Dark of Night

The darkness surrounded him, broken only by the two low-lit wall sconces in the dining room, the soft glow of the lamp flickering in the center of the coffee table where he had set it, and the slightly brighter glow of the banked fireplace. Joe sighed in quiet contentment. There was something soft and warm about being encased in the black of night. No chores to attend to, no brothers with their lofty orders and endless teasing, no Pa telling him to get his feet off the table where he had stretched one out to rest. There was nothing in the darkness except time. Just a little time to relax and dream.

Dreams. An enigmatic expression crossed Joe's face at the reminder of what had driven him from his bed in the first place. A nightmare, some vague, frightening vision that, as usual, he had no clear memory or understanding of upon waking. Usually, he was able to dismiss those pretty easily. He’d simply roll over and force his mind on other things until he went back to sleep. This time when he had jolted awake so violently, he had known there would be no return to slumber. Dawn was still hours away, and the last thing he wanted to do was to lie there, tossing and turning until it came. So, quietly as not to wake anyone else, Joe had grabbed his quilt and wrapped it around himself as he crept downstairs to wait out the darkness in the security of his father's chair. Joe sighed and shifted. He always felt so silly when his father came to comfort him after a nightmare; having been awakened by shouts, or simple paternal instinct. After all, at fifteen he was hardly a child anymore. That was why he had come down here. Somehow, the welcoming arms of that big leather chair gave almost the same degree of reassurance that he found in Pa's embrace, without the embarrassment afterward.

Snuggling further into the cushions, Joe's gaze fell upon the lamp. He smiled as he watched the flame-cast shadows flicker and dance on the stairs beyond, imagining them to be alive. They were horses- No, unicorns, galloping across a landscape of mountains and valleys into a mysterious realm of twilight and moonbeams. He chuckled to himself, wondering what his family would think if they could read his thoughts. Hoss would play along, and Pa would listen with an indulgent smile, but Adam? No, the Cartwright who most enjoyed the fanciful tales and imagery found between the pages of books would only dismiss those same fancies as childish nonsense if they came from his little brother.

Joe closed his eyes, trying to remember if there had ever been a time when Adam had played along with boyish games. Had they ever built castles in the air, forts full of soldiers, cowboys and Indians, pirates sailing the high seas? It seemed that they must have, but perhaps he was only remembering bedtime stories Adam had read to him, or the times he had played those games with Hoss. Joe grinned, remembering how Hoss had always wanted to be the leader in those games, so different from real life. Thoughts drifting, Joe envisioned himself commanding a wind-tossed schooner through choppy seas, barking out orders that his two lowly deck-hands, Hoss and Adam, leapt to obey with crisp salutes and admiring looks for their brave captain. The clock by the front door gave a low chime, then came the steady bong of numbers as it counted out the time. Three o'clock. Still time enough to dream a little more.

Dawn came with rays of pink, yellow and orange, and a sweet breeze of early spring air that drifted into the room of Ben Cartwright, making him take a deep breath and smile. He whistled as he finished shaving and putting on a fresh shirt. It felt like the beginning of a fine day.

As he headed down the stairs, a small frown line formed between his eyebrows. Someone had left a lamp burning in the middle of the living room. Who would have done that? Ben's eyes almost immediately caught sight of his answer. Joseph was curled up in his chair; a little smile touching his lips as he slept. Moving to the boy's side, Ben shook his shoulder. Sooner than he had expected, one eyelid cracked open to reveal a bleary green iris, and Joe's smile widened.

"Mornin', Pa."

"Good morning. What are you doing down here, son? Have you been here all night?"

Joe nodded and shifted, but did not uncurl from his comfortable nest of cushions and quilt. "Had a nightmare."

"You should have woken me if you needed to talk," Ben scolded gently, hand caressing the rumpled curls resting on the left wing of the chair. "I wouldn't have minded."

Shaking his head, Joe closed his eye again. "This was better."

A look of confusion spread over Ben's face as his son mumbled something further about pirates and unicorns, but chalked it up to the boy being only half-awake. "It's early yet," he said, shaking his son again as he realized he was losing him to sleep once more. "Why don't you go upstairs and get back into bed for awhile? I doubt you got much sleep last night."

This time, both Joe's eyes opened, looking surprised. "But, isn’t it Sunday?"

A spark of humor twinkled in Ben's dark eyes. "Yes, but you might as well do your sleeping here as in church this week." Pulling the boy to his feet, Ben gave him a playful swat toward the staircase. "Off you go, son. That's an order."

With a sleepy smile, Joe raised his hand in salute. "Aye, aye, sir."

Smiling as he watched Joe yawn and stumble his way up the steps, Ben leaned over the coffee table and blew out the guttering flame of the lamp.

The End