Chapter 37

Ruth knelt in front of her brother’s gravestone. Her skirts formed a billowing cushion for her knees, though Ruth barely took note of the comfort. She found herself coming to visit Danny more and more often in recent days, arriving at the cemetery after the store closed and staying until the sun began to set. 

She looked down at the playbill she’d brought with her, running two fingers over the grainy, irregular splotches that stained the delicate paper rusty red. Splotches that could only be blood. 

This wasn’t Ruth’s playbill. The one that belonged to her was still in her wardrobe, hidden beneath her undergarments. She’d found this playbill in her father’s wardrobe. It must have been Danny’s. She’d warned him. She’d warned Danny that night after the play that he had to hide the playbill some place Papa would never look. Some place Papa would never find it. Of course, Danny promised he would, but knowing Danny, he was careless about secreting it. Or maybe Papa had grown suspicious of Danny’s activities and searched his room. Or maybe someone from Reedsville had seen Danny perform in the play and mentioned it to Papa. Ruth hadn’t seen anyone familiar in the audience that night, but that didn’t necessarily mean there wasn’t someone there who knew Papa.

Ruth dabbed at her wet eyes with a lace hanky. Kneeling in the grass and crying did her no good, but it was something she also found herself doing more and more often. Her own suspicions, the ones she’d harbored ever since Danny’s death, had borne fruit with the finding of her father’s journal, then a few days later, this playbill, followed by the discovery of a leather strap stiff with dried blood that was hidden behind a shovel and axe in her father’s tool shed. The Lord knew, however, this wasn’t what she wanted. It’s what she’d long suspected, but she’d never truly wanted to find evidence to substantiate those suspicions.

The woman took a deep, ragged breath. Her eyes traveled from her brother’s stone to her mother’s where her gaze lingered a long moment before returning to the spot marking Danny’s final resting place. Even with the evidence she’d collected, her chances of seeing justice carried out were slim. First of all, her sisters would never support any claims Ruth made against their father. And second of all, her father was male and the head of the household. Therefore it was unlikely any jury, comprised of men of course, would find him guilty of wrongdoing. After all, by Ohio state law, a father had the right to punish his son in any way he saw fit. If that punishment resulted in a terrible and unforeseeable accident, as Papa would vow was the case, then he’d be found innocent. Given Papa’s position in the community and his advanced years – well, Ruth knew justice for Danny would not prevail.

Because of all she’d uncovered and yet was helpless to do anything about, Ruth had decided she could no longer live under her father’s roof. She wouldn’t be here when he returned from Nevada. She didn’t know where she was going – maybe as far away as New York City, like Danny had wanted her to. What she knew for certain was she had money saved from the weekly wage her father paid her, and on the day he arrived home in the fall she’d be gone to some place where he’d never find her. She had skills ranging from sewing, to cooking, to keeping house, to her many years working in her father’s store. Surely she’d find employment of some sort in a large city that would allow her to support herself. 

The woman looked at the playbill again. Tears started once more as she apologized softly, “I’m sorry, Danny. I’m so sorry. He’s. . .he’s a sick man. You used to tell me he wasn’t right in the head, and what did I do but admonish you for speaking ill of your father. Well, now I know the truth. I’m only sorry I found out after it was too late to help you. I know it doesn’t seem like much – me leaving Papa’s house. I know it’s not nearly enough to bring justice for your death. But it’s the one thing I can do to honor your memory. I’ll. . .I’ll go to New York City like you wanted me to. I’ll leave this place – leave Papa’s home, and never return. I only wish I’d left when you wanted me to.” 

Ruth rested a wet cheek against the cold smoothness of Danny’s gravestone. She put one arm around the marker as though her brother could somehow feel the warmth of her hug. With her other hand, she clutched the playbill to her chest, wrinkling the delicate paper with the force of her grip. 

“Oh, Danny, forgive me for not having the courage to leave with you when you wanted me to.”

Chapter 38

Thanks to the box-supper revival the Baptists were holding in Virginia City, Daniel left before the evening meal with a picnic basket Hop Sing packed for him. On any other day, Ben would have gone with his brother in an effort to be a good host. But at the moment, he wasn’t feeling overly charitable toward Daniel. In addition, Daniel’s absence gave him the opportunity to speak to Adam and Hoss alone. 

Little Joe never came in for lunch, and had barely filled his plate before he lost his appetite for supper. As a platter of roast chicken was passed around the table, Adam asked, “So, how’d things go with Jim and his boys today?” 

Hoss paused in the act of pouring gravy on his mountain of mashed potatoes. “Yeah, Pa. Little Joe. How’d things go?”

Before Ben could shake his head at his older sons to indicate now wasn’t the time for that topic, Little Joe’s utensils clattered against his plate.

“How things went is Pa hopes you two are up to the job of babysitting for me until I’m eighty years old, or until Paul and Charlie are dead, whichever comes first.”

Adam and Hoss did exactly what Ben didn’t want them to – made light of Joe’s upset.

“Well, now, that will be rather cumbersome, but sure. I suppose Hoss and I can be your babysitters. It’s not like we haven’t had plenty of practice.”

“Sounds like a downright awful chore to me, but ain’t no skin off my nose ‘long as Pa pays me a fair wage for the job.”

“Boys–”

“Mmmm…” Adam pondered, while gazing at the ceiling. “Now just what would constitute a ‘fair wage’ when it comes to keeping an eye on this rascally little brother of ours?”

“Good point, Adam. We best negotiate that with Pa ‘fore we take on the task of babysittin’ short shanks. No tellin’ what kinda trouble he’ll get into the minute we turn our backs.”

“Boys, come on now, that’s–” 

“Yes,” Adam agreed. “There’s no telling. You know, Pa, come to think of it, I’m not sure you can afford us. After all, babysitting for Little Joe is a rather big task. Why, you’d need three or four more sons in order for the job to be done properly.”

“Boys, that’s enou–”

“Yep,” Hoss nodded. “Least three or four. Maybe even five. Little Joe can be a trial when he puts his mind to it and–”

Joe shot to his feet, threw his napkin on his plate, and headed for the door.

“Joseph, where are you going?”

“Outside!”

“Outside where?”

Joe kept his back to his father and brothers, his stance stiff and angry.

“Just outside, Pa. To…to…I’ll go to the bunkhouse.”

“Finish your supper first. You haven’t eaten since breakfast.”

“I’ll eat with the men.”

“Joe–”

“Pa, I’ll just be in the bunkhouse. No farther than that.”

“And you’ll eat?”

“Yeah, I’ll eat.”

Ben reluctantly gave his permission. “All right then. Go on.”

After the door opened and closed, he addressed his oldest sons.

“Thank you for that comedy act. Neither your brother nor I find it nearly as funny as you two do.”

“Aw, Pa, we was just funnin’ with him. We didn’t mean nothin’ by it.”

“Yeah, Pa, it’s not like Joe can’t usually give as good as he gets.”

“Well, on this subject he can’t, and you two should have known that.”

“So. . .uh, I take it things didn’t go well at Jim’s today?”

“No, Adam, things didn’t go well.”

As the three men ate, Ben told Adam and Hoss what transpired at the Dunn home, and the subsequent decision he’d made regarding Joe’s limited travels without a family member.

“Sounds like a good job for Uncle Dan’l iffin’ you ask me,” Hoss joked. “Keepin’ track of Little Joe, that is.”

Adam nodded. “I’d wager a week’s pay that he thinks he can do a better job of it than Pa.”

“What do you mean by that?” Ben asked.

“Oh nothing,” Adam dismissed. “Just some nonsense Uncle Daniel mentioned to me today about Joe.”

“What nonsense?”

“Something about Satan residing within him.”

Hoss raised an eyebrow. “Satan? Well now that’s the most dadburn fool thing I’ve ever heard anyone say ‘bout Little Joe.” Hoss looked at his father. “Forgive me for sayin’ so, Pa, bein’ Uncle Dan’l is your brother an’ all.”

“No need to ask my forgiveness, son. Daniel’s said as much to me.”

“Why would he say somethin’ like that?”

“Because he’s a harsh judge of character, for one thing. And for another, he’s intent on constantly comparing Little Joe to Danny, and to our pa.”

“Your pa?”

“What’s your father, or Danny for that matter, have to do with Little Joe?”

“That’s a good question, Adam. Nothing, as far as I’m concerned. Or at least not anything to be ashamed of. The worst that can be said about my pa and your brother is that Little Joe inherited his Grandfather Cartwright’s laugh, his curly hair, and his enjoyment of good-natured high jinks. And as far as Danny goes – I have no idea why Daniel makes comparisons between him and Little Joe.” Ben pushed his plate aside. “Never mind your uncle. September isn’t that far off. He’ll be going home soon. In the meantime, it’s up to the three of us to keep Little Joe safe until this thing with the Dunns runs its course.”

“Do you think it might be time to get Roy Coffee involved as well?” Adam asked.

“As much as I wanted to avoid that, yes, I think it’s past time. I’ll ride into town tomorrow and talk to him. At this point, I doubt there’s much he can do since it’s Little Joe’s word against Paul’s and Charlie’s. But if nothing else, I can sign a complaint so Roy has my statement on record should something. . .well, should something happen in the future.”

“Don’t you worry none, Pa. Nothin’s gonna happen. Me and Adam’ll keep a close watch on Little Joe until them Dunn boys get tired a’ seein’ us around and give up playin’ their games.”

“Yeah, Pa,” Adam assured, “There’s no need to worry. We’ll keep Joe safe.”

“Just make sure you keep yourselves safe while you’re at it.”

“We will. And that goes for you, too.”

Ben nodded. “I’ll do the same.”

The three men ate dessert; then retreated to the great room. Daniel joined them later that evening after returning from the revival. He immediately inquired of Ben as to Little Joe’s whereabouts.

“He’s in the bunkhouse.”

“Gambling, I suppose. His time would have been better spent at the revival with me.”

“I think his time was best spent right here,” Ben said in return. “And as for what he’s doing in the bunkhouse, he’s with men he likes and respects. That’s all any of us needs to know.”

They’d all gone to bed by the time Little Joe came in. Ben heard him come up the stairs, his footsteps a tad unsteady. He wondered if that unsteadiness simply indicated Joe was tired and should have turned in hours ago, or was a result of the whiskey bottle that had no doubt been passed around the bunkhouse after supper. The drinking aside, he also figured Joe had probably lost a week’s worth of wages playing poker with the men, but unlike Daniel, Little Joe’s gambling habits were the least of his concerns right now.

Knowing his youngest son was safely in the house allowed the father to finally drift toward sleep. Unfortunately for Ben, he didn’t realize that the danger to Joe wasn’t outside his four walls, but rather, within them.

Chapter 39

Nan stood in the dining room, soft white cloth scrunched between her fingers, polishing the Sunday silver. It was a chore she did one Saturday each month for Mrs. Dunn. It was boring, and tedious, and on a hot summer morning like this one, when not so much as a wisp of air was fluttering the curtains away from the big windows, sweat trickled down the back of her neck and plastered her bangs to her forehead. She glanced through the delicate lace of the curtains, checking on her young charges. The little girls were playing jacks in the ranch yard, while the little boys played “stallion” with a length of twine Timmy had fashioned into a lasso. Henry ran in circles throwing his head back and snorting like an angry horse, while Gerald tried to rope him. Fortunately for Henry, Gerald wasn’t especially skilled at this game.

Any notion Nan might have once held about having her very own set of Sunday silver someday in the future had long ago been disregarded as foolish. After all, why would any woman want to spend part of an already busy day polishing silver? Just plain old every day flatware would be good enough for her when the time came that she was married and keeping house.

Of course, if she married Little Joe, maybe he’d want a Sunday silverware set. She supposed the Cartwrights were used to fancy things same as the Dunns were, though she didn’t know for certain as she’d never been to the Ponderosa. 

Well, now, Nanette April Henning, you just best chase any thoughts of marrying Little Joe Cartwright out of your head, silly girl. Despite the way you two were making eyes at each other yesterday, he’s still the son of a wealthy rancher, and you’re still just the daughter of miner who can no longer make a living for his family. 

It was funny the way Nan heard her mother’s voice in her head at times like this. Practical and sage, that was Mama for you. Her advice had always been both wise and sound in Nan’s experience, and as she’d gotten older, she found she could clearly hear that advice even when Mama wasn’t anywhere around. Like right now, for instance. If Mama were here she’d say one Saturday night dance did not a marriage make. Besides, as far as Nan knew, Little Joe hadn’t gone to her father yet to ask if he could court her, and until he did so, she refused to be just another girl who’d been a passing fancy of his, like so many other girls before her.

But still, that didn’t mean they couldn’t continue their friendship. Although maybe having a friendship with Little Joe wasn’t right, considering he was a boy and she was a girl. Nan’s experience with friends thus far had always been friends of the female sex, like her best friend since she was six-years-old, Ellie Newport. Nan wasn’t sure what the Reverend Grady would say about a girl calling a boy her “friend” if the relationship didn’t extend to courting. Maybe she would have to ask him after Sunday service tomorrow.

Regardless of the reverend’s opinion, Nan knew when you shared a friendship with someone you didn’t want anything bad to happen to your friend. And she also figured that if you knew something bad was going to happen to your friend and you could prevent it by telling her – or him, in this case – then you were wrong not to make every effort to do so. 

The problem with working for the Dunns was exactly what Nan had told Little Joe some weeks back in that alley – she heard things at times that she wasn’t supposed to. After Mr. Cartwright and Little Joe left yesterday, Mr. Dunn, Paul and Charlie sat at the table until the younger children came in for lunch, plotting, planning, and scheming. They must have forgotten Nan was in the kitchen and could hear every word they said. Or maybe they just didn’t care, assuming that her loyalty to them extended far beyond any loyalty she’d feel for the Cartwrights. Maybe if she hadn’t gotten to know Little Joe better this summer, that would be a correct assumption. Though Nan wanted to believe that wasn’t so. After all, to inflict cruelty on someone for nothing other than revenge over the loss of some timber contracts was just plain wrong. Mr. Dunn was a wealthy man. Not having a timber contract with the railroad this year wasn’t going to change that fact, or cause his children to go hungry or without shoes come winter. As Nan’s pa often said, better to be an upstanding poor man than to be a rich man with a sour reputation. Not that most people knew what a bad apple Mr. Dunn was, though Nan suspected Ben Cartwright now realized it.

Nan pondered her next move. On Saturday afternoons, Mr. and Mrs. Dunn ran errands in Virginia City. Nan always rode along in their buggy because they dropped her off at the little house her parents’ rented, where she spent the remainder of the day and evening with her family. After services at the United Methodist church on Sunday morning, Nan met the Dunn family outside of St. Ignatius, the only Episcopal Church in Virginia City. She rode back to the ranch with them, helped Mrs. Dunn put Sunday dinner on the table, and got ready for another week of being a “mother’s helper” as Mrs. Dunn referred to her.

Nan wondered if she’d have time to meet up with Little Joe as his family came out of the Congregational Church. Sometimes the Dunns were invited to Sunday dinner at the homes of various friends in Virginia City, which meant Nan didn’t have to meet them for the ride back to the ranch until late in the afternoon. Maybe she’d get lucky and they’d have a noontime dinner invitation for this Sunday. She’d have more time to seek out Little Joe that way. Mrs. Dunn always told Nan of their Sunday plans during the Saturday ride into Virginia City. If there was no mention of a dinner invitation, then Nan would see if she could get to the Ponderosa later today. Her pa didn’t own a buggy, or even a horse, so having her own means of transportation was impossible. She did have some money saved from her job, though, so maybe…just maybe, she could rent a rig from the livery and drive herself out there. Pa might not allow it, though. And admittedly, Nan had never driven a buggy. But her younger brother Robbie had. He worked for Mr. Nickels, the wagon maker. Part of Robbie’s job was to hitch Mr. Nickels’ old horse up to wagons they’d made or repaired and make sure everything was aligned correctly. Maybe Robbie could borrow a wagon from Mr. Nickels, and his horse too, and then drive Nan out to the Ponderosa. 

These thoughts rushing through her mind made Nan hope Mr. and Mrs. Dunn didn’t dawdle after lunch today, but instead, were ready to leave for Virginia City immediately after the meal ended. Sometimes Mr. Dunn even suggested they leave before lunch so he could treat his wife to the noon meal in town. He left Margie and Polly in charge of the lunch preparations then, and allowed Nan to end her workweek that much earlier.

Nan was so lost in her own plotting and planning that she didn’t hear him approach her from behind. She didn’t know Mr. Dunn was there until his right hand came to rest on her shoulder. She startled and began turning around, only to have him hold her in place by pressing his body into hers. Through her skirt and petticoats, she could feel the hard part of him that made him a man. She wasn’t experienced in the things men and women did behind closed doors, but her ma had told her a little bit about the birds and the bees. Enough for Nan to know what the firmness of Mr. Dunn’s male part meant. It was a reaction meant for a man to have with his wife, not with the sixteen- year-old house girl.

Nan’s eyes flicked around the limited view she had of the dining room. She prayed Mrs. Dunn or one of the children would suddenly appear.

“Mr. Dunn–”

“Hush, now, Nan,” he shushed quietly while lifting a few stray hairs from her neck that the heat had caused to fall from her hairpins. He ran two fingers over her bare skin, softly tickling. “I have some concerns.”

“Con. . .concerns?”

She was already pressed up against the table, but he pushed with his hips again, bruising her thighs. 

“I’m awful curious as to how Little Joe Cartwright came to the conclusion that my boys had something to do with that fight he had in that alley.”

“Fight? I don’t know anything about a fi–”

“Oh now, I think you do.” He slowly rolled her dress collar down and laved his tongue across her damp skin. “Funny thing, but I just don’t see how Little Joe and Ben could have thought my boys had anything to do with that fight unless someone in this household told them.” Mr. Dunn chuckled as Nan shivered and tried to pull away from him. “Now granted, Timmy can’t keep a secret to save his soul, but Timmy was never around when the boys and I. . .talked. I made sure of that. The only person who has been around is you.”

Nan’s voice was weak and shaky as she pleaded her case.

“Mr. Dunn, I work for you, not for Mr. Cartwright. Even if I did overhear things I wouldn’t tell him or Little Joe.”

“Don’t lie to me, Nan,” the man ordered. He reached around to the front of her dress and gave her left breast a hard squeeze. “I might believe you if I hadn’t heard that Little Joe was seen walking you home from the dance last Saturday night. So you’re not good enough for my Paul or Charlie, but good enough for Little Joe, is that it?”

In a moment of stubborn defiance, Nan declared, “I might be good enough for Paul or Charlie if they treated me like a lady deserves to be treated. But then, they learned well from their father, didn’t they?”

The man spun her around. “Why you little–”

Before the open hand he’d raised could connect with the side of her face, a voice called from the big porch.

“Jim, are we leaving for town soon?”

The man released Nan so fast she would have swore her skin was burning him. He shot backwards four steps.

Mrs. Dunn entered the house through the front door, carrying a basket brimming with vegetables from the garden. Margie followed in her mother’s wake. 

“Here, Margie, take these to the kitchen for me. You can wash them, then take them to the fruit cellar.”

“Yes, Ma.”

As Marjorie walked through the dining room with the basket, Mrs. Dunn removed her bonnet, hung it on a hook in the foyer, and then entered the room.

“Well, Jim, are we?”

“Are. . .are we what?” the man stammered, his unsteady voice evidence of the close call he’d just had.

“Leaving for town soon.” 

“Oh. . .uh no. No, Rilla. You’re not going to town today.”

“Not going to town? But why?”

“You need to rest. You know what Doc Martin said.”

“Oh, Jim, I’ve been in the family way many times before and never had problems that amounted to anything.”

Mr. Dunn walked over to his wife and slipped his arms around her waist. “But you’re not a blushing bride any longer, dear, just like I’m no longer a young groom. Remember the concerns we had when you were carrying both Nora and Henry. You need to stay off your feet as much as possible.”

This was the first Nan had heard that Mrs. Dunn was expecting another a child. She didn’t look as though she was in the family way, so she must be in the early months – the months when a miscarriage was most likely, especially for a woman over forty. From something Nan had overheard Mrs. Dunn say to some lady friends once, she knew there had been problems of some sort that caused Doc Martin worries about her ability to carry first Nora, and then Henry, to full term. 

“Well, I hope you don’t plan to keep me locked up here in this house forever,” the woman teased.

“Not forever,” Mr. Dunn said lightly. “Just until Doc assures us any danger to the baby, and to you, have passed. Humor me for the next few months, please. I’m as excited about baby number twelve as I was about baby number one.”

The woman turned and beamed up at her husband. “I can see that.”

Mr. Dunn kissed his wife on the cheek; then came to stand behind Nan once again. The light hand he placed on her shoulder could be perceived as an innocent “fatherly touch,” by Mrs. Dunn. However, Nan knew Mrs. Dunn couldn’t see that he’d placed his other hand at the small of her back. That hand slid seductively to Nan’s waist and then pinched a fold of skin.

“And the good news is, Nan has agreed to stay on through the weekends to help out, haven’t you, Nan.”

“Oh, Nan, no. I can’t let you do that. You should be home with your family on Saturday evenings and attend church with them on Sundays, as was our agreement when Mr. Dunn hired you.”

“She doesn’t mind, do you, Nan.”

Nan didn’t know what was worse. The pain from the pinch, or feeling the man pressed against her buttocks once more. 

“No…uh, no, I don’t…I don’t mind, Mrs. Dunn.”

“Then as soon as Doctor Martin says any worries of losing this baby are past, I’ll see to it that my husband gives you an entire week off to spend with your family – with pay, too.”

“Yes, Ma’am. Thank you. That’s…that’s very kind of you.”

“In the meantime, Jim, what about Nan’s parents?”

“What about them?”

“We need to send word that Nan won’t be coming home on Saturdays until sometime in the fall. By the end of October any danger should be past.”

“I already thought of that. I’ll stop and give them the word myself when I go into town this afternoon.”

“Good. Then it’s all settled.” 

As Mrs. Dunn approached to take Nan’s hand and give it a grateful squeeze, Mr. Dunn stepped away. 

“I surely do appreciate your presence, Nan.” Despite the woman’s kind words, there was an underlying sadness to her tone that made Nan wonder if she knew exactly what inappropriate actions her husband was engaged in before she entered the room. “You’ve been such a big help ever since you hired on with us last year.”

“Yes, Ma’am. That’s…that’s nice of you to say.”

“Now enough of you being on your feet for this morning,” Mr. Dunn insisted. “Go up and lie down until lunch. Nan can get the meal together while Margie keeps an eye on the young ones outside.”

Mrs. Dunn chuckled at her husband’s solicitous behavior. “If you insist. Though I still feel as though I’m being held prisoner in my own home.”

As the man escorted his wife up the stairs, Nan couldn’t help but think that it wasn’t Mrs. Dunn who was being held prisoner, but rather, it was she.

Chapter 40

Daniel had become quite an accomplished horseman in the weeks since he’d arrived on the Ponderosa. Or so he thought, anyway. Unbeknownst to him, his nephews weren’t impressed with his abilities. As Joe muttered to Hoss one day when Daniel was bragging about his newfound skill, “So the old coot can climb on the back of a horse and plod along like a little kid taking his first ride. Don’t see why I’m supposed to think so much of that. I just hope he doesn’t expect me to pick him up the first time he takes a fall, ‘cause if he does, he’s gonna find himself on the ground until you or Adam come along and take pity on him.”

But Daniel was prone to thinking highly of himself, ignoring the Bible’s directive to remain humble in the sight of the Lord. As Joe also pointed out to Hoss on more than one occasion that summer, what was good for the goose wasn’t necessarily good for the gander as far as Uncle Daniel was concerned.

However, all of these thoughts were never voiced in front of Daniel, and no one mentioned that his riding skills were rudimentary at best. Nonetheless, as the summer passed, Ben felt comfortable enough with Daniel’s abilities to let him ride off on his own. He’d given him the gentlest horse on the Ponderosa, Sweet Daisy. Joe said it was a darn shame such a pleasant animal got stuck with such a cantankerous old goat, though Ben wasn’t supposed to overhear that remark, so he diplomatically ignored it while silently agreeing.

In recent days, no one paid much attention to Daniel’s lone comings and goings on Daisy. He supposed they’d gotten so used to his presence that they no longer paid him much mind. In addition to that, this latest upset with Joseph had their thoughts occupied elsewhere, which was all the better. Daniel’s thoughts were on Joseph as well, but there was no use in sharing his concerns with Benjamin. His brother’s chance to assist with driving the evil from Joseph had long since passed. Daniel knew now that the Lord sent him so far from home to show Benjamin the error of his ways, and to help him rectify those ways. But Benjamin wanted no part of his help, and Satan closed his ears to any reasoning Daniel offered. Therefore, it was Daniel who must purify the boy; transforming him into the man God wanted him to be. 

It was truly a gift from the Lord, how easily Daniel could spot evil intentions in a young man. For example, those two young men up ahead lurking in that grove of pine trees, not wanting to be seen on Ponderosa land for some reason. Daniel rode on a little ways. He pretended he didn’t spot the boys until he was adjacent to them.

“You there! You two! Come out and show yourselves,” he demanded. “Move along! You’re not in trouble. I just want a word with you.”

The boys didn’t run off like Daniel half expected them to. He didn’t see their horses anywhere nearby. Possibly they’d crossed onto Ponderosa land on foot, or had their horses tethered a fair distance away. Whichever the case, they must have thought he’d chase them down if they fled. All the better for Daniel then, that the pair didn’t know Sweet Daisy had two speeds – slow and slower. 

“Come along!” Daniel thundered. “Be men and step out here where I can speak with you. Only little boys and sissies hide behind trees.”

When the two finally appeared and got a close look at him, they appeared confused and uncertain. As though they had mistaken him for someone else. For Benjamin perhaps, since Daniel and his brother strongly resembled one another. Their voices were difficult to tell apart too. Now that they saw he wasn’t Benjamin, they seemed to regret showing themselves. They also adopted an attitude Daniel instinctively knew they wouldn’t have the courage to display to his brother.

“Look, ol’ man, you’re the one who should move along if you know what’s good for you.”

“Yeah, if ya’ know what’s good for ya’ you’ll forget ya’ ever saw us.”

The young fools hadn’t noticed the leather strap he carried, nor did they expect it to strike with the speed of an ill-tempered rattlesnake. He’d gotten good with a strap over the years, thanks to Danny.

The strap left an angry welt on the cheek of the dark haired boy. The fair-haired boy lost his gun when the strap lashed the hand he drew the weapon with. As they cowered, one cradling his face and the other cradling his wrist, they didn’t look nearly as menacing as they gave themselves credit for. That was the thing about boys. You could easily call their bluff if you had the right tools at your disposal.

“Now that I have your attention, gentlemen, answer me this. Is your last name Dunn?”

Neither boy said a word until Daniel raised his strap again and thundered, “The Lord commands you to respond to me! Is your last name Dunn?”

The boys hesitated a moment; then gave reluctant nods. 

Daniel did something rare for him. He smiled.

“Good.” He climbed off Daisy. “Then I’ve got a business proposition for the two of you.”

“Business proposition?” the dark haired boy – the one Daniel guessed to be the oldest – questioned.

“Yes, a business proposition.” 

The younger boy’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. “What kinda business proposition?”

“The kind that involves my nephew, Joseph Cartwright. Are you interested?”

The boys exchanged glances. 

“Don’t worry,” Daniel assured. “I believe what I have in mind you’ll find to your liking.” 

“What makes you say that?”

“Because it involves accomplishing what you’ve been trying to do all summer.”

“And what’s that?”

“Teaching him a lesson, boys, that’s what.” Daniel smiled while his fingers lightly caressed the strap he’d brought from home without fully knowing why he’d packed it until now. “Teaching Joseph Cartwright a lesson he’ll never forget.”

Chapter 41

All was quiet during the three weeks that had passed since Ben and Little Joe visited the Dunn ranch. Despite Joe’s ascertains that the personal protection provided by his family was no longer necessary, Ben didn’t loosen any restrictions he’d placed on his youngest. He knew Joe was itching for freedom. He hadn’t been anywhere beyond the ranch yard without his father or one of his brothers at his side. This wasn’t exactly the ideal situation for an eighteen-year-old boy to find himself in, especially not when that boy – or “young man” as Ben continually reminded himself – was Joseph Cartwright. Nonetheless, it was how things were going to remain for a while yet. Ben wouldn’t risk his son’s life just because that son was complaining about his “nursemaids and tattletales,” for the fourth time this week.

“Perhaps your brothers wouldn’t need to be tattletales if you hadn’t tried to sneak off to Mitch’s on Adam, and if you hadn’t tried to slip away from Hoss in Virginia City.”

Joe opened his mouth to argue, but before he got a word out, Ben held up a warning hand. 

“Unless you want me remind you of several other instances in recent weeks when you’ve tried to shake loose of your brothers, you’ll end this discussion now.”

Joe had the good grace to look sheepish. As he walked out the front door, headed for the barn that had become his oasis when he was feeling penned in by his family, he teased, “Least I haven’t tried to sneak off on you, Pa. You keep too close of an eye on me for that.”

“And I plan to continue to do so!” Ben called as the door closed.

Had Daniel been there, he’d no doubt lecture Ben on Little Joe’s impertinence, or encourage Ben to follow the boy to the barn and give him a good strapping. Thankfully, Daniel was nowhere around. In recent weeks, he’d gotten in the habit of taking a long, lone ride on Sweet Daisy after lunch. Perhaps Ben should question his manners as a host if the guest in his home took to disappearing each afternoon, but in this case, Ben didn’t dwell on it. Admittedly, at a time when tension was running high in Ben’s house, he didn’t need the additional tension his brother’s presence brought. As well, Ben assumed Daniel was growing just as weary of them as they were of him. It had been a long summer for many reasons. Ben was ready for his brother to depart, and for his home to once again be a private sanctuary for himself and his sons, where Daniel’s strong opinions didn’t interrupt their discussions, their joking, their teasing, and their disagreements. As he’d told Adam the other day, “After your uncle Daniel leaves, I don’t think I’ll be up to any overnight visitors for a while.” 

Adam’s eyes had twinkled as he looked up from the ledger sheet he was recording figures in. 

“Pa, after Uncle Daniel leaves, I don’t think any of us will be welcoming to overnight guests for at least six months. Probably not for a full year where Little Joe is concerned.”

Ben chuckled. “No, probably not. If Little Joe has his say so, the Ponderosa likely won’t see hide nor hair of guests for the next decade.”

And now the time for Daniel’s departure was finally in sight. In just five more days, August would give way to September. Although the heat of summer was still upon them during the day, the evenings were growing cooler once the sun set. No longer did the heat hang on all night without breaking. And the days were growing shorter as well – sunrise coming later than it had just two months ago, and likewise sunset coming earlier. Daniel was scheduled to depart by stage from Virginia City on September 10th. His journey home would be a long one, but he should arrive well ahead of any snowfalls that would cause travel delays, or make travel impossible until spring.

Ben glanced around the main floor of the ranch house. Though it was ninety degrees outside, he was picturing a cold winter evening with a glowing fire taking the chill out of the air, Hop Sing’s beef stew simmering on the stove, an applesauce cake baking in the oven, and his sons gathered safely near him. Though winter was several months away yet, Ben held onto that picture as he went outside to find his youngest and assure him that things would be better soon.

Chapter 42

Joe took off his black hat and ran a shirtsleeve across his forehead, wiping away the sweat trickling down to sting his eyes. Beneath his hat, his curls were limp and damp. At least “limp and damp,” meant Uncle Daniel wouldn’t fuss at him about needing a haircut. He was worse than Pa where the length of Joe’s hair was concerned. Thankfully, Uncle Daniel wasn’t with them today. He’d chosen to remain behind and do what, Joe wasn’t sure, other than to assume the old man would take his usual afternoon ride on Daisy.

“Can’t wait until I’m twenty-one,” Joe thought for not the first time this summer. “Then no one’s gonna tell me when I gotta get my hair cut. Might even let it grow until it hits my shoulders.”

Joe laughed to himself, enjoying the thought of how mortified his father would be if he allowed his thick, unruly curls to reach his shoulders. 

“What’s so funny, little brother?”

“Yeah, kid, would you mind sharing the joke with us. On a day like today, I’d welcome something to laugh about.”

Adam’s reference to a “day like today” meant you could already fry an egg on a rock, and only long, hot hours of back breaking work lay ahead of them up here at the timber camp.

Joe scowled. He’d been enjoying a few precious seconds alone until his babysitters ambled over and ruined his solitude.

“You might as well quit frowning,” Adam said. “Pa’s not ready to give in on this yet, and quite frankly, neither are Hoss and I. Though I have to admit, as much as I never thought I’d hear myself say this, you were considerably more sweet natured the last time I had to keep track of your every move.”

“Yeah, short shanks. For some reason this job was a might easier when you were still in diapers.”

Joe’s scowl deepened at the teasing, which only caused his brothers to laugh.

Ben walked up just then, taking a long drink of water from the barrel. Like the Cartwrights, the timber crew was getting a much-needed mid-morning break. The deadline for the lumber due the railroad was looming ever closer. Once this project was completed the fall roundup would be upon them. Joe didn’t see an end in sight to their long days until cold weather and snow signaled the arrival of winter. 

If nothing else, maybe by then I’ll have my freedom back.

This was the last day of August. There’d been no trouble from the Dunns in a month now. Joe believed any concerns over Paul’s and Charlie’s pranks could be put to rest. Unfortunately, Pa didn’t agree. When exactly Pa would agree, Joe wasn’t sure. However, it had better be soon, ‘cause if it wasn’t, then the next time he decided to slip away from Adam or Hoss, you could damn well bet he’d be successful at it.

For now, Pa seemed intent on keeping Joe busy and nearby. Not that he wouldn’t have been kept busy without the additional worry of what the Dunns might do. It was that time of year on a ranch – a lot to get accomplished before the days grew short and bitter cold. But if it weren’t for the Dunns, at least Joe would have been given occasional errands to run into Virginia City, thus allowing him to hook up with Mitch and Tuck, or to squire Nan about town on a Saturday evening.

He hadn’t seen Nan since that morning he’d been at the Dunn home with his pa. For all he knew, she’d taken up with another fellow by now. Not that he could blame her if she did. He hadn’t sent word to her regarding his forced imprisonment. He supposed he could have asked one of his brothers to take a message to her, but that would have meant revealing he had feelings for her. Since those feelings were still in the early stages, and since he wasn’t up for any more teasing than he already endured on an almost daily basis from his sibling nursemaids, Joe decided he didn’t want to use Adam or Hoss as messengers. His only other options were Tuck or Mitch, and he hadn’t seen them in weeks either. They were probably wondering why he hadn’t been in town on Saturday nights, but they hadn’t stopped by the ranch to find out. More than likely because their fathers were keeping them just as busy as Joe was. This wasn’t generally the time of year when a rancher, or a rancher’s sons, went calling on neighbors unless someone needed help.

Pa took several long swallows of water, then put the dipper back in the barrel. His gaze took in the fallen trees, and then the thick stand of Ponderosa pines that stretched for acres up the rise of land beyond them. Those trees wouldn’t be harvested this year, and maybe not for several years to come, depending on what their needs were with regard to future timber contracts.

“Well, boys, I’d say about another week up here, two at most, and we’ll have met our obligation to the railroad.”

“Then it’ll be ‘bout time for round-up,” Hoss said.

“Yes, it will.”

“Maybe you two’ll be off babysitting duty by then.” Joe’s comment was directed at his brothers, but meant for his father.

“We can only hope,” Adam droned.

“An’ pray,” Hoss added, glancing upward as though taking his plea right to Heaven. 

“Now come on, boys,” Ben said in a lighthearted tone, “it hasn’t been all that bad, has it?”

“Depends on who you’re asking, Pa.”

“Yeah,” Joe agreed with his oldest brother, “depends on who you’re asking.”

Ben laughed. “Well, actually, I’m not asking anyone.” He put an arm around Joe’s shoulders. “Come on, let’s get back to work. Men! Back to work! Noon will arrive soon enough and then we’ll break for lunch!”

Joe could already detect appealing smells coming from the chuck wagon. The one good thing about working at the timber camp was that Hoss managed to find the best darn chow cook this side of the Rockies.

Ben led his boys back to work, his protective arm not dropping from Joe’s shoulders until they’d all picked up their axes and returned to stripping fallen trees of their branches.

Chapter 43

For the first time since their scheming and plotting against the Cartwrights began, Paul Dunn wasn’t keen on the idea his father and Charlie had come up with. The potential for loss of innocent lives was too great, and as well, to use a little girl as bait – well, it left an uneasy feeling in Paul’s gut. He wondered what his mother would say if she knew the real reason why Daphne was allowed to leave the ranch that morning, riding in front of Paul on his horse. 

As with any large family, various members of the Dunn siblings were close with one other, while others were not as close. In Paul’s case, amongst his sisters, it was Daphne he felt the most affection for, for reasons he couldn’t explain. Maybe it was her spunk he liked, or the way she gave as good as she got when Timmy, Matthew and Gerald were teasing her. Or maybe it was the gentle way she “mothered” Nora and Henry, making sure they didn’t wander behind old Bossy when she was being milked, or making sure their hands and faces were clean before they sat down to eat lunch. Or it could have been the way she ran to Paul and hugged him around the waist while telling him she’d missed him each time he’d been gone from the ranch for more than an hour or two. Regardless of the reason, he and his seven-year-old sister shared a special bond, which was why he hated this plan all the more. He’d never forgive himself if something happened to her.

If there was one good thing about the plan, it was hooking up with Daniel Cartwright. Exactly what the old man had against Little Joe, Paul didn’t know, nor did he care. He and Charlie had met with the guy several times since they’d first run across him. Once they’d decided they could trust him, and that he wasn’t a spy Ben Cartwright sent to entrap them, he’d proven to be a valuable source of information. No longer did they have to guess where Little Joe would be and when, or simply run across him by chance. 

Still, as they rode toward the timber camp, doubts clouded Paul’s mind. He turned to Charlie. 

“I don’t know about this.”

“Look, it’ll be okay. Everything’ll go fine ‘long as we do things just as Pa laid ‘em out.”

“And I’m gonna help!” Daphne declared from in front of Paul, though she really had no clue as to how her presence would come into play, or even where they were going or what they were up to.

“Yeah, sweetheart,” Paul agreed, laying a tender hand on her dark hair pulled back today in two long braids, “you’re gonna help. But you have to do exactly as I say, you understand?”

The girl nodded.

“And it might get a little scary, but don’t you worry. I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.”

“Okay.” 

Paul couldn’t help but smile at her happy-go-lucky, “Okay.” Proof again that this girl had more spunk than most. Any other child her age who was told something frightening was about to happen would cry for her mama, but not Daphne. 

Charlie nodded to the narrow trail up ahead and the figure waiting there for them.

“There he is.”

Paul looked. For a moment his heart skipped a beat, sure they’d been set up. But as they got closer he saw it was Daniel Cartwright, and not Ben. Daphne, however, couldn’t tell the difference.

“There’s Mr. Cartwright!” she announced gaily.

“Yeah,” Paul agreed, not explaining, nor planning to explain, this wasn’t the Mr. Cartwright she knew, “that’s Mr. Cartwright waiting for us.”

And he did look like Mr. Cartwright, right down to the clothes and hat he was wearing. The horse – well, it was still that old nag from the Ponderosa. There wasn’t much that could be done about that, but Daphne didn’t seem to notice the man’s mount. 

She greeted the man as they drew closer. “Hi, Mr. Cartwright.”

Paul had already explained to Daniel that he’d have to be civil to the little girl, as she’d know something was wrong if he didn’t greet her warmly like Ben always did.

Paul wasn’t sure if the stiff, “Hello, child,” could really be considered a warm greeting, but it seemed to pass Daphne’s inspection.

“I have an important job to do today,” she revealed. “Except Paul says it’s a secret.”

“Is that so? Important jobs are pleasing in the eye of the Lord, aren’t they.”

Daphne’s response came with a hint of uncertainty, as though she suddenly didn’t think Mr. Cartwright sounded like the Mr. Cartwright she knew. 

“Um, yes. . .yes, sir.”

Paul quickly covered the man’s slip, taking the lead in the conversation. Thanks to their mother, Daphne had been taught that children don’t interrupt adult conversations, nor speak unless spoken to, so if she had any misgivings about “Mr. Cartwright” she kept them to herself.

The three men talked softly as they rode toward the timber camp, being careful to keep their conversation as covert as possible given Daphne’s presence. They’d gone over the plan numerous times during the past several days, so there was little need to go into it again other than to calm Paul’s nerves.

As they reached the outskirts of the camp, Paul and Charlie brought their horses to a stop while Daniel rode on ahead. He was to confirm Joe’s presence in the camp below, ideally without being seen. If he was seen their plan would probably fall through, but at least no one would have spotted the Dunns on Cartwright land, while at the same time, no one would question Daniel’s right to be up here.

Twenty minutes later Daniel returned. He nodded to the brothers. “He’s down there.”

“You’re sure?” Paul questioned.

“I’m as sure as am that Jesus is my savior.”

Paul thought the man’s reference to Jesus was rather odd considering what they were about to do, but then, it wasn’t lost on him that Daniel Cartwright was just plain odd in general.

“All right then. I guess. . .” Paul swallowed hard. “I guess it’s now or never.”

Paul climbed off his horse, took a deep breath, wiped his sweating palms on the legs of his trousers, then smiled at Daphne while holding out his arms.

“Come on, Lady Daphne, let’s get you down off that horse and put you to work.”

Chapter 44

It happened so fast, Ben was hard pressed to recall all of the details after the crisis ended and he realized Little Joe was missing. Someone shouted, “Fire!” and Ben looked up to see smoke and flames rising over Settlers’ Ridge. With as dry as it was, the fire could have reached them in minutes. Only a gentle wind blowing in the opposite direction prevented loss of life.

Ben remembered that they’d all raced toward the fire – himself, his sons, and the entire crew, including their cook. Everyone grabbed a tool of some sort that would help in fighting the fire – axe, shovel, blanket, or bucket of water. Little Joe ran ahead of him as they raced up the ridge, Adam by his side. Ben and Hoss lagged behind a bit, lost in the sea of running men. Ben didn’t recall being worried about Joe or his whereabouts, though he realized later that was his first mistake. All his mind could focus on was the fire they had to put out before it spread to the timber they’d already cut, or burnt hundreds of acres of trees they’d need in the future.

It took hours to get the fire under control. Thank heavens for the sudden storm that blew in. Had it not been for the thirty minutes of heavy rainfall, the fire would still be burning. As it was, morning had turned to late afternoon before they had all the flames extinguished and the hot spots covered with dirt. Ben’s pocket watch revealed it was a quarter past five when they were finally hobbling down the ridge to the timber camp, where they doused themselves with cold water and begin lining up for one of the sandwiches the cook slapped together. 

“Was a bad ‘un,” Hoss said in-between bites of his sandwich. The streaks of soot on his face made it appear as though he’d just cleaned every chimney between here and Carson City, and his sweat-soaked shirt clung to his back. “But not nearly as bad as it coulda’ been.”

“That’s for sure,” Adam agreed, taking a large bite of his own sandwich. He wasn’t any cleaner than his brother, but right now food took precedence over washing more than his hands.

Ben scanned the crowd of men waiting to eat. He wouldn’t get a sandwich until he was certain everyone else was fed.

“Where’s Little Joe?” Ben asked.

“He was with Hoss.”

“No he wasn’t. Last time I saw ‘im he was runnin’ up the ridge ‘long side you.”

Adam shook his head. “Well if he was, I never noticed him.”

Ben renewed his visual search. “He must be around here somewhere. I remember seeing him at my elbow while we were fighting the fire.” He headed off for the line of men, sure that his son’s slight stature had him hidden from view. “He’s probably in line for a sandwich.”

“Probably,” Adam nodded.

“Yeah, an’ have ‘im get me another sandwich or two while he’s at it, will ya’, Pa.”

Ben shot Hoss a disapproving look. “You can have more after everyone else has been fed.”

“Uh. . .right, Pa. Sure. Yes, sir.”

As he walked away, Ben heard Hoss mumble something about fainting dead away from hunger. His son’s mutterings brought a smile to his face, but the smile quickly faded when his search for Little Joe proved fruitless.

“Have you seen Little Joe?” He asked every man he ran across as his search continued. “Have you seen my youngest son?” He asked those who wouldn’t know Joe by name. “Eighteen years old, black hat, dark curly hair, slight build, and stands about this high,” Ben held a hand to his shoulder as he described Joe to any man who was new to the crew. 

Again and again, men told Ben they hadn’t seen Joe, or at the very least, hadn’t seen him in quite some time.

“Think I saw him right after the fire started, Mr. Cartwright,” one man said. “But haven’t seen him since then.”

“Yeah,” another chimed in. “He helped me stamp out some flames not long after we got up that ridge, but don’t believe I ran across him again.” 

And that’s when Ben realized none of them had seen Joe since the fire began. Hoss had seen him racing up the ridge with Adam, and Ben remembered Little Joe being at his elbow while swinging an axe, but that had been hours ago. 

Ben marched toward his sons.

“Adam, Hoss. Come on! We need to look for your brother.”

“No one’s seen him?” Adam asked.

“No, not since the fire began.”

“If he used this as an excuse to sneak off–” 

“Joseph wouldn’t do that, Adam,” Ben growled. “Not in the middle putting out a fire. Now come on. Help me find him.”

Ben didn’t hear Hoss take up where Adam ended. “If Little Joe did sneak off, Pa’s gonna ring his darn fool neck.”

“Not if I get a hold of him first,” Adam vowed. “Come along. We’d better get a move on or Pa’s gonna be halfway up that ridge before we’re even on our horses.”

And so their search for Little Joe began. It ended when it grew too dark to see. Any thoughts Adam or Hoss might have had about Joe sneaking off left them as they saw their father’s worry steadily increasing. 

Once night fell, Ben had no choice but to call off the search. He thanked the timber crew who’d readily joined in and helped them. 

“You want us to start searching again at first light, Mr. Cartwright?” the crew’s foreman asked as they all gathered together back at the camp.

“Yes, Slim, I do. Thank you. I appreciate it.”

“Mr. Cartwright!” a young man hailed from the back of the crowd. He pushed his way through the men. “Me and Jed found this. Does it belong to your boy?”

Ben took the pale blue jacket from the young man whose name he didn’t know. It was charred and smeared with soot, as though Joe might have grabbed it from his saddle horn as they ran from camp and used it to smother flames. Ben tried to recall if he’d seen his son using the jacket in this manner, but no clear memory came forth. 

Ben turned the jacket over, inspecting it. He didn’t see any signs of what he was looking for – blood, or other indications of physical trauma – but that didn’t bring him any great relief. His hand wrapped tightly around the jacket as though he was clinging to Little Joe, he thanked the young man who’d brought it to him and turned to his sons.

“Come on, boys, let’s bed down for the night. We’ll start searching again with Slim and the men at first light.”

“Pa–” 

Ben shook his head at whatever Adam was about to say. Perhaps, “Let’s head home, Pa, so you can get a good night’s sleep in your own bed.” Or maybe, “Pa, why don’t you head on home. I’ll send one of the men with you. Hoss and I’ll stay up here and start searching again in the morning. We’ll send word when we find him.”

“It’s my fault,” Ben said softly as he and his sons walked away from the men.

“What’s yer fault, Pa?”

“I should have been keeping an eye on him. I should have known something like this would happen.”

“Pa, you couldn’t have predicted an act of nature.”

“Yes, Adam, I suppose that’s true. But what I could have predicted was a fire purposely set.”

“Purposely?” Hoss questioned. “By who?”

“The Dunns.”

“Aw now, Pa, doncha think you’re carryin’ this thing a bit too far. The Dunns startin’ a fire and then. . .and then doing what ta’ Little Joe? Kidnappin’ him? More than likely he got hisself turned around up there in them woods and’ll come walkin’ out tomorrow mornin’ wonderin’ what all the fuss is about.”

“Yeah, Pa, I agree with Hoss. I think–”

“I don’t care what either of you think. Call it. . .call it a father’s instinct. I just know.”

Ben didn’t see the looks his sons exchanged behind his back, but then, he didn’t have to. He could hear the disbelief in their voices. Regardless, their opinions didn’t sway him from his own. As he climbed into his bedroll to face a long restless night, he clung to Joe’s jacket, and the hope that his son would be returned to him unharmed.

Chapter 45

The pain was beyond anything Joe had ever experienced. It stung like a thousand angry hornets were attacking his bare back, and burned like his skin was on fire. Fire. There was a fire! That much his muddled brain recalled. And then a little girl darting in and out of the trees screaming for help. He raced toward her, scooped her up and ran with her away from the flames. After that, he couldn’t remember so well what happened next. Something hit him hard on the back of the head. He was falling, trying not to drop the girl, when someone slipped her from his arms. She was crying, as though what was happening frightened her. He thought he heard her scream, “Paul! Paul!” with raw terror, and in a fleeting moment realized where he’d seen her before. She was on of the Dunn children, though he couldn’t recall her name.

As he started to climb back to his feet, a wad of cloth was shoved against his nose and mouth. He recognized the smell of chloroform, and fought to wrench his face away, only to have a larger, stronger hand join the first one in holding his head still. As consciousness began to fade, he caught a glimpse of a broad shouldered man with a wide, strong chest and muttered, “Pa,” sure in that moment that everything was going to be all right.

But everything wasn’t all right. He didn’t know where he was because a blindfold covered his eyes. He was secured to something smooth and cold – a slab of stone perhaps. Whatever it was that bit into his back kept lashing him over and over again in a rhythm that wouldn’t quit while his father’s voice demanded he repent. 

Joe didn’t want to cry out. He didn’t want to voice his pain, but as that pain reached new heights he couldn’t help himself, which only seemed to spur his tormentor on.

“Repent, sinner! Repent! Ask the Lord to forgive you! Ask for his forgiveness!”

Joe couldn’t have asked for the Lord’s forgiveness even if his pride would have let him. His mouth was as dry as a desert, and the pain was so severe he couldn’t get more out than an anguished cry. He heard other voices, and then someone was telling his tormentor to stop. That this was enough, that things had gone too far. And crying – the little girl from the ridge was crying again. In between her choking sobs she begged, “Stop! Stop hurting him! Please stop hurting him!” 

A struggle ensued behind him, but Joe was losing consciousness again. Even if he hadn’t been, he wouldn’t have been able to see because of the blindfold and the way he was secured by the rough horsehair rope, with stomach and chest against the slab.

Joe never felt it when they cut him loose. He slid off the slab, landing on the cave floor. The little girl’s crying receded as feet ran away and someone muttered, “You’re crazy ole’ man, you know that?”

The old man Charlie Dunn spoke to as he ran past stood there smiling down at his nephew. Despite the sissies those Dunn boys had turned out to be, his work here was complete. As he looked at his nephew’s torn and bloody back, Daniel knew the devil had been driven out of Joseph Cartwright.

Chapter 46

The search for Joe resumed as dawn broke. Several of the men had helped the cook get breakfast on. Adam and Hoss encouraged their father to eat, but to no avail. He drank two cups of coffee, then ordered, “Let’s head out.”

They split up shortly after the search began, deciding that fifty men searching in fifty different directions was the best way to proceed. A single gunshot meant you’d found Joe, or at least something of interest. Adam prayed that “something of interest” didn’t prove to be a body, and still clung to the same belief as Hoss – that Joe had gotten turned around during the fire and ended up several miles away. It wasn’t unheard of by any means when men were fighting a fire, and even last night, several crewmen straggled in after dark. Unfortunately, none of them had seen Joe.

Right before the search got underway this morning, Pa sent Slim to town with a handwritten message for Roy regarding the missing Joe and his theory that Jim Dunn was involved. He also instructed Slim to ride out to the Ponderosa and leave word with Hop Sing and Daniel about their delay at the camp. Adam wondered if Uncle Daniel would ride up and join the search. He hoped not for two reasons. One, Uncle Daniel didn’t know this part of the country and they didn’t need to end up searching for him as well. And two, Pa didn’t need the strife Uncle Daniel seemed to bring to even the best of situations.

Adam rode along slowly, eyes alternating between the ground and the area around him. After almost two hours of riding, he saw no signs of Joe – not a glove, not a kerchief, not his hat, nor not Joe himself, walking over the charred landscape headed for camp. 

“Joe!” he called for what seemed like the hundredth time. “Little Joe!”

Unlike when he found Joe in the hole a few weeks back, no return answer came on the heels of his calls.

Adam rode on, faintly hearing the calls of other men as they yelled Joe’s name. He didn’t like the thought of his father searching alone, and hoped Hoss had managed to stick near Pa, as he and Hoss had agreed should be the case before they left camp. If the worst had somehow happened and Joe got caught in the middle of the fire. . .well, Adam didn’t want his father to be alone if he was the one who found Little Joe’s remains.

Adam pushed those dark thoughts aside and moved along, continuing his search. As the morning wore on, he strained to hear a rifle shot. He wasn’t sure if he should wish for such a sound or not. It could mean good news, or it could mean bad news. He’d have no way of knowing until he arrived at the location it came from. 

When he first spotted the figure coming over a distant blackened ridge, Adam assumed it was another searcher. A good number of the timber crew was on foot because they’d ridden to the camp in wagons. By the way the man was shirtless and staggering, Adam also assumed he’d brought along his own “pick me up.” He was about to lay into the guy for drinking on the job, let alone in the middle of a search for a missing man, when the person drew close enough for Adam to identify him despite his soot streaked face.

“Joe!”

Adam jumped off Sport and ran toward his brother, scrambling on all fours up the steep ridge. Joe didn’t seem aware of his presence. He kept stumbling along, putting one foot in front of another like a man trudging through a mud filled bog.

“Joe! Little Joe! Wait right there! Let me come to you.”

Adam’s words didn’t register with his brother. Joe continued his drunken stagger, as though his mind was determined to get him to a specific destination despite the inabilities of his body.

It wasn’t until Adam was upon his brother that he saw the bruises dotting the boy’s face, neck, and arms, and the blood running from some injury hidden by Joe’s wildly tangled hair. The clear outline of a rope was visible in the red streaks tattooing his bare chest. Someone had roughed the kid up but good. 

“Joe. Little Joe.” Adam gently grasped his brother’s upper arms, “Joe, it’s me, Adam. You’re okay, Joe. You can stop walking now. I’ve got you. I’ll get you back to camp.”

Joe blinked several times as though Adam’s voice was rousing him from a medicated stupor. 

“Ad. . .Adam?” Joe’s hands rose, then fell, then rose again. Trembling fingers grasped the material of Adam’s shirt. “Adam?”

“Yes, little brother, it’s Adam.”

“Ad. . .Ad. . .Adam,” Joe repeated, as though he had something important to convey his brother. “Adam. . .Adam tell Pa. . .tell Pa. . .”

“Tell Pa what, Joe?”

Joe’s knees finally gave way. As he sagged against his older brother’s chest, Adam got his first look at the torn flesh on his back.

“Oh my God. Who did this to you, Little Joe? Who did this to you, boy?”

As consciousness rapidly faded, a lone tear tracked a muddy trail down Joe’s face as he looked up at Adam and softly beseeched, “Tell Pa. . .please tell Pa I repent.”

Chapter 47

To Ben Cartwright, the trip home seemed to drag on for days. He rode in the back of a wagon with his injured son, Adam beside him to help in any way he could. Hoss drove the wagon, not entrusting that job to anyone else. Ben sent a man to fetch Doc Martin, telling him to have the doctor meet them at the ranch house. Other men from the timber crew followed on the Cartwrights’ horses, while the remainder returned to work under the guidance of a well-seasoned crew boss.

The battered, bruised and bloody Joe lay against his father’s chest during the ride home. They’d given him what medical care they could before leaving the camp. Given their limited resources, that care didn’t extend much beyond washing his wounds with water and determining the source of the bleeding head wound. It was Hoss who located the bump on the back of Joe’s head, a few inches from his left ear.

“Someone’s hit ‘im good and hard. There’s a deep gash here.” Hoss cleaned the wound, then lightly bandaged it. “Doc’s probably gonna have to stitch it closed.”

Adam washed the blood from Joe’s back, doing his best to be gentle as he tried to flush out dirt and gravel. “That explains why he was so out of it when I found him.” 

Ben was seated on the ground. He held the unconscious Joe while his sons tended to him, and some of the men hitched a team to the wagon and loaded its bed with blankets, clean towels, and fresh water. 

“He didn’t tell you anything? Give you any clues as to what happened?”

“No. The only thing he said was to tell you that he repents.”

“That he repents?” Ben looked down at his son and brushed damp curls from his forehead. “What’d he mean by that?”

“Probably didn’t mean anything by it. Like I said, he was out of it.”

“Yeah, Pa, it was likely just crazy talk brought on by this here bump and that fever he’s got.” Hoss rested a hand on his brother’s forehead a moment to gauge the fever. “Don’t you worry none. Little Joe’ll be all right once Doc’s patched him up and he’s gotten some rest.”

Hoss’s words contrasted with the concern showing from his eyes, which told Ben there were plenty of reasons to worry. Reasons Ben knew well when it came to raising boys and dealing with the types of injuries Joe had. Infection from the wounds on his back, the fever that was steadily rising, to an array of problems caused by the bump on his head – Ben had an abundance to worry about it, but there was no use in saying so to Adam and Hoss. They were also well aware of all the reasons to worry.

Despite how furious Joe’s injuries made Ben and his sons, none of them spoke of that fury during the trip. Getting Little Joe home and providing him with the medical care he needed was the priority. Ben knew there would be time enough later to hunt down the bastard who’d taken a strap to his son’s back and give him a taste of his own medicine.

Joe grew restless several times throughout the ride. His head rolled back and forth against his father’s chest, and his left leg moved back and forth as though he was fighting pain. He called out for his father as though crying for Ben’s help, and finally looked up into Ben’s face with eyes clouded by fever and whispered, “I. . .I’m sorry, Pa. I repent. I repent, Pa.”

Ben thought it was an odd phrase for Little Joe to use, but given the boy’s injuries, he didn’t dwell on it, or think further as to the possible source of it. Instead, he grasped Joe’s questing hand, gave it a gentle squeeze, then cradled it against his cheek.

“You don’t have anything to repent for, son. It’s all right. You’re with Pa and Hoss and Adam now, and you’re going to be fine. You’re going to be just fine. You’ll feel better soon, I promise. We’re headed home. Doc Martin’ll be waiting there for us. He’ll fix you up good as new in no time.”

“Sorry. . .sorry, Pa. I. . .stop, Pa!” Joe cried, arching his back against what Ben guessed was both real and imagined pain. “Please stop. Oh please stop, Pa! Please stop!”

“Sssh,” Ben soothed. He caressed Joe’s cheek with his free hand, all the while uncertain as to what his son wanted him to stop. “It’s okay, Joseph. No one’s going to hurt you again. You’re with Pa now. I promise I won’t let anyone hurt you. I promise, son. I promise.”

As Joe continued to beg for an end to the pain, Ben didn’t realize his promises meant nothing to the feverish boy who thought his father had demanded his repentance with help from a leather strap.

Chapter 48

“He was crazy, Pa. Plumb outta his mind crazy. Once he got started with that strap he was like a wild man. He’d a’ killed Little Joe if we hadn’t stopped him.”

Jim Dunn ran a hand through his hair as he paced the floor of his office. Only his two oldest sons were present. Right before he’d closed his office door he’d made it clear to the rest of the family that they weren’t to be interrupted. Not that the children or Rilla would be foolish enough to knock on the door given the mood Jim had been in at the breakfast table. 

“Why didn’t the old man stick to the plan?” Jim muttered with disgust. “Why would he do something that stupid?”

“Because he evidently had a plan he didn’t share with us,” Paul said. 

“The only thing he was supposed to do was confirm Little Joe was at the timber camp, then leave the rest up to you boys. Little Joe wasn’t supposed to get hurt. Not seriously anyway.”

Jim shook his head at how everything had unraveled because of one conniving old man they thought they could trust. That fire was meant to destroy some Cartwright timber and create a diversion so that just like a calf being separated from the herd, Little Joe was separated from the protection of his family. Then the boys were to kidnap Joe and leave him trussed up in that cave until a few days had passed, and he was sufficiently hungry, thirsty and had wet himself often enough to be miserable and humiliated, before word sent anonymously would reach Ben Cartwright as to where he was. The beauty of the original plan was that no one would ever know for sure Paul and Charlie were involved. They were to overpower Joe from behind, blindfold him, and remain silent in his presence. When all was said and done, the message to Ben should have been clear. Don’t mess with Jim Dunn again. Would Ben have assumed Jim and his boys were involved in Joe’s kidnapping? Of course he would. But could Sheriff Coffee do anything about it without proof? No, he couldn’t. 

“For all we know he could have killed Little Joe after we left,” Paul said. “He could have killed Joe and right now be pinnin’ the blame on us.”

“And if he didn’t kill him, Pa, then Little Joe saw Daphne. We told her to stay far enough away from the fire that she wasn’t in danger, and so’s all Little Joe would hear was her calling for help just like you said. But the wind blew the fire toward her. He ran to her, picked her up, and carried her outta there. That’s when me and Paul caught up with him.”

“But he didn’t see the two of you?”

“I’m pretty sure he didn’t. But like I said, he saw Daphne. He carried her for cryin’ out loud.”

“Would he have known who she was?”

“I. . .I don’t know,” Charlie said, starting to pace with agitation just like his father. “Probably. Maybe not by name, but I bet he got a good enough look at her to know she’s our sister.”

Jim fought to quell the rising panic he could hear in his sons’ voices. Things would fall apart quicker than a shot gun wedding where the bride’s father had an itchy trigger finger if he didn’t calm their fears.

“Look, boys, the best thing we can do right now is send the two of you away.”

“Away?”

“I’ve got that land in Wyoming territory. There’s an old house of some sort on it. We’ll get you boys there and let you start homesteading the place.”

“Homesteading?” Paul’s voice was filled with doubt. “Pa. . .”

Jim held up a hand. “You’re men now. Not much younger than I was when I came out here on my own with only a few dollars to my name. You can do this. And you’ll have all the money you need at your disposal.”

“But how long’ll we have to stay?” Charlie asked.

“I don’t know. Until this thing blows over.” Jim offered a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry. I’m not abandoning you. I won’t abandon you.”

Jim walked toward the safe in a far corner of the room. “I’ll give you the money you’ll need to travel on, then wire you more once you get there. You’ll ride to Carson City and catch the stage from there. Rent stalls at the livery for your horses. Glen and I’ll ride over and get them after you’re gone.”

“But we don’t even know where we’re going,” Charlie protested.

“You will by the time you’re ready to leave. I’ll have everything written down for you. Now go on. Hurry. Get yourselves packed and say your goodbyes to your Mother. There’s no time to waste.”

Spurred on by their father’s urgency, the boys rushed from the room. 

Jim opened the safe, counted out some cash and gold coins, then grabbed a land deed and a map. He hurried to his desk, where he began charting his sons’ escape route to the acreage he’d purchased in Wyoming last year sight unseen.

Chapter 49

Paul and Charlie had been gone a mere twenty-four hours when Roy Coffee showed up at Jim Dunn’s door shortly before lunch on Thursday. It was bad enough that Rilla was upstairs crying over her sons’ unexplained departure, that Daphne had woken up four times the previous night screaming, and that the other children were in a state of confusion over the tension, secrets and lies in the house. The last thing Jim needed was Roy nosing around and asking questions.

It was Nan who led the sheriff to Jim’s office. Jim feigned a welcoming smile at the man’s sudden appearance.

“Roy, this is an unexpected surprise.” Jim stepped out from behind his desk and extended his hand. “What can I do for you today?”

Roy shook the offered hand. “I need ta’ talk to you for a few minutes, Jim.”

“Sounds serious.”

“It is.”

“Well, then, we shouldn’t have a serious conversation without some lemonade to whet our whistles. Can I have Nan bring a plate of cookies, too?”

“No, none for me. And I’ll pass on the lemonade too.”

“All right.” The man looked at Nan. “Please leave us alone, Nan. And shut the door on your way out.”

“Yes, Mr. Dunn.”

After Nan shut the door and Jim heard her footsteps recede down the hall, he indicated to a chair across from his desk.

“Have a seat, Roy.”

“No need.” Roy remained standing, holding his hat. “What I’m here for won’t take long.”

“Here for?”

“Where’re your boys, Jim?”

“I imagine they’re outside doing their chores. Or playing hide and go seek. Depends on which boys you’re talking about.”

“I’m talking about Paul and Charlie.”

“Oh. Well, Paul and Charlie aren’t here.”

“And where exactly would they be?”

“I sent them on a business trip.”

“Business trip?”

“Yes. They left on Monday.”

“I see. And can anyone verify this?”

“My children can. And Rilla, of course.”

“Anyone outside the family?”

“Outside the family?”

“That’s what I said. Can anyone besides your family members verify that your boys left here on Monday?”

“Well. . .our house girl can I suppose.”

“That would be Miss Henning?”

“Yes.”

“Can I speak with her on my way out?”

“Certainly. Roy, what’s this about? Why are you asking after Paul and Charlie?”

“There was a fire on Cartwright land on Tuesday. Up at Settlers’ Ridge.”

“Oh really? I hadn’t heard that.”

“Little Joe was hurt pretty bad.”

“Not burned I hope.”

“No, not burned. Appears someone grabbed him during the confusion and worked him over pretty good.”

“Oh. . .oh, well I’m sorry to hear that. Please convey to Ben my concerns and best wishes for Little Joe’s recovery.”

“I will. Jim, I didn’t come out here ta’ beat around the bush. I know your boys have been dustin’ it up with Little Joe this summer. Ben thinks they mighta’ had something to do with that fire, and with Little Joe gettin’ hurt.”

“My boys?” Jim said with indignation. “How dare Ben. . .my boys would have already been miles out of the territory when that fire started.”

“I see. And you’re sure ‘bout that?”

“Of course I’m sure! Exactly what are you insinuating, Roy?”

“They wouldn’t have had reason to double back and make a stop up there on Settlers’ Ridge, would they?”

“No, they wouldn’t have had reason, and I don’t appreciate you claiming such.”

“I’m not claiming anything. I’m just trying to find out who it was set that fire and hurt Little Joe.”

“Good. That’s what you should be doing. Which means you’re wasting your time here.”

“Little Joe seems to think one of your girls was up there.”

“One of my girls?”

“He doesn’t know her name, but said the child he saw was somewhere ‘round six or seven years old. Now you got a girl ‘bout that age, don’t you?”

“Yes. Daphne.”

“Can I talk to her?”

“No you can’t. She’s taken to her bed sick.”

“Sick?”

“Yes, that’s what I said.”

“Then maybe I should get Doc Martin to come out an’ take a look at her.”

“That’s not necessary. Rilla and I haven’t raised eleven children by sending for Doc Martin every time one of them gets a little feverish with a summer cold.”

“You’re sure you don’t want Doc to check her over? I can send him out when I get back ta’ town.”

“No,” Jim shook his head. “There’s no need. Like I said, it’s just a summer cold. The children have been passing it around the last couple of weeks.”

Roy studied him so long that Jim finally broke eye contact.

“You look a little peaked there yerself, Jim. I surely hope yer not comin’ down with that summer cold your girl’s got.” 

Roy nodded his thanks for Jim’s time. “Best be on my way. Can you tell me where I’ll find Miss Henning?”

“She should be in the kitchen preparing lunch. It’s this way.”

Jim led the sheriff into the kitchen. 

“Nan, Sheriff Coffee has a question for you.”

The girl slowly turned from the chicken she was frying. “Yes. . .Yes, Sir?”

The sheriff waited silently, staring at Jim until the man said, “Uh. . .I’ll leave you two alone.”

Jim did just that, but he didn’t go farther than the dining room. He heard Roy tell Nan there had been a fire on Cartwright land and that Little Joe was injured. He smiled, pleased that Nan answered the sheriff’s questions about Paul and Charlie’s whereabouts in the way he’d instructed her to. When Roy then asked her if it was her job to keep track of the younger children, she responded, “Yes, Sir.”

“Did the little girl – Daphne, I believe her name is. Did she go missing on Tuesday for any length of time?”

“Missing? Why. . .um. . .no, Sheriff. She’s. . .uh. . .she’s been up in her room sick the past few days. The children are passing around a summer cold.”

“I see. Well thank you, Miss Henning.”

“You’re welcome. Sheriff?”

“Yes?”

“Is Little Joe going to be okay?” There was a brief hesitation as though Nan was embarrassed for asking after Little Joe. She rushed to add, “Um. . .the reason I ask is because we uh. . .we were schoolmates.”

“He’s got a few rough days ahead of him, but yes. Doc thinks he’ll be all right provided infection don’t set in.” 

Jim could picture Roy nodding his head to Nan as he said again, “Thank you,” then exited the kitchen.

The sheriff didn’t say anything to the lurking Jim other than, “I’ll see myself out. Good day to you and Rilla.”

“Yes, Roy. Have a good day.”

Jim walked to the dining room windows, watching as Roy crossed the porch, went down the stairs, and took the reins of his horse from Timmy. He thanked Timmy, but didn’t linger to ask him any questions. Nor did he question any of the other children before riding out of the ranch yard.

Jim let out a sigh of relief. They’d dodged one bullet. Now hopefully that daft old Daniel Cartwright would keep his mouth shut where this mess was concerned.

Chapter 50

Nan hated herself for the way she’d lied to Sheriff Coffee, but she’d been too scared to do anything other than what Mr. Dunn demanded. She and the children had been told what to say about Paul and Charlie’s whereabouts, and they’d also been told to say Daphne was in bed with a summer cold. She knew the children were confused by all these falsehoods, but like Nan, they were too frightened to defy their father. Not that Nan had ever seen the man hurt any of them. Beyond the occasional trip to the woodshed most of the Dunn boys had experienced, Jim Dunn was a loving father to his offspring. But like most fathers, he commanded and expected respect as the head of the household. If he told the children to lie, and then readily supplied them with the lie, they’d go along with it. Nan could tell Glen and Margie had more reservations where this was concerned than the younger children did, but even they wouldn’t be likely to go against what their father instructed them to do.

Perhaps Nan was simply a stupid hired girl. A smart girl would have told the sheriff what she knew, and would have had the courage to tell him she was being held here against her will. But what if Sheriff Coffee hadn’t believed her about her imprisonment? What if he’d ridden off and left her here to be subjected to Mr. Dunn’s wrath? So far she’d avoided the man’s advances, but if he was angry with her. . .well, it was hard to predict what he might do to retaliate. That’s why she had her sights set on the latter part of October when she’d finally be going home. She’d already vowed to herself that once she was free of this place, she’d never return, no matter how much Mrs. Dunn and the children begged her to, or how much money Mr. Dunn offered her to.

If there was one thing Nan had perfected this summer, it was her eavesdropping skills. She’d stood outside the closed door of the study and managed to catch most of what was said between Mr. Dunn, Paul and Charlie the previous morning, and then again, when Sheriff Coffee and Mr. Dunn had their talk. She’d almost cried out with sorrow when she’d heard Paul and Charlie tell their father about Little Joe. At least now she had confirmation from Sheriff Coffee that he wasn’t dead, and that he’d likely recover from his injuries.

Scowl lines etched her forehead as she piled chicken onto a platter. Recovery – that was more than could be said for poor little Daphne. Whatever she’d witnessed up there on that ridge had terrorized her. Mr. Dunn hadn’t lied to the sheriff when he said Daphne had taken to her bed sick. Only the child’s illness had nothing to do with a summer cold, and everything to do with those stupid men using her as a pawn in their game. Nan wondered if Daphne would ever get over it, and she suspected Mrs. Dunn wondered so too. But whether she’d ever confront her husband about the hysterical condition Daphne had been in after returning from her day out with Paul, Nan couldn’t predict. Lately, Nan got the feeling Mrs. Dunn knew perfectly well what was going on in her home on all accounts, but simply chose to ignore the happenings. Would she ignore the affect it had on Daphne too? Again, Nan couldn’t predict.

As the family gathered for lunch in the dining room, Nan prepared a plate of chicken and mashed potatoes for Daphne. Once she had everyone served, she’d go upstairs and try to get the traumatized little girl to eat. 

Nan entered the dining room with the platter of fried chicken and set it in the center of the table. She then went back for the basket of rolls, bowl of mashed potatoes, and bowls of steamed vegetables, while Margie retrieved a pitcher of milk. As she watched Mrs. Dunn pour milk for Nora and Henry as though her oldest sons hadn’t been sent into hiding, and as though her seven year old wasn’t sitting upstairs in bed staring blankly at the wall, and as though her husband wasn’t making inappropriate advances toward the teenaged house girl, Nan vowed she wouldn’t be like this woman. She vowed she wouldn’t remain meek and silent when speaking up was the right thing to do. 

But most of all, she vowed she’d somehow get word to Mr. Cartwright that it was his own brother who tried to kill Little Joe.

Chapter 51

“Ben, I can’t arrest someone when I have no proof he did anything wrong.”

“Proof! What more proof do you want? You saw what they did to my boy! What more proof can you possibly need beyond bruises, welts, and torn flesh? Do I need to lay a corpse at your feet, Roy? Does Little Joe have to be dead before you’ll do anything about this?”

“Aw now, Ben, git off your high horse. You know perfectly well that I need the kinda proof that puts Paul and Charlie up on Settlers’ Ridge. I need the kinda proof that tells me it was them who started that fire and hurt Little Joe. Problem is, even Little Joe can’t say for sure it was them.”

“But he saw their little sister.”

“He thinks he did, I’ll give you that. But as far as him bein’ able to testify to that in a court of law – Ben, you heard him say that he didn’t know for certain who the child was. That hethought she was one of the Dunn children, but when I asked him which one he couldn’t give me her name.”

“I couldn’t give you the names of all Jim’s children either, but I know them when I see them.”

“Fine. So you know them when you see them. It’s likely Little Joe does too. But right now we have no proof that the little girl. . .or any little girl, was up there.”

Though he didn’t know it, Ben’s actions mirrored those of Jim Dunn in recent days. He paced the great room floor, shaking his head with disgust.

“So you think the Dunns are innocent. Is that it?”

“I never said that. If you’re askin’ me if I’ve got a feelin’ that Paul and Charlie were the ones behind that fire and Little Joe’s injuries, then yeah, Ben, the ache in my gut’s tellin’ me it’s so. Somethin’ fishy’s goin’ on over at Jim’s place. I could tell it the minute I set foot on the property. The children were jumpy as bullfrogs in the spring, Miss Henning wouldn’t look me in the eye, and I never caught so much as a glimpse of Rilla, but I swear I heard her crying upstairs. Added to all that, the little girl Joe claims he saw is sick with a summer cold according to Jim, yet when I offered to get the doc for her, he was firm ‘bout no doctor bein’ needed.”

“And Paul and Charlie are supposedly away on business. That’s the story, huh?”

“Yeah, that’s the story. Jim said they left on Monday, and Miss Henning confirmed it.”

“Jim could have ordered her to lie.”

“I suspect he did, but there’s not much I can do ‘bout it. Miss Henning wasn’t under oath when she spoke to me. Unfortunately, there’s no law that lets me put someone in jail for fibbin’ to the sheriff.”

There was no anger in Ben’s voice when he said, “If she did lie, it’s because she’s nothing other than a scared teenager. And because she needs her job.”

“I ‘magine so. Either way, don’t matter much ‘cause as I said, without proof of wrongdoing, I have no reason to go lookin’ for Paul and Charlie, or to question Miss Henning further.”

Ben glanced up the stairs to where his bruised and battered son lay recovering in his room. 

“Well, you might not have reason to go looking for them, but I have reason. Good reason.”

The man who’d been sitting quietly in the blue chair next to the stairway now stood and approached Ben. He slipped a solicitous arm around Ben’s shoulders and gave a brotherly squeeze. 

“Remember, Benjamin. Vengeance is mine sayeth the Lord.”

Ben moved away from Daniel. “That may be, but the Bible also says that the Lord helps those who help themselves. Perhaps this is one of those times when He expects me to act without His intervention.”

Roy shook his head. “You’d better listen to your brother, Ben. Seeking revenge against the Dunns is only gonna bring you a passel of trouble with both them and me.”

“Then you go upstairs and tell my son – the son who for some reason is afraid of me now, who shies away from my touch because of something those Dunn boys did to him – you go upstairs, Roy, and you tell Little Joe that his father is going to stand by and do nothing. That his father is going to let them hurt him again.”

Ben turned away, but not before the sheriff had seen the tears in his eyes.

“I won’t let that happen, Roy. I promised Little Joe I wouldn’t let them hurt him again, and it’s a promise I intend to keep.”

Chapter 52

“It’s my fault.”

“Joe, it’s not your fault.”

“Yes, it is.” Joe was propped up in bed, sitting back against a pile of pillows. He gingerly turned his head and faced the wall. “It’s my fault Pa’s so upset and yelling at Roy.”

“Look, it’s only natural that there’s going to be some upsets in this house for the next few days. Some. . .debate over what needs to be done. But none of it’s your fault.”

“I should have never told Pa about the Dunns to begin with.”

“If I remember correctly, he didn’t leave you much choice that day you came through the door with a black eye and a hand wrapped around your ribs.”

“But I asked him not to make a fuss over it. I asked him not to go see Mr. Dunn.”

“Joe, I don’t think Pa talking to Mr. Dunn changed the outcome of things one way or another.”

“That’s not the point. The point is I asked. If it had been you doin’ the asking, he would have respected what you wanted.”

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

“He would have.”

Adam sighed. He was sitting in a chair at Joe’s bedside, trying to help his younger brother while away some hours of enforced bed rest by reading the Territorial Enterprise to him. 

“Is this going to turn into one of those discussions where you claim Pa listens to me because I’m the oldest of the family, and doesn’t listen to you because you’re the baby of the family?”

“I prefer to be called the “youngest of the family,” if you don’t mind.”

Adam resisted the urge to smile. Most of the time, Joe would have said that with good humor, but today, it came out sharp and angry.

“Okay, ‘youngest of the family,’ have it your way. And I’ll concede that maybe you’re right. But then, I’m thirty years old to your eighteen, so don’t you think that’s what makes a difference where Pa’s decisions about us are concerned?”

Joe tried to scowl, but given the bruises and cuts on his face, his expression changed to a makeshift frown.

“Shouldn’t make a difference.”

Adam chuckled. “Oh, but Joseph, as Pa is often fond of telling me, someday when you’re a father, you’ll understand that it does make a difference.”

When Joe didn’t respond, Adam apologized. 

“Hey, I don’t want to argue with you. I’m sorry I’m not better company. You’d probably prefer a game of checkers with Hoss to me reading aloud.”

“As long as you’re not reading Shakespeare or Thoreau, I don’t mind. And as long as you leave the word puzzle for me to do later.”

“You’re a man of many facets, little brother.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing really. And anyway, it was a compliment, so quit trying to scowl.”

Joe’s eyes traveled to his brother. This time, Adam could tell he was stifling a smile.

“Hoss is staying at the timber camp tonight, so maybe Pa will play checkers with you after supper.”

Again, Joe’s eyes drifted to the wall.

Adam let silence linger in the room a long moment before finally taking the plunge and asking, “Okay, enough of this. What’s going on with you where Pa’s concerned?”

“Nothing.”

“I believe that about as much I believed your “nothing” when you were thirteen and I asked what you were up to when I spotted you and Mitch sneaking away from Leon Ferguson’s outhouse. It wasn’t five minutes later that it blew sky high.”

“Okay, so that time I lied to you. This time just. . .just take my word for it when I say nothing and leave it go at that.”

Based on Joe’s demeanor alone – the way he retreated somewhere deep inside himself each time Pa was mentioned – Adam wouldn’t have been fooled into taking his word for it, even if he hadn’t been sitting next to Joe on that wagon ride home and heard him begging their father to stop hurting him. After they’d arrived at the house and gotten Joe settled in his room, it was Adam he reached for in his half delirious state, not Pa. And it was Adam he wanted to draw comfort from while Doc Martin began the painful process of cleaning the torn flesh on his back, not Pa. And he’d leaned into Adam’s chest while Doc worked, fighting Pa’s efforts to hold him until Doc finally told Pa to leave the room. 

At first, it was easy to explain it all away. It was easy to assume that pain, fever, dehydration, exhaustion, and the confusion brought on by Little Joe’s head wound, caused him to behave irrationally. Adam even had Pa believing it for a while, because Adam himself believed it. But now, three days had passed since they’d brought Joe home, and though he was still recovering, it could no longer be said he was running a fever, or was suffering the effects of dehydration, or that his head wound prevented him from recognizing his father. So what could be said? That Joe was afraid of their father for reasons known only to him? No amount of cajoling on Pa’s part, pleading on Hoss’s, or logic on Adam’s, had managed to get Joe to reveal more than, “Nothing” when asked what occurred while he was missing that had so greatly altered his relationship with his father.

Because he’d run out of ways to try and get an answer other than “nothing,” Adam returned to reading the paper to his brother. Apparently, it was a wasted effort, because a few minutes into the story about a brawl between some miners and cowboys that left the Bucket of Blood in a shambles, Adam’s reading was interrupted. 

“Adam, when a man is. . .is in a bad way , can his mind think something is happening that really isn’t?”

Adam stopped reading, slowly folded the paper and set it aside. Joe was facing him again, his expression reminding Adam of the little brother who used to turn to him for answers to those unanswerable questions like, “How come the sky’s blue and not yellow?” And, “How does the air know it’s supposed to be cold in January and hot in July?” And, “If God loves all of us like we’re his kids, how come he let Tuck’s little sister die from that fever? She was just a baby. How come God didn’t make her well?”

In answer to Joe’s current question, Adam said, “Well, I’m not a doctor, which means I’m no expert in this area. But yes, I believe when a man is in a bad way physically speaking, his mind can conjure up a lot of things that aren’t really occurring. It’s not much different than the delirium that accompanies a high fever.”

When Joe only chewed on his lower lip in thought, Adam finally asked, “Why? Did you think something was happening the other day that you realize now wasn’t actually happening at all? Something that has to do with Pa?”

Joe appeared to be contemplating a revelation of some sort. When he spoke, however, Adam gained no further insight. 

“Didn’t realize anything one way or another. I was just asking.”

“Joe. . .”

“I’m tired, Adam. Think I’ll sleep a while before dinner. Thanks for readin’ the paper to me.”

“Joe, if you want to discuss something. . .get my opinion about–”

“No. I don’t need anyone’s opinion, but thanks for the offer.”

“You sure can be a stubborn son-of-a-gun when you want to be, you know that?”

“Yeah,” Joe smiled with a twinkle in his eye. “I know. My big brother’s mentioned it often enough over the years.”

As Adam set the paper on Joe’s nightstand and stood, he warned, “Just don’t let your stubbornness rue the day, Joe.”

“If I knew what that meant, I wouldn’t.”

“A person who can do the paper’s word puzzle in ink and not make any mistakes knows perfectly well what that means, but have it your way. I’ve got work to tend to since I’m doing chores for both of my brothers today.”

“That’s good for you.”

“How so?”

“As Uncle Daniel would say, idle hands are the devil’s workshop, Adam Cartwright.”

“Don’t you worry, I know who spends the most time in the devil’s workshop around this place, and it’s not me. And since you’re laid up at the moment, Satan is getting a well deserved break.”

Joe laughed, the sound a welcome one to Adam’s ears. But as he left the room and turned to shut the door, he saw the tormented expression on his little brother’s face, and wondered exactly what ghosts were haunting the boy.

Chapter 53

“You’re doing fine, son. We’ll go one more round, then it’s back to bed for you.”

“I can make it down the stairs. Maybe sit out on the porch for a while.”

“No. Not tonight. Paul said bed rest for three days.”

“Pa, in five hours it’ll be day four. I think it’ll be okay.”

For the first time since they’d brought Little Joe home from the timber camp, he and his father were having what Ben deemed a normal exchange. In other words, there was an exasperated tone to Joe’s voice as he tried convincing his father he should be allowed to do something that had been forbidden. But before Ben could capture this moment and figure out how to build on it, he made a fatal mistake. He reached out to place a hand on Joe’s elbow, only to have Joe shy away from his touch. 

Ben gave an internal sigh. To his son, however, he offered a smile that probably looked as weak as it felt.

“Uh. . . no, Joseph. Not tonight. Going downstairs, I mean. Tomorrow morning for breakfast will be soon enough.”

As uncharacteristic as a ninety-degree day in January, Joe didn’t continue the debate. He broke eye contact with his father and gave a terse nod. 

“Sure, Pa. Sure. Whatever you say.”

“Well, now, that’s nice.”

“What?”

“You being so agreeable. However, I do kind of miss that spunky youngest son of mine.”

Joe started to shrug beneath his nightshirt. He grimaced, halting the movement that tugged on torn flesh. He continued walking, his steps stronger and more self-assured than they had been even at noon when he’d taken this trip with Adam while Ben watched from a distance. Until Little Joe was recovered enough to go downstairs, Paul Martin wanted him to walk the hall three times a day to prevent pneumonia from setting in. 

“No reason to miss me,” Joe said. “I’m right here.”

“Yes,” Ben nodded, as he traveled along side his son. “And for that I’m grateful.”

Joe didn’t respond this time. He just nodded again and kept on walking. 

It was rare that conversation didn’t flow easily between Ben Cartwright and his youngest boy. As Roy Coffee was fond of saying, a roomful of cloistered monks who’d taken a vow of silence didn’t have a prayer if coming up against Little Joe Cartwright. Not only would he convince the monks to talk, he’d make the conversation entertaining to boot. 

But ever since Joe had been hurt, no matter how many times Ben tried getting a dialogue underway between the two of them, Little Joe remained mute, or answered with as few words as necessary. Ben almost wished for a display of Joe’s infamous temper. At least he knew how to handle the boy’s short fuse, as opposed to this burdensome silence Joe seemed to guard as though he feared if caught with his defenses down, he’d reveal some secret he didn’t want his father to know. But what secret? What had happened during those hours Joe was missing that left him wary and on-edge whenever Ben came near him? 

Ben wasn’t destined to get answers to his questions that night. Nothing about the silence changed as father and son walked the hallway, other than it seemed to grow heavier and more oppressive. When they reached the doorway to Joe’s room, Ben took a step back so his son could enter first. Watching Joe walk into the room of his own accord reiterated to Ben what he’d said minutes earlier – that he was grateful Joe was here. As Joe made his way to the bed, Ben recalled the happenings from three days ago, when his semi-conscious youngest was carried into the room. 

By the time they’d arrived from the timber camp, Doctor Martin was at the house. As soon as the wagon entered the yard, Paul rushed out the door with Hop Sing on one side and Daniel on the other. Ben couldn’t remember what orders were given, or even who gave them – himself or Paul, or possibly even Adam. Regardless, they got Joe lifted from the wagon bed without doing him further harm, then carefully transferred him to Hoss’s arms. Hoss followed Paul up the stairs, where Hop Sing already had a basin of hot water waiting, along with a stack of clean towels and bandages setting beside it. 

It was while they were getting Joe settled in bed and stripped of his boots and trousers that he seemed to become more aware. Later, Hoss claimed it was the fever that made Little Joe act as he did, while Adam claimed it was a combination of many things – shock, pain, dehydration, fever, and the head injury – that caused Joe to struggle against his father, trying to push him away. In the melee that consisted of tangled arms, thrashing legs, jumbled bed sheets, and a Chinese housekeeper speaking in rapid Cantonese while trying to assist the doctor, Joe somehow managed to free himself from Ben’s arms and end up in Adam’s. He leaned into Adam’s chest, shoving his father away again when Ben tried to reclaim him.

“Leave me alone! Don’t touch me! Leave me alone!”

“Joe. . .Joe, son,” Ben soothed, reaching out to lay a hand on the side of Joe’s face. The fever burned hot against Ben’s palm. “It’s Pa, son. It’s Pa, Little Joe. You’re home now. No one’s going to hurt you.”

“Get away from me! Go ‘way! Adam, make him go away! Get him outta here, Adam! Make him go.”

“Adam, I can’t get a look at these injuries if he’s thrashing around like that,” Paul scolded.

“I’m trying to hold him still!”

“Well do a better job of it.”

“I’ll hold ‘im,” Hoss said.

“No, I need you right where you are. You’re going to have to keep a firm grip on his shoulders when I start swabbing his back with this disinfectant.” 

Hoss’s nose wrinkled at the sharp smell when Doc Martin uncorked the bottle he was holding. “Disin what?” 

“Disinfectant. Something brand new to medical science thanks to a Doctor Lister. It’ll sting to high heaven, but I don’t have a choice. I have to get these wounds clean, or we risk an infection setting in that I’ll never be able to control.”

As Ben reached for Joe again, the boy struggled to thrust his father away from the bed.

“Leave me alone! Don’t touch me! Leave me alone!”

“Pa, leave him be,” Adam ordered, sweating almost as heavily now as his injured brother. “I’ve got him.”

“Ben, for whatever reason your presence is only making things worse on the boy,” Paul snapped, short tempered over having to man-handle a struggling patient. “You need to leave.”

“Go on, Pa,” Hoss urged with gentle understanding from where he stood at his brother’s back, waiting to help the doctor. “Go on and wait downstairs. Little Joe don’t mean none a’ what he’s sayin’. It’s the fever, Pa. It’s got him half outta his mind right now, but he’ll be okay once Doc gits him patched up.”

Ben didn’t know for certain if he would have let them chase him from the room had it not been for Daniel. He felt an arm slip around his shoulders.

“Benjamin, come with me. Joseph doesn’t want you here right now. He’s confused. He’s just confused. This is just like it was with my Danny. Come along. You’ll help him more by leaving than by staying.” 

Ben had never felt so close to his brother as he did in that moment. An older brother speaking calmly and reasonably to him was exactly who Ben needed, just like it was Adam who Joe needed. Ben allowed Daniel to lead him from the room and then walk beside him down the stairs. Daniel even brewed a fresh pot of coffee for them and brought a plate of sandwiches to the great room. Ben was too worried to have an appetite, but he did appreciate the coffee. He’d never known his brother could be so caring and attentive. Admittedly, he was surprised that Daniel refrained from quoting Bible verses. Nor did he give a long lecture on the evil that occurs when an eighteen-year-old boy has a run-in with the neighbors. Instead, he asked Ben if he could offer a prayer for Little Joe’s recovery. When Ben nodded, Daniel bowed his head and spoke out loud, but kept the prayer brief and heartfelt.

“Dear Lord, please watch over young Joseph. Lay your healing hands upon him Lord, and rise him up from his sick bed healthy and whole, just like you healed the crippled man at the Pool of Bethesda, then ordered him to rise from his mat and go home. Bless Joseph, Lord, and bless all who are in this house who serve your name with honor. Amen.”

“Thank you, Daniel,” Ben said as he lifted his own bowed head. “I appreciate your prayer for Little Joe.”

“You’re welcome. Trust in the Lord, Benjamin. He’ll see both you and Joseph through this, and you’ll both be stronger for it.”

For a little while, Ben was willing to believe that might be true. But as Joe began to recover and it could no longer be said that he wasn’t in his right mind due to fever or shock, Ben began to doubt that any good could come from the cruel actions of a vengeful neighbor and his sons.

And now, as Ben pulled back the covers so his son could climb back into bed, he doubted it even more.

As Joe settled against his stack pillows, Ben asked brightly, “How about a game of checkers, young man?”

“Uh. . .no, thanks, Pa.”

“Well then, a game of cards?”

“Not tonight.”

“Dominos?”

“No, I’ll just finish reading the paper Adam left here.”

“I can read it to you if you’d like.”

“That’s okay. I’ll read it.”

Ben switched tactics, trying a new way to gain an invitation to remain with son.

“Would you like me to bring up some dessert? Hop Sing made the chocolate cake especially for you.”

“I know. He brought me a piece on my supper tray. I don’t want anymore right now.”

“Then how about later?”

“Don’t think so. I’ll just read the paper and call it a night.”

“It’s early yet. I could sit up here with you for a while. Keep you company until Adam comes back inside.”

“Thanks, but I’m tired.”

“Well. . .all right then. Guess I’ll go downstairs. If you need anything, call.”

“I will.”

Ben stood over his son a moment longer. When Joe wouldn’t look up and meet his eyes, he finally said, “Good night, Little Joe.” He bent to kiss the top of Joe’s head, but stopped in mid-action when Joe slid his upper body toward the wall.

With Ben’s action effectively thwarted, he said simply, “Good night,” again, turned and left the room.

There was no, “good night,” called in return. No anything. Just the silence that suddenly seemed an insurmountable fence erected between a loving father and the son who, until recently, had always adored him.

Chapter 54

When Ben arrived downstairs, Daniel was seated on the settee reading his Bible. A preoccupied Ben walked to his chair and sat down. 

“So, he seems to have learned his lesson.”

It took Ben a moment to realize Daniel had spoken.

“Pardon me?”

“Joseph. I heard you complimenting his newfound compliance when you were walking the hallway with him. It’s as I told you, Benjamin. Trust in the Lord.”

“Trust in the. . .? I’m sorry, but I don’t understand what you mean.”

“Remember? I said if you trust in the Lord you might find that you and Joseph are stronger as a result of this experience.”

“As a result of my son being kidnapped, and then beaten half to death?”

“Yes. He’s a good son now. A submissive son. The Lord taught him a lesson – a painful one to be sure, but a lesson nonetheless, and now he knows he must obey you.”

“Daniel, Little Joe didn’t do anything wrong. He didn’t sneak off the day of the fire if that’s what you’re thinking. He was right where he should have been when Jim Dunn’s boys managed to grab him.”

“I’m not talking about that day in particular. I’m talking about all the days in general. About Joseph’s obedience in general. About the Lord’s commandment that a child honor his father. I see Joseph doing that now, so once again I know it’s true that the Lord does indeed work in mysterious ways.”

“If by the Lord working in mysterious ways you mean someone taking a leather strap to Little Joe’s back, then I’m sorry, Daniel, but I don’t want anything to do with those ways. And as far as obedience goes – you’re confusing obedience with fear. My son isn’t obeying me. For some reason he’s afraid of me.”

“Inspiring fear in our children is what the Lord wants of us.”

“I apologize for disagreeing with you, but to my way of thinking that’s not what the Lord wants at all.”

Ben stood, suddenly feeling the need to get away from the brother whose company he’d appreciated just three days earlier. 

“I’m going to help Adam finish chores. If Little Joe calls out, please come get me.”

“I will.”

As Ben left the house, his brother returned to reading the Bible. Ben shook his head as he walked to the barn. He wondered where Daniel had come by the notion that obedience was motivated by fear, rather than by love.

Chapter 55

“Repent, sinner! Repent! Ask the Lord to forgive you! Ask for his forgiveness!”

“No! Stop it! Leave me alone! Stop!”

“It won’t stop until you repent. Until you admit to being a sinner in God’s eyes!”

“I won’t! You can’t make me!”

“Oh, I can’t, can’t I? Well we’ll just see about that, young man.”

The booming voice was his father’s, and as the pace of the lashes across his bare back slashed with blinding speed, it was his father who demanded his repentance.

“Obey thy father, boy! Obey thy father!”

“Stop!” He bit his lip, trying not to beg. But the violence of the strap forced the words out of him. “Please stop! Pa, please! Please stop, Pa! Please!”

“Not until you repent. Not until you promise to obey your father! Not until you repent!”

Tears filled his eyes as the strap split his flesh open and blood splattered his face.

“I. . .I repent! I repent! Stop! Stop, please, Pa! Please stop! I repent! I repent! Oh God, Pa, I repent!”

He flew up in bed, heart slamming against his chest. His breaths came in harsh uneven pants, sweat and tears mingled to trickle down his face. 

His eyes darted around the dark space. It took him a moment to realize he wasn’t lashed to a slab of rock in a cave, but safe in his own bed. No one was taking a strap to his back, though the welts seemed to have come alive with the vividness of the dream. They smarted and bit, protesting the memories.

Joe tossed back the covers and swiped a sleeve of his nightshirt across his face. He didn’t know what time it was, but by the heavy darkness outside his window and the silence in the house, he guessed it was after midnight. 

Gingerly, he swung his feet over the side of the bed and sat on the edge of the mattress. He waited, eyes on his closed door, shoulders hunched and tight with anxiety. When several minutes passed and no one entered the room, Joe knew he hadn’t cried out during the nightmare. He slowly exhaled the breath he’d been holding; thankful he hadn’t awakened his father or Adam. 

Joe rubbed a shaking hand over his eyes, wiping away the remnants of tears. He hated himself for the weakness displayed in the dream. He hadn’t begged when it really happened. He was sure he hadn’t begged. He might have cried out in pain. He might have shouted for his tormentor to stop, but he hadn’t begged. Joe Cartwright didn’t beg. 

Joe took a deep breath and tried to let the tension flow from him body. This is what Adam always advised him to do whenever he had a nightmare.

“It was just a dream, Joe. It can’t hurt you. Relax, and let it come back to you in bits and pieces as your mind sees fit. You never know, you might learn something from it.”

When Joe was younger, he though that was dumb advice. What could you possibly learn from a dream that scared the pants off a’ you? But tonight. . .tonight that advice suddenly didn’t seem so dumb for some reason. Adam always said that a dream – good or bad – was your subconscious mind trying to send you a message. Or at least he’d said that ever since he’d returned from college. As Hoss said, evidently when a feller went away to a fancy school that cost his pa a lotta money, he learned things like there was some other kinda consciousness ‘sides the one we walk around with in our heads ever’ day.

Joe wasn’t too certain about this subconscious idea of Adam’s, but on the other hand, he wasn’t ready to discount it either. This was the first night he hadn’t slept heavily and devoid of dreams since his kidnapping. He attributed that to this being the first night he’d refused a dose of laudanum. Prior evenings, he’d needed it to control the pain enough to sleep. But tonight he hadn’t need it, and refused Adam’s offer of the medication when he’d stopped in after finishing his work in the barn. 

Aside from the pain having lessened, Joe didn’t want to be dopey and slow in the morning from the after affects of the medication. He wanted to join his family for breakfast, then spend the day downstairs. Maybe even venture outside. If he were half loopy from the laudanum, he wouldn’t wake up until well after breakfast time, and wouldn’t be motivated to move around too much until close to noon. By then, Pa would decide he should spend another day in bed. Something Joe was determined not to do.

So, now the dreams start, is that it? It’s bad enough I had to live through the experience once. Now this subconscious mind Adam claims we all have has to go and remind me of something I’d rather forget.

An owl gave a lonely hoot somewhere outside of Joe’s open window as he sat in the dark, allowing the nighttime sounds to comfort him. The distant whiney of a horse coming from the barn. A single cough that sounded like Pa. Bed springs creaking from down the hall as Adam shifted position in his sleep. If Hoss were here and not up at the timber camp, there was no doubt his snores would be rumbling the windowpanes. They all tried to hurry and fall asleep before Hoss, otherwise those buffalo snores of his could keep a man up all night. Joe was the one who generally ended up in his big brother’s room, socking him on the arm while ordering, “Roll over, Hoss. Roll over and quit that darn snorin’. You’re wakin’ the dead again, not to mention those of us who’d like to get a few hours a’ sleep before dawn.”

As much as Joe tried to skirt away from the dream, it kept resurfacing like a fish determined to jump from the water and make its presence known. He finally sighed with defeat, giving into its insistence.

He tried to think of what Adam would do. Perhaps ponder what he could remember about the nightmare and figure out what reflected the actual events, and what was out of place? Well, if that’s how you started this whole subconscious process, then Joe would have to say that the lashes across his back were actual events, ‘cause he had the torn skin to prove it. And the cave – he was pretty sure he’d been held captive in a cave. He recalled the smell of damp earth, a chill that raised goose bumps on his bare flesh, and a heavy dimness, as though the ability for sunlight to reach the area was limited. 

As far as what wasn’t true – he was certain he hadn’t begged. And though he’d wanted to tell the man to stop, and even reached a point where he was willing to ask forgiveness as the man demanded of him, he was pretty sure his injuries had left him unable to speak by then. 

“Repent, sinner! Repent!” Joe heard again as clearly as if he were back in that cave. “Ask the Lord to forgive you! Ask for his forgiveness!”

The man demanding he repent accurately reflected a portion of what happened. As well, the demand that he obey his father – that had happened, too. Joe closed his eyes, trying to force his mind to bring forth the man’s face. He’d never gotten a good look at him. Only bits and pieces of clothing – a glimpse of a shirtsleeve, a fleeting look at a trouser leg, a brief view of one boot. Since everyone around these parts bought their clothes in Virginia City, he supposed it was possible that someone wore the exact same shirt, trousers and boots that his father favored. But the voice – there was no explanation for the voice. The voice in the dream was the same voice Joe heard in the cave. But his pa. . .his pa would never hurt him like that. 

Or would he?

Joe sighed and dropped his head into his hands. Something wasn’t right. Something was odd about the events of that day, and his dream was attempting to tell him that. Or so Adam would claim. 

As Joe slowly eased back to his pillows, he wondered just how much stock he should put in Adam’s theory of the subconscious mind, versus how much stock he should put in his belief that the voice in the cave was the same voice that lulled him to sleep with a bedtime story each night throughout his childhood.

Either way, subconscious mind or reality, Joe supposed it didn’t make much difference. Because now, whenever memories of that voice surfaced, they didn’t bring with them the nostalgia of years past, but instead, harsh demands of repentance, while the man the voice belonged to beat him senseless.

Chapter 56

Sunday morning Joe went downstairs for breakfast, Adam walking along side him to the table despite Joe’s insistence that an escort – or a nursemaid – was no longer necessary.

It was a quiet day, as Sunday was meant to be. Hoss was still at the timber camp. His absence brought a disapproving comment from Uncle Daniel. 

“No one should be working on the Sabbath, Benjamin.”

“Normally I’d agree with you, but that fire set us back some. We have no choice but to keep working until we’ve fulfilled the obligations of that contract.”

“There are always choices.”

Pa let the discussion end with his brother’s pointed comment. Uncle Daniel was due to go home on Friday. Joe supposed Pa was determined to be a gracious host for the short time his brother had left with them.

Since Joe wasn’t ready to travel as far as Virginia City, he didn’t attend church that morning. Pa insisted on staying home and keeping him company, despite Joe’s attempts to convince his father it wasn’t necessary.

“I’ll be fine. Hop Sing’ll be here. You go ahead and go to church with Adam and Uncle Daniel.”

“No, not today. I’d feel better if I stayed here considering this is your first full day on your feet.”

Joe couldn’t explain the unease he felt. The nightmare suddenly came back to him, almost making him afraid to be alone with his father. Joe tried to shake that feeling off. He had to keep in mind that, if Adam was correct, the dream was sending him a message that might reveal truths that had been muddled by pain, shock, and a hard knock to the head.

Unlike times in the past when Joe was determined to get his way, or at least say his piece, he didn’t argue with his father. That action earned him a smile and a fatherly pat on the arm from Uncle Daniel. Joe looked after the old man as he left the dining room to get dressed for church. He shook his head slightly, wondering at his uncle’s sudden benevolence. Maybe the old guy was feeling sentimental now that his visit was drawing to a close. 

As soon as Uncle Daniel and Adam left for town, Pa tried to engage Joe in a game of checkers. 

“No, thanks, Pa. Think I’ll take a walk outside.”

“Then I’ll go with you,” Pa insisted as he started to stand from his chair at the table.

“No,” Joe negated sharply, then swiftly changed his tone for reasons even he couldn’t fully identify. “I. . .I just wanna be by myself for a while.”

Pa chuckled. “Well, Joe, you’ve been by yourself in your bedroom for three days now. I thought you’d like some company.”

“I’ve had plenty of company between you, Adam, Hoss, and Hop Sing. I just need. . .I just need to be alone for a few minutes.”

At first, Joe thought his father would deny him permission to venture outside by himself. But finally the man gave a reluctant nod. 

“All right. But don’t go any farther than the barn, please.”

“I won’t.”

“And when you get tired, have a seat on the front porch. I’ll be out to check on you in a little while.”

“Okay.”

When Pa placed a hand on his arm, Joe pulled away. He saw the hurt in his father’s eyes and immediately regretted his action. His hand seemed to tremble of its own volition as he forced himself to reach out and grasp his father’s.

“Son, please,” Pa begged, as he locked hands with Joe. “Please tell me what’s troubling you. Tell me what I’ve done.”

“I. . .” Joe tried to speak around the lump that suddenly filled his throat. “You haven’t done anything. I’m just. . .that knock on the head has me mixed up is all.”

“Mixed up how, Little Joe?”

“I. . .I don’t know. That’s why I need some time to myself to sort things out.”

Pa studied him so intently that Joe finally grew uncomfortable and broke eye contact with him.

“Son–” 

“Pa, I’d like to go outside now if that’s okay with you.”

Pa didn’t say anything for several seconds. When he spoke, it was simply to give his permission. 

“Sure…yes, sure. You go on outside.”

Before Joe could turn away, his father gave his hand a gentle squeeze. That action was such a contrast to what Joe experienced in the cave that it brought tears to his eyes. 

God, but he was confused. How could you be so certain of something, and yet so uncertain of it at the same time?

Joe took a deep shuddering breath and hurried from the house. Maybe time alone to sort things out was just what he needed. Maybe time alone would reveal the message his dream had been trying to send him.

~ ~ ~

The dream returned that night. The events were the same as the previous night with one exception. The dream didn’t end when Joe screamed out his repentance to his father. At that point, the dream seemed to skip ahead in time and Joe saw himself traveling with Uncle Daniel on a train bound for Ohio, while Uncle Daniel read Bible passages to him about obedience.

Stupid dream, the young man thought as he straightened his tangled bedcovers. If Adam’s right and this is my subconscious mind tryin’ to tell me something, it’s sure got a strange way of goin’ about it. First I’m in a cave with Pa, then I’m on a train with Uncle Daniel. 

Joe lay back down, but it took him a good hour before his mind quit churning enough that sleep started to overtake him. Just as his eyes finally started to grow heavy and his mind started to slip into a dormant state, an idea came to him. An idea so simple and straightforward, it was a wonder it’d taken him this long to think of it. 

There was one way he could find out for certain what happened in that cave. And first thing tomorrow morning, he planned to pursue it.

Chapter 57

“No, Little Joe, you’re not going over to the Dunn ranch today. You’re not going anywhere until your back heals and you’re stronger.”

“I’m strong enough, and my back feels fine.”

“That may be so, but the answer is still no.”

“Pa–”

“Joseph, I’ve barely had two bites of my breakfast and I have a long day ahead of me. Please don’t start things off on the wrong foot.”

“Pa’s right, Little Joe.” Hoss reached his fork to the center of the table and stabbed three more pancakes from the platter. He’d arrived from the timber camp on Sunday evening to fill a wagon with supplies and spend the night in his own bed. 
“ ’Sides, what you wanna go over there for?”

“I. . .I just have some personal business to attend to.”

Adam’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. “What kind of personal business?”

“I just. . .I just wanna ask Paul and Charlie a question.”

“Paul and Charlie aren’t even around for you to ask them a question.”

Joe looked at his father. “What? Why? Where they’d go?”

“According to Roy, their father sent them on a business trip.”

“Oh bull–”

“Joseph! Language!”

Forgetting his unease around his father, Joe sounded like himself for the first time in a week. Now that he had an idea of how to discover what happened in that cave, his determination to carry it out overrode his common sense.

“All I was gonna say was exactly what I did. Anyway, Pa., come on. You know as well as I do that they weren’t sent on any business trip.”

“Joseph, if anyone is going to visit the Dunn ranch, it will be me. Which I fully intend to do when the time is right.”

“What do you mean when the time is right?”

“Never you mind. Your father will take care of this.”

“Oh, right, Pa. Just like you took care of it the first time Paul and Charlie jumped me. Just like how you thought it would take care of things when you and I went together to talk to them and Mr. Dunn. I’m through waiting for you to take care of things where the Dunns are concerned. Now let me take care of things in the way I see fit.”

Joe ignored his uncle’s admonishment of, “Joseph, hold your tongue and obey your father!”

Pa ignored his brother as well. His eyes bore into Joe. 

“Young man, no son of mine is going to talk to me that way.”

“Well you don’t seem to listen to me when I talk to you any other way! You didn’t listen when I asked you not to talk to Mr. Dunn. And you didn’t listen when I tried to tell you about those miners’ kids jumping me and the Dunn boys bein’ behind it all. And you–”

“Joseph! Enough! That’s enough now.” 

If Joe hadn’t been letting his temper get the best of him, he’d have realized he’d struck a nerve with his father and kept his mouth shut. But because he wasn’t a father himself, he didn’t understand that for Ben Cartwright, there was nothing worse than knowing you’d failed your child because you wouldn’t hear him out – and then, nothing worse than having that thrown back in your face by said child.

“Oh, so you’re just not gonna listen to me again, is that it?”

Ben slowly pushed his chair back and stood. He loomed over his youngest, taking a deep breath and silently counting to ten. If the boy hadn’t been eighteen, he swore he’d put him over his knee and give him a lesson in listening he wouldn’t soon forget.

Ben settled for pointing a stern finger. “I’m only going to say this once, Joseph, and I expect you to obey me. You will not go anywhere near the Dunn ranch. You will not leave here today. Your brothers and I have no choice but to go to the timber camp like we planned. I’m leaving your uncle behind to make sure you do as I’ve instructed. If I find out you so much as put a little toe beyond the boundaries of this ranch yard, 
I’ll–”

Joe looked up with defiance. “You’ll what, Pa? Take a strap to my back again?”

“Joe!” Adam exclaimed.

“Little Joe, how can you say that ta’ Pa?”

“I can say it because it’s true.”

Joe threw his napkin down and headed for the stairway. His father called his name in a voice that almost sounded anguished, but Joe refused to turn around. 

“Don’t worry, Pa. I won’t disobey you. I’ll stay right here in my room and be the good son you want, instead of just bein’ the son I am.”

Joe heard the confusion and hurt in his father’s tone when Pa called his name again, but by then he was up the stairs and headed to his room. 

He heard his father’s boots on the first step, and then the second. At that point, Adam must have placed a restraining hand on Pa’s arm. 

“Pa, let him be. Give him time to cool off. You can talk to him tonight.”

Then came Hoss’s, “Yeah, Pa. Things’ll be better after you and Little Joe have spent some time apart. He didn’t mean what he said ‘bout that strappin’. You’ll see. Ifin’ I know Little Joe, by the time we get home he’ll be ready to apologize to you.”

“That may be so,” Pa agreed in a quiet, defeated voice. “But that he said it all – regardless of whether he meant it or not–”

Before Pa could finish his sentence, Uncle Daniel interrupted. “Benjamin, I’m not excusing the boy’s insolent behavior, but you must remember he suffered a head injury. You heard your doctor say confusion and false memories brought on by head injuries can last for weeks. Now go on about the business you have planned. I’ll remain here and make certain he stays put.”

Whether Pa would have given into the suggestions to leave Joe alone had one of the timber crewmen not ridden into the ranch yard at that moment, Joe didn’t know. He could sense the hesitation coming from below, as though Pa was contemplating ignoring the advice of his sons and brother, when a shout came from outside.

“Mr. Cartwright! Mr. Cartwright! Hey, Mr. Cartwright!”

Joe’s family headed toward the front door. The excitable messenger said something about needing more saw blades and axes in that supply wagon Hoss was bringing, and that three of the men were sick this morning with a fever and stomach upset.

“Great,” Adam muttered. Joe could picture him grabbing his hat from the rack. “At a time when we’re already behind, we’ve now got some kind of illness being passed around.”

“It’ll be okay, Adam,” Hoss said. “We’ll head on up there lickety split and git the day started.” He spoke to the waiting crewman next. 

“Andy, go into Virginia City and see if you can hire on some men for us. As many as you can git, as long as they ain’t drinkers and wanna work.”

“Okay, Hoss. I’ll do that. I’ll join ya’ up at the camp just as soon as I can an’ bring as many men with me as I can find.”

“Thanks.”

“All right then,” Adam said as Andy left the house to do as Hoss instructed. “Let’s get a move on.” 

What Joe couldn’t see from his room, was that after his father put on his hat and strapped on his gun belt, he gave one last long look up the stairs. If Joe had seen Pa’s face, he’d have known Ben was uncertain about leaving. 

“Comin’ Pa?” Hoss asked.

“Uh. . .yes. Yes, I’m coming.” Joe’s father called, “We’re leaving now, Joseph!” but he refused to answer the man. 

Once again, Joe sensed hesitation, then came Uncle Daniel’s voice assuring, “He’ll be fine, Benjamin. Boys have to go off and lick their wounds every now and again as our pa used to say.”

“Yes. . .yes, I guess that is what pa used to say, isn’t it.”

If any other words were exchanged, they weren’t spoken loud enough to reach the second floor. A few minutes later, Joe’s father and brothers rode away from the ranch yard, and Joe was left alone in his room with Uncle Daniel sitting downstairs serving as his watchdog.

Chapter 58

Obedience wasn’t always Joe Cartwright’s strong suit when he felt he had a good reason to go against his father’s directive. Therefore, despite his declaration to Pa that he’d be a “good son” Joe found himself being “the son I am” as he slithered out of his bedroom window two hours after lunch. He’d gone to the table and eaten silently with the uncle who spent the duration of the meal giving him a cold stare of reproach. It must have been due to God’s grace that Joe didn’t spend the entire thirty minutes having to listen to one of Uncle Daniel’s lectures. Perhaps God figured Joe had already experience a pretty rotten week, and didn’t deserve any more punishment. Or perhaps He’d grown as weary of Uncle Daniel’s litanies as Joe had.

When everyone was away from the Ponderosa for the afternoon, it wasn’t unusual for Hop Sing to take a nap. Thankfully, he was doing that today, making Joe’s escape easier. Not that Hop Sing could stop him, but he would sure make a lot of noise while chasing after Joe jabbering, “Number 3 son be sorry for not doing as Father say! Number 3 son not come crying to Hop Sing when Father temper blow roof off house.”

Hop Sing being unaware of Joe’s escape down the trellis meant he didn’t alert Uncle Daniel, who was seated in the great room reading his Bible. He’d taken his responsibilities to Pa seriously when it came to keeping an eye on Joe. By the way the old man appeared to be intent on guarding the front door, he was evidently foolish enough to think there was only one way in and out of this house. 

Joe carefully peered around the corner of the house, making sure the front door was closed and that Uncle Daniel hadn’t come out to sit on the porch. When he discovered all was clear, he silently scampered across the ranch yard to the barn. He winced when Cochise nickered in greeting. He put a finger to his lips, as though the horse would understand that he was to shush.

It took Joe longer to saddle the horse than usual due to his tender back. Once Cochise was ready, Joe peeked out from the barn to again make sure he could exit undetected. When he didn’t see anyone, he led the horse from the building and didn’t mount him until the house was out of sight. Once he was on Cochise’s back, Joe nudged him into a slow trot. He could already tell that his bruised body wasn’t going to stand for a lot of jostling. Pa had been right. It was too soon for him to undertake a journey to the Dunn ranch. Nonetheless, he was determined to accomplish the trip. He didn’t want Pa confronting Mr. Dunn. He’d heard what Roy said about that.

“You’d better listen to your brother, Ben. Seeking revenge against the Dunns is only gonna bring you a passel of trouble with both them and me.”

Though the happenings in that cave left Joe with a lot of conflicting thoughts and feelings regarding his father – many he didn’t even understand the source of because that day was still so muddled in his brain – he didn’t want Pa in trouble with the law. Despite the level head Pa usually displayed, there was a side to the man that wasn’t much different from the way Joe lost all sense of reason when his temper got the best of him. Pa didn’t like to admit that, and he rarely displayed it. But when it came to someone causing trouble for his sons – well, Pa was like any father would be, Joe supposed. Protective, and like a hen with one chick. Or better put, a mama grizzly bear with one cub. And a mama grizzly who’d been awakened from hibernation to boot.

No, to Joe’s way of thinking he wasn’t doing anything wrong. True, there was the issue of having promised Pa to stay his room, but then, technically speaking, Pa never asked him to make that promise. Joe had made it of his own accord, so really, when you gave it some thought, he wasn’t disobeying Pa. And besides, if he could just talk to Paul and Charlie without any fathers interfering – if he could just ask them the one question he needed to know the answer to, then Mr. Dunn and Pa could fuss over that timber contract until the cows came home for all Joe cared. Timber contracts weren’t important to him any longer. Finding out who had been with Paul and Charlie was.

All I’m gonna do is ask them who was there. Maybe it was nobody. Maybe it was just my imagination. Or maybe it was some drifter they paid a few bucks to help them beat the tar outta me. Or maybe they’ll refuse to tell me. Maybe this trip will be a waste of my time. But it’s like Pa says, nothing ventured nothing gained.

Joe swallowed hard as a small amount of common sense came back to him.

Gee, I sure hope he understands that if he finds out I left the house today.

The young man momentarily considered turning around. Within seconds, he discarded that thought and rode on toward the Dunn ranch. If his dream was indeed sending him a message, then he was hell bent on finding out what it was.

~ ~ ~

If Joe had only turned around like he’d contemplated, he’d have seen he was being followed, and right then, would have realized what his dream was trying to tell him.

Chapter 59

Ben Cartwright was so preoccupied on the ride to the timber camp that he barely paid attention to the path his horse traveled. It was a good thing Buck was familiar with the route and needed little guidance from the man on his back.

Ben assumed Adam and Hoss engaged in conversation along the way, but once they arrived at the camp, he honestly couldn’t say what his sons discussed on the trip, or if they’d discussed anything at all. He wasn’t sure how many times he’d thought of saying to them, “Boys, you head on up without me. I won’t feel right about things until I go home and talk to Little Joe,” but he knew he’d thought it more than once.

The only thing that kept Ben from heading back to the ranch house was the sickness spreading through the camp. If illness prevented men from working for a few days, then they needed all the hands they could come by. As it was, they were already down one man – Joe. Doctor Martin didn’t want him doing more than light chores around the barn for at least a week, maybe two. And Ben was in full agreement with Paul where that was concerned. That head injury of Joe’s – well, it had his father worried, and rightfully so. 

Until this kidnapping the Dunns orchestrated, Joe had never been afraid of him. Never. Oh sure, he’d been afraid of his father’s wrath when he knew some prank he’d pulled or wrongdoing he’d engaged in was going to land him in hot water, but Ben could never recall Joe acting as if he feared his father would purposely harm him. Not even back in the days when he was escorted to the woodshed every now and again. 

Which brought Ben to the words Joe said at the breakfast table.

“You’ll what, Pa? Take a strap to my back again?” 

Again. What did he mean by that particular word? That he thought Ben had something to do with the beating he’d suffered? Or in anger, had Little Joe simply meant that someone already had taken a strap to him, and was his father going to do the same thing, given their heated argument?

Ben sighed. With Joseph, it was so hard to guess. When the boy was riled he often said things he didn’t mean, as Hoss pointed out. Or said things that he knew would get everyone lathered up. Joe was clever that way. He might appear angry to the point of not knowing what he was saying, when actually, he knew exactly what he was saying, and had calculated every word. Which might also explain Joe’s other words this morning.

“I can say it because it’s true.”

Did he really mean that? Did he really mean that he thought Ben beat him? Or was he just so furious over being denied permission to ride to the Dunn ranch that he hurled words he knew would upset his father for the rest of the day?

Joseph, I swear. You’ll be the death of me yet.

In addition to mulling over those thoughts, Ben took the head injury into consideration. As Daniel reminded him, confusion and false memories often accompanied a bout of unconsciousness due to a blow to the head. Ben hadn’t raised three boys, nor employed numerous ranch hands, not to have learned that long ago. He’d even seen head injuries cause a person to lose his entire memory of the day the injury occurred, and sometimes even lose his memory of several days leading up to the injury. And then there could be personality changes, too. Paul told Ben that once, but so far, he’d never witnessed such a thing. Or at least not until now. Maybe that’s what was going on with Little Joe and this fear he displayed. Maybe he’d undergone some kind of personality change due to his head wound.

Put together, it made a lot for a father to worry about. A few years back a boy Little Joe went to school with died a week after suffering a head injury. Everyone thought he was fine after he fell out of a tree house. His mother said he’d lost consciousness for no more than two or three minutes, and he’d even gone to school the next day. But a few days later he complained of a severe headache, and within hours collapsed and died. Paul Martin said it was likely due to bleeding in the brain from the fall he’d taken. What if something like that was happening to Little Joe? What if he had a more serious injury than they realized?

Then atop those worries loomed Jim Dunn and his boys. Ben wasn’t concerned that they’d try to harm Little Joe again. Or at least not any time soon. If he were, he wouldn’t have left Joe home with just Daniel and Hop Sing to protect him. 

Ben knew Jim well enough to suspect there was one thing he hadn’t lied to Roy Coffee about – Paul and Charlie being sent away. No, they hadn’t been sent on a business trip the day before the fire like Jim claimed. But sometime following the fire Jim sent them off somewhere to hide out. Ben was sure of it. Jim would do all he could to protect those boys from trouble with the law. The longer they were gone, the less likely that they’d ever be found guilty of any wrongdoing. Especially if Little Joe could never testify with absolute certainty that it was Paul and Charlie who grabbed him that day. He’d seen the little girl he was certain was their sister, and he’d even heard her call Paul’s name. And at sometime during his captivity he was certain he’d heard both Paul’s and Charlie’s voices, but Ben knew a good lawyer would tear apart Joe’s testimony in seconds. With no eyewitnesses, and with Little Joe unable to say he’d gotten a good look at either Dunn boy, and added to that with the entire Dunn family and their house girl testifying that Paul and Charlie were away on business prior to the fire being set – well, any charges Ben might try and bring against those two would be an effort in futility.

So now it was up to him to decide what to do next. Roy warned him not to take the law into his own hands, and though he’d threatened to do so and was still fighting the urge not to, he was left with two choices. He could either go to the Dunn ranch and give Jim the same kind of beating Little Joe had received, or when he got the money for the timber, he could deliver the check to Jim in exchange for a promise that the nonsense that had gone on this summer was over, and over for good. 

In many ways, the thought of doing that rankled Ben. It wasn’t much different than being blackmailed and paying your blackmailer off. But to keep his son safe – to keep any of his sons safe – he’d pay the money without thinking twice about it. If nothing else, after delivering the cash, he could at least have the satisfaction of also delivering a strong right hook to Jim’s jaw.

If Ben decided the only way to end this feud was to pay Jim off, he wouldn’t share that with his boys. Not even with Adam. The only thing they’d need to know was that their father had taken care of the problem, and that he expected them to steer clear of the Dunn family. It wasn’t a perfect solution, and there was no guarantee it would work, but at the moment it was the only solution Ben could come up with short of dragging Jim to a cave and whipping the skin off his back with a leather strap. 

“Pa? Hey, Pa?”

Hoss’s voice pulled Ben away from his heavy thoughts.

“Huh? What? Did you say something, son?”

“I said we’re here.”

Ben looked around, surprised to find they were at the timber camp.

“Oh…um yes…yes, I guess we are, aren’t we.” 

Ben dismounted his horse and tied him to a makeshift hitching post. 

“Come along, boys. The sooner we get this day underway, the sooner it’ll be over.”

Ben didn’t see the glances his sons exchanged behind his back, as though they knew what he’d left unsaid. That the sooner the workday ended, the sooner he could get home and talk to Little Joe.

Chapter 60

Daniel watched from the window behind Ben’s desk. The foolishness of eighteen-year-old boys never ceased to amaze him. Joseph must think his uncle too decrepit and senile to know what tricks he had up his sleeve. Danny snuck out of his bedroom window on several occasions, too. Therefore, Daniel assumed Joseph might try the same thing, and kept an ear tuned to the second floor. The noises were subtle and muffled, but Daniel recognized them when they came. A chair carefully pushed away from a desk. Cautious boot steps barely gracing the floorboards. The faint sound of a window being raised as high as it would go. Then a slight scraping sound against the side of the house – a sound Daniel would have likely never noticed if he hadn’t been anticipating it. 

The man moved away from the window and opened Ben’s middle desk drawer. He took out a piece of paper, then plucked the pen from its inkwell. Using the desktop as the hard surface he needed he wrote, 

Benjamin,

I fear Joseph went to the Dunn ranch. I have gone after him. Don’t worry, all will be fine. We’ll be home in time for supper.

Daniel

Daniel folded the note in half and wrote Ben’s name on the outside of it. He returned the pen to the inkwell and walked through the great room. He propped the folded note against the bowl of fruit setting in the middle of the dining room table. Once that was done, he turned and entered his bedroom.

Daniel quietly shut the door, then crossed to the dresser. He opened the top drawer. He removed a stack of neatly folded trousers and shirts until he came to the bottom of the pile. He quickly changed his clothing. His brown trousers and charcoal shirt were twins of those his brother favored. He opened the wardrobe and reached to a far end. He pulled the tan leather vest off its hanger and slipped it on. The wide brimmed, light colored cowboy hat came out of hiding next. As he passed the full length mirror on the opposite side of the room, he was pleased to see once again how, with just a change of clothing, he bore a remarkable resemblance to Benjamin.

Though some would call this deceit, Daniel didn’t see it as such. It was exactly what God sent him here for. If he had to dress like his brother to pull it off, then it was the Lord who had directed him to purchase the clothing at the same store in Virginia City Benjamin favored. If the shopkeeper found his choice of clothing odd, he didn’t comment on it. Possibly he thought it made sense that a visiting brother from far away would want to dress like the well-respected Ben Cartwright.

Daniel left the house as quietly as Joe had so as not to awaken Hop Sing. He saddled Sweet Daisy and looped a lasso around her saddle horn, grateful to the ranch hand who’d so graciously taught him how to use it this summer. He then filled two saddlebags with the things he needed. He mounted the horse and rode out of the barn, taking the same path his nephew had. 

The man shook his head with disappointment as he trailed after the boy. He thought Joseph had learned his lesson in that cave. He thought he’d cast the devil out of the boy that day. But based on the way Joseph spoke to his father this morning, and now this most recent act of blatant disobedience, it was apparent that, just like Danny, Joseph hadn’t learned his lesson at all. It was apparent that Joseph needed another lesson, just like Danny had needed further lessons.

It wasn’t something Daniel looked forward to. He truly didn’t want to harm the boy, just like he hadn’t wanted to harm Danny. But God commanded that evil be driven out of young men who refused to obey, and although Daniel had failed to fulfill that command where his own son was concerned, he was determined not to fail it where Benjamin’s son was concerned.

Chapter 61

Joe sucked in a sharp breath as he tried to stretch in the saddle. He’d never admit it out loud, but Pa was right. He wasn’t strong enough for a trip on Cochise yet. The motion of even the horse’s slow walk caused the tender skin on his back to rub against the fabric of his shirt. And now that he was in the saddle, Joe was discovering all the bruises that dotted his body. He couldn’t sit comfortably, which he found odd considering his injuries were above his waist, but still, for whatever reason, riding Cochise was painful. And because of the way he had to keep adjusting his position, Joe was rapidly growing weary. One of the first things he’d learned about riding when he was no more than five or six years old, was that the rider and horse had to be as one. If you were constantly fighting against the rhythm of the horse’s gait, you wore yourself out in a short amount of time. That lesson was reiterated today. Several times Joe wondered if he’d make it to the Dunn ranch, or if he should just give up on his idea, turn around, and head home.

Which was the exact action he should have taken. But Joe Cartwright was never one to give up, and was often too stubborn for his good, as Adam was fond of reminding him. Despite his discomfort and increasing exhaustion, he knew getting an answer from Paul and Charlie was a “now or never” situation. He’d been able to slip away from the house undetected, and had several hours ahead of him before his father and brothers returned home. If he was going to talk to the Dunns, he had to do it this afternoon, because the opportunity might never present itself again. Or at least not in the near future if Pa had anything to say about it.

The first call of, “Joseph!” caused Joe’s heart to skip a beat. The second time Pa yelled, “Joseph!” he stopped Cochise, swallowed hard, and reluctantly turned around. The dreaded anticipation on Joe’s face changed to confusion as the rider approached. What was Pa doing on Sweet Daisy? 

It wasn’t until the man was upon him that Joe realized it was his uncle and not his father following him. But why was Daniel dressed like Pa?

Before Joe could give that thought the time it deserved, Uncle Daniel began demanding obedience from him. Something that immediately set Joe’s temper to simmering.

“Joseph, come home with me now, boy.”

“I’m sorry, Uncle Daniel.” Joe fought to keep his tone civil. This old man might be Pa’s brother, but regardless, he had no business butting into Joe’s personal affairs. “I’m not coming home right now. I have some things to attend to.”

“You heard your father this morning. You were told not to leave the house.”

“I heard my father,” Joe acknowledged.

“Well?”

“Well what?”

“Then what do you have to say for yourself, young man?”

“I don’t have anything to say to you, and as for my father, what I have to say to him when the time comes will between Pa and me. It’s none of your concern.”

“How dare you talk to me like that!”

“I’m sorry, Uncle Daniel. I don’t mean to be disrespectful, but I have business to attend to.”

“The only business you need to attend to, young man, is the business of obeying your father by returning home with me.”

Joe shook his head as he urged Cochise to start moving again. “No, Sir. I can’t do that. Now if you’ll excuse–” 

Who the hell taught the old guy to use a lasso Joe didn’t know. The rope caught him from behind, surprising him as it tightened around his chest. 

“What the–” 

Joe was yanked off Cochise. He landed on the ground with a pain filled, “Umph!” as the breath was driven out of him. Before he could wrestle possession of the rope from his uncle, Daniel was on top of him. The old man was stronger than Joe would have given him credit for. As Joe struggled and fought against him, Daniel maintained a solid seating on his nephew’s chest. 

“Stop your struggling Joseph! Stop it now, young man!” A hand slapped Joe’s face. “You’re going to repent, evil doer! Before this day is over, you’re going to repent!” 

Joe spit out blood. He looked up into the man’s face and saw the features that were his father’s, and yet at the same time weren’t. Then the voice that was Pa’s, yet wasn’t; demanded again that he repent, and that’s when Joe Cartwright realized it. That’s when he realized the danger he was in. That’s when he realized what his dream had been trying to tell him. That’s when he realized it wasn’t Pa who’d hurt him the day he was kidnapped; it was his uncle.

Joe, you idiot, he berated himself as his uncle slapped him again. You complete idiot. You should have figured this out days ago. You should have known it was him. He’s been a thorn under your saddle all summer long. You should have
known. . .

Joe’s thoughts trailed off as the white cloth came toward his nose. He increased his struggles, bucking and kicking, trying to throw his uncle off his chest. 

As the chloroform soaked cloth was pressed roughly against his face, Joe’s last conscious thought was, I’m sorry, Pa. I’m so sorry. I was wrong about so much. I should have known. I should have known you’d never hurt me.

Five minutes later, Joe’s limp body was hanging across his saddle, trussed to Cochise’s back as the horse was led in the opposite direction of the Ponderosa ranch house.

Chapter 62

Ben didn’t stable Buck when he arrived home that evening. He dismounted the horse outside of the barn, turned the reins over to Adam, said, “Thanks, son,” and headed toward the house. Hoss remained outside with Adam to unhitch the team from the wagon. 

All in all, they’d had a productive day. Andy arrived at the camp shortly after noon with six men in tow. In addition to that, the sickness going through the camp seemed to be of the twenty-four hour variety. The three men who’d been ill that morning were feeling much better by late afternoon, and all of them said they’d be fit to work the next day. Ben hoped that meant if any other men got ill, they’d recover just as quickly. 

Another week of days as fruitful as this one, and we should have that contract fulfilled with time to spare. 

Ben thought of that time to spare with satisfaction. It was always nice to have a few days built in for an emergency. As he reached the front door, his feeling of satisfaction left him. The ride home had been devoted to thinking of the best way to get Little Joe to talk to him this evening. Ben had finally decided he’d wait until after they’d eaten supper and then ask Joe to take a walk with him. He wanted to speak to his youngest in private, without the opinions of older brothers – anyone’s older brothers – interfering in the discussion. On the ride home, Adam and Hoss had promised Ben they’d keep Daniel occupied and out of his way.

Now if I can just get him to keep silent during supper, both Little Joe and I might actually remain in the right frame of mind for a father and son talk.

As Ben entered the house, he immediately noticed how empty it seemed. The dining room table was set, and the smells coming from the kitchen indicated a ham and sweet potatoes were baking, but there was no sign of Daniel or Joe. He glanced to his left and saw Daniel’s door was open. He stuck his head in the room, but didn’t see any sign of his brother. 

Ben walked through the great room and looked toward his desk. Neither Daniel nor Little Joe was sitting there. He stopped at the foot of the steps.

“Little Joe! Joseph!”

When he got no answer, Ben called Little Joe’s name again, then switched tactics. 

“Daniel! Daniel!”

Ben’s voice brought Hop Sing from the kitchen.

“Number One Brother and Number Three Son not here, Mr. Cart’light.”

“Where are they?”

“They not tell Hop Sing where go. But here.” Hop Sing plucked a piece of paper from the table that the plates and glasses had obscured from view. “I think Mr. Daniel leave note. This not look like Little Joe writing.”

Ben took the paper from Hop Sing. “No, it doesn’t.” 

Joe’s cursive writing, with its distinct left sided slant, also bore another distinction Ben had learned over the years was common to many left-handed men and women. The letters of his words weren’t always connected, as though he was doing a combination of both writing and printing. Ben had always been amazed at how fast Little Joe could scrawl something out that way, and how despite its odd appearance, his penmanship was usually quite legible.

But as soon as Ben saw his name he knew Hop Sing was correct. This note was from Daniel. He opened it and read it, then read it again, almost as though he didn’t believe the words the first time through.

“Why that little. . .Joseph Francis Cartwright, when I get my hands on you. . .”

Like many threats fathers make when they’re at the end of their rope with a child, Ben’s trailed off because he wasn’t sure exactly what he’d do to Little Joe when he got a hold of him, but for now, he had plenty of time to think about it. He thrust the note back at Hop Sing.

“How long ago did they leave?”

“Hop Sing can’t say. Very busy in kitchen all afternoon. But guess two ’clock.”

Ben didn’t bother to tell his housekeeper that he knew perfectly well he’d been napping and not cooking at two o’clock. It didn’t matter anyway. It wasn’t Hop Sing’s fault Joseph decided to do exactly what his father told him not to.

Ben turned for the door.

“Where you go?”

“I’ve got an errand to attend to. I’m taking Adam and Hoss with me. If Little Joe comes back home, you tell him to wait right here.” As he ran out the door, Ben added, “And tell him he’d better believe it when his father said he’ll live to regret it if he doesn’t!”

Ben was already halfway to the barn when Hop Sing trotted back to the kitchen muttering, “Now must keep supper warm ‘til who know when. Humph! Hop Sing half mind quit and go work for man whose sons behave themselves.”

~ ~ ~

Ben ran outside, calling to Adam not to unsaddle the horses, then calling to Hoss to get Chubb saddled.

“What’s wrong, Pa?”

“Yeah, Pa, what’s the matter? Where we gotta go to in such a hurry? I was lookin’ forward to some of Hop Sing’s good cookin’. I ain’t ate darn near a thing since lunch.”

“It’s your brother.”

Adam’s eyes narrowed with exasperation. “What about our brother?” 

“He went to the Dunns’.”

“What? Why that little–”

“Oh dadburn it, what in tarnation did he go and do that for?”

“Because he’s Joseph, and because he’s as headstrong as a Missouri mule, and because he’s eighteen and sometimes as foolish as the day is long, and. . .and because I wouldn’t listen to him.” 

“Pa, come on. You can’t blame yourself. Besides, just because he went to Jim’s doesn’t mean anything has happened. Where’s Uncle Daniel?”

“He went after him.”

“Well, then, now see there, Pa. It’s gonna be okay. Uncle Dan’l’ll bring Joe home.”

“Maybe he will, but we’re riding out to meet them. Now come on.”

“All three of us?”

“Hoss, quit worrying about your stomach and get Chubb saddled.”

“But, Pa, I don’t see why all three of us have ta go.”

“Because if I don’t find Joseph between here and the Dunn ranch, I’m going to need you and Adam with me.”

“Why?”

“So you stop me from putting a bullet into Jim, that’s why. Now get a move on.”

Ben’s words finally caused Hoss to forget about his empty stomach. He hurried to saddle Chubb, then joined his father and brother in riding away from the ranch yard.

Chapter 63

“Jim! Jim! Jim, get out here now!”

Jim Dunn yanked his front door open and stepped onto the porch in the fading daylight.

“Ben, what’s the meaning of this? Rilla’s trying to get my little ones down to sleep.”

“That’s fine, because I’m not here to see Rilla or your little ones, I’m here to see you.” 

Jim stomped down the steps to meet Ben in the ranch yard. The two men drew an audience as curtains were pushed aside and young faces pressed against the dining room windows.

“Here to see me about what, Ben?”

“About Joseph.”

“What about him?”

“Where is he?”

“I couldn’t tell you.”

Ben’s fists clenched. “Can’t tell me, or won’t.”

“Can’t, because I don’t know.”

“He and my brother were headed this way earlier today.”

“Well I haven’t seen either one of them.”

Ben reached for his gun. Hoss’s hand flew out and clamped onto his father’s wrist.

“Pa, come on, now. Take it easy.”

Ben ignored his son. “If you haven’t seen them, then you won’t mind if we have a look around.”

“I do mind, because now you’re calling me a liar. I haven’t seen them, Ben, and that’s the God’s honest truth.”

“Coming from you, that doesn’t bring me much peace of mind.”

“I can’t do anything about your state of mind. But I’m telling you, I haven’t seen Little Joe.”

“What about those boys of yours?”

“Paul and Charlie?”

“Well I’m not talking about Timmy and Matthew. Yes, Paul and Charlie.”

“They’re away on business.”

“They’d better be away on business, because if I see hide or hair of ‘em, they’ll know what a strapping is by the time I’m finished with them.”

“Cartwright, get off my property and take your boys with you. Little Joe isn’t here. Your brother isn’t here. I haven’t seen either one of them, and I don’t have anything else to say to you.”

Jim turned toward the house.

“Oh really, you don’t have anything to say to me, is that it? Well, Jim, I have something to say to you.”

Before Adam or Hoss could stop him, Ben grabbed the man’s arm, spun him around, and landed a solid right punch to his jaw. He flew backwards and landed on his rear end in the ranch yard amidst gasps and cries from the children inside.

Ben planted a boot in the center of the man’s chest.

“Now you listen to me, Jim, and you listen good. This trouble between us is over, ya’ hear? It’s over as of right now. If you really haven’t seen Joseph today, then I’ll let bygones be bygones. But if I find out my son was here and that you’ve harmed him in any way, I’ll come after you and I swear I’ll do to you exactly what you did to him ten times over.”

Once Ben had his say, he removed his foot, turned and headed for Buck. Adam and Hoss remained on guard until Jim got to his feet and stumbled into his house cupping his injured jaw. After Adam and Hoss were on their horses, Ben led the way from the Dunn ranch.

“Let’s go, boys. We have to find your little brother and uncle before dark.”

~ ~ ~

While the children gasped and cried with alarm when Mr. Cartwright punched Mr. Dunn, Nan Henning silently cheered. Like the children, she was pressed against the windows watching the drama unfold.

For once, Mr. Dunn hadn’t lied. Little Joe hadn’t been here today, and neither had Mr. Cartwright’s brother. Nan had never seen Daniel Cartwright, but there hadn’t been any visitors stop by until Mr. Cartwright, Adam and Hoss arrived.

As Mr. Dunn entered the house, Nan gathered the children around her skirts. Glen and Margie went to their father. Nan figured that was sufficient. They were old enough to help him in whatever way necessary. Under the guise of getting the younger children off to bed, she herded them upstairs. She had to get out of this house and tell Mr. Cartwright that if Little Joe had gone off alone with his uncle then he was in the kind of trouble that could leave him dead. As she supervised children washing their hands and faces and getting into their nightshirts and nightgowns, she hit upon a plan that might finally get her out from underneath the watchful eye of Jim Dunn.

Chapter 64

When he got a hold of the person who’d wrapped a leather cinch around his skull and tightened it until his blood slammed against his brain in rhythm to each beat of his heart, he swore he’d knock them senseless. Not to mention the Mojave Desert dryness that had returned to his mouth, leaving his tongue thick and swollen. His face stung and burned as though an indignant saloon girl had given him a hardy slap for some fresh remark he couldn’t recall because his thoughts were dull and slow. 

Man, I sure hope the night I had in Virginia City was worth it, ‘cause when Pa gets a hold a’ me I gotta feelin’ I’m gonna be real sorry. 

Funny thing was, though, Joe couldn’t remember being in Virginia City. He didn’t recall going to town with his brothers, or any of the ranch hands, or meeting Mitch or Tuck there. And then it was when he rolled from his side to his back with an agonized groan that he realized he was on the ground and not in his bed. He struggled against the rough rope that bound his hands behind his waist and his bare feet at the ankles.

What the. . .?

He opened his eyes, his blurred vision revealing nothing but darkness. He squinted against the pain in his head, uncertain of its source. Aside from having removed his boots and socks, someone had removed his hat and shirt as well. Under other circumstances, he’d have been thankful they’d at least left him with his trousers, but he suddenly had an ominous feeling he wasn’t the victim of a bushwhacking. 

A deep, rich voice came from somewhere behind him. He could vaguely make out the glow of a fire. He shivered, thinking of the fire’s warmth. It was cooler tonight than it had been all summer long, as though autumn picked this night to remind Joe her arrival wasn’t far off. The ground beneath his bareback held a chill, and dampness hung in the air as the sound of water lapping against a shoreline reached Joe. Though on the other hand, that sound could have just as easily been the blood pounding in his aching head.

Spoken Bible verses seemed to flow with the movement of the water.

“For I have chosen him, so that he will direct his children and his household after him to keep the way of the Lord by doing what is right and just, so that the Lord will bring about for Abraham what he has promised him.

“Keep all my decrees and all my laws and follow them. I am the Lord.

“See, I have taught you decrees and laws as the Lord my God commanded me, so that you may follow them in the land you are entering and take possession of it.”

As further realization of his predicament solidified, Joe interrupted the litany in a hoarse, weak voice. 

“Uncle Daniel? Uncle Daniel!” As his voice gained some strength, he demanded, “Uncle Daniel, untie me right now,” and hoped like heck he sounded as firm as Adam would in this situation.

“Moses summoned all Israel and said, “Hear, O Israel, the decrees and laws I declare in your hearing today. Learn them and be sure to follow them.”

Joe switched tactics and hoped that this time he sounded as amiable as Hoss.

“Uncle Daniel, come on now. You don’t really wanna do this. Cut me loose and we’ll let bygones be bygones.”

Regardless of whom he sounded like, Joe continued to be ignored.

“If you ever forget the Lord your God and follow other gods and worship and bow down to them, I testify against you today that you will surely be destroyed.”

This time when he spoke, Joe tried to be as reasonable as his father.

“Uncle Daniel, please. This isn’t the way to resolve whatever it is that’s gone wrong between us. Untie me so we can talk things out.”

“Like the nations the Lord destroyed before you, so you will be destroyed for not obeying the Lord your God.”

As the man went from one verse to the next without seeming to take a breath, Joe forgot about trying to be firm like Adam, or amiable like Hoss, or reasonable like Pa. Instead, he reverted to being the young man whose temper could shoot from simmering to boiling in a matter of seconds.

“Uncle Daniel! Uncle Daniel, I mean it! Cut me loose and do it now!”

The Bible verses finally ceased. Joe heard his uncle stand and move toward him. Footsteps came closer, then stopped as a blurry shadow loomed over him.

“Uncle Daniel, let me go.”

“You’re more impertinent than I recall, Danny.”

“I’m not Danny!”

“You shouldn’t speak to your father that way.”

“You’re not my father you crazy old–”

A swift kick to the ribs caused Joe’s sentence to trailed off with a breathless, “Ugh!”

“It’s apparent to me you still haven’t learned your lesson. Being stubborn will get you nowhere, Daniel Weston Cartwright Junior. You must learn to be obedient.”

As the smell of chloroform drew closer, Joe realized why his head hurt so much. The times Doc Martin had reason to put him under with that stuff, he always woke up with a whopper of headache. He scooted across the ground, trying to get in a position to ram his feet into the old man’s chest. However, being forced to fight like a bound turtle didn’t lend to positive results. The cloth was once again pressed against his face. Joe shook his head back and forth, trying to free himself from Daniel’s grip, but to no avail. The last thing he heard as unawareness once again claimed him was his uncle’s voice reciting Bible verses about obedience.

“So that you, your children, and their children after them may fear the Lord your God as long as you live by keeping all his decrees and commands that I give you, so that you may enjoy a long life. Amen.”

~ ~ ~

A touch so tender that Joe wouldn’t have believed it belonged to his uncle rested on the side of his slack face.

Daniel’s tone was filled with sorrow as he gazed down at the unconscious young man.

“Oh Danny, Danny, Danny. How far must this go before you learn to obey me? How far must this go before you learn to obey God?”

The man sighed heavily, then stood and walked back to the fire. He picked up his Bible and returned to reading.

“Know then in your heart that as a man disciplines his son, so the Lord your God disciplines you. Observe the commands of the Lord your God, walking in his ways and revering him. Love the Lord your God and keep his requirements, his decrees, his laws and his commands always.”

Daniel’s smooth voice filled the quiet night as stars shone overhead, seeming to twinkle in cadence to his words. The sight would have left a visitor to the man’s campfire with a sense of God’s wonder and grace – provided the visitor didn’t know what Daniel Cartwright had planned come morning.

Chapter 65

After she got the younger children down for the night, Nan finished cleaning the kitchen and putting the supper dishes away. Those chores gave her the chance she needed to leave the house. The pan of dirty dishwater had to be emptied. She headed out the door located at the end of a long hallway behind the kitchen where during the winter months the children lined up their boots and hung their coats, mufflers, and hats. 

Though Mr. Dunn would be able to see her from his office window if he took a notion to look out, Nan wasn’t concerned he’d pay her much mind. First of all, he was probably too angry and humiliated as a result of Mr. Cartwright’s thrashing to focus on her. And second of all, even if he did track her movements, it was doubtful he’d know her usual routine when it came to how far behind the outhouse she walked each evening before tossing the dishwater.

As soon as the outhouse blocked Nan from view, she threw the water, set the pan on the ground, and dashed into a thicket of brush. She ignored the thorny pricks that poked her bare hands and snagged her skirt. She picked the plump purple berries hanging from those thorny branches as fast as she could and popped them into her mouth. She didn’t know the real name of the berries that proved so bitter to the taste that Nan screwed her face with displeasure. She only knew what her brother Robbie called them – “skippin’ school berries.” Upon eating them, a boy could earn himself a severe case of stomach cramps that resulted in numerous sprints for the outhouse. 

The affects of the berries never lasted long – not more than two or three hours from Nan’s past observations. Just enough to make Ma think Robbie was under the weather and should stay home from school. And therein lied the magic of the skippin’ school berries. Ma would no more than go off to work, and Robbie would feel fine, leaving him a whole day to run wild about town. That is until Ma got wise to him, which if Nan recalled correctly was the third time Robbie tried to pull that trick. Not only did he have stomach cramps, but he also had a sore backend thanks to Ma’s wooden spoon. He didn’t appreciate it any either when Ma marched him to school the next day by his ear and informed Miss Jones of his misdeeds, then demanded he be kept after school for an entire week to work on his sums and clean blackboards.

After Nan had eaten as many berries as she thought it safe to, she carefully weaved her way out of the thorny thicket, picked up her dishpan, and headed for the house. She wasn’t sure if it was just wishful thinking on her part, but by the time she entered the kitchen she swore her stomach was rolling, and she could feel the first twinges of the kind of cramps she normally associated with her monthly.

Never one to enjoy being sick, this time the signs of illness caused Nan to smile as she set the dishpan by the sink and rubbed a hand over her aching middle. If all went as planned, in a short while she’d be free of that wretched Mr. Dunn for good, and on her way to help a friend.

Chapter 66

Nan raced over the rugged terrain, shoving branches aside, zigzagging around fallen logs, and dodging bramble bushes. She’s chosen this challenging route because she wanted to steer clear of Virginia City Road for fear Mr. Dunn might be looking for her by now. 

A noise behind her cinched her stomach. Nan stopped; worrying her lower lip as she risked a glance over her shoulder. She raised the kerosene lantern she carried, the trembling of her arm causing the flame to flicker back and forth. She peered into the night, cold sweat sending an ominous chill down her spine. The light from the lantern didn’t travel nearly far enough to calm Nan’s anxiety. She never realized just how dark it was after midnight when there wasn’t a full moon overhead. After all, she was a town girl. It was unheard of for Virginia City to ever be completely black. Lanterns glowed from the saloons and brothels on Main Street until dawn. And if one had reason to walk around town late at night, light shone from the windows of various homes as a mother rocked a fussy infant, or a teenager completed his school lessons, or a woman waited up for her husband to return from his shift at the mine. 

But this was a new experience for Nan; being out in such a desolate area by herself and traveling alone on foot. She might have taken a horse from the Dunn barn if she’d had the confidence she could ride one – and the confidence that Mr. Dunn wouldn’t charge her with stealing. Horse thieving was punishable by hanging in Nevada. So rather than risk such a horrible fate, the only thing she took when she left was the lantern she carried. She wasn’t concerned that anyone would miss it. Mrs. Dunn had dozens of them lined up on a pantry shelf. Nan hadn’t even bothered to pack her clothes and toiletries in the satchel she kept beneath her bed. Maybe Sheriff Coffee would accompany Robbie out to the Dunn ranch to pick those things up at a later date. If not, then Nan wouldn’t have lost anything she couldn’t sew again, or earn the money to replace once she found a job in town.

When the noise Nan heard scurried off into the underbrush she decided all that had frightened her was a rabbit or squirrel. She refused to consider any larger predators, like a wolf or mountain lion. She swallowed hard and looked up, hoping the glow of the lantern would scare off anything that might be ready to pounce on her from a tree or rocky ledge.

The girl took a deep breath and willed her legs to stop shaking as she moved forward again. She paid close attention to her path, not wanting to veer off in the wrong direction and end up miles from her intended destination of the Ponderosa ranch house. 

Thanks to the skippin’ school berries; it hadn’t been difficult to flee the Dunn house. They’d done their job and made her good and sick. She lost count of how many times she’d ran to the outhouse after she reached seven. She was surely miserable there for a while with stomach cramps and diarrhea, to the point she even pondered the wisdom of her idea. Nonetheless, she really fooled Mr. and Mrs. Dunn. Evidently a girl gone pale with hair hanging limply from its clips, perspiration beading on her upper lip, and the need to bolt to the outhouse every ten minutes, wasn’t appealing to Mr. Dunn. He went to bed while Mrs. Dunn brewed her some peppermint tea and fussed over her as though Nan was one of her own. Those actions made Nan feel guilty about her ruse, but not so guilty that she was willing to confide in the woman. Nan had lost all respect for Mrs. Dunn. Not only did the woman refuse to acknowledge what was going on in her household; even when that information was handed to her on a silver platter she turned a blind eye to it. 

Little Daphne was slowly recovering from her trauma. She’d finally begun leaving her bedroom and venturing into the rest of the house, though so far she hadn’t expressed interest in playing with her siblings. She seemed to take comfort in Nan’s presence. Maybe because she sensed that Nan was the only one who really wanted to know the truth about what happened that left her plagued by nightmares and troubling memories. 

Two days ago, while Daphne was alone in the kitchen with Nan baking cookies, the little girl told her what she’d witnessed on Settlers’ Ridge. The story came out in whispered bits and pieces, and with long pauses in-between words. But Nan heard enough to conclude that Daphne witnessed her brothers starting the fire, and then placed her right in the center of it with instructs to call for help as soon as she spotted Little Joe. It was bad enough the child was frightened out of her wits, certain she’d burn to death. Added to that trauma was she then witnessed Little Joe’s uncle beating him. Or rather, witnessed Little Joe being beaten by “Mr. Cartwright” as Daphne referred to him. Nan got the impression the little girl thought it was Ben Cartwright who had hurt Little Joe, but by now, Nan knew better than that.

When Nan stood from hugging the crying child while assuring her nothing like that would ever happen again, she saw Mrs. Dunn hurrying from the doorway. The woman never said a word to Nan or Daphne about what she’d heard, nor did she confront her husband about it. It was then Nan decided it was better to have a poor man for a father who was honest and loving, rather than having a wealthy father who encourages his children to do wrong. And better to have a mother who knows what’s going on in her home and isn’t afraid to speak her mind when the situation calls for it, rather than a meek mother who chooses to ignore the actions of her husband and the needs of her children.

It was after her second cup of tea that Nan encouraged Mrs. Dunn to go to bed as well.

“I’ll be fine, Ma’am. I’ll just sit right here at the table until my stomach settles.”

“Are you sure? Perhaps you should come upstairs where you’ll be more comfortable. Oh dear, but I do hope you don’t have what Daphne did.”

Nan looked up, not caring if the woman saw anger in her eyes. 

“No, Ma’am. I don’t think I have what Daphne did. I think Daphne’s sickness was very uncommon, don’t you?”

“Well. . .um. . .yes, perhaps so.” Mrs. Dunn turned away. “Are you sure you won’t be more comfortable upstairs in your own bed? I’ll tell the girls not to wake you in the morning.”

“No, no. That’s all right. I can sleep on the sofa after my stomach settles some. I don’t want to wake anyone by running down the stairs if I have to make another trip outside.”

Mrs. Dunn reluctantly agreed that Nan remaining downstairs was a good idea. Thankfully, the Dunn house contained no servant’s quarters. Nan didn’t know how she would have protected herself from Mr. Dunn’s advances had that been the case. All the bedrooms were on the second floor, where Nan shared a big room with the Dunn daughters. The younger boys shared an equally large bedroom at the opposite end of the hall, with Paul and Charlie having shared the smallest bedroom the house contained. Glenn and Matthew now occupied that bedroom, which indicated to Nan that Mr. Dunn didn’t plan on his oldest sons returning anytime soon.

The remaining bedroom, the one closest to the stairway that included an adjoining room the family referred to as the “nursery”, belonged to Mr. and Mrs. Dunn. Its location was one reason Nan had been hesitant up until now to sneak out of the house in the dead of night and race for home. Mr. Dunn was known to be a light sleeper. She’d feared he’d alert Paul and Charlie, and then all three of them would chase her down.

But so far tonight, good fortune seemed to be smiling on Nan. Thanks to the berries, Mr. Dunn thought Nan was spending the night on the parlor sofa. Little did he know that the last trip she’d taken to the outhouse hadn’t been necessary, but instead, had enabled her to slip off into the night, then make a run for it.

The girl estimated she’d traveled three miles as her pace began to slow. Her instinct was to reach the Ponderosa as fast as she could. Yet, she couldn’t run all the way there, or she’d collapse in a heap before she ever arrived. She slowed more, until she’d gone from a trot to a walk. She regretted not bringing a canteen of water with her. Even though the night air was cool with a hint of autumn brushing her flushed face, all of that running had left her thirsty. 

With the light from her lantern guiding her, Nan continued on. After all, if Little Joe could survive a beating from his uncle, then she could survive a walk through the dark without water. She lifted her skirt with her free hand, determined to pick up her pace once again. She’d taken no more than three steps when she heard something behind her. This time it wasn’t the scurrying of a small animal. 

Horses hooves clacked against the ground. Nan turned and ran. She paid no attention to the branches slapping her face or the thorns snagging her clothes. The horse grew closer as she gasped in uneven rhythm, her attempts for air coming in frightened gulps. Mr. Dunn was after her, and when he caught her he’d do unspeakable things to her. Things he should only be doing with his wife. She knew that was her fate for running away. Somehow, she just knew it. That thought made her run faster, but even if she’d been the fastest girl in the entire territory, she couldn’t have fled a man on horseback.

Nan cried out as she stumbled over a log, her lantern flying from her grasp. Before she hit the ground, a hand grabbed her upper arm. For a moment, she dangled like a rag doll in the man’s grasp. The man dismounted his horse, setting her firmly on her feet. Without her light, and with her mind numbed by terror, Nan couldn’t see the man’s face. She struggled within his hold, beating his chest with her fists.

“Get away from me! Let me go! Let me go I said! Let me go!”

But her struggles proved fruitless. As she drew back her foot to kick him in one last desperate attempt to free herself; he spun her around and wrapped her tightly in his arms, making escape impossible.

Nan tried to be brave, but bravery quickly gave way to terror. Fear made her cry, along with the heartbreaking thought that for as much as she’d wanted to help Little Joe, all she’d done was fail him.

Chapter 67

“Hey there, Miss, it’s okay. It’s all right now. No one’s gonna hurt ya’.”

Hoss loosened his hold on the sobbing bundle in his arms. He wasn’t even sure of who he’d been chasing. Given the darkness, all he’d caught was a glimpse of someone fleeing ahead of him. He’d called Little Joe’s name, but when the person didn’t stop Hoss urged Chub to go faster.

As he turned the girl around and got his first good look at her, Hoss questioned with surprise, “Miss Henning? Whatta’ you doin’ way out here by yerself this time a’ night?”

Hoss’s questions only made the girl cry harder as her taunt body went slack and she sank into his chest. Awkwardly, he patted her back, not certain if this was what a feller should do when he suddenly found himself with a hysterical teenage girl in his arms. He sure wished Adam or Little Joe were here. Dadburnit, but they’d know what to do better ‘an him.

“Miss Henning? Miss Henning, I can’t help ya’ none if ya’ don’t stop cryin’ and tell me what’s wrong.” Hoss reached around for the back pocket of his trousers. As near as he could recall, his hanky was clean. 

“Here ya’ go, Miss. Use this ta’ dry yer eyes. Ya’ take a few minutes to collect yerself now, then maybe you can tell me what’s got ya’ frettin’ so.”

The girl barely let loose of Hoss when she took the offered hanky. His big hand continued to pat her back as she sobbed, wiped her eyes, blew her nose, and then started the cycle all over again. Just when Hoss was beginning to wonder how long it was proper for a feller to comfort a young woman he wasn’t courtin’, the girl stepped from his arms.

Thick strands of her hair had fallen their clips, and her eyes were red and nose running like she’d been on a weeklong bender. 

“I ran away.”

“Pardon?”

“I ran away from the Dunns. Bad things happen there.”

“Bad things…” Hoss’s eyes narrowed with anger. “Ya’ mean like bad things happenin’ to you? Things that ain’t proper like?”

Nan nodded, then just as quickly shook her head. “They could have, only they didn’t.”

“Uh? Whatta ya’ mean by that?”

“Never mind. It’s not important right now. I ran away because I can’t trust Mr. Dunn to do the right thing.”

“Right thing?”

“To come and tell your father that Little Joe’s in danger.”

“Danger? You mean Paul and Charlie–”

“No, not Paul and Charlie. Oh, they’ve caused plenty of trouble for Little Joe all summer long, that’s for sure, but the real danger is your uncle, Hoss.”

“My uncle?”

“Mr. Cartwright – Daniel. He’s the one who’s the biggest threat to Little Joe.”

“Miss, I don’t know where ya’ came by yer information, but beggin’ yer pardon, I think someone’s been tellin’ tall tales.”

“No, Hoss, no they haven’t, because I heard it all myself. I know what’s been going on. I probably know it better than anyone else, other than those involved. I know it as well as I know my own name.” The girl grabbed Hoss’s vest and latched on, her eyes wide and certain of her beliefs. “You have to listen to me, Hoss. You have to. Little Joe’s life might depend on it.” 

“Aw, now, Miss, I think maybe you’ve had yerself an awful fright an’–”

“Don’t! Don’t do that! Don’t treat me like I’m just. . .just some stupid house girl who doesn’t have an ounce of sense. Who doesn’t know when a friend is in danger. I do know, Hoss. I know. And if you don’t get me and yourself up there on that horse and headed toward your father as fast as you can, then by golly I’ll set off on foot again and walk until I reach his doorstep.”

Hoss pondered his next move. He, his father, and Adam had split up once it grew dark and their search for Little Joe and Uncle Daniel proved fruitless. They were to meet back at the house when they’d covered the areas between the Dunn ranch and the Ponderosa that Pa assigned each of them. Hoss had been headed home when he’d run across Miss Henning. He figured that by now, Adam and Pa were waiting for him there.

Though he was still doubtful of the girl’s story, he decided it wouldn’t hurt none to hear her out. Even if all he ended up doing was clearing up false notions on her part. Besides, he couldn’t hardly leave her out here to fend for herself. And from the sounds of things, he couldn’t return her to the Dunn Ranch, either. If any of what she’d hinted at was true, it wasn’t safe for her there. 

Hoss lumbered over to where Nan’s lantern had landed, picked it up, and blew out the flame. 

“All right, Miss. Come along. I’m gonna get on old Chubb, then give ya’ a hand up. There’s no call to be afraid. He’s real gentle. You just climb on behind me and once yer settled, we’ll be to my pa in two shakes of a lamb tail. In the meantime, why don’t ya’ start tellin’ me ‘bout what’s been goin’ on that’s got you so sure my uncle might hurt Little Joe.”

At that invitation, the girl was talking a blue streak before Hoss even mounted Chubb. By the time they’d ridden through the darkness and the lights of home were shining a welcoming glow across the ranch yard, Hoss no longer doubted Nan Henning’s story. From all he’d gathered, what started as schoolboy revenge on the parts of Paul and Charlie, had turned into something much more dangerous thanks to Uncle Daniel.

What Hoss couldn’t figure out was why. Why would Uncle Daniel want to hurt Little Joe? 

As he climbed off Chubb, then paused beside the horse to lift Nan down, Hoss decided he’d leave the whys to Pa and Adam. All he cared about right now was getting Little Joe away from Uncle Daniel. 

As they walked past Buck and Sport, who were tied to a hitching post, Hoss hurried the girl along, no longer caring if it wasn’t proper to be clasping her hand. She had to tell her story to Pa, and then they had to find Little Joe before it was too late.

Chapter 68

Upon the initial impact of something hard and solid sending waves of pain between his shoulder blades, Joe was certain he’d overslept again, and his brothers thought they were being funny by dragging him out of bed and down the stairs. Bounce, bounce, bounce. Know he knew just how Old Sam felt each morning, when Joe was a small boy and hauled him down the stairs to the breakfast table by one foot. But Old Sam was a toy – a rag doll Joe had been fond of, not someone’s real live brother. He wanted to shout, “Hey, you two, stop it! That hurts! If you think this is funny, just wait ‘til I get the chance to drag the two of you down a set of stairs.”

Joe started to open his eyes, then just as quickly squeezed them shut at the sharp “whack!” to the back of his skull. It felt like he’d been bounced right over a rock! He wondered where his father was, and why he didn’t put a stop to this craziness. He tried to call for help, but the only sound his voice could produce was a weak and breathy, “Pa?” 

“You who were as numerous as the stars in the sky will be left but few in number, because you did not obey the Lord your God.”

“Pa?” The confused Joe questioned again in recognition of the soothing, baritone voice that had chased away so many of his childhood fears and nightmares. “Pa, make…make it stop, Pa.”

“I abhor the assembly of evildoers and refuse to sit with the wicked.”

“Pa? Pa, stop,” Joe pleaded, as he was dragged carelessly over rough ground as though he were made of the same rags that had given Old Sam his shape.

“In the night I remember your name, oh Lord, and I will keep your law.”

As Joe’s eyes opened, the first rays of light from the breaking dawn brought forth a fuzzy, out of focus world. A medicated fog made it difficult for his thoughts to collate in a logical fashion. He looked around, trying to make sense of this nightmare. Trying to make sense of the Ponderosa Pines towering above him, and the cold, hard ground beneath him. His brothers weren’t hauling him down the stairs, nor was his father sitting at the breakfast table passively watching their high jinks. He shivered as the morning chill kissed his bare skin. He glanced down, seeing that his black trousers were his only covering, and even they looked worse for wear. Their fabric was torn in spots, and shredded in others. Even during the most rough and tumble moments of his boyhood, he’d never arrived home from school with his trousers in this condition.

Pa’s gonna kill me for bein’ so careless with my school clothes.

That thought made no sense. He wasn’t in school any longer. Hadn’t been for over two years now. Where was he? Why was he so confused? Why wouldn’t this bad dream end?

“Now fear the Lord and serve him with all faithfulness.”

That voice! Those words!

Joe struggled to sit up, even as he was being pulled toward Lake Tahoe. Uncle Daniel kept a firm grip on the rope that bound Joe’s ankles, dragging him across the ground like a man might drag a roped calf.

With his hands secured tightly behind him yet, Joe clawed at the ground as it moved beneath him. He found his voice, sounding more like his father than he’d ever realize, as he demanded, “Uncle Daniel! Uncle Daniel, stop! Uncle Daniel, untie me! Do you hear me? Untie me!”

“Be quiet, Danny!”

“I’m not Danny! I’m Joe. Now untie me!”

“If you obey me fully and keep my covenant, then out of all nations you will be my treasured possession.”

Suddenly, the answers came to Joe with clarity as pure and pristine as the water stretched out beyond the hillside. Suddenly, he knew why his uncle had been intent on tormenting him since the day he arrived. He reminded his uncle of Danny. Danny, the person Daniel Cartwright wanted most to control. But despite all of his efforts, and rules, and punishments, and Bible verses, Danny proved to be the one person he couldn’t control at all.

“No one can be your treasured possession, Uncle Daniel. No one! Not your son, and not me. Children aren’t meant to be possessions. They’re meant to grow up and make their own way in the world.”

The man stopped and whipped around to face Joe. 

“No they’re not, Danny! They’re not! Children are meant to obey their parents. It says so in His word.”

“But Danny wasn’t a child any longer, was he? That was the problem, wasn’t it? You couldn’t make him obey you, because he’d grown up. Because he wasn’t a little boy any more. He was a man. A man who was making his own decisions, regardless of whether you approved of them or not.”

“Be quiet! Be quiet I say! Your father should have taught you proper obedience years ago, Joseph, but since he so obviously did not, the Lord has left that job to me.”

With one mighty yank backward, Joe wrenched his ankles free from his uncle’s grasp. As the man came at him, Joe brought his knees to his chest and then kicked harder than an angry bronc. He caught Daniel square in the chest. The old man stumbled and fell. That’s all the opportunity Joe needed. He pushed himself to his feet, hopping barefoot toward their distant campsite.

There must be a knife there! There must be something I can use to get these ropes off. 

Because he was young and invincible – or so he thought – the notion never crossed Joe’s mind that escape was impossible. As soon as he cut himself loose, all he had to do was climb on Cochise and hightail it for home. His uncle wasn’t a skilled enough horseman to catch up to him. Especially not when riding Sweet Daisy.

Joe flew forward with a startled, “Humph!” The body slamming into his at full force threw him to the ground. He fought to get back to his feet, surviving now on nothing but adrenaline and the desire to escape the clutches of a deranged man.

Daniel Cartwright, who outweighed his nephew by sixty pounds, was easily able to keep the youth pinned face down in the dirt. He pulled the rag from the pocket of his vest, shoved it against Joe’s nose, and waited for the struggling boy’s body to go slack. When it did, Daniel stood. He took a moment to catch his breath, then grabbed Joe by the ankles and once again began dragging him toward the lake. He paused to look out over the water. It was so beautiful. Upon seeing the shimmering waves dancing like diamonds, how could one doubt the existence of God?

As Daniel resumed this journey of salvation, he glanced back at his unconscious nephew and said with a note of regret in his voice, “Just as it pleased the Lord to make you prosper and increase in number, so it will please Him to ruin and destroy you.”

Chapter 69

The early morning dawn was just beginning to give Ben Cartwright enough light to see by. With each passing minute, came additional light that made it less perilous to urge Buck to increase his speed. Sport kept pace with Buck, as did Chubb, despite the long night he’d already put in for Hoss. Lake Tahoe lay ahead of them. Ben could feel the change in the air – the dampness and chill – that indicated they were getting closer to her shoreline. Closer, but not close enough, as they were still too far away to see the water, or to confirm Ben’s worst fears and suspicions.

It was during the darkest portion of the pre-dawn hours that Ben and Adam had been sitting at the dining room table, trying to determine where they’d next search for Daniel and Little Joe, while at the same time hoping further search wouldn’t be needed. Hoping that when Hoss arrived, he’d have his uncle and younger brother in tow.

When they heard Hoss’s heavy footsteps clomp across the wooden boards that made up the floor of the front porch, and when Adam said, “It sounds like he’s got someone with him,” Ben was sure their long night of worry had ended. He wasn’t certain if he was going to hug Joseph, wring his neck, or do a little of both, and he was still undecided in that regard when the door burst open.

“Pa! Hey, Pa!”

Ben rounded the dining room wall with Adam at his heels. 

“I’m right here, Hoss. You don’t have to holler. And before you say anything, don’t try and protect that little brother of yours, or make excuses for him. Young man, 
I don’t know what you think you were doing when you left this house. . .”

Ben’s tirade died off when he saw it wasn’t Little Joe standing behind Hoss, unless Little Joe had taken to wearing a dress, that is. 

“Oh. . .oh, Miss Henning. I apologize. I assumed – wrongly, I see – that Hoss had Little Joe with him.”

“That’s what Miss Henning here has gotta tell ya’ ‘bout, Pa.”

“Tell me about?”

“Little Joe and Uncle Dan’l. She’s gotta tell you somethin’ about ‘em.”

Ben scowled. “Were they at the Dunn place today? Did Jim lie to me?”

Nan shook her head. “No, Sir. They weren’t there – honest they weren’t. But it was Paul and Charlie who set that fire and kidnapped Little Joe with help from your brother.”

“My brother?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Oh now, Miss, you must be mistaken. I realize you’ve likely been exposed to a lot of hearsay about my family, given the tensions this summer between us and the Dunns, 
but–”

“Pa, please,” Hoss interrupted. “I know it sounds plumb loco. I thought so too, at first. But hear Miss Henning out. I don’t cotton to holdin’ one mean thought against Uncle Dan’l, but for Little Joe’s sake, you gotta hear what she has to say.”

Thank heavens for Adam’s clear head at a time of crisis. Given that none of them had eaten supper, and that Miss Henning looked ready to faint from exhaustion, Adam called for Hop Sing to bring them whatever food he could put together quickly, along with something cold for Miss Henning to drink.

Hop Sing made good use of the meal he’d cooked hours earlier. Despite the fact that their housekeeper should have been in bed, he was evidently expecting Adam’s request to come sometime before the long night was over. It seemed to Ben as though they’d barely sat down before a platter of ham, a plate stacked high with slices of bread, a bowl of sweet potatoes, a dish of apple butter, a basket of corn bread muffins, and a pitcher of water were on the table. 

Ben’s, “Thank you, Hop Sing,” was preoccupied, yet grateful. It might seem odd to an observer to eat at time like this, but regardless of what Miss Henning told them, Joseph and Daniel were still missing. They couldn’t resume the search on stomachs that hadn’t seen a meal since noon the previous day. 

As food was passed around the table, Ben said, “Please, Miss Henning, don’t wait until we’ve filled our plates. Tell me what it is you’ve heard.”

The girl’s story came forth quickly between bites of ham and a warm muffin she slathered with apple butter. As for Ben, his appetite only diminished further despite the way his stomach had growled when the food was first brought to the table. 

When Nan’s story drew to a close, Adam looked at his father for what Ben could only assume was either confirmation or denial. Ben didn’t know if he’d gone as pale as he suddenly felt. As though all the blood had drained from his body because of his own mistake. Because he’d invited his brother to come for a visit. Because since childhood he’d always known Daniel was odd. Had always known Daniel’s view of the world was off-kilter at best. Because if Little Joe had been hurt – or worse – at Daniel’s hands, then the blame was Ben’s to carry with him for the remainder of his life.

Thankfully, Adam didn’t make Ben confess his thoughts. Perhaps he easily read his father’s face, or perhaps he was too busy bearing some of the blame himself.

“I should have known.”

“Should have known what, Adam?” Hoss asked.

“I should have known that day after the fire when I found Joe. When he kept saying he repented. I should have tied that word to Uncle Daniel. I should have known it was him.”

“Aw, now, don’t go blamin’ yerself. Ya’ couldn’t have known.”

“Yes, I could have. I should have. Who else but Uncle Daniel uses a phrase like that? Where else would Joe have heard it?”

“Maybe, but still–”

“It doesn’t matter now.” Ben stood. “It’s not your fault, Adam. I’m the one who invited Daniel here.”

“Now, Pa, ya’ can’t go blamin’ yerself, either. Ya’ can’t–”

“I can and I will. Especially if Little Joe is. . .is. . .” Ben couldn’t finish his sentence. He turned toward the kitchen. “Hop Sing! Hop Sing! Get out here!”

For once, the housekeeper arrived without complaint. Either he’d been listening from the doorway, or he sensed the mood of the household.

“Yes, Mr. Cart’light? You call Hop Sing?”

“Hop Sing, come first light we’re leaving to look for Little Joe. I’ll get a horse harnessed to the buggy, then I’ll wake Hiram. I want you and Miss Henning to wait in town for us. Go to Chung Lee’s. Stay there until I send someone for you.”

“Humph! Number Five cousin and Hop Sing not on speaking terms.”

“Fine. Then go to Li Chin’s. Or to Trang Vey’s. I don’t care where you go, just as long as you stay in town. I don’t want to risk Jim Dunn coming after Miss Henning and finding either of you here unprotected.”

Hop Sing nodded and began clearing the table. Ben explained to Nan, “One of my hands is laid up right now. Given our need for men at the timber camp, he’s the only one in the bunkhouse. He can’t run too fast these days, but he’s still a good shot. Hop Sing will drive the buggy and Hiram will ride along. They’ll take you to your parents.”

Nan nodded with what Ben perceived to be gratitude. She seemed relieved at the thought of going home.

As Ben headed toward the door, he stopped abruptly and turned around. 

“Oh, and Miss Henning, I’ll be asking Hiram and Hop Sing not to go to the sheriff. This situation with my brother is a. . .a family matter I prefer to take care of myself. While I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t go to Sheriff Coffee at this time either, I have no right to tell you not to. You’ll have to do what you deem best in that regard.”

The girl’s answer came without hesitation. 

“I won’t go to the sheriff, Mr. Cartwright. I just want you to find Little Joe. I just want him to be all right.”

“That’s exactly what I want too, Miss. Believe me, that’s exactly what I want.”

As Ben and his sons rode out of the ranch yard shortly before daybreak, the buggy carrying Hop Sing, Hiram Vickers, and Nan Henning left as well. Ben advised Hop Sing to travel Virginia City road. While it might be the road Jim Dunn would travel if he suspected Nan was trying to get home, it was also the quickest and safest route to town. Besides, Hiram was riding “shotgun”, and had been told by Ben not to take any chances where Jim was concerned. 

“I don’t want harm to come to Mr. Dunn, Hirman, yet I don’t want him to harm any of you, either. You understand me?”

“Yes, Sir, Mr. Cartwright. I understand straight away.”

After the buggy disappeared into the pre-dawn shadows, Ben swung Buck around in the opposite direction.

“Come on, boys.”

“Come on where?” Adam asked.

“Yeah, Pa, where are we headed? Doncha’ think it’d be better if we split up like we did before.”

“No, I don’t, because I know where your uncle has your brother.”

“Where?”

Ben silently recalled something Daniel said weeks earlier. 

I want to thank you for making the time to show me Lake Tahoe today. She’s a fine example of the beauty of God’s work. She’d be the perfect host for a repentance and baptism ceremony.

“Pa? Pa, Adam asked where you think Uncle Dan’l’s taken Little Joe.”

“Lake Tahoe.”

“Lake Tahoe?” Adam’s skepticism was broadcast with just those two words. “Why would he take Joe to Lake Tahoe?”

“For a repentance and baptism ceremony.”

“A what?”

“Never mind. It’s the only idea I have, and if I’m wrong. . . if I’m wrong and he kills your brother, then I’ll never forgive myself.”

Ben didn’t wait for any words to the contrary his sons might have offered. He plunked his heels into Buck’s side and headed the horse toward the road that led to the lake.

When they’d finally climbed the final crest that looked down upon the vast body of water, Ben’s fears were waiting there for him, as though he was an active participant in the nightmare every father has now and again when it comes to the well being of one of his children.

“Daniel! Daniel!” Ben urged Buck into a gallop. “Daniel, let him go! My God, Daniel, stop it! Let him up! Let my son up!”

As he raced to the shoreline, Ben was forced to watch as his brother held Little Joe’s head beneath the water. Joe fought and flailed, but his bound wrists prevented him from obtaining any kind of advantage. Just when Ben’s hand reached for his sidearm, Daniel brought Joe up from the water.

Little Joe coughed and choked, gasping for air and all the while fighting to wrench himself from his uncle’s grasp. 

My stubborn, determined child, came Ben’s fleeting thought. That stubbornness and determination that so often led Little Joe to trouble, might just be what had kept him alive thus far. 

“Stop fighting me, Danny. Stop it, I say! Obey thy father! Obey thy father, I say unto you!”

“You’re not my father! You’re not my father, you crazy old man!”

For his impertinence, Joe was dunked once again. Ben hollered, trying to break whatever spell had come over Daniel. 

“He’s not Danny! Daniel, stop it! That’s not Danny, that’s my Joseph! That’s my son, not yours!”

Daniel either didn’t hear Ben, or was, like Little Joe had just declared, “a crazy old man.” As he held Joe beneath the water, he called up to Ben, “He deserves this, Benjamin! You stay out of it now! This is between Danny and me! He’s evil! He laid with other men, you know. He must be punished! I will not allow him to bring Sodom and Gomorrah into my home! The Lord has commanded that this sinner repent or spend eternity with Satan!”

“That’s not Danny! Daniel, listen to me! That’s not Danny! That’s my Joseph! That’s my son, not yours! That’s my Joseph!”

Daniel took no further notice of Ben as he recited Bible verses while holding Little Joe beneath Lake Tahoe’s waters.

“Take to heart all the words I have solemnly declared to you this day, so that you may command your children to obey carefully all the words of this law.”

Ben was dimly aware of Hoss’s voice joining his as Hoss pleaded with his uncle to let Joe go. Ben closed his eyes briefly, then reached for his gun.

He pulled the pistol out of its holster. As Ben Cartwright took aim, he prayed that his parents would forgive him for what he was about to do.

Chapter 70

His nightmares usually centered on falling. On plunging from a great height, arms and legs failing for some kind of hold, for some way to stop his terrorizing descent before he hit the ground. He couldn’t recall ever having a nightmare about drowning, like the nightmare he was experiencing now. He fought to wake up. To break the illusion of his head held beneath frigid water until he could no longer hold his breath. He opened his mouth to scream; sure that action would end the horror. Certain he’d find himself safe in his room, all the while wondering at the source of the dream until a day or two passed and he was able to laugh about it, then another day or two passed, and he forgot about it for good.

But when he tried to scream, water poured down his throat. His heart rammed against his chest, as though it wasn’t getting any air either. Joe struggled to free himself from the steel grip that pinned him below the surface. Just as his awareness began to dim, a hard yank on his hair brought him up. He coughed and sputtered and gasped for life-giving air. Until that moment, he’d never realized how much he took for granted the simple act of breathing. 

Muffled shouts reached Joe, but who was speaking and what was being said he didn’t know. His ears felt thick and full of fluid, like they had when he was a child and suffered from occasional earaches brought on by a winter cold. 

When the sounds finally grew more distinct, words floated past in disjointed fashion. Something about someone named Danny, and lying with men, and Sodom and Gomorrah, and baptism and purification, and then another voice shouting, “That’s my son, Daniel! That’s my Joseph!”

As though a thick fog had finally dissipated, the world around Joe suddenly grew clearer. His uncle was the man intent on drowning him for reasons Joe couldn’t identify, and it was his father shouting at the man to stop.

Joe seized the only opportunity at hand. While Uncle Daniel’s attention was on Pa, he mustered all the strength he could into his cold, stiff limbs and rammed his bound elbows into the soft spot between the old man’s ribs. For just a second, the old man bent forward and struggled to catch his breath, but the incapacitation didn’t last long enough for Joe to get the advantage. His head was plunged downward once more. He heard his father shout, “Daniel, no! No!” And then heard his uncle intone, “There he built an alter, and he called the place El Bethel, because it was there that God revealed Himself to him when he was fleeing from his brother.” 

As water filled Joe’s nose, mouth, and finally his lungs, he realized he’d wasted a lot of years worrying that he’d die from a fall.

Chapter 71

Mitch had been wrong. Drowning wasn’t a peaceful way to die. If Joe lived through this, he’d have to remember to tell Mitch that. It was a debate he, Mitch, and Tuck engaged in every so often – what would be the best way to die. And the first rule was, you couldn’t say dying in your sleep, ‘cause everyone knew that was probably the best way to go.

So Tuck usually said gettin’ shot real quick right through the heart was probably the best way for a feller to meet his maker. Especially if the guy doin’ the shootin’ did you a favor and shot you from behind. Tuck said that way you’d never see it comin’, and wouldn’t have time to be afraid.

Joe always thought that maybe the best way to go was from a fever. After all, if your fever got high enough you became delirious and didn’t know what was goin’ on anyway, and eventually, your body just kind of gave out and then death took you.

But Mitch had always said that he reckoned drowning was the best way to go. He said he’d always heard it was peaceful. That comment never failed to make Joe laugh. 

“How do you know it’s a peaceful way to die? Did someone who drowned come back to life and tell you that?” 

“Cartwright, don’t be an idiot. ‘A course not. It’s just what I’ve heard. I suppose people who’ve come close to drowning say that.”

“They say it’s peaceful, huh?”

“That’s right.”

“Well I don’t see how not bein’ able to breathe can be peaceful. I say a fever’s best.”

“I think both you fellas is wrong. I still say gettin’ shot in the back would be best.”

“And I think you’re both loco. Mark my words, if ya’ don’t get lucky enough to live to a ripe old age and die in your sleep, then drownin’ is what you’d better pick. Like I said, I hear tell it’s the most peaceful way to go.”

As far as Joe was concerned there was nothing peaceful about drowning. Now he knew what a fish on the end of a line felt like, only the fish was fighting to get back in the water, while Joe was fighting to get out of it. If a drowning man wanted to just let the Lord take him, Joe wasn’t sure how you went about doing that when you couldn’t breathe. Seemed to him as though his body was forcing him to fight. As though the instinct for air was too strong to ignore. He pictured himself as a big, thrashing powerful swordfish caught in some fisherman’s net. As his lungs screamed for air, Joe wondered if his father could see him, or if his struggles were far beneath the surface of the water and therefore went unnoticed. 

It all changed so quickly, as Joe supposed happened to a person when the end was near, no matter how he died. One moment his mind was sharp and alert and his will to survive strong, when the next moment all grew dim. Joe’s body went slack. As he slowly sank toward the bottom of Lake Tahoe, Joe realized the peaceful part of drowning came only after a man was already dead.

Chapter 72

“He’s evil!” The man thundered; his face turned upward, as though seeking affirmation from God above. “You simply refuse to see it! To accept it and correct it! You must take action before it’s too late! You must!” 

His hand maintained steady downward pressure on Joe’s back until he could no longer feel his nephew struggling. 

“You have to break the boy, Benjamin, or you’ll regret it for the rest of your life. Train up the child in the way he should go, sayeth the Lord. Train up your son! Train him up right, or spend the rest of your days on this earth begging the Lord to forgive you your failures. I’m sparing you, Benjamin! Don’t you see I’m sparing you from the same regrets I have? From the same failures I’ve suffered?”

Daniel Cartwright received no answer to his inquiries – or at least, not a verbal one.

Chapter 73

His hand was steady, his aim true. The time for hesitation had passed. He cleared his mind of what he was about to do, cocked the hammer, and pulled the trigger.

Chapter 74

For as suddenly as death had claimed him; life returned. He coughed, sputtered, choked, and gasped, his body bucking against something broad and solid as he struggled to get air into his lungs. He was flipped over in someone’s arms as easily as Hop Sing flipped the pancakes on the griddle. He hung over a massive arm on his belly, his head and feet dangling mere inches above the water, that action once again reminding him of another way he used to carry Old Sam. But the water was moving – or maybe he was moving – and pretty soon the distance between the water and his head grew wider. The heel of a hand whacked him solidly between his shoulder blades. 

“Cough it up, Joseph! Cough it up, son!”

Throwing it up seemed like a better idea, which is exactly what Joe did when they reached the shore and Hoss set him on the ground. He didn’t mean to vomit on his father’s boots, but Pa didn’t seem to mind. Actually, he seemed relieved, because once the water was out of Joe’s body, air was able to flow into it. As soon as they could all see he was breathing, someone cut the ropes from Joe’s wrists and ankles. He gave a low moan at the pain of stiff limbs finally being freed from the positions they’d been confined to for so many hours now.

If he’d had the ability to complain about physical discomfort, Joe didn’t know which discomfort he’d voice first. The multitude of bumps, bruises and abrasions covering him from head to toe? Or the powerful headache that threatened to make him throw up again? Or the way his throat burned and his lungs ached, as though he’d just sprinted ten miles from a scalp-hungry band of Apaches? Or the cold that seemed to penetrate all the way to his bones, making him feel like he had no hope of ever being warm again. As though it were mid-January on the Ponderosa, and not early September.

Somehow, Pa must have known he was cold, and sore, and sick, and too exhausted to voice any of it, because what was left of his shredded trousers were removed and replaced with the extra pair Adam always carried in his saddlebags. The pants were too big around Joe’s waist, and the shirt Adam supplied hung off his shoulders, but beggars can’t be choosers, as the expression went. Once dressed in the dry clothing, Joe was wrapped in a blanket, and then he was pulled into his father’s arms with all the gentleness a grown man uses when cradling a newborn baby. 

At first, the words floating above him blended together, muffled even further by the towel Adam retrieved from a saddlebag that Pa now gingerly used to dry Joe’s hair. Quiet reassurances were exchanged – Adam apologizing for doing something, while Hoss told him there’d been no choice, and then Pa adding, “I was just about to do it myself,” to which Adam responded, “I know. That’s why I did it. I couldn’t let you.”

But what exactly Adam had done Joe wasn’t sure of until Hoss said quietly, “We’ll get ‘im out, and put him on Daisy, Pa. Once we git home we’ll worry ‘bout the rest.”

Now Joe understood. Getting “him out” meant getting Uncle Daniel’s body out of the water. And “worry ‘bout the rest” meant all that would follow – explaining to Roy Coffee what had happened, holding a proper burial, and getting word to Uncle Daniel’s family of his death. 

If Joe were honest, he’d confess he hated that old man. Hated Uncle Daniel for the way he’d treated Joe since the day he arrived, and hated him even more for what he’d put Joe through for reasons Joe still didn’t fully understand. But he didn’t confess any of it out loud, because it wasn’t something you told your father about his brother, even if the crazy old coot had just tried his best to kill you. 

Therefore, Joe was surprised when tears welled up in his eyes. Tears for what Adam had been forced to do. Tears for what Pa had to witness. And tears for Danny. Danny – the cousin Joe had never met, but was somehow linked to in Uncle Daniel’s mind. The cousin Joe now knew died a frightening, painful, and tragic death at the hands of his own father.

As his brothers headed back for the water, Joe sought comfort against his father’s warm chest. In a voice both raspy and weak, he said with choked emotion, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. If I’d listened to you, none of this would have–”

Pa wouldn’t let him finish. His arms tightened around Joe’s body, and through the towel still draped over his head, Joe felt his father’s kiss.

“It would have happened regardless of anything you did or didn’t do, Joseph. Don’t blame yourself. Daniel. . .I’m only now beginning to understand just how. . .how ill your uncle really was.”

“But if I’d done what you’d told me to. . .I. . .I’m sorry I’m not a good son, Pa. I’m sorry I’m the son I am.”

Joe wasn’t sure, but he thought Pa might have started crying then, too. He was being held too close to his father’s chest to raise his head and look, but he heard the same choked emotion in Pa’s voice that he’d heard in his own when he was assured, “You are a good son. Don’t ever doubt that. Don’t ever doubt it for a minute. And far as being the son you are – that’s exactly the son I want.”

“Wouldn’t consider tradin’ me in for one that causes less trouble?” Joe quipped.

He felt the chuckle building from his father’s chest before he heard it.

“I’ve been tempted a time or two, but no. No, Joseph, I wouldn’t trade you for anyone, and that’s a promise.”

As the moment of heavy emotion between father and son slowly receded, Joe shivered. 

“So cold,” he murmured.

His father wrapped him ever more snuggly in his arms and in a soothing voice comforted, “We’ll be headed home in just a few minutes. I’ll have Hop Sing fill the tub with hot water, and I’ll have him make you a hot breakfast, and we’ll get Doc Martin out to look at you. How’s that sound?”

It all sounded good to Joe except for the part about Doc Martin. He didn’t argue with his father though, because he knew it would do him no good to, and because he was suddenly too tired to do anything but let his eyes close.

They remained like that, father and son, with their backs to Lake Tahoe, Joe wrapped protectively in his pa’s arms, as the body of Daniel Cartwright was carried from the water.

Chapter 75

Joe’s memory of what happened after his brothers brought Uncle Daniel’s body to shore was sketchy at best. He’d fallen asleep in his father’s arms, the heavy slumber brought on by both his ordeal and the lingering affects of chloroform. A few days later, Doc Martin would say it was a wonder the chloroform alone hadn’t done him in, seeing how liberally it was administered by someone without medical knowledge. Added to that, Pa and Doc fretted over the possibility of pneumonia setting in given all the water Joe swallowed, but thankfully, that malady never came to pass. And although he was stiff and sore for the better part of a week, Little Joe healed with remarkable speed.

“That’s what happens when you’re a young buck of eighteen,” Joe overhead Doc say to Pa on the day he made his final house call, declared Joe “fit as a fiddle” and said he could return to his normal routine. “Now if this same thing happens to Little Joe when he’s thirty-eight…well, you can bet the recovery won’t be so swift.”

“I surely hope this same thing doesn’t happen to Joseph when he’s thirty-eight.” 

“I surely hope it doesn’t either, Ben, but knowing your youngest son as well as I do forces me to say I wouldn’t count on it.”

Pa chuckled, although Joe could tell his heart wasn’t in the joke. But then, given the circumstances that brought Joe so close to drowning that he himself wasn’t certain he might not have been dead for a few seconds – if such a thing were possible – it was understandable that Pa couldn’t find much humor in Doc’s words.

Thankfully, the oblivion sleep brought meant Joe hadn’t seen his uncle’s body wrapped in a blanket and tied over Sweet Daisy, nor was he awake when Hoss loaded the body onto a wagon and drove it to Virginia City’s undertaker. Joe was, however, present for the graveside service at the cemetery in the Baptist churchyard. Pa had left it up to Joe as to whether he’d attend the funeral or not. It was only out of respect and love for his father that Joe went. Had Daniel Cartwright been anyone other than Pa’s brother, Joe would have skipped the entire affair in favor of a couple of beers and a card game at the Bucket of Blood. 

As it was, the service was brief and private. Uncle Daniel hadn’t gotten to know many people during his stay other than some of the Ponderosa’s ranch hands, the Dunn boys, the Baptist preacher and a few members of his congregation. A larger attendance would have undoubtedly come to pass had Pa opened the funeral to the public, but only because Pa was well known and well thought of. However, Pa kept things as quiet as he could, making it clear to those who asked that attendees to the service wouldn’t extend beyond himself, his sons, and the Baptist minister whom he’d hired to preach a few appropriate words from the Good Book.

“My brother’s family back in Ohio will hold a memorial service,” Pa said to those who asked, though Joe thought Pa was only guessing a ceremony of some sort would take place, as opposed to having confirmation of it. Uncle John was telegraphed about Daniel’s death, but Joe assumed the words were fleeting and without details. After all, how could Pa convey in a telegram all that had happened since Uncle Daniel’s arrival?

The inquest into Uncle Daniel’s death was only a tad lengthier than his funeral. Or at least Joe’s portion of it was. He told Roy Coffee, and then later Pa’s lawyer, all that occurred from the moment he snuck out of the house, until he was held under the waters of Lake Tahoe by the uncle determined to kill him.

“Adam had no choice but to do what he did,” Joe declared to both the sheriff and the lawyer. “My uncle. . .my uncle would have killed me. I know Adam didn’t wanna do it, but Uncle Daniel didn’t leave him any other option.”

After all the statements were given and accurately recorded, the circumstances surrounding the death of Daniel Weston Cartwright were presented to the circuit judge. Pa kept the date and time of this presentation to himself, not even sharing that information with Adam. All Joe and his brothers knew was that two weeks after Uncle Daniel’s death, Pa came home from Virginia City and said that the matter was behind them.

“Whatta ya’ mean, Pa?”

“I mean that no charges will be brought against Adam. . .against any of us. There won’t be a trial. Daniel’s death was ruled a justifiable homicide.”

After that, Pa said nothing further about his brother, until the morning arrived in late September when Pa announced he was leaving for Ohio on the afternoon stage. As Joe and his brothers saw their father off, Joe knew Adam and Hoss were still reeling from the shock of what seemed to them an impulsive, foolhardy decision on the part of their father. Given the time of year, he’d be lucky to get home before the heavy winter snows came and left him stranded somewhere between Reedsville and Virginia City. But Pa didn’t appear to care. He seemed determined to return to the place of his birth, and no amount of pleading on the parts of his oldest sons to wait until next spring to make the trip could change his mind.

Unlike his brothers, Joe didn’t plead. Nor did he question. Nor did he debate. Actually, he didn’t say much of anything in response to Pa’s announcement. He wanted to understand his father’s reasons for this trip, but since Pa wouldn’t voice his reasons, Joe was left guessing. That is, he would have been left guessing if he’d cared enough to put the effort into it. Instead, as the stage pulled away with Ben Cartwright on it, all Joe could recall was how he’d felt in that cave the day his back had been whipped raw – alone and abandoned by the man he wanted most to remain by his side; his pa.

Chapter 76

Ruth Cartwright wrapped her shawl tighter around her shoulders. A biting autumn wind blew, rustling what few rusty colored leaves still clung to the old trees that shaded the cemetery in summer, and stood like stern, ancient sentries in the winter, their thick gnarled branches bare and powerful. 

The woman bent and leaned forward, lightly tracing her fingers over the etching of the recently added stone.

Daniel Weston Cartwright Sr.
Born: April 3rd, 1794
Died: September 7th, 1861 

She didn’t allow her touch to linger long. Not nearly as long as it did each time she repeated this same action when bending before her mother’s gravestone, or when kneeling in front of Danny’s.

Ruth straightened and stepped backwards. She sensed the man’s presence just before his arm slipped around her shoulders in the way she imagined a loving father offered comfort to his children in time of need, no matter how old those children were.

She relished the warmth of his embrace. It not only offered protection from the raw wind, but it also seemed to offer the love and understanding she never received from her own father. She glanced up at him as she spoke.

“I wish you weren’t leaving already. You’ve barely just arrived.”

“I wish I weren’t leaving either, but if I delay my departure, snow will block the mountain passes.”

She nodded her agreement, even though she’d never seen a mountain pass, let alone traveled through one by stagecoach. 

“Thank you for buying the stone and having it placed. You didn’t have to do that. I could have paid for it.”

“I know. But I wanted to.”

“I hope you didn’t do it out of guilt.”

“I didn’t do it out of guilt,” he assured her. “I did it out of respect.”

“Respect for my father?”

His answer was a neutral, “Out of respect for my entire family. Out of respect for my parents. Out of respect for you and your sisters. To give you a place to come and remember him.”

She turned back toward the stone. Her father’s body didn’t lie beneath it. His body was in a Baptist cemetery in Virginia City. Uncle Ben said Papa enjoyed attending the Baptist Church during his summer stay, so it seemed fitting that the church’s cemetery was his final resting place. Beyond that, where his soul resided. . .well, Ruth didn’t think his eternal home was likely in the place he’d always predicted it would be, but she preferred not to dwell on that. 

“He tried to harm one of your sons, didn’t he.”

It wasn’t a question, and for a long moment her uncle didn’t answer. When he finally spoke, his answer was an honest one.

“Yes. He tried to harm – he did harm Joseph.”

“Then you did the right thing, because he would have killed Little Joe had he gotten the chance.”

She sensed his confusion. He’d been here ten days, and he hadn’t given her or her sisters any details of their father’s death, other than to say it had been sudden and he’d died early one morning without suffering. Ruth’s sisters assumed Papa’s heart had given out on him, or perhaps he’d had a stroke like old Mr. Wilkes did last year. But Ruth knew better. After all, she’d read Papa’s journal. Only she knew what he was capable of. And ever since Uncle Ben had arrived she’d sensed a sorrow about him. A sorrow born of guilt over unspoken words, half-truths, and things he didn’t understand the root of.

The unspoken words and half-truths were his alone, but the root of understanding she could help him with.

“He murdered Danny.”

“Who?” He asked the question because it would have appeared odd had he not. But his tone of voice said he’d already guessed the answer.

“My father. He murdered Danny.”

“Did you. . .did you see this happen?”

“No, I didn’t see it. But I suspected it almost from the very day Danny died, and then when Papa was gone this summer I found a journal he’d kept. The details – well, the details don’t matter. And there’s never been a point to me telling anyone. My sisters would never believe me, even if I let them read his journal and they saw the words for themselves. And no one else in this town would believe me either. Besides, it’s too late for my brother. My father ended his life far too soon. Therefore, whatever you had to do to save Little Joe, to protect him, then you did the right thing.”

She felt his arm tighten around her.

“I did what any father would do.”

Ruth shook her head and felt the weight of sadness deep in her heart when she replied, “Not any father. But a good father. You did what a good father would do, Uncle Ben.”

Ruth cast a final gaze upon her father’s stone. When she turned to walk away, she smiled and nodded at her uncle in way of letting him know she would be all right. 

She reached out for his hand – the hand that was calloused and rough and strong from years of hard work – and clasped it within her own. Together, they walked toward the cemetery’s gate, where Ruth was suddenly bathed with a sense of the paternal love and support she’d never received from her father.

“Uncle Ben, do you think there’s any reason why a woman can’t run her own general store?”

“No, Ruth, I can’t think of one reason why a woman can’t run her own general store.” He chuckled while giving her hand a gentle squeeze. “Why? Do you have such a business in mind?”

The self-confidence and happiness his reply inspired almost made her break out in one of Danny’s jigs right there in the cemetery. Instead of a jig, though, Ruth settled on behavior more befitting a woman her age. She stopped their progress for a brief second, got on her tiptoes, and bussed her uncle on a cheek that smelled of musky cologne. 

“Thank you, Uncle Ben. I promise I’ll make you proud.”

“I have no doubt you will.” He patted her hand and headed them out of the gate and down the sidewalk toward the store that would undergo a minor name change in the weeks to come. No longer would it be just Cartwright’s General Store. It would be Ruth Cartwright’s General Store. 

“Now come along,” Uncle Ben urged. “ I won’t be leaving until for two more days. Perhaps there are things I can help you do in that store of yours before my departure.”

“There’s always work to be done, Uncle Ben.”

Ruth’s uncle laughed. “If Little Joe were here he’d say that you sound just like your cousin Adam.”

“And from things you’ve told me about Little Joe, I’d tell him that he sounds just like my brother Danny.”

“Good memories?” Uncle Ben asked.

For the first time, tears didn’t spring to Ruth’s eyes as she thought of her deceased brother.

“Good memories,” she confirmed. “Believe me, Uncle Ben, I have nothing but good memories of my little brother.”

And because they were no longer in the cemetery, and because her brother’s lively spirit seemed to surround her, Ruth lifted her skirts and did a little jig on the sidewalk, then threw her head back and laughed. Uncle Ben laughed with her, because although she hadn’t told him why she suddenly felt the need to kick up her heels and dance, he seemed to understand a lot about love, and loyalty, and brothers, and treasured memories that would forever be carried in a sister’s heart.

Chapter 77

Little Joe pantomimed from outside the storefront. He indicated to the young woman on the other side of the glass that the hem she was sewing in a dress on a display mannequin should be shorter. Shorter to the point it would be considered scandalous, and the exaggerated expression on her face told him so. As did the way she made a “Now shoo!” motion with her hand, her silent message clearly saying, “Go about your business, Joseph Cartwright, and behave yourself while you’re at it.”

Joe winked at her and waved goodbye, then headed down the sidewalk without going inside. First of all, if Mitch or Tuck saw him entering Mrs. Mason’s dress shop they’d give him nothing but heck for a month of Sundays. And second of all, he was no longer Nan Henning’s suitor. As it was, their courtship had been a brief one born of friendship and gratitude, and never quite blossoming to love. Joe’s gratitude toward Nan was for the courage she’d shown the night she’d fled the Dunn ranch intent on telling his family he was in danger. Nan’s gratitude resulted from Joe’s father and brothers believing her story, and then for the way Pa made certain she was returned safely to her parents’ home. Not to mention Pa had being instrumental in convincing Mrs. Mason to hire Nan. A decision Mrs. Mason didn’t regret.

Nan’s mother already worked at the dress shop, and “like mother like daughter.” Nan proved to be an industrious employee who did anything asked of her without complaint, from stitching ruffles on a petticoat, to sewing on buttons, to sweeping the floor. She also possessed a talent that was previously unknown, even to Nan herself – a knack for designing and creating ladies’ hats. Though she’d only been employed at the shop for a couple of months, her hats were already the talk of Virginia City. Or at least the talk amongst the women-folk. Joe didn’t pay much attention to any of it, other than to be glad new opportunities had come to Nan, and that through them she was finding success. Success, as well as a gentleman caller by the name of Raymond Mayer.

Joe didn’t know Ray other than in passing. His family was new to Virginia City. Ray’s father owned the mercantile, and Ray worked there. He seemed like a nice enough fellow, and Joe hadn’t heard any gossip to make him think otherwise. But after Joe and Nan mutually agreed to be just friends, and after a few weeks passed and Ray started courting Nan, Joe grabbed a fistful of Ray’s apron front one day in the mercantile and yanked him behind a stack of brooms. 

Neither Joe’s smile nor charm kept Ray from getting all pale and shaky-like, as though certain he was about to be called out to the street for a gunfight. 

“So, Ray, I hear you’re sparkin’ Nan Henning.”

“Ye. . .uh. . .uh yes. Yes, that’s right. I am. I thought. . .I’m sorry, Little Joe, but I thought you and she had. . .had…you know…gone your separate ways. But if you still have a mind to court her then I’ll–”

“No, no,” Joe assured. “I don’t have a mind to court her. You’re right. Me and Nan parted ways. I just want ya’ to understand she means a lot to me. Matter a’ fact, I think of her as the sister I never had. So I better not hear of you treatin’ her with anything less than the respect she deserves, you got it?”

Ray’s Adam’s apple bobbed in time to his head. “Sure. . .sure. I got it, Little Joe. I got it just fine.”

“Great.” Joe winked while straightening the young man’s apron. “Sure glad we could have ourselves this nice chat. You have a good day now, Ray.”

“Yeah. . .uh, yeah. You too, Little Joe.”

That conversation took place a few weeks back. Joe had seen Nan and Ray leave the Methodist Church together this past Sunday, so he didn’t figure his talk with Ray had hurt anything, and if nothing else, felt assured Nan would never have to worry about Ray treating her the way Jim Dunn had.

As Joe headed toward the Bucket of Blood he looked up at the sky heavy with gray clouds. Not rain clouds, but the kind of clouds that often accompanied a “Big North’ner” as the old timers referred to the first hard snow of the season. 

Joe pulled his green jacket closed and nimbly wrapped the clasps around the buttons. Soon, he’d have to hang it in his closet in favor of his winter coat. He’d only had this jacket since the end of October, but he’d already grown fond of it for some reason. Maybe because of its comfortable fit, and the way it possessed just the right amount of lining to make it serviceable in both fall and spring. Or maybe because it was cut short at the waist and didn’t hinder his movement as he jumped on Cochise. Or maybe because the jacket, along with the gray trousers, tan hat, and tan shirt he was wearing, had been birthday gifts from his brothers. 

The black trousers he’d once favored were torn to shreds when Uncle Daniel dragged him to the lake. His white shirt and black hat had never been found. Joe assumed Uncle Daniel tossed them into Lake Tahoe. And his blue jacket was damaged beyond repair when he’d used it smother flames the day of the fire. He had other clothes to wear of course, and had made do with those, but the old red jacket he’d been wearing since fall set in was too small and tight. He hadn’t used it since his school days and should have put it in the church’s donation box last year. It was in the donation box now, however, thanks to these new clothes his brothers had given him. Joe thought the colors looked good on him – far better than black and white. And he liked the style of the hat. It made him look older somehow. Or so he thought now that he’d been nineteen for almost one full month.

In-between recovering from his injuries, seeing Pa off to Ohio, his brief courtship with Nan, and his birthday, had been the fall cattle drive. Even without Pa present, the drive was a success. Not that Joe had any reason to think he and his brothers couldn’t get the cattle to market, but he’d just never before imagined that Pa wouldn’t be a part of the annual ritual. And especially not voluntarily absent from it. But Pa hadn’t seemed concerned when Adam tried to use the cattle drive as a way of getting him to put his trip on hold until spring.

“You boys are perfectly capable of getting the cattle to market and getting a fair price for them. You don’t need me there.”

Not even Hoss’s, “Well, now, we might not need ya’ there, Pa, but we sure want ya’ along with us. Can’t quite cotton to a cattle drive without ya’.”

“That’s very nice of you, Hoss. But since I can’t be two places at one time, you boys will take care of the cattle, and I’ll take care of the family business I must attend to in Ohio.”

Pa hadn’t so much as mentioned whether Little Joe should be allowed to go on the cattle drive given his recent injuries. That was another decision he apparently decided Adam and Hoss were capable of making. After Pa left for Ohio it was brought up for debate. Joe protested over the thought of remaining behind with Hop Sing.

“I’m fine. You both heard Doc say so. Besides, Hop Sing looks forward to all of us being gone every fall so he can air out the house and give it a good cleaning.”

“That right,” Hop Sing had agreed as he plopped platters of pancakes and side pork in the middle of the table. “Little Joe go on cattle drive. Hop Sing not want anyone under feet during fall cleaning.”

So in the end, it was Hop Sing who settled the issue. Though Joe surmised his brothers gave in so easily because of their concerns for his safety. To leave him behind meant they couldn’t keep an eye on him should Jim Dunn try to once again seek revenge. Not that Hoss and Adam said that in front of Little Joe, but he overheard them talking in the great room one evening when they didn’t realize he was standing at the top of the stairs. 

Worries over Jim Dunn proved to be unnecessary, however, since by the time the three Cartwright sons arrived home from the cattle drive, the Dunn family was gone. No one knew for certain where they went. The gossip spreading around Virginia City regarding their sudden departure had them meeting up with Paul and Charlie somewhere, as Orville Houston seemed to think Mr. Dunn owned land in Wyoming or Colorado, or perhaps it was the Dakotas. At any rate, most people were in agreement that it was a foolish time of year to set off traveling a long distance in a covered wagon with young children and a wife soon due with another baby.

Joe himself figured it wasn’t any more foolish than his father’s decision to head to Ohio and then try to make it back to Virginia City before winter set in, but of course he didn’t say that to anyone. Not even to his brothers, who had voiced it several times amongst themselves when they didn’t think Joe was within earshot.

Aside from fattening the Ponderosa’s bank account, the cattle drive had given Adam and Hoss a chance to make their apologies to Joe. Little Joe was pretty certain the apologies weren’t coordinated or spoken of between them. Instead, it seemed to him that what they hadn’t recognized about Uncle Daniel gnawed at them individually.

Adam caught Joe alone beside one of several campfires lit when they’d stopped for the night. Cattle bawled in the background while men stood in line at the chuck wagon, talking and joking as they waited their turn for the evening meal. 

“Aren’t you getting in line?”

“In a minute. I’m not like Hoss. I don’t have a big belly to fill. I’d rather wait until the line dwindles some instead of just standin’ there and watchin’ everyone’s boots shuffle forward.”

“Good thinking.”

“I’ve been known to have a good thought on occasion.”

Adam chuckled. “I’d debate you on that point, but I’d lose.”

Joe wasn’t sure he’d heard his brother correctly. “You’d what?” 

“I said I’d lose.”

“Now that’s a first.”

“What’s a first?”

“I didn’t think I’d ever hear you say you’d lose a debate to me.”

“Don’t let it go to your head, kid. But in this case, I would.” Speaking of shuffling boots, Adam’s shuffled a bit right then as he scuffed at the dirt as though he didn’t know how to voice what was on his mind. 

“Uh. . .look, Joe, I owe you an apology.”

“For what?”

“For not recognizing how dangerous Uncle Daniel was. For not recognizing that he was intent on harming you.”

“How could you have recognized it?”

“By his actions. By some things he said–”

“What things?”

“Just…things. Nothing that seemed very important at the time. Oddities I passed off as more of Uncle Daniel’s quirks, let’s put it that way.”

“Look, Adam, you can’t see around corners any more than I can, and you’re not one of them gypsies with the travelin’ shows who claims to be able to tell the future.” Joe shot his brother a sly look as he finished with, “And just because you’re the oldest and a know-it-all to boot, doesn’t mean you’re always expected to know it all.”

“What kind of a tongue twister was that?”

“Think about it for a few seconds, big brother. With all that college learnin’ you got under you’re belt, I’m sure you’re smart enough to figure it out.”

“Yes, I’m sure I am,” Adam agreed as he lightly cuffed the back of Joe’s head, then placed a hand on his shoulder and steered him toward the chow line. “And what’s this about me being a know-it-all.”

Little Joe laughed but refused to answer his brother. Soon his playful insult was forgotten as they filled their plates and coffee cups, then joined Hoss and a group of men who were already gathered around a fire eating.

It was the following day that Hoss extended an apology. He and Joe were riding beside one another at the back of the herd, keeping an eye out for strays while at the same time urging the cattle to continue their forward movement.

“Uh. . .Little Joe, listen, I been wantin’ to say I’m sorry an’ all ‘bout Uncle Dan’el.”

“Sorry about what? That he was a crazy ole’ coot?”

“Well yeah. Just like you said all along. He was a crazy ole’ coot, and when you tried to tell me that I made fun a’ ya.” 

“Hoss, if I had me a nickel for every time you’ve made fun of me over the years when I’ve tried to tell you something, I’d have more money in my bank account than Pa’s got in his.”

“No you wouldn’t.”

“Oh yes I would.”

“No you wouldn’t, ‘cause iffin you had more money than Pa, you’d have it all spent on poker games and saloon girls in less than two days time.”

“You’re right, I would. Which is why I’m a heck of a lot more fun than Pa is.”

Hoss wouldn’t let Joe sidetrack him. Before the conversation could take a further turn toward teasing and joking, he grew serious again.

“Look, Little Joe, I really am sorry. I shoulda’ listened to ya’ when you tried to make me see that Uncle Daniel always acted different toward you than he did toward me and Adam. Harsher. Kinda mean-like. I shoulda’ seen it with my own two eyes instead a’ teasin’ you right there in front of him at the supper table I don’t know how many times.”

“Hoss, forget it, okay? You couldn’t have known what he was capable of. You and Adam had your fun at my expense, just like I woulda’ done to either of you given the chance. It’s what brothers do. Besides, when I needed you the most you were there for me.”

“When was that?”

“When you pulled me out of Lake Tahoe, you big galoot.”

“Oh.” That comment made Hoss smile. “Oh, yeah. Guess that was one a’ those times when you needed me most, wasn’t it.”

“Brother, you can bet it was,” Joe agreed. He’d never told his family how close he came to death that day – how he was certain he was on the brink of standing at the Pearly Gates when those two massive hands that belonged to Hoss Cartwright brought him up and out of that water where air flowed into his starving lungs.

They spotted a couple of stray cattle right about then, which put an end to their conversation. That was fine with Joe. Both of his brothers had now gotten the opportunity to say their piece, and Joe hoped it would allow them to bury any further guilt they were carrying. As he’d told each one of them, they’d couldn’t have foreseen the events that would eventually unfold. However, it wasn’t beneath Joe Cartwright to use their guilt against them in the future when some “brotherly blackmail” was necessary to keep them from telling Pa about some escapade of Joe’s, or to wheedle money out of them for use at a poker table.

Joe shivered and picked up his pace. The cattle drive and those apologies seemed long in the past now. The evening Adam had spoken with him the air had just a mild autumn nip to it, and the day he and Hoss spoke was warm enough that they’d stowed their jackets in their saddle bags and rolled their shirt sleeves up past their elbows. But autumn was behind them now. Maybe not based on the date on the calendar, but certainly based on the temperature as far as Little Joe was concerned. He wondered if Pa would make it home before the heavy snows began, or if he’d end up spending the winter somewhere between Virginia City and Reedsville. Although they knew based on the most recent telegram Pa had sent that he’d started his journey home, Adam and Hoss still spoke of his foolishness and the risk he was taking. Joe, however, was finally beginning to understand the reasons behind both the foolishness and the risk. He didn’t share those thoughts with his brothers, though. He figured it was up to Pa to explain it all to them if he wanted to, or to keep his own counsel if that’s what he chose to do. Besides, when you were the youngest of three sons, sometimes it was nice to know something your brothers apparently hadn’t figured out. Such an event didn’t happen often. Joe wanted to silently bask in the knowledge for as long as possible.

When he entered the Bucket of Blood, Joe saw Mitch and Tuck were already waiting for him at a corner table. He picked up a mug of beer from Sam as he passed by the bar, then joined his friends.

As often happened when the three young men got a few beers in them on a lazy afternoon, their conversation veered in all directions – most of them initially about women, before heading toward downright silly. The alcohol evidently made Joe’s friends forget about his recent brush with death.

“So,” Tuck asked after his fifth beer, “whatta you fellas think is the best way to die?” 

“I still say drownin’,” Mitch drawled with a bad Southern accent that always seemed to come over him when he’d had too much to drink. “Seems to me it would be real peaceful like. What do you say, Little Joe?”

Even though Joe had been matching his friends drink for drink, he was suddenly as sober as an old lady in church. He stared into his mug for a moment, then pushed it aside.

“Take it from me, fellas. Drownin’ ain’t peaceful at all, and as of today I’m changin’ the rules of this game.”

“Changin’ the rules? How?”

“By declaring that it’s okay to say the best way to die is when you’ve lived to be an old old man and you go in your sleep with your family standing around you.”

“But–”

Joe looked at Mitch. “No buts. Unless you’ve almost drowned, you don’t get to make the rules.”

Mitch looked like he was about to argue with his friend, but then something – the expression on Joe’s face, or perhaps a look in his eye – made him back down.

“You’re right. Unless I’ve almost drowned I don’t get ta’ make the rules. Fair ‘nough. We all agree dying in your sleep after you’ve lived to be an old man is the way to go.”

The three friends raised their glasses, clinked them together, and said, “Here here,” for good measure.

Talk of death was quickly replaced by talk of girls, which was fine with Little Joe. Girls meant life. Death – well death he could happily wait on until he was years and years older than Pa, and a grandfather at least ten times over.

Chapter 78

Ben always knew where Little Joe’s impulsive nature came from, and while he’d allowed everyone to believe that was a trait Joseph inherited from his mother, it was actually a Cartwright trait. A trait that had run heavily through the veins of Ben’s father, and one that ran heavily through Ben’s own veins. After all, why else would an Ohio farm boy leave home just two days after his sixteenth birthday, headed for Boston with little more than the clothes on his back and three dollars in his pocket, with the dream of sailing around the world on an ocean he’d only read about in books? Or why would, some years on down the road, that same farm boy strike off for the untamed west in search of land he could homestead?

Ben hunkered into his thick winter coat, its fur-lined collar tickling his ear lobes. He burrowed his hands into the deep pockets as he stared out the window at the passing landscape, now dead and brown from winter’s chill. 

The stagecoach retraced the route it had traveled in September, this time taking Ben toward the Ponderosa, instead of away from her. No one shared the coach with Ben other than the driver up top. His sons would probably explain his lack of companions by saying no man in his right mind would be foolish enough to travel such a great distance by stage this time of year. And if they did say that, Ben couldn’t deny they were correct. But it was that old impulsive nature Ben had never quite grown out of, but instead learned to temper over the years, that had him traveling when common sense dictated otherwise. And for once, his impulsive nature left Ben with no regrets. There were things about Daniel he had to lay to rest, and Reedsville was the only place he could do that. From paying for the placement of Daniel’s gravestone, to supporting Ruth in her venture as a storeowner, to visiting his parents’ graves in the little cemetery on the farm, to having a family dinner with his siblings, their spouses and offspring, to roaming the old familiar fields and pasture land with John, to arriving at conclusions about Daniel he couldn’t have reached without traveling to the place of his birth and visiting the family he’d long ago left behind.

Ben glanced up at the sky. He didn’t like the look of the clouds overhead, and hoped he’d make it home before the first Big North’ner of the season blew in. If he didn’t – well, if he didn’t, it would be a long, boring winter spent at some rickety way station trying to keep warm, all the while hoping the food supply lasted, and that his sons didn’t act on their impulses and set out looking for him.

Chapter 79

Ben was sufficiently jostled and bruised by the time he climbed off the stage in Virginia City. His knees were stiff and his lower back achy and sore, but he didn’t voice any complaints for the rough ride. For the past two days they’d been outrunning a brewing winter storm and had made it home ahead of the snow. 

Ben didn’t linger in Virginia City. Cold air and a threatening sky caused him to bypass Sheriff Coffee’s office, the Cattleman’s Hotel, the saloons, the cafes, the general store, and any other places he could catch up on all the goings-on since he’d been away. 

Ben paid two passing teenage boys to get his trunk off the stagecoach and carry it to Jensen’s Livery. He followed them, carrying his valise. He rented a rig and a horse from Tom Jensen, getting a few tidbits of town gossip while Tom hitched the horse to the wagon.

“You’ve been gone quite a spell, Ben.”

“Yes, well, I had quite a distance to travel.”

“It’s nice you were able to visit yer family and then make it back ‘fore the snow flies.”

Ben nodded his agreement. He hadn’t told Tom where he’d gone or why, but he supposed word had traveled around town by now. Given Daniel’s death, then Ben’s sudden departure, it wouldn’t take people long to assume he had business to attend to in Ohio. Perhaps they thought he’d had to settle Daniel’s estate. Or break the news of Daniel’s death to other family members. Regardless, what folks assumed didn’t matter much to Ben, and he didn’t plan to fill in any details now that he was back.

Thankfully, Tom didn’t dwell on the subject. 

“Say, Ben, did any a’ yer boys wire with the news ‘bout Jim Dunn?”

“No. What about him?”

“Just up and left. Him and the whole family. Even the missus and the two little ones. Foolish if you ask me, her being with child like she was, and then Nora and Henry not even old enough for school yet. Bad time of year for travelin’ under those circumstances, wouldn’t you say?”

Ben had no desire to discuss Jim Dunn with Tom, anymore than he had the desire to discuss Daniel with him. He wasn’t going to assist in pouring fuel on the fire of gossip. 

“Yes, it’s a difficult time of the year to travel with a young family,” Ben acknowledged in a neutral tone. “But Jim’s a smart man. I’m sure he thought it through before leaving.”

“Some folks are saying he high-tailed it ‘cause he got himself in trouble with the law.”

Tom glanced up from his work, landing an expectant gaze on Ben as though sure he’d get confirmation of this.

“I wouldn’t know.” Ben smiled amiably. “I’ve been away for some time, remember?”

“Yeah. Yeah, sure. Just thought maybe Adam wired ya’ with news now and again.”

“No, not with news that extended beyond letting me know the cattle drive was a success.”

And that was true. Ben wired his sons when he’d arrived in Ohio to let them know he’d gotten there safely, and then wired again while he was in Ohio with happy birthday wishes for Little Joe. He’d wired them once more when he left Reedsville to head home, and then a final time when he transitioned from the train to the stagecoach at St. Joseph, Missouri. He’d only heard from Adam once, after the boys arrived home from the cattle drive. As far as Ben was concerned, hearing from Adam just one time was good news. It meant nothing had occurred like fire, flood, famine, illness, or anything else of a nature to cause a father worry.

Ben plopped his valise next to the trunk in the back of the buckboard, then climbed on the seat. 

“If the weather holds, I’ll send someone into town tomorrow with your buckboard and horse, Tom.”

“No hurry. There’s plenty more where those came from.”

Ben said a final thank you and goodbye, then lightly slapped the reins against the horse’s rump and headed the animal down Main Street. He soon left Virginia City behind as he traveled toward the Ponderosa.

Chapter 80

The barn was absent of three familiar horses when Ben arrived home that afternoon. He was disappointed, although had no reason to be. After all, he hadn’t wired the boys when he’d reached Carson City to let them know of his impending arrival. Maybe given his abrupt departure and lengthy time away, he was concerned his homecoming would be greeted with indifference, and the absence of his sons proved him right?

Well, Ben Cartwright, now’s a fine time to second-guess that old impulsive nature of yours.

Ben chuckled. Adam and Hoss might think him an old fool, but they understood his reasons for going. Of that he was certain. Little Joe – well, Little Joe was younger and the adult world was still new to him, so Ben didn’t expect him to understand. Yet, unlike his brothers, Joe hadn’t voiced any opposition to his father taking the trip. Which could mean he didn’t have opposition to voice, or could mean he’d left a lot unsaid. With Joseph, it wasn’t always easy to guess, and Ben had learned long ago that when it came to his youngest son, assumptions shouldn’t be made because they often proved to be wrong.

Ben stowed the wagon in the carriage house. He left his trunk in the wagon’s bed for the time being. He’d get Hoss to bring it inside later. 

Ben picked up his valise with one hand and led the horse to the barn with the other. He put the animal in a stall, then fed and watered it. He took a few minutes to say hello to Buck, who was nickering a greeting. After Buck’s nose and long neck had been sufficiently rubbed and petted, Ben fed and watered him as well. He gave both horses fresh bedding, plucked his valise from the hook he’d hung it on, and headed for the house. 

He bent his head, holding onto his hat, as a fierce, cold wind blew. When he entered his home, Ben placed his valise on the sideboard by the door and gave his feet a few hardy stamps, trying to bring feeling back to his cold toes. As he hung up his hat and coat he took note of the fire crackling in the fireplace, while the smells of simmering beef stew and baking bread drifted from the kitchen. Ben also thought he detected the aromas of warm cinnamon, nutmeg, and apples. He recalled the summer day a few months earlier when he envisioned just this scenario, while longing for the stress of Daniel’s visit and the trouble with the Dunns to be in the past. 

Well, now those things were in the past, and though both situations ended in ways Ben never could have imagined, he’d be lying if he didn’t admit he was happy to have this moment when the comforts of home and family were close at hand.

“How many time Hop Sing say not stamp mud off boots in clean house? I get broom right now and you sweep–” The houseman’s tirade ended as he came around the corner and saw who had arrived. His scowl changed to a wide smile.

“Mr. Cart’light! Hop Sing not know you here. Think Little Joe home.”

“No, Hop Sing, it’s just me. And I can assure you that I don’t have mud on my boots. I was just trying to get my toes warm.”

“Then you come sit by fire ‘til supper ready. Hop Sing not know you coming home today, but made plenty eat.”

“Thank you, Hop Sing. It smells delicious. And to be honest, I didn’t know for certain that I was coming home today either. But the stage made good time, so here I am.” 

Ben sat down in his favorite chair, savoring its soft cushioned seat after weeks of traveling on a stage. “Speaking of being home, where are the boys?”

“Mr. Adam leave for town little while ago. He hold practice for Christmas play.”

Ben nodded. Adam directed the town’s Christmas pageant each year, and with Christmas just two weeks away, he’d be spending numerous evenings in Virginia City. They must have missed one another as Ben traveled home. Since Adam wouldn’t have been encumbered with a wagon, he likely took a shortcut across Ponderosa land, rather than travel Virginia City road.

“He say eat supper in town, and if storm come he stay at Cattleman’s Hotel tonight.”

“Sounds like a good idea. And what about my other two sons?”

“Mr. Hoss help friend Mr. Jed add room on house for children. Mrs. Jed soon have baby, and say no space left for family. He say probably eat supper there, and spend night if snow start.”

Again, Ben nodded. Jed Donavon was a friend of Hoss’s from boyhood. He owned a piece of land west of the Ponderosa. With Jed’s wife due with baby number five shortly after the new year, an educated guess told Ben a bedroom was being added on for the older children to share. 

“And Little Joe?”

“Little Joe say he stuck with all the work while older brothers go off and have fun.”

Ben laughed. “That sounds like Little Joe.”

“He checking shelters to make sure good for cattle before snow come. He say be back before dark.”

“Then he should be home soon.”

“Yes,” Hop Sing agreed. “Make supper Little Joe asked for since he only Cart’light at home tonight until Mr. Ben come.”

“Don’t worry about me. Whatever you’re cooking smells wonderful. I’ll be happy to eat what Little Joe has chosen.”

“Beef stew, loaf bread, applesauce cake.”

Ben smiled. “Somehow, I knew that’s what was on tonight’s menu, and believe it or not, it’s just what I would have ordered.”

“Then Hop Sing better go check make sure nothing burn unless Mr. Cart’light need something.”

“No, no. I don’t need anything, thank you. You go about your work and pretend I’m not here.”

Hop Sing nodded and headed back to the kitchen. Ben stared into the fire, the warmth radiating outward providing a sense of tranquility he hadn’t felt in months. He dozed off, waking to the sound of Hop Sing setting the table, before drifting into a light sleep again. The next time he awoke, it was to the sound of someone stamping his feet, followed by Hop Sing threatening to hand that someone a broom.

“Aw, Hop Sing, my boots ain’t muddy. I’m just warming up my toes, that’s all.”

“Humph! That’s what father say. Only Hop Sing believe father, but not believe you.”

“Pa’s home?”

“Yes, father home.”

“I wondered when I saw the strange horse in the barn.”

“He ‘sleep in chair, so be quiet.”

“Fine, I’ll be quiet. But–”

Ben peered around his chair. “If that’s you being quiet, I’d hate to hear what noisy sounds like.”

“Pa!”

Based on the enthusiastic hug Ben received as he rose to meet Little Joe, the man suddenly knew he’d been worrying for no good reason when it came to concerns about his return being greeted with indifference. 

Father and son barely had time to say hello before Hop Sing was putting supper on the table. They moved as one, Ben sitting in the chair he’d been long absent from, while Joe took his familiar place at his father’s right.

“We might as well eat while the food is hot. Hop Sing said your brothers won’t be joining us tonight.”

“Nope, they won’t be.” 

Joe handed his father his bowl. Ben ladled stew into it thick with tender chunks of beef, carrots, and potatoes – just the way Little Joe liked it – and seasoned with finely chopped onions along with a multitude of spices Hop Sing wouldn’t reveal.

“I hope neither one of them starts home later if it’s snowing.”

“They won’t. To tell ya’ the truth, Pa, I think they planned it this way.”

“Oh you do, do you?”

“Yep. They both seemed pretty eager to high-tail it outta here and leave me with all the work. And they also seemed pretty eager to tell me they probably won’t be back until sometime tomorrow.” Joe grinned as he accepted a slice of warm bread and then lathered it with butter. “ ‘Course if they’d a’ known you were gonna come home I bet they woulda’ been here.”

“Because they missed me?”

“Heck no. Because it doesn’t look good for them to be gone and leave me in charge.”

Ben laughed. “From where I’m sitting it looks just fine.”

“Guess it must, or you wouldn’t have been sleepin’ in your chair when I got home.”

“I won’t have been?”

“Nah. You’d have been out searchin’ for me to make sure I wasn’t gettin’ myself into trouble.”

“Well see there. That thought never even crossed my mind.”

The conversation moved on to a discussion about the cattle drive, and from there to whatever news Joe wanted to share. He never mentioned the Dunn family, his uncle Daniel, or his father’s trip, so Ben didn’t bring up any of those subjects either. They talked about Christmas some, and the fact that they both had presents to buy yet, and that soon they’d have to make their annual trek over the Ponderosa with Adam and Hoss in search of the perfect tree for the great room.

“I see you bought yourself some new clothes while I was gone. Saw your new hat and jacket hanging on the hook, too. They make you look quite dapper.”

Joe smiled at the good-natured teasing. “They were presents from Adam and Hoss for my birthday.”

“Speaking of which, I’m sorry I wasn’t here to help celebrate.”

Joe shrugged. “I’m nineteen now. No need for celebrating.”

“There’s always a need for celebration, no matter how old a man gets. And we’ll do just that as soon as your brothers are back and Hop Sing is able to put together a special meal and a cake. Perhaps the day after tomorrow. What do you think?”

Joe tried to sound grown up, as if he was far too old now to be concerned with a family birthday party held in his honor. “No need really.”

“Yes there is. Besides, I’ve got some gifts for you in my trunk that I bought in Ohio.”

The young man, who moments earlier was too old to be concerned with birthday celebrations, suddenly changed his mind. 

“Oh, well okay. Then I guess there is a need.”

Ben chuckled before taking another mouthful of stew. He hadn’t been gone that long, but Little Joe seemed to have changed somehow. Maybe it was the new clothes. Maybe they made him look older. Or maybe he’d grown some. Back when Ben had concerns Hoss would never stop growing and that Little Joe never would grow, Paul Martin had told him that a young man could continue adding height and muscle mass until age twenty-five.

It wasn’t until the table had been cleared and Hop Sing was eating his supper in the kitchen that Joe brought up his father’s trip. They had moved to the great room, plates of applesauce cake in one hand and cups of coffee in the other. Ben settled in his chair once more, while Joe sat on the settee. Joe ate three bites of cake before finally asking what was on his mind. 

“So, did you…did you uh….have a good trip?”

“If by that you’re asking was my journey uneventful, then yes, considering the miles I traveled it was.”

“That’s good I s’ppose. Though it sounds kinda boring.”

Ben cocked in eyebrow. “When you reach my age, Joseph, you’ll come to appreciate boring now and again.”

“Can’t imagine it, but if you say so, Pa.”

“I do.”

“And um. . .Uncle Daniel’s family?”

“What about them?”

“How. . .I mean. . .well, the news and all. How’d they take it?”

“I can’t say I gave them much news beyond what I informed them of in the telegram I sent right after Daniel died.”

“And what exactly was that? If you don’t mind me askin’ that is.”

“I don’t mind. I told them Daniel passed away suddenly and peacefully.”

“Oh.”

“There was no need to tell them more, Joe.”

“I never said there was.”

“No, you didn’t. But your tone of voice sounds as though you disagree with my decision.”

Joe ate the last few bites of his cake and drained his cup before speaking again. He set his dishes on the coffee table, then relaxed against the back of the settee. He gazed into the fire, not meeting his father’s eyes.

“I don’t necessarily disagree with it. I’m not sure what I would have done in your place. Guess there was no point in tarnishing Uncle Daniel’s memory for his daughters and grandchildren.”

“No, there wasn’t.” Thinking of Ruth, Ben added, “Besides, there were those who knew the truth without me speaking it aloud.”

Joe looked at his father. “What do you mean?”

“Your uncle didn’t arrive here with thoughts and opinions that weren’t a large part of who he was back in Ohio as well.”

“No. No, I suppose he didn’t.”

“And for that, I owe you an apology.”

“You do?”

“I do. As difficult as it is for me to admit this about my brother, I always knew he was. . .odd. Not quite right in his thinking. Or at least his thinking was a far cry different from my own.”

“Thank the Lord for that.”

Ben chuckled rather than admonishing Little Joe for his use of the Lord’s name. Besides, he quite imagined Joe’s, “Thank the Lord,” was indeed a heartfelt prayer, as opposed to a curse of any kind. 

“Yes. . .well, when I received John’s letter about Daniel’s loss of Clara and then Danny, both so close together, I allowed sentiment to overrule clear thinking. I should have known inviting him were wouldn’t be a good idea due to his somewhat…
uh. . .sour personality, is how I’ll phrase it.”

“Knowing something isn’t a good idea just ‘cause a guy’s a sour puss isn’t the same as knowing a man is capable of kidnapping and attempted murder. You can’t make me believe for even one minute that you knew Uncle Daniel was anything more than self-righteous, opinionated, and cantankerous. If you had, you never would have asked him to come.”

As Ben set his own empty dishes on the coffee table, he gave his son an appraising look. “Are you sure you only turned nineteen back in October?”

“Why are you askin’ me that? You know I turned nineteen.”

“Because you suddenly have the wisdom of a man twice your age.”

“Hey, do me a favor and make sure you tell that to Adam when he gets home.”

Ben laughed. “I’ll do that.”

“So anyway, Pa, quit blaming yourself. You invited Uncle Daniel ‘cause you thought a change of scenery would do him good. That being able to get away from his grief for a while might help him heal. He was your brother. You hadn’t seen him in twenty-five years. You just. . .you just couldn’t have predicted all that was gonna happen once he got here.”

“No…no, I guess I couldn’t have.”

The gentle hissing and spitting and crackling of wood in the fireplace were the only sounds in the room until Joe finally spoke again. His voice was quiet and contained a note of confusion. As though he was still trying to figure out why his uncle had wanted to hurt him.

“He wasn’t. . .he wasn’t right in the head, was he. I mean, his thinking – it wasn’t right, was it?”

“No, Joe, his thinking wasn’t right.”

“ ‘Cause he was old?”

Ben gave a slight smile of amusement at that question. 

“Well, that could have had something to do with it, yes. But even as far back as when I was young boy, your uncle Daniel viewed the world in a manner that greatly differed from the way the rest of us saw it. My pa used to tease and say it was because he had a lot of Weston in him.”

“Your mother?”

“Yes. Only Ma. . .I’ll be the first to admit she was the one who made the Bible a focal point in our household, and saw to it that we attended church each Sunday and knew our scriptures, but nonetheless, there was a warmth about her and a sense of humor that was lacking in Daniel. Of course, the poor woman had to possess a sense of humor in order to be married to the first Joseph Cartwright.”

“Your pa was. . .what’s that word Adam uses? Irrepressible? Is that it?”

“Yes, that’s it. And that describes my pa pretty well. Impossible to hold back or restrain. He embraced life in much the same way you do – by just plunging right in instead of checking the water first.”

“Not checking the water first is half the fun, Pa.”

“Somehow I knew you’d say that. Which is also the reason I have this head full of gray hair, young man.”

It was Joe’s turn to laugh. When he sobered, he seemed to be contemplating a question that was too big to ask.

“Pa?”

Ben’s, “Hm?” sounded drowsy and distant. The long trip, his full stomach, and the warm room all combined to make him sleepy. Alertness returned, however, as Joe asked, “What Uncle Daniel said about Saddam and Gomorrah. . .about Danny. . .do you think Danny did what he said?”

“Did what he said?”

“Um. . .uh. . .you know…uh, was with. . .was with men?”

“You heard that?” Ben asked; certain Daniel was holding Joe under the water when he claimed Danny had been with men.

Joe’s reply was no louder than a whisper. “You’d be amazed at how many things you can hear when you’re almost dead.”

“What’d you say, son?”

“Uh…I said yes, I heard him.

Ben shifted his chair, slowly sitting up straighter. This wasn’t a conversation he’d ever imagined having with one of his boys. Talking to them as young teenagers about the responsibilities and actions of an honorable man when he was alone with a woman had been difficult enough. A necessary talk, Ben felt each time he conducted it throughout the years, but not a comfortable one. Fortunately, Adam just nodded and left the room with a thoughtful look on his face, while Hoss blushed and hurried from the room as fast as he could. It was Little Joe who, at fourteen years old, dragged the talk out, peppering Ben with questions until it was the father who was blushing and hurrying from the room rather than the son.

Regardless, those years were behind him, thank goodness. But tonight was a conversation of a different sort. A conversation full of speculation, assumptions, and educated guesses, all based on the ranting of a sick man, and that focused on a side of human nature Ben admittedly didn’t know much about.

He sighed heavily before he finally answered his son. 

“Joe, I. . .to be honest with you, son, I just don’t know. I don’t know anything about Danny’s personal life, and what he might or might not have done.”

“But Uncle Daniel seemed so certain.”

“Yes, he did. But we’ve both already acknowledged that Uncle Daniel might not have been thinking correctly.”

“But what if he was? What if he had proof of some sort?”

“What if he did?”

“Does. . .does a father quit loving his son because of that? I mean, I know what the Bible says, but. . .”

“But that’s a big question, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it is. I can see why a father could quit loving his son over it, but at the same time, I can’t see it either. A father’s love – well, it seems like it’s pretty big, you know? That it forgives a son of a lot of wrong doings.”

“A father’s love is big. I suppose how big, depends on the father. As for myself, I’ve always believed that a father’s love is unconditional.”

“Unconditional? That sounds bigger than big.”

“It encompasses a lot, no doubt. But it doesn’t mean a father always agrees with the decisions his children make or the actions they take. It doesn’t mean a father can’t be ashamed of something his child has done, or embarrassed by it, or just plain angry over it. However, it does mean that at the end of the day, the father forgives.” 

“Anything?” Joe questioned with a hint of doubt.

“Anything,” Ben confirmed. “Events can happen that cause a terrible breach in a father’s relationship with his child – I hope that never happens between me and any of my sons, but I’d be lying if I didn’t say I’ve known it to occur in other families. Nonetheless, even through the widest of breaches for the most terrible reasons imaginable, forgiveness and love would still be a given. At least for this father they would be, and I believe that someday, when you’re a father, you’ll feel the same way.”

“Even. . .even for something like Uncle Daniel claimed Danny did?”

“Yes, Joe, even for something like that. I might not understand it. I might find it distasteful. I might find it to go against all that the Bible has taught me. But if what your uncle Daniel said is true, and if he killed his son because of it, then he not only broke a commandment, but he also turned his back on his child when that child likely needed him the most.”

Joe nodded. “That’s pretty much how I see it.”

“You do, huh?”

“Yeah. I’ve been thinking it over for a while now, and no matter what Danny did, I can’t imagine a father killing his son, or thinking he had reasons to justify that.”

“Neither can I, Joseph. The only regret I have was that I couldn’t help Danny in some way.”

“That’s why you had to go back to Ohio, wasn’t it. It’s why you couldn’t wait until spring like Adam and Hoss wanted you to.”

“To help Danny?”

“No, not to help Danny. Guess he was long past helpin’ unfortunately. But to get it all straight in your head. To try and figure out what made Uncle Daniel do the things he did. To try and reconcile yourself with it. To be with the people who had known you since you were a boy. The people that came from the same place you did – from the same family you were raised in. To ask your parents to forgive you, and then to let Uncle Daniel rest in peace for good.”

Ben gazed at son. Suddenly, sitting here with Little Joe was like sitting on the front porch of the old farmhouse with John. The same curly hair. The same wiry build. The same green eyes. The only difference was John’s curls were now gray, and his wiry build was broader through the shoulders and chest than it had been twenty-five years ago. 

John was the only person to whom Ben confided the true happenings of Daniel’s summer visit and his subsequent death. And from John, he received the same gentle understanding he was now getting from his youngest son.

“Remember when I said you possessed the wisdom of a man twice your age?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, you do. And for that I’m grateful.”

“Grateful?” The confused Joe questioned.

Ben smiled. “Never mind. Let’s just say all of your assumptions as to why I had to go to Ohio are correct and leave it at that.”

Joe grinned, looking very pleased with himself.

“What’s got you suddenly looking like the first bull in the heifer pen?”

“Oh, just the fact that those older brothers of mine haven’t figured any of this out yet – I mean about why you insisted on goin’ to Ohio at a time of the year when most men wouldn’t risk traveling so far. And based on things they’ve said recently, they’re still no where near figurin’ it out.”

“And you don’t plan on telling them, is that it?”

“Pa, when you’re the youngest of three boys, you don’t usually get the chance be the first one holdin’ all the aces. Considering this may never happen again, I’m just gonna sit here holdin’ onto my aces and let the two guys holdin’ the jokers come to their own conclusions.”

“Well then, your secret’s safe with me.”

Joe winked and nodded. “Thanks.”

Their conversation died as Hop Sing came in to collect their dishes. After the houseman had returned to the kitchen and Ben could hear the clanking of plates and silverware being washed, he asked, “Any more trouble with the Dunns after I left?”

“Nope. They’re gone.”

“I heard that rumor while I was in town.”

“It’s not a rumor. One day they were here, the next day they were gone.”

“Not even Rilla and the little ones remained behind?”

“No.” 

“Where’d they go?”

Joe shrugged. “No one seems to know, or if they do, they’re not saying. I’ve heard they’re headed back east – all the way to Pennsylvania – but then I’ve also heard they’re headed to California, and then a few weeks back someone said something about Texas, but not long after you left there was talk they were meeting up with Paul and Charlie somewhere. Wyoming, or the Dakotas, Mitch said he heard at the general store.”

“What about the ranch?”

“No one seems to know anything about that either. Word is Mr. Dunn left instructions with Mr. Kartcher.”

Lloyd Kartcher was Jim Dunn’s attorney. Ben supposed it was possible that Lloyd had instructions to act on Jim’s behalf to either sell the ranch or lease it.

“Maybe Hoss’ll know more when he gets back.”

“Hoss?”

“Jed was interested in finding out if it’s for sale. Don’t know if he can afford such a big spread, but like Hoss said, never hurts to ask what a man’s price is.”

“No, no it doesn’t,” Ben agreed, while thinking that if the ranch was for sale for a fair price, he might be able to assist Jed with a loan. The Donavons would make good neighbors, and after the recent incidents with the Jim and his sons, good neighbors looked mighty appealing.

One minute Ben was mulling over the potential sale of the Dunn ranch, and the next minute Joe was giving him a playful swat on the knee.

“Pa, if you’re that tired, you’d better go on up to bed.”

“Uh. . .what?”

“I said if you’re that tired, you’d better head up to bed. This the second time you’ve fallen asleep since we sat down over here.” 

“The second time, huh?”

Joe smiled with an almost paternal air. “Yeah, the second time.”

“And what about you? You’ve had a long day, too, from the sounds of it.”

“I have. I’ll probably go to my room and read for a while. Hoss gave me a whole passel of new dime novels for my birthday.”

Ben smiled. Joe had yet to outgrow his love of the thinly-plotted stories Adam found distasteful and a “waste of the boy’s time,” as he’d often put it over the years each time he saw Joe’s nose buried in one of the books. Ben had always taken an opposite stance from his eldest where this subject was concerned.

“The important thing is he’s reading, Adam. You enjoy fine literature, while Little Joe enjoys books filled with adventure.”

“Yes,” Adam would always snort with disdain, “books filled with inane adventures that aren’t worth the paper they’re written on.”

“Maybe not to you, but to Little Joe they’re worth gold. And as I said, he’s reading, which is what really counts. I’d venture to guess he gleans just as much from them as you glean from Shakespeare.”

And at that, Adam would always sigh with defeat, “To each his own I suppose.”

When Ben’s stiff knees and back didn’t allow him to rise from his chair without a groan, Joe held out a hand.

“Here, Pa, let me help you.”

Ben chuckled, “I’m not that old yet, Joseph,” but willingly accepted Joe’s assistance. “That stage ride sure left me stiff and sore.”

“Guess that happens when a man reaches your age.”

Ben shot his son a stern look, but couldn’t maintain it when Joe started to laugh.

They climbed the stairs together. As they reached Joe’s room and he turned to go inside, Ben laid a hand on his arm. There was one final thing regarding Daniel’s visit that Ben had to put to rest for good.

“Joe?”

Joe stopped as he was about to step into his room. 

“Yeah, Pa?”

“Given all of our discussion about Daniel and what he did to Danny, I want you to know that there’s nothing on this earth you could do that would cause me to harm you.”

Joe looked puzzled. “I know that.”

“But for a while there you didn’t.”

“Oh. . .you mean after the. . .after the cave and all?”

“Yes, that’s what I mean.”

Rather then just say he was mixed up in the head and let it go at that, Joe finally told his father the truth. 

“For a while, I did think it was you, even though at the same time I didn’t wanna believe it. But then once I let my subconscious mind get all the right messages to me, and once I figured out what those messages meant, I not only knew it wasn’t you, but I also knew it never could be.”

“Subconscious mind, huh?”

“One of Adam’s ten dollar words, as Hoss would say.”

“Yes, I’ve heard him use it a time or two.”

“I don’t usually have much use for his big words and fancy theories, but for once, I can’t argue with him. And so as Hoss always says too, you don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.” 

“No, you don’t.”

Ben reached out and pulled his son into his embrace. “I’m sorry I brought Daniel here. I’d never let anyone hurt you if I could help it.”

Joe’s words brushed softly across Ben’s right ear. “I know that, Pa. And do you know how I know it?” 

“No, how?”

“Because your love is even bigger than the Ponderosa.”

“Not even the Ponderosa comes close to comparing to the size of my love for you boys.”

Joe’s reply was quiet and full of deep thought. “No. No, I don’t suppose it does.” 

They parted with Ben giving Joe a final pat on the back. They said goodnight, and Ben took three steps toward his room. Joe’s voice stopped his progress.

“Pa?”

Ben turned. “Yes, Joseph?”

“It’s not because I’m all that smart that I knew the reason why you had to go to Ohio.”

“Oh, it’s not?” Ben replied with a teasing lilt to his voice.

“No, it’s not.”

“Then how did you know?”

“Because if something like happened to Uncle Daniel happened to one of my brothers, I’d have to come see you too, Pa. No matter how far away I was, I’d have to come see you, too.”

Ben gazed at his son a long time, then finally nodded. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For understanding. And for being the son you are.”

Joe smiled at the reference. “Guess that’s the only son I know how to be.”

“Good. Because where you’re concerned, it’s the son I want. . .most of the time, that is.”

Joe laughed. “Can’t fault you for adding that.”

Ben pulled Joe into one last playful hug and mussed his already mussed curls.

“I didn’t think you could.”

They parted ways for good then, Joe’s bedroom door shutting first, and Ben’s shutting a few seconds later. Ben was asleep within five minutes of his head nestling into his pillow. The light in Little Joe’s room burned for another hour, the young man engrossed in one of his dime novels and not willing to quit reading until the words finally grew bleary and he found himself nodding off.

Joe marked his page, blew out the light, and burrowed beneath his quilt. He could hear snow pelting his window as a strong wind made the logs of the house creak and moan. The Big North’ner had finally arrived, and Pa had beaten her home. 

Joe smiled as he drifted off. With his father sleeping just down the hall, and with the house snug and warm and secured for the night, all felt right in his world.

As the wind raged and snow piled up in the yard, Joe slept the night away. For the first time in months, there were no dreams of falling, or drowning, or of forest fires, or of being beaten by a man whose face he couldn’t see but who wore his father’s clothes. Instead, his dreams were pleasant, filled with images of past Christmas seasons, and snowstorms, and sledding down the hill behind the carriage house with his brothers. 

As pale gray light began to filter in behind Joe’s curtains, his final dream held the image of a young man he didn’t recognize. There was something familiar about his curly blond hair, green eyes, and slight build, but where Joe knew him from, he couldn’t say. The young man’s grin was playful, and his words – “Tell Ruthie I’m happier than I’ve ever been, and in a place where I can dance all the jigs I take a notion to,” didn’t mean anything to Joe until several hours later, when memories of the dream suddenly came to the forefront of his mind as he shoveled a path to the barn.

Whether it was possible that the dream really had been a message from Danny or not, Joe didn’t know. What he did know was that he no longer disregarded messages from his subconscious mind. And given that, when his father sat down that afternoon to write his annual Christmas letters to far away family members, Joe asked if he could include a note of his own in the letter addressed to Ruth Cartwright.

His father looked at him a moment, surprised, Joe supposed; that he wanted to write to a cousin he’d never met. Pa didn’t question him, however. He nodded his agreement, saying, “I just finished the letter I’m sending to Ruth. You write what you want and put it in the envelope I addressed to her. It’s right here in this stack on the corner of my desk.”

“Okay. Thanks, Pa.”

Little Joe took the piece of paper his father handed him and grabbed the extra ink well and a dip pen. He carried everything to the dining room table where he sat alone and wrote as daylight slowly faded outside the window and the smells of a warm supper cooking filled the house.

~ ~ ~

Dear Ruth,

Although we’ve never met, I feel like I know you. I’m sorry about the passing of your brother and mother, and now the passing of your father, too. I’m glad my pa was able to visit you. It meant a lot to Pa to see his family, and to convey his sympathies to you. He tells me you own the store now. I’m sure you’ll have great success with it. Pa says you are an accomplished businesswoman.

I don’t know if you put much stock in dreams. I didn’t use to, but recently, I’ve learned to have a greater appreciation for them, and the truths they sometimes hold. I hope you don’t think me daft in the head when I tell you this. Although I never knew your brother Danny, last night he came to me in a dream. He was smiling, and he wanted me to tell you that he’s happier than he’s ever been, and is in a place where he can dance all the jigs he takes a notion to. I figured that might mean something to you.

I know what it’s like to need answers, and then when finally getting them, find peace also. I hope what I’ve told you brings you both of those things – answers and peace.

I wish you a Merry Christmas, Ruth, and a new year full of prosperous beginnings.

Sincerely, 

Your Cousin,
Joe Cartwright

~ ~ ~

Joe allowed the ink time to dry then folded the letter. He stood and walked over to his father’s desk, enclosing it with the one Pa had written Ruth. Pa never looked up from the letter he was writing to his sister Dorcas. If he was curious as to what Joe had said to Ruth, he didn’t indicate it. Instead, he instructed casually, “You can go ahead and seal that envelope to Ruth, and if you don’t mind, you can seal the others in that pile as well.”

“No, I don’t mind,” Joe said, as he sat in a chair across from his father’s desk and began securing the envelopes’ flaps with the warm wax seal that was a replica of the Ponderosa brand.

By the time supper was on the table, the Christmas letters were addressed and ready to mail. Hoss and Adam arrived within minutes of one another, Hoss claiming the smells of Hop Sing’s good cooking had led him through the snow, while Adam claimed he’d estimated he’d been gone long enough for Joe to have all the chores done.

For once, Joe didn’t balk at the teasing or toss a smart remark back at his brother. Although he didn’t say it, he was happy they were able to gather again as a family on this cold winter night, the first time they’d sat down to supper together since Pa left for Ohio back in September. No, it wasn’t Christmas yet, but as Hop Sing carried out two plump roasted chickens, and as Joe looked at the smiling faces of his father and brothers, it sure felt like a holiday to him. 

Joe’s thoughts flicked to Ruth, maybe eating alone tonight in the rooms Pa had described above the general store. As he piled his plate with chicken and mashed potatoes, and took in the animated chatter as Adam and Hoss peppered Pa with questions about his trip, he hoped his letter gave Ruth assurance that the brother she’d loved so much would always be seated at her table and eager to dance a jig.
Epilogue

Winter, 1862

They huddled together in tight-knit group, as much to assuage their grief as to try and keep warm. The baby had come early and died. He’d seemed big enough to Jim. Probably weighed six pounds – not as large as the other children had been, but then, he’d been born at the end of miles of hard travel through harsh weather and even harsher territory. Whether that’s what caused the baby they’d named Lawrence to die within hours of his birth, or whether his death was the result of the stress the events of recent months had caused Rilla, Jim didn’t know. 

The children were cold, hungry, and tired when they’d arrived in Wyoming to nothing other than the drafty lean-to Paul and Charlie had hastily erected – the drafty lean-to where Lawrence had been born in the middle of a frigid January night. Aside from baby Lawrence, they’d lost Daphne as well. She’d never fully recovered from the trauma of the fire. Just when Jim thought he was beginning to see some sparkle in her eyes and hear some childish laughter in her voice, her spirits seemed to sink again after Nan Henning left. She’d grown more and more despondent as they’d traveled, becoming frail and weak and sick until she eventually refused to eat. She’d died in Idaho. It had broken Rilla’s heart to bury her there in a grave with no tombstone that bore her name, and in a place they’d likely never find again no matter how long they searched.

They stood together now over the grave they’d dug for Lawrence in the cold, hard earth. As his family quietly wept for the baby forever lost to them, Jim gently sidled away from the distraught Rilla’s embrace. He slipped her into Paul’s arms, whispering, “Take care of your mother,” and then said quietly to Charlie as he passed him, “Get everyone in the lean-to and stoke the fire. I’ll be there in a minute.”

As his family walked away from him in a mass huddle of grief, Jim looked west. His eyes narrowed as though he could see all the way to Nevada. He glanced back at the obscenely tiny grave, and then thought too, of Daphne, left behind in an unmarked grave in Idaho. 

As his gaze slowly turned toward the west again, he vowed, “You’ll pay for this, Ben Cartwright. Mark my words, I’ll take from you what is most precious, just like you’ve taken what is the most precious from me. An eye for an eye, Ben. An eye for an eye.” 

Jim nodded firmly in a silent promise to himself as he turned and slowly walked past Lawrence’s grave. 

“You’ll pay, Ben Cartwright. You’ll pay in a way that will haunt you and bring you grief all the rest of your days.”

~ End ~

 

* A big thank you to Jane L. for beta-reading this story each time I completed a chapter. Due to my slow progress, it was a long journey. Thanks, Jane, for sticking with the Cartwrights and me.