Summary:   July 2013 Chaps and Spurs entry.   Joe has been shot.

Word Count: 3,634  Rated: K+

                                                                      Morehouse

Author’s Chapter Notes:

July 2013 C&S words

• Bang
• Report
• Crackle
• Hummer
• Whistle

Please forgive me, I’m going outside my comfort zone on this and it hasn’t been beta’d yet.

The first thing I heard was the bang of a door being slammed. It jerked me from the outer reaches of the universe, where nothing existed except for a warm, soft, blackness that surrounded me like my favorite quilt. I sat up much too fast; the pain that cascaded through my body was almost unbearable.

What happened to me?

I remember riding away from the house and Pa’s shout because he didn’t like, and never does, the speed that I spurred Cochise to.

“Sorry, Pa!”

I know it worries Pa when I ride like this, but today I just couldn’t help myself. I was finally being allowed to go to town after two months of exile. Pa was none too pleased about my last trip to town and the fight I got into with Les Morehouse. It didn’t matter that I didn’t start it, or that I even tried to avoid it. Les was one of those men who I would not take on even on my cockiest day, or when my temper was at its peak. I just ain’t that stupid, no matter what my brothers say. What did matter was Pa not only had to ride into town; he also had to bail me out of Roy Coffee’s jail.

This time I promised I would stay out of trouble. I would get the mail and if Mitch or one of my other good friends were in town I was told I could spend some time catching up with them. Before I was allowed to leave he told me exactly what would happen if I got into any trouble, and he meant any little bit of trouble at all. I had to be on my best behavior or I wouldn’t be permitted to leave the ranch until my next birthday, and considering I just celebrated my seventeenth, that was quite a lot of time. I would also spend that time doing every single chore I hated, I would be riding Clementine, the absolute worst horse on the ranch, I wouldn’t be allowed anywhere near the corrals, or the horses that needed to be gentled. The worse threat, no not a threat but a promise, was a very intimate one on one discussion with Pa, one that I hadn’t had since I was fifteen and thought I was too old for. I had every intention of keeping the promise. There was no way that I was going to have that discussion with him.

But what had happened to me?

I knew I was home, but that slamming door told me someone was angry. After all, I’m the only one who has the nerve to slam a bedroom door.

I shifted in my bed and sucked in a gasp of air through clenched teeth. The fire in my side suddenly came alive; burning hotter than any forest fire I had ever been around.

“Joseph?”

That’s Pa and he’s close to me so it wasn’t his door.

“Pa—”

“I’m here, Son. Just take it easy.”

I could feel his thumb on the back of my hand, caressing calming circles on it. I also heard footsteps leaving my room, but who?

“I’m sorry,” I gasped.

“Sorry? What on earth for?”

“Trouble . . . I didn’t mean to.”

“Little Joe, open your eyes for me.”

I tried, I really did, but I just couldn’t. They felt like they had been the victim of Hop Sing’s sewing needle.

“Can’t . . . Tired.”

“It’s okay, Boy. Go back to sleep. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

“Promise?”

“Of course I do.”

I felt him push those wayward curls of mine off my forehead, and couldn’t help smiling because of how soothing it is. With a sigh I let myself slip back into the warm, waiting arms of Morpheus.

“Hoss told me he was awake. Did he say anything?”

Ben looked up at Dr. Paul Martin, his brows drawn together in confusion. “He said he was sorry.”

“Sorry? Why would he say that?”

“I don’t know, but he said something about causing trouble.”

“Was that all?”

“Basically. He did say he was tired and he couldn’t seem to open his eyes.”

Paul looked up from his examination of Joe’s side. “That’s to be expected, Ben. I’m actually surprised he got that much out considering the amount of blood he lost and how weak he is.”

“Doc, is he gonna be okay?” Hoss asked from his position behind his father.

“It’s a good sign that he woke up and spoke with you. His fever is also down. He has more than a fighting chance now, but I just can’t say for sure yet. I won’t give any of you any false hope.”

Watching the shallow rise and fall of his son’s chest, Ben refused to accept any other outcome than the one that said his son was going to live and be back to his most endearing, annoying self.

Hoss laid a comforting hand on the older man’s shoulder. “He’s gonna be just fine, Pa. You know Little Joe, so do you, Doc, he’s a fighter. Didn’t he just prove you wrong again? You said he didn’t have a chance, and that he wouldn’t wake up. Well, he just done woke up, not only that, but he talked to Pa. Little Brother is gonna be aggravating all of us before long; demanding to get out of bed. He’s just too dadburn ornery to let a hole in his side stop him.”

Ben reached up and squeezed his son’s hand. “You’re right, Hoss, he is too stubborn.”

~~~~

A shrill whistle rent the air, causing Cochise to dance around. I was able to gain control and slowed him to a walk. When I leaned forward, rubbing his neck to soothe him, I heard the report from a gun and almost immediately felt a blistering, pain blaze its way into my side; the power of it knocked me from the saddle, and the last thing I saw before the darkness claimed me was my fool horse running for home.

~~~~

“You need to eat somethin’, Pa, or you’re gonna get sick—”

“I’m not leaving him, Hoss,” interrupted Ben.

“If’n you wilt away to nothin’ because you ain’t eatin’, what good will you be to Little Joe?”

Staring up at his middle son from the overstuffed chair in which he’d taken up residence in, Ben realized Hoss did have a point, whether he liked it or not.

“Alright, but you call me at the first sign of him waking. I made a promise to him.”

“Yes, Sir, I’ll call you if he wakes up and you’re still eatin’ or sleepin’.”

“I didn’t say anything about sleeping.”

“I knows you didn’t, but you will even if Adam and me have to, um, do a little persuadin’.”

“How’s Adam doing?” Ben asked, changing the subject.

“He’s calmed down a might, but he still ain’t too happy ‘bout it all.”

“I know, but there isn’t really anything to be done right now. We have to wait to see what Roy finds out.”

“I know that, and you know that, but Big Brother don’t want to accept it. He’s a lot like this one here, but will never admit it.” Hoss pointed towards the door, and stared at his father. “Now you get.”

Ben knew there wasn’t any use of fighting the inevitable; it was a losing battle when Hoss had that look on his face. He’d seen it many a time used on his youngest and the results it got. He surrendered gracefully and relinquished his chair to his middle son.

Bending down towards Joe, Ben once again pushed that wayward lock of hair off the boy’s forehead. “I’ll be back, Son.”

~~~~

Humming. Someone is nearby humming a song, a song that I know. The distant memory tickled at my mind, demanding me to recognize it. I heard it a long time ago, but it was a woman, not a man . . . Mama . . . except she was singin’ it in French. I can remember that it always made me feel safe—secure; but most of all loved.

This person wasn’t singin’ it, he was humming it. It wasn’t Pa, I know because Pa doesn’t hum. It ain’t Adam either, he would be singin’ it and in French too. The show-off. He’s done it before for me. It has to be Hoss. Unlike me he hums when he feels the need. Me, I whistle. I’m a whistler; so I guess that makes Hoss a hummer. Yeah, he’s a hummer.

A sigh of contentment slipped past my lips as I slid back into the calm, serene arms that awaited me.

~~~~

“I’m sorry, Ben, but there jest ain’t anything to go on. I wish I could tell you otherwise, but we’re gonna haveta wait for Little Joe to wake up and tell us what he knows. Other than that I don’t even know who we’re looking for,” explained Roy Coffee.

“Morehouse,” I whispered.

It was all coming back to me. Les Morehouse was leaning over me, pushing on my shoulder, demanding that I wake up. I couldn’t stifle the moan that escaped when I did open my eyes; and the laughter that my pain elicited just added to my rising frustrations.

“Next time you won’t mess with me, Cartwright. That is, if there’s a next time.”

Mess with him? Needless to say I was confused. Last time I saw him I was having a beer in the Bucket of Blood and minding my own business.

****

I was standing at the bar looking around the room hoping to find one of my friends when Morehouse came up to me. He jostled my arm hard enough that not only did my beer spill onto the bar, but also down the front of me. Smelling like a saloon hadn’t help things with Pa either. I knew I wasn’t only outsized, but out-muscled. I’ve seen Hoss take Les on and he could barely handle the man. I knew beyond the shadow of a doubt he could tear me apart. There was no way I was going to be that stupid. And Adam says I never think things through! Deciding retreat was the best option; I bid Sam a goodnight and started for the door. That’s when I found myself flat on the floor, clear on the other side of the room.

“I was talking to you, Boy! Don’tcha turn away from me!”

‘Boy.’ Normally I see red when I’m called that by anyone other than Pa. But not on that day. Oh no, I wasn’t going to mess with that one. I scrambled to my feet, but before I could take one step a fist connected with my face, spinning me around. Morehouse kept coming at me, and somehow I managed to get in one heck of a left hook, for all the good it did. A solid punch to my abdomen bent me in half and left me trying to suck some air into my now starving lungs. A gray haze was starting to creep around the edge of my vision, and was attempting to slither further in, in an effort to completely obstruct everything around me. I was pulled upright, but before I was completely torn limb from limb a shotgun blast put a damper on Morehouse’s fun.

I still couldn’t draw in a decent breath, and as a result was unable to defend myself against Sheriff Coffee. Bless his soul, Sam tried his hardest to get me out of trouble, but the sheriff wouldn’t listen to him. I had been the cause of too much trouble in town of late, and he had warned me that the next time, no matter what, I would be seeing the inside of one of the jail cells; and true to his word, that’s where I found myself. At least he had the decency to put Les and me in separate accommodations. Then he sent for Pa.

****

Two months later I found myself lying in the middle of the road to Virginia City with this giant of a man kneeling over me and laughing his fool head off.

“What?” I croaked.

“Because of you, I not only spent a week in that stinkin’ jail cuz I don’t have a rich daddy to pay my bail or for the damages you caused. I lost a week’s wages! I figure it’s time you paid for it . . . in blood. Took me two months of waitin’ but you finally showed yerself.”

“What I do to you?”

“Whatcha do? You were in that saloon! That’s whatcha done. A snivelin’, snot-nosed brat has no place in a saloon. Only real men belong there.”

I tried, I really tried, but I just couldn’t keep my mouth shut.

“Then what were you doing there?”

Needless to say that didn’t go over to well. He picked something up and stood. I tried to roll away when I saw the butt of his rifle headed towards me. That may have been my saving grace. It only grazed me, but was still hard enough to knock me out cold.

“Joe? Joseph!”

“Huh?” Pa’s shout drew me back to the present, but all I could do was stare at him, not understanding the concerned look in his eyes.

“Morehouse, Little Joe.” I turned and found Roy Coffee standing on the other side of my bed.

“Morehouse?” It took me a minute to pull my muddled brain back to the present and realize what he was talking about.

“Oh. Sorry. It was Les Morehouse that . . .” I had to pause to catch my breath. I really hate when I’m like this. “. . . shot me.”

“You sure about that?” Roy asked.

I nodded my head and immediately regretted the action. After swallowing a few times to keep my stomach where it belonged, I was able to answer him.

“As sure as I know that’s Pa.” I feebly motioned at my father. I’d say that I felt as weak as a kitten, except I think a kitten could take me on and win.

“I saw him—talked to him.”

“Why did he shoot you, Son?”

“Cuz Roy ‘rrested him.” My eyes started drifting shut, but I knew there was more to be said and I forced them back open.

“He didn’t like me bein’ in the saloon. I tried to walk ‘way, Pa. Honest. I ignored him s’illing my beer on me. Went to leave. Didn’t even smart off to ‘im.”

That remark drew a snort of disbelief not only from Pa, but from Sheriff Coffee too.

“I’s true. I osly threw one punch too. That was after he tried to teach me ta fly an gave me a love pat on the chin.

Pa shook his head and stared down at me like he couldn’t believe I was sayin’ what I did.

“You must be feeling better since you’re already getting cheeky with me.”

“I wish.” I took a deep breath and instantly wished I hadn’t. I went to grab my side where it felt like a branding iron was being applied. Pa always said he was going to put the Ponderosa brand on me, so’s everyone would know where I belonged when I got away from him and my brothers. Before I could reach my goal, Pa had ahold of my hand, stopping me from trying to rub the pain away.

“Easy, Son.”

“Sorry, Pa,” I whispered. His warning about getting in trouble was still forefront in my mind. I hadn’t even gotten off the Ponderosa before trouble found me.

“For what?”

“Getting’ inta tr-trouble . . . again. I, I didn’t mean to. Honest, P-Pa.”

“Little Joe—”

“Please, Pa. I don’t wanna have that talk, or ride Clementine.”

Pa brushed his hand over my hair and smiled down at me. It was the smile that always set my world right no matter how upside down I had turned it. I knew that with that smile everything was okay between us. When I looked into his eyes I was shocked. Those warm, chocolate brown eyes had a shimmering shine to them; like mine do just before the water works start. But that couldn’t be, not with Pa. He never cries. He’s strong, as are my brothers. They never tear up like I do. I couldn’t stop myself; I reached up and laid my palm against his cheek. He grasped it and held my hand against his face with his own for a moment before he cleared his throat, pulling himself together.

“If I knew that threatening you with Clementine was what it took to keep you out of trouble, I would have done it years ago.”

He pushed that dang piece of hair that never wants to stay where it belongs back off my forehead. I was having the worse time trying to keep my eyes open, but it was a losing battle.

“You’re not in any trouble, Son. Stop your worrying and go to sleep.”

“Yes, ‘ir.” I closed my eyes and that was the last I knew until much later.

~~~~

I woke up gritting my teeth against the pain that my shivering was causing. Doggone it was cold in here. That thought no sooner left my brain when I felt a blanket being draped across me, and heard the crackle from the fireplace in my room.

“Sorry, Joe.”

“Adam?” I opened my eyes to a soft warm glow coming from the lamp on my dresser. My oldest brother walked over to my bed and sat down in the chair by me. He was wrapped in his robe and his hair was all mussed from sleep.

“Yeah, we didn’t realize it was going to get so cold tonight. That’s what woke me and it hit me that it had to be worse in here, it always is.”

I was starting to warm up now and was able to relax.

“Feels better already.”

“Good. Paul would have our heads if we let you tear those stitches out because you’re cold. How are you feeling?”

“Hurts,” I mumbled.

“What, you mean you’re not fine?”

He got me there. It’s not often I’ll admit to not feeling well, but this time there just wasn’t any denying it.

“Paul left you some pain medicine, do you want any?”

“Not right now. Pa’s been feeding that stuff to me like it was water. I think I got enough stored up to last me all week.”

That got a laugh from Adam. This is the first time I’ve seen Adam since breakfast on the day I left for town. Hoss had been in and out, and of course Pa was a constant, but Big Brother here had been noticeably absent.

“How come you were mad the other day?”

“What makes you think I was mad at something?”

“You slammed your door. I heard you.”

“How could you hear that, you were unconscious? Besides what makes you think it was me?”

“It’s what woke me up. And I know it was you because Pa was in here. So was Hoss, and besides he never slams his door. I was already in bed, so it wasn’t me as it usually is. That leaves you, Big Brother.”

“Very astute of you; maybe you’ll grow up to be a detective.”

“Pa would love that. So why were you mad?” There are times I’m like a dog with a bone and just won’t let go of something. This was one of those times. My cool as a cucumber older brother was acting like his hot-headed younger brother and I wanted to know why. I had to smile as I watched Adam tugging at his ear and then run his hand through his hair before answering.

“It was because of you.”

“Me,” I squeaked. “What did I do to you?”

“You got shot and almost died; that’s what you did.”

Now I was really confused. Mr. Logical wasn’t making any sense at all.

“I know I got hit on the head, but that wouldn’t cause you to suddenly start sounding like me.” That really got him to laughing. Here I am lying in bed after being shot in the side and almost having my head bashed in and he’s laughing at me.

Adam suddenly sobered and looked me in the eye. “I was upset, Joe. I found you out there on that road and it scared me. I felt powerless, waiting to see what would happen. I wanted to go looking for whoever did this to you, but Pa wouldn’t let me. We had words and I took a page out of your book and left the room in typical Joe fashion.”

“And you’re still able to sit?” I saw Adam’s brows crinkle together and I knew he didn’t get the reference. But then again, it had been a long time since he had been on the receiving end of one of Pa’s intimate talks. Something that was still fresh in my memory. I’m also sure he wasn’t the recipient of as many of them as I had been.

“I meant that Pa didn’t have one of his talks with you.”

Big Brother smiled at that one. “Oh, we talked alright, but it didn’t get that far. I was left with this niggling feeling that I was pretty darn close.”

Adam and I butt heads . . . A lot. Pa says it’s cuz we’re a lot alike; Hoss says it’s because we both enjoy it too much to stop. Whatever the reason, it didn’t matter to me. What mattered was that I know I love my brother, and I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that he loves me.