Summary:  A prequel to ‘A Rose for Lotta’. Ben Cartwright’s meeting with Alpheus Troy and the other mine owners did not go well. They want his timber and he won’t give it to them. The rancher knows Troy will do whatever it takes to keep his mine running, and when he arrives home to find out sixteen-year-old Little Joe is missing, he fears the worst.

Word Count: 19871

Rated PG-13 for typical Western violence

 

Dialogue from ‘A Rose for Lotta’ written by David Dortort

Garvey: Yes, what are you planning on using, Hoover?  The United States Cavalry? The last time we planned an exposition to take the Ponderosa, it cost us over a dozen lives.

Troy: The Cartwrights can assemble two hundred of their mountain men within an hour if they have to. Out there in that empire they control, their position is impregnable.  As Garvey says, we couldn’t get at them with anything less than the US cavalry.

Troy: Well, to Ol’ Ben Cartwright, a tree is something sacred….  You nor any of us could make the Cartwrights sell us one more sapling than they wanted to.

 

The Cavalry is Coming

1858

ONE

The front door of the Ponderosa ranch house slammed so hard all of the pictures on the walls did an impromptu dance.

“Adam!  Hoss!  Little Joe!”

“Adam!”

“Hoss!”

“Joseph!”

Ben Cartwright placed his fist on his hips and turned in a circle.  “Jumping Jehoshaphat!  Where is everyone?!!”

“You yell!  Why you always yell?  Hop Sing go deaf and no be able to hear Mistah Ben’s boys tell him they hungry!”

Ben turned to find his Chinese cook coming out of the kitchen wing.  His face was a field of flour and a river of beef juice ran down the front of his white apron.

“Hop Sing, where are the boys?”

“Why you not ask that first time?  Hop Sing tell you.  He not go deaf and you not lose voice!”

“Pa?”

The rancher pivoted to find his eldest standing at the top of the staircase, book in hand.  Ben sucked in the relief he felt, but it was incomplete.

It was only one-third of the relief he needed.

The rancher moved to the bottom of the stairs even as Hop Sing threw his hands in the air and headed back to the kitchen, trailing a string of Cantonese curses behind him.   Adam had made it to the first landing by the time Ben asked, “Where are your brothers?”

“Hoss is – ”

“Sorry, Pa,” his middle son said, breathless.  Hoss was standing on the landing above the one his brother occupied, dressed in nothing but a towel.  “You need somethin’?

Heaven help them all if Hop Sing saw the puddle forming under him!

“Yes, I need something.  I need your other brother.  Where’s Little Joe?”

Adam turned and exchanged a look with Hoss.  The big man shrugged as his oldest turned back.  “Joe’s not here, Pa.”

“Yeah, Pa,” Hoss agreed.  “The last time I saw Little Joe he was headin’ out to mend that fence in the north section the last snow run down.”

Ben drew a breath.  “Tell me he isn’t alone.”

Hoss wrinkled his nose as he shifted his bare feet away from the gathering water.  “Joe was just goin’ to mend a fence, Pa.  It’s not like there’s any danger involved in ridin’ fence.”

It took his perceptive oldest son only a second to read his mood.  Adam finished descending the steps and came to his side.  “Or is there?  Pa?  What aren’t you telling us?”

Hoss looked torn.  He obviously wanted to come down, but – well – Ben suspected that, underneath that towel, the boy was buck naked.

“Go and get dressed, son,” he said.   “Your brother and I will wait for you.  And Hoss?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Dress for the road.”

As his middle son disappeared around the corner and into the upstairs hall, Adam asked, “What is it, Pa?  What’s happened?”

Ben moved to his crimson leather chair and dropped into it.  He nodded toward the blue velvet one opposite.  “Take a seat, son.  We’ll wait on your brother.”

Adam was obviously trying to piece it together.  His brow was furrowed and his handsome face, a study in concentration.

“Does this have something to do with the meeting you went to today?” he asked.

Ben was saved by Hop Sing’s reappearance.  “Supper ready in twenty minutes,” the Asian man announced.  “Mistah Ben go get cleaned up.  You stink like cow.”

“Isn’t that steak I smell cooking?” the rancher asked.

“Steak smell good.  You smell bad.”  His cook made a shooing motion with his hands.  “You go wash up!”

“I’m afraid you’ll have to hold supper, Hop Sing.  We – ”

“Hold supper!  Steak get tough as old man if not served in twenty minute!”

“We won’t be here in twenty minutes,” Ben growled.  “We’ll be on the road.”

“What you do on road?  You just come home!”

A sound made him turn toward the staircase.  Hoss was halfway down it.  He’d obviously dressed in haste as his shirt was buttoned wrong.

“I’m ready, Pa.  Now come on and tell me why you’re worried about Little Joe.”

Hop Sing looked from Hoss to him.  “Little Joe in danger?”

Ben let out a sigh.  “I think he might be.”

“Why you not say so?  Hop Sing put steak in saddlebags.  Send with you!”  The little man headed for the kitchen but turned back.  “What you wait for?!  You send boy.  Go get horses ready!!”

Adam grinned as he ran a hand over his lips.  “I guess we have our marching orders.”

“Pa?  C’mon.  It’s killin’ me.”

Ben looked at his middle boy.  He and his younger brother were thick as blackberries in July and had been since the day Little Joe was born.

“Sit down, son.  You too, Adam.”  He went on as his boys obeyed.  “Adam, you were right.  This has to do with the meeting I had today with the mine owners.”

“Troy and Garvey?” he asked.

“And Aaron Hooper.”  Ben took his seat again.  “It didn’t go well.”

“What happened, Pa?” Hoss asked as he discovered his mismatched buttons and began to redo them.

“As you know those three men own three of the largest mines in the Washoe.  Their yield put together nearly equals that of the Comstock Lode!”

“I heard Troy was expanding, and maybe Hooper too,” Adam said.  “The rumor is Alpheus Troy found a strip of silver a dozen feet wide at the bottom of the Gould and Curry.”

“Yes.  And they need timber for that expansion, to shore up the walls and put idle men to work,” Ben replied.  “Lots of timber.”

“Millions of board feet, I imagine,” his eldest said.

“You imagine right.”  Ben rose to his feet and began to pace.  “They want it from us.”

“But Pa, we don’t have that kind of timber, not right now,” Hoss said.  “We done cut all the trees that are old enough.”

“These men don’t care, Hoss.  They’d strip the land bare if you let them.”

“And rob themselves of trees for the future,” Adam growled.

He turned toward his son.  “Precisely.”

“So you told them ‘no’, of course.”

He nodded.  “I told them they could have a half-million board feet from the north section now – it’s old enough – and another million feet or so in the fall when the western section has had time to mature.”

“What’d they say, Pa?” Hoss asked.

“It’s what they didn’t say that has me worried.”

“What do you mean?” Adam asked.

“George Garvey practically pleaded.  He said he’d go bankrupt without the timber.  Hooper, well, you know Aaron, he tried to bribe me.”

“And Troy?”

Ben glanced toward the door.  “He said he needed the timber now and would do whatever it took to get it.”

Hoss was on his feet.  “You don’t think maybe…well…maybe he’d hurt Little Joe?”

“Why you still here?  Why you not out saddling horses?!” Hop Sing scolded as he came into the room.  He had a pair of saddlebags in hand – one was bulging.

“Is one of them for me, Hop Sing?” Hoss asked, his worry for his little brother mitigated for the moment by the constant needs of his stomach.

“One for Mistah Hoss.  One for father and brothers.”  The Chinese man walked up to his middle son and shoved the bags into his hands.  “You take – and you go!  Go find Little Joe!”

“He’s right, Pa,” Adam said as he retrieved his gun belt from the credenza and strapped it around his narrow hips.  “Joe and I may not see eye-to-eye most of the time, but he’s my brother and I’ll kill anyone who tries to hurt him.”

Ben placed a hand on his son’s arm.  “Here on the Ponderosa, we’re our own law, son.  Still, we can’t shoot first and ask questions later.”

Adam’s brows peeked.  “Oh?  What if we find Troy’s goons have hurt Little Joe?”

Ben’s buckle clicked as he settled his weapon on his hip.

“We’ll ask questions – and then we’ll kill them.”

 

Little Joe Cartwright wiped sweat from his brow and let out a long, heartfelt, “Whoo-ee!”

It was hot as Hell.

As soon as the thought crossed his mind, the sixteen-year-old stopped what he was doing and looked around.  His pa had this habit of magically appearing just at the wrong moment.  Pa could read his mind, so, even if he only swore under his breath – or in his head – the older man knew about it…somehow.  Joe looked to the left and right and grinned.  There was nothing and no one.  His only company was the mid-July sun that had said ‘howdy’ that morning as he rode out to the north section and then proceeded to dog his steps all day.  It was late afternoon now and the big yellow orb should be slipping behind the mountains, but – for some reason – it wasn’t.  It was just hanging there laughing at how miserable he was.  He’d lived in the Nevada territory his whole life and it never ceased to amaze him how a man could be hot as…heck…one minute and freezing his….  Joe looked around again – just to make sure his pa hadn’t sneaked up.  Freezing his ass off the next.  When winter came the snow would pile up taller than middle brother.  In the summer, every stick of grass, every plant, and most every man, dried up like a raisin in the sun.  This was a particularly bad year.  It had been over two weeks since they’d had rain and Pa said it was a drought.  That was bad for the cattle and for the trees, and for them too.  Adam told him that, back when he’d been a little kid, there’d been a drought that lasted several months.  He didn’t remember it.  Not the drought at least.  What he did remember was the smell of dead cattle and the fact that they’d lived on flour paste and water.

With a little cinnamon.

The winter they’d just passed through had been a tough one.  The snows were heavy and lasted all the way into May.  The final one had been a doozy and had come up unexpectedly.  Joe turned and eyed the fence behind him, half of which he’d repaired, and half of which was still laying on the ground.  It didn’t last long since the weather had turned, but the abundant snow had trapped them in the house for a week and proved to be destructive.  There was a hill behind that fence and it had let loose during the thaw, bringing a big old tumble of rocks down with it.  They’d sent a crew of men out to move the rocks, but had yet to get to the fence.  They were gonna need the pasture land soon and so he’d volunteered to come out and take care of it.  Of course, he’d made a couple of stops along the way, including one at the Johnsons.

That Jenny was mighty pretty with her golden ringlets and bright-as-the-sun smile!

With a smile on his own lips, Joe bent down to pick up his mallet.  He had a couple more posts he wanted to pound into place before heading back to the house.  He lifted his curly head, wiped sweat from his brow, and looked at the sky.  It was supper time.  Hop Sing would be fit to be tied that he was gonna miss it.  His gaze went to the wicker hamper than lay on the ground beside Cochise.  Jenny had insisted he take some food along with him.

It was a good thing too since Hop Sing would probably send him to bed without any supper!

Joe had been swinging away, whistling a tune, for about a half hour when he heard the sound of approaching horses.  The curly-haired youth rolled his eyes and let out a sigh.  No doubt it was Pa and his brothers come looking for him.  He swore!  If he was one minute late they figured he’d gone and fallen off the edge of the Earth or something.  He loved his family.  Pa, probably most of all.  But if they weren’t the gosh-darned worst set of mother hens a man could have!  Joe put the mallet down, let out a sigh, and turned to greet them.

Only it wasn’t his pa and brothers.

It was a pair of mean-looking hombres wearing masks.

Joe sucked in a breath and let it escape through his nose…slowly.  His first impulse had been to run.  He was fast as a jackrabbit and was sure he could get away.  The second was to hold his ground and fight.  That was cooled by the fact that his gun belt and brand new pearl-handled pistol were hanging off the horn of his saddle.

The men, of course, were armed.

His muscles tensed as Joe prepared to run.  Unfortunately, option number one vanished when the hombre closest to him edged his mount forward and pointed the gun from option number two straight at him.

“You stay right where you are, Cartwright,” a muffled voice ordered.

Joe’s mind was whirling.  There was a big old mallet near his feet, but that wasn’t going to do much against a rifle and a pistol, though he might be able to knock the gun out one man’s hand and dive for the other.  He could bolt for his horse and his own gun, but his luck at staying alive as he did that had a lot to do with what the men intended.  And he didn’t know that yet.  They might just shoot him in the back.  As the second man dismounted and headed for him, his eyes roamed the ground nearby, seeking something else – something he could do to save himself.

And then it dawned on him.

They knew his name.  These men knew who he was.

And who his Pa was.

The man who held the gun on him was a big one – near big as Hoss.  He glanced over his shoulder.  “Take him!” he ordered.  Then he tossed a rope on the ground.  “Tie him up!”

Joe was breathing hard.  He’d been mad as a rattler on a spit the day Pa pulled him aside and told him he had to extra careful.  Pa’d put it nicer than saying he didn’t weigh enough to make a splash in a puddle, but that’s what he meant.  He’d always been on the skinny side and shorter than a lot of kids his age.   Sometimes it bothered him and sometimes it didn’t.  Girls seemed to like him the way he was.  Still, it put him at a disadvantage.  His brothers had taught him to compensate for his smaller  stature by being  quick and fighting dirty.  He’d had plenty of opportunities to practice.

Seemed like he might be looking at another one right now.

Joe pretended to be frightened and took a step back.

“Now don’t you worry, boy,” the second man – a little weasel with greasy hair – said as he approached.  “You just stay right where you are.  I ain’t gonna hurt you, boy.”  He snorted.  “Now, at least.”

Joe’s gaze flicked to the hombre on the horse.  The gun he held was pitched lower.  In fact, the barrel was resting on his thigh.

He took another step back and made his voice shake as he said, “You…you leave me alone…Mister.  My Pa….”  Joe swallowed as if terrified.  “My pa will put…a bullet through your…s…sorry hide if you hurt me!”

“Like he said, we ain’t gonna hurt you, son,” the first man replied.  “We’re just gonna take you for a ride – a long ride to somewhere real pretty.”

Joe took another step back.

“Boy, don’t you move!” the man with the rope ordered.

Well, he’d never been one for taking orders.

 

Ben Cartwright stared at the tree line before him for a second before turning to his second son.    “Well?” he asked.

Hoss was the tracker in the family.  His giant boots were rooted to the earth and his heart beat as one with nature.  The big man stood up and remounted before speaking.  “Little Joe came this way, Pa,” he said as he settled in the saddle.  “Them are Cochise’s tracks for sure.  He must be up in the north section like he said.”

The older man nodded.  “Let’s finish it then.”

They’d been riding for nearly two hours.  It was early evening, but this late in the season the sun was still shining and it was hot as an election day in a hornet’s nest.  They were around three miles, or fifteen minutes out from the portion of fence that had fallen due to the landslide.  Fifteen minutes between him and his child and whatever destiny awaited them both.  Ben glanced at his older sons, noting  the sweat on their backs, their tight determined jaws, and the fire in their eyes.  He’d done his best to teach them well, all three of them.  They were intelligent, determined men who would not conscience evil or injustice.  He’d taught them right from wrong, to honor and to obey the law; to respect life.  He’d taught them as well that here, on the Ponderosa, they were the law.

And that no one would touch one of their own.

A quarter of an hour later Ben reined his horse in a second time, creating a cloud of dust that obscured the portion of the fallen fence nearest to him.  He rose up in the saddle and looked around, seeking his son.

“Where’s Little Joe, Pa?” Hoss asked as he did the same.

“There are his tools,” Adam remarked as he dismounted.  A brisk walk took his eldest to the leveled fence where he palmed the mallet that was laying beside it.

Hoss dismounted as well.  “You suppose Little Joe headed for home already?”

“And left his tools?”  Adam replied, dashing his brother’s hope.  “Little Joe may be irresponsible at times, but he knows better than that.”

Ben had followed them.  He stood between his sons and looked out toward the field beyond the fence.  At first he saw nothing.  Then he noticed something laying just beyond it.  Jumping the fence, the rancher rushed over to find out what it was.

It turned out to be a picnic hamper.

“Where do you suppose that came from?” his eldest asked as he joined him.

Hoss was there too.  He bent to look at the hamper and then looked up.  There was a grin on his beefy face.

“Son?”

“You remember when Little Joe took that detour on the way up here, Pa?  I can’t be sure, but it would have taken him past the Johnsons.  That Jenny is awful perdy.”

That would be his youngest son.

“That young scamp better not have gone off into the woods alone with a girl!” Ben roared.

Adam had moved a few feet away.  His hand was raised to shield his eyes.  As the rancher watched, his eldest son’s body stiffened.

“Pa!  There’s something else.  There at the tree line.  Look!”

Ben followed his son’s finger.  There was indeed something else in the field, laying – perhaps – two hundred yards beyond the picnic basket.

It was his youngest son.

 

Hoss’ heart beat hard enough and fast enough to leap out of his chest.  The moment he realized what the black and gray blur layin’ face down in the tall brown grass was, he started running.  By the time he dropped to his knees beside Little Joe, he was out of breath and pert near out of his mind.  He could hear his pa and brother Adam comin’ up behind him.  The big man hesitated for a second with his hand on his baby brother’s shoulder, wondering if it’d be better to wait to turn Joe over, so whatever he was gonna find – good or bad – could be shared.

He couldn’t do it.

The fear and hope warring within him won the battle.

“Little Joe,” he called gently as he rolled his brother over.  “Punkin, are you….”

His father paused when he heard him gasp, and then knelt beside him.  Pa reached for Little Joe even as his own hand went to the left side of his little brother’s forehead.

A bullet had dug a bloody trail there.

Pa placed his hand on Little Joe’s chest and leaned in to listen.  Joe hadn’t made a sound when he rolled him over or when he touched him.  Hoss held his breath for several heartbeats before asking the question with his eyes.  Pa answered it the same way, adding a nod of his head.

“How is he?” Adam asked as he came to their side.

Pa closed his eyes and seemed to gather strength.  “Alive.”

“What do you suppose happened?” the big man asked.

“Could have been highwaymen,” Adam said.   “I found the tracks of two horses.  I also found Cochise.  He must have been frightened – maybe by the shot – and run off into the trees.”  Older brother paused and then asked, his tone hushed.  “How’s Little Joe?”

Pa was brushin’ Joe’s hair back and callin’ to him.  Little brother wasn’t havin’ none of it.  Stubborn as a mule, he kept quiet.

“We can’t get him to stir and he’s hot from lying under the sun, Adam, ever so hot,” Pa said.  “We need a doctor.”

“I’ll ride to the settlement,” big brother volunteered.

Fear passed through Pa’s eyes.  “Not alone.  None of you go anywhere alone from now on.”

Adam pursed his lips.  “You’re thinking this was Alpheus Troy and his cronies?”

“I know it was Troy and his cronies,” Pa growled.  “Both you and Hoss go.”

“What about Little Joe?” Hoss asked.  It about killed him to see his little brother lying so still on the ground.  Joe was never still, even in his sleep.

“Help me get him on the horse in front of me,” Pa said.  “I’ll take care of your brother.”

And the men who did this to him, Hoss imagined.

 

 

TWO

The ride home was hard on Little Joe.  Not only was it blazing hot, but the boy groaned with almost every clop of Buck’s hooves.  ‘…hurts, Pa,” he would moan, and every time he did, Ben’s rage grew.  Someone had done this to his child and they were going to pay.  He was almost certain Alpheus Troy and the other mine owners were behind the unjustifiable attack and meant it as a warning.  What he didn’t know was if they’d intended to injure Joe or kill him outright.

Involuntarily, Ben drew the boy closer.

“Pa…?”

He looked down at his son and at the soiled bandage wound around his head.  Joe’s brown curls were blond with dust and crimson with blood.  He’d done his best to stem the bleeding, but the channel cut by the bullet was too deep.

“Hush, Joseph.  You just keep quiet.  We’ll be home soon.”

The boy stirred in his arms.  Joe groaned and then he shifted, as if trying to find a position that didn’t hurt.  Once he found it, he fell silent – for about ten clops of Buck’s hooves.

His breathing rapid, he demanded, “Where’s Cochise?”

Ben kept his voice even.  “Trailing behind us.  She’s fine, son.”

Joseph lifted his head and fixed him with those enormous eyes, searching his face to see if what he said was true.  He must have caught sight of the black and white mare following them as he did, because a second later he rested his head against his chest and muttered again, “It…hurts, Pa.”

“I know it does, son.  You just rest until we reach home.”  Ben paused, trying to think of something he could say to make the boy feel better.  “How about I let you have a shot of that French brandy Paul gave me for Christmas when we get there?”

He felt his son’s laugh.

“What so funny?”

“Christmas,” Little Joe replied, his voice weakening.  “Feels hotter’n…Hell with the blower on.”

Ben knew he should have chided him, but he was too busy laughing.  “Joseph, what would I do without you?”

The boy drew in a breath of air and let it out in a sigh.  “People say…you’d be better off.”

“Without you?”  He was taken aback.  “What people?  Who’s said such a thing to you?”

Joe slid further down as if regretting what he’d confessed.

“Just…people.”

Ben tightened his grip on his son.  “Don’t you listen to them, boy, no matter who they are,” he said, his tone fierce.  “Joseph, I couldn’t live without you.  You boys – all of you – are my life.”

His son reached up.  Little Joe’s fingers found his chin.  “I love you, Pa.”

“I love you too.  Don’t you ever forget that.”  When the boy didn’t reply, the rancher waited a moment and then called softly, “Joseph?”

His son’s head had lolled to one side.   Little Joe’s wound was bleeding again and the precious droplets stained his dusty gray pants black where they fell.  He was concerned about the wound, but even more, concerned about the fact that Joseph had lain, unattended, for hours in the sun.  A bullet wound could be cleaned and dressed.

Dehydration was a different kind of enemy.

 

“We’re gonna lose them, Adam.  I’m tellin’ you.”

Adam Cartwright frowned at his younger brother.  Hoss was right – it would be best to split up – but then, he’d promised his father.  At twenty-eight he didn’t have to obey the older man.  He did it out of respect.  Hoss’ obedience  was another matter.  Even though he looked like an adult, his younger brother, in many ways, was still a kid.

The black-haired man eyed the brown path they were riding before answering.  “You know what Pa said.  We stick together.”

“But, Adam!  Them are the tracks of the men who hurt Little Joe!  It don’t take both of us to go fetch the doctor.”  Hoss was practically bouncing up and down in the saddle.  “I swear I won’t go near them.  I’ll just follow and see where they go.”

He wanted those men too.  Wanted them so badly he could taste it.  While Little Joe might think of himself as a man, he was still a boy – a tough and resilient, albeit reckless boy – and it was unconscionable what they’d done.  The shot that took Joe in the head might have been an excellent one, meant as a warning.

Or it could have been a bad one.

Adam considered it a moment longer and then let his answer out in a sigh, “All right.”

“Hot dog!” Hoss declared and put heels to horse flesh.

He reached out to catch Chubb’s reins.  “Whoa, there, cowboy!  You’re going to town to get the doctor.  I’ll trail the men who attacked Joe.”

“But, Adam, it’s….”  There were tears in the big guy’s eyes.  “It’s Little Joe.”

As the brother closest in age to Little Joe, Hoss felt a responsibility.  But then, as older brother to both of them, so did he.

“We do it my way, or we don’t do it at all.”

“Pa ain’t gonna know….”

He actually laughed out loud.  “You are talking about our father, right?”

Hoss hung his head.  “Yeah, you’re right.  Pa always knows.”

“So, here’s what I want you to do.  Ride as fast and as hard as you can for the settlement.  Go to Paul Martin’s house first.  He knows Little Joe like the back of his hand.  If Paul isn’t in, then try Doc Hickman.”

Hoss made a face like he’d tasted a sour pickle.  “Ah, Adam, do I hafta?”

Paul was their father’s friend and their personal family physician.  John Hickman was the established doctor in Gold Hill and a crusty old codger with the bedside manner of a grizzly.

“Yes, you have to.  Little Joe needs to be looked after as quickly as possible.  He’s bleeding and has to have a concussion.  And…”

“And?”

“Think about it, Hoss.  Joe laid out in that sun at least two hours before we found him.  Maybe more.”

Hoss knew the implication.  His jaw went tight.  “I swear I’m gonna kill the man what done that to him!”

Adam pulled up on his horse’s reins and started the animal down the path Little Joe’s attackers had taken.

Hoss might not know it, but he would be second in line.

 

“What do you mean, you had to ‘leave Joe Cartwright behind’?” Alpheus Troy demanded.

Marcus McCutcheon and Jake Ferrell stood before his desk.  While McCuthcheon boldly met his stare, his partner dropped his head and stared at his feet.

“The lookout saw horses, Boss.  It was the kid’s family coming.”

Troy shook his head.  “And you didn’t want to take on the vaunted Cartwrights, I suppose?  And here I was told the two of you had quite the reputation for ruthlessness.”

“We might be ruthless, but we ain’t stupid,” McCutcheon replied.  “We can get the kid another day.”

“Oh, and I suppose you think it will be twice as easy now that his father and brothers are aware that someone tried to kidnap him?”

“Ah, they don’t know that,” Ferrell muttered.  “They probably think someone came along and tried to rob him or something.”

“Or something.”  Troy sighed.  Why was it that intelligent, rational men were forced to hire idiots to do their dirty work for them?  Perhaps brutality was a prerequisite for a man who could coldly and calmly murder a sixteen-year-old boy.

Although it hadn’t come to that.

Yet.

“Cartwright’s gonna get the message boss,” Marcus said.  “He’ll know he better give you that timber or one of his sons is gonna pay the price.”

Troy wanted it to be the youngest one since he knew that one was dearest to Ol’ Ben’s heart.  Now, because of two blithering idiots, that might well prove impossible.

“Well, what is done is done,” Troy said.  “I’ll figure out how to use what happened to our advantage…somehow.”  He paused.  “You’re sure the boy won’t be able to identify you?”

“Nah,” Marcus answered.  “We wore masks and didn’t use no names.”

“We stole some horses too so’s no one could identify them.”

Lovely.

“And precisely who did you steal the horses from?”

McCutcheon snorted.  “Don’t worry.  They ain’t gonna tell no one but the Devil.”

Alpheus Troy had begun to pace; his mind awhirl.  “Most likely, Ol’ Ben is going to hunker down at the heart of that empire of his and stay put,” he said.  “He’ll hold those boys close as one second to another.”

“That little one don’t take to bein’ tied down,” Jake said.  “We can get hold of him.”

“Maybe, and maybe not.  No matter what, we need a contingency plan.”

“A what?”

Troy resisted rolling his eyes.  “A back-up.  It may be that we’ll have to take the fight to Ben Cartwright.”  The mine owner pulled at his chin.  “McCutcheon?”

“Yes, sir?”

“How many men can you muster in,  say, two days?”

Marcus laughed.  “Depends on what kind of men and what price you’re payin’.”

“The lowest of the low,” Troy said.  “Men willing to do anything for money.  And as for how much they’ll earn….

“That depends on how much of the Ponderosa remains.”

 

He’d had no luck at Paul Martin’s, and so Hoss was headed to Doc Hickman’s.  There weren’t no man who’d call him a coward, but he trembled a bit when he thought about rousin’ the doc this late.  The sun had set red as blood by the time he reached the settlement.  It would mean a four hour ride, in the dark, to reach their place – longer if the doc wanted to take his buggy.  He felt bad wakin’ the doc up, but Little Joe needed him and danged if he’d let his brother suffer through the night without no help!  Paul Martin might have sighed, or rolled his eyes, but he’d grab his bag and be on his way fast as a shot.  Old Doc Hickman would probably give him a scoldin’, followed by a lecture – and then grouse and grumble all the way out to the house.  That man didn’t mince no words.  He’d taken care of them from time to time and thought they was all a bit uncivilized and that they took too many chances – ‘specially Little Joe.  While he couldn’t argue with the ‘uncivilized’ bit – Pa said the West was untamed and so they had to be too – it made him downright mad when the older man picked on his baby brother.  Joe just kind of stumbled into trouble.  He didn’t go lookin’ for it.  Most the time.

Well, some of the time.

Usually trouble just came to him, like the time Little Joe’d walked in on a robbery and got knocked over the head, and the time he’d got throwed from that old devil of a horse they called ‘Dusty’.  Then there was that time he’d climbed that big old tree on a dare and fallen out of it.  And….

Hoss sighed.  He was at Doc Hickman’s house.

The big man lifted a hand, pounded on the door, and waited.  When no one came, he did it again and winced when he heard a shout.

“I’m not twenty!  Give an old man time to get to the door!”

Hoss stepped back and waited.  A light appeared first.  A second later the latch was lifted and the door opened.

The doc was in his nightclothes.

Daggone-it!

The older man blinked against the glare from the streetlight behind him.  “Hoss Cartwright?  What are you doing here at this time of night?  No, wait.”  The doctor sighed.  “Don’t tell me.  It’s that young scallywag of a brother of yours.  What has Little Joe gotten himself into this time?”

“He didn’t get himself into nothin’,” Hoss snapped, and then thought better of it.  “Sorry, sir.  I don’t mean no disrespect.  Little Joe was waylaid while he was workin’ fence in the north section.  Some bad man done shot him and left him for dead.”

John Hickman’s eyes narrowed as the experienced doctor replaced the exasperated man.  “Shot?  Where?”

Hoss pointed to his forehead.  “The bullet grazed him above his left eye, all along the brow.”

“Good Lord!  Who would shoot a sixteen-year-old?”

“We don’t know, sir.  There weren’t no one there when we got there.  Just Little Joe, lyin’ in the grass all on his lonesome.”

“Lying in the grass?  How long?”

“We figure a couple of hours.”

The doctor let out a sigh.  “So you need me to come right now.”

Hoss wasn’t sure if that was a question or a statement.  “Well, yes, sir, seein’ as we don’t know how bad it is.”

The older man thought a moment.  “All right.  Let me tell my wife and give me ten minutes to change.  You can go to the stable out back.  Saddle my horse.  It will be faster if I ride.”

“Yes, sir.  And, thank you, sir.”

Doc Hickman eyed him, one graying eyebrow cocked, and then said, “Boo!”

Hoss jumped.

The older man laughed. “You’re afraid of me. Now, be honest.”

Hoss was ringing his hat with his fingers. “Well, yes, sir. A little bit, sir.”

The doctor’s piercing eyes remained pinned to him.  He nodded. “Good.”

Hoss’ mouth was still hanging open when the doctor slammed the door.

 

“There, I told you,” Jake Ferrell said.  “Isn’t that Ol’ Ben Cartwright’s middle boy?”

Marcus McCutcheon narrowed his eyes.  “I believe you’re right,” he replied.

“Why don’t we take him?  Troy don’t really care who we take, just so it’s one of Ben’s boys.”  Together they watched Hoss Cartwright head into Doc Hickman’s stable.  “That one’s ripe for the picking.”

Marcus frowned.  “That one’s awful strong.”

“He’s got a head just like anyone else.  We hit him over it and he’s done.”

“Maybe.  And maybe he’s got a thick head and we don’t hit him hard enough and he sets up an alarm and everyone in the settlement comes running.”

“You sound like you’re scared of him.”

Marcus back-handed his partner.  “I ain’t scared of Hoss Cartwright.  You see, Jake, that’s the reason you and I are together.  I’m the brains and you’re the brawn.   How much did Troy pay us to take that young feller?”

“Twenty dollars each.”

“That’s money in our pocket.  And he’s gonna pay through the nose for men who are willing to take Ol’ Ben on.”  Marcus spit on the ground.  “Alpheus  Troy ain’t gonna pay us nothin’ extra if we take this one.  He’ll count it as part of the original deal.”

Ferrell was thinking hard.  “So we’ll make more money if we don’t take him?”

“Precisely.”

Marcus McCutcheon watched as a light was kindled in Doc Hickman’s stable.  He wasn’t an evil man, not really.  He was a businessman just like the mine owners and cattle barons, only he dealt in protection and punishment.  A man like Ben Cartwright, well, it didn’t take long for him to get too big for his britches.  Someone had to take him down a notch or two, and that someone was going to be him.

“We’ll raise that army and then we’ll bargain with Troy.  He wants Cartwright’s trees.  Me, I ain’t got any interest in trees.  He can have them.”  Doc Hickman had just stepped out of his house, carrying his bag.  Hoss was handing him the reins.  “But that big ranch of Ben’s?  That would suit me nicely.  There’s a thousand square acres of land there.  Troy can afford to give each of us a hundred – or more.”

Ferrell grinned like a wolf.  “Yeah, I got me a hankerin’ to be a rich rancher.”

Hoss Cartwright and the doctor were pulling out.  Sadly, the fact that Ol’ Ben’s second son was at the doctor’s house meant the youngest one had survived.  He’d hoped the heat would do him in.  That kid had a smart mouth.  Still, in the end, it might be a good thing.  Maybe old Ben would be so preoccupied lookin’ after that youngest one of his that he wouldn’t see it coming.

The end, that was.

 

Little Joe felt a tender hand on his forehead.  He opened his eyes, expecting it to be his pa.

“You keep still.  Not good boy move around until doctor come.”

Joe smiled and then regretted it.  The skin on his forehead was tight and the movement, painful.   He wet his lips.  “Hop Sing?”

“Boy very foolish, let men hurt him.”

He frowned.  “Men?  What…men?”

“How’s our patient?” a familiar and worried voice asked.

Joe rolled his eyes upward.  “Hi, Pa.”

“HI, yourself, young man,” his father said as he and Hop Sing exchanged places.  “How are you feeling?”

“Thirsty.”

“I go get water,” Hop Sing said.

His father’s hand was where it belonged now – alongside his cheek.  “You scared us, son.”

“How…long…?”

“Have you been out?”  Pa glanced at the clock.  “Around six hours.  You lost consciousness on the ride back.”

Joe lifted a hand but it didn’t make it to his forehead.  “My head…hurts.”  A little moan escaped him.  “Really hurts.  What happened?”

His father’s worry deepened into thinly veiled panic.  “You don’t remember?”

Joe thought about shaking his head, but decided not to.  “No.  I remember the fence…and the sun blazin’ over head.  It hurt my eyes, so…I closed them.  Then, I was here.”

“It’s not unusual, Ben,” a voice said.  “In fact, with a head injury like that, temporary amnesia is to be expected.  Added to that is the confusion caused by sunstroke.”

He couldn’t see him, but Joe recognized Doctor John Hickman’s voice.  The older man came to his side, trailing middle brother in his wake.   Both of them settled near the settee he was laying on.

“How are you doin’, punkin?” Hoss asked.

Joe’s lips curled at the nickname.  Normally it irritated him, but right now it was darn endearing.

“I’m okay.”

“You let me decide that, young man,” the doctor said as he moved into his father’s place.  “Is there a reason Joe is here instead of in his bed, Ben?” he asked as he opened his bag.

“Joe was unconscious by the time we made it home.  I was afraid to move him too much until someone could see him.”

“And it’s darned hot upstairs,” Hoss added.

“Wise,” the doctor said.  “Now, son, this is going to hurt a bit, but I need to get that bloody bandage off your head.”

Joe swallowed and nodded.

And it did hurt.

The doctor fell silent as he examined the wound.

“Well?” his father demanded a minute later.

“It’s not too bad.  Probably won’t even leave a scar.”  The doctor patted his arm.  “I bet that’s something you’re worried about, aren’t you, young man?”

Honestly, he hadn’t even thought of it.  Of course, now he was worried.

“You’re sure?”

“Almost sure.”  The doctor reached into his bag and drew out a bottle and a cloth.  “And if it does, it will make you appear quite rakish to the young ladies.”

Joe looked at his pa.

“Dashing,” Pa said with a smile.

Well, then, that was all right.

“This is going to hurt, Joe.  I’m sorry.  I have to be sure the wound is clean to avoid infection.”

He knew the drill.  He’d been through it enough times.

What he didn’t know was just how much it was going to hurt.

Especially after he passed out.

 

“Tell me again just why you two chose to disobey my orders?”

Hoss winced.  He might be three inches taller than his pa, but he would never out-strip him.

“Adam and me, well, we was afraid we’d lose the trail and those men who hurt Little Joe would get away.”

“This would be the ‘Adam’ who has yet to return?” Pa snapped.

He dropped his head.  “Yes, sir.”

“Didn’t I tell you boys not to travel alone?”

“You did, Pa.  But Adam thought –”

“Adam thought.  Adam thought?  And just who is the adult here?”

‘We all are, ‘cept for Joe and he ain’t that far from it,’ Hoss thought, but he didn’t say it.

“Their tracks were clear as day, Pa.  I wanted to follow them, but Adam told me not to, he said you’d be right mad.”

“And I wouldn’t be if he went?”  His father closed his eyes and blew out a breath.  “That boy.”

“Adam ain’t a boy, Pa.”

It was out of his mouth before he could stop it.

His pa looked mad enough to eat the Devil with his horns on.  He opened his mouth, but then closed it.  A second later he said, “I’m sorry, son.”

“Sorry, Pa?  For what?”

“For treating you and your brother like you’re still ten years old.”

Hoss stifled a smile.  “Ah, Pa, it ain’t that bad.  You treat us like we’re at least fifteen.”

“I…what?”  His father stared at him and then threw his head back and roared.   “I deserved that!”

“Adam said he’d be careful.  You know older brother.  He ain’t gonna do anythin’ without thinkin’ it through twice and then twice again.”

His father’s hand came down on his shoulder.  “You’re right.  Adam is a man and I need to treat him like one.”

The breath of relief Hoss blew out was a big one.

They were standing outside the house on the porch.  The dawn light was risin’ and so was the heat.  It was going to be another sizzlin’, stiflin’ day.  Doc Hickman had ridden away a few hours before and he’d told them to leave Little Joe on the settee.  Joe had a fever.  The Doc was worried that the fever, along with him gettin’ too hot layin’ out there under the sun, would make little brother worse.

The older man shifted.  “I suppose your brother ended up making camp for the night.”

Pa didn’t sound like he believed it.

“I’m sure that’s it.  Adam can take care of himself.”

“Mistah Cartwright?”

They both turned to find Hop Sing standing in the doorway.

Instantly on the alert, Pa asked, “Is something wrong?”

“Little Joe fever higher.  He calling for you.”

Hoss swallowed his fear.  “Adam will find them, Pa,” he said.  “He’ll get them men who did this to Little Joe.”

Pa made a face and turned in the direction Adam had gone.

“That’s what I’m afraid of.”

 

 

THREE

Adam followed the two masked men’s trail to the settlement and watched as they hitched their weary mounts and went into the building that housed Alpheus Troy’s office.  Of course, there were other offices there too, so that was no proof Troy was behind the attack on Little Joe.

But it was damned suspicious.

The black-haired man stifled a yawn.  He’d watched as his younger brother came and went at Doc Hickman’s, as the saloons emptied and the settlement’s citizens committee patrolled the streets one last time, and kept on watching until the sun appeared on the horizon and began its blinding ascent over the mountains.  During that time two unmasked men had come out of the building  and stood talking for a while, and then disappeared down one of the city’s many alleyways.   Adam couldn’t be sure they were the ones he’d followed, but he trailed them anyway.  They did nothing more damning than go into a saloon for a drink.  In the end, he left them to return to watch for Troy.  He’d been at enough meetings with his father to get a feel for the man, and it wasn’t a pleasant one.  Alpheus Troy was a shrewd and unscrupulous entrepreneur intent on owning most, if not all of the growing town.  Along with George Garvey and Aaron Hooper, the three men formed a sort of unholy trinity of greed.  Some men came West to escape their pasts.  Others to find a new beginning.

And still others, for a chance to become dictators and kings.

Alpheus Troy, so far, had remained in his office.  The late night meeting was chary.  Troy staying overnight, not so much.  Troy’s grand house with its crystal chandeliers and imported Turkish rugs was located pretty far outside of the settlement.  He knew for a fact that the mine owner had a room with a bed in the suite that he used when he remained in town.

Adam’s full lips quirked with irony.  While he’d spent the night propping his eyelids up with toothpicks, Troy had been sleeping like a baby.

The black-haired man shifted and glanced up at the sky.  He had a choice to make.  Either he headed home right now or he found a suitable flophouse where he could catch a few hours of sleep.  He knew a couple of the local saloon girls well enough to charm them into giving him a bed without any fringe benefits, but he really wanted to get home.

He needed to know how Little Joe was.

“Son, seems like you been there an awful long time.  You waitin’ for someone?”

Adam winced and turned to face his father’s friend, Roy Coffee.  Roy was unofficial deputy to Robert Olin’s unofficial sheriff and both were a part of the citizens committee.

“Morning, Roy,” he said with a tip of his black hat.   “No, I’m not waiting on anyone.”

“Care to tell me what you are doin’ then?”

He’d learned as a boy not to try to pull the smallest bit of wool over Roy Coffee’s eyes.

“Someone shot my brother.  I followed their trail into town.”  He nodded toward the office building.  “They went in there.”

“Shot?  Who?  Was it Hoss?”

He shook his head.   “Little Joe.”

“God almighty!  Is the boy all right?”

“I don’t really know,” he replied, his jaw tight.  “We found Joe lying beyond the fence he was mending in one of our northern sections.  Pa took him home.  I….”  He passed a hand over his eyes.  “I haven’t been home since.”

Roy had turned to look at the building.  “Them men go in there?”

He nodded.

“You see them come out?”

Adam shrugged.  “I can’t really be sure since they were masked when they rode in, but I think so.  One of them is near big as Hoss and hard to miss.  I followed them to the saloon.”  He sighed.  “The only thing they did to implicate themselves was start a fight with a gambler.”

“You know them?”

He’d thought about that.  “Maybe.  I think the big one works at the Gould and Curry.  Name’s McCutcheon.”

“Marcus?”

“Uh-huh.”

Roy shook his head.  “He’s a bad’un.  What about the other one?  Little weasel of a man?  Stringy hair?”

Adam perked up.  “Yes.  You know him?”

“Yep,” Roy said.  “That one’s Jake Ferrell.  Both of them are bully boys, paid to keep people from nosing into Alpheus Troy’s business.”

“Either one of them ever…kill anyone?”

Roy’s eyes narrowed with anger.  “That what they tried to do to Little Joe?”

“We’re not sure.  The bullet grazed him…here.”  Adam indicated his forehead .  “It could have been meant as a warning.  Or maybe, the man was just a bad shot.”

“A warning for Ben, you mean.”

Adam yawned again.  “Troy told Pa he would do ‘whatever it took’ to get the lumber needed for his mines.  ‘Whatever’ apparently includes either threatening or killing a sixteen-year-old boy.”

Roy was staring at him.  “You’re done in, son.  You better get some sleep.”

“No.”  He yawned again.  “I need to go home.  I need to know how Joe is doing.”

“At the rate you’re yawnin’, you’re gonna fall off of that horse of yours ‘fore you’re halfway there.”  Roy cocked his head.  “What’s say we take a buckboard and go out and talk to your pa together.  That way you can sleep in the back while I drive.”

He shook his head.  “That will take too long.”

“No longer than it will take for you to get halfway home and have to stop and take a nap ‘fore you can go the rest of the way.  Be honest, son.  You’re asleep on your feet.”

He was, but he didn’t want to admit it.

“I drive the fastest buckboard in the territory,” Roy added with a wink.

Adam held up his hands.  “Okay, you win.”

“Where’s your horse?”

He nodded over his shoulder.

“Well, then, let’s tie him to the back and be on our way.”

As the older man moved past him, Adam said, “Thank you, Roy.  You’re a good friend.”

Roy stopped and turned back.  The look on his face was deadly serious.  “You Cartwrights, well, I kind of think of you as my second family – and I don’t cotton to no one takin’ a potshot at family.  We’ll figure out who did it and why.  I’ll arrest them, and you and your pa can watch while I throw away the key.”

 

Ben Cartwright left the window to return to his son’s side.  The sun was up and the thermometer had already topped ninety.  There was no wind and the air in the house was still as the gleam of a star through the dark.  He ran the sleeve of his light blue shirt over his forehead to wipe away the sweat.

It was sweltering.

Since Joe had been shot his attentions had been elsewhere and he’d been forced to leave the operation of the ranch to his foreman and a few select, well-trusted men.  Jim had just paid him a visit.  The heat was killing the cattle.  They’d found a dozen of the poor creatures dead by a dry watering hole.  It was effecting the horses as well and requiring more of the men to keep them watered – and even more men to travel to a distant hole to draw the water.  Hop Sing’s crops were dying, actually shriveling on the vine, and their own supply of water was dwindling.  The ice was low.

Joe’s fever was higher.

His son wasn’t sweating.

It wasn’t only the bullet that had done it.  Doctor Hickman said the fact that the boy had lain out in the heat so long was even more dangerous.  Little Joe was dehydrated and suffering the consequences.   He’d only urinated one time overnight and the urine had been unnaturally dark.  The boy’s skin was dry to the touch and hot as Hades.  He was hard to wake and, when awakened, made little sense.  They were doing their best to get water into him, but he took it in dribbles instead of gulps.  Dear Hop Sing insisted on sitting up all night on the table beside the settee, fanning Joe.  He’d sent him to bed a quarter of an hour before.  Hoss had taken over and was tending his baby brother.

Tears were running down his middle son’s cheeks.

Ben halted at Hoss’ side and placed a hand on his shoulder.  “Joseph will be all right, son.  Your brother is strong.  He’ll pull through.”

The big man swallowed over his fear.  “I sure hope so, Pa.”  He sniffed.  “I shouldn’t never have oughta let him go out there alone, Pa.  I should’ a been with him.”

Ben sat in the chair beside his son.  “You had no reason to suspect something like this could happen.  None of us did.  If it wasn’t for this damn heat – ”

Hoss looked at him like he’d sprouted horns.

The rancher ran a hand over his forehead, striking away a new flood of sweat.  He seldom cursed and it always surprised his boys.  “I’m sorry, son.  I’m…concerned.”  Ben laid his hand on his youngest’s arm.  “This extreme heat isn’t helping your brother’s recovery.”

At that moment Joe moaned.  Almost as if his touch had awakened him.  The boy shifted and then struck out wildly.

“No!  No, don’t!” he shouted.  “NO!”

Ben caught his hand and held it.  “Joseph.  Son.  You’re fine.”

“NO!  Let me go!”

Hoss relinquished his place on the table.  “Pa, you better sit down.  Little Joe needs you more than me.”

He didn’t argue.  As his youngest began to flail from side to side, Ben took hold of his other hand and held him fast.  “Joseph, it’s your father.  You’re safe, boy!”

“NO!  Don’t shoot!”  Tears streamed down the boy’s cheeks, wetting his dry skin.  He was struggling to break free and, obviously,  remembering the trial he had endured.  “Please, don’t….”

Hoss was on his feet now, pacing.  “Pa, I cain’t stand it!”

He shot his middle boy a sympathetic look.  It was all he could do to stand his son’s pitiful cries.  Shifting onto the edge of the settee, Ben caught his youngest in his arms and drew him close to his chest.  “Joseph, it’s Pa.  You’re home.  You’re safe.”

Joe’s eyes unexpectedly shot open.  The look out of them was wild.  “NO!  No….”

His tone was stern.  “Little Joe!  Look at me!  Joseph!!”

This time he got through.  His son’s mouth opened and his parched lips formed a word.

‘Safe?’

Ben winced as he brushed several matted curls from his child’s forehead.  Little Joe was hot as the sun that threatened them all.  “Yes, son.  You’re safe.”  He nodded toward the hearth.  “See?  Hoss is here too.”

Hoss sniffed as he approached.  “Hey there, punkin.  You sure scared us.”

Little Joe’s eyes searched the room frantically.  “Men?  Those men…gone?”

Ben ran his hand over the boy’s hair, soothing it and – he hoped – him.  “They’re gone, Joseph.  They can’t hurt you.  Not anymore.”  The rancher paused.  He felt like a heel, but he had to know.  “Joseph, did you know the men who did this to you?”

“Sh…shot me….” Joe fingers gripped his shirt.  “Pa.  They…shot me.”

“They?” he asked, hopeful.

Joe shook his head.  “Sorry, Pa.  Masked.  Couldn’t…see.”  The boy drew a shuddering breath.  “Maybe one.  Can’t remember.”  He looked up.  …knew….”

“Knew what, Little Joe?”  Hoss leaned in.  “What’d you know?”

His son blinked slowly.  A second later a totally unpredicted lazy smile curled his lips.  “Shows…what you…know.  Not…me.  Them….”

“What about the men, Joseph?” Ben asked.  “Can you tell your pa?”

“They knew me,” Joe said clearly, and then fell silent.

Even though Doc Hickman had told him Joseph was in no danger of dying, Ben dropped his head and placed his ear on the boy’s chest just to hear his heart beating.  It was rapid.  His breathing was shallow.

The anxious father nodded to his other son as he surfaced.

Hoss blew out his worry.  “What’d Joe mean, Pa?  ‘They knew me’?”

Ben touched his sick son’s face and then rose to his feet.  “I think your brother was trying to tell us that the men who shot him knew who he was.  That this was not a random act committed by robbers, but a deliberate attempt on his life.”

“You think it was Troy and them other mine owners.  Don’t you, Pa?”

No.  He didn’t think.

He knew.

 

Something woke him.  Adam wasn’t sure what it was.  Maybe nothing more than the sound of the buckboard’s wheels hitting familiar territory.  His college professors would have told him such thoughts were ridiculous; that they bordered on the superstitious and were a sure sign of an ignorant mind.  He didn’t agree.

The heart knew home.

It was nearly noon by the time he and Roy arrived.  They’d had to stop a half-dozen times to let the horses rest.  Yesterday had been hot, but today was bordering on blistering and it was only getting started.  He’d offered again to drive, but Roy had turned him down.  Finally, completely exhausted, he’d fallen into a deep sleep in the back of the vehicle that had carried him blissfully unaware the last two miles to the Ponderosa.  As the black-haired man’s feet hit the ground, the door opened and his father appeared.  It looked like the older man hadn’t seen any more sleep than he had – and that it had been even less restful.  His father opened his mouth to say something, but closed it just as quickly.  The older man walked to his side, placed a hand on his arm, and then – without warning – drew him into an embrace.

“It’s good to have you home, son,” Pa said as he released him.

The hug was unexpected, but probably warranted considering what had happened to Little Joe and the fact that he had ignored his father’s wishes and disappeared without a word.

“I’m sorry if I worried you, Pa.  I just felt – ”

His father cut him off.  “No need to explain.  You’re a man now.  I’m sure you had your reasons.”

Adam nodded at his acknowledgment of that fact.  “How is Little Joe doing?”

“Your brother had a rough night.  He’s sleeping now.”

“The bullet wound?”

“Little Joe’s dehydrated, Adam.  We’ve been trying to get liquids into him.  I sent Hoss and Hop Sing to fetch more water.  Unfortunately, it will take them most of the day.”

“Adam and I brought water with us, Ben.  Figured you might need it,” Roy Coffee said as he reached into the wagon bed and tossed a tarp back, revealing several large barrels.

“God bless you, Roy!” Pa exclaimed.  “I only wish we had some ice to bring Joe’s fever down.”

“We can soak some bed sheets, Pa,” he suggested.

“Yes.  Yes.  We can do that now, thanks to you two.”  His father looked at him with gratitude.  “It might mean the difference between life and death for your brother.”

Adam felt his heart sink to his toes.  “Can I see him?”

Pa nodded.  “He’s on the settee.”

Adam walked to the door where he paused to glance back, and then he entered.

If it was possible, it was even hotter inside the house.  Outside there was a slight breeze.  Inside, the air was stagnant.  It was also eerily silent.  The only sound was that of his baby brother’s labored breathing.  Adam crossed quickly to the settee and sat on the table beside it.  If possible, Joe looked worse than the last time he’d seen him.  His brother’s coloring was off and he seemed…well…shrunken.

The black-haired man reached out and touched his brother’s arm.  “Hey, little buddy, can you wake up for me?”

Joe groaned and shifted, but he didn’t rouse.

Adam moved onto the settee and tried again.  “Joe, it’s Adam.  It’s after noon.  Remember, I told you I’d let you ride that big black today?”

His brother’s eyelids fluttered; the thick black lashes moving on a field of skin gone paste-white.  Joe licked his lips and his eyes opened slowly.

“A…dam?”

He forced a smile.  “Yeah, it’s me, lazybones.  What are you doing lying around?”

Joe’s answering smile was a pale shadow of his normal one, but it was there.   “Pa…said I could.”

“That’s what you get for being youngest.”  Adam shifted his hand, moving it from Joe’s shirt to his flesh.  “Say, buddy, you feel pretty hot.  I brought some water with me from the settlement.  You want a drink?”

“Mm-hm.”

“How about a bath?”

His brother’s eyes lit with something, maybe a bit of fear.  “Too…tired.”

“Ah, come on now.  You remember when you were a kid how I’d give you a basin bath when you were sick and it would make you feel better?”

Joe frowned like he was trying to remember something.   “Am…I sick?”

Adam winced.  “You’ve got a fever, Joe.  We need to bring it down.”

“Then….  Why’s it so…hot?”

Sweat was pouring down Adam’s face, mingling with the tears he’d deny he shed.  “Yeah.  It’s a scorcher, little brother.”

His brother tried to lift his body.  “Need to…take care of…Cochise….”

“She’s fine.  I checked her before I came in.”  God forgive him the lie.  “Now, you just lay there and I’ll go get the basin and the water.  Okay?”

Joe turned his face toward the back of the settee.  “I’m not…going anyway….”

Adam released his grip and rose to his feet.

“You just keep it that way, little buddy,” he said.

 

“Ben, see here.  Now you know I can’t go making no citizen’s arrest of a feller without proof!”

The rancher ran a hand over his face.  He and Roy had been going in circles ever since Adam entered the house.  “But I know it was Troy!”

“And just how do you know that?  You show me one speck of evidence that says Alpheus Troy was behind the attack on Little Joe and I’ll march right into that fancy man’s fancy office and personal-like escort him to the jail.”

He threw his hands into the air.  “I don’t have any evidence!  I just told you that.  What I have is –”

“A gut feelin’.  An intuition.  That’s a good place to start an investigation, Ben, but it ain’t cause for takin’ a man in.  I’m sorry.”

“And meanwhile, Troy and Hooper, with George Garvey in tow, can continue to scheme to kill my boys!”

“Now, you don’t know anyone meant to ‘kill’, Little Joe.”

“What else do you think they were trying to do?  For God’s sake, Roy.  They shot him!”

“Maybe they was gonna kidnap him and hold him for ransom and he tried to get away.  Could have been Little Joe got in the way of a warning shot.”

“Kidnap?”  Ben felt a chill snake along his spine.  Why hadn’t he thought of that?  It made sense.  Alpheus Troy would know that he would do anything to get one of his boys back.  The rancher snorted.  Like Troy, he would do ‘whatever it took’.

“Ben?”

“Sorry, Roy.  I was just thinking of something Troy said to me at the meeting yesterday.”

“He threaten you – or one of the boys?”

“Not exactly.  But you’re right.  It would make more sense to take Joseph.  If Troy…killed him deliberately – or either of his brothers – he’d know I wouldn’t stop until I saw his neck in a noose.”

“Well, leastways that’d be legal,” Roy said, his tone warning.  “I’m bettin’ that’s what happened.  I know that youngest boy of yours.  He wouldn’t have gone quietly.”

Ben shook his head.  “No, he wouldn’t have.  Maybe the shot was meant to frighten Little Joe and stop him in his tracks, but something happened and it hit him instead.”  The thought brought a little relief.  “Well, we’re all here now and Troy isn’t going to take anyone off of the Ponderosa.  I’ve too many men watching.”

“I seen some of those lumberjacks you got working up in the high country for you come into the settlement the other week.  They looked like regular mountain men.”

“Some of them are,” he agreed.

A month or so back, a group of hardy men had come to him looking for work.  They were rough and tumble, and their appearance would have frightened most any respectable lady into a faint.  The head of the clan, for a clan it was, went by the name of Seamus McGregor.  Seamus had eight sons ranging in age from a little older than Joseph to a little younger than Adam.  The middle two were twins.  The McGregors brought with them others of their extended family and a hardier bunch of workers he had never seen.  They’d joined the other men he had already employed to clear out underbrush and mark timber that would be ready for harvesting in the fall.

Most of the work was halted now due to the drought.

“You still paying them?”

He nodded.  “At a reduced rate.  It’s not their fault there’s no rain.”

Ben pivoted as he heard the door open behind him.  “Pa, I think you better come in,” Adam said and then stepped aside to let him enter.  The rancher did so with his heart in his throat, and so it was to his delight that he saw his youngest’s curly head topping the back of the settee for the first time in two days.

“Joseph?”

The boy was weak, he could tell.  Every movement was slow and thought out before it was taken.  His son turned his head and favored him with a weary smile.

“Hey, Pa.”

Ben was at his side in a second.  He placed a hand on his boy’s head and then looked at his brother.

Adam nodded.  “The fever’s down.  It broke as I was washing him down.”

“How do you feel, son?” he asked his youngest.

“Really tired, Pa,” Little Joe admitted.  “But better.”

“Son?”  Roy Coffee asked.  “You think you’re strong enough to answer a couple of questions?”

Ben scowled.  “Roy.  I don’t think now is….”

“It’s okay, Pa.  But I don’t think I can.  Answer them, that is.”  Joe drew a breath.  “The man who shot me…was wearing a mask.  So was the guy with him.”

“Tall or short?  Stout or thin?” Roy asked.

Joe frowned.  “Both.  The one on the horse was tall and…big.  The other one was skinny.  He had long hair.  The big one looked kind of familiar.”

“How’d you get shot?”

Joe’s eyes moved from Roy to him.  He winced.  “I…well….I kind of charged them.”

“Joseph….”

“I knew they were gonna…take me.”  Joe drew in a rattling breath.  “I remembered what you said, about hostages.  So, I thought…if I ran toward them….”  He closed his eyes as if growing tired.  “I guess I startled the one…on the horse.  His gun went off.”

His son could so easily have been killed.

Roy nodded.  “Just like I thought.  Little Joe, did either of the men say anythin’ incriminatin’?”

“They kept calling me ‘boy’.”  Joe scowled.  “Made me…mad.”

Ben looked up.  Adam was hiding his amusement behind a hand.

“You said one of them looked familiar.  Any reason why?” Roy asked.

Joe shook his head, which made him grimace.  “I…seen him somewhere before.”

“Think real hard, son?  Can you tell me where?”

Joe was fading.  He was actually sliding down the back of the settee.  “My head…hurts, Pa.  Do I gotta answer…anything more?

“That’s enough, Roy.  He’s exhausted.”

Roy was like a bulldog, but he was also an unofficial member of the family and a father himself.

“It’s all right, Little Joe.  You get some rest.  I’ll come back out in a day or so.”  As he walked Roy to the door, the lawman said.  “I don’t mean to push the boy, Ben.  I just want to get to the bottom of – ”

“Curry.”

They both turned to look at Little Joe where he lay snuggled against the back of the settee.

“Son?”

“Maybe…the…Gould…n…Curry….”

A second later Joe was softly snoring.

“The Gould and Curry,” Adam said.  “That’s Alpheus Troy’s mine.”

Roy Coffee grinned.  “And that’s what I call ‘evidence’.”

 

 

FOUR

Ben Cartwright stood outside of his Ponderosa ranch house, staring at the sky, looking for a sign of rain and finding none.  A week had passed since Little Joe had been attacked.  His youngest son’s resilience astounded him.  Though the boy suffered from headaches – which Doc Hickman said were to be expected – he was already back to work and complaining about being restricted to the area of the house.  Ben consoled his youngest with the fact that his brothers were too.

He was taking no chances.

After talking to Little Joe, Roy Coffee had gone to speak with Alpheus Troy –  who had denied everything as expected.  Troy showed the lawman the mine’s payroll books to prove there was no Marcus McCuthcheon or Jake Ferrell listed as employees at the Gould and Curry – and yet Joseph was now certain he had seen the man there.  It seemed odd to him that he didn’t remember McCutcheon until Little Joe told him he’d visited the Curry with Seth Pruitt and his father just a few weeks back.  One of Seth’s older brothers had been working there at the time and he’d gone along for the ride.  Joe remembered McCutcheon because of his build – which was similar to Hoss’ – and the way he had stared at him at the time, almost as if he was a prime steak served up on a silver platter.

Still, they had no proof.

And so life went on – guarded, uncertain, ever wary.   He’d placed a dozen trusted men in strategic positions around the ranch, Dusty McGraw and Dan Tollivar among them.  Those two men loved his boys like they were their own.  They would give their lives for them.

God grant it didn’t come to that.

Roy had returned early that morning to check in as promised.  Robert Olin was out of town, so Roy was in charge of what passed for the ‘law’ in the settlement.  The lawman’s visit with Alpheus Troy had left him unsettled.  He was certain the man was up to something.  Before he left, Roy asked around and neither Jake Ferrell or Marcus McCutcheon had been seen since the night Adam tailed them.  He imagined Troy had them laying low somewhere until everything blew over.  Roy told him he’d seen Aaron Hooper and George Garvey enter and exit Troy’s building at least a half-dozen times in the last week.  He put a man in the office next to the mine owner’s and ordered him to eavesdrop whenever he could.  The man hadn’t heard anything incriminating, though he had heard Troy mention calling in the ‘cavalry’, and then a loud long bellow of laughter from the men who were with him.

Somehow Ben didn’t think it was the one that belonged to the United States of America.

“Hey, Pa,” Joseph said as came to his side and dropped into the puddle of cool shadows at his feet.  Every inch of his son’s exposed skin was covered with a sheen of sweat and the boy’s breathing was rapid.  Doc Hickman had explained it would take some time for Little Joe to regain his stamina, especially where extreme heat was concerned.  Of course, it had to be one of the hottest summers on record.  And, of course, Joseph had to be the type who failed to accept any suggestion that might signify he was less than perfect with grace.

Ben turned to the pump and worked it.  It trickled now instead of gushing, but still held water.  “Slowly, son,” he said as he handed the ladle to the boy.  “Drink it slowly.”

Little Joe rolled his eyes but did as he told him.

They remained in companionable silence for a minute or two before Joe spoke.  “I saw Roy Coffee ride out  this morning.  Did he have any news?”

He considered his answer.  “Not really, though he’s pretty sure  Alpheus Troy is up to something.”

Joe took another sip and then rested his head against the water trough.  “It sure is hot.”

“Your brothers are inside.  Maybe you should join them.”

“Nah.  Adam said they were doing paperwork.”  Joe took another sip.  “I’d rather be out here.”

“Even with it this hot?”

The boy bit his lip.  When he spoke, it was so low he couldn’t catch it.

“What was that, son?”

“I said….”  Joe cleared his throat.  “I gotta prove to myself I can do it.”

“Do what?”

“Take the heat.”  He frowned.  “I mean, if I’m gonna live out West I can’t go running every time the sun shines.”

“Are you having trouble with the heat?” he asked, concerned.

Joe looked sideways at him.  “Don’t go ordering me to go inside, Pa.”

“I will if it means your health.”

Joe ‘s face twitched.  “I’m okay, Pa.  Just…kind of weak.”

Joseph admitting that made his going inside all the more imperative.   And yet, if he ordered him….

Ben remained standing for a moment and then sat down by his son.  He accepted a sip of water from Joe before asking, “Can I tell you a story?”

Joe eyed him warily.  “What about?”

“When I sailed the high seas.”

That made his son perk up.  Joseph loved to hear about his sailing days.  “Sure, Pa.”

He’d been about Joseph’s age when he first went to sea.  Not that he’d ever admit to that.  “I was a pretty young fellow when I undertook my first voyage.  Since I was younger than most of the men on the ship, I felt I had to prove myself and I did.  I was faster and stronger and more able than any able seaman on the ship.  I stood over six foot tall and could take on the best of them,” he chuckled, “and had to from time to time.”

Joe looked wistful.  “Adam said you were about his size.”

“Yes, though not quite as slender.  Anyhow, there I was, strong, sure, proficient at every part of the seaman’s trade…until a silent unseen enemy took me down.”

“Took you down?”

“Scurvy.”  Ben hesitated as the horror of the memory took him unawares.  He could see the other sailors: weak, skeletal thin, with bleeding gums and sores all over their bodies.  “The disease ran through the ship like a prairie fire.  At that time, the medical community had no idea what caused it.  They had no knowledge that it was something lacking in the diet.”

“Were you real sick, Pa?”

“I was dying, Joseph,” he said softly.  “Many of the other men on the ship did.  I would have been among them if the vessel had not taken on a new physician who had experience with the disease.  He saved my life, but I was soon to find out that the battle was only begun.  It took me three months  to recover my strength.”

“Three months?”

“It should have taken one.  It took three because I refused to listen to my doctor who told me to rest.”  He smiled at his son.  “And the moral of the story is?”

Joe sighed.  “Ah, Pa….  I feel like a little kid who has to take a nap.”

“Well, you are not.  You are a young man who was ruthlessly attacked and spent two days fighting for his life.  Don’t you think that deserves a little…reward?”  Ben patted his son’s knee.  “Go on into the house and rest.  It’s too hot for anyone to do chores right now.”

Joe’s eyebrows formed a ‘V’.  They did that when the boy thought hard about something.  “How about you?  Are you gonna rest?”

“Soon.  I promise.  It’s too hot for this old man too.”  Ben rose to his feet.  “I just need to check in with Dusty and Dan first.  And don’t forget….”

“What?”

He ruffled his son’s curls. “There’s more than enough time for chores once the sun goes down.  Don’t think this means you are off the hook!”

Joe rose as well.  He brushed off the seat of his trousers and the knees.  They both coughed as a cloud of dust swirled up around them.  He looked hard at his son.   Joseph could barely afford to lose weight, but he had.  The bones at his wrists were showing.   His son’s usually tanned skin carried an underlying cast of sickness and he breathed like a man who had run several miles as a pace.

But he was alive.

On impulse, Ben reached out and crushed his son to his chest.  He expected him to resist.  Joe was, after all, sixteen and there were other men around.  He didn’t.  The boy twisted his fingers in the light blue cloth of his shirt and clung to him.

“I love you, Pa,” he said softly.

“I love you too, Joseph.  Do you know how much?”

Joe backed up to look at him.  A shy smile curled his lips and he nodded.

And then ran into the house.

As his son departed, a second cloud of dust rose on the horizon.  Ben stepped into the light and lifted a hand to shield his eyes.  It took a moment, but he recognized Dan Tollivar.  Dan was riding hard and headed straight for him.  One of their other hands, a man named Blake Andrews, was with him.

As the older man pulled his mount to a halt, Ben went to the wrangler’s side.  Dan’s gray shirt was black with sweat; his stocky form painted mustard yellow with dust.

“Ben,” he said with a nod.

“You look all in, Dan.  Is something wrong?”

The older man glanced at his companion.  “You might say so.  You need to come with me, Ben.”

The rancher glanced toward the house that contained his most precious possessions.  With all that had happened, he was hesitant to leave.  “Oh?”

“Mister Cartwright, we caught us a pair of trespassers,” Blake said.  “They were up where the steers are pastured.”

He glanced at Dan’s face.  There was anger there, and determination, but also fear.  “And?” he asked, almost afraid of the answer.

Dan blew out a breath.  “They was totin’ a can of kerosene.”

 

“Adam, come here and look!”

Adam Cartwright spun toward his father’s office and the slender figure that had pulled Pa’s desk chair up to the window and had his nose pressed against the glass.

“I thought you were supposed to be resting,” he said as he approached.

Joe turned and gave him that ‘face’ – the one that said college must have made him stupid.  “You gotta come quick.”

Adam moved to his brother’s side and looked out – just in time to see their father mount up and ride away with Dan Tollivar.  One of their hands, Blake Andrews, was with them.  Blake stood for a moment, staring after the pair, and then turned and led his horse into the stable.

“I wonder what that was about,” he mused.

Joe turned toward him.  “Pa was real upset.  You should have seen his face.”

“Did it look like that time when he caught you kissing Mercie Farrow in the church closet?”

His brother scowled at him as he hopped down from the chair.  “I’m serious, Adam.”

“So am I.”

Little Joe let out a sigh, rolled his eyes, and then admitted.  “Yes.”

“It must be serious then.”

“Hey, you two.  What’s so interestin’ outside of that there window?”

They both turned to find Hoss walking into the great room carrying a tray of sandwiches piled about a mile high.

“Pa and Dan rode away like a cat with his tail on fire,” Little Joe said.  “We gotta go after him, Hoss!”

Adam held up a hand.  “Whoa, whoa, whoa!  No one said anything about going after Pa.  If he’d wanted us along, he would have told us what was up.”  He turned to leave the office.  “It’s probably nothing.”

Joe followed him.  “It’s not nothing, Adam!  I know it!  Pa was real upset, I’m telling you!  Look.  He took off without even coming into the house to get his gun.”

Adam looked.  Sure enough their father’s gun belt – with his Colt revolver housed in the its leather holster – was coiled on the credenza.

Joe yanked on his sleeve.  “Can’t we at least go out and see what Blake knows?”

“You’re supposed to be resting.”

His brother’s wide green eyes grew wider still.  “You Yankee blockhead!  How can a feller rest when there’s a mystery afoot?”

The black-haired man ran a hand over his face.  The insult he was used to, but he really had to talk to Pa about letting Joe read those damn…er…dime novels he was so fond of.   “Okay,” he agreed at last.  “I’ll go check with Blake.  You stay here with Hoss.”

“Oh, no you don’t!”  Joe shook his head.  “I’m going with you.”

“You’ll do what I say.”

Joe crossed his arms.  “Since when?”

He felt like wiping the smirk off the kid’s face, but figured since he’d just gotten over a concussion Pa wouldn’t be too happy if he did.

“Joe’s right, you know,” Hoss said quietly.

“Not you too!”

“All I’m sayin’ is, if Pa rode off to trouble without his gun, then maybe it’s a trouble we need to know about.”

“You know Pa.  He’s always protecting us,” Little Joe added.  “What if he needs protecting?”

Adam ran all the possible scenarios through his head.  He didn’t like any of them.  Somehow, each and every one of them ended up with his father yelling and him in the dog house.

“Let’s at least go see what Blake’s got to say,” Hoss suggested.

Adam considered it.  He would have done it in a heartbeat if not for the too-eager face of his sixteen-year-old brother staring up at him.

“Joe’s supposed to be resting.”

His little brother rolled his eyes.  “For gosh sakes, Adam!  I can rest after we talk to Blake.”

“Promise?”

“Cross my heart and hope to die,” Joe replied, doing so.

That last part kind of bothered him.

The black-haired man sighed.  “Okay.  We’ll go talk to Blake.  I’m sure it’s nothing, but  – ”

A sharp rap on the door cut him short.

“I wonder who that is?” Hoss asked as he headed for it.

The door opened to reveal the subject of their conversation.  Blake Andrews removed his hat and nodded at each of them in turn.  “Adam.  Hoss.  Hey there, Little Joe!  How are you feelin’?”

“Chipper as a couple of jaybirds,” Joe replied.

“Well, now, that’s mighty good.”

Blake was a few years older than him and had a kid brother back home in Iowa about Joe’s age.  The cowpoke had befriended Joe and taught him a thing or two about horses.

“Did you need something, Blake?” Adam asked.

“Well, yes and no.  Your pa told me ‘fore he took off to tell you it was likely he wouldn’t be home ‘til morning.”

“Is that it?”

The cowboy shook his head.  “No.  I wanted to tell you that I’m headin’ into the settlement.”

“How come?” Hoss asked.

“Mister Cartwright wanted me to let Roy Coffee know about what’s happened.  Since I’m gonna be gone ‘til morning I thought I should let you know, Adam, what with you bein’ in charge ‘til your pa comes home.”

Adam felt like he was pulling hen’s teeth.

“And what exactly has ‘happened’?”

“That’s right,” Blake drawled.  “I forgot your pa didn’t come in ‘fore he rode off.  Dan and I were up where the cattle are grazing.  We caught two men skulkin’ around.  They was packin’ kerosene.”

A chill – almost a presentiment snaked through him.  “Kerosene?!”

“Sure enough.  Looked like they was about to start a fire, but we stopped them.  Dan came to get your pa so he could talk to them ‘fore we took them into the settlement.”

“Have you seen either of them before?” Adam asked.  “The men, I mean?”

“Pretty sure I have.”

“Do you know their names?” Hoss asked.

Blake shook his head.  “Seen them, though, hanging around the Gould and Curry mine.”

“Troy,” Joe said as the color drained out of his face.  “He’s gonna try to burn us out.”

 

Ben Cartwright was tired and hot, but even more he was a very angry man.  It took every ounce of self-control he had not to tear the two men seated on the dusty ground in front of him apart.  He’d threatened to do just that when Dan Tollivar stepped in-between them.  Ben’s gaze went to his friend’s gun belt.  It was empty.

Dan’s revolver was in his holster.

“Get out of my way, Dan!”

The old cowpoke stood his ground.  “No way, Ben.”

“Why are you protecting these men?!” he demanded.

“I’m not protectin’ them!” Dan shouted back.  “I’m protectin’ you!  You ain’t thinkin’ straight, Ben.  You got three boys countin’ on you.”  The wrangler pointed at the pair on the ground.  “You kill these lowlifes – even light into them – and you’re liable to end up behind bars.  Then where will those young’uns of your’n be?”

“I won’t end up behind bars if these two are dead, unless you are planning on turning me in,” he growled with menace.

“You keep him away from us!” one of the prisoners shouted.  “He’s loco!”

Dan turned to look at the man.  “Well, now, I’m an old man.  I’ll do my best, son, but Ben here’s got fifteen years on me and if he takes it into his head to overcome me, I’m not sure I can stop him.  You saw how easy he got my gun.”

“But…but you got to!” the other man protested.  “It ain’t right!  He can’t just shoot us!”

Ben moved a step closer.  He dropped his fingers so they brushed the handle of the borrowed gun.  “I can’t shoot you, but it’s all right for you to start a prairie fire that would kill hundreds of cattle and could kill dozens of men, women and children!”

“We didn’t want to do it.  He made us!” the first man protested.

Ben exchanged a look with Dan.  Now they were getting somewhere.   “Who made you?”

“We cain’t say,” the other man answered quickly.

“You…can’t…say.”  Ben moved in as Dan backed away.  He loomed over the pair.  “You listen to me, you have a choice to make.  Either you tell me who is behind the attempt to burn me out or I will assume it’s the two of you acting on your own and mete out justice as I see fit!”

“Ben, you can’t….” Dan began.

He drew Dan’s gun and pointed it at the older man.  “Nothing, and I mean nothing will stand in the way of protecting my sons.  Not even you, Dan.”

The wrangler seemed to consider it.  “Sorry, boys, I guess you’re on your own,” Dan said as he turned his back and walked away.

“Wait!  You can’t leave us with this madman!” the first man shouted.

Ben slowly moved his gaze from that man to his companion.  “Who’s first?” he asked.

“It was Troy!” the second man declared even as his partner-in-crime shoved him in the ribs with his elbow.

“Shut up!”

“I ain’t dyin’ for that rich bastard!”

“You idiot!  Cartwright is bluffin’!”

The second man looked at him.  “No, he ain’t.  You’re wrong!  I heard about him.  I heard how’s he’s got a dozen notches on that gun of his.  Everyone knows you trespass on Cartwright land, you’re dead!”

“Tell me about Troy,” Ben said in his sternest voice.   “What exactly did he order you to do?”

“He told us to start a fire,” the first man said.

The second one was shaking.  “No.  No, that ain’t it.”

“I told you to shut up!”

Ben took a step forward and laid the man out with one blow.  Then he looked at the other one.

“Now, what were you saying?  What is it that Alpheus Troy paid you to do?”

“Don’t…don’t hurt me.”

“Whether or not I do depends on what you say!” he roared.

The man paled.  “Troy…he…he paid us to get caught.”

“He what?!”  Ben took the man by his collar and lifted him up.  “Why would he pay you to get caught?”

“Ben.”

It was Dan.  He ignored him.  “Tell me what I want to know!”

“Ben!”

The urgency in Dan’s voice caused Ben to pivot where he stood.  It was then he saw it – and it was then he had his answer.

Smoke.

Rising above the Ponderosa.

 

 

FIVE

A half hour before Ben found his answer, Hoss Cartwright was in the stable saddling his horse.  His brothers were still in the house.  Adam insisted on leaving a note for their pa – even though they was followin’ their pa – to let Pa know where they was goin’, which was after him.

Sometime he wondered about that there college education older brother got.

Adam had also insisted Joe honor his promise to take a nap before they headed out.  Older brother practically sat on the boy to get him to lay down on the settee.  Once little brother got over fumin’ and fussin’ – well, really in the middle of Joe’s fumin’ and fussin’ – he fell asleep.  It was so gosh darn hot outside, him and Adam had decided to wait ‘til closer to nightfall to travel anyway.  Little Joe was puttin’ a good face on it, but the boy looked limp as a neck-wrung rooster and they knew what the heat’d do to him.  He’d already saddled Joe and Adam’s mounts so they was ready to ride.  Chubb was fightin’ him.  He was kind of skittish, almost like he smelled a big cat or somethin’.

Hoss took out a kerchief to wipe the sweat from his face before lookin’ out the stable door.  There was dust devils runnin’ in the yard, carryin’ brown leaves and bracken with them, and the air smelled hotter than a burnt boot.  There was a kind of glow on the horizon.  He figured that was from the sun goin’ down and the dust risin’ up.  They’d been three whole weeks now without rain and everythin’ was dry as bone.

The big man turned to his horse and patted the black’s nose.  Then he reached into his pocket and offered him a treat.

Chubb tossed his head and wouldn’t take it.

“What’s wrong, boy?  You sensin’ a cat or somethin’?” he asked the horse as if it could reply.

Chubb reared back and showed the whites of his eyes.

“Is Chubby giving you trouble?” a familiar voice asked.

Hoss turned to find his brother Adam’s lean form silhouetted in the doorway.  “Is Little Joe with you?” he asked.

Adam shook his head as he entered.  “Joe’s still asleep.  I figured I’d leave him be.  Wherever he is, Pa will be bedded down for the night.  We won’t be able to talk to him until morning.”

“I suppose you’re right,” he replied.  As he stepped away from Chubb, the horse whinnied and backed up even farther into the stall.  Hoss reached out to calm him.

“What’s wrong with Chubby?” his brother asked.

“I don’t know.  He’s about as nervous as a bit-up bull in fly time.”

Adam frowned.  He turned and looked out the door.  “I don’t see anything.”

“Well, somethin’s got him riled.”

“What about Sport and Cochise?”

“They’re shiftin’ and snortin’ too,” Hoss replied as he moved past his brother and stepped into the yard.  “There’s gott be somethin’.”

“I don’t see anything.”

The big man stiffened.  He grabbed hold of his brother’s arm.  “Adam!”

“What?”

The hand Hoss used to point to the north was shaking.

“Fire!”

 

Little Joe Cartwright opened one eye and then the other.  Something had awakened him and he didn’t want to wake up, so he closed both again and snuggled deeper into the settee’s embrace.  He’d been dreaming about Mercie Farrow and that stolen kiss they’d shared in the church coat closet.  Mercie was a year older than him and he’d thought she didn’t know he existed – until that day.  He’d only been thirteen and girls were a whole new territory to him.  She’d been talking with her friends when she turned and gave him what Pa called a ‘come hither’ look.  He’d ‘come hither’, curious, and it had actually been Mercie who drew him into the closet and told him he could kiss her if he wanted – right there in the middle of the cloaks and hats!

It was too bad the next person to open the closet door had been the parson.

Joe’s eyes popped open again at another sound.  He clamped them shut just as quickly.  He was tuckered out.  Since he’d been attacked by Troy’s thugs he’d had a lot of nightmares and very little sleep.  He hadn’t told anyone about them ‘cause he didn’t want them to think he was all gurgle and no guts.  They left him shaking, and he’d spent a lot of hours sitting in the chair by his window looking out, worrying if anyone was out there just waiting for a chance to grab him.  That was why he’d fallen asleep.  He hadn’t wanted to fall asleep.

He didn’t want to wake up now, even though he could hear his brothers calling him.

Mercie had red hair and it fell in ringlets to her shoulders.  She’d pressed up against him in the closet and he’d felt her breasts heave against his chest.  She was wearing one of those funny lace-up things girls wrapped around themselves and had just put his finger on the cord that showed at the top when the door opened.  Pa was right behind the pastor, and behind Pa, was Mercie’s father.

He hadn’t sat in that chair by the window for a long time after that.

Joe rolled over so he was facing the hearth.  It was cold, of course, since the weather was so hot.  He yawned and closed his eyes again, seeking sleep and Mercie Farrow, all the while idly wondering why the hearth was glowing orange-red when there wasn’t a fire burning in it.

Then he sat straight up.

Joe glanced at the hearth again and sniffed the air.  He was still half-asleep and having a hard time figuring out what he was seeing and smelling.  He sat for a minute, trying to get his bearings, and then rose to his feet and shouted, “Hey!  Adam!  Hoss!”  Joe waited a moment longer before sucking in air to call again.  It made him cough.  The air had a tinge of smoke to it.

Something was wrong.

Joe headed out, but moved too fast and stumbled.  Daggone it!  If he wasn’t useless as a knot in a stake pole!  He caught hold of the table behind the sofa and used it to propel himself toward the door.  Once there, he threw the door open and stared out into the empty yard in front of the house.  It took a second for what was wrong to register.

The empty yard in front of the house.

Where were the men Pa’d left behind to keep watch?  They’d been in the yard hard at work when Blake came to talk to Adam.  It was late, but at least a few of them should have still been about their chores.

And where were his brothers?

“Adam!” Joe called as he stepped onto the porch.  “Hoss?  Where are you?”

It was at that moment that it finally clicked – the smell of smoke and the orange-red glow lighting the cold hearth.  Joe slowly turned toward the north.  Two miles, maybe three out from the house there was a wall of fire.

And it was coming his way.

 

He’d sent Dan back to the house.

It was all Ben could do not to go himself, but he had other things to do.  Dan was a good man, but he was a wrangler and not a rider.  He was also advancing in years.  The ride he had to undertake would have taxed the best of men, passing as it did through mountainous country and on up to the top of a ridge.  Above the pasture where he’d left Alpheus Troy’s men bound were the lands the mine owner wanted to rape – acres and acres of young trees, not yet ripe to harvest.  That was where the men from the clan McGregor were working, marking those trees as they matured and clearing the forest floor about them of dangerous bracken.  The McGregors and their kin were strong, fearless mountain men.

If he was to stop the fire advancing on the Ponderosa, he would need everyone of them.

Dan had gone back to make certain his boys were safe.  He’d ordered the older man to find them and get them out of the way of the fire.  It would break his heart to lose his home – the home he and Marie had shared – but Marie lived in his heart and he knew she would have been the first one to tell him to cast all of her possessions into the flames if it meant saving their sons.

He was urging Buck on at a dangerous pace.  He knew it, but there was little else he could do.  The last he had seen the fire appeared to be about five miles out from the house.  The only thing that could stop it would be a firebreak.  He would need untold manpower to cut a swath across the land – removing dry foliage to expose the barren soil –in order to turn it back.  He thanked God that the wind had died down.  It had been gusty just a short time before, but had gentled as the sun set and the moon rose in the sky.  Ben glanced behind as he forced his mount up a steep rise.  Smoke had settled over his land, lit by an eerie glow.  He’d seen such a thing as a sailor; when the setting sun had turned the sea mist to fire.  He felt like he was floating above it, adrift, without compass or rudder.

The rancher turned his face from the sight.  There was no point in looking back.

He had to move forward.

Just in front of him the road made a sharp turn, and then wound its way to the top of the ridge and the logging camp.  As he neared the bend a sea of shadows suddenly appeared, advancing until it eclipsed the road and nearly reached Buck’s feet.  A second later Ben heard one of the most glorious sounds he had ever heard – a hearty shout in a Scottish brogue.

The McGregors were coming!

 

Joe was running for all he was worth.  One of his pa’s hands had shown up at the edge of the yard and tried to stop him from leaving it.  He decked the man and kept running.   Ahead of him, there were voices.  He could hear Adam shouting orders and Hoss answering back.  His brothers were there – there, on the front line of the fire.

There was no way in Hell he was going to be anywhere else!

The young man’s heart pounded in his chest as he ran.  Fire?  How in the world had it started?  There was no storm.  There’d been no strike of lightning.  Someone could have tossed a cigarette, he supposed, but he knew his pa’s men.  They were being extra careful since it was so dry.   No one wanted to see happen what was happening now!  Still, something had to have started it.

Something or…someone.

Joe halted a mile out to catch his breath.  Damn!  He was weak!  He bent over and placed his hands on his knees and breathed.  Billowing smoke wafted his way.  It made him cough.  One cough turned into a fit and he had to turn away.

When he did, he saw someone running toward the house.

Joe glanced behind at his brothers and the other men.  They were busy digging a trench, creating a firebreak to slow the fire’s progress.  They didn’t see.  Only he saw.

And only he could do something about it.

 

Ben’s heart leapt with joy.  He was already headed for home!

Behind him, like a great Scottish tide, the clan McGregor – a group of boisterous, virulent mountain men – were headed there with him.  Along with them they’d brought another large  group of loggers.  God bless the Scots!  They were a rough and rowdy bunch who worked hard and played even harder.  The night before they’d challenged another logging camp to an evening of Highland games.  The members of two other clans, the Campbells and the Stewarts, had answered the challenge and been in the camp nursing their aching heads when they’d spotted the fire below and decided to take action.  That made his army over one hundred and fifty strong.

More than enough, he expected, to extinguish a prairie fire.

He’d chosen a round-about route to his home in order to end up on the right side of the fire.  It had added precious seconds Ben begrudged.  To the north of the Ponderosa was a hellish sight.  The night sky was orange-red as dawn.  Smoke billowed, churning and twisting in the air, obscuring his view.  Moving in and out of it, cast into silhouette by the light of the raging inferno, were a good two dozen men working frantically to create a firebreak.

God grant them the strength to do so!

As they came up behind the men, Ben reined in his horse.  If he knew his sons, they were in the thick of it.

“Adam!  Hoss!”  He drew a breath and inhaled smoke.  Ben cleared his throat and then tried again.  “Little Joe!  Adam!! Hoss!!”

“Pa!  Pa!  Over here!”

Ben aimed Buck toward the voice even as a dark form broke from the men’s ranks and headed his way.  A second followed a moment later.  Both of his sons were covered from head to foot in soot.  It blackened their faces and dusted their clothes, making them look like the men whose livelihoods lay deep within the earth.

“Is Dan here?”

Adam ran a sleeve over his face, clearing his eyes.  He nodded.  “Toward the end of the line.  We needed him, Pa.”

The rancher nodded.  “What about Joe?” he shouted over the combined noise of the fire and his men.

“He isn’t here.  We saw the fire and ran.  I left him asleep at the house,” Adam shouted back.

Ben turned in his saddle and looked that way.  Smoke obscured his view.  He knew his youngest son.  It was hard to believe Little Joe had followed orders.

“You’re sure your brother’s not out here?”

“We’ve been awful busy, Pa,” Hoss said as he wiped sweat from his face.  “But I think if shortshanks was here, he’d of let us know.”

It made sense.

McGregor and his men had already begun to battle the fire.  With their muscle and manpower, he thought they had a good chance of turning it back.

“You go find Joe, Pa,” Adam called.  “We’ll keep at it.”

Ben nodded and then, without another word, turned his horse toward home and broke into a gallop.

 

Joe remained where he was, his heart pounding in his chest.

“No,” he breathed.   “No.”

The man headed for the house was carrying a can of kerosene.

The young man’s heart plunged to his toes.  If this evil man set fire to the Ponderosa, it would mean the loss of everything his pa had fought for and won, but worse than that, the loss of his only connection to the mother he loved but barely known.  Joe felt sick, and then he felt angry – and then, like their land, he was on fire.  Fury caused him to cast caution to the wind.  He ran, fast as he could, intent on tackling the man with the container.  He was going to take him down, and he would have too, if not for the fact that the man was not alone.

When Joe rounded the corner of the barn, he ran into half-a-dozen more.

“Catch him!” someone shouted.  “That’s Ol’ Ben Cartwright’s youngest!”

Joe pivoted on his heel, intent on making a beeline back to his brothers.  Instead he ran smack dab into a man near big as Hoss who had a familiar bandana over his nose.

“I got him!” Marcus McCutcheon declared as he wrapped an arm around Joe’s waist and lifted him from the ground.   “Fan out!  See if his brothers are here!”

Joe twisted in the man’s grip.  “You let me go!”

A smack to the side of his head left him seeing double.  “I’d advise you shut your mouth, kid, or I’ll shut it for you – permanently!”

Joe bit his lip.  It was all he could do to keep from answering back.

“That’s right smart, Cartwright.  Maybe you’ll get to live a few more hours.”

McCutcheon was big – so big he was able to move toward the house with him under his arm like he was carrying a child.  They halted outside the front door and waited as the men who had gone inside began to pour out.

“There’s no one in there,” the last one said.

“Your pappy left you all alone, little boy?” McCutcheon sneered.  “Now, what kind of a father is that?”

“The kind of a father who would do anything to save the life of his son,” a familiar voice called out.  “Put my boy down!”

Marcus swung toward Pa.  “I’m afraid I can’t do that, Mister Cartwright.”  His captor tightened his grip.  “The boy’s comin’ with us.”

Joe watched as the men he’d plowed into formed a circle around his father.  Pa held his ground and stared each one of them in the eye.  “If you hurt that boy – ”

“You’ll what?”  Joe winced as the cold metal of McCutcheon’s gun pushed into his curls.  “You must be getting’ old, Ol’ Ben.  You’re havin’ delusions of grandeur.  I’m the one in control here.”

“Tell Troy he can have the trees!” Pa shouted.  “Just let Little Joe go!”

“Well, now, that’s nice and friendly of you.”  His captor raised his gun and stepped back as the men surrounding them closed ranks.   “I’ll let my boss know.  When he’s got what he wants, I’ll send the kid back to you.  If he minds his mouth, he’ll only be a little worse for wear.”

Joe’s ire was growing.  His pa was being held hostage and all on account of him!

He had to get free!!

“Joe’s just a boy!” Pa protested.   “If you need a hostage, take me!”

Joe’s thoughts were churning.  Marcus McCutcheon’s grip had loosened on his waist, enough – he hoped – that he had a chance to break free.  He was being held with his feet closer to the earth than his arms.  In fact, his toes were resting on it.  He could push up and throw his weight, overbalancing the bully, but that would only take down Marcus down and not the dozen or so men that surrounded him and his pa, guns drawn.

He needed a distraction.

It came unexpectedly a few seconds later when the night air was split by a blood-curdling yell; the kind that chilled a man’s bones and sent him running faster than chained lightning with a link snapped.  Joe was later to find out that it was what was known as ‘Faugh a Ballagh’, a Celtic battle cry meaning ‘clear the way’.  At the time he thought for sure it meant someone had opened the gates of Hell and set the demons free.  The men around him and Pa jumped and turned in the direction of the terrifying sound.  So did Joe.

It sure looked like the cavalry was coming over the hill!

Alpheus Troy’s men hesitated and then broke ranks and ran at the sight of a dozen wild and wooly men wearing skirts charging into the yard carrying hatchets, axes, and logging poles.  Joe took advantage of the moment .  He twisted in his captor’s grip and struck out, taking the man in the knees and driving him down.  He and McCutcheon tussled in the dirt for a bit before he broke free.  The second he was on his feet, Joe ran straight for his father.

It was at that moment that he heard a familiar voice call out.

“Pa!  Little Joe!  Drop!  NOW!!”

Before Joe could draw breath to protest, his father caught him and threw him to the ground, and covered his body with his own.  Seconds later the air came alive with a hail of bullets.  The deadly missiles flew over their heads and struck everything from the side of the barn to the water trough – to the evil men who had threatened them.

When the gun-smoke cleared only he and Pa were alive.

Adam and Hoss were at their side in a heartbeat.

“Are you okay?” Adam asked as he dropped to the ground beside them.  “Pa?  Joe?”

Joe couldn’t answer.  He was having a hard time breathing.  Not because of the smoke or his earlier injuries, but because his pa was on still top of him.

The older man briefly touched his curls before rolling over and off of him.  Pa was staring at Hoss and Adam, who looked like a pair of giant raccoons with their blackened faces and white eyes.

“Are you two all right?” he asked.

Hoss answered.  “We’re fine, Pa.  The fire’s nearly out.  Them mountain men you brought with you?  Whoo-ee!  I ain’t never seen anyone so fast or strong!”

“Or scary, for that matter,” Adam added with a tired grin.

“How many did we lose?” Pa asked as he rose to his feet.

“None.  Everyone made it.”

“Troy’s men?”

Adam turned and counted.  “There’s six here.  Seven more were caught in the fire when it turned.”  Adam ran a hand over his face.  “That’s over a dozen dead.”

“Is there a big one here – big as Hoss?” Joe asked as he accepted a hand up from his pa.  “The man…the one who shot me was here.”

Hoss was looking around.  “I don’t see no one that big, Little Joe.  Are you sure?”

Sure, he was sure.

And that meant, Marcus McCutcheon was still out there.

“I doubt any man left will dare to show his face again on the Ponderosa,” Pa said as he placed a steadying arm around his shoulder.  His father waited until he looked at him to ask, “Are you all right, Joseph?”

All right.

That was his pa’s way of ending things – of saying everything was going to be okay.  But it wasn’t.  Marcus McCutcheon was on the loose and Alpheus Troy still wanted those trees.  McCutcheon had nearly killed him and Troy had tried to kidnap him and all he wanted to do was throw his arms around his father’s waist and burst into tears.

But he wasn’t going to.

“Sure, Pa,” Joe said with a hint of a smile.  “I’m fine.”

“He’s a Cartwright, Pa,” Adam said.  “And a Cartwright always come out on top.  Isn’t that right, Hoss?”

Hoss was nodding his head.  “Yeah.  It sure is.”

Joe caught it.  Something passing between his brothers.

A moment later his feet left the ground and he found himself suspended in the air.

“Hey! Put me down!  I can walk on my own!”

“Sure you can, punkin,” Hoss said as he began to make his way toward the house.  “But you heard what brother Adam said, one of us Cartwrights at least has gotta come out on top.”

Joe fought for a moment.  Then he gave up and settled in his brother’s arms.

That was another thing Cartwrights were.

They were blessed.

 

 

EPILOGUE

“Joseph!  Just where do you think you’re going?”

Little Joe Cartwright stopped in his tracks.  He sighed before turning back to greet his father.  “Hey, Pa.  I was just goin’ out to mend that fence I never got done.”

“Not alone, you aren’t,” Pa growled.

The intense heat spell had finally broken.  The clouds had opened up and they’d had a good soaking rain the night before.  While the morning wasn’t cool, it was tolerable and he was feeling fit and fine.  Cochise was saddled and waiting for him.  He had his bucket of nails and tools in hand.  He’d hoped to sneak out before Pa could stop him.

Blessed was one thing.

Smothered was another.

“Ah, Pa….”

“Don’t you ‘ah, Pa’, me, young man,” his father said as he came alongside him.  “This is not because you’re the youngest.  I said the same thing to your brothers.  Until justice is done, you travel in pairs.  We can’t afford to take any risks.”

It turned out Alpheus Troy was slicker than a clay hill after a rainstorm.  There was just no proof that the men who tried to burn them out worked for him.  Over half of them ended up dead, including the pair Pa had left tied up in the field north of the house.  Someone shot them.  Pa had hoped the one would talk, but he’d been silenced forever.

“You think Troy will try something else?” Joe asked as he dropped the bucket at his feet.

“I’m sure he will.  The man has no conscience.  But it will be some time.  He knows the law is onto him and watching.”

Pa, along with Adam, had gone to confront the mine owner.  They’d found Troy eating supper at the Reisen House along with Aaron Hooper and George Garvey.  Pa’d blustered and blowed and threatened the three mine owners, telling Troy if he caught him or any of his men on their land he’d kill them.  A smile curled Joe’s full lips.  Pa sure did have a reputation for being a hothead.  Thing was, most people had no idea it was undeserved.  His pa was one of the coolest characters he knew, unless he or his brothers were threatened.  Pa used that reputation to keep people away from the spread.  Joe stifled a laugh.  Dan Tollivar had told him all about Pa pretending he was gonna shoot him with his own gun – and Troy’s men to get them to talk.

He wished he could have been there to see their faces.

“Do you find something amusing?” Pa demanded.

Apparently he didn’t stifle that laugh enough.

“Yes, sir.  I mean, no, sir.  Well,” Joe paused, “I was just thinking I wished I’d seen you scarin’ the living daylights out of those two men up in the north field.”

His father let out a sigh.  “They scared the living daylights out of me.  I had visions….”  Pa passed a hand over his eyes.  “I was afraid I had lost the three of you.”

“Hey, Pa.  Hey, Little Joe,” Hoss said as he stepped out of the barn behind them.  The big man noted the bucket at his feet.  “You goin’ somewheres, shortshanks?”

“Joseph was heading out to finish mending that fence.  I would appreciate it if you went with him.”

“Yes, sir.  I’ll go have Hop Sing fix a lunch basket for us.  We’ll have a grand time of it, right?”

Joe nodded.  He loved spending time with his older brother.  Having Hoss along wasn’t a sentence, it was a treat.

“Hey, Little Joe.  I left my vest in the barn.  Would you fetch it for me?” his brother asked.  Hoss opened his arms wide, indicating his plain white shirt.  “Gotta look my best for all them pretty little heifers out there.”

Joe giggled at the picture.  “Sure thing, Hoss.”  As his brother headed toward the house, Joe turned toward the barn.  His father’s hand on his shoulder stopped him.  “Yeah, Pa?” he asked, turning back.

Pa was staring at him in that way he had, like he was special or something.  The older man reached out and cupped his face with his hand.  The older man smiled, nodded, and then released him and moved away.

Pa’d had tears in his eyes.

Joe was still puzzling that one out when he entered the barn and started the search for his brother’s vest.  It was brown calfskin, so it kind of blended in.  He figured Hoss had been saddling Chubb when he took it off and he was right.  The big black nickered a greeting as he entered his stall.  Joe stopped to look at him.  It was a funny kind of nicker, almost like Chubb was afraid.

A second later someone grabbed him and slammed him against the stall wall.  Before Joe could yell, a gloved hand covered his mouth.  He looked up into a pair of familiar eyes showing above the rim of a very familiar bandana.

“I ain’t gonna hurt you, kid.  Not now,” Marcus McCutcheon breathed.  “But I’ll be back one day and you and yours will get what’s coming to you.  Do you understand me?”

Joe’s eyes were wide.  He nodded.

“You won’t know when it’s comin’.  Hell, I don’t know when it’s comin’, but no one makes a fool of me and gets away with it.”

“Joe?  Hey, Little Joe!  What’s keepin’ you, boy?” Hoss called from outside.

McCutcheon lowered his mask so he could see his sneer.  “Nighty night, little boy,” he sneered.

Just before the lights went out.

 

Joe told his father what had happened, of course, the minute he woke up on the settee with Pa and his brothers leaning over him.  Pa was mad enough to spit nails.  He rode right over to the Gould and Curry and demanded Marcus McCutcheon be handed over to him, but the man was nowhere to be found.  Robert Olin formed a posse and went looking for McCutcheon, but they never found him.  The man who had shot and threatened him had simply disappeared and that was something he had to come to live with.

Even though it meant more nights in that chair by the window.

He and Hoss finished that fence a few days after that, and as Joe stood looking at his handiwork – at the network of strong wooden beams firmly fixed with iron nails – he felt not only a sense of satisfaction, but that everything was, finally, ‘all right’.  Alpheus Troy had been warned.  Marcus McCutcheon was gone.  The drought had ended, and he was feelin’ fit as a fiddle.

Yeah, everything was all right.

At least for now.

 

 

 

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