This is a collection of short vignettes meant to be enjoyed like chocolates from a box. Each vignette was inspired by a prompt in the form of a quote from literature. The quote and its source are used to title each vignette. Acknowledgement is given to the authors that provided inspiration and to JC for choosing the quotes for the 2024 Pinecone Challenges. Characters, topics, and genres are varied, and all questions are not answered. Please let me know which ones you enjoyed.
~~Ben~~
"There are all kinds of love in the world, but never the same love twice."
F. Scott Fitzgerald, "The Sensible Thing"
Jamie watched Joe set his napkin over the uneaten food on his plate, rise, and walk away from the table and up the stairs. His eyes went to his pa's face and saw the blatant concern in his Ben's eyes. "He ate a little something."
Ben's eyes turn to his youngest son. "He's grieving. We can't expect..." His voice trailed away. First Hoss, then Alice and the baby, no word from Adam in so long... so much to grieve.
"He truly loved her. She... made him, um, different somehow. He said she made him better, and the baby... he wanted to be a pa so much, he... he kept telling me about how I had to get ready for being an uncle." Jamie swallowed. "I woulda been the only uncle there, ya know, the only one around every day." His voice faded to a mere whisper. "I woulda tried hard to be a good one."
Ben sent Jamie a soft smile. "I'm sure you would have been a great success as an uncle."
"I..." I know about losing folks I love, but I ain't never lost a wife or a child. You have, though. "Is... I lost my ma and pa and Dusty, and we all lost Hoss... it just seems like Joe..., well, is losing the woman ya love, your wife, is it... well, is it the worst kind of grieving 'cause marriage joins ya as one?" When Ben failed to answer, Jamie shifted. "I guess grieving is grieving."
Ben sighed. "Grief is grief just as love is love, but just as there are many kinds of love in life, each has its own kind of grief."
"You had to grieve three wives. You managed, well, to get through it somehow. Can't you... I mean can't you tell him how... Not that I think ya haven't tried."
"I've tried, and I shall keep trying."
Jamie watched Ben rise and walk to his desk. The silver of the frames there caught his eyes. Jamie walked over and sat on the edge of the desk. "Hoss and Joe both said as how they were real different ladies, but I guess ya loved them all the same."
"No. No. Not more or not less. One was not better nor one inferior, but they were not the same. When you truly love a woman, son, it is a unique thing. Each time it is unique. It can be just as strong, just as deep, but it is never the same love twice." Ben leaned back steepling his fingers. "Truth is your brothers have each loved a number of women too. Joe, well, Alice was not his first love. If I had a dollar for each time he said 'Pa, I love her. I'm gonna marry her.' He meant it every time. No, Alice was not his first love. We just have to help him see she need not be his last."
"What helped you see it?"
"The love of those who remained."
~~Adam~~
"And that was the October week when they grew up overnight and were never so young anymore."
Ray Bradbury, Something Wicked This Way Comes
The campfire cast enough light over the boys faces to reveal overly relaxed expressions and unfocused eyes. Ross took a swig from the bottle and offered it to Adam. Adam drank and passed the bottle to Danny who downed a smaller swallow.
"Besss leave off. Gotta save some for 'morrow." Danny set the bottle down.
"Let 'morrow worry bout 'morrow. Enjoy tonight." Ross reached for the bottle but unbalanced and fell forward.
"No, Skinny. Li'le Dan's right. Ain't like we can get 'nother." Adam picked up the bottle.
"Aww, ya right. My un..unca is gonna kill me if he fines out I took thisun."
"Good thin' we're gonna run out of whiskey 'fore anyboody sees us." Adam held up two fingers. "One more nit drinkin', one for the 'angover." He raised two more fingers. "Day for travee...ling home."
The boys expounded on life awhile longer and then crawled into their bedrolls. They had managed to wrangle six days for a hunting trip to provide winter meat. During the past three days, they had hunted only a few jackrabbits and a couple of grouse for their own suppers. They planned on one more day of relaxation, one day of true hunting, and a day for the return trip. If they returned empty-handed, who could say it was anything more than poor luck.
They heard the wailing shortly before sunrise. Despite their headaches and a couple of episodes of retching each, they managed to find the source.
The wagon's wheels were gone, and its bed splintered. It lay on its side at the foot of a ravine. A little boy, silent and staring, held the wailing baby in his lap. He sat next to the woman's body. The man's body was about twenty yards away.
Adam exchanged a look with Ross and took charge. "Danny, take the kids back to camp." Danny was almost two years younger than Ross and Adam, but he was the eldest of six. "Ross and I'll see to things here."
"I'll look for something for the baby in the wagon first. Likely it's crying from hunger."
"Yea, see what might be of use and set it out. Adam and I can carry it back."
The shovel was easy to locate. The two older boys dug the graves, wrapped the bodies in blankets, and completed the burial. It included recited scripture, prayer, and a hymn.
Returning to camp, they sat down to biscuits and the beans Danny had heated.
"Baby drank a bottle. The boy drank some water, but he won't eat. Ain't said a word. Couldn't find nothing more than bruises."
"He's in shock." Ross nodded his agreement to Adam's statement. "Wrap him up warm. We best get started."
Danny and Ross took turns holding the baby on the ride home. The little boy rode with Adam's arms around him. When they arrived at the ranch house, Ben Cartwright took over.
That was the October week when boys grew maturer overnight and were never so young anymore.
"I fell in love the way you fall asleep: slowly, and then all at once."
John Green, The Fault in Our Stars
The first time, I fell in love the way you fall asleep: slowly, and then all at once. Missy was my friends' little sister, not as young as Hoss but not of an age or gender to participate in the important doings of our trio, those adventures we plotted on Sunday after services and managed to actually engage in from time to time. Perhaps the first seeds of love were sown when Missy knew but didn't tell, or even actively covered for us and saved my hide along with her brothers. Davy and Danny called her a pest but never a tattletale. I can see her now pushing her glasses up her nose, flouncing her skirts and curls, exclaiming, "Boys!" as she turned and darted away because we refused to take her with us. We never considered that there were no girls her age about for feminine fun and that our refusal left her with little companionship in those early days of the settlement.
She was always about, though, when the families came together, and I knew sometimes she favored me. If she cut the cake, I always received the largest piece. When her father obtained a copy of a magazine or newspaper and had reread it to tatters, she passed those worn pages on to me. Little by little, I told her things I didn't tell others, made observations that would have left me open to teasing if her brothers had heard them. She was the first person I told about wanting to attend college. She was a realist, though I didn't know the word then, and I expected her to nay the desire as a foolish dream, but she pushed her glasses up her nose and said, "Then you should. You'd best work up to telling your Pa about it though. Have all your reasons and ways thought through. You've years before you'll be old enough to go, but start planning now, and don't listen to anything my brothers have to say about it."
I followed her advice, and when she gave me a linen handkerchief she had embroidered with my initials as a good-bye, I kissed her cheek and promised to write. Then I tweaked her nose because she was only fourteen and her brothers were watching. I kept my promise, and she wrote me back. My letters to her were quite different from the ones I sent Pa and the boys. Hers were thoughtful and comforting in my homesick times. I have all twelve of them tucked away still.
Then I came home. Two weeks and three days later I saw her arrive for Sunday services. She had put up her hair and put down her skirts and I saw her, a woman grown, for the first time. She saw me, called my name, and darted over to stand in front of me. Pushing her glasses up her nose, she smiled. I looked down at her and laughed with joy because I was in love.
"It began the first week of summer, a strange and breathless time when accident, or fate, brings lives together."-Natalie Babbitt, Tuck Everlasting
It began the first week of summer, a strange and breathless time when accident, or fate, brings lives together. Adam had achieved the age of majority, and for the first time had informed his father of his intention to ride up to the high country instead of asking permission. Surprisingly, Ben Cartwright had offered no objection. Adam had been in search of solitude and ridden to the meadow that held the farthest Cartwright line shack. When he saw smoke rising from its chimney, Adam planned to send whoever was squatting on their property on his way. He had not, not after opening the door, rifle in hand, to find a slip of a girl no older than Hoss. The girl had also been obviously pregnant. Perhaps it was the shock they both felt, perhaps the isolation, or perhaps a habit of honesty that resulted in the girl's story being fully told that evening to the young man without judgement in his eyes.
She was unmarried and had been cast out by parents shamed by her condition. Obtaining an old farm horse, she had set out, as many before her, for California. The horse had managed only to take her into the high country before dying. She had been walking when the little cabin came into sight. Necessity had made her enter; the absence of any obvious owner had allowed her to stay. The line shack was well stocked; every Cartwright line shack was. The girl had told herself God had answered her prayers. Adam told her his father would never begrudge her the use of the cabin or its supplies. He also told her she would be leaving the with him. Two days later they began a slow journey that ended a few hours away from Adam's home.
When her labor pains became intense, they were forced to stop. Adam fired three shots into the air four separate times praying someone would hear and come. Someone did but not until an hour after the baby had arrived stillborn.
The girl had been taken to the ranch and cared for until Ben Cartwright arranged for her to live with an old couple near Carson City and work for them. She would latter marry a neighbor's son and lead a contented life.
Adam had buried the baby at the lake, near but not next to his stepmother's grave. Hoss had carved a wooden cross to mark the site. Whenever a Cartwright took flowers to Marie's grave, one blossom would be taken and placed on the child's grave.
"I opened my eyes and saw the dark in all its original color."
-James Dickey, Deliverance
I opened my eyes and saw the dark in all its original color. Every shade of gray, silver, and black. Yes, the mine was dark but not impervious to the weak light filtering in through the brush that had grown over the entrance. I could see enough to distinguish direction and boundaries. The question was whether I could make use of that ability. I moaned and made an attempt to rise, a futile attempt. The rock beneath me was slick with the water that dripped down the walls and offered little traction for my weakened muscles. Blood loss always makes for inconvenient weakness. My hand moved toward my lower chest and rested over the wound. Am I still bleeding? I had bled so profusely before that it was hard to tell. If I can't stand, I can crawl. I had crawled the final yards into the mine to hide like a fox in its den. How long ago? I had no way of knowing. A body doesn't mark time very well while unconscious. Think! The sunlight indicated that at the most three hours could have passed unless I had spent an entire night insensible. No, I would never have roused at all if that were the case. Perhaps it's only been minutes. Minutes meant that they could still be looking for me. My ears strained to distinguish any sounds coming from beyond the entrance. Are they out there looking? The water dripped. You can die in the dark or the light. Your choice. I had never been afraid of the dark, not like Little Joe, still my family was more likely to find my body outside in the light. Hoss says the woods are a healing place. The woods were bound to be healthier than the cold dankness of wet granite. Pa would want me to have a Christian burial. I crawled a few inches then rested. A few more inches necessitated another rest. The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. How many steps in a mile? How many minutes to crawl into the light? As many as it takes! It took too many. The sun had nearly set before I pulled myself through the brush at the mine's entrance. Now what? I listened. At least there was no sound of water dripping. There also was no sound of riders. My hand moved to my hip. My gun was still there. I managed to drag the pistol from the holster. I tried to lift it and failed. Well then... I did manage to make sure the barrel was pointed away from me before I pulled the trigger. Three times, that's always been the signal. I closed my eyes to a deeper darkness.
I opened my eyes to a white light without color. I blinked and willed my eyes to focus. A wall, a white wall, I knew that wall. I was home.
"He waited for her to say more, but only silence rolled about them."
Dorothy B. Hughes, In a Lonely Place
"So, that's that. You leave at the end of the week. It's not as if you ever made any promises." Her words were resigned; her tone was not.
He waited for her to say more, but only silence rolled about them. He reached toward her, but she shook her head, and he let his hand drop.
"No, I made no promises." I've spoken no promises. I've been very careful not to speak the words.
She looked directly into his eyes. "No promises, just..." She looked away. "You vowed you love me."
"I do."
"Not enough to stay."
"I can't, not any more than you can go."
"If I could, would you take me with you?"
"I want you with me."
"In your western Eden, do you want me there?"
"It's a ranch. If it was Eden, you could come."
"You don't want to be here; I don't want to be there." She gave him a wry smile. "And nowhere in all the miles in between is there a place where we could find an Eden of our own."
"I'm needed there as I am needed nowhere else. So, no, no other Eden."
She rose and turned her back to him and wrapped her arms around her waist. "There could be a need I've yet to tell you of."
"Is there?"
She shook her head. "No. I told the truth when I said that could never be. Is that why you can leave me?"
"No."
She turned to face him again. "I could say that I can't live without you, but the truth is I can live without you as well as you can live without me. We aren't children; we've lost loves before." Her hand reached toward him but stopped without touching him. "They've lived without you for years now, and you without them."
"That was before... before he died." Adam sighed. "I always intended to return. The time has come."
"So, go!" Anger now put a steel edge to her words.
"I'd rather not think of you hating me."
Her laughter was rueful. "Love, hate, either is better than indifference."
"I could never be indifferent to you."
She shrugged. "That option passed away before I had known you a week." There was melancholy in her voice, and she shook her head slowly. "I shan't hate you, at least not for very long. Will you give yourself reason to hate me?"
"No." He turned and picked up his hat. His fingers moved around its brim.
"No hating. How civilized."
"Then there is no more to be said."
"Should I stand on the dock and wave good-bye?" The cheerfulness in her tone was forced and sounded so.
"If you do, I'll blow you a kiss."
"I'd rather have my kiss now."
His arm caught her waist and moved her lips to his. The kiss that followed was the deepest and longest they had ever shared just as a last kiss should be.
~~Hoss~~
"He lay on his back in his blankets and looked out where the quarter moon lay cocked over the heel of the mountains."
Cormac McCarthy, All the Pretty Horses
Hoss lay on his back in his blankets and looked out where the quarter moon lay cocked over the heel of the mountains. "I don't suppose Adam'll be camping out looking at the stars anytime soon."
"Wouldn't expect they do that much in that Back East college." Old Ned took a sip of his coffee. "You're missing Bucko a mite?"
"More than a mite." Hoss rolled to face Ned. "Maybe it wouldn't hurt so much iffen I didn't know it was gonna be for years and years. I'll be most grown before he comes back."
Old Ned let a grin settle on his lips as he did not consider sixteen most grown. Actually, he did not think of Adam at eighteen all that grown. "Well, time stops for no man and growing for no boy."
"Little Joe's grown over half an inch since Adam left. Pa measured yesterday."
"At Little Bit's urging no doubt. Ain't never seen a child more eager to grow up."
"He wants to be like Adam and me. I really think he believes he can catch up to us."
"He does." Ned chuckled. "We won't spoil things for him by telling him he'll be baby brother when he's old as me."
"Yeah." Hoss sighed. "And Adam'll always be big brother."
Ned chuckled again. "Well, he'll always be elder brother anyways; you've pert near caught him on the big."
"Adam's told me lots that I'll always be his little brother no matter what size I get to be."
"You mind that that's the truth?"
"Naw, not the way Joe minds being the baby. Mostly, I don't mind it at all. Adam's a good big brother. He... he always..." Hoss's words caught in his throat. "I don't know what I'm gonna do when I need him, and he ain't here. Letters are too slow."
"For some things they are." Ned moved closer to the boy. "When we don't have just the thing we need, we have ta make do with what's at hand. You've got others right here to help ya through."
"Like ya brought me out hunting 'cause ya know I settle my mind best out looking at the land, and the sky, and the stars."
"Well, ya have always been one for God's natural temple, so to speak, and the Boss is kinda tied down by responsibilities."
"I know." Hoss ran his shirtsleeve over his eyes. "There's, well, there's somethin'else..." Hoss sat up and faced Ned. "I worry how good I'll be standing in for Adam when Little Joe needs him. I ain't like Adam no way in some things."
"You be you for Little Bit. Ain't never been nothing wrong between you two."
"But sometimes, sometimes he needs a brother like Adam even if he don't know it."
"Them times ya think 'now what would Adam do' and if there's a big need, ya do it. Ya know Bucko well enough for that."
"Okay." Hoss laid back and looked again at the stars.
~~Brothers~~
"The house was very quiet, and the fog pressed against the windowslike an excluded ghost." -E.M. Forster, Howard's End
The house was very quiet, and the fog pressed against the windows like an excluded ghost. Adam peered out the window nervously, saw nothing but swirling white, bit his lower lip, and sighed.
"Is he coming?" Hoss's voice startled Adam. He turned and frowned down at his little brother.
"What are you doing out of bed?"
"Same as you; waiting for Pa."
"Pa will be home soon enough, and he best find you in bed."
"We's both suppose ta be in bed."
"I'm in charge when Pa's not here. I've told you more than once to go to bed. Now get!"
Hoss simply stood straight, solid, and unmoving. Adam gave a frustrated snort. He had serious reservations about his ability to drag his brother to bed if Hoss put up a real fight, so he resorted to a threat instead.
"Are you looking for a spanking? I could give you one, you know."
"You won't." It was a simple, abet confident, statement.
"Don't be so sure, little brother!"
Hoss came to Adam's side and looked out the window. "Ya think Pa might have got himself lost?"
"Pa doesn't get lost. He sailed great oceans without getting lost. Fog is nothing to him."
"Still, ya can't hardly see you hand in front of your face out there."
"He'll use his compass."
"Did he take it?"
"Of course he did." Adam did not know if he was lying or telling the truth.
"Maybe we should send Mr. Ned looking for him. He'll go if we ask."
"Then we'd just have two wandering around in the fog instead of one. Besides, Pa may have thought it best to wait out the fog someplace safe." Adam emphasized safe.
"But..."
"If Pa's not back when the fog clears tomorrow, Ned will go. There's nothing to be done tonight."
"We could..."
"Go to bed like obedient sons."
"Adam!" Hoss stomped his foot. "Listen! I gots an idea."
Adam's eyes rolled. "What idea?"
"We could put a lantern in the window. Pa told us about lighthouses, and they use lanterns."
"And mirrors, big mirrors." Adam's hand tugged his right ear. "We haven't got a big mirror. We do have Pa's shaving mirror though."
Adam pondered a few more minutes and then shrugged. "It couldn't hurt."
The brothers set about creating a beacon in the night with a lantern and a shaving mirror. Adam lit the lantern and then tugged at his ear.
"I'll just step out and check..."
"Best not!" For a four-year-old, Hoss managed quite a commanding tone. "If Mr. Ned sees ya outside, you'll be getting the lick'en."
Adam harrumphed. "You can't see... oh, never mind. We've done the best we can, I guess." He glared down at his brother. "Now, you're going to bed!"
"You too?"
Adam sighed. "Me too."
Two hours later, the sound of the door had both boys running from their beds.
"Pa! Pa! You made it back!"
Ben caught both boys in his arms. "The light led me home!"
"It was a dark and stormy night..."
Sir Edward Bulwer-Lytton, Paul Clifford
"Adam!"
Adam came awake immediately. He opened his eyes but saw nothing until the lightening flashed.
"Adam!"
"Joe? What the blazes!"
"Adam, something went into the barn. Something big, and black, and shiny."
Adam boosted himself up. "Something went into the barn?" Adam focused on the agitated eleven-year-old. "How do you know?"
"I saw it."
"It's raining torrents and dark as ...well, dark. How did you see it?"
"In the lightening flash." Lightening flashed again illuminating the room offering evidence of the boy's truthfulness.
"Big, black, and shiny?"
"Yea, whatcha gonna do?"
Adam sighed. "Get up, I suppose, and have a look." If I don't, you won't go back to sleep, meaning neither will I.
Adam pulled on his pants and stomped his bare feet into his boots. He did not bother with a shirt. He went down the stairs trailed by Little Joe. He detoured to acquire a shotgun. Little Joe snatched up his rifle.
Adam shook his head. He's scared. "Be careful with that."
"Should I get Hoss?"
"No, you've heard 'let sleeping dogs lie', I think we'll let our sleeping brother lie." Lucky dog!
"Okay, I'll..."
"You shall stay in this house. Understood?"
Little Joe recognized his brother's tone. "Yes."
"Good." Adam stopped at the door and reached for his slicker. Big, black, and shiny! The tumblers in his mind clicked, and he counted the slickers hanging against the wall.
"Joe, stay here and, for the sake of all that is holy, don't point that rifle at anything you don't see clearly and identify absolutely."
"I'll be real careful, Adam."
"If you leave the house, I'll scorch your britches good." Adam sent a glare in Joe's direction. "Understood?"
"Understood."
Sighing, Adam ventured out into the dark and stormy night crossing to the barn and slipping inside. He located the faint glow coming from the farthest stall and walked toward it.
"Hoss!"
"Adam, whatcha doing out here?"
"I came out to shoot you."
"Shoot me!"
"Well, if needed. I came out to protect our stock from the big, black, shiny invader our little brother saw."
"Oh."
"And you?"
"I wanted to check on Dainty Lady. I just had a feeling."
"Is she in labor?"
"Yeah. Just starting."
"You think she's gonna need some help."
"She's a slim little thing. We didn't name her dainty for nothing."
"You'll be staying then?"
"Yeah. You?"
"I'll have to let Joe know what's going on."
"Adam?"
Hoss and Adam both turned their eyes in time to see a slight figure slip through the door.
"Joseph! I told you that I'd scorch your britches if you left the house."
Joe approached and gave his brother a cheeky grin. "I ain't wearing my britches."
Adam snorted.
"Dainty's in labor." Hoss attempted a diversion.
"I can stay, can't I, Adam, please? Pa'd let me. Please."
"Better he's with us, then alone in the house."
Faced with two pleading brothers, Adam capitulated. "Fine."
The foal arrived just as the rain abated. Joe named him Stormy.
"Half the trouble in life is caused by pretending there isn't any."
Edith Wharton, The House of Mirth
I sat before the fire pondering trouble. I have mainly found myself in trouble of my own causing not because I do not see the potential for it but because I find the assessed risk acceptable and think, some would say arrogantly, I can control things sufficiently to minimize it. When I've miscalculated, I've accepted the consequences. My little brother- yes, I know how big he is- has mostly found himself in trouble because he "settled his mind" that something must be done no matter the cost. Often the thing that had to be done was not letting a brother head into trouble alone. Not just a true believer but an eternal protector is that mule-headed, over-sized little brother of mine. Then there is my baby brother, the reason that I was not dreaming in my bed. Half the trouble he causes comes from pretending there isn't any possibility of trouble, if trouble there is, he will be able to avoid it, and if not, he will be able to slip away unscathed. Pa and I have done our upmost to convince him differently but have failed in the task. I despair of ever being successful but shall keep trying nevertheless. I frequently mention that Hoss is mule-headed; Little Joe just as frequently calls me granite-headed. I lay all his sons' stubbornness at Pa's feet.
The door opened; Hoss entered. One look at my face, and he knew. "So, ya done found out." He jammed his hands into his pockets. "Are you gonna handle it or tell Pa?"
Since turning twenty-one I had often "handled it" even when Hoss was involved. "Haven't decided." I rubbed the bridge of my nose. "How blissfully unaware of the danger was he?"
"He knew it were dangerous, he just..." Hoss's shrug conveyed the entirety of the situation. After all it was a familiar one.
"It's not just... He put you in danger too, little brother."
Hoss snorted. "No need to hold that against the young'un. I ain't little no more."
"You haven't reached your majority."
"You and Pa are the onliest ones who ever mention that."
"We are the only ones besides you that need to remember it." Little Joe interrupted the conversation with his entrance. My finger crooked and then pointed to the spot in front of me. "This is your one chance to explain, Joseph, and you had better be convincing."
"Now, Adam, just listen..."
I did listen. Before he was half-way through the sad tale, I knew how I could repair the damage, literal and otherwise. I also had a list of tasks that would serve to give both my brothers time and food for thought, and if Joe tried to shuck his share onto Hoss, he would receive the tanning he'd earned. When Joe finished, I blistered both brothers' ears and sent them to bed.
I sighed. Half the trouble that came onto the Ponderosa was because Ben Cartwright's sons preferred to pretend it wasn't knocking at our door.
"If you can't have what you choose, you just choose what you have."
-Owen Wister, The Virginian
Adam had learned acceptance as a very young child. Hoss had seemly been born with a greater share of it than most folks ever developed. Little Joe, well, Joe Cartwright seldom accepted anything not his choosing without a putting up a fight, or without an argument at least.
"I don't see why I have..."
"Because, Joseph, she will be our guest, you're the most appropriate in age, and your only other choice is remaining on the ranch and foregoing the dance altogether! Am I understood?" Ben glared at his youngest while Little Joe struggled with his temper.
"Yes, sir."
Ben departed, and Joe threw himself down on the settee deliberately placing his feet on its seat. "I was gonna ask Sally Mecum." His whole body, not just his lip, slid into a pout.
Hoss shook his head. "Sally Mecum has done turned ya down at least seven times."
"Eight, but who's counting? Some girls play hard to get."
"From what I hear, she ain't been playing too hard to get with Eric Summers." Little Joe snorted.
"Eric Summers is a popinjay!"
"Maybe, but I'll lay odds he's the one escorting Sally to the dance."
()()()()()
Little Joe stood on the porch watching the arrival of their guests from Sacramento: Mr. Alistair Sessions, Mrs. Sessions, and their daughter, Miss Lucille Sessions. He was polite when introduced but remained on the porch as his father, Adam, and the Sessions entered the house. Hoss stayed with his brother.
"Should have known." Joe's arms crossed his chest as he muttered and shook his head.
"Now, Little Joe..."
"You saw her, Hoss. She... well, describing her as homely would be a kindness."
Hoss's eyes darkened. "You best not let Pa hear ya talking like that!" And ya best not do nothing to hurt that gal's feelings either! "Pa said ya had a choice. If your choice is to skip the dance, I'll take her."
"That won't keep Pa from being mad. If I choose the ranch, it'll be days at hard labor: hard, dirty, punishing labor."
"Probably. So, are you asking her, or am I?"
"What's that Adam says about choosing?"
"If ya can't have what ya'd want to choose, choose to want what you can have. Good advice."
"I'll ask her."
()()()()()
Little Joe turned toward Hoss as his brother entered his bedroom and sat down on the bed.
"Surprised ya, didn't she?"
"Lucille?"
"Who else would I be talking about?"
"Well, yea, I guess she did. She sure can dance, and she's got a good sense of humor."
"She's a nice little gal. Spunky too. She sure put that mean mouth of Sally Mecum's in its place."
Joe laughed. "She sure did."
"Ya learn anything from this, little brother?"
Joe dropped his head and shrugged. "Yea, guess I did."
"Good! Some old sayings gots lots of sense in them. Books and covers, wanting what ya have, treating people like ya'd want to be treated."
"Yea, and listen to your older, wiser brothers!"
"There is no stillness like the quiet of the first cold nights in the fall."
Carson McCullers, The Ballad of the Sad Cafe
Adam heard his brother's approach. "Temperatures dropping."
"Gonna be a cold night." Hoss sat down beside Adam and placed the jacket he carried onto his brother's lap.
"Not that cold. We won't have a real freeze for a while yet." Adam's tone dismissed any concern as to the falling temperature.
"Fall's here though. Little Joe's already grumbling about needing a big fire."
"He inherited Marie's thin blood."
"Yeah. Some years I don't think Ma really felt warm any time from October to May."
"I imagine there were a few times Pa managed to get her warm even in the worst winter." Hoss turned his head and registered Adam's smart-aleck grin.
"Adam!"
"Well? We do have a baby brother."
Hoss backhanded his brother's arm. "Pa'd still warm some of your parts if he heard ya talking like that."
"Pa is in with Little Joe near the fire."
"And you're out here with no jacket."
Adam heard the admonition in Hoss's voice and shrugged on his jacket but left it unbuttoned. "Happy?"
"Ain't looking to have ta pick up your slack when ya come down with one of your coughs."
"You don't have to worry about picking up any slack..." Hoss simply looked at his brother. Adam sputtered. "You'd think I had weak lungs."
"Ya had pneumonia last winter."
"That..."
"Doc told ya to take care."
"I..."
"Don't always."
"You don't need to..."
Hoss cocked his eyebrow. "I don't?"
"No, you don't, little brother!"
Hoss raised his eyebrow higher. "Little?"
Adam's color heightened. "God give me strength!"
Hoss chuckled. "He done already gave me plenty."
Adam rolled his eyes but capitulated. "Alright. I'll take care to wear my jacket when it's cold."
"Good. Why ya sitting out here in the cold anyways? Something fretting ya?"
"No." Adam saw the doubt in Hoss's eyes. "No, really I just wanted a little quiet and Little Joe..."
"Is in a chattering mood." Hoss accepted his brother's reassurance. "It is nice and quiet out here, a peaceful kind of quiet."
"Exactly. Quiet, peaceful, and still."
"The first cold nights of fall do have a stillness of their own. Nature and wild things settling in and hunkering down for the coming winter."
"You know, brother, way down deep there's a poet hunkering down in your soul."
"I woulda thought you'd have better judgement on the subject seein' how much of that poetry you read."
"There's some I've read that I think you might enjoy."
"If you or Pa read it out maybe. Both of ya can make about anything ya read out fine listening."
"I thank you for the compliment." Adam smiled. "And for the jacket."
"You're gonna sit a spell longer?"
"I think I will now that I'll be warm."
"Enjoy yourself." Hoss rose. "Gonna check on that bay filly and then head in."
Adam's smile widened. Yes, after everything and everyone's been cared for, you'll be able to settle for the night. Thank you, Lord, for my mule-headed, eternally protective little brother.
"Time is the longest distance between two places."
Tennessee Williams, The Glass Menagerie
Adam shuffled through the mail sorting it into stacks before he took one letter with him to his blue chair. He noticed his father at his desk. "Mail's sorted on the credenza. Should I..."
"Don't bother."
Ben returned to his ledgers; Adam opened his letter. Ben was startled when minutes later he heard Adam's boots crossing the floor. "Adam?" His son did not pause nor answer, and the door slammed behind him.
"What in blazes!" Ben shook his head. A few minutes later, Hoss entered the house.
"Where's Adam off to in such a hurry? Is sumthin' wrong?"
"I don't know, but I intend to find out." Ben, though, had no opportunity to do so.
(AC)(AC)(AC)(AC)
"Bed ain't been slept in. Maybe he stayed in town last night." Hoss saw the worry clouding his father's face. "Now, no need to go thinking there's been an accident or sumthing. I'll check in town and, well, a few other places. If I don't find him and he ain't back before me, well, that will be time enough to send out the search parties."
"I don't know."
"Ya know Adam; how he'd feel iffen..."
"Okay, go find your brother."
(AC)(AC)(AC)(AC)
Hoss found him in a hotel room with a half full bottle of whiskey.
"Pa's fretting up a storm."
"Go tell him I'm fine."
"But ya ain't."
"Then just go."
"You ate anything since lunch yesterday?" Hoss took Adam's silence as a negative response. "I'm gonna go send Tim's boy to tell Pa we're here and then get ya some food and coffee. Then you're gonna tell me what's eating you up."
"Nope."
"Yep. My mind's settled on it." Hoss departed with the whiskey in his hand. When he reentered, he put a cup of hot coffee in Adam's hand.
"She's dead, Hoss."
Hoss sat down next to his brother. "The letter told ya." Adam nodded. "She somebody ya knew back East?"
"Yes, the first somebody I knew."
"Knew bible like."
"Yes. Some would say she made me a man."
"Ya loved her."
"Not enough... I was young; she was older."
"Enough that you're here licking your wounds."
"It was ten years and thousands of miles ago. It shouldn't..."
"Hurt? Miles nor years don't block hurt." Hoss squeezed his brother's shoulder.
"Time should" He sighed. "Time is the longest distance between two places, though. No stagecoaches, no trains nor ships for carrying you over time."
Hoss studied Adam's eyes. "What is the more of it?"
"I made promises; I broke them."
"Promises about using some of them ships or trains?"
"I don't think she believed me even then. I don't even know if I did."
"Did she make any promises?"
"Yes, she couldn't keep hers either."
"If you ain't holding hers against her, don't keep holding yours against you." Hoss made his voice firm. "Now, eat sumthin' and get some sleep before we go home."
"Your mind is set on it?"
"Yep."
Adam capitulated; he always did when Hoss's mind was set.
"I wanted to know the truth, and yet I was afraid of what I might learn."
Daniel Keyes, Flowers for Algernon
"Are you sure, Joe, that you want to hear all that I know?"
I hesitated. I wanted to know the truth, the why of what they said, yet I was afraid of what I might learn. "I asked, didn't I?"
"You've asked, if less directly, before. Perhaps, it would be better if you asked Pa."
"Pa wouldn't... I've tried to... It hurts him, Adam. I can see it in his eyes."
Adam rubbed the bridge of his nose. "It would... not only anger him; it would hurt him if he knew I told you. He'd think it a betrayal."
"But it wouldn't be, Adam; it wouldn't be."
Adam sighed. "He's always said there is nothing he can't forgive a son." Adam's right hand tugged his left ear. "If you don't handle... if he sees I've hurt you too deeply..."
"I can handle it; I know you think I am, but I not a kid anymore."
Adam's lips curled into a wry grin.
"It hurts more wondering, supposing."
"Perhaps the time has come." He sighed. "I'll only tell you what I'm sure is true. I might be wrong, but I won't be lying."
"I know."
"Just please remember that you do. Many people here and in New Orleans have said things about your mother that are vile and untrue, but as is often the case, the vilest lies grow from a mustard seed of truth."
I knew what lies he meant. I've heard the insults since I was little. I've split lips and broken noses over them. "Mama never..."
"No, Marie was never a..." Adam hesitated. "She was never a ... She never sold her favors. She was never unfaithful to either of her husbands, I truly believe that, though she was accused. She was not an immoral woman."
I watched the shadows come into my brother's eyes.
"But she was not an angel on earth. She was a woman, Joe. A beautiful woman who made some hard choices. Some of those choices many so-called respectable people, especially some women, would consider less than respectable even social and morally tainting."
"What choices?"
"She worked in her cousin's gambling house as an enticement to men to come, to drink, and to wager."
"She... flaunted herself?"
"I never saw her there. I know she never flaunted herself after she married Pa. Not ever here. She was beautiful: she dressed well; she smiled and laughed easily. For some, particularly the jealous, that was enough to justify the accusation."
"Jealous... you've said that when... well, you said that when Andy Cain called me a rogue. I ain't though, not the way he meant."
"And Marie wasn't any more than you are."
"Is there more to tell."
"A little, but that is truly the worst of it."
"Then maybe I don't need to hear the rest."
"Then we'll leave it there." Adam put his hand on my shoulder. "She was worthy, Joe, of all our love."
I nodded. She was still an angel to me.
"Under a quiet sky the planet turned, and horses ate, and men slept, and death waited for morning."
- Louis L'Amour, Hondo
Under a quiet sky the planet turned, and horses ate, and men slept, and death waited for morning. Fighting would begin with daybreak. Blood would scatter scarlet wildflowers across the meadow's lush grass, and like fallen petals the blood would darken in the sun. The cries of the wounded would join the birds' cries, and their moans would cover the scurrying sounds of the animals.
One man, awake and restless, stared up at the night sky telling himself the unease he felt was unwarranted. Still, he listened for the odd sound, scanned the night sky, and considered rousing the men. He told himself the men needed sleep, and that there was no reason to expect an imminent attack. There had been no signs that they were being followed; there was no more reason to fear attack tonight then there had been since their journey began. No, his worry came from deep within him. Perhaps it was the result of the responsibility he felt for the men who took his orders. Perhaps, he had worried too much on this trip because of the presence of both his little brother and his baby brother. Had that worry left a residue of fear in his soul? On previous nights, he had had reoccurring dreams - dreams where he had faced his pa unable to force the words from his lips, the words that would tell Ben Cartwright his young sons were dead. In others, they all were dead, and he watched his father turn over body after body looking for his children. If they all died, he doubted those who killed them would bother to move their bodies from the meadow. How long would it take someone to discover their bones? He stirred on his bedroll and jerked up when a soft voice came to him.
"Adam?" the voice was his little brother's. "Sumthin' wrong?"
He turned his head and stared through the moonlight at the large man who lay next to him, his mountain of a little brother.
"No, Hoss, go back to sleep." Instead, his brother rose to a sitting position.
"Why are ya awake then?"
"No, particular reason, just restless."
"And worried?"
"The boss is always worried about something."
"Adam." It was Hoss's demanding tone, the one that demanded a brother's truthfulness and trust. "Do you got a feeling?"
"You're the one who gets feelings, little brother."
Adam's little brother was the only answer Hoss needed. "Something inside is warning ya?" It was as much a statement as a question.
"Not with any solid reason."
"The feeling's reason enough." Hoss stood. "I'll rouse the men."
"But..."
"I was telling, not asking. If it turns out to be silliness, well, I've been called silly before, and it won't matter. I ain't the boss." Hoss called out to the men.
Adam stood. "Missouri mule!"
Their foe watched as the men rose reaching for guns. Surprise had been their advantage; that advantage was lost. They chose to retreat.
Daybreak came; death departed.
~~Little Joe~~
"A man does what he feels is right, no matter what it costs him."
-Elmer Kelton, The Time It Never Rained
Adam looked at his baby brother and squared his shoulders. "A man does what he feels is right, or I should say what he knows is right, no matter what it costs him. How many times have you said you're not a boy but a man? Now is the time to show me." Adam stared at the top of Little Joe's head since his brother refused to raise it and see the judgement in Adam's eyes. As the silence grew heavier, Adam spoke. "You do know what the right thing to do is, don't you?" It was as much a nudging admonishment as a question.
"Pa taught me right and wrong same as he taught you."
"Well, then?"
"What, umm, what if it ain't a matter of what it's gonna cost you? What if somebody else is gonna pay the greater price?" Little Joe heard Adam sigh and looked up into his brother's face. "They'll go to jail if I tell it all."
"I see." Adam swallowed. "But if you don't, if they get away with it, then they might just end up going to perdition." Lord, he's only sixteen. Can I expect ... "Joe, I could..."
"No, no..." Little Joe shook his head. "I tell you; you tell the sheriff; I'm still the one that named them."
"I can come with you to the sheriff."
How many times have ya held my hand when it was something hard, elder brother? "Okay."
(L)(L)(L)(L)(L)(L)(L)(L)(L)
Joe Cartwright studied the bowed head of his adopted brother, as Jamie fiddled with his hat. "You can tell me; I'm your brother."
"Grown brother."
"But not Pa."
"You'd still make me do what ya think is right."
"No. No, I'd tell you to do what you think, what you know, is right."
"It wouldn't be just me that was in trouble."
"Did ya drag any others into that trouble, or did they choose for themselves?"
"Nobody forced nobody." Jamie raised his head. "You just don't know."
"I know more about how it is than you might think." Joe reached out and took Jamie's chin in his hand, so that the boy could not avoid looking at him. "I had to tell on two friends when I knew the telling would put them in jail."
"Oh! Then... How you'd make yourself do it?"
"Actually, I had a little help from an elder brother of mine. He went with me to the sheriff. Held my hand, so to speak. Made it easier to make him and Pa proud that I knew right and did it. After a bit, I knew I didn't want to be just a man; I want to be a good man and was glad I'd done it."
"Pa would want me to; Hoss and you too."
"Yeah."
"Will ya go with me to Pa."
"Yes."
"Ya don't have to hold my hand though."
"No, I'll just hold on to your arm, so you know you can't run." Joe giggled and mentally thanked Adam.
~~Jamie~~
"He felt an uncertainty in the air, a feeling of change and loss and of the gain of new and unfamiliar things."
John Steinbeck, The Red Pony
"Whatcha doing up?" Jamie turned. Hoss was easy to recognize even in the darkness.
"Just thinking."
"About tomorrow?"
"Yea."
Hoss came further into the room and lit the lamp. He sat on the bed and motioned Jamie to join him. "Ya know, well, if ya ain't ready, it don't have to be tomorrow. Judge comes around regular as clockwork."
"But I ... I want to be a Cartwright!"
"And we want ya to be but wanting something don't always mean you're ready for it to happen. This is something ya need to be ready for."
"I just... well, I just..." Jamie sighed. "I want to be a Cartwright. I said I was certain, and I am."
"That's good 'cause the judge is gonna ask if ya are."
"Hoss, um, do you know if the judge is gonna ask, well, at a wedding they ask if anyone knows any reason; they ask for objections."
"Ain't nobody there gonna be making any objection."
"Would somebody not there make one? Would Adam?"
"No." The answer was quick and certain.
"You can't..."
"Oh, yes, I can. I know elder brother better than most anyone, and I can."
"Well, okay, but..." Jamie's voice faded.
"But what?"
"Sometimes, sometimes it's like I hear my father saying, 'Jamie you're a Hunter'. Maybe he'd object."
"I didn't know your father, but, well, a loving father wants what's best for his child. The adoption, well, it's for being legal. It ain't gonna make no one feel no more love than they do now or change much how we act. It don't need to do that. But, well, the law is there mainly to protect folks. Being legal will be a protection especially for you. We'll all know that there ain't nothing in the shadows that can come out and spoil what we got. That's why I don't think your father would object. Truly, I don't."
"I won't be Jamie Hunter no more."
"No, ya won't. You'll be Jamie Hunter Carwright. I think on it like we all keep growing and changing. One day ya won't be a boy no more, but you'll have gained being a man."
"You said how we act won't change much. How do you think it will?"
Hoss grinned. "If ya ever take the notion to run off again, well, we'll come drag your sorry butt home, and if Pa don't blister ya britches, I will."
"Ya wouldn't!" Jamie's tone was indignant.
"Don't try me, brother!" Hoss pull the boy to him and said soft but clear. "Legal tomorrow or legal later don't matter. Follow your heart."
Jamie stood in the courtroom and felt an uncertainty in the air but not in himself. He had a feeling of change, both loss and gain. He heard the judge proclaim him forever a Carwright and standing beside Ben Cartwright, beside his pa, was both familiar and new. Then, surrounded by family, Jamie Hunter Carwright walked into his future.
~~Hop Sing~~
"Hardly anybody recognizes the most significant moments of their life at the time they happen."
- W. P. Kinsella, Shoeless Joe
There are times in all men's lives when they know the significance of what they do, when they know something has changed life forever or that one act will change the future. I knew fully that walking onto the boat that carried me from my home in China to a strange land would make everything from that time on different than what had gone before or that I had expected as I grew. But there are other times when hardly any man recognizes the significance of his actions to his future.
I did not take care with that dinner because I thought it of importance. Mister Sheldrake was not a man of appreciation. The food I prepared need be only edible even if a guest was expected. He ate as a horse munches hay to satisfy hunger. No, I used my skill because I had been taught by honorable father and elders of family that one did always the best at any job.
When the lone guest at the table took time to praise and thank me for my efforts, it pleased me greatly, and I allowed a small smile to appear on my face. The smile was fleeting. Mister Sheldrake's comments dismissed my efforts crudely as they often did. He was a man of little respect for others and a man of bigotry who felt my people lesser than his and let it be known, but still he paid me as he would one of his race not less as was often the case, so I made my ears deaf to his insults and counted my savings to quell my anger.
This time, though, I think his words were turned to my benefit. Unexpectedly, I heard a knock at the kitchen door. When I opened it, I again looked upon the face of the guest who had complimented me. I think had not Mister Sheldrake made his comments, Mister Ben would have thought it wrong to come with his offer. Still, he came into the kitchen and told me his wife was with child and with his family growing as well as his ranch that he had thought to hire a servant for his house. His wife he said could cook but did not care for the chore so the servant would be first and foremost a cook giving her more time for the children. Still, other tasks would be expected. He spoke of his sons and of his ranch far from the city and the ocean but near a beautiful lake. I had grown up in a village beside a beautiful lake. I felt this was a sign. Mister Ben Cartwright asked me to consider a position in his home. I could see he was a man of respect and appreciation. I agreed telling myself this was a decision that could be changed. I did not know, did not expect, that I would find on that ranch a place, a life, and a family to care for.
~~Candy~~
"It was as if his whole life had suddenly lodged in his throat, a raw bite he could neither spit out nor swallow."
Larry McMurtry, Lonesome Dove
Candy walked into the saloon, ordered two beers, and headed toward a table. He had downed half of his mug before he saw two people approaching from different directions. He caught Joe Carwright's attention and pointed toward the second beer on the table then turned his attention to the woman who now stood before him. It was as if his whole life had suddenly lodged in his throat, a raw bite he could neither spit out nor swallow. She recognized him; he saw it in her eyes, but she stepped closer to Joe, placing her hand on his shoulder.
"Buy a lady a drink, handsome," she cooed and made sure Joe had a closer look at her decolletage.
Soon she was seated on Joe's lap. As Joe indulged in drink after drink, her attentions kept him from noticing that Candy nursed one beer and mostly observed his table companions silently. Later, Candy guided Joe across the street and up the stairs laying him on the bed, divesting him of gun and boots, and then throwing a blanket over the already snoring Cartwright.
Candy felt a hand run up his back and over his shoulder to caress his ear. She had followed them. He jerked away and turned to face her.
"Long time no see, Candy." Her voice played with his name. Candy's eyes flicked toward Joe. "Anything he might hear, he won't be remembering, Sugar."
She was right, still he maneuvered them further from the bed. "I didn't hear you give Joe a name. Are you using any one in particular?"
"Whatever comes to mind if one of them asks." She laughed softly. "Would you believe the bartender and the piano player call me Candy."
"Does the bartender just water your drinks or does he add a little something to the mark's."
"Only if absolutely necessary." Candy looked toward Joe. She shook her head. "He ceased being a mark when he called you friend. I'm not a fool."
No, fool had never been an apt description when it came to her, girl or woman. "Glad to hear it." He looked down at her, his face like granite. "So, you'll be leaving empty-handed."
"That depends on you." She tapped her chin with her forefinger. "A girl's got to earn a living. Would he think of you as a friend if he knew all I know about you?"
"Some people don't hold the sins of the past against you."
"You hold mine against me."
"No, I hold what you are, not what you've done, against you."
"What is it you think I am?"
"Poison. You were born full of venom like a baby snake."
"And surviving my bites as given you immunity?"
"Yes."
She shrugged and raised her eyebrow suggestively.
He took out his wallet, extracted the bills, and stuffed them into her decolletage.
"Thank you..." She stood on her tiptoes whispering his baptismal name into his ear and then left. Candy finally swallowed down the lump that was his past.
"Her name was Maude, and she drank whiskey all day from a fruit jar under the counter."
Flannery O'Connor, Wise Blood: A Novel
Her name was Maude, and she drank whiskey all day from a fruit jar under the counter but seldom appeared inebriated to the causal eye. She knew everyone in the admittedly small town and its environs. More importantly she knew their secrets, but she was discreet and used the knowledge discerningly. She had countless acquaintances, few enemies, and only one actual friend. She smiled as she watched that friend ride up, dismount, and walk into her domain.
"Hey there, Sweet Man, get over here."
Candy Canaday strode across the room and leaned over the counter to plant a kiss on Maude's cheek. "Beautiful as ever."
Maude snorted disagreement, but her eyes sparkled. "You can leave off trying to shine me on. What are ya doing here?"
"Visiting my favorite lady."
Maude slapped his arm. "Awful long ride for a howdy." Her face grew serious. "What do you need?"
"Information."
"And you think I have what you need? I ain't been out of this backwater town in ten years."
"Do you know a man named Alistair Markham?"
He saw the yes in her eyes even though she did not answer immediately but took a sip from her fruit jar. Maude extended the jar in Candy's direction. He took it and drank while he waited for her answer. "And if I do?"
"I need to know what you know about him."
"To what end?"
"To help a friend. Friends, actually, my boss and his sons."
"These folks important to ya, are they?"
"Like family, Maudie."
She sighed. "Family of family is an obligation." She shook her head. "They picked a bad one to fight against."
"He did the picking. The Cartwrights have no choice but to fight."
"I see. So, ya need to know your enemy."
"You always do if you're going to win."
"I suspect you already know he's lower than a snake's belly and willing to do most anything to get what he wants."
"Yep. Now I need to know if he has an Achilles heel, and if so, what it is." Few people would have expected Maude to understand the classical reference, but Candy knew she was more educated and well-read than half the folks on Knob Hill.
"You know he spent some time around here about nine years ago, or you wouldn't have come to me." She took another sip from her jar and sighed. "He has one."
"What is it?"
"Not what but who?"
"Who?"
"Yes, who, and there's the rub, Sweet Man, the who is an innocent. Are you ready to use an innocent?"
"You know I wouldn't hurt..."
"Sometimes in a battle there's collateral damage."
"He needs to be stopped, Maudie. For everyone's good. He hurts people."
"Can you and these Cartwright's put an end to him for good?"
"We can make a better try than most."
She slapped the counter. "All right then. The name's Angelina Cary. She's his daughter."
~~Griff~~
"He lay back, put his arm over his eyes and tried to hold onto the anger, because the anger made him feel brave."
-Stephen King, Misery
He lay back, put his arm over his eyes and tried to hold onto the anger, because the anger made him feel brave. He'd used anger before to make himself brave. In the end, though, his anger had made him not only brave but stupid. It had been stupid to do it when he did, stupid to do it where there were folks close enough to stop him, folks there to drag him away to the jail. Guess some would say it was better they had. Two to five was better than hanging for murder, and it would have been murder. He heard someone stir, another person cough, and even the anger could not stop the cold chill in his stomach. He brought his stepdad's face into his mind. Maybe hate could burn off the fear. It did when he was standing before the judge. It did when they put on the chains. Anger and hate had made him able to walk toward the prisoners who greeted him with jeers and leers, to stare them down for one night at least. Now he lay in the dark with only that anger and hate to wrap around him. He wanted to sleep. He had managed to sleep in conditions just as physically uncomfortable, had found sleep in far more pain after a beating at the hands of his stepdad. Come to think of it, his stepfather was the only man who had ever beaten him. Of course, he had the law on his side, had the right to do it, to hear the man tell it he had a duty to do it. Evidently, the judge had agreed. The judge had been able to see the bruises from more than the last beating when sentence was pronounced and had still said it. "Griff King you are hereby sentenced to no less than two years and no more than five in the territorial prison." When he had turned to be led away, he had seen the smile on his stepdad's face, his one comfort was that he had also seen the damage the pick handle had done, some of the marks would be there for life. He shifted and then stilled listening to the men around him. He knew he would have to prove himself but exactly how was still to be discovered. It was the unknown that froze his blood. Thank God he was tall, his body if not his face belying his lack of age, and hard work had made him strong. More importantly, he knew how to fight. He almost smiled at the thought of Candy. Candy had taught him to fight. Another cough in the night and another tendril of fear in his chest. Lord knew he could take a punch, he'd taken hundreds, but there were things worse than punches. He told himself it would be easier to sleep tomorrow. The warden had said hard labor. This first night would be the worst night for sleep.
"God knows I had not wanted to fall in love with her."
-Ernest Hemingway, A Farewell to Arms
"Griff..."
"Leave it alone Candy."
"I just..."
"You're just trying to be a durn big brother." Griff shook his head angrily. I don't need nobody telling me it wouldn't have worked." Griff sent his friend a glare he had honed in territorial prison. "If ya can't keep from giving me the benefit of your vast experience, write out your reasons. I'll read 'em and see if there's any that ain't on my list already." Griff stomped about a hundred yards further from Candy before stopping and punching a tree.
"Griff..."
"Why can't ya leave it alone?"
Candy shrugged. "I never leave my friends to stew alone in their misery." Candy took a few steps toward his friend but then stopped. "I never said I thought it couldn't have worked."
"So, you think someone like Duffy could have been happy with an ex-con?" Griff's voice dripped sarcasm.
"I don't know the lady well enough to say what would make her happy."
Griff turned, placed his back against the tree he punched, and slid down to sit against it, drawing his knees up and dropping his chin to his chest. "I ain't even off probation yet."
"That wouldn't have kept Ben from letting ya have the cabin and paying installments on the land. You know that." Candy walked closer and sat down facing his friend.
Griff did not raise his head. "It's not like I wanted to fall in love with her. God knows I didn't. I just did."
"Are you sure you did?"
Griff's head came up with a snap. "What!"
"Wait, I'm not saying... I know... I know you feel...that you're hurting. It's just, well, did you fall in love with her, with Duffy, or with, well, you never had... Griff, are you sure you fell in love with her not with the idea, the dream."
Griff closed his eyes and banged his head back against the tree. He sighed. After a few minutes of silence, he spoke. "It was nice, well, lots of it was nice, real nice. I shoulda kept telling myself we was just playing house."
"I think... well, it would be hard not to enjoy a good woman's company; having a woman like Duffy do for ya would be something fine. It was like ya swiped a lick of icing; it would be hard not to crave at least a slice of cake."
"Ya think, well, do you think she mighta been thinking something like that, that I was wanting the dream not her, when she said good-bye so easy."
"Are ya sure it was easy for her? She might have wanted a little slice of that cake herself, but, well, it wasn't her first time playing at a different life." Candy sat quietly and gave Griff time to ponder.
"God knows I had not wanted to fall in love with her." Griff gave Candy a self-deprecating grin. "Do you think He knows I do want that sometime with somebody?"
Candy smiled. "He knows."
