Fourth year

September 1, 1852

Annie isn't in school anymore. She wanted to stay so badly and I miss her. Little Tommy clings to me again. Maybe I can invite them both for a little carriage trip.

Lilly has left school, too.

September 2, 1852

After school I rode with Tommy to his home. I rode double with him and he looked as proud as if he was a knight riding his charger. I could feel his ribs through his shirt and jacket.

Mr. Sullivan was at home and I tried to ask him if his daughter Annie and his son Tommy could spend the day with me on Saturday. I've never saw such strange behaviour. His answer was a flat "No!" I asked him why not and promised I would take good care of them. He looked at me if I was crazy and asked "Why those two?" "Because they are my friends." "The skinny one and Annie?" he said in disbelief. Besides she isn't my daughter. She's just her mother's bastard." I saw Annie wince when he said it but he continued without showing any emotion, "But that doesn't matter to me. She works and pulls her weight. That's all that really matters for anyone. If you like take the Skinny. But not the girl. Her mother needs her here." And with that he turned to his work again as if he hadn't said such a cruel thing about his stepdaughter. Annie stood there, her eyes full of tears. I took a deep breath but she interrupted me, "Don't Hoss! It's all right! Please take Tommy with you. He'll enjoy it so much!" Then she turned and ran inside where her mother was standing in the doorway with a stony face. I ask me what a kind of man is that Mr. Sullivan! Didn't he see how he hurt Annie?

September 4, 1852

Back from my trip with little Tommy! He is such a great child! First I was sad that Annie couldn't come with us again and very angry about Mr. Sullivan, but she said, we shouldn't spoil the day because of her when Tommy was so exited about the upcoming trip, and there would be another day when she could come too. So I tried to make the trip for Tommy the best I could. And it turns out that the day became really special for Tommy and me. He asked if we could ride and not use the carriage and so I took him by horse. We rode around two hours. I've never seen a little boy all eyes and ears like him, he devours the sights around him. I showed him squirrels and special birds. I took him to my berry patch and we picked the last blackberries. Then we rode to the beaver dam. The beavers hid at first, but we waited to see them and when they came out he watched them wide-eyed around half an hour with all his attention. On the way home I led the way through a small grassy valley I like very much. Tommy sat very still for a long time just looking at it, then he said, "This meadow is so cheerful, Hoss, with all those blue, yellow and red flowers. I like those flowers." I was glad that the little boy loved that spot, too. It's really a special place, the meadow has enough water so very colorful wildflowers bloom there even in the fall. I told Tommy that I often take a bunch of wildflowers from that meadow to my mother. He turned and looked at me speaking with surprise in his voice, "Can I pick some for my ma too, Hoss?" as if the meadow was mine. I showed him how long the stems must be and he picked a real pretty bunch of flowers that he clutched in his hands like a treasure all the way back sometimes smiling at it.

September 8, 1852 (aged 16)

Pa gave me a golden pocket watch with my initials on the backside for my birthday. Normally I don't like wearing a suit but now I'm looking forward to Sunday when I'll be carrying the watch for the first time in church while wearing my Sunday best.

October 14, 1852 (aged 16)

Back from the cattle drive. As a greenhorn I had to ride drag. It's a very dirty and hard job. I was never so saddle sore as on the first days. The hands grinned at me when I walked stiffly and groaned but Charlie gave me some salve.

It's so great after a day's work to sit by the fire and relax. But first you have to quench your thirst. The drive cook's helping boy brings you your food you don't have to fetch it because we working men have earned our rest. On the drive I saw Pa from a different point of view: as the boss. He's a good one – like the others say not only strict but fair but also foresightful, and full of knowledge about the geography and the cattle.

It's funny I don't like the smell of filthy clothes and unwashed bodies in winter but in the camp I enjoyed the mixed smell of sweat, smoke, leather, cows, and horses on my own body and everyone else's. It smells manly and like hard work and maybe freedom from civilization.

But after we sold our cattle and Pa paid the hands (and me!) we went to a hotel – Pa rented its best room for us two – with a bathhouse. And being freshly bathed and wearing fresh clothes is also a great feeling; and having dinner in a expensive hotel restaurant also.

Joe and I fetched the mail today after school. Like two years ago Adam's letter about his year didn't come until during the drive. Now he is one of the ten best in his class. What an achievement for a country boy who couldn't go to one of the fancy schools the others attended. He sent a portrait of his grandfather, which Pa studied a long time; and a letter for Joe and a special birthday card for me.

Adam's card (I glued it in with a strip of paper so you can turn it and see the image of Boston on the front side):

Dear brother Erik,

Pa wrote me you will go on your first cattle drive this year. So you are almost a man and I think using your Christian name is required! Happy birthday to you! May you always have health, joy and the Lord's blessing. I've heard how big a help you are for Pa and that you're a great big brother. I'm so proud to be the brother of such a successful young man. Like always I wish I could give you a big hug!

I enjoyed the description of the sunset at the lake in your last letter. I'm not sure if you are aware that many famous philosophers share your feelings about nature. Maybe you would like to read Thoreau.

Take care of yourself.

Your brother Adam

P.S.: Riding drag is very dirty; try to avoid it if you can. I couldn't.

October 18, 1852 (aged 16)

Going back to school is odd. I'm sitting next to John now, a boy my own age I neither like nor dislike. He's helping me catch up on what I missed. It's not too bad using your brain after using your muscles. There's a lot of catching up to do but I look at it like a race. For the first time I can understand Adam about finding it satisfying to learn.

Joe is inattentive in school but that's up to him. It's interesting to see all the little girls whispering and looking after him but he seems not to realize it while he plays his rough games with his friends. Or is he only pretending not to notice? Tommy is happy to see me, as always. He gave me a picture he had drawn that shows me and him in a flower meadow. Because he didn't have colored inks he scribbled in the picture the color's names. I promised to go fly a kite with him when the weather allows it (and his father! I dislike that man. It seems that any joy is a sin for him.)

November 4, 1852 (aged 16)

Before I rode to school on October 27 the weather was sunny and a bit windy. I thought about my promise to fly a kite and asked Joe if he wanted to come along. He said yes so we made plans about where we would go for the kite flying. I brought the old kite we made last year to school with me. It wouldn't take long to repair it during recess. I searched for Tommy to tell him but he wasn't in the yard or in the schoolroom. When I asked his brother Will about him during recess he said Tommy was ill. The little fellow is often sick so I only asked Will to give him my good wishes, but then I saw Mary and I got alarmed. The little girl had red rimmed eyes and whispered to me that Tommy was dying, she had heard their father say so. Johnny also looked very sad and now even Will busted out in tears. All I could think was "No!".

Right away I saddled my horse and galloped over to the Sullivan's.

I went in without knocking. Annie was at the hearth stirring a big pot, and little Martin crouched on the floor alternately sucking and licking on a spoon and beating the floor with it.

Annie had red rimmed eyes too. I went to her and stroked her hair trying to console her. She sniffed and pointed with her head to a chamber door.

There was little Tommy, all hot and sweaty on a narrow cot. His mother sat on his bed trying to feed him some mashed potatoes.

Tommy didn't open his mouth. I went up to the bed and called his name softly. His eyes focused after a while circling around on my face and a small smile curled his dry and swollen lips. "Hello, Hoss, what are you doing here," he whispered. "Are you here, to take me for a ride?" I felt a lump in my throat but I said "Hi buddy, the weather is just fine, I thought maybe we could fly a kite the way I promised you." Tommy smiled again but then he had a coughing fit that tired him out so he couldn't speak anymore. I looked at his mother who sat there with a stony face looking blankly at the wall. "What has the doctor said?" I asked. "Nothing." "Why nothing?" "He wasn't here!" I was speechless, no doctor. "I will go and bring him, Tommy needs him!"

I brought Doc Martin within an hour to the Sullivan's, I said I would pay him from my own money. He examined Tommy and gave him something for the coughing but his face was all serious like I'd never seen it before. My heart sank. Tommy had Pneumonia and there's really nothing even a doctor can do against it. It depends on how strong a body is to fight it off, and that night would be the crisis, the Doc told me. „But he isn't strong, Doctor," I said. He just looked back at me with a slight sad nod. "But I have to do something. Maybe a good healthy broth, like Hop Sing makes if we are sick, could help him?" "You can try it, boy! I'll be back and look at him again during the night."

When I returned with the broth Hop Sing gave me Tommy´s father was back from his work and the other children back from school. While I was giving Annie the big pot, Hop Sing's instructions and the herbal tea he also sent Mr. Sullivan stated, "You brought the doctor and paid his bill?" I nodded. "Wasted money, there are better uses for it. I know dying children; he won't recover!" Then he called Mary to set the table and told Annie to start serving dinner.

When I rode home that night I couldn't hold back my tears. Tommy was unconscious and Doc Martin said I could do nothing more. It was now up to him. His ma and Annie were there by his bed so I felt like an intruder and said good bye.

I put the picture he painted for me in front of me and I prayed for him, but it didn't bring me any peace. Not like other times. Even though I prayed with my whole heart, for the first time ever it didn't comfort me.

November 5-7, 1852 (aged 16)

On the ride to the Sullivan's place early the next day I was more afraid then I can tell.

When I came into the cabin I was taken aback. There sat Mr. Sullivan at the scratched wooden table eating broth – the broth I brought yesterday for Tommy. I lost my temper and yelled at him, asking how he could do that.

"Because the Skinny doesn't need it anymore, he is dead. May the Lord be gracious to his soul." And with that he slurped down loudly another spoonful of broth.

I was so shocked I couldn't speak or react. I felt tears in my eyes and desperation over the death of my little friend that I'd been dreading and at the same time a rage I haven't felt before. "He's dead and you just sit there eating his soup? " "Look, boy, I'm the one who brings the money, if I can't work they all will starve. So it's my job to eat and be healthy." "What kind of a father are you? Don't it mean nothing to you that your son's dead in the next room?" "Tom was always too small, from the time he was born. I knew he'd never grow up. But I think I'm a proper father: I do what's needed: I feed them, I teach them right from wrong and I give them clothes. That's what a father has to do. If they live or die isn't my decision. Whether it's the Lord's will or just bad luck, you still have to live with it. Children come and go. So it is!" he said and dipped his spoon back into the broth.

I stared at the man, bewildered, fighting down the impulse to grab him by his collar, haul him up and beat him so he would feel at least some kind of pain.

Instead I went wordlessly around the table to where I knew Tommy's body would be, where the day before I saw him burning with fever.

Annie, her mother, John, Will and Mary were standing around his bed praying. They made room for me so I could approach the narrow bed. There Tommy lay with a pale waxen face, his little hands folded, his curious eyes closed forever. I couldn't pray, I felt sobs coming like an eruption. I couldn't stay any more in the crowded room, I had to get outside. I saw Tommy's mother with her frozen face carrying little Martin and Annie's red, teary eyes as I mumbled a few words of condolence and ran out of the place. When I was outside the house I heard a baby crying in the other bedroom. Children come and go rang in my ears.

The next thing I remember I was running, stumbling and staggering through the woods. I hadn't no horse. I must have left it at the Sullivan's place. Eventually I threw myself down under a big tree crying and arguing with the Lord. Why did Tommy have to die? I thought about ma and my mama. I was so desperate I pounded on the ground with my fists. Finally I fell asleep. Now I can say I was lucky because that late October night wasn't as cold as usual and I'd found myself a relatively warm place in the dry needles under that big tree. When I woke up the moon stood high in the sky. I was sad but not so desperate anymore. I remembered our little trip two months ago and without thinking I went to that meadow. His image stood before my eyes. I saw him picking flowers and happily smiling and I vowed that I would find him a few flowers so he would have something he loved to carry with him.

I stood up and began to search. After the sun came up it was easier to look, but I couldn't find any flowers so late in the year. I went to all the warm and sheltered places I could remember then just started walking at random. I walked the whole day. I don't remember much about that day; at first I felt hungry but then I lost the feeling, and my hands and face got scratched from thorns and branches. By the time it was almost sunset, I was standing halfway up a mountain and knew I was lost because nothing seemed familiar.

I sat down on a stone feeling thirsty and exhausted, the desperation came back and I closed my eyes. And then I heard a slight ripple of water. I needed a while to fight down my weakness but I managed to follow the sound till I found a fresh spring. I knelt down and drank gratefully When I looked up from the refreshing water I saw them: three white blossoms looking like silver white stars with a light yellow middle. I picked the little flowers gingerly and after wetting my handkerchief I wrapped their stems in it. I stood again and surveyed the land and in that moment I just knew where to go.

I'm not sure of that night either but I walked mostly. Pa's star-navigating came in useful and I got back to Virginia City in the early morning. The first man I saw was Sheriff Coffee. I tried to avoid a meeting but he saw me too and called my name. I called back that I didn't have time and headed on towards the Sullivan's cabin. But then everything happened very quickly, Pa was with me, holding my arm, speaking to me in a low voice. I didn't understand him. I cried to Pa that I had to go to the Sullivan's place. Pa shook me and I focused on his face, his mouth. "Tommy isn't there anymore," I heard and saw him tell me. The ground was trembling and tilting. I saw dark fog patches before my eyes and all I could say was, "But I found them for him. I wanted to give him these as a greeting from earth, something to hold in his little hands for comfort when he went through the darkness to heaven.…" My voice faded away and it was like I saw the world through a thick glass pane – far away and silent. Pa shook me again, and somehow I was lying on the street. "He isn't buried yet, son, he is in the mortuary chapel at the Catholic Church. And I will bring him your flowers. I promise. Open your hand, son!"

First I couldn't loosen my grip but then my muscles relaxed and in the same moment the dark came back but velvet and comforting this time.

I remember Charlie driving our buggy, me climbing the stairs and falling into bed. It was dark when Pa entered my room, sat on my bed and stroked my cheek. "I'm glad you are back, Hoss, I was worried." I snuggled my face up to his big calloused hand and felt the safety of my father's love and knew how privileged I am to have such a father. Suddenly my stomach growled. I hadn't eaten for more than two days and two nights. Pa thought I was still too weak to get up so Hop Sing served me two big plates of food in bed which I devoured. After eating I fell into a dreamless sleep again until the next day.

I knew I shouldn't get up yet but I couldn't stay in my bed any longer the way Pa ordered me to. I had to get to the graveyard, to Tommy's grave and say my last goodbye to him and pray for him. So I did. When my eyes were dry again I knew I also had to ride to the Sullivan's. He was their son and I wasn't at his funeral.

I found the family sitting around the old table in their dismal cabin just finishing their meagre Sunday supper. When I entered all heads turned to me.

I tried to say something when Annie sprang from her seat and run in my direction calling my name with surprise and relief. "I'm so glad you're here! I was worried about you, Hoss. And you have …"

I smiled at her when her father in a gruff voice addressed me, "Why?" I turned and saw him glaring at me intensely. I cringed under his scrutiny. "What do you mean, sir? Why what?" I asked as politely I could. The children looked at me curiously. When their father saw their stares he ordered them outside, saying he wanted to speak to me alone. They obeyed so quickly I could see how used they are to following their father's orders at once. As Annie lifted little Martin out of his chair, she gave me a quick smile before following the other children out the back door. I felt very uncomfortable all alone with her parents.

"Why did you bring those flowers to the Skinny…to Tommy?"

"I thought he …"

"No, why those flowers?"

"Sir?"

He frowned and I stammered, "It's almost November, sir. They were all I could find. In summer I would have found bigger flowers and more of them. But those little stars were nice also, I thought."

"Those little silver white stars used to grow in a nice sunny spot in front of our house in Ireland. My mother loved flowers and had a lot around our house, more than other women." It seemed to me that there was a flickering in the man's eyes.

"Then your little son inherited his love for flowers from his grandma, sir."

"Tommy liked flowers?"

"Sure he did, flowers, meadows, trees, animals. He liked everything that grows. You must not know much about your children."

"No, maybe not." I saw the flicker again. "I liked the flowers around our house as a boy. Our house wasn't big but it looked nice when they bloomed."

"Patrick," his wife interrupted him. "It seemed like you always thought flowers were only an unnecessary expense, a waste of time. If I had known…I like them…," and her glance went to a dried bunch of wildflowers, tied up with a pink silk ribbon and hanging on the wall next to a small crucifix.

"Maybe we can try and plant a garden in the spring around here," Mr. Sullivan mumbled as he left the cabin through the front door.

I felt hot, and uncertain about all this but said Hop Sing has a lot of seeds and flower bulbs–even roses– that she could have from the Ponderosa and then said good bye quickly hoping I could see Annie outside. While I was in the doorway I heard a deep sob and turning I saw tears streaming down Mrs Sullivan's face and it seemed like the stone melted. I saw this once before on Pa's face when Ma died. Just then the back door opened and Annie went in to her mother. I knew she needed Annie more than me so I went on and left.

The way back seemed to get longer and longer and I felt cold in the wintry breeze. My nose was dripping now and I felt sweat run down my back. When I finally reached home and touched the cold metal door handle a shiver went through my body. I knew I was running a fever.

If I hadn't been so weak Pa would have skinned me alive when I entered the big room. He said I had been warm in that morning and wasn't supposed to get out of my bed. Hop Sing made some herbal teas and put cold compresses around my calves to lower my fever. The last thing I heard as I felt asleep was Pa's threats about what he would do to me if I didn't stay in my bed this time. So I've been stuck a whole week now. Doc Martin came and said I was lucky that I only had a heavy cold.

For the last three days Joe has been allowed to come in. He sat on my bed and tried to cheer me up. And he did get me laughing over his shenanigans a few times. But laughing made me cough so heavily Hop Sing threatened to chase him out of my room. So we played checkers. Yesterday we got to talking about death and suddenly he hugged me hard and said, "Hoss, I love you, please always be careful! I can't live without you!" I promised and I realized how much I love my little brother, too.

The last three days I felt better and so I wrote that long entry. Like Adam said, it clarifies your thoughts.

I pray daily for Tommy and I hope he will find his grandmother in heaven.

November 13, 1852

Pa kept me home another week because it freezes now. After a long argument Joe was allowed to ride to school by himself the last two weeks. I think Pa trusts Queenie more than Joe. In the winter it's good he's riding her but I'll try to persuade Pa to let Joe ride a more spirited horse in the spring. He can handle one and he would love it.

November 15, 1852

Today I returned to school. The long ride in winter before the sun is really up is normally not very pleasant but today I was glad to finally get out of the house and I felt strong and healthy again.

As I entered the schoolroom I felt a pang of sadness when I saw Tommy's empty chair and was going to my own seat when I froze in surprise. Annie sat in her old place. I couldn't believe it. I ran through the classroom, lifted her out of her seat and swirled her around. There's not much space for something like that and Miss Taylor reprimanded me but I was so happy.

During recess Annie told me that her parents will let her attend school again whenever she wasn't needed at home. Her mother said it worked before and she could manage Martin and Bridget and the cooking. For the other household chores she needs Annie but most of the work could wait until she comes home from school. Mary is old enough to help by now, too.

December 22, 1852

It's the last school day before Christmas and today Hop Sing gave me the yearly parcel with Christmas cookies for the Sullivans. I added peppermint sticks and for Annie a new pencil-case with all the tools she needs for geometry. She has only old tools that aren't very precise. It was expensive and I had to use the rest of Adam's money too but I'm sure he would approve that purpose highly.

When I gave my parcel to Annie the other Sullivan children stood around expectantly. They thanked me and stared at the big parcel but also at Annie. She smiled at me, bent down and produced from under her desk one parcel with the best Christmas wishes from the whole Sullivan family and another one just from her. They're here with me now I'm not allowed to open them before Christmas.

December 26, 1852

Christmas was joyful this year. We sat together on Christmas eve, after Pa read the Christmas story according to Luke, sipping the hot cocoa Hop Sing made and telling each other stories about Ma, Adam and even Tommy. Pa went to his desk and said Adam wanted us to open his gift today. It was a daguerreotype. On the small square of glass you can see Adam! It's real, not painted. He looks good, my big brother, even in his fancy eastern-style clothes! Pa seemed very proud, too, when he looked at the portrait. Pa and I told a lot of stories about Adam that night.

The night after Christmas Joe came in my room looking rather distressed, not how he usually is at Christmas. "What's wrong, Joe?" He stood by my bed staring at the daguerreotype that Pa had given me to put on my nightstand. Finally he asked sheepishly, "Tell me, Hoss, he looks so odd. I can't remember him at all." I lifted my bedcover, let Joe snuggle next to me, held the picture in front of us so we could look at it together and told him about Adam, mostly stories about Adam and him when he was little. A few incidents he remembered and I felt him relax. "When is he coming back?" "In nine months!" Joe nodded and snuggled closer to me with a little sigh.

In the Sullivans' parcel was a jar with a special apple jelly Annie's mother made. I know from our first years here what an indulgence preserves are and it touched me that the Sullivans shared theirs with me. I'm looking forward to open and eat it. Annie knitted me warm mittens I can wear instead of or over my leather gloves. She must have seen how often I can't write for the first half hour in school because my hands are too cold.