Joe sat alone in the garden. He could hear the sounds of his niece and nephews playing in the yard in front of the house. He'd hung a swing for them, and enjoyed watching them play for a few minutes. Then he remembered the loss of his unborn child, and he couldn't bear to be around them any longer.
"Uncle Joe?"
Joe looked around to see Eric standing beside him, a book in his hand. "Yes, Eric?"
The little boy held up the book. "Can you read to me, Uncle Joe?"
"Yeah." Joe scooted over a bit and made room for Eric to sit next to him. The boy was bothered by the scars on Joe's hands and arms, so he didn't reach for the book. He let Eric put it in his lap before opening it to the first page. It was an old one. It had belonged to Adam first, then Hoss, and finally himself. He knew the stories well, and chose one at random. His voice was low and his tone was flat, almost a monotone. He felt Eric getting restless beside him, and closed the cover. "That's enough for today, Eric. Why don't you go play?"
Eric slid off the seat and Joe put the book down. The child picked it up and studied him thoughtfully. "You don't read like Grandpa and Papa and Mama."
"No, I don't suppose I do," Joe said. "They've had more practice reading to children."
Eric put a hand on Joe's knee. "I heard them say you're sad, Uncle Joe. Why are you sad?"
Joe stared at the little boy for a second, and then said, "I bet Hop Ling made cookies. Why don't you go see?
Eric grinned at his uncle and took off running towards the kitchen. Joe watched him go before turning away to look out over the garden again. It had been Hop Sing's pride and joy, and Joe could remember spending hours with their housekeeper – really, their second father – planting, watering, and weeding the vegetables and herbs. It had been one of his first jobs on the ranch, but he'd loved working with Hop Sing and Hoss so much it had been a pleasure to dig in the dirt, feel the moist soil between his fingers, his bare toes. He closed his eyes, and could almost imagine that Hoss and Hop Sing were still here.
There was a sound behind him, and Joe opened his eyes as someone handed him a cup of coffee. "Thank you." He spoke automatically, and looked up to see Julia sitting down beside him. She looked out over the garden.
"It's just beautiful, Joe" she said. "You've worked hard to maintain it. Adam told me all about Hop Sing and how he planned his garden so carefully each year."
Joe didn't comment, and Julia tried again. "The children love the swing you put up for them, Joe. They spend hours playing on it."
"It was my pleasure," Joe told her. "Adam built one for me when I was small, so it seemed only right that I do it for his children."
"There's a dance in town tomorrow night, and Adam and I are going. We hoped you'd go with us. Papa says you used to go to every dance held in Virginia City."
Joe swallowed the rest of his coffee, and stood up. "Thank you, Julia, but I don't dance anymore." He left her staring after him as he took the empty cup back to the kitchen.
Hop Ling was basting a roast when Joe entered and put his cup in the basin. He looked up and closed the oven door. "There are cookies if you would like one, Mr. Joe."
"No, thanks, Hop Ling." The housekeeper frowned. Hop Sing had warned him about Joe's capricious appetite, and made him promise to take special care of the young man. Hop Ling tried again.
"I made them from Hop Sing's recipe – he said they are your favorites."
"No, thank you, Hop Ling," Joe repeated and went up the back stairs to his room. Once there, he sat down at his desk and looked at the pictures of his family. There was a small portrait of him, Adam, and Hoss Pa had had drawn when they were boys – well, he was a boy. Adam and Hoss had been young men. There was a daguerrotype him and Alice, taken soon after their wedding. The original had been destroyed in the fire that had consumed their home, but Ben had gone to the photographer and had another made from the plate. Joe looked at the faces in the photograph. Alice had been so beautiful, and they had been happy. They had just learned she was to have a child when the men who murdered her brother killed her as well. He put the photograph down and looked at her music box. The killers had taken it with them, and it had helped him track them down when one gave it to a prostitute as payment for her services.
There was a knock on the door, and Joe called, "Come in." It opened and Ben stuck his head inside.
"Is this a good time, son?"
"Sure," Joe said, standing as his father entered. "Do you need something, Pa?"
Ben hesitated before speaking. "Yes, son, I need you to see Kam Lee and Su Ling."
"The Chinatown apothecary? Why, Pa? Are you ill?" The thought of losing another person he loved caused Joe to turn pale.
Ben shook his head. "No, Joe, you are. You've been through a terrible time these last two years – no question – but you're not even beginning to heal. You don't eat, you don't sleep, and you won't talk to me. I've spoken with Paul and his new partner, Michael Graham, and they've both suggested that you try an herbal remedy. They don't have anything that can help you."
Joe stared at Ben, unbelieving. "Are you suggesting that I forget Hoss, forget Alice and our child?" Unconsciously, his voice rose. "How soon did you forget Maman, or Hoss's mother, or Adam's?" He was shouting now, furious with his father. "I see their portraits on your desk in those gold frames. I remember how you turned away from us when Maman died – how Adam had to step in to take care of the ranch and Hoss and me. You couldn't do it – you were too sad."
Ben stood quietly, enduring Joe's rant. "That's right, son, and I don't want you to endure what I went through. Hop Ling tells me there's an herb, St. John's Wort, that might help. Kam Lee and Su Ling would know.
"You're carrying your brother and your wife and child on your shoulders, Joe, not in your heart. They wouldn't want that, and it's…it's killing you, son. I can't bear to watch you suffer." Ben's voice broke on the last words.
Joe stared at his father, and then brushed past him and out of the room. He ran down the stairs, stopping only to grab his gunbelt, jacket, and hat. Adam and Julia looked up as he rushed out, and Hop Ling called out, "Mr. Joe, supper will be ready soon."
He went to the barn, and saddled Cochise. The horse was old, and Joe no longer used him as a cutting horse, but he was a dear friend, and a link to Hoss and the old days. He mounted up and rode away at a gallop.
…
That evening Adam lay awake in bed, listening to the sound of his father pacing in his room. Joe hadn't returned for supper, and Ben had barely touched his food.
Julia turned over and touched his face. "Adam?"
"What is it, love? Are you all right?" Adam caught her hand and kissed it.
"Eric told me he asked his uncle why he was sad, that he'd heard us talking about it." Even though he couldn't see her face in the dark room, Adam could hear the guilt in her voice. "He must think we were gossiping about him."
He pulled her close, stroked her cheek, and realized she was crying. "Hush," he soothed her, "you mustn't cry. Joe's had a bad time."
"But Papa says he isn't getting better. He shuts you and Papa out, and can barely stand to be around the children. He's always nice to them, but he never plays with them for very long. I remember the stories you told me about him and Hoss, and, Adam, he just isn't that person."
Adam stroked her hair, and, after a few minutes, heard her breathing become calm and regular. She'd cried herself to sleep. He lay still, thinking about what she'd said. He got up, and, picking up his clothes, made his way to the hall and down to Joe's room. He knocked softly before opening the door. Moonlight shone into the room, and he could see his brother's empty bed. Adam lit a lamp and dressed. He was pulling his boots on when he heard a sound in the hall, and looked up as his father eased the door open. The expression on his face was so hopeful that Adam's heart almost broke when Ben realized that Joe hadn't come home.
"I thought it was your brother," Ben said.
"I know, Pa. I just came in here to get dressed. I didn't want to disturb Julia." He stood up, and stamped his foot into his boot.
"Where are you going this time of night?" Ben asked.
Adam placed a hand on his father's shoulder. "I think it's morning, Pa, and I'm going to look for Joe."
"I'll come with you," Ben said, but Adam caught his arm.
"No, Pa. You need to stay here. Joe may come in on his own, and, even if he doesn't, I don't want to leave Julia and the children alone. Please, Pa." Ben hesitated, but then nodded and went down the hall to his room. Adam watched him go. Ben was sixty - five, and considered himself as strong as ever, but Adam knew his father was slowing down. Hoss's death had affected him terribly, and then he'd tried to help Joe deal with the loss of his wife. Adam wasn't certain that Ben would have survived if Joe hadn't needed him so desperately.
He went out and saddled Dealer, the cutting horse Ben had assigned for his use since he and Julia had come home. Julia had been reluctant at first to move to Nevada, but she was so pleased with the improvement in the children's health and the extra time she'd been able to spend with her husband she was happy with the move.
Adam offered to design a home for Julia, but she'd laughingly declined, telling him she loved the convenience of built – in babysitters with Ben and Hop Ling. He'd noticed that she didn't include Joe, even in those early days.
As he left the barn, Adam wondered, All right, Dealer, if you were Cochise, where would you take Joe? Even as he chided himself for being silly enough ask a horse, Adam realized that Joe was probably with the ones he'd lost. He turned Dealer towards Lake Tahoe, and saw that the sun was rising over the mountains. The sight was beautiful, and one that Hoss had always loved. Seeing it made Adam miss his younger brother more than ever, and more determined to find Joe.
They were less than a mile from the cemetery when Adam heard the sound of a gunshot. Dear God, he thought, if Joe's done something, Pa won't be able to bear it.
He kicked the horse into a full gallop and raced towards the cemetery. When he got there, he saw Joe sitting on the ground, facing the graves of his mother, brother, and wife. His gun was in his hand, and Adam dismounted and approached him slowly. "Joe?"
Joe turned. "What are you doing here?"
"Looking for you," Adam said. He walked over and sat down next to his brother. "What were you shooting at?"
Joe waved his right hand, and Adam saw a dead snake. "Copperhead – remember how bad they used to be around here?"
Adam nodded. Joe faced him suddenly. "What did you think I was shooting at? You thought I'd…"
Adam couldn't look at him.
"You think I'm that selfish, that I'd do that to Pa after all he's been through?"
Adam was quiet.
"Well, I'm not! If you'll remember, older brother, you're the one who leaves," Joe snapped. "Why did you come back?"
"Pa wrote me," Adam said simply.
"He wrote you before. He wrote you for years. He wrote you when Hoss died, and you didn't come home. He wrote you when I married Alice, and you didn't come home. He wrote you when Alice was murdered, and you didn't come home. So why did you come home now?" Joe's voice was flat and cold, void of all emotion. "What did he write that made such a difference now?"
"He said you were in trouble, that he didn't know what to do for you, and you needed me."
Joe spoke slowly and clearly. "I'm not in trouble, Adam, and I don't need you."
Adam took a deep breath. "Maybe you don't, Joe, but I need you. Julia needs you. My children need their uncle, and Pa needs you."
Joe snorted. "Your children don't want me to touch them, Adam." He held his scarred hands up in front of Adam's face. "And I can't blame them."
Adam took Joe's hands in his and studied them. "The scars are terrible, Joe, but the children will get over being afraid. Eric already follows you around, asks you to read to him, play with him."
"Leave me alone, Adam," Joe sighed. "Just leave me alone." He stood up and went over to Cochise. Adam watched as he mounted and rode towards home.