Synopsis: A what happened next for The Last Viking. A story told from Adam’s point of view as he attempts to reconcile what happened to another time in his life.
Category: Bonanza
Genre: Western
Rating: K
Word Count: 3,665
It’s dark outside; almost as dark as the room down the hall, and my thoughts.
I had been so happy to see him. The last time we had been together was when I was a little boy and I was just learning what it was like to have a larger family. Until that moment, my family had only been Pa and me. But after that stop in Illinois, I had a new mother and an Uncle. Oh sure there was Uncle John, Pa’s brother back in Ohio, but this was something entirely new.
As a child, I hadn’t understood much about what happened between Pa and Miss Inger’s brother, only that there had been some kind of a misunderstanding. My only solid memory of Uncle Gunnar was of him walking my soon to be new mother down the aisle and placing her hand in Pa’s. He smiled at them and then smiled at me.
After the wedding and reception, they sold the mercantile; thus setting Uncle Gunnar free to travel and seek his own fortune. And the three of us left that small town to begin our own adventure; our lives together as a family. That was the last I had seen of him.
Rebel, adventurer, vagabond, and scoundrel were a few of the words they used to describe my new uncle when they thought I was asleep in the wagon. They worried about Uncle Gunnar. And at times, I would look out beneath the canvas to see Mama Inger crying in Pa’s arms. Those were the only times I’d ever witnessed her crying.
Remembering her tears for her brother, I couldn’t understand why she was crying… now, it was so confusing. But Pa explained they were tears of joy. She was crying because she was so happy, she’d given Pa another son and me a brother.
Once Erik began to show his potential of size at nine months of age, I started calling him Hoss. I knew even then that he would be a big, friendly sort of fellow. Just like my Uncle Gunnar. It helped keep me close to the memory of Mama Inger, who we buried back at Ash Hollow. And somewhere out there, our uncle roamed.
B ~ O ~ N ~ A ~ N ~ Z ~ A
Hoss brought a stranger home and called out to us. I stared at him. Curious, I looked over his attire indicating Mexican; the colorful shirt with its embroidery and the sombrero, but his accent indicated otherwise. Standing there, daring Pa to remember – “Gunnar, Gunnar Borgstrom!” And I dared him right back. But then who else could I have been, standing there beside my father – Little Adam. Only Little Adam wasn’t so little any more. Somehow, out of the blue Uncle Gunnar found Hoss on the Ponderosa. No word, no nothing for twenty-five years, and here he was.
I was so pleased for Hoss to have the opportunity to meet another member of his family; to hear of his mother from someone else. Living so far out west, we didn’t have the chance to easily visit family or have them travel to us. Years ago, I had the opportunity to live with my grandfather while attending college and I enjoyed hearing stories of my mother’s childhood. In this way, Abel Stoddard belonged to me, and me alone. And even though Uncle Gunnar was family, his only blood ties to us ran through my not so little brother, Hoss.
It didn’t surprise us to hear that the two of them had tested each other’s mettle before Hoss knew of their relationship. And we couldn’t believe it when Gunnar stated he had longed to know what became of his sister’s family. I guess a few of the letters Pa wrote did get through to him, since he knew that Inger had died and where we had settled. But Pa seldom ever heard back. I’m not sure how long ago it was that Pa stopped trying to keep in touch; maybe before he traveled to New Orleans.
As we sat around the table, we enjoyed listening to the tales Gunnar told over supper; our only regret was that Joe wasn’t home. Hoss had wanted to introduce his uncle to his little brother.
The next day went quickly, and before we knew it, Uncle Gunnar indicated that it was time for him to leave. He jovially told Hoss that maybe he would stop by some other time “To meet the little brother of the big, friendly sort of fellow” Hoss had grown to be.
If it was possible for a man to literally walk on clouds, Hoss sure did after Gunnar left. That is until Abe McClane arrived. I had forgotten about Pa and Mama Inger’s worries.
*****
Hoss and I headed to the McClane ranch and dealt with the devastation wrought to the family and the few workers who lived there. Our hearts plummeted when we couldn’t find Joe, or the girl. By the time we’d returned home, Pa had stitched and bandaged Abe’s chest from where a bullet had cut a deep furrow causing the older man to lose a considerable amount of blood. We hadn’t felt there was time to go for Doctor Martin, our worries were for Joe and Abe’s niece, Carrie.
Joe had been over at the McClane’s for the better part of the week under the guise of helping the family. The rest of us figured he thought it was a good enough excuse to spend time with a pretty young lady.
Leaving Hop Sing to watch over Abe, the three of us departed to search for the missing. Constant worry settled deep in our hearts and drove us to continue even though we rode in darkness.
We had hoped that the two of them had escaped, but as more time passed, we admitted that there was every likelihood that they were captives of Uncle Gunnar’s band of comancheros. We finally agreed that we would have a better chance of finding them if we separated; it made sense, one rider could search undetected far better than three together. Pa insisted that regardless who found them, no one was to take any chances. One son in danger was more than enough. I prayed and prayed that I’d be the one to find Joe, Carrie, and Uncle Gunnar. But that wasn’t to be.
Dawn broke over the horizon when I spotted riders in the distance and recognized the horses. As I approached, I saw Pa had his arms around Carrie as she sat in front of him in the saddle. And slightly behind the two of them, there was Hoss, cradling Joe in his arms. Joe’s head rested against Hoss’ chest, much as he had done as an exhausted small child. It brought back good memories, until I realized the others were crying and I saw the blood staining Joe’s shirt.
Compassion and rage battled as my anger manifested itself for the others to see. Rechanneling my emotions, I whirled Sport around and raced towards Virginia City in order to bring Doc Martin home.
*****
Paul wasn’t at home nor was he at his office when I arrived as the town came to life. Sheriff Roy Coffee was performing his morning rounds when he informed me that Paul had left the night before because of an accident at one of the nearby mines. I advised Roy of the raid and wrote a note to place on Paul’s office door explaining the need for him at the Ponderosa, in case he returned while I was tracking him down.
Damn, there has to be a better way of finding the man! I cursed upon leaving the third location in search of the physician.
After finally locating Paul, I left Sport in the care of the homesteaders who had just welcomed a new son into the world. Told them I’d send someone for him later and handed over a wad of money to more than pay for their trouble; I hadn’t taken the time to untack nor groom my tired mount.
Unmercifully, I raced Paul’s buggy horse, hauling it to a stop in front of the ranch house. Without any consideration towards the healer, I dragged him across the porch. I didn’t ignore Carrie, her uncle, and Hop Sing; I just didn’t see them as we ran through the great room and up the stairs to Joe’s room.
Pitifully, my littlest brother was tossing and turning under the sheet that covered the lower half of his body; crying how much he hurt. His head pressed into the pillow, neck muscles taunt. While one hand grasped for Pa, the other clinched the bedclothes, his knuckles white. The blush of his cheeks warned of the developing fever.
Proof that Hop Sing had been too busy to clean up after my family lay tossed in the corner. Pa and Hoss had stripped Joe of his bloody clothes and had worked persistently in an effort to keep Joe calm and cool. The room smelled of herbs and potions known to the Chinese.
During my absence, Pa had refused any attempt at removing the bullet from Joe’s chest. He worried about the path the projectile had taken. Was it perilously close to his heart or an artery? I figured it hadn’t penetrated a lung since he wasn’t coughing up blood. It was apparent the area around the wound had been cleaned and a poultice bag applied in hopes of drawing out the beginnings of an obvious infection.
Less than five minutes into his examination, Paul evicted us from the room. Of course, Pa sputtered and blustered, but Hop Sing had the final word, “If number three son to live, go eat lunch I fixed.”
We sat around the table where no one had any appetite. We waited, and I listened to Hoss tell Pa what he knew. How he’d found Joe and Carrie, and all that had happened. We recognized the guilt borne by my brother. I looked up to see Carrie exiting the guest room, saying her uncle was sleeping and asked if she could join us.
I admired her strength as she told us the rest of the story, beginning with the raid on her family’s ranch. Confirming that Gunnar was present and had declared Joe was no family of his. She shivered while explaining the incident involving a snake and how that had ultimately helped save their lives.
“He tried to convince the others that he was still in charge and held no feelings for Joe, but at the same time, he… he kicked the knife within reach. We were able to free ourselves and we ran.
“Joe tripped and twisted his ankle. He sent me on. I turned, and I…” She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply to calm herself. “I saw Joe try to protect me, he tried to jump the man who was following us, and kill him using the knife.” Carrie cautiously told her story, drawing upon an unseen strength to let us know how Joe came to be shot. “I became hysterical when I heard the gunshot. Joe fell and never moved. I thought, I believed they had killed him.”
“Miss Carrie, ya didn’t know the truth when I found ya. All ya knew was what ya seen.” Hoss looked at his large hands, one curled within the other, and resting on the table.
“We can thank God that Joe’s alive,” Pa quietly spoke while absent-mindedly patting Carrie’s hand. “He’s alive and he’s upstairs.”
“If it hadn’t been for Gunnar, the one called Vaca would have killed us.”
“Instead, I killed my uncle.”
“But you didn’t! It was Vaca, and Gunnar killed him,” Carrie championed.
“Hoss, you can’t feel that way. Your uncle was a grown man. He chose his way of life. For whatever reason, he chose the life that could only end violently. He set his course long before you were ever born. It’s not your fault.” Pa willed his gentle-hearted son to understand.
“Don’t matter.”
Pa’s words couldn’t penetrate Hoss’ guilt nor did they do anything to assuage my own confusion.
Quiet pervaded the main floor as we waited. Our thoughts and prayers were upstairs with the youngest member of our family, and the family friend who was fighting to save his life.
Hearing the long clock in the great room strike the hour, I realized it had been over twelve hours since Joe had been shot. No wonder he had been so feverish upstairs.
*****
We were sitting in the dining room, the untouched meal still on the table when Hop Sing finally came down the stairs carrying a bundle of Joe’s bloodied clothes, bed sheets, and the towels Pa and Paul had used in an effort to save my brother’s life.
“Honorable doctor come down soon,” he said while reverently bowing to us, before disappearing down the hallway to the kitchen.
“What do you think?” I hesitantly asked. It hadn’t been a conscious thought. I surprised myself when I heard my voice.
“He’s gotta be alright,” Hoss murmured.
“He’ll be fine. I pray, he’ll be fine,” Pa whispered.
I could only nod as I turned to face the staircase, and waited.
*****
The table had been cleared and a fresh pot of coffee placed within easy reach long before Paul Martin slowly walked down the stairs, his exhaustion apparent. We stood as he took a seat at the table and gratefully accepted the hot cup of black coffee Hop Sing provided. We sank back to our chairs.
“He survived the surgery, but has a long road ahead of him.”
“He’s going to be okay, isn’t he?” Pa inquired.
“In time, if God continues to be on his side.”
Our looks must have expressed how dumbfounded we were to hear such a declaration.
“It was a difficult surgery, and the amount of time that lapsed between injury and my arrival didn’t help.” Paul nodded at me acknowledging it couldn’t have been helped. “I had to crack open a number of his ribs in order to search for and remove the bullet. With the proximity of the wound being so close to his heart, in good conscience, I couldn’t use a probe. I found the piece of lead buried within the pericardial wall.” Again our expressions caused the physician to give pause. “That’s the fibrous connective tissue that protects the heart and holds it in place within the chest cavity. I also had to make sure that I found all the fragments of bone that chipped off during the initial trauma. I’m pretty sure the bullet came out in one piece; misshaped, but intact. ”
I was the only one who found my voice to speak, “How long until we know anything?”
“I dosed him heavily with chloroform before I began the surgery and Hop Sing continued to administer it throughout, so I don’t envision him regaining consciousness for a several more hours, if we’re lucky he’ll stay under until after supper time. But knowing how Joe reacts to the drug, we’ll need to monitor him closely. Does anyone know when the last time Joe ate anything?”
“He ate breakfast at our place yesterday,” Carrie answered. “They struck the ranch before lunch, and didn’t offer us anything other than water.”
“He wasn’t in any condition to eat anything once we arrived home,” Pa stated.
“That’s good; it means he won’t have much of anything on his stomach, and hopefully it will only be dry heaves we have to deal with.”
“But he’s still going to be sick, isn’t he?” I asked.
Paul nodded.
“How long will his recovery take?”
“I hope he comes through the post-anesthesia sickness without any additional complications. Then it would be the same as with any broken bone, six to eight weeks to heal. Joe will be restricted to bed for two weeks. After I remove his stitches, we’ll help move him to a chair by the window in his room. With assistance he should get up maybe twice a day to move about his room. Once I see how he handles that, I’ll decide when he can come downstairs.”
“It’s not going to be easy,” Pa whispered.
Paul shook his head. “Ben if you don’t mind, I’d like to get a few hours of sleep before Joe wakes.”
“Yes, you can use the guest room at the head of the stairs.”
“Good doctor eat?” Hop Sing inquired.
“Maybe a sandwich if you have anything,” Paul responded.
And we waited.
B ~ O ~ N ~ A ~ N ~ Z ~ A
That first afternoon, I sent a rider for Sport and two hands to retrieve the bodies. Roy came by later, after already being out to the McClane’s place and begun his investigation. With notes for his report, Roy took Vaca’s burlap-wrapped body to town for burial. Carrie and her uncle were transported to Virginia City; neither were in any condition to return to their ranch. However, both agreed that it served no purpose to tell Roy about Gunnar’s part in all of this. It would remain a family secret.
Pa and Hoss had seen to Uncle Gunnar’s burial under one of the trees near the pond where they had first met. Me, I stayed home under the pretense of watching over Joe. Paul had left instructions to have someone with Joe at all times; he didn’t want him left alone. But there was more behind my actions than following doctor’s orders. Hop Sing berated me that he was more than capable of caring for Joe; after all, he had helped Paul with the surgery.
In the following days, I could tell that Hoss was coming out of his depression, but every now and then his emotions clouded over. Give him time is what Pa said and just be there for him.
*****
The remaining comancheros had disappeared; no trace of them was found, other than their tracks heading south. Roy had sent wires to the towns along their potential route alerting them of the possible threat.
*****
Joe was beginning to complain of the stitches itching, but had yet to voice one objection about being restricted to his bed. This had hit my littlest brother hard. But the good news was that he held no animosity towards our brother for his uncle’s actions, and that had been the best medicine for Hoss.
I couldn’t believe it when I overheard the two of them talking over a game of checkers. Joe actually had the audacity to say that maybe it was a good thing that he didn’t have any family lingering out there.
“What makes ya say that?”
“I’d have a fifty, fifty chance of them being bad.”
“Huh?” Hoss pleaded, confused.
“Well, we know what a good man Adam’s grandfather was by the way he treated him when he lived there while going to college. And nothing against you, but your uncle…” Joe left the sentence hanging.
“If ya think on it, if ya did have any family besides us, they’d have an even lesser chance than that. Don’t ya forget about Uncle John and his boy, Will.”
Joe cackled and gasped; I could imagine him grabbing his chest in pain from laughing.
“We’re okay, aren’t we Hoss?”
“We’re better than okay, little brother.”
*****
Pa stopped by my room on his way to bed, I guess he finally sensed my disquiet. He’d spent so much of his energy on Hoss and Joe that he didn’t even realize the quandary within which I wallowed. I know his words were meant to absolve me of anything I felt I should have done differently. Quietly he informed me that neither of us could have known the real Gunnar Borgstrom. It’s unfortunate that people change.
My thoughts had me trapped. My memories of Gunnar had been those of a child – innocent, believing, trusting. I hadn’t thought him to change. But change he had; and change was what I wanted now, something to have prevented this from happening. My macabre thoughts took me back to Illinois, all those years ago. I struggled to put the whole ordeal into perspective, but the only way I could see to not have either of my brothers hurt would have been for me not to have come down ill, forcing Pa to stop.
And that was the conundrum; had we not stopped, we never would have met Inger or Gunnar. Hoss wouldn’t be here, and possibly not even Joe. Oh, Pa might have met and married someone else, and they would have had children, but they wouldn’t be my brothers, not the brothers I have and love.
Tonight was the first night that no one sat in the chair watching over Joe as he slept. His room was as dark as the moonless sky outside my window. I wanted to remove the black veil that had settled over my family, I wanted to be as we had been.
Somehow, I needed to come to terms that I couldn’t alter the past, it was just that. Pa needn’t spend his time worrying about me, my brothers needed him more. And so I accepted what happened and promised myself that I would rise above that which couldn’t be changed.
Shedding my robe, I slipped between the cool sheets of my bed thankful I had my family, and maybe with the dawn of a new day we would begin to live again.
~The End
Author’s Note:
Inspired by: The Last Viking; written by Anthony Lawrence and Inger, My Love; written by Frank Cleaver, David Dortort, Anthony Lawrence, and Fred Hamilton
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