Summary: A WHN for Five Sundowns to Sunup / WHL for Death at Dawn story.

Rating:  K  (2,185 words)

Author’s note:  Thank you to Belle for the first read through.  I’ve continued to tinker and play with the story, so any mistakes, errors, or omissions are solely the responsibility of the author.

Sunup at Dawn

I should be in bed, asleep. But here I sit, looking out my window watching the clouds veil the moon, shadowing the land in muted blacks and greys. It should be comforting to know I’m secure in my father’s house, but there’s a nagging presence. The only way I can describe it is to say it feels like someone is walking over my grave.

Elizabeth Lassiter’s son, Harry, will hang tomorrow. She and her foreman, Kirt, will go on trial for kidnapping and extortion. Her other son, Carver, and two of those who followed her orders are dead; if it hadn’t been for Hoss and Johnny finding me, it very well could have been me.

Judge Simpson, Prosecutor Merrick, and Reverend Holmes were ultimately released unharmed. That should be the end of the story. But it’s not.

*****

It was a relief to arrive in town, riding next to Hoss. Even more so upon seeing Pa walking across the boardwalk and taking a care-fee stance, resting his boot on the hitching rail. Never did understand why they built the boardwalk so tall instead of following the fall of the ground.

While Johnny settled the prisoners in the cells, Pa and Roy spoke about what would happen next. My captors would be housed in the Virginia City jail until the governor could send a substitute for Judge Simpson. Roy indicated the jurist would need to recuse himself as an official of the court since he was one of the victims.

Roy’s deputy stepped into the office area and said he needed take a few men out to where they’d found me in order to retrieve the bodies.

Upon hearing this, Pa told Hoss to take me home. The look he gave my brother indicated he didn’t want me back out there. If my own thoughts hadn’t been so jumbled, I might have insisted. But, deep down, I wanted to get away from anything to do with the Lassiters. So, with my brother at my side, we rode home.

As we headed towards the Ponderosa, Hoss began to tell me everything since finding out Roy had been shot. When it came to Hoss recounting pa’s anguish upon hearing I’d been taken hostage, I knew exactly how Pa felt. It hurt when I heard he had stoically stood there, not saying anything. Even when Hoss championed for Lassiter’s release in exchange for my life, with his back turned, Pa was quiet.

As our journey continued, my brother’s voice turned into an annoying buzz. At some point I stopped listening to what he said, but I guess his words instilled a little niggle that settled in the back of my mind.

*****

Long after having bathed and eaten, the quiet of my room encouraged that little niggle to blossom into full bloom with memories from almost six years ago; a night when my brothers and I had faced a similar situation. We had two choices, let a condemned man go free in order to save the life of a loved one or stand up for justice and find that my loved one had met a similar fate.

How could I be so against one hanging and so oblivious to another? I guess it wasn’t Farmer Perkins’ hanging, but the fact that my father’s life was in jeopardy. And now, with Harry Lassiter; I don’t know.   The circumstances were different, yet both pulled us right into the thick of it by taking one of us captive.

I never gave thought to what my father experienced at the hands of Sam Bryant. I mean I remember they roughed him up a little before Farmer Perkins’ sentence was carried out. Turns out, Sam Bryant crumbled like a house of cards in the wind, just as Adam said he would. And Pa was returned to us. But after my own experience; how had my father felt during the time he was held captive?

Did Pa have faith that we would do right? Of course he did, that’s how he raised us. Did that mean he knew his own death was imminent? Did he accept that come morning he’d die? Maybe he expected us to agree to Bryant’s demands. No, that’s not Pa. Even at the risk of his own life, he’d want us to stand up for justice. Just like he did with my life…

Deep down I knew my father wouldn’t capitulate. Is that what drove me to escape? Maybe, I just didn’t want him put in the position to have to choose? No, I know better. There was no choice; just like Adam couldn’t turn Perkins free.

That presence prodded me, again. Did Pa know of the dissension that plagued the three of us before Adam carried out the execution? God, I hope not.

“Come in,” I responded to the sound of a soft knock.

The dim light from the lamp burning next to my bed revealed my father opening the door. Through the shadows, his concern was evident.

“I didn’t mean to disturb you.” Pa’s hand remained on the doorknob, even as his eyes settled on me.

“That’s okay, I couldn’t sleep.”

Using my response as an invitation, Pa entered. Proceeding to the chair by my desk, he gave a little snort or maybe it was a brief laugh that kept my attention from returning to the night.

With my head tilted at an angle, I queried the change in his expression, “What?”

“Just watching you sit there, Joseph.” As he sat, Pa pointed at me, his fingers unfurling as his wrist flicked forward, palm up.

Patiently we waited, hoping the other would be the first to speak.

“When you were little, you used to sit just like that.”

I hadn’t paid any attention to how I sat; one leg bent at the knee and flopped over to the side. The other leg bent with my foot flat on the window sill, resting my chin on top of my hands which rested on top of my knee.

Pa mused, “Some things never change.”

“Some things do.”

His eyebrows rose.

I sat back, lowered my hands to my lap, and one foot to the floor.

“They took me by surprise. One minute I was riding out to the herd and the next minute, Carver and two others had me surrounded with their guns drawn.”

“I’m sorry we didn’t send word to you once Simpson was taken.”  Pa sat sideways on the chair, an arm draped over the back while his hand held on to the top slat; similar to how I’d seen Adam sit so many times.

“Why? From what Hoss said, you didn’t know who the Lassiters were planning on taking next.”

“Still…” I could see that Pa was struggling.

Was it that hard for him to talk to me?

“I tried to send Hoss home after we learned about Judge Simpson, but he insisted on staying to help.”

“As he should have.” My answer expressed my indignation at the thought of my brother leaving my father to handle everything on his own. Besides Hoss wouldn’t have been with me that day anyway, so what would it have mattered?

Silence settled between the two of us again.

“Pa, how did you manage?”

“That’s a pretty broad question. Care to narrow it down?” There was a hint of amusement in his voice.

“Sam Bryant.”

Of all topics, I don’t think that was one my father expected. 

After a few moments, Pa turned in the chair. Sitting hunched forward, his elbows on his knees, his head cast down, he interlaced his fingers.

This wasn’t the strong image I had of my father.

“What do you want to know?” Pa asked.

“I never considered how you felt. Your feelings about being held as a pawn against a hanging.”

“I wasn’t happy about it.”

“Did you try to escape?”

“I thought about it, but I didn’t have the opportunity. There were too many of Bryant’s men around all the time.”

How do I ask my father what I needed to know? What if Adam had been wrong?

Unable to look my into my father’s eyes, “Were you willing to die?”

“No.” Sitting up, Pa crisply answered. “I wasn’t willing to die, but I accepted that it might come to that. I knew the three of you were out there doing what needed to be done.”

Pa gave me that look.

Shaking my head I remembered that look from so many times during the course of my life. Pa was so willing to put his faith in someone else, be it God or his sons.

There it was again, pushing. “I didn’t know if you knew,” I vaguely stated.

“That Elizabeth Lassiter had you? Or the discord between you and your brothers.”

Pa knew.

“How?” My voice trembled, my head hung low.

“Hoss.”

“I’m surprised it wasn’t Adam,” I mumbled with a hint of bitterness. Hoss never said anything about telling Pa how we argued with Adam.

“He told me the night we found out the Lassiters had you. I couldn’t understand how Hoss could even think about setting Harry free, and he told me.”

Adam had kept it between us. So, maybe Pa did have an idea that I’d bring up Sam Bryant. I fearfully asked, “Are you ashamed of us… me?”

“No, Joseph. I’m not ashamed of you.”

Upon hearing Pa’s footsteps, I looked up. Pa stood in front of me, his hand reaching to wrap around the back of my neck. It was a comforting gesture that I’ve welcomed for as long as I can remember.

“You care deeply and passionately about your family. You were torn, just as I was. You acted on your emotions, as you always have. I wanted so much to do as Hoss pleaded. But I couldn’t. Too many people put their trust in me when I pinned on Roy’s badge.”

“All I wanted was you safe.”

“Joe, believe me, after reading that note, all I wanted was you safe. I wanted to rip off the badge, leave the jail with Hoss to ride right out there and rescue you. Please don’t think that I value your life less than I value seeing justice served. But if I had backed down…” Pa’s voice quieted as his hand dropped away.

I looked sideways to him and reached for his hand.

“You represented the law, and it would have been seen as the law backing down.”

Pa nodded. “To not let Lassiter go was one of the hardest decisions of my life. Hoss argued with me for hours that night, and I desperately wanted to agree with him. Ultimately, I put my faith in your brother’s ability to find you.”

“It’s more like I fell into their laps.” I gave a half-hearted laugh.

“I’m glad you and your brothers were ultimately able to resolve your differences and worked together.”

Did we? We let Adam handle the hanging while Hoss and I continued to search, right up until it was too late. In the end, everything turned out alright, but still…

I squeezed Pa’s hand, hoping to convey the need to know that everything was right between us.

Pa squeezed before letting go of my hand, “It’s over. You’re home.”

“I almost didn’t get away. After I freed myself, I punched Mr. Merrick, knocking him out. He tried to warn them.”

“So I heard.”

I winced. “I offered to untie the others.” I don’t want Pa to think I had only thought of myself.

“Judge Simpson and Reverend Holmes came by Roy’s to provide statements before I left.” Pa hesitated, “The reverend mentioned it was the sweetest punch he’s ever witnessed.”

“Really?”

“Simpson stated he’d wanted to do the same many times when Merrick was in his court.”

“I can understand why.”

Pa chuckled and gave me a smile that indicated all was forgiven, even if there was nothing to forgive.

“Pa, are you going back to town in the morning?”

“No. There’s no need. Roy and Johnny will handle officiating Harry’s hanging. Do you want to go?”

“No sir.” Casting my eyes back to the land beyond my window. “I’d rather forget it all; all the ugliness and focus on the beauty out here.”

“It’ll get easier, son. Believe me, it will get easier.”

With a soft squeeze of my shoulder, Pa bid me goodnight.

Hesitating at the doorway, “Oh, by the way. I brought your gun and holster home. Johnny said he went back to the shack to look for any additional evidence to use at the trial and found them.”

Shaking my head, I’d forgotten all about them.

“Pa?”

“Yes, Joe?”

“Thank you.”

Pa closed his eyes, nodded, and smiled before pulling the door closed.

At some point during my talk with pa, that nagging feeling disappeared. Shuffling across the floor to my bed, I yawned deeply. Snuggling down, my eyes closed before the blankets settled over my shoulders.

~The End

This story inspired by:

Death at Dawn:  written by:  Laurence E. Mascott

Five Sundowns to Sunup: written by:  William L. Stuart

Tags: Ben Cartwright, hanging, hostage, Joe / Little Joe Cartwright, JPM, kidnap