Summary:  When Joe is seriously injured, the remedy serves to be much more harsh than anyone expected.

Rated: T  WC 22,000

Whatever It Takes Series:

Whatever it Takes
Absolute Faith
A Part of the Main
Mustard Seed
To Help a Stranger

 

Whatever it Takes

 

My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains,

My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk,

Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains . . .

John Keats 

 

Joe Cartwright stretched his arms broadly and stifled a yawn as he slowly walked from his bed over to the cushioned window seat in his room.  He pushed the dark curtains aside and peered out the window and down to the street.  For mid-afternoon there was a lot of traffic on the street and sidewalks below.  Joe’s view was only partly obstructed by the huge granite pillars, which loomed like sequoias on either side of the massive building. He sighed to himself as he wondered where everyone was going on this early spring day.

So many times Joe had done this very thing, watching as strangers passed by.  He was constantly caught up in his imagination wondering what their lives were like. Did they have families? Were they heading off to go to work or to meet a loved one? Joe knew what his life was like and did not relish the thought of it.  He wished he had somewhere to go, a meeting, a date, or anything other than his normal daily routine.

Joe lifted a large textbook off the windowsill and sighed again. “Gray’s Anatomy” he spoke to himself. Joe turned to the page where he had last left off reading.  He figured he had been injured so many times in the past that he could at least learn something about the human body and how it worked. The pictures were very explicit and he skimmed past the ailments he didn’t choose to know about.  It would do for a while and then he would turn back again to his favorite book of poetry which he had now all but memorized.

Almost an hour later Joe was distracted from his reading by a knock on the door. A man entered the room and Joe looked over at a regular visitor, Doctor Harold Peele. The man was of average height with a stocky build. He wore a doctor’s white lab coat and his spectacles hung from his right pocket.  His hair was black with what appeared to be a good dusting of gray around his temples.  Joe had noticed in the past several months how much the doctor resembled a younger version of his father.

Doctor Peele glanced over at the young man who sat across the room. He marveled at the change that had taken place during Joe’s stay at the hospital.  He was no longer the angry and frightened twenty year old that had been admitted early in winter.  Joe now was clean-shaven with bright green eyes and a smile that would make you forget that he was ever a threat to his family or to anyone else.

“Still into that book I see!” the doctor smiled and met Joe over by the window.

“Well, mainly just looking at the pictures.”  Joe laughed.

“Joe, you have read just about all the books we have here—from philosophy to anatomy.  I think you would have made and excellent scholar!”

Joe grinned sheepishly, “Naw—just something to pass the time. You know I’ve read more here than in my whole life!’

The doctor looked into Joe’s eyes and with a tone that was suddenly serious said, “You know, Joseph, I consider you one of my biggest success stories.”

“Me?”  Joe was surprised at that thought, he hardly felt like a success at anything.

“Yes, you.  Joe to have overcome what you have and to come out of it as mentally and physically healthy as you are is quite an achievement.”

Joe nodded and replied with a hint of the humor he was famous for, “Yeah—I guess I really should be dead, huh?”

“You came close—I’ll tell you that much. And there were times here when most of the doctors and nurses were sure you’d never make it.” He paused again and smiled.

“And that is why you are my crowning success!  I take great pride in what all of us here have accomplished in your recovery.  As a matter of fact, Joe, that is what I’ve come to speak to you about.”

Joe shifted nervously on the window seat, almost afraid to find out what the doctor had in mind.  “Oh?” he finally asked.

“I’ve spoken with all of your other doctors, as well as the administration, and we feel you should be ready to be released.  Possibly as early as next week.”

Joe’s face paled and the doctor stared at him confused. He had hoped for a better response from his patient, not the fear and anxiety that now displayed itself across Joe’s face.  Joe still sat there quietly with no verbal reply.  Evidently there was something that Doctor Peele was not fully aware of regarding Joe’s desire to leave the hospital.

“Well?  I thought you’d be happy!  You will be going home!” Dr. Peele remarked.

“Home?”  Joe stood and in his one word statement made the word home sound like it was cutting through him like a knife.  “I can never go home again.”  Joe whispered sadly and walked across the room turning his back on the doctor.

 

Ben Cartwright greeted his son, Hoss, at the front door to the sprawling ranch house.  “Welcome back, son.”  Ben smiled and Hoss returned in kind.

“Hey, Pa, sorry it took a little longer than I thought it would with those supplies in town.”  Hoss shrugged out of his coat and left it along with his gun belt on the credenza and walked with his father toward the dining room table.  They both sat down just as Hop Sing brought in the coffee pot.  “Dinner not ready yet.  Give ten minutes,” he said in his usual broken English and shuffled back into the kitchen.  Ben poured coffee for his son and then himself and turning back, his eyes caught on the empty chair toward his right.

Hoss intuitively picked up on his father’s gaze.  “I know you were hoping to have a letter from San Francisco, Pa.  But, we didn’t get anything today.  Maybe tomorrow?”  Hoss tried to sound encouraging.

Ben reached out to the only son he had currently residing on the Ponderosa.  He patted Hoss’ arm affectionately.  “It’s okay, son.  Dr. Peele did write last week.  I know he is a busy man.  He’s done so much for Joseph, I know the boy is in good hands.”  Ben tried to sound better than he felt.

“Any idea when Joe can come home?”

Ben gazed at his middle son and smiled knowingly.  Hoss really missed his little brother.  And with Adam visiting friends in Boston, it made it all that more lonelier for Hoss.  “Not yet, Hoss.  But, we’ll just have to wait and not rush it.”

“Not rush it?  Pa, it’s been four months already!  Joe’s missed Christmas and now his birthday!  And besides—you said he was better!”  Hoss protested.

Ben shook his head.  The impatience that Hoss was feeling coursed also through his own veins.  He had to fight the urge each day to get on the stage and go bring back Joseph.

“I know how you feel, Hoss, I want him back as much as you do.”

Hoss frowned more at the situation than at what his father had said.  Hoss wanted to see Joe, he needed to see Joe!  Their last time together had been an awful experience and Hoss wanted to forget all of the terrible things he had said to his brother in anger.  His baby brother.  The one he had always been able to help.  But Joe had been beyond Hoss’ help, and the thought of that ate straight through to Hoss’ heart.

 

Ben sunk down into the leather chair behind his desk in the study and reached for a pen.  He started to ink a letter to his youngest son.  He got only to the first words—”Dear Joseph” and he stopped.  Ben crumpled the sheet of paper in his hands out of total frustration.  “I miss you so, Joseph.”  Ben thought out loud.  “God, I miss you.”  Ben closed his eyes to stay the tears and suddenly it was once again back in the forefront of his mind.  The story played out again as it had so many times during the long four months of Joe’s absence.  What had happened, and why Joe had been committed to that hospital so far away.

It was a chilly late afternoon in the early fall and Joe had enjoyed the day with his friend Mitch.  They stood in the yard at Mitch’s house laughing and talking about upcoming plans for the weekend.  Mitch’s little sister Mattie had tried her best to get the two young men to pay her some attention but they always just told her to go away.  She decided that she would have to do something else, other than teasing them in order to get them to notice her.  Mattie stole into the barn and climbed up the ladder, which led to the hay loft.  She knew that she wasn’t supposed to be up there, but she decided it was worth the punishment she’d get from her mother when she found out.  Mattie found a lantern and lit it with matches left on the windowsill by the hay loft window.  This would be good!  She brought the lantern over to the top door to the hay loft and waved the lantern back and forth calling, “Mitch—Joe—one if by land and two if by sea!  I’m up here—you can’t catch me!”

Joe and Mitch turned and looked at her and decided it was best to ignore her so she’d stop trying to irritate them.  Mattie continued, and on one swing of the lantern it broke loose from her hand and crashed igniting the dry hay.  The fire spread rapidly and Mattie screamed, “Help, Mitch!  Help, Joe!”

Both boys sprung into action seeing her frightened face with the flames shooting close behind her.  They climbed together up the ladder to the loft.  Joe made it to her first while Mitch was still midway up the ladder.  Joe jumped passed the flames and grabbed Mattie up in his arms.  He took two long strides and made it to Mitch and handed her down.  Before he could turn to make his way down the ladder there was a loud crash and Joe tried to leap out of the way of a falling support beam.  He cried out in horror as it fell across his back pinning him to the floor of the hay loft.  Mitch all but threw Mattie out of the barn and then braved the inferno to save his friend.

By the time Mitch had pulled Joe out of the barn and into the front yard, he could see the severity of his friend’s injuries.  “Mattie!  Quick get Pa—have him get the doctor—Joe’s hurt bad!”  Mitch cried.

The little girl ran for her father screaming into the house.

It was a little more than an hour later that the Devlin family arrived at the Ponderosa ranch house.  They had brought the unconscious Joe from their ranch in their buckboard.  Mitch and his father had helped Ben and Hoss take Joe up to his room and let the Cartwrights know that the doctor had been summoned to come quickly.

Ben had been standing near Joe’s bedside with tears welling up in his eyes.  The sight of Joe’s injury left him momentarily stunned.  Joe had severe burns, which swept from the nape of his neck grotesquely all the way down to the small of his back.  Ben was sure that his son was as close to death as he had ever been with any injury.

The doctor cleared his throat to get Ben’s attention.  “Ben, we have some serious issues to discuss now.”  Ben turned quickly and spoke, “He’s going to make it—he has to!”

The doctor pointed for Ben to sit down.  Both men took seats at either end of the bed.  “He should be in a hospital.  But, in his condition, he’d never make the trip.” the doctor spoke earnestly.

“We can take care of him here, Paul.  Just tell us what to do and it’ll be done.” Ben sounded desperate so the doctor chose his words a little more carefully.

“Those burns are the most severe I’ve ever tended.  I’m going to send a telegraph to a specialist in Maryland.  The doctor’s name is James Reese, he’s the best in the country.  He’ll be able to advise us as to what needs to be done for Joe.  Right now though we will have to concern ourselves with the two most important things.”  Paul turned for a moment as he saw Joe stir in the bed then he continued.  “That will be the pain firstly, and then seeing to it that we prevent infection.”

There was a soft moan from Joe , lying on his stomach on the bed.  In Joe’s confused mind he was trying to swim up to the surface from the murky depth of Lake Tahoe.  He struggled and struggled and finally he was above the water and coughed to force air into his lungs.  Ben was quickly over to Joe’s side.  The coughing got stronger and Joe’s eyes slowly began to open.  Joe was confused by his surroundings and could barely make out his father’s features as he began to appear before him.  Ben knelt down closer so Joe could see him.  “I’m right here, son. Can you see me?”

A crash of pain fell upon Joe and he screamed with all the strength he had left in his body.  “I’m on fire! My God—I’m on fire!”

The doctor joined next to Ben also kneeling on the floor by the bed.  “You mustn’t move, son, you’re very badly hurt.” Ben whispered.  Doctor Martin stood and reached in his medical bag and drew out a vial of morphine.  He filled a syringe and slowly prepared an injection.

“Pa!”  Joe cried out.  “Pa—It hurts—I’m burning!”  Joe gasped.

“It’ll be okay, Joseph—” Ben paused his eyes looked pleadingly toward the doctor to hurry with the painkiller.  “Doc’s got you something to help you, son.  It’ll make the pain go away.”

“No.”  Joe begged.  “Just let me die—please—I can’t take this!  Please!”

“Hold his arm, Ben.”  The doctor commanded and in less than a minute’s time had injected his patient.  Joe almost immediately started to fade away back into the safety of the unconscious mind. With his last ounce of strength Joe grabbed his father’s collar with his left hand attempting to pull him closer.  Tears rolled out of the corners of Joe’s eyes dropping down onto the pillow case.  “Pa, just let me go.”  Joe whispered and soon was back under where nothing could hurt him.

Doc Martin put his hand on Ben’s shoulder.  “Ben, he’s in agony.  He doesn’t know what he is saying.”  He tried to console his good friend.

“He’s always been such a fighter—to hear him tell me to let him die—to let him go—well, I just can’t…” Ben’s voice broke.

“I’m afraid it’s just the beginning of the pain Joe is going to have to endure.  That brings me to the decision that you and I have to make.”

Ben stood and walked with Paul back again to the two chairs and sat down hard.

“What decision?”

The doctor held up the vial of medicine. “This.  It’s the only thing that will keep Joe alive during the treatments he’ll have to endure.  This is morphine and injecting it will give pretty much an instant relief.”

“So?  I don’t understand.  What decision were you talking about?  Naturally if the medicine works we have to use it, right?”

Paul took a deep breath and began, “Morphine is a great pain killer, but it is also one of the most addictive drugs there is.  If we use this to monitor Joe’s pain, especially for the length of time it will take, Joe will become addicted.  There is no doubt about it.”

Ben shrugged his shoulders deeply and almost whispered trying to control his emotions,

“Well, when he no longer needs it we’ll get him off of it, right?”

“Ben, if it were only that simple!  I have seen this kind of addiction.  I’ve seen men who came home from war so changed due to the power of morphine.  I’ve seen men die from the addiction!”

“Not Joseph!” Ben insisted.  “We will handle that later—right now we’ve got to keep him alive!  If this is the only way, well, we have to do it!”

The doctor nodded, “I agree with you, Ben.  I just wanted you to be aware of the long-term effect of this.  It’s gonna be a rough couple of months ahead.”

Ben stood and looked down at his youngest son.  Joe looked so helpless.  His heart ached at the sight of Joe’s wounds and deep in Ben’s mind he wondered if Joe could even survive the night—let alone months of treatments.  “We’ll get through this, Paul.  We will.  Joe has always been a fighter—I guess this time we’ll have to help him to fight.”

Paul approached his friend.  “Okay, Ben.  Well we have a lot to do now.  He’s stable at the moment so let’s get some things done.  I want to talk with Hoss , he’s going to make a frame to go over Joe’s bed.  We’ll make it high enough that it’ll keep the covers off of his back, but low enough that we can get to his wounds to treat them.  After that I’ll go into town, send that telegraph, and get some more supplies.  Ben nodded.

“Thanks, Paul.”

“Oh.”  the doctor paused as he turned toward the door.  “Ben, I’ll show both you and Hoss how to give Joe the injections when I get back.  Just in case I’m not here when he needs a dose.”

It was after that statement that Ben was struck with the hard truth that this was going to be a grueling time for the entire family.  He drew a deep breath and gazed lovingly at Little Joe. We’d go to Hell and back for you. Ben thought to himself. “Ben?” the doctor tried to get his attention.

Ben shook himself from his thoughts.  “Whatever it takes—-we’ll do it, Doc.”

Doctor Martin nodded and walked out of the bedroom.

It had been a long day and an even longer night.  The doctor had left for town and Hoss worked many hours in the barn constructing a frame to put over his brother’s bed.  Hoss was glad to have something to do, especially something that would help his brother.  After seeing his brother’s back for the first time, he had gone outside to try and force thoughts out of his mind.  Initially, he was sure that his little brother was a goner.  But after hearing the doctor and his father preparing to get to the point where they could treat Joe’s injuries, he finally had some hope.

Hoss was joined a little while later by a very tired looking Ben.  “How’s it coming, Hoss?”

“Almost done, Pa.”  Hoss hammered the last nail into the frame.  “How’s Joe?”

Ben sighed trying to think of something positive to offer his son.  “Hop Sing is with him.  He’s out cold—you know that medicine Doc gave him should keep him out for awhile.”

Ben sat down on a wooden crate and put his head in his hands totally exhausted.

Hoss put down the frame and walked over to his father.  “Hey, Pa, you know Joe!  Nothing can keep him down long!”  He tried to cheer Ben.  Ben looked up at his middle son. How wonderful a man he had grown to be. Ben thought to himself. Worried about my feelings when he’s hurting himself. Ben shook himself out of the daze.

“Its going to be an uphill climb this time, son.  We are going to have to keep Joe heavily sedated through most of it.” Ben paused and Hoss jumped back in.

“I know already, Pa.  And I know what you are thinking too!  Doc told me all about the morphine.  He also said we’d have to be giving it to Joe when he’s not here.”

“Are you okay with that, son?” Ben worried knowing Hoss had an outward appearance of having the strength of ten men, but inside he had a very soft heart.

Hoss slapped his father on the back chidingly.  “Sure, Pa!  No problem.  We’ll do whatever it takes.”  Hoss tried to sound more sure of himself than he really was.  In the past he had dealt with his little brother’s injuries and had even set a bone or two.  But injecting a needle into Joe’s skin?  The thought of it made Hoss cringe.  He looked again at his father.  Ben had always been such a great role model and had handled even the worst crisis with grace and ease.  Hoss was determined to do the same, and, if need be, he’d be strong enough for both of them.  “Hey—you know me, Pa.  I ain’t the squeamish type!”  Hoss smiled again and Ben read his face and knew of his intentions.  It just made him love his son that much more.  “Well—let’s get this contraption up to Joe’s room!” Ben called as he stood.  His son’s words having given him that extra ounce of strength he had needed.

Hop Sing sat in the chair closest to where Little Joe was now sleeping.  He had asked in his own type of prayers that his ancestors help him to care for his precious young charge.  Hop Sing feeling always like a father to the boy and never like a mere housekeeper.  The young man who lay before him, had grown from a baby all under the watchful eyes of Hop Sing.  Hop Sing tended his needs and listened to Joseph’s problems during a lot of trying times.  The bond was there.  Hop Sing knew it, Joe knew it, and others were amazed and sometimes annoyed by it.  Hearing Joe and Hop Sing converse at times in Cantonese, or even formal Chinese, was truly an awe-inspiring experience!  When Hop Sing was particularly upset with one of the other Cartwrights, he would cut loose with a string of Chinese chastisements.  It would always bring a smile and a wink from Joe—who knew what Hop Sing had said and gotten away with.

Hop Sing studied Little Joe’s back and the burned flesh, which festered and had begun to swell with redness.  Hop Sing had an idea how to help and he would be well on his way into action as soon as Ben came to change places as caregiver.  Hop Sing reached out and put the palm of his right hand against Joe’s left cheek. He muttered some Chinese words of love and encouragement.  He hoped that somewhere, underneath Joe’s deep trouble sleep, that he would hear what he had said and remember their forever bond.

 

It was almost midnight of that very long day that Ben and Hoss carried up the frame that would surround Joe’s bed.  Hop Sing moved out of the way and watched the two men work diligently trying to get the placement of the frame just right.

“Good job, son.” Ben whispered satisfied with the workmanship.  Hoss tried to smile but his eyes were caught on the view of his brother’s back.  Ben reached over and touched Hoss’ shoulder.  “We’ve been through a lot haven’t we?”  Ben asked gently and Hoss nodded.  “But nothing this bad, Pa.” Hoss sullenly replied.

Hop Sing joined the two men with fresh linens in his arms.  “We tent bed now—help keep off infection!” Hop Sing insisted and they started to cover the frame with first a sheet and then with a quilt.

Hoss hated to admit to it but not having to view his brother’s burns did make him rest easier.  “Pa, Doc will be back in a couple of hours—why don’t you get some sleep?”

Ben resisted at first, wanting only to sit next to his youngest and hold his hand to force strength back into him.  Moments later he realized he would be needed more when the doctor returned.  It would be time to start to treat Joe’s injuries.  Reluctantly, he nodded to Hoss.  “Guess you’re right.  You take the first watch.  Wake me if he comes around, okay?”

Hoss forced another weak smile.  “Don’t look like that’ll be too soon, Pa.  Go get some sleep.”

Ben turned toward the door and paused. He retraced his footsteps back to Joe’s bedside.  He lightly touched his son’s forehead, partly to detect fever, but mostly to let the unconscious boy know that his father was still there. “You rest easy, Joseph.” He whispered bending down close to his son.  “Hoss is here with you.” Ben could feel tears start to form in his own eyes and knew he was wearing thin from all of the day’s events.

Hoss put his large arm around his father’s shoulder.  “Hey—am I gonna have to carry you outa here?”  He asked giving his father a quick squeeze of his shoulders. Ben stood and raised his hand in defeat.  “I’m going—I’m going.” He replied heading for the door.

Hoss pulled the chair closer to his brother’s bed.  He wanted to be able to hear even the faint sound of Joe’s breathing.  “C’mon, Little Joe, you’ve proved all of us wrong before!  C’mon start fighting your way back!” Hoss choked out the words as he put one massive hand lightly to rest on top of Joe’s left hand.

Doctor Martin arrived back at the Ponderosa just as dawn was breaking.  He had only had time for a few hours sleep, but that was something he had grown accustomed to after many years as a country doctor.  He had two satchels and his familiar black bag with him.  Hop Sing greeted him at the front door.  “Is Joe awake?”  The doctor asked upon entering the large family room.

“No, but he starts stirring more.  Pain come back soon now!”

“Well, let’s go see.”  Doc turned to the stairs just as Hop Sing reached for his arm.  Paul Martin turned toward the Chinese member of the family.  “What is it, Hop Sing?”

“Want to tell you—vely important—Hop Sing send message to cousin. Cousin will send what is needed to fix Little Joe!”  Hop Sing sounded anxious, almost insistent that he had some kind of cure.

“Hop Sing—there isn’t a whole lot we can do for Joe.  I have some information from some of the best doctors.  But, not an awful lot can be done for burns as severe as Joe’s”

Hop Sing shook his head adamantly.  “In China we have much fire.  Many burns I see.  Number three cousin fix burn.  He send what we need!”

Paul Martin looked deeply into the insistent eyes of Hop Sing.  He wasn’t about to shrug anything off that might help his patient.  “You send that telegraph, Hop Sing.  Maybe between what we are learning here in the west and what your people have known for years we might just get lucky.”

Paul turned toward the stairs leaving a very happy Hop Sing scurrying off to compose his telegraph.

“Well?”  Ben asked as the doctor finished checking his son’s vital signs.  Paul let out a slow deep breath.  “So far so good.  His pulse is weak—but it’s steady.  He’s got a fever—but that just shows us his body is still fighting.”  The doctor paused and stared down at the changing color of the skin on Joe’s back.  “We’ve got to get on these treatments though. Before the infection has a chance to do more damage.”

“I heard back from that specialist that I told you about, Ben.  He sent some specific instructions.  He did say the success rate varies depending on a lot of things.”

“Like what?”  Ben asked moving over to the table where Paul had started setting out different medicines.  “Amount of tissue loss, general condition of patient prior to injury, reaction to treatment and patient’s willingness to fight.”

“Well, at least we have Joe’s general good health, right?”  Ben questioned trying to come up with something positive.  Doctor Martin nodded.  “We need to come up with a regular schedule, Ben.  We need to build Joe’s system up to fight off infection then treat the pain aspect and then do the treatments.”

Paul reached in his bag and drew out some glass straws.  “We need to get a lot of fluids in him to start with.  I’ve made up a concoction that Joe can drink that will help to build him up a little. I’ve written the ingredients down for Hop Sing so he can fix it daily.”  The doctor shook up a bottle with a milky colored substance to it.  Ben stared at it unappealingly. Paul smiled.  “It’s really not as bad as it looks, Ben.”  He then poured it into a glass and put the straw in it.

“So, what the plan right now is —let’s get Joe awake, get him to drink this and some water.  Then we’ll give him a good dose of morphine so we can do his first treatment.”

“Whatever you say.”  Ben said unsure of how this would all work, but, putting his faith in a friend who had pulled his youngest through many an injury in the past.

“Try to wake him up, Ben.  He responds to your voice a lot better than to mine!”

Ben once again knelt down next to Joe.  He began stroking Joe’s left arm gently.  “Joseph—Joseph, it’s time to wake up, son.  C’mon—open your eyes.”  He began.

Joe heard a voice pulling him out of the darkness and back into the dimly lit room once more.  He slowly blinked.  A couple of times the blinking was so faint that his father didn’t even notice.  Then Joe blinked hard and as he opened his eyes he felt himself thrown back into the fire that was his back.  “No.”  Joe moaned and tried his best to go back under to where nothing hurt.

“Joseph—you’ve gotta try—Joseph—please!” Ben persisted.

Joe could feel tears starting to leave his eyes.  Involuntary tears swept down his cheeks.  Joe didn’t want to cry; he wanted to go back where it didn’t hurt any more.

“Pa—I can’t.”

Joe’s voice was both hoarse and pleading.  Ben reached up and brushed the tears off of Joe’s face.  “We have to get some water in you, son.  C’mon—do it for me?” Ben was now begging.

Joe opened his eyes again.  “It hurts too much—” Joe cried. Ben put the straw to Joe’s mouth.  “Drink this—as soon as it’s all gone I promise you we will give you something that will make the pain go away.”

In Joe’s mind, this bargain made sense.  This was what he could do to get relief.  If he drank, he would get medicine.  If he got medicine, the pain would go away.  Joe slowly began to drink the concoction the doctor had made.  After that, he drank the water he was given.  Just the act of drinking was a great ordeal and Joe let his head fall to the pillow after finishing the last of the water.  “Very good, son!” Ben praised Joe as if this was his son’ first step towards the battle to survive the injury.  “Pain—” was all Joe could mumble.

Ben looked over to Paul who had already drawn the needle full of morphine.  “We’re gonna fix that now.”  Ben replied as the doctor made his way over to Joe’s side.

“Okay, Ben.” Paul said as he drew a silent breath.  “This is your first lesson. Now watch as I do this.”  The doctor turned Joe’s arm slightly and found his mark right above the inner elbow.  Ben chewed at his bottom lip as the syringe needle went under Joe’s pale skin.  “Next time,” Doc paused as he drew the needle back out.  “Next time I’ll have you do it.”

Ben exhaled deeply and stared down at Joseph.  He could see the tenseness in Joe’s jaw line slowly erase. Whatever it takes. Ben repeated in his head.

Both men watched as Joe drifted back off, his respirations became slower, and the grimace on his face smoothed to a gentle peace.  “Let’s get that treatment done.”

The doctor turned to one of the bags he had brought into the room.  He had sent instructions for Hop Sing to sterilize two metal bowls and then fill one with boiling water.  Hop Sing brought up the bowls to Joe’s room and set them on the table by the bed.  By then the doctor had unfolded several sheets of the muslin and placed them in the boiling water.  He opened several jars and instructed Ben to watch how the medicines were to be mixed.  Ben retreated from his son’s bedside and joined Paul at the other end of the room.

“We sterilize the two bowls, then place the cloths in the water. Then we will use these tongs to squeeze out the excess water.”  The doctor paused and showed Ben how to manipulate the tongs. He then, using the instrument, spread the cloth onto the empty bowl and poured the different medicines over it.  “After the medicine is spread out like this, hold the two farthest corners—trying to touch as least as possible—the main part here will go directly over Joe’s burn.  We have to be sure not to contaminate what we have just sterilized.”  Ben nodded and retrieved two of the medicine jars and studied their labels.  “Is this what the specialist recommended? Lime-water and linseed oil?”

Paul nodded.  “It’s as good a medicine as there is—you know we have to prevent infection and hope that Joe’s body is strong enough to repair itself.” Doc Martin, holding the two corners of the cloth walked over to his patient and laid the first piece over the top end of Joe’s back.  Immediately Ben could see the reaction of the chemicals and their effects on the burnt skin.  The burn seemed to bubble up like beads of water on a hot skillet.  Ben winced at the sight as the doctor turned and went over for the other cloth.  Paul saw his friend’s reaction to the sight of his son’s back. “I know it looks awful, Ben, but it will help.  But, I’ll tell you this—if Joe was awake he wouldn’t be able to handle this!”

Ben nodded still transfixed on his son’s injury.  “How long do we keep this on?”

“About a half of an hour—no longer as we want to be able to pull the cloth away without doing more damage.”

Ben sank down in the chair.  “How often do we do the treatments?”

 

Doc Martin walked over to the washbasin to scrub his hands.  “Twice a day.  We’ll try to get food and water down Joe in the morning then give him a shot and do the first treatment of the day.  We’ll do the same thing in the evening.”

Hop Sing walked back in the room and moved over to where Little Joe lay.  “Cousin will send medicine—it help Little Joe more—help so no scar too!” Hop Sing assured both men.

“What?”  Ben asked puzzled.

Paul smiled amused at Ben’s surprise.  He explained, “We decided that we will try some Chinese medicine too.”

“Do you think that is wise?” Ben wasn’t at all convinced.

Paul put his hand on Ben’s shoulder.  “It couldn’t hurt!” He insisted.

Ben sighed deeply and nodded.  Joe had a long road to recovering from his injury and as he had said many times before he repeated here.  “Whatever it takes.”

The next time Joe awakened, he wasn’t in as much pain as he had been before.  It was more like having a dull ache than feeling like he was on fire.  Ben had just minutes before traded places with Hoss in the room when Joe started to stir again in his bed.  Ben was quick to reach out, touch his son’s hand, and try to ease him back into consciousness.

“I’m right here, son.”  Ben whispered.  Joe blinked hard and his father came back into focus.  “Pa——what happened?”

“You were hurt in a fire at Mitch’s house.  Do you remember?”

Joe closed his eyes again and the pictures flashed through his clouded mind. “Did Mattie get out okay?”

Ben stroked Joe’s head lightly and felt a lump in his own throat.  Here his son lay before him burnt almost beyond repair and he was worried about somebody else.  It was yet another realization that Ben had done a good job raising the young man who lay before him.  “Yes—thanks to you!  I just wish you had fared as well.”

Joe tried to move but the pain stopped him.  “It’s bad isn’t it, Pa?” Joe asked his earnest green eyes still clouded with the after affects of the morphine. Ben’s hand dropped from Joe’s head and lightly brushed across his exposed left cheek.  “Yes, Joe.”  Ben paused again.  “It’s bad.  But you are going to make it.”  Ben reassured.

Joe reached up for his father’s hand.  He took it into his own not wanting to let go of the main source of his own strength.  Ben knew what Joe was thinking without words being exchanged.  Joe was afraid.  Afraid of the pain, afraid of the uncertainty of the situation, afraid of the slow process of healing, Joe finally broke the silence and asked, “So, what happens now?”

Ben cleared his throat trying to push aside the deep emotion that was revealing itself in his eyes.  “The doctor has already started your treatments.  I’m not going to lie to you, Joseph.  It’s going to be a long haul.”

Joe couldn’t see his back but the pain was starting to come again in intensity.  He winced trying to mentally ward it off.  “It’s gonna scar isn’t it?” Joe choked out.

Ben squeezed Joe’s hand.  “Not if the doc and Hop Sing have anything to do with it!  They have all kinds of medicines to fix you up.  You just concern yourself with getting better and building up your strength.”  Ben had noticed the appearance of pain as it settled once more over Joe’s face.  The jaw line tightened and Joe’s eyes started to smolder.

“It’s hurting.”  Joe paused and released his father’s hand.

“The doc will be here soon, son.  Let’s get some water in you first.” Ben walked over to the water pitcher on the nightstand and poured a glass.  He then put the straw into the drink and held it up to his son’s lips.  “Drink this and we’ll get you something for pain.”

Joe drank the glass of water and then lay with his eyes closed trying again to will the pain away.  It didn’t work.  “Pa—I need it now.”  Joe pleaded.

Walking over to the bureau Ben lifted the syringe and the bottle of morphine.  There was tightness in the pit of his stomach as he started to draw up the medicine.  Ben had hoped for a couple more lessons before having to go solo with injecting his son.  As if on cue, Doc Martin walked in the door.

“I’m so glad to see you, Paul!”  Ben exclaimed holding the syringe full of medicine.  Paul took it from Ben and examined the dose.  He then handed it back to his friend.  “Looks good, Ben.  You are going to do it, though.”

Ben turned around to look at his son.  “I’m not sure that I can do it.”  Ben whispered so Joe wouldn’t hear him.

“Well, you can.  And besides, there are two young ladies in Virginia City who are both due to have their babies in the next week or so.  There’s no guarantee I’ll be around on schedule.  Remember what you said?”  The doctor reminded Ben.

“Yeah—whatever it takes!”  Ben admitted to his own words.

“C’mon then—I’ll help.”  Paul walked over to Joe followed by a nervous Ben.

“Your pa’s gonna give you your pain killer, Joe.  Now you hold real still—you hear?”

Joe looked at the doctor and then his eyes went back and forth between his father and the syringe in his father’s hand.  Paul turned Joe’s arm over to spot the inside of his elbow. “Let’s go a little above the last shot.  We’ll alternate arms each day as well.”

Ben held the back of Joe’s arm with his left hand.  He turned to look back at Paul who just nodded his encouragement.  Ben drew a deep breath and then pushed the needle under the skin on Joe’s left arm.  “Push the plunger slowly.”  Paul reminded and Ben finished the injection and drew the needle out.

Ben looked at his son’s face for reassurance.  “I’m fine.” Joe spoke softly knowing his father was worried that he may have hurt him.

Ben stood upright and a great relief shot through him.  Paul slapped Ben on the back.  “You did real good, Ben.  I may just make you my permanent assistant!” He smiled.

Ben shook his head and gave a slight grin.  “I don’t think so!” He said emphatically.

Both men stared down at Joe who had drifted back off to sleep.  “Well, let’s see how well you do with the treatment now!”  Paul said and Ben shook his head.

“I think I could use a drink first!”  Ben admitted seriously.  Paul nodded his agreement.  “You go get some brandy.  I’ll get things ready then we’ll do it.”

Ben turned toward the door and stopped.  Paul read his friend’s mind.  “I’ll be right here with him—he’s not going anywhere!”  Ben smiled having once again showed his over-protective side.  Fortunately, it was shown to someone who was already perfectly aware of Ben’s love for his son.

 

The following week had passed as though it had been just one continuous day.  Feed Joe, inject Joe; treat Joe’s wounds then the same steps repeated over and over again.  The doctor was pleased with the fact that the infection was slowing, but he still worried about whether the skin would ever be able to heal.

Hop Sing’s cousin had immediately sent the requested herbal medicines after he had received the urgent telegraph.  Hoss had brought the box into the house after returning from Virginia City.  Hop Sing sat on the coffee table one by one displaying each herb and potion for Doctor Martin’s inspection.  Though Paul was not sure of the validity of using the items that sat before him, he felt it was a needed try.  Paul knew it would make Hop Sing feel like he was helping and not just standing idly by.

“Okay, Hop Sing.”  The doctor began, “After each of my treatments it’ll be your turn—as long as Joe is still asleep none of this should do any harm.”  The doctor lifted a jar up to his nose and smelled of its contents.  “At least it smells better than what I’ve been using!” Paul smiled and received an excited nod from Hop Sing.

That night, after the doctor and Ben had done the normal nightly treatment, Hop Sing stood by the bed a tray of his potions spread out on the nightstand. “It’s all yours.” the doctor said and stood back.  Hop Sing scooped some medicine that looked like a cross between beeswax and paste onto a thin wooden spatula.  He then spread the substance lightly over Little Joe’s massive burn.

Ben grimaced at the sight.  “What is it exactly?” Ben asked.

“Vely—special—many things—all will help Little Joe!  Help not infect, help stop the scars.  Vely good!” Hop Sing insisted.

Ben shook his head and looked back over at Doctor Martin.  “You sure about this, Doc?  Looks like that’s going to be hard to get off of Joe’s back!”  Before the doctor could reply Hop Sing interrupted.

“No take off back, will disappear.  Go down deep—heal from inside to outside.”

The doctor just shrugged and Ben gave up the questioning.  He knew that few people on the planet loved the boy receiving the treatment more than Hop Sing.  He would be sure not to cause any more harm to his young charge.

Joe’s recovery during the second week was much like the first one.  He had begun to stay awake longer, and he also had begun to eat a little more.  He continued to drink the liquid meal that the doctor had concocted to help boost his system.

Hoss spent many hours in the room reading to his brother.  As he read Moby Dick, Joe enjoyed listening to his brother struggling with the words and challenged him at times to the deeper meaning of the literary work.

“Hey, Joe.  How about I read you Hamlet now?” Hoss laughed after finally completing Moby Dick’s last sentence.  Joe was now laying partly on his right side, pillows propped up in front of him.  “No, you would make me laugh too hard and it’ll start me to hurting!”  Joe tried a forced smile.

“How about checkers?”  Hoss changed the subject.

Joe glanced over at the clock on his nightstand.  “Hey, it’s almost midnight—you need to go to bed.  You don’t have to babysit me all day and night you know!”

Hoss laughed.  “Hey—it beats doing chores—I’m just trying to get some rest!”

“Yeah—right.”  Joe said looking at the dark circles that surrounded his brother’s eyes.

“Between you and Pa I doubt that you’ve gotten even four straight hours of sleep since all this happened.”  Hoss patted Joe’s shoulder lightly.

“You’d do the same for us.”  Hoss reminded his brother.

“Well, go on to bed just the same.”  Joe insisted.  Ben walked into the room as Hoss stood and stretched.  “Go on, son.  I’ve got it now.”  Ben said and sunk down into the chair on the other side of the bed.  “Guess I’ll grab some shut eye.” Hoss yawned and left the room.

“How are you feeling?”  Ben asked trying to read Joe’s face.

“Bored.”  Joe stated flatly.

Ben grinned and reached out to brush aside a stray curl hanging from Joe’s forehead.  “You know what I mean!”

Joe frowned and tried to shift slightly in the bed.  “Yeah—it’s starting up.”  Joe paused.  “I don’t look forward to that needle—but I guess I need some now.”

“That’s what I thought.”  Ben replied sternly and walked over to the medicine.  He drew the syringe full of morphine and turned back to his son.  Joe offered his left arm in preparation but Ben pushed it back down gently.  “No—it’s your right arm this time, Joseph.”  Ben reminded as he walked to the other side of the bed.  “You ready?” Ben asked.

Joe unfolded his right arm towards his father.  “Yeah.”  Joe’s voice shook a little bit and he closed his eyes.  Ben injected his son and stayed there next to him as he drifted off to sleep.

Ben watched his son as he once more went down into the deep void that led to perfect peace.  He wondered how long Joe would need the relief of the highly addictive drug.  It was a double-edged sword.  The morphine was helping to keep Joe alive so that he could be healed, and yet it had begun to become a crutch.  And from what the doctor had said, it was a crutch that would be hard to rid Joe of.

Ben shook his head disturbed at his thoughts.  He knew he had to concern himself at the moment with keeping his son pain free until the crisis time was over.  The after effects of the drug would be handled at a later time when Joe’s life was not in jeopardy.

 

“How’s he doing?”  Ben asked as he entered the ranch house coming back from a trip to Virginia City.  Paul Martin sat on the settee enjoying a cup of coffee with Hoss and turned toward the approaching Ben.  “He’s doing better than I expected actually.  Hoss and I just finished giving him a treatment and Hop Sing is up in Joe’s room finishing up with his magic potions!”

Ben joined the two men in the living room and Hoss passed his father a cup of coffee.  “Thanks, son.  Sure can use this—it’s getting mighty cold out there!”  Ben remarked, placed a small package on the coffee table, and then sipped his coffee.

“What’s this?”  Hoss lifted the package to take a look.

“From Adam.”  Ben paused and took another sip.  “A present he sent to Joe.”

“What do you think it is?”  Hoss studied the shape, size, and weight of the mystery gift.

Ben smiled knowingly at Hoss.  “Now it’s from ADAM—what do you think?”

Hoss set it back down.  “A book.”  He stated with some disappointment in his tone.

Ben turned his attention back to the doctor.  “So, you were saying Joe’s doing good?”

“He’s healing a lot faster than I originally thought he would.  Maybe it’s our medicine treatments—or maybe it’s Hop Sing’s secret potions!  Whatever it is, though, I think he’s finally out of the crisis phase now.”

“It’s been three weeks—can we get him off of the pain killer now?”  Ben asked avoiding using the word “morphine”.  The sound and idea of the drug always left an acid taste in Ben’s mouth when he said it.

“Not yet, Ben.  Another couple of weeks I think.  He’s done well because he has survived those treatments.  The treatments would still be unbearable if he wasn’t sedated.”  Paul stood and donned his hat and coat.  “Well, I’ve got to get back to town.  I’ll be back tomorrow.”

“Thanks, Doc.”  Both Cartwrights said in unison.  Once the doctor had gone, Hoss spoke again.  “I wish Adam had come home.”

“It’s not that he didn’t want to, son.  But he had only been in Boston a little over a week when Joe had his accident.  He’s looked forward to this trip all year.”

Hoss nodded his understanding and lifted the package again.  “Can’t wait for Joe to wake up so he can open this.”

Ben laughed, “You never could stand to see a wrapped present!  I remember you getting into your presents long before Christmas morning!”  Hoss gave a sheepish grin.

“Just curious—-that’s all.”  He smiled.

It was almost seven o’clock that night by the time Joe had awakened.  He shifted from his stomach to his side as he spotted his father coming in the door.  “Here let me help you!”

Ben was quick with the extra pillows placing them in front of his son to help prop him forward on the bed.  “What time is it anyway?”

“A little after seven, son.”  Ben answered taking his familiar chair by the bedside.

Joe blinked hard and waited for his vision to become clearer.  His head felt light and he was somewhat dizzy.  The drug’s effect was something he had become accustomed to feeling.  “Okay—that’s the time—why don’t you tell me what day it is?”

Ben had to think on that one himself.  He had been so focused on taking care of his son that one day had just drifted into the next.  “It’s Friday, Joseph.”  Ben finally answered.

“How long have I been up here?”

Ben reached over and touched Joe’s shoulder.  “It’s been three weeks now.”

Joe gave what sounded like a bitter laugh.  “Three weeks—and I still feel like Hell.”

Ben tried to change the subject.  He handed Adam’s package to his son.  “This came for you today.”  Joe tried to tear through the brown paper wrapping but had little strength.

Ben reached over and tore part of one of the corners so Joe could get it opened easier.

“A book.”  Joe stated not at all excited.

“It’s from Adam.”

Joe opened the book’s front cover and read out loud the inscription.  “To my brother Joe—who finally is staying still long enough to read a good book.  Get better soon.  Love Adam.”  Joe then turned to the title page.  “Selected Best Loved Poems”.  Joe closed the cover and shut his eyes again.  “He wants me to get refined.” Joe responded with sarcasm.

“You ready to eat now?”  Ben again changed the subject.

“Not exactly hungry.”  Joe said quietly.

“Well you’re going to anyway.”  Ben stood and turned toward the door.  “I’ll be back in a minute with your dinner.” When his father left the room Joe opened the book once more and started to look through it.  “I knew Shakespeare would be in here!”  Joe spoke aloud.  Joe skimmed through a passage and his eyes caught on a particular verse.

“Out, out brief candle! 

Life is but a walking shadow, a poor player who struts and frets his hour upon the stage and is heard no more. 

It is a tale told by an idiot —full of sound and fury—signifying nothing!”

 

Joe nodded his head.  “You are so right Mr. Shakespeare.”  The passage seemed to feed Joe’s cynical mind.  He was feeling angry, very angry.  Anger at the hurt, anger to be cooped up, anger to be facing pain and knowing it wasn’t going to end any time soon.

 

Several days later Hoss had just come down the stairs from his visit with his little brother.  He approached Ben, who sat at his desk in the den.  “Pa? Can I talk with you?” Hoss asked knowing he never REALLY had to ask.  In his whole life his father had never turned him away.

“What’s wrong?”  Ben looked up from his paper work and noticed Hoss’ sad face as he sat down in the chair next to him.

“It’s Joe.  I know he’s not himself because of the painkiller and all, but he just seems so different!  It’s hard seeing him like this.”

Ben walked over, sat on the corner of the desk, and put his hand on his son’s shoulder.  “What do you mean, Hoss?”

“He’s so full of gloom and doom!  You know he’s even memorized poems from that book from Adam?”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“It’s only the depressing ones, Pa!  You really need to listen to him!  It’s all about wanting to die and how life is meaningless!  Dadburnit, there are some nice poems in that book, but Joe will only read the gloomy ones!”

Ben sighed deeply.  “I’ve noticed it too, Hoss.  I think it is the medicine; it alters your personality after awhile.  At least that’s what the doctor said.”

“Well, I wish he was off the damn stuff!  I’d sure rather hear him laugh than to listen to him quote that depressing stuff!”

Ben squeezed Hoss’ shoulder lightly.  “The doctor said we can start weaning Joe off of it in a week or so.  Then, hopefully we’ll have him back the way he was.  But, until then we’ll just have to be patient.

Hoss nodded even though he was starting to have his doubts as to whether he would ever have his brother back the way he had been before his accident.

 

It was much later the same night as Ben and Hoss had discussed their worries over Joe’s personality change that Ben had gone up to his room to check on him.  Ben found his son sleeping soundly with his left index finger still holding a place in the book Adam had given him.  Ben slowly pulled the book away, keeping Joe’s place in the book with his own index finger.  Ben pulled the covers up over the bed frame and then sat down in the chair.

Staring at the poem that Joe had so carefully marked, both with his finger and with the turned down corner of the page, Ben began to read it in a soft whisper,

“My heart aches and a drowsy numbness pains

my sense as though of hemlock I had drunk,

or emptied some dull opiate to the drains—”

 

Ben stopped.  He gazed over at his sleeping son. Oh, Joseph. You have to get through this—I pray that we get you back—the way you were. Ben reached over and let his fingers brush through Joe’s unruly hair. I miss your laugh—I miss your smile—I miss your irritating habits that make me love you so! Ben closed the book and stayed keeping watch over his youngest son.

Ben slept hard, his body and mind exhausted from weeks of worry.  It was the first deep sleep in which he had entered in a long, long time.  From somewhere, far off in the distance, he heard the sound.  Ben’s mind fought towards the conscious state as his body fought to stay in slumber.  The sound persisted become more clear and a cry more intense.  He realized it was Joe in the next room calling out to him!  Ben slowly sat up in bed wondering if it was a dream.  To remove all doubt, he heard the cry again and Ben was sure it was a cry for help.  Ben threw on his robe and slippers and headed to his son’s room.

“Dadburn it!” Hoss spoke as he saw his father appear at the door.  “I told you not to wake Pa!” He chastised his little brother.

“What’s going on here?”  Ben asked moving closer to the two brothers.

“I told Joe it was too early for another shot—told him he needed to wait awhile longer.” Hoss protested.

Ben stared down at Joe.  “Are you hurting that bad?”

“What—do you think I’m making all of this up?”  Joe retorted angrily.

“Pa.”  Hoss intervened again.  “He had a shot just two hours ago.”

“I’m sorry my pain doesn’t know how to tell time!” Joe was now shouting.

Ben frowned at both of his sons, trying to figure out the best way to handle the situation.

“Hoss—you go on to bed—you’ve had a long day. I’ll handle this.”

Hoss shook his head in disbelief.  It angered him so to see the strain on his father’s face.  It made him even madder to think that Joe was using his injury as a tool to get whatever he wanted.  Deciding it would only upset his father more if he stayed to further contest Joe’s actions, Hoss walked out of the room.

“Now, Joseph.”  Ben spoke calmly and quietly to take charge of the situation.  “Your brother was only trying to help.  He didn’t want to dose you any more than what is necessary.”

“Fine—I’ll just lay here hurting. You all can go to bed and sleep soundly.”  Joe spoke out bitterly.  Ben took a deep breath and let it out real slowly.  He fought hard to remember that this was the dull effects of the morphine talking back to him in such an ill manner and not his youngest son.  Ben looked over at the clock.  “It’s two a.m., let’s give it until three—and then if you’re still hurting I’ll give you some.”

Joe shut his eyes tightly.  He wanted the morphine.  He NEEDED the morphine!  He tried hard to think of how to get it without waiting the additional time.  After a few moments the tears started to roll down Joe’s cheeks and he cried softly.  “Pa—please—it hurts so much!”

That was it for Ben!  He couldn’t bear to see the anguish on Joe’s face.  After all, he reasoned, maybe the infection had returned, or maybe the scar tissue was pulling harder than before!  Ben brushed the tears from Joe’s pale face.  “Okay, son.”  He whispered and walked over to the bureau to retrieve the morphine.

There was a very heated discussion in the Ponderosa’s living room the next day.  Hoss, the doctor and Ben stood arguing over what had transpired the night before.

“Ben, it’s not the pain—it’s the addiction that’s making Joe want more morphine now!”

“No,” Ben refused the thought and raised his hand in gesture.  “He was hurting—I could see it on his face!”

“He knows how to get to you!”  Hoss insisted.

“That’s not fair, Hoss.”  Ben retorted angrily.

“Okay—that’s enough.”  The doctor spoke quietly.  “You both sit down and let’s discuss this rationally.”   Finally the three men sat down in opposite chairs to talk.

“Ben, one reason that Joe’s asking for it more could be the pain—but that’s also because his body has built up a tolerance and now is requiring more.”

Ben glanced over at Hoss and Hoss frowned.

“But, we are reaching a point now where we have to slowly wean him off the drug.  Not increase the dosage.”  The doctor reiterated.

“And we make him suffer?”  Ben was incredulous.

“No, Ben.  Just slowly let him get use to tolerating the pain a little more.”

Ben scowled and drummed his fingers on the coffee table at war with his emotions.

“So, what do we do now, Doc?  Joe is okay until he starts asking for the morphine—and then he’s down right awful!”  Hoss explained to the doctor.

“Let’s start by giving him half-doses instead of a whole syringe.  But don’t let him know.  Then if he wants more at least we won’t be increasing from what he’s already use to.”

Ben and Hoss nodded their agreement.  “And we need to get him up out of that bed.  Get him to sit in a chair for a few minutes at a time.  That will help his circulation and maybe his disposition a little.”

“When?”  Ben asked concerned at the events that would soon take place.

“Well, it’s about an hour until his next dose—probably a good time to start.”

Hoss and his father stood up in anticipation.  “Now, you both are to do exactly what I say up there!  No caving in, Ben—you understand?”  The doctor’s statement came off very harsh.  Both men nodded their agreement and the three men ascended the stairs.

Once up in Joe’s room, Joe turned to his visitors as they approached.  Joe closed his book.  “Joseph, we’re going to get you up for a little while.”  The doctor stated firmly and walked to Joe’s bedside.

“Up?  What do you mean up?  It hurts to just lay here let alone to move!” He protested.

“Well, nevertheless you need to get up and sit in a chair.  It’s been almost a month without any activity and that’s not good for your circulation.”  The doctor pointed to Hoss and Ben to move the frame above Joe’s bed.  They took it down and set it in the corner of the room.  “Give me your right arm—put it on my shoulder.”  The doctor commanded.  Joe looked helplessly to his family for help in stopping the doctor’s actions, but they did nothing.  He finally gave in and Paul pulled Joe into a seated position on the side of the bed.

Joe’s face flushed with the pain of his movement.  Ben fought hard the parental urge to help his son.  He had promised Paul not to interfere, but it was extremely difficult.  Joe sat on the edge of the bed, his legs dangling.  “I’m cold.” He protested.

He had only his long john bottoms on, no shirt had been allowed over the area of his burn.

“I’m going to get you over to that straight chair.  You can straddle it for more support.  Then I’ll fix you up with a sheet.”  The doctor pulled his patient to a standing position.  Joe’s knees felt as though they would buckle under him and he fought the urge to pass out.  After a couple of awkward steps, assisted by Doctor Martin, Joe made it to the chair.  He sat with his legs straddling the chair and his chin propped on the back of the chair for support.  Ben brought over a sheet and placed it lightly over Joe’s shoulders.

“I’m hurting.”  Joe said wincing.  Paul shot a warning look at Ben and shook his head to prevent his friend from intervening here.  “We’ll get you something in a little while.  Hoss, you stay here with your brother and your father and I are going to fix Joe something to eat.”

Hoss nodded and pulled a chair next to his brother as the other two men left the room.  Joe shot Hoss an unpleasant look.  “C’mon, Joe.  You know the sooner you start to move around, the sooner you’ll get better!”

“Who made you a doctor?” Joe asked with heavy sarcasm in his voice.  Hoss ignored Joe’s anger and asked, “You want me to read to you?”

“No.  I’ll tell you what—I’ll read to YOU!  Hand me that book.”  Joe pointed over at the book Adam had sent him.  Hoss handed it to Joe who then turned to a poem.

“Darkling I listen,

and for many a time I have been half in love with easeful Death. 

Called him soft names in many a mused rhyme,

to take into the air my quiet breath. 

Now more than ever seems it rich to die,

to cease upon the midnight with no pain.”

 

Hoss interrupted his brother.  “C’mon, Joe—you know you kinda sound as moody as ole Adam!”

Joe looked at Hoss.  “Maybe Adam was in pain too!”  Joe replied sullenly.

Hoss stared deeply at the person before him.  It looked like Joe, but that was where the resemblance stopped.  He fought the urge to shake his brother back to reality, back to the brother he loved so dearly.  It was then that Ben and Paul returned with Joe’s dinner tray.

“I’m not hungry.”  Joe again repeated.

“Well, you can’t have any medicine until you have eaten.”  The doctor cautioned his patient.  With that statement, Joe reluctantly began to eat.

After Joe had eaten his supper, Hoss helped him back to the bed and Ben and Paul returned to the bureau.  Silently Paul showed Ben the syringe and drew only half of a dose of morphine.  Ben nodded his understanding.  The doctor then administered the shot.  Joe settled back and was soon asleep.

For the next several days Joe had begun to stay awake longer, but apparently was in more pain than he had been before.  He did end up receiving more injections but they were only partial doses, unbeknownst to him.

Ben and the doctor stood looking down at the sleeping patient.  “It’s not working too well.”  Ben said discouraged. “He’s still getting about as much as he was before we started cutting the dose in half.”

Paul shook his head.  “Well, at least he’s not taking more than he was—that’s at least a partial victory.  I’d say in another couple of days we’ll cut back even more.  His back is looking real good and he is starting to move around more.”

“He’s still very weak.”  Ben commented with typical worry in his voice.

“That’s to be expected after all this time in bed.”

Ben put his hand on Paul’s shoulder.  “You look like you could use some coffee.  Hoss said you were up late last night bringing in a new patient!”

Paul nodded.  “Yeah—coffee sounds good, Ben.  Let’s get some and then we can do Joe’s treatment before I leave.”

Both men walked out of the room closing the door.  Joe lifted his head from the pillow.  He had not been sleeping.  Now he knew why he was suffering more than usual!  How dare they cut back on my medicine, Joe thought to himself.  Joe slowly pulled himself up on his knees and then crawled to the end of the bed.  He looked across the room where Doc Martin’s medical bag sat on the bureau.  Joe somehow summoned the strength to make it over to the bag.  He dug through it until he came up with a vial of liquid.  He read the label and was pleased that it was morphine.  Joe then dug further down in the bag and came up with a syringe.  Joe thought again to himself. Well, I guess I’ll just do it myself! If they can play a game with my life then so can I! Joe hid the medicine and needle under his nightstand far out of sight.  He then crawled back into the bed.

 

The next day after Joe had eaten lunch, Ben had given him his normal half-dose injection.  Joe settled back.  “I’m really tired, Pa.  Think I’ll just sleep awhile.  You go on and do whatever you need to do.  I’ll be okay.”

Ben rubbed Joe’s arm.  “You sure you don’t want me to stay awhile?”

“No, really—I’m feeling better already.”  Joe tried to give a reassuring smile.  Ben was very pleased at his son’s apparent pleasant attitude.  Maybe, just maybe, Joe was coming back a little.  Or at least that was what Ben had hoped.  “Okay, son.  But you just call out it you need me.”  Ben walked to the door.

“I will.”  Joe answered and closed his eyes.  As soon as Joe heard his father’s footsteps descending the stairs he arose from his bed.  Joe drew out the medicine and the syringe.  He had been watching carefully for days how the injection was administered.  Joe drew out a full dose and was ready to inject his right arm when he had an uneasy thought. They will be able to tell if I use my arm—they’ll notice it. Joe sat thinking hard.  He finally decided that the inside of his right thigh would do just as well, and besides, it would be an easier target.

Joe pulled up the right pant leg to his long johns.  He drew a breath to ward off what he knew would be painful and then buried the needle into his thigh.  Joe slowly pushed the plunger until the medicine was all gone.  He then made it over to the bureau where he found rubbing alcohol the doctor had been using.  He rinsed the needle off and then hid both the syringe and medicine back under the nightstand.

By the time Joe was back in bed he was feeling the full effects of the morphine.  The dose had worked fast and Joe was soon in a deep drug-induced sleep.

 

“I don’t understand it, Ben.”  The doctor said his hands rose in gesture.  “We have decreased his morphine for the last week and yet he still seems drugged out.”

“Maybe he’s just tired, Paul.  You know we’ve been bringing him downstairs every day. He’s also been walking more.”

“No!”  The doctor was adamant.  “Just look at his eyes, Ben!  He still has that sedated look.”

“What do you want to do?”

“Ben, we need to stop the morphine altogether now.  Just cut it off!  It’s not going to be easy, but we have to do it!”

“Tell me what to expect.” Ben sat opposite Paul in the living room, his worried gaze looking up towards Joe’s room.

“Some side effects are nausea, mood swings, lack of appetite, restlessness.  His body will be resisting the withdrawal.  It all just depends on the level of his addiction.  There are also some severe stomach cramps that accompany the nausea—and they are usually pretty awful!”

“We’ll handle it.”  Ben nodded.

“Ben—maybe you ought to let me take Joe into town.”  The doctor started but Ben cut him off.

“No!  I’m going to take care of him!  It’s my fault he’s got to go through all this!”

Paul shook his head adamantly.  “Ben, there was no other choice and you know it!  Don’t blame yourself.”

“You’re right.”  Ben half-nodded unconvinced.

“Joe’s going to be pretty angry, Ben.”  The doc warned.

“I’ll handle that.”

“Okay then, no time like the present.”  The doctor stood and walked toward the stairway.  “I’ll go and tell him now.”  He said and walked up to Joe’s room.

That night Joe lay in his room trying to figure out what to do.  He knew he had enough medicine for only maybe two days, and then would be out.  There had to be another way to get the drug!  The doctor had explained to Joe what would be happening to his body, so Joe knew he would have to pretend to be suffering from the withdrawal.  He had asked many questions so he’d know exactly what to do when he was around his family.

Joe came up with an idea and decided to work on it in the morning.

The first day had gone better than Ben ever had expected.  Joe was not as combative as the doctor had warned he would be.  He did show signs of stomach cramping and Joe had complained about nausea, but it was not as severe as they had initially thought it would be.  The doctor wasn’t able to come out the first day due to several patients who needed his help in town.  He did make it out the second day and met Joe sitting in the living room.

“How are you feeling, Joe?”  He asked moving over to his patient.

Joe made it a point to avoid the doctor’s eyes.  “I’ve been pretty sick to my stomach—” Joe began and put his hand over his stomach for effect.

Ben walked in from the kitchen.  “He’s doing good!”  Ben smiled as he joined Paul next to Joe.

“I’m feeling kinda dizzy right now.”  Joe complained and stood up a little shaky.

“Here—I’ll help you up to your room.”  Ben reached for Joe’s elbow.

“No, I can do it, Pa.  Really—I just kinda want to be alone. Okay?” Joe asked quietly.

“Sure.”  Ben paused.  “But, we’ll be up in a minute to do the last treatment of the night.”

Joe nodded and slowly made it up the stairs.

The doctor stared over at Ben.  “He doesn’t appear to be having as much trouble as I thought that he would.”  Paul sounded amazed at Joe’s progress.

“Maybe we’re just lucky.”

“I hope so, Ben.”  The doctor was still suspicious, but didn’t want to discourage his friend at this point.

Joe was sitting on his bed when the two men walked in with all the items needed to do his routine treatment.  Joe slowly took off his robe and stretched out on the bed.

As the doctor and Ben worked on Joe’s back he never moved, nor did he in any way groan or show any other ill affect of the treatment.  Ben saw the doctor shake his head in total disbelief.  The skin had healed greatly, even allowing Joe to wear a light robe now, but, just the same, the treatment should have caused some reasonable discomfort.

“All done.”  Ben smiled and pulled the sheet lightly up to his son’s shoulders.

“You okay?” Ben asked.

“Yeah—just feel a little sick to my stomach—think I’ll just sleep now.” Joe spoke weakly.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”  The doctor signaled Ben to leave with him and they both walked out of the room and down the stairs.  It was then that the doctor finally discussed with Ben his suspicions.  “Ben, I hate to bring this up, but I have to.”

“What?”  Ben couldn’t understand what was bothering the doctor.  He thought Paul would be more pleased with Joe’s progress.

“Ben, Joe is still on morphine.”  He said flatly and Ben stood there confused.

“No! No one has given him anything. Paul!  You know we finished that last bottle of morphine and that was it!”  Ben protested.

“I didn’t want to say anything until I knew for sure but Ben, I think Joe stole a bottle out of my bag.”

“What!”  Ben exploded. “When—how could he do that?”

“I don’t know when—I only know that yesterday when I was at the Steven’s ranch I went to get another bottle of morphine out of my bag and it wasn’t there.”

“That doesn’t mean Joe has it!” Ben protested again vehemently.

“Ben, we just treated Joe’s back and he never as much as flinched!  He should have the shakes by now—probably the dry heaves too!  But all he complains of is mild nausea!  He should be doubled over—not as he was when I walked in here—sitting upright in a chair!”  The doctor spoke with uncharacteristic anger at the situation.

Ben sank down into the nearest chair by the fireplace.  He put his head in his hands.  “You are saying that Joseph is injecting himself?” He asked in a whisper.

“Yes—that’s what I’m saying.  And if it’s true then once that medicine is gone, all the things I told you about are going to happen. And, maybe it will be worse since he obviously has been doing this awhile.  When we thought we were cutting him back he was increasing his dose.  There was a lot of morphine in that bottle.”

“What are we going to do now?”  Ben seemed desperate.

“Near as I can figure he’s probably been using since we started cutting him back a week ago.  That means he probably only has enough for a day or two.  Let him go and use it up.”

“What!”  Ben again exploded.  “We’ve got to go find it!”

“No—Ben a day is not going to make much difference now.  Just keep a real close eye on him and we’ll get back in control once he runs out of the morphine.”

“I can’t believe he’s injecting himself—” Ben shook his head totally distraught.

“I told you how the addiction takes precedence over everything else.  Joe probably doesn’t even feel the shots now.”

“So we just wait?”

“Give it one more day—then we’ll have our hands full!”

 

Joe was running out of morphine but he had it all figured out.  His friend Mitch had stopped over for a visit and they now sat in Joe’s room talking.

“I don’t know how I can ever thank you for what you did for Mattie, Joe.”

Joe nodded.  “It’s okay. I have been hurting an awful lot though.  You know that burn isn’t healing very well.”  Joe said and winced as he sat down on the bed.

“Aren’t they giving you anything for pain?”

“That’s the problem.  Pa and the doctor want me to just tough it out.  If they only knew how bad it hurts.”  Joe’s eyes glazed over with tears.  Mitch reached out and touched his friend’s arm.  “You want me to talk to your pa?”  Mitch offered trying to help his injured friend.

Joe shook his head and wiped his eyes.  “He won’t listen. You know just because he can handle everything, he thinks that I can too.  But I’ll tell you, Mitch, no one knows how bad it is—” Joe trailed off and looked down at the floor sadly.

“What can I do, Joe? You know you are my best friend—always have been—what do you want me to do?  Just name it!”

That was exactly what Joe hoped and also expected to hear.  He stood and walked over to his bureau.  He reached for his money stash buried in his sock drawer. He turned back to his friend purposefully walking very gingerly back to the bed.

“Here’s two hundred dollars.  If you really want to help me you’ll get me some more morphine.”  Joe said handing Mitch the money.

“But where, Joe?  It’s not like I can go to Doc Martin “cause he’s agreeing with your pa.”

“I met a doctor—his name is Cole Wilson—when I was in Genoa last summer.  Seems he has fallen on some hard times and spends most of his time in the bar at the end of town.  I know he would sell it to you.  Get as much as you can—and some of those syringes too!”

“Is it safe you injecting yourself?”  Mitch asked worried at the thought.

“Yeah—Mitch. I don’t take much—just enough to take the edge off, you know?”

Mitch folded the money and put it inside his vest pocket.

“Mitch, can you get it by tomorrow night?”  Joe asked eagerly.

Mitch nodded.  “I’ll tell my pa that I’ll be riding line tonight and head on out.  You want me to bring it up here?”

Joe shook his head adamantly. “No—if Pa finds out he’ll get rid of it. Do you remember my hiding place in the barn?  You know where we use to hide things we didn’t want Adam or Hoss to know about when we were kids?”

Mitch thought back in his mind and the remembered a loose board behind Cochise’s stall.  “Yeah, Joe. I remember.”

“If you’ll just put it there—then whenever I need it I can go get it.”

Mitch stood and nodded.  “I’ll head out.  Everything goes okay and I’ll have it here by tomorrow night.”

Joe smiled.  “Thanks, Mitch.  You’re a good friend.”

“Yeah—well you got hurt because of Mattie—I owe you a lot!”

Joe watched his friend leave and was pleased at how easy it had been.  He was soon asleep looking forward to the next day.

 

It was two a.m. that morning and Joe awakened having slept very restlessly.  The need for the painkiller pulled Joe back into reality.  He moved over to his hiding place under the nightstand and lit the lamp next to the bed.  Joe studied the bottle.  There was less than a half of a dose left.  Joe frowned and drew the remaining morphine into the syringe.  As in the past, Joe drew up the right leg of his long johns and injected himself.

Joe wondered how long the small shot would last.  There would be a long wait until his friend would be back with the drugs he so desperately needed.  Joe stretched back out on the bed after hiding the empty bottle and the needle.

The next day Ben watched his youngest son closely.  From what the doctor had said, Joe should be showing some real signs of withdrawal.  It had taken a lot of persuasion to coax Joe downstairs and he had only just toyed with the eggs on his plate at breakfast.  By afternoon, Joe had started to show signs of the beginning of withdrawal.

He sat on the hearth shaking.

“You cold, son?”  Ben asked sitting in his blue chair next to Joe.  Joe pulled his robe closer around him.  “No, Pa, I’m fine.” He stammered.

Ben reached over and touched his son’s forehead.  It felt both cold and somewhat clammy.  Ben felt both pleased and apprehensive in what he was seeing displayed on his son’s face.  It was no doubt this time; Joe had run out of his stolen morphine and had started the painful withdrawal process.

“Can I get you something for lunch?” Ben asked and Joe shook his head—the thought of food making him feel more nauseous than he already was.” Think I’ll go lay down.”

Joe whispered moving over to the stairs.  As he reached the bottom step Joe doubled over in pain.  His father was quickly at his side and knelt down next to him. “I think I’m gonna be sick.” Joe stated weakly holding his stomach.  Ben helped Joe up and over to the sofa. Joe stretched out, but once more felt the stabbing abdominal pain. He curled into the fetal position.

Ben quickly made it to the kitchen.  He grabbed a cloth and soaked it in cool water and he found a basin to carry back to Joe.  He made it back to the sofa and placed the cloth on Joe’s forehead.  “It’ll be okay, Joe.”

“Pa—my gut’s killing me!”  Joe cried.  Minutes later Joe leaned over and his stomach emptied its contents into the basin.  Ben stroked the back of Joe’s head and helped him settle back down.  Joe turned away from his father and buried his face in the back cushion of the sofa.  “Try to sleep, son.”  Ben whispered and covered Joe with a blanket to help with the violent shaking and chills he was experiencing.

Hoss entered the ranch house around six o’clock that evening.  Ben walked in from the kitchen to greet him.  “Hello, son.”

“How’s it going, Pa?”  He asked shrugging himself out of his huge coat.

“Joe’s been pretty sick—he’s upstairs sleeping.”

Hoss walked over to the dining room table as Hop Sing set out a platter of chicken.  He took his seat next to his father.  “Guess he’s finally out of morphine, huh?”

Ben nodded.  “It’s gonna get worse before it gets better, from what the doctor said.”  Ben replied grimly.

“You want me to take him up some supper, pa?”

“He probably couldn’t keep anything down right now.  Let’s just let him sleep.”

Joe woke up the next time with a sudden start.  He sat up in bed and looked at the clock by his bed.  It was just after nine o’clock.  His first thought was to whether his friend had made it back with what he needed now more than anything!

Joe dressed this time in shirt, pants, and boots. He had to get out to the barn.  Both Ben and Hoss were surprised to see Joe come down the stairs.  They had thought he’d sleep all evening, and seeing him fully dressed, was something they hadn’t expected.

“Joseph—” Ben paused sitting down his coffee and heading for the stairs.  “How are you feeling?”

Joe looked down and replied solemnly, “I think I could use some air, Pa.”  Ben nodded and watched Joe slowly make it to the front door.

“Want some company?”  Hoss called over to his brother.  Joe shook his head.

“No, Hoss.  Think I’m gonna be sick again.  Just leave me be for awhile.” Joe left closing the front door.

“You want me to go out after him?”  Hoss asked approaching his father.

“No—let’s give him a couple of minutes.  He’s probably just embarrassed right now.”

Joe made it across the front yard and anxiously opened the barn door.  He walked to where his horse stood pawing the ground for attention.  “Hi, Cooch.”  Joe said patting the pinto’s neck affectionately.  He then walked to the far end of the stall.  Joe pushed at the loose board that was about two feet from the floor.  The board pushed forward and Joe’s eyes fell on a bag.

“Thanks, Mitch” Joe muttered to himself.  He carefully drew open the bag and found three full bottles of morphine and several syringes.  Joe was quick to draw up a full dose and this time did not wait to pull up his pant leg.  Instead Joe rolled up the sleeve to his right arm.  He plunged the needle into the fold of his elbow.  The injection hurt far worse than before! The morphine seemed to burn as it went in under the skin.  None of that mattered.  Joe had gotten what he had needed all day.  Joe put the medicine and the needle back inside the bag and back behind the loose board.

Joe slowly left the barn and the medicine was already taking over by the time he entered the house.  “I’m okay.” Joe said quietly and walked back over to the stairs.  “I’m going to bed.”  Joe climbed the stairs to his room.

Hoss and Ben stared at each other bewildered.  “He didn’t stay out long.”  Hoss remarked and Ben just shrugged his shoulders.  “Maybe the strain of what he has been through today wore him out.”

“Maybe.”  Hoss replied but had an uneasy feeling.

Joe lay on the bed staring toward the ceiling.  He hadn’t slept on his back since the fire.  But it didn’t hurt this night.  He felt good, real good.  A smile drifted across Joe’s face.  Everything would be okay now.  There was plenty of morphine—enough for a couple of weeks.  Then he had planned to send Mitch out again for more supplies.

Joe drifted off into a drug-induced sleep.

 

Three days after he had received the morphine from Mitch, Doctor Martin had come for a visit.  He had examined Joe thoroughly.  Afterwards, he left Joe upstairs and met with Ben in the living room.

“What do you think?”  Ben worriedly asked.

Doc Martin sat down stiffly in a chair.  “Three days ago you said Joe had all the symptoms.  That he even had begun the stomach cramping and vomiting.”

“Yes.”  Ben sat opposite Paul.  “But the last two days have gone uneventfully.  He seems relaxed and I’ve seen no other symptoms.”

“Well, that’s because he is still on morphine.”

“What!” Ben exclaimed.  “How could he—he used up the bottle you said he stole.  What—did he steal another one?”  Ben asked angrily.

Paul stood and shook his head.  “Not from me!  And from what you’ve said, he had run out or he wouldn’t have been sick to his stomach.  No, Ben, he had to get it elsewhere.  He hasn’t left the ranch has he?”

“No.”  Ben said adamantly.  “What can we do now?  Maybe I should go through everything in this house to try to find where he has it hidden.”  Ben was now irate.

“Calm down, Ben.  We’ll find it.  But there’s an easier way.”

Just then Hoss came in from the kitchen.  He had heard most of the conversation.

“I’ll get it out of him!”  Hoss said madly. “I’ll go up there and beat it out of him!”

Ben shot Hoss a warning look.  “You’ll do no such thing!”

Paul cleared his throat to draw attention back to the original problem.  “We can figure this out it you would both calm down.”  Hoss frowned and sat down next to Ben.

“Now, you’ve been watching him. I’m pretty sure you can think about it and come up with at least when he is taking the injections.  Do you think it’s in his room—or do you think he has it hid somewhere else?  When do you notice a change in his attitude?  Mornings—evenings?”

The two Cartwrights thought over all of the doctor’s questions.  Hoss was the first to speak up.  “Pa—you know that day when you said Joe had been so sick?”

“Yes—the day he was starting the withdrawal—what about it?”

“Remember how bad he looked when he walked outside that night?”  Hoss continued.

“Yeah—what are you getting at?”

“He was feeling a lot better when he came back in! And remember how peacefully he was sleeping that night when we checked on him?”

Ben thought for a few minutes.  “He must have gone outside and gotten the morphine. I still don’t know where he got it from—but I think you are right, son.”

“Yeah—and yesterday I ran into him coming out of the barn.  You were in town at the time.  When I asked what he was doing he said he was just talking to Cochise.  He acted real nervous too!”

“It’s in the barn.”  Ben said flatly.

“Pa, we could take the whole barn apart and still not find it—we’ll have to follow Joe.”

The doctor nodded.  “I think that’s a good idea.  Don’t let him know you are on to him!  He may end up moving the morphine if he thinks you’ve found out.”

“He usually goes out around dinner time. Pa.” Hoss reminded.

Ben nodded and looked up to Joe’s room.  “We’ll get it tonight.” He replied.

“He’s going to be out of control when he realizes that you know.  You’d better be careful!”  The doctor turned to leave. “I’ll be back in the morning. Then we’ll have to make some decisions.”  The doctor left the two Cartwrights deep in thought.

After supper that evening, Joe stood from his seat on the hearth and announced he wanted to get some air.  Joe fought the strong urge to run out of the house, he needed the morphine more than ever that evening.  Instead, to keep up his front, he slowly made it outside.

“You want me to go, Pa?”

“No—” Ben stood.  “I need to do this.”  Ben sounded both mad and apprehensive.  He headed out to the barn wondering what he’d find there.

Joe had drawn up a large dose in the syringe and had plunged it into his right arm just as Ben appeared at the end of the stall.

“Joseph!”  Ben exploded in horror at the sight before him.  Joe pushed the plunger releasing the dose into his arm before Ben made it over to him.  Ben pulled the syringe out of Joe’s hand and threw it to the ground.  He grabbed Joe by the shoulders roughly.  “What the Hell are you doing!”  Ben yelled shaking him forcefully.

“Leave me alone!”  Joe screamed.

Ben reached down and grabbed the bag at Joe’s feet.  He was aghast to find three bottles of the vile drug.  Ben dropped them to the barn floor and stomped them with his boot heel crushing each one.

“No!”  Joe yelled scrambling toward the floor.  Ben drew Joe up and pushed him against the wall.  “Where did you get it?  Tell me!”  He demanded.  Joe refused to answer.  Ben shook Joe again.  “What did you do —steal it?  Just like you stole it from Doc Martin?”

“I told you I needed something for pain—but you didn’t care —so I got it on my own!” Joe countered back angrily.

“You are not doing this anymore!  Do you understand me?  Do you?”  Ben shook Joe again by the shoulders becoming more and more angry.  “Answer me, Joseph!” He demanded.

“Why?  It was okay when YOU were giving it to me! When YOU were up in my room giving me shot after shot!”  Joe answered with a tone of sarcasm in his response.

Ben backhanded Joe across the face, his anger unleashed by what his son had said to him.

He looked at Joe who hadn’t even turned from the slap.  As if he hadn’t even felt it.  Ben’s heart sank in his chest.  As many times as he had admonished Hoss for wanting to lash out at Joe angrily, and here he, himself, had let his temper take control.

Ben grabbed Joe’s shoulders again.  But this time with less intensity.  “It’s over, Joseph. No more morphine. You are getting off it now.” Ben tried to control the shaking in his own voice.

Joe sank down out of his father’s hold and sat on the floor of the stall.  He wrapped his arms around his legs and put his head down to his knees.  The morphine had taken over.  He had not even felt the fierce slap to his left cheek.  And, had it been at any other time in his life, Joe would have been destroyed by Ben’s anger towards him.  Instead, now, Joe didn’t even care. He was much more upset by the broken bottles of morphine than by anything Ben had said or done.

Hoss stepped into the doorway of the barn.  He had witnessed the scene between his father and his brother.  “Pa.” He said quietly.  Ben was now kneeling next to Joe; he turned to face Hoss.  “Help me get him inside.”  Ben said and Hoss could see the tears that streamed from his father’s eyes.

The doctor had come back out later that night.  He had been concerned about what kind of confrontation would transpire between the Cartwrights once they found where Joe had hidden the drugs.

Joe was in a deep sleep.  The dose he had injected had almost been a lethal one.

Doc Martin checked out the injection site, which had already turned into a deep bruise.  Knowing that there had to be other new injection sites, other than the two he had found on the inside of Joe’s right arm, the doctor did a thorough examination.  Ben watched as Paul drew up the right leg of Joe’s long johns and felt he would be physically ill when he saw the numerous scars the syringe had left.  “Well—he picked a good place to hide it.”  Paul said ironically and applied some ointment to the dotted marks on Joe’s inner thigh.

The doctor also treated Joe’s right arm and then covered his patient. He turned to Ben who seemed very pale and drawn.  “My advice is to get him admitted to a hospital that deals with handling withdrawal.  There’s an excellent one in San Francisco.”

Ben sat on the side of Joe’s bed and stared at the redness that now covered Joe’s left cheek.  He hated what he had done to his youngest son.  He hated what had brought Joe to this point.  He hated himself for being a part of causing the addiction.  “No. Joseph is not going anywhere.  I am going to get him through this, Paul.”

“Ben, you are too close.  You love him too much to be objective.”

“Tell me what to do and I’ll do it.  Whatever it takes.”  Ben pleaded.

“Ben, you know Joe is not in his right mind now!  He is so severely addicted that he could be dangerous!”

“I’ll handle it.”

“Ben—if you don’t care about yourself think about Hoss!  I’m telling you no-one is safe from the violence that’s going to take over your son once he realizes that there’s no getting that drug!”

Ben nodded.  “I have already thought about that.  There’s a line shack up by the northeast pasture.  It’s so remote that it’s twenty five miles from anything.  I’ll take Joe up there.”

The doctor interrupted, “What makes you think he won’t try to run off?”

“Because I’ll have Hoss drop Joe and I off —there’ll be no way out.”

The doctor sighed deeply.  “This is against my better judgment—but if you are dead set on it—”

“I am.”  Ben cut the doctor off.

“Okay, Ben.  I’ll get you some things that you’ll need.  You’ll need some medicine for the nausea—and you are going to need some restraints!”  The doctor was adamant now.

“Restraints?  Why?”  Ben couldn’t even comprehend the thought of tying his son.

“Because he is going to be violent for at least a couple of days.  Ben, I’ve tried to tell you —this is not going to be a pretty sight!  Between the cramping, vomiting, and the shakes, he will be trying to get out and get morphine at any cost!  You will not be his father.  In Joe’s mind you will be the enemy—the one who is keeping him from what he needs.”

The same hand that earlier had reeled out in anger, was the same hand that now softly stroked the red marks on his son’s face.  “Whatever I have to do.  Whatever it takes.”  Ben repeated again.

Doc Martin closed his bag and turned toward the door.  He had hoped he could have convinced Ben that Joe needed to be in a hospital.  Paul looked back at the scene taking place where Joe lay in a drug induced sleep.  Father and son, both sharing the same pain.  “I’ll be back first thing in the morning with what you’ll need.  Joe’s going to sleep a long while.  I suggest you get some too.  Tomorrow is going to be a long day.”  Ben looked over at the doctor and nodded.

Hoss was very distraught upon hearing his father’s plan.  He had seen the intensity between Joe and Ben the night before and knew that it would pale in comparison to what was to come.  Hoss had helped place Joe in the back of the buckboard—his brother still in a deep sleep.  The drive was a long one out to the desolate cabin in the far woods.

When they finally arrived they both went into action setting things up in the cabin. Moving in all the supplies and then making up the two beds that sat at opposite ends in the one room cabin.  It was then that Ben carried Joe inside and placed him on one of the beds.  Hoss looked around the room.  It was pretty barren.  Two beds and a small table with two chairs and a wood stove sat in the middle of the cabin.  Hoss reached into the bag they had received that morning from Doctor Martin.  He pulled out the two leather restraints.  “Here.”  Hoss called to Ben who turned from Joe.

“Not just yet.”  Ben replied and moved over to Hoss.

“Pa—Dad bern it!  If you don’t do it then I will!”  Hoss was uncharacteristically harsh in his tone of voice.

“He’s still sleeping.” Ben complained.

“Yeah—well then it’s a good time then ain’t it?”  Hoss persisted.  Ben reached for the straps.  The thought of what they would be used for tore at his heart.

“Now, Pa.  I’ve gone along with all this even though I’m dead set against it.  I’m worried about you.” Hoss paused and reached over and touched Bens’ shoulder.  “That may be my little brother’s body laying over there, but it sure ain’t his mind inside of it! I don’t want anything to happen to you!”  Hoss was quieter now and his voice sounded as though it would break.

“Okay.”  Ben conceded. “I promise I’ll take every precaution.  Don’t worry, son.”

“You still want me to wait for five days before coming back?”

Ben again nodded.  “By then the fight should be out of him.  I want him to know that there’s no means of escape.  If you were here, I’m afraid he might try something.”

Hoss frowned at the thought but Ben put his arm around his son’s strong shoulder.  “You go on now, Hoss.  It’ll be okay.  The next time you’re here we’ll have the worst of it over.”

”Be careful, Pa.”  Hoss all but pleaded.  He turned and walked out of the cabin and against his better judgment returned to the ranch house.

Joe had stayed deep in sleep for several hours.  Ben knew what he had promised Hoss and reluctantly secured Joe’s wrists to the two bed posts.  Joe had not even stirred throughout the process.  Ben sat at the small table in the center of the room and sipped at his coffee deep in thought.  He wondered if he would be able to handle the next couple of days.

It was very late in the afternoon that Joe started to stir.  Unconsciously he pulled at the restraints, which held tightly to his wrists.  Slowly light and dim reality pierced his eyes.  Joe blinked hard several times before the scene in the room came into full view.  Ben sat next to Joe on the bed.  “It’s okay, Joseph.”  He whispered quietly.

“What’s this—what are you doing?”  Joe panicked as he fought to free himself.

“Settle down, son.”  Ben continued talking calmly.

“Where am I?  What are you doing to me?”  Joe cried.

“Do you remember that line shack way up in the northeast section of the ranch? The one that is the farthest from town?”  Ben explained.

Joe’s eyes shot around the room.  “Why? Why did you bring me here?  Why am I tied?”  Joe demanded.

Ben cleared his throat trying to come up with the right words.  “Joseph, we are going to get the morphine out of your system.  This is the only way.”

Joe struggled again at the restraints trying to free his wrists.  “Let me go!”  He yelled angrily.

“I can’t do that.  And the more you strain at those straps the worse it’s going to hurt.”  Ben warned.

Joe settled back trying to think of something, anything, to change his father’s mind and force his release.  “Pa—please.”  Joe closed his eyes and tears fell out from their corners.

Ben stood and looked down at his son.  “Tears won’t work, Joseph.  Nor will threats or anything else you have in mind.”

Joe’s eyes flashed back open a wild violent look taking over Joe’s countenance.  “You have no right to do this!”  He screamed.

“I have EVERY right!”  Ben returned sternly.  “You are my son and I am going to get this poison out of your system.”

“Real funny, Pa!” Joe laughed bitterly.  “Real funny since you were the one who put it in me to begin with!  Or don’t you remember that?”  Joe was once again yelling.

Ben nodded his head solemnly.  “Yes, son.  I remember.  But I did it to save your life.  Now you are doing it to kill yourself.”  Ben turned away from Joe and sat back down at the table.  Ben poured another cup of coffee and brought it over to his son.  “Here—have something to drink, It might help.”  Ben placed the cup to Joe’s mouth.

“No!”  Joe said bitterly. “I don’t want anything from you!”

“Suit yourself.”  Ben replied calmly even though his stomach churned at the anger displayed by his youngest son.  “Tell you what, you let me know when you want something—okay?”

Joe laughed again bitterly.  “I already told you what I want!  I want you to let me go!”

Ben didn’t reply.  He sat calmly down at the table and casually thumbed through a book he had brought from the ranch.  He tried his best to look unconcerned but didn’t know if Joe could read his face and know the anguish he was causing.

The first day and night were over and the next morning shone in from the cabin’s one window.  Ben stood from his bunk and stretched.  He restoked the wood stove and readied the morning coffee.  Then he turned his attention toward his son.  Joe looked awful.  Sweat dotted his face and pooled into the hollow of his neck.  His eyes seemed glazed and there were deep circles under them.

Joe had not slept.  He tossed and turned most of the night resisting any help from his father.  Ben wet a towel with cool water and placed it on Joe’s forehead.  “I know it’s hurting, son, but you are another day closer to this being over.”  Ben spoke soothingly.  Joe closed his eyes and choked out the words.  “I’m thirsty.”

Ben turned from the bed, filled a cup with water, and brought it back to Joe.  He helped lift Joe’s head and brought the cup up to his lips.  Joe drank the full contents and then let his head fall back on the pillow.

“Do you think you could eat something?”  Ben asked sitting back down next to his son.

“Not if you are gonna feed me.  Untie my hands and I’ll eat.”

Ben frowned at Joe’s statement.  He knew it was yet another attempt to be set free.  “Not just yet, Joseph.  But I’ll untie your left hand so you can feed yourself.”  Ben countered and walked over to fix breakfast.

Joe’s mind flashed wildly.  Yes, he felt if he could have one hand free that he could easily get the other one freed as well.  Then he would be able to escape the prison his father had created.

It didn’t take long before Ben was back with a plate with eggs and biscuits on it.  Ben sat on the bed next to Joe and slowly untied Joe’s left hand.  He handed Joe the plate.  Joe’s mind raced now as to how to undo the other restraint, but Ben all but read his thoughts.

“Now, I’m going to sit here and watch you eat.  You make one move at that other hand and you will be sorry.” Joe frowned and slowly began to eat.  After he had eaten as much as he could get down, Joe handed the plate to his father.  Ben set it on the floor and reached for Joe’s untied wrist.  Joe pulled away, struggling against his father.  Ben’s strength won out, especially in Joe’s weakened condition.  Once more, the left restraint was back in place.  “You are only making things harder on yourself.”  Ben said turning back to the stove.

By midnight on the second day, Ben had his hands full.  Joe had spent most of the afternoon screaming in pain.  The one meal that he had eaten at breakfast had come up and he was at the point where he could keep nothing down.  Ben had dosed him with the nausea medicine and that, too, had come up.  Ben continued to put cool compresses on Joe’s forehead all day and night.  Joe writhed in pain doubling up so that his knees were pressed against his chest.  This was agony.  Agony for Joe and agony for Ben.

“Pa—please.”  Came Joe’s sobs.  “Please help me.”  He begged over and over again.  Ben had to fight off the strong urge to release Joe’s restraints and hold him close.

“Damn morphine.”  Ben muttered bitterly as he once again filled the water basin.  To have to stand by and watch his son hurting so horribly was worse than anything Ben had ever endured.  And Joe, between screams for help, lashed out at his father with terrible threats.  Numerous times, he spoke of how he hated his father and how he wished that Ben had just let him die from his burns.

Ben took this all internally.  If it had not been for his deep faith, he could not have endured the terrible situation he and his son were now prisoners to.

On the third day, there was an odd calm to the room.  Joe seemed to have a little less pain and the deep intensity of his stare had smoldered to that of a sad little boy.  Ben noticed how helpless his son now looked.  He had only whimpered during the early morning hours, the night of intense screaming long since past.

“Pa?”  Joe called quietly and Ben was quickly next to him.  “Pa—can I have some water?”

His request came off with the innocence of a child.  Ben brought the cup up to Joe’s mouth and Joe accepted the full contents of it.  “Thanks, Pa.”  Joe said settling back.

Those few words touched Ben deeply.  Maybe Joe was coming back.  Maybe the worst was now over.  Ben ran his hand through Joe’s hair affectionately.  “How are you feeling, son?”

“Better, Pa.”  Joe nodded slightly.  “I’m sorry for putting you through all of this.”  Joe apologized as a stray tear fell from his eye.

“It’s okay, Joe.”  Ben patted Joe’s shoulder.  Joe winced and looked up at his wrists.  “They kinda hurt, Pa.  Could you maybe take one off and look at it?  I promise I won’t move.”

Ben reached first for Joe’s left hand and undid the restraint.  He stared at the redness, which surrounded Joe’s wrist.  “I have some ointment I could put on it.”  Ben offered.

“Could you just rub it a little, Pa?  Kinda get the circulation back into it?”  Joe asked softly.  Ben massaged the wrist for a few minutes and then Joe put it back up toward the bedpost.  “It’s okay now, Pa.  You can tie it back up.”

Ben looked at Joe and the innocence of his face, the intense anger of previous days having evaporated.  “Let’s get the other one down first.”  Ben untied Joe’s right wrist and looked at it. It wasn’t as red as the left one but Ben massaged it as well.

“Thanks, Pa.  That’s better.  My arms were hurting.”  Joe whispered.  His eyes slowly began to close.  “I’m so tired all of a sudden.”  Joe struggled to keep his eyes open.

“You just sleep, son.  You haven’t had much rest the past couple of days.”  Ben pulled the covers up and Joe rolled onto his side snuggling deep against the pillow.

Ben stood and watched Joe slumber.  For the first time in many weeks he felt a bit of the burden lift from his shoulders.  After an hour of watching Joe sleeping peacefully, Ben decided to go and fill the water buckets.  It wouldn’t take long with the water pump being right outside of the cabin door.  He filled the two tin buckets and walked up the one step to the porch.  Ben set down one of the buckets on the floor so he could then turn the doorknob with his hand.  As he opened the door he was shocked to see his son standing there before him.  Joe charged the door and Ben fell back against it’s frame.  Ben reached for Joe’s arm and Joe came back with a violent left hook to Ben’s jaw.  Stunned, Ben fell back against the wall, hitting his head as he went down.  Joe scrambled outside.  He had hoped there would be a horse but found none.  He then ran into the dense woods, with escape his only thought.

What had made Hoss decide to go to the cabin that day he wasn’t sure.  He knew that it was two days ahead of schedule, but couldn’t shake off the worry he was feeling.  Hoss hoped his father would not be mad at his disobedience but he knew he had to check on things or he wouldn’t get anything accomplished that day.

When Hoss arrived at the cabin he saw the open door.  As he went up the step he saw the over turned bucket.  Hoss’ mind flashed wildly with dread as he hurried inside.  Ben had just regained consciousness and he sat on the floor rubbing the back of his head.

“Pa!”  Hoss exclaimed and kneeled next to him. “What happened?” Hoss asked seeing the bruise that now appeared on his father’s lower right jaw.

Ben groaned and stood up.  “Joseph.” He said quietly.  “Hoss, he got away. You have to go find him.”

“Find him!”  Hoss yelled.  “Yeah find him and break him in two!”  Hoss started to turn around but Ben caught his arm.  “Hoss, Joseph didn’t know what he was doing—don’t hurt him!” Ben pleaded.

“I don’t want to hear it, Pa.  He’s not getting away with this.”  Hoss ran outside and quickly mounted his horse.  Ben stood in the doorway worried about what Hoss would do when he found his brother.

Joe had made a bad decision in cutting across an open field.  It was there that Hoss first spotted his brother.  He raced Chub across the field and reined him hard to stop right in front of Joe.

“Leave me alone, Hoss!”  Joe shouted as the big man approached him.

“I ought to kill you for what you did to Pa!”  Hoss shouted grabbing Joe up with his massive hand. Joe fought against the hold.  “The only thing that’s stopping me from breaking you in two right now is how Pa would take it.” Hoss vehemently spoke and shook Joe roughly.

“Let me go!” Joe continued to shout.

Hoss released Joe’s shirt at the same time he drew back his right fist and leveled Joe to the ground.  Hoss stood there staring down at his unconscious brother.  He felt sick to his stomach for what he had done to him.  Hoss bent down and lifting his brother carried him over to where Chub waited.

Ben had seen Hoss approaching with Joe slung in front of him on the saddle.  For a brief moment, the thought had occurred to him that maybe Hoss had killed his brother.  Ben shook himself out of his daze and hurried over to Hoss.  Hoss read his father’s worried expression.  “Naw, Pa.  I just knocked him out.” Hoss said answering the question that had not been spoken in words.

They carried Joe to the bunk and secured the restraints on his wrists.  “What now?”  Hoss asked earnestly staring again at Ben’s battered face.

“Go bring the buckboard.  We’ll take him home.”  Ben sighed sitting down at the table.

“Home?” Hoss asked bewildered.  Ben looked up at his middle son, unconcerned with the tears that were leaving his own eyes.  “Home and then we’ll get him to that hospital.”  Ben spoke with sorrow in his words.  Hoss put his hand on his father’s shoulder and nodded.  He knew this concession was an enormous one for Ben to make.  He was finally admitting that Joe needed more help than a father’s love could give.

The ride by stagecoach to San Francisco was a three day journey.  Fortunately, after the first stop, Ben and Joe had been the only two passengers.  With the help of the sedation medicine Doctor Martin had given Ben, Joe had slept most of the trip.

Upon arriving at the stage depot in San Francisco, there was a carriage waiting to escort the two Cartwrights to the hospital.  A wheelchair was brought out to meet the carriage and Joe was whisked away to his room.  Ben had been taken to the admitting doctor’s office where he was first introduced to Doctor Harold Peele.

“Mr. Cartwright, Doctor Martin sent me all the information on your son and we have already gotten him settled in his room.”  The doctor explained as he took a seat behind his desk.  Ben sat sullenly, still fighting with his decision to bring Joseph here in the first place.  Guilt having settled in, he now did not know what to say to the doctor.

The doctor gazed knowingly at the worried father before him.  It was a sight he had seen many times and figured he would see many more times before retirement.  A father trying to decide what was best for his son and struggling with the decision to have him committed.

“Mr. Cartwright, I promise you we will take care of your son.  It’s going to take awhile though—considering the level of his addiction.”

“I was going to take a room at the hotel across the street.”  Ben replied.

“No.  I will have to advise against that.”

“But why?”  Ben asked disturbed.

“You have to let go of him.”  The doctor spoke softly and walked around to the front of his desk.  “This is going to take months.  It’s not just a matter of the withdrawal—it’s also the battle to stop the addiction.  And it’s not going to be easy on your son.”

“I feel like I am abandoning him.”  Ben said in desperate tones.

“You are giving him the chance to return to his normal self.  I know how hard this is.  Doctor Martin filled me in on all you tried to do.  This time let us handle it.

My staff and I will do everything in our power to bring back the Joe you know and love.”

Ben stood.  “You will keep me informed?”

“Of course.  I will send you regular updates.”

“Can I write Joseph?”

“I’d rather you not.  At least until we have it all under control.” The doctor was insistent.

Ben sighed deeply.  Letting go, leaving Joe in the hands of strangers, was like cutting off one of his own arms.

“Can I see him before I leave?”  Ben pleaded.  The doctor gave a sympathetic smile.

“Of course, but you have to remember something.  That boy in the other room is fighting his own demons right now.  Anything he says to you will be out of anger and pain.”

“I understand.”  Ben nodded.

“Keep it brief, Mr. Cartwright, for both of your sakes.”

Ben walked out of the office and down the long corridor, which led to his son’s room.  An orderly unlocked the door and Ben entered the room.  Joe was in a hospital gown with a heavy robe over his shoulders.  There were cloth padded restraints on both of his wrists.  Ben moved toward the bed.

“Joseph—I have to be going now.”  Ben said sitting on the bed next to Joe.

“Don’t leave me here!”  Joe shouted, his whole body shaking violently.

“I have to, son.  But I’ll be back—when you are all better.”  Ben reached to touch Joe’s cheek but Joe angrily turned his head away.

“If you leave me here I never want to see you again!”  Joe shouted.

“I have to.”  Ben replied somberly.

“I hate you!”  Joe screamed and fought with his restraints.

Ben stood and looked one last time at his son and whispered.  “I love you, Joseph.”  He then turned quickly and walked out of the room.  Ben felt the tears as they stung his eyes and rolled down his cheeks.  He also felt a stabbing pain in his heart.  Doctor Peele appeared from around the corner and approached Ben.  He put his hand on Ben’s shoulder.  “The next time you see him, you’ll have your son back.”  The doctor reassured.

Ben brushed his eyes quickly on his sleeves and met the doctor’s eyes.

“Take care of my boy.”  Ben said in a soft whisper and turned to leave.

Ben Cartwright was vaulted back from his deep thoughts about his son when a loud knock sounded at the front door.  He walked to the door and opened it to see one of the hired hands.  “What brings you out so late, Jeff” Ben questioned.

“Here.” The man said handing his boss a telegraph.  “Pete at the telegraph office said to bring this right out to you.  Hope it’s good news!” Jeff smiled.

“Yes!  It’s good news!  Very good news!” Ben smiled and turned to call for Hoss.

Hoss ran down the stairs.  “Pa—what is it?” Hoss asked looking over at the two men who stood in the doorway.

“It’s from Doctor Peele—he said they are going to release Joseph.”

Hoss hugged his father and shook Jeff’s hand happily.  It was the news they had long awaited.

Hoss remained back at the ranch to take care of business even though he wanted to be there with his father to bring Joe home.

Again a carriage met Ben at the depot and drove him to the hospital.  Before he could get to his office. Doctor Peele greeted Ben warmly.  “Good to see you Mr. Cartwright!”  Harold shook Ben’s hand and led him into his office.  Ben sat opposite the doctor.  “Well—how is he?”  Ben nervously asked.

“He’s done wonderfully!  Of course you know what all he’s been through from my letters.”  Ben nodded.

“I can’t wait to see him!”  Ben said anxiously.

“There are a couple of things we have to talk about first.”  The doctor replied cryptically.

“Oh?” Ben asked and hoped it wasn’t bad news.

“Relax, Mr. Cartwright, it’s nothing that can’t be fixed.”  The doctor handed Ben some coffee and he accepted it gratefully.

“What is it then?”

“When I told your son a week ago that he was going to be released soon he told me he could never go home to you.”

“What?” Ben asked incredulously.  He wondered if perhaps, Joe still held it against him for committing him.

“It seems he remembers most of everything that happened between you and your other son and him.  He thinks you both can’t possibly forgive him for all that he did.”

“That’s so far from the truth!”  Ben exclaimed.  “We hold nothing against Joseph.  We only want him back. Nothing else—we need him—we love him.”

The doctor smiled.  “You don’t have to sell me on the idea, Mr. Cartwright.  I know you love him.  But you may have to sell Joe on the idea.”

“Where is he?”  Ben stood up.

“Wait here a few minutes.  I wasn’t exactly honest with Joe.  He doesn’t know you are here.  I told him I would release him today after he saw one more doctor.”

“Another doctor? Ben asked.

“Well, from what Doctor Martin told me, you could consider yourself a doctor.  He said you made an excellent assistant!”

Ben grinned.  “I see.”  Ben nodded and sat back down to wait for Joe to be brought in.

Joe gathered up a few books that Doctor Peele had given him to keep.  They were just about his only possessions now.  He placed them into his clothes bag and turned as Harold walked into the room.

“Just about ready?”  The doctor asked.

“Yeah—hey I just wanted to thank you for all your help and for being so kind to me—” Joe’s voice trailed off trying to resist the emotion.

Harold put his hand on Joe’s shoulder. “You’ve thanked me enough, Joseph.  Just remember what you have learned here so it will never happen again.”

Joe nodded solemnly.  “Hey thanks for giving me the address to that boarding house.  I looked at the paper today and saw a couple of jobs I’m going to try for.”  Joe tried to

sound more in control than what he was feeling.

“Well, I’m sure you’ll do fine in whatever you try.  Now, are you ready to see the last doctor of your stay?”

Joe nodded.  “Yeah, let’s get it over with.”   Joe followed the doctor out of the room and down the corridor to his office.  Doctor Peele opened the door letting Joe enter first.  He took two steps inside the room and noticed there was a man across the room staring out of the window.  He had his back toward both Joe and the doctor.  There was something familiar Joe thought in the set of the man’s shoulders—the hair.  Before Joe could finish his thought the man turned around and Joe was now facing his father.

“Hello, Joseph.”  Ben spoke softly.  Harold quietly backed out of the room closing the door behind him.

So many thoughts raced now through Joe’s mind.  He loved this man more than anyone in the world, a man who had always taken care of him and forgiven him no matter what the problem.  But, how could his father ever forgive him for what he had done?  Joe’s mind remembered all the shouting, the threats, telling his father how much he hated him.  Telling him he never wanted to see him again.  And then there was that hit—the left hook to his own father’s face.  No, that could never be forgiven!

Joe fought to find the words—any words.  He finally choked out, “Pa—why are you here?”

Ben was caught aback by the question.  “I’m here to take you home, Joseph.” He replied nearing Joe.

Joe turned abruptly and walked over to the window.  “I can’t go home, Pa.”  He said remorsefully.

“Why, son?”  Ben walked once more to meet Joe who stood facing away from him.

“Pa, I remember everything! God, I wish I didn’t—-but I do!”  Joe’s voice broke and tears started to fall uncontrollably from his eyes.  “I remember what I said to you.”  Joe stopped and dropped his head down.

Ben reached over and took Joe by the shoulders.  “Joseph, that wasn’t you saying those things—it was the morphine.”  Ben tried to reason with his son.

Joe shook his head sadly.  “You and Hoss should hate me for what I did.  I lied—I stole—” Joe paused and finally met Ben’s eyes.  “Oh, God, Pa, I hit you!”  He exclaimed with an emotion that ripped through his tortured soul.  “I would rather take a knife and plunge it into my heart than to hit you, Pa!”  Joe sobbed.

Ben pulled Joe into an embrace.  “If you don’t come home that is exactly what you would be doing to me!  You’d be stabbing ME in the heart!”  Ben’s voice quivered at the thought of not having his son back home with him.  Joe continued to cry and Ben fought to find the right words of consolation.

“Hoss is not mad at you, Joseph.  In fact, he has asked me every day for the last four months when you were coming home.  Hoss loves you!”  Ben stopped and lifted Joe’s chin so he could see his eyes.  “I love you.  And nothing you can ever do will change that.”

“But I hit you, Pa!” Joe stammered as if that one action had forever destroyed the tremendous bond that the two of them had shared.

Ben tilted his head a little and gave a convincing smile.  “Joseph—look at me!”  Ben said and Joe looked back up.  “It wasn’t much of a hit!”  Ben teased to make light of the punch.  Joe, now fully aware of his father’s attempt at humor broke in to a smile of his own.  Ben had waited so long to see that smile again!  It was a smile only Joe possessed and it could melt Ben’s heart like nothing else in the world.  Ben hugged Joe again, this time harder than before, making up for the long four months that he had been waiting to do just that.  So joyous in the fact that the young man he now held was his son. Not the drug controlled person he left four months earlier in restraints.

“Let’s go home, Pa.”  Joe whispered.

By the time that Ben and Joe made it back to the Ponderosa ranch house, the emotional distance between them had begun to close.  Joe had shared with his father all the experiences he had in the hospital, both good and bad.  Ben had listened intently and marveled at Joe’s acceptance of his horrible ordeal.

Hoss sat anxiously awaiting his family’s return in the living room.  He stood as he heard the door open and saw both his father and his brother enter the room.

Joe apprehensively approached his big brother.  “Hoss.”  Joe started but was cut off from further words as he was engulfed in a huge bear hug.

“Short Shanks!  Boy have I missed you!”  Hoss exclaimed still embracing his brother.  Joe had expected something totally different.  He thought Hoss would still be mad at him for all the sorrow he had caused.

Hoss’ hug brought tears to Joe’s eyes.  “Hoss—I’m so sorry for what I did and what I put you and Pa through.  I promise that we’ll all be a family again. I’ll do whatever it takes!”  Joe cried in his brother’s arms.

Ben watched the scene as it unfolded before him.  Joe’s words echoed in his ears, for they were his father’s words as well.  “Whatever it takes,” Ben whispered and, smiling at his two sons, joined them in a hug.

The End

Next in the Whatever It Takes Series:

Absolute Faith
A Part of the Main
Mustard Seed
To Help a Stranger

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:  addiction, Family, Joe / Little Joe Cartwright, Recovery