sat beside Adam and put his hand on his eldest son’s shoulder,
knowing what the news was doing to him.
Adam was silent,
he had thought that he would only have a few days of darkness, and then he
would see again. He had been unsettled
but intrigued by his situation, but now...now... to never see again! He turned and buried his face in the strong
shoulder of his father. He tried to hold
back the tears that soaked into the bandage over his eyes, glad that it
prevented them from falling. He didn’t
want to lose control in front of his family, it would upset them too much.
Ben held him
tight, while Hoss and Joe stood uncertainly.
They moved without thinking and put their hands on him, letting Adam
know they were near, trying to show their love.
Eventually Adam sat up, still holding on to Ben.
“Pa,” Adam said
softly, “what if I can’t see, what will happen to me?”
“What do you
mean? We’ll be here for you, that will
never change, you know that.”
“But what will I
do?” Adam released his fierce grip on
his father and collapsed back onto the settee.
“All I have ever done relies on my being able to see. The work around the ranch, doing the books,
the designs...everything.” He paused,
thinking of a dark future. “Not being
able to read. I don’t know if I can...”
He stopped, unable to continue.
Ben took Adam’s
shoulders in his hands and held him firmly.
“Now listen to me. We don’t know
that your eyes are damaged, there’s every chance that they will be all right. I don’t want you worrying about that until it
happens. And if it does, you will cope. Adam, you are one of the strongest people I
have ever known. You will manage just
fine, because you won’t allow it to be any other way. And remember that Paul said your sight might
be damaged, he thinks it unlikely that you will lose it. You will still be able to see, just not as
well as you’re used to.”
Adam nodded. “I know Pa.
I’m sorry.” He rubbed his right
hand down his face and took a deep breath.
“Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. It
was just hearing them say it, I’m sorry.”
“That’s OK, son,
I understand.” Ben stood. “Now, how about some supper?”
Joe and Hoss
joined their father, but Adam remained seated.
“No thanks, I seem to have lost my appetite suddenly.” He forced a smile. “Can’t think why.”
Ben put his hand
comfortingly on Adam’s shoulder, he knew that his son couldn’t see his
expression, and physical contact took its place. “I’ll get Hop Sing to make you something
later.”
“Thanks Pa.” Adam stayed on the settee while his family
ate supper. He wasn’t listening to their
conversation, there was too much going on in his head. He had told Ben that he was all right, but in
truth he was scared. Paul had said that
he ‘thought it unlikely’ he would lose his sight. But what if he couldn’t see? What if he had to spend the rest of his life
in perpetual darkness? He would be
useless to his family, and himself. He
had had two lives, one on the ranch, and the other as a student in college,
qualifying him as an architect. Both
required at least reasonable sight. He
tried to convince himself that he was satisfied to wait and see what happened
when Paul took off the bandages.
When that thought
went through his head, Adam felt as though a mule had kicked him in the
stomach. There it was again. So many times similar expressions were used. See you later, I’ll see to it, go see to the
horses, wait and see; the list was endless.
Until he had hurt his eyes, he had not noticed them scattered through
conversations.
He was sitting,
still contemplating how his world would be changed, when his brothers and
father finished their meal, and came to sit with him. They couldn’t see his eyes, and his face was
an unreadable mask, but Adam was slowly sinking into a black pit of depression
that would have had his father worried if he’d known. He was thinking of Boston, and the Home for
the Blind that he had visited with a friend, who worked part-time at the
institution as a doctor. The people Adam
had seen there came back to haunt him.
Men and women of all ages, unable to fend for themselves, condemned to a
life of darkness and isolation, helpless and alone, making their way around by
feeling along the walls. No use to
society or themselves, they had been abandoned by the world outside those
walls.
Adam determined
that he wouldn’t become a drain on his family, if he was useless to them he
would leave, go away so that they wouldn’t feel they had to watch over him,
look after him. They had their own lives
to lead, and he wouldn’t burden them with his.
He was startled
out of his thoughts when Ben spoke to him.
“Would you like one of us to read something to you?”
“You mean because
I can’t,” Adam said roughly.
Ben tried to
placate him. “That’s right, son. You can’t, not for the moment, but you will.”
“How do you
know?” Adam stood abruptly. “I’m going to bed.” He started for the stairs, and before Ben
could get to his feet to help him, Adam walked hard into the newel post at the
bottom of the staircase. He struck it
with his knee and his injured shoulder, and doubled over as the pain hit
him. Ben rushed to his side, to be
joined by Hoss and Joe, but Adam shook off the hand that his father put out to
help him.
Hoss held Adam’s
arm. “You OK? Let me help you.”
Joe was equally
concerned. “Did you hurt yourself? You must be careful.”
“Leave me alone!”
Adam cried. “I don’t need your pity.”
Ben took a firm
hold of his son’s arm. “I’m going to
help you whether you like it or not.”
They went up to the bedroom, where Adam sat on the bed and started to
undress, while his father stood aside, ready to help if he was needed.
“Is this how it’s
going to be?” Adam asked bitterly, as he removed the sling from around his neck
and dropped it untidily on the floor, and then unbuttoned his shirt.
Ben bent to pick
up the sling, and placed it on the chair before answering. “We’re concerned for you, because we love
you, surely you can see that.”
Adam didn’t take
off his shirt, but stretched out on his bed, covering his eyes in the crook of
his elbow. “Pa, I can’t ‘see’ anything,
that’s the point,” he said miserably.
“Adam, you listen
to me,” Ben said forcefully, “this time next week, you could be back to
normal. Paul said that there was a good
chance that your eyes would be perfectly all right.” Ben sat on the bed, held Adam’s hand and his
voice softened. “Son, this isn’t like
you, to give in without a fight.”
“I’m sorry
Pa.” Adam shook his head and smiled
thinly. “I seem to be saying that a lot
lately. But I am sorry, I shouldn’t take
it out on you, or Hoss, or Joe. I know
you only mean well. It’s just that I
have never experienced anything like this.
The helplessness that means I have to rely so completely on other
people. And knowing that it might never
end, that I might always be like this.”
“I won’t tell you
not to worry, but you should try to be positive. If the worst should happen, we will be here
for you. You won’t have to cope alone,
that’s what a family means, not just loving one another, but being there and
caring, wanting to help.”
There was silence
in the room for a full minute, and then Adam spoke softly, putting his arm
under his head. “An old Lakota Sioux
once quoted something to me from one of their legends. He said: ‘Sometimes I go around pitying
myself, and all the while I am being carried on great winds across the
sky’”. Adam sat up and felt for his
father’s shoulders. “Pa, you are that
wind and I know you will carry me when I need it.” He pulled Ben to him and embraced him
fiercely.
It was evening,
five days later. They had been difficult days for all the family. Adam had tried, for his father’s sake, to
remain cheerful, but then he would descend into depression, and his family had
no words to comfort him. Now he was
restless, waiting for the doctor to appear.
Paul had sent a message to say that he wouldn’t be over until after
dark, and the hours had dragged by.
“Pa, what’s the
time?” Adam asked, as he had so often that day.
“Ten minutes
later than the last time you asked.” Ben
sat on the settee next to his son. “Paul
won’t be much longer, the sun has set, and it will soon be dark.”
“Why couldn’t he
come this morning?” Adam wondered.
“I don’t know,
but there must have been a very good reason, he knows how anxious you are.”
There was a knock
on the door, which made Adam jump. Joe
rushed to answer it. “Hi Doc. We’ve been
waiting for you.”
“I’m sure. How are you Adam?” asked Paul, walking
towards his patient.
“Fine. Can we get on with this?”
“Ben, I want him
upstairs, in his room.” Ben nodded and
Adam got to his feet and allowed his father to guide him. Paul followed them up the stairs and once
Adam was seated on the side of the bed, Ben turned up the lamps.
Paul put his hand
on Adam’s arm to get his attention.
“Adam, I’m going to take off the bandages. Don’t worry if you can’t see anything at
first, the room will be dark. Any light
would hurt your eyes, remember that they have been covered for a week and it
will take time for them to adjust.
That’s why I wanted to wait for it to be dark outside. The brightness of sunlight would be too much
for you to begin with. I will turn the
lamps up slowly to give you a chance to get used to the light.”
Adam simply
nodded. His heart was beating fast and
hard in his chest, and he had to force himself to breathe normally. He reached out for his father’s hand, and
felt a reassuring squeeze as they made contact.
“When I take off
the bandages, I want you to keep your eyes closed until I tell you, OK?”
Again, Adam
nodded. Paul uncovered Adam’s eyes and
reached out to turn down the lamps, until the room was almost completely dark.
“Right, open your
eyes slowly.”
Adam hesitated,
now the moment had come and there was no turning back. He cracked open his eyes.
“Remember that
you won’t see anything at first, don’t worry.
Now, I’m going to turn up the lamp a little. Tell me what you see.”
Adam opened his
eyes wider, but could only make out blurred shapes around him. He couldn’t see! There were only ill-defined colours.
“Pa, I can’t ...”
Paul interrupted
him. “Adam, you must blink, to clear
your eyes.”
Adam held his
breath and did as he was told. As Paul
gradually turned up the lamp, Adam realised that he could see across the
room. He blinked quickly several times,
and suddenly everything came into sharp focus.
Adam turned towards Ben. He
couldn’t speak as he drank in the sight of his father standing beside him. Then he pulled himself up by the hand that
held his and embraced his father.
“Pa, I can
see. Perfectly.” Ben and his eldest son hugged each other for
a long time, until Paul cleared his throat.”
“Adam, I need to
look at your eyes, just to check.”
“Of course.”
Adam sat down again and Paul examined him, then pronounced himself satisfied.