Summary: A WHIB for the episode The Boss. Just how did Little Joe make it home after being shot by Gus Hannah?

Rating: K+

Word Count: 910

(Set between the opening scene and the one where Ben comes home to find Joe laying injured on the settee.)

 

It was a beautiful day for a drive. The sun rode high in the blue pastures of the sky with nary a cloud in sight. A pair of squirrels played tag in a nearby oak tree, chattering back and forth as they flitted from branch to branch. The scent of wild flowers wafted on the breeze, tickling my nose with their heady aroma.

 

If only this was a pleasure drive, I thought to myself, wiping the drowse out of my eyes with one hand while the other held the bay’s lines. After spending all night out at the Rafferty’s place stitching up a ranch hand that had been trampled in a stampede, I was finally on my way home to get some much needed rest.

 

“As if that will happen,” I grumbled under my breath. Being Virginia City’s only practicing doctor had its downsides. Unless I was bedridden with some violent illness, I was on call all day every day. A day off was as rare for me as a snowstorm in August! Oh, there were upsides to my job, like helping to bring new life into the world, but at times like this I seemed to dwell on the negatives rather than the positives. Lack of sleep always brought out the pessimist in me.

 

After a jaw cracking yawn threatened to split my face in two, I slapped the rein’s on the bay’s back to pick up the pace. If I didn’t get home soon, I was going to fall asleep right here in my rig, and who knew where my horse would take me if that happened. Probably straight into the nearest mine shaft where I’d never be seen or heard from again.

 

The echo of a gunshot rang in my ears, causing my horse to flinch at the unexpected noise.

 

Hunters? It was possible, but unlikely at this time of day.

 

The rumble of hooves on the trail before me caught my attention and I barely managed to get my buggy off to the side of the road just as a handful of riders barreled toward me. They swept past in a cloud of dust, making me cough as the particles tried to clog my nose and throat. Not a one of the riders looked my way, but I recognized them – it would have been impossible for me not to. They were some of Tom Slayden’s henchmen, a rough bunch that liked to push folks around and generally make a nuisance of themselves.

 

An uneasy feeling settled in my stomach as I pulled back onto the road. One of those men had been Gus Hannah, a man who was known to be trigger happy. And that gunshot had been close – too close.

 

Whipping up the bay, we cantered round the bend of the lane. There, lying in the middle of the street, was a familiar figure clad in a green, corduroy jacket; beneath him was a steadily growing pool of blood. A few yards away was a wagon full of lumber, the roan harnessed to it was calmly munching on a patch of wildflowers. Hauling on the reins, I pulled up my horse and scrambled down from the rig. I snagged my black bag of medical supplies and raced over to the man’s side, praying that I was not too late.

 

“Joe?”

 

There was no answer. Reaching out, I slowly rolled the boy over. His chest rose and fell evenly.

 

He’s alive!

 

My relief was short lived as I spotted the ragged hole high up in his right shoulder. From the looks of it, the bullet had passed clean through, but he was losing blood fast. I fished a wad of bandages out of my bag and dressed the injury as quickly as I could, adding pressure to it as I tried to stem the flow. After binding the injured limb against Joe’s chest, I sat back on my heels and viewed my handy work. A few spots of blood seeped through the white material, but it was an acceptable amount. Anyway, it would have to do for now; I couldn’t perform surgery in the middle of a dirty road. No, I had to get him home before I could sew him back together again.

 

Frowning, I eyed my buggy and then glanced back at Joe’s unconscious form. “Now would be the perfect time for you to wake up,” I said to him, but of course he made no reply.

 

I’m getting to old for this, I thought as I somehow managed to pick my patient up out of the dust. For someone so wiry he sure was heavy. Sweat trickled down my brow as I wrangled his prone body up onto the rig’s seat. I scrambled in beside him, letting him lean on my shoulder.

 

Ben’s gonna love this. Benjamin Cartwright, owner of the biggest ranch in these parts, was also my oldest and dearest friend. He was, for the most part, a kind and understanding person, however, if anyone messed with his boys, he’d be out for blood. Once he discovered who shot his youngest son, there would be no place on earth where Gus Hannah could hide from his wrath. A mother bear protecting her cubs had nothing on Ben Cartwright when he was on the warpath!

 

As I got the bay headed in the direction of the Ponderosa, I glanced at my comatose passenger. “You know, we’ve got to stop meeting like this.”

 

~ Finis

 

Author Notes: Written for a Bonanza Boomer’s writing challenge: The Missing Scene. I was supposed to write a missing scene for any of the Bonanza episodes. I chose The Boss. I have always wondered just how Joe made it home after Gus Hannah shot him. Having Doc Martin be the one to find him was the logical choice, seeing as, since Ben was in town at the time of the shooting, whoever was sent to Virginia City to fetch the doctor would have also informed Ben of the incident. This just adds a neat little bow to the package that is The Boss. 😀

 

Tags: Doctor Paul Martin, Little Joe, SJS, angst