SIX
Ben Cartwright was a strong man, but any man could be broken. A full day had passed since that no-good-for-nothin' Gabriel Eagle had died and Little Joe was still missin'.
Roy Coffee stared over the rim of his half-empty coffee cup at the rancher where he sat on the far side of the fire, his graying head in his hands. Adam was with him, touching his pa's shoulder, saying things he couldn't hear but knew right enough. Ben had said them earlier to that other boy of his, the big one with the soft heart. 'Bout suppertime that other boy, well, he lost all hope and started bawlin' like a baby. They'd all walked away so as not to shame him and left his pa and brother to tend to him. Hoss was sleepin' now. He'd done wore himself out with cryin'.
His pa weren't far behind.
Roy shook his head as he shifted back against the boulder he was leaning against. It pained him to think that what that varmint had said to Ben – telling him to 'ask Marie' where their son was – maybe meant the boy was already dead. Still, truth to tell, if Little Joe was alive and he'd been left all on his lonesome somewhere out here in the desert for nigh onto two days... Well, tied up or on his feet, the boy didn't stand much of a chance. The odds were if he didn't die of thirst or from the sun, some animal would get him or, worse, savages.
Anyway you looked at it, it looked like Ben was set to lose both Marie and her boy and he just wasn't sure his friend could survive it.
A sound at his side made him look up. Ben's oldest, Adam, was standing beside him. The boy looked tired. No, more than tired, plumb wore out.
"Is there any coffee left?" he asked.
"Sure thing, son. You sit yourself down and I'll pour it."
"You don't have to do that."
Roy eyed him. "No, I don't. I want to."
Adam stared at him a moment in that way he had, like it took a thousand equations to make one move. Then he nodded.
"Thanks," he said as he folded his long body up and sat on the ground.
Roy poured the coffee and handed it to him. "How's your pa?"
Adam blew on the hot liquid and then took a sip. He closed his eye as it trailed down his throat, warming him against the desert chill of night. "About like you would imagine," he replied, his tone short.
They sat in silence for a minute or two after that. The men were exhausted and to a man had settled in early. They'd spent most of the night before and the entire day today combin' just about every square inch of sand and scrub near that there pile of rocks the Indians thought God used as a stair – even goin' most the way up it – and found nothin'.
He, Adam, and Ben were the only ones awake.
Roy took another sip, then he said, "I cain't say how sorry I am I had to shoot Eagle."
Adam looked directly at him. "Thank you, Roy," he said. At his sour look added, "I mean it. It's not your fault that Gabe died without telling Pa where Joe is. And if you hadn't shot him, well, Pa..."
Roy nodded. Ben would have been dead. There was no way Eagle could've missed at that range.
Again, silence descended as they continued to sip their coffee. A few minutes into it, Ben got up and moved off into the darkness. Roy shook his head as he watched him go.
"It just ain't right," he sighed.
Adam had fallen to staring off into the distance again. He stirred and met his gaze. "What isn't right?"
"A man like your pa. I mean, I ain't met better. It just ain't right him losin three wives and now..." He stopped just short of sayin' what they were all afraid to say, 'and now losin' Little Joe too'. "Makes you wonder what the man upstairs is thinkin'."
Ben's oldest shifted uncomfortably. He sat up and leaned forward. After placing his cup on the ground, Adam locked his hands together and dropped them between his knees.
"Do you ever doubt, Mr. Coffee? I mean, you see the worst of it, working with William Olin like you do, trying to bring some order to the chaos of Eagle Station."
"Do I doubt God 'cause there's bad in the world?" He shook his head as he too put his cup down and leaned back. "No, son. I don't. The Good Book tells us this here world is broken and we can't expect much but sufferin' while we're in it. Now, I ain't excusin' them, but most men who go bad have a reason. Most often they done had bad done to them too – a father who expected too much of them, a ma who ran away and left them – maybe they was burned out by the Indians and lost everythin'."
"Men have those things happen all the time and it doesn't turn them into kidnappers and murderers," Adam countered quickly.
The boy was soundin' mighty bitter. Still, he couldn't blame him.
"Now, son, I said I wasn't excusin' them. Just tryin' to understand them." He paused. "S'posin' on your way out west, your pa had died. Say you'd been left all alone to fend for yourself – maybe even had to take care of that little brother of yours – and 'cause of that you fell in with the wrong types."
"So you're saying that Gabriel Eagle had something in his background that explains what he did?" Adam snapped. "Something that explains a grown man taking a five-year-old boy and killing him?"
There it was. He knew he'd have to rile him to get it out.
Adam paled. He sank back, deflated. A moment later he lifted a trembling hand and passed it through his hair.
"I don't think Pa can survive this," he said.
He wasn't sure Ben could either, but he was sure as shootin' gonna make sure Adam did. He knew Little Joe had been taken on his watch and the boy blamed himself.
"Son, no matter what your pa does – or what happens to your brother – you gotta let it go or you ain't gonna survive it."
Adam didn't look up. "I can't."
"You gotta, boy. Let's say the worst is true. Let's say that little brother of yours don't never come home and your pa breaks." The teenager had gone rigid as he spoke; his body shouting out the rage he denied. "You got another brother. Who's gonna look out for Hoss?"
Adam frowned. He cleared his throat, started to speak, stopped, and then finally said, his voice so quiet the words were almost lost on the desert wind. "I'm not sure I'm...strong enough."
Roy's heart went out to him. He rose and moved to the other side of the fire to sit beside Adam. Ben's oldest boy wasn't one for touchin' – not like that young one of his – but this was one time he felt the boy needed it. Wrapping his arm around Adam's shoulders, he began to talk.
"No, you ain't, son. None of us are. On our lonesome we'd get lost, and when a man gets lost, he forgets what's important. He forgets about the people he loves, kind of like your pa did right after your ma died." Roy felt Adam flinch. He went on. "And when a man gets to thinkin' only about himself and what he don't have, well, he turns into the kind of man Gabriel Eagle was – a man willin' to do whatever it takes to get what he wants."
Adam was shaking his head. "And it's all been for nothing. Joe..." He choked and fought back tears. "All for a woman who died not even remembering his name."
Roy squeezed his shoulder. "Now you listen here, Adam. Nothin's for nothin'. We ain't privileged to know most times what it's for. We just gotta trust. Like I said, you can't do it alone."
"I know the words, Roy. I've said them myself. In fact, I said them just a short time ago to Hoss. But that was before..." Adam paused. "If you're talking about God, then you're talking about a God who let a little boy be kidnapped and who hasn't...led us to him. Who maybe let Joe be...murdered." He struck the air with his hand. "I'm just not sure anymore that that's a God I want to believe in."
"How many children did you see die on the trail, Adam? On your way out here?"
The boy scowled. "Plenty."
"Did you doubt God then?"
"No, but I was a child. I'm not a child anymore, Mr. Coffee."
"No, you ain't. So for starters, why don't you call me 'Roy'."
Adam looked startled, but nodded. "Roy."
"Do you think God's afraid of your questions?"
"I..." Adam half-smiled. "No. Though my father would tell me it was irreligious to ask them."
"Poppycock! Maybe that's why your pa near broke when your ma died. Look at Job. He weren't too happy with the Almighty and he weren't afraid to let Him know it!"
That brought a chuckle. "No. No, he wasn't." Adam fell silent for a moment and then said, "Thanks, Roy. Thanks for reminding me and thanks...for being a friend."
The older man lifted his arm and stood up. "I don't know if we're gonna find that brother of yours alive or not, Adam, but I do know that there's a reason this happened. Now should worst come to worst, you can bury yourself along with Little Joe, or you can choose to live and make both his life and yours count for somethin'."
Adam thought a moment longer. Then he nodded. Then the boy turned and looked into the darkness, his eyes following the path his pa had taken minutes before.
"Yeah, I know," the older man sighed. "I'm worried about him too."
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It had been like sitting on a hill of red ants. He had to be on the move – had to be doing something – and so, here he was, wearing a rut in the sand, driving bracken and brush and small animals before him in his mad pacing. He was missing something. He knew it.
Some...thing.
Ben kept going over everything that had happened since the day he had returned to find Adam inconsolable and Little Joe missing, searching for a clue to unlock the diseased mind of Gabriel Eagle. It was a dark and dangerous place to traverse, but he did so seeking to understand a man who would willingly endanger the life of a small boy to impress a woman who wasn't even aware of his existence. Starting in New Orleans, he went over every move the man had made, stumbling when he came to Eagle's hiring on at the Ponderosa. The thought of that vile man watching his small son while Joseph went about his normal life – helping Hop Sing in the garden, trailing after his older brother, laughing and playing with Hoss – all the while waiting and calculating the best time to snatch him, sent chills down his spine.
As did the thought that he might never hear that laugh again.
Ben stopped to run his hands over his face. As he did, his gaze fell upon the high ridge of rock where the eagles made their nests – the near perpendicular promontory of rock that shot straight up to Heaven. Adam had been so sure Gabriel Eagle had made his own 'nest' there as it would have offered him a clear view of the land and anyone's approach. And yet, there had been nothing. One of the men who had come with Roy had climbed it. He'd returned saying he'd seen no sign of human habitation.
Of course, he had no way of knowing how high the man had gone.
Still, there was nothing to indicate that madman had taken his son up there. Closing his eyes, Ben called to mind for the hundredth time the last words Gabriel had spoken – not his curses, but his words concerning Little Joe.
I got it rigged. Everything is in place. I was gonna wait here with Marie and then when you found the boy and it happened, I was going to take her away.
When you found the boy...
Ben started, and then he began to tremble. Gabriel Eagle had wanted him to find Joseph. He was going to 'wait right here' so he could see it. That meant he hadn't taken the boy so far away it would be impossible to find him. Little Joe had to be close by.
I got it rigged. Everything is in place.
The frightened father's eyes returned to the mountainous ridge of rock before him. Yes, one of the men with Roy had checked it and found nothing.
But that man wasn't Joseph's father.
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Something roused him from sleep. Little Joe blinked several times and slowly opened his eyes. Then he smiled. The stars were shining in the sky and the moon was high and his Mama was there like she said she'd always be.
Joe lay as quiet as he could, so she wouldn't know he was awake and he could look at her. His mama was so pretty. In fact, she was the prettiest mama there ever was. Pa said her hair was spun gold. It looked like it with the moonlight shining on it. The stars had settled around her neck and they were shining too, like jewels. Mama always wore jewels. In the morning, after she got dressed, she would lift her golden hair and Pa would fasten the clasp and then kiss her neck just above his fingers.
He loved his mama so much.
If she was here, he was safe. He could go back to sleep.
He really wanted to sleep 'cause he felt kind of funny. Kind of numb and cold. Really cold. He didn't know why he'd be cold unless Hop Sing let the fire go out in his room and since Mama was sitting here beside him, he was sure that hadn't happened. Mama would have been yellin' in French at Hop Sing and he would have been yellin' back in Chinese. In fact, he was so cold it was getting really hard to move. Just about as hard as it was to stay awake.
As hard as it was to hang on until his pa found him.
Joe looked at his mama again. She was just sitting there, not makin' a sound. Just...waiting. He frowned as he wondered what she was waitin' for. Maybe for him to get up and go with her. Joe drew a breath and let it out in a long sigh. Pa'd be awful made if he went with mama instead of waiting for him. And sad.
Real sad.
But it was...well, he was...so tired and so hungry and so cold...
Mon petit, you must stay awake. You must hold on.
Joe licked his lips. He didn't like to argue with his mama, but he didn't think he could do what she asked.
"Can't..."
You must, mon petit. Your papa is coming.
Joe stared at the vision before him and then moaned and turned his face into the rough woolen blanket that covered him. She wasn't real. Mama couldn't be real. He knew it even if he didn't want to believe it. His mama was dead. He'd tried to tell the bad man that, but he wouldn't listen. The bad man left him all alone to go talk to mama and when he found out he couldn't, he'd go away and then no one would find him. Ever. He was gonna go to sleep and die and –
Something soft touched his cheek.
The curly-headed boy froze. He shuddered and then rolled over. If his mama was here and he could feel her hand, then that had to mean that he was already –
The face that looked at him wasn't his mama.
It wasn't even human.
Perched on the side of the great big nest of branches and feathers Gabriel Eagle had left him in was a real eagle! Joe didn't move. His pa had taught him that mama eagles were like just like little boy's mamas. They were real nice unless they thought you might do something to hurt their young, and even though the nest was empty except for him, well, she might be mad that he was in it.
The little boy swallowed over the lump in his throat and managed to choke out, 'I'm sorry, ma'am..."
That big old mama eagle cocked her head to one side and then reached out with her claws and caught hold of the blanket where it lay next to his head. He wondered what she was doing and was surprised when she kept workin' at it until she had hold of a piece of the faded blue and red fabric. Her eyes never left him as she jerked back, tearing it free – along with a small strand of his hair. It hurt, but he was so cold and so tired and so lost that he really didn't care. Tears formed in his eyes and fell and then his eyes closed.
And he knew no more.
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His strength was fading. Ben was more than half-way up the side of the ridge and still there was no sign that anything other than mountain cats and goats had passed this way. Maybe he was crazy. There were other easier places that madman could have concealed Joseph – desert caves, dry gullies, even within a rampant patch of tall grasses. The boy was so small it would be easy to overlook him. Maybe he should go back down, now, before he couldn't. If Adam and Hoss knew what he was doing, they would be half-crazed. Maybe he was half-crazed.
Ben snorted. Or all crazed.
Anchoring himself with a knee hooked around a triangular rock, the rancher stopped to pass a hand before his eyes. Dear God, he was tired! It would be so easy to make a mistake – one that could lead to him plummeting to his death and leaving his remaining two sons orphans.
Remaining sons.
He didn't know Joseph was dead.
He feared Joseph was dead.
He feared what he would find when he reached the end of this stair leading up to Heaven.
Was his son already there?
Ben turned his face upward. There were, perhaps, a hundred steps left to reach the summit. He wasn't afraid of heights, but there was something about being up this high, in the dark, without a rope or support – something unworldly – as if all a man had to do was reach out a hand and he could touch the face of the Almighty.
Or take the hand of the woman he loved.
Ben clung onto the triangular rock as he shifted and propped his back against the rocky wall. Once safely anchored, he closed his eyes. The words he spoke were soft and desperate.
"Help me, Marie. Show me where our son is."
A feather light touch on Ben's hand made him jump. He opened his eyes and looked down. A piece of cloth lay on the rocks near his hand. In the waning light he couldn't tell, but he thought it might be red and maybe blue. He picked it up and was surprised to find that it was a scrap of fabric from a well-worn plaid blanket.
In the middle of the scrap was a strand of dark brown hair, coiled in a perfect circle.
Ben's heart skipped a beat.
A breeze rose just then, brushing his cheek and causing him to look up. Ten feet above him an eagle hovered. It dipped its wing toward him and then disappeared into a recess in the rock.
"Thank you," he breathed to God, to Marie; to the blessed creature who had brought him hope.
And then he began to climb.
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It didn't take long. A few minutes later, panting and out of breath, the older man pulled himself onto a rocky shelf, which was approximately twelve feet long and about half as wide. The moon had broken free of a bank of clouds and it provided a pale light by which he could see. The eagle was there, perched on the edge of her nest, watching him. The nest was large. Four, maybe even five feet in diameter. It was pitched at the back of the shelf, near the edge. To him its position seemed precarious, but to her it promised protection for her fledglings when she was away. Ben stood and waited for his eyes to adjust to the meager light. For a moment he could see nothing and then, there, at the heart of the nest, he spotted something. Something wrapped in plaid cloth.
Something that didn't belong.
Relief choked him even as fear all but unmanned him. It took a second, but he stumbled forward toward the nest and the precious thing it held.
Before he could reach it, the eagle spread its wings wide. With a shrill cry, it left the nest and came to rest on the rocky ground before it. For a moment the creature remained still and then it bent its head and began to peck at something on the ground. For a moment he was confused. Then he saw what it was.
A rope.
A rope tied to a branch at the bottom of the nest.
A rope that led to a small bent-over sapling, held in place by another notched branch.
I got it rigged, Gabriel had said.
Ben's legs went to jelly.
Good Lord! If he had rushed in...
Carefully, lest he trigger the snare by accident, Ben made his way to the edge of the cliff and the bent-over sapling. He took hold of both parts of the trap and separated them, releasing the tension.
"There now," he said to the mama eagle, his voice shaking. "Your babies, when they come this spring, will be safe.
"As I pray mine is."
The eagle regarded him. For a moment, something in its eyes struck a familiar chord. For a second, he could almost believe...
Then it was gone and the eagle took flight.
For several heartbeats Ben stood, staring at the small, still form at the heart of the feather-lined nest. Images of the boy's mother's lifeless body laying on the ground flashed before his eyes, freezing him to the spot.
Then Heaven took pity.
Joseph moved.
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It was only as the new day's light dawned that Adam realized his father had never returned to camp. In spite of himself, he had fallen asleep waiting. He'd settled back against his saddle, intending to keep one eye open for his wandering parent and the other for any sign that Hoss was awake, and drifted off. John Devlin had roused him a short time before and told him the light was rising and they would be resuming the search as soon as they had a bite to eat. There was defeat in John's voice. It was clear the older man didn't think they would find anything. It was also clear that John was just about as devastated as they were.
Sadly, the reality had hit them all overnight that most likely Little Joe was dead. He'd been missing for nearly four days and his kidnapper – the only man who knew where he was – was dead.
Adam closed his eyes, allowing that to soak in.
Little Joe. Dead.
Dead, as in, never coming back.
As in, never driving him to distraction again with his endless chatter. Never at his heels again, peppering him with questions. He'd never get another practical joke pulled on him or get to play that game of cowboys and Indians where the cowboys won.
Never.
Dead was...well, dead.
Unexpectedly, the teenager felt a tug on his shirt tail. It showed how distracted he was that it was hanging out over his trousers. He looked around and down – slightly – into the face of his eleven-year-old brother who, for the last twenty-four hours, had done little but cry.
Hoss was smiling. He was also pointing.
"Adam, it's Pa! Pa's comin' – and he's got Little Joe!"
Pa's..coming?
And he has...?
It hit him, like a bullet passing clean through. Not dead. Alive.
Little Joe was alive!
Adam grinned back. Stupidly.
Hoss was pulling at his hand, urging him to rise. "Come on, Adam! Take a look for yourself!"
He did and was immediately on his guard. Pa was coming all right, but he wasn't smiling. Joe wasn't sittin up that mop of hair flying as he looked everywhere at once; his arms wrapped so tightly around Pa's neck that you feared the man might choke either.
In fact, Little Joe wasn't moving at all
By the time Adam found his feet, his father had entered the camp. A crowd quickly formed around him. Roy. John Devlin. And pushing to the front, Doctor Martin. The teenager watched, his heart in his throat, as Paul reached for Joe, pulling back the tattered blanket that all but covered him. He held his breath, waiting for the two words he needed to hear.
They got three.
"He's alive. Just."
After that, everything was a blur. Paul Martin swept Pa and Little Joe away so he could tend him. John Devlin went flying back to the Ponderosa to let Hop Sing know what had happened, while Roy and his men headed for Eagle Station with Gabriel Eagle's dead body tethered to one of the extra horses. The neighbors who had joined in the search made certain there was nothing more they could do, and then one by one they drifted off, returning to their homes to lock their windows a little tighter, question the men working for them a little closer, and hug their wives and children.
And the three of them? Once Paul said it was all right, they began the long, slow ride home. After letting Hoss sit with their little brother for a bit, to reassure him that Joe indeed was alive, Pa scooped the tiny boy up and headed for his horse. Though it was all he could do to keep his own saddle, their father insisted on carrying Little Joe all the way home. The entire time, Joe never moved or made a sound.
The crisis wasn't over.
Not by a long shot.
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Ben reached out a trembling hand to touch the curly-headed boy who lay so still in his bed. Paul Martin had come back to the ranch with them but left a short time before to attend to other patients. He'd had to admit there was little he could do. Time was the only remedy he had to offer, along with a prescription for lots of love and a fair shake of patience. Physically, Joseph was suffering from exposure and a lack of food and water. Abrasions, cuts, and scrapes gave mute testimony to the ordeal he had endured. Paul said these would heal quickly, considering the boy was young and healthy otherwise.
The wounds he had suffered emotionally were another matter.
The rancher leaned back and ran a hand over his stubbled chin. He could only begin to imagine what the boy had gone through – and he shuddered at the places his imagination took him. His young son, barely more than a baby, held for days by a madman. What had that Gabriel Eagle said to him? Had he let the boy in on his plans?
Had Joseph lived in fear of his life all those hours?
Ben's eyes returned to his son. The boy was sleeping peacefully now. That had not been the case earlier. Before returning to consciousness, his son had whimpered and moaned, thrashing from side to side while tears ran down his cheeks. He'd sat and cradled him until he had quieted. Each thing a man experienced – no matter how young – left its mark. Little Joe was so young and yet he had suffered so much – the loss of his mother, his own abandonment of the child after his wife's death.
And now, what happened on Eagles Nest.
Yes, that was what he had begun to call it. God had answered his prayers, preserving his child and keeping him safe. As he sat there in that nest, holding Little Joe, waiting for enough light to descend the perpendicular slope, a verse from Deuteronomy had come to him.
'Like an eagle that stirs up its nest, that hovers over its young, He spread His wings and caught them.'
If not for that mother eagle looking out for his chick, he would have tripped the snare set by Gabriel Eagle and sent his son over the edge to his death.
I got it rigged, Eagle had said.
No. No, he hadn't.
It was God who had it rigged.
Ben saw the small form stir under the covers. Joe had awakened before, but been far from lucid. This time when those deep green eyes looked at him there was recognition in their depths.
"Welcome back, son," he said softly as he shifted to sit beside Joe on the bed.
The boy's eyes closed and then opened again. His pink lips curled up in a lazy smile.
"Hey, Pa."
"Hey, yourself, lazy bones. It's about time you woke up."
It had been two days. Two very long days.
Joe's small fingers found his, searching and then latching on. He was silent a moment. Then, with a frown, he said, "I had a bad dream."
Ben closed his larger ones over them. "Oh? Care to tell your papa about it?"
His son's small face puckered. "Can't. Don't remember."
"You don't..." Ben paused. "Joseph, what's the last thing you do remember?"
The boy curled up on his side. His curly head ducked beneath the covers. Just before it did, he saw tears glint in those eyes.
"You'll be mad."
Ben pulled the cover back and ran his fingers through the thick curls. "No, I won't. I promise."
It took a second, but Little Joe rolled over and looked at him. "I...was bad for Adam. I...threw things 'cause I was mad. He sent me to my room. I... I wanted to see Hoss to make sure he was okay, so I...I..."
Ben held his breath.
"Yes? You...?"
The boy thought a moment longer. His head shook. "I...don't remember."
Could they be so blessed?
When he failed to speak, tears welled in his son's eyes. "Is Hoss okay? He was real sick. I – "
"Hoss is fine, Joseph."
"Fine...as...frog...hair!" a cheerful voice proclaimed. Ben turned to find his other sons standing in the doorway, watching them. There was a tray with a steaming cup of something on it as well as a glass of milk and some toast in Adam's hands.
God bless Hop Sing. Always prepared and always expecting the best outcome.
The rancher watched joy break across his youngest's face at the sight of his brothers. Little Joe struggled to sit up, seemed puzzled that it was difficult, and then leaned back on the pillows and spread his arms wide. As Hoss jumped on the bed – making it groan just a bit – Adam came alongside them. He put the tray on the bedside table, picked up the steaming cup, and held it out to him.
"Hop Sing sent this for you."
The scent of the freshly made coffee made his mouth water.
"Thank you, son," he said as he accepted it.
Adam remained silent a minute, watching Hoss and Little Joe, then he asked – quietly, "How's Joe doing?"
Ben rolled the coffee around his mouth and then swallowed. He savored its warmth and flavor for a moment and then rose and hooked his finger to draw Adam over to the door.
Looking back at Joseph, he replied, "Your brother doesn't remember anything."
His son blinked. "Nothing? You mean, Joe doesn't remember any of it?"
He shook his head. "The last thing he remembers is that you were mad with him."
Adam frowned, apparently troubled that his brother's last memory of him would have been a bad one.
"The little scamp was worried about Hoss – and you," his son said in explanation. "Joe decided that being underfoot was the best way to get my attention. I had a lot to do. I got..angry and sent – well, I confined him to his room." The teenager's eyes misted as he looked at his younger brother. "If only I had known..."
Ben's fingers pressed his son's shoulder. "Little Joe's here. There's nothing physically wrong with him that a few days of rest won't cure. And it seems his mind has blocked out the ordeal." Ben let out a sigh as he lifted his hand. "It's over, son. Really over."
Adam didn't respond as he expected. His glanced at his brothers before his eyes returned to him. "Is it, Pa? Is it really?" he asked softly before joining his brothers.
Ben stepped out into the hall, pulling the door closed behind him. He walked to the landing and then descended into the great room. Passing through it, he opened the door and went outside. The night was cold. The sky was an onyx slab hung with diamonds. Winter was upon them. The snow would fly soon and their exile would begin. A this point, he thought that was a good thing. By the time they made it back into the settlement, what had happened to his son would be old news. As soon as Hoss came down he would have to talk to him – try to explain to the boy that there were times when it was best to let sleeping dogs lie.
It was a blessing Joseph didn't remember, he told himself. The boy was so young, so vulnerable, there was no way he could process what had happened. No way for him to understand.
The truth would soon be buried as deeply as the boy's mother.
The rancher walked to the spot where his wife had fallen and then turned back to look at his home.
'Is it, Pa?' his son had asked. 'Is it really?'
Ben sighed.
It was over for now.
