SUMMARY:  Joe is attacked. At first it seems the motive was robbery, but all too soon it becomes clear that something devastating has happened to the youngest Cartwright son. As the truth comes out, the Cartwright men face a challenge none of them could have conceived; one that calls upon them to look deep within themselves to find a way to save Joe.

RATED M: This story is rated M for adult situations and themes including sexual assault, sexual innuendo, abusive behavior, violence and brutality.  It contains mild adult language.  WARNING: This story may not be appropriate for younger or more sensitive readers.

(72,000 words)

All known and public characters belong to those who created them.  All new characters belong to the author.  There is no intent to infringe on copyright and no money is being made – just friends and warm hearts hopefully!

**This story is rated M for adult situations and themes including sexual assault, strong sexual innuendo , abusive behavior, violence and brutality.  It contains mild adult language.  WARNING: This story may not be appropriate for younger or more sensitive readers.**

The Real Man Smiles in Trouble 

PART ONE

ONE

Adam Cartwright sat bolt upright in bed.  Sweat rolled off his tanned skin, wetting the linens, as a tremor of fear shuddered though him.  He remained where he was for several seconds, his heart hammering in his chest and his knuckles white where they gripped the scrunched bedclothes, and then shifted and tossed off the coverlet.  Throwing his legs over the edge of the bed, he stood up.  Unnerved, Adam walked to the window and looked out, seeking to find some order in the world of nature outside.  He had a vague memory of the night terror he had awakened from, but ‘vague’ was the word.  Only an impression remained of the desperate moment that had jolted him back to reality – someone he loved was going to die and there was nothing he could do.  He wasn’t sure who it was, but he thought it might have been Joe.

Adam sighed and ran a hand along the back of his neck.  Of course, it was Joe – who else would he feel that protective of?

His relationship with his nineteen year old sibling was complicated, and that complication often engendered hard feelings.  They’d knocked heads more times than he cared to count from the time his little brother had been old enough to walk.  The problem was, most of the time he felt more like Joe’s second father than his brother.  It’d been that way since he was born.  Adam pursed his lips and shook his head.  They’d had some knockdown drag-outs over the years, arguing and fighting over everything from Joe’s penchant for swordplay to his inevitable raucous and often dangerous nights on the town.

He had to admit, though, that those were the times he enjoyed the most, the times when he pushed his little brother to the edge and watched Joe mature before his eyes, watched him make mistakes and, occasionally – just occasionally – show him how wrong he was.  They were so different, the three of them, with their different mothers, and yet there was a common tie that bound them all.  That was their pa, of course.  Turning so he was facing into the room, Adam sat half-on and half-off the window sill.  The only reason for the night terror he could come up with was that he was worried about Joe because his brother was late getting home.  They had expected Joe before the sun went down and now, here it was, four o’clock in the morning and he still hadn’t showed.  At least, he thought he hadn’t.  Then again, he hadn’t checked Joe’s room since going to bed so there was no knowing if he had come in.  For a minute Adam struggled with himself.  It was hard for him to think of Joe as a man, but that’s what his baby brother was – or at least was becoming.  He really shouldn’t go down the hall and open Joe’s door to peek in and see if he was in bed.  Really, he shouldn’t.

Of course, he would.

After pulling his burgundy robe on over his nightshirt, Adam padded down the hall silently in his bare feet.  He hesitated outside of Joe’s room and considered what he would say if Joe was behind the door and awake.  He wanted his brother to know that he trusted him and that he did think of him as a man, albeit a young inexperienced one.  Acting like a nursemaid wasn’t going to go very far toward accomplishing that goal or gaining Joe’s confidence.  As the black-haired man stood there, debating his course of action, he heard the front door of the ranch house open.  A moment later he heard voices as well.  Apparently Pa had been as concerned as him and had waited up for Joe, probably in the big blue chair by the fire.  Adam laughed.  That chair should have been threadbare and broken down by now considering all of the long hours their father had occupied it waiting for one or all of them to show.

When he heard footsteps on the stair, Adam backed into the shadows.  He watched his brother as he appeared at the top still dressed in his work clothes.  Joe was angry, he could tell.  Probably because their father had waited up for him.  Joe was nearing twenty and, to him, he was past the age where their pa should be tapping his toe and counting the minutes until he came in.

Adam snorted.  Good luck with that one. Their pa still waited up on him!

As Joe moved slowly down the corridor toward his room, he decided to say nothing.  Little brother would think he had been waiting up too, and from the look of him talking would do little, if any good.  Joe’s lithe form was rigid with anger.  His fingers opened and closed in controlled rage.  When he came to his door, he gripped the knob with force, his knuckles going white.  Then, suddenly, all motion ceased.  Joe just stood there.  A moment later, with a sigh, his brother rested his forehead on the door.

Adam hesitated.  Then, carefully and silently as he could, he edged back toward his own room.   Once there he reached back and opened the door noiselessly and then closed it, making a deliberate sound.

Joe’s head jerked up as Adam stepped into the light that spilled into the corridor and yawned.  Blinking, he asked, “You just getting home, Joe?”

His brother turned toward him, his jaw tight.   “What’s it to you?”

“Whoa, boy!” Adam said, holding up a hand.  “I’m just asking.”

“So how come you’re waiting up for me?”

“I wasn’t waiting up for you,” the black-haired man answered.  “I was heading downstairs for something to eat.  You just happened to be in corridor – fully dressed.  Make’s a man wonder.”

Joe grimaced.  “Sorry, Adam.”

“Pa give you a dressing down?” he asked with a half-smile.

His brother nodded.

“May I ask what you were doing out until four o’clock in the morning?”

Joe’s green eyes flashed.  “It’s none of your business.”

“No, it’s not.” He shrugged. “Pardon me for showing interest in my brother.”

Joe stared at him hard. “If you gotta know, I was at the Bucket of Blood playing poker with Jude and Beck.”

Adam resisted the urge to say ‘oh’, because he knew an entire dictionary would be contained in that one word.

His little brother’s jaw set.  “Are you gonna tell me Jude’s not the ‘right’ kind of company a young man should keep too?”

Adam had considered it, but quickly dismissed any such discussion as pointless.  He’d been a hotheaded young man once too – though not nearly as fiery as Joe – and he knew how much good it had done for his father to tell him he did not approve of the company he was keeping.

Little to none.

Adam answered honestly. “Joe, I have to admit that Jude’s not one of my favorite people.”

He didn’t know why.  There was just something about Jude.  He was a newcomer to the town and from what he had heard, had spent most of his life as a drifter.  Still, so had about half of their ranch hands.

Adam’s hazel eyes flicked to Joe’s face.  His brother’s handsome countenance was marred by a frown.  It seemed to him that baby brother was making deliberate choices meant to challenge what their father expected of him.  It was almost as if, by befriending a man their pa disapproved of, Joe thought he was proving something.

Heaven only knew what!

Adam drew a breath.  “Joe,  I could lecture you like Pa, but I’m not going to.  I’m not your father and you ‘re old enough to make your own choices.  I just hope they’re wise ones.”

Joe remained silent a moment.  During the interval some of the tension left his slight frame.  When he spoke, it was to ask a question.  “Why does Pa hate Jude so much?”

“I don’t think Pa hates Jude, Joe.  It’s just that he doesn’t know him – or the company he keeps.”  Adam paused.  “You said Bexley was with you too?”

“Yeah, he was there.”

Bexley was a friend of Jude Lowery’s.  “Sounds like you might be none too fond of Bexley yourself.”

Joe shrugged.  “He’s okay.  Jude likes him.”

At that moment the sound of someone mounting the stairs drew their attention.  Adam turned toward it to find their father approaching.

“Are you still up, young man?” the older man asked in a stern tone as he looked at Joe.  “Lack of sleep will be no excuse for chores left undone.”

“I’ll be up with the sun, pa,” his brother answered a bit sullenly.

“See that you are.  I expect you to go looking for those strays bright and early.”  It was only then the older man noticed him.  “Adam?”

“I couldn’t sleep, Pa.  I was heading down for some food when I ran into Joe.”  Adam smiled.  “I’ll be up bright and early too.”

Their father nodded.  “Remember, Adam, I need you to attend that town meeting tomorrow night since Hoss and I will be gone.”

Their father and brother were heading out that day to Winnemucca to look at a batch of horses.  They expected them to be gone at least a week.  “Yes, sir.  I’ll remember.”

The older man pursed his lips and then turned on Joe.  “Joseph, I want you to go with your brother.”

Joe looked like he’d had all of the air let out of him.  “Do I have to, Pa?  The Doc could bottle those meetings and make a fortune  He could use them to put a man to sleep!”

“Yes, you have to.  A sense of civic duty is something a man needs to cultivate.   We are not islands, son.  We are all connected.”

“Tell you what, Joe,” Adam said, “we’ll go to the meeting and then head to the Bucket of Blood to sample their medicine before we head home.”

“Don’t encourage him, Adam.”

“I won’t, Pa,” he said. “It will be a reward for Joe’s for good behavior.  Won’t it, Joe?”

His brother was being stared down by their father.  Joe shrugged.  “What he said, Pa.”

“I don’t want to hear of any trouble when I come back.  Is that clear to both of you?”

“We’ll be innocent as doves, Pa,” Adam said from his perch on the top step.

Joe nodded.

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’ then,” he harrumphed .  “Goodnight, Adam.  Joe.”

“Night, Pa,” they said in chorus.

Adam waited until their father had closed the door to his room and Joe entered his own before moving to the stairs.  As he reached the bottom a soft voice called down to him from the second floor landing.  “Night, Adam.  Sorry about everything.”

He turned back to find Joe standing at the top of the staircase.  “No problem, Joe.  Go get some sleep.  See you in the morning.”

Joe smiled his cock-eyed smile.  One eye winked and then he disappeared into the shadows.

Adam remained where he was for a moment, thinking, and then headed to the kitchen.

Hopefully he had time to raid the larder before Hop Sing woke up.

The day moved along at a breakneck pace.  It started with rounding up stray cattle and passed through payroll for the hands, dealing with an argument, making lists of supplies to pick up in town and repairing tackle to early evening quicker than a wagon drawn by spooked horses. Adam stepped back and looked at his image in the mirror. Since he was representing their father at the town meeting, he felt he needed to look his best and so had chosen his Sunday clothes to wear.  He was dressed now in his best white shirt and black pants and boots. A gray jacket lay on the bed that he intended to pull on before leaving the house.  His gun belt also lay on the bed and there it would remain. Side arms wouldn’t be necessary at the meeting and he didn’t want to appear too intimidating.  They had enough people in town already who resented them.

And then there was Joe again, who might start shooting just to liven things up.

As he finished tying his necktie, Adam crossed to the door.  Sticking his head into the hall, he called, “Ten minute warning, Joe!”

His brother stepped out of his room dressed to the nines in the pin-striped brown suit he had that was the color of his well-controlled – well, at the moment – brown curls.

“Brother, that makes you ten minutes behind,” Joe replied, raising one eyebrow while his lips curled in a smile.

Adam shook his head.  It was no wonder his baby brother turned the lady’s heads.  Joe was a good-looking man.  His mother had been a small-boned, fragile beauty who, even though she proved herself by coming to Nevada and helping to forge the Ponderosa, projected softness and a need to be taken care of.  Joe had inherited both traits.  Unlike their father, him, and Hoss, Joe had a slight build and a way about him that made him appear vulnerable.  It was part of the reason he won so many fights.  Large, muscular, and tough men looked on Joe and thought he was an easy mark – until they ran into his fists and were startled by his speed both in fighting and drawing a gun.  He’d watched it happen when Joe was little.  He couldn’t count the times he’d been sent to the schoolhouse to retrieve his brother from the corner where his temper and impulsive nature had placed him, and found him with a black eye or split lip – or worse.  The usual scenario was that some big boy had challenged him and Joe had fought back, coming close to or taking the bully out, and then the bully’s friends had decided that they would take Joe out.

No wonder their father’s hair was turning white.

“Adam?”

He had forgotten Joe was standing there, waiting for an answer.  “Sorry.  If you’re ready, why don’t you go down and saddle the horses?  I won’t be long.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Joe grinned.

They left for Virginia City eight minutes later, just as the sun hit the horizon and began to cast long shadows over the land.  The ride was an enjoyable one, not too cool for late fall.

The meeting was another matter.  Adam nodded his head yet again in acknowledgment as one of the men that mattered filtered past him, heading for home.  He would definitely not have described the evening as ‘enjoyable’.  Sometimes he wondered about people.  You could see them on the street by themselves five minutes before they gathered in a crowd and they were sensible, likable men.  But put them all together and some sort of mob mind was created.  There had been arguments and heated discussions over the most inconsequential things from whose time the mule hauling bricks had died on – the mule owner’s or the customer’s – to what color to paint the steeple on the church, white or gray white.

Adam threw Joe a look intended to say, ‘I need that drink more than you do and we will get the Hell out of here as quickly as we can’.  Joe didn’t get it.  He was sitting in the corner with his hat pulled down over his eyes either asleep or pretending to be.

“You tell that father of yours when he gets back that I need to see him!” one of their closest neighbors insisted as he came abreast him and pointed a finger at his chest.  “Couldn’t Ben have waited until the meeting was over to go look at those horses?”

Adam stifled a sigh and then told a lie.  “The man with the horses was moving on day after tomorrow.  Pa had no choice.”  While it was true the man was moving on, his horses weren’t.  Pa could have stayed for the meeting and then headed out.

After sitting through it, he knew why his father had bolted.

The other man grunted his disapproval as he headed for the door.  Adam was just about to call Joe and tell him he was ready to leave for the saloon when he spotted yet another irate neighbor making a beeline for him.

It was the man who owned the mule.

“Joe!”  Adam called loudly before he could be bowled over.  “Joe!”

His brother started and then stirred.  A second later Little Joe lifted his hat and looked at him.

The little traitor – he had been asleep!

“What is it, Adam?” his brother asked as dropped the chair legs to the floor and rose.

“Looks like I am about to get cornered again.  Why don’t you go to the saloon and get a table and order two beers?  I’ll follow as soon as possible.”

Joe looked down at his suit and then looked up with a lop-sided grin.  “I’m gonna feel awful silly stepping into the saloon when I’m the only one dressed prettier than a city slicker.”

“So take your coat off and fall in the mud.”

His brother blinked.  Then he laughed.  “I might just do that.  But don’t you forget to do the same before you come in.  I can’t have the girls looking at you because you’re prettier.”

Adam waved him off.  Then, as Joe headed for the door, that father instinct rose in him.  “Joe?”

His brother turned back, the smile gone.  “I know, don’t get into any trouble.”

That had been what he was going to say, but he amended it.  “That too.  I was actually going to tell you to order two beers each.”  He glanced at the mule-owning neighbor who had nearly made his way through the crowd to his side.

“I think I am going to need it.”

Joe Cartwright halted outside the Bucket of Blood.  He glanced again at his attire.  While he was dressed fine for the hotel or one of the palaces, the Bucket of Blood was a haven of hard-living and harder drinking coal miners and cowboys.  There were men, from time to time, who came in wearing suits, but it always caused heads to turn.  The man with the curly brown hair grinned.  Of course, that could be a good thing when it was the saloon girls’ heads that did the turning.  There were a couple of younger ones who were pretty as a fine filly.  He’d been working on the one named Phoebe for a while.  He remembered from his schooling that she was named after Phoebe, the Greek goddess of brilliance.

Her parents had got it right.

Phoebe Bird Howath was nearly as tall as him, with a slim little waist a man could circle with two hands.  She had curly golden-red hair the color of the sunrise and pale, perfect skin with rose petal lips and pale pink cheeks.  Her eyes were the most extraordinary blue, like a mountain pool reflecting a cloudless sky.  Not surprisingly, Phoebe’s favorite color was sapphire blue and she usually wore it when working.

He hoped she was working tonight.

With a last glance at the town hall to see if Adam had emerged yet, Joe stepped up on the wooden deck and passed through the swinging doors and into the saloon.  He raised the barkeep’s eyebrows by ordering four beers and then went to sit at a corner table in the gaming room.  Catching the eye of one of the saloon girls, Joe asked her to send Adam his way when she saw him.  The Bucket was ripping and roaring since it was a Saturday night and most of the mines and spreads paid their men on Friday or Saturday morning.  He usually enjoyed all the noise and chatter, but he was tired tonight after having had only a few hours of sleep.  After taking a swig of beer Joe shoved his chair against the wall and leaned his head back and waited for Adam’s arrival.

Sometime later the sound of a chair being drawn back from the table woke him up.  “Did I miss the wedding, Cartwright?” a man asked, his tone jovial.

Joe opened his eyes and blinked several times in an attempt to clear the sleep away.  He found Bexley Lanahan seated across from him.

“Beck, hey.”  Joe frowned as he pulled at his brown coat.  “You mean this?  Pa made Adam and me go to the town hall meeting.  We had to dress the part of the ‘spoiled’ Cartwright boys.”

Bexley eyed one of Adam’s mugs.  “Mind if I do?”

Joe shook his head. “I don’t know what’s keeping older brother, but he’s long overdue.  I’ll order him a new one.  Say,” he nodded toward the main room, “have you seen Phoebe tonight?”

The other man frowned.  “Which one’s Phoebe?  That old one with the missing teeth?”

He snorted.  “The pretty redhead who wears dark blue most of the time.”

“Golden red hair?  Curly?”

“Yep.”

“I think she’s working the late shift for some reason.  Should make an appearance any time.”  Bexley took another sip.  “It looks good.”

Joe frowned.  “What looks good?”

“The suit.  It’s the first time I’ve seen you in anything but work clothes.  You’re a handsome man, Joe Cartwright.”

With his brows furrowed, Joe responded.  “Thanks.  I think.”

Bexley laughed.  “I didn’t mean anything by it, other than you’ll have no trouble bringing Phoebe – or any of the other pretty girls for that matter – to the table.”

“No problem,” he replied.

“You sound a little bit jealous, Bexley,” his brother Adam said, startling them as he pulled out a chair and sat down.

“Nah.  I don’t like the ones he likes anyhow.”  Bexley looked at Joe and smiled.  “I’m gonna go join in the poker game out front.  You coming?”

Adam shook his head.  “Joe, no.”

“Is Jude coming?” his brother asked Bexley.

“Yeah.”

Joe faced him.  In his brother’s eyes Adam read an unspoken plea – ‘Please don’t make me look like a baby who has to ask permission’.

“Then I’m staying.”

Adam stifled a sigh.  “Joe, we have to be up bright and early tomorrow.  Those steers won’t round themselves up.”

“I won’t stay long, Adam.  Promise. Anyway, I don’t have that much money so I should be home by midnight.”

The black-haired man rose.  He did his best to use his ‘brother’ and not his ‘second father’ tone.  “See that you are.”

The two of them followed him into the main room.  Bexley went to sit at the poker table while Joe trailed him to the door.

“Thanks, Adam.”

He drew a deep breath.  “Don’t make me regret it.  Pa will skin me if you get into trouble on my watch.”

“I’m just going to play a few rounds of poker,” Joe grinned.  “What trouble can I get in?”

The game started at eight.  It was now a quarter ‘til twelve.  Jude Lowery had joined them around nine and had loaned him some money so he’d been able to stay in longer than he expected.

The last of that had just run out.

“That’s it for me,” Joe said, scooting his chair back and rising unsteadily.  Between Bexley and Jude the drinks had flowed free and he had taken a little too much advantage of their generosity.  He’d have to be careful or he’d fall off of Cochise on the way back to the ranch.

“Do you have to go, Little Joe?  We were just getting reacquainted,” a light feminine voice said as five fingers wrapped themselves around his arm.

Joe sighed as he looked at the slender girl in sapphire cloth with the golden-red hair and sky blue eyes.  “Phoebe, the only thing I’d like to do more than stay here with you is live to see tomorrow.  If I’m not home by one o’clock at the latest, my brother Adam will kill me.”

She moved in front of him and then leaned in, pressing her lower body into his.  “You’re sure I can’t persuade you to stay?”

Joe swallowed over a lump in his throat.  He was used to being the one who made the advances.  As Phoebe’s hand slid down his thigh, he pulled away.  Catching it in his, he lifted it and kissed the back of her fingers.  Her skin was soft as silk.  “It’s not that I don’t want to stay, Phoebe, but I made a promise and I need to keep it.”

The beautiful woman smiled.  “Joe Cartwright, you know just what to say to a girl.”  She reached up then and pulled his head toward hers and kissed him on the lips.  “You come back tomorrow night, you hear, and don’t promise your brother anything.  I have a room upstairs.”

Before he could reply, Bexley pushed his chair back and tossed his cards on the table.  “I’m done too.”  Looking at him, the brown-haired man said, “I need to get back to the ranch.  I’ll ride part way with you, Joe, if that’s okay.”

As Joe nodded, Jude spoke up.  “You want me to come along and nursemaid you two?” he asked.  “I can fold now or go a few more rounds.”

“You go ahead and stay,” Joe said as he extricated himself from Phoebe’s embrace and aimed her toward his friend.  “Phoebe can keep you company.”

The blond man snorted.  “She’s only got eyes for you, Joe.”

Bexley had moved to the door.  “You coming?”

Joe nodded.  “On my way.”

After stopping at the hotel for Beck to settle up a bill, they went to the stable for their horses and then mounted and headed for home.

The night was crisp and cool.  Joe wished he’d brought his outer coat as the suit he wore did little to keep him warm.  As they passed out of the town the scents of early morning drifted to him on the air – wood fires burning, bread baking in the oven, even a touch of coffee for a man rising early enough to make his destination before dawn.  The road to the ranch was deserted.  In the half hour or so they had traveled, they had seen no one.  At first they had talked, mostly about nothing, but in the last few minutes Bexley had fallen silent. They traveled another one hundred feet or so before his companion struck out with his hand and, catching Cochise’s reins, drew Joe’s horse to a halt.

Before he could ask what was up Bexley held a finger to his lips and mouthed, ‘I heard something.’

Joe hadn’t heard it, but then that didn’t mean anything.  ‘Where?’ he asked, doing the same.

Bexley pointed to the tall stacks of rock behind them.  It was called Pointer’s Arch due to the fact that, sometime a long time ago, the tops of the columns had bent over and touched, creating a natural arch.  It was a popular place for people to stop day and night since they would be out of the weather. The area between them was equivalent to a room in a small cabin.

Bexley drew his gun and signaled.  He’d approach from the left.  With a nod he indicated Joe should approach from the right.

He didn’t have a gun.  Their evening had been social and Adam had insisted they leave their personal firearms at home, though his brother had carried a rifle with him on Sport.  He’d argued, but had no luck in changing his big brother’s mind.  Still, he had his fists and that was enough – especially since Beck had a gun.

Joe nodded and dismounted.  After taking a second to find his feet – it was obvious Bexley had not drunk as much as he had – the man with the curly brown hair slipped into the brush to the right of the Arch.  He let Beck take the lead since he was armed.  As he reached the rocky  towers Joe caught a glimpse of Bexley heading for the front.  Taking that as a cue Joe moved toward the back.  Once there he counted to ten, knowing it would take the other man at least that amount of time to get in place.  Drawing a breath Joe stepped inside.

It was empty.

Frowning, he called out, “Beck?  Where’d you go?  Beck are you – ?”

Pain exploded in Joe’s head as something struck him hard at the base of the neck, driving him face first into the dirt.  Sometime later – he had no idea how long – he heard someone moaning and then realized it was him.  As he fought to regain consciousness, Joe sensed more than felt someone straddle him.  Whoever it was took hold of the back of his collar and lifted his head up from the ground.  They bent in close.  He could feel their breath on his cheek. It reeked of alcohol.

Joe opened his eyes again to find the world was still out of focus.  Fighting to stay awake he asked, his voice robbed of all strength by the attack, “Who…?”

The voice that answered was low, gruff, disguised.  “Who do you think?”

Joe blinked back tears.  His head was pounding so hard he could barely think.  “What…what do you want?”

The man shifted his hands so they were wrapped around his throat.

“What do I want?

“I want you, pretty boy.”

TWO

Adam was roused from sleep by someone knocking on the door.  He felt like his father waiting for Joe to come home, only he was on the settee instead of in the chair.  He should have known better than to leave Joe at a poker game.  His little brother not only had a penchant for overindulging in gambling but in just about everything else.  There would have been drinks and pretty girls and –

Well, it was a recipe for disaster.

The black-haired man ran a hand over the stubble on his cheeks and glanced out the window as the knocking was repeated, more urgently this time.  From the angle of the sun he thought it must be about five o’clock.

Good Lord!  Joe was late by five hours.

“All right, all right,” Adam said as the knocking came yet again.  Lifting the latch, he opened the door to find Jude Lowery standing outside.  Jude was paler than usual, which was saying quite a bit as Lowery was one of those freckle-faced blond men with pale skin who burned and didn’t tan.

“How can I help you, Jude?” he asked with a frown.

The other man was nervous.  As his fingers worked the edge of his hat, Jude said, “Adam, you need to come to town.”

The way he said it made every hair on his body stand on end.  It didn’t take much to make the leap.  “Joe?” he asked.

Jude nodded.  “I was on my way home after the poker game ended and ran into Bexley on the road.  There was trouble.  Joe’s hurt.  Beck is too.”

Adam’s jaw was tight.   “What happened?”

“They were robbed.  I checked the saddlebags and everything was gone.  Whoever did it knocked Beck out and beat Joe pretty badly.  You know Joe,” the blond said, a wan smile lifting the corner of his upper lip, “he probably put up a fight.“  Jude hesitated.  “There’s something else, Adam.”

He steeled himself.  “What?”

“Joe’s…clothes are missing.”

What he said didn’t register at first.  When it did, he asked, “What do you mean ‘missing’?”

“Someone stripped him and took off with them.”

“Why would someone do that?”

Jude shrugged.  “That was a mighty fine suit.”

“Who’s with Joe now?” Adam asked as he reached for his hat on the hook by the door.  He was still dressed in his own suit from the night before.  As it had turned cooler, he headed for his tan coat next.

“Beck and Doc Martin.  At least the Doc was there when I left.”

“Where is there?” Adam demanded as he slipped into his coat.

“Beck couldn’t find the doctor, so he took Joe to the Bucket of Blood. There’s a girl at the saloon who’s sweet on him and he knew she’d take care of him.”  At his look, Jude added, “It was too far to bring Joe home in the condition he was in.”

It wasn’t the most savory of places, but at least Joe was safe.  He wondered if he knew the girl.   “What’s her name, this girl?”

“Phoebe Howath.”

Adam thought a moment.  “The pretty redhead who likes to wear blue?”

Jude nodded.  “Second floor, second room to the right.  Just knock and she’ll let you in.”

He was buckling on his gun.  “You aren’t coming?”

Jude shook his head.  “I’ll check in soon as I can.  I need to get back to the ranch or I’m liable to get fired.”

“All right.  But Bexley will be there?”

“Should be.  The Doc needed to look at him too.  I told him I’d stop by where he works and let them know he’d be late getting back.”

“Thanks for that, Jude,” he said as he opened the door.  “Now, come on, I need to get to town.”

As Adam flew down the road toward Virginia City, his thoughts raced and pounded as hard and fast as his horse’s hooves.  Robberies were not unknown on the road Joe was taking, but they were few and far between.  Most happened because a stage or coach was coming to town and it was known the passengers carried something valuable.  It was rare for a single man on a single horse to be attacked.  Of course, Joe would have looked like the son of some rich man riding Cochise and wearing that damn brown suit.  Someone could have thought he had money on him and was wearing silver or gold. From what Jude said, it sounded like Joe put up one hell of a fight.

Adam wondered what his injuries were, and how severe.

It took Adam less than an hour to reach town, riding as he was at a full gallop.  Sport was breathing hard and sweating by the time they reached Virginia City.  Much as he wanted to fly to his brother’s side, the black-haired man took time to stable his horse and have it looked after.  A few minutes later as he approached the Bucket of Blood, Adam saw a curtain in an upstairs window fall back into place.  Moments later an attractive woman with spiraling golden-red hair opened the door and stepped out.

“Hello, Phoebe,” he said as he drew alongside her.

“Adam,” she nodded tightly.

“How’s Joe?”

The redhead’s eyes were misty.  She shook her head.

Adam gripped her arm with more force than intended.  He relented when he saw her wince.   “Is my brother’s life in danger?”

“The doctor said ‘no’, but it’s bad, Adam.”  Phoebe shuddered.  “Little Joe looks like….  Well, he’s been beaten near to death and….  It looks like whoever did it tried to strangle him.”

“Strangle him?  Good God!”   What sort of maniac, he thought, had his brother run into?  “Take me to Joe.”

Phoebe hesitated.  “He’s…in my room upstairs, Adam.”

“It’s all right, Phoebe.  I appreciate what you are doing for Joe.  Pa will too.”

As she turned and headed for the stair the saloon girl said, “That’s right.  I remember now, Joe said earlier tonight that his pa was away.  Will you send him word?”

Adam sighed.  “As soon as I have some idea of what word to send him.”

Once upstairs Phoebe led him down the corridor of the saloon’s poorly lit second floor.  They stopped in front of the second door on the right and she knocked three times and then, once again.  He heard a key turn in the lock.  A second later the door opened.

“Adam, thank God you’re here!” Bexley Lanahan said.  As the brown-haired man shifted out of the way, he stumbled.  Adam caught his arm and it was then he saw the growing bruise on the side of his face.  “Jude said you were attacked too.”

“Someone pistol whipped me,” the other man said.  “Compared to Joe’s injuries, it’s nothing.  I think….”

“Yes?”

“It seemed like someone wanted me out of the way.”

Adam frowned.  As Bexley moved aside he headed for the bed where Joe lay.  Like the hall, the room was inadequately lit – women like Phoebe seldom operated in bright light – and it was hard to see his brother.  Joe was also buried beneath a mountain of blankets with only the top of his head showing.  He glanced at the redhead as he began to peel them back one by one.

“Little Joe’s been shaking uncontrollably.  I thought it best to keep him warm.”

Adam nodded and then turned back to his brother, who was curled up on his side.  He peeled another blanket away and finally got to Joe.   Reaching out he touched his brother’s bare shoulder.

“He’s warm now,” he said as he shoved some of the extra blankets her way.

Phoebe took them with a little smile.  “Thank goodness.”

Adam watched the saloon girl as she turned and placed the blankets on top of a nearby chest.  She really did seem to care.  Turning to Bexley who was lingering just inside the door, he said, “I’d like to sit with Joe for a bit.  Can you hang around long enough to tell me what happened?”

The brown-haired man nodded.  “I’ll go down with Phoebe.  I could use a stiff drink anyhow.  Besides, the Doc will be back soon and I’d like to know for sure that Joe’s going to be okay before I head back to the ranch.”

Adam waited until the two had departed and then closed the door behind them.  After that he went over to the lamp and extended the wick, bringing as much light to the room as possible.  Drawing a deep breath, the black-haired man steeled himself and then sat on the edge of the bed and began to examine his brother’s wounds.

Joe was out, completely.  He made no response and didn’t move on his own when he touched him.  It didn’t concern him too much as he knew that was common for a man who had taken a blow to the head strong enough to render him unconscious.  Taking hold of Joe, he gently turned his head and felt for the knot such a blow to the head would have raised.  It was there, just within his brother’s hairline on the back, so he had probably been taken by surprise.  Joe’s other injuries were harder to see as most of them appeared to be bruises, including a place on the left side of his jaw where it looked like he had been struck so hard his attacker’s hand had left a print.  Strangest of all were the marks on his neck.  He could see the distinct impressions of thumbs near Little Joe’s Adam’s apple, and there were other bruises.  They appeared to have been left by eight fingers wrapping around his neck.  It definitely looked like someone had tried to strangle him.

If there were any internal injuries, it would take the Doc to know.

Adam stared at his brother a moment and then took one of his hands in his own.  Reaching out, he brushed the sweat-soaked brown curls back from Joe’s forehead and called him, “Joe.  Joe, it’s Adam.  Can you hear me?”

There was no response.

He squeezed his brother’s hand a little harder.  “Joe?”

This time Joe moaned.  It was a pitiful sound.

He felt guilty for waking him, but he needed to know what Joe knew.  Taking hold of his brother’s arm, he commanded, “Listen to my voice, Joe.  Reach for it.”

Joe moaned again.  His breathing grew rapid.  His brother tensed and then, unexpectedly, began to struggle to break free.  “No!” Joe shouted as he thrashed from side to side. “No! Pa!”

Adam hesitated to hold him any tighter, but he had to calm Joe down before he hurt himself.  Gripping him with both hands he shouted, “Joe, it’s Adam!  You’re safe now!  Joe!!”

For a moment it seemed his brother had not heard.  Then Little Joe’s eyes flew open.  They searched the dark room wildly, seeking the man who went with the voice.

“Adam?”

He continued to hold him.  “I’m here, Joe.  I’m here.”

Joe blinked and some of the tension fled his body.  He winced as he shifted to look at him, as if everything hurt.  “Adam?” he asked again.

This time it was a sigh.

Adam had to collect himself before he answered.  “I’m here, Joe. Can you tell me what happened?”

Joe’s breathing was fast, his heart racing.  He shook his head and then turned his face into the pillows.

At that moment there was a knock on the door.  It opened and Bexley Lanahan stuck his head in.  “The Doc’s back, Adam.  I thought you would want to know.”  Bexley looked at Joe and seeing he was conscious, stepped into the room.  “Hey, Joe, it’s good to see you awake.”

Adam turned back to his brother.  He placed a hand on his shoulder, noting how he jumped when he did.  “Joe?  Is there anything you can tell me?”

His answer was a shake of the head.

It was probably too early.  He just hated to lose the trail if there was one.  It looked like it would be morning – if then – before Joe would be able to talk.

“All right, Joe.  You sleep now,” he said.  Rising, Adam headed for the door.  “Bexley, are you coming down with me?”

The other man shook his head.  “I’ll wait.  The Doc said Joe shouldn’t be left alone.  You send Phoebe up and then I’ll come down.”

Adam’s eyes went from the brown-haired man to Joe.  “All right.  It will be soon.”

Bexley nodded and then went to sit in the chair by the bed.  Adam stared at him for a moment.  Bexley, like Jude, hadn’t known Joe all that long, but the care he was showing seemed to prove him a better man than their father thought.

When he reached the bottom of the steps Doc Martin stood up to greet him.

“Good to see you, Adam.  I only wish the circumstances were better.”

Adam took the hand the older man offered and shook it.  “It seems, sometimes, that we only see each other because of Joe,” he said, his smile sad and wry.

“Now, now, you and Hoss have had your share of house calls.  I seem to remember a few arrows in the leg, and time spent patching you up when you snuck out and rode that bronco before you were old enough to do so.”

He had to admit it was true.

“I understand Ben and Hoss are out of town?”

“And out of communication for a few days.  I’ll send a rider after them to let them know what’s happened.”  He ran a hand across his face.  “That is, when I know what’s happened.”

“You look like a man who needs a prescription for a whiskey.”  The Doc turned to Phoebe and held up a hand.

She nodded.  “I’ll get two.”

“Thank you, Phoebe,” Adam said, “and – if you don’t mind – could you go sit with Joe so Bexley can join us?  I’d like to hear his story firsthand.”

“Of course.”

As the redhead headed for the bar, Adam turned back to the Doc.  The older man had taken a seat at a table and gestured for him to join him.  Doc Martin remained silent for several heartbeats and then asked, “Did you examine your brother’s injuries?”

Adam nodded his thanks to Phoebe as he accepted the drink. “As best I could in what proved to be minimal light.”

“What did you think of them? The injuries, I mean?”

He took a sip and relished the warmth as it ran from his throat down his gullet and into his stomach.  “I could see Joe was beaten,” he replied, biting back the anger the image of it raised.  “And it looks like someone tried to strangle him.”

“Did you look closely at his wrists?”

“No.  Should I have?”

“You’re brother was bound, Adam, hand and foot.”

“Bound?”  His fingers closed on the whiskey glass, his knuckles going white.  “Was Joe still bound when Bexley found him?”

“You’ll have to ask him to be sure, but I don’t think so.  Someone restrained him while they attacked him and then removed the proof that he had been restrained.  His flesh, however, bears the marks – there are rope burns on his wrists and ankles.”  The older man paused.  “I believe he was gagged as well.”

Tied up?  Beaten?  Gagged?  The mystery of what had happened to Joe was growing deeper by the minute.

“Why?”

The doctor shifted back in his chair.  He shook his head.  “I don’t know.  Obviously someone wanted him incapacitated for some reason.  The chief reason, of course, would be so they could do what they wanted.”

There was something in the doc’s tone.  “Are you telling me everything?”

Doc Martin nodded.  “Yes.  Everything I know.”

“But not what you suspect.”

The older man sighed.  “Adam, once I examine Joe more closely, if I feel my suspicions have any validity, I will certainly tell you.  But not before then.  It just wouldn’t be right.”

At that moment a step creaked.  Adam turned to find Bexley Lanahan had passed the landing and was descending the last few steps to the saloon floor.  A moment later the brown-haired man sat down at the table and folded his hands on its surface.

“I suppose you want to hear what I told the Doc.”

“Very much,” Adam replied.

“There isn’t much to tell.”  Bexley leaned back.  In the brighter light of the main floor Adam could see the man had taken quite a blow to the side of the head and there were other bruises, indicating he had been mistreated as well.  Though they were nothing like Joe’s.  “Joe and I left the saloon together,” he began.  “As we came to Pointer’s Arch, I heard something.  I thought maybe someone was laying in wait, so I stopped Joe.  We dismounted and took opposite paths to see if we could find anyone.  I saw Joe through the Arch and was just about to call out to him when someone hit me hard.  I went down and out.  I don’t know for how long.  It might have been an hour.”

“Where did you find Joe?”

“Between the road and the rocks.”  Bexley’s jaw tensed and he shifted as if uncomfortable.  “It was strange.  Joe was laying there on the ground.  He’d been stripped down to his union suit and it was torn.  I guess whoever attacked us wanted that fine suit of his.  Joe was out like a light so I checked him over.  That’s when I found the knot, here,” he indicated the back of his neck just above the hairline, “and knew he’d been cold-cocked too.  I waited until he had roused a bit and then put him in the saddle in front of me and brought him here.”  Bexley sighed as he leaned back in the chair.  “Since Phoebe’s sweet on Joe, I figured she’d take good care of him.  ‘Sides, I couldn’t think of anywhere else to take him.  The Ponderosa was too far to go in the condition he was in.”

“I’m grateful, Bexley, that you brought him here.”  Adam thought a moment.  “Any sign of whoever perpetrated the crime?”

The brown-haired man shook his head.  “I checked the saddlebags and they were empty, so it was probably a robbery.  Joe looked mighty fine last night.  Someone probably thought he had money on him.”

It made the most sense.  Still, the marks on Joe’s throat and the fact that he had been bound for some crime committed while he was unconscious bothered him.

When Bexley remained silent, he said, “Anything more?”

“I’m just as in the dark as you, Adam.  Maybe we’ll know more tomorrow?”

Doc Martin nodded.  “We certainly will,’ he said.

“Doc, is Joe in any danger, of dying, I mean?” Bexley asked.

The older man shook his head.  “Not unless there are internal injuries I was not able to diagnose in the quick examination I gave him.  I’ll do a better one before I leave tonight.  Then, I need to run my rounds.”

The brown-haired man rose stiffly.  “Well, I had best get back to the ranch while I still have a job.  I’ll be in town tomorrow night for Jude’s game.  Can I check with you then?”

“Certainly.”

Bexley took his whiskey in hand and downed the remainder of it before heading for the door.  Once there, he turned and said, “I’m sorry, Adam, that I couldn’t prevent what happened to Joe.”

Adam nodded.  “So am I, but it’s not your fault.  There wasn’t anything you could have done.”

“Yeah.”  Bexley swung the saloon doors open and started through.  “Anyhow, see you tomorrow.”

Doc Martin rose as well.  “I should go now to check in on your brother.  Are you coming, Adam?”

He was staring at his glass, turning it round and round in his fingers.  “I will in a minute.  I…  I need some time to think.”

Doc Martin’s hand came down on his shoulder.  “Amazing, isn’t it?  How quickly things turn?  How a man can go from healthy and whole to the edge of dying in a heartbeat.”  The older man’s face lit with a sad smile.  “I guess it’s the Almighty’s way of keeping us humble and dependent on Him.”  He lifted his hand.  “If Joe is awake, I’ll tell him you’ll be up shortly.”

Adam listened to the other man’s feet as they retreated up the stairs.  Then he rose and walked to the door of the saloon and looked out.  The sun was peeking over the horizon and the new day was about to begin.  He wished he knew what it would hold.  If he didn’t return to the Ponderosa and issue orders soon most of the work there would grind to a halt. Still, he didn’t want to leave Joe until he knew he was out of danger.  He’d have to find one of the ranch hands in town and send them out with orders for the day.  Then, he needed to send word to his father and brother.  What did he say?  Adam thought about it a moment and then decided a portion of what he knew was best.  Joe had been attacked and robbed on the road home and was in bad shape.  The Doc had seen him and he was holding his own.  There really was little else he could say, and even less he knew, but as the day dawned the black-haired man vowed he would know more – somehow, he would know more.  He’d ride out to Pointer’s Arch and see the crime scene for himself, and then question everyone who had been in the saloon that night, especially Jude, Phoebe, and, once again, Bexley Lanahan.

Someone had to know something about what had happened.

He just had to figure out who.

It was dark.  Dark and cold.

He was on the move, every sense heightened, searching for something or someone.

The night was bitter.  He could feel the wind cutting through the thin fabric of his dress clothes, chilling him to the bone.  There was something in front of him – a formation of rocks – something with a heart of blackness beneath it.  He didn’t want to go in there, but he had to.

For some reason he had to.

His heart raced as he entered the darkness.  Once inside he paused, uncertain.

Wasn’t someone supposed to be there?

Then, without warning, pain exploded in his head.  His body jolted as it hit the ground and someone straddled him like a horse.  They slapped him hard and pushed his face into the dirt and then began to pull his suit coat off.  He fought his attacker – fought hard, but since he was on his back he was at a disadvantage.  He tried to arch his back to throw them off and was struck again.  The blow set his head to spinning even as strong, relentless fingers closed around his throat, pressing in, choking off his air.  Still he fought, still, tried to break free….

Tried and failed.

Tears flooded Joe’s eyes and ran down his cheeks.  It was his fault, whatever was happening was his fault.  He should never have stayed in Virginia City.  He should have left earlier or later, been smarter, faster, better.  Should have been able to stop –

Someone took his hand.  The contact was terrifying and he began to struggle.  “No!  Let me go!”

“Little Joe.  Joe!  It’s Phoebe.”

He froze.  It was a woman’s voice.  Whoever it was, was a woman.  His attacker had been a man, he was sure of that.

A hand touched his cheek sending a chill through him.  “Little Joe, are you awake?  Can you look at me?”

Yes, he was awake.  But, no, he couldn’t.

Joe felt his fingers squeezed and then the bed he lay on rose beneath him, as if the woman who had been sitting there stood up. A moment later it dipped again as someone took her place.

“Joseph?” an older man’s voice asked.

Relief flooded through him.  It was Pa!  His pa had come to rescue him!  Joe struggled to open his eyes.  It took a mighty effort, but he managed it.  An older man was sitting beside him.  He lifted a hand, reaching for him, desperate for that beloved touch.

“Pa?”

The man’s hand caught his.  His palm was soft and not calloused, so it couldn’t be his pa.  “No, son.  It’s Doc Martin,” he said, dashing his hopes.  “How are you, Joseph?”

Tears flooded Joe’s eyes and spilled over onto his cheeks.  He shook his head, finding no words.

“You’ve been treated badly, boy,” the doctor said, his voice rough with emotion.  “Are you in pain?”

He was.  He hurt everywhere, even in places that didn’t make sense.  For a second Joe considered answering the older man, but then he decided that sinking back into the blackness was easier.

The Doc shook him.  “Joe?  I need you to answer me.  I won’t leave you alone until you do.”

Opening his eyes was like peeling away old horse glue.  Joe ran his tongue across his lips. “Right as rain, Doc,“ he said with a weak smile.

“Since when do Ben Cartwright’s boys lie?”  The older man asked, affection in his tone.  “Look, Joe, I know you’re hurting.”  He paused. “And maybe in ways that puzzle you.  Can you tell me?”

It made it hurt worse when he thought about it.  “No,” he replied.

“Can you tell me what happened?”

That hurt too much too.  Again, he answered, “No.”

The doctor sighed as he let go of his hand.  “All right, Joe.  It’s probably too soon.  What you need now is rest.  I’m going to give you something to help you sleep.”

Joe watched as Doc Martin leaned over to retrieve his bag.  After placing it on the bed, he opened it and pulled out a small bottle. The older man uncorked the bottle, poured some of its contents into a glass of water and then placed it on the bedside table.

“I’m going to touch you, Joe, and lift you up.  Is that all right?”

For some reason he was grateful he’d asked.  “Yeah…sure, Doc.”

After slipping his arm behind him, the older man picked up the glass and held it to his lips.  “This will help you sleep, lad.  Drink it down.”

When he was finished the Doc returned him to the pillows and then placed the empty glass on the bedside table by the bottle.

“It won’t be long now,” he said.  “Rest well, Joseph.  We’ll talk tomorrow.”

Adam was still standing at the door of the saloon when Doc Martin came down the stairs.  The older man crossed over to where he was and placed a hand on his shoulder.  “You look tired, Adam.  Have you had any sleep?”

He shook his head.  “Not yet.”

“You should get some soon.  Doctor’s orders.  I don’t need two of Ben’s boys in my care.”

“Yes, sir,” he said with a pale smile.  Adam sobered as he asked, “How is Joe?”

The doctor considered the question before he answered.  “As well as can be expected.  I gave him a dose of laudanum and he’s sleeping now.  I left Phoebe with him.  She’s competent, but I think it would do Joe good if you went to sit with him.”

“Any particular reason why?” he asked.

The older man hesitated, as if choosing his words carefully.  “After what’s happened, what your brother needs most is family.  An attack of this nature can make a man feel many things – fear, shame, guilt that he wasn’t able to prevent it.”

“You mean the beating?”

“Among other things.”  Doc Martin met his puzzled gaze.  “Adam, every man, no matter how strong, has a point where he breaks.  You need to be prepared.  This may be Joe’s.”

Adam frowned.  “Is there something you aren’t telling me?”

The older man hesitated.  “I’m not sure.  I’ll let you know tomorrow.”

Ten minutes later Adam stood by his brother’s side.  Upon his arrival in Joe’s room he sent Phoebe off to bed.  The redhead had been true and had kept watch over Joe throughout the night and she was exhausted.  The dose of laudanum Doc Martin gave his brother had put Joe out, but even in that deep drug-induced sleep he was restless.  Joe tossed and turned and muttered and at times, moaned as if caught in some terror he could not escape.

The morning light was creeping in through the window and, since it hadn’t disturbed or awakened Joe, Adam opened the curtains wide.  He returned to the bed then and sat by his brother and set about examining his injuries more closely.  He found it curious that he had to gently take hold of Joe and roll him over to see most of them.  The imprint of fingers on his little brother’s neck and throat showed that the attack had come from behind.  Whoever tied him up must have accosted him while he was face down on the ground.  There were bruises on his shoulders as well and more running down his back and onto his thighs and buttocks.

Adam sat back, puzzling over that one.

As he sat there, looking at his baby brother laying in a stranger’s bed, battered, bruised, and helpless as a child, something awoke deep within him.  It was more than rage, more than a need for justice or even revenge.  He’d felt all of that before when Joe had been taken advantage of by the likes of John C. Reagan or Sam Wolf.  This was something different and it frightened him because it roused something primal in him.

It made him want to kill whoever had done it.

The black-haired man drew a deliberate deep, steadying breath and held it for ten heartbeats before releasing it.  He couldn’t be certain what had happened, not until he could talk to Joe, but no matter what it was utterly inexcusable.

Whoever attacked Joe in such a brutal way deserved to be put down like the rabid animal he was.

Utterly weary, Adam leaned forward and covered his face with his hands.  “God, please.  Please let me find whoever did this.”

It must have been his voice that woke him.  Joe shifted and groaned.  Fighting back tears, Adam twisted around and placed a hand on his brother’s arm.

Joe nearly came off the bed.

His baby brother was slight but strong.  Restraining him was tantamount to holding down an enraged mountain lion.  All he could think of as he fought to keep Joe on the bed was that, in his drugged state, Joe had returned to the moment of the attack and believed he had to fight to break free.  Unfortunately, even though his brother was shouting, his words were garbled and made no sense.

Whatever secret was locked within him was going to remain so for the foreseeable future.

“Joe! “ Adam said firmly, “Joe, hear me!  It’s Adam.  You’re with me and you’re safe!”

Joe didn’t buy it.  He continued to struggle as if his life depended on it and then, suddenly, stopped and became deathly silent.  For several heartbeats his baby brother lay there, panting, and then with a whimper Joe curled up into a ball and began to cry.

It nearly broke his heart.

Adam straightened up.  He hesitated a moment and then lifted Joe up and slipped in behind him.  This time, there was no reaction.  Apparently, the laudanum was in command again.  Adam shifted until he was in a comfortable place and then cradled his brother against his body like he was a child – like he had done when Joe was a child.

He held him until the sun was up and the room filled with light.

THREE

Hoss Cartwright finished filling his canteen and stood up. For a moment he remained where he was, listening to the river and living world around him, enjoying its beauty.  The Ponderosa pines surrounding him stretched clean up to the sky and when you stood in the middle of a bunch of them like he was now, it was just like being in one of those there cathedrals in England or Ireland, or at least so he’d been told.  He’d never seen a cathedral, of course, and probably never would, but he’d seen church steeples and he knew what people meant when they said it.  The farther up the trees went the more their trunks seemed to lean in toward one another, forming a sort of tower.  He’d loved to sit beneath them when he was a little boy, staring up the inside of that green spire for hours.  The direct line to the sky took him away from all the little things men thought were important and from the awful things they was capable of.  As he capped the canteen the big man turned back toward his pa.  They hadn’t gone twenty miles before they’d been set on by a pair of outlaws and while they’d managed to get away, it wasn’t ‘clean’ away.  Their horses was gone and his pa had a bandage on his head from a stray bullet that has passed by and taken a slice of skin with it.  It had done no other damage than to leave Pa with the kind of headache Little Joe had after staying in town too long.

Lifting the other canteen that he had already filled from the ground, Hoss crossed over to the older man.  He held it out and when his father took it, asked, “How you feelin’, Pa?”

“Like a fool,” the older man groused.

“Now, Pa, weren’t no way you coulda knowed those men was hiding in the trees.”

“I let my guard down, son, and that’s a thing a man is lucky if he gets to do twice.”

“How’s your head?”

“Pounding.”  A second later his pa looked up at him.  “Don’t worry, son.  I’ll be fine once we get back to the Ponderosa.”

The big man sighed.  “I sure wish those men hadn’t taken the horses.”

“We’ll get them back.  Once we get home, I’ll send one of the hands into town to find Roy.  He’ll track them down.”

Hoss took a seat beside his pa and reached out for the pot of coffee that was steeping over a small fire.  As he poured himself a cup, he said, “Joe and Adam sure will be surprised to see us back so soon.”

“I imagine they will be.”  The older man shook his head when he offered to pour him a cup.  “I’ll take some later.  I don’t need it now.”

“I don’t need it either, Pa,” Hoss said, drawing the scent into his nostrils.  “I just plumb want it.”

His father laughed and then fell silent.

Five minutes later he was silent still.

“What you thinkin’ about, Pa?”

“What?  Oh….”  The silver-haired man drew in a breath and let it out slowly.  “Your brother.”

Hoss nodded thoughtfully.  “That Adam, he sure is trouble….”

The older man looked at him, puzzled, and then snorted when he got the joke.  “It’s not Adam that is changing this from silver to white,” he said, indicating his hair.

“Well, you cain’t mean Joe,” he countered.  “Little brother’s an angel.”

“Your little brother may look like an angel, but there’s more of the Old Nick in him than what you’ll find combined in both you and Adam.”

“Oh, shucks, Pa.  Joe’s just young.”

“And impulsive and hot-headed and disobedient and, at times, indolent and shiftless.”  He shook his head.  “I don’t know where he gets it.”

Hoss hesitated, but then spoke his piece.  “I seem to remember you talking about a certain young seaman who had a ‘reckless misspent’ youth.”

The older man’s eyes met his.  For a moment the look out of them was hard, but then it softened.  “I suppose you’re right.”  His pa sighed.  “But it’s every parent’s desire that their children learn by their mistakes rather than by repeating them.”

“Joe ain’t that bad.  Leastwise, not as I know him.  Oh, he may try to wiggle out of something to go meet some gal or stay too late at a poker game now and then, but he ain’t afraid of work and when he works, he works hard.  You know that.”

“That’s another thing – the girls and the gambling and the brawls!”

“Joe just loves life, Pa.  Ain’t nothin’ wrong with that far as I know.”

His father capped the canteen he held and handed it to him.  “No.  No, there’s nothing wrong with that.”  He paused.  “I have to admit, there is nothing quite like hearing your brother laugh.”

“Or makin’ him laugh,” Hoss agreed.  “That’s the thing with Joe.  He may get madder than a wet hen and be ornery and stubborn as a mule, but he’s also the quickest to say he’s sorry.”

“He’s pretty good at forgiving too.”

“I guess, Pa, it’s like one of them there seesaws the kids play on.  Joe’s hard to handle when he’s high or low, but the times when he’s in the middle….”

His father gestured.  “I changed my mind, son.  I’ll take that coffee now.”  As Hoss poured it, the older man continued.  “I see your mothers in you all. Elizabeth in Adam’s intelligence and steady soul.  Kindness and gentleness in you, just like Inger.  Marie, well, there is so much of Marie in Joe.”  He took a sip and then shook his head.  “Talk about a spitfire.”

“Why’d you fall in love with her, Pa?  Do you know?  I mean, I loved Marie, but she weren’t like my ma or Adam’s, was she?”

“No.  Not really.  Marie was, well, like Joe, impulsive and quick to anger.  And like your brother, she wore her emotions on her sleeve.  You could see the storm brewing long before it arrived.  Marie felt things deeply, too deeply perhaps and was easily wounded.”

“That sounds like Joe too.”

His father nodded and then added with a smile.  “Yes, Joe is definitely his mother’s son.  I guess I need to remember that when he makes me as angry as she did.”

“It’s a good thing little brother’s so gosh-darned cute.  It’s kind of like a puppy.  Don’t matter what it does, you couldn’t live without it.”

“Don’t let Joe hear you call him ‘cute’.”

Hoss grinned.  “Sure I will, Pa.  I’m always up for a good scrap.”

The older man leaned forward and emptied his cup on the fire.  Then he looked up.  “The day’s dawning.  We better get walking.  Even at a good clip we won’t make the Ponderosa before sundown tomorrow.”

“Lessen God wants to prove He loves us so powerful much that He sends us a wagon,” the big man suggested.

His father rose.  He placed a hand on his shoulder in passing.  “Always the optimist, eh, son?”

“Not always, Pa, but I sure am when it comes to lookin’ for some divine help or walkin’ twenty mile or more.”

“If we stick to the road, we might just not need God’s help this time, son.  Someone is bound to come along.  I’d like to get home as quickly as possible.  I need to send a telegram to Henry Steel for one thing.  He’ll be expecting us and wonder where we are.  I’d still like to get those horses, but there’s no way we can make it to Winnemucca walking.  It’s just too far.”

“I wonder what Adam and Joe is doing right now.”

The older man looked south and scowled.  “Running the ranch, I hope.”

Hoss snorted. “Yes, I guess that’s kind of important.  Ain’t it?”

“Kind of.”

Hoss stood and slung both canteens over his shoulder.  He took a step toward the road and then held out a hand.

“After you, Pa.  Age before beauty.”

They began the long walk home to the sound of his father’s laughter.

Phoebe Bird Howath halted just without her room.  She hesitated to knock, but it was kind of important.  She had moved to one of the empty rooms on the floor when Adam Cartwright relieved her, but had forgotten to take any of her things with her. Today was the day she went to help her mother with chores and she couldn’t do it in a scanty dress made of a body-hugging shiny blue fabric.  Her mother knew what she did and didn’t approve.  It hung unspoken between them whenever they were together, like the proverbial elephant in the room.  Her mother thought what she did was wicked and maybe it was, but it brought a smile to the face of tired and lonely men and she wasn’t so sure that was such a bad thing.  She’d met many who were gentlemen and wanted nothing more from her than her company.  Little Joe Cartwright was like that.  He was sweet and polite and had never taken advantage of her.

Even though she wished that he would.

Phoebe placed her hand on the doorknob and then stopped.  She had caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror at the end of the hall.  She was still wearing her blue dress from the night before and it was looking a little limp.  So did she.  Crossing to the mirror, she examined herself.  What she saw was a woman who was pretty enough but not a beauty, with light red hair and pale pink skin.  She had a slender figure, but the price paid for that was a long torso and longer legs and practically no bust.  Taking both hands she lifted her breasts, careful to work the  padding she had placed in her corset so they looked full and natural.

Without the padding she looked like a boy.

Phoebe turned back and looked at the door to her room.  The sun was up and all too soon Adam Cartwright would take his brother home to recover.  She didn’t want to see Little Joe go.  Last night as she lay in bed, trying to sleep, an idea had formed in her mind.  It was crazy, but she was going to ask Joe’s brother anyhow.  She was going to offer to go with them to the Ponderosa so she could take care of Little Joe.  She had no idea if Little Joe’s older brother would accept, or even listen to her.  After all, there was no reason he should.  From what she understood Ben Cartwright and Little Joe’s other brother were away.  Adam would have work to do running the ranch and would need someone to stay in the house in case Little Joe had a need, and she wanted to be the one.  Phoebe smiled ruefully.  More than once Little Joe Cartwright had taken on someone who had insulted her and ended up with a black eye for his troubles.  That alone would have made her love him, but it wasn’t only that.  He was all man.  She’d taken a turn or two on the floor with him and there had been strength in the hands that encircled her waist.  On top of that, he was handsome.  She’d never seen a man so handsome and with such a winning smile.  She loved his laugh and everything else about him.

Unfortunately, Little Joe didn’t love her.

But maybe he could.  Maybe nursing him back to health would make him fall….

Phoebe shook herself.  No.  That was wrong.  That was taking advantage of an injured man.  Maybe she shouldn’t even ask Adam if she could go.  She’d probably just mess up like she did the last time and end up just as desperate.

Phoebe let her confusion out in a sigh as she opened the door.  Adam Cartwright was sitting on the bed with his head against the headboard.  He was holding Little Joe in his arms.  Both of them were asleep.  Crossing over to the bed, she stared at the oldest of Ben Cartwright’s sons. She didn’t know Adam well.  She’d passed him in the street now and then, but most of the time she saw him in the Bucket when he showed up to drag his brother home.  Adam was handsome as well, but then that wasn’t a surprise.  Their father was handsome too and, though she had never seen a likeness of their mothers, she couldn’t imagine the almost regal Ben Cartwright marrying anything other than a beauty.  Adam’s hair was dark and straight, where Joe’s was a mass of brown curls.  The eldest Cartwright son was taller and had a stockier build.  Adam was like an oak, sturdy and unbending. Little Joe was more like a sapling, slender and flexible.  Hoss, the middle son of Ben Cartwright, was a question mark as far as looks, but not as far as what he was made of.  Hoss Cartwright was big as a mountain and, while he was not handsome, was the sweetest man she had ever met.

Well, other than Little Joe.

She hated to wake Adam, but she needed her things.  Beside, the doctor would be returning soon and he would have to move then.  A few minutes more sleep wouldn’t make much of a difference.

“Adam,” she said quietly.  “Adam, wake up.”

One hazel eye opened languidly and then shut again.  A second later Adam let out a sigh.  “I was hoping this was all a bad dream,” he said as he looked down at his brother.  “No such luck, I see.”

“Our cook’s in and there’s food downstairs.  Why don’t you go get some?  You have to be hungry.”

Adam nodded.  “That I am, though I couldn’t say I really have much of an appetite.”  The man in black shifted and slipped out from under his brother who moaned quietly as he laid him back on the nest of pillows.  “Joe had a rough time sleeping.”

From the look of him, so had Adam.  “Did he say anything?”

The black-haired man shook his head.  “No.  At least nothing that made sense.”  Adam ran a hand over his face.  Then he turned and looked at her wash stand.  “May I?”

“The water’s old.”

Adam smiled as he headed that way.  “Old or cold, it’s still water.”

That made her laugh.  “Please, go ahead.”  As Little Joe’s brother tossed water on his face, Phoebe took a seat in the chair beside the bed.  She hesitated only a moment and then reached out and took hold of Little Joe’s hand.  As she did she noted the rope burns on his wrists. Touching one of the red marks, she asked quietly, “Who would do such a thing?”

Adam glanced at her.  “A lot of men, unfortunately.”

She turned toward him.  He was drying his face now.  “For a suit of clothes and maybe a few dollars?”

He shrugged.  “It’s hard to say.  Maybe it was someone who was desperate.  Prisoners have been known to kill men for their clothes so they can wear them and pretend to be someone else.  A few dollars would be more than enough for the likes of that kind of man.”

“Is that what you think happened?”

Phoebe watched him consider it.  “No,” he said at last.  “This seems…more personal somehow.”  Adam paused.  “Phoebe, I hate to ask it, but can you stay with Joe while I go find someone to carry a message to Pa and another one to the Ponderosa?  Pa needs to know what’s happened and I need to at least make an attempt to keep the ranch going.”

“I’m happy to.  I’ll be free all day.  Today is the day when I usually go to help my mother.  She’s expecting me, but knows sometimes I don’t show due to changes in my schedule.”  Phoebe hesitated.  “Adam….”

Adam had moved to the door.  He turned back with his hand on the knob.  “Yes?”

“If you need someone to look after Joe once you get him home, I’d….  I’d be glad to go to the Ponderosa with you.  If it would help.”

“That’s very kind of you, Phoebe,” Joe’s brother replied.  “But I don’t know that it’s necessary.  Hop Sing is there – ”

“Another man?”  The redhead released her grip on Little Joe’s arm.  She stood and walked to Adam’s side.  “Really, I want to. Little Joe’s been so kind to me.  I wouldn’t be any bother. I’ll just sit with him and keep out of your way.”

The man in black seemed to consider it.  “After I send the message, I should ride out and meet with our foreman and take a look at what’s going on.  Hop Sing is a wonderful man, but he has his duties to attend to as well.”  His eyes went to his brother.  “At this point I would hate to leave Joe alone for very long.”

“He wouldn’t be.  He’d be with me.”  When he said nothing, she tried again.  “Won’t you take me with you?”

Adam came over to her and placed his hands on her shoulders.  “I’ll consider it, and let you know before I leave.  How’s that?”

It was more than she could have hoped for, and probably more than she deserved.  “Thank you, Adam.”

The black-haired man returned to the open doorway.  “I’ll be back after I send Pa word.  Hopefully Doc Martin will have returned by then.  I think he needs to take a closer look at Joe.  He has injuries I don’t….” Adam frowned.  “I need to get him home.  Joe’s been through enough and he should be in his own bed.  I hope the Doc will say it’s all right.”

“He said his rounds would take about four hours and he was heading out at first light.  It shouldn’t be long.”

“Good.  Thank you again, Phoebe.”

After Adam disappeared through the door, the redhead rose and followed.  She stood in the hall, half-in and half-out of her room, listening as he greeted the barkeep below, wondering what it would be like to belong to a family like the Cartwrights – not for the money, but for the caring.  She’d never had one day when she looked forward to her father’s return, or one moment when she thought he cared.  Elijah Howath had been hard-nosed hard-drinking man who had driven his wife and children away before he killed himself by falling off the side of a bridge and drowning as he headed home one night drunk as a skunk.

What would it be like to be the child of Ben Cartwright?

With a sigh Phoebe stepped back into the room and closed the door and then went to the window and dreamed.

Adam stepped out of the mercantile still thinking about the note he had sent to his pa by way of Billy Whitman, a neighbor’s boy.  He hadn’t wanted it to be too vague.  He didn’t want to frighten Pa by leaving out details but then again, he hesitated to make it too specific as well.  In the end he had simply said that Joe had been robbed and he was hurt and they needed to hurry home.  It wasn’t quite the whole truth, but then again he didn’t know what the whole truth was.

So deep was he in thought as he made his way down the boardwalk that he almost collided with an older woman who was hurrying past.  As it was she dropped half her packages.  He offered to help carry them to her wagon as an apology and she accepted.  As they rounded the corner he noticed two men deep in conversation out front of the livery.

One was Jude Lowery and the other, Bexley Lanahan.

For a moment he was surprised to find them in town, but then he remembered that it was Saturday and Jude had a poker game planned for that night.  They were probably free for the day and had decided to spend it in town.  As he loaded the lady’s packages on her wagon, Jude noticed him.  The tall blond man waved and then he and Bexley began to make their way over.

Jude waited until the woman’s wagon pulled away before asking, “How’s Joe?”

“About the same,” Adam replied.  “What are you two doing in town so early?”

“I’m here on ranch business,” Bexley replied.  “Then I’m staying on for the poker game.”

“I’m here on my own business,” Jude said with a shrug.  “There a law against a man coming into town on a Saturday I don’t know about?”

“Sorry.”  Adam frowned.  “After what happened to Joe, I guess everything seems suspicious.”

“You’re not thinking one of us had anything to do with it?” Bexley asked.

“No.  No.  Like I said, sorry.”  Adam felt bad. “I didn’t mean to suggest anything like that.  Why don’t you fellows join me at the saloon later and I’ll buy you a beer as an apology.”

Jude looked at Bexley.  He turned back with a smile.  “Sounds good to me.”

Later, as he returned the Bucket of Blood, Adam found the doctor was not back yet from making his rounds.  The barkeep told him Phoebe was upstairs with Joe, so he went to the back room and located Bexley and Jude and then ordered three beers.  After that he joined them at a table in the corner.  For the moment, the establishment had only a few patrons.  That was soon to change.  The saloon would awaken as the sun went down and not sleep again until two or three in the morning.

Adam thanked the girl who delivered the beers as he sat down.  After taking a sip of his, he kicked his chair back, closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall.

God, he was weary!

Jude took a swig and then asked, “You get any sleep, Adam?”

“Some,” he replied without opening his eyes.

“Was Joe awake at all?  Was he able to tell you anything more?”

Adam opened his eyes and righted his chair.  Rest was apparently not something he was going to find in the other men’s company.  “He woke up once or twice, but he was out of his head.  I hope things will be clearer for him today.”  The man in black took another sip.  “Bexley, did you remember anything else?”

Bexley’s brown head shook.  “I told you everything I know.  I woke up and found Joe in the shape he arrived here in.  I couldn’t look for tracks last night, but I did on the way in today. There’s plenty there.  Nothing looked significant.”  He took a sip.  “You know Pointer’s Arch is a favorite spot for couples who are spooning.”

“Been there myself a few times,” Adam admitted.  “When I was younger, of course.”

“Did you send a message to your Pa?” Jude asked.

“Early this morning.  Hopefully the rider will overtake Hoss and him before they get too far.  They’ve only been on the road for a day, so they shouldn’t have made it much farther than Reno.”  Adam paused to take a drink.  While he did the saloon doors swung open and Doc Martin entered.

When he saw him, the older man headed his way.

“Adam.  Boys,” the doctor said, acknowledging their presence with a tip of his hat.  Then he asked, his voiced laced with concern.  “Who’s with Joe?”

“Phoebe,” Adam replied with a wan smile.  “I’m not sure when it comes time to take Joe home that she’s going to let him go.”

The doctor nodded.  “She’s a fine girl and a good nurse.  I think you should consider taking her up on her offer to go home with you.  The Ponderosa could use a feminine touch and it would definitely be good for Joe.”

Why did it surprise him that the Doc knew about Phoebe’s offer?  The older man seemed to know just about everything.

“I’m thinking about it,” he replied.  “You look tired, Doc.  Would you like a drink or something to eat before you see Joe?”

“No thank you, Adam.  I’m going to head up.” The older man’s gaze flicked to Bexley and Jude and then back to him.  “Will you still be here when I get done with the examination?”

“I’m be in town as long as Joe is,” he replied.

“Very good.  I’ll see you shortly then.”

Adam watched the older man ascend the stairs and disappear around a corner.  Then he stood up.

“You going somewhere, Adam?” Jude asked.

“I thought, while I am in town, that I may as well do some business.  The Doc will be with Joe for a while.”  He paused, looking at the stair again.  “Are you two going to stay here or head out?”

“You want us to wait until the Doc’s done and let you know?” Bexley asked intuitively.

Adam nodded.  “If it’s no trouble.”

Jude finished his beer and then signaled one of the girls to bring him another.  “No trouble at all,” he said with a smile.  “We’ll just start the game a little early.”

Ben Cartwright sat on a boulder by the side of the road.  He looked up, noting the time by the sun, and then went back to removing his boots.  It was nearly sundown and his feet were sore.  He meant to work the pain out of them before they began walking again.  He and Hoss had walked nearly ten miles and they were about worn out.  A man could cover roughly twenty on foot in a day if pressed, but that didn’t take into account the weather – which was brisk and breezy – or the fifty-plus years he had spent walking on them.  Turning over his boots, Ben knocked the debris out of them and then sat them beside him.  It felt good just to let his feet rest for a spell.

Since he was half his age, Hoss was still on his feet and had suggested he scout ahead.  There really was no need, but he knew his son was having trouble sitting still.  Each hour brought them closer to home and he had to admit that he was growing impatient as well.  He would have preferred  to be in the big blue chair by the fire sipping a brandy instead of out here in the wild using a rock as a seat.  He and Hoss had talked about it and, if they could, intended to travel through the night.  There was really little reason to stop and the sooner he was home, the sooner he could send one of the men to Winnemucca and get word to the horse trader that they were going to be late.

As he sat there, rubbing his feet, Ben’s thoughts turned to the past.  Where had they gone, those thirty years from the time he had married and lost Elizabeth and started out to pursue his dream?  Though he rarely had a moment when he was astonished to find Adam a grown man, the fact that Joe was nearly one made him feel old – not in a bad way, but in the way a man did when his life was drawing near to its end.  If his followed the pattern that was known to man, he might have no more than ten or fifteen years of living to go.

What kind of legacy would he leave behind?

Adam, he imagined, would return to the East one day.  His oldest son was here for him and for his brothers, he knew that.  And though Adam’s heart might be in Nevada, linked to the land he had helped to clear and the home he had designed and created, there was a call he would have to answer one day.

Maybe soon.

Hoss, well Hoss would never leave this land. In the end it might be his alone.  There was nothing he knew for certain, but Joseph had a little bit of what Adam had and he worried that his youngest would be drawn away one day, discontent with a rancher’s life, and take off for parts unknown.

It was what a parent did, prepare your child for the world and for taking it on.  Still, in every parent’s heart was the love and need of the little children that had loved and needed them – the ones who sought the safety of hearth and home.

“Pa.”

Ben turned at the sound of his middle son’s voice.   The big man had returned without him hearing.   “What is it, Hoss?”

“Someone’s comin’.”

Ben looked down.  “I better get my boots on then.”

His son nodded as he drew his gun and turned back toward the south.  “It’s a rider.  He’s comin’ fast.”

There was no reason the rider that approached should have had anything to do with them.  Still, as he began to pull his boots back on, a chill snaked down Ben’s back.  It was almost a presentiment.

Somehow he knew, whoever it was, they were looking for him.

“He’s almost here, Pa.  What do you want to do?”

“Flag him down, son.”

The big man looked at him.  “What is it, Pa?”

“I’m not sure.”  He nodded toward the road.  “But we’re about to find out.”

The rider came into view.  It was young boy.  As he approached Ben recognized him as Bill Whitman, one of their neighbor’s middle boys who was around thirteen.  When he arrived the boy slid from the saddle as only boys could do, without waiting for the horse to stop, and ran to his side.

“Mister Cartwright!  I’m mighty glad to see you!  But what are you doing here? I thought I’d have to ride all the way to Winnemucca.”

Hoss came up beside them.  “It’s good to see you too, Billy.  Our feet are sure sore.”

“Our horses were stolen the first night out, Bill, along with everything on them,” Ben explained.  “We’ve been walking ever since.”  The older man frowned.  “Were you looking for us?”

The boy nodded.  “I sure was.”  He reached into his shirt and pulled out a crumpled note.  “This here’s from Adam.”

Ben took it.  “Do you know what this is about?”

“I think so, sir.  But I ain’t gonna say.  You better read it.  That way you’ll get Adam’s version instead of the one off the street.”

Hoss came to stand beside him.  “That don’t sound good, Pa.”

Ben’s brown eyes flicked to his son and then back to the note.  He opened it with foreboding and quickly scanned the few lines it contained.  As a pit opened in his stomach, he handed it to Hoss who read it and turned a grim face on him.

“What’re we gonna do, Pa?  We ain’t got no horses.  It’s gonna take us another day to get home.”

“Mr. Cartwright?” Billy broke in.

“Yes, son?” he answered, distracted.

“Is it about Joe?”

Bill Whitman knew his youngest, of course.  They were not that far apart in years.  “Yes, Bill.  It says Joe was injured during a robbery on the road coming home.  Do you know anything more about it?”

“Only that I seen Doc Martin comin’ and goin’ day and night out of the Bucket.  Me and Pa were stayin’ in town, waitin on a shipment of supplies and – ”

“The Bucket?  What’s Joe doing at the saloon?” he demanded.

The boy shrugged.  “I don’t rightly know, sir.  I think it was closer than takin’ him to the Ponderosa.”

“I see.”  That meant Joe had been hurt badly.  As he pondered what action to take, Ben’s eyes lighted on the boy’s horse.  “Bill….”

“You can have her, sir.”

The older man blinked.  “What?”

“Mollie.  My horse.  You can have her, Mister Cartwright.  I’ll walk back with Hoss.”  The boy turned and looked at his middle son.  “If’n that’s all right with you, Hoss.”

“It’ll be just fine, Billy,” the big man said, laying a hand on the boy’s shoulder.

“Son, I hate to leave you.”

“You go take care of Joe, Pa.  Don’t you worry about me none.”  He looked at the boy.  “We’ll have a mighty fine time walkin’ back to town, won’t we, Billy?”

Ben extended his hand.  When Billy took it, he shook the boy’s again.  “Thank you, son.”

Seconds later the silver-haired man was mounted on Mollie and flying down the road toward his youngest son.

FOUR

Toward suppertime, as the poker game started in earnest, Doc Martin came down the stairs.  The older man hesitated for a moment at the bottom and then, when he spotted him, motioned for him to follow.  Adam rose from his seat and did so, more than content to leave the smoke and noise of a busy evening at the saloon behind.  The air was brisk and he drew his collar up close as he stepped onto the boardwalk and the wind struck his face.  From the feel of it, winter might come early this year.

Doc Martin was standing in the street, waiting for him.

“Doc?” he asked as he stepped off the deck to join him.

“I thought we’d talk in my office, Adam.  Joe needs his rest, and it would be impossible in the saloon.”

“And here I thought you had something to say that you didn’t want anyone else to hear,” Adam replied with a tight smile.

The older man’s reaction was not what he expected.  The doctor’s jaw clenched and he pursed his lips.  “You were always the perceptive one.  Now, come on.  I’m an old man and this cold is doing me no good.”

They walked in silence through the dark to the doctor’s office, passing several strangers including a bothersome drunk and a tall man in a fine San Francisco suit who grudgingly got out of their way at the last second.  Once inside the office, the older man lit the lamp on his desk and then sat wearily in the chair behind it.  He ran a hand over his eyes and looked up at him.  “Adam, if you will, go the cabinet beside the door and bring the smallest bottle you find there to me.”

“All right,” he said.  When he got there Adam found the key in the keyhole.  He turned it and opened the door.  The cupboard held several bottles of brandy, which he knew were used to treat patients, as well as a bottle of cheaper whiskey like you’d find in the saloon. The little one was bourbon and it dated to the first part of the century.

“Get two glasses.”

Adam glanced back at him.  “No, thanks, Doc.  I haven’t had anything to eat.”

“Adam, get two glasses.”

Something turned in his stomach at the doctor’s words.  He waited for the moment to pass and then removed the bottle from the cupboard and picked up a pair of glasses from the table next to it.  Returning to the desk, Adam placed the bottle and glasses on top of the smooth surface and sat in the chair opposite – the one usually reserved for family members who were waiting to hear if the news about their loved one was good or bad.

Like he was now.

The older man reached for the bottle.  He removed the stopper and filled both glasses half-full.  He shoved one toward him and then sat back and sighed.

“Is something wrong with Joe?” Adam blurted out, unable to bear the suspense any longer.  When Doc Martin hesitated, he said, “Tell me straight, Doc.”

“Paul, Adam.  You’re old enough to call me by my Christian name.”  The older man took a sip of his whiskey.  “Drink that and then I will.”  With a sad smile he added, “All of it.  Doctor’s orders.”

Adam’s eyebrows shot up but he obeyed, downing about half of the drink in one swallow.  As the warmth coursed through him, he felt that shift – the one that came when the liquor hit an empty stomach and was about to kick hard.  If he finished the whole thing that quickly, he’d be numb.

Then again, maybe that was the point.

“Well?” he asked.

Doc Martin was staring at his glass, not looking at him.  “Adam, I’ve been doctoring for nearly four decades and I have dealt with just about everything and anything that can be done to a man by another man.  I try not to despair, but at times it’s difficult.”  He drew a long breath and let it out slowly.  When he spoke again, his voice trembled.  “At times it is hard to believe that we are all God’s creatures.”

“Doc….  Paul, what are you trying to tell me?”  He swallowed over his fear.  “Is Joe going to die?”

“No.  No.  I’m sorry if I gave you that impression.”  Paul knit his fingers around the glass and leaned forward.  “Adam, I’m not prevaricating.  What I am about to tell you is based on longtime experience, not fact.  It’s something you will never know for sure until Joe tells you himself – and he may never tell you what happened. He may not remember what happened.”  He lifted the glass and downed the remainder of the golden-brown liquid in it.  “I’m sorry you’re the one who has to bear this burden.“

He was a grown man.  Over thirty.  He’d faced down mountain lions and wolves, battled Indians, and stood off an army of outlaws, and he was scared.

“What do you mean ‘burden’?”

The older man looked at him.  “There are things, Adam, that once a man has seen – or heard – he can never forget.  Even if what he saw or heard ultimately turns out to be untrue, there’s still a stain left on his soul.”

“Paul, I’m going to be honest here.  You’re scaring me.”

“I’m sorry, son.  It’s just that I think, in time, your brother will need someone to talk to and, Adam, I’m afraid – due to the circumstances – that’s you.”

Afraid?  “Okay.  So tell me.”

“First of all, let me remind you that this is based on my diagnosis of Joe’s injuries and nothing else.  I could be wrong.”  The older man sat back in his chair.  “What did you think when you examined your brother more closely?”

The image of Joe’s bruises flashed through his conscious mind – the imprints of fingers on his brother’s neck, the marks on his thighs, and the fact that there were more on his backside.  “I found it odd that Joe was attacked from the back instead of the front.  Usually a man who beats someone wants them to see him and he wants to watch them squirm.”

“Yes.  That struck me as odd too.  The bruising on the inner thigh bothered me.  It’s part of what made me look further.”  The older man hesitated.  “I won’t go into the details, Adam, but what I found leads me to conclude that your brother has been assaulted.”

For a moment he was confused.  “Of course, Joe ‘s been assaulted,” he countered, hearing the frustration in his tone.  “That’s what brought us here.”

The doctor shook his head.  “Adam, you’re not listening.  I didn’t say Joe was beaten, though he definitely was.  I said he was assaulted.”

Time stopped.

“No.”

The older man’s  eyes remained locked on his.  “I’m sorry, Adam.  All the signs point to Joe being taken advantage of by whoever attacked him.  The only consolation is that he was unconscious for most of it.”

Adam remained completely still for several heartbeats and then exploded out of the chair.  Unable to contain the raw emotion that rushed into and over and through him, he began to pace the room like a caged lion.  “God!  No!”  He turned on the older man.  The word came out of his mouth again, soft as a prayer.  “God….”

“I can’t be certain, and that’s the hard part.  Only Joe knows what happened and his memory of what occurred may be buried so deeply it will never surface.”  The older man paused.  “The problem is, even though he doesn’t consciously remember it, the assault still happened and it may…change him.”

“Change him how?” he asked as he fought for control.

“Joe’s physical injuries will heal quickly.  He’s young and strong.  But there will be other wounds, ones that are not seen.  It may take some time, but they will surface.  Your brother may become quiet and grow sullen, or wild and reckless.  There will be nightmares.  Joe may feel like he’s going through it all again.  He may withdraw from you and from the rest of the family.  He could become frightened and refuse to venture out.  Or all of the above.”

Adam stopped in his pacing.  “You sound like you’ve dealt with this before.”

“I am sorry to say that I have.  This kind of assault, particularly on a young man that is attractive in a certain way that many would view as vulnerable, is more common than most think, especially here in the West where men highly outnumber women.”  The older man waited until he met his eyes.  “There’s another thing you need to understand, Adam.  What happened to Joe has little to do with desire or attraction, though that can be a part of it.  Like any other type of bullying, this sort of thing has to do with a need to own and to have power over someone else.”  The older man paused.  “Now do you understand why I said it was a ‘burden’?”

Adam dropped back into the chair.  “Yeah.  I understand.”

“Do you want to tell you father, or would you rather I do it?”

Paul’s words hung in the air.

Pa.  Dear God.  Of course, Pa would have to know.

“I’ll tell him,” he said, his voice breaking with the weight of it.

“I’m sure that’s for the best.”  The older man rose and came to stand by him.  He placed a hand on his shoulder.  “Adam, is there anything I can do for you?”

As he sat there contemplating what the action of one unconscionable, unscrupulous and unprincipled man had done to his brother and what it was likely to do to his family, Adam’s jaw grew tight.  “No.  I’m fine.”

Paul’s voice was quiet.  “I seriously doubt that you are.”

He looked up at him.  “I’ll kill him.  I swear when I find out who did this, I will kill him with my bare hands!”

“If you find out – ”

“Oh, I will.  Have no doubt about that.  With God as my witness, no one is going to do something like this to a member of my family and go unpunished.”

“And when the man is punished, if by ‘punished’ you mean ‘dead’, who will that help – Joe?  Or are you thinking of yourself?” the older man asked softly.

“There has to be justice.”

“Yes, tempered with mercy.  Let’s concentrate on the mercy first, son.  Take your brother home.  Help him heal.  Let Roy Coffee look for the man who did this.”

“Roy can’t know,” he snapped.  “No one can know.”

“I agree, but only because man is a flawed creature incapable of forgetting, even when he is capable of forgiving.  If this got out, it could destroy your brother.  We’ll just give Roy the facts.  Joe was robbed and beaten.  That’s more than enough for the law to hunt down the man who did it.”  The doctor ran a hand across his eyes again and then pinched the bone between them.  “This old man has about had it.   I’m for my bed.  How about you?”

Adam shook his head.  “I can’t sleep.”

“Then go to Joe.  Be there when he awakens, and remember, at the moment the burden is yours alone.  Joe may have no memory of the assault.”

“Oh God…. I hope not.”

“I have watched you and your brothers – Ben Cartwright’s sons.  If love can pull a man through this, Joe will be fine.  Between you and your father and Hoss, I am sure he will heal even if he remembers.  It will just take time.”  The older man looked at him hard, as if sensing his need to be alone.  “Adam, would you like to stay here for a while before returning to the saloon?”

“If it’s not too much trouble,” he said quietly, his voice robbed of all strength by the weight of the last day’s events.

“Stay as long as you want.  I’ll be at my house if you need me.  I’ll check in on Joe again in a few hours.  I imagine you’ll be able to take him home tomorrow.”  The older man reflected a moment.  “It would be best if he was home during his convalescence, surrounded by the things that give him security.”

Adam nodded, well beyond words.

“I’ll see you later today then.  If you feel you are able, once you see Joe, try to get some sleep.  You will do your brother little good if you are so tired you make mistakes.  And Adam….”

“Yes.”

“Again, I urge you.  Let the law take care of this.  Your brother needs you now, at his side, not running off half-cocked looking for a shadow in the night.”

A second later the door to the doctor’s office closed and he was alone.

Adam remained where he was in the chair by the desk.  As he contemplated what might have been done to his brother, his fingers began to drum on the chair’s wooden arms.  His breathing became rapid, his heart raced, and his skin prickled as if someone had staked him to the ground beside an ant hill and ordered all of the ants to run over him.

Assaulted?  Joe?

Was such a thing possible?

And what – and how – was he going to tell his father?

Adam closed his eyes, fighting the effects of the alcohol on a stomach that had had no food.  He breathed deep, fighting for balance, seeking some kind of center.  Slow down, he thought.  Slow down.  Nothing was certain yet.  Nothing would be until he talked to Joe.  The doctor had been careful to make it clear that his ‘diagnosis’ was a speculative one.  Maybe it didn’t happen.  Maybe Joe had simply been beaten and robbed.

No.  That didn’t wash.  Why would a robber take his clothes?

Ill at ease, Adam rose from the chair and walked to the window to look out on the town.  How different it looked in the light of everything he had just heard.  Wandering around out there was someone who could do this to a man.  Maybe it was even someone they knew….

No.  If it happened.  Remember that.  If.

Remembering that might be the only thing that kept him sane.

Feeling confined, Adam began to pace as he had before, thinking furiously.  He needed to get Joe back to the Ponderosa.  Maybe there, with familiar things around him, his brother would feel like talking.  From the little he’d said it seemed Joe remembered being attacked, but it was unclear if he remembered anything about what happened after he was struck and knocked to the ground.

And straddled.

Adam closed his eyes.  Sickened.

No.  If.  Remember, if.

If…

His eyes flew open.  What if it did happen and Joe never remembered?  Would that be a good thing?  The Doc seemed to think otherwise.  How?  How could what a man forgot hurt him?  Adam drew several harsh breaths.  And how could he tell his father when he wasn’t sure it had happened at all?  Like Paul Martin said, once a man heard those words they would never leave him.  They would be a blight to his soul.

Could he do that to his father when he wasn’t sure?

What if he was the only one who ever knew?  Could he take that?

Was he strong enough?

Adam pressed his hands to the sides of his head.  It felt like it was going to explode.  He turned back to the desk and stared at the bottle and the empty glass.  Doc Martin had left them there – for him, he was sure.  He could down the whole bottle and go blessedly numb and forget.  Dear God, how he wanted to forget!

But he couldn’t.

There was still justice to be done.  No matter whether or not any kind of assault had happened besides the beating Joe had taken, his baby brother had still been robbed and nearly killed and justice had to be done.

He needed to see Roy.

Coming to a decision, Adam walked to the mirror that hung on the office wall and looked at his image.  He was unkempt.  His hair was in disarray and he had a full day’s growth of stubble on his chin.  The bags under his eyes had bags of their own.  Looking around, he found some water and splashed it on his face, and then located a comb and ran it through his hair.  After that, he looked again.  Satisfied that he wouldn’t frighten any children in the street, the black-haired man passed through the room to the door.  Opening it, he stepped out and waited as several horses passed by.  Then he headed for the jail.

He was halfway there when he heard someone call his name.

“Adam!”

Adam looked.  Unfortunately, he didn’t know whether to run toward the man who shouted or away from him.

It was Pa.

His son looked like he had been to Hell and back.

Ben Cartwright dismounted, tethered his horse, and crossed over to Adam as quickly as he could.  “Son.  How’s your brother?  How’s Joe?”

“He’s okay, Pa,” his eldest replied wearily.

Relief flooded through him.  “Joe’s okay?  From your message I thought….”

Adam frowned.  “Sorry, Pa,” he said as he ran a hand across his stubbled chin.  “Joe’s not okay.  I just meant that the Doc said there’s no danger of him dying and he’ll heal.”  His eldest paused.  “Joe’s been badly beaten.  Worse than what happened with Reagan.”

That gave him pause.  Ben could still remember that moment when Hoss carried his badly beaten brother into the hotel where he had been staying, keeping watch over Adah Menken.  At first, he had feared the boy was dead.

“By whom?” he demanded.

“I don’t know, Pa.”

The words were out before he thought better of them.  “Don’t you think you should know?”

They struck Adam like a hand.  Seldom had he seen his oldest boy come close to tears.  He was now.

“I’m sorry, Pa,” Adam replied, his voice breaking. “I’ve talked to the man who was with Joe.  He was knocked out at the same time and doesn’t remember a thing.  I was just heading over to the jail to see if Roy could gather up some men and we could – ”

“Who’s with your brother?”

“One of the girls from the saloon.”  At his look, his son added, “It’s Phoebe Howath.  She’s stayed with him since this happened.  Joe’s been kind to her and she feels she owes him.”  Adam met his skeptical stare. “I trust her, Pa.”

“A saloon girl.”

“What was I supposed to do?” his eldest demanded, his voice growing sharp.  “Put Joe on a horse and ride him out to the ranch unconscious, with his backside’s covered in bruises?  The saloon was there and it was safe!”

“Wait.”  Ben frowned.  “Wait.  What?  His backside?”

Adam fell silent.  He nodded.

“Has Doc Martin seen him?”

“Several times.”

“What does Paul think?”

His son drew a long breath.  “The Doc says Joe was struck from behind.  He was trussed up and then beaten when he was laying on the ground.”  Adam hesitated.

“And?”

Something flashed momentarily in Adam’s eyes before he answered. “Whoever it was tried to strangle him, Pa.  Joe has the marks of fingers on his throat.”

The horror of it struck him – his baby boy brutalized by some man who cared no more for human life than for a chicken’s whose neck he would wring to feed his belly.  Ben closed his eyes briefly in a attempt to process what he had just heard, and then opened them and fixed them again on Adam.  “Your note said the motive was robbery?”

Again, there was a slight hesitation.  “The contents of his saddlebags were taken and….”

“Yes?”

“Whoever it was, they took Joe’s clothes.”

“His clothes?” Ben paused, seeking to stem the tide of anger that rose in him at the indignity of it all.  “Adam, what aren’t you telling me?”

His son looked him square in the eye.  “I swear, Pa, that’s all I know for certain.”

He sensed there was more.  Adam was hiding something or at least keeping it close.  Dropping it for the moment, Ben moved on to another question that was nagging him.  “You said Joe had someone with him at the time of the attack.  Who?”

Adam had that look.  The one he wore as a boy when he knew the switch was coming.  “Bexley Lanahan.”

“Lanahan?  Good God!  Doesn’t that boy ever listen?”

“I know you don’t like Jude or Bexley, but they’ve both been a great help since this happened, especially Bexley.  He’s hurting too, Pa, and yet he’s stayed with Joe when Phoebe’s had to leave so Joe wouldn’t be alone.”

“Are you saying I’ve misjudged him?”

Adam shrugged.  “I’m saying, give him a chance.”

Ben chewed on it a moment and then he nodded.  “All right.  Now, take me to your brother.”

The older man watched as his eldest son opened the door of one of the rooms on the saloon’s second floor and stepped in.  A second later a pretty young woman with golden-red hair exited.  She nodded to him in passing but before he could say anything, headed quickly down the stairs.

It looked like she had been crying.

“Pa,” Adam said.

As he entered the room Ben drew a deep breath, steeling himself for what he would see.  He couldn’t imagine Joe injuries this time could actually be worse than the damage John C. Reagan’s fists had inflicted.

He was wrong.

“Good God,” he breathed as he looked down at Joe.  “Dear Lord….”

How had this happened?

Joe’s covers were thrown back so his upper body was exposed.  He was curled to one side.  On his upper arm, on the back of his shoulder, and on his neck there was redness and swelling.  The worst of it was on his neck.  The impressions left by fingers pressing into his flesh were deep and already passing from red to purple.

It looked as if someone had tried to snap his neck.

Ben threw his hat on the chair and sat on the bed beside his son.  Reaching out, he gently touched Joe’s sweat-soaked hair.  “Joseph?  Joseph, it’s Pa.”

“The Doc gave him a strong dose of laudanum,” Adam said from the end of the bed.  “He’s been sleeping pretty heavily ever since.”

Ben glanced at his son and nodded, and then tried again.  Touching Joe’s face, he said, “Joseph.  It’s your father.”

At first there was no response, then his son seemed to swim up from somewhere.  Joe’s eyes rolled behind the lids and his cracked lips parted.  A second later his son’s eyelids fluttered and opened, revealing the green eyes beneath.  In spite of the influence of the drug, they were filled with pain.

“Who…?” Joe murmured.

Ben caught hold of his hand and squeezed it.  “It’s me, son.  Your pa.  Your pa is here.”

“Pa….”

Listening to Joe’s voice, so weak and pitiful and robbed of its normal vigor, was painful.  He found himself trembling with his son.

“That’s right.  It’s your pa.”

When Joe spoke his words were slurred.  “I…tried, Pa.  I…tried to stop him….”

Ben glanced at Adam as his eldest shifted to Joe’s other side.  “Who, Joe?  Who did this to you?”

Joe grew agitated. He curled up more tightly and moaned.  “No….”.

Adam pressed it anyhow.  “Joe?  You’ve got to tell us who – ”

“Adam, leave your brother be!” Ben commanded, stopping him short.  “What’s wrong with you?  Can’t you see your questions are upsetting him?”

“Pa, we need to know – “

“Not now!”

Adam’s jaw clenched.  He nodded once and then left the room.

Ben considered going after him, but even as he did, Joe called him.

“Pa….”

He took Joe’s other hand.  “Yes, son?”

His youngest fought to focus on him.  This time when Joe spoke his words were clearer, but they cost him dearly.   “You…gotta know….  I tried…to…fight.  I couldn’t win….”  Tears began to flow down his son’s cheeks.  “I…couldn’t, Pa….”

“I know you did, son,” he said, reaching out with his fingers and brushing back Joe’s thick brown hair.  “Now’s not the time to talk about it.  We can do that when you’re stronger.”

Joe murmured something else.  He nodded as if content and then he was gone, lost in a drugged sleep.

Ben sat there, holding his son’s hand for several minutes, contemplating everything that had happened so far.  As he did, the young woman who had left earlier appeared in the open doorway.  She stood there with her hand on the jamb as if waiting for permission to enter.

He pivoted to look at her.  “Miss Howath, isn’t it?”

She smiled.  “Call me Phoebe.  Everyone does.”

“Phoebe,” Ben repeated as he turned back to Joe and touched his face.  “Thank you for looking after my son.  Adam told me what a good job you’ve done.”

She hesitated.  “That’s what I’m here about, Mister Cartwright.  Your other son.  He needs you.”

“Other son?” he asked, puzzled.  “You mean Adam?”

She nodded.

It was only then he remembered Adam rushing out of the room – because of his words.  “Where is he?”

“In the alley behind the saloon.”  Again, she paused.  “I think you should go to him.”

“Is he hurt?”

Phoebe stepped into the room.  “Not hurt, no, but hurting.”

Ben frowned.  He looked at Joe and then back to the young woman.  “Will you stay with Joe?”

The redhead smiled.  “Gladly.”

The older man touched his son’s face one more time and then rose and surrendered his seat.  As Phoebe took it, he said, “Thank you.  Thank you for everything.”

Ben left the room and hurried down the stairs.  He knew the way out through the back door that emptied into the alley and took it without asking the proprietor if it was all right.  As he passed through the saloon the sounds of normal life offended him. Nothing was normal nor would it be until Joe was healed and whoever had done this hateful thing to his son and to their family was caught and punished.

Stepping out of the door Ben halted.  He looked both ways and saw no one.  Walking to the end of the alley that backed the saloon he headed for the street, passing by the livery.  A sense of movement in the stable’s interior caught his attention.  The silver-haired man stopped where he was.  He waited a moment and then went in.  It wasn’t the movement that drew him there.  It was the sound he heard.

Someone was sobbing.

Quietly, Ben moved through the building’s interior, passing the stalls both full and empty until he arrived at the back.  He stopped then and listened again.  He could hear someone breathing hard, fighting to control their emotions.   Following the sound the older man turned and entered the last of the stalls.

His eldest was standing in the back, his arms splayed against the wall.  When he heard him, Adam straightened up and ran a hand across his face, striking away the tears.  “Go away, Pa,” he growled.

“Adam, I regret my words to you.  I was angry.  Joe….”

His son shook his head.  “It’s not you, Pa.  It’s me.  I…  I let Joe down.”  Adam turned his hazel eyes on him.  In them was a world of pain.  “I let Joe down.  I should have been there.  Should have protected him. I’m the oldest!”

He took a step toward his son.  “Being the oldest doesn’t make you responsible for your brother’s choices.  Joe’s a man now.  He – “

“Joe’s a kid!” Adam snapped.  “I should never have given in to him and let him stay in town.  He didn’t want to look like a baby in his friends’ eyes.  I humored him and now, look what happened.”  He struck his chest with his fist.  “Look what I did!”

Adam’s grief was palpable.

“Son,” the silver-haired man said as he took a step forward.  “You’re exhausted.  You need to rest.  Things will look different after you do.“

“No, Pa.”  Adam spoke between teeth clenched in agony.  “I need to find whoever did this to Joe and break them in two.”

“How will that help your brother now?” he asked quietly.

Adam began to pace.  “That’s what Doc Martin said too.  I don’t know.  I don’t know, Pa.  But I have to do something!”

“Go sit with your brother.”

His son stopped.  Adam’s chin fell to his chest.  When he spoke, his voice was so quiet, it was near impossible to hear.

“I can’t, Pa.  I…can’t.”

He was almost close enough to touch him.  Just a step or two more.  “Adam, what’s happened to Joe is upsetting, but this – what is this?  What’s eating at you, boy?”

Adam’s troubled gaze fastened on him.  There were more tears, unspent in his eyes.  “It happened on my watch.  I’m responsible.”  His voice broke.  The next time his son spoke it came out in a whisper.  “Dear God, Pa, I’m responsible.”

There was something here beside Joe being beaten and beyond the fact that his brother might have died.  Ben had no idea what it was, but knew it would be important he find out.

“Adam, when you feel guilty, it’s not your sin you hate but yourself, and when you hate yourself, you can’t love anyone else.  Your brother needs you. I need you.”

“No, you don’t. You don’t….”  His son’s head shook.  “No.”  Adam drew a shuddering breath.  “You don’t understand, Pa.  Joe may never be the same.”

“Did the doctor tell you that, or is that what you think?”

“Oh, the Doc told me,” he scoffed.  “He made it quite clear.”

This was something new, though in the state Adam was in it might have more to do with his interpretation of what the doctor said than anything else.

The older man held his son’s gaze.  “Adam, tell me what this is about.”

Adam sniffed.  His throat was so tight when he spoke that the words barely came out.  “I…can’t.  At least, not…now.  You’ve got to trust me, Pa.”  A tear spilled down his cheek.  “Do you trust me, Pa?”

It was a plea.

Ben drew a breath.  He let it out in a word, “Always.”

His son began to shake. The older man did not hesitate but went to him and took him in his arms.  “Let it out, son.  Let it all out.”

Like a storm Adam broke.

Ben held him until it passed.