Summary:  Adam and Joe cope with trouble.

Rating: T
Word Count:  6,198

“Adam, what’s on your mind? You’ve barely touched your dinner which is an incredible shame. The veal is exquisite. And you can hardly blame the lively conversation since you’re sharing silence rather than your usual charming stories.”

Hmmm. He didn’t realize he’d been so rude. It wasn’t intentional, and this visit to Maggie and Everett’s lovely San Fransisco home had been a treat he’d been anticipating for months.

“You’re right, Maggie. The food is delicious, and the company’s delightful. Please forgive a dusty cowpoke for his churlish behavior.” That seemed to do the trick. Maggie blushed and patted his hand in forgiveness.

“Dusty cowpoke?  Hah! However, that does remind me of one of those colorful western phrases I heard just yesterday.” Everett glanced at his wife and with a broad wink in her direction, he continued.

“I was discussing some details of this contract I told you about with my lawyer, and he said . . . and I quote, ‘Careful what you ask for, Mr. McDowell. Out here, there’s a saying: don’t squat with your spurs on.’  Well, for a moment, I was flummoxed. Frankly, the obvious meaning doesn’t seem apropos to business.  What do you think? Have I missed something?”

Dead silence for a moment as all three of them considered the possible meanings of the phrase. Laughter quickly followed. Maggie giggled behind her napkin while her husband and guest laughed until tears came, and they were reduced to gasping for breath.

“You’re a bad man, Everett!” Adam wheezed. His sides were aching from laughter. “You know exactly what that means.”

“Come on, Adam, you needed to laugh. Maggie is right as always. What’s on your mind?  If we can’t help, we can at least listen.”

And Adam knew they would help if they could, not that it mattered now.  The problem was that he couldn’t get it out of his mind. Well, if they were willing, Adam couldn’t imagine a better audience.

“Thank you. Something happened about a month ago. Honestly, it’s shaken me down to my bones. It’s just not a burden I want to put on friends. I’ll tell you if you promise to stop me if it becomes too upsetting, Maggie. I’d rather share silence than distress you.”

“All the better reason to tell us, Adam. We’d be poor friends if you couldn’t share your troubles with us.”

Adam took a deep steadying breath and a sip of wine. Hard to believe this was his first time relating the entire tale, start to finish.

“It all began with Little Joe misbehaving.”

**********

“Ouch.”

“Sorry.”

“Ouch.”

“Sorry.”

“Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. OUCH!”

“Knock it off, Joe. This road has more holes in it than you have hairs on your head. I’m driving as carefully as possible.”

Clearly “as carefully as possible” wasn’t good enough.  The look Little Joe favored him with was chock full of disbelief and resentment in the way only 13-year-old boys could manage. Okay, Adam got it.  His little brother was hurting. It had hurt the boy to bump his head crawling through his bedroom window. No doubt it had been uncomfortable to lose his balance and slide down the porch roof on his backside.  Clearly, when the slide ended with Little Joe being launched from the roof to the front yard like a cowboy thrown from a bronc, that had been painful.

Of course, all that anguish could have been avoided if Joe had minded Adam and gone to bed as directed. Let that be a lesson: sneaking out in the middle of the night to play poker in the bunk house led to painful consequences.

Something like this happened every time Pa left the ranch with Adam in charge. Joe found a way to cut up, act up, or act out in some way that was already putting gray into his oldest brother’s hair. It just so happened that this time, Little Joe had added getting busted up to his “Pa’s not home, and I can be a brat” repertoire.

“If Hoss were here, he woulda doctored me up at the house.” My, my, yet another way Adam had failed as a brother.

“Well, he’s not here, obviously. I’m even willing to bet that if he had witnessed your latest shenanigans, he might have added a necessary talk to the doctoring.”

“He would never,” Joe sniffed loudly. “Hoss loves me. He woulda understood why I had to get out. AND he woulda understood how much I hate goin’ to the doctor, especially when I’m hurt.”

“Most people would say going to the doctor when you’re hurt is the best reason. Pa would certainly say it. If he and Hoss were to return home and see you now without the benefit of medical treatment, I would probably need to go to the doctor.”

“Ouch, Adam. You’re hitting every hole on purpose.”

**********

“Poor dear.”

Everett snorted at his wife’s sympathy. “He sounds like a real handful. Was he like that all the way into town?”

“Every step.”

**********

Doc Martin finally stepped away from the exam table, revealing Little Joe shirtless and in his bruised glory.

“Well, young man, you aren’t hurt seriously after all. Bruised ribs — deeply bruised, I would say — but not broken. Head tender from the bump, but no concussion. That left shoulder had me worried, but it went back into the socket well enough.  Here’s some ointment for the cuts. Keep them clean if you don’t want an infection.  Adam, this is laudanum.  Use a few drops in a glass of water if he has trouble sleeping tonight. Joe, you can get dressed.”

“Thanks, doc. I figured it would be best to spend the night here in town and head home in the morning.”

“Sound reasoning. Shall I put this on your tab? Little Joe, I’m thinking I can build an addition onto this office just from taking care of you.”

Joe didn’t appreciate the joke. “I hate this place.”

“I know you do. Off you go. Use the door rather than the window, please.”

At least Adam enjoyed the doctor’s sense of humor. “Come on, Joe.  Would you rather eat in the restaurant or have something in our room? Don’t mutter at me. You have to eat something if you’re going to take any of this painkiller later.”

“I wanna go to the hotel.”  Fine. Adam could make that happen.

**********

“He was probably exhausted and didn’t want to admit it,” Everett suggested.

“I think Little Joe didn’t want any of the girls in town to see him,” Maggie said.

“How did you know that? I thought the same thing.”

“Well, if you are any example, I would imagine that your brother is a fine-looking boy accustomed to some attention from the girls his age.”

“Maggie? If ‘Adam is any example’? Should I be jealous, sweetheart?”

“Hush, you. Adam, please go on.

**********

Adam requested a room on the top floor of the hotel to discourage any night-time excursions. Fortunately, he was a master at planning ahead and had packed the necessities for an overnight stay.  Getting his brother into a night shirt and into bed was a predictable struggle. Joe argued for fun these days.

“Look, I’m going downstairs to place an order with the restaurant. I’m leaving you alone for just a few minutes. Don’t do anything dumb.”

**********

“So, did he?”

“Did he what?”

“Did he do something dumb?”

“What do you think?”

**********

“Why are you hanging out of that window!? You aren’t even dressed, and this is just the behavior that got you hurt!”

“Dang it, Adam. I ain’t goin’ anywhere. Take a look for yourself. See those fellers? No, not there. There! Yeah, why are they chained up to the hitching post like that? Are they prisoners? If they’re prisoners, why ain’t they in prison?  Do you think being chained up like that hurts? They sure don’t look happy.

Where had he put that laudanum?  A few drops and Joe wouldn’t be the only one getting a good night’s sleep.

“It’s a chain gang, Joe. I know you’ve heard of them. The front desk clerk said that they’re being used to make road repairs.  I’m inclined to agree with you; they are definitely not happy. They don’t look particularly well-cared for either.”

“I think they look like they’re starving, especially the guy on the end, kinda by himself. Are prisons allowed to do that? Starve prisoners?”

“No, they aren’t allowed to starve the prisoners . . . but see? The chain gang boss is back with food and water. Joe, come on away from the window. I can hear the dinner cart coming down the hall. Do you want the bellhop to find you in your night shirt?”

**********

“What a good-hearted boy your brother is.”

“Yes, absolutely.  A kind heart is one of his best qualities. It turns out he has good instincts as well.”

**********

Joe seemed to inhale his dinner, along with a portion of Adam’s meal. A full belly made the kid sleepy and easy to tuck into bed. Adam didn’t even have to use the laudanum—which was well and good. He never really trusted the drug.

Adam turned down the lamps and crawled into his own bed. The quiet was a nice change. It gave him time to think about something other than putting a sock in Joe’s mouth just to hush him up for five minutes.

Had he been as stupid as Little Joe at thirteen? He didn’t remember anything that amounted to much, but it was possible he wasn’t the best judge.  Maybe, some time, he would ask Pa.

From his little brother’s point of view, the entire episode was completely rational. Adam had sent him to bed without inquiring if he’d had plans for the evening. Joe’s excuse for crawling out of his window? He knew Adam would never let him be part of the poker game in the bunk house.  Why would he want to join the poker game? Well, “why not?” had been the kid’s reply. The ranch hands had invited him, and he didn’t want to be stand-offish. He’d never been in a poker game before, and he wanted to see what it was like.

Adam had to admit that, in his own unique way, the boy was completely honest. He might try to sneak around you, he might leave a great deal unsaid, but he never lied to you.

Knowing Little Joe as he did, Adam fully expected the chain gang was going to be on the kid’s mind in the morning. After seeing the prisoners, Adam felt it best to assure himself, as well, that they were being treated humanely.

**********

“Maybe you and your little brother are more alike than you think.”

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

**********

Adam awoke to a moment of disorientation from being in an unfamiliar space and the familiar feeling that Little Joe had managed to sneak around him again. The other bed was rumpled, but empty. The night shirt was abandoned, and the day clothes and boots were missing.  For someone who’d taken a fall from the roof only a day before, the kid could move quickly and quietly when he wanted to.

He wasn’t too concerned. Adam figured he knew right where he could find the boy. As it turned out, Joe wasn’t too far ahead of him.  In fact, he was able to follow the boy without detection all the way to the warehouse where the prisoners were being quartered. As usual, Adam had arrived just in time to witness the latest Joe-kerfuffle.

“It’s only sandwiches,” Joe explained to the rather large and seemingly unimpressed chain gang boss.  “I just thought that since these guys are doing all this hard work, a little extra somethin’ to eat would be appreciated.”

“Boy, are you sayin’ I ain’t doin’ my job? ‘Cause that dog don’t hunt!”  Unimpressed was starting to look downright mean. Something about the man nagged at Adam, but he couldn’t put a finger on it. The guy absolutely oozed confidence, but he continually tugged at his black leather gloves like he was nervous about something.

Time to step in. “Not at all. It’s just a gift. My name is Adam Cartwright, and this is my brother, Joe. He’s only offering something he’d give to anyone in a similar situation.” At his side, Adam could sense the tension seep from Joe, just a bit.

“Must be nice to have enough to just give it away. Cartwright? Why is that name familiar?”

“Our father, Ben Cartwright, is on the territorial prison board of directors.”

“Huh. I guess that explains it.  I’m Asa Calhoun. My job is to keep these men working on improvin’ the road. I run a tight ship, and I don’t like interference. But . . .  seein’ how it’s meant as a kindness, I’ll let it pass this time. Boy, put that bag of food down on the wagon tailgate and move away.  I don’t want to see no tricks from this lot ‘cause of you.”

Calhoun might run a tight ship, but it looked to Adam as if the ship rations were a bit lean. The group of prisoners crowded around the food eagerly. Keeping an eye on the boss, they shared out the food amongst themselves, with the exception of one sad looking soul who stood apart from the rest.

“Hey,” Joe complained, “that guy didn’t get any of it.”

“Wouldn’t do him any good.” For the first time, the man looked pleased.

“May I ask why?” Adam was getting a little sick of the man’s attitude.

“Buckner, get over here.” The prisoner obeyed, but he kept a watchful eye on the boss. Up close, the man looked pitiful.  He was covered in filth and much scrawnier than the rest of the crew.

“This here lowlife ran afoul of the other prisoners. They don’t like his kind.”

“His kind . . .”  The man in question began shaking his head vigorously.

Calhoun leaned in a bit, dropping his voice while smirking at Little Joe. “This is Tweed Buckner. Likes to meddle with kids. Ah, stop shuffling and carrying on—it ain’t no use denying what was proved in court. Anyhow, he’s an example of what you call prison justice. Some of the men take out their frustrations on him, and they got tired of having him complain to the warden.”

Adam thanked his lucky stars that Joe hadn’t understood much of what Calhoun said.  He was certain there was going to be a difficult conversation about it later.

“I don’t . . . why can’t he eat then?” Joe’s face was screwed up in a frown. He clearly knew he was missing something.

“They cut out his tongue, boy. Made themselves an Arkansas toothpick out of a trowel and did a number on him.  He can’t talk now, and he’s gotta heap of trouble chewin’ and swallowing. Serves the pervert right. What did I tell you, Buckner? Mind your manners and quit throwin’ dirt around.”

“Wait,” Adam wanted to make sure he had this story straight. “You have a prisoner who can’t eat and swallow properly working on a chain gang?”

“Yeah, I do. Gotta a problem with that?”

“Adam,” Little Joe inserted himself into the conversation before things got too heated. “Can we please go back to the hotel?”  What? Had he heard the boy correctly? Joe usually considered an argument high entertainment. If the argument went from words to fists, Little Joe was in hog heaven. Could the kid be feeling poorly?  Adam promptly lost interest in the dispute and led his brother away from Calhoun and his band of unfortunates.

**********

“So, did you have that difficult conversation?”

“Oh, yeah.”

**********

“I don’t believe it.”

“Well, Little Joe, unfortunately there are some awful people who will take advantage of others, even kids, for their own . . . umm . . .  shocking purposes.”

“Nah, not . . .  that. I mean I don’t believe that Buckner did it.”

What on earth? Adam knew Little Joe tended to trust his instincts, but this was going pretty far.

“Well, a jury must have believed the evidence, or he wouldn’t be in prison now.”

“Didn’t you see him?  He wasn’t shufflin’ around and makin’ a mess in the dirt while Mr. Calhoun was talkin’ – he was writing a message.”

Adam had not seen that. It stung a little bit that his brother had noticed something when he, himself, had been oblivious.

“What?”

“Yep. He wrote LIAR in the dust with the toe of his boot.  When he knew I saw the message, he brushed it away so Calhoun wouldn’t catch him.”

“Joe, the thing is” Adam said, “people who do those sorts of things to kids are very good at seeming to be innocent. They make it look like any accusations against them are ridiculous . . . or that they were misunderstood. It doesn’t make it right about how he’s being treated, but him accusing Calhoun of lying doesn’t really prove anything. Do you understand?”

“Sure, I understand. Can we go to Missy’s café? I’m starving.”

**********

Maggie was in a high temper. “What an odious man, trying to take advantage of the boy’s kindness and innocence!”

“You’d think so, would’t you?”

**********

There was a standing rule in the Cartwright household: if Little Joe asked to be fed, it should be taken care of quickly before the boy fell out of the mood. Since Adam hadn’t had a chance to even sip coffee before trailing Joe, a late breakfast at the café seemed to be just the ticket.

The two of them did have a pleasant meal: the coffee was hot, the food was tasty, and the conversation was friendly.  A good night’s sleep seemed to have done Joe a world of good physically.  Only time would heal the bruises and lacerations, but otherwise the boy was as nimble and energetic as always. Adam could only shake his head at the miracle of youthful healing; he was sure he would be nowhere near as cheerful and spry a mere 24 hours after bouncing off a roof.

Adam realized soon after paying the check he should have been suspicious – no good would come from a friendly and cooperative Little Joe. He had turned his back on Joe for just a moment . . .

**********

“My word, where did the scamp go this time?”

“I wasn’t sure at first. I stepped outside the café and paced around looking east and west trying to catch a glimpse with no luck. That’s when I heard him – he was inside the jail house, which was conveniently located next to the café Joe had requested, having an energetic conversation with the sheriff.”

**********

“Adam, I’m glad you’re here. Can you help me explain things to your brother?” Sheriff Coffee was looking worn out, and he’d only been arguing with Joe for a few minutes.

Joe was seated in one of the chairs in front of the sheriff’s desk, arms crossed with an expression of mulish obstinacy across his face.  Appeared that neither Joe nor the sheriff had managed to “explain things” to each other.

“Joseph, why are you here bothering Sheriff Coffee when you should be on the road to the Ponderosa bothering me?”  All right, that had been a trifle caustic, but Adam and his wit’s end were about to meet.

“I keep tellin’ the sheriff that something ain’t right about Mr. Calhoun and his prisoner. I want him to go talk to them, but he says he ain’t got the time.”

“Now, boy,” Roy Coffee was getting as worked up as Joe. “That is not what I said! I said I can’t go this very minute. As it happens, I got other town folks telling me they don’t like the looks of that guard, and his crew looks like they can’t drag their own chains, much less improve the road. I’m fixin’ to go on down in a bit to see things for myself.”

“Joe,” Adam was going to do his best to take charge. “Go get the horse from the livery and have it hitched up to the wagon. Meet me in front of the hotel in no more than 15 minutes, ready to go.  If you pull any more tricks, you can bet I’m going to tell Pa Every. Single. Detail. of what went on while he and Hoss were in Carson City.  Understand me?”

Adam and Roy awaited Joe’s reaction. Would he cave or would he fight? The boy sat there for a moment, head down and sniffing hard as he usually did when feeling emotional. Finally . . .

“Yes, sir. I’ll meet you there in 15 minutes.”  Little Joe rose and with the dignity peculiar to a 13-year-old, Joe exited the jail house, closing the door quietly after him.

**********

“Adam, that was wonderful! You’re going to make a fine father someday.”

“Please, Maggie, don’t . . . I can’t stand it.”

**********

“Roy, did you know that one of Calhoun’s prisoners has had his tongue cut out?”

“What in tarnation? When was that? How does the poor fellow manage?”

“Calhoun claims that this man, Tweed Buckner, was being abused by the other prisoners. Apparently, his fellow prisoners took exception to the man complaining about the abuse and cut out his tongue.”

“Tweed Buckner? Yep, I heard about that scoundrel. No, I don’t suppose Buckner would be popular with the other inmates. Funny, I heard Buckner was a bit of a tough guy, he’s more of the kind to do the cutting than take the cutting.  Tell Little Joe I promise to go fetch Doc Martin, and we’ll go see about the situation. If anyone needs doctoring, we’ll make sure it happens.”

“Thanks, Roy. I’ll tell him.

**********

“Did the two of you ever manage to get on the road?”

“Yes, we did. Joe was a good as his word – he had the wagon ready in front of the hotel as promised.”

**********

Leaving Joe sitting on the wagon (under threat of even more grievous bodily harm should he move), Adam took a quick jaunt down to the warehouse to see how the chain gang was getting along.  Seeing the place empty, he presumed they had gotten a start on work while he and Joe had been eating. Thinking it would be wise to let Roy know that the men had started their workday, Adam made a quick pass through the jail house only to find the sheriff missing. It took only a few minutes to locate some paper and a pencil, and Adam was headed back to the wagon.

With any luck, they’d make it home in time for dinner.  With a great deal of luck, they’d make it home before Pa and Hoss arrived.  It never ended well to have Pa waiting, wondering, and worrying, especially where Little Joe was concerned.  Adam had no doubt that if he and Joe didn’t make it home first the ranch hands would be eager to regale their employer with what had happened to the youngest Cartwright.

He was pleased to see that Little Joe was right where he left him. Quickly, he climbed into the wagon, slapped the reins, and pulled into traffic.

Adam had to admit, many of the holes in the road had been filled.  This made for fewer complaints from his passenger – which was a welcome change. Even so, he decided not to press his luck, or the horses, and took the road home at a slow and easy pace.

The problem with slow and easy was that his passenger was getting bored and antsy.

“You don’t have to poke along so much! At this rate, it’ll be dark before we get home.”

“I just can’t win with you, can I? You know, your ribs and shoulder haven’t magically healed over night? The road is better, but it’s hardly smooth. All you did yesterday was yell that I wasn’t being careful enough to suit you.”

“I’m bakin’ hot, and we ain’t goin fast enough to stir up even a little breeze.”

“Good point. We need to stop at the next watering hole to let the horses drink and rest.”

**********

“How long does it take to get from town to the house?”

“That’s a good question. Sometimes, it seems to take forever. Sometimes, it seems like it takes no time at all.”

**********

By and by, after rounding a sweeping curve, the brothers arrived at the watering hole Adam had in mind.  Generally, it was a pleasant spot. Shady trees and soft grass surrounded the good-sized pool of water that bubbled up from an underground spring and trickled out to join a small creek nearby.

Today, the spot was also being used by the chain gang.  Calhoun had the wagon parked near the road, and the team of horses had been unhitched. Hobbled, they ambled around a bit and nibbled on the sparse grass.  The prisoners, it seemed, were also being rested.  Most of them were shackled to the largest tree – at least they had shade and water if not freedom of movement.

Buckner’s situation was noticeably different. He was shackled by the wrist to the wagon itself, using a short chain that prevented him sitting down or even standing comfortably. There was no sign of a canteen, or even a hat to keep the sun off his head.

For the love of God . . . Adam had had enough of Calhoun and his mistreatment of the people he was responsible for. It was past time for a direct discussion. He pulled the wagon up sharply, close to the prison vehicle, and set the brake.

“Careful,” Joe said. “That guy is plain mean, and I don’t think he’d know a fair fight if it bit him in the . . .”

“Do not finish that sentence. Stay. Here. I mean it, Joe. Having you in the middle of things will only make it worse.” Adam took a moment to remove his gun belt before jumping down from the wagon. No need to tempt escalating this discussion into fatal violence.

The varmint in question was striding in their direction, a glint in his eye and wicked grin on his face.

“Why am I not surprised to see you two?  Can’t stand to keep your nose outta things that ain’t your business.”

“What you’re doing to these men is everyone’s business. Move Buckner to the shade with the other men.”

“My men, my choice. Get lost, Cartwright, before something happens to you.”

“I believe I’ll take my chances. Joe, hand me the canteen.” Adam had turned his back for barely a moment before he heard his brother yelp a warning.  Luckily, the yell made him flinch just enough that Calhoun’s swing left only a long, shallow cut down his back rather than piercing the flesh between his ribs as the man had no doubt intended.

Little Joe had been correct; Calhoun wouldn’t know a fair fight if it bit him in the ass—which relieved Adam of any requirements to play nice. Adam twisted around to face Calhoun, ducking under the hand holding a sharpened trowel, and plowed his fist into the man’s gut.

The blow was hard enough to make Calhoun falter and stagger back a few paces. He even leaned over, grabbing his knees and gagging before spitting into the dirt. Wrapping one hand around his middle, he raised the other in supplication.

“Had enough?” His back was smarting like no one’s business, but Adam was perfectly fine to continue. If the guard was willing to give up, Adam was willing to accept his surrender.

“Yeah, yeah. I give up.”

“Drop that trowel. Seems a strange weapon for a prison guard to carry around. Funny, isn’t a trowel what you told us was used to mutilate ‘Buckner’? Sorry, that’s your name, isn’t it? Just how long have you been impersonating Asa Calhoun?”  The man had the audacity to look Adam right in the eye and grin – before launching himself headfirst into Adam.

The blow knocked the wind right out of him, and he hit the ground hard.  Even so, he should have been able to recover quickly. But on the way down, Adam banged his head good and hard against the wagon wheel. The pain was excruciating, and his vision tunneled to a pin prick.

In a daze, Adam was aware that he was laid out prone, face in the dirt with his brother at the mercy of this scoundrel. No amount of will or fortitude was going to get him back on his feet to defend Joe, and he could do nothing but listen to his brother shouting his name.

**********

Maggie’s eyes were wide with horror, her hands clasped over her mouth.

“I’m sorry, Maggie. I tried to warn you. I’ll stop now.”

“Don’t you dare! Just . . . tell us that Little Joe is all right.”

**********

Adam heard the scuffling sound as the brute stood up, and then felt the man kick him in the ribs. He would have liked to have taken the blow manfully, without making a sound. That wasn’t in the cards. He tried to lift his head, to move toward Little Joe, speak some encouragement – anything to make a difference.

Staying barely conscious was all he could manage.

“There, kid, you can quit your squalling. He ain’t dead.” The wagon creaked loudly as Joe shifted around. To his horror, Adam heard the distinct click of a revolver’s hammer being pulled back.

“You heard my brother. Drop that trowel, and then move over there away from us.”

“Boy, what do you think you’re going to do with that gun? You been havin’ gun fights in the school yard? Your arm’s shaking like a leaf.  Just drop that over the side of the wagon before you hurt yourself.”

“You’d better worry about yourself. Quit moving! Don’t go near my brother! I’ll shoot you. Don’t you think I won’t!”

“Listen, boy” Tweed Buckner’s voice was silky smooth, oily and leering. “I’ll make you a deal. You be nice to me for a few minutes, and I won’t hurt your brother. In fact, after I’m done making you feel good, I’ll vamoose outta here.”

A gun shot rang out in answer. Adam’s heart skipped a beat while the pain in his head surged unmercifully.

“Boy, you missed me by a mile. You are like your brother – all hat and no cattle. Okay, then, gotta do things the hard way.”

No, no, no! Little Joe, please run, get away . . .

A loud commotion erupted. Adam could pick out the sounds of scuffling feet, the smack of a weapon against flesh, and the sound of someone hitting the ground. After that . . .  silence, except for loud panting breaths.

Adam had bever considered himself a coward, but he couldn’t call what happened next anything other than cowardice. He just couldn’t listen to what he knew was coming. Instead, Adam allowed himself to fall into the looming darkness he’d been fighting off.

**********

“Merciful heavens! Please, God, no!”

“Maggie, hold on, let me tell you the rest of it.”

**********

Adam woke up coughing, the pungent scent of smelling salts filling up his nose. Above him, was a blurry face or maybe two blurry faces – that when finally merged proved to be Doc Martin.

“There you are, Adam. Glad to see you awake. You had Little Joe scared.” Before Adam could protest, the doctor was in his face even more closely, peering into his eyes intently.

“Joe! Where is . . . he?” Attempting to turn his head proved to be a bad idea. Everything in his line of vision swooped and gyrated. Adam’s stomach tried to enter the dance, and it took a couple of minutes to settle things down.

“Easy there, I guess I don’t have to warn you now to not move too fast.  Joe, come over here, and sit by your brother. I’m going to wrap a bandage around Buckner’s head before Roy tosses his sorry carcass into the prison wagon.”

Joe’s filthy, tear-stained face came into view.  Adam wanted to touch him, just to make sure he wasn’t seeing things after all. As it turned out, he could barely lift his hand.

“What happened?”

“Um, what do you remember?”

“God, don’t make me repeat it.”

“No, nothing like that.  Did you hear me stalling him?  I had your gun pointed right at him. No matter what, he wasn’t going to touch you again.”

“Stalling? I don’t get it . . . you’re going to have to use simple words . . . in a soft voice, please.”

“Sure, Mr. Calhoun, can you come over here?” The sad-looking soul, formerly identified as Tweed Buckner, came into view. He didn’t look nearly as pitiful as he had just a few hours before if you didn’t count the massive swelling of his right hand.

“This is the real Mr. Calhoun,” Joe continued. “Of course, you had that figured out. Anyway, almost as soon as you and the real Buckner started fighting, Mr. Calhoun started working at getting out of his handcuff. I could see what he was doing, and I was afraid Buckner would catch him at it.

You fell and hit your head. I remembered your gun and pulled it loose. Buckner, he started sayin’ those things and moving around like he was going to hurt you worse . . . and all I could think of was to keep him talking. Finally, Mr. Calhoun, he . . . well, he broke his thumb to get loose of the cuff.  And he couldn’t keep himself from yelping about it . . .  that must have hurt like no one’s business, sir . . . so I pulled the trigger to cover it up. Don’t worry, Adam, I didn’t hit nothin’. Luckily, there was a shovel inside that prison wagon. Mr. Calhoun slapped Buckner right across the back of the head with it, and Buckner went down like a sack of potatoes. We tied him up quick in case he started to wake up.”

Roy Coffee ambled into view and kneeled down in the dirt to join the conversation. “That’s right about when we got here. I’ll tell you, when we heard that gun shot, we sure picked up the pace. Mr. Calhoun, the doctor’s ready to fix up your hand and take a look at your mouth.”

“But . . . what . . . how . . .” Adam’s mind was in such a jumble, he couldn’t even string sensible words together.

Roy continued his story. “From what the other prisoners have to say, Buckner got the drop on Calhoun not too far from the prison gates. He used that infernal trowel on him, and he made Calhoun exchange clothes with him. Seems Buckner decided to play chain gang boss mostly out of meanness, so he could torment Calhoun and the other prisoners. Ya got any questions?”

“I can’t think of one . . . right now.”

“Good. We’ll have more time to talk later. Little Joe, catch hold of your brother on that side and see if we can’t ease him on up and over to Doc Martin’s buggy. Adam, you, Little Joe, and Calhoun are going back to town with the doctor. He’ll tell my deputy to hightail it out here with some men while I guard these prisoners.”

**********

“I think we could all use something to calm our nerves,” Everett said quietly. Moving quickly to the sideboard, he poured a modest amount of brandy into one glass for his wife, and a not-so-modest amount into glasses for himself and Adam.

Maggie cleared her throat. “Adam, I am so sorry for making you tell us that story . . . making you relive those moments. We had no right.”

Adam swallowed his brandy in a few gulps and sank back into his chair. “Don’t be sorry. You know, I think I feel a little bit better for having talked about it.”

“So, what happened next?”

“Next, well, it turned out that Buckner hadn’t managed to completely mutilate Calhoun. He’s healing better than expected. Buckner has had several years tacked on to his prison sentence. I promise you, he’s even less popular with his fellow prisoners than he was before. As for me and Joe, we ended up back in the hotel – this time due to my injuries rather than his.”

“Has Joe been devastated by all that happened?”

“It’s hard to say.”

**********

“Adam.”

“Sleeping”

“Adam.”

“Still sleeping.”

“If you were really asleep, you wouldn’t say you were sleeping.”

“Trying to sleep. I’m going to need all my strength to explain this to Pa when he gets here tomorrow.”

“Yeah . . . it’s a good story. Pa’s gonna be riled up.”

Really? A good story? Nearly being killed . . . or assaulted . . . made for a good story?” Adam would never understand the kid.

“Is there anything about what happened today that’s bothering you? Something you’d like to talk about?”

Nothing. Silence. Not a peep from the kid until Adam was nearly asleep again. Hearing the rustle of bed clothes as the boy turned toward him, Adam braced himself.

“So, I was wondering. Do guys like Buckner, you know – bad guys, do they do that all the time?”

“Do what, Joe?” Adam kept his voice soft and gentle.

“You know, just talk and talk. It was like he almost made a speech.”

*** The End***

A/N:  Written for Bonanza Brand’s 2023 Ponderosa Paddlewheel Poker Tournament.  The words/phrases dealt to me were:

chain gang
“that dog don’t hunt”
trowel
“He’s all hat and no cattle”
gun fight