A Moment Before Leaving

by MissjudyK

This story is a continuation of The Journey Remembered, the episode in which Ben reads to Hoss from his journal detailing the beginning of their journey west through Missouri to Ash Hollow. The story he told gave us another glimpse at his second wife, Inger, showing her compassion, strong will, and fierce love. But…maybe Ben didn't tell the whole story….

A Moment Before Leaving- The Missing Page

One

"Your mother would be mighty proud of you Hoss, mighty proud," Ben spoke quietly as Hoss held onto the new colt.

The long day had begun with Ben's impatient reprimand when Hoss had insisted that he couldn't leave to spell his brothers at the herd until the mare under his watch delivered her foal. But the irritation at the delay had eased as he'd realized Hoss's sense of honor in the matter wouldn't be swayed by his blustering about it. And then a wonderful thing had developed. He and his son had shared a sacred interval when Ben had found an old travel journal while retrieving a bottle of medicine.

They had sat on bags of oats while he'd read aloud from the pages that recalled meeting and marrying Hoss's mother. His written words had brought Inger to life as they painted scenes of activities during their initial miles on the Oregon Trail. They told of the joy in finding out that Inger was expecting a child, and the arrival of a strapping baby boy they'd named both Eric and Hoss—Adam's suggestion from his Uncle Gunnar—with the intent of seeing which name would "stick." The story had ended with the circumstances of Inger's death as she'd fought alongside the men of their wagon community.

The two men had been so absorbed in the story that they'd jumped when the newly-born foal had stood at the back of the stall without help from either of them.

It hadn't taken long to give the sturdy colt a clean bill of health, and Ben and Hoss had finally ridden out to face the grouchy duet of brothers who'd wondered why they'd been made to wait. Their anger had dissolved when they'd heard about the new addition at the ranch. Adam and Little Joe had understood that Hoss could no more leave an animal in pain that he could have abandoned one of them in a time of need.

Two

The two tired brothers had headed home as soon as they'd given a report to their father, leaving Ben and Hoss in charge of the final move to pastureland near the house.

"I'll ride the perimeter and check that we're set fer the night, Pa," Hoss volunteered once his brothers had left and the sun was beginning its late afternoon arc to join the western horizon. The a reason for his generous offer had begun back in the barn while listening to the stories about his mother. His solitude as he checked the steers gave him time to imagine her as she had seemed in his father's words.

When he was assured that all was well, and he'd finished his thoughts, he joined his father on a rise overlooking the new breeding stock. His brothers had brought the young cattle home from a California ranch with a lineage the Cartwrights had been itching to bring into their herd.

It was a small drove compared to the numbers they usually rounded up from their own grazing land before heading to market, so Ben had sent the other hands to camp for food and a short rest before they returned for the overnight watch. The blustery day had ended with calm winds and a clear sky, leaving the two Cartwrights in charge of a sedate herd that seemed content to munch grass and stay put.

Hoss nodded to cattle below them. "That's some mighty fine beef, Pa."

"They do look good considering they've been on the move for a couple of weeks already. That's why I wanted to mix some of their line into our herd. We have good stock; that's undisputed. But this breed seems to tolerate heat and travel better than any I've ever seen. We'll keep this group separate until we see how well a cross between the two herds turns out. If it's all I think it will be, we'll go ahead with more. It'll take a few years for full results, but I'm optimistic."

"You always get excited about tryin' new things, Pa. It's just yer nature to improve what you can." He pointed toward the blazing orange strip of light still visible on the far-western horizon. "The Ponderosa is sure puttin' on its finest for us tonight."

"She sure is. There's something new every day that takes my breath away…even after all these years of getting to know her."

The two men sat in silence until darkness consumed the remnants of the day, and left them bathed in moon and starlight. Hoss broke the quiet as he began hesitantly, "I…been wantin' to say somethin' all afternoon, Pa…but I know'd you was anxious to get out here, and then we was kept pretty busy. But now that we got them cattle happy, and no one's around…I'd like to thank you for reading them pages to me. It made me feel good to hear about my mama again, and that she held up a wagon train to do the same thing I was doin'."

The big man paused while he removed his hat and wiped his forehead with his sleeve. He could feel the heat rise in his cheeks as he blushed in the darkness. "When you first started into reading, I was afraid that hearing about those days would start me to aching for her, but I was wrong. It was an amazin' thing seein' her as you did back then." Hoss slouched in his saddle and looked away as he brushed across his eyes with the same sleeve he'd used a minute earlier. He straightened his shoulders and sat tall as he faced his father again. "I always knowed you loved her, but never knew just how much until I heard them things you wrote about her. Your words make me proud to be her son…I mean both of yourn son. I know I'm not sayin' that right, but you know what I mean, don't ya?"

"Of course I do, Hoss. Your mother loved you more than you can possibly know, and you should be proud of her. You are so much like her in your care of all "critters" and the way you trust and help people with nary a concern of what's in it for you. There was no reason for Inger to be so kind to me and Adam when we showed up at her store that day, but she was, and she continued to be that way when there was nothing we could give in return. Her heart was so big and welcoming that she gave me the benefit of the doubt and trusted that I was the man I she thought I was. She was a wonderful woman. I wish you could have known her."

"It sorta sounds strange when I say this out loud, but sometimes I can feel her here." Hoss indicated his heart. "She seems so real that it hurts to know it's just a thought of her that's there."

"I've felt her too, son. She was such a loving woman, that death couldn't take all of that love away."

Three

Ben sighed as he leaned back into the welcoming embrace of his green leather chair. After spending several days in the saddle, it felt outstanding to have padding where he sat and support for his aching back. They'd returned home from the drive just hours before, and after Hop Sing's welcome home meal, his sons had all headed up to their rooms. They were all exhausted, and he was anticipating the comfort of his bed as much as his boys were, but he wanted to finish a few journal entries about the newest additions to the Ponderosa before calling it a day.

He and Hoss had helped bring the herd to the grazing land nearest the house the day after they'd relieved Adam and Little Joe. The two missing sons had rejoined them after getting a good meal, a hot bath and a good night's sleep in their own beds, and the four of them had spent the next two days separating the steers from the calves and heifers, and getting them marked with the Ponderosa brand. A few of the fine young males they'd bought would be allowed to mature into bulls to breed with their existing stock, but the rest would need to be "taken care of" soon. The young females would be bred to their prize bull in another year to expand the number and retain the quality of their herd.

As Ben relaxed, a memory whispered, reminding him of unfinished business. When he'd come to the end of Inger's story in his journal the other day, he'd found the torn edges of a missing page. He'd known immediately what had been there, and what he'd done with it after he'd ripped it from the leather-bound tablet. He'd had to wait for a chance to retrieve it, but with the house quiet and his sons occupied, it was time to read the page telling of what had happened the night of Inger's death.

He leaned over and reached deep into the bottom drawer of his desk to release a latch that opened a hidden panel in its false bottom. There was a safe in the house for ranch documents and money, but the contents of this hidden space were his personal treasures. His eyebrows narrowed as he thought back over the years, wondering if the boys even knew this existed. He'd never opened the panel when they'd been around, but he knew that kids had a way of finding things. A smile played at the edges of his lips as he decided that Adam must know, even if the other two hadn't figured it out. His oldest son's natural curiosity and engineer's mind would have noted the problem with the depth inside the large drawer when he'd first taken over some of the business duties of the ranch and had to retrieve ledgers from the drawer in question. His smile grew as he imagined his son searching until he found the release that proved his theory. But he also knew that Adam would respect his father's privacy.

Ben moved the lamp nearer the edge to see inside the dark hiding space, and lifted out the metal box containing his most precious items. He retrieved the key from a small drawer in the bookcases behind him, and returned to unlock the container. The love letters Elizabeth had written to him while he'd sailed with her father were at the top. The paper was yellowing, yet her perfume still lingered. Inger hadn't needed to write letters since they'd been together from the time they'd first met, but he'd saved the store receipts she'd given him, and a note she'd left at the boarding house inviting him to dinner. There was a memento from Marie as well; a note Little Joe's mother had written for him on their last anniversary before her death. Some would call him overly sentimental for holding onto these bits of paper, but they were extensions of the women he'd loved. Just looking at them during lonely times or when their sons had been ill or in trouble, had brought him a sense of peace in the matter weighing on his mind and heart. He'd never admit this to another soul, but reading those notes had always made him feel like he was holding the hand of the woman who'd written them. He'd give them to the appropriate child one day…but not just yet.

Beneath the letters were folded sheets of paper containing a lock of hair from each son's first haircut, and their first lost baby teeth. At the bottom of the pile was an assortment of drawings and early schoolwork done by the boys. He placed the stack of mementos on the desk, and pulled out one last envelope containing something he'd forgotten until the other day. He smiled as a loud whinny from the barn reminded him of how he'd come to be on this treasure hunt.

He removed the fragile sheet of paper and laid it flat on the smooth surface of his desk as he let his mind drift back to the circumstances that had made him write it...and hide it. After adjusting the lamp to shed more light on the fading words, he began to read:

Someone reading this might think me insane, but I assure you that everything happened last night just as I write it now.

We had turned in after a harrowing day. The boys were restless, but had settled down enough that I could write a note in this journal, marking the circumstances surrounding Inger's death. I had no illusions of finding enough peace for me to sleep, yet for all our sakes, I knew I would need to try.

I was surprised when I awakened after dozing off, and I noted that the wagon had become silent inside and out—almost as if we had been set away from the sounds of the world around us. It was a chilly night but the wagon was radiant with warmth, and there was a soft glow of light that allowed me to see everything clearly. I heard grunting and gurgling coming from Hoss's cradle and worried that I'd made a mistake in keeping him with us for the night.

The hours following Inger's death had been consumed with finalizing the plan for what our group would do now that we'd missed the larger wagon train, and lost our wagon-master. The good news was that we weren't too far behind the caravan we'd meant to join, so we consulted with the station manager to gage whether we have enough time make it to the safety of Fort Laramie before winter bears down on us. There is no denying that we are taking a big chance in proceeding, but we have to balance our fears with the necessity of being with a larger group come spring. If we don't move now we'll face more down time as we wait for another caravan next year.

I was asked to assume the duty of leading the group, and I accepted, knowing that I must keep us moving fast enough to make the fort in time. What I had to put out of my mind while making these plans was my grief at losing Inger, and the increased family responsibilities I'll face without her. I admit that the full brunt of these fears were pounding in my head and heart when we laid my sweet wife to rest, and as I walked away from her grave, I felt a gnawing question in my gut that made me weak in the knees. How could I possibly lead others while taking care of Hoss and Adam? They are my greatest responsibility now, and yet, I knew that I had to do what would benefit all of us.

I sent Adam back with the other families after the burial, and spent a few minutes alone as I calmed my thoughts in prayer. When I felt renewed enough to assume the roles I'd been given I joined the others. What I found in that station among my fellow travelers, made me realize again that while God taketh away, he also giveth abundantly. Adam was busy playing with the other children, while Hoss was nestled snuggly in Mary Mitchell's arms. I knew then that the other parents in this group would watch over my sons with as much care as they did their own little ones while I was busy with other duties. And my fears about how I'd care for an infant were soon allayed as well.

Mary Mitchell had been Inger's closest friend on our trip, and she'd given birth just days before Inger did—to a stillborn child. She blushed when she saw me staring, and quickly explained that since Hoss had seemed hungry she'd nursed him…and hoped I didn't mind.

How could I mind? Mary was the answer to my prayers; the way that Hoss could survive these early months without his mother. I responded with my gratefulness that she was able to do this for Inger's child, and we agreed that the sadness in losing a child and wife had intertwined in a miraculous way. Mary considered it a blessing that she could help me, while I helped everyone make a safe passage to our destination. My prayer was answered further, when she offered to keep Hoss with them until he could eat other foods and slept through the entire night. I accepted with a full and thankful heart.

But last night I needed to have both my boys near me. Hoss is a sweet-natured baby, and he sleeps for good periods of time between feedings. I knew this could change at any time, as infants seem to go through stages of need, and his restlessness made me wonder if my plan had been as wise as I first thought. I feared I might have to wake Mary if he didn't drift back to sleep.

I sat up as silently as possible to assess whether Hoss was fully awake, and was surprised to see Adam kneeling near the cradle.

My eyes were drawm to Hoss, who was fully awake as well. He seemed happy though, and was gazing upwards; kicking and cooing, with his arms up and his hands curled, as though he was holding onto someone's finger above him. I motioned silently for Adam to come away, hoping he wouldn't draw Hoss's attention and move him from being happy to needing attention. But the older boy seemed as mesmerized as the younger, and he didn't notice me.

I watched them a few minutes longer and finally tugged at Adam's sleeve to ease him back down next to me. He pulled his arm away and broke his gaze at Hoss just long enough to whisper, "Wait, Pa, Mimi is here to say goodbye."

I was stunned by his remark. Mimi was Adam's name for Inger. He'd decided to call her min mor, the Swedish words for, my mother, when we'd become a family. But Inger suggested Mimi, assuring him that it was the name children in Sweden used when they were young.

After a few more minutes, Hoss quieted and drifted back to sleep. Only then did Adam leave his post and curl up by me again.

Once I figured Hoss was truly out, I whispered, "What did you mean when you said Mimi was here?"

He said, "I woke up and Mimi was kneeling next to me. She kissed my cheek while she gave me a blessing like she always does at bedtime. She thanked me for taking such good care of Hoss today, and protecting him after she was hurt. Then she went to Hoss, and sang to him while he held onto her fingers, and he fell asleep again. Then she whispered that I should get under the covers to stay warm, and that she loved me and would miss being with us, but she had to go."

I asked if she'd said anything more.

"She told me I should listen to you and keep being so good to Hoss. We aren't supposed to worry either, 'cause we'll be safe now, and she'll always watch over us."

I told Adam that he had probably been dreaming, but he insisted that he was wide awake and that Inger was still by the cradle. A short time later Adam whispered, "She's going now, Pa."

Oddly, as Adam said this, there was a gentle rustling of the wagon canvas and I was once again aware of the noises of the night. Adam soon dozed and I followed shortly after, not awakening until the early morning sunshine began to sift through the weave of the canvas.

I asked Adam if he remembered what he'd told me during the night, and he assured me that it happened exactly as he'd reported. He is happy about it rather than afraid. I imagine the memory will fade with time, but he is positive that Inger was here. Maybe I was just caught up with Adam's story, but as he said she was leaving, I felt a brush of softness against my lips and a touch upon my cheek. Adam says that she did stop by me on her way out, but I couldn't see her because I'm too old. Children have all the answers!

Goodbye Inger, my love. The journey will be hard without you but we will all make you proud, and we'll never forget your sweet presence in our lives.

Ben wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand, refolded the journal page, and placed his box of memories back in the drawer before dimming the lamp, and heading upstairs. As he passed Adam's room, he noted a soft glow beneath the door and realized his eldest was still awake. After a light knock, he was welcomed by Adam's easy, "C'mon in."

"Hi, Pa." Adam sat forward as his questioning frown revealed his concern over the unexpected visit. His feet were bare, and his black, unbuttoned shirt provided a stark contrast with the white sheets, where he sat cross-legged on his bed. He lowered the book he'd been reading, and smiled. "What's up?"

"I was just wondering about something. Perhaps it's an odd question, but it came to mind tonight." Ben paused, not sure if he should press on.

"What going on Pa? You planning on doing something you shouldn't, and want some company doing it?"

Ben grinned. "Do you remember much about that night after Inger died? I know you were just six at the time and that's a lot of years ago. But I was just…"

Adam leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. "Are you asking if I remember seeing Inger in the wagon that night?"

"Then you do remember."

Adam nodded. "Why do you ask?"

"You know I've always kept journals." He chuckled as he added, "It was a holdover of my days of keeping a log on the sea, but I came to realize how handy they are when you want to know what happened in the past. I often consult my old journals to see what the weather was like or how the stock did in a certain year. But I hadn't thought about the ones I wrote back when you and Hoss were young for a very long time." He chuckled again as he shook his head. "There's a box of them tucked away in the tool shed, and unfortunately, the mice have had a feast on the pages. But many of them are missing—probably left behind as we moved around. There wasn't enough room in those wagons for everything."

Ben sat on the edge of Adam's bed and sighed deeply. "Then the other day while we were waiting on that mare, I noticed one sticking out from that small chest in the barn. We've had that chest since we left Boston, and it's been used for lots of things. That book was probably tucked in the bottom of it for all these years, and got pulled to the top when someone was looking through the tangle of spare parts in there."

Adam nodded. "That seems reasonable. I know the chest you're talking about, and it's always been a catchall. Lately we've been using it to store the good parts of broken harnesses that might come in handy for a repair. I doubt anyone has seen the bottom of it for a long time. Which journal was it?"

"It was the one I kept as we went through Missouri, on our way to meet up with the larger wagon train at Ash Hollow. I knew Hoss wasn't going to leave until that foal arrived, and once I realized which journal it was, I read it to him." He hesitated as his eyebrows rose and he pursed his lips. "It ended with Inger's death, and that brought back the memories from that night." He paused again before asking, "Can you tell me about it?"

"It was as real to me as sitting here talking to you. Hoss has always been eager to have me tell him about his mother, and he knows what I saw. He's never said anything to you because he doesn't think you believed me." He grinned. "But I think you did."

Ben shook his head. "I don't know exactly what happened that night, but it seemed to ease you through the loss."

"It's one of those things I think I should doubt now that I'm an adult; but I don't. Maybe we don't have to 'believe' it happened as much as to accept that it did. I don't believe in ghosts lingering to haunt the world, but I saw Inger in some form that night, and it did help me to know that she was still an essence in our lives." He grinned. "That's the words I'd use to describe it now. Back then I just felt happy about it. I think it helped you too." Ben nodded his agreement. "It's one of those questions we'll have to ask when our time comes to meet our maker."

Both men chuckled before becoming silent.

"Pa?"

"Yes, Adam?"

"Did you tell Hoss about that night?"

"No," Ben sighed, "I guess I wasn't sure what to say about it. I actually tore out the page telling about the experience and kept it separate. I dug it out and read it tonight."

"Is it hidden in your desk drawer?" The grin was wide and accompanied by a "cat that snuck the canary from the cage" look.

"I figured you knew about the false bottom. Do your brothers know too?"

Adam's head moved side-to-side. "Nope. I found it, but I didn't think it was any of their business…or mine." He smiled as he stretched out his legs and leaned back against the pillows. "Getting back to Hoss. "I think he'd like it if you'd finish the story…even if you think it was my tired mind playing tricks."

Ben rose and patted his son's shoulder. "Thanks, son, I will. Goodnight." He turned back from the doorway. "I do believe you saw her, son. Who's to say what we are able to perceive if we open our minds to the possibilities. I think you were right that night. Adults can't see it because we allow our skepticism to overrule our hearts."

"G'night Pa, Pleasant dreams."

Ben left Adam's room wondering when his "little boys" had grown into men. Time had passed so quickly, but he was thankful that his children had found reasons to stay on the Ponderosa. Having his grown sons helping to work the ranch they'd started together was a blessing he would never take for granted.

He returned to his desk, retrieved the missing page, and headed back up to Hoss's room. There were sounds of activity on the other side of the door rather than his middle son's legendary snoring, so he knocked softly and turned the knob.

Hoss was concentrating on a bit of intricate whittling around the ears of a small wooden horse, but looked up when his father entered. "Hey, Pa. Somethin' wrong?"

"Not a thing." He leaned on the edge of the desk where his son was working, and handed Hoss the folded sheet. "The journal we looked at the other day was missing its final page, and I thought you might like to see it."

A smile spread over the big man's face while he read about his mother's moment with him before leaving. He nodded at his father and smiled. "Thanks Pa. This means a lot. Um…would you mind if I kept this?"

"It's yours Hoss. I wrote it for you, even though I didn't realize it until tonight. Your mother had such a powerful love for all of us that even death couldn't end it." Ben brushed his cheek to Hoss's head while giving his shoulder a squeeze and said goodnight. As he walked down the hall to his own room, Ben smiled as he looked upward, and said quietly, "I know, Inger, I'm proud of them too."

The End.