Chapter Two
The sun was barely making its way over the horizon when Ethan felt a gentle tug on his arm. He bolted upright and Clare sprang back from him as they barely missed butting heads. He flung the blanket off his legs and was half way across the room before Clare caught his arm.
"Nothing's wrong, Uncle Ethan! I came to tell you that Ben is awake."
Ethan blinked at his niece and rubbed a hand across his face. He'd been so busy expecting the worst for the last few days that he was unprepared when she smiled at him.
"He said he's hungry!"
Ethan managed the barest hint of a smile before striding across to where the two boys were still tucked in amongst the blankets. The room was warm and Ethan looked up to see Joseph coming through the door with an armful of firewood. Somehow he had slept straight through the boy's wood chopping!
"Uncle Ethan."
He looked down to see Ben rubbing at his eyes and trying not to yawn. Ethan dropped to the side of the bed and ran a hand across Ben's forehead, assuring himself that the fever really was subsiding. He reached for George and did the same, but was dismayed to feel the skin under his hand was still too warm. Dried sweat had George's fine hair plastered to his head and he pulled away as Ethan rubbed a hand through his hair.
"Uncle Ethan?"
Ben looked at his uncle and chewed on his lip as he frowned back at him. He was still too tired and muddled to understand the frown wasn't for him and he felt his lip trembling. Ethan silently cursed his clumsiness as he reached a hand to reassure the child.
"Clare says you are hungry."
"Mmm, yep."
"Well, that's always a good thing." Ethan smiled at him as Ben yawned again. "Guess we should get some food into you before you fall asleep again."
Before he could ask, Clare was at his side with a bowl of warm porridge and a thick drizzle of honey. It was a luxury that John Taylor had brought them a few weeks back when he'd found a wild bees nest. It was early for them to be making honey, but the old Indian knew some secrets that others did not and nobody was objecting as Ben slurped the porridge off the spoon Clare held out to him.
"When's George gonna wake up?"
Ethan turned to see Joseph standing beside the kitchen table. He'd stepped up to a man's duties over the last few days while Ethan had tried to hold onto Ben and George, but he was still really just a boy. A scared boy who still needed an adult's assurance.
"He will soon. Ben's fever broke first, remember?"
Joseph nodded at him and headed for the door once more. The wood box was full, but it wasn't long before Ethan heard the distinctive sound of an axe. It was one way to work out the worry and fear and one he well understood. For the better part of a week, he had felt entirely useless as the boys had struggled to beat the fever that gripped them and it still rattled him just how much it had dragged up unwelcome memories. As Ethan poured himself a coffee, he wished he could put something a little stronger in the mug, but those days were over. He no longer had the luxury of drowning fears or drawing courage from a bottle. He had to face things head-on as Lucy would have expected him to. Stone, cold sober.
Ethan swirled the coffee in the mug and closed his eyes as a wave of grief washed over him. It had been almost six months since he'd brought four orphaned children back from St Louis and tried to build a life for them, but there were still days that he ached with the knowledge he would never see his sister again and the fear that he simply couldn't do the overwhelming job she had left him.
Ethan sat on the porch and watched as the fireflies skipped across the ground before continuing their wild dance into the air. The half-empty mug of coffee in his hand had grown cold, but he had not noticed. It had been almost a week since both boys were out of bed and bouncing with their usual youthful enthusiasm. Clare made sure each of them was catching up on the meals they had missed, but both of them had still slipped into bed earlier than usual each night. It had been a tense few days where he had struggled to keep himself in check as he tended to them, not knowing if he would lose either or both of them before the next dawn. There had been three deaths in the surrounding area and many others who had been knocked down hard by the spring fever that seemed to have come out of nowhere. But then, that was often the way of fevers. Nobody could say for certain where they started or where they went.
Ethan scrubbed a hand across his face and scowled as he took a sip of the cold coffee. He'd lost track of time as he sat and watched the moon rise over the patch of dirt he dared call a ranch. He snorted in disgust as he stared at the horizon. It wasn't a ranch. A ranch was what Joe had talked about. A place of endless boundaries that took days to cross – or so Joe had told him. A place that produced enough cattle to keep a young man in fine clothes and even finer pistols.
Ethan felt his hand drop to his hip without conscious thought. Joe had the most ornate pistol he'd ever seen, with ivory inlaid into the handle and silver scrollwork. He'd lifted it from the side table one night as Joe slept in the chair by his sister's bed. His fingers traced the silver as it shone in the light of the lamp and he'd been so engrossed in it, he hadn't heard Joe stir.
"Put that down."
The words were soft, but firm and he'd gulped in fright as he looked up to see Joe staring at him.
"I wasn't gonna take it!" He dropped the weapon on the table and his fingers jerked back from the metal as if it was hot.
"I know that, but it's not a toy. A gun isn't something to play with."
Ethan felt his heart pounding as he barely dared look up again. Everybody else assumed he was a thief. Probably because he was. He felt the colour rising up his cheeks as his gaze dropped to his boots. For some reason he could not define, it mattered to him that Joe didn't tar him with the same brush as others did.
"I just wanted to see it. I wasn't gonna take it. Honest!"
Joe reached for the weapon and beckoned Ethan towards him. He held the gun so the boy could reach out once more and touch the fancy handle and he smiled as Ethan's fingers traced the silver once more.
"My pa had it made for me. For my birthday."
Ethan chewed on his bottom lip as he stared at it. Nobody had ever made anything for his birthday that he could remember, except Lucy. She'd made him a horse from twigs and pieces of wool that she had unravelled and used to hold the tiny twigs in shape as well as fashioning a mane and tail. He'd carried it everywhere in his pocket and reached a hand in to touch it every so often.
Joe had often talked about horses and he figured his friend might want to see Lucy's horse so he pulled it from where he had stashed it under Joe's bedroll and shyly held it out to be inspected.
"Lucy made it for me. For my birthday."
Joe turned the tiny horse over in his hand and ran a finger down the scrawny mane. "He's a beauty. What's his name?"
"Huh?"
"His name. Every horse has gotta have a name."
Ethan frowned at the idea. He'd never had a horse so he hadn't really ever thought about naming one. He looked up to see Joe watching him and he shook his head. "Don't know. I never knew he needed a name."
"Course he does! Well, let's see, my horse's name is Cochise and Pa's horse is Buck and Adam's ….."
"Can I use Cochise too?"
Joe laughed softly as he tousled the boy's hair. "Sure you can! It's a great name for a great horse."
Ethan tossed the remains of the cold coffee and stood up to stretch his legs. The real Cochise had taken his owner out of their lives and left them hiding in a hotel room until the manager saw fit to throw them into the street where they belonged. There hadn't been time to collect anything and he'd forgotten his horse was even under the bedroll until it was too late. They'd never seen Joe or his horse again and Ethan shook his head at his pointless thoughts. It was so long ago and no longer mattered why their benefactor had suddenly left them and never come back for them as he'd promised. It wasn't like he was the first adult who had let them down and certainly not the last.
Joe poured another shot of the whiskey into his glass before setting the bottle back on the table. He ran a finger around the rim of the glass, but made no move to drink its contents. Suddenly a hand ran down over his shoulder while another tickled the nape of his neck.
"Want some company, cowboy?"
The voice was low and sultry and there was a time when he would have turned on the charm and had the woman sitting in his lap inside of two minutes. Instead, Joe wished fervently for the girl to just leave him alone. He shook her hand off his shoulder and frowned at her.
"No thanks."
The girl wasn't going to be deterred so easily and she began to run her nails up the sleeve of his shirt towards his shoulder.
"Oh, come on now. We could have us some fun, you and me." She leaned in and pouted at him as if daring him to kiss her.
Joe stood up from the table and flicked the girl's hands away from him. The pretty blonde looked no different than a thousand other saloon girls where her dress left little to the imagination and she moved ever so subtly to make sure her best assets were on show.
"I said I wasn't interested." Joe grasped at the shot of whiskey and gulped it down before grabbing the bottle and turning and walking out the door.
The girl shrugged at the stranger before setting her eye on another man sitting two tables away. At least this one seemed more interested as he winked at her and beckoned her over with his finger.
"His loss! I'll have some fun with you, honey."
All thoughts of the sad-eyed cowboy were pushed aside as she was swept into the man's lap and she giggled as he whispered something in her ear.
Joe stalked along the length of the boardwalk, seething with pent up anger. All he'd wanted was the time to wish his brother a happy birthday and the stupid girl had sullied it with her obvious intent. Once, he would have lapped up the attention and made the most of the offer, but he had no need of a saloon girl to warm his bed when he had a good woman waiting for him at home. He snorted in disgust at himself and took another slug of the whiskey as her face floated before him. He'd left her behind and had no business calling himself a married man. Or a father. But the truth was he was both. And right now, he was a failure at both.
"I'm sorry," he whispered into the night air, not entirely sure who he was apologising to this time. He lifted the bottle to his lips once again and felt the warmth of the whiskey slide down his throat. Joe glanced around as he took another slow drink. He hadn't intended to be out drinking on the street and he figured it would be better to be back in his room before he got himself arrested for public drunkenness. Not that it wouldn't be the first time in recent weeks.
It wasn't far back to the hotel, or what passed as a hotel. In the tiny one-horse town, the dilapidated building had the grand name of the Palace Hotel and it had clearly seen better days. The whole town had an air of need about it, as if everything needed a new coat of paint. Joe scowled at his own thoughts as he climbed the stairs to his room. He needed a new coat of paint! Or something.
He dropped onto the bed and stared at his boots. He needed his brother. Hoss would have been ashamed of him if he could see the sorry wreck he'd made of himself in the last two hours. It wasn't like this anniversary hadn't rolled around before. Nineteen times it had come and gone already, so why was this one so painful that he needed to run from it? How had twenty years passed by without the big galoot? Joe lifted the bottle and raised a sloppy salute in the air.
"God, I miss you, brother!"
As he sprawled back onto the bed, Joe stared at the pressed tin ceiling and noted that some of the tin had worked its way loose. A piece directly above him looked as if it could fall right on top of him.
The sky is fawing. The sky is fawing.
Joe flung his arm across his face as if he could somehow blot out the memory of Candy mocking him as he read Chicken Little to the group of children he'd been pressed into teaching while their real teacher recovered from a fall.
"Stop it!"
Candy would never laugh with him or at him again. Joe screwed his eyes shut and clenched his fists in impotent rage at the loss of one more brother. He was a failure as a brother as well.
The sun was well into the sky before Joe made it out to begin the day. He squinted at the brightness of the sky and pulled his hat a little lower to protect his eyes. He frowned as he ran a hand across the thick stubble on his cheeks as he had a fair idea of just how rough he looked, given the way he felt. His tongue felt like wool in his mouth and he stumbled towards what passed as a café. The coffee was hot and strong, if a little odd tasting. Memories arose unbidden as he recalled the constant comments about his own coffee-making skills over the years. As Joe fumbled in his pocket for some coins to pay for his meal, he realised he was growing low on funds. Time to look for some work to pay his way to … to wherever it was that he was going. He knew that Paradise was north of him and Sacramento was south. South took him closer to the pain he could not yet deal with, so north it would be.
Ethan sat astride his horse and watched as Morris waved at him.
"Got us another couple of guns, Ethan." The man looked pleased with himself as he pointed at the two men. "This is Hank and he's Joe. I tested 'em out, Ethan and both could shoot an eyelash off a jackrabbit."
Ethan didn't answer the overconfident description, but he sized up the two men standing before him. Hank looked like he was maybe ex-army with his stance and Joe was staring back at him with a look of almost defiance, as if daring him to reject him. It struck him as odd, but he didn't have time to waste if they were going to make the run on time. He needed hired guns and if Morris said they were good, then he'd take the man's word.
He nodded at the two strangers and turned back towards Morris. "We need to get on the road in the next half hour. You two good to go?"
It was less than the required half hour before all four men rode out of town, flanking a wagon being driven by an older man and his son. The two new recruits had simply been told the wagon needed to make it to Redding without issue and they would be paid when they all got there. Joe hadn't asked what was so all-important about that wagon, but he noted the covert glances between Ethan and Morris. Those two were tight and he felt an ache rising up into his chest as he observed them. He and Candy could convey a lot with a glance or a wink or a concealed hand signal. He quickly shoved the thought back down and focused on their surroundings. He had a job to do and he would need the money once he reached Redding.
