Disclaimer: I own nothing, absolutely nothing, nothing, nothing-except the angst contained within.
Note: The following story was inspired by Bonanza Brand's bi-monthly prompts based on song lyrics.
Prompt: "Even the genius asks questions."
Adam's changed.
I still don't know full well what happened to him in that desert; I don't think any of us do. But older brother's not the same. I wouldn't never say this out loud, least not in
front of Pa, but some days Adam acts plumb loco.
It don't take much to make him snap. Like at breakfast. Adam dropped his fork and Little Joe made a crack about him eatin' with his fingers.
Adam banged his chair back and if Joe was a second slower ducking he would've taken a plateful of scrambled eggs an' bacon to the head.
The plate crashed against the wall and for a long minute we all were real still. Adam had his legs wide apart and his fisted hands out from his sides, and his eyes kept dartin'
from one of us to the other, like we might come at him. When none of us moved he straightened up, brushed a piece of egg off his pants, and walked away.
Pa finally said, "Adam."
He didn't even look back, just went around the corner, and then the front door creaked open and gently shut again with a click.
Might as well have slammed it.
I found him by the grave.
It was about the last place I looked. Adam don't visit her much, least not that I know about. But he was there, crouched on the ground by Marie's headstone.
His gun dangled from his hand.
I said, "Hey."
Without lookin' up, he said, "I don't know why I'm here."
"Don't reckon it matters much." I kept my eye on that gun.
Adam snorted. "Even the genius asks questions, Hoss." Rockin' on his heels, he muttered, "Not that he ever gets answers."
"Sometimes we don't get to know the answers." I was inchin' closer to him, boots shufflin' one step at a time through the grass.
"And you're content with that."
"Most of the time. But I ain't smart like you, Adam."
He let out a dry bark like a laugh. He rubbed his face with his free hand. "I need a shave."
"You want, I'll give ya a hand with that, once we get back to the house." A few more feet and I could reach out and touch him.
"Stay there, Hoss."
He said it quiet and tired, hand tightening around the gun.
I stopped. "You ain't gonna use that," I told him.
"Not on you." He grinned in an empty way. "I may be crazy, but I'm not about to shoot my own brother."
"You ain't crazy, Adam."
"Not yet." The grin disappeared. "How long before it's worse than a plate to the head?"
I tried to make it a joke. "Ya couldn't hit the broad side of a barn, anyway."
"I could've hurt him. I wanted to hurt him."
"You know you wouldn't."
"No, I don't know!" Adam shot to his feet. "I don't know anything anymore."
He put the gun up to his head and cocked it.
