I have often said that reviews and comments make their way into my stories. Thank you to BJ2 for your comment, as it was part of the inspiration for this chapter.
Chapter Four
Adam found his thoughts going back around the same track as they had been for the better part of the day. Each of them had assumed it would be a reasonably straightforward exercise to follow the tracks out of Ed Longman's yard, given that he'd said Joe was riding out at a full gallop. The soft ground was all torn up and the trail had taken them a fair way before it began to peter out. Each time, Hoss would search it out until he picked it up again and they would continue on. Adam had given his younger brother the lead as it was acknowledged within the family that Hoss was by far the best tracker of any of them. As he'd ridden behind, expecting to find his youngest brother holed up somewhere, he'd found himself swinging between fear and frustration. The longer they took searching, the bigger the pendulum swings became. For the better part of the afternoon, frustration had won out, but as it became clear that Joe had learned a thing or two from Hoss on how to cover his trail, fear was beginning to creep ahead again.
For sixteen years he had worried over his brother, even, or maybe especially during his time away at college. While he'd also watched over Hoss, something about Joe was different. Hoss could usually figure his own way through things. Of course, he could always fight his own battles too. Adam could count on one hand the number of times he'd been needed to help Hoss out of a fight or some scrape he'd gotten himself into. Unless of course it was the kind of scrape that Joe had dragged his gullible older brother into and that was a whole other story. Adam had stepped in more than once and put himself between his father and brothers until his father had calmed down and the steam had stopped running from his ears. Adam sighed as he realised he could not count the number of times he'd had to step in on Joe's behalf. Joe's quick temper often found him in places where his body paid the price. To give him his due, he'd usually accepted the consequences of his decisions, but Adam had often remarked that if he just used his head half as much as he used his tongue, he'd come out in front more often.
"You're a smart kid, Joe, but you just don't always use that brain of yours! Imagine what you could achieve if you started to think before you acted."
How many times had he said something along those lines to his kid brother? How many times had Joe snarled back at him with some angry or sarcastic response? Adam pushed his hat back down on his head and glanced up the river a little to where Hoss was standing. It seemed that Joe had finally decided to engage that brain of his and had outsmarted them. His trail had gone cold and Hoss was standing with one hand on his hip and the other scratching his head in frustration.
"Oh yeah, you're a real smart kid, Joe! Why'd you have to pick today to start proving me wrong?"
Adam looked up to see his father watching him and he tried to smile in reassurance.
"It seems your brother really was paying attention to all those tracking lessons." Ben shook his head as he noted Hoss coming back towards them.
"If only he'd paid attention to a few other lessons … like the one where this family sticks together!" Adam growled, almost under his breath.
"He's scared, Adam. And for all that he thinks he's done growing up … he's still just a boy who has been thrust into a very adult situation." Ben leaned across his saddle horn and tried to keep his voice calm. "And the first adult he could have turned to for help only added to his confusion."
"Pa, Ed feels real bad about what he did."
"I know that, Son. But it doesn't change the impact it would have had on Little Joe. Put yourself in his boots for a minute. Remember how shaken you were the first time you had to kill a man? And how old you were."
Adam felt his hands clench around the reins as he slowly nodded. Hoss was listening intently as he reached his horse and knew that he'd interrupted something important.
"And Hoss has never been in that situation, although he's come close."
Hoss leaned against his horse as he took in the comment.
"Adam, I was right there beside you and you were still on your knees in the dirt once it was all over. Killing a man ... taking a life ... is a weight that it takes a man to bear. Joe rightly defended himself and Becky, but it doesn't change how heavy that weight is. Or how young he is."
Adam sucked in a slow breath as the memory of that far-off day twisted in his gut. His father had tried to shelter him, but in the end they'd both been forced to fire on the rustlers that had caught them by surprise. His father had pulled him up off the ground once he'd emptied his stomach all over his boots. It never got any easier to take a life and he knew his father was speaking the truth. Little Joe had a weight on his shoulders that could break him.
"Now add on the fact that Ed fired on him and I'm not the least bit surprised that he ran. He's scared and confused and hurt. On top of all that, he thinks his brothers are going to pay the price for his actions." Ben held up a hand to forestall Adam's argument. "Now we know that isn't going to happen, but your brother doesn't. No matter how much he might say things that rile you up, he loves you Adam. He looks up to you and half the reason he fights with you so much is because he doesn't feel he can ever measure up to you. You and Hoss … if it came down to it … he'd …"
Adam leaned a hand across as his father's voice ran out of words. He couldn't open his mouth for fear of giving his own fears any kind of voice, but he squeezed his father's arm and nodded.
"God, help us to find him!"
Hoss pulled himself back into the saddle and pointed across the water. "We need to try that side o' the river. I'll bet good money that he walked in the water for a time."
Before either of them could answer, Hoss had turned his horse for the riverbank and they simply followed suit. As he scoured the ground for any sign of his brother, he couldn't help but mull over his father's comments. He'd drawn his gun alongside his father and brother any time there'd been a need, but his father was right. He'd never killed a man. He'd winged a couple and accidentally shot one in the thigh, but he'd never seen the light leave a man's eyes on account of him. He wasn't entirely sure how he'd cope with that fact when the inevitable time came. It was impossible to think that he could make it through his life without facing that reality at some point. He shuddered as he thought about his young brother staring into a man's lifeless eyes and he vowed he'd find him and bring him home if it was the last thing he did.
The sun was hanging low in the sky and sunset was drawing closer. Ben didn't want to consider his boy spending another night out alone, cold and hungry and injured. As they climbed back up onto the far bank, he noted the dark clouds gathering low on the horizon. Rain was coming.
Joe's stomach growled loudly and he tried to ignore it as he had been doing all day. The stale half sandwich and apple were long gone already. Water could only fill the hole for so long and he took another long, slow draught from the canteen. He had nothing to run a snare with and he'd left the river behind some time ago. He'd been too busy trying to put distance between himself and whoever might be following him that he didn't have time to try his luck at fish tickling. As he slung the canteen back over the saddle horn and pushed Cochise forward again, he noted the ominous clouds gathering on the horizon. He needed to find shelter for the night or it was going to be an even more miserable night than the night before.
It was almost dark when he trudged into the small town and he was glad of the cover that kept prying eyes from taking note of him. He hadn't wanted to make contact with anybody, but it was a chance he'd have to take if he was going to find shelter and any kind of meal before the storm hit. Cochise's head was down and he knew he'd pushed the horse harder than he should have.
"Sorry Cooch." He reached down and patted the animal's neck as he pulled up in front of the livery. He didn't have so much as a single coin in his pocket, but Adam had told him more than once that he had no shortage of charm. He pulled his jacket close around his chest to hide his torn shirt and pulled his hat a little lower to cover the bruises on his face. The dim light would hopefully work to his advantage and he climbed down to the ground, praying for success.
As he tugged at Cochise's reins and headed for the door, he called out to see if anybody was around. He was looking the wrong way and almost missed the giant of a man who walked around the other side of the stable, wiping his hands on his leather apron. As he turned back, he found himself staring at the barrel chest of a man who would put Hoss in the shade.
"Somethin' I can do for ya?"
Joe swallowed hard as he dared to look up a little further and make eye contact with the giant. Childhood memories of his father reading the story of David and Goliath swam around his head and he gulped again. At that moment his stomach let out a growl like a bear and the giant laughed. A full on belly laugh like Hoss had and for a moment, Joe almost relaxed.
"I guess we better get that horse o' yours stabled afore you go and eat him! Sounds ta me like you could eat a horse, young fella!" As the giant rested a hand along Cochise's neck and scratched behind his ears, he laughed again. "You're too pretty a thing for him ta be eatin'!"
Joe smiled at the comment before quickly sobering again. He didn't have so much as a penny to his name and liveries weren't charities. Thinking on his feet, he stepped forward again.
"You're right. I do need to put up my horse for the night … but there's a problem."
"Don't tell me … you're wanted by the law!"
Joe stared at the man in the fading light and knew that a wire could have reached the town, warning them that a murderer was on his way. Before he could answer, the giant laughed at him.
"I'm teasin', boy! My wife says my jokes ain't funny. Guess maybe she's right."
Joe pulled himself together and tried to decide whether to nod or disagree. Finally he settled for starting over. "My problem is that I don't have any money … but I'm willing to work for my horse's fee! I'm good with horses."
"Is that so?" The giant seemed to be giving him the once over and Joe barely managed not to flinch. "Well, how's about you show me just how good ya are with horses and I'll see about whether or not I wantcha earnin' your keep."
Before he could speak, the giant had tugged at Cochise's reins and pulled the horse into an empty stall. He pointed to the end of the livery where there were an assortment of brushes and other tools.
"Show me how good ya are with horses."
As Joe hefted the saddle over the railing and flopped the blanket on top of it, the giant watched as the young man in front of him went about brushing down his horse. The hands that stroked at the animal showed his affection for the horse and he smiled to himself. The horse was good, strong horseflesh and he noted the brand across his hind leg. It wasn't one he recognised, but that didn't mean much. Something about the young man held his attention and he watched closely before realising what it was. He was injured and trying to hide it. The split lip and bruises on his cheek had barely been hidden by a dipped brim on his hat, but it was more than that. He was favouring his left side and he would have bet good money the boy was bruised under that green jacket of his.
"So, what's a young fella like you doin' out on his lonesome?"
Joe paused a fraction as his breath caught in his throat. "Just passing through."
"Headin' for home? Family waitin' for ya?"
"No. There's no family waiting for me." Joe clenched his fist around the brush as he continued brushing the dirt and sweat out of Cochise's coat and he swallowed down the ache his own words dragged up.
The giant leaned against the post as he watched the boy in front of him. He knew he was being lied to. That horse was an expensive animal. In spite of the dirty state he was in, the boy was wearing quality clothes and boots. He clearly cared for the animal he was riding so he hadn't stolen it from someone. And yet he was penniless, hungry and hurt. Something didn't add up and he wasn't one for mysteries.
"My name's Tiny, by the way. Whadda they call you, where ya from?"
"Tiny?" Joe almost laughed before he thought better of it.
"Yeah well some folks think they is right funny. I think I mighta been born this size, 'cept the doc says that ain't possible. Real name's Jacob, but ain't been called that by nobody since my ma passed on."
Tiny noted that the boy hadn't answered his question and he tried again.
"So, what's your ma call you, young'un?"
"Ain't got a ma."
Tiny noticed how the boy paused, before continuing to brush at the horse again.
"Your pa then? What's he call ya?"
Joe felt his gut churning as he considered the various things his pa called him and the one that stood out was the one that hurt the most.
Son.
"I'm sorry, Pa." Tiny never heard the whispered words, but he caught the shaky hand that paused again, mid stroke. "Joe. He called me Joe."
Called. Past tense.
Tiny figured he was pushing his luck and he walked over to pat at Cochise again. "Well, Joe, I'd say ya do know a thing or two 'bout horses. You can make yourself useful and rub down those three over there. When you're done, there's oats in there for alla them. Your horse too. You're welcome to bed down in the back there for the night, seein' as you're just passin' through."
Joe nodded enthusiastically. "Sure! I can do that. And … thanks."
Tiny wandered back out into the darkness, wondering just what he'd taken in and more to the point, what his Annie would have to say about it. After all, it wasn't the first stray he'd taken in and the last one had bitten him.
Joe waited until Tiny had left before stripping off his jacket and hat and setting to work. There might not be any coin in the job, but there was shelter from the storm and food for Cochise. His horse would be ready to go on the next day and he'd worry about food for himself then.
The sound of thunder rolling in overhead had the horses on edge. Joe stepped into the last stall and poured a measure of oats into the feed trough before reaching for the bucket of water on the ground. As he began to pour the water in, a loud clap of thunder caused the horse to prance sideways and knock the bucket out of his hands. Water sloshed across his shirt and down onto his boots. Joe barely had time to grab at the bucket before it toppled over into the next stall. He muttered something as he traipsed back outside to refill the bucket and watched as fat drops of rain began to hit the ground. He hurried across to the trough and dipped the bucket in and raced back across the street, trying to get inside before the storm burst.
It would be another half hour before Joe had the three horses in their stalls with oats and water and he leaned against the railing that separated him from Cochise. As the horse finished off his meal, Joe stared at the grain left behind. The oaty scent reminded him of the thick, creamy porridge that Hop Sing made in winter and he lowered his head down onto the railing. There was no Hop Sing, no porridge and nothing but a dank patch of straw for a bed. His body ached and he itched at the still-damp fabric of his shirt. Finally he stripped it off and hung it over the railing to dry off. As he pushed a pile of straw into the corner, he didn't hear anything coming from behind him until Tiny swore out aloud. Joe spun around to see the giant of a man staring at him. Rain dripped off his slicker and he held something underneath it that Joe couldn't see.
Scrambling to pull his shirt back on and get away from the man in front of him, Joe found himself backed into a corner. Tiny slowly advanced towards him, revealing a plate of food and a blanket under the slicker.
"My Annie sent me back with this 'fore ya." Tiny slowly reached out with the plate and Joe caught a whiff of meat and potatoes. His stomach growled in anticipation and he couldn't have stopped himself if he wanted to. As he settled onto a hay bale and began to wolf down the food, he found himself the object of intense scrutiny.
"Who done that to ya, boy?" The growl in Tiny's voice reminded Joe of Hoss when he was riled up. Not that Hoss got riled all that often, but when he did, it was wise to get out of his way. Joe tried to shake off the thought and kept shoveling food into his mouth.
"Fell off my horse," he said around a mouthful of beef.
"Sure ya did." Tiny stepped closer and pointed to Joe's split lip. "Right into someone's fists."
"It don't matter," Joe looked at his feet as he wiped up the last of the potato with a slice of bread.
Tiny leaned closer, trying not to intimidate the boy in front of him. "Who hurt ya, boy?"
Joe could barely breathe. "Leave it be … please!"
Tiny straightened up and nodded slowly. "If that's what ya want, boy. Now, my Annie's 'spectin' me back already."
As he made his way back out into the darkness, Tiny wondered if he'd ever see the boy again or if he'd make a run for it in the night.
