Summary: A man seeking revenge makes three attempts at killing Little Joe, will the third time be the charm? Rated T, WC 36,000

 

Requiem

 

“Death, be not proud, though some have called thee mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so: For those whom thou think’st thou dost overthrow, die not, poor Death; nor yet canst thou kill me.

John Donne

 

 

Ben Cartwright was slow in his march to answer the loud and anxious knocking coming from the bolted front door. He felt he had aged years since the previous night and all the frenzied activities which it had fostered. The slide-bolt whined as Ben drew it back and pulled the door forward. It came as no real surprise that standing on the other side of the entranceway was his long time friend and sheriff of Virginia City.

“Roy—come on in.” Ben bid the man in and tried for a forced smile of welcome, though it was just as quickly faded due to worry.

“Came as soon as I heard, Ben. How’s Little Joe?” Roy was quick to ask as he examined the careworn face before him.

“We think he will be okay.” Ben stopped short and then motioned for Roy to come over to the front room and the large fireplace which was freshly stoked and bellowing out warmth.

Roy sank down onto the cushioned settee and his body ached with the pangs of encroaching old age and one too many trips in the saddle. Ben reached for the coffee pot sitting on a tray on the coffee table which he had recently set there.

“Offer you a cup?” Ben asked as he poured one for himself.

“I’ll pass on that.” Roy gave a wry smile and Ben realized the meaning quickly. “Not really sure if it’s safe to drink any of your coffee at the present time.” Roy chuckled, and soon regretted the flippant reply. He was there due to serious business this trip, and he knew that Ben was deeply troubled over what had happened the previous night.

Ben settled down into his leather chair and sighed wearily. He had only gotten three hours of sleep, if that, the last twenty-four hours and was forcing himself to stay alert. “You don’t have to worry, Roy. The coffee pot has had a thorough going over I can assure you! And the coffee cups have all been boiled to not try our luck.”

“Okay then.” Roy nodded and Ben reached over and poured a steaming cup of coffee for the sheriff and handed it over to him. “So, go on. I want to hear the whole story. Doc told me a good bit of it this morning, but, figured you would have more to say.”

Ben leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes in deep thought. He wanted to convey to the lawman exactly what had transpired and not leave out even the minutest detail. His youngest son, Joseph, had almost perished and someone would have to pay for it. The best way to do that was to put the law into the situation. The law and the Cartwright family.

“Here’s what happened—” Ben started and in his mind he watched it all play out again.

Hoss wrapped the heated cloth and pressed it against the front right fetlock of his father’s horse. Buck whinnied and moved slightly until Hoss cooed softly and the animal settled down. Ben crouched down to assist his middle son, the one with the most knowledge of these things. He had been amazed for years over the way that boy of his could tend to critters of all sizes. No-one on the ranch, nor Virginia City for that matter, had the God given gift of healing that Hoss Cartwright possessed.

“Is it bad?” Ben asked concerned for the horse who had been an extension of himself at times. They had ridden many trails together and fought many a winter storm over the years. Buck meant an awful lot to the patriarch of the Ponderosa, and that fact showed in the way his eyes glowed in concern.

“He’ll be fine, Pa.” Hoss assured and placed another warmed bandage on the animal. “Just needs a little tending and a little rest and he’ll be as good as new.”

“Well, you two won’t be!” Came the voice of the youngest son from behind both men. “You all stay knelt down much longer and neither of you will be any good for the rest of the week.” Joe shot over his most endearing smile and took a place next to them.

“Won’t be much longer.” Ben replied, this time helping Hoss with the next round of warm cloths.

“I got the coffee heated up. Want me to bring it out here? It’s getting mighty cold.” Joe asked and turned up his collar. Truth of the matter, he was freezing and wanted a blanket and a cup of coffee to stay the cool November air.

“No—you go on and get some. Me and Pa will be in in a couple of minutes.” Hoss turned and cast a sympathetic smile at his baby brother. Though Joe had not helped with the injured animal, he had done more than his share that day with all the other chores to free Hoss up to do his doctoring. Hoss knew that Joe took great pride in him and his talents and would have done anything to assist him. Unfortunately that was not Joe’s forte. He was the one who gentled the horses, turning over any and all repairs to his brother.

“Yes, Joseph, you go get some for yourself and we will be right in. Buck is doing fine, just a couple more soakings and we’ll call it a night.”

“Okay.” Joe gave up on the idea of hanging around any longer. Turning for the barn door he heard Hoss call over to him.

“Hey—since Hop Sing is still in town—how about rustling up some grub for us?”

“Let me get warmed up a little and I will see what I can fix that would be edible!” Joe let loose with a string of laughter that was uniquely his and walked away in search of something to warm his insides.

How long had it been from that point when they had spoken to Joe to the time they had reached the front porch, neither of the other Cartwrights would later recall. Maybe it had been fifteen minutes, maybe a half of an hour. Time. It seemed so unimportant, or it had until that night. Minutes would later become precious as they raced against the clock to keep Joe alive.

 

 

“Here’s the note.” Ben said and handed it to Roy, stopping in the middle of his recollection to brandish the one concrete piece of evidence that they had in their possession. Roy stared at it, inspecting it as only a seasoned law officer could do.

“So, you found this where?” Roy asked forcing his piercing eyes into Ben’s.

“Just as we walked to the door—we had just left the barn—” Ben went back to his personal nightmare. A nightmare that was far too real.

“I bet Joe is in there fixing eggs. That’s all he knows how to fix.” Hoss laughed as they stepped up onto the front porch.

“No bet—you are most likely right.” Ben stopped and cast a confused glance down at the bottom of the front door. “What’s this?” He asked stooping down and lifting up the piece of paper that was stuck between the threshold. Stepping into the house, Ben got as far as the credenza and stopped in his tracks.

“Huh? What is it, Pa?” Hoss asked, almost running into his father due to the sudden stop he had made blocking the entrance.

“How long can you keep someone awake? After he had been overdosed with sleeping powders?” Ben recited what was on the paper and he stared up at Hoss, a picture of total confusion. He handed it to his son, and noticed that he was equally confused.

“Joe!” Hoss shouted and, feeling a sudden dread, headed into the dining room with Ben on his heels.

At the table sat Joe with his head on his arms unmoving. Ben shook his son’s arm and Hoss tried to bring the boy’s head up. They were getting no response. Ben spotted the empty coffee cup, with only a spot of the brown liquid left in the bottom to show it had previously been full.

“Joseph! C’mon—wake up!” Ben’s voice displayed the sudden fear that was spreading rapidly from his chest and heading to his throat. He shook the boy harder and Joe’s eyes blinked faintly and fought to open.

“He’s been poisoned!” Hoss spat out, terror taking over his facial expression.

“Sleeping powders—the note said sleeping powders!” Ben replied and started to slap Joe’s face, begging for a response.

“Pa——pa—” Joe muttered, his voice weak and with a protest to it. “I’m so tired—so tired.” Joe dropped his head back down on his arms wanting to go back under.

Ben had been through so many tragedies in his life, that he could spot a life threatening situation, and this was definitely one. He forced his gaze on his middle boy and began to bark orders. “Go get one of the hands to get Doc—then come right back!”

“I could get to Doc’s—” Hoss started and Ben cut him off.

“No! I’m gonna need you—we have to keep Joe awake and I am gonna need your help to do it. Now hurry!” Ben had a strange blend to his voice, it seemed to be both commanding but also gave the hint of weakness as well. The weakness was in the heart, with it’s fear of losing his youngest son. The son who kept that same heart beating and made it all worthwhile.

“Be right back!” Hoss answered quickly and ran toward the door.

“C’mon, Joseph.” Ben said loudly hoping to jog the boy back awake. Joe was still unresponsive. Ben reached down and grabbed Joe under both arms and pulled him to standing. The jolt of his father’s actions made Joe open his eyes and mutter a protest. “Pa—please—let me sleep—I’m so tired.”

“Joe—listen to me, boy—you have to stay awake. Do you hear me, Joe? You have to stay awake! Now let’s walk.” Ben pulled his son forward and braced himself behind the boy. He slowly began his march toward the livingroom. Joe’s feet barely making contact with the floor, his father half carrying him, they inched toward the fireplace. Joe’s left hand shot out as they rounded the corner of the settee, he grabbed a hold of it, wanting to settle down on the cushions and sleep. Ben forcibly broke that hold and moved Joe past the coffee table, past the two chairs and around in a circle and over to his study.

“We’ve got to keep walking, Joe!” Ben insisted and felt Joe’s body go even more limp than it had been. The boy was becoming a dead weight and Ben wondered if he had fallen back under. Making it as far as the edge of his desk, Ben propped the boy there, resting against the front of it. Never totally releasing hold, he shot around to face Joe head on. It took a series of rather sharp slaps to the boy’s face to bring him around this time. Finally, the eyes opened back again and it was then that Joe began to be combative. He couldn’t understand for the life of him why his father was doing this to him. What had he done to make the man angry? Why was he being hit? Joe’s confused mind tried to register in on what was going on.

“I just want to sleep!’ Joe’s voice became louder. “Stop hitting me will you?”

Ben took his son by his two shoulders and shook him. “Joseph—we have to keep you from going to sleep. You have been given an overdose of sleeping powders! Do you understand?” Ben purposely yelled his questions to try to keep Joe conscious.

“I can’t—gotta sleep.” Joe’s voice had fallen back to a muffled whisper and his body leaned in on his father.

Ben pushed the boy back and again tried to rouse him. This time he grabbed Joe’s chin with one hand while holding him up with his other one. “Joseph! Now open those eyes!” He screamed. Joe’s eyes slowly fluttered and it took all the strength he had to force the lids to reopen.

“Pa—why are you doing this? I gotta sleep.” Joe repeated himself and this time tears started to fall from his eyes. He felt as though he was in some strange nightmare that he couldn’t release himself from. His mind a hazy blur and his body begging him to lie down, Joe fell into his father’s arms.

Ben fought the desire to let his son have his way and go back to sleep, but he knew that could very well mean going into a coma which might result in the boy’s death. Summoning his willpower once more, Ben threw his arm around the boy and pulled him in front of him and began the march back around the room. It was at that moment that Hoss burst back into the room.

“Hank’s gone to fetch Doc Martin—said he saw him over at the Wilbank’s farm not long ago—maybe he can catch him before he heads back to town.” Hoss explained and then, seeing his father struggling with his little brother, he rushed over and grabbed the boy up in his arms. “Whatcha want me to do with him?”

“Let’s get him upstairs to his room. Then I want you to fetch the tub.” Ben answered as the two men sandwiched Joe between them both and started toward the staircase.

“You wanna put him in a bath?” Hoss asked as they labored up the stairs heading for the boy’s room.

“Yeah—a bath. I need you to bring as many buckets of water up as soon as you have the tub ready.”

“It’ll take awhile to heat up the water, Pa.” Hoss replied as they turned the last corner and made it inside Joe’s room. They put Joe on his bed and he almost fell out of their arms, his own willpower seeking the needed place to sleep.

“Cold water, Hoss! As much as you can fetch quickly. It’s the only way to keep him awake now.” Ben said as he pulled Joe back to a seated position, the boy starting to fight his attempts as he did.

Hoss grimaced at the thought of putting his little brother into the frigid water of a tub. The poor boy had complained all day of being cold, this seemed like a dirty trick to do to the kid. Knowing it was a life or death decision that his father had made, Hoss sprang from the room to get the task done.

“Joseph!” Ben yelled again, this time right into the boy’s left ear. Joe moaned and fought for his release from his father’s firm grip. He had realized now that he was on his bed and the thought of it made sleep even more overpowering. Ben slapped Joe’s face again and the eyes blinked open. “Stay with me, Son!” Ben was now pleading with the boy. “We have to get your clothes off of you.”

“Just let me sleep—please —please, Pa—I’m so tired.” Joe groaned as he felt Ben’s fingers prying loose the buttons of his shirt.

“We have to do this, Joe—we have to.” Ben apologized as he slipped his son’s arms out of his sleeves.

“So cold——so cold—” Joe complained, his teeth starting to chatter. The fireplace in his room had yet to be lit, and it was cold with his shirt on, let alone without it. Ben eased Joe back down and pulled off the boy’s boots. Next, he loosened the boy’s trousers and pulled them down. All that was left was his long-john bottoms. Ben decided he would afford the young man his privacy and if need be, immerse him in the tub, long-johns and all. “So cold—pa—so cold—blanket—please—” Joe stammered.

Ben saw how Joe’s body covered in goose bumps and he hated what he must do. But, the affect of cold was helping him already in his pursuit to keep the boy awake. At least that was a small triumph for the moment. Ben turned as he saw Hoss re-enter the bedroom, the large steel tub carried in his massive arms. Hoss set it over by his brother’s bureau and was quickly out of the room again in search of the water buckets to fill it.

“It’s gonna be all right, Joe.” Ben called and pulled Joe back to sitting, his hand fell to his son’s back and he could now feel the chill to the boy’s skin. Ben’s mind thought back to the times when he had fought to keep Joe warm to prevent the recurring bouts with pneumonia that he had in his youth. The worried father now wondered if this cure could be as fatal as the cause of it all. Ben pushed those thoughts away. He had one thing to do at the present and that was to keep Joe alive.

It took eight trips, but at last the tub was brimming full of the cold water from the kitchen pump. Hoss looked over at his father and they both shared a brief glance. Both men thought on how cold that water must be and how awful it would feel to be in that tub. “Ready?” Hoss asked and Ben nodded. Taking a deep breath, Ben pulled Joe to standing and Hoss scooped him up in his arms.

“Hoss?” Joe asked through muddled confusion. “Hoss, I’m cold—tell pa to get me a blanket.”

Hoss bit at his lip and his eyes misted up. His little brother was asking him to get him warmth and here he was about to submerge him in frigid water. Hoss fought to focus on the situation in his mind, and why he had to betray the trust displayed in the boy’s glazed green eyes. “Gotta do this, Little Brother. I love you, boy.” Hoss whispered and sank Joe down into the tub.

The scream that came from Joe’s throat brought his family to tears. He lurched forward and clawed at Hoss’ arms to flee from the icy waters. Ben knelt alongside the tub and the cold water splashed onto his trousers. He assisted his middle son as he tried to drown out in his mind the horrifying protests of his youngest son. Joe dug his fingernails into his father’s forearm and tried with all his might to pull himself from the tub.

“You’re killing me!” Joe shouted, his lips going blue. The curls on his forehead flattened due to the weight of the water and hung into his eyes. “Let me out!” Joe demanded.

“Joseph—” Was all Ben could say as he kept a firm hold of him so he could not pull himself out to freedom and the warmth of his bed covers.

“It’s gonna be okay, Little Brother, it won’t be long.” Hoss tried to calm the frightened boy.

“I can’t stand it! You’re killing me! Why are you doing this to me? I want to sleep!”   Joe screamed and then the fight gave out of him and he sank down, letting the water cover his torso. His eyes again started to close.

“What now?” Hoss shot a desperate look over at Ben.

“Get him out of there.” Came a harsh voice from the doorway. Ben and Hoss, still holding Joe with their four hands, turned to see Doctor Paul Martin entering the room.

“Doc—someone gave Joe an overdose of sleeping powders.” Hoss was first with the explanation. He worried that the man would think that they were torturing the poor boy.

“How long ago?” Doc asked as he moved over to the tub.

Ben looked at Hoss and they both paused and tried to think. How long had it been? Seemed like hours, maybe days. It seemed like they had spent an eternity already just over at the tub, trying to keep the boy under the water.

“What time is it now?” Ben finally asked.

Doctor Martin opened his pocket watch. “It’s half past eight.”

“Thirty minutes? Hoss, you think it’s been thirty minutes?” Ben asked still confused due to all of the excitement of the moment.

“I think it was right before eight when I ran out to get Hank—not sure, Pa.”

“Well, Hank got to me just as I got to Twin Forks—only took me fifteen minutes to get out here. So, let’s just say thirty minutes since you found him. How long do you think it was before you found him that he took the powders?” Doc tried his best to sound in control, seeing the intensity displayed on the two Cartwright’s faces. He had to try to put aside his own personal feelings for the poor lad in the tub, a lad he was very fond of himself.

“I don’t rightly know—” Hoss struggled with the question again.

“Possibly fifteen to twenty minutes. The cup of coffee was gone when we got to him. He had spoken to us in the barn and then went inside. I don’t know how someone got into the house to do this—” Ben was now showing signs of exhaustion and Paul could tell by the strain in the man’s voice.

“We will assume it has been under an hour then that he drank the coffee—that helps.” Paul kneeled down and put his hand to Joe’s face. The eyes opened back up briefly. “You want to get out of there, Joe, or haven’t you finished your bath yet?” Paul tried to use humor on the boy, to not let on how dire the situation was.

“Doc?” Joe muttered through a haze still hanging over his head. “Doc—make them let me go——I want to sleep—let me sleep.” Joe begged, his voice now hoarse from his protests as well as the chill throughout his body.

“Hoss bring me as many towels as you can get your hands on.” Paul stated firmly and took Hoss’ place on the other side of the tub to help steady Joe. Hoss sprang to his feet and lumbered down the hall. He was back in less than a minute, with a whole armful of towels.

“Lay them over there on the bed. We’re gonna have to strip these long-johns off him first. Ben, help me pull him up.” Paul said and reached down into the water and got a hold of Joe’s left arm. Ben reached for the other arm and they pulled him to standing. Joe’s legs buckled under as the cool air hit him once more. He sucked in air, feeling like a frozen mass of ice now. Paul yanked off the long-john bottoms. Modesty was one thing that disappeared, and Paul didn’t give it a moment’s thought, his only concern being saving the boy’s life. They brought Joe over to the bed and wrapped him in the towels. Ben worked on drying Joe’s head full of curls as Paul and Hoss worked on the rest of his body. When he was good and dry, Joe begged again for sleep.

“In a little while, Joe.” Paul answered the frightened boy and reached for his black bag. “Okay, I have something in here that might help us. Now, I am sure a good part of that sleeping medicine has already found it’s way into Joe’s bloodstream. That we can’t do anything about. But, what hasn’t already been absorbed, can come out. With this.” Paul pulled out a bottle of thick liquid. “It is used to induce vomiting. Another awful thing to do to this poor boy, but one that we have no choice but to do. Bring me over that basin—this isn’t going to be pretty.”

Ben and Hoss shared a glance. They wondered just how much more Joe could really take at the moment. In trying to save him they had all but killed him already. Now, yet another horrible thing that they had to do for his own good. Ben brought over the basin and stood silenced as Paul readied to force Joe to swallow the medicine.

“Now, Joe, I promise you that as soon as this part is over you can go to sleep, okay?”

“Need to sleep——” Joe whispered and tugged at the covers, trying to pull them up around him. The towels were still wet and cold, and Joe wanted to be warm and to sleep. He couldn’t understand why the others were preventing him from what he needed.

Paul spooned in two tablespoons of the bitter liquid and Joe swallowed, more from reflex than from going along with the plan. It was only a few minutes before the cramping started and they could tell by the way Joe had pulled his knees to his chest that the medicine had worked.

“Gonna be sick—oh God—” Joe muttered helplessly.

“It’s okay, Joe—here lean over.” Paul whispered patiently and pulled Joe to the side of the bed. It was then that the contents of Joe’s stomach gave up and filled the basin.   Paul held the back of Joe’s head for comfort and looked over at the horrified faces of Ben and Hoss. “You both go and get some dry clothes on!” He stated firmly as Joe continued to vomit. “Last thing I need around here is someone else to tend. Now get!”

Hoss and his father knew the man well. Paul wasn’t just concerned about them catching a cold either. The friend of the family was trying to spare them both from witnessing any more of Joe’s suffering. He felt they had seen more than enough for one night.

“We’ll be right back.” Ben nodded, his eyes showed the doctor how grateful he was. Turning Hoss around, Ben followed him out into the hall. They would both take a few moments to collect themselves, change their clothes, and then return to check on Joe.

Paul settled the young man back against the pillows and brought up the sheet and comforter over his slender shoulders. His heart was heavy, having witnessed all that Joe had endured that night. Paul had to fight back his own anger now, anger at whoever would have put the boy through all of it. Someone was out there with sleeping powders, someone very dangerous. Paul walked over to the cedar chest at the bottom of the bed and pulled out two more blankets. He placed them over the bed to help Joe get back some more body heat after his eventful sojourn in the cold tub. “That better?” Paul asked. Joe gave a feeble nod and this time when his eyes closed they stayed closed. Paul sat on the side of the bed and felt the boy’s pulse. It was weaker than usual, but regular now. He sighed to himself. Who would want to kill Joe Cartwright? Why? Paul shook his head, that would be up to the law to find out. He knew his job was to keep the boy that so many people loved alive.

“How is he?” Ben asked as he moved next to the doctor.

“He’s asleep.”

“But—” Ben started, the mounting concern hit again. What if Joe was to fall into a coma?

Paul read the worry; Ben didn’t have to say it outright. Paul always knew. “Ben, I think he’s out of the woods now. I wouldn’t have let him doze off if I didn’t believe that.” Paul said and touched the man’s arm.

“Then—he’s gonna be okay?” Ben’s heart soared at the thought.

“Yes—he’s gonna sleep awhile—that’s for sure. And I bet when he comes back around, he is going to be one mad Joe Cartwright!” Paul let a chuckle escape his throat at the thought of what his patient would have to say about the harsh treatments he had endured that night. “His pulse is good, and his pupils check out okay. I suggest you keep an eye on him. You and Hoss take turns. I am not saying to not be concerned—I am just saying I think the crisis is over.” Paul patted the sleeping boy’s arm fondly and stood from the bed.

“I don’t know how to thank you—” Ben replied reaching to shake Paul’s hand.

Paul laughed aloud and returned the handshake. “You and Hoss did most of the work this time! I am glad he’s not going to be going after ME for putting him in that tub! It was a smart thing to do—and it did help save his life. You be sure to tell Joe that when he gives you trouble about it tomorrow!” Paul closed his medical bag and Ben walked him outside of the room.

“How long do you think he will be out of it?” Ben’s concern was back again in his tone.

“Tomorrow—maybe late in the day. You send for me if there are any changes. Oh—and I’ll stop by and tell Roy in the morning. I’m sure he will be seeing you right after he hears about this.”

“Thank you, Paul.” Ben said again as Hoss appeared coming from his room.

“I’ll walk you out, Doc.” Hoss smiled and grabbed his arm, trying to show him how much he appreciated all he had done for Joe. He could tell by the looks on both Ben and Paul’s faces that Joe would be all right, and it lifted Hoss’ spirits as he walked Paul down the stairs.

“You all had one heck of a night, Ben.” Roy frowned at the frightening story that had been revealed to him. “Have you spoken to any of your ranch hands? Anyone see anything?”

Ben shook his head in disappointment. “Only Hank and Fletcher were here last night. I spoke to them both this morning and they didn’t see anything. I told you Hoss and I had been in the barn for several hours, neither of us saw or heard anything either.”

Roy studied the note once more and shook his head bewildered by the whole scenario. “Well, whoever it was sure took their time in planning this, that’s for sure. They had to be watching all three of you to time it just right. It’s quite obvious that Joe had to be the target or there would have been no reason for this here note. Joe had any trouble here lately? You know of anyone who had a beef with him?”

Ben scowled and stood to tend the fireplace. He had asked himself the same questions that the sheriff had just asked. All night he tried to make sense out of something that just plain didn’t make any sense. “No, the boy hasn’t had any fights—arguments—nothing! He hasn’t even been into Virginia City for weeks. He’s been up at the timber camp for weeks helping Adam.”

“Where is Adam by the way?”

“He left yesterday morning for Sacramento.” Ben replied. “I guess I need to send a wire for him to get on home.”

“It might be a good idea. Once whoever did this finds out that Joe didn’t die from the overdose, they just might decide to come back here and finish what they started.

Ben set the poker down and faced the sheriff. Roy had seen this look on his old friend’s face many times in the past. He always thought that it reminded him of an angry old momma bear when a cub was threatened. Between the two, the angry bear or Ben Cartwright, Roy would have chosen to confront the bear instead of the worried father. Ben was much more deadly when fighting for one of his own. And with the threat being against the youngest son, Ben would move heaven and earth to protect him and make anyone who harmed the boy pay dearly.

“I’ll send the wire. What do we do until then? Got any ideas?” Ben asked as he returned to his chair and reached for more coffee.

“Well, just keep a good eye on Joe. I’ll do some checking around to see if I can find out anything.” Roy paused again and folded the note that the assailant had left. “Plain brown paper—we couldn’t get lucky and find this to be written on personalized stationery could we?”

Ben answered with an ironic smile, he could see that the whole incident had bothered Roy Coffee almost as bad as the other Cartwrights. As Roy made his way over to the front door, Ben followed. “Thanks for coming out so quick, Roy.”

“Don’t thank me until I catch this criminal! Oh—I would like to talk to Joe. When you reckon I can get the chance?”

“He hasn’t come around yet. Hoss is up there with him now. Doc thinks he will come around some time later tonight. So, how about coming by tomorrow?”

Roy nodded and pulled open the front door. “That’ll be fine—maybe by then I will have found something that will help us. Take it easy, Ben—try not to worry.” Roy said as he departed. The words echoed in his mind. He knew it was a damn fool thing for him to have said to his old friend. Of course Ben would worry! Roy knew they would ALL worry until they found whoever was out there trying to kill Joe.

“Has he come around yet?” Ben asked settling down in the chair by Joe’s bed, which Hoss had just vacated.

Hoss stretched and fought back a yawn. “He’s moved around a little but hasn’t opened his eyes.”

Ben frowned, he hoped for a sign that Joe would wake with no ill side-effects from his rough evening. “I fixed you some lunch. Why don’t you go down and eat it? You look like you could use a nap too!”

“Well, nothing against your cooking, Pa—but I sure will be happy when Hop Sing gets back from tending that cousin of his. “ Hoss grinned over at his father and saw the man nod. Ben was at best an adequate cook, Hop Sing having spoiled the Cartwright family with his culinary ability, Ben was surely no match for their normal meal provider.

“Well, try and choke it down will you? Besides, I bet Hop Sing will come on home just as soon as he hears about Joe. I am quite sure the rumor-mill in Virginia City will start spreading around town what happened out here.”

“Okay, Pa. Be back in a little while.” Hoss replied and gave his father a quick, reassuring pat to his shoulder as he left the room.

Ben stared at the hair that graced his youngest son’s head. It was in a total disarray. The rough treatment of the tasseled curls the previous night had caused them to go in all directions. Ben smiled in spite of himself. The boy’s curls were as hard to tame as the boy himself. Ben would not have it any other way, though. Both curls and boy challenged the father, but were precious to him nonetheless.

Combing through the head of hair with his fingers lightly, Ben noticed the first sign that Joe was beginning to come back to him. The boy’s lips parted and his tongue licked at his parched lips as he slowly opened his eyes. Joe’s vision blurred by the over-dose of sleeping powders, was still good enough to make out the slow forming features of his father.

“Welcome back, sleepyhead.” Ben whispered and let his hand fall to the boy’s cheek. Joe’s face scrunched into a grimace and his left hand came up out of his covers to rub at the back of his groggy head. He still didn’t speak, only a groan coming up out of his dry throat.

Ben poured a glass of water and held it up to Joe’s lips. The boy took in what he wanted and let his head fall back to the pillows behind him. It was after that, when Ben saw the boy’s lips form a scowl, that Joe’s hazel eyes looked piercingly at his father.

“How do you feel?” Ben asked, but figured the young man was fixing to tell him soon anyway. He knew an angered Joe Cartwright when he saw one.

“How do I feel?” Joe shot back, sarcasm coating his words. “Well my gut is killing me, my throat hurts, and I think I have pneumonia. Does that answer the question good enough?”

Ben laughed, he couldn’t help it. Expecting the ill-tempered boy to reappear after what he had gone through, this attitude matched those expectations to the tee. “Sorry, Joe.” Was all his father could offer at the moment.

“Sorry? What the hell were you and Hoss thinking? You almost killed me last night!” Joe protested while he attempted to pull himself higher against the pillows.

“Now now—watch your temper—and that language!” Ben warned, but knew the fire was still in the young man’s eyes and it wouldn’t be easily diminished.

“You froze me to death! I bet I have bruises on my face from you hitting me too! And wait until I see Hoss!” Joe squealed off his indignity from all he had gone through. Ben leaned back in the chair forcing the grin from his face. When Joe went on a roll it was always better to just sit back and wait until the dust settled and he calmed down a bit. “Oh—and where is Doc? I have to thank him as well. Yeah—it’s always nice to give someone medicine to make them puke their guts up!”

“Let me know when you are done, Joseph.” Ben said calmly and continued to wait patiently for the boy to get it all out.

Joe sighed in response to his father’s condescending attitude. Here he had been through a traumatic experience, and Ben seemed as though it was petty to complain about it. Finally leaning back on the pillows Joe gave up. “I’m done.”   He replied resolutely and now was ready for the real truth to come out as to what had happened to him.

“Okay then.” Ben smiled and leaned closer to the bed and touched the boy’s arm affectionately. “Of course we are all sorry for the measures we had to take to keep you alive—but if we hadn’t, you would not be around right now to fuss about it.”

“What happened, Pa? All’s I remember is wanting to sleep and you and Hoss and the doctor not letting me do it. I remember you dragging me around the livingroom, and then you and Hoss throwing me in the tub—” Joe stopped as his father broke in.

“Wait just a minute there, Joseph, we did NOT throw you! We placed you in the tub—granted you were kicking and screaming all the way! I have the scratches on my arm to prove it, and I think your brother has more than his share of scars from helping you with your bath. And, I do not see any bruises on your face either.”

Joe frowned at his father’s stern recital of events. His eyes smouldered some as he cast an apologetic smile over at Ben. “Guess I was a handful. But, you haven’t told me why yet.”

“Joe, somehow somebody put sleeping powders in your coffee last night. And if we hadn’t kept you awake for as long as we did, you might now be dead.”

Joe swallowed hard, taking in the information. “They were trying to kill me? Whoever did this was trying to kill me?” Joe whispered, feeling confused and a bit frightened now.

“Yes, and they wanted to scare the rest of us, too. Whoever did it left a note at the front door to let us know what they had done.”

“Note? Saying what? Did it say who?” Joe rapidly shot out his questions.

“The note just said something like, “how long can you keep someone awake who had been given an overdose of sleeping powders?” And, no, they did not sign it. Hoss and I found it as we walked in the door. You were already half-asleep at the dining room table, that’s when we knew what had to be done.”

“Sorry, Pa.” Joe mumbled. Now he was starting to feel bad about giving his father such a hard time about what they had done to keep him awake. Ben reached over and squeezed his hand.

“It’s okay, son. I know it was a very awful experience for you. I am sure I would have thought the same things. I didn’t envy you that frigid bath either!” Ben laughed at the thought of how he would have reacted to being forced down into the bathtub.

“I never saw nobody, Pa. I just came in from the barn—poured a cup of coffee—and the next thing I knew you were trying to wake me up. Who would want to kill me?”

“I don’t know—but I will promise you that I will find out.” Ben answered the question and his son could see the anger in his dark brown eyes.

“I haven’t had any fights—nothing—why me? Why now?” Joe was beginning to panic, the unknowing eating into his mind and gut.

“Now, Joseph—” Ben stopped and pulled the covers back up on his son. He had to take control of the situation, not wanting the boy to worry any more than he already had. “We will take care of it. You have had a long night. I’m gonna get some broth heated up for you. Let’s take this slowly. We have to get you back on your feet before we can go after whoever is responsible for knocking you out.”

Before Joe could respond to what his father had just said, both he and his father heard a loud voice from downstairs. It was the unmistakable voice of the caretaker of the Ponderosa, Hop Sing. The voice continued, still loud, and still had an angry tone to it.

“Uh oh—” Joe smiled. He knew that the cook was back and obviously upset over whatever had befallen the youngest of the Cartwright clan. Joe knew that Hop Sing thought of him as being a little bit his own son and would challenge anyone who would harm his charge. “Wait until he hears what all you and Hoss did to me!” Joe grinned impishly.

“Uh oh is right. Let me get down there and come to Hoss’ aid. And I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t do what you normally do.”

“What do you mean “what I normally do”?”

“Exaggerate! By the time you are done with this little story of last night, I am sure Hoss and I will be up for attempted murder ourselves!” Ben stood and laughed at the thought.

“Hey—I don’t have to exaggerate—believe me—what you both did was bad enough!” Joe winked over at his father.

“I’ll go get you that broth. You stay in bed, understood?” Ben was back into his role of stern patriarch.

Joe grabbed up all the covers and sank down into their warmth. “I ain’t about to get up out of this bed. I’m still freezing from that bath—don’t think I will ever feel warm again in my entire life!”

“There you go stretching the truth again!” Ben shot his eyes over at the boy. “I’ll be right back.”

“Good luck with Hop Sing, Pa.” Joe chided with a smirk on his face. He knew his father was in for it now.

Ben hadn’t made it to the bottom of the staircase before Hop Sing started in on him. Raising his hands and shouting part in Chinese and part in broken English, Hop Sing expressed his concerns to his employer.

“Why you not get Hop Sing? What you do to my boy?” Hop Sing protested between strings of Chinese chastisements.

Ben raised his hands as well to try and calm the verbal assault directed at him now. He could see Hoss standing there with his mouth open and unable to get a word in edgewise. “First of all, Joseph happens to be MY boy! Of course there are times I would gladly give you charge of him—but right now I will claim him as my son. Secondly, we tried all night to keep him alive. We were so busy with that we didn’t think about sending for you. Besides, I thought you were tending that cousin of yours for the rest of the week at least?”

“Cousin fine—Little Joe come first for Hop Sing. What I hear about someone poisoning him? Somebody try kill him? Hop Sing find out who!”

Ben neared the cook and put his hand out to his shoulder to try and stop the protests and questioning. “Yes, someone gave Joe sleeping powders. We will find out who, don’t you worry. Right now, if you want to help the boy—” Ben paused and shot a sympathetic glance over at Hoss and continued. “Or this boy as well—you will fix some grub. Joe needs some broth and I believe Hoss could use something a little more filling.”

“Why you let someone into house to poison Little Joe?” Hop Sing was not done yet.

“I didn’t LET anyone in here! I have no idea how they got in here. Now will you please settle down? Joseph will be fine—once he gets some broth that is.”

Hop Sing stared into the older Cartwright’s eyes to make sure he was telling the truth. Satisfied that he was, after a brief indignant huff, he continued into the kitchen. Ben turned and looked over at Hoss. He knew the middle son had taken the first assault from the cook.

“Sorry—I would have been down sooner but I was talking with Joe. I hope Hop Sing wasn’t too tough on you.” Ben smiled and Hoss shook his head.

“Naw—most of it was in Chinese—thank goodness I didn’t know what he was saying—it didn’t seem too friendly, Pa.”

“Well, he’ll simmer down once he sees that Joe is okay.” Ben sighed and sat down in his chair, his fatigue starting to get to him now. It was always after a crisis that he found his stamina to lag.

“You said Joe is up? How’s he doing?”

“Oh, he told me in no uncertain terms what he thought about our little efforts to keep him awake last night.” Ben chuckled thinking on how mad his son had been originally.

“I bet he did! Is it safe to go up there now?” Hoss asked looking up toward the stairs.

“Yes, why don’t you sit with him while Hop Sing gets his broth ready? If he gives you any trouble you tell him that there is plenty more cold water down here for another bath.”

Hoss laughed at what his father had said and then climbed the stairs to sit with his brother

Hoss sat with his brother for awhile that afternoon, and Hop Sing thoroughly fussed over the youngest Cartwright. Not long after Joe had finished the broth that the cook brought up to him, he found himself falling back off to sleep. Staying in the room until he knew Joe was sleeping peacefully, Hoss decided it was all right now to leave his brother. Ben had taken a brief nap and sat at his desk half working on paper work and half thinking about the situation they now found themselves in. He couldn’t get over the idea that someone was out to harm his son. And the thought that they had been brazen enough to enter the house to do the harm, angered and worried him more.

Hoss spent the rest of the afternoon tending the horses in the barn and talking with the ranch hands. He made it a point to let the ones who had just come in from watching the herd know about what had transpired the previous night. Hoss instructed them all to keep a sharp eye on the ranch to prevent anyone from making it into the house. He also asked questions to see if anyone had spotted anything unusual lately. Unfortunately, there was nothing to report in that respect. The hands all agreed that they would do everything in their power to protect the Cartwright family.

After supper that same evening, Ben and Hoss settled down in the livingroom. Hop Sing had calmed down now that he knew that the others had done everything they could do to take care of the youngest the night before. To compensate for his earlier outburst, Hop Sing brought a fresh pot of coffee into the livingroom for the two men. Both of the Cartwrights thanked him and sat around the fireplace discussing all that had gone on and what their plans would be for watching over Joe.

Slowly a figure appeared at the top of the staircase. Looking over, Ben saw the descending form of his youngest. Clad in a robe, slippers and what looked like a double set of long-johns, Joe made his way down the stairs and over to his family. He moved toward the fireplace and eventually settled down on the coffee table to be closer to the warmth of the flames.

“You should be in bed, Young man.” Ben addressed the boy sternly.

“I’ve slept enough for right now. And, I was getting bored with staring at those walls.”

Hoss glanced over at his father, he wondered if Ben was reading the same thing on Joe’s face that he had spotted. The boy was trying to make light of what the real problem was, but he could not completely hide the fear that peeked out through the bright hazel eyes. Ben looked back at Hoss and nodded. They did not have to verbally communicate about some things, they could read each other that well. They could also read the youngest.

“You warm enough?” Hoss asked his brother.

“I don’t think I will EVER be warm enough!’ Joe grinned over at the big man, the inflection in his words referring very clearly to the cold bath he had earlier received.

Hoss laughed and reached back and grabbed the Indian blanket on the end of the settee. He handed it over to his little brother and Joe accepted it gratefully. Joe wrapped himself in the blanket and it was then he noticed his father’s stare.

“What?” Joe asked.

“Nothing, Son. “ Ben shook his head and pretended to focus his attention over to Hoss. “So, what do you think, Hoss? Will Buck be ready to ride tomorrow?”

“Yeah, Pa—he’s doing good. The swelling is all gone.”

“Why? You going somewhere?” Joe jumped in on the conversation.

“No, Joseph.” Ben replied after witnessing the anxious look the boy was giving him. “You don’t have to worry—we will make sure nothing happens to you.”

“Worried? I ain’t worried! I just wanted to know where you were going is all.” Joe lied.

“It’s gonna be okay, Little Brother, we’ll find whoever did this. But, until we do, Pa and I are going to make sure you are never left alone.”

Joe stood up and forced his normal independent attitude on the crowd. “Hey—I’m not a kid you know! I can handle myself. I don’t need a nursemaid.”

“It has nothing to do with age or ability, Joseph.” Ben stood in protest. He worried that Joe might just do something stupid to prove to everyone he wasn’t scared, even though they knew he was. “There is some crazy person out somewhere with some kind of notion that they want to kill you. Until they are caught you are going to stick close to the house. It has nothing to do with how old you are either. I would ask the same thing of either of your brothers if situations were different and they were in jeopardy.”

“Stay close to home?” Joe asked and laughed ironically. “Seems to me they got me right here at home yesterday! Maybe I’d be safer elsewhere.”

“Yesterday nobody was watching the house, today I got half the men in the bunkhouse doing that very thing.” Hoss interjected seriously.

“Face it. If someone’s trying to kill me they aren’t gonna stop until they do it. Maybe I ought to turn the tables and go out after them.” Joe’s voice was low and deadly now and they could tell he wasn’t kidding.

Ben reached over and grabbed Joe’s left arm and turned him to gaze into his eyes. “You don’t know who it is, that puts you at a big disadvantage! Roy is checking around. He’s gonna come over here tomorrow and talk with you. Hoss and I are gonna check around too. I am not asking you to stay in sight. I am telling you.” Ben made his expectations known now.

Joe looked down at the floor, he was just old enough to know his father was right, but still young enough to want to go against what Ben had said. Frowning, but nodding his head just the same, Joe agreed. “Okay, I’ll stay around where one of you can see me. But, I’m not stopping what I do around here and I am not hiding in my room.”

“Nobody is asking you to hide. Just don’t go off without one of us until this is settled. Now do I have your word on it?” Ben’s eyebrows narrowed to make sure Joe knew he was dead serious.

“Oh—and if I don’t give you my word what are you going to do? Throw me in another tub of freezing water?” Joe broke into a smile now, trying to lighten the burden on both of his family members.

“We did NOT throw you!” Ben reiterated and then clapped Joe on the back.

“Maybe I ought to throw him this time, Pa!” Hoss grinned and Joe threw a fake punch towards his brother’s nose. Both sons laughed and for a brief moment in time, the terrible thought of a hidden assassin was almost forgotten by the merriment in the room.

Ben cleared his throat to bring the room to attention once more. “You didn’t answer me, Joseph.”

“Okay, Pa. I give you my word.” Joe nodded toward his father.

“Thank you for listening for a change, it is a sign to me that you are truly growing up and getting smarter. Now, don’t you think you need to turn in? I just saw you yawn for the third time in five minutes. Those sleeping powders may not be completely out of your system.”

Joe nodded, he was in fact suddenly finding it hard to keep his eyes open. “Yeah—think I’ll turn in.” Joe started towards the stairs and then changed directions. He walked to the credenza and grabbed his holster. Ben and Hoss saw him make the move. Normally Ben would have insisted that the weapon remain downstairs, but not this time. He knew the boy still held fear in his heart, and Ben couldn’t blame him after what had happened.

“Just don’t put it under your pillow, Little Brother—or you might end up without an ear in the morning.” Hoss called over to him.

“Yeah—well—I suggest you both knock before entering my room from now on.” Joe replied and neither of the other men could tell if he was being serious in his warning or not. Slowly, with the gun- laden holster slung over his shoulder, Joe made his way back up to his room.

The protests grew louder and the piercing looks more difficult to ignore. Ben stood at his desk squaring off eye to eye and toe to toe with his youngest son. For two weeks the boy had stayed close to the house doing menial chores laying in wait for the unknown assailant to make another move. Nothing had happened. Roy Coffee had done his best to track down leads but to no avail. There simply were no clues as to the identity of who had tried to end Joe’s life. Adam had returned hurriedly from Sacramento when summoned by his father’s telegraph. After two weeks though, Ben had at last decided it was safe enough for his oldest son to return to his assignment, and had sent him back on his way the previous day.

But, then there was the matter of Joseph, and just how far out of his father’s sight he would be allowed to go. If Ben had his way about it, Joe would remain there in the compound that encompassed the ranch house. Unfortunately, he was getting no such compliance with the boy.

“C’mon, Pa!” Joe raised his voice as well as his arms in gesture. He had had quite enough with the kinds of chores which had in the past been more of a form of punishment than a normal challenge. “Whoever slipped me those powders obviously gave up on the idea of killing me weeks ago. Just how long do you expect me to hang around anyway? This is getting ridiculous!”

“Settle down and let’s discuss this rationally for a change.”

“If it wasn’t safe enough you wouldn’t have sent Adam back to Sacramento. If all is back to normal for him then why not me?” Joe continued to make his point.

“Adam wasn’t almost killed!” Ben shot back angrily. “You were. And we don’t know if whoever tried to kill you is still watching this place or not.”

“What do you want me to do? Hide under my bed until I am thirty years old?”

Hoss, who had been standing by his brother for the necessary back up that Joe had requested, finally spoke up. “Pa, I know how you feel—I am still worried about all this too. But, I think Joe has a point here. He has to get back to normal. If we let that maniac control our lives, then in a way he has us all hostages. Besides, I sure could use the help with that fencing. Those heifers down at south shore took out a quarter mile of fencing during the storm last night.”

“We have plenty of hired hands to assist you.” Ben responded sharply, now turning his fear for his youngest into an unusual anger towards the middle son. When he saw how Hoss had dropped his head down with the words his father had spoken, Ben felt regret hitting at his heart. “I’m sorry, Hoss. I know you are trying to serve as the normal go between—and I know it is at Joseph’s request that you are in on this little debate.”

“Can I go help Hoss, Pa? I’ll work right along side of him—I promise. If I don’t get out of here for awhile I am going to go stir crazy for real!” Joe’s request came off accompanied with the pleading hazel eyes which could always find their way into his father’s heart.

Ben frowned and raised his hands to the heavens. “I give up! Okay, you can go with Hoss. But, you had better both stick together. Hoss, I don’t want this young man out of your sight for even a second. Understood?”

Hoss patted Joe on the shoulder and smiled over at his father. “I will watch him like a momma hawk, Pa. Don’t worry. We’ll just go make some fence repairs and be home in time for supper.”

“Thanks, Pa.” Joe grinned and turned to walk away. He felt his father’s hand preventing him from his advance to the door and turned back toward the man.

“Be careful.” Ben warned and then withdrew his hand from the boy’s arm.

“Sure, Pa. Don’t worry.” Joe nodded and walked with his brother to the front door.

Don’t worry? Ben thought to himself as he heard the door shut behind his two sons.  ’ll always worry.  Ben sighed and sat back down at his desk.

Hoss and his little brother worked on the needed fencing repairs all morning and afternoon and were making some good progress. Just before dark they decided it was time to head home, neither wanting to cause their father any unnecessary worry. Joe untied his horse and waited for his brother to bring his mount over before he vaulted up onto the pinto’s back.

“We done good, Little Brother! One more day ought to get it. Fletcher and Hank are gonna put the tools away for us—let’s get home and see what Hop Sing has fixed for us. I’m starving!”

“You are always starving.” Joe laughed and turned Cochise toward the ranch house.

Ben heard the shouts from inside the house. He stood from his position in front of the fireplace as he recognized the panicked voice of Hoss. Ben made it across to the front door in a few long strides, and when he pulled open the door he could see the big man’s approach. Joe was stretched out in his brother’s massive arms.

“What happened!” Ben shouted as he watched in horror as Hoss crossed the threshold and headed for the stairs.

“Fell off his horse. Don’t know how bad he is yet. He’s knocked out.” Hoss called out breathlessly as he took the stairs two at a time heading up to his brother’s room.

Hop Sing had heard the commotion and had seen the unconscious boy being carried up the staircase. It wasn’t long before he was standing next to Joe’s bed along with the boy’s father and brother.

Ben sat on the bed next to his son and started his examination. There was a small knot forming on the right side of Joe’s forehead and the left side of his trousers were torn. Slowly Ben prodded the bones down both sides of the boy’s body.   He sighed deeply when he realized that nothing appeared to be broken. Helping his father, Hoss pulled Joe’s boots off and then the ripped trousers, setting his brother’s holster and gun aside. Inspecting the left side of the boy’s leg they could tell that it took the brunt of the fall and had already started to become a mass of bruises. It was then that Joe started to come back around.

“Joe, can you hear me?” Ben whispered and detected a slight nod of his son’s head and then the boy’s eyes opened and tried to focus in on his worried family.

“Yeah.” Joe said hoarsely. “How’s Cochise?”

Hoss laughed in spite of the dread which still hung in the air. How typical that his brother would be more worried about his precious horse than he was about himself. “She’s fine. Ran into Cliff on the way in, he’s bringing her and fetching your saddle. Dang, Joe, one minute you was fine and riding down the ridge with me and the next minute you and that saddle flew off your horse.”

Joe tried to pull himself up but winced as he accidently applied pressure to the left side of his body. The side that had all the bruising. “Don’t know how it happened either. You all know I check everything before I go out. Everything was fine this morning.”

Ben gently pushed Joe back against the pillow, insisting with his hands that he wasn’t about to be moving around just yet. “You had quite a fall there, Young man, how’s that head?”

“I’m okay—just a little sore.” Joe tried to reassure his father. He could tell by the way the man still held onto his hand firmly that Ben was very upset.

“Anyone here?” Came a booming voice from down the stairs. They all recognized the voice to be their hired hand who Hoss had mentioned was bringing in Joe’s horse. “Mr. Cartwright—Hoss? I need to see you!” He continued to shout up the stairs.

“Hop Sing—help Joe clean up will you? Looks like he will need some compresses for that leg to help with the swelling.” Ben called over to the worried care giver. He knew he needed to get downstairs to see what Cliff had to say about his son’s horse.

“Father not tell Hop Sing what to do. Hop Sing tend Little Joe—you both go way!” Hop Sing announced indignantly. He had taken care of the lad for more years than he could remember and didn’t need anyone’s advice on how to do it.

“We’ll be right back, Joseph.” Ben shot a brief smile over to his son and squeezed his hand reassuringly. Both the worried father and the equally worried brother made their way down the staircase to see what Cliff had to say.

Joe’s saddle and his saddle bags were resting on the coffee table where Cliff stood waiting. Both Cartwrights moved over to the man.

“Thought you’d both better see this.” Cliff frowned and lifted up the frayed end of the saddle cinch. “It didn’t just break either, it’s been cut.”

Hoss took the cinch into his own hands and started his own examination of it. He turned and cast a woeful look at his father. “Cliff’s right, Pa. This has been cut on purpose. Whoever did it probably left just enough intact to keep the saddle on until Joe sent Cochise into a gallop.”

“That’s not all.” Cliff said and pulled out a piece of paper from his jacket. “I found this inside Joe’s saddle bags.” Cliff handed it over to Ben.

“A fall from a horse killed Joe’s mother—let’s see if he is as lucky.” Ben spat out the words on the note. He felt shivers up and down his spine at the thought of what the note had meant. He had lost Joe’s mother, Marie, due to a nasty fall from her horse. Now, the hidden attacker was trying to duplicate that tragedy.

Hoss could see the anguish his father now wore. He walked over to the table in his father’s study and poured three shots of brandy and brought it back over to the other men. “Here.” Hoss said handing over the drinks. Usually Ben sipped at the amber liquid to savor the taste. Today he opted for tossing the contents down in one quick swallow.

“Is Joe okay?” Cliff asked polishing off his own liquor.

“He has some bumps and bruises—” Ben started as he tried to maintain some form of calm. “Looks like we were lucky this time.”

“Want me to go and get Roy?” Hoss asked now.

“No, not you, Hoss. Cliff, would you mind going into town to tell the sheriff? I want Hoss to gather the hands in the bunkhouse and post a watch over this place. They can do it in shifts if need be, but I want this house guarded twenty-four hours a day now.”

“Sure thing, Ben. I’ll go see Roy now. Tell Joe I hope he feels better soon.”

Hoss walked back to the front door followed by the ranch hand. He would go out and see that his father’s wishes were followed completely. Ben walked slowly up the staircase. He dreaded having to tell his youngest son that he was still in danger.

Hop Sing placed the cool damp cloth on Joe’s forehead and pulled the covers up to the boy’s chin. He had thoroughly cleaned and tended all of Joe’s wounds now and was satisfied that the boy would be okay in time.

“Thanks.” Joe smiled at Hop Sing as he moved to allow Ben to take his place by the bed.

“You not move around. Hop Sing bring up your supper soon.” The cook cast a loving grin at the boy and then faced Ben. “Knot on head not too bad. Need to keep quiet—you no talk too much.”

Ben nodded obediently as the cook made his way out of the room. Reaching over, Ben took Joe’s hand into his own and fought to hide his over-powering worry. “Rather rough dismount wasn’t it, Son?” Ben smiled to try and break the tension.

Joe had more than enough experience with his father over the years to pick up on the dread that he read in the man’s somber brown eyes. “You might as well tell me.” He said.

Ben knew what the boy was referring to, he also knew that for Joe’s own safety he had to let him know what had really happened. “Joe, someone cut the cinch to your saddle. We found another note too.”

“I figured as much. That was a new cinch and you taught me how to check for wear and tear a long time ago, remember? It was in perfect shape this morning. What did my secret admirer have to say this time?” Joe was now playing the same game that his father was, trying to appear to not be as terrified as he really was.

“It made mention of the fall that your mother had.” Was all Ben could say.

“The bastard.” Joe replied madder now that someone would make light of what had been one of the Cartwrights darkest hours. Losing Marie was no joke, and it angered the woman’s son to have her name brought up by such evil.

“Whoever did this must have gotten to Cochise while you and your brother were working with those fences. I’ll have Hoss ask around—maybe someone saw something this time.” Ben tried his best to sound hopeful.

“Like as not, no-one saw anything just like last time. What are we going to do now, Pa? Do I have to stay inside this house for the rest of my life?”

“Just let me think on it, Joe. I’ll come up with something. I am sure Roy will come on out as soon as Cliff tells him what happened today. Just sit tight—we will figure this out.”

Joe closed his eyes and let his head rest back on the pillows. He hated the game that the attacker was playing with the entire family. This game was getting old as well as more deadly.

“You rest up. Hop Sing will bring you up your supper and I will come back to check on you.” Ben stood and pushed the curls back on his son’s forehead and settled the cloth back into place over the knot on Joe’s head.

“Pa, before you go—how about bringing me my holster? Hoss put it over on my bureau—I’d feel a whole lot better having it within reach.”

Ben could see the intensity in his son’s eyes along with the mounting fear on his face. Without saying anything in response, Ben walked over to retrieve the holster and gun and placed it on the boy’s night stand.

“Thanks.” Joe said grateful that his father understood exactly what he was feeling inside.

“Just don’t shoot any of us.” Ben tried for another grin which lost some of it’s effect when he reflected on the reason for his statement. He headed out of the room to try and figure the whole situation out.

It wasn’t long after the Cartwrights finished their supper that Roy Coffee made his appearance at the front door. Hoss led the sheriff over to the settee and the lawman settled down next to him. Ben could see from the man’s appearance that Roy was disturbed by all he had already heard about the second attempt on Joe’s life.

“Cliff filled me in on what all happened out here today.” Roy began as Ben sat down opposite the man. “I thought I had me a suspect, but guess I was wrong.”

“Who?” Hoss was quick to ask.

“Remember Pete Timmons? He showed up in town a week ago. I’ve been keeping my eye on him. There always was bad blood between him and Little Joe. I thought maybe his return to Virginia City was a sign that maybe he had something to do with all of this.”

Ben thought back to the trouble that Pete Timmons had caused in the past. It wasn’t more than a year previous that the man had tried to pin a murder charge on his youngest son. It had been a very awful period in his son’s life and Joe had fled the area to escape the charges. It was during that escape from the law that Pete had decided to take justice into his own hands to bring Joe in, and had sent a bullet through the boy’s leg. Even, later, after the inquest where Joe was found to be innocent of murder, Pete had still tried to harass him over what had happened. All the Cartwrights had been more than happy when Pete Timmons had left Virginia City for parts unknown. If he was back now, could he be the man who was after his son? Ben fell into a deep trance taking in the information, and it was only the sound of Roy’s cough that brought him back into the conversation.

“Ben—you still with us?” Roy asked staring over at his friend.

“Yeah—sorry. So, what were you saying about Timmons?”

“Got him on a drunk and disorderly charge last night for busting up the saloon. I was holding him over for questioning about Joe today. So, that blows the theory I had in mind. Cliff said that cinch was cut today—that would rule old Pete out. He’s been cooling his heels in my jail since nine o’clock last night.”

Ben frowned. Another dead end. They were no more closer to finding the mystery assailant than they were two weeks ago. “Joe said he checked that cinch today before he left out. And it was new. Whoever cut it must have done it while the boys were fixing that fence down at south shore.”

“I checked with the other men, Roy.” Hoss broke in. “Nobody saw anyone suspicious around the horses this afternoon.”

“Whoever this is sure is a slick one! Must be part ghost or something to slip in and out without anyone seeing him. Joe okay?” Roy changed the subject, his gaze looking toward the stairs.

“Yeah, I checked a little while ago—he’s asleep. Poor kid is getting spooked, refuses to let his gun get out of his sight.” Hoss replied with typical worry about his little brother’s well being.

“Can’t say as I blame him for that.” Roy nodded and then looked back to Ben. “I saw you got yourself some hands watching the house. You know I could take Joe into town and put him in protective custody if you want?”

Ben stood and turned his back on both of the other men. It was all starting to get to him now. He was Joe’s father, he should be the one to protect the boy. Ben was starting to feel as though he had failed the boy miserably. He vowed to himself that he would do a better job from that point on.

“Ben?” Roy called over to him once more. “You want me to take him into town?”

Ben shot back around, a determined set to his shoulders. “No. Joseph is staying here. If I can’t protect him in his own house then no-one can. You just see if you can find some more clues.” Ben reached into his pocket and handed the sheriff the other note. “Looks like the same handwriting—or printing rather. Don’t know if it will help you.”

Roy looked over the note and then back over to Ben. “Well, he knows about Marie—this is not just a casual acquaintance of Joe’s that’s for sure. I’m gonna get the best tracker I know on this in the morning. Hoss, will you take me down to where you and Joe left your horses today? Maybe that will help.”

“Sure, Roy.” Hoss replied and patted the lawman’s arm. “I’ll come into town first thing in the morning and take you there. Who you gonna get to track?”

“Jake Ferrell. He’s the best in the territory. Let’s see what he can do. You all try to rest easy if you can. I’ll let you know whatever I find out.” Roy stated and then stood to leave.

“Thanks, Roy. Hoss will see you tomorrow.”

“You keep your eye on Little Joe. I wouldn’t let him outa the house tomorrow.” Roy seemed insistent in his warning.

“He’s not going anywhere—I can assure you that.” Ben nodded.

“Thems tracks been brushed over.” Jake pointed toward the trodden ground just past where the Cartwright brothers had tied their mounts the previous day. “Somebody doubled back and took care of them—like as not right after the accident yesterday.”

Roy Coffee cursed under his breath and dug a heel into the ground. “So, you saying you ain’t gonna be able to trail them?”

“I didn’t say that. It’s just gonna be harder. Let’s go down to that creek bed and sees if we can find anything. Like as not they had to stop and water their own horse—and it’s a whole lot closer than going all the way down to Tahoe.” Jake led his horse, walking slowly towards the creek watching for even the remotest sign. Roy and Hoss trailed behind the man. They came to a halt right before the grassy embankment and stood back to give the tracker room.

“Well, somebody’s been here—that’s for sure. And not too long ago either. Freshly shod horse shoes looks like.” The man bent down and inspected the prints thoroughly. He had more than thirty years of experience both with the army and as a wagon guide. If anyone could find where the unknown killer was it was Jake. “Crossed the creek here. Let’s see if there’s a sign of him on the other side where the grass ain’t as dense.” Jake mounted his horse and so did the other two men. They crossed the narrow waters of the creek and came ashore on the other side.

“Turned towards the east. Looks like he headed Virginia City way. Let’s see how far this will take us.” Jake kicked at his horse’s sides.

A little over an hour later all three men came to a stop on the main road that led to town. “Lost him again. This is where he must have covered his tracks again. Maybe he went to Virginia City—maybe up towards the Truckee. Hard to tell now.” Jake shook his head. “I just can’t figure why he hides parts of his tracks and leaves other ones so visible. Think he’s playing a game with us. Bet he has some cavalry experience.”

“Lots of men around these parts have cavalry experience.” Roy nodded his agreement with what the tracker had conveyed.

“What now?” Hoss asked staring off into the distance.

“Well, I’m gonna head towards the Truckee, I’ll meet up with you both in town.” Jake said and turned his mount.

“C’mon, Hoss, I’ll buy you a beer.” Roy called over to the other man. He could tell that the Cartwright brother was starting to become more discouraged.

“Okay, then I gotta get home.” Hoss nodded and they headed towards town.

Ben stared over from his desk. Joe was sitting on the coffee table cleaning his Colt revolver. Ben knew what the boy was thinking and it was not going to go away.

“Joseph? How about helping me with these figures? I have added them up three times now and they are still wrong.” Ben called across the room.

Joe looked up at his father and grinned. “What you mean, Pa, is come over here and get your mind off of someone killing you, right?”

Ben laughed at Joe’s most accurate assessment of his statement. “You use to fall for this kind of thing. Guess it doesn’t work anymore, huh?”

Joe holstered his gun. He never use to wear it in the house and it still seemed odd to have the weight of it against his leg. On top of that the holster was pressing on the large mass of bruises that he had received the previous day and it hurt. Half limping, Joe made his way over to his father and perched on the top of the desk. “I wonder how Hoss is making out?”

“Oh, I’m sure he will report in soon.”

“You didn’t send for Adam again did you?”

“He should be back in a few days anyway. He was almost done with his business when I summoned him home last time.”

“Good. I don’t want to hear about me being the cause of him not finishing with the contracts for that railroad spur again! Besides, the idiot who wants me dead usually gives me a couple of weeks to heal before he tries to kill me again.” Joe laughed, but Ben could tell it had an undercurrent to it’s tone this time.

“It’s gonna be okay, Joe.” Ben whispered trying to calm the rage that he felt was building up in his son.

“I just can’t imagine who in the world hates me so bad to do this! I mean—you’d think that whoever it is could at least show me the courtesy to know who they are and why they want me dead!” Joe exclaimed.

Ben stood and walked over to his son and draped his arm around his shoulder. “I know how hard this is on you. Just try to hang in there a couple more days—we will find out who it is and put a stop to all of this. I’m not going to let anything else happen to you.”

Joe looked up into his father’s eyes, he saw the anger and the worry in them. “Pa, I don’t even feel safe in this house. You know they got in here once before remember?”

“That was before we posted men around the house. You don’t have to worry about that now.” Ben tried to reassure.

“Okay—fine! But, how long am I gonna hide here in the house?”

“Until we get whoever is responsible.”

“Pa—that could be days—weeks—or never!” Joe protested loudly.

“Now you wait just a minute. I recall you insisting on going out to help your brother yesterday—against my will. You walked right into this crazy person’s trap by leaving this house. It’s not going to happen again.”

“I’m gonna go crazy.” Joe replied insistently and saw his father grin.

“That will make two of us—I assure you! Now—how about some coffee?”

“One, that was a quick change of subject—even for you. And, two, I haven’t drank coffee for two weeks now. For some strange reason I have lost my taste for it.”

Ben patted Joe’s back and turned him toward the kitchen. “Well, then we will make you some of Hop Sing’s herb tea.”

“You are just trying to get me to drink something to shut me up, aren’t you?” Joe asked smiling as he walked with his father into the next room.

“Yes.” Ben chuckled. “As long as you are drinking you can’t be running your mouth.”

When Hoss returned later that evening he filled his family in on all that had happened with Jake and Roy. Hoss wished that he had better news to report, something more concrete than just the appearance of some tracks that seemed to lead to nowhere in particular. Hop Sing came out from the kitchen a short time after the middle son had ended his explanation of the day’s events.

“No more talk! Hop Sing have supper on table. Family come in now.”

Shooting each other amused glances at the cook’s normal stern insistence to eat while the meal was hot, all three men took their seats at the table. Hop Sing brought out the rest of the meal and it was then that he noticed Little Joe and the side-arm he was still wearing.

“Little Joe—you come in kitchen—need help.” Hop Sing called over to the youngest.

A bit bewildered, but not wanting to entertain the ire of Hop Sing, Joe stood and walked with the man into the kitchen. It was there that Joe was about to get an earful.

“What do you want me to do?” Joe asked looking around the room.

“Want you to take off gun. No place for gun at dinner table.” Hop Sing answered, but his voice was now calm and understanding.

Joe looked down at the weapon he still had strapped to his left hip. It was becoming second nature to him now, wearing it in the house and never taking it off until bedtime. “But, Hop Sing—” Joe started and the cook jumped right back in, cutting him off.

“Front door locked, side door locked.” Hop Sing paused and reached for the huge butcher knife with his right hand and raised it up. “Hop Sing guard kitchen door. Nothing for Little Joe to worry about. Take off for now. Have to kill Hop Sing to get to favorite boy.”

Joe grinned at his long time friend and protector. “Am I really your favorite?” Joe asked, but he already knew the answer.

“Love all Cartwrights the same.” Hop Sing threw in, realizing the slip of the tongue he had made. He reached over and put his hand on Joe’s shoulder and his dark eyes brightened. “But, I raise you—you special—vely special. Now—go! You make dinner cold.” Hop Sing broke from his emotional speech and urged the young man back into the dining room. Joe gave a brief laugh as he left the cook in the kitchen. As he walked past Ben and Hoss, their eyes followed him. Joe undid his gunbelt at the front door and placed it on the credenza and then walked back to take his place at the table. He could see the amusement in the eyes of his father and brother.

“Just until dinner is over.” Joe nodded and started to fill his plate.

The following day was as uneventful as the previous one had been. Roy Coffee had come out to the ranch and spoken to the Cartwrights in the afternoon and Hoss had left again with him to meet back up with the tracker. Ben coerced Joe into helping him with the inventory books and also the list of supplies that they would be needing. Later, Ben had challenged Joe to a game of chess. Joe sat at his father’s desk looking over the chess board and wondering just how in the world he could ever beat a pro like his father.

“Your move, Joseph.” Ben grinned. He knew check-mate was very near.

“Looks like you have beaten me again. I’d much rather play checkers with Hoss. At least I know I can beat him.”

“Oh really? Why? Because he doesn’t notice when you move around the pieces when he isn’t looking?”

“Now I know you are not accusing me of cheating, Pa.” Joe laughed. “Maybe—I kinda rearrange the pieces once and awhile—”

“Well, that is why I haven’t let my eyes off of this board since we started. Now, make your move. I will try to make your defeat as painless as possible.”

Joe moved his queen and it was then that Ben forced him into check-mate and the game came to a merciful end. Joe stood and shrugged his shoulders.

“Want to play another?” Ben asked as he moved the pieces to their original positions on the board.

“I’d rather drink poisoned coffee.” Joe grinned and walked back over to the fireplace.

Hoss was much later in returning this night and his family had started to worry about him when he walked through the door at last. Walking over to the livingroom, Hoss gave the appearance of being very tired.

“Hop Sing kept supper warming for you, Son. You must be hungry.”

“Naw—I ate something in town.” Hoss answered sitting down on the settee next to Joe.

“Well? You find out anything today?” Joe was eager to hear the news.

“Jake found some more tracks like the ones yesterday. One of the horse shoes is a little mis-shapen. He says it looks freshly shod too. Roy and I talked to Luther at the blacksmith’s shop. Didn’t come up with anything. For all we know whoever is doing all this might have put his own horse shoes on his horse. But, at least it’s something that may help to track him if we spot a set like his.”

Joe frowned. It wasn’t much of a clue, and things were still just as precarious as they had been for weeks. On top of that he was getting awfully bored with hanging around the house. Not that he wanted to be a target to the maniac who was out after him, but sitting around doing nothing was eating at his insides now.   Looking over at his father, Joe could tell that the man was reading what was on his face.

“Joseph—don’t even think about it.” Ben warned.

“I’m tired of all this! How long can I just sit around waiting for something to happen?”

“As long as you have to.”

To stop the battle between the two, a knock sounded on the front door. Hoss was the first man up and he strode slowly over to see who it was. The door was locked, and no-one was going to take chances until they knew who was on the other side.

“Who is it?” Hoss called through the door.

“Hank—can I come in?”

Hoss slid the bolt across the door frame and welcomed the hired hand. “How’s it going?’ Hoss smiled and led the man inside.

“Everything is fine. Just was gonna tell you folks that I am going to change shifts with Fletcher now. All’s peaceful.”

“That’s fine.” Ben called over to the man and stood from his chair. “I wanted to tell you both how much we appreciate all you have done to keep a watch on this place.”

“No thanks needed. Joe here is a real pill—” Hank laughed and looked over at him. “But, we sure wouldn’t want anything to happen to him.”

“Thanks a lot—that’s the nicest thing anyone has said to me all day.” Joe grinned. Hank waved and left the house, heading to get his replacement as guard over the ranch house. Joe stood and watched Hoss re-bolt the door. “I’m kinda tired.” He said and moved near Hoss. Retrieving the holster that he had set on the credenza earlier, Joe turned toward the staircase. “Goodnight, Pa—Hoss.”

“Goodnight, Son.”

“Yeah—goodnight there, Little Brother.” Hoss called as Joe’s form ascended the stairs. Hoss sat back down and stared over at his father. “This is really getting to him. Joe seems so tense.”

Ben shook his head discouraged at Hoss’ statement. It was an accurate assessment of his youngest son’s emotions. “I just wish I knew who was doing this. I’d sure like to get my hands on him!” Ben replied, his words full of the venom he felt.

“I’d like to get my sights on him, too.” Hoss agreed wholeheartedly.

Joe walked into his bedroom feeling drained emotionally.   Though he had not expended any real physical energy for awhile, the psychological effects of the waiting had taken over and he was spent. He walked over to his desk to light the lamp, figuring on reading for awhile to help him fall asleep. Just as soon as the light flickered to the height of the lamp’s glass sheathing the sound of a gun blast filled the room. Joe fell to the floor, his body making a loud thud as it hit. The intended victim had taken a direct shot from the hidden assailant’s gun. It was then that all hell broke loose inside and outside of the ranch house.

Outside, Fletcher had just walked out of the bunkhouse to start his watch. He heard the rapid hoofbeats as a shadowy figure shot out of the yard. Unable to make a clear shot, the hired hand rushed to the front door to see if anyone had been injured. He pounded on the door but had to wait for Hop Sing to appear to let him in. Both Ben and Hoss Cartwright were almost to the top of the stairs as Fletcher made it into the livingroom.

Ben and Hoss had but one thought when they had first heard the explosion of the gun blast coming from upstairs. Praying as they charged the stairs, they hoped their fears proved to be unfounded. Stepping into the Joe’s bedroom, their hearts dropped to see that their worst fear had been realized. Joe lay sprawled on the floor. Both men ran to the boy’s aid, each taking opposite sides of his body. They had already spotted the pool of blood spreading on the bare wood planking. Ben carefully rolled his son over and saw the gaping hole that the bullet had made in his son’s side. It was then that the grief-stricken father began to take charge of the situation.

“Douse that light!” He yelled to Hoss as he drew Joe up into his arms. “Then come into my room—I’m taking Joe in there!” Ben made it to the door in two long strides. Hoss blew out the lamp and ran past Ben and flung open his father’s bedroom door. As his father carried the wounded boy over to his bed, Hoss lit the lamp at Ben’s bedside.

Easing his youngest son down onto the comforter on the bed, Ben had to fight back his own terror. Blood was everywhere and still flowing freely. It spread it’s pattern down the boy’s shirt and off onto the bed linens. “Get someone out to fetch Doc!” Ben called to Hoss, panic in his voice. Hoss hurried out of the room and down the stairs, still praying as he made each step.

“Pa?” Joe mumbled trying to focus in on his father, but finding everything to be a bit of a blur.

“It’s going to be all right, Joseph.” Ben tried to calm the boy. He found his own fingers to be trembling as he struggled to loosen the blood soaked buttons of Joe’s shirt.

“Pa——they got me when I lit my light—must’ve been on the roof waiting—” Joe continued.

“Don’t talk, Son. You just try to rest easy.”

Joe reached up and grabbed his father’s collar to his shirt, leaving an imprint in blood on the blue cotton material. The young man was frightened and not at all sure he would survive his injury. “Pa—they’re out there—” Joe began again and tightened his grip on the shirt when pain ripped through his side. Ben reached for the hand and took it into his own. He, too, was terrified, but could not let it show on his face.

“It’s all right—Hoss has gone for help—you just try and settle back now.”

“It’s bad, Pa—I know it’s bad. I think they got what they wanted—I ain’t gonna make it.”

Ben watched as his son closed his eyes and passed out due to the blood loss and pain. Moving away from the bed for just a moment, Ben grabbed a hand towel by his wash stand and brought it over to help staunch the flow of blood. He had given up on getting the buttons of the shirt undone, now ripping the material and throwing both sides of the shirt open. It was at that moment that Hop Sing came in the doorway loaded down with supplies to tend the wound.

“Hold that light over here.” Ben instructed as the cook placed his labors down on the night stand. Hop Sing held the light closer so that the worried father could have a better look at the gunshot wound. Ben fought again his fear over his son’s chance for survival. “We’ve gotta try to stop the bleeding.” Ben turned and looked at Hop Sing.

“You keep pushing on wound—maybe help to clot—just till doctor come.” He answered and handed Ben more towels. Ben pulled back the first cloth he had used, it was totally covered in the crimson liquid now. Folding another, he pushed into the wound and Joe moaned in pain. He had hoped his son would remain unconscious so that he wouldn’t have to suffer the intense pain that the bullet had caused. The jagged hole started just below the right side of the boy’s ribcage. Ben had no idea how much internal damage had been done, he only knew that it wouldn’t stop bleeding.

“Pa——” Joe whispered as his eyes blinked back open returning to consciousness. “It hurts—it hurts bad.” This time his words were met with tears leaving his eyes. Ben grabbed the boys right hand with his own left hand, still holding tight the material over the wound with his other hand. He squeezed his son’s hand to try and force strength into the boy. It had worked before, during other times of crisis, Ben hoped and prayed it would work this time.

“C’mon, Joe, hang in there—you are going to be fine—just fine.” Ben fought back his own tears. This time he was not at all sure that his youngest would survive his injuries, but he refused to let it show on his face or in his words. Looking down at the cloth again, Ben could see that the blood had not yet let up. The cloth and Ben’s own hand were covered once more. Hop Sing handed another cloth bandage over to the father and this time Ben just placed it on top of the other one.

Ben closed his eyes in a quick prayer. He felt so totally helpless now. The bullet had to come out, and there was no doubt that there had to be some pretty severe damage due to the way the wound continued to bleed. How long would it take to get Doctor Martin out to the ranch? Could they wait? Should he try to remove the bullet himself? Ben thoughts raced in his mind, wondering what he should try next.

“I’m not gonna make it, Pa—” Joe whispered and bit his lip in pain.

“Joseph Francis Cartwright!” Ben boomed trying to jolt the boy out of his morbid reflections. “You listen to me right now. We have work to do around here and we can’t do it without you. So if you think I’m going to let you give up now you are very wrong. Now you hang in there—and that’s an order!”

Joe felt like he would be sick to his stomach. His nostrils filled with the smell of his own perspiration and blood and he thought he would faint. But, there was his father, even amidst the life threatening situation he was still barking orders at him to be strong. His father had told him to do something. No, his father had demanded him to do something! He had commanded him to hang in there and not give up. Joe tried his best to follow his father’s orders this time and not sink into the blackness that was beckoning him.

Doctor Paul Martin was a man of science. He had honed the skills of a professional doctor for over forty years. Medicine was his life. Tending folks was his livelihood and love. He believed in learning all that science could offer to aid with the practice of healing. This was not the typical country doctor. Paul had graduated from a heralded university in Boston. He had graduated at the top of his class. Paul often wondered why he hadn’t stayed back east, where there were a lot less bullets to dig out of folks. In the east, there were few savage animal attacks, gunslinger justice and all the injuries that occurred in a wild western town like Virginia City. Doctor Martin reasoned that it would be a much more challenging career in the west which was why he had stayed. Besides that, he was needed. Badly needed as the town had grown over the years and more and more ranches sprung up around Storey County.

It was this night, as he was just about to read a medical journal that had been delivered by stagecoach all the way from New England, that Doctor Martin felt uneasy and gave up the book. He stood from his comfortable leather chair and the feeling grew worse. Paul had never experienced quite this bad a feeling of foreboding. He tried to deal only with facts and usually paid little attention to feelings of intuition. This night he found himself to be failing miserably and tried to address it to himself.  Joe Cartwright—what have you done to yourself now?  Paul asked himself.  I’ve doctored you more than any other patient—guess I should be able to tell when something is wrong.  Paul shook his head, thinking himself half insane to be doing it, but convinced that he needed to get to the Ponderosa. Somehow he knew he was needed and needed fast.

Hoss had sent Fletcher out to get the doctor and could not believe his eyes when, not more than ten minutes after the hired hand had galloped out of the yard, both Fletcher and the doctor were pounding on the front door.

“Take me to him.” Doctor Martin insisted as he threw his cloak on the settee and followed Hoss up to his father’s room.

“I’ll take it from here.” Paul called as he walked into the bedroom. Ben stood, half thinking he was seeing things. He could not for the life of him imagine how the doctor had made it so quickly. Though it had felt like time had stood still, Ben knew it was much too soon to see Paul standing there. “Don’t ask.” Paul stated firmly reading Ben’s thoughts. Moving over to the side of the bed, Paul lifted the bloodied bandages. “Now, Young Man, what kind of business did you bring me this time?” He asked Joe. Weakly the boy managed to raise his hand slightly in a quick wave.

Paul examined the wound and then turned to Hop Sing. “You know what to do now.” He said and reached into his black medical bag and withdrew several instruments. “Get these boiled good. Bring boiling water and more lights. Let’s get this bullet out as quick as we can shall we?” Paul addressed the situation and Hoss and Hop Sing hurried down the stairs to do as instructed.

“Hurting pretty bad?” Paul asked Joe, who he had already figured would be out cold soon.

“My gut hurts.” Joe mumbled weakly.

“I would imagine it would—you got yourself a good sized hole there. You close your eyes, I was hoping your body would cooperate and knock you out so I don’t have to give you anything.”

Joe closed his eyes as Ben slowly stroked his arm trying to ease him back under. It wasn’t long before he had passed out again. “How bad?” Ben asked quietly.

Paul sighed and shrugged his shoulders. “We’ll know more once we’ve gotten him opened up some. You sit down in that chair and rest up a minute. Believe me it’s gonna be a long night for all of us.” Paul stood and started moving things around in the room readying for the additional lights that they would need to perform the surgery.

It wasn’t long before Ben’s bedroom had taken on the appearance of an operating room. Lights lit up the entire area and the bed was now draped in sheets and the patient undressed and ready for surgery. Doctor Martin washed the wound area with antiseptic in preparation for the needed incision through the bullet hole. Taking a deep breath, and noticing how the room seemed hushed with worry and anticipation, Paul cut into the young man’s side. Next came the probe beneath the pale skin seeking the projectile which had dug deeply into Joe’s flesh. After a few moments the instrument hit upon something solid. It was then that the retractor inched out the spent metal slug. With it came another gush of blood which was met with fresh cloth to catch the flow. Paul dropped the bullet into the dirty linen basin and it gave an ominous ring as it fell into the container. Ben and Hoss might just as well have been on the operating table themselves. They felt every inch of the incision and every jab of the probe as though they were the ones lying there.

Doctor Martin inspected the damage that the bullet’s path had caused. He went about suturing what he could, taking his time to close the wound. Cleaning the entire area once more, Paul tightened the new bandage which circled the boy’s abdomen. Finally, the doctor turned to the new basin of water which Hop Sing offered him and washed the boy’s blood from his hands.

“What do you think?” Ben asked, having waited as long as he could to hear the man’s prognosis.

Paul drew down his sleeves and sat down, his first chance in an hour’s time. “If that bullet hadn’t deflected off Joe’s bottom rib he would have died instantly. At least now he has a fighting chance. The next twenty-four hours will be the most critical. The damage is done. I have mended all I could. Now it’s up to Joe—and God.”

“Hop Sing bring coffee.” The Chinaman said trying his best to offer anything that would help the family. He hurried out of the room with what remained of the carnage that had covered the operating area. Hoss sat on the right side of the bed, with his father and the doctor remaining next to Joe on the opposite side. Hoss thought for a few minutes and then had to ask.

“What brought you out here tonight, Doc?”

Paul smiled and looked fondly at the young man unconscious on the bed. It was a sight he had seen so many times he could no longer count nor remember the talley. “Just had a feeling.”

“Thank God you listened to that feeling.” Ben replied and put his hand on Paul’s shoulder. “I don’t know what we would have done without you.”

“I just hope it’s enough.” Paul said somberly and reached to feel of Joe’s pulse. “It’s weak—but that is to be expected after all the blood he’s lost.”

“Oh, Joseph, how many times have we sat here like this?” Ben whispered letting his hand stroke the perspiration off his son’s forehead. He thought back to the various times he had sat beside his son’s bed and tried to pray him back to health. “Why is it always you, Boy?”

“Oh, Pa.” Hoss broke in now. “He’s as tough as they get, you know that! None of us could have made it through what he’s been through in his life.”

“My point exactly. Why must he go through these things? It just isn’t fair.” Ben had protest in his reply.

“I don’t guess we will ever know, Pa. All’s we can do is pray that he keeps beating the odds.” Hoss whispered and reached for his brother’s hand. “You hear that, Little Brother? Now you beat those odds again to show us all that you never quit.”

Hop Sing re-entered the room and passed around the coffee cups. Each man accepted the needed drink. They were pleasantly surprised to find that the cook had laced the coffee with some of Ben’s brandy.

“Ben—” Paul started after he saw that the worried father had polished off his drink and was a little more relaxed for the moment. “You go change your clothes. Hoss and I will keep an eye on Joe.”

Ben did not understand the statement at first. It was only when he looked down at his shirt that he realized he was covered in blood from tending Joe’s wound and carrying the young man earlier. Nodding, Ben walked to his bureau and pulled out a change of shirt and pants. He decided to go and change in the guest room next to his own.

Bending over the fresh basin of water in the next room, Ben rinsed his tired face. The water in the basin slowly tinged with the stain of blood from the father’s hands. It was then that the tears came, as Ben realized how close they were to losing Joe. Moving over to the bed, Ben almost collapsed upon it. He decided it was best for everyone if he took the time to let his emotions out far away from where his son lay wounded. Ben wept out of fear for his youngest son. The boy with the smile, the boy with the youthful enthusiasm that the Cartwright family could never live without. Slowly Ben pulled off the blood soaked shirt and the stained trousers and donned his fresh clothes. He prayed that God would show mercy on his youngest and let him live. He prayed that they could somehow catch and bring to justice whoever had tried to kill his son. Ben prayed for the ability to walk back into his bedroom and be the pillar of strength that all had come to expect from him. Gathering his faith as well as his courage, Ben Cartwright walked next door and put on his bravest face.

Ben glanced in the doorway as he returned to his room. The pale figure in the bed looked so small, so helpless, that it took the father’s breath away. Laying there in the bed that Ben had once shared with the boy’s mother, Joe fought to survive his injuries. Moving closer, the anguished father shot a glance over to his other son. “Why don’t you turn in, Son? We will wake you if anything changes.” Ben whispered.

“Actually, we were just discussing that, Ben. I think we ought to all take shifts tonight.” Paul interjected. “There is no reason for us all to be exhausted in the morning.”

“Fine.” Ben said abruptly. “Why don’t you and Hoss try and get a few winks. I couldn’t fall asleep now if I tried.”

“Yeah—that’s just what Doc and I thought.” Hoss fought back a grin. “Okay—I’ll go and lay down awhile. You call me if —” Hoss trailed off.

“We’ll call you.” Doc nodded as the big man stood and patted his father’s shoulder and left the room.

Ben stroked his son’s forehead to detect a fever and to let Joe know that he was still there with him. “Seems warm.” He called over to Paul.

“Yes—he’s running a bit of a fever. I expected that. It’s not too high.”

Ben sighed and sat back down and settled in for the night. “You go and get some rest. Hop Sing has the guest room ready for you, Paul.”

“I guess I will take you up on that. I’ll be back in a few hours. You come and get me if you notice any change at all.”

Ben nodded. “Get some rest.”

With both the doctor and Hoss out of the room, Ben fell deep into thought. He knew he had to come up with something to prevent any more harm befalling his youngest. Praying continuously for both Joe’s recovery and also an answer to their problem, Ben came up with an idea. Reaching over and taking his son’s right hand into his own Ben talked to the boy as though he was conscious.

“I told you that I would keep you safe, Joseph—I failed you. I am so sorry. But, I think I have it all figured out now. All you have to do is get well, I will take care of everything else.”

It was, just as the doctor had predicted, a very long night. Joe’s temperature mounted and he spoke out feverishly in his delirium. Ben was at his side the whole time, cooling his fevered brow and talking words of love and encouragement. Hoss and the doctor had only slept a few hours and then had joined the exhausted father along side the injured young man. By early morning Joe had settled down and was resting more peacefully. His fever had peaked during the night and was now going back down. All three men took that as a good sign that the infection had not spread and that Joe might again do the impossible and survive his bullet wound.

“It’s still a bit too early to tell—but I think he’s going to make it. The kid is a walking miracle—but then we already figured that out.” Paul smiled as he checked the boy’s pulse. It was regular now, though still a bit weak.

“Thank God.” Ben whispered and stood from his chair. “Hop Sing has breakfast ready—why don’t you both go and grab something?”

“No, YOU are going to eat first! Doctor’s orders! When you come back up Hoss and I will eat.” Paul insisted. He was beginning to worry about the health of his friend. Ben looked weak himself. Paul knew that the night along with weeks of worry had taken it’s toll on the father.

Ben sighed, not willing to raise the ire of the doctor. He decided to do as he was told and left the room.

Just after his breakfast, Ben walked toward the livingroom heading back to check on his son and to get the other two men down to eat. As he rounded the corner of the dining room a loud knock sounded on the front door. Sliding the lock, Ben pulled the door open and saw Roy standing on the other side.

“How’s Little Joe?” Roy asked anxiously. Ben led the man in and relocked the door quickly.

“He made it through the night. Doc says he isn’t out of the woods yet—but is holding his own.”

“Fletcher showed me where he saw the attacker flee last night. Them’s the same tracks we spotted at south shore. I got Jake trailing him now. Hank is with him, said he would come back and tell me what they find.”

“Roy, I had an idea last night. Let’s go upstairs to talk about it.” Ben replied and Roy looked at the man confused. There was something in the way Ben had made his statement that peaked his curiosity. He had seen the expression before on the man’s face, too. Roy had played many a game of chess with his old friend over the years. Ben looked like he was just about to move someone into check-mate.

Roy reached down and put his hand on Joe’s shoulder affectionately. He had known the young man since Joe was in diapers. He hated to see Joe laying there fighting for his life. Roy worried that it was somehow his fault, for not nabbing the perpetrator earlier. Shaking his head sadly, Roy looked back over at the other three men.

“Fletcher said he was just getting ready to start his shift of watching this place when he heard the shot.”

“Shot Joe right through the window—” Hoss started, his anger once again building in his chest. “Had to be up on the roof—just waiting on him to light that lamp.”

“Fletcher also said there was no note this time.” Roy replied looking over at Ben for confirmation.

“If he had one—guess he had to get out of here too fast to leave it.” Ben nodded.

“Okay—Ben—let’s hear it.” Roy said and leaned against the door.

“Hear what?” Hoss asked.

“Your pa here has a plan.” Roy grinned looking forward to hearing it.

Ben reached around the sheriff and closed the door. “This is for our ears only. The five of us here in this room—oh and we will let Hop Sing in on it as well.”

“How come all the secrecy?” Paul asked, now he, too, was getting curious.

“For Joe’s protection. Last night it occurred to me that no-one other than us here know that that gunshot didn’t kill Joseph. I brought him in here—to my room—since it is obvious that the attacker has been watching this house—probably for weeks. This is where Joseph will stay—until it is over.”

“You mean till we catch the guy?” Hoss asked.

“Yes—but first we have to make everyone think that Joe died from his wounds.”

“What!” The chorus of the Hoss, Paul and Roy rang out.

“He wanted Joe dead. I think we should pass around the word that he succeeded.”

“But why? I mean—you think he will just pack up and leave?” Roy questioned, still not catching on to the whole plot.

Ben sat down on the bed, wanting to be closer to his youngest in case he started to come around during the explanation. “We said originally that whoever did this wanted to scare the entire family—as well as kill Joe. That was the point with all the notes right? Kinda gloating about what he was doing? Now if someone would go to all that trouble—don’t you think that they would want to see the grief they had caused this family by killing this boy?”

It was so quiet you could have heard a pin drop in the room. The other men, finally getting Ben’s drift on what he wanted to do.

“So—you think it will draw them out into the open?” Paul asked.

“Yes—but this is gonna take some planning.” Ben nodded. “There will have to be a funeral—unfortunately we will have to go through all the motions of a family who is burying a loved one.”

Hoss gulped, just the thought was tightening up his throat, and causing a pain in his chest. He could not imagine going around pretending that he had lost his little brother. Gathering his senses, the big hearted man realized this might be the only way that they could prevent another attack on Joe. “We’re gonna have to get Adam here.” He finally spoke up.

“Everyone will have a role in this. Doc—you will have to spread the word once you return to town. Roy—you will have to tell everyone you are proceeding with this as a murder investigation. Hoss—once Adam is here the two of you will have to go and choose a casket. This won’t work unless we do it right.”

“You aren’t gonna let any of the hired hands know?” Roy asked.

“No—we just can’t chance it.” Ben insisted.

“Well, Ben—though Joe is doing better—and we are assuming he will get better. I will still need to check on him the next few days. How do I justify coming here? Wouldn’t it give away the fact that he’s still alive?”

“I’ve thought of that.” Ben smiled wisely. “You are here to treat the bereaved father. You can just tell folks that I am not taking this well. That would also explain the reason that I don’t show up in town. That way I can keep a good eye on Joe’s recovery and supervise what is going on with the funeral plans.

“Well, there’s no time like the present.” Roy called over to the other men. “Guess I will catch up with Jake and tell him the bad news—and then head into town to make the announcement.”

“I’ll go grab some breakfast with Doc—and then send that wire to Adam.” Hoss nodded as he moved toward the door.

“I guess I have a death certificate to falsify—”   Paul neared Hoss. “I’ll be back tonight. Anyone asks it is to sedate you, Ben.” Paul smiled as Ben walked over to the other men.

“I appreciate all of your cooperation in this. If there was any other way—” Ben trailed off.

Roy and Paul clapped Ben on the back for reassurance. “I think it just might work. Don’t worry, Ben.” Roy replied and followed Paul and Hoss out of the room.

Through fogged senses, Joe opened his eyes later that evening trying to figure out where he was. He felt like he was swimming in the large bed and knew it wasn’t his own. The light on the night stand gave off a slow glow and he noticed the pictures of his father’s three wives staring over at him. It wasn’t until then that Joe realized that he was in the room across the hall from his own. Ben had at last fallen off to sleep in the chair close to the right side of his bed. The previous night’s events filled Joe’s cloudy mind. He knew how close he had come to death, and was amazed that he had indeed survived his injury.

Ben somehow sensed, even in deep slumber, the penetrating green eyes of his boy. Shifting his weight in the hard wooden chair, Ben opened his eyes and stared over at Joe.

“I think you need to be in this bed.” Joe whispered, his throat dry and scratchy.

“Joseph—” Ben smiled broadly. “It’s about time you came back to us. Let me get you something to drink.” Ben poured a glass of water and held it up to Joe’s lips, carefully holding the back of the weakened boy’s head with his own strong hand. Joe drank some and signaled he was through and Ben set the glass back down. “We’ve got to stop meeting like this.” Ben spoke kidingly and moved to sit on the bed next to his son. Joe groaned as he tried to move and his father stopped his attempt. “You’ve got an awful lot of stitches there, Young man. You just keep still. Let me check those bandages. I was going to do it an hour ago but you were sleeping so peacefully I didn’t want to disturb you.” Ben pulled down the comforter and sheet and stared down at the white bandages which encircled Joe’s stomach. There had been no further bleeding and the sight eased Ben’s mind and heart. “Looks good—real good.” Ben commented satisfied.

“I thought he had killed me for sure, Pa. Sorry I scared you.”

“My hair can’t turn any more white than you have made it already.” Ben chuckled. “Do you think you could hold down some broth?”

“Stomach’s kinda hurting—maybe later.” Joe paused and looked once more around the room with his eyes. “How did I get in here anyway?”

“I brought you in here last night. We didn’t want to take any chances with you in your own room. Guess whoever shot you watched the house a little too well. You are staying in here until you are well again. Doc says that won’t be for awhile either, so don’t give me any trouble this time please.”

Joe noticed how dark the circles were around the bottom of his father’s eyes. Ben looked down right haggard and it worried his son more than his own gunshot. “Pa—looks like you’ve been up all night. You go on to bed—I’m gonna be okay.”

“First of all—I did catch some winks today. I am fine. Secondly, I am not leaving you right now so stop your protests. And lastly, you are in MY bed.” Ben patted the boy’s arm and was elated to see the smile that formed on Joe’s face.

“I never knew how comfortable your bed was.”

“Oh? Seems to me you’ve spent a night or two in here before?”

“Yeah—but never had it to myself. Sure is bigger and softer than mine is.” Joe replied but then his face turned to a grimace as pain hit him. His hand fell to his abdomen and touched at the bandages. Ben was quick to push his son’s prying hand away from his incision.

“Don’t touch! And I believe that’s enough talking for right now. That wound is nothing to play around with either. We almost lost you—” Ben trailed off as the dreadful images of the prior night flooded his thoughts. He would never forget seeing his own hands coated with his son’s blood.

Joe frowned. He wanted to know all of what had gone on while he had been under. Ben could read the concern on the boy’s face. He found himself running his hand through the boy’s hair to quiet him.

“I’ll explain everything later on. I want you to rest now.”

“I will if you will.” Joe bargained.

“Now—I’m supposed to be watching you.” Ben protested standing from the bed.

Joe shot another smile to his father. Though it was a bit weak, it was just as captivating as always. “You can watch me from over here.” Joe pointed to the other side of the bed.

Ben laughed out loud this time. The look of the bed was inviting, and no matter what he had told his youngest, he was exhausted. He had only dosed for a short time during the early afternoon and Ben knew he could use some real sleep. Then there was the look on the boy’s face which beckoned him to lay down next to him. He knew Joe was concerned with his father’s well-being, but maybe there was something more to his request? Maybe Joe just wanted the reassurance of his father there next to him? Regardless of the boy’s motivations of his plea, Ben could not resist the offer.

Walking around the bed and trying to settle down on the left hand side of the boy as gently as possible, Ben caved into the request. Ben lay on his back and closed his eyes, his head sinking down onto the pillows. He did not see the look of contentment on Joe’s face as he also closed his eyes.

“Thanks.” Joe whispered, feeling safe and protected. The attacker had damaged more than just his gut, he had scared the hell out of him. Joe had said to both his father and his brother that he had not felt safe in the house. Now they all knew he had been right in his assumption.

“Go to sleep, Joseph.” Ben whispered as his right hand fell on the boy’s left arm. It wasn’t more than a few minutes before they both were fast asleep.

Hop Sing stole quietly into his employer’s bedroom a little while later. He saw the two slumbering Cartwrights and it brought a glow to his face. Reaching for the blanket folded at the bottom of the bed, Hop Sing covered Ben with it and turned from the room. Two of his favorite people in the world were fine and he wasn’t about to disturb them now.

“How’s Joe?” Hoss asked as he met the cook who had just come down the stairs.

“He fine. Sleep now. You send message to Mr. Adam?” Hop Sing asked. He had already been apprized of the plot that Ben had devised to catch the person who had shot Joe.

“Yep. Got the ball rolling. Roy has already started telling folks about what happened.” Hoss replied sitting down in the livingroom.

“What we do? People start coming to ranch soon. People want to tell Carlights how sorry they are.”

“Got that covered too. Roy and Doc are both telling folks to leave us to our grief until the funeral.”

Hop Sing smiled at how well the plan was working. “Got fine supper for Mr. Hoss. Hop Sing go get now.”

“Maybe I should go and spell Pa so he can eat first?”

Hop Sing grinned and shook his head. “Mr. Ben asleep—you no wake. He eat later.”

“Maybe I need to go sit with Joe then—if Pa is asleep?” Hoss was concerned for his little brother now.

“Little Joe just fine. You come to table—Hop Sing feed you.”

Hoss stood again and followed the cook into the next room. He could not figure out how Joe could be fine with his father sleeping in the next room, but knew if of all people Hop Sing was satisfied as to Joe’s well-being that he had to be fine.

Doctor Martin made his way back to the Ponderosa late that night. He, too, had gotten some rest after his long ordeal at the ranch the night before. It was time to check his patient to be sure he was on the mend. Hoss led the doctor up to his father’s room and they both paused in the doorway taking in the sight of the slumbering Ben and Joe.

Paul reached down to feel Joe’s pulse when the boy’s eyes opened. “Hey—Doc—guess I owe you some thanks again.” Joe whispered.

“Thought you were sleeping, Joe.” Paul smiled at the boy and reached to check his fever.

“Naw—woke up a little while ago. Pa is out of it, though.”

Ben rolled to his side and looked over at his son and the doctor. “I am awake.” He informed them both.

“Well, just glad to see you finally got some rest, Ben. You know you aren’t getting any younger.” Paul teased as Ben sat up in the bed.

“With this boy here putting me through all this I would have to say you are right—I’m NOT getting any younger.”

Hoss walked closer to the bed. “How you doing, Little Brother?”

“I’m okay. I was wondering where you were.” Joe answered. He still was curious to know what was going on.

“Just a minute. Before you all get in a deep conversation here, I need to check you out.” Paul said sternly and drew out his stethoscope to listen to the boy’s chest. Everyone stopped talking and watched as the doctor examined Joe thoroughly. He listened to the Joe’s lungs and his heart and then opened the bandages to inspect the wound. When he was at last done, Paul looked satisfied. “Still got a bit of a fever. Other than that you are doing pretty good. I need to put something on that wound to clean it a little better. This is gonna sting.” He said and reached into his medical bag. When Paul started to cleanse the wound with the antiseptic Joe grimaced in pain and grabbed the comforter in his hands in an attempt to fight for control. “Sorry, Joe. Almost done.” Paul apologized for the hurt he was causing. Joe fought back his groans as best he could as the doctor redressed the wound and covered him back up. “All done. This isn’t a mere flesh wound that you have, Joe. This is serious. You have to stay as still and as calm as possible to allow the wound to heal. Have you eaten anything today?”

“He complained about his stomach hurting when I suggested broth. He has only had some water today.” Ben was quick to answer for his son, who probably wouldn’t have told the truth of the matter.

“Your stomach is going to hurt for quite awhile. That’s no reason not to get something into you, Joe. I’ll go and have Hop Sing fix you some broth.” Paul walked toward the door and stopped. “You all can talk until I return. After that Joe is going to eat and go back to sleep. He needs his rest.” Paul addressed them all sternly and then left the room.

“He’s right. You just had surgery yesterday. You don’t need to do anything right now except rest.” Ben agreed with the doctor, as usual.

Joe frowned and looked back over at his brother. “So? Where you been? And what is going on? Did you catch the guy?” Joe shot out as many questions as possible, knowing he had little time before the doctor would be back.

“You haven’t told him yet. Pa?” Hoss asked, not sure how much to tell Joe.

Ben cleared his throat and sat down next to Hoss. “I haven’t told him anything yet.”

“What’s the big secret?” Joe asked and tried to sit up, but his sutures were unwilling to let him. Groaning and reaching for his abdomen, Joe settled back against the pillows.

“We will tell you everything if you promise to stay quiet.” Ben offered.

“Okay—I won’t say anything—just tell me.” Joe agreed and waited for one of his family members to get on with the explanation.

“Well—” Hoss started and glanced back over at Ben. “Pa figured that whoever’s been trying to get you won’t stop until he does you in for good.”

“Came close last night!” Joe spouted out angrily.

“Joseph—” Ben warned the boy to settle down and keep quiet as he had promised.

“Go on—I’ll shut up.” Joe nodded back to his brother.

“Well, like I was saying, Pa thinks he will keep trying. So, we decided to let him think that he killed you last night.”

“Actually the story is that you expired this morning, after Paul worked on you all night.” Ben grinned wickedly at the idea of his plan.

“I’m dead?” Joe asked incredulously. “Damn—”

“Joseph! You said you would keep quiet! Besides that, dead men don’t swear—so watch that mouth!” Ben looked at the boy sternly.

“You ain’t gonna be dead for long, Little Brother. Just till we catch this guy. We figured he’d show his self soon. You know—kinda see how bad he had hurt the rest of us by killing you?”

Joe shook his head in disbelief, still finding this charade hard to fathom. He wanted to throw in his own opinion, but looking at his father he held his tongue. Ben was not playing.

“So, we sent a telegraph to get Adam back here. Then, after the necessary arrangements we will have your funeral. We think we can catch him. Oh, that’s another reason why you are enjoying the amenities of my room. We don’t want to chance someone seeing the light on in your room.” Ben jumped in with his explanation of their plan.

“Can I say something now?” Joe asked weakly and gave his family a pleading look.

“What do you say, Pa? Do we want to hear from the corpse?” Hoss laughed.

“Hoss—please!” Ben shot his middle son a pained look. “Don’t call your brother a corpse—at least not in front of him.”

“I think you both are enjoying this a little more than you should be.” Joe responded.

“We are gonna catch this guy —I promise you!” Hoss changed his attitude to fit the seriousness of the situation.

“Who all knows that I’m not really dead?” Joe asked.

“The three of us, Hop Sing, Roy and of course Doc.” Ben answered as Paul made it back into the bedroom with Joe’s broth. “Looks like time is up, Joseph. No more talk. You drink your broth then it’s time to go back to sleep.”

“But——I have more questions!” Joe protested and the doctor moved in.

“You drink this and that’s it for the night. I do not feel like re-suturing your gut tonight. Don’t make me give you some sleeping powders.” Paul warned and handed Joe the cup of broth.

“NO! No more sleeping powders.” Joe insisted. “I never want to take another one of those again.” Joe remembered back on his experience with the powder- laced coffee and the awful night of trying to keep him awake. The three other men laughed at Joe’s demand not to take the medicine.

“I didn’t figure you’d want any more of them, Little Brother. And I sure wouldn’t want to throw you in another cold bath.”

“You did not THROW me.” Joe smiled and winked over at his father.   Ben laughed at his own words coming back through his youngest son.

“Glad we got that straightened out.” Ben patted Joe’s arm as he stood from the chair.

“Oh—Ben-speaking of throwing things, Hop Sing told me that if you don’t come down right now and eat your dinner that he is going to throw it out.”

“Will you join me, Paul? Hoss has already eaten. He’ll stay to make sure Joe does what you told him.”

“Sounds good.” The doctor nodded. “Now you polish off that broth and get some sleep. I will stop by tomorrow to check on you.” Paul directed at his patient.

“Won’t it look funny for you to come out here? I AM supposed to be dead you know?” Joe asked as he sipped his broth.

Paul walked with Ben to the door and paused and put his hand on the father’s shoulder and called back over to Joe. “I am here to help the bereaved father.” Paul winked.

“I don’t know about that.” Joe called over to the two men. “Looks like he is taking my demise pretty well.”

“No more talking!” Ben warned Joe. “Eat and get to sleep. Leave the bereavement to your father—I will try to do it justice for you. Lord knows I have almost lost you so many times it should not be hard to pull off.”

Paul and Ben left the room and Hoss sat with Joe to make sure that his brother did exactly what he had been told to do. Joe drank his broth, and though he really wanted to talk with Hoss, he was exhausted by the time his brother took away his cup.

“That’s it, Little Brother. You just rest.” Hoss whispered softly as Joe dosed back off. He pulled the covers up on the boy and ran his hand over his head lightly. Hoss closed his eyes as he settled down in the chair. He whispered a thank you to God for protecting his brother.

Adam Cartwright watched out the stage’s window the familiar sights as it pulled into Virginia City. It had been a whirl-wind trip. Though his father had given him the okay to get the railroad contracts signed, Adam had not stayed longer than a day to accomplish the chore. He had jumped on the very next stage for home. He knew that there was still danger at the ranch since the person who had poisoned his youngest brother was still at large. Adam decided he was badly needed to help in finding whoever it was who wanted to harm Joe. As he stepped wearily down the steps disembarking from the stage, Adam had no idea of what had transpired in the last two days; but he was about to find out.

“Oh, Adam!” Came the call from a young lady walking up in front of the stage line. Before Adam could fully turn around he felt the woman’s arms around his neck and a kiss to his cheek. Looking down into the woman’s eyes, Adam saw the tears that were freely falling from them. “Tell your Pa and Hoss how sorry I am—if any of you need anything—anything at all just tell me.” She said and left just as hurriedly as she had approached.

“Debra?” Adam said out loud as the woman ran off. He had no idea what she was talking about. The coachman tossed down Adam’s luggage at his feet. Adam looked in the direction of the Silver Dollar Saloon. He figured he could use a drink before renting a horse for the ride back to the Ponderosa.

Stepping into the saloon, Adam spied the bartender. “Hey, Sam! How ‘bout a beer for a weary traveler?”

Sam stared over at his customer, and Adam thought he detected the sound of a sniffle. Maybe old Sam was coming down with a cold, Adam thought to himself as the bartender hurried to the other side of the bar to draw off the liquor.

“On the house.” Sam nodded solemnly as he handed it to Adam. He then shook his head sadly and turned away. He did not want to mention Joe’s name, the bartender still being very upset to learn of his death.

“Thanks.” Adam said a bit confused. The doors to the saloon swung open and Adam turned to see Mitch Devlin; Joe’s best friend.

“Adam—” Mitch said and neared the other man. He threw his arm around Adam’s shoulder and then choked back tears. “I can’t believe he’s gone!”   Mitch whispered.

“Huh? What the heck are you talking about, Mitch? And why is everyone acting so funny around here?”

Mitch stood back and stared into the brown eyes that were unemotional. He knew that Adam was known to be the most aloof Cartwright, but he figured he would at least show some sadness in losing his youngest brother. It then dawned on Joe’s friend that the other man didn’t know what had happened. “You don’t know?” He asked warily.

“Know what? I just got in on the stage. What is it?” Adam was now getting a bit angry.

“Joe—Joe was killed the other night—” Mitch trailed off as he saw the words strike Adam’s face, rendering confusion and then shock.

“What! How?” Adam grabbed Mitch by the collar hoping it was some kind of sick joke. When he saw the young man’s eyes he knew that it was no joke. Mitch was apparently devastated over the loss of his best friend.

“Shot him right through his window at the ranch. I’m sorry, I thought you knew—”

Adam shot out of the bar leaving his luggage still sitting on the floor of the saloon. He ran down to the livery stable and quickly called for a horse. It was only a few minutes before he was gone in a flash, heading home.

The road home never seemed longer than it did that afternoon as Adam raced to the Ponderosa ranch house. His mind filled with thoughts of his youngest brother. He never had even toyed with the thought that the kid would die. Joe had beaten the odds so many times that he had decided that the boy had as many lives as a cat. No, his little brother could not be dead! Adam could feel his heart beat rapidly in his chest as he reeled from the thought of what Joe’s death would mean to the family. He thought of his father. Ben would be destroyed if he lost his youngest son, the one he most often doted on. The boy who got most of the attention, both good and bad from their father. There wouldn’t be any joy if Joe was gone, and that would suck the very life out of Ben Cartwright.

Adam then thought on what Joe’s death would do to the tender-hearted Hoss; the one who was the brunt of most of the boy’s practical jokes and teasing. The one who was Joe’s staunchest defenders. Hoss would lose a part of himself if he couldn’t be Joe’s big brother anymore. Lastly, Adam thought on what Joe being gone would do to himself. He had always guarded himself from the charms of his youngest brother. He never had allowed Joe to get away with things when he was around. Whereas Hoss was Joe’s biggest defender, Adam found himself to be Joe’s greatest critic most times. He couldn’t help it. Adam saw how the other two Cartwrights continually allowed themselves to be distracted by Joe’s boyish charm.

He knew that the kid could do no real wrong in Ben nor Hoss’ eyes. Adam could see through Joe like no-one else. And what he had always seen was in no way completely flattering. His father had once told Adam that he felt the problem between the two of his sons had much more to do with jealousy than anything else. It was just starting to hit Adam that perhaps his father had been right. So often he had longed for the kind of attention and affection which was so freely given to the handsome youngster. But, then, Joe needed those kinds of things and Adam didn’t. Or had he and not realized it?

Adam felt a stray tear fall from his eye. Consumed with guilt now, he was aware that all along he had wished to be more like Joe and yet he had always insisted he was trying to make Joe more like him. **what a waste! God, Joe, I am so sorry—so sorry**** Adam’s thoughts sounded in his mind. He would never be able to tell Joe those words.

The front door to the ranch house flew open and Adam yelled as he entered. “Pa! Hoss!”

Hoss came around from the kitchen and was shocked to see his brother back so soon. He had just sent the telegraph the previous day. There would be no way that Adam could have gotten home that fast.

“Adam! Hey—you got here quick!” Hoss smiled as he made his way over to his brother.

“Where’s Pa?” Adam demanded his eyes circling the room.

“He’s upstairs—wait Adam—I have to tell you—” Hoss started but Adam charged the steps and ran up before he could finish his statement.

Adam just about mowed his father down in the hallway upstairs. Ben had just closed his bedroom door and was starting for the stairs. “Oh, Pa!” Adam cried and put his arms around his father’s neck. “I’m so sorry—so sorry—I should have been here! The kid is gone—oh God—the kid is gone!” Adam fell to tears.

It was then that Ben realized what was going on. Adam had evidently heard of his brother’s demise and had not learned the truth as he had made it to the ranch. Ben pulled his son back and tried to explain. “No—Adam—no! Joe is alive! He’s in my room now. I’m so sorry that we couldn’t get to you sooner to tell you.” Ben whispered his explanation.

Adam looked at his father and could tell from his eyes that he was telling the truth. “What? But, Mitch said—”

“I’ll explain it all to you—let’s go downstairs.” Ben tried to turn Adam around but he fought him and tried to open the bedroom door to see for himself. Ben could tell what his son needed and whispered as Adam turned the doorknob. “Be quiet—he is asleep.”

Both Cartwrights entered the bedroom and Adam was first to make it to Joe. The young man looked very pale, but also very alive. Adam put his hand down on Joe’s chest and could feel the movement of the blanket as he breathed in his slumber.

Adam fell into the chair by the bed and covered his eyes with his hands. “Thank God.” He whispered trying to control his tears. “I can’t tell you all that went through my head on the way out here, Pa. To think I’d never get to see Joe again—never get to explain—”

“Explain what, Son?” Ben asked nearing his eldest.

Adam stared back over at his brother and then up at his father. “Nothing—I’m just glad he is alive.” Adam caught himself before it was too late. He had almost revealed himself. That could wait now, Joe was alive.

“Let’s go downstairs and I will tell you all that has happened.” Ben patted Adam’s shoulder. He knew there was something in Adam’s heart that he needed to tell Joe. Ben knew it had always been there, and someday would be released.

“Too ornery to die.” Adam whispered as he touched Joe’s hand and then turned out of the bedroom.

Adam tossed down his third drink of brandy fighting for a liquor induced calm. Ben and Hoss had carefully explained their plan to him and he had listened intently and nodded his agreement. Still finding the whole day to be much too full of excitement, Adam excused himself early to turn in for the evening. He made a slight detour into his father’s room just to make sure his youngest brother still slept peacefully. With a lighter heart, Adam walked to his room for some badly needed rest.

“How has he been today?” Paul whispered as he felt Joe’s left wrist for a pulse. Ben took a seat next to the bed and stared over at his son and at the doctor’s concern.

“Hasn’t been too lively today, Paul. I’m afraid he’s been sleeping for most of it. He did come around a couple of hours ago and had some broth, but then he faded right off. Is something wrong?”

Paul removed the bandages and poked and prodded the gunshot wound to the boy’s side. He noticed the thin streaks of red that offset the paleness of Joe’s abdomen. “Looks like he has a bit of infection brewing in there. That’s probably what has weakened him.” Paul paused as he saw his friend’s face go white. “Now—Ben—we have been through this kind of thing before—don’t go getting all upset. This is Joe Cartwright here, remember? He never does things the easy way.” Paul tried to console the father as he reached into his medical bag.

Ben stood and made his way next to the doctor to look at what the other man was seeing. “Here we have told everyone Joe is dead—maybe we shouldn’t have jinxed him.” Ben muttered.

“Ben Cartwright! You of all people talking about jinxes? I can only presume it’s because you haven’t had much rest yourself. Now, let’s get this wound opened up a bit and we will fix Joe up as good as new. You aren’t going to lose him if that’s what you are worried about. I am quite sure that this young man has many years left in him to torment us further.”

“Thanks.” Ben nodded at the doctor’s reassuring words.

“Let’s get a few more lights in here shall we? And I will need this scalpel boiled.”

“I’ll go and get Hop Sing—and some lights.” Ben said and quickly turned out of the room.

With what looked like a return engagement from earlier in the week, Ben’s bedroom became an operating room once more. Hoss and Ben stood off to the side and let Hop Sing assist the doctor this time. Adam walked into the room, having heard the commotion coming from the next room.

“What’s going on now?” Adam whispered to his father as he neared him.

“Joe has some infection—the doctor is just opening him back up to clear it out.” Ben tried to control the nervousness of his tone.

“That’s got it.” Paul declared as he tied the last suture and stared over at the worried family members. “I expect him to do much better now. It should help with that fever he has been running too.”

Ben walked over to the bed as Hop Sing removed the instruments and soiled bandages. Staring down at his son, Ben noticed the slight fluttering of the boy’s eyelids. “Joseph?” He whispered.   Joe had heard the voices around him and was struggling to come out of the weight that had held him down. The voices seemed so distant and Joe could feel himself floating away from them. Then, as though Joe had fallen from the sky, plummeting to Earth, he felt his body as it landed back firmly on the bed forcing his breath out of him. Joe coughed and opened his eyes. The room was lit brightly and he had to wince his eyes closed again as they teared up.

“Joseph?” Ben called again, this time letting his hand fall down to the boy’s cheek and caressing it gently trying to pull his son back to consciousness.

“Pa—” Joe muttered letting his face turn into the touch. He slowly allowed his eyes to reopen. “What happened?”

“Don’t you worry about that right now, you just rest. You have had a long night.”

Joe stared down to the end of the bed where he spotted the faces of his brothers looking his way. “Adam? When did you get back?” Joe asked weakly.

“Got in today, Little Brother. Now you do what Pa says for a change and rest. We can talk about everything in the morning.”

“Adam’s right, Short Shanks. You get some rest okay?” Hoss said and patted the boy’s leg for assurance.

“Drink this.” The doctor insisted and helped Joe lift his head long enough to drink the contents of the glass. “Now you close those eyes and when you wake up in the morning you are gonna eat some real food so we can get you strong and healthy.” Paul said and closed his medical bag. “I’ll be back tomorrow.” Paul nodded toward Ben and Hoss walked him out of the room.

Ben sat back down in the chair next to the bed and his hand found it’s way back over to his injured son. He patiently stroked the boy’s right arm, trying to coax him back to sleep. Adam watched from the doorway. How many times had he seen a scene like this? There was his father comforting his baby brother. It was as if nothing else mattered in the world; just Joe. Adam sighed and fought back the deep seated resentment. He still could not make sense out of why he so envied his little brother. The boy was a walking accident. Of course he deserved attention! God only knew how the kid could bounce back from so many life-threatening accidents! It was just now dawning on Adam that the attention and affection Joe had received in his life was well earned. It had been purchased with his own blood.

“You want me to stay with the kid?” Adam whispered over to his father.

“No, Son. You’ve had a long day yourself—I’ll stay for awhile and later I am sure Hoss or Hop Sing will spell me.”

“Goodnight then.” Adam replied and walked slowly out of the room closing the door behind him.

“Joe looks a whole lot better!” Hoss called across the livingroom as he carried his brother’s breakfast tray down the stairs. “And he ate everything that Hop Sing made for him too!”

“That’s wonderful.” Ben smiled and set down his coffee cup. “Adam is out getting the horses ready. Why don’t you come over and have some more coffee while you are waiting?”

Hoss took a seat at the dining table next to his father. He gladly accepted what would be his third cup of coffee of the day. “So, we are supposed to go and talk to Reverend Hastings and then go and pick out a casket?”

“Yes, and don’t forget the obituary that we wrote up yesterday.”

Adam came in the door and walked over to his family. “All set. You ready, Hoss?”

“Don’t rightly know—this stuff ain’t gonna be easy you know?” Hoss answered with a sick appearance on his face. “We gotta act like Joe’s really dead—” He trailed off.

“Don’t worry, Hoss. I’ll lead the way—you don’t have to say much if you are uncomfortable.” Adam explained and noticed his father staring over at him peculiar like.

“You don’t seem to be having a problem with this.” Ben remarked raising his eyebrows.

“Oh, Pa! It’s not like it doesn’t bother me—it’s just a game. And if we win this game then Joe is finally safe. It seems like whoever shot the kid loves to torment us, well, it’s time the tables were turned on him. Besides, it isn’t like Joe is really dead.”

“Yeah, well, we gotta go into town and pretend he is.” Hoss argued, still upset with his part of the charade.

“You want me to do this myself?”

“Naw—” Hoss replied and stood from the table. “It’ll be okay—I hate lying to the preacher though. Ain’t that some kind of sin, Pa?”

Ben smiled at Hoss’ question. “Well, technically it is—but I am sure it’s one that will be forgiven once we get to tell everyone why we had to do it. Now, you two better get to it.”

“Got the obituary?” Adam asked and Hoss walked over to the den and removed it from Ben’s desk and tucked it into his vest.

“Got it—let’s go get this over with.”

Adam and Hoss left for Virginia City to start the preparations for their brother’s funeral.

Arriving in town, the first matter of business was to go to the Territorial Enterprise and submit Joe’s obituary. Making their way into the newspaper office, both men spotted the proprietor, Luther Griffin.

“Hoss—Adam—” The man addressed them, a noticeable apprehension in his voice. He was finding it hard to bring up the death of Joe Cartwright.

“Luther—got us something we’d like you to print.” Hoss said and handed the man the piece of paper from his vest pocket. Luther looked it over and then glanced at Adam.

“I don’t know what to say to you or Hoss. I am just very sorry. I’ve been running the story about how Joe was shot in the paper in hopes of somehow finding out some information that will help us catch the killer.”

“Thanks.” Adam nodded and patted the man’s shoulder. “We are having the funeral day after tomorrow. That give you time enough to print the obituary?”

“I’ll have it in the late edition tonight and run it through Monday for the funeral.”

“We appreciate it, Luther.” Hoss thanked the man and turned for the door.

“Anything I can do for you——or your father—well, you just let me know!” Luther called as the two men walked out of the office.

“Where to now?” Hoss asked his brother as he looked down the street. “You wanna go to the church or to the undertaker’s first?”

“Let’s get the undertaker done—think that will be the toughest.” Adam answered and grabbed his reins and led his horse across the street. Hoss followed, his throat starting to get a lump in it at the thought of going into the funeral parlor. Hoss detested the place, insisting it always gave him the willies.

“I’ve been expecting you.” Came a low hushed voice from behind the door as it opened. The sound just about sent the two men running back to their horses. Gathering themselves, Adam and Hoss stared down at the short and somewhat creepy looking funeral director. He was thin and as pale as one of his customers. His name was Mr. Tiberius Cower, and he dressed the part of someone who spent most of his life dealing with corpses. A dark black suit, black vest, and white shirt topped with a much too tall top hat was what the man wore to greet his clients. Hoss looked over at his brother and gave him a little nudge to expedite their assignment so he could get out of the gloomy place.

“We need to choose a casket for our brother.” Adam stated calmly and the owner led them toward the back of the store. As they walked past the several smaller rooms, they couldn’t help but cast a fleeting glance or two at the corpses which were laid out in various caskets waiting to be viewed by loved ones. Both Cartwrights walked a bit more briskly trying to get the job done so they could beat a hasty exit.

“We have several fine caskets. This one here is the best. It is mahogany and the inside is cherry wood. The cushioning is almost six inches thick, guaranteeing a comfortable fit.”

Hoss looked weakly at his brother, really wanting to get out of the place now. He felt as though his goose-bumps now had their own goose-bumps.

“And the cost?” Adam asked warily as his hand felt the inside of the coffin for workmanship.

“Five hundred dollars—worth much much more of course. Since you are all prominent citizens, I am willing to lose a bit on the sale.” The man smiled at the two Cartwrights.

Adam grinned, he could tell that the man was exaggerating about both the cost of the casket and the big favor he was offering them. “What do you think, Hoss? You want to look at some others? Do you think Pa would like this one?”

“I don’t rightly know——” Hoss trailed off, not knowing why Adam would put him on the spot like he had. They were supposed to purchase a casket, plain and simple. Hoss had no idea that his oldest brother would stand around and haggle with the prices.

“Perhaps you should bring your father to see it?” Mr. Cower offered.

“Can’t—Pa’s too broke up about Joe. He told us to make all the arrangements.” Adam replied and looked over the casket once more. “I guess this will do. We will be back in an hour with a wagon to fetch it home.”

“Fetch it home? I don’t understand—don’t you want to bring your brother into town so I can—well —see that he is properly dressed and ready for viewing?”

“No viewing.” Adam insisted and then drew closer to the funeral parlor owner. “You see Joe was shot—tore up real bad—there just is no fixing him up. We can’t have a viewing. I think that’s another thing that has Pa so upset.” Adam explained quietly.

“Oh—I see—I’m sorry I wasn’t aware of the —damage.”

“So, we will go over to the bank and get the needed funds and then will be back with our wagon.” Adam said turning from the room with the other two men following him.

“Yes—yes that will be just fine. I will have it all ready for you.”

“Dad Bern you, Adam! Why’d you make me go through all of that in there? Why didn’t you just pick out the casket and leave?” Hoss fumed as they made it over to their horses.

Adam stifled a laugh. “C’mon, Hoss, Joe would have gotten a kick out of it! I mean that old hornswaggler Cower charging us five hundred dollars for a pine box with some dark stain on it! Joe would have had a fit! ‘Sides—we had to get the word spread that there wouldn’t be a viewing—and that loud mouthed Cower will have it all over town before we even make it back here to get the genuine mahogany casket!” Adam laughed as he swung himself up in his saddle.

“You better be quicker with the Reverend or I ain’t going into the church.” Hoss warned as he climbed on his horse. The two men then rode down the street to the local church.

The two Cartwright brothers left Virginia City later that afternoon, having completed their mission. They had spoken to Reverend Hastings and secured his services for their brother’s funeral. After having spoken to the minister, they felt awful about the lies they had told and found some comfort at the Silver Dollar Saloon. After a few rounds of drinks both Adam and Hoss were in much better spirits and had continued on to the livery stable to rent a wagon to haul the newly purchased casket back home. Tying Sport and Chub to the back of the wagon after the casket was loaded, the two men headed back home. They both agreed it was one trip to Virginia City that they wished they hadn’t taken. It had been grueling emotionally as was the sight of the empty casket on the back of the buckboard.

“How is he?” Hoss whispered to his father as he walked into the bedroom and stared over at Joe. Before Ben could answer, Joe’s eyes opened widely and he called over to his brother.

“Hey—don’t talk about me like I’m dead or something.   Come on over here and tell me what you’ve been up to.” Joe fought to register a smile on his face, though he was still extremely weak due to his injury.

Hoss walked closer to the bed and Adam entered the room and made his way next to them both. Ben stood back and let the three brothers talk.

“Well, let’s see—” Hoss started and squeezed Joe’s hand affectionately. “We got you a real fine casket—top of the line—you would be impressed if you seen it.”

“Yeah, genuine artificial mahogany too!’ Adam chimed in grinning. “And it’s got a six inch pad inside of it to make your eternity fly by with pleasure!”

“I’m touched.” Joe nodded amused. “How much did old man Cower take you for?”

Adam looked back over at his father and then winked at Hoss. “He cut us a real deal. Only charged us five hundred dollars!”

“What!” Ben exploded and Joe winced his face at the sound.

“It was a steal.” Adam chuckled, but reconsidered when he saw his father was unamused. “Hey, it’s just temporary anyway—I mean Joe isn’t gonna be buried—old man Cower will probably buy it back—at a discount I am sure.”

“That little thief.” Hoss frowned. “He probably won’t give us a hundred towards it.”

“Hey—” Joe protested. “Money is no object right? I mean wouldn’t you want the best for me, Pa?” Joe feigned hurt feelings.

“It’s a costly charade all right.” Ben nodded and then smiled over at the boy laying in the bed. “But, I’m sure we can find some use for it if Cower doesn’t take it back.”

“I don’t like the sound of that.” Joe shook his head and the others laughed at the expression on his face.

“So, is everything else set? Did you get the obituary in the paper and line up Reverend Hastings?” Ben asked and saw Hoss nod his way.

“Yeah, Pa. Day after tomorrow—all set. Oh, and Reverend Hastings wanted to come out here and speak with you but we told him you aren’t up to it yet. He said he would speak with you after the funeral——and he sends his condolences.”

“Thanks for keeping him away. Well, it seems like your brothers have everything lined up, Joseph. It won’t be long until this is all over.” Ben tried to sound encouraging.

“You think a lot of folks will come?” Joe asked hopefully.

“Well, actually, we are only concerned with one person in particular—the person who is trying to kill you—” Ben started and then understood Joe’s question. “But, if you are asking whether you were well thought of—I am quite sure we will have a large gathering.”

Joe cast a contented grin now, satisfied that folks were indeed sad to hear of his early demise. “You all gonna do it up right? I mean flowers—the whole thing?” Joe asked.

“Yeah, Joe, it’s gonna be right purdy—wish you could be there to see it.” Hoss laughed and patted his brother’s shoulder playfully.

“He can still go—I mean we’ve got the casket downstairs now—” Adam teased and Joe frowned.

“I don’t want to see it that bad, Adam. Thanks just the same.”

“Enough talking for now, Young Man. You settle down and get some sleep. Adam, you and Hoss come on downstairs now and let your brother rest.”

“I’m not tired.” Joe protested crossing his arms across his chest. He wanted to hear more about what had gone on in town.

“Yes you are.” Ben insisted and eased his other two sons out of the room. He paused before leaving the room and called over, “Don’t make me get those sleeping powders.”

Joe leaned back against his pillows and sank back under his covers. “Okay—I’m going to sleep—no threats needed.” Joe caved in.

“I thought so.” Ben winked and left the room satisfied he had won that round.

Downstairs there was a loud barrage of Chinese chastisements being yelled at the top of Hop Sing’s lungs. He had entered the livingroom to see the casket spread out on top of the coffee table. He could not believe that the Cartwrights would do that, it seemed sacrilegious.

“Hop Sing!” Ben called down the stairs as he spotted the man over next to the fireplace. “What are you so mad about?”

“Mad? What say you mad? You put coffin here—in Hop Sing’s livingroom?” The cook answered hotly as his employer approached him.

“Well—I do believe it is my livingroom as well as yours—and besides—we had to bring it in here. Now where do you suppose folks would think we are keeping Joseph’s body during this time—in his bed?”

“Not right—bad omen to have empty casket in house.” Hop Sing still protested.

“Then we will fill it.” Ben nodded and turned toward Hoss and Adam. “Go bring some grain sacks in from the storage room.”

“Huh?” Hoss asked confused. “Why you want them?”

“Hop Sing says it’s a bad thing to do—having an empty casket sitting around—so we will fill it. Besides—don’t want some visitor accidently coming by and realizing there’s nothing inside.”

“Oh—” Hoss nodded and then looked at his oldest brother for confirmation. “What do you think?”

Adam smiled at his father’s reasoning as well as Hop Sing’s unbridled superstition. “Well, the kid is about what? A hundred and forty—a hundred and fifty pounds soaking wet? Three fifty pound sacks ought to do it. Let’s go see what we can find.” Adam took Hoss by the arm and walked with him out of the house.

“Satisfied?” Ben asked Hop Sing. The cook stuck his nose up in the air and sent off another string of very harsh words in his native tongue and then hurried back into the kitchen. Ben found himself to be suddenly alone in the livingroom with nothing but a casket next to him. It did make him feel uneasy, and he hoped that his two oldest sons would be quick in returning. Sitting down in his favorite chair, Ben’s gaze froze again on the shiny mahogany casket before him. He closed his eyes and said a quick prayer of thanksgivings. Ben knew how close he had come to losing Joe, and the casket there on the coffee table could well have been filled with the boy’s dead body had the assailant’s bullet found it’s real target.

Hoss walked in the doorway with two fifty pound sacks of grain in one hand, while his brother used both of his own hands to lug in the other sack. They approached the coffee table where the casket was laid out.

“Open it up, Pa.” Hoss called to his father, and Ben stood up. He unlatched the bronze clips that fastened the side of the casket closed and pulled it open. Ben felt a lump growing in his throat as he stared into the plush interior.

“Elegant isn’t it?” Adam teased, seeing the affect the coffin was having on his father.

“Don’t you dare ever purchase something like this for me! What a waste of money.” Ben shook his head.

“Ah—now, Pa—you know you are gonna have the best—the very best when you go!” Hoss jumped in on the dark humor. He dropped his two sacks inside the casket and Adam spread his sack towards the foot of the casket to even out the weight.

“I will not be around to see it, Hoss—so don’t trouble yourselves. Just a pine box is fine with me. You know we really shouldn’t be joking about this anyway—” Ben trailed off feeling guilty. Here his son was laying upstairs with a hole in his side and they were downstairs kidding about death.

Adam let his arm rest on his father’s shoulder and tried to ease his mind. “Hey—we know that none of this is funny, Pa. We are all worried about Little Joe—you know that! But, you have to admit that quick-witted brother of mine would be the first person here to throw in this kind of humor—so it’s the least we can do for him since he is missing out on it all.”

Ben grinned thinking of his youngest son and his rather peculiar sense of humor. Adam was right, Joseph would have offered far more dark humor than his family had that evening. Ben felt that it was that sense of humor that had kept the boy in good spirits even during the worst of times or afflictions. “You’re right, Son. I am sure Joe would climb right into this horrible thing just to see our reactions!” Ben laughed. It was then that a knock sounded on the front door. Ben turned toward the door but stopped before opening it. “Now you boys remember—we are grieving here!” He warned, not knowing who they would find to be on the other side of the door.

“Howdy, Ben.” Roy smiled as he was led into the room. All three Cartwrights felt instantly relieved to see the sheriff, who was well aware of the charade. Ben accompanied Roy over to the fireplace and the lawman took a seat on the settee. “That’s one heck of a casket you boys got there!” Roy said as he felt of it. “Yeah, real fine—bet it cost you folks a pretty penny too.”

“Five hundred dollars—for genuine mahogany stained pine.” Adam nodded.

“Yeah—don’t forget the bronze toned metal.” Hoss quipped along.

“Brung you all something from town.” Roy announced, reaching into his coat. He handed Ben the latest edition of the Territorial Enterprise. “Got Joe’s obituary in it. Looks like old Luther embellished some of it to make it sound better than what you all showed me that you wrote yesterday.”

Ben settled back into his chair and turned to the obituary page and read the article about his late son. He smiled and shook his head. “I am sure Joseph will like this—it mentions how wonderful a person he was, and fails to mention a single fault. It’s about as close to sainthood as the boy will ever get!” Ben laughed and passed it over to Adam.

“We have everything set, Ben. I’ve got some men grading the section where the funeral will be. It will be nice fresh soil—easy to read prints off of.”

“Great—be sure they tie that rope hitching post so all the guests will have to dismount right there. You will have Jake there from the beginning, right?”

“Yeah—feel kinda bad that I couldn’t tell him about Joe being alive—he’s been such a great help in all of this. But, if it works, he will be just as happy that he didn’t know all the facts.”

“Noon Monday—only one more day and hopefully all this will be over.” Ben sighed. “How about having some dinner with us, Roy?” Ben changed the subject as he heard Hop Sing starting to set the dining room table.

“Well—I’d like to—” Roy trailed off, his eyes transfixed on the casket.

“Ah that’s nothing, Roy!” Hoss smiled when he realized the affect the coffin was having on the sheriff’s appetite. “It ain’t got nothing but grain inside —if it bothers you we could throw a blanket over it.”

“Well—” Roy stopped and thought on it. “If you all will allow me to sit at the foot of the table facing your Pa I reckon I won’t be looking at the blasted thing. I could use some grub.”

“Of course!” Ben insisted and walked with Roy and his sons over to the dining room.

Long after Roy Coffee had left and Hoss and Adam had turned in for the evening, Ben made his way into his bedroom to check on Joe. The doctor had been out earlier and was very satisfied with the boy’s progress. Though, Joe was a long way from being totally healed of his wound, his temperature had gone down to normal and the color to his face had returned. If this had been anyone else, Doctor Martin would have been amazed at the healing progress. But, this wasn’t just anyone, it was Joe, and it was what they had all come to expect from the boy.

“I thought you’d be asleep.” Ben whispered as he took a seat next to the bed.

“Naw—that’s all I’ve done for days now, Pa. I guess I am getting restless.” Joe explained and then tried to turn in the bed and winced at the tightening of his sutures as he made the move.

“Those stitches should be telling you something, Joseph.” Ben chastised.

“Yeah—they are telling me I’m not going anywhere for awhile.” Joe replied and settled once more on his back to alleviate the pain from his side.

“Good. I think you are finally starting to listen to what your body is telling you.”

“Hey—what’s that?” Joe asked noticing the paper in his father’s hand. “You bring the paper up here to read?”

Ben grinned and turned to the page which held his son’s obituary. “Well, I thought if you were still awake that I would read you your obituary.”

“Is it good?” Joe asked anxiously.

“Judge for yourself.” Ben laughed and then cleared his throat to try to gather the tone of voice he was trying for to read the article the way it had been written.

“Joseph Cartwright, twenty-one years of age, expired on Thursday, November twenty-second due to a gunshot injury caused by an assailant’s bullet. He was the third son of prominent businessman and rancher Benjamin Cartwright of the Ponderosa ranch. Joseph is survived in death by his father and two brothers, Adam and Hoss Cartwright.” Ben stopped and looked over at Joe, who seemed unimpressed with the obituary thus far. “Here’s where it gets good.” Ben winked over at Joe and started back again. “Joseph Cartwright was an upstanding member of this community and was well known as a hard worker and enduring friend to all. Turning down the opportunity to continue his education back east, Joseph chose to stay on the ranch that he loved dearly. His expertise as a wrangler was but one of his many talents. Known also for his bright smile and easy-going manner Joseph Cartwright will be missed by all who knew and loved him. This tragic loss to Virginia City and the surrounding communities will be felt for a long time. Interment will be noon on Monday, November twenty-sixth at the Eastbend grove on the Ponderosa ranch. The Cartwright family invites friends to take part in the service which will be officiated by Reverend Philip Hastings. Note from Editor:   As editor of this paper, I offer the family and friends of this amazing young man my deepest sympathy. This paper has vowed to track down the allusive killer of Joseph Cartwright and see to it that he is brought to justice.”

Joe smiled at his father’s recital. “Hey—I was pretty wonderful wasn’t I?”

“You don’t think that Luther perhaps stretched things a bit do you?” Ben asked amused.

“Nope—I think he about sized me up pretty well. Of course he could have mentioned my good looks and quick wit. But, he did mention my bright smile —so that’s okay.”

Ben looked back down at the paper and read again the part that had struck him in particular. “—was well known as a hard worker? Turning down the opportunity to continue his education back east?” Ben raised his eyebrows at the thought.

“Hey—I AM a hard worker—well, most of the time!” Joe protested. “And—well—I could have gone on to college you know!”

“You only got out of grade school because the teacher could not bear holding you over for another year, Joseph.” Ben corrected.

“I guess it’s not true——” Joe stopped in mid-sentence.

“What’s not true?”

“I always heard that people thought more of others once they were dead—you obviously have the same opinion of me.” Joe teased and Ben tossed the paper over to him.

“If it will make you feel any better I will over-do the bereavement at your funeral, okay?”

“Okay—hey what about a eulogy? Are you writing one?”

“Adam is handling that.” Ben smiled as he saw Joe’s face go lax.

“Oh no! Get Hoss to do it—not Adam!” Joe pleaded.

“Oh don’t you worry, when he is through they will nominate you for sainthood I am sure.”

“Adam? I don’t think so. In fact he will probably make everyone glad that I am no more.”

“All right—that’s enough for one night, Joseph. I promise that we will all do you proud on Monday. Now you get some sleep, and that’s an order.” Ben said sternly and stood to leave.

“Hey—Pa—what if this doesn’t work?” Joe called over to his father who was making his way to the door.

“After all of this? Oh it’s gonna work—I promise you! Now you go to sleep—remember you are easy- going according to Luther, so I don’t expect to have any trouble from you.”

“Well, maybe he DID exaggerate just a little.” Joe grinned and watched as his father left the room.

Sunday was spent tying up loose ends in preparation for the funeral of Joseph Cartwright. Hop Sing aided and abetted by furnishing the dark suits that the three grieving Cartwrights would wear to the gravesite. Flowers were ordered from the Virginia City florist and had started arriving at the ranch house before noon. Then came cards of condolences brought in by the dozens by Paul Martin as he made his regular rounds to check on his patient. Joe’s spirits were high as he read of the many friends who would miss him. He did feel a bit guilty for having played his part of the charade; not wanting to hurt those he cared for. Ben had been there with his son and reassured him that all would be forgiven if they did indeed catch the assailant as was planned.

After a long day, and even longer night, the Cartwrights settled down to sleep. They knew that the next day would be extremely emotional as they went through all the motions of burying Joe. None of them slept well that night, with nightmares abounding of burying someone that all three men loved. The night mercifully coming to an end, the three eldest Cartwrights awoke at the crack of dawn and readied themselves for the performance of a lifetime.

Ben walked into his bedroom and approached Joe. He smiled to see that the young man looked much better than he had the previous day. Joe rested in more of a seated position against the many pillows stuffed behind him, which gave his father the sign that the boy’s stitches weren’t bothering him quite as badly as they had.

“Nice suit, Pa.” Joe grinned. “Black is definitely your color.” Joe quipped. His father’s stark white hair made a bright contrast to the black suit coat and vest he wore. These were Ben’s “go to a funeral” clothes, and Joe hadn’t seen them in quite awhile.

“Very funny. Now I have some things to go over with you before we leave.” Ben said sternly and sat down in the chair. “As you know, we will all be at the funeral so this ranch house will be unguarded. All the ranch hands will be there as well. Hop Sing is going to stay here with you. We will give the excuse that he was too emotionally upset to attend.”

“Hey—I can handle myself—he doesn’t need to stay.” Joe protested.

“End of discussion, Joseph.” Ben replied as Hop Sing entered the room with a shotgun at his side. Joe frowned as he looked at his Chinese protector. He knew there was no room for an argument now, the cook was already positioning himself by the window and would not budge no matter how many protests he threw his way.

“Can I at least have my gun?” Joe asked meekly.

Ben reached into the bottom drawer of his night stand and drew out a Colt revolver. “I doubt you will need this—but if it makes you feel better—here.” Ben set it on top of the night stand.

“No need gun!” Hop Sing called over indignantly. “Hop Sing guard with life—no one hurt Little Joe.”

“Now you’ve done it—got Hop Sing mad with you!” Ben winked as he stood from his chair. “Now, no fooling around, Young Man, you rest and leave everything to us.” Ben brushed his hand through his son’s hair affectionately and Joe smiled up at him.

“Hey—you all make sure to grieve for me—grieve a lot!” Joe laughed as Ben walked to the door.

“We’ll sure try.” Ben nodded and then pulled the door closed behind him.

It was a somber sight that greeted Ben as he walked out into the front yard. There were his other two sons loading the expensive coffin into the back of the buckboard. They were both dressed in their finest dark suits and wore the expression of grief on their faces. Ben looked around and saw that several of the hired hands were standing around, and he reasoned that Hoss and Adam were trying for a stellar performance. Ben fought back a chuckle, he remembered that his eldest son had always wanted to be an actor, and here he was getting the chance now in a most peculiar way.

“Are we about ready, Boys?” Ben asked sadly as he let his hand rest lovingly on the top of the casket. He, too was playing to the watchful crowd.

“Yes, Pa. I’ve got the surrey hitched up for you and me and Hoss is going to drive the buckboard.” Adam replied staring over at his father intently. He was also amazed to see how well his father could act.

“Let’s go then.” Ben nodded and walked slowly over to the surrey, after casting a very longing last look toward the casket. Adam climbed up in the surrey next to his father and sent the team of horses into motion. Hoss followed closely behind with the buckboard and the casket carrying one hundred and fifty pounds of pure wheat flour.

Ben looked at his pocket watch as the surrey pulled up to the Eastbend grove. It was just barely eleven-thirty and people had already started to arrive. He frowned to himself. Some folks just loved a good funeral! Others wanted to be sure to get a good view of the grief that had befallen the Cartwright family. Ben also knew that some folks were genuinely bereaved over the loss of his son. It was for those folks that Ben felt sorry.

Jake approached Ben and offered his hand to him. “Right sorry, Ben.” Jake said as Ben stepped down from the surrey.

“Thank you, Jake. And thank you for helping to arrange all this. Looks like you will have your hands full with lining up everyone’s mounts and carriages.” Ben looked around at the line of horses that already were tied up to the make-shift rope hitching post.

“Got it under control—just like Roy said.” Jake nodded over to Ben and the bereaved father patted the tracker on the shoulder to thank him.

It was at that moment that the two brothers of the deceased pulled the casket forward from the buckboard and acting as the two pall-bearers, carried it up to the gravesite. People stood off to the side and watched as Hoss and Adam carefully placed the casket on top of the tarp that had been stretched out on the ground over to the side of the six foot hole which had been earlier dug. They could see the two men as they wiped their eyes on the sleeves of their suit coats, fighting to remain in control of their emotions. The spectators who cared about the Cartwright family were deeply moved at the spectacle before them. Others, who had just come for the enjoyment of seeing a family in grief, felt an excitement deep inside. It looked as though they were in for one heck of a good show.

Ben, Hoss, and Adam stood at the foot of the casket and shared a moment of silence between just them. Ben made it a point to stand in the middle so that his arms could rest on the shoulders of his last two remaining sons. He, too, made the motions with his hands that he was pushing back tears. It wasn’t as hard as Ben had thought it would be. All he had to do was think of the fact that Joe had indeed almost died, and the tears welled up in his eyes instantaneously.

Reverend Philip Hastings approached the grieved family members and offered his hand to each one of them. He whispered a word or two of sympathy and consolation before taking his place at the head of the grave to start the proceedings.

“Beloved friends and family, we have come here today to say a final farewell to a rather unique young man. Joseph Francis Cartwright. A young man so complex and yet so loving, that he touched all of those around him. Joseph loved life. It was evident in the way he smiled when greeting you, or in his characteristic laughter that made you join right in. I was honored to have known Joseph. He was a supporter of the church and never turned away from a crisis or charity event in the community. In fact, he was the one I usually called on to get the ball rolling.

Though that usually meant he would delegate his brother’s services—” The preacher stopped as a slow laughter went through the crowd. “It did mean that the boy was the one who could see to it that the job would get done right. He will be greatly missed by the church, and by me personally.” Reverend Hastings paused again, and this time had to gather himself. He could feel the tears mounting in his eyes. Collecting himself once more, he continued. “Joseph is survived by a father who loved him dearly, Ben Cartwright. A father whom Joseph loved equally. He is also survived by his brother Adam and his other brother Hoss. I know they will carry him in their hearts, so he will never be far in spirit. We look today towards this casket and to this grave and wonder why this young man was taken from us.

Why? We may never know. But, it is God’s will and not our own. Perhaps Joseph had already accomplished everything that God had in mind for him here on Earth? Perhaps he was much more needed in Heaven? Perhaps it was as a lesson to each of us to hold dear to the ones who are still with us? Regardless of the reason, be assured that though the flesh should wither, the soul goes on. Joseph is not dead, he lives in a new body, in a new home. We pray now that his journey is complete and he resides with God the father, God the son, and God the Holy Ghost. Ashes to ashes dust to dust, the Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away. Rest in peace, my dear friend, until we are all reunited in Heaven where there will be no tears, no pain, only eternal paradise. Amen.” Reverend Hastings laid his hand on the front of Joe’s casket and bowed his head in a silent prayer and walked over to the three Cartwrights and again whispered his condolences.

Now it was Adam’s turn. He walked over to the spot that the Reverend had just vacated and cleared his throat. “At my father’s request, I will now read my brother’s eulogy. These are the collective thoughts of Joe’s two brothers and his father .” Adam paused as he saw Hoss’ head go down and noticed how his father reached for him and put his arm around the big man to give him strength. Adam was now of the opinion that the whole family could have made a name for themselves on the stage, they were as talented as the Booth family, that was sure!

He gathered his thoughts again and lifted the prewritten eulogy up to his face. “I will read from the poet John Donne, Death be not proud, though some have called thee mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so: For those whom thou think’st thou dost overthrow, die not, poor Death; nor yet canst thou kill me.” Adam looked around the crowd. He could see a myriad of faces leaning in to try and catch his meaning. There was the sheriff and the doctor and the newspaper editor and dozens of Virginia City citizens. It was just now occurring to Adam that the would- be killer was probably there listening and enjoying the awful scene. Whoever it was was surely enjoying the bereavement on all of the Cartwright’s faces.

Adam cleared his throat again to redirect his attention on what he needed to do. “The passage I have just read was chosen for this occasion for the meaning which it contains. What it is saying in layman’s terms is that though we may be killed, we are not dead. That just because we are seen no more, does not mean we no longer exist. Whoever did this ghastly crime, intending to remove Joe from us permanently, failed miserably! You can never remove his smile from our minds. You will never remove his laughter from our ears. You will never bury his spirit in this grave!”

Adam paused and pointed to the hole in the ground. “You think that you have killed him—taken him away from all of those who loved him—but you haven’t. Joe Cartwright is as alive today as he was this time last week. He is alive in our minds, in our souls, and in our hearts. For those whom thou think’st thou dost overthrow, die not! It is customary now to say goodbye to our loved one. But, we will not say goodbye. For Joe will always be here with us.” Adam walked over to the casket and patted it affectionately and then took his place near his father. Hoss walked over to the casket now and kneeled down, letting his head rest on the cool wood. The crowd was filled with sadness and tears at the scene before them. The big man was obviously beside himself with grief. In fact, Hoss did have his eyes closed, but to keep his mind off of the crowd he was thinking about whether old man Cower would deduct off any money if the casket really got dirt on it. He could not focus in on what was really happening, Hoss was just about to cry for real thinking about his baby brother and what had almost happened to him.

Ben could sense Hoss was having some trouble and he joined in next to him. Ben kneeled down and whispered to him. “You’re breaking up the crowd, Son—done with the bereavement yet?”

“I reckon, Pa. Boy, is my stomach growling.” Hoss whispered back.

“Remember this is supposed to be your baby brother in this casket—don’t think of the wheat flour in there.” Ben replied amused.

“I just wish we had made it into bread—then at least there’d be something to eat around here.”

Adam walked over to his family and knelt down next to them. “You both trying for an encore or what? People are about to start coming forward for condolences.”

“Okay—” Hoss said and started to his feet. Ben stayed put a few minutes as people naturally expected him to be overwhelmed with grief. After several minutes Ben also stood and the procession of mourners slowly started to address the family.

One after the other, friends and acquaintances went through the receiving line up next to the casket and offered their condolences and sympathy to the Cartwrights. It was beginning to be a bit monotonous but the three men stayed focused on the procedure. Ben did happen to spy Roy being led away by Jake for some reason and he wondered what was going on. He could not leave the receiving line or it would be too suspicious, but Ben kept his eye out for whatever was going on.

As the lines of mourners became smaller, there was all of a sudden a commotion over by where the horses and carriages had been tied. Ben and his two sons exchanged hopeful glances, but held their positions waiting for a sign from Roy.

“Over here, Ben!” Came Roy’s most commanding voice.

“Excuse me please.” Ben nodded to the woman who owned the local florist shop who had been telling him how sorry she was about Joe’s death. Ben, followed by Hoss and Adam hurried down the slope and over to where Roy and Jake both held guns on a man who had been preparing to make a hasty get-away. When the man turned around Ben noticed it was Brad Jeffers, a local rancher.

“What is the meaning of this!” Brad protested the harsh treatment by the sheriff and the tracker. “You have no call to pull a gun on me—either of you! I’ll have your badge, Coffee!”

“What did you find?” Ben broke in on the situation brewing next to the horses.

“Them’s the same tracks—I’d swear to it. Same shoes—same mis-shapen shoe on the back left hoof. Same ones as up at Truckee and over at your ranch the night that Joe was shot.” Jake explained pointing down at the freshly made horse shoe imprint. The newly raked soil made a wonderful medium to catch the tracks fresh and easier to spot.

“I haven’t been over to the Truckee and I haven’t been to the Ponderosa! Now release me or I will sue the lot of you!” Brad screamed.

Roy opened the man’s saddle bags and whistled through his teeth happily. “Lookie what we got here, Ben!” Roy grinned and handed over a note that was written on brown paper like the other two that had been left each time Joe had been injured.

“Third time’s the charm.” Ben read out loud. “Guess you didn’t have time to leave this the other night did you? Just tell me one thing—just one thing—” Ben fought back his rage as he reached for the man’s arm and shook it roughly. “Tell me why MY son? Tell me why Joseph? He’s never done a damn thing to you!” Ben yelled his anger mounting. It was a good thing that he had not worn his side-arm or he might have been tempted to kill Brad Jeffers where he now stood denying involvement.

Mr. Jeffers looked around into the faces of each of the five men. He knew he was caught, there was no use denying it. Leaving that note in this saddle bags had been a stupid thing to do, and he cursed himself mentally for not having rid himself of it after he had shot the Cartwright boy. Finally, looking directly at Ben, a face full of revenge, Brad confessed at last. “It wasn’t your boy I hated, Ben! In fact I had nothing in the world against Joe—other than the fact he was YOUR boy! I do hate YOU! I have hated you for so long! I could have just as easily killed you or one of your other sons, but it would not have affected you as much—nor would it have meant as much to me!”

“What in the name of God are you talking about, Jeffers? I’ve never done anything to you! I was one of the first people around here to help you when you moved out here. My sons went to school with your sons! You hate me? Hate me enough to kill my boy? Why!” Ben demanded.

“You know why!” Jeffers screamed and spit down at the ground to show his disgust for the man in front of him. “I had three sons just like you—and yeah they played with your boys—grew up with them! The oldest two moved away—just leaving the youngest. And you know what happened to him!”

Ben thought back on what the man had said. He recalled what had happened to Brad’s youngest son, Clint. He had begged his father to go on the Cartwright’s cattle drive, it was Joe’s first one as well. Brad had caved in to his son’s request and Ben had allowed the boy to travel with the rest of the ranch hands to take the cattle down to Texas. That had been six long years ago, Joe was only fifteen years old, but the whole family had accompanied both youngsters to assure their safety and to show them the difficult task of delivering such a large herd. Everything had gone smoothly, the drive to Texas was not marked by anything unusual and the weather had been friendly. It was upon making their way back that the tragedy had happened. They had all been caught in a blinding thunderstorm, that seemed to come without warning.

As Ben had gathered the youngsters together, Clint’s horse had bolted and despite all efforts on Ben’s part, the boy fell down an incline and died as a result of his fall. Ben still remembered the grief stricken Brad Jeffers and the way he looked as he stared down at the lifeless body of his youngest son. But, the man harbored no ill will toward the Cartwright family, at least none that was noticed over the years. But, the man’s other two sons had recently moved away from the area, and now Ben surmised that the loneliness must have driven the man towards revenge.”

“Brad—I did nothing deliberate to harm Clint. I guarded that boy the way I did Joseph throughout the whole journey and you know it! To blame me you must also blame the storm, the horse, and also yourself for letting the boy come along. It was not MY idea to have him come with us. As I recall YOU were the one who thought he could learn a thing or two by coming on that drive. And why now? Why did you come after my son after all these years? Is it because your boys left you? Is that it? So, you decide to kill my son because your sons are gone!” Ben turned back on the other man relentlessly.

He could still see in his mind Joe’s blood as it had coated his own hands the night the boy had been shot. He could see the anguish on the boy’s face as he fought to stay conscious through the whole ordeal. Ben was irate that the man before him had caused so much damage to Joseph, almost having succeeded in killing the boy.

“I have been planning this for years, Ben.” Brad smiled vindictively. “And I don’t regret it either! See how you like living without your youngest son! And never forget that it was ME who killed him!” The man laughed as Roy placed the handcuffs around his wrists.

“Brad Jeffers, you are under arrest for attempted murder. Three counts of attempted murder. I’m taking you into jail to stand trial.” Roy informed the man as he spun him back around.

“Attempted murder? What do you mean attempted murder?” Jeffers asked the sheriff confused at what the other man had said.

“For those whom thou think’st thou dost overthrow, die not!” Adam spat out towards the man, using his words from the eulogy again.

“What?” Jeffers asked again.

“Joseph is alive, very much alive.” Ben grinned as he saw the look of anger take over Mr. Jeffers face.

“No! No he can’t be! Damn you! Damn you all!”

“No—damn YOU.” Hoss answered. “Damn you to a life in prison. He ain’t gonna get out any time soon is he, Roy?”

Roy Coffee smiled contentedly as he mounted his horse and tugged down the brim of his hat. At last he had the perpetrator in his hands. “No siree, Hoss! I reckon Judge Wheeler will give him about ten to twenty years on each count. Don’t think he will be out until he’s a hundred years old or more.”

“Thanks, Roy!” Ben reached over and shook the sheriff’s hand.

“Well, I guess it’s okay to thank me now—now that I got Jeffers here.” Roy laughed.

“And Jake——I’m so sorry we had to keep all this from you!” Ben apologized and the tracker smiled back over at him.

“Heck I am just glad that the little varmit is still alive and kicking. But, guess you all will have some explaining to do to folks.” Jake replied swinging himself into his saddle to accompany Roy to the jail with their prisoner.

“I think I can help there.” Broke in the voice of Luther Griffin. “I heard it all—and will explain what happened to our readers. It will make for one heck of an article too!” Luther laughed and patted Ben on the back.

“Thanks, Luther—that would be a great help. Well, guess we can all go back to the ranch and tell Joseph the good news!”

“Yeah—and get some lunch!” Hoss replied as they turned to make it over to the buckboard. Ben and Adam laughed that Hoss would be hungry after all the excitement of the afternoon.

“Better get that casket back onto the wagon. It didn’t even get dirty.” Ben nodded looking over towards it.

“Yeah—but try and tell that to Cower—I bet he won’t give you more than a hundred dollars on it.” Adam complained as he walked over with Hoss to retrieve it.

“I’m just glad we didn’t need it.” Ben muttered to himself and looked toward the heavens to offer another prayer of thanks.

Epilogue

The news of Joe’s apparent “resurrection” buzzed through the ranch and all of Virginia City all day. Folks lined up for the next edition of the newspaper so that they could learn all of the details of the masterful plan that the Cartwrights had devised to catch the criminal who now was a guest at the Virginia City jail. Hoss and Adam were glad that the charade had worked and even gladder that it was all over.

After going home and changing into normal work clothes, they loaded up the expensive casket and made their way into town to try and get some money for it. It took a great deal of dickering and also a few threats, but they finally made the deal with old man Cower. They were able to recover four of the five hundred dollars that they had paid for the coffin. The funeral parlor owner insisted that the casket was “used” and would be harder to sell. Adam and Hoss took the loss objectively, neither wanting to lug the thing back to the ranch. Both sons had been ordered to spend the rest of the afternoon in town, making sure that everyone knew about what had happened with Joe and also so they could indulge in a bit of celebrating at the Silver Dollar for a job well done.

Hop Sing was pleased to have the charade over too. He was extrememly happy to also get his livingroom back the way it had been, minus one casket. Ben had praised the Chinaman for guarding his son so well, and the cook relished the compliment but was thankful to now put away the shotgun and go back to what he did best. Hop Sing was eager to fix a fine dinner for his beloved Cartwright family in celebration over the news of Mr. Jeffers arrest.

Ben sat on the side of the bed and watched his youngest as he started to come back around. He had been sleeping ever since the other Cartwrights had made it back to the ranch house that afternoon. Ben was pleased, as he had worried that his son would have stayed wide awake with his six shooter waiting for the unseen enemy to appear. He guessed that Joe was perfectly content knowing that Hop Sing would protect him at all costs.

Ben let his hand fall to Joe’s forehead to detect a fever. There was none this time, but the touch brought about the flutter of Joe’s eyelids and soon he was staring over at his father. Trying to pull himself up in the bed, Joe bit his bottom lip to stay the pain from his side.

“Need a little help?” Ben asked and Joe reluctantly nodded. Ben pulled Joe up higher and placed a few pillows behind him to help position him better. “How’s that?”

“Fine—hey—what time is it anyway?” Joe asked confused. He no longer saw sunlight peering in through his curtains.

“Oh—a little after seven.”

“I slept all day?” Joe asked in disbelief.

Ben smiled. “You sure did! And you know you must have needed it too! You aren’t running a fever, so I think you are healing just fine now. I’ve got some good news for you.”

“Did you get ‘em? What happened? Who was it?” Joe rattled off his questions.

Ben patted Joe’s arm to quiet him. “If you don’t settle down I’m not going to tell you anything!” Ben warned and noticed the frown on his son’s face. Joe leaned back against the pillows and tried to be patient.

“Okay, I am “settled” now what happened?”

“Here. I believe this was about you.” Ben grinned and handed Joe the last note that Brad Jeffers had written but never got the chance to leave at the ranch. Joe read it and then looked up at his father.

“Third time’s the charm? What’s this?”

“Well, he was going to leave that note the night he shot you but he had to leave before he could. He figured he got you for sure that night.”

“He was almost right—but who is HE?” Joe insisted.

“Brad Jeffers.” Ben started but Joe jumped in.

“What!” Joe exploded and moved more to a sitting position, grabbing at the pain in his side as he did.

Ben pushed Joe back towards the pillow. “Last warning—you gonna be still or do I go and get some sleeping powders?”

“Well you could get them from Jeffers—he should know where to get them!” Joe fired back but then read the look on his father’s face and settled down again. “Sorry—go ahead.”

“Believe it or not he has hated me since Clint died. He blamed me for his son’s death all these years and I never knew it.” Ben said sadly.

“That was what? Five, six years ago? Why did he decide to do this now—and more importantly—why ME? I mean if it was YOU he was after?”

“His other two sons had left—maybe that threw him into depression—I don’t know. And he wanted to get to me where it would hurt the most—that’s why he chose you. He lost his youngest son and he wanted me to know the pain of losing my youngest.”

Joe shook his head taking it all in. “You tried to save Clint—that wasn’t your fault—Mr. Jeffers must be just plain crazy is all I can figure. Hey—what did he say when you told him I wasn’t dead? Bet that was a big surprise!”

“Oh he was NOT happy that’s for sure.” Ben chuckled at the thought of how they had tricked the man. “Roy says he will not get out of prison for a long long time. So, it’s finally over, Son.”

Joe sighed, content that he was at last safe and didn’t have to worry about someone trying other ways to kill him. He could finally feel safe in the house and it was like lifting a ton of worry off of his young shoulders. “I’m glad, Pa—real glad that your plan worked. Hey—by the way—how was my funeral?” He changed the subject and looked hopefully at his father for confirmation of how much he was liked by all.

“Oh you had a fine turn out, Joseph!” Ben laughed and patted his arm. “Half the town came out to see you off. Reverend Hastings said some pretty wonderful things about you—oh and Adam did quite well with your eulogy!”

“Wish I could’ve been there.” Joe sighed.

“No you don’t! Trust me.” Ben kidded. “Now, we just need to get you all better and everything will be back to normal. I will be evicting you from my bedroom very soon.”

“Hey—Doc said for me not to move around until these stitches come out, so guess you’ll just have to stay in the guest room a couple more days.” Joe answered, still enjoying his father’s very comfortable bed.

“Okay, but just as soon as those stitches are out I will throw you into your own bed!”

“You really going to THROW me this time, Pa?” Joe laughed and Ben just ruffled his hair in response to the joke.

“Let’s get you some dinner, Hop Sing fixed a fine supper to celebrate your resurrection.”

Ben announced as he stood from the bed.

Joe held up the last note that Brad Jeffers had written and read it again. “Third time’s the charm! Hey, Pa—you know he wasn’t all crazy. He was right you know!” Joe said looking up at his father impishly.

“Huh? Right about what?”

“Third time was the charm—” Joe replied.

“How’s that?” Ben asked narrowing his eyebrows trying to figure out Joe’s meaning.

“Well I am your third son—therefore—third time was the charm.” Joe grinned conceitedly.

“Yes you are that!” Ben laughed and walked over to the door. He turned back before leaving and smiled towards his son. “You do know there are good charms and there are BAD charms as well?”

“Oh? And I would be which one?” Joe teased back.

“Neither.” Ben stated adamanently. He saw how Joe looked hurt by his statement and finally Ben broke his stern facial expression and called over to the boy. “You, Joseph, would be a LUCKY charm—a very lucky charm.”

“Yeah—lucky—” Joe grinned and then turned serious as he stared over at the man who was always there for him, no matter what. “I’m very lucky, Pa.” Joe winked over at his father. Ben understood his son’s meaning and nodded towards him.

“So am I.” Ben whispered as he left the room.

The End

Writtten by Wrangler

2-24-02

 

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.

 

Tags:  Family, Joe / Little Joe Cartwright, revenge