A Man of Sixteen
by faust
Joe was sixteen, and he was a grown up man.
Sheriff Roy Coffee had asked him to be deputy for one day, and Joe had exceeded all expectations. He had patrolled the streets with Roy, separated brawling drunks, chased a twelve year old shoplifter and rescued Miss Abigail's cat from a tree.
He had proven he was a man. Not a boy anymore, no matter what his brothers might think.
No one had expected the bank robbery that day. No one expected bank robberies any day, but they happened from time to time, and one had happened on this very day—the day Joe Cartwright had been deputy.
And even though Joe had already proven he was a man, no one had expected the youngest Cartwright to stay so cool in the thick of action. But Joe had. He had spotted the robber through the front window of the First International Bank, and he had calmly waited for him to emerge from the building, right in the middle of C-street.
Calm and composed as a man.
When the robber had left the bank Joe had called him out, had urged him to give up. Calmly, controlled. Grown up. But the robber had underestimated Joe, and he had drawn his gun.
Joe was sixteen, but he had two bigger brothers, and his big brothers had shown him how to shoot. And how to draw. Fast.
The two shots had sounded like one, and only one shooter had been lying in the dust after the crash had faded away.
Joe was sixteen, and he was a man. A hero actually, that was what the sheriff had said, and Joe had smiled broadly, and then he secretly had sent a note to the undertaker, saying that he would pay for the bank-robber's funeral.
The "ladies" from the saloon had bought him a beer and a whiskey and another beer, and had invited him "upstairs", but he had declined the offer. A man knew when it was time to get home, Adam always said, and Joe was a man, and he suddenly had seen the truth in his brother's words, clearer than ever.
Hop Sing had made a special supper for the hero, and Pa had opened a bottle of wine. The wine had tasted sour and somehow funny, but a man drank wine at supper, and Joe wasa man.
Joe was sixteen, and he was a man, but even a man had to go to bed sometimes, especially after a day of heroism. When he had excused himself, Hoss had slapped him on his shoulder, and Pa had said how proud he was of his youngest but now finally grown up son.
Adam had stayed silent, and Joe was grateful for that. And when Adam entered a sleepless Joe's room at midnight, reached out for him, whispering, "Hey, little buddy," Joe made a dash at his big brother, buried his face in Adam's shoulder and wept.
Joe was sixteen, and he was a man. He had never thought growing up could be so painful.
*** fin ***
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.