~CHAPTER 2~
Adam had been uncharacteristically quiet, even for him, ever since he had given the eulogy at his father's funeral. He could easily say without a shadow of a doubt, it was the hardest thing he had ever had to do in his whole life. Going back through the memories of his father and reminiscing about his hearty laugh, his sensible nature, and the strict but loving way he had dealt with his sons growing up, was the most he had ever taxed the well-kept control he'd learned to keep on his feelings.
And for what? All of this grief for what? What had that great man died for? Nothing. Adam had thought, when he was a young boy, that he himself would die a heroic death by either running into the path of a wild horse to protect a child, or getting shot stopping outlaws from robbing a bank. Unbeknownst to him, even though he had given up such fanciful illusions for himself, he had still entertained those ideas for his father just because Ben Cartwright was the type of man that would die a death like that, a death of purpose, of meaning and of heroism.
Whatever his thoughts on such things, he would never have thought that he would pass the way he had. Such a simple thing... such a simple task as picking up supplies and the mail, had turned into the last job Ben Cartwright ever did in life.
The brothers were unbelieving when Roy had ridden into the yard that morning and regretfully informed them that their father had been trapped in a landslide on the way back from town.
"What are you trying to say, Roy?" Adam asked stiffly as Hoss and Joe held their breaths, not wanting to accept the next thing they knew they would hear.
"What I'm tryin' to say is... he's dead, son. Your Pa's dead. His wagon was caught in the landslide and swept into the Truckee River..."
They quickly overcame their shock and immediately tried to disclaim the fact by mounting up and riding out to the scene of the accident. What they found were the remains of the buckboard Ben had been driving to haul the supplies, and the body of the horse that had been pulling it. All the evidence that even showed their father had been there was his hat that they found caught in brambles on the bank of the treacherous Truckee. They scoured both sides of the bank for miles, trying to find some sign of him. A mile down the river they saw Ben's tan coat washed up on the bank, torn and ripped almost beyond recognition with blood stains all over it. Everyone knew, although no one was willing to voice his thoughts, that with the bad rains they had been undergoing lately and the swiftness of the river, he had probably been sucked to the bottom by rapids and torn apart by the razor-sharp rocks there.
After three unending days and nights of searching, the Cartwright brothers, barely able to sit in a saddle anymore, had to admit defeat, however hard it might've been. Joe hadn't wanted to stop looking. Adam could still remember him yelling they would find their Pa no matter how long it took even though he was on the verge of collapse from exhaustion. Hoss had to pick him up and put him on his horse to get him back to the ranch. After taking a dose of sleeping powder given them by Doc Martin, all three had reluctantly given in to their fatigue.
The hands and helpers in the search mission were deeply saddened by the loss of their boss and dear friend. It was bad enough to have this great man's life end so abruptly and tragically, but to have it end like it had, with not so much as a body to honor, was heart-breaking beyond words.
It had been almost two months since their father had taken that fateful trip to Virginia City, and even though all three of the sons went through the daily ritual of work and chores, it wasn't the same. Something was missing and would always be missing, no matter how many years had passed. The Ponderosa was their father's dream, the thing that he had traversed the entire country to find. He had built it board by board, field by field, fence by fence, with the help of his sons, and it didn't seem right to think that they would never again see him roaming its vast ranges or declaring the breathtaking valleys as the finest ever to be seen by human eyes.
Adam was at such a valley now, looking over its expansive beauty as he had often done so many times with his father. He had taken up nearly all of Ben's responsibilities now and tried his best at running the ranch as smoothly as he had. Adam was somewhat shocked at how he was taking his father's death. Honestly, he had lived with death all his life. He had seen two of his mothers die right before his eyes and had witnessed several friends' and neighbors' deaths, as well as having to end the life of his best friend himself in self-defense. This time, however, he felt an uneasiness that he hadn't felt any of the other times. There was no sense of finality to it, no sense of completion that he expected to feel over such an incident. He was left with nothing but doubt. Maybe it was because he had been around his father the most and the longest of anyone else, or maybe because he hadn't actually seen him die like he had all the other people. He chided himself at the thought of having to see a person die in order to believe that they really had.
He and his two brothers had been dealing with their patriarch's death in their own different ways. Joe had taken to visiting his mother's grave, alongside which was now his father's, almost every evening, telling them both how his day went and usually ending in tears or very close to them. Hoss spent most of his time in the barn or out in the pastures with wildlife, feeling a sense of peace with the living creatures, a calming peace he could not find around people. Adam himself had taken to long wanderings by horseback to all the places that he and his father had worked and sweated to tame the land to what it was now.
He would usually not get home until quite late after his brothers had already gone to bed. It was reaching that time to head home now. The sun was quickly disappearing to unseen places beyond the horizon, streaking the sky with magnificent shafts of pink and purple radiance. He turned Sport around and slowly started back home. Since he had been gone for sometime, it was dark when he finally rode in to the yard. As he pulled to a stop just outside the barn, his mind played back the scenes that had taken place in that very yard, from his father leaving in the buckboard, to the mourners coming in great waves of black and gray. He shuddered a full breath then hurriedly steered into the barn and bedded down his horse before heading into the house.
As he took his hat, coat and gun belt off just inside the door, he could smell the lingering aroma of the supper he had missed. Hop Sing had undoubtedly saved a plate for him in the kitchen, but he didn't feel much like eating. Instead, he went over to the brandy bottle on his father's desk and poured himself a glass. He looked down at the second glass, empty on the platter and caught himself about to fill it for its owner. Come on, Adam. Snap out of it. He's gone and there's nothing you can do to bring him back. Accept it! he mentally scolded himself. He knew he couldn't keep holding on to a shadow of a hope that he was still alive; that was foolishness and no way to live. He was a grown man, and he vowed to finally push aside his doubts for the sake of his brothers and himself.
Adam looked at the green chair behind the desk where the great man had often sat scowling at figures in ledgers that plain refused to add up right. He could see the silver-haired head rise now and the beloved face, now and forever gone, smile at him as the work-worn hand lifted its full glass to his son.
"Here's to you, Pa," Adam said, slowly raising his own to the empty chair before bringing it to his lips and taking a small sip. "He's gone," he whispered with a sense of assumed finality into the darkness. "Time for me to move on." He replaced the glass on the tray, turned and headed off to bed.