Summary:  Ben gets word to say his youngest son is dead.

Rated: K+ (7,440 words)

 

Joe Cartwright RIP

The deputy sheriff rode up to the Ponderosa to find Ben and his two elder sons just about to leave for a trip into Virginia City. “Mr Cartwright?” he inquired, dismounting and walking towards the three men.

“I’m Ben Cartwright,” Ben held out his hand in greeting. “These are my sons,” he indicated Adam and Hoss.”What can we do for you?”

“My name’s Reger, deputy sheriff from Carson City. Could we go inside and talk Mr Cartwright, I’m afraid I have some bad news for you.”

Ben’s thoughts turned immediately to the missing member of his family, his youngest son Joe. “What’s happened?” he asked urgently.

“If we could just go inside, sir,” the deputy grabbed a package from his saddle as Ben led the way into the ranch house, followed by Adam and Hoss.

“It’s about my son Joseph isn’t it?” Ben asked worriedly as they entered the great room.

“I’m afraid it is Mr Cartwright. I’m sorry to bring you bad news, sir, but four days ago the Sheriff and I came across a body out on the ranges near Carson City. Been dead a day or so, identification on him showed him to be your son.”

“Can you describe this man?” Adam asked. “I’d like to be sure it is my brother you’re talking about.”

“Young fella, about twenty, dark hair, green eyes, wearing tan pants and boots, brown shirt and green jacket?” Adam nodded numbly, the description fitted Joe exactly. “We gave him a decent burial, was all we could do.”

“No!” the cry was torn from the very depths of Ben’s being as the news registered in his mind.

“I’m so sorry, Mr Cartwright,” Deputy Reger reached into his pocket and extracted a wallet, which he handed to Ben along with the package that he had been holding in his other hand.

Ben stared down at the wallet Reger had handed him. It was Joe’s, he know it anywhere. Putting it down on his desk, he untied the package, which opened to reveal Joe’s green jacket, he had been wearing it when he’d ridden out on his way to Genoa to buy some cattle for the Ponderosa. Ben recalled his son’s mischievous smile as he’d told his brothers to be sure not to wear themselves out with the extra chores while he was gone, his cheery wave as he rode away. “Dear Lord, not Joe,” Ben whispered and groped for the desk in front of him, a sudden weakness in his legs. His glance fell on the gold-framed portrait of Joe’s mother Marie and he closed his eyes in despair.

Adam saw his father falter and moved quickly to his side. “Thank you for bringing us Joe’s things,” he told the deputy gravely. “If you could just see yourself out, I think we’d like to be alone for a while.”

Reger nodded and withdrew; leaving the three Cartwrights to face the nightmare he had brought them.

 

****

 

The grief that Adam felt for his youngest brother was pushed resolutely to one side as he saw with concern how his father was leaning heavily on the table, the strong, vital man suddenly appearing old and frail.

“Sit down Pa,” he advised worriedly. “I’ll get some brandy. Hoss help Pa to his chair.”

Hoss, his good-natured face a mask of sorrow reached out to help his father.

“I’m all right Hoss.” Ben straightened and walked over to the fireplace. He took the proffered brandy from Adam and swallowed it quickly, feeling the burning sensation from the drink melting away some of the numbness he felt and letting grief in.

“I just can’t believe it,” Hoss blurted out suddenly. “I can’t believe Little Joe ain’t gonna ride in here any minute and tell us this is all some dang fool joke.”

Ben put the brandy glass carelessly down on the table and wordlessly returned to his desk on which lay Joe’s jacket and wallet. Picking up the jacket in trembling fingers he buried his face in the cloth. “Why Joe,” he implored silently. “Please God, why Joe?”

 

****

 

Alone in his room that night Ben lay unsleeping, just staring into the darkness. He felt as though the devastating weight of his grief was physically crushing him. His chest ached as though his heart was truly breaking. Images flashed before him of the much loved face he would never see again. At last, unable to bear it any longer, he got up and dressed, went out and saddled Buck and rode down to the lake. Dismounting beside Marie’s grave, Ben knelt before his wife’s headstone and finally gave way to the bitter tears of loss.

The Ponderosa was a very bleak place over the next few days. Ben and his sons carried out the many tasks that were needed to keep the great ranch running, returning home each night exhausted, but unable to rest.

Wearily climbing the stairs one evening, Adam was surprised to see the glow of lamplight from Joe’s room. He pushed the door open to see his father standing by the dresser, the small portrait of Joe’s mother in his hand.

Ben looked across at Adam; his eldest son looked weary, dark circles beneath his eyes. “I miss him so much Adam,” he said.

Adam nodded in reply to his father’s words. “We all do Pa,”

“I don’t know if I can bear it,” Ben continued sadly. “I’ve lost so many people that I’ve loved in my life, but to lose a son. How am I going to find the strength to carry on without him?”

“Hoss and I will help.” Adam could think of no more words to comfort his father. How could he comfort him when his own grief was so great? Joe had been just twenty, twelve years Adam’s junior. The two were never the best of friends like Hoss and Joe had been, but he had loved his little brother very much.

Ben looked down at the picture he was holding. “He was so like his mother.”

Adam nodded in agreement. Joe had had Marie’s soft curls and green eyes. Her fine features and sense of fun.

“He was so…” Ben groped for words.

“Annoying,” Adam said, and Ben shot him a sharp glance, but Adam had a fond look in his eyes, a small smile on his lips. “Annoying,” he repeated. “Irritating, funny, gentle, mischievous. He was just Joe and, like you Pa, I miss him more than I can say.”

 

****

 

“Well Ben?” the minister asked his old friend gently. “Shall I see about arranging a memorial service for Joseph?”

The man had ridden out to see the Cartwrights as soon as he had heard the news when he returned to town from a visit to San Francisco. It was four days since Deputy Reger had told Ben and his sons that their world had changed forever.

Ben remained standing by the fire, gazing into the dancing flames. All around him he felt echoes of his dead son. Sometimes he could almost hear Joe’s light tread on the stair, his laughter as he shared a joke with Hoss.

“No thank you. That won’t be necessary.”

Adam and Hoss, seated on the couch, looked up at their father in surprise.

“No,” Ben continued. “I’ve decided that I want Joe home. He belongs here on the Ponderosa, not in some forgotten grave somewhere.”

Adam and Hoss exchanged glances. “You mean you intend to go and bring Joe’s body home?” Adam asked incredulously.

“I mean exactly that,” Ben answered him firmly. “The Sheriff and Deputy Reger can show us where to find him. Joseph would want to be here, I know he would, and I intend to fetch him. So, thank you,” he looked across at the minister who was regarding him with sympathy, “but we won’t be needing a memorial service, just a proper funeral when I bring my son home.”

 

****

 

“Are you really sure you want to do this, Pa?” Adam asked in concern as they prepared to depart for Carson City in the morning.

“Very sure. I need to do this for Joe.”

“It’s going to be quite an ordeal you realise that. I know we’ve all seen a lot of bodies before, but this is Joe, Pa.”

Ben concentrated on saddling Buck for a while before replying. In truth he dreaded the task that lay ahead, but he also knew that this was the last thing he could do for his son. Bring him home and lay him to rest beside his mother.

“I’ve got to do this,” he said at last, turning to Adam. “But if you or Hoss feel that you’d rather not come with me, then I will understand.”

“We’re with you Pa,” Hoss said. “Whatever you decide, if you think it’s right for Joe then that’s the way it’ll be, right Adam?”

Adam nodded in reply but he couldn’t help feeling that what lay ahead might just prove too much for his father.

 

****

 

Deputy Reger greeted the Cartwrights with surprise as they entered the sheriff’s office in Carson City.

“Mr Cartwright, what can I do for you sir?” he asked.

Ben explained the nature of their business. When he finished Reger was regarding him with some consternation.

“Are you sure about this, Mr Cartwright?” he asked. “I don’t mean to be disrespectful sir, but it has been three weeks and, well, bodies decay. It’ll be very upsetting for you.”

“I’m prepared for it,” Ben told him, knowing that, of course, he wasn’t.

Deputy Reger looked at Adam who shrugged his shoulders in resignation. “Very well, Mr Cartwright,” Reger agreed eventually. “I’ll arrange to hire a wagon and we’ll go out to where I buried your son.”

 

****

 

The four men rode out from Carson City in the late morning sun. Deputy Reger drove the wagon that carried a wooden casket for transporting the body. All four were dreading the end of the journey and conversation was sparse, each man lost in his own thoughts.

At last they reached the area where Deputy Reger and the sheriff had buried Joe. Reger pointed out to the Cartwrights the cairn of stones that marked the spot where he lay.

“Dear Lord,” Ben prayed as he dismounted and walked over to the grave. “Give me the strength to face this.”

“Are you sure about this Mr Cartwright?” Reger asked anxiously. “It was bad enough before but after all this time…”

Ben ignored the Deputy, turning instead to face his sons. “You don’t need to do this if you’d rather not,” he told them. “I can manage.”

“We’ll do it Pa,” Hoss grasped one of the shovels they had brought. “Adam and me, we’ll do it”

Adam nodded in assent. Grim faced they bent to the task, reeling back a little as the odour of rotting flesh reached them. Working together, they soon uncovered the body.

Ben, staring off into the distance heard Adam’s gasp and turned sharply.

“It’s not Joe!” Adam cried jubilantly, as he brushed the last clods of earth from the face of the buried man. “Pa, this isn’t Joe!”

And indeed, though this man wore Joe’s clothes and was basically the same age and build, the body was not Joe’s. For a long moment no one said anything, then Hoss voiced all their thoughts.

“But then where in tarnation is Joe? And how come this fella is wearin’ his clothes?”

 

****

 

“So what has happened to my son?” Ben asked later that day, back in the sheriff’s office in Carson City. He didn’t really expect an answer, knowing that no-one had any more idea than he himself of what fate had befallen Joe.

“Let’s review what we do know,” Adam suggested, logical as ever. “We have the body of a stranger wearing Joe’s clothes. We don’t know where Joe is, we don’t know where Cochise is.”

“Cochise?” queried the sheriff.

“Joe’s horse,” Hoss explained.

“So why was the stranger wearing Joe’s clothes?” Adam continued. “Did the man force Joe to exchange clothes with him? And who shot the man and why?”

“It’s a possibility that your brother shot the guy,” Reger said. “Perhaps that’s why he’s gone missing.”

“No,” Hoss spoke firmly. “If Joe had shot him, there would have been a good reason for it and Joe wouldn’t have just buried the guy there and left him.”

The deputy sat back in his chair and regarded the three men before him. He looked with some concern at the eldest Cartwright. Ben looked tired and pale.

“Sit down Mr Cartwright,” he said, indicating a chair in the corner of the room. “You don’t look so good.”

Adam and Hoss turned to their father and saw that Reger was right, Ben looked all in. Hoss pulled the chair swiftly forward for his father and Ben sank gratefully onto it.

“I’m all right boys,” he said, seeing his sons concern. “It’s just, I was so relieved that it wasn’t Joe out there, but now… I don’t want to let myself hope too much. If Joe was still alive I’m sure he’d have been in touch by now like Hoss says. I just need to know what happened to him, I just need to know…” his voice tailed off and he sat silently, staring into space.

The sheriff reached into his desk for a bottle of whiskey and a glass. Pouring a stiff measure he handed it to Ben and watched him drink.

“There’s just one thing that I can think may be of help,” Reger said, “and I can’t really see that it can possibly be connected with your son. The reason the Sheriff and I were up where we found the body was that we were looking for a deputy from California and the prisoner he was escorting to the Nevada State prison. We got a wire from the Prison Governor saying that they were overdue and had last been seen in that area.”

“Did you find them?” Adam asked.

“Nope, but a couple of days later we heard that the Prison Governor got word that the prisoner, Jeb Brown I think his name is, was in a hotel here in Carson City. He sent some of his men over and sure enough, there he was, all tied up and waiting for them. Never heard what happened to the deputy from California though.”

The Cartwrights considered Reger’s story. On the face of it there seemed to be no connection to Joe’s disappearance, but this man had been in the area at the same time, so perhaps he had seen Joe. It was decided that they should visit the State Prison to see Jeb Brown.

As they left the sheriff’s office to find a hotel for the night Deputy Reger drew Adam aside. “Can’t you persuade your father to let you carry on this search without him?” he asked. “Even I can see how much it’s affecting him.”

Adam shook his head. “Pa won’t give up till he knows what happened. All I can do is try and get him to rest up a while, but he won’t give up.”

 

****

 

Adam lit the lamp in the hotel bedroom, it had been a long day and he was very tired, both physically and emotionally. He looked longingly at the bed, but knew he wouldn’t be able to rest until he had checked on his father.

Ben had scarcely spoken on the way to the hotel, declining dinner; he had retired to his room early, leaving Adam and Hoss to eat without him.

Tapping softly on the door of his father’s room Adam heard Ben approach the door and open it, standing aside for him to enter.

“I just came to see if you were all right Pa,” even as Adam said the words he could see that Ben was far from all right, he looked exhausted and ill.

Ben sat down on the bed and looked at his son. “I’m just tired. Nothing a good night’s sleep won’t cure.”

“And you haven’t had a good nights sleep since this started. You must rest, Pa, it’s no good making yourself ill.”

“If only I knew what had happened to Joe,” Ben’s voice was so quiet Adam had to strain to hear. “Perhaps I could rest then.”

“We’ll find out. I promise we won’t stop looking until we find out for certain what happened. But perhaps you should go on back to the Ponderosa and leave this to Hoss and me, you really don’t look well.”

“I’m all right I told you,” Ben’s voice rose angrily. “I’m not giving up, Adam.” He stood, and crossed to the door. “You get some sleep, this has been a hard day for all of us.”

Adam sighed in defeat. He knew that there was be no point in trying to persuade his father, his mind was made up. Reluctantly, he left Ben alone.

 

****

Joining Hoss for breakfast early the next morning Adam was surprised to find his brother eating alone. “Pa not down yet?”

“Nope,” Hoss looked up at his brother. “I thought he’d have been right eager to get to the prison. Perhaps all that lost sleep just caught up with him.”

“Perhaps,” Adam replied thoughtfully. He felt a twinge of concern; his father had looked so ill the previous evening. “I think I’ll go and wake him.”

Leaving Hoss in the dining room, Adam practically ran up the stairs to his father’s room. His anxiety mounted when there was no answer to his frantic knock. Returning to the lobby he quickly explained the problem to the desk clerk, who furnished him with a passkey. Hoss emerged from the dining room just as Adam began to climb the stairs again.

“Hey Adam,” he called. “Something up?”

“I think Pa may have been taken ill,” Adam explained urgently. “Come on.”

Opening the door of Ben’s room the two brothers were horrified to discover their father unconscious on the floor.

 

 

****

 

Returning to the hotel with the doctor that the hotel manager had recommended, Adam found his father had regained consciousness. Hoss, sitting anxiously beside the bed, looked up with relief as the two men came in.

The doctor looked Ben over thoroughly; Adam had explained the circumstances of his father’s collapse to him on their way to the hotel.

“He’s just totally exhausted,” the doctor pronounced, completing his examination “and he’s obviously under a great deal of strain. He needs total bed rest for at least the next few days.”

“I can’t do that Doctor,” Ben protested weakly. “I have to go and see the prison governor.”

“We’ll take care of it,” Adam told him firmly. “You heard the doctor, you stay right here and rest.”

Reluctantly, Ben had to agree to remain at the hotel while Adam and Hoss went to try and see Jeb Brown.

 

****

 

As Adam and Hoss entered his office, the governor of the State prison stood to greet them. “John Peters,” he introduced himself, with a handshake for each of the brothers.  “How can I help you gentlemen? My warder tells me it’s about the prisoner we picked up in Carson City a couple of weeks ago?” He pulled chairs forward for his visitors and motioned them to sit.

“My name’s Adam Cartwright,” Adam noticed a flash of recognition on the man’s face as he gave his surname. “This is my brother Hoss. We’re hoping to speak to your prisoner about an incident that took place between Genoa and Carson City at the time when he was in that area.”

Adam explained further, telling the governor of the body they had found dressed in Joe’s clothes and how they hoped Jeb Brown might have seen something that could help them find out what had happened to their brother. Studying Governor Peters as he talked, Adam got a strange feeling that the man was uneasy, almost as if he was hiding something.

Peter’s shook his head as Adam finished his story. “I’m afraid that I can’t allow you to talk to Brown,”

“Why not?”

“He’s in solitary confinement. Troublemaker from when he arrived.  I’m not willing to allow visitors at this time.”

“So when can we see him?”

“Couple of weeks at the earliest,” Peters told them, getting up and going to open the door. It was obvious that from his point of view the visit was over. “I’m sorry gentlemen but rules are rules,” he muttered as he ushered the Cartwrights out.

 

****

 

“There’s something not right at the prison,” Adam told Ben later. The three Cartwrights were in Bens’ room at the hotel and Adam was pleased to see that his father looked slightly better than when he had left him that morning, though still pale and tired.

“Not right? What do you mean?”

“I don’t know exactly,” Adam admitted. “It’s more a feeling than anything solid. Peters’ seemed to recognise our name, and he seemed uneasy.”

“Lots of people know our name,” Hoss put in. “Cartwrights are pretty well known round here.”

“I know,” Adam agreed, “but I really feel Peters’ is hiding something and I don’t think we should wait two weeks to see Jeb Brown.”

“I agree with that,” Ben told him, “and I think I can get to see him tomorrow if I could just pay a visit to the Territorial Governor.”

“We’ll take a message to the Governor for you if you want,” Hoss said firmly. “But you’re gonna do just what the Doc said and stay in that bed.”

 

****

 

Prison Governor Peters was not pleased to see the Cartwrights back in his office. He was even less pleased with what they brought with them, a letter from the Territorial Governor requesting that they be allowed access to any area of the prison that they wished to see and a sheriff’s deputy to enforce it.

“Sometimes,” Adam thought, as he saw Peters’ furious expression. “It’s good to have friends in high places.”

“Well, I suppose I must do what the governor wants,” Peters’ said sourly. “Where would you like to start?”

“We want to see Jeb Brown, like we told you yesterday.” Adam said.

“I told you, the man is in solitary confinement.”

“I still want to see him. And right now.”

Peters’ expression was livid, but he didn’t dare go against the wishes of the Territorial Governor so reluctantly he led the way down into the very bowels of the building. A dank and depressing corridor, off of which were three doorways that led to the solitary confinement cells. Windowless, airless rooms where difficult prisoners were taken until they realised the errors of their ways.

A warder stepped forward promptly as he saw the men approach. “Sir?”

“Open up Brown’s cell,” Peters’ attitude was one of resignation as the warder moved to unlock the door and then stood aside for the men to enter.

The cell was tiny, no more than six foot tall, six foot long and four wide. It was dark, the only illumination coming from the open doorway. Practically the entire floor space was taken up by a narrow bed, on which lay a young man with tousled dark hair.

Adam was first into the room, hardly believing what his eyes told him as he approached the bed. “Joe?” he said softly. “Joe!”

Joe turned at the familiar voice. He couldn’t see properly, blinded by light from the open doorway entering the cell that had been pitch black, but he knew his brother’s voice. “Adam?” he whispered.

Adam reached down to help his brother sit up. As he touched the younger man’s back, Joe flinched in pain. Gently pulling up the shirt Joe wore Adam saw with horror that his brother’s chest and back were covered with deep, dark bruises. Looking closer he realised that Joe’s face and arms also bore bruises. “Dear Lord,” he said angrily. “What’s been going on here?”

Hoss, standing behind him also caught sight of Joe’s battered face and body. He turned angrily to Peters’, who backed up against the far wall, the warder beside him.

“I’m don’t know what this is all about,” the man blustered. “I had no idea that man was not Jeb Brown.”

“Right now I’m just concerned with getting my brother out of here,” Adam told him. “But we’ll be back Peters’. Mark my words, whoever has done this to my brother is going to be made to pay.”

They settled Joe in Adam’s room at the hotel and Hoss went to fetch a doctor. Joe hadn’t spoken at all on the journey from the prison, just turning aside when Adam and Hoss attempted to question him. Adam was torn now, he didn’t want to leave his brother alone but he desperately wanted to fetch his father. In the end he decided that he’d best wait until Hoss returned with the doctor and settled down to watch over Joe until then.

****

“Well there’s no doubt that he’s been severely beaten over a considerable period of time,” the doctor told them as he finished examining Joe. “He’s sustained a couple of broken ribs, but nothing that won’t mend in time.”

“I’m more worried about his state of mind,” Adam told him anxiously, drawing the man aside so that Joe wouldn’t overhear. “He hasn’t spoken at all, and just turns away when we try to speak to him.”

“What he’s been through will obviously have a bad affect on him. He needs plenty of rest and plenty of good food. And now,” he continued, heading for the door. “I’d better look in on my other patient.”

“I’d rather you didn’t,” Adam said quickly. “I haven’t told my father that we’ve found Joe and I’d like to be the ones to break it to him. I have a feeling the news will make him feel a whole lot better.”

With a nod of agreement the doctor took his leave, putting a small bottle of laudanum on the dresser as he did so. “In case your brother needs it for the pain,” he explained.

With the doctor gone, Adam left Hoss to sit with Joe and went to see his father.

“Well?” Ben queried impatiently as Adam entered the room. “What did Brown have to say?”

“He didn’t say a lot,” Adam told him. “But we found something pretty interesting in his prison cell. I think you’d better come along with me Pa. There’s someone I’d like you to see.”

Curious, Ben donned his robe and followed Adam.

Ben’s expression as he saw Joe gladdened his two elder sons. The strain and anxiety of the past weeks just seemed to fall from their father as he approached the bed where his youngest son lay. “Joseph,” he whispered softly, almost unbelievingly.

Turning to his father Joe spoke for the first time since they had found him. Just one word, his voice hoarse and strained. “Pa.”

Without another word Ben sat heavily down on the edge of the bed and reached for his son; Joe went easily into the embrace, finding comfort and strength in his father’s touch.

“Sure glad you found me,” he whispered huskily. “I thought I was going to be in there for good.”

“What happened, Joseph?” Ben asked him gently. “How did you end up in that prison?”

Joe shook his head, obviously unwilling to talk about his experiences. “Not yet okay?”

“All right,” Ben agreed soothingly. “We’ll leave for now. But we will need to know, son.”

 

****

Adam slept in Ben’s room that night. Despite his and Hoss’ assertions that they should watch Joe while Ben rested their father refused to leave his youngest son.

As Joe slept, Ben sat and watched him, scarcely able to believe that his son was alive, the nightmare was over. Standing up to stretch his legs, he crossed over to the window and looked down at the street below him. Although the hour was late there were still plenty of people about, but Ben hardly noticed them, too caught up in his own thoughts. He had to find out what had happened to Joe, and quickly, before Peters’ had time to cover his tracks. Ben was determined to bring to justice the men who were responsible for what had happened to his son.

That afternoon Adam had consulted a lawyer who advised him that to proceed with a prosecution against Peters’. They would need a doctor’s report on Joe’s injuries and a statement from Joe himself. So far though, Joe had refused to talk about his ordeal. Ben sighed, he was worried that the continual beatings, the time spent alone in the dark cell, had somehow seriously affected his son. He hoped that if they could get him to talk, to tell them what had happened to him, it would help him come to terms with his ordeal.

Turning from the window, Ben doused the lamp and settled down in the chair to try and sleep. He would try to talk to Joe again in the morning.

 

****

 

Some hours later, Ben woke suddenly, startled from sleep by Joe crying out. “Joe,” he said gently, leaning forward in his chair. “It’s all right son. Just a dream.”

Joe’s voice was panicky, though still thick with sleep. “I dreamed I was back in that cell. It’s so dark.”

Ben reached across and lit the lamp. As the reassuring glow of the lamplight filled the room, he could see how scared Joe looked and his heart ached at the sight. Whatever had happened in that prison had made a frightened boy of his brave, assured youngest son. “Joe,” he said, his voice firm. “Joseph, look at me please.”

For a long moment Joe remained still, then slowly he raised his head to look at his father.

“You have to talk to me son. I need to know what happened.”

“I don’t want to think about it. Please Pa, I just want to forget it.”

“But you can’t forget about it can you?” Ben asked gently. “And you mustn’t let the people who did this go unpunished.”

Joe sat in silence for a while, thinking over his father’s words. Then at last, slowly, haltingly, he told Ben what had happened to him.

 

Joe had left Genoa, on his way back to the Ponderosa, well pleased with the business he had transacted and looking forward to getting home. About half way between Genoa and Carson City he had encountered two men. One of the men, who introduced himself as a deputy from California, was leading the horse of the other, who was tied in the saddle. He was on his way to Nevada State prison, he told Joe, with a man who had killed two people in Carson City. The prisoner was lucky, he said, serving a life sentence instead of hanging.

 

Joe’s attention had been immediately drawn to the prisoner. The man could have been his brother, bearing a striking resemblance to him. It soon became obvious that the deputy had also noticed that his prisoner and Joe resembled each other. But Joe certainly didn’t expect what happened next. As he bade farewell, and began to ride away, the deputy pulled a gun on him and forced him to dismount. He had then ordered the prisoner off his horse, untied him and told the two to exchange clothes.

“Then he just shot him Pa,” Joe told his father bleakly. “He was standing right beside me, and he just shot him.”

Ordering Joe back on his horse, the deputy had tied him as the prisoner had been. After giving the prisoner, who Joe now knew was Jeb Brown, a hasty burial, the deputy rode on to Carson City, with Joe as his prisoner. Arriving under cover of darkness, they had taken a room at the hotel, the deputy warning Joe not to attempt to speak to anyone or he would have no hesitation in killing him, just as he had Brown. Once in the hotel room, he had tied Joe securely to a chair, gagged him and then left. Some time later men from the prison had arrived and found Joe, assuming that he was Jeb Brown as Brown’s papers were in his pocket.

“But why?” Ben asked. “Did this deputy give you a reason for his actions?”

“One of the men Brown killed was the deputy’s cousin,” Joe told him. “When the court decided that Brown should be sent to prison not hang, he decided to kill him. He asked for the escort duty and, as no-one knew about his cousin, he got the job.”

“So why involve you?”

“Because when he saw me he realised there was a way to kill Brown and get away with it. Nobody would know Brown was dead because I’d be in prison in his place. If the truth ever came out he’d be long gone.” Joe’s voice had dropped almost to a whisper as he remembered his first few days in prison. “I told them over and over that they had made a mistake, but they wouldn’t listen. They said I was being disruptive, needed to be taught a lesson, so they just, they just…”

Ben reached out to rub Joe’s arm gently, offering comfort he continued his story. With every word Ben’s anger grew as Joe told him how he had been beaten unmercifully as the warders tried to get him to ‘admit’ that he was Jeb Brown. How, eventually, he was brought before Governor Peters’, who sentenced him to solitary confinement. He felt a tremor run through Joe as he told his father of the days in that dark, dank little cell, unable to see and scared that he would be a prisoner for ever, wondering if his family thought him dead.

“But I didn’t give in Pa.” Joe’s voice held a trace of pride. “I told them my name Cartwright and they never got me to say otherwise.”

“They’ll pay for this,” Ben promised him as Joe finally fell silent, his story told. “They’ll pay.”

 

****

Ben watched with concern the next day as Joe haltingly told his story to Walter Sawyer, the lawyer whose services Adam had retained.

 

“That’s fine,” Sawyer said as Joe signed his name at the bottom of his statement. “Now I’ve got this, we can proceed through legal channels. I’ll get papers served on Peters’ and the warders involved, and they will be arrested and brought to trial. I’ll wire California to find out the name of this deputy that shot Brown and we can get wanted posters out for him,” he looked at Joe. “You realise you’ll need to be in court to give this evidence in person?”

Joe nodded. “I’ll be there.”

As Ben showed Sawyer to the door the lawyer spoke to him quietly. “I’d keep a close eye on your son if I was you, Mr Cartwright,” he said. “Peters’ is a pretty influential man around here.”

 

****

 

“He’s still frettin’ain’t he?” Hoss looked across the hotel dining room to where Joe sat with Adam. “He ain’t eatin’ hardly anythin’ and he’s real quiet.”

Ben nodded in agreement; Joe’s demeanour had him worried as well. “Perhaps once the trial is over he’ll feel better. Seems like all the fight has gone out of him at the moment.”

“Yeah. I thought he’d want to get those men jailed for what they did, but seems he ain’t even interested in the trial.”

“I think he is,” Ben said with a shake of his head, “but he’s worried about facing up to those men.”

An additional worry to the Cartwrights was that Governor Peters’ had not hung around to be arrested. When the sheriff arrived with the warrants Peters’ was no longer at the prison, neither was he to be found at his home. The sheriff had men out looking for him but so far he’d evaded capture.

Ben and Hoss joined Adam and Joe at the table, Ben looking with concern at Joe’s scarcely touched plate.

“I was just trying to persuade Joe to come along to the saloon with me for a beer,” Adam told his father.

“That sounds like a good idea. You could do with getting out for a while, a change of scene,”

“I think I’d rather stay here,” Joe said softly. “I’m real tired.”

“Aw go on, Joe.” Hoss urged. “I bet big brother would even buy the beer for you if you made real nice.”

A ghost of a smile touched Joe’s lips. “Oh, all right,” he conceded. “It might be nice to see someplace else besides this hotel.”

 

****

 

The saloon was noisy, crowded and smoky. Adam couldn’t help noticing how close Joe had stuck to him on the way here and how he watched unwaveringly as he got the drinks, only relaxing when Adam sat down at the table with him. Even then he would turn to watch every time someone entered the bar. Adam tried his best to make conversation but it was obvious Joe’s mind was elsewhere. After a couple of beers Adam gave up and suggested that they head back. Joe acceded eagerly.

Leaving the saloon they headed down the sidewalk towards the hotel. They had just passed a dark side alleyway when they heard the ominous click of a pistol being cocked.

Joe froze as he recognised Peters’ voice. “I have a gun trained on you, Cartwright and I’ll drop you where you stand if you don’t do as I say. Both of you, get back here.”

Obediently the brothers entered the alley where Peters stood. Joe was surprised at how different the man looked from the last time he’d seen him. Stripped of the authority his powerful job had afforded him, and on the run from the law, Peters was just a shadow of his former self, a tired, hunted looking man.

“You’ve lost me everything, Cartwright,” Peters’ said angrily, “and if I come to trial it would be your word against mine. No other prisoner will speak out, I’ll make sure of that.”

“So what do you intend to do?” Adam asked.

“Kill you both of course. Then there’s no one to say anything against me, no one.”

“And you think you’d get away with that?” sneered Adam. “My father and brother will guess what happened. The court has Joe’s statement, you’ll be the first suspect if anything happens to us.”

“Shut up!” Peters’ hissed turning towards Adam. “Or so help me I’ll…”

Joe saw his chance as Peters concentrated his anger on Adam. Swiftly he kicked out hard at the gun in Peters’ hand. His kick made contact, causing the man to loosen his grip on the weapon, which went sailing down the alley. Adam dived to retrieve it as Joe launched himself at Peters, sheer fury coursing through him as he threw punch after punch at the cowering man.

Adam watched for a minute or two then waded in and hauled his younger brother off. “Stop it Joe,” he ordered. “Let the law deal with him now.”

Joe stopped reluctantly, still afire with anger. “I’d just like to give him a taste of the treatment I got.”

“I know,” Adam soothed. “I know you would, Joe, but it’s down to the law now. Let’s you and I take this pathetic specimen to the sheriff.”

 

****

As befitted a State capital, the Carson City courthouse was a large, imposing building. The place was packed for Peters’ trial, the public keen to see the outcome.

Ben watched anxiously as Joe took the stand. Since the fight with Peters in the alleyway Joe had seemed more his old self, but he was still concerned about the trial. His son had been undeniably nervous this morning as they set out from the hotel.

Walter Sawyer led Joe over his statement and Joe answered clearly and firm. As Sawyer sat down, the defence lawyer got to his feet. Ben felt Adam tense beside him. If this man got to Joe, made him lose his temper, it could do damage to their case and all the Cartwrights were only too aware of Joe’s volatile temper. In the case of the warders the evidence was fairly overwhelming, but Peters’ denied that he had known about, and condoned the beatings. Joe needed to tell his story as unemotionally as he could.

“So what makes you think Governor Peters’ was aware of the treatment meted out to the prisoners?” the lawyer asked.

“Because once he was there when it was going on,” Joe answered quietly.

“You’re sure of that?” The man asked. “After all, you’ve just described to us how these men,” he indicated the warders, “had severely beaten you. Were you in any fit state to be aware of who was and who wasn’t present at the time?”

“He was there,” Joe’s voice shook slightly with the effort of holding his temper. He glanced across at his family, seeing his father’s reassuring look.

“But by your own admission, he thought you were this prisoner, this Jeb Brown.”

“Is that any excuse?” Joe’s voice was rising now. “To beat a man half to death for protesting his innocence?”

The lawyer shuffled papers and consulted his notes. “And you say that Governor Peters continued to hold you even after he became aware of your true identity?”

“He knew he had the wrong man as soon as he heard my brother’s story. He knew, and instead of letting me go, he tried to keep my family from finding me. If my father hadn’t approached the Territorial Governor I’ve no doubt that I would have met with some ‘accident’ before my family came back to see Brown.”

“That’s not true!” Peters’ shouted, jumping to his feet. “I wouldn’t have done that.”

“Order!!” barked the Judge.

“I wouldn’t have had you killed!” Peters’ continued, as though the Judge hadn’t spoken. “I’ve had to use those methods to deal with disruptive prisoners, just to break their spirit, but I’ve never killed anyone, or been a party to it…never!” Sitting down, the man put his head in his hands and began to sob.

 

****

 

As they led Peters’ from the courtroom, he turned to face Joe and his family. “You’ll hear from me again, Cartwright,” he threatened. “I’ll get you yet.”

Joe just smiled at him. “I don’t think so,” he said quietly. “Because you’re going to serve your sentence in the very same prison where you had men beaten. I imagine they’ll be looking forward to seeing how long it takes to break your spirit.”

 

****

 

Ben was looking forward to getting home as the four Cartwrights neared the Ponderosa. They had bade farewell to Deputy Reger and Walter Sawyer. Reger had told them that there was still no news on the Californian deputy, but he’d be in touch if the man ever showed up.

Ben watched Joe riding ahead, talking animatedly to Hoss. He considered the way he had thought he would be bringing his son home and gave profound thanks that Joe had been restored to him.

As they dismounted in front of the ranch house, Ben turned to Joe. “Take care of the horses will you please, Joseph?”

“Can’t they wait a while?” Joe protested. “I’d sure like a cup of coffee first.”

“Now please Joe,” Ben said firmly and watched as his son reluctantly led the horses off.

Adam and Hoss also watched and waited. Moments later they heard Joe’s whoop of delight. “Hey Pa! Cochise is here, he came home!”

The three older Cartwrights crossed to the barn where Joe met them, eyes shining with delight.

Ben smiled, pleased to see his son’s happiness at being reunited with his horse. Ben had wired Hop Sing from Carson City when they found Joe and the little cook had wired back telling him that Cochise had arrived home. He had kept the news as a surprise for Joe’s return.

“You knew he was here,” Joe accused now, seeing his father and brothers grinning at him.

“We knew,” Adam told him laconically. “Welcome home, Joe.”

“For a while there I thought I’d never get home again,” Joe said, suddenly serious again. “But thanks to you three I made it back. Thank you.”

 

“We’re just glad we found you,” Ben told him, shuddering inwardly as he thought of what he had expected to find. “Now, let’s go get that coffee.”

 

And the Cartwright family, whole again, headed inside to a joyful welcome from Hop Sing.

 

 

THE END

 

Tags:  Angst, Family