Depart

Davidson stuck around for another two weeks visiting the child every day. Letting the child warm up to him. The child spoke very little, but he seemed to be relaxed around this man. Warming up to the idea of leaving with him to go far away. To a place his father would never find him.

Finally, the day had come.

They made a final stop before heading out. They spent the night at the Cartwright's house. Their guest sharing a room upstairs.

They were up before the sun. Hopsing had anticipated this and had a good breakfast already prepared. They gathered at the table to share a final meal before heading out. The last time those two would ever share a table together. The adults talked. The two youngest were quiet. Just as they've been taught to be.

In fact, during their entire visit neither boy had done anything to exchange pleasantries. Even if their interactions around adults had been limited the elders had at least expected them to open up around each other. They both remained withdrawn however, as if each other's presence had only conjured up painful memories. Both boys were characteristically quiet.

When all had been said and the elders had drawn out their visit to the last possible moment the old man grabbed up the boy's satchel and loaded it and the boy next onto the cart.

The family had gathered outside to see them off. The smallest Cartwright was at the forefront but tucked up within the arms of his kin. The older ones all waved generously as the cart rolled away. The littlest Cartwright had not lifted an arm.

Even knowing that this would likely be the last time he would ever set eyes on this boy, Joe in his final moments could not conjure up the effort it took to lift an arm to him whom he had experienced so much with.

He walked away from his kin back into the house. The littlest one never looked back to notice Joe wasn't there.

The elder Cartwright's felt the pain in this and wished it could be different for the two of them but there was just too much there in which both boys still held deep inside.

~.~

Joe had gone upstairs to put some distance between he and his retreating bunkmate, and between he and his family whom he knew would have questions as to why he was so cold and distant to the younger boy. The goodbye was too painful as it was. He needed some time to find himself.

Joe opened the door to his room and was greeted with a strange but familiar sight.

Where'd this come from?

It was the blanket they've used so many nights to wrap each other up in. The green tattered one. So many nights they held each other under this thing. Comforted each through the worst of their torment.

There it was on Joe's bed. How did it get in here?

He lifted the blanket from the bed and squeezed it. His heart fell with dread. He had forgotten it. He couldn't leave this behind. What would keep him safe?

With it bundled in his arms, he stormed downstairs. They were far now. Too far. Not far enough that he couldn't call out to them. Not too far that they couldn't call them back.

"Pa. Call them back." The men all look down at him and what he was holding. "Scotty left his blanket."

"He wanted you to have it."

"No. He needs it."

"No son. I don't think he does."

Joe looked out on the horizon. Scotty was wrapped in a warm quilt. A new one that his caretaker provided him. Thick and warm.

Joe looked down at the thing and squeezed it in his palms. Looking back out at him. There was anguish in his eyes. He ran back inside. Up to his room throwing the blanket on his bed and scrounged through the contents of his shelf until he found it.

"What's that you got there?" The eldest brother asked as Joe burst back outside.

"Wait! Stop!" He took off in a straight line. The family locking eyes with each other before all deciding to chase after.

"Stop!" When the newfound father heard the cries, he pulled back on the reins to stop the wagon, giving the boy a chance to catch up.

He jumped up on the passenger side nearly out of breath and held out the gift for his friend to feast his eyes upon. It was a green back book. The boy could not yet read, this Joe knew but somehow, he seemed this book about as appropriate as a gift as he could come up with. Someday he might be able to read and who knows, he might become learned on this book. It was the venerable that read the title instead, trying to understand the significance.

"The Tragedy of Tragedies or the History of Tom Thumb the Great. By Henry Fielding." When the small boy heard it, his face lit up."

"This is for us?"

"Yes sir."

The family had caught up to them in this time and stood behind him catching their own breath while trying to understand the scene before them.

"Well, we'll have something to read while we're out there."

"Yes sir." The boy said a bit softer. Still, it seemed that this was something shared between just the two of them. The boy gave in to an earnest hug. A hug like no other. A hug in which Joe returned just as earnestly.

Joe wanted to ask the boy then, if he was forgiven. But he refrained. Something in this hug told the older boy that there was nothing at all to forgive.

There were tears in both their eyes as they parted. Little Joe stepping down. Both boy's, eyes locked in earnest. It was Scotty who softened first. The small boy looking up at his elderly companion and leaning into him. Davidson lifted his arm and pulled the child in, so he was now tucked up under his wing. Joe stepping back to rejoin his kin.

Davidson with a final nod snapped the reigns again and they were off. Again, they watched them ride away. His small friend setting out to begin a life anew. Far away from the man he once called father.

For the first time in a long time Joe was set at peace.

"Fare thee well, my friend." The youngest Cartwright uttered those words like a prayer. "Fare thee well."