SEVEN

oooooooooo

Three knocks. A pause. And then three more.

It was sort of a secret code between them. Translated it meant, 'I'm coming in whether you want me to or not.' Adam lifted an eyebrow and drew in a breath as he gave his brother the agreed upon thirty seconds, and then he opened the door.

Pa would have been happy. Little Joe was in bed.

"What do you want?" was his cheerful greeting.

He decided to take the least…prickly…path. "Pa said you asked where I was. I thought I would come in and tell you." He nodded toward the window. "I saw your light was on when I pulled in."

Joe sat up at that. "Pulled in? Where have you been?"

Nothing like the truth.

"I went to find and kill John C. Regan."

Little Joe's eyes went wide. There was a spark of deep satisfaction in them, but it was quickly replaced with fear.

For him.

"You…didn't…did you?"

He indicated the chair by the bed. "Mind if I sit down?"

Joe shook his head. Then he nodded. "No…yeah…I mean…sit down."

"Thank you."

He was tired. Way too tired for this conversation, but he'd feared if he let it go that Little Joe might up and sneak out of his window and go looking for Regan himself. His little brother had been far too quiet in the days before he left.

A thinking Little Joe was a dangerous Little Joe.

After adjusting his seat, Adam looked directly at his brother. Joe was sitting on the bed in an awkward position, as if everything he owned hurt. Baby brother was undoubtedly tired as well – too tired to keep up the pretense he needed to keep up in order to keep Pa from hovering. Joe looked terrible. Even though the yellow-green bruises meant he was getting better, they leant his complexion a sallow sickly color. Little Joe's lower lip was swollen as was much of his face. The lid of the eye that had been struck so hard drooped. Joe's many female friends would appreciate that wound. It gave little brother a rakish air.

"I thought you came up here to talk," Joe said.

He broke out of his reverie. "Sorry. Sorry I was staring. It's just…I haven't seen you in two days."

Joe made a face. "I look awful."

Appearance was of paramount importance to his brother. "You'll heal," he said. "I'll tell any young ladies that come calling you have the plague until you're ready for visitors."

Joe's lips twitched. "Thanks."

"What are older brothers for?"

Gingerly – and with great care – Joe shifted back until he was supported by his pillows. Once there, he closed his eyes and bit his lip. A little moan escaped him.

"Are you okay?" Adam asked. "Do you need anything for the pain?"

His brother glared at him and then, slowly that look changed to one of gratitude. Joe nodded. "It's over there on the dresser. I didn't want to ask Pa…."

Adam held up a hand. "Completely understand." As he rose to cross the room, the black-haired man asked, almost casually, "So do you want to know what happened with Regan?"

For a moment there was silence. Then, a 'Sure," with a little bravado.

Adam picked up the bottle and the spoon and headed back. He nodded toward the glass and pitcher on the table. "Do I put it in water?"

"Yeah. A tablespoon in a glass."

The older man halted. Then he laughed. "Should I add a teaspoon of sugar to help it go down?"

Joe laughed too. He held his side when he did it. "You know, Adam, if I have to be honest…."

"And you do."

"It would be nice to be four-years-old again. You know, to let everyone take care of you without –"

"Feeling like it demeans you?" he asked as he handed his brother the glass.

"Huh?"

"Demeans. Debases. Humiliates you."

"I get that last one." Joe sighed as he looked at the glass in his hand. "I wish you would speak English."

"I do. I just speak a different English from you."

Joe made a face as he swallowed the potion. "I speak American."

"Yes. Well." Adam cleared his throat. "So, Regan. Do you want to talk about him?"

Joe leaned back and closed his eyes. He was silent a moment before he said, "I thought I was gonna die." His eyes popped open and he looked at him. "Really."

It took a second. "I wasn't so sure myself that you'd pull through when I rounded that corner and saw you lying on the hotel settee."

Joe nodded. Again, he was silent and then he simply asked. "Why?"

"Why did Regan attack you? You know why, Joe. To get back at Pa and to make him pay for offering Adah a better life."

His brother made a face. "Which she turned down."

"Yes…."

Joe shifted so he was facing him. "I don't get it, Adam. Miss Menken was smart and really beautiful. She could have any man she wanted. Why…?"

"Why would she want John C. Regan?" Adam snorted. "There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy."

Joe was frowning. "Who's Horatio?"

"Bear with me. It's classical."

"Meaning 'not' American." Joe shifted further down as if seeking to get comfortable. "So, Regan. Did you…?"

"He got away. It's a long story, Joe, and it will wait for tomorrow. Suffice it to say he had friends in town and they ran interference for him."

Joe glanced at him. "That where you got that shiner? One of Regan's friends?"

"Uh huh." Adam touched it and winced. "Think that group that took you on in the street for supporting Tukwa."

Joe winced. "Ouch."

"The truth is, Joe, I'm glad someone stopped me. I was so angry I would have killed Regan if I had the chance."

Baby brother was staring at him, his mouth partially open. "Because of what he did to me?"

"Because of what he did to you."

Joe blinked. "Adam…I…."

"You don't need to say anything, Joe. You don't remember, but I do. The night you were born I took an oath to protect you, and protect you I will until you are old enough to look out for yourself ." He paused and added with a grin, "Whether you like it or not."

Joe dropped his eyes. His voice was soft.

"I…like it, Adam. Thanks."

Adam nodded and then he rose. "I'm beat. I'm going to get some sleep. You do the same. I promised Pa I'd make sure you did."

"Okay." His brother fell silent for a moment and then, just as he reached the door, called him back. "Adam?"

"Yes, Joe?"

"Is he…?" He swallowed hard. "Is Regan really gone?"

"He's gone, Joe. I doubt he'll ever darken the streets of Virginia City again. And if he does…." Adam put his hand to the latch. "You can be sure, I'll be waiting."

oooooooooo

The sun rose on the fifth day since his youngest had been beaten to within an inch of his life. Ben Cartwright had expected to spend the morning in the house catching up on paperwork. Instead, he was on the road and riding toward the lake. Hoss had come down early and headed out to do chores. Adam followed about an hour later. They exchanged pleasantries and then his son told him about his talk with his younger brother – not the details, but enough to fill him in. Adam admitted he had given Joe some of the pain killer Paul left behind, mostly so he wouldn't be worried when the boy slept in. And so he had let Joseph sleep until almost noon before going up to check on him.

And found his bed empty.

He admitted he'd panicked. Joseph was impulsive at best and reckless at worst. He often acted before thinking things through. From what Adam told him, he didn't think the boy had gone to find John C. Regan and so it had stumped him just where he had gone.

Until his heart took over from his head.

Ben drew his mount to a halt and ground tethered the animal before pushing his way through the overgrowth that led to the high plateau upon which the love of his life was buried. Marie had loved the view of the lake from the raised knoll and it had been her wish to be laid there for her eternal rest. When Joseph was troubled – when his young son's emotions overcame him – this was where he would come.

He was here now. Kneeling beside his mother's grave.

Ben paused. The boy seemed to be in prayer and so he waited, unwilling to disturb him. It was obvious even the short journey had taken a toll. Joseph was pale. He was breathing hard. He should be in bed. Not kneeling in the wet grass on a winter's morning.

"I know you're there, Pa. You can come on out."

The rancher smiled.

Of course, he was there.

Ben moved to his son's side and stared down at the stone that bore his beloved's name. He drew in a breath and let it out before placing a hand on his son's shoulder.

"I'm all right, Pa. I just…I just needed to talk to Mama."

He bit back any chastisement. "I understand."

Joe looked up at him. "Do you, Pa? Do you really?"

Ben stepped past his son to look at the vista spread before him – the blue sky and even bluer waters of the lake.

"Yes, I do," he said softly. "I've come here quite often myself seeking your mother's guidance."

"Do you hear her, Pa?" his son asked, his tone hushed. "I do." Joe paused. "Am I crazy?"

The rancher turned back. "No. No, you're not crazy. You're mother is with us. I feel it every day."

Joe was staring at the tombstone again. "I remembered something. That's why I came out here. I needed to ask Mama if it was real."

"Remembered? Something about your mother?" His son had very few memories, having been just under five when his mother died. 'Is it personal, or would you like to tell me?"

Joe remained silent for a moment. Then he smiled. It was a shy, self-effacing smile that reminded him of Marie in one of her rare contrite moments.

"I would love to hear it," the rancher said.

"You remember when I fell out of that tree?"

"Do you? You were very young."

"Oh, I remember it, Pa. I really do, and not because you told me about it." Joe rose to his feet and came to his side. "I remember being up in that tree and looking down and seeing you."

Ben let out a sigh. "Do you remember letting go?"

"Yeah. And you know what, Pa? For the first few moment I felt like I was flying and I wasn't afraid. And then…."

"Then?"

"I saw your face and I realized that something was wrong. I realized I could…die."

Ben placed a hand on his son's arm. The boy was trembling. "But you didn't."

Little Joe nodded. "Just like I didn't die when Regan beat me," he said quietly.

His eyes teared up. "Yes."

"Do you remember that night?" the boy asked.

"What night? Oh, you mean the night after you fell out of the tree? Yes."

"You came in and told me goodnight with Mama." Joe paused. "Did you know she came back"?

He didn't.

"When?"

"It was late. I woke up and she was sitting there by the bed. It's what I remembered, Pa." Joe was excited. "I remembered something new."

"Would you like to share it?"

His son nodded.

"Well?" he asked after a bit of time elapsed.

Joe walked to the edge of the grassy knoll and stared out at the lake. "I woke up and she was there. The morning light was coming in the window and Mama looked just like an angel. I saw her and I started crying. I was…afraid, Pa. Afraid I would die."

"Oh, Joseph…."

His son struck away a tear. "I told Mama I never wanted to go outside again. I never wanted to climb another tree or take another chance or do…anything." Joe hesitated. "Do you know what she said?"

He shook his head.

"The fears we don't face become our limits. Fear, mon petit, does not stop death." Joseph looked at him. "It stops life."

Ben circled his boy's shoulders with his arm. "A very wise woman, your mother."

Tears were streaming down his son's cheeks. "I miss her so much, Pa."

"I know, son. I miss her too."

They stood as they were, and then Joseph turned and threw his arms around him. This precious boy – all that was left of his beloved Marie – wept until he could weep no more. Ben held him, grateful for the chance to do so. John C. Regan could so easily have killed his son. This was a gift and a precious one.

After a minute, Ben let him go.

As he let his fears go.

'Fear does not stop death. It stops life.'

"Are you ready to go home, son?" he asked as he assessed the pale and shaking boy, noting the wrinkles of pain around his eyes. "I think you should."

Joe ran his sleeve under his nose and then nodded. He looked up at him. "Adam told you, didn't he?"

Ben smiled. "About the pain you're in? Yes."

What else were older brothers for?

Oooooooooo

END