Summary:  Adam and Joe are fighting again. This time they learn to be careful what they wish for!

Rating: K+  (11,424 words)

Wish

“Not my problem, Joe.”

Adam leaned against the tree gazing at his youngest brother with cool indifference.  He figured it was bad timing that led them to meet on the Virginia City road—Adam on the way into town for the evening; Joe coming home from school.

“No, brother, it’s not your problem.  In fact, it ain’t even a problem at all.  It’s just a favor.”  Joe cajoled.  “Remember, I asked you for help last week, and you said you would be glad to give me a hand.”

“Well, I didn’t think you intended to wait until the last minute to get back with me.  And, as it happens, I have plans.”  Adam started back to his horse, but he didn’t get far before Joe grabbed his arm.

“Adam, it won’t take you that long to look over my paper.  I have to read it to the class tomorrow, and I want to do a good job.  If you don’t look it over tonight, I won’t have time to fix anything and copy it over for tomorrow.”

“Joe, I’ve already gone through grammar school.  I’m not doing your homework.”

“I just told you!  I wrote the paper.  I just want you to look at it and tell me if I missed anything.  C’mon, you love John Donne, and you did promise to help.”

“Joe, you’re sixteen years old—you won’t even be in school after next tomorrow.  It’s a little late to show interest, isn’t it?”

“A lot you know,” Joe muttered. “Stop bein’ so selfish and give me a hand.”

Selfish!? That was rich coming from his spoiled youngest brother.

Adam shook off Joe’s arm and swung onto Sport. “Look, baby brother, you left this until the last minute as always.  I’ve got better things to do than wait around to pick up after you again.  So, toddle on home, finish your paper, and you can bring your education to its predictably ignominious end.”

“Yeah, at least I’m not the end of an ignoramus!”  Joe yelled furiously.

Adam was frankly shocked-not at the insult, but rather that Joe could manage such a play on words.  Must have been an accident.

“One night, Adam! I’m asking you for one night to help with somethin’ important that I thought you might even like doin.’”  Joe was crowding Sport and pulling at Adam’s arm.

“Yeah, well maybe, I’d like one night where no one needs me to do something, fix something, or think of something for them.  Did you ever think of that?  Oh, no, that wouldn’t occur to Little Joe Cartwright who gets whatever he wants handed to him on a silver platter.”

“Dammit, Adam.  I strain my guts out around here and never get a lick of credit!  All I get from you is crap about bein’ younger and smaller.  I wish you would get down from your high-and-mighty perch long enough see what someone else is goin’ through.”

At that point, Adam figured he could spare the time to thoroughly thrash the kid.  Deliberately—gracefully, even—he slid off Sport. Taking a moment to roll his shoulders and stretch his long arms, he advanced on Little Joe who steadfastly held his ground.

“The first thing I’m going to teach you, boy, is to watch your language.  I’m going to give you the tanning you so richly deserve.  You know what I wish, Little Joe?  I wish you would grow up and figure out just what responsibility feels like.”

Unnoticed, the sky darkened as clouds skittered along chased by an unexpectedly chill wind. Distant thunder rumbled, and the breeze that was summer soft a few minutes before kicked up dust and gravel from the trail.  Cochise and Sport snorted and fussed, alarmed by the oncoming storm and disturbed by the ruckus a few feet away.  As the brothers circled each other, fists clenched and furious, the storm broke driving rain and wind on top of them.  There was no time at all to react; no time to seek shelter or even to speak to each other before a tremendous bolt of lightning struck the nearby tree shattering the trunk and hurtling limbs and debris into the air to fall heavily on the combatants.

XXXXXXXXXX

Adam’s head was pounding when he managed to open his eyes to see . . . not much of anything.  The rain was gone.  Sodden pine boughs covered him, and his skin still tingled from the lightning strike.  Convincing his arms and legs to move took a little while, but eventually he was able to move the dirt and branches so that he could push up on his elbows.  A few feet away under a pile of limbs and debris, someone else was fighting a similar battle.  A frightening realization choked Adam.  Joe!  His brother had been right beneath the tree when the strike occurred.  How badly had the kid been hurt?   Adam hauled himself to his hands and knees and crawled toward the figure.  Every movement seemed to shake the pine needles, bark, and dirt tangled in his hair into his face.  Brushing impatiently at the hair in his eyes, Adam barely noticed the blood slicking his fingers.

Panic drove him to fling bark and boughs from the mound covering his brother.  Joe’s legs were moving sluggishly and he could hear the kid moan.  “Hold on, boy, you’ll be all right,” Adam kept repeating.  Adam was unsure what sort of injuries the debris might be hiding. He steeled himself to deal calmly and rationally with whatever needed to be faced.  Unfortunately, right at the point he grabbed Joe’s black shirt and rolled him over, Adam knew that he hadn’t prepared himself at all—not one little bit.  The face staring back at him, hazel eyes blinking away the dirt, was the face of Adam Cartwright.

It must be a head wound . . . a concussion . . . delirium . . . because this, this is not possible!  Adam sat back abruptly fighting to retain control and make sense out of nonsense.  He scrubbed his sweaty palms on his pants and pushed hair out of his eyes.  No, no, no . . . my hair’s not that long!  

In dazed fascination, Adam sat there and watched himself pull free of the wreckage.  He watched “Adam Cartwright” run his hands over his face.  Those hands lingered on the beard-shadowed jaw, and then touched the neck and chest above the open collar of the shirt.  When both pairs of eyes finally met, the reaction was instantaneous, furious, and identical.

“What did you do?!”

XXXXXXXXXXX

The shouting lasted longer than necessary, but not nearly long enough to be satisfying. Although their new reality was literally right in front of them, there was no explanation in sight. Somehow, some way, Adam was Joe and Joe was Adam. No matter how much he paced, or how hard he pinched the bridge of Joe’s nose, Adam couldn’t figure out how or why it all happened.

“I don’t care how.  I don’t care why.  Just fix it.”  Joe was sitting on the ground, head in hands, long legs stretched out in front, the mud making a perfect mess of the black pants and shirt.

“And just what do you expect me to do!  Summon another lightning bolt?  Perform surgery?  Conduct a séance?”

Joe flung himself back into the dirt, arms and legs flung wide.  “What are we goin’ to tell Pa?”

“Oh, I don’t know, Joe. Maybe . . . ‘well, Pa, we were having a bit of an altercation earlier this afternoon when an errant lightning bolt struck somehow switching our souls into one another’s body.  By the way, what’s for supper?’”

Joe rolled over face down and covered his head with his hands.  Just looking at him ticked Adam off.

“Knock it off, Joe.  You’re making me look ridiculous.”  The words were barely out of his mouth before he found himself flat on the ground.  Joe was using his newfound heft to pin Adam to the ground and shake him until his head was spinning again.  Try as he might, Adam couldn’t shove Joe off him, and it was getting a little hard to breathe.

“Get off me, Joe, you don’t know my own strength!”

How much do I weigh, anyhow? Maybe I do need to lay off the flapjacks, Adam found himself wondering.

“Stop talkin’ like that!!  What are we gonna do?”  Joe rolled off him finally, but not before punching him once in the shoulder for good measure.

“Look,” Adam said rubbing at the new bruise on his shoulder, “until this . . . condition . . . wears off, I think we’re both going to have to pretend to be the other brother.”

“You think it will wear off?”  Joe asked softly.

Lord, how does he get my face to do that?  Adam was certain he had never before worn such an expression of plaintive hopefulness.

“Sure, Joe” Adam said with a whole lot more confidence than he felt.  “In the meantime, you know, just act like me.”

“In other words, walk around like I’ve got a stick up my butt?”

“At least I don’t have my head up there!”

Instead of giving Adam the punch to the jaw he expected, Little Joe snorted and giggled—in the baritone range.    Still laughing, he grabbed a large pinecone in his right hand and chucked it at Adam’s head.  Without thinking, Adam snatched it out of the air with his left hand.

“Well, that was interesting,” mused Adam.  Perhaps our bodies retain preferences borne of habit.  Testing his theory, Adam carefully approached an understandably skittish Cochise.  Trying not to think too hard about what he was attempting, he grabbed the saddle horn and vaulted perfectly into the saddle.

“This just might work, Joe.”

XXXXXXXXXX

The brothers planned their strategy, such as it was, on the ride home.  Fool Pa, Hoss, and Hop Sing; get through supper unnoticed; and escape to Joe’s room to “work on Joe’s paper.”    Adam was sure that given a little time with some of the books in his room, he could find them a way out of this fiasco.  Since Joe was being uncharacteristically quiet on the ride back, it allowed Adam an opportunity to consider the problem in peace.  By the time they arrived at the house, Adam remembered he had both volumes of Faraday’s Experimental Researches in Electricity in his room.  Perhaps that was the place to start.  Despite the pounding headache and numerous lightning and brother-induced injuries, Adam was feeling cautiously optimistic.

They took a bit longer than normal caring for their horses considering their anxiety about facing their father and brother.  After dawdling as long as possible, they gave up and headed into the house.

Clearly, their absence had been noted.  Or at least Joe’s absence had been noticed.  They had barely gotten through the door to hang their hats and lay their gun belts on the sideboard before Pa was in front of “Little Joe” checking him over.

“What in tarnation happened to you, boy?”

As agreed, “Adam” took the lead.  “Not a big deal, Pa.  Ran into a little squall on the road and caught a few broken branches.  All’s well.  What’s for supper?”

“A little squall!  Joseph, you look as if a tree fell on top of you!  Come over here and let me take a look at that gash on your head.”  Adam allowed himself to be led over to the settee.  Pa held “Little Joe’s “chin in a warm hand, and his worried eyes searched for signs of serious injury.

“Pa,” growled Joe.  “He’s fine.  Tell him, Little Joe, you’re fine.”  The spark in Joe’s eyes could have lit a bonfire.  Adam hated to see the kid suffer.

“Pa,” Adam murmured, “I am a little shaken up.”  Ben ran a hand through his hair and eased him back to recline on the settee.    Hop Sing hustled in from the kitchen carrying a basin of water and a towel that he deposited on the square table.

“Mista Adam very dirty.  Change clothes now; wash up.  Supper ready soon.”

Adam watched Joe’s mouth fall open in apparent dismay. He could almost read his little brother’s mind. Very dirty!  Go change?  Is that all I get??  Adam settled back allowing his father to fuss over him, wipe the blood from his forehead, and hold a glass of water for him to sip from.  Wonder if I could convince Pa that I need a glass of brandy?

Apparently Joe had the same idea.  Adam watched with narrowed eyes as Joe sauntered over to the decanter and poured himself a healthy portion.  Raising the glass in salute, Joe brought it to his lips.

“Uh, brother . . .” Adam started to caution him, but it was too late.  Joe knocked back the brandy as if it were lemonade. The resulting choking fit nearly brought him to his knees.  Eyes streaming, Joe waved his father off and climbed unsteadily up the stairs to change clothes.

XXXXXXXXXX

By the time supper was served, Adam was starving.  In fact, he couldn’t remember the last time he felt so empty.  Piling his plate with roast pork, sweet potatoes, and string beans, he caught the amused glances between Hoss and his father.

“Hard to believe this one was ever a picky eater, ain’t it, Pa?”  Hoss laughed as he dug into his own meal.

“Well, Joseph is a growing boy.”  Ben smiled with pride.  Adam glanced over at Joe.  Definitely looking a little green around the gills.  That’ll teach him not to gulp good liquor.  Adam was so tickled that he apparently missed what was being said to him.

“Pa’s talkin’ to you, dumb ass.”  Joe’s petulant voice broke in on his thoughts.

“Adam, what’s gotten into you tonight?”  Pa was shocked and furious at his language.  Joe immediately apologized.  Ben harrumphed a little in irritation and turned back to his “youngest.”

“As I was saying, are you looking forward to finishing school?”

“Yes, sir.  Is there anything for dessert?”  Now, Adam remembered the last time he felt so famished.  He was sixteen.  Basking in Hop Sing’s approval, Adam devoured a large piece of apple pie while Joe drummed his fingers impatiently on the table.

“Well, Little Joe, if you’re through stuffin’ your face, let’s get upstairs and work on that paper.”  Joe grabbed his brother firmly by the arm and tugged him out of the chair.  Being hauled away from the table, or anywhere else for that matter, was a new experience for Adam.  He tolerated being shoved up the stairs into Joe’s room until the door was closed behind them.

“What is your problem?”

“My problem?  I think that’s pretty obvious, ain’t it?  Can we please try to figure out how to fix whatever this is?”  Adam couldn’t really argue with Joe’s priorities.

“Fine.  I’ll look over your paper while you go into my room and bring out a couple of books for me to look at. You’re looking for Michael Faraday’s Experimental Researches in Electricity[i].  Don’t touch anything else!”  Adam could nearly hear Joe roll his eyes.

“Great.  Where do I look?”

Adam sat down at the desk with Joe’s essay spread out in front of him.

“It’s very simple.  Books are shelved alphabetically by author and grouped by subject.  Starting at the top left, you’ll find books on Agriculture, followed by Architecture, Botany, and so forth.”

“Fine.  Got it—E for electricity and F for Faraday.”

“No, look under R.”

“R?”

“Recent Acquisitions.  Anything under six months old.  And make sure you are looking in the non-fiction reference section. The books won’t be on the P-cubed shelves.”

“The what?!”

“P-cubed.  Poetry, plays, and prose, of course.”   Adam hardly looked up as he penciled various changes on Joe’s paper.  He did hear the bed creak when Joe flung himself across the mattress.

“Aaargh, my head hurts.”

“Well, Joe, we did have a tree fall on us.”

XXXXXXXXXX

The last thing Joe remembered before dropping off to sleep in Adam’s bed was his fervent prayer that by morning everything would be back the way it was supposed to be.

The first thing Joe realized as soon as he opened his eyes in Adam’s bed was that nothing was the way it was supposed to be.

A soft knock at the door preceded Hop Sing arriving with a basin of hot water and towels.  Joe watched curiously as Hop Sing laid out shaving equipment on the dresser in front of the mirror and slipped out wordlessly.  Rubbing his hand across his jaw, Joe felt the bristly beard.  Accustomed to shaving only for special occasions, whether he needed to or not, Joe was unexpectedly excited at the prospect.  He jumped out of bed and began searching through Adam’s clothing for something to wear.

“Well, let’s see, big brother, looks like my choices are black or black.  Wait, there’s a red shirt crammed in the back.  Nah, don’t want folks to notice anythin’ different.”

Joe dressed quickly and shaved carefully.  Adam sure has a lot more hair to fuss over.  Regarding himself in the mirror, he unbuttoned the top of his shirt to allow more of the manly chest to show.  Then he carefully folded the shirt sleeves up above the elbow and flexed his biceps a bit- just to see the effect.

Joe studied “his” wavy black hair.  Maybe a little less pomade and a lot more curl. Joe had just arranged a nice curl right up front when Adam showed up without knocking, naturally.

“I thought you were an early riser, brother.  You don’t have much time before you need to leave for school.”  Gosh, this older brother stuff is fun.

“Thanks for the reminder, Joe.  Of course, it took a while to search through all of your drawers to find a pair of matching socks.  And speaking of drawers, little brother, that’s something I couldn’t find.”

My, my, he sure is lookin’ cranky.  Joe continued to put the finishing touches on “his” hair.  “Huh, imagine that.  Never liked those things myself.”

“I discovered that yesterday.  WHAT are you doing to my hair?”

“I thought I’d try somethin’ different.”  Joe flashed a cheeky grin at his brother.

“I think you’d better comb it correctly,” Adam hissed.

“Well, I think it looks better this way.” Joe continued to artfully manipulate the dark waves.

“In that case, I suppose I’d better get a haircut after school.”

The two brothers glared at each other in an apparent standoff; it wasn’t surprising who gave in first.

“Fine.  I’ll comb it straight.  Just don’t . . . don’t cut it.”  Joe went to work undoing his previous work.  Adam watched as long as he could before intervening.

“Just stop; I’ll do it.”  Adam snatched the brushes away and began vigorously brushing “Adam’s” hair.  Apparently, he wasn’t being particularly gentle if the yelps were any indication.  Yelping led to cursing that moved to arguing which progressed quickly to shoving until they heard someone clearing his throat behind them.

The brothers turned to find Hoss leaning against the door frame, arms crossed and brows drawn together.

“If you fellas like, I’ll rustle you up some hair ribbons or maybe a bonnet.  Otherwise, you need to come down to breakfast.”  Hoss turned on his heel and stalked off, shaking his head in disgust.

XXXXXXXXXX

School was a revelation to Adam.  He’d barely managed to tie Cochise to the hitching rail before he was surrounded and assaulted with back claps, slaps to the back of the head, and playful shoves from most of the boys.  It was a bit unnerving; Adam hadn’t been, well, touched, this much since freshman hazing at Harvard.  Moreover, every one of them felt compelled to remark on the injuries evident from the night before.  If this kept up, Adam felt sure he was going to have a doozy of a headache well before lunch.

As for the girls, that was a different problem.  Adam had an adult man’s preference for grown women.  However, he couldn’t deny that in his present state, he was a little unsettled by all the focused attention from females that just yesterday he would have considered little girls.  Nearly every girl over thirteen greeted him with cooing words of sympathy often accompanied by batting lashes and soft hands on his arm.  He was going to have to give Joe more credit for his powers of concentration.  With this much distraction, it was a mystery that the kid’s grades weren’t a whole lot worse.

When Miss Jones rang the bell, Adam was more than ready to start the day.  He slipped into the proper seat in the back of the room alongside the handful of soon-to-be-graduates:  Mitch, Seth, Tuck, and Anne Marie.  She gave him a little frown of concern; but, thankfully, kept whatever she was thinking to herself.  Looking around, Adam was struck by how few of Joe’s schoolmates he knew.  As attendance was called, he paid particular attention determined to match names to faces.

Evidently, the last day’s agenda was recitations.   Beginning with the youngest members of the school, each student was tasked with presenting their final essay to their schoolmates.  This allowed plenty of time for audience daydreaming and given his current predicament, Adam took full advantage to mull over the plans he and Joe had discussed the night before.

As he had hoped, Faraday’s books had given Adam an idea of how to proceed.  Sadly, his brother lacked the proper insight and had protested the plan rather vehemently, preferring to focus on the risk of pain and serious injury rather than consider the potential for advancing scientific knowledge.  Whiny little wimp!

 It had taken considerable persuasion on Adam’s part to convince Joe to go along with the idea.  Of course, it had helped that Joe had had no ideas of his own at all. They had agreed to meet after school for dinner in town with Hoss and stop at the mercantile and hardware emporium to pick up the necessary supplies.  Adam could hardly wait to get started.

“Good heavens, this is taking forever,” he thought as he listened to child after child stand and read their little essays.

Casting about for some entertainment, he watched Seth and Tuck write notes to each other. Anne Marie was drawing something in her sketch book, and Mitch was watching Anne Marie.  Apparently she found the mass of dark hair cascading down her back uncomfortably hot.  Keeping her eyes on her drawing, she absent-mindedly clasped both hands under her hair and lifted it away from her neck.  She shook her head releasing her hands to allow the locks to fall back into place—except for one long curl drifting forward on descent to brush Mitch’s hand.  He shivered slightly at the touch and glanced over in embarrassment at Adam.

Leaning closer to “Little Joe,” Mitch whispered, “I dream about that hair sometimes.”

Adam nodded in sympathy.  He could definitely understand that.

XXXXXXXXXX

The timber camp was bustling with activity when Joe arrived.  Familiar with the camp layout and most of the crew from previous visits, Joe cheerfully greeted every man he passed on the way to the foreman’s shanty.  Letting himself into the office, he found Solly, the foreman, going over a ledger.  Solly glanced up and stared at him.

“What happened to you, boss?  Tangle with a puma on the ride in?”

“This? Nah, just a little accident last night.”  Giving Solly his most winning smile, Joe pulled up a chair and leaned back so that the front chair legs were off the floor.

Solly squinted at him.  “I ain’t never seen you smile like that.”

Joe blinked.  “What do you mean?  I smile.”  Adam smiles, right?  Of course, he smiles.

“Sure ya do, sometimes, but not with all those teeth showing.”

Joe dropped the chair back on the floor.  Fighting back a rising panic, he reminded himself that he had to act like Adam.  Turning the barrel of the chair toward Solly, he straddled the chair resting his arms on the chair back.  Controlling his face was going to be a lot more challenging than controlling the chair.

Think like Adam, act like Adam, be Adam.  Joe tried to talk himself into the proper state of mind.  I’m sensitive, brooding . . . tortured.  Dang, he was cracking himself up!  Joe erupted into a giggling fit that had Solly out of the chair and in his face.  The foreman even took a suspicious sniff in his direction.

“Is the pressure getting to you, son?” Solly asked him sympathetically. “You wouldn’t be the first fella to turn to drink.”

“What?!  No, I ain’t drinkin’!  I’m fine, you know, just a  . . . tickle in my throat.  So you . . . you just give me a report on what’s goin’ on around here.”   Joe didn’t have to pretend to be serious now.  Fearful that Solly was onto him, Joe glared at the foreman as if daring him to ask more stupid questions.

Apparently, glaring was expected behavior.  Solly settled back into his seat and began his report.

XXXXXXXXXX

The assignment, “Using selected works from the chosen author, demonstrate the continuing relevance of great literature to mid-nineteenth century American youth,” was perhaps a little ambitious given the student body.  According to Joe, Miss Jones had provided exemplars of “great” literature from which to choose—by drawing authors’ names from a hat.

Anne Marie’s exposition of Richard Lovelace’s To Lucasta, Going to the Warres had been a solid, respectable presentation.  Maybe a little romantic for Adam’s taste, but he was willing to excuse that as typical of a sixteen-year old girl.  Tuck’s presentation on Ben Jonson’s, Epicene, was beyond tedious, and Adam strongly suspected that Tuck had copied most of it from some reference book.  Seth’s presentation was just uncomfortable; he recited Shakespeare’s love sonnets while leering at Sara Edwards.  Adam longed to throw a bucket of water on him.  Worst of all was Mitch’s miserable essay on John Milton’s Paradise Lost.  The kid needed to stick to those arm wrestling matches Joe was always yammering about; clearly, Mitch had no future as a literary critic.

Adam was quite pleased with himself.  The extra time he had taken last night to rewrite Joe’s essay had certainly paid off.  When he finished, Miss Jones applauded loudly.

“Joseph, that was exceptional! The appendices comparing seventeenth century social customs and economic conditions to the present day were unexpected but much appreciated by everyone.”

Well, maybe not much appreciated unless everyone’s appreciation was demonstrated by snoring, throwing paper wads, and making faces at the presenter.  Philistines.  The most attentive audience member, Anne Marie, was looking at him as if he had two heads which was perhaps not far off the mark.

When Adam returned to his desk, he found a note intricately folded and addressed in delicate script to Little Joe.  Keeping the letter out of the sight of his classmates and teacher, he opened it quietly.

Little Joe, Do you like Maddie Porter?

Mark one

yes                        no

 

Adam could appreciate the direct approach.  Would Joe like Maddie Porter?  He peered around the room trying to remember just who she was.  Ah hah, she was the petite blonde with the big blue eyes and fetching figure.  Yes, Adam was betting that Little Joe did, in fact, like Maddie Porter.  Feeling magnanimous following his recent triumph, Adam decided to do Little Joe a favor.  He made three dark lines under YES, refolded the paper, and sent it on its way back to the original sender.  Little Joe could thank him later.

XXXXXXXXXX

Solly gave Joe a complete report on the status of operations at the camp—of which Joe remembered not a word.  However, Joe was very good at appearing to listen attentively, and he was certain that he had Solly fooled.  When Solly had asked him how to handle a couple of thorny issues, Joe had turned it back on the foreman, asking Solly for his opinion, thoughtfully considering the answer, and then giving Solly permission and authority to take care of business as he saw fit.  The man beamed at the confidence “Adam” showed in him, and Joe felt pretty darn good himself for handling things so well.

XXXXXXXXXX

There were worse ways to spend the day Adam thought as he dug into the generous lunch Hop Sing had packed.  The oldest boys were gaggled together under a tree eating lunch; the girls were chattering and giggling a few yards away.  Adam suspected something was amiss when Anne Marie detached herself from the girls and headed toward them.

“What were you thinking?  Why did you tell Maddie that you liked her?  You know she only wants to make Tyrone jealous!”  Anne Marie punctuated her complaints with a few slaps to the back of his head.

Geez, didn’t anyone teach these kids to keep their hands to themselves?

“I was wonderin’ why ol’ Tyrone was lookin’ so ticked off.  You’re in for it now, Little Joe.” For someone who was supposed to be a friend, Seth didn’t seem all that concerned for Little Joe’s welfare.

It didn’t take Adam long to figure out who Tyrone was among the gang of boys in the school yard.  He was the kid with clenched fists and steam coming out of his ears.  So that’s the boy Maddie wants to make jealous?  Well, beauty was supposed to be in the eyes of the beholder.  If Maddie’s taste ran to slack-jawed, bug-eyed, freckle-faced buffoons, Adam figured Tyrone must be the man of her dreams.  Tyrone might also be the man of Little Joe’s nightmares.  The guy was much taller and heavier than Little Joe.  And since Adam was currently residing in Little Joe’s body, this could be cause for concern.

Suddenly, Adam’s easy day looked to be taking a turn for the worse.

XXXXXXXXXX

Joe knew that Adam routinely toured the camp and spoke to the crew when he visited.   Accordingly, Joe wandered about the place, stopping at the kitchen to get a sandwich and poking into things here and there.  Everything looked fine to him, and everyone was pleasantly respectful.  Joe had known all along that Adam bellyached about stuff just to hear himself talk.

Of course, a lot of the men had stopped “Adam” to talk.  They asked his advice on personal matters; they asked him to post letters and send along messages; and they asked him to pick up items in town for them.  All these requests were a bit unnerving.

Finished with their lunch, the crew headed back to work.  Joe figured he would hang around a little longer and then go on into town.  On the way to the kitchen hoping to catch a few leftovers, Joe heard voices coming from one of the bunkhouses.  Thinking someone might be sick, hurt, or slackin’ off, he decided to take a look-see.

Walking quietly up to the door, he watched as a couple of grimy no-goods poked through personal belongings that clearly weren’t their own.  Anything of interest, anything that looked like it might be of value was dropped into a canvas bag.  Joe caught just a little of their conversation—something about hiding the stuff near Snake Creek.  Stealing in general was a pretty serious offence in Joe’s eyes, and stealing from your buddies was just plain despicable.

“Hold it right there, fellas.”  The look on their faces was priceless.  They hadn’t heard him coming, and when they turned around and saw the “boss,” the younger thief looked like he might keel over in a faint.  Joe remembered who they were then.  The older guy was Chet and the kid was Chet’s brother, Ken.

“I don’t believe that stuff belongs to you,” Joe drawled in the most menacing manner he could manage.

The kid blustered about a bit, trying to come up with some sort of story, but he gave up soon enough.  Chet didn’t try to talk his way out or offer any excuse; he just stared at Joe as if he would as soon shoot him as answer him.  That stare made Joe just a mite queasy until he remembered who the yahoo thought he was staring at.  Joe was pretty sure the guy was intimidated by Adam, and Joe wanted things to stay that way.

“Now I suggest that you two drop that stuff and clear out of here.  We don’t want back-stabbin’ thieves around here.”

“You owe us for four days’ work,” Chet growled.

Can you believe this guy?   Joe looked at him and thought about it for a minute.  He could probably drag these guys into town and turn them into the sheriff, but it could be more trouble than it was worth for the little bit of stuff they had pilfered.  Paying them a few days’ wages and sending them on their way might be the better plan.

“Payday’s tomorrow.  Clear out of here now and find me in town later.  We’ll settle up then.”  Joe waited for them to leave and followed until they got on their horses. After bestowing a final glare and growl in their direction, Joe left them to find Solly in order to let the foreman know he needed to hire a couple of more guys.  Joe didn’t even hear what Chet had to say.

“Settle up later?  You can count on it, Cartwright.”

XXXXXXXXXX

Thankfully, recess ended before any unfortunate violence erupted.  Miss Jones had prepared grade reports for all of the students, and she released everyone but her graduating students early.  Adam could hear the younger kids whooping and hollering out in the school yard for a bit until they all cleared out and headed home.

Miss Jones was beaming at the small group in front of her.

“I’m just so pleased and proud of you all.  Finishing school is a great accomplishment, and I commend you all for your diligence and perseverance.  I know that you and your families are looking forward to Monday’s commencement program.”

I’d sure like to be in the audience and not on the stage Monday.  Adam mused as she rambled on.

“That brings me to the matter of the commencement speaker.  I have considered the matter carefully.  Anne Marie, your work has been excellent all year.  I really couldn’t have asked for better.”   Anne Marie blushed a little at the praise.

“However, Joseph, you have made tremendous strides this year.  You have worked hard, and I can say that, finally, it looks like you have achieved close to your potential. And after hearing this morning’s presentation; well, it’s clear that this level of effort is worthy of reward.  You will be the commencement speaker.”

Now, it was Adam’s turn to blush. Good job, Cartwright. The Harvard graduate triumphs over a little girl.  Pa will be so proud.

A little flicker of disappointment crossed Anne Marie’s face before she  gave “Joe” a gracious smile.  The boys clapped “Joe” on the back and congratulated him for getting them out of making a speech.  Miss Jones picked up her things and left them to clean out their desks.

“Anne Marie,” Adam hesitated.  “I didn’t mean to . . . you aren’t upset, are you?”

She gave him a brilliant smile and patted his hand.  “Not at all.  You earned it, Little Joe.  I’m proud of you.”  Gathering her things, she waved to the boys and left the building.

“Mitch, you don’t think she’s mad, do you?”  Adam felt terrible.  I need to make this up to her somehow.

“Mad?  No, I don’t think so . . . but, you know what, I’ll walk her home and make sure she’s all right.”  Mitch left his side so fast that Adam didn’t have a chance to say another word.

Adam sighed. Everyone was gone.  It was time to meet his brothers and get down to the real business of solving this ridiculous problem.  His mind on the task ahead, he wasn’t paying attention to his surroundings when he stepped through the door into the schoolyard.

He sure wasn’t expecting the punch that felt like it could have knocked his head off. Dropping his books, he looked up just in time to see Tyrone aim another punch at his face.  Instinctively, Adam ducked and scooted away.  Poor old Tyrone swung and missed—which just made the big galoot madder.   Fists up and elbows in, Adam danced around on the balls of his feet, hoping that Tyrone would wear himself out swinging.  Unfortunately, soon it was evident that the only way Tyrone would wear himself out would be by punching “Joe.”   Adam was beginning to consider the wisdom of crying “uncle” when Tyrone was lifted off him and tossed aside like a sack of grain.

“That’s enough of that.  You get on outta here,” Hoss bellowed at Adam’s tormenter.

Tyrone didn’t stop to argue; but he did pause long enough to shout, “You stay away from my girl, ya hear?” before he ran as fast as he could down the road.

Hoss bent over Adam, concern and exasperation competing for room on his face.

“Seems to me that you got into a fight on your very first day of school.  Seems only right that you should have a fight on your very last day.”  Hoss helped Adam over to the pump and wiped the blood from his nose.

“I wasn’t fighting,” Adam wheezed with as much dignity as he could command.  “I was jumped.”

“I see, and why was you jumped?”

Since there was really no good answer to that question, Adam decided to let it go.

“Well, clean up.  We gotta meet Adam for an early supper at Miss Daisy’s.  Lucky for you, Pa’s not comin’ home ‘til late and won’t see you right away.  He told you he’d tan you if you got into another fight at school.”

“I’m too old to be tanned.”  I mean, I’m really too old.

“That’s what you said the last time you got tanned.  Come on.”

Perfect.  Just perfect. 

XXXXXXXXXX

It was a long ride from the timber camp into town.  Joe was accustomed to long rides; he wasn’t so accustomed to being alone while he made them. Usually, rides with his brothers meant that Joe would be teased, provoked, and lectured until he lost his temper. A long ride alone meant he got plenty of time to think.  Joe was beginning to think that he hadn’t done nearly as fine a job through the day that he first imagined.  In fact, he was experiencing something both unfamiliar and uncomfortable—regret.

It wasn’t like any of this was his fault.  He hadn’t asked for a stupid lightning bolt to come out of the blue and turn things around so badly.  It wasn’t his fault that he didn’t have any actual experience with logging operations, or business, or bossin’ other folks around. In a tight spot, a fella had to fall back on what he knew best, right?  What Joe knew how to do best, he had done pretty well.  He’d been slick and mostly kept out of trouble.  Usually at this point in the day, he’d be feeling pretty pleased with himself.  Instead, his stomach was queasy, and his mind kept replaying that incident with Chet and Ken in the bunkhouse.  Adam would say Joe had taken the easy way out of trouble.  Now Joe was wishing that he’d taken the trouble to do things the hard way.

Missing the last day of school bothered Joe more than he would ever have believed.  He’d wanted to present his paper, see his friends, and somehow celebrate the end of all those hours in that room.  Instead, he was in over his head masquerading as an adult while Adam got to experience Joe’s last day of school.  Well, Adam’s probably makin’ a better job of it than I would anyway.

He was tying Sport to the rail when Hoss and Adam turned the corner to head to the café.  Even from a distance, it was clear that Adam had had a busy day.  When they had left home that morning, “Little Joe” looked about how someone would expect to look if a tree had fallen on top of him.  This afternoon, it looked as if the tree had been followed by a land slide.

“What happened to you?”  Joe couldn’t believe it.  How had his smart, self-controlled brother gotten pounded?

Holding the door open, Hoss waved his brothers inside the restaurant.  They quickly found a table, and Daisy had coffee in front of them within moments.

“I pulled a big ol’ bug-eyed kid off him.  Kid said Joe was messin’ with his gal.”  Hoss supplied information that Adam wished had gone unsaid.

Joe felt “Adam’s” eyes were going wide at the news.  Lord, I am goin’ to be feelin’ a world of hurt when we get things fixed.  He sighed and felt a little better seeing his brother look embarrassed.  They all sat quietly waiting for Daisy to bring the blue plate special—chicken and dumplings with a side order of ice for “Little Joe’s” cheek.  The meal was delicious as always, and Joe finally felt himself begin to relax a bit.

“So, did you get your grades?”  Hoss was asking.  Joe lost that relaxed feeling.

Adam look flummoxed for a second.  Then, he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out an envelope that looked a little worse than it had when he had received it.  Adam sat quietly studying it and wondering how to proceed.

“Ain’t you gonna open it?”  Hoss prodded.  Adam shook his head and offered it to Joe.  Joe pushed back from the table and mouthed “no.”

“Well, give it over here then.”  Hoss snatched the envelope from Adam’s loose grip and eased it open.  He scanned the paper as if he was contemplating a poker hand at the Bucket of Blood.  Joe held his breath until he saw Hoss break out into a wide grin.  Hoss tossed the paper down and ruffled “Little Joe’s” hair.  “Those marks are pretty good, punkin.”

Adam picked up the paper and checked over the grades himself.  Not bad, buddy.  Apparently Joe’s schooling wouldn’t come to such an ignominious end after all.  He grinned at Joe and handed him the paper.  Adam watched the flash of pride and satisfaction cross Joe’s face; Joe was so pleased he was nearly bouncing in the chair.  When Adam caught his eye, Joe remembered himself and did his best to settle down.  Well, might as well tell the rest of it.

“Miss Jones announced the commencement speaker this afternoon.”  Adam was trying to sound casual.

Joe was digging into the apple cobbler in front of him.  “Is Anne Marie excited?” he asked.

Adam coughed a little.  “Well, Miss Jones actually felt that given all the effort through the year and the improvement shown,” he looked up to see Joe’s suddenly suspicious face.  “She announced that Little Joe . . . I . . . would be giving the commencement speech.”

“No.”

“Afraid so.”

Joe got up so abruptly the chair fell over and hit the floor with a bang.  He glared at his brother uncertain just how to say what had to be said.  Hoss halted his congratulatory clap on his little brother’s back and looked up, clearly perplexed.

“One day.  It was just one day.  How could you mess things up so bad?”  Joe couldn’t go any further.  Adam shrugged helplessly and studied the plate in front of him as if the dinner scraps held answers.

“Fine.  I’m goin’ to pick up the payroll for tomorrow.  Little Joe, you got somethin’ to do, right?”

Adam nodded.  He had the list of needed supplies in his pocket.  Little Joe was to tag along with Adam in the morning so that after taking care of the payroll they could find the space and privacy to construct the device Adam had in mind.

They both hurried out the door and turned in opposite directions without saying another word to each other or Hoss.   Watching their backs, he sighed.

“I guess dinner’s on me.”

XXXXXXXXXX

The Bucket of Blood lay between the restaurant and hardware emporium.  Adam hustled down the street, list in hand, going over the items to make sure that he hadn’t forgotten anything.  He didn’t notice and had no real reason to care that Chet and Ken were coming out of the saloon fresh from their attempts to soothe their bruised egos and bad attitudes.

Chet grabbed Ken’s arm to prevent him from going further and watched “Little Joe” head down the street seemingly intent on some errand.  Looking across the street, they watched “Adam” enter the bank no doubt to obtain the payroll.

Chet’s face lit up like Fourth of July.

“Boy, I know just how we’re gonna settle with Cartwright.”

XXXXXXXXXX

Adam stepped outside the hardware store clutching a bulky sack full of necessary items for his device.  There was no sign of his brothers.   Maybe a stop at the telegraph office is a good idea.  It’ll just take a few minutes to look over a Daniel cell[ii].  Once again, thinking more about his mission than his surroundings, Adam ambled past the alley separating the hardware store and haberdashery.

He sure didn’t see what was coming.  A brawny hand reached out from the shadows and jerked him by the collar into the alley dumping his bag to the ground.  Before he could make a sound, a huge arm was around his torso pinning his arms to his sides and lifting him off his feet.  As Adam struggled to catch his breath and gather his wits, a hand closed over his mouth and nose.   Adam kicked and twisted with all his strength but with no success; the guy was just too big for him.    The lack of air was taking its toll as well.  By the time black spots started crowding out his vision, the fight was pretty much out of him.  Vaguely, Adam sensed that he was face down in the dirt.  A ball of cloth was stuffed in his mouth and another cloth tied tightly around his mouth and knotted at the back of his head.  His arms were pushed into sleeves of a coat much too large for him and, a floppy brimmed hat was slammed onto his head.  What did I do this time?

“Do as you’re told, boy, and maybe you’ll live through this.”  Fetid breath hissed against his cheek.  The voice was vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t see who was speaking.  The coat collar was turned up high, and a hand pushed his chin toward his chest.  A second man grabbed his elbow, and he was drug forward, his feet barely making contact with the ground.

“Did you take care of the note?”

“In the pinto’s saddlebag.”

Adam was sure he recognized those voices from somewhere.  Before he had time to figure it out, he was lifted into a saddle and his hands were tied to the horn.  The too long sleeves were jerked down to cover the rope.  Someone swung up behind him, and he could hear another man mount a second horse.  The man seated behind him maintained a painful grip that ensured Adam’s head was down and his face obscured by the coat collar and hat.

There was a horde of miners in the street changing shifts and another horde of cowboys headed toward liquid refreshment.  No one paid any attention to the three of them, and in a horrifyingly short time, Adam and his kidnappers were down the road out of Virginia City.

XXXXXXXXXX

Joe was aggravated.  The line at the bank was long, and he was itching to get out of there and head home.  By the time he finished up his business and took possession of the canvas bag full of cash, it had been nearly an hour. It didn’t help that he had been stopped three times on the street by friends and neighbors asking for favors.  He’d had to promise Ned to take a look at a horse, to go by the Miller place about the best way to dig a new well, and find time to stop by the Kentuck to check the supports.

Geez, can’t anyone figure out anything by themselves! How does Adam put up with it?  Joe was so frustrated that he didn’t notice Hoss until he nearly crashed into him.

“Joe with you?”  Hoss asked him.

“No.  He had to get some stuff that we’re takin’ with us to the timber camp in the morning.”

“Well, I expected him before now.  You don’t think he’s gone into a saloon to have a beer, do ya?”

I would have done that, but I ain’t so sure about Adam.  “Anything’s possible.  Let’s take a look.”

Like all boom towns, Virginia City’s places of entertainment outnumbered its places of worship. It took Joe and Hoss some time to peek into the various drinking establishments.  Avoiding only the roughest and most run-down establishments they were certain their youngest brother wouldn’t visit, they were irritable and concerned when they couldn’t find him.

With nothing more to go on, they headed to the hardware store to see if he had come that way.  Jake confirmed that “Little Joe” had come by and left with a sack full of purchases. Stepping out onto the boardwalk, they took a look around.  Hoss spotted the signs of trouble first.

Just inside the alley, they found the sack lying in the dirt, items scattered and trampled.  The signs of some sort of scuffle were evident.  Grabbing up the stuff, they ran to their horses.  Cochise was still tied, and Hoss made short work of going through the saddlebags.  He came upon a note stuffed into one of the bags.  After glancing at it, Hoss gave the note to “Adam.”

Adam Cartwright.  If you want your brother back, bring the payroll to Piney Gulch at dawn.  Come alone.

“Someone took him.”  It didn’t take a perceptive person to see the naked emotion on Hoss’s face.  Nobody messed with his brothers, especially Little Joe.  However, Hoss was surprised to see that his stoic older brother was pale and trembling.  Dang, this has hit ol’ Adam hard.

“Look, Adam.  He’ll be all right.  We’ll find him and deal with the yahoos who took him.  Little Joe can handle himself.  It ain’t like he’s never been taken before; the boy could write a book on hostagin’.”

“Adam’s” face twisted in disbelief.  “I could not . . . he couldn’t . . . just shut up, Hoss.  This is different.  We gotta find him.”

Hoss watched his brother pace a bit.

“I know who did it.  It was those lowlifes I fired this morning, Chet and Ken.  I heard ‘em talkin’ about their cache somewhere on Snake Creek.  I’ll bet that’s where they’re holed up.”

“Adam, that’s a pretty good ride from Piney Gulch.  Are you sure?”

“No, I ain’t sure.  But I think so.  You go tell the sheriff what we know, and maybe get someone to go find Pa.  I’ll ride up to the creek.  If I don’t find ‘em before dark, I’ll head toward the gulch and meet you there.”

The two brothers exchanged grim looks of determination.  “Adam” swung into Sport’s saddle and galloped out of town toward Snake Creek.

XXXXXXXXXX

The ride to Snake Creek was awful.  All the sore spots Adam had collected over the past hours were making themselves painfully known.  He couldn’t get a good breath because of the gag, and his wrists were rubbed raw from the ropes.  The worst part was being clutched tightly against his smelly kidnapper, Chet. Adam had finally realized who had him, but he wasn’t at all clear why these two guys had taken him in the first place.

Adam was just grateful to stop when they reached their destination, a campsite at a rocky clearing alongside Snake Creek.  Ken untied his hands and helped him off the horse.  With the gag removed and some water down his throat, Adam took a chance and asked them what was going on.

“Blame yer high-and-mighty brother, kid.  He fired us and threw us outta the camp like yesterday’s wash water.  Told us he’d settle with us later.  I figured we’d decide how to settle up.”  Chet spat the words at him while he yanked Adam’s arms behind him and retied his wrists.

“Ransom, huh?”

“Yep, your big brother’s supposed to meet us at dawn tomorrow with the payroll.”

Adam thought he might try reasoning with the men.  “You know, kidnapping’s pretty serious.  My Pa and brothers are going to be mighty put out.  If you let me go now, you have plenty of time to get of here.”

Chet looked at Adam, his eyebrows raised in disbelief.  “You hear that, Ken?  Little Joe’s concerned about us.  Ain’t that nice?”  Ken nodded. The kid didn’t look nearly as sure of things as his older brother.

“Little Joe, I ain’t interested in hearing your mouth all night.  You can shut up now or I can shut you up.  Got it?”  Adam nodded; he was in no mood to be gagged again or knocked out.

The possibilities for this turning out well seemed rather limited to Adam.  Chet and Ken didn’t seem very worried about the fact that he knew who they were.  That seemed shortsighted on their part unless they didn’t intend on keeping him alive.  Adam figured he could wait for rescue or try to escape.  Trussed up like he was, escape was iffy.  The only remaining option seemed to be to wait for rescue.

Well, this is just perfect.

XXXXXXXXXX

All my fault. 

Joe had slowed Sport to an easy lope soon after they got clear of town.  No point in hurting Adam’s horse, too.  He should have been watching for signs of the kidnappers, but the only thing on his mind was that his brother was in trouble, and Joe had made it possible.

I was in charge.  I was responsible.  I took the easy way out.

Scrubbing his shirt sleeve across the wetness blurring his vision made him curse out loud.  No time for acting like a little kid.  And he sure wasn’t going to make Adam look ridiculous.  He pulled Sport to a skidding halt so that he could take a few calming breaths.  It was going to be dark soon.  If Joe was going to find them, he needed to do so quickly.  He was close enough to the creek that he could see its green banks and trees.  He thought he could even hear the creek.  If he could hear the water, there must have been a lot of runoff from a storm up high.  When the conditions were right, the Ponderosa used Snake Creek[iii] to float logs down to the Truckee.  It would get plenty deep and mighty cold.  Where would those weasels hide loot?  If they were using a place along the creek, they might stick stuff along the banks in the many rock outcroppings.  That didn’t seem like the smartest idea to Joe given the creek’s tendency to overflow.  But, those guys didn’t seem like the type to come up with the smartest ideas anyway.

Joe squinted in the diminishing light and could just barely make out smoke marking some campfire maybe a mile away.  Really?  That’s the best they could do?  Joe studied possible routes toward the campsite looking for a path that would take advantage of the most cover.  Making up his mind, he checked his weapons and headed out.  It was time to rescue his brother.

XXXXXXXXXXX

Apparently a bottle of whiskey and the potential for ill-gotten gain made Chet talkative.  He rambled on about how the world had mistreated him, how rich folks like the Cartwrights kept regular guys like him down, and how it wasn’t even really a crime to stand up for yourself and take what should have been yours in the first place.  Adam noticed that even Ken was looking a bit irritated.  Chet might have forgotten that “Little Joe” was there until Adam gave a snort of disgust at a particularly wild complaint.  Reminding Chet of his presence was a mistake.  Chet was around the campfire in an instant.  He delivered a hard open-handed slap across Adam’s face, bouncing his head off the rock behind him.

“What do you know about anythin’, Little Joe?  You’ve always had stuff handed to you on a silver platter.  It’s past time you learned how much other folks put up with.”  Chet pulled his arm back for another blow.  Fortunately, Ken stepped in and led his inebriated brother away, casting a warning glance over his shoulder at Adam clearly signaling, “Don’t rile him.”

A silver platter, huh? Where have I heard that?  Well, not counting the lightning bolt, in the last twenty-four hours, he had been manipulated by a scheming female, pummeled by her jealous beau, and abused by a couple of moronic kidnappers.  If today was representative of Little Joe’s life, it wasn’t quite all fun and games after all.

XXXXXXXXXXX

It burned Joe up to see his brother slapped.  He was ready right then and there to jump out and draw down on those yahoos.  Unfortunately, he wasn’t in the right position to do more than risk putting Adam in the crossfire.  He rubbed his jaw thoughtfully.  If he could just work his way around so that he could put himself between Adam and those guys . . .  The distinctive sound of a gun being cocked reminded him that he had forgotten to keep his eyes on both of the kidnappers while planning his next move.  Son of a . . .

Raising his hands, Joe got to his feet.  Ken gestured for him to drop his gun and move toward the clearing.  Ken had already pulled the payroll bag from Sport’s gear.

It took a minute for Chet’s boozy eyes to focus properly on “Adam.”  Chet stepped over to “Little Joe” and pushed the pistol against his prisoner’s head.

“Boss, it ain’t polite to arrive so early to the party.”

“Chet, here’s the money.  Let’s take it and get out of here.”  Ken threw the bag at Chet’s feet.

“We’ll definitely do that, brother.  We’ll take the money and get out of here.  But first, we need to tie up some loose ends.”

Chet raised an unsteady arm to take aim at the man in black.  Even Chet realized that the influence of all that rotgut he’d sucked down would impact his shooting abilities.  But everyone present, even Chet, also realized that at such close range, a steady hand hardly mattered.  Ken tried to ease him out of his murdering mood. Chet was having none of it.

“Time to settle up, Cartwright.”  Chet took a deep breath and pulled the hammer back.  Murdering the boss would be a pleasure. Before he had a chance to exhale, he was flat on his back with a writhing, kicking, head butting “Little Joe” on top of him.  The two rolled in the dirt while “Adam” took advantage of the distraction to wrest the gun away from Ken.  Sadly, the element of surprise can only take a man so far, especially when that man’s hands are tied and he’s a whole lot smaller than the man he’s surprising.  The two of them had nearly rolled into the creek before it was clear that Chet had regained the advantage.

The scuffle seemed to shake some of the booze out of Chet’s system, and he had his arm around “Little Joe’s” neck taking considerable pleasure in squeezing the air out of him.

“Stop there, Cartwright, or I’ll kill him right now.”  Chet gripped his hostage even harder, drawing an involuntary grunt from Adam.

Not seeing any way out, Joe dropped the gun he had snagged from Ken and stepped back.

“Enough is enough, Cartwright.  You ain’t smart enough to know when you’re beat.”  Chet was grinning from adrenaline and victory. “You got anything to say to this little smart ass?”

Joe was only sixteen, but he had learned just recently that he hadn’t learned nearly enough about the world, life, or anything else.  However, there was one thing that he was beginning to understand about himself: Little Joe Cartwright did love a grand gesture.  And this situation seemed to call for a really grand gesture.

“Brother,” he called toward Adam.  “I get it.  I understand now about responsibility and selfishness and making an effort.  I understand what it means to feel responsible ‘cause I’m responsible right now for getting you into this.  I’m real sorry for all of it, and I wish I could fix it.  I love you.”

It was hard enough to breathe with Chet’s arm pressed against his windpipe, but the emotion in Joe’s eyes and voice made the lump in his own throat even worse.  Well, if his baby brother could admit his mistakes, so could he.  Adam Cartwright dug deep and let go of his legendary reserve and formidable reticence.  With a voice trembling only slightly from emotion, he looked into Joe’s eyes and said it.

“Ditto.”

The profound silence was unbroken except for the thunderous sound of the storm-filled creek.   Chet looked at his own brother and the Cartwright boys.

“Well, fellas, that was what I would call a tender moment.”  He removed his arm from around Adam’s neck and contemplated the scenery.

“Too bad, the moment’s over.”  Lifting “Little Joe” under his bound arms, Chet tossed him into the creek.  With a stifled cry of panic, the remaining Cartwright leaped into the water after his brother.  Chet shouted with glee, “Now, that’s what I call a two-fer!”

Ken regarded his brother with revulsion.

“That was the meanest thing I ever saw.  Ma was right; you are lower than a snake’s belly.” Without another word to his murdering brother, Ken ran to mount his horse and headed downstream.

Chet just couldn’t stop grinning as he picked up the canvas bag heavy with cash.

“This day just keeps gettin’ better.”

XXXXXXXXXX

Swimming in an ice cold, flooding creek is always a challenge.  Swimming with all your clothes on makes it a heckuva lot worse.  Add the problem of having your hands tied behind your back, and your chances of staying alive long aren’t that good.  No matter how hard he fought the ropes and tried to swim, water filled Adam’s mouth and nose.  In vain, he struggled to break the surface and gulp some air.  Adam couldn’t see anything through the onslaught of water, and he wasn’t too sure whether he was face up or down in the creek.

Adam figured it was only matter of a time before he drowned outright or was knocked senseless against the rocks and then drowned.  As he started to lose consciousness, he felt one of his elbows snagged and held.  When his head broke the surface, it was only the tiniest of remaining instincts that prodded him to take a few breaths before his head plunged beneath the water again.  The air he’d swallowed did allow him briefly to understand that he wasn’t snagged so much as entangled with something larger and stronger determined to fight the current. Sadly, the gulp of air wasn’t enough to keep him from blacking out.  When he came to, Adam felt inexplicably stronger.  His head was mostly above water, and amazingly his arms were no longer bound behind him.  Instead one of his arms was hooked around the torso of his little brother.

“Cartwright!  Cartwright!  Look over here!!”  With difficulty, Adam found the source of the shouts.  Ken was on shore swinging a lariat.  Adam weakly raised an arm and caught the loop of rope thrown to him.  Hanging on to his brother as well as the rope while they were hauled ashore took resources of patience and strength Adam hadn’t realized he possessed.  When they were close enough, Ken secured the rope to his horse and pulled the brothers out of the water.  It took both men to haul Little Joe’s limp body across the rocks onto a patch of grass.

Little Joe’s eyes were closed.  His face was pale and tinged a ghastly blue.  Adam couldn’t see him breathing and in the absence of any better ideas, he turned Little Joe over his lap and started pounding his back.  There was no response for so long Adam was certain that there was no longer hope.  Finally, Little Joe convulsed and began coughing up creek water.  Finally, his ragged choked breathing settled into something a bit less labored.  By the time Little Joe was able to open his eyes and understand that he had lived through the day, he had been wrapped in Ken’s bedroll and situated in front of a small fire.

The day had turned to night.  The first thing Little Joe saw when he opened his eyes was the inky black of the sky overhead and the flickering light from the campfire.  The second thing he was aware of was his brother Adam’s face hovering anxiously over him.  It took a little while to understand just what measure of miracles had occurred while he was out cold.

“Hey, big brother” Adam’s face broke into a grin at the sound of Little Joe’s voice.  “Guess we won’t need your machine after all.”

“I guess not.”

Did elder brother look a little disappointed?!  Little Joe shuddered a bit remembering Adam’s explanation of the device and its effects.  Noticing the shiver, Adam pulled Little Joe close to him, rubbing his arms to warm him.

“I’m not sure what I planned would have been any more dramatic or dangerous than what actually happened,” Adam muttered.

“What did happen?”

“Ken has more conscience than people think.  He couldn’t stand watching us killed, and he hauled us out of the water.  He’s gone to get Sport.  Once you feel better, we’ll try to get home.”

“No, I mean, what happened to us?”

Adam shook his head.  He didn’t understand the last twenty four hours any better than Joe did.

They remained quiet for a little while, grateful for rescue, grateful for their lives . . . just grateful.

“I can’t believe it.”  Joe’s voice was still weak and raspy from nearly drowning. “Ditto!  Ditto!  I throw my heart out onto the ground in front of those two varmints and the best that you can come up with is ‘Ditto’?”

Adam was apologetic.  “Little Joe, I just couldn’t improve on your speech.”

“Huh, that’d be a first.  Lordy, Adam, what happened to me today?  I feel like I’ve been run over by a stagecoach—twice.”

“Hush, Little Joe.  You need to save your strength.  You have to give another speech in a few days.”  Joe rolled away from him and put his head in his hands.   Adam reached over and squeezed Joe’s shoulder. He’d thought Joe was shivering again; instead he could hear Joe laughing and muttering, “That’s just perfect.”

It really is perfect, little brother. Things really are perfect.

XXXXXXXXXX

A few hours made a world of difference.  It was only few hours after being pulled from the creek that Pa and Hoss found them and took them home. Before the night was over, Chet found himself in the hands of the posse.  He and his brother were cooling their heels in Sheriff Coffee’s jail.  Ken’s chances for clemency looked a whole lot brighter than Chet’s.

A couple of days of rest and parental hovering ensured that Joe recovered enough to be on stage for commencement Monday evening.  In his best suit, sporting many spectacular bruises, Joe gave his speech.  The speech was pure Little Joe—self-deprecating, wry, and a little cheeky.  He wrote every word himself.

When the ceremony concluded and the audience had convened to the refreshment table, Miss Abigail approached the Cartwright clan to offer her congratulations to the graduate and best wishes to the family.  Before stepping away, she tugged on Adam’s arm and insisted on whispering in his ear.  Joe watched his brother’s eyes go wide.

“What did she say to you?”  Little Joe whispered.

Adam choked a little before replying, “she said, ‘I knew it was you.’”

THE END

Many thanks to the insightful and awesome Cheaux for the beta-read.

[i] Faraday is best known for his work regarding electricity and magnetism.  Although Faraday received little formal education he was one of the most influential scientists in history.

[ii] The Daniell cell was invented in 1836 by John Frederic Daniell, a British chemist and meteorologist, and consisted of a copper pot filled with a copper sulfate solution, in which was immersed an unglazed earthenware container filled with sulfuric acid and a zinc electrode.   It was commonly used to provide electrical current for telegraph machines.

[iii] Old Sheba

 

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