Homeward Bound

He ran until his little heart could take it no more, which took surprisingly less time than it would have on any normal day. A day he'd be out with his brothers showcasing his skills. A day when he didn't have all these ailments to contend with. He stopped to pull in air. Bent over his knees then standing upright again. Each breath forcibly long and drawn out as he fought to slow his aching heart. The night had some chill to it but just within that ten minute sprint he was successful at warming himself. His face was flush now.

He looked back to see if that little sprint was worth the exertion he put into it. He could see the house no more through the trees. He ran as if he'd been discovered for his exploits the moment he set off. As if the bell had been rung, the hounds and muskets gathered and the procession was at his back. All this manifest in one man. He peered intently for signs of upheaval but the woods were quiet.

What was he doing? He had to be crazy for doing this. He was planning on marching seven miles through straight wilderness to reach a house that may or may not have anyone there to receive him. Half of his journey would be done in complete darkness. If he was smart he'd march his pitiful butt right back to where he came from and put himself back up in that rope. Of course the same problems there awaited him. How to not get caught for his misadventures? He'd be facing something worse when he got back, he reminded himself. Of course either direction he went something worse awaited him. Whether getting caught running or standing up on a log acting all innocent-like. Like he'd done nothing wrong. Either way would lead to more trouble. At least this way there was a chance. A chance at escape. A chance to find help.

Keep going.

He didn't go back into a run. Now that he was far enough away, he kept at a quickened pace still feeling the urgency of the threat at his back which sent random shivers up his spine that surged him forward. He knew he had to pace himself though. He had seven miles of hike through rough terrain to get through.

It has been a while since he travelled this way. Never by himself and certainly not at night. But he had a general idea in which direction his home was. Joy Lake was at his back. About a mile to his north. That was the opposite direction in which he needed to go. Washoe was to the east. The large lake would've provided him plenty of water along the way. He would've just had to follow the shoreline south, if he chose to curve off course a bit. This would take him to the trail his pa uses to get to Tom's house. Horseback is a lot different than being on foot though. This time, he was depending on his own two feet to get him from point A to point B. Considering the distance he had to travel, the most direct line he could take would suit him the better. He needed to go south which meant that there would be miles between each water source. Tom's house, though on relatively flat land all the way to Joy Lake and beyond, was at a higher elevation than his own. There were hills between his house and his own. He'd be travelling down more hills than up. He was grateful for that fact as it would require less energy.

There were three creeks between Tom's house and his own. All three creeks cut through hilly terrain, some of which was dense forest and other parts where the trees were more sporadic. All three cut laterally across his path going east to west. He would have to pass through each one, which wasn't a huge deal as each one was small except after heavy rains when the Washoe overflowed and the rain drained down from the hills. It hadn't rained in some time though. This summer had been a particularly dry one. Joe hadn't recalled it spilling a drop in the entire five weeks he's been at Tom's.

The largest creek would be the last and he knew by far the most challenging. That one would get his socks wet but that wasn't the challenging aspect of it.

The creeks would be impossible to miss as long as he was heading south. If he unintentionally veered off course a bit, it wouldn't matter. As long as he was heading south he'd hit water. He figured that however great or small his miscalculations might be during the night could be made up for in the light of day. He set out with no real plan. Just head south. South was home. The entire trek would be a five hour journey and that would be in ideal conditions when he was at his healthiest.

The moon provided him enough light to keep from tripping when the trees were sporadic but in areas where the woods were thick the shadows were dark. He slowed further to keep his steps sure and his direction steady, making his way through the trees and thicket. The one thing that he had found comfort in was that if Tom were to find him missing, Joe knew these woods better than he. In this way the deeper into the trees he got, the safer he felt.

Of course Tomlinson wasn't his only threat. Out there were creatures in the night. Creatures that stalk little boys like him. They had to be way out there now. Far off in the distance. He didn't hear them tonight. So that meant that they had to be too far away to smell him. That's the way it had to be because the Lord knows he didn't need it otherwise. He didn't need that kind of trouble on top of what he was already running from. The Good Lord just wouldn't make him have to deal with that too. He wasn't that mean.

He made it to a hill crest and took the southeast slope down. He hadn't packed food nor water. Though already dealing with missing the last couple of meals food was not on his mind when he'd left. His main concern then was getting away. He had little forethought of how hungry he might get while he was out here and mildly considered that whatever hunger he did feel the forest would provide him the viand he needed. He knew enough about the forest to know where to find food and what was safe to eat. But again those were not thoughts he put so much consideration in. Getting away was priority. What came after could be worked out.

Only halfway into the walk to his first stop and his stomach was already starting to talk to him. He was not giving in to it. Not yet. It was way too early to stop as the threat was very much imminent. If Tom had done one thing for him it would be shrinking his stomach and giving him the knowledge and confidence that he could survive for days without sustenance, if he had to. As miserable of an existence as it was, he knew he could. But that shouldn't be an issue. He could make it through this entire journey, half a day, without eating if needs be. If his kin were home he'd eat then. If they weren't well he wouldn't need to last much more than that. If he had to come back to the forest, the forest would feed him. If he felt that he couldn't make it the entire journey, felt that he absolutely had to stop he committed that it wouldn't be until the sun came up. He'd be at a safe enough distance away and there would be enough light to see his surroundings. He refused to look for food in the dark. That would be a foolish waste of time. He kept his direction sure. The creek was directly ahead. Just keep on moving.

Another mile into his journey, it was still dark out when he found the first creek. It wasn't very wide and not at all deep.

He found a good spot where the still water pooled. It was enough to get scoopfuls and take it in without disturbing the dirt beneath or so he could assume. The water was all black in the dark so it was impossible to know for sure just how much dirt he took in with each handful but it tasted alright. Regardless he needed this to get him through to the next stop. He hadn't wanted to take more than a few minutes still feeling the pressure at his back. Imagining that indolence would cost him precious seconds and allow that scary man, whom although not as familiar with this country as he, to catch up. He took the time to wash the grime from his face and arms.

As he was bent low to take in more water a random thought took him. He looked to his left and considered. Was this really his best option? The question of going back was all but stomped out but the question of whether heading home was really the right call came up. There was a cabin that laid just down that way by a few miles or so. The Winter's place. He could find help there if he needed to. A friendly ear to chew up. He thought about the man whom he didn't really know all that well. He's met him a few times when his pa made friendly social calls. The man mostly ignored Joe but then most adults are like that. Wholly in the habit of ignoring kids as young as he. He didn't know for certain whether that man would be a sympathetic ear or not. Friend or foe? He couldn't say. He might just assume Joe was acting up and send him back. Could he make this man believe his story? He quashed that idea. He wasn't going to go to him for the same reason he wasn't going to go to town. He just couldn't take the chance of not being believed and being sent back. That was not a chance he was willing to take. No. Going home was his best choice. If anyone would believe his story it would be his own kin. He'd just have to keep going. To his home. To his real home. He drank until his stomach was filled. Then he stood up and crossed the stream.

2 more miles he travelled in darkness up hills and down, over vast an uneven terrain. He wasn't sure when it happened but one thing he did know for certain was that he was on his pa's land now. He knew because he'd made it to the creek and this creek belonged to his pa. Not all of it. This creek and the next both branched off the Washoe and the Washoe was not his pa's. But this portion of the creek was. Looking out over the darkened landscape. There was still a lot of open country out there. A lot could happen especially to a boy his size, but something about being on his pa's land the sense of security rose within him.

He replenished himself with water and again washed the dirt and grime from his face. As he kneeled the weight in his legs began to grow. That weight, that heaviness began to spread upwards and the sleep within him desired the boy to stop. He took a few minutes more to catch his breath. His eyes became thick. He made the innocent error of resting his back against a leaning tree. He let the heaviness take him. His eyes closed and he felt himself drifting. Just as darkness filled his mind an image flashed in that darkness of Tomlinson standing over him. Catching him. He snapped up. He pushed his heavy body upright and stumbled out. He could rest when he was home. Hopefully in the protective arms of his family.

He hadn't travelled too far past the creek when he noticed the sky was lighting. It was early morning now and the sun was turning the sky. As far as he'd travelled the energy of Tom's presence seemed to haunt him. To follow him. He could be out there somewhere, anywhere, right now looking for him. As much as he wanted to rest, this fear kept his feet moving before him.

As he knew it would, the final creek offered the most challenge. It wasn't the width or depth that made it challenging, though it was wider and deeper it was still safe to wade through, even for someone as small as he. No, the challenging aspect of it was getting to the creek from the position he was at now. He was high above it on a steep slope which was built up of small jagged stones. The incline was more gradual in some areas than others. He followed the ridgeline until he found a good spot where the incline was less steep. Even still he'd have to do it on his butt which wouldn't feel good but it's the better alternative. If he tried to remain on his feet the loose gravel would send him sliding too fast and would either end with him breaking an ankle or tumbling into a forward roll and cutting up every piece of himself. He'd have better control on his butt.

He braced as he lowered himself to a sitting position. When his left palm met surface he felt a sharp pain in his wrist causing him to draw back. Looking at his wrist in the full light his skin was dotted with pin prick type bruises and abrasions that wrapped around adorning his wrist like a bracelet. The swelling had all but disappeared leaving a residual tingling in his hand. From the start of this trek he had cradled his hand, consciously at first but even as the pain had lessened he had unconsciously continued to cradle it. Now he was going to depend on it to do its part to keep him upright and alive, hopefully without causing further damage to it and reawakening the pain. He carefully pressed his hand back down and slid himself over the edge to begin his descent.

Like an upside-down spider he scooted down taking inches at a time. As rocks jostled from their resting place in wild spins knocking against their brother stones, Joe took that as a portent as to how he would look if he lost control. In this spot and the next the rocks conspired against him. Deciding he didn't belong on that crest they gathered beneath him and made effort to slide him down like a sled, but he was able to dig a foot in to stop his descent before losing complete control. After some effort, he'd finally made it to the bottom.

Checking himself over, he felt a rush of triumph. Not a single break in his skin but the riotous rocks left impressions in his palms and roughed up his pants. Not even his sore wrist became worse for it. The worst thing that resulted was that the ramble left a film of white powdery dust all over his hands and clothes that dried out his skin and left him with a feeling of perpetual filthiness. Fortunately he was at the water now and could work on cleaning most of that away before continuing his journey.

He washed his hands and patted his clothes and washed his hands and patted his clothes; repeating the cycle again and again until he felt he'd gotten all he reasonably could. This attention helped, but Joe knew these clothes were definitely due for a good washing.

At the final creek he was at an impasse. He had a choice to make now. He could head straight south and make it home. But between this spot and home was four miles without any other water source, unless he were to curve to the west. He'd hit Rock Lake then. He could replenish himself there and then cut back southeast. That would add more time to his journey sure but would make better sense as it would cut his time without water in half. But then he had to consider that with as much ground as there was between this creek and Rock Lake he knew it wasn't as sure a bet that he would even find it right away. It wasn't like these creeks that cut across his path making them impossible to miss. If he didn't get close enough to it to see it, then there was a chance that he'd bypass it altogether.

It was a fairly large lake though. Not easy to miss. Albeit not nearly as large as Lake Washoe and immeasurably smaller than Lake Tahoe. When he thought about it by those terms he reneged. Never mind. It was a small lake in comparison to its sister Washoe and brother Tahoe. But it was daylight now. He had that going for him. If he'd have to find it from this direction while it was still dark he'd have no chance. But he had the full light of day to guide him now. With that going for him, as bad as he wanted to reach home, heading in the direction of Rock Lake would be the safer alternative. As long as he went southwest that should get him within the vicinity to make it out. He rolled up his pant legs and waded through the creek before making it, with purpose, to the other side.

It started with a stitch in his side, twenty minutes in to this leg of the journey. At first he thought it was his body revolting from the exertion he was putting it through. Starting off in such bad terms it was a wonder why it hadn't revolted before. But as he continued to try and walk through the pain, it had gradually increase. Now it was a full blown stomach ache. He felt like his stomach was being sliced in two. The pain becoming so intense that it doubled him over. He wondered if the water he drank from the streams was doing this to him. It was enough to get him to want to quit right there. If he just got to the lake, he could rest there. Stopping anything short of that could be his undoing. Just keep going. He coaxed himself. He had already gone a mile. He had one left to go. He pushed himself on but he had lost his vigor.

Making it to the edge of a plateau still cradling his stomach, and breathing out a cool breath through flushed cheeks, he looked out over the valley. An alcove of dark green trees lay just southwest of his position. Joe knew that within those trees lay the beautiful Rock Lake. Thirty feet to his right was a good trail that led down the slope. Once at the bottom it was only about a half a mile more to travel. Then he rests. He promised himself.

By the time he hit the bottom and the earth flattened out. The desire was still there as well as his sense of urgency, but he was just too tired. He drudged on. He felt at this point that he was just dragging his feet trying to keep one foot in front of the other. Still he travelled finally making it into the thick of the trees.

Gooseberries and thimbleberries awaited him. Presenting before him like God himself was laying out his gifts as a reward for his painful journey and speaking to him his permit to rest. He pushed past these rich giving's, he would come back for them, reaching the embankment at the North West corner, he'd made it to the water's edge and collapsed down before it. His tongue was dry and fat but he did not at first take anything in to relieve it. Instead he sat relishing in the idleness, catching his breath and doing his best to will down that ache in his stomach. When it had subsided he bent over and drank.

He leaned back in his spot and let the water in his empty stomach take effect. Along with the aching that made his stomach feel like it was being cut in two, there was the other ache that brought his mind back to those berries. Hunger. Perhaps fixing one would mend the other.

He gathered his strength and went out to gather what God had intended for him. Taking handfuls back to his spot by the shoreline to wash his findings. He sat against the trunk of a tree and took them in one or two at a time.

Getting to the last berry he still felt hungry but he knew he shouldn't overdo it right off. His stomach was still in the fringes. He looked up at the blue sky. The leaves rustled with the subtle breeze. The weather was just right. Not too hot not too cold. There was a chillness in the air as the morning fought to give up its hold but a warmth was breaking through. The way these two tangled with each other and danced across his skin, one not letting the other get too powerful was entrancing. Tranquil. He felt at peace here. Safe.

He closed his eyes and let his mind drift. His body leaden.

Moments passed. His back began to ache with the pressure of the hard trunk. Even through his exhaustion the lack of complete comfort plagued him. Well did he promise himself that he would rest or didn't he? He pried his eyes open and looked out. There had been not hide nor hair of Tom since he left the house. If the man was looking for him, he would not know to come here. He was safe here.

The embankment around the lake was mostly rocky but in a few spots here and there. There were some sandy areas, as with the spot that lay just five feet in front of him, just large enough to lie in. He took the risk of removing his socks and shoes and played with the earth beneath his soles. Laying his socks out to dry, he pushed himself off the trunk and laid himself out over the soft sand. It was warm on its surface. As he burrowed once swollen hand into the under-surface, the sand was moist and cool. As with the breeze, these two opposing sensations balanced each other and felt good to the touch.

His body was feeling heavy again. He could feel himself drifting. He took in a heavy breath and was gone.

The sleep was dark the sand was bright. Which his mind took no notice of until he started coming back to. The moment he slipped back in from the dream world he could see the brightness through his closed lids, furthermore he could feel the heat. The sand was beyond warm now. It had come to a point where it heated his face and reflected the bright rays like a mirror. Sitting up sand fell from his cheek. He swiped away what remained. His skin was at the beginning stage of being burnt. He wasn't sure how long he'd been out. It felt like it was a good sleep.

There were images of Tomlinson again. But it came in rapid sequences and even those images were so distant it hardly had any impact on him at all. His face unfocused. His body still heavy but very grateful for the rest.

He washed his face and arms cooling his heat and dry skin with the cold water.

Feeling the need to relieve himself, the slicing feeling in his stomach had disappeared leaving only the memory. The hunger had returned. He stood on wobbly legs taking a moment to steady himself before going back out to gather more berries. This time he went back and forth a few times between the plants and the water, allowing himself enough to fill his unused belly. As he did he considered. I could live out here if I had to. He thought of going home and not finding his kin. If that happened he would return back to this spot. He would only have to live out here until his family came home. This spot would provide him with enough food and water to get by. If it came to it there were fish in this lake and he knew how to build a fire. In relatively some degree of comfort.

His feet had swollen some bit but he had expected that. He anticipated some swelling after all the hike he'd been through, but that they wouldn't swell to the point where he couldn't put his shoes back on. As long as he could get them back on the pressure from his shoes would control them from swelling further. Giving his feet a chance to air out and dry off he felt was necessary to them continuing to work for him. This was the chance he had taken by removing his shoes. One thing he was grateful for was having them at all. He'd been strung up with them on all of yesterday. He had the forethought to done them before breakfast. He had prepared himself for whatever Tomlinson had wanted to do with him that day. He hadn't imagined hanging from a rope but again he was glad to have them. One thing he could stand to change was his socks which had a coarseness to them. Partly damp before he'd hit the final stream just from his own foot moisture but that last stream had let in some river water. He'd been dealing with them sliding into his shoes since which only aided in his discomfort. Blisters were almost guaranteed. More aches he imagined his family tending to. All would be right once they circled around him and provided him with a protective shield. They would be his strength until he was strong enough to support himself.

The socks were crunchy and scraped against his feet as he drew them back on. To his relief he was able to slip his boots back on over his swollen feet and crunchy socks. He tied them up tight. The final leg of the journey would rub his feet raw but once he was home his family would be there to tend to all of his aches and pains. Just get home. You could take your shoes off then. There would be fresh socks for you when you're ready to wear them again.

Much of his vigor had been restored. He was now in the final leg of his journey. His next stop would be home. Just get home. All of his sustenance will be provided there. Every need met. Every pain healed. Every booboo kissed. He would be showered with love. Kisses on every inch of his face. Tight hugs to mark the end of his torment. He could almost feel his pa's bear arms wrap around him. His brothers joining in to seal the deal. They were there. Waiting for him. He just knew they were. His heart ached to see them now. These comforting imaginings made that last leg tolerable.

There was no way if they knew all that had been happening to him that they would approve. No way.

It was mid-afternoon when he hit the edge of the tree line. The land scooped up from where he stood to reach the ranch house. There was a lot of open pasture land between he and the stable which he could make out far in the distance resting on a high point in the land. He could have stayed within the trees sweeping around to the side of the house. If he had, he'd have less cleared land to cross, only about a quarter mile or so, but that was enough out of the way of his intended goal that it made it a less desirable option. Maybe he was allowing his emotions or exhaustion to drive this decision making but after weighing the dangers and surveying the land only to find that all was still and undisturbed, he drove forward opting for the direct approach. He left the protective canopy of the trees and ventured out into open pasture.

A quarter mile brought him to the well traversed road that winded up to his home. He took it. The sun was high in the sky. The air was hot and thick. His sweat drawing trails down from his temples. His face sheened, creating a mask of dust and accumulated grime. He had a limp to him that he made no effort to correct. He'd also not exaggerated it for fear of his family believing he was hamming it up for the sake of attention. He wanted his family to see every pain of his for what it really was.

Even with all his ailments, his pains got put on the backburner as thoughts of his family flooded his senses. As he took the incline that led up into the courtyard the house finally started coming into view peeking out from the stables front. He was home now and he almost wept with excitement.

The road took him to the side of the stables. He stood at the stables front corner and looked out ahead. A twinge of pain squeezed his heart. All seemed quiet. Eerily so. He watched it for some time looking for signs of life. The only disturbance was a light breeze that drifted across the yard to uproot the top sand as it went. It was empty, deserted. Dis-heartedly so.

What would he do now? Live in the trees nearby until their return. No. Go back to the lake like he planned. That seemed so far away now. After as far as he's travelled he just wanted this to be over.

Looking past the yard at the quiet house he wondered what he would really find beyond that door. He wanted to believe they were in there, regardless of the stillness in the yard. In apprehensive hope, he slowly stepped out into the courtyard watching, listening. The sun was high overhead. It shone so brightly that it created a mirror effect off the sand that hurt his eyes if he looked directly at it. What's more is it aided in the eerie effect of the still and undisturbed yard.

He heard something just then, behind him. Horses neighing in the stables. There wouldn't be horses in there. They took them all with them. But there they were. He smiled at the revelation. His heart fluttered with excitement. He almost broke down with tears of hope.

"Pa?" He called aloud. "Pa."

He stumbled towards the door. When they see him they'll let him in. From the side of the house coming from the bunkhouse he saw something move slow and purposeful. A figure. It saw him too because it approached.

"No." He drew back. It was him. Mr. Tomlinson. "No. Pa!" He screamed and ran to make it past him. But Tomlinson caught hold. With one backhand Joe fell to the dirt. "Pa. Please come out!" He supplicated. "It's me, Little Joe." His pa had to come out. He just had to see. He had to see what Tomlinson was doing to him. Tom look down with a dark smile.

"He can hear you Joe. He's in there right now. I was just in there talking to him."

"Pa please come out. You have to help me! Pa, please save me!" The boy cried.

"Oh, he's not going to do that. You see, he doesn't want to see you."

"No. That's not true." He shot back defiantly.

"It is. We were discussing just how bad of a child you really are and that I would need more time with you. Your pa completely understood."

"No."

"You are still proving yourself to be a bad boy. Even more so because you ran away. You ran away." He clicked his teeth. "Where does that take us? Right back to the beginning?"

"Adam? Hoss?"

"They won't be coming out either. You know your brothers. They are might's more obedient than you are. If your pa tells them to do something, they do it. Your pa tells them to stay inside, they will."

"Please." He whimpered desperately.

"We agreed that it would be best if they did."

"Pa, please!" He cried piteously but his pa didn't come out. No matter how he called for him he wouldn't come. Tomlinson loomed over putting Joe's face in shadow. He stopped calling for his pa. There was no more point. In that house or not, they didn't exist for him. Not anymore. At this moment all that existed was this man. There was emptiness in his bosom at their absence, forsakenness.

"What am I to do with you now?" Joe drooped his head dejectedly.