A Story of Guilt
Looking back on it I can't even fathom why I thought it would be a good idea. But at the time, at the time there wasn't anything-foreseeable wrong with the plan.
He had been troubled the whole week we were on the trail. Short tempered and moody though he did try not to take it out on me. For the most part he succeeded, and when he slipped, I didn't take it personally. I knew the kid had, had it rough the last month and Pa sent us down to Sacramento so Joe could get away from town.
Losing a childhood friend is hard on anyone, but losing one because another man kills him…With Joe the only witness…. With the funeral, the posse, the trial, and all the surrounding events, the poor boy had no time to grieve. The boy was a mess. Pa was worried about him, Hoss was going crazy with worry about him, and hell so was I. I mean he hadn't been himself at all.
It was clear that he blamed himself for Mathew's death. After all, he had convinced Mathew to go into town with him that night. He had chosen the place where they shared a drink. He was the one who was being robbed that caused Mathew to reach for his gun. And he had failed to stop the man who gunned Mathew down. At least that's how he will tell it.
Paul and Sheriff Coffee both said that Joe had dragged Mathew to the doctor's, though the gunman had struck him in the head. Joe who had tried so desperately to save his friend's life, refusing to leave Mathew until Paul forced him to. It was Joe who rode the hardest in the posse proving himself more a man then some of the others. It was Joe who ensured that the gunman, a Frank Dealer, wasn't lynched. And it was Joe who sat firm and confident in his testimony that brought Mathew's killer to justice.
And it was us who almost lost Joe in the month that followed.
He had been sullen and withdrawn. He worked by himself most the time and would spend hours with his horses. If he wasn't working he was at ma's grave. The hope in sending him to Sacramento with me was that getting him away from Virginia City even for two weeks would ease his trouble soul some. And at times it seemed to work. As we approached the city, the Little Joe that we all knew and loved seem to be making a comeback.
But after a few days of Sacramento he got restless and sullen again. I can only guess that he was seeing reminders of Mathew everywhere, for the two would often drive horses down to the Sacramento market together. It was clear to me that he needed to get out of the city and back out in the open range, even before he asked.
"I'm sorry Adam…. I just feel caged here…." Joe told me in our hotel room the morning before we were to meet with one of Pa's potential clients. We were there in Sacramento to negotiate combined cattle and lumber deal with a railroad company. It was a nearly done deal, but Pa insisted that the formalities be seen to and, truthfully, I knew that Joe wouldn't be interested in sitting through all that.
As I watched him pace back and forth, seeing the frustrated energy that was boiling under his skin I also knew it was only a matter of time before he would lose the battle of self control and get himself into a fight. I sat on the bed, ever sturdy, ever serious, and all knowing. I sat there in my typical fashion as I considered my bother.
Many people that look at Joe and I, that even know us, would think that we don't know each other well; that we are more strangers then brothers, but that's not true. I know every signal fear my brother has ever had and has. I know his dreams, what buttons to push, his reasoning. I know him, and I know he knows me just as well. We truly are close, and the fact that we can brawl one second and then stand undivided the next is proof. I know and love my little brother and that is what made me suggest the damn foolish plan to begin with.
"I'll tell you what Joe. There's no need or both of us to meet with Colesack. Besides, the whole business will only take a day. Why don't you go on ahead out of town and make camp up in High Country meadow. This time of year there's always a fare amount of dear and, well, we might as well take advantage of that."
Joe's expression went from stubborn determination to surprise to gratitude. He gave me a half smile that all the girls in town would swoon over, and nodded his head. "Thanks Adam," he said, just a whisper of voice, but still spoke to my heart. To hear his relief, his gratitude and to be able to see some hope in those eyes of his again, it made my own mind easy.
So we spent that morning gathering some camping supplies, and I made sure he had enough food in him that he wouldn't starve. And that afternoon I rode to the edge of the city limits with him and watched him head off. He was just on the edge of my sight when I watched him nudge Glory, his second horse, into a gallop and I felt my heart flutter in a quick moment of fear.
Neither Pa nor I liked to see Joe ride fast, not after Maria. Yet, we both understood his need. He had once told me that when he rode like the devil, all he had to do was let the horse lead the way. He didn't have to be in control, he didn't have to think or concentrate on anything. The horse knew what it was doing and all he had to do was trust in the horse. He said it was the only time that he felt truly free and he swore that he could feel God around him. It was how he prayed.
As I watched him ride I couldn't help but pray that God heard him now.
The rest of the day I spent going over the contract details and making sure nothing was out of place. I sent a telegraph to pa explaining the impromptu hunting trip and got the reply I expected; "I wish I could be there." The contract signing went as expected and I was treated to a very nice diner by our happy client. He invited me to stay with his family for a few days before I headed back and was disappointed when I declined, though he gave a good laugh of approval at the reason.
The ride to High Country meadow wasn't very long. And I took my time with it, enjoying the warm fall day and the sweet smelling air. I knew exactly what spot Joe would pick out for our camp, for we had been there many times before. It was a nestle of trees that was gathered right by the shallow bank of a fast moving stream. There was fish near by, refreshing water; it was close to the woods and hunting ground. The best possible camping sight that we ever had, and Sport lead me straight to it and into a hell I cannot describe.
I don't remember exactly what happened after I found Joe, adrenalin and instinct took over as I rushed to my brother's aid. I tended to his wounds and tried to revive him. I got him to mumble a few words of explanation before he slipped into what I assumed was a coma; "stranger…share camp…bush whacked…."
I didn't even have time to let my blood boil at the words, Joe was dieing and I had to get him to a doctor.
The closest was Sacramento and that was a good four or five hour ride on an already tired horse. Joe had been beaten and shot twice in the back. He already had a fever and had lost a lot of blood, his face was pale, his skin clammy. His eyes were glazed and his breathing raspy. I had no choice, with Glory nowhere in sight Joe and I had to ride Sport back into Sacramento. I just prayed that my faithful horse could make it.
I shouldn't have been so worried about Sport, after all Joe's always saying he's just like me. A pain in the rear and a stuck up know it all, but when it matters most he's good old dependable. Stumbling in on his last legs he got us to the doc's door and I managed to half drag and half carry my brother into the office.
By now Joe was cold and if it weren't for the raspy breath you could swear that he was dead. The doc, who had been talking to a friend in the waiting room took one look at us and went right to work. With in seconds he had Joe away from me and was calling for his nurse. The man he had been talking to was sent to fetch the sheriff and I was left suddenly numb, staring at the closed door of the operating room where Joe had been taken.
Hours latter, after talking to the Sheriff and sending word to Pa and Hoss I was finally allowed to see Joe.
"He's in a bad way son. I don't know what to tell you except to pray. Hold his hand and talk to him, let him know you're here. It might be enough to wake him."
The first few days were the worst. I was alone. Joe was battling infection and fever; I was battling my mind. How could I let him just go off alone? Why didn't I insist that he stay with me until the business was over? It's ironic in away, when I think about it, that this must be what Joe was feeling for the last month. I can't eat, I can't sleep, when people talk to me I barley speak. All my intelligence and I don't know what to do. I sit next to him and I tell him stories, I speak softly of the good old days when he was younger and I worried less. And I fought my tears as I felt him slip away. Yes, I, the somber man in black, had to fight back tears for my brother.
Pa and Hoss made it in record time. Four days I think, was I never more relived to see that gray haired, grim faced father of mine. It's a selfish thing, I know, but I was relived that I didn't have to be in charge any more. I didn't have to be responsible. Without being asked I gave up me seat to my father and let him resume the vigil. I let him tell the same old stories and say the same old soothing words. I let him take over Joe's care and I let Hoss guide me out into the fresh air.
I knew my brother wanted to be with Joe. I knew the kind hearted giant wanted to wrap the boy up in his strong arms and rock him to sleep like he use to when he was a baby just as badly as he wanted to wrap those bare trap hands of his around the throat of the animal who did this. But I also knew that he wouldn't attempt to get between my father and his baby in Joe's hour of need.
So instead he fussed over me.
"Dang burn it Adam, when was the last time ya ate? And when was the last time ya slept? Why look at ya, yer a mess!" he continued his fussing as he dragged me to a café and forced fed me then to a hotel where I was convinced to get some sleep. I woke up a few hours latter feeling slightly more human and managed to find my way back to the doctor.
There I found Hoss sitting in the waiting room staring at the closed operating room door. He sensed me before I said anything and he spoke with a choke in his voice, "Pa dun called fer the doctor. He said Littl' Joe was cunvolsing and ta get in there right away. It's been a good half hour…."
My heart skipped a beat and I barely made it to the chair before my knees gave out. I said nothing, nor did Hoss. Both of us were wrapped in our own fears and grief. But Hoss didn't harbor the guilt that I did.
I sent my little brother out to that meadow. I was trying to help him, trying to heal him and I sent him out to meet death. I killed my baby brother, my little buddy. Oh sure I didn't pull the trigger, but it was my idea. He wouldn't have been there if it hadn't been for my suggested hunting trip. I should have made him wait for me, I should have promised after the contract was signed. We'll leave town together, we'll set up camp together. I should have. I should have. I should have!
My guilt was eating me up. It was tearing through me and burning my blood. The silence of the room did little to help. Hoss' quite sobs only made things worse. It felt like hours, years, before that operating door opened and the doctor came out. He was tired but there was a smile on his face, a smile.
"Well, your brother had a crises, but he survived. His fever's broke and he's moving around a bit. I'd say he's going to be waking up here in the next few hours."
Hoss let out the biggest and loudest cry of joy and relief he's ever had. And I can feel my own relief floods through me and I praise God with every breath of air. But it's short lived as my guilt creeps back in. It would be a few days latter before I find absolution.
The first day Joe was awake was full of trying to restrain a very confused and disoriented little imp, while trying to get him to eat and drink water. It was a fight that took the doctor and all three of us to win, and even then it was by the skin of out teeth. It was the second day that Joe was awake where we would learn what had happened to him.
"I had just finished setting up camp and was cooking some fish when a stranger rides up and asks to share my camp. He seemed alright enough, little trail ridden, but he didn't seem a bad person. I didn't see the harm. We shared diner and some stories. He found out I was a Cartwright and that's when he changed. It was like a lightning flask I swear Pa. One minuet he was the nicest dude, the next he was trying to rob me. We wrestled a bit and he drew on me. I managed to get free of him and try for my gun, but he shot me before I could draw. That's all I remember except for hearing Adam fussing."
That lifted my mood considerably, "Except for hearing Adam..."
Joe had heard me, he had heard me. All those hours of sitting there and rambling. All that time of pouring out my heart…he heard me. It's amazing how that can make you feel. Like you were really helping, really doing something to save his life.
Latter that day, I managed to convince Pa to go eat with Hoss as a babysitter. It was the first time since their arrival that I had gotten my baby brother to myself, and I had a lot to say to him.
"Joe, I'm sorry."
He looked up at me puzzled, "You're sorry for what Adam?"
"It's my fault you were out there…"
"If I remember correctly big brother, I was the one who was itching to leave."
"Yes, but I suggested…"
Joe stopped me with his hand, "Adam, you knew as well as I did what I needed was freedom. I needed a chance to ride and you knew as well as I did that I would never ride hard if you were around. You gave me what I needed Adam, you gave me a chance to pray. You were looking out for me, it's not your fault."
After he said his peace we fell silent for a time. Joe lost in thought and myself pondering what he said. I wasn't sure I believed it, but it was nice to hear. The little rascal must have sensed what I was thinking cause he said softly, "I was convinced Mathew died because of me. I had dragged him out that night, I had been the one in the fight. He was just trying to protect me. Everyday since he died I was thinking about all the things I could have done differently, but you know what? And don't laugh or call me crazy cause I swear it's the truth, but I swear that I saw Matt standing next to me when I was dieing. And make no mistake, I was dieing. I thought I deserved to die too, except Matt was right there next to me. From the time that I was shot to the moment I woke up I could feel him. I could hear him speaking in that slow drawl of his not to give up. Not to lose. That he didn't blame me and that neither did God. And when I accepted that I swear I could feel a weight lift from me and I could breath."
"What are you saying Joe?" I asked him in a hushed voice thick with unshed tears. He awed me at the moment, this angle boy that was lying so peacefully and comfortably with a knowledge I've never had.
"I'm saying Adam that at the moment you're drowning and I'm right here throwing out a life line. All you have to do to not drown is except it. I don't blame you. There is no one to blame. I love you, and I thank you for saving my life and giving me what I needed to ease my soul."
"Joe," I said after a few minuets, barely able to control my emotions, "Sometimes I swear you're a wise man."
Each day as Joe grew stronger, my guilt grew smaller until I was no longer able to remember exactly why I felt guilty in the first place. A week after Joe's fever broke we were able to bring him home and two weeks after we brought him home they found the man who had tried to kill him. He had Joe's guns, horse and assorted other goods so it was easy to convict him. Again, Joe gave a firm and convincing testimony that resulted in a guilty verdict. The man, a Paul Chester, was hung. We never really understood why he attacked Joe.
It doesn't matter though, because Chester failed and Joe is himself again. A bit wiser, and a bit older, but still himself and still a handful. We've become closer now, since that trip, and though we still fight, we also forgive. And there's no guilt hanging between us.