Lost at Sea

By Jane

The frigid seawaters circled around Joe and relentlessly pulled at him with its icy fingers.  How long could he hold on?  It seemed like days since he had been sitting in the cabin with Pa, but in reality, it was a scant three hours since they’d enjoyed the warmth and safety of their temporary home. 

“Pa,” murmured Joe.  “Pa!”

Reaching across the battered wooden plank he clung to, Joe grabbed his father’s shoulder. “PA!!”

“Yes, Joe.”  Ben answered quietly.  “You don’t have to yell, son.” 

Joe peered through the black night, but could not distinguish the look on Ben’s face.  However, it wasn’t necessary to see, for Joe to know that his father was in trouble.   The hastily applied bandage around Ben’s head was already soaked with blood, and Joe had no way to fashion another. 

“Hang on, Pa.”  Joe soothed as he moved closer and wrapped his right arm around his father.   His own battered shoulder screamed at him with burning shafts of pain, but he held tight to his father with the damaged arm while the other clung to their makeshift raft.

Ben knew what was going on around him, and appreciated the strong arm his son provided, but he couldn’t seem to make himself respond.  ‘So tired’ he thought as he leaned weakly on his son.  It didn’t seem right to be relying on his young son.  This whole trip was to be a gift for Little Joe; the long awaited trip to New Orleans. 

For years, Joe had dreamed of making the journey east to the home of his mother.  Of course, there were no ties with her family now, but he often talked of seeing the place where his mother had been born and raised.  Ben had finally decided that he should be the one to take his son, and as Joe was 18 this year, the time had seemed right.  Adam and Hoss had agreed to run the ranch in their father’s absence, and had even helped in planning the long-awaited voyage.  Now it seemed like such a foolish venture.                                    

**********

The two Cartwrights had boarded a clipper in San Francisco, and the beginning of their journey had been uneventful.  Joe seemed to enjoy his first days on the ship, and Ben had been thrilled to share his knowledge of the sea with his youngest son.  They had even made some new friends amongst the travelers they shared meals with.                    

But on this particular evening, the movement of the ship had changed as the vessel moved into the path of a storm.  The passengers huddled in their cabins below deck as the waves increased in size, and the ship’s gentle rocking turned into a crashing ordeal.

At first, Ben was comfortable with their retreat below.  But as the evening progressed, his apprehension grew until suddenly, a split second decision had him grabbing Joe by the arm, and pulling him up the narrow steps to the heaving deck above.  As they neared the meager opening to the dark night, Ben Cartwright struggled to suppress a feeling of fear, which suddenly overcame him.  It took every ounce of control he could muster, but the father successfully concealed his panic from his son.

The deck of a ship in the midst of a storm is a terrifying sight indeed, but Ben never faltered as they moved away from the stairway.  With each wall of water that crashed over the deck, the ship seemed to roll a bit further, and Ben’s earlier intuition proved true.  The men had grabbed hold of the railing only seconds before another impregnable surge of sea washed over the ship.   With no warning, the ship’s deck seemed to have disappeared, and the human cargo on deck was flung out to the sea.  

As the wave rushed over the deck, the wooden craft seemed to disappear from sight for a moment, but the men already in the water never noticed.  They had escaped entrapment within its confines, but now found they were prisoners of another power, that of the sea.

Kicking hard, Joe made his way to the surface, but what he saw there chilled him far worse than the temperature of the water.  Pieces of the ship were already scattered around him, and the cries of fellow passengers could be heard even over the sound of the storm.  What he couldn’t see was the majestic outline of the clipper they had boarded a mere two days before.  The only thing he could see now was the rounded bottom of the hull. 

It was then that true terror found a home in Joe’s heart.   Peering through the howling wind and driving rain, he struggled to catch a glimpse of his beloved father.   Struggling to stay afloat in the angry waters, Joe searched in vain for the person most important in his life.  No matter which way he turned, there was nothing but debris scattered about, and as time went on, even the cries of the other victims were drowned by the fury of the storm.  Screaming Ben’s name into the night brought no results, and Joe was convinced that he’d never see his Pa again.

With an utter feeling of hopelessness consuming him, the youngest Cartwright lost his spirit, and what little strength remained in his body seemed to flow away like the waves around him.  As his mind grudgingly accepted the fact that he’d lost his father, the one person who meant more to him than life itself, Joe’s arms and legs relaxed.  Now that he was no longer kicking against the waves, his body succumbed to the sea’s control, and he began to sink beneath the surface.

One word saved the young man, and it came to him as if a whispering on the wind.

“Joe.”

With a surge of strength he didn’t think possible, Joe resumed his kicking, and quickly made his way through the churning waters until he reached a drifting piece of wood.  There, clinging to its protection was his pa.

No words were spoken, but silent tears were shed as the young man clasped his father in his arms.  Reaching across the wooden plank, the two men held each other tight as the storm raged on around them.

**********

The first rays of the morning sun pierced the angry clouds, but the golden shafts of light did little to encourage the weary men.  Ben still clung weakly to their makeshift raft, his gaze never leaving his son’s face. 

Joe had been quiet for some time, and if it hadn’t been for the steady pressure of his grasp, Ben would have thought he was asleep.  But periodic questions from his youngest reminded him that Joe was conscious of his father’s predicament.  However, it wasn’t until daylight that Ben was aware of his son’s injuries.  It was that knowledge which, oddly enough, seemed to anger him.  With voice raised and eyes burning, Ben turned on his son.

“Joe!  What were you thinking?  Why didn’t you tell me you were hurt?”

“Wha . .”

“Look at you.  Half of your shirt is missing and you’ve been bleeding.  Your shoulder is a mess, and I can tell you’re barely moving your arm.  I’m your father!  You can’t keep things like this from me!”

Staring at the older man, Joe was overcome with a new fear.  This wasn’t like his father.  Yes, Ben would berate or gently chastise him for his foolish behavior, but the anger in Pa’s voice was unwarranted.  In fact, the older man was acting very peculiar, and even without a doctor’s diagnosis, Joe was sure his father’s unusual attitude was a result of his head wound.  The young man prayed the symptoms would get no worse, as he had no way to help his pa, and now that the sun was peeking through the clouds, Joe could see that the shoreline was still miles away.  

A strong swimmer, Joe had always been comfortable in the water, but the past hours had taken a toll on the young man.  Now he found it took all his strength to keep the small plank on a straight course towards the land, which lie ahead.  As for getting there quickly, that was impossible.  Joe just prayed that they’d be able to get there at all.  As for anyone else making it, the two men had given up that hope hours before.

At first there had been screams and cries from people who’d made it out of the ship.  But in the dark fury of the storm, the Cartwrights had been unable to reach any of the others.  They prayed that there would be other survivors around them, but morning had found them alone in the water. 

Focusing ahead, Joe tried to put aside his thoughts and memories of the friends they’d made onboard the clipper.  Yet visions of other passengers came over him as they drifted in the sun.

There was Mary, the dark-haired young lady who was also traveling east with her father.  The two families had shared a dinner table the first night, along with a matronly woman who was sailing alone.  Her husband had just died in the goldfields of California, and now she was going home to live with her daughter.   All of them were gone now.  Gone, along with the friendly captain Ben had admired, and the young sailor Joe had talked to.

Laying his head on the rough plank, Joe closed his eyes for a moment, but the visions remained.  He wished for the luxury of sleep, but knew that he was Ben’s only hope for survival.  The older man was too seriously injured to manage the long swim alone.  No, it was up to him to keep them going.   Yet, if only he could rest, just for a little while.

The quiet lapping of the water against the wood was a peaceful respite from the earlier crashing roar of the storm, and Joe was asleep before he knew it.

**********

A gentle hand stroked his hair, and for a moment, Joe expected to open his eyes and see Pa waking him for breakfast.  But the scene that greeted him was much different than he expected. 

Blinking rapidly, Joe raised his head to find his father watching him closely.   The clouds that covered the sky at dawn were no longer there.  Instead, the sky was a brilliant blue, emblazoned by the golden sun.  Only the familiar caress from his father’s hand made Joe feel that waking up had been worth the effort.

“Joe?  You alright, son?”

“Yeah, Pa, I’m fine.  How long have I been asleep?”

“Couple hours.”

“Sorry . . .”

With his mumbled apology, Joe set to work.   An overwhelming sense of guilt and shame filled him as he looked about and realized they’d made little progress over the past few hours.  At least his father seemed a little more like himself, and for that the young man was grateful.  But the men didn’t try to talk anymore.  The salty seawater, and now the burning rays of the sun were already having an affect.  Their lips were chapped and raw, their throats as dry as the sawdust at the lumber mill back home.  Joe wondered, briefly, how long it would take for a man to die out here on the water.

On the other side of the narrow plank, Ben was filled with regrets of his own.  He was aware that he hadn’t been thinking clearly in the past hours, and his memories of the night and early morning were shadowy at best.  The last clear recollection he had was of grabbing Joe and heading for the deck just before the ship capsized.  After that, his recall was merely bits and pieces, and he was uncertain as to if any of them really happened. 

The only thing Ben was sure of was that he was responsible for putting his youngest son in harm’s way.  And now, he was forced to rely on that same son to help keep him alive.  Gingerly reaching up, he felt the cloth that encircled his head.  Stiff with his own blood, Ben realized the bandage was actually the sleeve from Joe’s shirt, and he was suddenly consumed with pride for this young man, his son.  Ben prayed for the strength to help his boy, but the only answer he received was a continuation of the pounding pain in his head.

Wondering what piece of the ship had struck him, Ben decided it must have been well aimed.  The white-hot pain continued its threat to push him back into the darkness.  Only Joe’s continued admonitions to ‘stay awake’ kept the older man’s resolve alive.  He must stay strong, for his son.

**********

The sun’s rays were lengthening when, at last, Joe could make out a clear outline of the shore.  The waves had grown in size as the men got closer to land, but they were still well away from a safe landing.  Joe knew they needed to be on solid ground before the sun set.  Drifting for another night on the ocean would mean certain death for both of them. 

With renewed determination, Joe kicked with both legs, and paddled as best he could with his one good arm.  At first, it seemed as if the effort was unyielding, but as the sun began to sink beyond the edge of the ocean, his labors were rewarded. 

His yell of delight came out as a mere squeak, but if there had been someone there to witness the event, they would not have missed the joy in Joe Cartwright’s eyes.  He knew that, as his feet touched the sand, he would never forget the relief or gratefulness he felt.

Pulling Ben into his arms, Joe stumbled and fell several times as he made his way towards the shore.  Not until they were halfway up the beach towards the trees, did he finally allow his father to sink to the sand.  And even then, Joe stood a moment longer, reveling in the feel of the earth beneath his feet.  Then, he too sank into a heap next to his pa.  

This time, he didn’t even try to stave off the sleep, which reached out to claim him.  With an inaudible sigh, Joe welcomed the darkness, never aware that with his own last ounce of strength, Ben had pulled his son into his embrace.

**********

The soft sound of water in the distance continued to lull Ben Cartwright in his peaceful slumbers, but the warmth of the sun’s rays finally brought him awake.  With eyes half open, Ben looked around in confusion, struggling to understand where he was.  With a groan, he tried to sit up, but the sudden spinning sensation sent him instantly back to the safety of the sand.  Slowly, his hand reached upwards and carefully investigated the thin material wrapped about his head.   Although warm and dry, its presence reminded the man of what had happened. 

“Joe?  Joseph!  Where are you?”

Although meant to be a loud cry, Ben’s voice came out as a hoarse whisper.  Realizing there was no hope that anyone would hear such an entreaty, Ben tried to raise himself again.  Once more, with the dizziness overwhelming him, his body slumped to the ground.  Panting softly, the weak man lay quietly as he stared at the sky above him.  He could tell that he was further up the beach, meaning that Joe had probably moved him here. 

Gotta find Joe.

Turning slowly to his side, Ben found that if he moved in minute increments, he was able to stave off the nausea, which plagued him.  It took several minutes, and a hearty dose of patience, but finally the gray- haired man made it onto his right side.  From this position, he was able to look a fair distance up the shoreline.  The view, however beautiful, was not what he was looking for.  Again, Ben began the slow process of moving, this time managing to turn to his left side, where he surveyed the vista to the south.  More sand, rocks and water met his gaze, and the exhausted man lay back dejectedly. 

Joseph, where are you?

As his eyes drifted shut, the man found his emotions a combination of fear and anger.  Almost helpless as a result of his head wound, Ben was uncertain as to where he was, or what had happened to his son.  A feeling of exasperation began to fill him, even as he slid into a troubled sleep.

**********

Joe trudged down the sandy beach, a gull screaming loudly overhead.  As he made his way past the rocky point, the pounding surf turned to a peaceful sound that soothed his tired soul.  In the distance, he could make out the shape of his father, still lying in the sand where Joe had been forced to leave him. 

After making it to land the previous evening, the two exhausted men had slept soundly through the night.  When the morning light awoke him, Joe had been overcome by a sense of urgency that didn’t need explaining.  They had been without water for almost two days; he had to find something for them to drink, and soon.  Turning to his father, Joe tried valiantly to wake the older man.  But no matter how hard he tried; he received no response other than an occasional moaning. 

It was with much trepidation that Joe finally pulled himself to his feet and walked away.  Stopping after only a few yards, he turned back and studied the still form of his father.  A mental argument took place within him, but a strong force seemed to urge Joe forward.  Sitting next to his Pa would be of no help.  What he needed was water, and food if he could find it.  So the young man pushed on, his footsteps slowed by the sand beneath his now-bare feet.

Ben and Joe had each kicked their boots off soon after the ship sank.  The water filling them had threatened to pull the men under, and it had taken some maneuvering to rid themselves of their footwear.  But the action had surely saved their lives.  Now, Joe wished passionately for something to replace them as he gingerly stepped over rocks and sand.   

His journey had been slow and uncertain, but finally Joe found what he was looking for.  A small stream could be seen coming down from the hill above him, and winding its way thru the small Pinon trees and scrub brush, found its end in the sea.  Rushing forward, Joe stumbled and fell in his hurry to reach the water he craved, and it was a grateful young man who finally toppled into the sparkling water.  Hands splashing about in its shallow depths, Joe didn’t bother to use them to gather a drink; the thirsty man merely dropped his head into the refreshing liquid, and drank his fill.

Now he was returning to his father, grateful for what he’d found, but worried about how he’d be able to get his pa to its nourishing banks.  With no way to carry the water back, Joe had finally done the only thing he could think of.  Pulling off the remnant of his once-best shirt, Joe soaked it repeatedly in the cool water.   Satisfied that every fiber was saturated with the life-saving liquid, he held the soaking bundle carefully in his hands, as he walked back to Ben.

As he drew closer, Joe felt his concern mounting at the motionless form of his father.  He was sure that Pa would’ve come-to by now, and with every passing hour, he was more aware of how serious his father’s condition was.   His tired legs faltered as Joe broke into a lumbering run, and he stumbled to his knees several times before reaching his father’s side.

“Pa.  Pa!  Wake up, Pa.”

Joe lifted his father’s head gently with one hand as he held the still-dripping shirt above Pa’s face with the other.  As he squeezed the fabric firmly, a thin flow of water trickled down onto Ben’s parched lips.

It seemed like an eternity as Joe watched his father intently, but in reality it was only a few seconds before the man’s mouth parted to allow the water in.  

At first, worried that his father would gag on the unfamiliar liquid, Joe was careful to allow only a little water on his father’s face.  But it was soon obvious that Ben was coming to, and was now swallowing the water with ease.  Joe squeezed the fabric tightly, anxious to give his father as much of the life-sustaining moisture as possible.  All too soon, the flow had stopped, and Joe leaned back on his heels.  Folding the shirt into a square, he draped it over his father’s forehead, and watched as Ben finally opened his eyes.  With a sigh of relief, Joe released the breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.

“Pa.”

Ben looked at his son, eyes narrowing at the sight of the anxious young man above him.

“Joe?  What are you doing, boy?”

“I found some fresh water, Pa.  It’s a ways off, but I’ll help you get there.  We’ll start whenever you’re ready.”

“What do you mean, a ways off.  I’m not going anywhere.  I have a pounding headache, and I have absolutely no intention of leaving this spot.”

Staring at his father in disbelief, Joe searched for the words to answer him.  This didn’t sound like his father at all, and Joe was more than a little frightened at Ben’s reactions.  Struggling to remain calm, Little Joe simply ignored his father’s statement.

“Come on, Pa, I’ll help you up.  The stream is just south of here, and the water’s cool and clear.”

“I told you, Joseph, I’m not going anywhere.”

Dropping back on his heels, Joe stared at his father in amazement.  Everything about Ben’s attitude seemed wrong.  It was obvious that his father wasn’t in his right mind, but Joe was at a loss as to how to deal with him.

“Don’t stare at me like that.  And what happened to your shirt?  How many times have I told you to keep a clean shirt on?  I don’t know what I’m going to do with you, boy.”

Ben’s voice was extremely weak, yet firm in its insistence.  Joe found himself incredulous at these unusual responses from his father.  Stuttering in his effort to answer, Joe finally gave up and sat down in the sand.

Something inside told him not to push his father to comply.  Calm and gentle was the way to handle an injured man; he remembered Ben telling him that once.  But Little Joe was not one overly familiar with either of those reactions.  His normal responses were quick and forceful.  The young man found himself wishing for one of his older brothers to help him.  Adam or Hoss would know what to do, or how to handle the situation. 

With head drooping, Joe closed his eyes and listened vigilantly to the sound of his father’s quiet breathing.  Ben had, once more, fallen asleep.

**********

“Joseph?”

“Yeah, Pa.” 

“Wake up, son.”

Slowly opening his eyes, Joe almost laughed at the first thought that hit him.  Why’s Pa waking me up again?   Then, as the memories came flooding back, Joe sat up quickly and looked around. 

They were still in the same position, Ben lying on his back with Joe’s now-dry shirt shading his eyes.  Crouched in the sand next to him, Joe realized they must’ve been sleeping for a while, and as he stretched a bit, the young man realized the sun was beating unmercifully on his bare back.  Glancing around, Joe knew the only way the two would survive would be to work their way towards the stream, and the scant brush along its banks.  The rocky hills above them held no trees and offered no respite from the burning rays of the sun.

Turning to his father, Joe finally realized what had changed.  It was Ben.  No longer angry or argumentative, Pa lay quietly watching him, and Joe found himself whispering a thank-you for the familiar presence.

“How are you feeling, Pa?”

 

“Tired.  And my head hurts.”

“I bet.  Do you remember anything?”

“A little.  Are you alright, son?”

“Yeah, Pa, I’m fine.  Just thirsty.”

“Have you had a chance to look for some water?”

“Yes, sir.  There’s a stream down the beach a ways.  Do you think you can make it?”

“Sure, I can make it.  What’re we waiting for?”

Joe caught himself as he started to reply, reaching instead for his father’s arm.

“Joe, your shoulder. .”

“It’s alright, Pa.”

Ben studied his son carefully.  He knew the boy was not being entirely honest, but he also knew there wasn’t much they could do about his injury.  Regrets and concern filled the father’s heart, and it was several minutes before the worried man was able to speak again.

“Where’s your shirt, son?  You need to cover up.  You’ll be badly burnt if you don’t.”

“Well, I . .”

Seeing the confused look on his father’s face, Joe finally reached over and drew his tattered shirt from where it had fallen in the sand.

“I used it earlier to bring some water back for you.”

Ben watched closely as Joe pulled the sleeveless shirt over his reddened skin.  Then, reaching up to his own forehead, the older man realized his son had once again used his garment as a bandage.  It was obvious that the second sleeve of Joe’s shirt now adorned his father’s head.

“What happened to the first one?”

 

“You were bleeding pretty bad, Pa.  I threw it away after we ended up here.”

Nodding carefully, Ben simply fingered the bandage for a moment, before dropping his hand to his side.

“Have I been much trouble?”

“No, Pa.  But you did have me worried for a while.  You’ll feel better after we get to that water.”

Reaching down, Joe helped Ben to his feet.   Swaying weakly, Pa was relieved to have his son to lean on.  The world still seemed to swirl around him, and his vision was marred by a black edge, but he fought off the queasy feeling and took his first step.  Sheer willpower kept the man going as he plodded forward.  Joe continued to watch him anxiously as they moved along the shoreline.  He prayed silently that he would be strong enough to help his father.

**********

Sitting on the banks of the small stream, father and son rested quietly.  There was little shade, but they managed to make use of what there was.  Joe sat with his back against a narrow rock ledge, while Ben stretched out under a bush next to him.  They dozed off and on through the afternoon, grateful for the presence of the refreshing stream, and a handful of roots and that Joe hand managed to dig along its banks.   It wasn’t much, but even the meager nourishment was something to be thankful for.

Joe continued to watch his father carefully, but the man seemed more himself with each passing hour.  There had been no more unusual behavior, and Ben seemed totally unaware of his previous strange demeanor.  Although the dizziness still bothered him, Ben managed to sit up a little longer each time, and Joe hoped fervently that his recovery would continue. 

There was no hope of rescue here on this deserted beach, and both men knew it could be many miles before they’d find any help.  Even though they were unsure of their location, they knew they were well below the border of Mexico.  It hadn’t taken much discussion for them to agree that their best course was to follow the stream east.  With no food or money, and scant clothing, they would be of little threat to anyone they came upon.  There was also little chance that anyone would have reason to bother them.  They could only hope that someone along their way would befriend them.  It promised to be a long journey home, but a journey that both were grateful they’d have a chance to make.

Hours later, the two men worked their way slowly up the hillside, their progress slow at best.  With feet already torn and bleeding, Joe knew they wouldn’t be able to go very far before stopping again.  Ben was past being worn out, yet they were still within sight of the ocean.  There seemed little hope that they would survive this ordeal, yet Joe pushed those thoughts from his mind.  He had to keep trying, had to stay strong for his pa.

A cry behind him caused Joe to spin around just as Ben fell.  Rushing back to his father’s side, he clutched the man tightly as Pa moaned softly then closed his eyes.

“Can’t make it, son.”

“Yes, you can.  We’re both going to make it.  You’ve always told me that a man can do anything if he sets his mind to it.”

“You . . go ah ea d. .”

“No, Pa.  I’m not leaving you here.  Now get up.  We’re almost to the top of this hill.  We’re going to make it over this one, and the next one, and the next one.  We’ll keep going as long as we have to.  Adam and Hoss are depending on us, Pa.”

The last of Joe’s words were the ones that finally registered in Ben’s mind.  Adam and Hoss.   His other sons were back home, waiting for them to return, unaware that both father and brother were locked in a battle for their lives.  No, he couldn’t give up, either.   With a groan, Ben pushed himself up, and Joe helped him to stand.

“Let’s go, son.  It’s a long way home.”

**********

Adam stared into the fire, his attention focused on the flames that licked the pine log burning there.  His hand still clasped the telegram Roy Coffee had delivered earlier that evening.  Thinking back over the past few hours, Adam realized he’d been moving as if in a fog since he’d first read the penciled words, telegraphed from their lawyer in San Francisco.

‘Regret to inform you.  Ben & Joe Cartwright listed as passengers on clipper bound for Panama.  Ship capsized in storm off Mexican coast.  No word of survivors.  Both considered lost at sea.’

The words echoed in his head as Adam continued to stare before him.  Pa, Joe . . what will we do without you?   Unshed tears gathered in the man’s eyes as he thought of his father and brother.  Could they really be gone?  Forever?  Swiping his eyes with the back of his hand, the dark- haired man finally collapsed into the red-leather chair next to the hearth.  The familiar feel of the leather, and a lingering scent that was his father’s, helped the man to relax.  Slowly leaning back, his eyes closed. 

Hoss had not spoken since Adam read the missive.  Standing as if frozen while Roy murmured his regrets, the big man had slowly turned and silently climbed the stairs to his room.  Now he sat, unmoving, on the edge of his bed, as memories of his father and brother ran through his mind.  Only the ticking of his clock broke the silence in his room, and even that brought memories flooding back, as he recalled the time Pa had presented it as a gift.  Knowing in his heart that nothing would ever be the same, Hoss finally slumped to his side, and let the tears flow.

**********

The sun beat down unmercifully on Joe’s bare back, and he scrambled back under the protection of a small scrub tree.  He pulled his arm closer to his side, and sat still for a moment as he struggled with the pain.  His shoulder seemed to be on fire, and he knew the injury was serious.  Quickly shutting his mind to his own plight, Joe turned instead to look at his father.  He sighed with relief when he realized that Pa was sleeping peacefully.

Ben and Joe made it over that first hill, then another, and still another.  Always careful to keep the stream in sight, they had slowly made their way inland, hoping to come across a farm or village.  Somewhere along the way, Joe lost track of the time.  Uncertain as to how many days had passed since the shipwreck, all he knew was that they had to keep going. 

Now, with the heat of mid-day upon them, he had insisted that they stop to rest in the shade, and for once, Ben hadn’t argued. 

As he studied the small collection of roots and weeds in his hand, Joe sighed in resignation.  Managing to find food had been a difficult task.  Water was readily available, but other than a few roots and berries, Joe was unable to find anything of any substance.  Continuing to watch for signs of game as they walked, he was frustrated at the lack of even a single track.  Although he had spotted a lizard the night before, he’d been unable to catch it, and wasn’t sure what he would’ve done with it if he had.   It was a barren stretch of land, one he hoped they’d never see again, if they made it out at all. 

Ben’s condition had seemed to improve at first, and Joe had been relieved that his father was once again coherent.  But after those first few hours of walking, the older man had lapsed into a sullen silence on several occasions.  Joe quickly learned that this was a sign that his father wasn’t fully aware of where he was or what was happening.   Sensing that any reference of this to his pa would result in a confrontation, Joe would simply find some excuse to stop and rest for a while.

Most of the time his ploy worked, but the last time Pa had become quite belligerent.  After resting for only a few minutes, Ben had lurched to his feet and continued on, a string of insulting words hurled back at Little Joe.  The young man had simply followed behind his father the rest of that afternoon, hoping that Pa’s strange behavior would vanish as quickly as it had appeared.

As the two men sat quietly in the shade, Joe was lost in thought, his mind replaying every aspect of his father’s injury.  His fear was more intense than at any other time in his young life, and Little Joe had struggled to conceal those feelings from his pa.   Bandaging his father’s head was the only medical help he could manage.  There was no medicine here, no clean bed for the man to lie in.  What else could he do?

Ben’s low moan brought Joe back to the present.  Leaning over, he watched his father closely as the older man came awake.  Joe could see the moisture on Pa’s brow, and he reached up absently to wipe it away, but he immediately pulled his hand back in surprise.  

“Fever.”

That single stammered word awakened Ben Cartwright, and the man looked about frantically.  As he looked up into the worried green eyes of his son, he had no idea of where he was or what was happening.  The only thing he was certain of was his skin seemed to be on fire, and he needed to get away.  Struggling to his feet, he pushed the boy roughly away; unaware of the pain he was causing his young son. 

“Pa!  Pa, wait.”

Unheeding his son’s cries, Ben lurched forward, his steps staggering and uncertain.  Not knowing where he was going, not knowing how he’d get there, the man stumbled blindly on.   The half-eaten root dropped silently from Joe’s hand as he struggled to his feet, and hurried to catch up to his father.  The rock-strewn hillside was hard to manage in the best of conditions, but with his mind focused only on the pursuit of his pa, Joe didn’t care which way he went or what he stepped on.  Stumbling repeatedly, his tired body failed him and he fell.  Landing sharply on his side, Joe screamed out in pain as he slipped into the darkness.

***********

“What do you mean, they’ve stopped searching?”

The angry shout was accompanied by a loud thump as Adam’s hand was slammed against the dark mahogany desk.  Thomas Winston, the Cartwright’s attorney, winced in surprise.  He wasn’t in the least bit worried about his fine piece of furniture; rather, his fleeting thought was for the bruise that would surely develop on his young friend’s hand. 

Hastily pushing himself into a standing position, the well-dressed gentleman strode quickly from the desk to stand before the dark-haired man. 

“Adam, you know the Mexican authorities have done all they can.  It’s been well over a week since the clipper capsized, and there’s been no sign of survivors in the past four days.  The last two were found on a beach south of the border, and it’s still uncertain if that young lady will live.  You have to face facts, my boy.  With the violent storm, and the ship disintegrating so rapidly, there’s little chance that anyone else made it.”

“No, you’re wrong!  They’re still alive; I can feel it.  And I’m going to find them!”

Winston stared in shocked surprise at the large man standing across the room.  From the time the Cartwright brothers had stepped into his office, the younger of the two had been silent, content to listen from his seat in the corner.  Now, the man was stretched to his full height, visibly shaking with emotion, his hands almost as white as the hat clutched within them.

“Pa and Little Joe are alive, and I’m going to find them, with or without your help.”

With his last statement, Hoss turned and flung open the door.  His retreat was met with total silence as the two remaining men watched him leave.  Neither one was sure whom he’d been addressing, but both were certain that the worried man meant exactly what he said.

Stepping quietly to his window, Thomas looked out over the bay, his gaze drawn to the ships docked below.  It was unbelievable that his long-time friend, Ben Cartwright, was gone.  He recalled the last time they’d spoken.

It was the day before Ben and Joe had set sail; the three men had met for dinner at the prestigious hotel where the Cartwright’s had been staying.  Mr. Winston had prepared several documents that Ben had requested, and needed to have them signed before the men departed.  After dinner, Joe had excused himself, leaving Tom and Ben to visit alone for several hours.  The two men had enjoyed their conversation immensely, and Tom was saddened to think that he’d never enjoy another quite like it.

Now he was faced with the distressing task of dealing with the remaining sons, and their grief.  Profoundly aware of what a close family the Cartwrights were, he also knew how difficult it would be for Adam and Hoss to go on without their father and younger brother.  Yet he also realized that denying their loss would only delay the inevitable. 

Winston had fervently hoped he’d be successful in convincing them of the futility of a search, but it was obvious that both of these young men had inherited their father’s stubbornness.   Lawyer Winston had failed this time, and he found that it was the most emotional failure he’d ever experienced.  Adam’s deep voice interrupted his thoughts, and Tom turned slowly to face him.

“We appreciate what you’re trying to do, Tom, but you have to understand. . .”   Adam’s voice faltered briefly and he rubbed a tired hand across his face.  “This is Pa and Little Joe we’re talking about, and we can’t just give up without even trying.  Hoss and I are riding down there, and we’d appreciate your help.”

Only the ticking of a clock broke the silence in the office.  Its steady tick, tick, tick seemed to grate against Adam’s nerves, but to Tom Winston, it had a calming influence.  Turning thoughtfully back to his desk, the lawyer settled into his seat, and opened the top drawer.  Carefully selecting a sheet of paper, he reached for his pen and ink, and then began to write.

Now, the ticking clock was accompanied by the scratching of a pen on paper.  Minutes slipped by as Adam watched his father’s friend working diligently over the document.  Finally finished, the older man stared briefly at his writing while waiting for the ink to dry; then he folded the parchment and rose from his seat.

As Adam stepped forward, Tom held out his hand, yet hesitated to release the missive.  His face displayed his inner struggle as he looked across the desk at his friend’s son.

“Adam, you and Hoss will be careful?  Your father wouldn’t want any harm to come to either of you.  He would want you to go on with your lives. .”

The dark eyes never faltered, and Adam’s hand remained steady as he reached for the paper. 

“We’ll be careful, Tom. And . . thank you.”

The attorney released his grasp, and the paper instantly disappeared into Adam’s vest pocket.  Seconds later the dark haired man was gone, the door closed quietly, yet firmly, behind him.

Thomas Winston turned back to his window overlooking the bay.  His gaze was focused on the water far beyond, as it swirled about the many boats and ships gathered there.  A movement to his right brought his attention to the street below, and the sight of a tall white hat disappearing into a cab caused the man to frown.  As the carriage pulled away, he could see the two brothers seated next to each other, and he breathed a silent prayer for their safety.

**********

Joe awoke to the sensation of a familiar touch.  A hand was smoothing the hair off his forehead, and he turned towards the warmth and love he knew he’d find there.  Slowly opening his eyes, Joe was startled at the gaze that met his.  Ben was sitting next to his son, shading him with his body.  A thin piece of fabric was held loosely in his hand, water dripping slowly from the edge.  He smoothed the wet cloth on Joe’s forehead, and the young man was grateful. 

But the fear clutching at his heart would not subside.  The look he’d seen in his father’s eyes was frightening, and Joe didn’t quite know what to expect.  Was Ben angry?  Was he simply worried?

“It’s about time you woke up, boy.  How many times have I told you to watch where you’re going?  We’ve got a long way to travel, and you falling down and hurting yourself isn’t going to help us get there.  Now sit up here for a minute, then we’ll get started.”

Shocked by the terse words and gruff tone, Joe pulled himself up, never taking his eyes from his father’s face.  Though the man looked like his pa, his words and actions seemed to contradict that fact.  Breathing deep in an effort to calm his panic, Joe struggled to his feet.  This in itself seemed to anger Ben Cartwright.

“What are you doing?  I just told you to sit up!  You don’t ever listen, boy.  Now do what I said and sit down here to rest for a minute.”

In his feverish mind, Ben didn’t realize that pulling his son roughly forward had caused the young man unimaginable pain.  The only thought he could seem to focus on was the insolent way his boy refused to obey him.  Once more he turned on his son in anger.

“Boy!”

But Little Joe had once again slipped into a comforting oblivion.  His last conscious thought was simply a question:  Why doesn’t Pa use my name?

**********

“Well, are you feeling better now?”

Pulling himself up carefully, Joe looked around, struggling to remember what had happened.  And suddenly it came rushing back to him, his father’s strange behavior; at first calm and relaxed, then nervous or angry.  Joe knew it was the head wound that was causing the strange behavior, yet he wished for something, anything to be able to help his father. 

Looking at the gray-haired man now, he seemed the same Pa that Joe had always known.  Yet the comment Ben had just made seemed rather out of context for the normally solicitous father.

“Sorry, Pa.”

His own pain ignored, Joe steadied himself as the two men struggled to their feet and started up the path once more, neither one aware that they were being watched.   It wasn’t until they reached a small outcropping of rock that Joe heard the rustling off to his left.  Stopping several times to peer into the underbrush, he gasped in surprise when he finally realized there was a pair of dark brown eyes watching him intently.   Grabbing Ben’s arm, he pointed towards the side of the trial, and they watched quietly as the small boy came slowly towards them.   

Ben’s shoulders sagged as the weariness overcame him again, and Joe eased him gently to the ground.  It seemed to take forever for the young child to approach them, but when he finally stepped in front of them, his greeting was clear and bright.  However, neither of the men could manage to reply in the boy’s native tongue, and it was immediately apparent that the child did not understand English.  It was obvious, though, that he was aware of the seriousness of their predicament. 

With indiscernible words and various hand motions, it was soon clear that he was urging the men to follow him.  There was no need to invite them twice; Ben and Joe were overjoyed to finally be in the presence of another human being, no matter what the age.  After their initial shock, the weary men rushed to follow him as the boy scurried down the path.

**********

The tired men stretched their legs out before the crackling fire as they slowly relaxed beside its warmth.  With minimal conversation being shared, the older man watched over the coffee pot while the younger of the two prepared a simple meal of beans.  When the preparations were complete, he ladled up a serving on a thin metal plate, and handed it over the fire to his brother.  Now the only sounds to be heard were an occasional clinking of utensils against the plates, along with the snapping fire as the branches burned brightly between them. 

Neither man was hungry, and for the most part, they each spent their time rearranging the beans from one side of their plate to the other.  It was the big man who finally broke the uneasy silence.  Laying his plate on the ground, he dropped his head in his hands, sighing deeply before attempting to speak.

“I just can’t stand this, Adam.”

A look of love and concern passed briefly over the smaller man’s face, but he found that no words of comfort would come.  His own throat was constricted, and there was an ache in his heart so deep, it felt as if the feeling would overwhelm him.

As Adam sat there silently, his thoughts continued to center on the missing members of his family.  His father, a man so full of strength and determination, yet filled with so much love for his sons that he could comfort his children with a tender touch.  And his brother. . that irascible youth who was still part boy, part man; a dark-haired bundle of energy that both infuriated him and stunned him with such deep feelings of love.  How could he and Hoss go on without the two of them?

A sigh from across the fire brought Adam’s attention back to focus on the here and now.  His remaining brother was hurting as much as he was, and somehow they had to help each other deal with the emotional turmoil, if they where to have the physical strength to continue their journey.  It was a daunting task, this endeavor they’d begun.  Two men, alone, attempting to find two other men in a strange and barren country. 

He knew that Tom Winston had been correct in doubting their intentions, yet Adam also knew that he and Hoss had no other choice.  If there were any chance that Pa and Joe were alive, the brothers would search to the ends of the earth itself, to find them.  There was just no way around it, no discussion to be held, no questions to be answered.  Each of them had understood the other from the very moment they’d received the telegram.  Now it was just a matter of keeping their focus on the task ahead, and supporting each other during the process.

With an inaudible sigh, Adam pulled himself up and moved around the fire.  Dropping back on his heels next to Hoss, Adam laid a tentative arm across his brother’s back.

“We can’t give up, Hoss.  If they’re alive, we’ll find them.”

“But what if . . .”

“Until I see for myself to the contrary, I’m going to assume that they’re out there somewhere, alive.  And I’ll keep searching until I find them.”

Adam studied his silent brother as the large man stared into the flames, and it was with great hesitation that he spoke again.

“So. . . are you with me?”

“You know I am, Adam.  It’s just . . . I keep imaging what it would be like if I never saw Pa again, or heard Little Joe laughin’, and it just gets so . .”

“I know.  I feel the same way.”

They sat there, wordlessly, for a long time.  Each man still caught in a web of memories, neither willing nor able to pull themselves from their reminiscing.  It was late when they finally settled back into their bedrolls, and drifted off to sleep.

**********

The small dwelling matched the landscape so well, that Joe was amazed when he stepped into the tiny yard in front of the adobe house.  He hadn’t realized that there was a building there, let alone an inhabited home.  The young boy had run ahead and was even now, leading a woman from the doorway. 

Small and dark, but fairly young, the boy’s mother looked at the two men with obvious distrust.  She watched them as they stumbled into the yard and after several minutes of conversation with her son, she seemed resolved to the men’s presence.  Stepping up to Ben, she reached a supportive arm about his waist and guided him into the house.

Even at his height, Joe found that he had to stoop to enter the building.  Its rough walls were thick and sturdy, and Joe was pleasantly surprised at the coolness within.  Ben was already settled on a low cot positioned along the far wall, his face a study of mixed confusion and surprise.  After struggling on their own for so long, the father and son were almost speechless now that they’d found someone to help them.

A small girl had been playing in front of the doorway when they entered, but she was now curled into a small ball on another cot across the room.  Her dark eyes followed every movement, from that of her mother and brother, to the two strangers who now filled her home. However, the woman did not spare a glance for her daughter, instead busying herself with various tasks. 

Hurrying back and forth across the room, the dark-haired woman quickly had a simple meal prepared and set before them.  The fare was meager, but Joe relished each bite of his tortilla, and from the look on Ben’s face, he felt the same.

The only problem was, the woman had only provided them with a small quantity, and Joe was intensely aware that the unexpected company might cause undue hardship on this poor family.  He had no way of knowing that the woman was concerned for their emaciated condition.  She had lived in this country her whole life, and was well aware of the effect that could be brought on by eating too quickly, or too heavily after having gone for so long without.

So the woman set the wooden bowl back on her workbench in the corner, and motioned for the men to lay down to rest.  Once again, they responded immediately, each laying on what, only now, seemed like luxurious accommodations.  Within moments, both men were asleep.

**********

It was morning before Ben opened his eyes again.  Looking around the small hovel, he strained to remember what had happened and why he was lying here alone.  Sitting up carefully, he raised a tired hand to his head and held it, as the room seemed to spin slowly around him.  Bits and pieces of memory came to him as he struggled to remain upright:  the shipwreck, their time on the beach, walking along a small stream, Joe’s face as he looked into his father’s eyes.  Joe . . .  what happened to Joe?

The slow spin evolved into a devilish whirl as Ben pulled himself to his feet.  He wanted to call out for his son, but his mind focused solely on his ability to stay erect.  Grabbing about for something to hold onto, Ben was surprised to find an arm suddenly grasping his shoulders and easing him smoothly back to the rickety bed.

“Pa!  What are you doing?  You need to stay in bed and rest.”

Looking about the room, Joe quickly found what he was searching for and promptly retrieved a cup of water.  Lifting his father’s shoulders gently from the bed, he held the cool water to Pa’s lips and waited while the man took a tenuous sip.  Moments later, Ben was once again settled on the bed, and Joe squatted on the floor next to him, watching carefully for any unusual signs.   A weak voice reached out to him from the cot.

“Joe.  You alright, son?”

“Yeah, Pa, I’m fine.  You’re the one I’m worried about.”

“I’m okay, just wish this headache would go away.  Where are we, anyway?”

“Don’t you remember the boy out in the brush?”

“Some . .”

Ben’s hesitant look convinced Joe that he really didn’t remember, so for the next few minutes, the son described the past events to his father.   An immense relief surged through him when he realized that Ben was listening and following his commentary closely, and at no time had his pa resorted to his earlier confusion.  It wasn’t long before Pa’s eyes drifted closed, and Joe sat back on his heels to watch his father sleep.  The head wound had obviously been serious, and Joe longed for home and the good Doctor Martin to tend his father. 

Quietly leaving his father’s bedside, Joe stepped out into the sunshine and silently watched the woman going about her daily chores.  His stomach, though hungry for a meal, no longer had that inside-out feeling of the day before, a fact he was extremely grateful for.  Watching her now, busily moving about a small fire pit, he wondered at the items she was preparing.  He longed to ask her the questions that plagued him.  Why was she out here alone?  Was there a village nearby?  Did she have a man who would be returning soon?   But the language barrier stood between them, stalwart as any brick wall might be. 

Rubbing his temples wearily, Joe allowed his eyes to close for a moment, a detail that did not escape the watchful eyes of the senora.  Stepping to his side, she grasped his good arm tenderly and guided him to a bench along the wall.  As she carefully pulled the soiled cloth from his shoulder, he wondered at the way her voice suddenly changed.  A continuous stream of words descended around him and from the sound of it, she was obviously chastising him.  Joe winced as he recognized a familiar feeling, and then realized her actions were much the same as HopSing’s. 

The dark-haired woman retrieved a wooden bowl and slowly dipped a mixture of water and herbs from a small kettle over the fire.  After immersing a clean cloth into the steaming water, she began to gently clean his shoulder, while continuing to mutter reproachfully.  Sitting quietly, while the person who ministered to him fussed at him in a foreign tongue, gave an odd feeling of reassurance to the young man, and he slowly relaxed.  For a moment, he even smiled as he recalled many earlier scenes at home with the beloved Chinaman. 

Head bowed forward, Joe sat in the shade of the small building, and minutes later, was dozing peacefully.

**********

Shielding their eyes from the afternoon sun, two weary travelers sat astride their mounts as they peered down at the city far below them.   Each hoped, silently, that they would find word there of other survivors, so after several quiet minutes, they kicked their mounts and began the long descent into Los Angeles.

It was several hours later when Adam and Hoss rode into the bustling town.  Stopping first at the livery, they made arrangements for their horses; then hurried to the sheriff’s office, as it seemed the best place to start.  But when they closed the office door behind them a scant twenty minutes later, the looks they exchanged were full of frustration and disappointment.  Hoss was the first to break the silence.

“Well, that was a pure waste of time.”

“Yes, but we had to try.  If there had been more survivors found, the sheriff would’ve been the man who’d know.”

“Yeah, you’re right, Adam.”

Glancing across the street, Adam stepped off the wooden walkway and hurried towards their next destination.  Hoss followed a little more slowly, his own emotions causing him to falter.    

With the telegraph line still months from completion and the brothers anxious to learn the latest information, the local newspaper, the Los Angeles Star, seemed the most likely place to look.  As the Cartwrights entered the busy newspaper office, Adam had a feeling that they’d come to the right place.  The room seemed to be almost buzzing with activity. 

Several men were working at the front desks, and an older woman was helping customers at the subscription counter.  Through a doorway, he could see several typesetters working diligently at their machines, and to his right, a reporter was busy going through a sheaf of papers.  After waiting impatiently at the counter, the two men were relieved when one of several office doors opened, and a rather gawky looking man hurried towards them. 

“Can I help you?”

“Yes, sir, we’re looking for some information on the shipwreck.”

“Why, yes, that’s definitely important news these days.  Just check the recent edition, and you can read all about the latest reports.”

“No, you don’t understand.  We’re not interested in reading your paper; we’re looking for information that will help us search for. .”

“Oh, yes, I do understand.  You’re trying to find out something newsworthy before everyone else does, just like all those other people who slip in here from time to time.  Well, sir, I’ll tell you the same thing I tell them.  The paper comes out tomorrow morning, and you can just wait and read it then.”

Taken aback at the man’s impertinent attitude, Adam put his hand on his brother’s arm, realizing the tension that flowed through Hoss would surely find an outlet at some point.  He just didn’t want to start a ruckus here, not now, when they could be close to learning something, if only this idiot of a man could be handled with patience.  Drawing a calming breath, Adam tried again to explain.

“Mister....?”

“Owens.  Samuel Owens.”

 “Look, Mr. Owens, our father and brother were on that ship and we’ve ridden a long way to . . .”

“Maybe I could help.”

Adam and Hoss both turned to find a middle-aged gentleman watching them, his hand outstretched, a friendly smile upon his face.

“May I introduce myself?  I’m Jason Perkins, the editor of the Star.  Why don’t you follow me into my office, and we can discuss your situation in private.  Owens, I’ll see to these young men, you may continue with your duties.”

The previously verbal man was remarkably silent as he turned back to the desk, but his stance showed clearly how put out he was.  The two brothers concealed their amusement at the man’s new demeanor as they followed the editor into his office.

***********

The sound of the clock’s ticking filled the otherwise silent room, and Hoss found himself staring at the offending piece in frustration.   In a sudden flash of memory, he realized there had been another timepiece that had antagonized him with its steady beating.  Hoss had a strange picture of the steady tick-tock actually clicking away the minutes of a man’s life.  Clenching his hands, as if in defiance, he shook his had sharply.  ‘No, NO, they’re alive, both of them.  They have to be.  We’re going to find them.’

But thinking back over the day’s events, Hoss couldn’t help but admit there wasn’t a lot of evidence to encourage them.   Although Mr. Perkins had been very friendly, and quite anxious to assist the Cartwrights, it had been obvious that his main objective was to find another story for his paper.  Even as they’d left his office, the man had followed them out to remind the brothers that if they did find their missing family members, they should be sure and give all the interesting details to the Star.

Adam had been the one who’d almost lost his temper then, and Hoss couldn’t help but grin at the look of fury on the face of his normally calm brother.  But at least they’d walked away with several useful pieces of information.  They now had a specific location of the wreck, and a better understanding of what areas had been searched, and when.

Later, over dinner in the hotel restaurant, the brothers discussed and decided on their search plan, and first thing in the morning, they would put that plan into action.  Heading south towards an old mission where an army unit now resided, they would use their letter from Thomas Winston in the hope of gaining some assistance from the soldiers.  Then they would move southwest towards the coastline and begin a diligent search for Pa and Little Joe. 

Settling down on his hotel bed, Hoss clasped both hands behind his head as he gazed at the ceiling above him.  Satisfied that they’d checked into every lead available to them, he spent this quiet time thinking of his missing father and brother.  He drew up memories of happy times with his family, hoping to dispel the sadness that continued to clutch at his heart.  But no matter what scene he recalled, it inevitably dissolved into the image burned in his mind.  The sight of a reeling ship, its deck slick with seawater, and two of the people he loved most in this world, being tossed into the darkness of a raging sea.

Almost an hour passed before Adam joined his brother in their hotel room.  He’d spent that time wandering aimlessly through the growing city, satisfying his need for privacy even in the busy streets.  Adam knew he wasn’t the only one that needed some time alone.  Hoss was hurting, too, and sometimes, a man just needed a little space.  The two brothers had been together almost every moment since they’d received that telegram. . . how many days had it been now?  Days?  Was it really days?  It seemed as if that life-altering event had taken place months before.  Agonizing months. 

Moving quietly across the room, Adam was not surprised to see that Hoss had already fallen asleep.  Nor was he surprised to see the look of sadness on his brother’s face.  What did surprise him was how that expression affected him.  Stepping quickly to the small wooden table placed between the two beds, Adam turned the lamp down, relieved that there was no one else in the room to witness the tears that now flowed freely down his own cheeks.

**********

Joe moved restlessly on the small cot, his shoulder alive with pain.  He knew, even without being able to see, that the wound was red and swollen, the infection gaining control with each passing hour.  The fever that had only been a minor aggravation at first, was now consuming him.  The heat emanating from his body causing him to burn up one moment and shiver the next. 

Though the kind lady had done her best to help with her herbs and natural medicines, the earlier lack of medical attention and days without food or proper rest, had all taken their toll.  No longer was he concerned only for his Pa, Joe now knew that he was also in grave danger.  He worried about the consequences of his condition, not for his sake, but for his father’s.  ‘If I get worse, who’s going to help Pa?’

As he struggled to find a comfortable position on the bed, his mind also struggled with the decision Joe knew, he alone, must make.  Should they remain here in this isolated place, or go on in the hope of finding a village?  Or, at the very least, someone who could speak their language and help them to find a doctor?  Was Pa strong enough to continue, or for that matter, was he? 

Sitting up slowly, he wondered for a moment about what had become of the young boy.  On the second morning, Joe had awoken to find their young rescuer missing.  The woman did not seem to be worried or upset, and when he’d tried to ask her with motions and pointing, the senora had only nodded toward the trail, then returned to her work.  Hence, Joe was left to ponder the child’s absence and what it might mean. 

It was possible that there were neighbors the boy had been sent to, or maybe even a town or village.  Then again, he might have returned to his chore of watching out for the family’s livestock that could be grazing in the hills around them.  That first day, after eating and resting awhile, Joe had slowly made his way around the small dwelling, and was quickly aware that there was more to this family than he had first expected. 

Although they were obviously not prosperous, there were several pens behind the house, and evidence of cattle and horses being kept there.  But with no way to communicate, he was unable to ask the questions he longed to know the answers to.  Where was the boy?  Where was the woman’s husband?  Was he coming home soon?  Was there a town or a doctor nearby?  Joe almost smiled when he realized he was wishing that he’d paid more attention to Adam’s attempts to teach him some Spanish.

Consumed with worry, questions filling his mind, Joe continued to sit, slumped on the edge of his cot. Without realizing it, he’d dropped his head into his hands, and sat there now, completely lost in thought.  It wasn’t until Ben bumped against the table on his way towards the door, that Joe realized his father was up and moving about. 

“Pa?”

It was as if he’d never spoken.  Ben seemed intent on something, and although Joe had trouble making out his father’s expression in the dusky interior of the house, he was almost certain the man was scowling.

“Pa, where are you going?”

This time there was a muttered answer, but it was unintelligible and Joe pushed himself up to follow Pa, his own face now wearing a worried scowl.  Unfortunately, Ben had already made his way outside and was walking slowly, but purposefully, across the yard.

“Pa!  Answer me, Pa, where are you going?”

Hurrying after his father, Joe was almost shocked at the sight of the stooped visage before him.  No longer the strong back he was familiar with, instead he was following what looked like a broken man.  Shaking his head, Joe pushed the thought from his mind.  They were ill, both of them, injured and ill.  He had to get help for his father, there was no use putting it off any longer.  They must leave this place and resume their journey toward....  towards what?  Home?  That was unthinkable.  Yet, surprisingly, Joe realized that’s exactly what he had been thinking.  Home.  Just the word gave him the false sense that everything would be alright, if he could just get his father home.

All these thoughts ran through Joe’s mind as he approached Ben.  Several steps were all that was needed to close the gap, and he grasped his father’s shoulder firmly as he questioned him again.

“Pa, what’s wrong?”

As th