CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
Adam, Hoss, and Joe had inherited many of Ben Cartwright's traits. Impatience was one of them.
"Shouldn't we know something by now?" Joe whispered, tension wavering in his voice.
"It hasn't been that long," Hoss replied as he paced the short distance from the entrance of Doctor Martin's office to the examination room door and back.
The rhythm of his footsteps, heavy and plodding, accompanied Joe's quick, shallow breathing in a bizarre sort of harmony that ticked the seconds into minutes.
With his elbows resting on his knees and his chin propped in his hands, Adam continued to stare forward, aware of the discussion around him, but too deeply lost in thought to respond. Nothing could be said; nothing could be done. He knew the prognosis would come and until then, he would continue his silent vigil of prayer, hope and life-choking fear.
All three men startled when the door to the office swung open. Sheriff Roy Coffee stepped inside, his mouth open, ready to ask for an update. The tangible thickness of the air in the room told him there was no news as of yet. Without a word, he joined the Cartwright brothers in their silent watch, until . . .
"Carrie! I need more towels!"
The raised voice of Paul Martin carried into the waiting area, jolting everyone in the room to their feet.
The closed door to the examination room seemed to take on a life of its own. Four pairs of eyes stared at it, willing it to open, pleading with it to be the gateway to good news or remain forever closed, trapping devastating details on the other side. The solid, pine wood appeared to breathe, synchronizing the breath of everyone anxiously waiting for something, anything, to happen. Whatever sounds, whatever actions were taking place on the other side were absorbed into the wood, protecting those straining to eavesdrop. The sturdy metal hinges and deadlock looked as if they were expanding, strengthening and tightening, threatening to allow no one entrance into the foreboding room.
"Something's wrong!" Joe said, panic in his voice as it cracked and strained just the way it had when he was a frightened, little child. "Why else would the doc have yelled at Carrie like that?"
His body leaned forward as if a magnet were pulling him toward the door. He wanted so badly to burst into the room, sure that his mere presence would alter the outcome in some positive way. Seeing Joe's posture, Hoss and Adam both stepped toward Joe, facing their little brother like a protective wall of hope.
Roy watched from across the way. Joe looked ready to explode. Adam and Hoss stood fixed, ready to prevent just that, but more so, they were prepared to comfort their brother. He saw the body language of the three men change in the silence from tense to empathetic, their eyes from determined to supportive. As had happened so many times before, Roy witnessed the strength, control and love shared by Ben Cartwright's sons, and he prayed that the man who'd instilled those qualities in the three young men would call upon the same to pull himself through.
After what seemed like hours but in reality was a short thirty minutes, the door to the examination room creaked open slowly. Paul stepped into the waiting area, his downcast eyes revealing the already-assumed severity of Ben's condition. His eyes connected with Adam's first.
"Paul?" Adam said, the single word draining his lungs of every bit of air.
"We almost lost him. And we may still. His condition is grave. In fact, if it were just about any other man, he wouldn't . . ." Paul cleared his throat and, taking a page from Ben's familiar stature, stood taller and straighter to emphasize his next points. "Ben's a stubborn man. Strong and determined. He's fighting hard." He softened his professional tone and continued, "I wish the news was better. The next twenty-four hours will tell."