Cold-Hearted
Author: Wendy
Disclaimer: I own not, you sue not.
Copyright © Wendybyrd
“You ain’t got no kind of heart in you, Adam!” his little brother’s voice
was muffled by the wood of his bedroom door, but Adam could still hear the
choked sobs that followed the angry shout.
The sound made him swallow thickly and pause for a moment where he was,
still staring at the closed door to where he knew Joe would be on the other
side. There was creaking—Joe flinging himself down on his bed to cry into
his pillow. Little Joe wasn’t ashamed of his grief, but he didn’t want Adam
to see it or hear it. He didn’t think Adam understood.
Despite knowing that it would do no good, Adam opened his mouth to speak
and try to explain. “Joe…” he began, so hesitant that he knew Pa or Hoss
would be surprised if they had heard him. It was a joke around the house
that he almost never reacted emotionally, and absolutely never backed down
once he had made a decision.
“Go away, Adam! I don’t wanna talk to you anymore!” Joe’s hoarse yell cut
him off before he could decide what to add anyway. The thread of stubbornness
was there underneath the grief now, clearly audible; Joe meant what he said.
Just as he had meant it when he’d pushed Adam away and out into the hall
before slamming the door shut.
He would let Hoss or Hop Sing in later, Adam realized with a tiny, unamused
smile at his reasonable and correct assumption. And one of them would talk
with Joe and calm him down enough to come downstairs, and though he would
be quiet for a day or two, eventually Joe would be back to normal, full
of fire-like energy and an apology. Despite everything Adam always said
about Joe being spoiled by all of them, he’d turned out to be just as guilty
as Pa and Hoss at keeping Joe’s life as carefree and innocent as possible.
The humorless realization did not make Adam feel any better however, not
with the sight of the hope and then heartbreak in his little brother’s eyes
still in front of him.
It had been the right thing to do, he told himself, though wondering if
perhaps he was wrong, and Joe’s heart would stay broken because of what he
had done. But there was nothing he could do about it now in any case. He shook
his head roughly before determinedly walking away from Joe’s door and heading
down the stairs to the front room.
Downstairs was quiet, something he was grateful for with the gunshot still
reverberating around in his head, as loud as the sound of Joe’s door closing
in his face. He could rest now for a moment, before he had to go back outside
and finish his day’s work. A day to be proud of, he thought bitterly, with
another tight smile.
Adam sat down heavily in his father’s favorite chair and let out one long
breath before closing his eyes. It was all there in front of him again of
course and he frowned deeply, feeling the tension and guilt knot his shoulders
and twist his stomach.
He’d known something was up with Joe the minute he’d seen Joe practically
jumping in place on the porch. Joe almost never got back from school right
away, either staying late as punishment or staying in town to play with
a friend. But there he’d been, home on time and calling to Adam as he’d
ridden up. Adam had smiled back before he’d seen the carefully wrapped bundle
in Joe’s arms.
Must’ve been Joe’s jacket, Adam realized now with a grunt. His favorite
one, the new one that Pa had gotten for him on a trip to Sacramento. But there
was nothing he could have done to save the little pup.
Adam shifted in his chair, thinking of the little scrap of tangled brown
fur with his bony, starving body and large, wounded, scared eyes. The dog
had never known a moment’s kindness in its life until Joe had found it.
But by then it had been too late.
“A dog?” Adam remembered himself exclaiming as he’d resisted the urge to
stroke its head. “You know you’re not allowed to have a dog, Joe,” he’d
gone on immediately, knowing what Pa would have to say about a puppy. Joe
had just held the pup closer and scowled stubbornly.
“But he’s hurt, Adam,” he’d defended himself and the dog fiercely before
suddenly softening. “A wagon ran over him in town,” he’d explained, looking
up at Adam with wide eyes. “We can fix him, can’t we, Adam?”
The faith, the absolute, innocent faith in him in his little brother’s
expression had made Adam lean in closer even though he should have known
better. He’d peeled back the folds of the jacket and then pulled in a sharp
breath at the sight. Bony ribs sunken and crushed from the weight of a wagon
wheel, the skin darkening from the blood pooling inside its small body, it
was amazing that it had lived this long. Even as he’d looked, the light
had been slowly fading from the small thing’s eyes. It really was a miracle
that it hadn’t already died in Joe’s arms. Adam couldn’t imagine what Joe
would have done, if the puppy had died while he was alone with it, how crushed
he would have been that he couldn’t have saved it.
“Adam?” He heard his father’s voice asking just as Joe had asked in a tiny
voice and Adam looked up just as he had then. “What’s wrong?” Pa was standing
above him, with Hoss behind, both looking curious.
“Joe brought home a puppy,” Adam said as calmly as he could, clearing his
throat. He saw Hoss’ eyes light up just as their father frowned.
“A puppy?” he repeated in a forbidding tone and Adam lifted one hand to
keep his father from charging upstairs.
“It was hurt, run over by a wagon in town. Joe wanted to save it.”
“And?” Hoss was impatient. Adam looked back at him before shaking his head
once and glancing away.
“Nothing could be done,” Adam added a moment later and turned back to them
both. Nothing but one thing, one last bit of kindness, though Joe might
not see it that way yet. But it had been the right thing to do, he told
himself again, for Joe and for the pup.
“Joseph, he had to…?” Pa didn’t finish, just looked upstairs and shook
his head sadly, but knowingly. “You’re sure it had to be done?” he asked
and then went on without waiting for an answer. “He must have been devastated,
having to shoot it.”
Adam stared at him, knowing that he’d thought the exact same thing when
he’d realized that he couldn’t save the dog. It was a part of life, especially
on a ranch. Animals got sick or injured, and there was no time, or money
to spend in helping them heal. And in the dog’s case, the act had been mercy.
They had all had to put an animal, even a pet, out of its misery at one
time or another. All but Little Joe. His little brother had never had to
kill like that before and Adam…Adam hadn’t been able to make him.
“You’re a cold-hearted bully!” Joe had cried out, swinging his small fists
furiously, hitting Adam several times as Adam had carried the pup towards
the barn. Adam rubbed the spots automatically as he remembered, but Joe’s
punches didn’t really hurt.
“He didn’t shoot it,” Adam interrupted his father roughly and closed his
fingers over his palm, still numb from the force of the explosion against
his hand. He could still hear his little brother’s betrayed voice calling
out to him as he’d walked away.
“You don’t care at all, do you, Adam?”
The End
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