For Want of a Brother, Part Fifteen

by J. Rosemary Moss

Genre: Fan-Fiction (Bonanza)
Rating: Mature Content

LINK TO PART ONE: http://jrosemary.blogspot.com/2008/02/for-want-of-brother-part-one.html

~

Hoss and Little Joe were not satisfied with my report. They both gave me a look that made it clear I had failed in my brotherly duties.

I was sitting up in Adam’s bed now. Joe had borrowed the key from Sheriff Coffee and unlocked my cuffs long enough for me to change, so I was back in the night shirt that I had borrowed from Adam last night. Hoss and Joe were still dressed, lounging in chairs on either side of the bed.

Little Joe would be sleeping in here tonight, so that Sheriff Coffee could have his room. He and Adam would take turns staying up to watch over me. I felt kind of guilty, knowing that they'd only get half a night's rest, while I'd have this plush bed the whole night. But somehow I made my peace with that.

“That can’t be all that happened between Adam and Drew,” Little Joe was complaining.

“Yeah,” Hoss agreed. “But then you didn’t know those two before the accident, Reuben--they despised each other. Drew would never have let Adam help him back then.”

Joe nodded. “They must of reached some kind of understanding in the wake of the wreck.”

I thought about the sparse way Adam had told the story--he had given me the events, but not, I suppose, the meaning behind them. But I couldn’t bring myself to blame him for that. I still felt that he was entitled to some privacy. Besides, some things are hard to explain.

“I reckon they did,” I said at last, “but that’s between them, ain’t it?”

Hoss and Joe exchanged glances. I could read them perfectly--they had decided that I was hopeless.

“You know what this is?” Joe asked Hoss.

“What?” Hoss returned.

“It’s hero-worship. Reuben is too busy kissing the ground that older brother walks on to be of any use to us.”

Hoss looked at me, made a kind of ‘hrrrmph’ sound and crossed his arms.

I rolled my eyes. “It ain’t hero-worship,” I said.

They exchanged glances again--significant glances.

I sighed. “Ok,” I said. “It’s a little bit of hero worship. But remember, I never had an older brother before. And I kind of like it. Besides,” I added, glaring at Joe, “I seen the way you look up to Adam sometimes.”

“But I have enough sense to hide it from him,” Joe retorted. “He’s a tyrant, Reuben. If we gave him his head, he’d be controlling everyone and everything on the Ponderosa. It’s our job to keep him in check, not to encourage him.”

“Well, I don’t mind him controlling me,” I said with a shrug. “Not right now, anyways. But I’ll wager that Drew ain’t going to let Adam control him. That’ll keep him in check.”

Hoss frowned and uncrossed his arms. “That’s true--Drew don’t hero-worship Adam.” He paused and gave me a worried look. “Are you sure you ain’t afraid of hanging?”

I bit my lip, trying to figure out how to put my thoughts into words. “I don’t think I have a right to be afraid--not after what I did to Jack Clayton,” I said. “Besides, I keep reminding myself what Julius Caesar said in Shakespeare’s play : ‘Cowards die many times before their death; the valiant never taste of death but once.’”

Joe considered that. “That ain’t a bad line,” he said.

“Yeah,” Hoss agreed. “That Shakespeare had a way with words.”

I managed a nonchalant nod at that understatement and went back to the matter at hand. “I’ll tell you something, though. I am afraid of life in prison.”

“Well, don’t think about that now,” Joe advised. “If Adam can stop you from swinging--and don’t get your hopes up on that--he’ll figure out some way to make your life bearable.”

He paused and gave me a grudging look. “And for what it’s worth, I hope Adam’s successful. I don’t really want your Pa’s Shakespeare books. So I’ll give Adam whatever help he needs.”

“Me too,” Hoss said, reaching over to pat my knee.

I smiled at them both. “Thanks.”

Joe was about to say something back, but Hoss grabbed his arm with one hand and raised his finger to his lips with the other. “Shhhh,” he said. “Just listen.”

We all shut up and perked up our ears. Adam and Drew were coming up the stairs, talking amiably enough. Or so I thought at first. Their words weren’t amiable at all.

“Come into my room and have a drink,” Drew was saying. “Your servant was kind enough to bring some sherry up earlier. Unless you feel the need to tuck in that devoted spaniel you’ve adopted.”

“Drew,” Adam said in a warning tone.

“You’re right--my mistake,” Drew said. “He’s more like a violent pit bull who needs to be put down.”

Joe and Hoss both gave me a look warning me to keep my temper in check, but there was no call for it. I could tell that Drew was trying to get a rise out of Adam. Or maybe out of me, since he must have guessed that I could hear him. His voice was soft--but not too soft.

Adam said something back to Drew that I couldn’t hear. But whatever it was, it caused Drew to laugh quietly.

“I do,” Drew owned. “It’s almost worth it, Adam, just to picture the frustrated look on your face as you remind yourself that you can’t strike a blind man.”

“Don’t try me too far,” Adam advised. “How about that drink?”

We heard the guest room door open and then close and for a long while we couldn’t hear anything else. Whatever Adam and Drew were saying, they were keeping their voices too low for eavesdropping--at least from Adam’s room.

Joe was all for sneaking down the hallway and standing outside the guestroom door, but while Hoss and I were trying to dissuade him, we heard the guest door open and then Drew’s voice again. His voice stopped all of us cold, because there was no mistaking the genuine anger and grief in it.

“He was my brother, Adam!” he said, his voice harsh and tight. “Take your arm off of me--I don’t want your comfort.”

“Drew--”

“You saw the body, Adam. He was riddled with bullets.”

Adam responded and Drew said something back, but we couldn’t hear them. Both men were speaking in whispers again. But I could tell that Drew was crying--or nearly crying--as he spoke.

At length the guest door slammed shut and we heard Adam making his way toward us. I found myself taking a deep breath. I wasn’t upset--not at the moment--at how things had gone between Adam and Drew. There’d be time for that later. It sounds crazy, but right now I was just jealous of Drew. He might be blind and he might have lost his brother, but at least he could cry and grieve and mourn.

But me, I still couldn’t grieve for Rosalind. I couldn't find the tears for her. I’d seen her pale and lifeless after losing all that blood--but some part of me still couldn’t acknowledge that she was dead.

LINK TO PART SIXTEEN: http://jrosemary.blogspot.com/2008/02/for-want-of-brother-part-sixteen.html