For Want of a Brother, Part Twenty

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


Dinner was awkward. All right, that was an understatement. It was pretty much a nightmare.

Ben Cartwright sat glowering at the head of the table. Adam was the object of most of his scowling, but every now and then he would cast his eyes on me or Drew. And more often on me—I suppose there wasn’t much point in glowering at Drew.

Mr. Cartwright had accepted Adam’s plans, it seemed—but he didn’t like them.

Joe’s sullen, angry mood wasn’t much better than his Pa’s glare. He kept quiet through most of the meal, speaking up only to snap at someone every now and then.

Hoss, meanwhile, was applying himself to his food. Sometimes he would glance up at his Pa or across the table at Joe, but then he’d shoot an apologetic look at Adam and go straight back to dinner. It was as if he was saying, “I’m sorry, older brother. I’ve done my best for you, but there ain’t no more I can do this moment.”

As for Sheriff Coffee, he was looking like he’d rather be anywhere else in the world just now. But, like Hoss, he seemed to be philosophical about it. His uneasiness didn’t stop him from eating.

Adam tried to keep up a light, steady conversation. I tried to join him, but Mr. Cartwright gave me a look that had me shaking in my boots. I reckon he didn’t want to hear my voice just now.

He probably didn’t want to hear Drew’s voice either, but I don’t think Drew cared. In fact, Drew seemed to take pleasure in everyone’s discomfort. That didn't surprise me. This was the same fellow who didn’t want to pay for the safety of his miners.

Yeah, he was also the fellow who was mourning his brother. And he was the fellow who was going to do his best to stop me from hanging. I knew all that.

And I was sorry—with all my heart I was sorry—for his loss. And I knew I was responsible for it. And I was grateful to him for agreeing to help me. But Drew wasn’t acting out of the goodness of his heart. Adam had to pay him handsomely for his services.

I shook my head as I stared down at my meal. Adam was going to have his hands full with Drew these next three years. I wondered if he’d have any kind of good influence on the man. Not likely, I decided.

On the other hand, he’d been a good influence on me. And I’d done much worse than Drew. At least Drew wasn’t a murderer.

We all made our way to the great room after dinner. All except Joe, that is. He made his way upstairs. I decided to follow him. I knew I wasn’t high on his list at the moment, but I still thought it’d be best to let him take his anger out on me.

He paused when he reached the door to Adam’s room. “What are you doing up here?” he asked me, placing one hand on the door knob. “Think I want to be stuck minding you right now?”

I forced myself to smile at that. “No, Deputy,” I answered. “But I thought you might like to speak your peace to me. Or maybe take a free shot.”

He stared at me for a moment and then shrugged. Then he walked into Adam’s room, leaving the door open so that I could follow.

He collapsed into a chair. I took the one opposite him.

“This ain’t your fault,” he began.

I stared at him. That was the last thing I expected him to say. “It’s more my fault than Drew’s,” I said. I felt that I needed to be honest on that point.

But Joe shook his head. “It’s not his fault either. It’s no one’s fault. Why do you think I’m so angry? There’s no one to blame.”

I held my tongue. I figured it was best to let Joe do the talking right now.

He sighed and turned his head away from me. “The Ponderosa’s not enough for Adam—it’s not enough to hold him here. He doesn’t love it the way the rest of us do.”

I frowned. “I think he does,” I said. “He told me this place gets under your skin. And he said that he won’t be able to stay away for long.”

“Yeah, not for long—just for three years,” Joe said, turning back to me and rolling his eyes. “But you’re right. It’ll always be his home. It’s just that it means even more than that to Pa.”

“And to you and Hoss?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he said. “I think so. I mean, I want to get away sometimes too—but that’s just because I hate being the youngest.”

“Really?” I asked, raising my eyebrows at him. “I hate being the oldest.”

Joe grinned. “I know. That’s why you’re so damn happy letting Adam boss you around.”

I smiled at that and we both fell silent. But I kept staring at him, remembering the look I’d seen in Adam’s eyes as he watched Joe earlier. Just before he agreed to Drew’s proposal, I mean.

At length I sighed and stared down at my cuffs. “If you asked him, Joe, I reckon he wouldn’t go. He’d look for some other way to help me, but he wouldn’t leave here.”

“I know,” Joe said, as if I’d just stated the obvious. “It’s going to kill him to leave me again—he’ll spend half his time back east worrying about what kind of trouble I’m in. And he has a hard time saying ‘no’ to me.” He paused and grinned. “I’ve always been his favorite.”

I snorted. “I know—anyone can tell that. But you won’t ask him to stay?”

He furrowed his brow for a moment, but then he shrugged his shoulders in a gesture of generosity. “No,” he said. “I guess it’s worth letting Adam see the world for three more years if it means saving your neck.”

He paused again and gave me a hard look. “Did he tell you that I almost shot a man in cold blood once? A fellow who shot Hoss?”

I shook my head. “No,” I said. “What stopped you?”

To my surprise, he smiled a little. “Adam,” he said. “He talked me down. But I had that fellow kneeling in front of me with my gun pointed at his head.”

I kept staring at Joe. We were a lot alike, just as I’d suspected. “Does your Pa know about that?” I asked.

He nodded. “Yeah. He knows how close I came to doing exactly what you did.”

We both clammed up after that and sat there in silence. I’m not sure how much time passed; I was too lost in my own thoughts.

When Adam came in, Joe just glanced up at him, real casual-like. “You need help packing, older brother?” he asked. “You know I’ve always wanted this room.”

Adam stared at him uncertainly—but just for a moment. Then he broke into a wide grin. “You’re going to have to fight Hoss for it,” he pointed out.

“Nah, I’ll make some deal with him,” Joe said. “Don’t worry about that. You’re going to be stuck with the little room when you get back.”

I bit my lip at that—the smallest room here was grander than anything I’d ever known. But I didn’t say that out loud. In fact, I could tell that Adam and Joe didn’t need me around just now. So as Adam crossed the room to take a seat at Joe’s side, I slipped out.

I thought there would be someone downstairs to keep an eye on me—but the lamps were snuffed out, the fire was burning down to coals and the great room was dark and quiet. Everyone must have headed up to their rooms.

Well, they all knew that I wasn’t going to try to escape. And I’d go back up to Adam’s room in a minute or two. I just wanted to give the brothers some privacy.

I took a seat on the edge of the fireplace and stared into the embers, wishing that Adam, Hoss and Joe were my real brothers. And that’s when I realized how much I missed Rosalind. And Celia—Celia probably didn’t even know what had happened yet. She was too far away from Virginia City. But she’d find out once the roads were clear.

I felt something in my throat as I realized that the three of us—me, Rosalind and Celia—would never be together again. Poor Celia would suffer the most. She was a shy girl, our Celia. Rosalind was the only one who knew how to coax her out of her shell.

I drew my knees up to my chest and buried my head in them. That’s when the tears started gushing out of me. Before I knew it I was sobbing my guts out.

I wasn’t even crying out of grief—I was more angry than mournful. Rosalind had so much life and beauty in her. Why’d she have to waste it on a man like Jack Clayton? Why had she been stupid enough to fall for his lines? Why had she let him take such advantage of her?

“Oh God, Rosalind,” I said, under my breath. And then I thought about Jack Clayton and what he did to my little sister. And for that moment—just for that moment—I was glad that he was dead and that it was my hand that had killed him.

“It doesn’t get better,” a voice said.

I nearly jumped out of my skin at that—I had no idea someone else was there. I turned my head and saw that Drew Clayton was sitting in the chair farthest from me, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. He must have been sitting there the whole time. I don’t suppose it mattered to him that the room was dark.

I took a deep, ragged breath. “I didn’t—I didn’t know you were here,” I managed.

He shrugged. “So I gathered.”

I sighed and some of the anger went out of me. “What were you doing? Thinking about your brother?” I asked.

“Yes,” he answered.

I wiped my nose with my hand. “Did you ever meet my sister?”

It took him a moment to answer that. “Once,” he said. “She was lively and playful, as I remember.”

I nodded. “Yeah, that would have been her. She had all her namesake’s charm—just none of her sense.”

“She was named for Shakespeare’s Rosalind?” Drew asked.

“Yes,” I answered. “My Pa—my Pa liked Shakespeare. And especially that play.” I paused and wiped my nose again. “Thank God he and my Ma are already dead. They’ll never know what happened to Rosalind—and they’ll never know what I did.”

He didn’t say anything to that.

“I’m sorry about your brother,” I said. I knew how inadequate that statement was, but I felt the need to say it anyway.

Drew sighed. “I feel like I’ve sold him out by agreeing to help you,” he confided. “But even if you hang, that won’t bring him back. And, unfortunately, you getting blown to bits by a Confederate shell won’t bring him back either.”

I managed a small smile. “No,” I said, “it won’t.”

“Nonetheless,” he continued, “I’d like you to get yourself killed if you can possibly help it. I don’t expect you to be suicidal, but try for dangerous assignments.”

I half laughed and half choked. “I’ll see what I can do to oblige you.”

He smiled. “Good,” he said as he got to his feet.

I watched him take his cane and begin feeling his way toward the staircase. I sprang up to help him without thinking. “Here,” I said as I held out my arm toward him, cuffs and all.

He stopped abruptly and turned toward me. Even in the dim glow from the fire, I could see that he was annoyed with my offer of assistance.

“Sorry,” I muttered, taking a step back. I don’t know what had come over me—I knew that he didn’t appreciate help.

But as he stood there, his face softened somewhat. “It’s all right,” he said at length. “If you can manage with the handcuffs, give me your arm.”

I took a step toward him again. “I can manage,” I said.

He didn’t say anything back. He just took my arm and together we negotiated the stairs.

LINK TO PART TWENTY-ONE