HEART OF THE PONDEROSA

Disclaimer:

The characters, locations, place names and other well known attributes belong to David Dortort and Bonanza Ventures.

No profit is made from this story. For enjoyment purposes only.


THE HEART OF THE PONDEROSA


By JULES6


............... the eyelids fluttered a few times and then slowly, the flame within those emerald green eyes was extinguished and the life in his body expired.

The people who had been standing around the bed with expressions of anxiety, were now replaced with hollow beings. Nothing held them upright except the pure feelings of sorrow and loss.

The silver haired man sitting closest to him, once a strong and powerful man was reduced to a frail and fragile old man within minutes.

When the heart of the man on the bed had stopped beating, the old man's spirit was also lost. There were no soothing words of comfort that would bring back the life of the one he treasured, no touch that would make the pain go away.

To his left, a slightly younger man, about 34 years of age, now felt as if he had been pierced by a spear through the heart. No passages of Shakespeare came to mind when he tried to find an answer of why him and not me.

An even larger man stood to his left and though his body radiated muscle and power, despite all his physical attributes, he failed to bring back the life of the man he so cherished.

His body slumped not from exhaustion, but from the pressure of having to go on with life without him. He didn't know if he could do it.

A small Cantonese man stood in the shadows of the doorway watching the scene played out before him. No herbal remedy existed in his hidden closet, that would enable this situation to turn into a happy one. Tears slowly slid down his face for the one he could almost call "son".

*************************************************

The next morning, a gust of wind blew down an empty Virginian City street. No one walked the street, no dog was barking at passer-by’s. The doors to the saloon remained silent and the remainder of businesses in town were closed.

The only sound that could be heard was that of the church bell tolling, signalling that a great loss had been suffered. However, the graveyard remained empty.

A few miles away underneath a large tree beside a crystal clear blue lake, the citizens of Virginia City gathered.

A small pine box lay beside a freshly dug grave. Three men were seated a short distance from the hole, seated because their legs refused to hold them up at this most saddest of occasions.

On top of the pine box lay flowers, a photograph of a young woman with curly brown hair and emerald green eyes.

Beside it lay the photograph of a black and white
pinto horse and a left-handed gun belt complete with pearl handled pistol.

The minister stood before everyone and read a sermon of praise and kind words about the one that lay in the box. But today, even his own sermon could not bring solace to him or anyone else in the congregation.

Roy Coffee stood silently and looked at the coffin beside him deputy Clem. He would miss those occasional games of checkers in his jailhouse on Sunday afternoon's.

And the fights he would routinely break up at the "Bucket of Blood" saloon. His town would be very quiet for a very long time he thought to himself.

A few young girls clung to each other near the giant tree, thinking about how the Saturday night dances would never be the same again.

Paul Martin, the local physician had also been standing amongst the crowd and wept tears of sorrow at the thought that his efforts had not been enough to help this family he was so often part of. He would have to close the cover on his thickest medical file forever.

If someone were to take a photograph of this scene, it would as if time stood still. No one moved, no one talked except the minister.

The only thoughts people had were that the person who meant the most to everyone there today, had finally gone to dwell in the house of the lord with his mother.

A few weeks later, a drifter happened to be walking down the road beside the lake, when he spotted the two headstones laying side by side each other at the lake.

The first as he read said MARIE CARTWRIGHT - Loved Always by her family.

The second, had a few more words on it, it read:

JOSEPH FRANCIS CARTWRIGHT

31ST OCTOBER 1842

TO 12TH NOVEMBER 1864

22 YEARS - GONE TO HIS MOTHER

KEEP HIM SAFE O'LORD FOR HE IS

THE HEART OF THE PONDEROSA.


JULES6



Anybody need a tissue ???????????????????


Looking forward to any feedback and reviews and thank you to all who take the time to read this brief piece.