Summary:  Words said have a destruction consequence within the Cartwright family.  One family member refuses to live where respect does not.

Rating:  K+     Word Count:   6,299

Enough Series:

Enough
More than Enough

Enough

I did it again.  I jumped on my horse and took off from the ranch in anger.  Angry, again, at big brother for treating me like a kid.  And then I do just that-act like a kid and run away from my problems.

I couldn’t take this final insult from him.  It doesn’t seem like much, but when you’re the baby in a family of men being treated as an adult is important.  At least it is to me.  This time, Adam took me to task in front of the men and called me “Pa’s little boy.”  That made them laugh loudly at me.  And when I turned to leave, I could hear them continuing to call me little boy, kid, and other names that meant I was less than a man.  It hurt.

I could not let them see me cry.  That’s my response to pain in my life.  Tears.  Tears that I cannot stop or control.  They fall when I am angry, happy, frightened, or hurt.  Uncontrollable emotions-a gift or a curse.

This time the tears fell as soon as the laughter began.  Here I stood, expecting the hands to treat me like a man, but I cry when my big brother belittles me in front of them.  Tears of hurt and pain rolled down my cheeks as when I was little boy.

So, I left, in anger, resentment, and humiliation.  I didn’t wait to listen to Pa’s explanations or for him to demand that Adam apologize.  I didn’t wait to hear Hoss tell me that the fella’s was just joshin’ or that Adam didn’t mean any harm; he was jus funnin’ and I certainly didn’t want to hear Adam’s arrogant apology.  I left, taking my pain and embarrassment upon my shoulders, feeling that I could never return to the ranch and be treated with respect.  I left not caring whether anyone would care that I was gone; I just left.  I’ve had enough.

 * * * * * *  * * *

“Don’t worry, Pa.  The boy will be back by morning.  He’s just behaving like he did when he has younger,” Adam said as he sipped coffee and walked casually to the living room and took a seat near the fireplace.

“That boy as you call him is a grown man. He is not a child and he is not acting like a child,” Hoss said in his brother’s defense.  “I talked to Hank about what happened today and if it had been me I woulda punched you in the mouth, Adam.  You don’t treat my brother that way again.  Do you understand me?” he said tossing his napkin on the table.

“We are not going to fight in this house.  We are a family and there is a way to handle this situation without tearing each other apart,” Ben said.

“Well maybe I should just tear someone apart for Joe.  You’ve been riding him all week and I told you to let up on him.  He’s had enough of your manners and so have I.  Joe works harder than anyone on this ranch, Adam, and that includes you.  I don’t know why he thinks he needs to prove himself to you.  I don’t think I’ve been this angry with you in my life Adam.  When the fellas told me what you did and how the new hands laughed and called Joe names after you started, I fired all four them and dared them to set foot back on this ranch.  Only thing is, I can’t fire you.”

“I did not intend for the hands to do what they did.  I guess I should not have said that to Joe and when he gets home I’ll make it right.  I’m sorry Hoss, Pa.  I’ll find him and get things back to right,” Adam said as he placed his coffee on the table.  Rubbing the bridge of his nose, the realization of the damage he’d done to his brother began to sink in.  “What have I done?” he asked himself.

Hoss stomped to the door and grabbed his hat and gun belt.  “No, you’re not coming within ten feet of Joe right now and if you do I’ll give you the pounding that I’m holding back right now.  Pa, I’m going to see if I can find Joe.  I’ll bring him home no matter how long it takes.  I ain’t coming back without him,” he said stepping out into the darkness.

Silence ruled the room after the big man left, taking all the air with him.  Ben Cartwright sat alone at the table, feeling as if his family was torn asunder and he had no control of the maelstrom swirling through the room.  Hoss’ angry departure and uncharacteristic threat of bodily harm to Adam pulled all the energy out of him leaving the patriarch exhausted.  “My sons, my sons, my sons,” he said shaking his head slowly.

 * * * * * *  * * *

 I rode fast and without focus or direction until I came to a familiar structure.  The line shack was the closest one to the ranch; a three-hour ride away. I’m not going back home and I will make decisions tonight about where I’m heading.  I stabled and feed Cochise and needed to find a meal for myself.  The creak of the door seemed louder than usual and the shack seemed darker tonight than when I spent nights alone here.  Maybe it’s because I am alone in spirit and my future seems dark.  I don’t have the light of my father’s ranch to brighten my path.  Tomorrow I’m leaving this shack to find my future.  I have only the clothes on my back, my bedroll, and a few provisions I’ll gather from the shack.  I will stop at other line shacks along the way to spend the night or look for provisions I don’t have with me.  These would be the last things I’d take from my father and to avoid feeling as if I were taking things that did not belong to me, I’ll leave messages letting Pa know that I would pay for everything I used or took from the line shacks.

I had to begin making my way alone and took only what I needed.  My saddle bags were as full as possible.  The extra weight shouldn’t be too much for Cochise; he’s a strong horse and is accustomed to hard work.  This would be the last night I would spend this close to home for a while and I took in all the sights, smells, and sounds that had been my life for the last 20 years.  The tears began this time and I did not try to rein them in.  It was too painful to try, so I removed the wall and let myself cry for what I was leaving behind.  The last words I wrote before I feel asleep were “I love you all, Joe.”

Hoss rode through the night, not knowing which way to go.  He decided to find a place to rest for the night and continue his search as soon as he could see where Joe was headed.  Hoss knew the difficulty of his task with Joe having at least a four hour head start.  He had also spent all of Joe’s life teaching him to track people and animals and he knew that his little brother would use all of those skills in reverse to keep from being found.  Hoss knew he would have a difficult time picking up the trail and did not know when he fell asleep that he had traveled three hours in the opposite direction.

 * * * * * *  * * *

 Sleep came easily for the exhausted young man laying alone in the dark.  He was tired-emotionally and physically.  He was frightened, but driven to do what he felt must be done.

At the ranch, his father paced the floor in front of the fireplace as he had done daily since Joe and Hoss left.  Ben could not remove from his imagination the shame and humiliation his young son experienced weeks ago.  Many times he had warned his eldest son that his teasing would go too far one day and he would hurt his brother deeply.  And this was the hurt he knew would happen.  Deep, painful, and destructive.  Now, where was his child?  Joe was 20 years old, but had been pampered and taken care of all his life.  Yes, he was tough and smart and capable, but he had never been on his own the way he is now.  Ben stood silently and prayed for his son, asking God to protect his Joseph and not let him go astray or come to harm.  He also prayed that Joe would find a way to reconcile what happened and come home to him.  Tears that now rolled down the face of his young son, also stained the checks of the elder Cartwright.

The mistake that gave Joe a head start on his family searching for him was that they thought Joe would return as he always did. Adam figured it was just another temper tantrum and the boy would come home when he simmered down.  This logical thinking was their undoing and other than Hoss’ efforts, the search did not begin for two days.  The ranch was too large to search in a short amount of time.

Joseph Francis Cartwright was born on the ranch and was a part of the land, the caves and dwelling places long vacated by others had been his play land in his youth.  It would be impossible to find him if Joe did not want to be found and at this moment in his life, Joe did not want to be found by any of the hands living in the bunkhouse or his Pa or brothers.  So, all of their searching and tracking and looking was fruitless.  Joe was nowhere to be found.

The family members received various notes scribbled on small pieces of paper from the hands who checked the line shacks.  Each note brought greater heartache as they revealed that Joe was leaving the Ponderosa.  The notes revealed that Joe was gathering supplies from each shack, careful not to deplete the pantry from one shack; he chose to visit several.  The final note, from the shack at the northernmost point on the ranch was the final statement of love for his family; the final word Ben Cartwright would hear from Joe until he chose to contact them again.  The search was over and Joe was gone. . . . . . and so was Hoss.

 * * * * * * * * *

 Two months slipped slowly past as Joe moved from one town to the next.  He found odd jobs to pay for a hotel room, a meal, a stall for Cochise, but never stayed any one place for more than a week or two. Joe was now in the northern part of California.  A place new to him but with similar surroundings.  He enjoyed sleeping under the stars at night and remembering what it was like to have his family’s company.  These were the times that were most difficult and he cried himself to sleep on many nights.

The late summer days changed quickly to coolness of autumn and Joe found work at a ranch that was somewhat similar to the Ponderosa. He decided to stay through autumn if the job held out.  It felt good here. The sounds of horses and the men who worked them were a welcome diversion from the loss he suffered by his own hand; his own desire to be treated as a man.

Here, on this strange place with strangers who did not know he was the youngest son of the richest ranch owner in Nevada, he was treated like a man.  He did a hard day’s work and settled into his bunk at night like the others.  They laughed with him; not at him.  They kidded him in a way that did not hurt or belittle.  They called him “Kid,” in a way that was fine with him for he was, again, the smallest and youngest hand.  He didn’t mind at all; he had not told them his name.  So Kid or Nevada, or Nevada Kid was fine with him until he decided what his name would be or until he revealed that he was Joseph Cartwright.

The bunkhouse, corral and barn stood in the shadows of a grand, white house that was the opposite of the ranch house he grew up in.  The owner was a lady who looked to be his pa’s age.  She was elegant and well-dressed even when wearing her riding habit.  Once, when invited in by the ramrod, Joe saw a house as elegant and well-dressed as its owner.  He asked no questions about the family but made himself comfortable among the hands in the bunk house.  Here, Joe heard of the beautiful daughter and other sons who were visiting in San Francisco.

The young man was at peace and in a world very much like the one he left behind. The sounds of checkers or poker in the evening and snoring at night made sleep come easily.  So like home that, sometimes, it hurt.  It was at these times that he knew he would go home to his family before the snow began to fall and close the roads that led home.  But it didn’t matter, he would be home by Christmas.

This night, Joe found that he could not rest in comfort.    Joe was tossed from the back of a resistance horse and took a hard fall when at the corral.  One minute, he was gaining control of the angry animal beneath him and the next minute he was flying through the air with no wings and no hopes of a soft landing.  The impact with the fence rails and post would not be soon forgotten.

“Kid, are you alright?” Grayson stood over him offering an extended arm for support.  Shaking his head to remove the cobwebs that began to grow there, he took the hand and hauled himself upright.  “That was a tough landing, are you sure you’re alright?” Grayson asked again.

“I’m fine,” Joe answered rubbing the parts that hurt.  He quickly schooled his face to make sure no one saw that he was really in pain.  Joe knew that some ribs gave when he fell, but he had fared worse than this before.  “I’ll be . . . . .”

From across the corral, Joe could see the Ramrod making quick steps in his direction.  “Hey, Nevada, I didn’t know you had it in mind to destroy the whole corral.  Now, if you wanted to knock off for the rest of the afternoon, all ya had to do was ask, not tear down the corral,” he said with his feet spread and hands on his hips.

“Sorry, I . . . wasn’t trying to cause trouble,” Joe said dropping his head and attempting to get his lungs to receive much needed air.   Thinking to himself how like Adam to storm him and blame him for a blameless situation.  But the pain in his chest kept him focused on breathing in and out in an appropriate rhythm.

“Just joshing you, boy.  Are you hurt at all? That was a tough fall you took and you almost had that animal eating out of your hand,” Ramrod said.

“I’m fine, just a little sore.  But do you think I could go to the bunk house?” Joe asked as his knees threatened to betray his feigned strength.

“Yeah.  We might as well call it a day since we gotta repair the corral and round up the horses high tailing it across the meadow,” Ramrod said.   “Grayson, take a few of the men and get the corral taken care of.  The rest of you see if you can round up those two mounts and I’ll get this one back to the bunkhouse.  You can thank Nevada Kid here for the rest of the day off. As soon as you’re done.”

Making it back to the house was easy enough and once Joe cleaned up he eased his aching body on his bunk.  Sleep claimed in minutes and he fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow, knowing nothing until sunrise the next morning.

“Hey, Kid, it’s time to roll out of that bunk and get moving,” the ramrod shouted from the door.  “You’re making us late this morning, son, and we gotta get a move on,” he said in a demanding voice that painfully reminded him of home.

“Sorry, boss,” I said.  The fall I took yesterday was a lot harder than I admitted and the right side of my chest ached with each breath.  “I’m coming, sir,” I answered as I grabbed my bruised ribs and stumbled to the basin to splash water on my face.  Quickly changing my shirt, I made it to the door as the hands swung into the saddle and prepared to leave the yard.  Grayson, an older wrangler, had saddled Cochise for me and held the reins as I approached.

“You’re hurting ain’t cha, Kid?” he asked looking at me the same way Hoss did when he assessed the damage I had done to myself.  “I heard you last night when you changed positions in the bunk.  “What is it, boy?  Did ya bust up some ribs when you fell?” Grayson asked looking down at me from his over six foot height.

“Yea, I’m just bruised a little and kinda sore.  I’m fine, don’t worry,” I answered hoping it would be enough to set his worry aside.

“Well, I’ll see about that,” he said approaching me. I knew the examination that he was going to try so I side stepped him, mounted up and looked down from my saddle.

“I’m fine, Gray.  Let’s go,” I said as I tried to avoid his inspection.

“Alright, Kid.  It’s your funeral,” came the response as Grayson realized that he wasn’t going to win this battle.  He knew that the boy would not stay in the saddle long if those ribs were busted and he’d be there to sort him out when needed.  “You remind me of someone I lost many years ago and he wouldn’t listen to me either.”

“And you remind me of someone who always looked after me and from whom I could not hide a thing,” I said smiling down at Grayson.  “I’m fine and I’ll make it through the day with no problem.  Takes a little more than a toss from a horse through a fence to get me down,” I said turning Cochise’s head to follow the other hands.

Holding his right arm close to his side made riding somewhat uncomfortable as Joe attempted to hide his injury.  After arriving at the corral, he knew that it was not possible to sit a bronc today.

“Kid, you’re up first this morning,” came the call from the corral gate.  “We need to work on that sorrel to see if we can get her ready for sell.  The owners have found someone who needs this horse gentled.  Up you go!” the ramrod shouted.

Taking a deep breath, Joe moved slowly to the pen and prepared to mount the horse as instructed.  This was going to hurt, Joe thought as he settled into the saddle.  Looking over at Grayson, Joe saw the slow shake of his head letting him know that Grayson was not pleased with seeing him on the bronc.  Joe watched as Grayson moved closer to Nick and began a quiet conversation.

The sorrel shot out of the pen and so began the dance between man and beast.  Joe held on and move fluidly with the horse as though they were one.  The twists and turns sent pain flaring across his chest and back as the horse attempted to unseat him.  Flying hooves and constant movement was the order of business as the sorrel fought for the last of her dignity.  Joe continued to use his skills to ride the resistant animal until she came to a standstill and lowered her head in surrender.  Joe skillfully walked her around the corral to settle her down while the hands cheered and applauded his work.

“You got her boy,” came the shouts as the horse walked slowly and responded to Joe’s commands.  Grayson shook his head and rubbed the stubble on his chin in wonder.  Moving over to retrieve the mount as Joe began to climb down, Grayson watched as Joe collapsed in a heap at the feet of the hands holding the animal.

“Kid!” Grayson shouted as he kneeled over Joe.  “Boy, are you alright?” he asked.

Joe held on to his side as he attempted to sit up.  The pain flared in his side again and he grunted in pain as darkness took him to a place where the pain could not reach him.

“Get the doc out to the ranch and bring a wagon to get this boy back to the house,” Ramrod said.

Grayson unbuttoned Joe’s shirt and looked at the injury that caused the boy to collapse.  “How the hell did he take that ride with his ribs busted up like that?” Ramrod asked.  “How did he even get in the saddle to ride out here?”

“Cause he is just as stubborn as a mule, that’s why,” Grayson answered.  “All night long I could hear him moan when he moved on that bunk and he told me he was fine when I asked him this morning.  He don’t like fine right now,” Grayson said looking at the dark bruises and the paleness of Joe’s skin.

After moving a still unconscious Joe back to the bunkhouse, Grayson pulled a chair and sat by the bed waiting for him to open his eyes.  “Come on, Kid.  It’s time to get going now.  You can’t sleep all day long and ‘spect me ta sit here watchin’ ya.  Wake up and let’s go!” he shouted.

“I’m coming, Hoss.  You don’t have to be so loud,” Joe answered as his eyes fluttered open.  Wincing in pain, he closed his eyes and allowed the darkness to close in again.

“Oh no you don’t, boy.  You ain’t going back to sleep ‘til Doc says you can.  You gonna stay awake even if I have ta throw a bucket of water on your head,” Grayson said.

“It hurts bad, Hoss,” Joe said, not realizing that he was calling Grayson by his brother’s name.

“I know it does, Kid.  Doc will be here in a minute or two.  Just take it easy now,” Grayson said patting Joe on the head.

“Oh no, I thought I left that behind,” he said in response to the pampering he was receiving at Grayson’s hand.  He finally gained a level of consciousness that revealed that he was not at home and he was not talking to Hoss.

The door to the bunkhouse swung open and the owner of the ranch swung her way in with a swish of skirt tails.  “Well young man, I think you have some explaining to do.  What do you mean riding away from the ranch with that injury this morning and riding a bronc in your condition?” she asked taking Grayson’s seat at the foot of the bed.

“I’m sorry, ma’am.  I was just doing my job,” Joe answered.

“Your job does not include risking your life to get a horse ready for sell.  There were others who could have done the job just as well,” came the soft, gentle response from Mrs. Victoria Barkley.

“Ramrod called me up and when he calls . . . . . .”

Loud, thumping sounds of boots interrupted his conversation. “Ramrod didn’t know you had two or three broken ribs, either.  Boy, if you weren’t in that bed, I’d . . . . .”

“Nick, that’s enough.  We’ll deal with this another time,” Mrs. Barkley responded.  “Let’s get him moved to the house,” she said.  “Silas is preparing the guest room as we speak. Grayson, the doctor will be here soon and we need to get him cleaned up and settled.”

The swish of her dress indicated that there was no more discussion to be had as she took her leave. Grayson and a few others began jostling Joe around to move him to the house.  One move and the pain to flared once again in his chest; a quiet intake of breath and Joe gave in to the darkness that played at the edges of his vision.

“Who is that young man?” Victoria asked as she settled into the ornately decorated chair near the cold fireplace.  “He does not appear to be just another drifter,” she said accepting the brandy Nick offered to his mother.

“Mother, that kid is the youngest son of the richest rancher in Nevada.  His name is Joe Cartwright and his father owns the Ponderosa, a very prosperous ranch near Virginia City,” Nick answered his mother.

“I know of Mr. Cartwright.  I think we met at different events in San Francisco,” Mrs. Barkley answered as she rummaged through her mind to bring up images of the familiar name.  “A rather big man, kind, and generous,” she remembered.  “What on earth is he doing here?”

“I met his brother, Hoss about a month ago in Stockton.  I overheard him describing his missing brother to the sheriff and I interrupted the conversation, telling him that his brother was here.  Hoss or Eric, told me about a riff in the family that caused the youngest one to leave home in anger.  Hoss followed him and was fortunate enough to locate him.  He’s staying in town and is waiting for Joe to decide to go home and then he’d make sure he made it home,” Nick explained.  “He’s watched his brother at the corral without Joe seeing him and was satisfied that he was fine.”

Following a two hour wait, the doctor arrived and began his examination of the injured young man in the Barkley’s downstairs guestroom. Joe looked up from the bed and a small groan escaped his lips.

“I take it you’re in considerable pain, young man,” The doctor said as he opened his bag and removed a variety of instruments.

“Yes, but I know you’re about to make it worse,” Joe answered biting his bottom lip.

“Then, you knew the danger you put yourself in when you climbed onto the back of a bronc in this condition?” he asked.

“You sound like someone else I know and I memorized the lecture,” Joe responded as the doctor pulled the covers away to begin his examination.  The first touch felt like a knife was plunged into his chest and Joe responded with a sharp intake of breath and a moan.  The doctor continued to push and probe, watching his patient’s reaction to each touch.  He noted each indication of pain and discomfort displayed on the young man’s face.  “I’ll give you something for that after I talk to the Barkleys.  They will want to know what condition you’re in and will probably need to speak with you as well.”

“You certainly are a mess,” the doctor said.  “You have two fractured ribs on you left side and two that have significant bruising.  You will need to stay off your feet, off a horse, and in this bed until I give you permission to get out. Is that understood?”

“Yes, sir,” was the only response Joe had left in his body.  All he wanted was sleep and something to make breathing a little easier.

Let’s see if you can sit up on your own or if we’ll need assistance,” the doctor said as he prepared to bind Joe’s ribs.  One movement let him know that Joe could not sit up without support and he summoned Nick from the parlor.

“I’m going to need you to hold this young man up so that I can bind his ribs,” the doctor said as he measured lengths of bandages to do his work.

“I’ve got him.  Go ahead, Doc,” Nick said as he easily pulled Joe to a sitting position, who found that leaning his head on Nick’s shoulder was easier than trying to remain upright.  The doctor tugged on the bandages tightening them and pulling the damaged ribs in place.  Small gasps of breaths indicated Joe’s discomfort until finally his strength failed him.

“Mmmmm . . . . . . I can’t breathe,” Joe gasped.

“Take it easy on him, Doc.  You don’t have to be so rough,” Nick scolded.  His comment was ignored and the doctor finished the job before him.

“You can lay him down, now.  I’ll give him some laudanum to ease the pain and help him sleep,” the doctor said.  Pain lanced its way through Joe’s side and spread across his chest.  Grabbing Nick’s shirt seemed the only thing that would keep the young cowboy from loosing his grip on consciousness.

“Easy, now, easy,” Nick said as Joe’s head made contact with the pillows placed for his comfort.  “Doc, let’s get him something to take the edge off the pain,” Nick suggested.

“I’m fine, I won’t need anything,” Joe said through gritted teeth and furrowed brow.  Doing all he could to alleviate the pain that was plainly written across his expressive face.

“Well, I’m glad your fine, but you’ll be better than fine with this.”  The doctor eased a needle into Joe’s arm and patted his shoulder gently.  “Nick if your family wants to say good night to this young man, you’d best get them in here.  He won’t last long,” Doctor Matson said putting his medical supplies away.

“How are you?”  Mrs. Barkley asked taking a seat on the edge of the bed and placing her hand on Joe’s hand as it lay flat on the bed.

“Oh, he’s fine alright,” Nick said with sarcasm dripping off every word.  “He’s just busted a bunch of ribs, got bruises on top of bruises, refused medication the doctor offered and can’t breathe without considerable pain.  Nevada here is one tough cookie, but it seems he will be our guest until he is back on his feet.”

Joe was surprised by the rapid turn in Nick’s actions from caring and patient to tough and demanding.  Thinking to himself as the morphine took control, he’s so much like Adam that it makes me sick.  Maybe sleeping would be better than this.

“I’m fine, ma’am.  Just a little banged up is all.  I’ve been worse,” Joe answered as the medication took him to oblivion.

Thank you Dr. Matson.  We’ll keep him here and quiet until you say he is ready to get back to work,” Mrs. Barkley said.

“Yes, that would be my advice.  Lots of rest, restricted movement, and staying off his feet is what I recommend.  Keep the ribs stabilized like they are now and he’ll truly be fine in about a week or so.  And . . . . . . keep Nick from tying him in a knot!” the doctor added giving Nick a pat on the back.

Looking at the bed, Mrs. Barkley found the young man sleeping soundly.  As she turned to leave the room, she was greeted by her son and a man who matched Grayson in size.

“Mother, this is the young man’s brother,” Nick said.  “Hoss Cartwright, my mother, Victoria Barkley.”

“It’s a pleasure, ma’am.  I thank you all for taking care of Joe like this.  I woulda never thought he would end up in a place where he is so well cared for and I sure do thank you,” Hoss said as he shyly twisted the tall white hat in his large hands.

“It’s no trouble at all.  We have plenty and this is what happens at the Barkley Ranch.  Please come in a see your brother,” Mrs. Barkley said as she stepped aside.  “We’ll wait for you downstairs.”

Hoss moved into the room and observed his brother quickly, then sat on the edge of the bed and gathered Joe in his arms.  He let the tears roll down his cheeks as he rubbed Joes back; glad that he had not lost Joe to a more serious accident.

“Mmmmm, don’t cry Hoss,” Joe said as his eyes fluttered slightly.  “Don’t cry; I’m fine,” he said through the haze of medication the doctor gave him.

“Punkin, I thought I lost you for sure.  I ain’t gonna let you out of my sight.  I’m right here and I intend to stay.  You won’t be able to see me, but I’m right here,” he said laying his brother back down on the bed.  “I’m always right here.”

Later that evening, Mrs. Barkley walked into the room and took a seat on the small chair beside the bed.  Joe had eaten a light supper and Silas was removing the dinner tray.  “Thank you, sir,” he said as Silas opened the door to leave.  Stopping quickly, Silas turned and smiled brightly.

“Well, you are quite welcome.  Now you let me know if you need anything at all,” he said.

“Who are you and where are you from?” Mrs. Barkley asked directly.  She wanted to see if Joe was ready to share his story.    “The men generally don’t address Silas at all and certainly not with the level of respect that he just received from you.  I know your family must be worried sick right now,” she said looking in Joe’s eyes.

Taking a deep breath and smoothing the quilt out on the bed, Joe resigned himself to telling his story.  “My name is Joseph Cartwright from the Ponderosa ranch in Nevada.  My father is Ben Cartwright and I have two older brothers, Hoss and Adam.  Silas reminds me of our housekeeper, Hop Sing, who helped my father raise me after my mother’s death when I was five.”

What are you doing here, might I ask?”  Mrs. Barkley looked at Joe, leaned her head to one side and waited for his response.  Joe explained the situation to the lady rancher, fiddling with a string he found on the quilt to occupy his hands.

“I can understand how you felt when your brother hurt you the way he did.  Being the youngest is difficult enough without having to also deal with that situation. Are you going to stay away from home forever?”

“No, ma’am.  I miss my home terribly and I want to be there right now.  Grayson reminds me of my brother Hoss and Nick is like Adam in so many ways.  You remind me of my father, I don’t mean you look like a broad shouldered, tall, grey-haired man with a voice that could shake the Sierras to its core.  It’s just the way you listen to me and try to understand.”

“Well, I’m glad to know I don’t fit that description, but I appreciate the complement,” Mrs. Barkley responded with a slight smile.

I need to go home as soon as I am healthy again,” Joe said as he lowered his eyes.  Tears were there as they showed how much pain he was in at the moment.  “I want to go home,” he said.  I even dreamed that Hoss was in this room with me earlier,” Joe said.

“Get some rest and we’ll talk again tomorrow morning after breakfast.  Good night Joseph Cartwright,” Mrs. Barkley said.

It took two weeks before Joe only felt just a small measure of pain when moving.  The doctor granted permission for him to travel and he began making plans to leave in a week.  He had resumed living in the bunkhouse where he was most comfortable among men like him.  Although he could not work, Joe spent his time keeping the bunkhouse orderly and taking care of animals left in the barn.  He did not know that Hoss was out working in his place and the whole ranch was in cahoots in keeping his big brother a secret from him.  Since his injury, the Barkley’s allowed Hoss to stay in a small cabin not far from the ranch; giving him easy access to Joe if needed.

Before he knew it, Joe was packing supplies in preparation for his leave tomorrow at first light.  The evening was warm and indicated good weather for a full day of riding.  Joe’s spirits soared as he thought of the journey that would take him back to his family.

“Well, Kid, I guess this is your final evening here with us,” Grayson said as he leaned heavily on the post close to where Joe was working.  “Gonna be kinda quiet around here without ya,” he said.

“Yea, I think it’s time I get on back home and make my peace with my brother.  I’ll have a few days to think things through. It’ll just be me and two horses,” Joe said.  “Gray, you’ve been a good friend to me and you are always welcome on the Ponderosa.  I want you to come and see me sometime so you can meet my family.  You’ll like them and you and my brother Hoss will get along great,” Joe said turning away so that Grayson would not see the tears in his eyes.

“I’m gonna do that, too.  You can count on it, Kid,” Grayson answered as his voice reflected his pain.  “Come here, boy,” he said pulling Joe into a fierce bear hug.

“Just like Hoss.  I’m going home, Grayson!” Joe stated as he remembered the big brother he left many months ago.  “I’m going home.”

“Yes you are, Joe.  I followed you all the way here and I aim to make sure you got back in one piece,” a familiar voice said from the barn door.

“Hoss!”

Next Story in the Enough Series:

More than Enough

Tags:  Adam Cartwright, Angst, ESJ, Family, Hoss Cartwright, Joe / Little Joe Cartwright, SJS,