Summary: It’s a race against time, and to the victor goes the spoils . . . er . . . the calf. A WHB for “The Lawmaker”

Rating:  K (1,765 words)

 

Bully For You

“Little Joe, I’m tellin’ you this is a bad idea.”

Little Joe paid no attention to his middle brother and continued to hop, slide, and scoot his way across the stump ridden field. The night, with only an occasional sliver of moonlight making a haphazard appearance through the thin, wispy clouds, was nearly black—another reason Hoss had tried to persuade his younger brother to give up his task.

“How do you expect us to go and find one solitary pitch black little calf among an entire herd on a night like this?” he’d asked.

But all of Hoss’s disputes were in vain. Little Joe was determined to find the calf his oldest brother had commented on earlier that day.

“This is all Adam’s fault anyhow,” Hoss complained out loud even though he knew no one was listening.

He took a step to follow his younger brother, but jerked his head upright at the sound of a rider approaching. Little Joe had heard it too, and like a well-trained sleuth, had quickly plastered himself up tight against the side of a tree. Unfortunately for Hoss, it was the only tree in the whole field; a fact which he lamented as he threw himself down on the ground beside a sleeping bovine as big around as a dray horse, landing smack in the middle of a pile of manure.

A loud crack of thunder a split second later was the only thing that covered up his loud exclamations. The cattle began to stir restlessly and Hoss stood up, not caring who saw him, wiping at the muck on his clothes. With a steely glint in his eye he looked toward the tree where Little Joe had been hidden; he was gone.

“Dad-burn it.” Joined the next crash of thunder, and this time Hoss glanced around for the rider; he was gone too.

Hoss felt a prickle at the base of his spine and shuttered as it made its way upward. Glancing around the field for any sign of movement, other than the spooked cattle, he raised a cupped hand to his mouth intending to shout out for his brother. Nature, once again proved to be against him, as a deluge of rain immediately started followed by a spectacular display of lightening. Hoss lowered his hand, and his shoulders sagged in defeat as the pelting rain drenched him. He looked up for just a moment and in one of the flashes of light saw his little brother.

“What in the . . .”

The next flash of light confirmed what he’d seen. Little Joe was running from a charging cow with a little black calf slung over his shoulders. The angry cow was gaining on him rapidly, and Hoss set aside own concerns as he raced after his brother.

“Little Joe, drop that calf,” he hollered into the storm, but considering he couldn’t even hear his own voice, he doubted Little Joe would get the message.

As he slipped and slid across the muddy field, sometimes dodging but mostly bumping into bewildered cattle, he cursed his oldest brother . . .

“Hoss, just look at it,” Adam had said earlier that morning. “That calf is the biggest animal I’ve ever seen born on the Ponderosa, and it’s strong and healthy. Yes sir, give him a year and he’ll walk away with the blue ribbon at the spring stock show, hands down.

Hoss had agreed, not that he was particularly interested in entering the show that year. Little Joe, however, was, and the sixteen-year-old unbeknownst to his two older brothers had been close by listening as Adam admired the brawny animal. Little Joe had run his horse all the way home in order to ask permission to enter the calf in the show. Adam, upon hearing of his brother’s deeds had declared him more unscrupulous than a sneak of weasels, and insisted the calf belonged to him. Ben had settled the matter by declaring the winner of the calf to be the one who brought it safely back to the barn first.

“In the morning!” their father shouted as they both raced toward the door.

Adam and Little Joe had kept their determined expressions locked most of the evening, and Hoss sensed that he wasn’t going to make it through the night unscathed. He tossed and turned for a long time, and sure enough, at the twelfth dong of the large grandfather clock downstairs, Little Joe had entered his room.

“Okay, Hoss, it’s morning. Let’s go.”

The rest was history. Hoss had argued; Little Joe had argued better, and now they were both in the middle of a soggy field full of stinking cattle on one of the worst stormy nights Hoss had ever experienced. As he ran, Hoss nearly tripped over a large cow lying on its side. He managed to weave his way around the forlorn creature, and hesitated for just a moment. He figured from the animals distended stomach that it was either giving birth or suffering from bloat, but Little Joe’s cry for help a moment later, ended any thoughts of helping the animal, and after a sorry glance at the cow, he sped toward his brother once again. Little Joe was heading for the fence, and to his credit even managed to pick up his pace a little when the cow bellowed loudly behind him.

“Oh, lordy, he’s not gonna make it,” Hoss gasped.

The enraged cow lowered her head as she drew near, ready to gore the young boy, but at the last second Little Joe made a sharp turn and the cow slipped in the mud landing solidly on her side. Hoss caught up to her just as she regained her footing, and in a desperate act, grabbed her by the tail. His only thought after that was to stay on the right end of the cow. The cow pulled and jerked wildly until Hoss finally lost hold and went sailing through the air. He quickly scrambled to his knees, and that’s when he felt the earth begin to shake. All the commotion had sent the cattle into a frenzy, and Hoss watched in horror as they stampeded in his direction. He knew he should get up and run, but he couldn’t get the signal to his legs fast enough. Instead he closed his eyes tightly and waited for the end to come. The ground rumbled and he could feel the mud hitting him in the face; still he waited. When the sounds finally began to die away, Hoss felt it safe to open his eyes once more.

“I’m alive,” he squeaked as he watched the frightened herd running in the other direction.

“Hoss you all right?” Joe’s voice blurted as he ran up behind his brother.

Hoss tilted his head up as he spoke. “What happened?”

“Don’t know for sure. Guess them cows decided you weren’t worth trampling. I thought you were a goner for sure, but the lead cow all of sudden turned and . . .”

Little Joe stopped at the sound of a gunshot. “Come on, Hoss,” he said frantically, “we’ve got to get out of here.”

Hoss had also heard the shots and he could now hear the sounds of men yelling and calling to each other. It sounded like their pa’s hired men were doing their job well, and it would only be a matter of minutes before the two youngest Cartwrights were discovered. Since neither one wanted to explain the night’s fiasco to their father, they quickly hightailed it out of the field and made for home. Miraculously, Little Joe still had the calf.

The clouds were clearing and the sky was just turning a dusty shade of pink when they wearily rode into the front yard, and sliding off their mounts, they headed toward the barn. Hoss had only taken two steps inside when he stopped, his mouth dropping open; the only movement he made for the next long while was when Little Joe ran into the back of him.

“Hoss, what’s the . . .” Little Joe asked, and then he saw what Hoss was staring at.

“Hey, fellows, you up already?” Adam asked.

In the last stall, clean and dry, knelt Adam, gently brushing down a large black calf. Little Joe’s head frantically bobbed back and forth between the calf Adam was grooming and the one tied to the back of his horse. The one he and Hoss had nearly killed themselves trying to get was unmistakably smaller, and now that they were in the light of a well-lit barn, they also saw a few white markings scattered in with the black.

“How’d you . . . that’s impossible!” Little Joe spluttered.

“What?” Adam asked. “Oh, you mean this little guy here? The one I’m going to be entering in the stock show next year.”

Adam looked his little brother in the eye and smirked—a low chuckle causing his chest to quiver.

“You’ve gotta be fast, boy—smart.”

Little Joe was seething, and after roughly depositing the calf, his tack, and his horse, he stomped to the house. Around the time the front door slammed loudly, Hoss finally regained his powers of speech.

“Adam, please. I’ll let it go—I’ll forget everythin’ I went through tonight—you just gotta tell me how you did it.”

Adam smiled as he looked his miserable brother up and down. “Sorry, old pal, but you chose the wrong side.”

Hoss scowled and Adam ducked his eyes. “Dad-burn it!”

Fifteen minutes later, Hoss walked in the front door. Every inch of his body was caked in mud, and he was pretty sure that he was going to need a new shirt, at least. He froze as his pa rounded the corner. Ben took one look at his son, opened his mouth, and then shut it again as he waved his hand.

“Never mind, I don’t have time to ask,” he said as he passed by. “I’m late for a meeting. Gonna have to get that clock checked, it was off by a whole hour.”

 

~The End