Synopsis: Problems for Little Joe in school are a reflection of something else that is troubling him.  A trip in the mountains with Adam reveals the problem.

Rating:  G  (24,280 words)

 

The Hidden Hurt 

Adam Cartwright walked out of the ranch house as he heard a wagon pulling into the yard.  A tall man in a dark, frocked coat was seated on the wagon next to a small boy with curly brown hair.  A Pony trailed behind, tied to the wagon by its reins.  As the wagon pulled up to the hitching post, Adam realized the small boy was his ten-year-old brother, Joe, sitting beside Jacob Carlson, the president of the Virginia City Board of Education.  The oldest Cartwright brother shook his head, knowing by Joe’s long face, that Mr.  Carlson wasn’t on the Ponderosa for a social visit.

 

“Good afternoon, Mr.  Carlson,” Adam spoke politely as the wagon pulled to a stop.

 

“Good afternoon, Adam.  Is your father home?” Adam noticed that his brother was squirming uncomfortably beside the big man.

 

“No, sir, he’s not.  He’s out at the railhead right now, but should be back anytime.  Would you like to wait inside for him?”

 

Looking annoyed at that information, Carlson sighed.  “No, that’s not possible.  I’ve got to get back to town for the mother/son dinner we’re having at school this evening.” When Adam looked puzzled, the board president expounded, “Surely you remember we do the Father/daughter dinner in the fall right after school starts and have the mother/son one in the spring, right before school is out.”

 

Adam nodded, only vaguely remembering such an activity.  Neither he nor his brothers had ever gone to either dinner.  He found himself pinching the bridge of his nose as he realized with certainty that Joe was in major trouble.  “Please tell your father that Joseph has been suspended for this last week of the school year.  I would like to talk with him about the boy’s behavior, tomorrow if possible.  Your brother’s continued enrollment in Virginia City schools depends on that.”

 

Adam nodded again, motioning for his little brother to get out of the wagon.  “And Adam, please tell your father that Joseph received a caning at the school today.” Adam looked at Little Joe who was now standing on the ground, eyes riveted downward as he made scuff marks with his boots in the dust.

 

“I’m sure Pa’ll want to know why, Mr.  Carlson.” Adam looked at the older man evenly.

 

The older man thought for a moment.  “I imagine he will want to know, Adam, and that’s fair enough.  Joseph was fighting with Billy Campbell and Timothy Bare.  Joe picked the fight, took the first swing and was very disrespectful to Mr.  Slater when he came to break up the fisticuffs.” Carlson took a breath to control his temper as he related the events of the morning.  “Your brother hit Mr.  Slater, pushed his arm away and told him he couldn’t make your brother do anything.  I was called in to deal with this.  It was I who administered the caning and, in conjunction with Mr.  Slater, made the decision to suspend your brother.”

 

Adam winced as the tale ended.  Looking at his little brother, Adam softly took the boy by the arm to get his attention.  “Joe, I think you’d better go inside now.”

 

Joe looked up for the first time, tears barely held back, as he acknowledged his brother’s words.  Nodding ever so slightly, the boy walked quietly to the house.  Adam turned back to Carlson.  “I’ll be sure to tell Pa about this.  He’ll be by to talk with you tomorrow, I know.  Here, let me get this pony put away.” With that, Adam untied his little brother’s pony, staring after the board president as the wagon pulled away.

 

Sighing deeply, Adam turned to the barn to put Star up and to begin the evening chores.  As he picked out the final stall, Adam reflected again on the trouble his youngest brother was in.  This last couple of weeks had been terrible.  Joe had had a quick temper and nasty retort for any comment any of them made.  Well, Adam corrected himself.  Their father had finally convinced Little Joe to keep those comments to himself when around him, at least, but that only seemed to intensify the smart aleck attitude and snide comments directed at his two brothers.  The end of school had always been a difficult time for Little Joe.  Adam and his father had had many discussions regarding the transition from the structure of school to the more relaxed atmosphere of home and its negative effect on Joe.  This year was almost impossible, though.  Adam shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts.  Then, looking around the barn one last time to be sure all the chores were done, he closed the barn door and headed for the house.

 

Adam thought about his own reaction to his youngest brother’s attitude of late and the troubles it brought the boy.  As he’d worked alone in the barn, his feelings had ranged from sympathy to incredible anger, with this afternoon’s revelation swinging the pendulum toward incredible anger.  Well, today, he’d have it out with his brother.  This had gone on long enough, making the entire family miserable and short tempered.

 

It was in such a mood that Adam entered the house, finding Joe seated on the hearth, his elbows resting on his knees, the boy’s chin supported by his hands.  In Adam’s present mood, Joe’s obvious feelings of misery were lost on the eldest brother.  “What in hell were you doing?” Adam yelled at his brother.  Joe’s head jerked up, surprised to find his brother in such a fury.

 

“Stand up when I talk to you, boy.”

 

“You’re not Pa, get off my back,” Little Joe countered, standing as he glared at his brother.

 

“You ought to be glad it’s me and not Pa,” Adam reacted.  “He’s gonna be on more than your back, I can guarantee it.”

 

“What if he is? It’s none of your business.  Besides, what I do doesn’t concern you.  And, for your information, I hate school and there’s nothing’s gonna make go back there.”

 

“Is that so, Joseph?” Ben Cartwright’s voice boomed as he entered the house.  The room grew still until Little Joe, still in a temper, picked up the gauntlet.

 

“That’s right, Pa.  I hate school and I’m never going back.” The boy turned toward his father, his eyes daring his father to contradict him.

 

The look was not lost on his father whose own temper was rising to match his youngest boy’s.  “I met Jacob Carlson on the way in, Joseph.  The conversation was most enlightening.”

 

“I hate him, Pa.  And I hate school.  I’m not afraid of him.  He’s not gonna make me ever go back.” Joe threw caution to the wind, ignoring the hard look on his father’s face.

 

“It’s not him you need to be worried about right now, Joseph.  Go up to your room, please.” Ben spoke in a quiet, controlled fury that his youngest chose to ignore.

 

“I don’t care,” Joe yelled.  “I ain’t worried about him or you.” Joe stomped his foot.  “Not him, not you…nobody’s gonna make me do anything ever again.”

 

Ben had his youngest’s arm in his grasp before the boy could respond.  “We’ll see about that, young man.” Ben pushed Little Joe toward the stairs, his hand never releasing its hold on the boy’s arm.  “I told you to go to your room, and go you will.” As Joe’s foot made the first step, Ben’s hand connected to the seat of his pants.  Ben continued directing his son up the stairs, each step on the stairs being matched by a hard swat on the boy’s bottom.

 

By the time they reached the landing, Joe was in tears, partly from the humiliation and partly from how his rear end was smarting from the licks.  Unmoved, Ben continued until they reached the top of the stairs.  “Look at me, Joseph.  Are you prepared to do as I say now, young man?”

 

Joe nodded the tears still coming.  “Yes, sir,” he whispered.

 

Ben released his arm, waiting until the boy had gone into his room and quietly closed the door before turning to go downstairs.

 

Chapter 2

 

“Pa,” it was Hoss, who had come in behind Ben who was speaking now.  “What’s happening with Joe lately.  He’s been nothing but cantankerous for the last two or three weeks.”

 

Ben shook his head, walking over to his favorite chair to sit down.  “I don’t know, Hoss.  The end of school has always been a rough time for Joe for some reason.  Guess I’ve always figured it’s because that structure in the classroom is gone and Joe’s maybe feeling a little lost ‘til he get in the routine of life on the ranch without such specific times to do things.”

 

“Whatever it is,” Adam interjected, “this year has been terrible.”

 

“I know, son.  I wish I had some idea what’s going through your brother’s head, but you know him.  He keeps his problems to himself ‘til they fester and he explodes.  I’ve tried speaking with him, but I can’t make him talk to me.”

 

“We’ve all tried, Pa,” spoke up Hoss again.  “He’s downright hateful these days.”

 

“You don’t suppose it has something to do with that mother/son banquet Mr.  Carlson was talking about do you?” asked Adam.

 

Ben brushed the comment aside.  “Adam, they’ve been having that dinner for as long as I can remember and you boys have never participated in it.  It’s the same dinner he didn’t go to last year, year before or any other years and he didn’t manage to get kicked out of school any of those times.  No, something else is bothering him.  He’s going to be one miserable boy if he doesn’t choose to share some of those problems with his family.”

 

Adam nodded.  “You know he’s been having more nightmares again, don’t you? He had another one last night.  He’s sure not getting a lot of sleep.  Maybe he’s just really tired.”

 

“No, son,” Ben digested that piece of information.  “I didn’t realize that.” His hand rubbed his eyes even has his mind was deep in thought.  “Would he talk about them with you?”

 

“No, just says he doesn’t remember a thing.  But I think he knows exactly what those dreams are about.”

 

“Come on, Adam.  If he says he doesn’t know, he probably doesn’t know,” interrupted Hoss.  Adam looked at his brother, then shrugged his shoulders.  It was pointless to argue with Hoss against Little Joe.

 

“Whatever the problem is,” Adam’s face reflected a cynical grin, “at least dinner should be a little bit less contentious this evening.”

 

As though on cue, Hop Sing appeared, announcing dinner.  “Dinner ready, Mr.  Cartlight.  You want me get number three son?”

 

Ben was amused at Hop Sing’s concern for the youngest member of the clan.  “No, Hop Sing.  Some time by himself may be what Joseph needs.” Looking at his other two sons, Ben added, “and time by himself is definitely what we need.” Adam laughed and Hoss grinned, feeling a bit guilty for his feelings about dinner without his little brother and his black mood.  With that, Ben herded his two older sons to the supper table for a meal replete with good food, good conversation and good company.

 

As Hop Sing poured another cup of coffee in Adam’s cup and Ben moved his dessert plate back from in front of him, Hoss cleared this throat self-consciously.  “Pa, I’ve been thinking.” His father nodded for him to continue.  “Guessing by what time Little Joe got home and figuring all the trouble he was in, I don’t reckon he even got lunch.  And you know he almost never has anything but milk for breakfast, maybe a piece of bread.” Hoss paused in his treatise, hoping his father would help him out with this.

 

Ben stroked his chin thoughtfully.  “Am I correct in thinking you’re of the opinion that your young brother should have a tray brought up to him?” Ben’s eyes were almost twinkling as he spoke, his mind echoing Hoss’ sentiments.

 

“Well, yes, sir.  He’s sure to have learned his lesson, Pa, and he’s got to be about starved.”

 

Adam laughed.  “Not everyone has your appetite, brother.” Hoss glared at Adam, concerned that his older brother’s flippant attitude would dissuade his father from sending dinner to Little Joe.

 

“Yes, Hoss, you may take a tray up to Joseph.  I’ll be up to check on you two in about thirty minutes.  Then, I’d like some time alone with your brother.”

 

Hoss was up, immediately heading for the kitchen.  Almost as quickly as, he was back out, tray in hand.  It was obvious Hop Sing had already prepared a meal for number three son.

 

************************************************************************************************

 

Hoss entered Joe’s room, half expecting to find him asleep on his bed.  He was pleasantly surprised to find Joe awake, lying on his stomach, reading a book.  “Hey, little brother, I brung you some dinner.” Joe rolled over, glad to see Hoss and not his father.  He knew a reckoning with his father over what happened at school was still in the offing.

 

Joe glanced at the tray.  “Thanks, Hoss, but I’m not really hungry right now.” The tantalizing odors were tempting, but Joe was too worried about what his father might do.

 

“Come on, Joe.  Hop Sing made this up special for you.  He’ll feel bad if you don’t eat some of it.  You don’t have to eat it all, you know.”

 

Joe looked unconvinced, but didn’t want to hurt the little cook’s feelings.  “Maybe just a couple of bites.” He tentatively tasted the potatoes with gravy that looked most appealing to him.  In no time, the potatoes were gone and Joe was on to the beef roast, then the green beans.  He hadn’t realized how hungry he was.

 

When he was finally finished eating, Joe was surprised at how much he’d eaten.  He grinned an embarrassed smile.  “Guess I was hungrier than I thought.”

 

Ruffling his younger brother’s curls, Hoss picked up the tray and moved it to the desk, then sat down in the stuffed chair across from Joe, who was still sitting on the bed.  “You haven’t eaten much all day, half pint.  Maybe you’ll feel a little better now.”

 

“Yeah, until Pa comes up.  He seems more into action and less into talk today, that’s for sure.”

 

“Come on, Joe.  You didn’t leave him much choice.  Let’s talk about something else, huh?”

 

It was a warm smile Little Joe directed toward his next oldest brother, glad it was Hoss who had come up to see him first.  It didn’t seem to matter how much of a jerk he’d been; Hoss never held a grudge against him.  Joe sighed, wondering what made him act like he did and wondering what made Hoss like he was.  Joe had long ago realized that his own behaviors were what got Joe in trouble and that Hoss was almost never in trouble with his father.  He was no closer to the answer to that question than he ever was.

 

Glad of the reprieve, the two brothers talked about things happening on the ranch, projects they hoped to accomplish this summer and fishing trips they hoped to get in before school started again.  It seemed no time at all before they heard Ben’s firm knock at the door and turned to see the door open.

 

Joe stood up, eyes pinned to the floor, as his father came into the room.  Hoss turned from his seat in front of Joe.  “Evening, boys.”

 

“Evening, Pa,” the two brothers said in unison.  Joe’s eyes never left the floor.

 

“Hoss, Hop Sing wants to finish the dishes.  Mind taking Joe’s tray back down to him?” Ben was pleased to see that his youngest son had finished almost all of his supper.

 

Hoss glanced over at his younger brother who had turned to look up at him, his eyes begging his sibling to stay.  The older brother winked at Joe with an encouraging smile, then picked up the tray.  “Sure, Pa.  See you later, Joe.” With that, Hoss turned and moved out the door.’

 

Ben closed the door behind him, all the while watching his youngest son whose eyes had turned back to the floral arrangement on the rug by his bed.  The levity he had heard before opening the door had seemed to leave with Hoss.  “Sit down, Joseph.”

 

Taking a quick glance at his father, Joe sat carefully on the side of the bed.  “Well, Joseph, I think we have some unsettled issues to discuss, don’t you?”

 

Joe nodded, afraid to trust his voice.  His father’s disapproval of his earlier behavior was still fresh on his mind and his backside.

 

“I’d like you to begin, son.”

 

After a moment, Joe simply shrugged his shoulders, fearing it would anger his father, but finding it very difficult to speak just then.  He rubbed his shirtsleeve across his eyes as he felt tears beginning to form.

 

Seeing his son’s discomfort, Ben cleared his throat.  “Perhaps I should begin, then, Joseph.  Mr.  Carson told me you instigated a fight with two older boys in your class, took the first swing, then hit Mr.  Slater, the teacher, when he tried to break up the fight.  Is all of that true?”

 

Joe nodded, still pointedly looking at the floor.  “And he tells me one of the boys has a black eye while the other ended up with a split lip and torn shirt.  Is that correct?” Again, Joe barely nodded.

 

“Look at me, Joseph.  Is there anything you’d like to add to that?” Ben spoke softly, but firmly.

 

Looking his father in the eye, Little Joe shook his head, still unable to find his voice, recognizing that he had no defense for his behavior at school.  His father continued, “Mr.  Carlson also told me that you received a caning at school from him for your actions.  Is that true?” Again, Joe nodded, his gaze directed back to the floral rug, his hands unconsciously moved to protect his bottom.

 

“And that you were suspended for the last week of school.  I’ve told you to look at me, son.  Is there anything else I should know about?” Joe tried to maintain the eye contact his father expected, but found it most difficult to do.

 

He thought about telling his father that the two older boys had been teasing him about not having a mother, telling him that he was just a hindrance to his father and brothers, that his family probably wished he’d died instead of his mother.  He almost told his father about his own fears that what they had said was true, that almost the entire last two weeks at school had been devoted to planning for the mother/son banquet which he couldn’t attend, that Hoss had made it bearable in the past years, but that Hoss wasn’t in school with him now.  He debated sharing with his father his fears that he’d somehow been responsible for his mother’s death, that he hadn’t been good enough a son and that God had taken her away as punishment; fear that his mother hadn’t loved him so had chosen to go back to God; and now, fear that Ben would somehow choose to go away as well; that by not being good enough, Little Joe had jeopardized his whole family and the Ponderosa.  .  He thought about it, and he almost said it, but in the end, Little Joe just shook his head.

 

“Well, son, I’ve given you a chance to defend yourself.  You are agreeing with everything Mr.  Carlson told me, is that correct?” Knowing it was too late to do anything else, the son just nodded his head again, striving to keep looking into his father’s eyes.  Disgusted with himself that more tears threatened to spill down the side of his face, Joe quickly rubbed his eyes with his shirtsleeve again.

 

Ben looked away, allowing his son time to compose himself before he went on.  Joe wiped away more tears, taking advantage of his father’s momentary lapse of concentration.  When Ben turned back, Joe was feeling more under control, but dreading more than ever, his impending punishment.  He had not long to wait.

 

“Joseph,” Ben began and Joe quickly made eye contact, “You will be confined to the house, yard and barn and will be responsible for all the house and most of the barn chores.  You will only leave this area accompanied by me or one of your brothers and only with my permission.  In the morning, you and Adam will do school work which you will then go over with me before lunch.” Joe’s eyes dropped to the floral rug again.  “Your afternoons will consist of additional chores.  You will be expected to pay Mr.  Campbell for a new shirt for his son and to apologize to both boys.  I understand you’ve made your apologies to Mr.  Slater and Mr.  Carlson.  Another thing, son.” Joe looked at his father.  “You had better hope I can talk you back into school for next year.  Do I make myself clear?”

 

“Yes, sir,” he whispered.

 

“This punishment will remain in effect until I feel you have sufficiently learned to control your own behavior.  And you will not question me about it.  Is that understood?”

 

Joe was devastated with his father’s proclamation, but knew it was pointless to debate his punishment.  Carefree afternoons he’d planned with his friends were perhaps only a dream this summer.  Again, Joe nodded, his answer, “Yes, sir,” barely audible.

 

Ben turned toward Joe’s dresser, pulling out a nightshirt as he did so.  “Take your shirt off, son.  You might as well go on to bed.  I’ll hear your prayers, then you can get to sleep.  Removing his shirt, Joe submitted to his father’s assistance as Ben slid the nightshirt over the boy’s head; some part of him was glad for his father’s presence.  His mind drifted back to a much earlier time in his life and for a moment, he was again a small boy, getting ready for bed, his father putting his night clothes on him before holding him on his lap as he sat in the rocking chair, to read him a story, secure in his parents’ love, knowing they would always be there to take care of him.  His prayers said, Joe climbed into bed, a tear stealing out from under his closed eyelids as the reality of his fantasy hit him.

 

Turning down the light, Ben kissed his boy’s forehead, recognizing his son’s pain, unsure of its source, but suspecting, this time, that his kiss wouldn’t make it all better.

 

************************************************************************************************

 

Saturday mornings were a busy time on the ranch and this Saturday was not an exception.  Ben and Adam were already at the breakfast table when Hoss, Little Joe behind him, came down the stairs.  Joe seemed repentant, at least for the moment, and Ben hoped the change was a permanent one; that whatever was bothering his youngest son was now in the past.

 

“Morning, boys,” Ben offered the olive branch first.

 

“Morning, Pa,” his two sons responded simultaneously.  Hoss looked over and smiled at his father, but Joe kept his eyes downcast.  As the two brothers sat down, Hop Sing appeared, as though on cue again, and began serving breakfast.  Adam passed the eggs around, serving himself first.  Hoss dished himself up a serving of fried potatoes before passing the dish to his father.  Ben began by helping himself to the pancakes, passing the dish to his youngest son.  Little Joe put a couple of pancakes on his plate, passing the rest to his oldest brother.  Just a conduit for the rest of the dishes, Joe avoided serving himself anything else.  Ben started to say something about Joe’s eating habits, but stopped himself, wanting to give his son a chance to have a pleasant meal for the first time in weeks…  and, if he were honest, not relishing a fight so early in the morning.

 

“Adam, how are you getting along with that timber for the ties for the railroad? You must be about ready to ship them, aren’t you?”

 

Adam swallowed the bite of egg he was chewing, nodding his head instead.  “Almost, Pa.  I think we’ve about got it whipped over by Wolf Meadow.  Today and maybe Monday at the most.  After that, it’s just a matter of loading the timber and getting it to the railroad delivery site.

 

Ben smiled, pleased at the progress report.  “How about you, Hoss? What are your plans for the day? And when are you going after that bull we bought up in Montana?”

 

“Today, Pa, I’m working with a crew replacing the pens over by where we do the branding.  Then, we’ve got a few sections of fence and we’re ready for summer.  About that bull, we’re meeting Mr.  Thornton at Fort Bridger in ten days.  He’s bringing that dang bull down that far.  I thought I’d ask Charlie and Al to go up with me.  Everything else is going pretty smoothly.  Calving should be done by then.  We’re running just over an eighty percent calf crop.”

 

“Eighty percent?” Adam whistled.

 

“Wish I could take the credit for it, Adam, but we’ve had such a mild winter, everything’s doing well.  I’m seeing elk and mule deer with twins and even saw a set of triplets last week.”

 

“Be that as it may, that’s still a fine record, son.” Hoss blushed, pleased at his family’s support.

 

Ben turned his attention to his youngest son who was busy pretending to eat his pancakes.  Joe had wondered how his father was going to include him in the family discussion.  “Well, Joseph, I have plans for you today.” Joe noted that he was the only one not asked about his plans.  That he was only ten years old and working off a punishment did not enter his version of the breakfast scene.  “Charlie has agreed to plow the garden area.  I want you walking behind him breaking up the clods.”

 

Joe moaned his discontent with the chore his father has chosen.  “You’ve created your own problems, Joseph.  I want to hear no more about it.” His father caught Joe’s eye.  “Is that understood?” Said more harshly than he intended, Ben wished he could be more understanding.  But, Joseph had created this environment in which they all had been forced to live for the last three weeks and Ben was not prepared to tolerate much more of it.

 

“Yes, sir.” Joe’s sullen attitude promised a miserable day for Charlie and anyone else who might work with the boy.

 

Ben held his son’s gaze for a few more moments, until his youngest son looked back down at his plate.  The father shook his head, knowing that whatever Joe’s problem, the boy hadn’t worked through it yet.

 

Hoss and Adam were quick to depart, eager to avoid their younger brother and his foul mood.  Poor Charlie.  The crews left with the two older brothers, leaving Ben, Charlie and Little Joe in the barn yard.  “Joseph, bring in Sally.  You can tie her out back.  It’ll be easier to get the harness on her from there.” Ben took a long look at his son, then continued, “she’s out in the back pasture field with the other mules.  Better take a can of oats or you’ll never catch her.”

 

“Yes, sir,” Joe mumbled, still in a dark mood.  He moved off to the barn, then out into the field.

 

Ben turned to his foreman.  “Look, Charlie, you don’t have to do this.  You can still back out.  You could just as easily do the chores in town and I can stay out here.”

 

Charlie laughed.  “Ben, we’ve been together too long.  Last I recall, you were going to try and get an appointment with old Jacob Carlson this morning.  I told you I’d be willing to do this and I will.  Besides, you may need the break from your son as much as Little Joe needs the break from you.” He grinned at his boss and long-time friend.

 

Ben shook his head.  “I don’t know what’s getting on with that boy.  I’ve never seen him so pig-headed and argumentative.  In the last ten days, he’s had three thrashings that I know of.  He may have had more problems at school before this most recent time.” Ben was obviously befuddled at his son’s antics.

 

“Well, my friend, I’ve known Joe since he was born.  He’s a good kid, just mixed up about something right now.  I reckon I can handle him.  If not,” Charlie chuckled, “you get him back after lunch.” Ben laughed, glad his foreman knew and loved his family, all their foibles not withstanding.  The Cartwright patriarch climbed aboard the wagon and headed into town.

 

“I’ll go see how he’s getting on with old Sally,” Charlie thought.  “He may have met his match with that one.” Charlie headed for the back pasture, meeting Joe, as he came back to the barn.  Somehow, he’d managed to snag the old mule when she came in to eat.  Neither mule nor boy appeared in too good a mood though.

 

The morning was as bad as Charlie had feared.  Joe was obviously angry about the chore to which he’d been assigned and tried his best to take it out on the foreman.  Charlie ignored and redirected most of Joe’s attacks, refusing to be baited by the boy.  Joe finally exploded as lunch time approached, launching a big clod of dirt, one that had been too hard to break, at the mule.  Normally dead headed, the mule had taken off, dragging Charlie almost ten feet before he let go of the reins.  Mule, harness, and plow disappeared toward the barn.  Just passed the garden, the plow broke loose from the tracings, wedged between two small pine saplings.

 

Joe stood horrified as Charlie, his face clouded in anger, slowly turned toward the boy.  “Charlie, I’m sorry, honest.” Joe backed away from the foreman, even as the boy uttered his apologies.  “I didn’t mean nothin’, really.  I didn’t know that old mule was gonna take off.” For each step backward, his father’s friend, without saying a word, took a bigger step toward the scared boy.

 

The foreman grabbed Little Joe by the arm, holding him in a vice grip as the man tried to get his temper under control.  “You will get up to the barn and catch that mule.  Tie the reins out of the way and lead that animal back down here.” Charlie’s face was within inches of the boy’s.  “Do you understand what I’ve said,” the foreman demanded, his voice raised as loudly as Ben’s had ever been.

 

“Y-y-y-es, s-s-sir,” Joe stammered.  He was too afraid of Charlie’s anger to say anything else.  He was even more afraid of what his father would say when he found out about this latest escapade.  Charlie stood holding Joe’s arm for several minutes, debating whether to give in to his urge to take a belt to the boy.  For once, Joe read the situation correctly and kept quiet, knowing that anything he added to the pot might cause it to spill over.  The foreman seemed to debate with himself about his next course of action.

 

Charlie finally let go of Joe’s arm.  “You’ll have that mule back before you eat lunch.” He stared down at Joe who nodded his understanding of the directive.  The boy slowly backed away until he was safely out of range of the man’s grasp, then turned and ran toward the barn.

 

After waiting the better part of an hour, lying on the soft grass around the garden site, most of the foreman’s anger had dissipated.  Charlie decided to see what was keeping his young charge.  Puzzled at finding the mule tied to the hitching post, Charlie shook his head incredulously.  Surely that boy wouldn’t have run off.  As he opened the barn door, the man turned toward a noise to his right, surprised to find Little Joe coming out of the tack room with a strange looking halter/lead rope contraption.  Joe was obviously surprised at seeing Charlie as the boy quickly hid the halter behind his back.

 

“What you got there, son?” Charlie asked evenly.  Was that fear he saw in the boy’s eyes? As the foreman reached out his hand, Joe took a step backwards, his eyes getting bigger.

 

“It’s n-n-n-othing,” Joe stuttered.

 

Raising his eyebrows, Charlie decided to pursue another tact.  “I thought I told you to bring that mule back to the garden,” he stated in a neutral voice.  “Seems I saw it tied beside the barn just now.” He took a step toward the boy, his hand outstretched still.

 

Looking around wildly, Joe took another step back, effectively cornering himself between the tack room door and one of the stalls.  Dropping the halter combination, Joe charged his father’s friend, trying to get around the big man to the freedom outside.  Not having any idea what this was all about, Charlie grabbed the boy as he tried to dash by.  As he held the young boy, Joe directed all his energy into hitting the man with his fists, an ineffective ploy with the foreman over two hundred pounds and Little Joe about sixty pounds.

 

Charlie changed his hold until he had Joe’s arms pinned against the boy’s side, his body effectively immobilized by the restraint.  For several minutes, Joe fought his captor, then collapsed against the man, tears streaming down his face.  Waiting several moments, Charlie knelt on the barn floor, holding the boy in a firm embrace.  When Little Joe wrapped his arms around the big man’s neck, the foreman lifted the boy into his arms, holding him as he had years ago when, as a small child, Little Joe would come to him for comfort.  Something was terribly wrong, Charlie knew; he would take this very slowly.

 

It was ten minutes before Joe stopped his sobbing, another five minutes or so before he stopped gulping air and hiccuping, as he tried to stop crying.  When he felt the boy was calm, Charlie moved from his stance by the tack room, to some nail kegs against the wall.  Sitting the boy down on one keg, Charlie took a seat next to him, offering Joe a comforting presence, yet blocking the barn door escape at the same time.  Charlie still had no idea what the status of Joe’s emotional state was.  The man waited patiently, knowing intuitively that it was important for Joe to make the first move.

 

Joe tried drying his tears with his shirt sleeve, buying himself a little more time.  “Are you gonna tell Pa?” Joe’s first words confused the foreman.  It wasn’t a question for which he had prepared an answer.

 

Thinking for a moment, Charlie responded, “I’m not sure, son.  I imagine we will talk about it, but only to try and figure out what’s hurting you so badly.  Your pa’s awful worried about you.”

 

Joe looked away, “I don’t think so,” he muttered under his breath.  Suspecting what was intimated from the tone, but not hearing the words, Charlie decided not to pursue that line of questioning.

 

“Little Joe.” When the foreman spoke, the boy looked over toward him.  “Suppose you get the halter for me to take a look at.” He had an easy smile as he spoke, hoping the boy would willingly do as he asked.  Somehow, Charlie felt there was a connection between the halter and this family’s problems.

 

When Joe made no move to get up, Charlie sighed and pushed himself to a standing position.  “Wait,” it was Joe, now holding onto the foreman’s arm.  The man settled back onto the seat he’d vacated.  Joe looked down at the ground, then spoke.  “It’s a war bonnet,” he whispered.

 

The foreman’s eyes widened as he understood Joe’s reluctance to show him the halter.  A very harsh training device, designed as a last resort to stop horses from pulling back and breaking halters, it put incredible pressure and pain on the poll of the animal whenever the horse tried to set back, a trick guarantee to break most any halter.  While some ranchers used the war bonnet with any horse, it was almost never used on the Ponderosa.  The boys, and every hand on the ranch, knew Ben’s aversion to that device.  It ran very contrary to the man’s philosophy about training horses.  Only Ben and Charlie had ever even put one on a horse.  Although never stated, it was assumed by all that only those two would ever determine its application.  It was obvious to the foreman that Little Joe had known from the beginning that he would be in trouble for getting it out.

 

“Why, Joe?” When the boy didn’t respond, Charlie continued.  “You know you’re never to touch that without permission.” Joe nodded, his face reflecting his misery.  “Then why?” The older man was not nearly as angry as he was stunned at Joe’s actions.  He reached over and raised Joe’s face, his finger tips raising the boy’s chin until the two were looking into each other’s eyes.  Joe tried to look away, but the foreman held him fast.  “I want an answer.”

 

When Joe shrugged, Charlie continued in an even voice.  “I want an answer now, son.” Joe looked at his father’s friend.  “Now.”

 

The boy pulled away slightly, looking back down on the barn floor.  “I was gonna use it on Sally.” he answered, his words almost inaudible.

 

“Joe, it’s not meant for that.  You know that.  It’s only meant for the rankest horse, boy, and then, only to teach it to tie.”

 

Nodding his agreement, Joe continued, still speaking very softly.  “I know.  But you told me to bring that mule back and I couldn’t get her to budge passed where she is right now.” Joe looked at the man, his eyes begging for understanding.  “You were so mad I knew I had to bring her back to the garden, but she just wouldn’t go.” Joe stopped his narrative.

 

“So you planned to use the war bonnet as a halter to lead her with? Even though you know neither I nor your father would have allowed that? Knowing that if it’s used wrong, that you can ruin a horse?” The boy nodded, not daring to trust his voice.

 

“Son, why would you do such a thing?”

 

Joe looked up.  “I knew I messed up causing that darn mule to run off,” he began softly.  “I figured if I couldn’t even bring her back; that you’d about had it with her dragging you in the dirt.” Joe sighed, deciding he might as well finish his thoughts.  “I just didn’t think I could stand another thrashing.” He dropped his eyes back down.  “People worry about hurting some darn horse, but I don’t think anyone thinks about me.” Joe rubbed his thighs nervously.  “That’s all I’ve gotten these last couple of weeks, tannings and canings.  Charlie,” Joe looked up with tears in his eyes, “I don’t even know why I’m doing the things I’m doing.  It’s like someone else is inside me.  I do something crazy but then I don’t even realize it ‘til it’s done and I’m across Pa’s knee or bent over a desk.  I couldn’t stand it happening with you, too.  So, I figured with the war bonnet, that I could at least get her back down to the garden and maybe get it off before you noticed.” Joe shrugged his shoulders, exhausted at the mental effort his revelation had cost him.

 

Charlie shook his head, realizing for not the first time, that there was a reason he’d never had children.  How his friend, Ben, managed by himself amazed him.  After several moments of silence, the man continued, “Come on, son.” Charlie helped Little Joe stand up, supporting him with his arm around the boy’s shoulder.  “We’ve still got to get that mule back to the garden.  She can’t get away with thinking its all right to run off.” As they walked out the door, Charlie pointed to the feed bin.  “Put some oats in a polk and bring it with you.  Maybe we can convince her that being at the garden isn’t such a bad place to be.  And put that damned war bonnet back in its place.” Joe risked a look at his father’s friend, surprised to find a smile on the man’s face.  Joe smiled back, his first genuine one in several weeks.  He didn’t even mind having his hair ruffled by the man’s gentle hands.

 

Together, the two walked back to the garden.

 

Long since Hope Sing had resigned himself that no one was going to show for lunch, it was after three o’clock before Charlie was satisfied the mule would willingly stay working in the garden area without running back toward the other mules.  Exhausted from tying and untying the stubborn animal, from walking behind it and pulling it forward, the foreman and his young charge dragged themselves and the tired mule up the hill to the barn yard.  “Joe,” Charlie directed, “you rub that mule down ‘til she’s dry, then turn her back out in the pasture.  I’ll get the harness cleaned and put away.” Joe nodded, too tired to argue, even if he’d been so inclined.

 

It was almost 4 o’clock before the two quit working.  Joe was tired, hungry and ten years old, a bad combination the foreman knew.  Supper for the Cartwright’s would not be for another two hours.  Joe slowly lowered himself to the ground, leaning with his head against the barn door, his eyes closed.  “Charlie,” he began, his voice already having an edge to it, “I’m starved.”

 

“Yeah, Joe, I know.  Me, too, but I don’t think the prospects of getting anything from Hop Sing are too good.”

 

Joe managed a weak laugh.  “You got that right.  I tried when you were putting that harness up.  He was downright nasty about us missing lunch.  Chased me out of the kitchen with his broom.”

 

It was then that Adam made his appearance into the barn yard.  “You two don’t look very busy,” Adam joked, having noticed already how tired both of them looked.  “Here I’ve been slaving all day getting that timber stacked and you boys have been loafing.” He dismounted, tying Sport to the rail.

 

Half-heartedly, a dejected Joe picked up a clod of dirt and tossed it at this oldest brother.  “You don’t know what work means, brother.”

 

Encouraged that Joe was even talking with him, Adam stepped over and ruffled his little brother’s curls.  “You spend a day with me, little brother, and I’ll show you what work is,” he said, smiling down at Joe.

 

“Hey, Adam,” Joe’s face brightened.  “You don’t have anything left over from that lunch Hop Sing fixed for you, do you?”

 

“My little brother asking for something to eat?” Adam laughed.  “Well, I’ve got some bones left over from that fried chicken.  Want to chew on the bones?”

 

“Very funny,” Joe responded, his face glum again.

 

Adam winked at Charlie.  “Course on two of those chicken legs and one of the thighs, all the meat and skins on ’em, too.  But, since you’re not wanting any, I’ll just pitch it to the dog.”

 

Joe jerked his head up and was standing so fast that both Charlie and Adam began laughing.  “Don’t be hasty, Adam.  Want me to take care of it for you?”

 

Playing with his little brother, Adam continued, “Nah, you look so tired, I don’t guess that fried chicken or chocolate cake either one would make you feel any better.”

 

“Adam,” Joe was pleading, making Charlie and Adam laugh harder.

 

Finally pulling the saddle bags off Sport, as they all knew he would, Adam reached them over to Little Joe.  “Check in there, buddy.  Just don’t blame me if Pa gets on your case for not eating supper.”

 

“Don’t you worry about that none,” Joe replied, pulling out the chicken and dividing it with Charlie.  “I’m hungry enough to eat a horse.” As Sport whinnied, all three laughed.

 

“Little Joe, you get your barn chores done, you hear?” admonished Charlie after the two had practically inhaled the chicken and split the remaining piece of cake.  “I don’t want your pa after me for you not getting your work done.”

 

Joe scowled, the stood up to go in the barn.  “Might as well give me Sport, Adam,” Joe was feeling pretty good toward his older brother this afternoon.  “You haven’t put him away in so long, I bet you’ve forgotten how,” he added gruffly, trying to cover his feelings.

 

Adam winked at his little brother, ruffling his curls again as he passed by on his way to the barn.  “I’ll be in to help in just a minute, Joe.”

 

Acting annoyed, Joe ran his fingers through his hair as though to fix it, then disappeared into the barn.

 

“Wow, Charlie, that’s the first time I’ve heard Little Joe even think about joking in weeks.”

 

“Well, it was rough go at first, but I think we’ve come to some agreement.” When Adam seem confused, Charlie explained about the day the two of the had had, including the mule running away and their hard work in getting the animal back in the traces to finish plowing the garden.  He left out the incident in the barn, though.

 

Adam let out a deep sigh, “Good thing it was you and not Pa.  Joe’s’ been hateful for so long, Pa’s fed up with him and his black moods.  Both of them are so short tempered now, but Pa’s lost all patience with Joe.  If it had been him, Joe’d probably be back up in his room, still feeling the effects of another tanning.” Adam shook his head, discouraged at the relationship between his father and youngest brother.  “You know, even yesterday, I’d probably have agreed with Pa on that, but Joe’s back having nightmares again.  I was thinking about this most of the day.  He’s feeling miserable about something and I don’t think punishing him all the time is going to solve his problem.”

 

“Well, I’ve noticed your pa’s sure keeping Joe on a short lead these days.”

 

“If you lived with my little brother all the time, you’d see why.  I can’t say Joe hasn’t deserved his punishments, but it still seems there’s something else going on with that boy.  If we just knew what, and could fix that, I think Joe’s attitude would improve, too.  But I sure can’t get Pa to look at it that way.  Pa’s usually pretty understanding, but not this time.  Guess he’s just reached the end of his rope.”

 

“Your pa’s got a lot on his mind these days, Adam.  Running the ranch is a big responsibility.  And Joe’s sure not like you or Hoss.” Charlie laughed.  “Maybe like you, but Ben had Marie to help him then.”

 

Adam shrugged his shoulders.  “I sure don’t know the answer.” He turned to look at the barn door.  “Guess I’d better get in the barn and help that boy with his chores or I’ll never hear the end of it.” With that, Adam turned and headed off.

 

Charlie shook his head, laughing to himself at the Cartwright brothers and their “animosity” toward each other.  He suspected Little Joe didn’t really mind it when Adam mussed his hair and he knew Adam thought the world of his little brother.  “Ah,” he thought once more, “this family could sure make do with a woman’s touch.”

 

He turned to get his horse and head back to the foreman’s quarters across the hay meadow when Ben Cartwright brought the buckboard into the yard.  Loaded with supplies, it was going to take some time to get everything put away.  “Where are Adam and Hoss?” Ben inquired.

 

“Adam and Joe have started evening chores and Hoss hasn’t come back in yet,” responded Charlie.

 

Climbing from the wagon, Ben walked over to his friend and slapped the man on the back good-heartedly.  “You must be mistaken, Charlie.  I don’t hear Joe complaining or Adam yelling at him.”

 

The foreman laughed.  “No, actually they’re both in a pretty good mood this evening, although I expect Joe’s one tired boy.  We worked non-stop, even through dinner.  Just finished twenty minutes ago or so.”

 

“Through dinner? Charlie,” Ben began, then stopped, realizing his friend would not have been so thoughtless had there not been a reason.  “Are you staying for supper?”

 

“Thanks, Ben, but Sarah has promised me my favorite dish tonight.  Chicken and dumplings.  Sure you don’t want to join us?” he asked lightly.

 

“Thanks, but I do believe if we deserted Hop sing for both dinner and supper, we’d have a real mutiny on our hands and I’d end up short a cook and housekeeper.”

 

“Ben, I’d like to borrow your fence stretcher to fix a short line of fence below the house when I get home.  I’ll send your boys out to help you unload this stuff.” When his boss nodded in agreement, the big man went into the barn, the two brothers coming out shortly afterwards.  The foreman followed suit in just minutes, then mounted his horse, waved to the Cartwright’s and headed home.

 

Ben watched the scene before him as he supervised his sons’ unloading the wagon.  His survey pleased him; Adam, as always was working right along while even Little Joe seemed to have more of a smile on his face than he had this morning.  Leave it to Charlie.  He’d been performing miracles with his sons for years.  Ben had long since given up being jealous of his friend…Marie had explained how important an uncle’s role was in an extended family and that Charlie filled that role for their boys.  Ben frowned slightly.  What had Marie said about that? Wasn’t it that sometimes parents were too involved in the problem to see the solution?

 

He sighed, remembering a really rough spell with Adam, when the boy was thirteen.  Ben drifted back nine years earlier.  Adam had been the impossible one then, resenting his youngest brother, jealous of the attention given the baby and disgusted with feeling so responsible for Hoss while Marie was tied up taking care of a colicky infant.  He grimaced, remembering too well the shouting matches, threats and punishments he had administered.  It had been Marie who suggested Adam spend time riding fence with Charlie, an old friend of Ben’s who had recently begun work at the ranch.  Ben shook his head, smiling at the memories.  How had Marie known Charlie was just the answer for the angry teenager?

 

Well, no matter, he shook himself out of his reverie.  That was Charlie and Adam.  His problem now was his youngest.  Still, Little Joe looked happier than he’d seen him in a long while.

 

Ben’s musings were interrupted as Hoss rode quietly into the barn yard.  “Howdy, Pa.” He glanced at his brothers who were almost finished unloading the buckboard.  “How’d you ever get those two to do any work,” he teased.

 

“Very funny,” responded Adam, who had just unloaded the last keg of fence staples and set it by the barn.  “Per usual, younger brother, you’re a day late and a dollar short with your offer to help us.”

 

Hoss smiled as he dismounted, “don’t recall offering to help, big brother.  Looks to me like you and your littlest brother have everything under control.” His smirk was too obvious.

 

“Not quite,” piped in Little Joe.  He pulled a ball of something, originally planned for Adam, from behind his back, tossing it instead to his middle brother as he said, “hey, Hoss, put this away for me, would you?”

 

Automatically, Hoss turned to catch Joe’s offering, looking horrified when the round ball unraveled to reveal a squirming, brown snake with black designs on its back.  “Snake,” he yelled, dropping the reptile as he jumped back.

 

Little Joe bent double with laughter, “Serves you right, lording it over me and Adam.  That’s just an old milk snake.” he cackled, while even Adam and Ben joined in at the joke at the middle son’s expense.

 

“You low down, sawed off skunk,” Hoss bellowed, although the sparkle in his eyes belied his anger.  As he charged after his young brother, Little Joe slid behind his father, wiggling back and forth, trying to keep his pa between him and his irate brother.

 

“Hey, don’t get me in the middle of this,” Ben laughed.  “You’re on your own.”

 

With that, Joe took off for the house, while Hoss made a half-hearted attempt to follow him for a few feet.  The middle brother turned back, laughing and dusting his hands on the seat of his pants.  “That boy’s gonna get his comeuppance, Pa.”

 

“I doubt by you, Hoss,” remarked Adam.  “He’s always about two steps ahead of us.”

 

Putting his arms around both his sons, Ben laughed, then directed them both toward the house.  “How about supper, boys.  Hoss, you’ll always be ahead of Joe in that arena.” Laughing the three entered the house.

 

************************************************************************************************

 

Supper was a happy, family affair as it had not been in weeks.  After the light-hearted meal, Ben allowed himself the luxury of thinking the problems with his youngest son were a thing of the past as he watched Hoss and Joe engaged in a wicked game of checkers.  The two had not played in at least two weeks, after Joe had thrown the board across the room in a fit of temper at losing to his older brother.  Ben tensed at the memory of the outcome that evening as his and Joseph’s tempers had locked horns.  While his son had been allowed to go to school and do work around the ranch, Joe had been confined to his room after supper each night for a week.  Even after being allowed out of his room, neither Hoss nor his younger brother had seemed interested in the game.  In fact, Ben searched his memory, this was the first time Joe had done more than sulk or read in the evening in maybe the last three weeks.  Maybe they’d passed some crisis.

 

By 8:00, it was obvious Little Joe was about ready for bed.  After noticing him yawning for the third time, Ben intervened.  “Joseph.”

 

The boy covered his mouth to hide his yawn, “Yes, sir.”

 

“I think it’s about time you got your bath and headed for bed.  We’ve got church tomorrow remember?”

 

“Aw, Pa,” Joe began, but stopped when he saw the look on his father’s face.  “Yes, sir.” He headed for his bath, stopping to say goodnight to his brothers and father.

 

“I’ll be up and hear your prayers, son.” Joe nodded, then headed upstairs.

 

By the time Ben stopped by to check on his son, Little Joe was sound asleep on top of the bed covers, his hair still damp from a washing, his night shirt already twisted and disheveled.  Smiling, his father moved Joe to pull down the blankets, straighten his bed clothes, and slide the boy under the covers.  How many times had he and Marie done that for their son when he was younger.  It was in a melancholy mood that Ben turned down the lamp and softy closed the door.

 

************************************************************************************************

 

As Joe stood before the mirror in his room, fumbling with his string tie the next morning, his father knocked on the door, entering after just a moment’s hesitation.  “Good morning, son,” he began, slowly closing the door behind him.

 

Smiling, Joe looked over at his father.  “Morning, Pa.” His smile faded slightly as he noticed the serious look on Ben’s face.  He grinned a lop sided grin, “I, uh, can’t get this tie right.” He shrugged his shoulders self-consciously, knowing his father had some reason for being there, but unsure of what it was.

 

Ben smiled kindly, then stepped over to fix his son’s tie.  That done, he moved over to the bed, patting the covers to indicate Joe should sit down.  “Have a seat, son.  We still have some talking to do.” As Joe looked around the room, before settling onto the bed, Ben pulled up the stuffed chair, sitting so he was opposite his son.

 

“Do you remember your punishment, Joseph?” The boy nodded, a little nervous at the direction this conversation was taking.  He hoped his father wasn’t going to add to it.  “I expect the Campbell’s and Bare’s will all be at church this morning.” Joe looked up, horrified at what he feared his father was suggesting.

 

“I think this would be a good time and church a good place, to apologize for your behavior at school.  Do you agree?”

 

Joe shrugged his shoulders.  “I guess,” he mumbled.  He dared not tell his father how he really felt about talking with those schoolmates.

 

Ben smiled, trying to keep this from escalating into a fight.  “I’m glad to hear you agree.  Now, you also remember my saying you’ll pay for a new shirt for Billy Campbell?” His son nodded, very glumly now.  “Do you still have the $2 you’re saving for that new knife from the general store?” Joe nodded miserably.  “Please bring the money with you this morning.  That should cover the cost of a new shirt.”

 

“But, Pa,” Joe’s voice and eyes were begging his father to reconsider.

 

“No, buts, son.  A debt is a debt.  Do I make myself clear?”

 

Joe dropped his head.  “Yes, sir,” he sighed.

 

Standing, Ben was tempted to ruffle his son’s hair to try and minimize the boy’s misery.  Thinking better of it, instead Ben squeezed Little Joe’s shoulders.  “See you downstairs, son,” his father spoke quietly.

 

“Yes, sir.” Joe never moved as his father left his room.  Taking a deep breath, Joe finally stood up and pulled from his top dresser drawer, a small wooden box Adam had carved for him last Christmas.  Opening it, Joe counted out two dollars realizing that that withdrawal only left him eighteen cents.  Sighing, Joe took another dime for the collection plate at church, then put the box back in its hiding place with his other treasures.  As he put the money in his pants pockets, Joe realized this day would be a long one.

 

************************************************************************************************

 

“Come on, boys,” Ben commanded.  “Charlie’s got the buggy hooked up.  Let’s get a move on.”

 

In unison, Ben heard three “Yes, sir’s” from the breakfast table and watched as his three sons got up from the table and headed for the front door.  He smiled, seeing Hoss grab a biscuit and some bacon as a last minute snack.  The father ushered his sons outside, closing the door as he followed.

 

Charlie stood by the buggy as the Cartwright’s exited the ranch house.  He furrowed his brow, knowing by Joe’s expression that the boy was not in the good mood he’d been in yesterday afternoon.  “Joe,” he called out, “help me in the barn for just a second.”

 

“Sure, Charlie.”

 

As the boy found the foreman in the barn, Charlie asked quietly, “What’s wrong?”

 

Joe shrugged his shoulders, then let out a deep sigh.  “It’s my own fault, I guess.  Pa’s making me pay for Billy’s shirt that got torn in that fight.  And I’ve got to apologize to both of ’em today at church.” He looked up at the big man.  “I don’t want to, Charlie, but Pa’s making me.”

 

“A man acknowledges his mistakes, son.  It’s sometimes the hardest thing to face, but you can do it.  I know you can.” He raised Joe’s chin with his hand.  “And I’ve never lied to you, Joe.”

 

Joe smiled half-heartedly.  “I guess.” He turned to go back to the buggy.  “Thanks, Charlie.” The boy gave the foreman a quick hug before running out the door.

 

Charlie waved him off, worried that whatever was bothering the boy had yet to be fully resolved.

 

************************************************************************************************

 

The closer the buggy came to Virginia City, the quieter the youngest Cartwright became.  While neither Hoss nor Adam knew the exact reason for Joe’s sedate attitude, both could guess it had something to do with Pa’s visit to his room that morning.
Pulling up to a shade tree, Adam climbed out and tied the gelding to a large branch.  The other three got out, too, standing around the buggy about twenty minutes before church was to start.  “This way, Joseph,” Ben directed as he spotted Dan Campbell and Bob Bare standing by their buggies on the other side of the church yard.  Joe looked up, grimacing when he noted his father’s destination.

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

Adam followed Joe’s eyes, realizing, then, exactly what his father expected of his youngest son.  Adam, not sure Joe could pull this off without a scene, watched the action closely.

 

When Campbell and Bare saw Ben, they motioned to their own sons to follow, meeting the Cartwright contingency about half way across the church yard.  “Good morning, Dan, Bob,” Ben greeted the men.

 

“Morning, Ben,” they replied together.

 

The Cartwright patriarch cleared his throat, “I believe my son has something to say to you and your boys.”

 

Joe looked up, wondering for a moment if he was expected to apologize to the boys’ fathers, too.  His muscles tensed as he faced his tormentors and their fathers.

 

“Joseph,” Ben prompted his son.

 

“Sir? Oh, yeah,” Joe wanted to be sure the two older boys knew his apology was under protest.  Ben looked at him with a warning look in his eyes.  The boy knew he’d best not push his luck.

 

For a moment, Joe toyed with the idea of ignoring his father, then, thought better of it.  Instead, he squared his shoulders as he remembered Charlie’s words that morning.  “I can do this,” he thought.  Aloud he said, “I’m sorry for starting that fight with you, Billy and you, Tim.” He looked at his father, hoping that would be enough.  Ben raised his eyebrows, indicating more was expected of the boy.

 

Joe remembered the money in his pocket.  “Oh yeah,” he mumbled as he looked down at the ground.  He took another deep breath, then looked up.  “Mr.  Campbell, I, uh, I uh, here’s two dollars for a new shirt for Billy.” He handed the money to the man.  “I’m sorry it tore.” His gaze dropped again.

 

Dan Campbell glared at the boy.  “I should hope you’d apologize, boy.” Joe jerked his head up, his eyes blazing.  He knew he should be more repentant, but none of them knew what had transpired before the fight.  Billy’s father continued, “If you was my boy, you’d have had to ride to church today standing in your stirrups.  You wouldn’t be able to sit for a week at least.” He stared at the littlest Cartwright, his look daring the boy to respond.

 

Joe tensed, ready to explode.  “Well, you’re not my pa and it ain’t none of your business.  Why don’t you and Billy just butt out of my life.” he blurted out.

 

“Joseph,” Ben’s voice boomed.  The boy turned angrily to his father, ready with a smart retort.  Only Ben’s fierce look quelled any further comment.  Sensing his brother’s attitude, Adam moved beside him, putting his arms around the boy’s shoulders, both for support and to contain his brother’s actions should the need arise.  It appeared to any observers that Adam’s gesture was a simple, casual one, but when Joe tried to shrug him off, he found Adam was firmly entrenched in his position.

 

“You will apologize.” When Joe simply stared defiantly, Ben continued, his voice low and hard, “Now.”

 

Joe struggled with his feelings, realizing the eventual futility of antagonizing his father any further.  “I’m sorry, Mr.  Campbell.  I shouldn’t have said that.” He fixed his eyes on he ground, knowing he couldn’t face his father right now.

 

Campbell wasn’t finished with the boy either.  “No, you shouldn’t have.  Boy, is that your own money,” he sneered, “or did your pa pay for this shirt?” The man looked at the money scornfully.

 

Adam felt his brother’s emotions escalate as he held him tight.  Joe started to make another ill-advised retort, when his father rescued him.  “It’s his own money, Dan,” Ben said evenly, staring at the other man until Campbell was forced to look away.

 

“Adam, you boys go on into church now.” Adam turned away, forcing his youngest brother to go with him.  It was obvious to Adam that Joe was spoiling for a confrontation and the older brother knew removing Joe from the scene was the only hope to prevent that.  While Ben had seemed more understanding of Joe after the night before, Adam knew his father would never tolerate Joe starting a fight on church property.

 

Joe was resisting Adam’s efforts until Hoss moved beside them.  Realizing he was out-numbered, Joe twisted backwards to glare at his school mates.  The anger in his father’s eyes was not lost on his youngest son; to whom it was directed was unclear.  Turning back to his brothers, Joe allowed himself to be escorted to the Cartwright’s traditional pew in the church.  Adam placed Joe between Hoss and himself, then sighed with relief as his mind relived what could have happened that morning.  He glanced over at Hoss who winked back over Joe’s head.  The two brothers smiled as Adam squeezed Joe’s shoulder affectionately.  Surprised at his brother’s response, Little Joe leaned into his brother, glad now that the problem outside had not escalated, but knowing his outburst at Billy’s father would have a consequence.  It was only a few moments later that their father joined them, rearranging the seating so that Joe was between Ben and Adam.

 

Joe risked a glance at his father, trying to determine his father’s mood, but Ben’s posture and facial expression gave nothing away.  Drawing a deep breath, Joe turned back to the front of the church as the opening hymn began.

 

The ride back to the ranch was a quiet one.  Ben was as angry at his son as he could remember, not for just today’s outburst, but for the misery he’d caused this family in the last three weeks.  Ben had felt so optimistic after last night.  It was obvious to him that Joe had not come to any reconciliation about the problem bothering him at all.  Well, today, Ben would find out what that problem was.

 

As the Cartwright’s pulled up to the barn, Charlie came out, having checked on a heifer due to calve at any time.  One look at the family convinced him the church service had been less than enlightening.  Ben’s face was taut, Joe’s was morose while Adam and Hoss looked positively deflated.

 

As the family exited the buggy, Ben turned to his two oldest sons.  “Adam, you and Hoss put this buggy away.  And I want the harness left clean this time, is that understood?” he snapped.

 

“Sure, Pa,” Adam responded.  He knew the issue at hand had nothing to do with a clean or dirty harness but he had no intention of straining his father’s patience any further.

 

“Joseph,” the man turned to his youngest boy who was standing by himself away from the buggy.  “You get up to your room right now.  Your behavior will change beginning today or I will know the reason why.  Is that understood? Look at me when I talk to you, boy!” Hoss and Adam winced at the anger of that last directive, while Charlie shook his head, knowing this was not the answer to whatever was bothering the boy.

 

Joe’s eyes met his father’s, but he couldn’t find his voice.  “Answer me!” his father’s voice boomed.

 

Joe flinched then answered, “Yes, s-s-s-sir, I understand,” he stammered.  He longed to look away, but knew that was unwise.

 

“I suggest you go now.”

 

“Yes, sir,” Joe’s reply was nearly inaudible as he backed toward the house, hoping no one noticed the tears threatening to pour over his eyelids.  When he could control his emotions no longer, Joe turned and ran into the house and up the stairs, hiding away in the relative safety of his room.

 

Outside, Hoss and Adam disappeared into the barn with the horse and buggy.  As Ben turned to go into the house, Charlie’s arm stayed him.  “Ben,” Charlie began in a quiet voice.  “Let’s walk up to that knoll just beyond the barn.  Joe can wait, can’t he?”

 

“What? Oh, yes, I guess he can.” Ben shook his head, as glad of the reprieve as any of them.  He was at his wit’s end in dealing with his young son.  Reasoning, patience, support, reinforcement had had no apparent effect these last weeks on whatever was bothering the boy.  Instinctively, he knew more punishment would not solve Joe’s problem, but at this point, he just hoped it would change his behavior.  While Dan Campbell may have been out of line with what he’d said in the church yard, and Ben had left no question about what he thought of Dan’s comments, there was still no excuse for his youngest son’s impudence.  Ben sighed.  If only that had been an isolated incident, he could simply have spoken to him about it and gone on his way.

 

The two friends climbed to the top of the grassy knoll that overlooked the wide valley.  A warm, gentle breeze from the south massaged Ben’s tense shoulders as he lay back on the deep grass in the warm sunshine, the problems with his youngest son momentarily forgotten.

 

For several moments, neither man spoke.  It was Charlie who broke the silence first.  “Mmm.  Too pretty a day to be late March.”

 

Ben smiled, “that’s because it’s almost the middle of April, friend.”

 

The foreman laughed, “Hmmm.  You always were better at numbers than I was.”

 

Ben’s mind drifted back to their school days spent in Boston.  “Maybe so, but you always had more success with the ladies, I recall.  Remember Rachael Smithers? I was sure she’d have her hooks on you permanent like.”

 

“Nah, too much a busy body.  But she sure was pretty.” The men laughed.

 

“Hey, Ben,” Charlie stretched as he leaned back on his elbows, a piece of grass between his teeth.  “You remember that time we skipped school to watch those clipper ships come into Boston Harbor?”

 

Ben was enjoying this reverie.  He and Charlie had never bothered to go to school that day, preferring to risk the headmaster’s wrath so they could see the first clipper ships to dock in Boston.  It had been a day similar to this one and the two friends had lain, much like they were doing now, on a high knoll overlooking the water.  “It was this same kind of a day, too, remember? The temperature was really warm for that time of year and there was that same gentleness in the breeze.  Sure, I remember.”

 

Charlie was drawn into Ben’s musings.  “We solved all the world’s problems that day, didn’t we? Until those ships finally pulled into the bay.  Remember how big they were?” Ben nodded, his mind almost thirty years in the past.

 

“So many sails, filled with that warm breeze.  I knew right then that I had to go to sea.”

 

“I remember, Ben.  Such plans and dreams we both had.  You’ve come closest to fulfilling those, too, I’d say.  How many years at sea, three fine sons, a large ranch, respect from your friends and neighbors.  I’d say you’ve been right successful.”

 

“Who knows, Charlie.” Ben laughed.  “I’ll bet it’d surprise old man Castlebuerry to see us now.  You recall how angry he was when we finally got back to school.  I can see him now.” Ben’s voice changed to a higher pitched imitation of the headmaster.  “Master Cartwright, you and your friend will come to no good.  Mark my word.”

 

Charlie joined his friend’s laughter.  “Not bad, Ben.  Did you ever tell him where we’d been all day?”

 

Ben shook his head.  “Not me.  How about you?”

 

“Nope.  Weren’t you tempted after that caning he gave us?”

 

Again, Ben shook his head.  “If he just hadn’t gotten so belligerent, I’d almost have been willing to tell him about it otherwise.  The more he whipped us, the more determined I was to keep what we’d done to myself.” Ben stopped his merriment, turning to look at his friend who, also, had sobered up as the conversation had evolved.

 

The two friends sat in silence on the hill, each engrossed in his own thoughts.  Finally, as the wind changed direction and with it a drop in temperature, Ben stood to leave, surprised to find how late it had gotten.  “I imagine that family of mine will wonder what happened to us.  Surely they’ll have started evening chores already.”

 

Charlie joined him as they prepared to head back home.  “These days are few and far between, Ben,” the man commented, clasping the patriarch on the back.  “Let’s get on back.”

 

“Thanks, Charlie.” Ben turned to his friend, “For everything.”

 

In silence, the two men descended the knoll, returning to find the older Cartwright brothers just finishing up evening chores.

 

“You staying for supper, Charlie,” asked Ben.

 

“No, don’t reckon.  I promised Ted Simmons I’d stop by for supper and a game of checkers.  He’s not been able to get out much since that run in with that bear.”

 

“Why don’t you eat with us this evening and stop by his place afterwards.  Bill and Millie Evans announced at church that they were taking supper by the house today.  The preacher’s trying to get a schedule set up to take meals to them.  I was by the Simmons’ about a week ago.  Poor Thelma’s got her hands full with that one.  Doc says Bill’ll be laid up for another month at least until that leg fully heals.  And why don’t you take a ham from the smoke house when you do go?.”

 

Charlie thought about Hop Sing’s good cooking and answered, “Sounds like a great idea.  Let me just check on that heifer and I’ll be in.”

 

Charlie turned to go into the barn just as Hoss and Adam came out of the barn, evening chores completed.  It was obvious to the father that both sons were trying to determine his state of mind, most likely with regards to their younger brother.  “Evening, boys,” he began, keeping his face a mask.

 

“Uh, evenin’, Pa,” Adam answered while Hoss nodded his greetings.  “Um, horses are bedded down.  Guess things are okay.” He looked directly at his father, hoping for some reaction.

 

“Well, good.  Hop Sing must be about ready with dinner.” Draping his arms around both his sons, Ben looked back at Charlie, then directed the boys into the house.

 

“Dinner be leady, ten minutes,” Hop Sing announced to the men.  He disappeared into the kitchen while Hoss rubbed his hands together in anticipation.

 

“You boys best get cleaned up.  Charlie’ll be in in just a moment.  I’ll go up and get Joseph.  We may be just a little late, if you’ll tell Hop Sing to wait dinner.” As the two brothers shared a questioning look, Ben ascended the stairs, knocking firmly before entering his youngest son’s room.

 

Ben smiled as he noticed the school book Little Joe hurriedly closed as he stood to face his father.  “Catching up on your mathematics, Joseph?” he asked, not unkindly.

 

Joe quickly looked up, trying to decipher his father’s mood.  “Yes, sir.  I figure I’m stuck learning this stuff, so I might as well get it over with.” The boy looked back down at the floor before taking a deep breath and continuing.  “Uh, Pa,” Joe was twisting his shirt now, trying to calm himself.  “Uh, P-p-a, if you’re g-g-g-onna g-g-ive m-m-me a hiding, I’d like to get that o-o-o-ver with, too.” He drew another deep breath, as he chewed on his lower lip, wishing he didn’t stutter so badly when he got nervous, but glad he’d finally been able to get out what had been on his mind.  Joe knew he’d not be able to admit to his father what was truly bothering him, but at least maybe his father wouldn’t be so angry at him once he’d delivered his tanning.

 

“Let’s talk about that, Joseph,” Ben began.  “Sit down, please.” He patted the bed, indicating where his son was to sit while Ben moved to take a seat in the stuffed chair by the window.  As he settled into the seat, Ben noticed Marie’s picture was missing from its traditional place on the nightstand by Joe’s bed.  “Where’s your mother’s picture, son?”

 

Little Joe looked up, his face coloring slightly.  “Um, it’s on the dresser, Pa,” he replied.  Ben looked over, noticing the picture turned face down on the dresser top.  He turned to his son with a questioning look.  Joe shrugged, obviously wishing his father hadn’t noticed.  “I figured you were gonna give me a thrashing, Pa, and I just didn’t want her to see.” He gave his father an embarrassed grin, quickly reverting to his previous posture, staring at the floor.

 

Ben pinched the bridge of his nose, not quite sure how to begin.  “Son, your behavior these last few weeks is not like you at all, is it?”

 

Joe shrugged, “I guess not, Pa.”

 

“What’s happening with you, boy? What’s going through your mind lately to make you so miserable?”

 

Joe looked up, wondering how much his father guessed; trying to gauge how much he could tell him.  On any other subject, Joe found it pretty easy to talk with his father, but this area had been off limits for years.  How could he admit to his father his fears and hurts that involved them all so intimately? He couldn’t bear to hear his father admit it would have been easier had Little Joe died with his mother; even worse to hear him say he’d wished it had been Joe instead of his mother.  No, these were secrets Joe could discuss with no one.

 

“I don’t know, Pa.  Just everything seems to make me really mad right now.  Sometimes I don’t even know what I’ve done ‘til I’m in trouble.  I guess I just don’t have Hoss’ patience or Adam’s knack for thinking.” Joe shrugged his shoulders again.

 

“Joseph, I don’t expect you to be like Hoss or Adam.  But I do expect you to be like Little Joe, and he hasn’t lived in this house for quite some time.  You know where he is or when he’ll be coming back?” Joe looked up at his father, smiling slightly.

 

“No, sir, I don’t guess I do know that.” Almost inaudibly, the boy added, “but I sure hope he comes back soon.  I don’t know how much longer I can stand this.”

 

Ben squeezed his young son’s shoulders in a hug.  “I don’t know how much longer I can stand it either, boy.  But, I think we can love this Little Joe until the other one comes back.” He gave the boy another hug.  Joe looked up, surprised at his father’s response.

 

“Uh, Pa.  I-I-I’m sorry about what I said at church today.  It just came out before I thought.”

 

“I know, son.  Mr.  Campbell’s response was uncalled for and I told him so.” Joe looked up quickly.  For some reason, that admission pleased him immensely.  Ben continued, his tone serious.  “But, Joseph, I don’t want to hear that kind of talk from you again, you hear?” Joe nodded.

 

“I’m trying to be tolerant, but you’re making it very difficult.  I won’t allow that kind of impudence to go unpunished again.” Joe looked up and nodded, his eyes moist.

 

Ben stared at his son for a few more moments.  “Let’s go downstairs, boy.  Hop Sing’s waiting dinner for us now.”

 

“Yes, sir.” Joe smiled an honest smile, reflecting his mood.  Maybe there was a chance his father did really love him like he did Adam and Hoss.

 

Supper was more like what the Cartwrights were used to.  Talk came easily for all of them, the subject matter light.  Joe joined in tentatively at first, then more like his typical responses, giving as well as getting his share of teasing.  The family relaxed, feeling sure that Joe’s problems were a thing of the past.  As Adam, Charlie and Ben were finishing a final cup of coffee, Hoss broached the subject of plans for tomorrow.

 

“Hey, Pa, we’re caught up on chores and it sure feels like tomorrow’s going to be a fine day.  What say we head up to the lake for some good fishing tomorrow?” As Adam leaned back, pondering a quiet day with a fishing pole and good book, Joe watched his brothers with his brow beginning to furrow.  He hoped his older brother would have second thoughts about that plan.  He didn’t want anyone by his mother’s grave right now.

 

“Hey, Hoss, I heard fishing’s really been good over by that deep pool near Jackson’s Glade.  Why don’t you give that a try.”

 

“Nah, little brother.  Tom Aliff caught some nice fish out of that lake just yesterday.  I’d like to find some of them myself.”

 

“He’d better NOT have been fishing in that lake,” Joe blurted out.

 

“Hold on, little buddy,” Adam countered.  “We don’t own all the property around that lake.  Even if we did, Tom’s an old friend.”

 

“It don’t matter,” Joe reacted, angered at the revelation about Tom Aliff.  Unsure of the source of his emotions, Joe continued in a foul mood, “let him fish on his own property.”

 

“That’s enough, Joseph,” Ben entered the conversation to try and temper his son’s attitude.  “The Aliff’s have been friends of ours for years.  Any of them is welcome on our property anytime.”

 

“I might have known whose side you’d take, Pa,” Joe stormed.

 

“That’s enough, boy.  It’s a matter of little concern for you.  I seem to recall you’ll be spending most of your time now confined to the house or barn area.  You won’t be joining your brothers fishing tomorrow anyway.” Ben glared at his youngest, daring the boy to make a rejoinder.”

 

Joe’s face flushed with anger as he remembered his father’s proclamation from earlier.  “You care more about what Adam and Hoss think, in fact you care more about the damned Tom Aliff than you do me!” he charged belligerently.

 

“You will watch your language, Joseph.” Ben’s face mirrored his displeasure with his youngest son.

 

Charlie watched, amazed at how quickly a peaceful meal had turned into a war zone.  As Charlie reached out to clasp Joe’s hand in an attempt to calm the boy, Joe jerked away, fixing the man with an angry scowl.

 

“It’s the truth, Pa.  You,” he glared at all of them around the table, “you all can go to hell.”

 

Ben was up, dragging the boy by his arm to the kitchen, before any of the others could think of a response.  Adam cringed as he heard Joe’s protests, knowing full well his little brother’s mouth was being washed out with that terrible soap Hop Sing made.  As the protests escalated in volume, the three heard one hard smack as Ben’s hand swatted his son’s bottom.  No more arguments were heard as Ben finished washing out the boy’s mouth.  After a few moments, they heard Ben’s muffled voice speaking to Little Joe, followed by the boy going up the back stairs to his room.

 

A few minutes later, Ben returned to the dining table.  “I’m sorry you had to see that, Charlie.” Ben smiled cynically.  “Believe me, your invitation to supper was meant to include a good, quiet meal.”

 

Charlie smiled back, “I take it this is what you all have been complaining about these last few weeks.  No wonder everyone’s walking on egg shells.”

 

“That’s it, Charlie,” Adam agreed.  “One minute Joe is fine and the next, he’s at your throat.  If we could just figure out what sets him off, maybe we could work at it from that angle, but we sure can’t figure it out.”

 

“It don’t matter who, what or where.  He just blows up,” Hoss added.

 

“And I end up yelling at him, sending him to his room and some of the time, laying into him.” Ben shook his head.  “I’ve tried talking with him, reasoning with him, trying to see it from his point of view, whatever that is, punishing him… nothing is working with that boy.  It’s getting worse, rather than better.”

 

“You know,” Charlie began, “when I was about Hoss’ age, my pa and I had a spell like that.  One day, he sent me to my room and I knew he was going to larrup the tar out of me.  Only when he came up, he did the totally unexpected.  Threw me for a loop, that did.  He fixed it so me and my uncle could go sailing down the coast for a couple of weeks.  Fishing, swimming.  It was an incredible trip that totally changed my mindset; it was just so unusual for my pa to do.  My uncle and I had some wonderful talks those two weeks, too.  Made me realize what a jerk I’d been.  It might be worth a try.”

 

“I’m not going to reward that boy for his disrespectful behavior, Charlie.  Sorry, but that’s not an option.”

 

“Wait a minute, Pa,” Adam interrupted.  “How about this.  I’m already planning to go get those line shacks set up for summer and fall use.  That’s a major chore, for sure.  How about I take Joe with me.  It’d not be a reward, yet he’d get away from here into a different environment.  And you know as well as I do how much hard work is involved.”

 

Pursing his lips thoughtfully, Ben considered his oldest son’s proposal.  “It can’t hurt, son.” He smiled slightly.  “Are you sure you’re prepared for a week with your youngest brother?”

 

Returning the smile, Adam responded, “Well, I can always tie him to a pine tree and leave for the day.” They all laughed as they made plans for Adam’s and Little Joe’s trip.

 

Ben was up at daybreak, still wondering if this new plan was the right one.  It was worth a try and, Ben felt guilty even as he thought it, he’d be glad to be away from his youngest son and his sullen attitude for a few days.

 

Ben made his morning trip down the hallway, knocking on each of his son’s doors to let them know it was time to get up.  He headed downstairs, glad to find Hop Sing had a fire in the fireplace.  Despite the nice days, nights and early mornings were still chilly this time of year.  After warming his hands, Ben sought out his cook, making arrangements with the man to have Hop Sing pack for Joe and his week at the line shacks while the family ate breakfast.  That done, Ben sat with a cup of coffee at the dining table, waiting for his sons to join him.

 

Per usual, Adam was the first to come down.  “Morning, Pa,” he spoke, gratefully accepting the cup of coffee Hop Sing offered.  “Well, Joe’s up, I made sure of that, but Lord almighty, that boy’s a grouch in the morning.”

 

Ben smiled, remembering how difficult mornings had always been with his youngest son.  “Did you tell him of our plans for him for this next week?”

 

Adam laughed aloud at that.  “No, I figure that’s your prerogative, Pa.  It was bad enough just getting him out of bed.  Joe’s big on killing the messenger, and I wasn’t in the mood to fend him off.”

 

Ben shook his head, dreading Joe’s response at the change in plans for the boy.  “Well,” he commented, “it’s his own making.” Despite his bold pronouncement, Ben had misgivings about this trip.  “No matter,” Ben thought, “nothing I’ve done has worked at all.” He sighed, causing Adam to look over.

 

With a slight smile, Ben answered his oldest son’s unasked question, “you’ll find out, son, that raising children is about the hardest work there is.” From a different place, another thought surfaced, “and, if this last month is any indication, some of the most frustrating work there is.” This last observation remained unspoken in patriarch’s mind.

 

It was about that time that Hoss and Little Joe made their appearance.  “Morning, boys,” Ben gave his traditional greeting, hoping he’d see signs of his youngest son being in a better mood.

 

“Morning, Pa,” responded Hoss, while Little Joe simply took his seat to the right of his father.

 

“Son?” Ben cued his son expectantly.

 

“What? Oh, morning, Pa,” Joe answered mechanically, knowing his father expected certain courtesies as a matter of routine.

 

Rolling his eyes in obvious dislike at Joe’s attitude, Adam began passing around the dishes.  Hoss filled his plate while, per usual, Little Joe ate only the minimum with which he thought he could get by.  Ben shook his head, not willing to turn this morning’s meal into another battle zone.

 

It was when the meal was nearly over that Ben made his announcement regarding the trip planned for his youngest and oldest sons.  Surprised, Joe looked up.  “I-I-I thought you w-w-w-anted me d-d-d-doing house chores and school work, Pa.”

 

Ben was surprised at this line from Little Joe.  He’d expected Joe to complain just on general principles, but not for this.  “I think we can wait until you get back, son, to finish that task.  Adam needs help with the line shacks and you’re available.”

 

For some reason unknown to him, Joe was beginning to feel desperate.  “But, P-p-p-a-a, you’ve got that hay t-t-t-to stack and I’m about the only o-o-o-one small enough to r-r-r-ride atop the wagon.”

 

Unsure how to handle this, Ben responded with a smile, hoping to reassure his boy, “Well, son, I suspect we can get along without you being here.  We somehow managed before you were old enough to come out with us, and I think maybe we can survive again.”

 

Feeling trapped, Joe looked around the table at his family, desperate for a way out of making the trip.  “B-b-b-ut, Pa..”

 

“No more buts, Joseph.  Hop Sing’s packed some clothes for you and has lunch prepared for you both.  Tonight you’ll camp on the trail, but by tomorrow afternoon, you should be at the first line shack.  Adam already has the wagon packed.” He looked at Little Joe, hoping to soothe his objections.  “I imagine you’ll be glad of some time away from here, son.”

 

“Yeah,” Hoss chimed in.  “Shoot, this time of year, that’s about the purttiest place on this ranch.  You’ve never even been up there, have you?” When Joe shook his head silently, Hoss continued, “I’ll bet there’s deer aplenty up there now.  And the flowers, it’s like being in an ocean of color.  And Joe,” Hoss winked conspiratorially, “even that ol’ slave driver, Adam, likes to fish in those mountain lakes.  I actually saw some fishing poles in that gear he packed last night.”

 

Adam smiled, hoping Joe would feel better about the trip.  He was as surprised as any at Joe’s response.  His youngest brother had tried last year to get Adam to take him up in the mountains on his spring pilgrimage to ready the cabins.  Now that the boy was actually getting the chance to do it, Adam couldn’t understand his reluctance.  “I promise, little brother, we’ll get some fishing in.  There’s no better trout in all the territory than from those small lakes.”

 

Joe jerked his head up to fix an angry stare at his oldest brother.  “Don’t do me no favors,” he challenged, then stood to run up to his room before the tears that threatened spilled over his cheeks.

 

The three remaining Cartwrights stared silently at each other, none of them sure of what prompted Joe’s response.  Adam broke the silence.  “Well, let’s get going.  You want me to get Little Joe, or would you rather?” He smiled a half smile as he looked toward his father.

 

Ben returned the smile with an equally droll one.  “I’ll get him, boys.  You make sure everything’s tied down safely now.  I don’t want anything shifting on you and Joe when you go up the steep part of the mountain.”

 

Turning from the breakfast table, Ben moved up the stairs to see to his youngest boy.  A knock before entering was Joe’s announcement that his father wanted to talk with him.  “Joseph,” Ben began, “what’s wrong, boy?” The man had come up intending to speak firmly to his youngest son about his behavior at breakfast, but seeing Joe across his bed, sobbing into the pillow he clutched tightly had broken his resolve.  Ben sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing his son’s shoulders as he spoke to him.

 

“What’s wrong, son? Can’t you talk with me about it?” Ben’s voice was quiet and tender as he continued to massage his son’s shoulders, moving down the boy’s back.  The father allowed himself a momentary lapse into the past.  “You know, Joseph, when you were just a baby, and you’d get colicky, your mother used to lay you across her lap and rub your back.  Many’s the time I’ve seen you drift off to sleep while she did that.  And when you got a little older, there were several times when I was ready to turn you over my knee for something and your mother would say you were just overly tired.  And she’d lay you down, sometimes with you kicking and screaming, but it would just be a matter of minutes and you’d calm down under her warm touch and fall off to sleep.” Ben noticed his son had stopped crying, listening to his father’s memories speaking to them both.  “God,” he said in an emotional voice, “she was such a wonderful woman.”

 

He continued with the massage for several more minutes as the moment between the two passed.  Gently lifting his son to a sitting position, Ben squeezed him tightly around the shoulders.  “Anything you want to talk about?” Little Joe shook his head, then looked up, confused about his banishment, his role in the family, wondering if he’d ever be happy again.

 

******************************************************************************************

 

Joe sat silently beside his older brother on the wagon, waiting for the obligatory good-byes before the wagon pulled out.  For just a moment upstairs, he’d allowed himself the luxury of being drawn into his father’s memories and had almost been tempted to share all his fears with his pa.  Almost.  He knew, if he just let his mind drift, not thinking of anything, he could almost hear his mother’s lilting voice, smell the rosewater cologne, and feel her tender touch as she gently rubbed his shoulders.  Almost.

 

A deep sigh from his little brother caused Adam to turn toward him, wondering where his little brother had been in his mind, knowing the boy was not with his family just now.  Squeezing his brother’s leg, Adam announced, “Well, Pa, Hoss, we’re off.  You take care of things while we’re gone.”

 

Hoss laughed.  “And don’t you go losing our little brother up in those mountains, Adam.  Why, it’s so rugged up there, he could turn around twice and you’d never see him again.”

 

Adam laughed.  “I think I can bring him back in one piece.  So long, Pa.” Waving to his family, Adam started the wagon up the trail that would eventually lead them to the line shacks, while Joe sat stoically beside his older brother.

 

As they neared the lake and his mother’s grave, Joe’s heart was racing, his breathing coming more rapidly.  His agitated posture in the wagon caused Adam to lean to the side, taking a closer look at his little brother.  Joe sat on his hands, rubbed his thighs, braced his arms behind his back, or cracked his knuckles.  Sighing, Adam finally demanded, “You need me to stop, Joe?”

 

“No,” snapped back the boy.  “Just keep going.”

 

“Then you quit your squirming.  You’re making me crazy.”

 

“You just watch the team, then you won’t need to worry about me,” Little Joe retorted.

 

Adam glared at his brother before deciding any confrontation with his little brother would probably be ineffectual.  He urged the team on, glad to see Joe had at least stopped his antsy movements.  Somehow, this was all connected, Adam knew.

 

While Joe grew more quiet the farther they went into the mountains, Adam was not convinced it meant his little brother was feeling more comfortable about the trip.  Something was decidedly wrong.  If Adam hadn’t known Joe, fear is the word he’d have used to describe his little brother’s attitude.  When they’d stopped for lunch, Joe matched every move Adam made…either by following him or by simply following with his eyes.

 

“Look, Joe, why don’t you get some firewood so I can heat some water for coffee? It won’t take much, we’re only going to be here for a little bit.” Joe jumped, his eyes wide.  When he made no effort to get up, Adam took a deep breath, counting to ten as he did so, and left to get his own wood.  He was surprised to find Joe right behind him, picking up more fallen branches.  Adam looked at his little brother curiously, then, continued gathering up tinder and small branches.  When it seemed they had enough for a small fire over which they could boil water, the two headed back to the wagon to eat their lunch.

 

The brothers’ progress was good and by five o’clock, they had reached a suitable campsite about two-thirds of the way to the line shacks.  While it might be more efficient, Adam knew better than to suggest Joe get wood while he tended the horses and start supper.  Together, the two brothers tethered the horses, gathered the wood and began the evening meal.

 

The stars were just coming out when they finally finished the camp chores and laid out their bedrolls.  “Can you find the Little Dipper, Joe?” Adam began the game the two always played when they camped.  His brother searched the sky, finally pointing out the constellation.

 

“So, what direction is that?” Adam swung his arm around, picking an arbitrary point to the left.

 

Joe found the North Star, taking his bearings in relation to where Adam was pointing.  “That’s south, big brother.”

 

“If you were going to try and take the shortest route to the Devlin’s place from here, which way would you go?”

 

Joe thought for a moment, then pointed in the correct direction.

 

“Hey, you’re really getting good at this.  This may be the trip I leave you in the deep woods and let you find your own way home.” Adam felt his brother stiffen, not understanding how Joe could take his light-hearted comment seriously.

 

“Joe, I was just kidding.  I’m not leaving you anywhere.”

 

“Yeah, I know.  Uh, Adam, I’m pretty tired.  What’s say we hit the sack?”

 

“Sure, Joe.  You go on.  I’m gonna sit up a bit more and tend this fire.” He watched as his little brother slid under the blankets, then turned on his side with his back toward the fire and his older brother.  “Pleasant dreams, little brother,” the man whispered.

 

Some noise, some time in the middle of the night, woke Little Joe.  In a panic, he looked around, expecting to find his older brother sleeping next to him by the fire.  Indeed, the fire had been built up, which was some comfort, but neither Adam nor his bed roll were around it.  One of the horses, stomping its feet, drew the boy’s attention in that direction.  With a shock, Joe realized his brother had hitched up the team, having packed all the gear except the bedroll in which Joe, himself, was sleeping.

 

“Adam,” Joe called out.  “What are you doing?”

 

Adam turned toward his little brother, a sad expression on his face.  “I’m going back home, Joe.”

 

“But what about me? Let me get my stuff packed up.” Joe tried to rise, but found his left leg tethered to a stake.

 

“I’m sorry, Joe.  You’re staying here.  We talked about it at home and none of us can live this lie anymore.  You’re the reason Marie is dead; you know it and we know it.” Adam slowly began moving away from his brother.  Joe looked on in horror as the figures of his father, middle brother and his mother materialized beside Adam.

 

“That’s not true, Adam.  Honest.  I didn’t mean to kill Ma.  You understand don’t you?” Joe was screaming.  “Ma, come back!!!!!!!”

 

“It’s too late, son.” It was his father speaking now.  “The Lord gave us a chance to have your mother back, but it’s like a prisoner exchange, Joseph.  We give you up and get back the woman we all love.  It’s fair, boy.  You killed her, it’s only right you should be dead, not her.” The wagon moved into the shimmering fog that seemed to envelop them all.

 

“No, Pa.  Please don’t leave me.” Joe clawed at the rope tying him in place.  His body was soaked in sweat from the nightmare while his panicked voice dropped to a whisper as he realized the futility of his pleadings.  He wasn’t even aware when Adam wrapped a blanket around him and pulled him onto his lap, much like he’d done so often after Marie’s death.  “I just asked her to hurry back and play checkers with me.” It was hard to understand the boy through his tears.  “She didn’t have to come back that fast.  I didn’t mean for her to die.” Joe collapsed against his brother’s chest, his energy spent.  He wasn’t even aware of the strong hands that massaged his back til he drifted back to sleep, that changed his wet clothes, dried his damp hair and that gathered more wood to build up the fire in hopes of keeping the demons away.  And mostly he wasn’t aware of Adam, sitting close beside him, guarding the gates to his little brother’s underworld so that Hades would never more make his appearance, hoping once more for the resurrection of Persephone.

 

An hour or two before the false dawn, Adam finally pulled his bedroll right next to his youngest brother, then stretched out on his side, covering them both with one of the blankets.  In his sleep, Little Joe snuggled backwards until he was nestled securely against the older man.

 

Adam smiled indulgently as he allowed his mind to drift back to long ago, when Joe was two, three maybe even four or five.  It was a time when Marie’s laughter still echoed throughout the ranch house.  Adam had never figured it out, but Joe would never wake Marie, their pa or Hoss during the night.  The oldest brother had lost count of the number of times he’d waken in the night with Little Joe standing beside him.  If the boy had gotten up wet and cold, as sometimes happens with children, Adam would wrap a blanket around Little Joe, stop in his brother’s room for a clean night shirt, then go downstairs into Hop Sing’s warm kitchen.  He’d set the small boy on a bench off the cold stone floor, then draw water from a big kettle the cook kept warming on the back of the wood stove.  With a wash rag, he’d clean off his little brother, replacing the wet nightshirt with the clean, warm one he’d have left hanging by the stove as he took care of Little Joe.  Then, wrapping the little boy back up in the blanket, the two would steal back up the stairs into Adam’s room.  Drawing back the covers, Adam would climb into bed, pulling his little brother in beside him, Joe’s back curved to match Adam’s front.  Sometimes, it seemed Joe didn’t even fully wake up, but almost always, Adam would notice what he always thought was a tender, contented smile on his baby brother’s face as the boy drifted back to sleep.

 

At other times, when Adam would wake to find his little brother standing beside his bed, he’d pull the boy to him under the covers only to find his hair damp from spent tears.  Adam would know Joe had had a nightmare or been scared by some strange noise.  Humming the old folk tunes Adam had learned over the years was the sleeping tonic that would allow his little brother to relax; pulling him into the strength of the older brother’s embrace was the security the boy would need to sleep peacefully through the rest of the night.

 

Sometimes Joe didn’t need tending to.  In those situations, the boy would simply tap Adam on the shoulder until the older brother woke up.  Only half wakening, Adam would make sure the Little Joe was dry, turn back the covers far enough for his brother to clamber in, then pull the covers back over them both…  the brothers falling to sleep, snuggled together under the warm quilts.

 

How much easier it had been then and how much joy had permeated the family’s being.  Sighing, Adam wrapped his arms around his sleeping brother, then closed his eyes and was lost to sleep.  Tomorrow would be soon enough to talk with Little Joe about his nightmare and the long kept secret, that, in his pain, the boy had revealed to Adam.

 

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As Ben turned away from the retreating wagon, he swallowed hard, still not sure if that choice had been the right one.  Joe had certainly been away from him at various times, including on camping trips with his brothers, so the boy’s absence was not the issue.  Something nagged at the back of the man’s mind, but when he tried to bring the thought into clearer focus, it remained elusive.  “Never mind,” he finally concluded, shaking his head as if to clear his mind, “maybe if I don’t think about it, it’ll just come to me.”  With at least that resolved, Ben turned to Charlie as the two made plans for the day.

 

“This has been the most busy spring I’ve seen,” announced Charlie as the two men sat over the breakfast table finishing a last cup of coffee.

 

“I agree,” responded his boss, mentally tallying the number of calves they anticipated branding against the supplies they would need to get the job done.  “For as mild a winters as we’ve had, I’m amazed at the amount of fence damage we’ve had this year, too.  We’ll have to have a couple of crews just out mending fence on those two pastures where we’ll be gathering the cows for the spring branding.”

 

“Already covered, boss,” Charlie smiled at his old friend.  “Hoss is going over with Dack Mullins and his crew to that northwest pasture while Bob Martin is taking a crew to the pasture next to that one.  Martin did a great job getting the branding pens in working order, I might add.” The foreman continued ticking off jobs that had been assigned.  Finally, he told Ben his own plans.  “I’m heading into town to pick up these supplies.” He handed the list to his boss.  “Anything you want to add? Better yet, why don’t you join me.  There can’t be anything too pressing happening with those books.”

 

Ben smiled at his friend.  “It’ll take your mind off those boys of yours, too,” Charlie added.

 

“You know I was looking for some excuse to escape from here.  This place is positively dead with the boys gone.” Something gnawed at Ben’s memory, but still didn’t come through.  “We’ve been so busy for so long, it’ll be good to slow down for a trip to town.  Let’s get a move on it, slow poke.” The two laughed as old friends do and harnessed the bay team of horses to the buckboard for the trip into Virginia City.

 

After leaving a supply list with Roy Arbuckle at the general store, the friends headed for the bank to complete some business there.  They separated to complete a few additional chores, meeting at the warehouse just as the boy who worked for Mr.  Arbuckle, finished loading the buckboard.

 

“I must be getting old,” Ben laughed.  “Time was, I used to make these trips into all day affairs, just to enjoy the activity of a town.  I don’t know about you, but I’m ready to go home.”

 

Charlie slapped his back.  “I was just thinking the same thing.  Leave the big city for these younger people.” His arm gestured to the boy on the loading dock.  “I’m ready for the serenity of the Ponderosa…and some of Hop Sing’s good cooking.” He climbed into the wagon as Ben took care of the bill.  It was only a few moments later that the two friends were on the road toward home.

 

As they passed the turnoff to the lake, Charlie slowed the wagon, looking over at his friend as they neared Marie’s grave.  “Uh, Ben, you doing okay about now?”

 

Ben looked over to the man, confused for just a moment, the realization finally dawning that this was the anniversary of his third wife’s death.  “My God, Charlie.  Life at home has been so hectic, I can’t believe I’d have let this anniversary pass.” His laugh was without mirth.  “Wonder if the boys would say I’ve been as cantankerous as past years.” A cynical smile crossed his lips.

 

Charlie smiled, glad Ben could reminisce about the past.  “At least you’re smiling, Ben.  Time was I can remember you so short tempered and out of sorts this time of year, that the men never knew whether to speak to you or run from you.  One time you’d be fine, the next time you’d be on the attack.”

 

The two men stopped their banter as they realized what they’d just said.  “Dear Lord, forgive me,” Ben mumbled.  “Charlie, you’ve just described Little Joe.”

 

“Ben, surely you don’t think…”

 

“Surely I do think.  What a fool I’ve been.  Hell’s fire.  Adam asked last week if I thought any of this had to do with that damned mother/son banquet.  ‘Oh, no,’ says I.  ‘He’s dealt with that before and never been thrown out of school.’ Oh, Charlie, I should have known.” Ben was becoming despondent.  “I’ve known forever that Hoss helps keep Little Joe on an even keel.  Hell, Hoss isn’t in school with him anymore.  This year was Joe on his own, dealing with school and home.” The man sank forward, his head in his hands.

 

Charlie didn’t know how to respond.  It was all painfully clear to him at this point, too, that his friend’s analysis was deadly accurate.  “Let’s get back to the ranch house, Ben.  Maybe we can figure out a better picture of what’s going through his mind.”

 

“Hell, man, you know I’m right.  I’ve been punishing that boy when what he’s really needed has been my time and love.  How could I have been so stupid?” Ben sank lower into the seat as he relived the last three or four weeks.  “Marie, forgive me if you can,” he whispered.

 

Charlie urged the team forward, knowing his friend needed some resolution.  Hoss was stepping off the porch as the buckboard came into the yard.  Both men were surprised to find the young man home already.  “What are you doing here, son?” Ben asked.

 

Hoss smiled half-heartedly.  “We got that section finished so Dack and the rest of the crew headed over to help finish up in the other pasture.  It looked like they had more ‘n enough help and I wanted to check on those two heifers we’ve got up in the barn.  I wasn’t sure when you and Charlie were coming home.”

 

Ben climbed out of the wagon while Charlie unhitched the team and led them to the trough behind the barn.  “Uh, Pa,” Hoss began.  His father looked up expectantly.  “Uh, Pa, I, uh, I uh…” Hoss was having trouble telling his father what he’d found.  Ben looked at his son curiously.

 

Taking a deep breath, Hoss reached around to a back pocket and pulled out some torn paper.  “Maybe I shouldn’t have been, but I was up in Little Joe’s room, trying to find something that might explain how he’s been acting.  I found these up in his room,” Hoss explained as he handed the crumpled mess to his father.  “You ought to read them.”

 

Ben looked up at his middle son, then turned to unwrap the wadded paper, smoothing each sheet out as best he could.  The paper was grimy, with smudged, dirty, fingerprints streaked across the front.  As Ben read each sheet, his head dropped lower and lower, his body sinking onto a chair on the front porch.

 

“Billy, you know Adam Cartwright told my brother him and his family wished Little Joe was dead.” Below that was the reply.  “Yeah, Tim, bet they’d trade him for his ma about now.  I hear she was beautiful like an angel.” Billy

 

Another sheet began, “Hey, Little Joe, you going to that mother/daughter dinner?  Oh, that’s right, your ma’s dead, huh?” Billy

 

Ben shuffled the papers to read another note.  “Little Joe, you and your ma want to set with me and my ma at the dinner? Too bad, I forgot, your ma’s dead.  Your pa told my pa that he wishes it was you instead of her.” Tim

 

Ben read the last page through misted tears in his eyes.  He’d had no idea what Joe had been experiencing at school.  He closed his eyes, remembering and regretting his insistence that his youngest son apologize to his classmates, even reimbursing Mr.  Campbell for the torn shirt.  His hands were clinched as he read the last note, “Hey, Tim, I hear all them Cartwrights are getting tired of doing Little Joe’s work.” Billy There was a reply, “Yeah, without his ma doing his work for him, I hear he’s right worthless on the ranch.” Tim

 

Ben crumpled the paper into a small ball, throwing it with disgust away from him.  Saying nothing, the man turned and stomped into the house.  Although unable to read the notes that had upset Ben so badly, Charlie had observed the scene from the back paddock area.  He turned to go into the barn, saddling up horses for the three of them.

 

As Ben came back out of the house with supplies for the trek into the mountains, Charlie led three mounts out of the barn.  His friend looked up, surprised.  “Let’s ride, boys.  We can make some time before it gets dark.”

 

Grimly, the three swung into their saddles, turning the horses up the trail leading to the line shacks.  As they passed the turnoff to the lake, Ben bowed his head.  “Oh, Marie,” he whispered, “please forgive me.  I know you left our son in my care.  I’m so sorry to have let you and him down.” Squaring his shoulders, Ben turned toward the mountain, his gelding at a mile-eating jog with the other two close behind him.

 

Although covering a lot of territory, Ben realized there was no way he, Hoss and Charlie were going to catch up with his two other sons that day.  As dusk drew nearer, he finally declared a halt for the day, knowing that in the morning, if they could maintain this pace, the two groups would meet and he could resolve the conflict between Joe and the rest of his family.
************************************************************************************************
On the mountain, the chilly spring air nuzzled Little Joe Cartwright’s neck and shoulders, bringing him out of a deep slumber into a twilight sleep.  Pulling the blanket more tightly around his shoulders, ducking his head deeper into the covers, the boy snuggled back into the warmth and security of his big brother’s arms.  The movement woke Adam as he worried about his brother’s actions, then comforted him as he felt his little brother scrunch contentedly back to sleep under the wool blankets.  Barely awake himself, and still tired from the late night vigil, it was only a moment until Adam drifted back to sleep.

 

It was nearly seven o’clock in the morning when Little Joe finally woke up for the day.  Surprised both at finding himself nestled in his older brother’s arms and not objecting to it, the memories of last night’s dream faded as a new day dawned.

 

Joe slid out from under the covers, shivering slightly as he carefully moved away from his sleeping older brother so as not to waken him.  Quietly, the younger boy stacked wood onto the fire, allowing himself the luxury of warming his hands before beginning the morning chores at camp.  Hunkered in front of the flames as the fire warmed his front, Little Joe did a mental list of things that would need to be done.  He smiled, remembering Adam’s penchant for coffee first thing in the morning.  Although making the coffee was traditionally Hoss’ job, with him missing, Joe decided to give it a go.  Measuring what appeared to be about the right amount of coffee and dumping that into the pot, Joe moved toward the saddles, returning with the canteen.  As he poured water into the pot, it was immediately obvious that he would have to get more water before anyone was going to make coffee that morning.

 

Setting the pot on a rock outside the fire circle, Little Joe sighed, then stood up.  Where to find water so far up the mountain? Climbing over the hard rocks, Joe circled the camp, trying to judge the most likely source for water.  “Darn,” he thought, “this stuff all looks the same to me.”

 

As he completed his 360-degree search of the camp, Joe noticed a silvery thread of water to the south, down in a narrow ravine.  Although steep, there was an obvious trail to the bottom.  The boy debated waking his older brother, deciding finally that he’d show Adam he was now a real hand on camping trips.  Scraping a message on a flat rock with a smaller stone, “Gone to get water”, Joe placed the rock where Adam would see it.  Then, draping the canteen strap over his shoulder, Little Joe started off toward the well-marked trail over the hard sandstone.

 

Adam stretched his long arms, reaching over to hug his young brother good morning.  Startled at finding Little Joe gone, Adam jerked himself out from under the covers, casting about for some sign of his little brother.  He noticed the well-tended fire, then saw the coffee pot set off to the side.  Sighing at Joe’s forgetfulness, Adam moved over to place the pot over the flames, realizing as he did so why Joe was probably missing.  His inclination was confirmed when he found the scrawled note on the rock.  Smiling, Adam set about preparing a good breakfast for him and his youngest brother.

 

He sliced some potatoes and set them aside with the eggs and bacon as he mixed up a flour concoction for camp biscuits.  He vowed this would be a trail breakfast his brother would talk about for a long time.  As he debated whether to start cooking or wait for Joe to return, his father, Hoss and Charlie rode into the camp.

 

“Afraid we couldn’t find the line shacks, Pa?” Adam asked, grinning at his father.

 

“Good morning, Adam,” Ben tried to respond nonchalantly.  As he looked around the camp, he noticed his youngest son was missing.  “Where’s Little Joe?” he asked as casually as he could.

 

Adam looked around the camp.  “Oh, Pa, he’s gone to get water.  I was up late last night and guess I didn’t hear him up and about this morning.”

 

Hoss laughed and even Charlie joined in.  “That’s a first, big brother.  Bet he’ll never let you live that down.”

 

A little chagrined, Adam smiled a half smile.  “Yeah, you’re probably right about that.  You three had breakfast yet?” he asked, hoping to change the subject.

 

“Not yet, but we’ll accept your invitation,” Ben laughed as the three dismounted.

 

“Pa,” Adam broached the subject of Joe and his nightmare.  “Uh, Joe, he had another one of those nightmares last night.” Ben looked over, his eyes closed as the guilt of what he’d neglected washed over him.

 

“He was worried about his mother’s death, wasn’t he?” the man said simply.

 

Adam was surprised.  “Partly.  He kept calling for us not to leave him.  He must have thought he saw Marie, too, ’cause he kept calling out to her, too.” Adam closed his own eyes, drawing a deep breath before he continued.  “Pa, he thinks he’s responsible for her death.”

 

Ben’s eyes jerked open.  “He what?”

 

“God, it was so sad last night.  I held him, he was half asleep and half awake I’d guess.  Anyway, he sobbed and sobbed, blaming himself because that day, he’d asked her to hurry back so they could play some checkers.” Adam looked up at his father.  “Pa, do you realize today is the anniversary of Marie’s death?”
Ben nodded his head, his eyes looking downward.  “I know that now, son.  I know that now,” he whispered.

 

The men were quiet, each engrossed in his own thoughts, finally understanding Joe’s behavior for the last month or more.  As the older men contemplated this latest revelation, Hoss quietly told Adam about the notes he’d found.  The older brother closed his eyes, drawing a deep breath to calm the turmoil he felt inside.

 

“Hey, Adam,” Charlie finally interrupted their reveries.  “Where’d Joe go to get water?”

 

“Oh, I figure he headed down to that spring just beyond that rock outcropping.” Adam pointed in a very different direction than the one in which his brother had started out.  “That’s the closest and it’s only a ten-minute walk or so.” Adam stopped as though he’d been frozen.

 

Charlie realized at the same time what could have happened.  “Did you tell Little Joe about that spring, Adam?” he asked cautiously.

 

“No, damn it, I didn’t.” Adam was angry at his own oversight.

 

“Then he doesn’t know to go that way, does he, son?” Ben picked up on the concern his foreman and son had just realized.

 

“No.” Adam spoke softly.

 

“Adam,” Hoss asked innocently.  “If you didn’t know that spring was there, there’d be no way he’d know to go that way.  That path sure doesn’t look like it’s headed to no water.”

 

Turning on his brother with a fury he meant directed to himself, Adam reacted vehemently, “I know that!” he yelled, then immediately wished he’d not responded to Hoss like that.

 

“I’m sorry,” he said contritely.  “You’re right, Hoss, he’d have no way of knowing.  And I never even thought about it.  Oh, damn, where might he have gone.”

 

“Let’s all calm down,” interrupted Ben with a reasonableness he certainly didn’t feel.  “We’ve got to stop and think this through.  With this hard rock ground, there’s no way we’re going to be able to track him.  Let’s just think.” His gaze encircled the same area Joe had surveyed maybe an hour earlier.

 

“You think maybe he backtracked down to where you started up the mountain, Adam?” Charlie was more thinking out loud than suggesting Joe had made that decision.

 

Running his fingers through his dark hair in frustration, Adam responded, “Hell, Charlie, I don’t have any idea.  No, I don’t think he’d do that.  Besides, you would have seen him coming up, wouldn’t you?”

 

“Probably,” Charlie mused.  “Just the same, it’s about the only place that even looks like there’s water around.  That trail to the spring doesn’t look like anything.”

 

“Just the same, let’s send someone along that spring path,” suggested Ben.  “Hoss, you know the way, don’t you?”

 

“Yes, sir,” the young man responded and moved off at a quick pace, following the trail leading behind the big rock outcropping.

 

Charlie started back down the trail they’d come up, hoping to find some tracks to indicate the youngest Cartwright boy had passed by.  He returned at about the time Hoss returned from the spring.

 

The two men shook their heads, indicating neither had been successful.

 

“Adam,” Hoss shook his brother.  “Remember when you and me first came up here?” When his brother acknowledged this, Hoss went on, more animated than before.  “Remember when I saw that stream down off the mountain with the easy trail leading to it?”

 

Adam’s posture straightened as he realized what Hoss was intimating.  “That’s right, Hoss.  It looked so easy and you were ready to head down.” Adam shook his head.  “I almost let you, too, but with that huge cliff and the talus on the slope, it was just too dangerous.”

 

“What are you talking about?” questioned Ben.

 

“Devil’s Leap, that’s what they’re talking about,” responded Charlie excitedly.  “I’ve not been up here in years.  Which direction is it, Adam?”

 

Adam thought for a moment, then hurried to his left.  “Right there.  See, there’s the path and you can see that stream.  Damn, we’ve got to hurry, Pa.  Joe’s been gone long enough to be close to that cliff by now.”

 

“Stop and think, Adam.  Joe’s apt to try lots of things, but he wouldn’t climb down no cliff, would he?”

 

“No, Hoss, he probably wouldn’t,” Ben answered.  “But that’s where this all gets its name.  The stream is an enticement by the devil to start a traveler down that path, then there’s that cliff in the way.  To go around it is as hard a hike as I’d ever want to take and it looks like there’s an easy way down to the right, across all that loose talus.”

 

“That’s the other of the devil’s tricks, Hoss,” Charlie carried on the legend.  “Talus is loose gravel like stuff that’s really dangerous to climb on.  But it looks so easy, and the alternative is so hard that anyone would choose to slide down the talus.  It only looks like it’s eight or nine feet to solid ground.”

 

Adam took up the tale.  “That’s the real problem, Hoss.  What looks like solid ground is an illusion, just a narrow ledge maybe two feet wide at most.  And if you’re sliding too fast, you can go over the ledge…and then, it’s maybe a 200-foot drop over the real Devil’s Cliff.” The three stood silently at the top of the trail, wondering if Joe had really taken that path.

 

“Here’s the trail, Ben,” Charlie yelled.  He’d started down the path, looking for signs that Ben’s son may have passed that way.  He pointed to a small heel print beside a scrub pine.

 

“Get your rope, Hoss.  Adam, grab a canteen.  We’re going down this way.” Ben issued orders, glad they had at least a plan, wishing Joe had chosen another path to get his water.

 

As they moved further down the trail, the ground changed from the hard rock to more sandy soil where the sandstone had eroded and Joe’s tracks were easier to follow.  Charlie, leading the party, stopped abruptly.  The remaining three turned to where the man was examining some tracks.  Next to the small boot print was the perfect outline of a grizzly bear track.  “We’re not the only ones following that boy,” he mumbled, as the rescue took on a more desperate aura.

 

“Let’s move,” Ben called out.  “Watch out for any movements off the trail and keep your rifles off safety.  For God’s sake,” he added unnecessarily, “be careful.”

 

The four men moved quietly, and as quickly as could be done safely, down the path, each engrossed in his own thoughts.  The bear tracks followed along with Little Joe’s, as though the bear were stalking the boy.

 

Charlie pointed to a change in the tracks.  “I think Joe realizes he’s got the bear after him.  Look, he’s obviously started off at a faster pace and look,” he pointed further down the trail, “he keeps turning around for some reason.”

 

“Maybe to check what’s behind him,” Hoss offered.

 

“I imagine, son,” Ben answered for his foreman as they continued following the trail.  “Look, he’s taken off at a run.  My God, Charlie.” Ben willed himself not to panic.

 

The party moved forward now at a faster pace than was safe, afraid of what they’d find when they reached the first cliff and the talus slope.  The bear had not yet picked up his pace, though, and Ben said a silent prayer of thanks.

 

“Pa,” Adam called out.  “There he is!” He pointed to a small figure crossing through a break in the trees, heading straight for the first cliff.  “Joe,” he yelled, but the boy didn’t hear him.  Adam moved on, searching carefully for the bear, but not seeing it.  “But I don’t see that damned…” A menacing growl stopped him in mid sentence as he turned to face one of the biggest bears he’s ever seen.  A single swipe of its gigantic paw raked across Adam’s left arm.  He fired as the bear charged, his shot joining three others as Ben, Charlie and Hoss emptied round after round into the animal.

 

As his family and the foreman rushed toward Adam, he waved them away.  “I’m gonna be fine, Pa.  Get Joe.” Without a backward glance, the three hurried down the slope, leaving Adam to bind his arm.  It took only minutes for Adam to tear off the sleeve of his shirt, tying the cloth tightly around his upper arm to stop the bleeding.  Knowing that would have to suffice for the time, Adam stood uneasily on his feet, waiting a moment to orient himself, then hurried down the trail to catch up with his family.

 

Where the trail got steeper, Charlie slowed the Cartwright’s.  “Joe,” he called out, sure from this distance, if Joe hadn’t fallen over the cliff, that he’d be able to hear them.  The others joined, with pauses between to hear if the boy answered.

 

It was a very faint answering call that Hoss was first to hear.  “Pa, over to your left.”

 

The older man strained to hear, finally catching a distant response to Charlie’s call.

 

“Careful now,” it was Charlie taking the lead.  “One misstep and we’re over the ledge.  Slowly now.” The four men inched their way to the edge of the cliff.  It was Hoss’ sharp eyes that saw the boy first.

 

“Pa, over to the left again, over the cliff.  Isn’t that Joe on that ledge.”

 

Ben looked where his son was pointing.  His youngest boy was on a narrow edge, clinging to the rock face, obviously terrified that if he let go, he might fall 200 feet to his death on the hard rocks below him.  “By God, that’s him.  Joe, Joe,” he called out, waving a hat to catch his son’s attention.

 

Joe finally turned his head, just enough to see from where the voice was calling.  He started to wave, but as his hand left the rock, his mind realized he was no longer fully connected to the rock face and the boy instantly regained his hold.

 

“Joseph, son,” Ben cupped his hand around his mouth as he called to his terrified child.  “Are you okay?” Little Joe nodded ever so slightly, afraid that any movement might send him careening down the cliffs.

 

“Good, Joseph.  You’re going to be fine.  You just hold on and we’ll get you up.” Ben looked at his friend.  “What do you think, Charlie?” he asked quietly so Joe couldn’t hear.

 

“I’m not sure, Ben.  Ask him if he’s willing to loop a rope around his chest so we can pull him up?”

 

“If he’s willing?” Adam couldn’t keep quiet.  “You think he wants to stay down there?”

 

Ben put a calming hand on eldest son.  “Adam, look at your little brother.  He’s terrified.  He hasn’t let go of that rock face since we’ve gotten here.  Not even to wave an acknowledgment that he’d seen us.”

 

“What if he won’t do it, Pa?” Hoss had overheard the conversation and was becoming alarmed.  It was Adam’s turn to put a supporting arm around his brother.  Hoss turned toward his older brother.  Adam mouthed a reassuring word and his brother relaxed.

 

“Joe, I want you to listen carefully to me.” Ben thought he saw his son nod ever so slightly.  “We’re going to drop this rope with a loop down to you.” When Joe showed no sign of having heard, his father called out louder, “Can you hear me, son?”

 

On the ledge, Joe stood terrified, leaning with all his heart into the side of the mountain.  His one glance down to his left had absolutely petrified him, leaving him too scared to even acknowledge his father’s questions.  The simple act of shaking his head had magnified itself in the boy’s mind until it had seemed he would fall backwards off the rock outcrop on which he stood.

 

“Son,” it was his father again.  “I want you to slide the loop over your head.  Then pull it tightly to your chest.  Do you understand?”

 

Joe certainly did understand.  How could he make his father understand there was no way he could do that without plummeting to his death.  Even the slightest motion was fraught with peril from Little Joe’s perspective.

 

Ben turned to Charlie as his friend spoke, “This isn’t going to work, Ben.  He’s just too frightened.” The Cartwright’s nodded, each remembering Joe’s absolute fear of heights that had been his nemesis for the last five years, ever since losing himself and getting stranded on Eagle’s Nest.  “One of us will have to go down.”

 

“I’ll go, of course,” Ben volunteered.

 

“Pa, there’s almost no room on that ledge for you.  It’ll have to be me,” Adam spoke up quickly.

 

His father’s look was answer enough that he wouldn’t be going.  “Don’t be foolish, Adam.  You’ve only got one good arm that you can depend on.  And we’re going to need you helping steady the rope.”

 

“Pa, I can do it.  You shouldn’t have to go down there.” Hoss reached to take the looped rope in Charlie’s hand.

 

Ben took the rope, slipping it over his own chest.  “I appreciate your offer, boys, but I can and will go bring Joseph back up.” As he spoke, his voice choked with emotion.  “I will bring Joseph back up,” he repeated in a whisper.  He hugged his two sons to him, then turned to back down the talus slope.

 

“Wait a minute, Ben,” Charlie stayed his friend’s rescue attempt.  “Look to your left.” Ben did as instructed, seeing a stash of loose gravel, supported only by a tiny shale like ledge.  “If you touch that ledge, you’ll be safe with this rope, but you’ll send all that rock down onto Little Joe.  You’ve got to move much farther to the left before you begin your descent.  After you get maybe five feet below that stash, you can cut back to the right.  It looks clean from there on.”

 

Ben drew a deep breath, thankful that peril had been spotted before Joe was badly injured.  “You drop me that other looped rope after I tell you.” Charlie handed the second rope to Hoss, knowing the boy could be counted on to do his job.

 

The three above the talus watched in silence as Ben stepped onto the gravel, trying desperately not to shower his son with any of the loose debris.  Carefully, the man inched his way to the left, trying to keep from being in a direct path to his son.

 

From above, he heard Adam call out.  “Little Joe, Pa’s on his way.  He’s having to go far to the left.  He’s gonna be down in just a bit.” As Adam continued his chatter, Ben smiled to himself realizing Adam was keeping the conversation going to reassure Joe.  “He’s started to move right, Joe.  Can you see him? He’s almost there.  Look for his boot.  You can see it.” Adam continued his monologue as he saw his brother turn his head just slightly in his father’s direction.  It was a start.

 

After what seemed an eternity, Ben stood on the edge of the ledge, his arms around his young son.  “Joe, it’s all right.  You’re going to be fine, boy.” He tried prying Little Joe’s hands off the rock face.

 

“No,” Joe’s scream pierced the air as his father tried pulling him away from the rock face.  The boy clenched his eyes closed, afraid of even looking at his father.  Ben stopped, unsure of his next move.

 

Ben stood, talking quietly to the boy, calmly reaching up to take the rope Hoss had dropped over the edge.  “Joe,” he began again.  “I’m going to slide this loop over your head and down under your arms.  Do you understand what I’m saying?”

 

Joe remained as though melded onto the rock face.  “Joe,” Ben repeated his plans for the boy’s rescue, hoping Joe would relax.  “Son, look at me,” he commanded quietly.  After a moment, he repeated his direction.  “Joseph, look at me now,” he said, his voice more firm, yet still calm and quiet.

 

Very slowly, the scared boy turned his head until he was looking at his father.  His face was so streaked with muddy tear tracks that Ben wanted to pull his son to him for comfort, yet stopped himself, knowing Little Joe would be terrified at being pulled from the rock.  This was something the boy would have to do himself if they were to get off the ledge safely.

 

“Joseph, I’m right here for you.  But you’ve got to take this rope and slide it under your arms.  Do you understand?”

 

Joe closed his eyes, “Pa, I just cant.  I can’t,” the boy whispered.

 

“You can, son, and I’m right here to see that you don’t fall.  I’m right beside you.”

 

Joe squeezed his eyes even tighter.  “I can’t, Pa.” Joe’s voice dropped even lower as a tear slid out from under his lids.  “I’m afraid, Pa.” His voice shook.  “Help me, please.” The boy couldn’t look at his father.

 

Ben spoke calmly, yet with resolve, “Son, have I ever lied to you? Ever?”

 

His son shook his head.  “Then you must believe me.  I will not let you fall.  Do you hear me?” Joe nodded his head in understanding.  “Then reach up with your right hand and take this rope.”

 

The boy shook his head, his face mirroring the misery he felt.  “I can’t.” He hated himself for his fear, knowing neither of his brothers nor his father could understand his demons.

 

“Joe, I’m telling you the truth.  I will not let you fall.  Reach up with your right hand.” After what seemed an eternity, Ben breathed a sigh of relief as he saw his son’s right hand slowly reach up to take the offered loop.  “I’m right here, son.  Remember, I won’t let you fall.  You know that don’t you?” The boy nodded very slightly.  “Good, Joe.  Now, pull it over your head and under you arm.  That’s right.  I’m right here, Joe.  You’re okay.” Slowly, Joe managed to maneuver the loop until it was securely tightened under his arms, looking at his father with wide eyes as he finished his task.

 

Ben risked a quick hug.  “I’m proud of you, Joseph.” He was rewarded with a small smile.  “Now, Adam, Hoss and Charlie are going to help pull you up this slope.  Do you understand?” When his son nodded, Ben continued.  “Listen to me.  If you slip, it’s okay.  They have you by the rope.  It’s okay.  You can’t fall.  Joe,” he took his son by the shoulders, squeezing them slightly.  “You’ll be okay.  They’ve got you so you can’t fall.  You can’t fall,” he repeated, hoping Little Joe truly understood what he was saying.  “Ready to go up?” he asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

 

Joe looked at his father one last time, then nodded.  Ben took a deep breath before calling up to the others.  “He’s ready.  Bring him up slowly.” Carefully, Joe was pulled up the slope until at last he was resting on the secure ground above the rocky slope.  In a matter of minutes, Ben was beside his son on the trail.

 

For a moment, no one spoke, each trying to banish his own fears they had had for this child.  It was Ben who first noticed the tears, pouring silently down Joe’s face as the boy’s shoulders shook.  Quietly, Ben pulled his son to him, holding him sideways on his lap as Joe buried his face in his father’s shirt.  Hoss moved to kneel by his father, his hands on his brother’s shoulders.  Adam joined him on the other side reaching one arm around his littlest brother, the other pulling Hoss into the embrace as Ben’s arms encircled them all.  Quietly, Charlie walked to the horses, leaving the family secure in each other’s love.
At the campsite, Joe, more subdued than usual, was beginning to get some color back in his face.  He remained sitting in his father’s lap, though, a sure sign things weren’t quite back to normal.  Ben’s mind drifted back in time as he remembered how scared Joe had been that time on Eagle’s Nest.  Five years later, the boy’s response, to cling almost desperately to his father, was practically identical.

 

The two remained sitting while Adam and Hoss sat on logs around the fire with them.  Just as Ben thought his son had drifted off to sleep, Joe spoke up.  “Pa, why didn’t you just leave me there?”

 

Ben looked down at his son, surprised at the question, then remembered Adam’s description of Joe’s nightmare and his own recollection of the notes from the Bare and Campbell boys.  He knew his answer had to be well thought out.

 

After several moments, Ben responded, “Joe, you’re my son.  If you weren’t a part of our family, I don’t know how any of us could stand it.” The boy looked over, not sure his father’s response was an honest one.  “You’re my son,” Ben repeated.  “Do you know what that means?” When Joe didn’t respond, the man continued.  “It means you’re part of this family, that no matter what happens at times, you’re loved and loved unconditionally.  It doesn’t matter what you do, how aggravated any of us get with you, how much I yell or punish you…you are always loved.  And will always be loved forever and ever.” Ben looked at his other two sons.  “You’re a part of this entire family, Joseph.  Just like Adam and Hoss…and just like your mother was.”

 

Ben felt Joe stiffen at the mention of his mother’s name.  “Son,” Ben reached to gently lift his son’s chin until the boy had to look into his father’s eyes.  “You were in no way responsible for your mother’s death.” Joe’s eyes closed tightly to ward of his father’s words.

 

“You don’t know, Pa,” the boy said, his voice almost inaudible it was so low.

 

“I do know, Joseph.  Your mother was riding a high strung, green broke horse that had given her trouble just the day before.  In fact, that’s why your mother chose to ride him.  She thought she could get him more used to the activity of the ranch if she rode him out onto the range.” Ben gently squeezed his son’s shoulders to get his attention.  “And, Joseph, your mother never, not once, walked a horse in the barn yard area.  Not once.” Joe looked up, surprised.

 

Adam felt he needed to say something.  “Man, I can remember some of the arguments Pa and Marie had, too, Joe, just over that very thing.  You’re like your ma in that way.  She never moved in slow motion and she never rode a horse in any gate slower than a trot.  And she always ran her horses back to the barn.  She never thought it would sour a horse, and you know, except for that last time, it never did create any problems for her.

 

Hoss reached over to ruffle his little brother’s hair.  “Yeah, she said it reminded her of riding along the bayous in Louisiana in the early spring, racing with the wind in her hair.  She just loved to run on a horse, little brother.”

 

“You mean,” Joe began, hoping that maybe what they’d said was true…

 

“Nothing you said, or I said, or Hoss or Adam said, would have made any difference that day.  On horseback, your mother was a free spirit.” Ben’s eyes clouded over with tears.  “I miss her still, Joseph, but I wouldn’t have had her any other way.” The man hugged his son close to him.

 

“You mean you wouldn’t trade her dead for me?” Joe asked quietly.

 

“I wish she were still alive, I can’t deny that.  But I would never trade you for her.  Never.”

 

Adam smiled over at his little brother.  “And no matter how aggravating you are, little brother, I wouldn’t trade you either.”

 

Hoss laughed, “Me either, Short Shanks.  You’re stuck in this family for ever.”

 

Joe smiled back, leaning into his father’s warm embrace.  He looked over at his brothers, a mischievous grin on his face.  “Oh, I don’t know about that.  If the price were right…” He giggled quietly, then laughed loudly as his two brothers descended on him, tickling him as he squirmed in his father’s lap.

 

Ben looked to heaven, thanking God for his son’s safe return.  “Thank you, Marie,” he added, remembering the small boy who had driven them all to distraction six or seven years ago, wondering for not the first time, what life held in store for all of them, thankful he’d have another chance to find out.

 

The End

Tags:  Adam Cartwright, Ben Cartwright, Hoss Cartwright, Joe / Little Joe Cartwright