Summary:  After his father is shot, Joe fights to keep him alive while hiding a deadly secret
Rating: T, WC 28,900

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Fear Death?  — To feel the fog in my throat, the mist in my face,

When then snows begin, and the blasts denote I am nearing the place,

The power of the night, the press of the storm, the post of the foe;

When he stands, the Arch Fear in a visible form, yet the strong man must go:

For the journey is done and the summit attained, and the barriers fall,

Though a battle’s to fight ere the guerdon be gained, the reward of it all,

I was ever a fighter, so — one fight more, the best and the last,

I would hate that death bandaged my eyes, and forbore, and bade me creep past.

(from the poem: Prospice, by Robert Browning)

 

Our Blood

 

Ben Cartwright rode up ahead of his youngest son, Joseph, the boy now trailing behind just ten yards or so.  He grinned as he turned his body in the saddle to catch sight of him.  The pride of a father showed on Ben’s face as he spied the boy leading the string of five horses.  It had been quite a trip thus far but it was almost done.  The stagecoach had taken them from Virginia City into Stockton where the purchase of the new horses was made, after a bit of haggling.  But, Ben had allowed Joe to do that, so he would get the hang of it.  The boy had just turned eighteen and he had done a pretty good job, at least in the eyes of Ben who had watched quietly off to the side.  Then there was the purchase, one which his father had handled, of two remounts, already saddle broken, for the trip back to the Ponderosa Ranch.

“Hey, Pa!” Joe called, kicking at the sides of the uncooperative mare.  “Hold up a minute, will you?”

Ben pulled back on his reins and waited for his son to catch up to him.  “Having some trouble, Joseph?”  Ben grinned, as he could detect frustration on Joe’s face as he neared.

“Yeah, kinda,” Joe nodded as he finally got close to his father’s horse.  “These dang horses don’t mind worth a darn!  Maybe I didn’t look them over good enough?  They might be mules and not horses, Pa,” Joe laughed and caught his father’s grin.

“Well, I guess I could say the same for you, Joseph, as you don’t mind ME at times.  And, it could also be said you’re a bit mule-headed,” Ben replied with a knowing smile shot his son’s way.   “It’s getting about time to make camp anyway.  Let’s find a better set up than last night, okay?”

“Hey since we’ve just crossed the boundary to the Ponderosa, that line shack can’t be more than two or three miles, right?”

Ben pointed towards the sun’s descent in the sky and shook his head.  “No. I think we should just stop for the day.  We’ll make it home tomorrow, Son.”

Joe frowned showing his displeasure.  “I was hoping for just one of those lumpy mattresses in that line-shack tonight, Pa.”

“What’s the matter, Joseph?  Is the ground getting too hard for you now that you’re an old man?” Ben teased.

“I don’t know how you do it, Pa,” Joe sighed, wondering how his father could handle just about any situation, including sleeping on the cold hard ground for the last three nights.

“You’ve got to toughen up, like your old man,” Ben laughed.  “Let’s go make camp.”

Joe raised his hand into a salute and replied, “Yes, Sir, Major Cartwright.”

Ben shook his head at the subtle mention of his former rank in the Army.  “Ok then, Soldier, hop to it or I’ll have your stripes!”

Joe’s twittering laughter erupted at the way his father had looked over at him so severely.  Pa would have done a good job on stage, Joe thought.  “I ain’t got no stripes, Major,” he quipped.

“Well, you’ll earn them tonight, Joseph.  You get to set up camp while I make dinner for us,” Ben announced.  He pointed over to a clearing up ahead about forty yards.  “That’s about the best place we’re gonna find around here.  Let’s go!”

“Best place would be that line shack,” Joe muttered.

“No more complaints, just soldier on!” Ben laughed and Joe pulled the horses toward the clearing with no further comments.

After unsaddling the two remounts, the boy went about feeding and watering all seven horses.  Accomplishing that chore, he brought the two saddlebags over to where their base camp was now getting set up.  Then there was the job of gathering the two saddles and the bedrolls, which he surrendered to Pa.  Joe got busy creating a make- shift rope corral while his father gathered their supplies out of the saddlebags.  Darkness was fast upon them, and the temperature began to dip quite a bit before Joe made it back with an arm load of firewood.  With his father busy with the food preparation, he stacked the wood and added what little kindling he had found around the bases of the surrounding pine trees.   The boy lit the fire and soon the flames shot upwards.  He admitted to himself that Pa had chosen a good spot to camp out, with a wind break from the north to help with the coldness of the early spring night.  The north facing trees had also come in handy, as Joe needed their shelter in order to create the impromptu corral.  Father and son made a good team, each knowing their individual responsibilities without a word exchanged between them.  Joe, satisfied that he had gotten a good fire going, went about spreading out the bedrolls and upturning the two saddles to create comfort for their sleep as a cowboy bolster.

Relaxing, once he was satisfied that he had done a good job with his chores, Joe settled cross-legged on the ground.   He watched his father open a can of beans, emptying them into a pan and then adding a slab of the last of their heavily salted bacon.

“I can’t wait to get home, Pa.  Sure look forward to Hop Sing’s cooking!”

Ben looked over at his boy and raised his eyebrows, “Wasn’t it you who fought to take this trip with me?  You know Hoss really wanted to come with me and only bowed out because his pesky baby brother whined so much.”

“Oh — I like the trip, Pa, it’s been fun — it’s just your food that I’m not too keen on.”

“Would you like to do it?” Ben returned, a stern inflection in his tone of voice.

“Me?” Joe sang out.  “Pa, I didn’t say I was any better than you.  In fact, the only thing I can make is coffee —- everything else comes out burnt.”

“I’ve got news for you, Son — your coffee tastes burnt too,” Ben chuckled, and watched as his son rolled his eyes.  “Now no more complaints or I’ll make you the cook.”

“Tomorrow we eat Hop Sing’s cooking, right?  He should be back by now.”

“Well, according to Hoss’ telegraph the other night, that’s not a sure bet.  You know he’s going through a lot of family issues right now in San Francisco.  Don’t worry, Hoss isn’t a bad cook — unlike his father apparently!   After cooking for himself for a week now he’s had lots of practice.”

*** I sure hope Hop Sing greets me at the door tomorrow *** Joe thought to himself.  He didn’t want to remind his pa what he thought about all four of the Cartwright’s cooking abilities.

 

Ben leaned back against his saddle and watched his youngest polish off the last of his supper.

Joe set down his plate and leaned back against his saddle.  Smiling broadly he reached out to his pa, touching his shoulder.  “That was the best beans and bacon I’ve ever had!” he called out exuberantly.

Ben stared over at the boy and replied, “You were either hungry or you’re trying to get out of washing these dishes.”

Joe nodded.   “Both,” he said adamantly.  “You want some more of my coffee?” he continued, reaching with gloved hand for the coffee pot hanging above the campfire.

“I guess, I will,” Pa reached over to hand his cup to his son.  “I don’t feel like getting my pipe out tonight — so having a cup of your brew will still provide a nice burning aroma.” He teased.  Joe just shook his head.  Pa, he mused to himself, was in good spirits and in rare form.  He was so glad he had gotten the chance to go with the patriarch of the family. Joe had missed having one on one time with his father.  Of course he didn’t mind sharing the man with his two brothers, it was just that, every so often, he needed Pa’s total attention.

“I just thought that —- ,”  Joe was cut off right away with a hand clamped down onto his left wrist.  “Pa, what is it?” he whispered.

Ben abruptly reached for his six-gun and signaled the boy to do likewise.  They both slid their Colts from out of their holsters, which had been placed up at the head of each turned up saddle.  “ I just heard the sound of boots and a couple of the horses are stirred up.  I think we’ve got company and I think they’re after our horses.  You stay down, Joseph, we’re sitting ducks here in front of the fire.”

“Want me to put the fire out?” Joe responded as quietly as he could.

“No time now — get ready, Son, — over there, Joe!”  Ben tried to get his son’s attention, but it was too late.  The first couple of shots rang out in the direction of the two Cartwrights.  None of those bullets had hit either man, but they had been aimed their way.  Unable to detect if whoever was out in the tree line had a direct bead on them, all that Ben and Joe could do was to wait.  It wasn’t a long wait, in fact only seconds, before bullets were sailing out in several directions.   Pa had seen the glint of a gun barrel, but it was too late.  His move away from the campfire in order to attract attention to himself, only made an easier target for the gunman.

Joe looked on in horror as his father, who had been half standing and half crouching only a few seconds before then, took a bullet and went down.  Joe fanned his Colt, not counting the rounds.  He had simply responded to whoever had shot his pa; the man that he loved more than himself.  Joe dove over the top of the campfire, his moves swifter than a bobcat as he tried to get to Pa.  Another two shots rang out, one finding its target just an inch from Joe’s hand as he landed on the hard ground.  Undeterred, Joe got up and swiftly sprinted over to the spot where his father had fallen.  There was just enough retreating light given off from the fire to detect if his pa was moving or if he was dead.  Joe dropped his shaky left palm down onto his father’s face, there was no notice of it by Pa.  Ben’s piercing brown eyes were closed.  Joe heard the next bullet ring out, and knew he had to get some cover for Ben; though the boy was unsure if he was alive or dead.  It wouldn’t have mattered, because alive or dead he was going to provide shelter for his pa.  Joe maneuvered over to the two saddles, slinging one across each of his shoulders and then returned to the fallen man.  “Here, Pa, you’ve got some protection now,” Joe called out, fear in his voice, fear for the man he loved so much.  “Stay down, Pa, don’t get up, I’ve got this.”  Joe pulled the saddles together, with each butting up against the other, on top of his father for some kind of cover.  He then grabbed Ben’s gun, not taking the time to reload his own Colt; there wasn’t any time.  The boy made a hasty move towards the tree line, and just as quickly headed back in the direction of his pa.

Joe heard the seven horses, perhaps now on the end of several rustler’s ropes, whinnying as though they were being led away from the area.  Joe made another dash back closer towards his pa, when he saw a man pushing out from behind a forty foot pine.  The appearance of a rifle barrel, reflecting from the sparks of the campfire, sent Joe running back in the opposite direction.  He had to draw the fire away from Pa!  The gunfire was deafening and a bullet found its target.  Joe had drawn the attention away from Ben, causing the unseen assailant to draw a bead directly onto the boy.  He fell flat on his back due to the slug which had slammed into him; performing a macabre half- somersault as he went down.

Ben’s body was still unmoving a few minutes after his son had caught the slug.  It had pierced Joe’s right side, and passed straight through, coming out at the fleshy meat of his waistline.  Joe knew that he should have stayed down.  He couldn’t.  Though the bullet going through him had stolen his breath, he knew he had to catch it back right quick.  If the assailants knew that Joe only had a few bullets left in his pa’s gun, they surely would’ve waited the boy out and finished him off.  Joe thought as fast as he could, though his head was swimming due to worry over his father and the shock of having been hit by a bullet.  He sang out towards the tree line, “if you just wanna take those horses — we ain’t gonna do nothin’ to you — but you kill us and you’ll find out what mountain kin do to anyone who kills their family members!”

Joe must have appeased whoever was out there stealing the horses, as he soon heard the rustling sound of the horse’s hooves as they pounded the ground being led away.  The boy had to tell himself that those were the current facts of the matter.  He couldn’t just stand around to see if his assumption had proven to be a correct one. Pa’s motionless body was now just a few yards away from Joe, not far from the campfire.  He was still laid out under the two saddles his son had tossed on top of him a few minutes earlier.

“Pa—-Pa — can you hear me?” Joe cried out as he staggered over to him.  The boy knelt down next to the other man, his eyes misting up and his heart beating rapidly.  “Pa?” he called out, but to no avail.  Joe reached down and tossed aside the two saddles, freeing his father from their weight.  He searched for a pulse, but his hands were shaking too much.  Giving up on that method, the boy then tried for the carotid artery at the side of Pa’s neck.  Nervously, two fingers of Joe’s left hand felt for the strong beating heart of Ben Cartwright.  It was still there.

Joe stared down at the wound which had apparently taken Pa in the abdomen.  He had spotted the blood first, then the bullet hole which had ripped through his father’s shirt.   There was also a crimson colored stain which was now spreading out and down to the top of Pa’s trousers.  Joe leaned over his father.    A feeling of dread and panic hung over the youngest Cartwright, chilling him to the marrow.   Not knowing exactly what to do first, he sent up a silent prayer.  *** Please Dear Lord — don’t take Pa — please— not him — I’ll do anything — please show me what to do *** Joe briefly closed his eyes fighting for courage, but that had done little to prevent the tears that were fighting their way out regardless.  He had yet to feel the pain from his own gunshot.  Both the entry and exit wounds in his side were bleeding badly, but that was the farthest thing from his mind.  Joe’s only concern was to try and keep his father alive.  He placed his left hand over Pa’s heart, and mopped away his tears with his right shirtsleeve.   Pa was alive, there still was hope.

Joe moved the bedrolls and supplies closer to where his father now lay, still unconscious.  It had been over an hour since they had been attacked by the rustlers who had shot up the camp before stealing their horses.  Finding several clean shirts in both his and Pa’s gear, Joe carefully tore them into long strips for bandages.  He had secured one of the thermal shirts tightly around his father’s waist trying to staunch the flow of blood.   Joe mused to himself that he would have to apologize to Hop Sing the next time he saw him.  The cook and caretaker had insisted that both Cartwrights pack several more shirts than they deemed necessary for the return trip home.  It had been Hop Sing’s last request before he had boarded his own stage for San Francisco, the day before Ben and Joe had left for Stockton.  They had acquiesced, but only to spare the man any further worry; as his trip was due to troubling family issues.  Joe rolled up an extra shirt as a pillow for Pa.  He gently lifted the patriarch’s head and eased the padding underneath.  Joe had hoped that his pa would come around, if only for a few minutes to assure him that he would pull through.  That hadn’t happened yet.  Checking the wound once more, to see if the blood flow had subsided, Joe was relieved that it seemed like the pressure bandage was doing its job.  But, there was also the knowledge that a bullet was still underneath Ben’s entry wound somewhere and it had to come out.

Moving over to the campfire, Joe finally decided it was time to check his own injury, and he needed to tend it before Pa woke and saw it.  He had already made the decision that he wouldn’t tell his father that he had also been shot.  Pa didn’t need to worry about someone else, especially not his youngest son.  Ben would fret over his son, especially if he knew that he was wounded. *** You’re gonna have to sit this one out, Pa *** Joe thought to himself, *** if you knew about me getting hit you’d wear yourself out fussing over me!  You need all your strength right now, Pa.    This one’s on me, I just hope I don’t fail you *** Joe probed his side, feeling where the bullet had passed through.  He bit at his bottom lip as he dumped a handful of brandy over both bullet holes.  Fortunately Pa had bought a rather expensive bottle of brandy in Stockton as a present for a friend of his in Virginia City.  He had planned to surprise the man with it, but now it was too valuable to give away to anyone.  Joe had washed his hands thoroughly before doctoring his father, and had used the brandy as an antiseptic over his pa’s wound.  He prayed that he could get Pa tended to soon, as the chance for blood poisoning was foremost on his mind, that and the removal of the slug.  Joe, after cleaning both of his wounds with brandy, wrapped a pressure bandage, using a thermal shirt like he had done for Pa.  He had to be content with the job he had done as he suddenly heard his father’s voice muttering something.  Joe briefly turned away from the sound, looking towards the glow of the campfire for enough light to make sure he tucked his bandage out of sight.  He pulled his green jacket down over the whiteness of the bandage underneath it.  Then he hurried to his father’s side and knelt down.

“Pa?  Pa — can you hear me?”  Joe asked, quietly.  He tried to hide the terrible searing pain that his wounds were causing him.  He couldn’t let Pa see it on his face; he had enough trouble already.

“Joe— Joseph — are you — are you alright, Boy?” Ben began, his voice weak and barely above a whisper.

Joe had to shake his head over that question, and tried for a smile aimed towards his father.  *** Only Pa would be laying there with a gunshot to his belly and asking how I’m doing *** Joe thought to himself.  “Yeah, Pa — just fine — worried about you though.”

Ben’s right hand rose up and sought out his son’s curly head, his fingers brushed through Joe’s hair lightly.  He wanted tangible proof that the boy was telling him the truth.  Pa couldn’t see his son’s eyes, due to the dimming light behind Joe, thus, he would have to take the kid’s word for it.  “Guess we don’t have to worry about those mule- headed horses any more, Son,” Ben made a reference to what Joe had said about the string of horses the previous day.  It was a valiant attempt to hide the seriousness of the situation.

“I’m sorry, Pa — I told those rustlers to take them — if not —“Joe was swept up in all that had happened and how his father looked pretty bad off to him.

Ben must have heard the break in his son’s statement and in his voice.  “Now, Joseph, we’ve been in tough situations before, we’ll get out of this one too,” he attempted to throw in something positive in order to help his son, but the attempt didn’t come off with much fervor.

“I’m gonna get us out of this, Pa.  I’m not worried about that, just worried about you!  I was just thinking about those danged horses I had to drag for all those miles,” Joe also tried, much like Ben had, to sound upbeat.  “Now can you try to drink something for me?  I’ve got some of my great coffee or some of that brandy.  Which one sounds good to you?’

“You opened Jim’s brandy?” Ben wondered why Joe would’ve done that.

Joe nodded,“ Pa, I needed to clean your wound before applying that make-shift pressure bandage to it.  I’m glad you were out of it — it wouldn’t have been pleasant if you’d been awake.”  *** Isn’t that an understatement *** Joe mused to himself.   He remembered how it had felt when he had, just a few minutes before Pa had come to, dumped a handful of brandy into his own wounds.  He had almost climbed out of his skin.

Ben’s right hand touched at his stomach, feeling the material that his son had placed around it.  “Good job, Son.  I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks, Pa — how we get some fluids into you now?  You’ve lost a lot of blood,” Joe turned back to his worry over Pa’s condition.

“Just a little burnt coffee, Joseph — well — maybe some brandy in it too.”

Joe fought to smile.   He was hurting like hellfire but Pa needed proof that his son was up to the task that lay before him, so he managed to pull off a weak grin.  “Coming right up,” he said, and turned towards the fire.  He re-stoked the dying coals with more wood and settled the coffee pot down on the ground.  Joe reached for his gloves, but decided against putting them on.  He hadn’t realized that they were coated with the blood of both his dad and him until that very moment.  Joe gave a tired sigh, light enough that Pa couldn’t hear it.  The boy could stand just about anything, including seeing his own blood spilled.  But seeing and cleaning up his pa’s blood was something that shook his very soul.  He couldn’t lose his father!  No matter how challenging or painful the next few days got, Joe resolved with all of the internal fortitude he had left in him that he’d get Pa back home, and have him fixed up by Doctor Martin.

“Joseph?” Ben called out, barely audible.  “You okay?”

Joe grabbed the brandy and poured a shot into the coffee cup.   Mixing the two fluids together with a gentle roll of the tin cup, he approached his father.  “Yep — just fine, Pa.  Now let’s get some of this into you, then you’re gonna rest awhile.”

Ben attempted to move into a semi-seated position.  It proved to be a bad mistake.   He grimaced in pain.  Joe eased his father back against the head rest he’d made earlier.  “Stay down, Pa — don’t get up — I’ve got this,” Joe tried to quiet his father.  “Just turn your head to the side and I’ll bring up the cup.  I already cooled it down a bit for you.”

Pa bit back his pain, not wanting the boy to know how awful he was feeling at that moment.  He nodded towards his son, “okay, Joe, let’s try that again.”

Joe lifted the cup to his father’s lips and, with a lot of patience to mask the trepidation he felt, soon most of the contents were gone.

“Thanks, Joe,” Ben nodded gratefully.  “Think I’ll get a little shut-eye.  How about you, Son?”

As each moment passed by it was becoming more obvious to Joe that his father was hurting much more than he was letting on.  He had to get Pa to settle back and rest somehow, and not allow him to worry about his son not resting.  Joe decided he would have to show Ben he was just fine.  Joe spread out his blanket right next to his father.  He had secured Pa’s bedroll underneath him while he was yet unconscious.  “I’m ready, Pa — just as soon as you’re back asleep I’ll go down.  And I’m gonna be right here next to you — so just wake me if you need anything, okay?”

Pa had seen the move and knew what his boy was attempting to do. Joseph was trying to prove that he could handle the situation just fine.  He managed a weak smile and said, “alright, Son, I am a bit tired — now, you get some rest — and don’t stay up all night looking at your old man.  I promise I’m not going anywhere.”

Joe pulled the navy colored wool blanket up to his father’s shoulders and added Pa’s heavy coat on top of it.  Satisfied that the man would be warm enough, he reached down and placed his left hand over his father’s heart.  He just needed the reassurance that Pa’s heartbeat was still as strong as it had been earlier.  “Good night, Pa — just reach over for me or sing out, if you wake before I do.”

Ben settled this time for a nod instead of a verbal reply.   He was, in fact, exhausted and could barely keep his eyes open.   Joe watched as his pa fell fast to sleep.  Adding more wood to the fire, Joe’s energy waned and he decided that he’d better get some rest.  Morning was about six hours away now, and Joe knew that it was going to be one of the most grueling days of his life.

 

Ben stared through bleary eyes towards the campfire.  He could tell that it had been going for quite a while, as the flames were settled just underneath the coffee pot hanging just above.  He tried not to move too much, taking note of the pain in his gut.  Ben nervously scanned the area for his son, wondering just where the boy had gone.  He had already felt over at the bedroll spread out very close to his own, but it had been vacated.  Dropping his head back down to rest, Ben heard the sound just in the woods to the right of him.  Someone was apparently cutting into wood, or so it seemed.  The metallic sound of a hatchet could be heard, and he imagined his son was perhaps seeking new wood for the campfire.  If he had the strength he would have called out Joe’s name, but he was far too weak.  Joe must have sensed something, as he stopped his labors and sang out towards the camp.

“I’m right here, Pa!  I’ll be over to you in just a second.”  Pulling behind him several very long poles which had been acquired from green trees, the young man drew closer to where his injured father was waiting.  “Sorry, Pa, I didn’t mean to be gone so long,” he apologized, dropping the long stripped branches there not far from the fire.

“Joseph — what are you doing?”

“Let me get you something to drink, Pa,” Joe side-stepped the question, and brought a canteen over to his father.  He helped raise Ben’s head a bit to allow him to get down a few swallows of water.  “The coffee is just about ready, Pa.  I’ll have some for you in just a minute.”

“How long you been up, Joseph?”

Joe removed his father’s pocket watch from his jacket and replied, “just a couple of hours.  It’s around eight now, Pa, if this watch is keeping time.”

Ben stared hard at his son.  Something about his demeanor didn’t seem quite right.  “You’re sure you’re alright, Boy?  You don’t look too good.”

Joe smiled and nodded, “well, Pa, I hate to tell you this —but — you snore, I had a heck of a time sleeping!”  *** I hope that worked *** Joe thought to himself.  He was starting to worry if his façade wasn’t quite as clever as he thought it was.  *** Pa just can’t find out that I’m actually hurting like hell, and that my wounds are still bleeding  ***

“Want to try that again?” Ben questioned, raising his eyebrows.

“Okay, okay, Pa.  I’m fine, but I did check on you off and on last night.  So, if I look puny it’s just because I’ve been worried about you, that’s all.”  *** Hope he bought that line of malarkey *** Joe again thought to himself.

“I told you to rest.  Now, what are you up to?”

Joe tapped at his forehead and nodded like he had been thinking.  “As soon as I get some more drink in you, and finish my project we’re getting out of here.  I’ve got it all figured out, Pa.”

“Joe, listen, I think it’s best that you go on off and see if you can find a horse and maybe get to one of the timber camps for some help.  I’ll be fine here.”

Joe stood and stared down at his father, both hurt and a bit of anger on his face.  “You think I can’t handle this, Pa?  Why?  Is it because I’m not Adam or Hoss?”

Ben was surprised to see anger coming from the boy.  He knew the kid was worried, maybe even scared, but he didn’t expect to see Joe’s temper flaring up at the time.  “Joseph — that’s not at all what I was thinking.”

Joe knelt down closer to his father and dropped his hand on his shoulder, “I’m sorry, Pa.  You know how I get when I haven’t had enough sleep,” he tried to come up with a reason for his outburst, even if it was a lie.  “I shouldn’t have fired off at you.  But, Pa, you just need to understand something right now.  I’m NOT going to leave you!  I’m gonna get you something to eat and something to drink then I’m getting us both out of here.  Now let me go get you that coffee,” Joe said empathically and stood and turned towards the coffee pot.

Ben watched his boy turn away from him.  He then stared over at the poles which Joe had dragged out of the tree line.  It was all becoming clearer what his son’s plan was and Pa was none too happy about it.  Joseph was quick to return with a coffee cup for his father, this time containing only the strong brew.

“Here ya go, Pa.  Try this, but keep down, I don’t want that wound of yours to start bleeding,” Joe smiled as he held the liquid up to his father’s lips.

Ben tried his best to oblige his son, though his stomach was a bit queasy.  He got several sips down and then waved the cup away.  “Thanks, Son, that’s about all I want for now.  Now can we speak quietly for a few moments?”

Joe let out an exasperated groan, he could guess what was coming and braced himself.  “I know what you’re going to say, Pa.  Can you just let me handle this please?”

“I was going to tell you how proud I am of you,” Ben announced, hoping to diffuse the boy.  “You did a great job last night, Joseph.  I probably wouldn’t still be here if you hadn’t taken care of me.  But, I’m better today.  You need to think about this with your head, and not your heart — “

Joe cut off his father with a laugh, “Just look who’s talking!  You know — the man who hovers over me when I just have a COLD!  Now, I told you how we’re gonna do this! And, besides I’m thinking with both my head and my heart. Now, do you feel up for some breakfast?  I think we have a few stale biscuits left or I can open another can of beans.”

Ben shook his head feeling very weak and very defeated.  “Wait just a second, Young Man, I’m not dead yet —

Joe’s face took on an anguished expression and he cut his father right off, “stop it!  No talking of dying, Pa.  I can’t handle that.  I’ve got things to do, so do you want to eat or what?”

“I’m sorry, Joe,” Pa found himself to be apologizing a lot that morning with both of their nerves being very much on edge.  “I didn’t mean it that way.  I know I’ve had you worried all night.  Why don’t you tell me your plan?  But, first go grab some of that burnt coffee so we can both enjoy it,” Ben hoped to calm his son, and he was relieved when he saw Joe grin over at him.

“Be right back, Pa, “Joe nodded and turned towards the fire.  He knew he could get through to his father if only he would listen.  And at least now, it seemed like Pa was ready to at least try to hear him out.

Joe sat down next to his father and sipped at his coffee.  He wanted to have everything figured out in his mind as to how he would get Pa to the West Bend line shack before addressing it to him.  Finally after a few silent moments he turned towards his father and said, “Pa, I’m gonna get us to that line shack before dark.  But, to do that I need to get started on the travois.”

Ben stared at his son, hesitating at first, in order to choose his words carefully, “Joseph, I know what you’re trying to do, but, I just don’t see how you can pull me.  I weigh a lot more than you might think.”

Joe smiled to ease the concern that was written on Pa’s face.  “I’ve figured it all out, you don’t need to worry.  I know you and my brothers don’t think I’m listening to you most times — but I really am.  And it helps to have one brother who’s an architect and another who is a woodsman.  I’m going to use counter weights and heck, Pa, Hoss showed me how to make a travois years ago.  I’ll just modify it a bit.”

“I still think it would be best if you tried to find the closest remuda and got us a couple of horses.”

“Pa, I’m NOT going to leave you.  Not when you’ve got a bullet in you!  Now, let me get to this because I’m getting you to that line shack or die trying.  So, just stay down, Pa, don’t get up, I’ve got this,” Joe repeated what had become his mantra, more for himself than for his father.  Setting his tin cup down he walked to the campfire and began lining up the stripped branches.

Ben fell to sleep, though he wanted to watch his son work on his project.  He doubted that Joe could possibly manage to pull a make-shift stretcher loaded down with his father’s weight.  However, he knew the boy would not surrender to that fact until he had at least tried.

Joe labored for two hours, though he worked as fast as he possibly could, it wasn’t an easy task.  Finally the poles were lined up and fastened together by whatever rawhide he could salvage, along with the rope from the corral he had set up the previous night.  At least the rustlers hadn’t taken that.  All the while keeping a watchful eye towards his father, the morning was fast spent by the time he was ready.  The form of an x at the top was usually, in a regular travois, made short.  But, Joe decided he’d make the poles longer there.   Thus, the new design would help him to counter the weight of his father, using the heaviness of the provisions housed inside the saddlebags.  That would essentially kill two birds with one stone, he thought, as he didn’t want to leave behind the provisions.  Joe presumed that the line shack would have a coffee pot, and there should be some cups, utensils and pans, so he left those things there by the campfire.  He double checked the horizontal four poles, making sure they were tied off well enough to support his injured father.  Satisfied that all had been done according to his original plans, he laid his bedroll down along with the two horse blankets on the bed of the travois.  They would have to abandon both saddles and hope that someone could come back for them later.  It was the least of their worries right now.

Joe reached down and touched Ben’s forehead.  It was hot, too hot, and fear swelled up in Joe’s heart.  He knew Pa had to get that bullet removed, and unfortunately that meant that he would have to be the one playing doctor.  Joe knew that the closest remuda was miles away, if he could even find it.  But, with Pa having a fever and no strength, it meant that if his son were to leave him there alone in the camp he might die.  The woods surrounding the area were full of animals, animals that could always smell blood.  He would just have to try to pull Pa and get him somewhere clean, safe and out of the elements.  At least there was a stove and a good water hand pump there at the cabin.  Joe would need both of those in order to facilitate the removal of the slug.

“Pa,” Joe called out, as he settled a dampened cloth on his father’s forehead and tried to awaken him.  “Pa — we have to get moving.”

Slowly Ben’s eyelids fluttered and then opened.  He attempted a reassuring smile aimed towards his youngest.  He could read both fear and determination on the boy’s face.  “Okay, Son, what do you want me to do?”

“I’ve got to move you, Pa — do you think you can kinda slide over onto the travois?  I can help you?”

Ben was surprised to see his son had the contraption already lined up there next to him.  He hadn’t heard any of the commotion as Joe had gone around gathering supplies and getting everything set to go.  “Yes, I can do that much, since you’ve been doing all of the work.   Just let me catch my breath a second.”

“Here, Pa, drink a little water first, you’ve got a fever setting in,” Joe urged as he lifted the canteen to his father’s lips.  Pa did what he could to take in some of it, passing it back to the boy when he was through.

“That water tasted good.  I guess I was thirstier than I thought.  Now let’s go ahead and try your invention,” Ben nodded, and summoned the strength he would need to make the move.

“Here let me help, try not to jar your wound,” Joe coaxed and helped his father over and got him settled on the make-shift stretcher.

Joe covered his father with the bedroll which had been underneath him.  He inspected the placement of the two holsters and rifles.  There was just enough room on both sides of Ben to accommodate everything that Joe had considered to be essential.  He looked down at his injured father.   The fear on his own face was evident and Ben must have noticed it because he nodded his head and gave his son a confident smile.  Joe walked around the travois and said a silent prayer.  He hoped he would have the strength he would need and that his wounds held up under the strain.

“Here we go, Pa, won’t take too long — I think I’ve figured a short cut that will shave off at least a half of a mile,” Joe sang out, unsure if his pa had heard or if he was once again asleep.  With simply willpower alone, the young man pulled up the travois and the weight of it fell across his shoulders.  He stifled a groan and started walking.  The counter weight had helped, though the burden in front of him from the saddlebags was cumbersome.  Joe slowly began the mile and a half trek to the line shack.

 

Joe had known that the trudging down to the West Bend line shack would  arduous, and he was correct.  Trying his best to avoid obstacles that lay in front of him on the trail made the walk much more tedious.  Always worried that jarring his father during their journey could perhaps move the slug that was still stuck in Pa’s abdomen, Joe tried his best to steer clear of rocks and the like.  He figured the path through a clearing would be his best bet in order to make up time he had lost due to his many detours.  That had proven to be a good decision as the soft new spring grass had helped the two bottom feet of the travois slide better.  Joe stopped three times in order to set down his load and also check on Pa.  The first stop he had been awake, but the last two rest stops had found his father fast asleep.  Joe figured that was a good thing, as it afforded him time to re-bandage his own wounds.  The bleeding had picked up to a steady flow and he had a tough time trying to get enough pressure on his side to stop it.  He was just glad that Pa hadn’t seen it.  If Pa caught sight of his son’s gunshot wounds, he’d surely throw the kid onto the travois and pull him to the cabin, instead of the other way around.

Looking into the distance Joe’s heart leapt at the sight of the line shack.  It was still about a quarter of a mile but he was able to make out the roof and the chimney pipe.  Joe called to his father, not expecting an answer, “Pa!  We’re almost there, hang on!”  With renewed strength he quickened his pace.  Joe thought about the bunks there in the cabin and he hoped at some point, once his father was better, he could get some real rest.  His body strained and almost faltered.   And the pain in his right side felt just like a searing branding iron.  But, as Pa had said the previous day, he needed to “soldier on” so he did.  Not knowing if he should laugh or cry, he used one hundred per cent willpower to make the last few yards.  Coming to an abrupt stop just a few feet from the two steps that led up to the porch, Joe unburdened his shoulders from the weight of the travois and set it down as gently as he could.  He then eased over to where his father lay, sound asleep.  Joe decided the time would be well spent if he set up everything inside the line shack before trying to awaken his pa.  Removing the saddle bags, the weapons and all else there around Pa, Joe brought them hastily into the place.  Surveying the room, he decided to move one of the two bunks closer to the door.  He needed to save some steps before somehow bringing Pa inside.  Joe readied the wood burning stove, relieved to see an ample amount of firewood next to the door.  That was one chore he wouldn’t have to do, and he was glad.  His own strength was about gone, and only the adrenalin which coursed through his veins kept him moving; that and of course the love for his father.

Once he was satisfied that the room was all set up for them, and the wood stove was getting heated up Joe returned to Ben and knelt down.  “Pa? Pa, can you hear me?” he called softly, trying his best to show calm.

A groan escaped Ben’s lips as he moved slightly on the travois.  “Joseph?” he called out, trying to ascertain where he was and what was going on.

“We made it, Pa — everything’s gonna be alright.”

Ben turned his head slightly and was amazed to see the line shack there just a yard or so in front of him.  “You did it, Boy —- I don’t know how you did it –- but you did it!  Good job, Joseph.”

Joe grinned as he saw the amazement on his Pa’s face.   It was so gratifying to  hear his praise, especially after all of the effort it had taken to get to the cabin.  “Thanks, Pa.  But, I am gonna need some help now.  I moved a bunk right next to the door if you could kind of help me get you there?”

“I think I can, Son,” Ben readied to help the boy who had fought so bravely in order to get them to shelter.

“I’m gonna kneel down and I need you to put your right arm over my shoulder.  Then I’ll try to pull you up to standing, and we’ll get to those stairs,” Joe offered his current plan of action.  He had thought that part out also, he couldn’t let Pa throw his left arm over his shoulder because that would mean that the weight of his father would rest on his own right side.  That was the side which had been badly injured.  He couldn’t allow Pa to find out about his current condition; not now.

Ben did as instructed, settling his right arm around his son’s shoulder and pushing up with the heels of his boots.  He tried not to groan, but couldn’t help himself.  Joe knew that his father was struggling a bit, so he tried his best to carry most of his weight.  It took a while to inch over to the steps, but the two Cartwrights finally made it.  Taking it easy, one step at a time, they ascended until they came to the interior and Joe eased his pa down onto the bunk.  They both gave a weary sigh in unison and that brought a chuckle from Joe.  “Guess we don’t want to do that again for a bit, huh?”

Ben nodded, “No let’s not.” He settled back against the small pillow at the head of the bunk.  “I still can’t believe you got me here, Joseph.”

“Well, I wasn’t all that sure I could do it either, Pa,” Joe laughed, trying to appear more at ease than he really felt at the moment.  He was very worried as Pa looked worse than he had prior to their trek to the line shack.  It was a sure sign that he needed to get that bullet out, and very soon.  “Let me get you something to drink — “Joe paused as his eyes caught a glance at the wood floor.  There were several fresh drops of blood right next to his boots.  He realized he was starting to bleed again, and knew he had to get out of the room for a few minutes to tend to his wounds.

Ben noticed that Joe’s attention had been drawn away abruptly.  “What’s wrong, Son?”

Joe quickly turned towards the door and called back, “oh I forgot to fill the canteens, Pa.  You just rest a minute, it shouldn’t take me too long — I also need to fill a couple of buckets.  I’ll need to get some water boiling soon.  Then I’m going to get some liquids into you before I have to try for that danged bullet.”  And with those words Joe beat a hasty exit.

Standing outside at the water pump washing his face and hands, Joe fought the intense pain shooting upwards from his wounds.   He felt a bit shaky and had to regroup some.  Getting to the line shack had worn him down physically but not mentally.  He knew he’d have to summon up all of his courage and all of the skills he had honed over the years.  Most of the things he had learned about tending to wounds had been from personal experience.  He had eighteen years of his own injuries to draw from.  Of course he had been on the other end of the situation, and not the one actually performing any kind of surgery on anyone.  He never missed Doctor Martin more than he did at that moment.  Joe feared hurting his father more than anything else.  He was unsure if he could get that slug out, and worried about how far it might be in Pa’s stomach.  There wasn’t anyone else to assist this time, and he reasoned that he would just have to hope that his prayers would be answered, and Pa would recover once the surgery was over.  The very first thing he’d have to accomplish would be to tend to his own wounds.  Joe pulled off his green corduroy jacket.  Blood seemed to be everywhere!  He sucked in a deep breath and carefully removed his bandage.  Joe shook his head woefully.   The pressure bandage had failed to hold up under the strain of the long walk dragging the weight of his father.  He quietly re-entered the cabin, hoping Pa couldn’t see him at the time.  Reaching into one side of his saddle bag he removed more material that he had torn up the previous night.  Just as stealthily he moved back outside.  Joe used the old bandage to blot whatever blood that still leaked from his side.  The feel of the pressure from his ministrations told Joe everything he needed to know.  The wounds were festering.  He sighed to himself.  *** These are just going to have to wait.  I’ve got to take care of Pa first.  Then I’ll tend myself better.  I’ve got to get the bandage tighter this time! ***Joe tied down the new replacement bandage, securing his jacket over top of the area again.  He hoped the disguise would do the trick, what with Pa being too sick to notice his deception.

Putting on his best smile, Joe filled a cup with water and brought it to Ben who lay on the bunk still awake.  “Sorry it took me so long,” he apologized, and handed the water to his father.

“I’m worried about you,” Ben stated, searching his son’s face.  “You’ve been going non-stop for such a long time, Son.  Don’t you think you should rest a bit?”

Joe shook his head adamantly and responded, “nothing doing, Pa.  I’ve got to get something in you besides water.  I’ve got something on that stove over there.  Hopefully it won’t be too awful.”

“You still should try to lay down, if only for an hour.  You pulled me for miles.”

“As soon as I’ve gotten that bullet out — then I’ll rest.  But first let’s try the gruel I made.  Be right back.”  Joe turned and headed back towards the stove.  It hadn’t taken him long to prepare what was perhaps the worst beef broth known to mankind.  But, Joe hadn’t had the luxury of Hop Sing’s pantry, nor his abilities.  He spooned some into a small metal bowl and brought it over to Ben.  “Here you go, let’s see if you can get some of this down, Pa.”

Ben lifted his head slightly and stared down at the pale brown watery substance.  “And just what is that, Young Man?”

Breaking into impromptu laughter, Joe replied, “Pa, it’s probably best that you don’t ask this time.”

“Well, your father isn’t going to try and drink this until I know what’s in there,” Ben insisted.

Staring down at the bowl, Joe frowned and answered, “Well, it’s the best we’ve got here, Pa.  I know you can’t tolerate solid food yet, so I had to do the best I could with what I had.

Pa simply raised his eyebrows, and words weren’t needed.  Joe shrugged his shoulders helplessly and announced, “Okay, I took the beef jerky and boiled it in some water.”

Ben shook his head and managed a weak smile.  The kid was trying so hard, he didn’t have the heart to turn him down, even though the contents of the bowl looked quite distasteful.  “Put it into a cup, I’ll try to choke it down, Joseph.”

Joe did as instructed and handed the cup to his father.  He watched and waited for the assessment of his attempt to make do with what they had left.

“Not too bad,” Pa announced, though he hadn’t gotten much down of his son’s concoction.  “Kind of salty though.”

Grinning, Joe replied, “I think Doc says salt is good for a fever or something like that, I don’t pay him much mind, you know?”

“I know, and you’re rarely on THAT side of the sick bed,” Ben pointed to where his son currently stood, “Here, Joseph, I think I’ve had enough for now.” He handed the cup back to the boy.

“Now comes the rough part, Pa.  And to tell you the God’s honest truth I’m scared.  But, we both know that bullet has to come out.  It’s been in you almost twenty-four hours now.  I’m worried about you getting blood poisoning.  We can’t wait any longer.”

Ben reached out and touched his son’s arm, trying to display a resolute calm in his gesture.  “I know you can do this — it can’t be much worse than lugging your old man for miles, right?”

“Hey, Pa, I guess I’m feeling kinda like you felt awhile back when you had to put those stitches in me.   You remember Doc was away and that quack came to the ranch and did a lousy job, so you had to redo those to stop the bleeding?”

“How could I ever forget?” Pa grimaced and nodded as he thought back to the time when he had been forced to play doctor.  It had been frightening to sit there on the bed next to his son and draw the strands of suture through his skin.  “Joseph, if I could do that — which was pretty awful — I know you’ll be able to do this just fine.”

“I just don’t want to hurt you,” Joe paused, with both fear and worry very evident on his face, “can you feel how far it’s in there, Pa?”

Leaning back some, Ben fought to think of what to say to his son.  He honestly had no idea how far the bullet had lodged in his gut, or how difficult it would be to remove.  But, Joe needed some kind of reassurance in order to perform the surgery.  Ben stared once again at the boy.  He hated that the kid had been thrust into the position of surgeon.  In fact he hated that Joe had been the one who had dragged him almost two miles on his own.  “Joseph, I can’t say for sure, but it didn’t go through me — so maybe it’s not in there too deep.  Why don’t you find something to use like a probe?  It just needs to be thin enough to go through this bullet hole.”

Taking in a deep breath and fighting his fear, Joe walked around the cabin checking the cupboards.  The best he could do was a table knife which had been worn down so it was thinner than a normal one.  He figured he could use the dull end of it as a probe.  He had already gone through the scant medical supply kit that they always brought on trips.  Most of the contents of it had been chosen by Hop Sing, and Joe was unsure what all was in the few small jars inside.  He did find a decent knife which could be used to make an incision.  Settling both the table knife and the make shift scalpel in a pan of boiling water, Joe turned back to his pa.

“I’m game if you are, Pa,” He attempted some levity in his remark, but he sure didn’t feel it inside.  “Lay back all the way.  Let me get that shirt pulled back some.”

Ben shot his son a cautious stare and the look of it caught Joe’s attention.  “Yes, Sir, I’m gonna wash my hands first.  I’m also going to get you some of that brandy.  Be right back.”  Joe announced as soon as he had finished pulling back his father’s shirt.  He washed his hands thoroughly using the small bar of soap from his father’s saddle bag and then poured some of the brandy over his hands just for good measure.  Bringing over another tin cup, Joe held it up to Ben’s mouth.  “Pa, you’re going to need this.  Drink what you can before I get started.  Ben obliged and drank several good sips before handing the cup back to Joe.

“I’m ready, Joseph.  I know you’ll do just fine,” Ben nodded towards the boy.

“You want this?” Joe held up a piece of thick leather.  He had seen Doc Martin use something similar when attempting to remove a bullet.  It was to prevent the person having the surgery from screaming out during the attempt.

“No, Son.  I’m going to be fine.  Just do what you have to.”

Taking in a deep unsettled breath, Joe returned to the stove and withdrew the implements, setting them in a cup that contained boiling hot water.  He placed those along with extra bandage material on the chair he had pulled up next to the bunk.  Next, he swabbed his father’s stomach down with brandy.  He noticed Pa was scrunching his face already, due to the burning feeling of the alcohol.  “I’m starting the probe — I’ll get it over as fast as I can.”  Joe carefully pulled the sides of the bullet wound open, and held them taunt as he pushed in the end of the sterilized table knife.  He saw his father arch his back and Joe almost stopped the whole procedure, but Pa shook his head “no” urging him on.  The probe hit on something solid, and the object was only embedded about an inch or so from the feel of it.  Joe pulled the probe out and grabbed the other knife.  It wasn’t an actual scalpel, but it would have to do. He cut a very small incision just inside Pa’s wound, trying to create more room and readying for the removal of the slug.  Joe wished he had tweezers but he didn’t and the bullet seemed elusive.  He looked up and noticed Pa had passed out, perhaps due to the pain of the surgery.  Taking yet another deep and fearful breath, Joe set down the knife and decided that desperate times called for desperate measures.  He reached for the brandy, wishing it was for drinking instead of being used to keep germs from invading his father’s injury.  He doused both the wound and his hands.  Then, hoping it would work, Joe tried to use his left index finger and his thumb as an imitation retractor.  His heart felt as though it was firmly planted inside his throat as he felt for the slug.  Joe’s fingers finally hit on something solid.  Carefully he tugged the forty five caliber bullet out from where it was lodged, approximately an inch and a half under Pa’s skin.  Joe dropped it into the small tin cup, and it made an ominous ringing sound as it hit the bottom.  *** Bullets sure come out a lot harder than they go in *** Joe thought to himself as he dabbed more brandy into the wound and around the whole area for good measure.  The bleeding wasn’t as bad as Joe thought it might be, so he used a clean pressure bandage again.  He encircled the material around his father’s waist and up and over the wound.  Joe was satisfied that it would hold up, so he buttoned his father’s shirt and pulled the blanket up to his shoulders.  He breathed a heavy sigh of relief as he stood from the bed, saying a silent prayer of thanksgiving that he had gotten the bullet out.

Just as sunset fell over the small line shack Joe had cleaned up all the signs of the surgery he had performed.  Pa was still asleep which afforded him a little rest there in the chair.  His body longed for the other bunk which sat against the far wall.  But, Joe wasn’t going to leave his father’s side.  It was about time he repaid the man for the many hours he had played the role of sentry, protector and comforter.  It wasn’t long before Joe fell sound asleep in the chair, leaning forward towards Pa’s bunk.

Ben awoke to the dim light of the lantern which his son obviously lit before falling to sleep.  He felt the new bandages and stared over at the boy in the chair.  Pa couldn’t have been prouder of him at the time.  He had done a grown man’s job and then some, taking care of all his father’s needs for a solid day.  Ben still found it hard to believe that his youngest had managed to drag him for almost two miles and then had fallen effortlessly into the role of surgeon and caregiver.  The boy looked exhausted, and it gave his father pause.

“Joseph?” He whispered.

Joe’s eyes blinked open at the sound of his name.  “Pa—Pa —how are you doing?  I’m sorry I kind of fell out for a few minutes.”

“Just fine, Son.  I’m sorry I didn’t stick around to see you perform your first surgery.  But according to my stomach it was a success.”

Joe grinned and reached into his pants pocket and pulled out the slug.  “We were lucky, Pa.  It was about spent when it hit you.” He said handing the bullet to his father.

Pa examined the thing and then handed it back to Joe.  “You keep it since you dug it out,” he nodded gratefully towards his boy.

Joe took the bullet from his father, though he surely didn’t want the keepsake.  He’d just as soon put it back in a gun and use it on whoever had shot his Pa.  Standing from his chair he asked, “Would you like something to drink?”

“Yes—I would but —“Ben suddenly cut off the rest of his statement when he got a good look at his son’s jacket for the first time.  “Jo—Joseph —- did you get hit?” He asked horrified to see all of the blood that coated the corduroy material.

Grasping for a good lie, Joe didn’t answer right away.  He had to think of a noble exaggeration.  “Oh — the blood — sorry, Pa.  It’s yours.  I wasn’t very careful getting you inside the cabin today and your wound was bleeding something fierce.”

“You’re sure it’s my blood?”

“Yes, Sir — it’s yours alright.  Now let me get you some water,” Joe turned away quickly hoping his father had bought that whopper of a lie he had just lobbed over to him.

Ben looked at the retreating young man and wondered why he had been acting so strangely.  He knew the kid had been through the mill that day and Joe should be ready for a good night’s sleep due to all of his efforts.  Pa reasoned that his son’s nerves were still wound tight due to worry over all that had happened, including digging a slug out of his own father.  When Joe brought over both water and broth, Ben obliged him and at least sampled a little of both before waving them away.  “I’m fine, Joseph.  Now go get some rest like you told me you would.  Tomorrow’s worry is tomorrow’s worry, go grab some shut eye.”

“Pa, we’ve still got to keep a good eye on that wound of yours,” Joe protested.

“I promise to wake you if I have any issues.  Now, go on,” Ben signaled with a point of his finger towards the other bunk.

“Yes, Sir — just as soon as I go get some more fresh water in case we need it.  I’ll be right back,” Joe replied, and hoped his pa didn’t notice the saddle bag he hung down low next to his right leg.  He was attempting to re-bandage his wounds, but had to bring the things needed, including whatever Hop Sing had packed in the medical kit.  From the heated feeling rising up from his side, he was now starting to worry that maybe he should have spent time tending to it earlier.  Joe slowly opened the three jars from the medical supplies.  He looked over each one, carefully smelling them.  Unsure what their purposes were intended for, he had made the decision to try a little of each one.  Dipping the index finger of his left hand into each jar, Joe carefully spread each one of the concoctions onto both wounds.  He figured it couldn’t possibly make either one hurt any more than they already did.  If he could see the exit wound he would have noticed the redness which was spreading out and down towards his hip.  But, the placement of that bullet hole made it impossible to inspect.  The wound right under Joe’s right ribcage down about three inches was easier to spot.  It, too, was starting to show some signs of infection.  Joe stifled a moan.   The pain still felt like hellfire, growing even worse after applying some of the ointment.  He placed all of the different jars back into the saddlebag and re-bandaged his injuries once more.  Joe hoped his plan to get to the Ponderosa ranch house the following day would work out.  Then, after he was sure that Pa would pull through, he would have good old Doctor Martin tend to his wounds.  His thoughts went back to Pa, and he slunk back inside the cabin, still hiding the reason he had been gone so long just to get the “water”.

Joe felt his father’s forehead a few minutes after he had gone back inside.  The fever had just begun to mount once more.  As soon as he settled a dampened cloth onto his head, Pa’s eyes opened again.  “I thought I told you to lie down?”

Dropping back down onto the chair, Joe whispered, “Your fever’s up, Pa.  I’m just going to sit here for a bit.  You go ahead and go back to sleep.”

“It’s just nature’s way of showing that my body is still fighting.  It’s nothing to worry about, Joseph.  Please get some rest — you’re going to wear yourself out — and you’ll be no good in the morning if you don’t.”

“Now just how many times did Doc Martin say those exact words, Pa?  I bet it’s been probably a dozen or more!  But, you NEVER left my bedside — and for that matter you never left any of my brother’s bedsides either when they were hurt.”

“This is different, Son,” Ben argued.

“How’s it different?”

“Well,— because you’re not Pa!” Ben retorted, he had run out of other reasons.  That had to mean he really wasn’t doing well, as he’d never been at a loss for offering sage advice to garner his son’s compliance.

Joe chuckled over the lame answer.  “Well, I think I AM the one in charge — at least until I get you back home tomorrow.  Then I’ll gladly give up these duties.  It’ll be up to Doc and Hoss to keep you in line.  Trust me, Pa, I plan to sleep a week when I’m back home in my own soft bed.”  *** yeah I’ll be in bed alright.  Wait until you find out I got shot!  And I can just hear Doc when he finds out what I did today *** Joe thought to himself.

“How do you like being in charge so far, Son?” Pa questioned, raising his eyebrows for emphasis.

Joe had to laugh at that one.  “I don’t like it one bit, Sir.  But, like I said, it’s going to be someone else’s turn, come tomorrow.  Here, Pa,” Joe paused and reached for the cup of water he had set down, “have some more of this, it’ll help with that fever.”

Pa drank more water and then returned the cup to his son.  Joe brought up the saddlebag that he had earlier taken outside to doctor his wounds.  “I was going to ask you — do you know what Hop Sing has in here?  There’s three jars, but I have no idea what he put in them — didn’t see anything marked.”  The boy handed the jars one at a time to his father.  Ben inspected each one.

“Why are you so curious, Joe?”

“Just thought they might help with your wound — you know to prevent infection?”  *** I probably should have asked him this before I used any of them *** Joe mused to himself.

“This one,” Ben paused and handed it back to Joe, “it’s some kind of ointment used for burns.  Now, this one,” Ben stopped again as he tried to see the color of it, “is for wounds, Son.  If you want to try it, well, it wouldn’t hurt any.”

“What about that last one, Pa?”

Ben removed the lid and took a look at the contents.  “This is for muscle strains.  You know it wouldn’t hurt you to put some on your arms before you turn in, after all the lifting you did today.”

“So — I can’t use that one on your wounds?”

“Heavens no!” Ben exclaimed.  “Why this stuff would set an open wound on fire, Son.”

*** I wondered why that smarted so much.  “Physician heal thyself” they say — I’m just messing myself up worse! *** Joe thought to himself.

“Joseph, are you still with me?” Pa called out, trying to search his son’s face for the reason why he had grown quiet so suddenly.

Joe shook himself from his worries and nodded.  “Yeah, Pa, sure I am — let’s have some of that wound cream.  I want to see if it’ll help you.”

Slowly pulling the bandage down from his father’s bullet wound, Joe spread out a good amount of the ointment over the area.  “That’s got it.  Now, you need to get some rest, Pa.”  Joe closed the jar and put it back into his saddle bag, making sure to note which one of the three it was.  He would be using that one and not the muscle cream, on himself eventually.   Joe fixed his father’s bandage, pulling it back up and making sure it was tight enough.  Then he rinsed and returned the cloth back onto his father’s brow.

“Please at least try to lay down for a bit, Son.  I’d rest a whole lot easier myself — that is — if you’re done being the boss for a little while and returning the role to me for just a few hours.”

Joe nodded.   He was in fact, played out and didn’t think he could stay upright much longer.  “Okay, you can be “pa” for just a little while.  I’ll go spread out over there for a bit.  Just stay down, Pa, don’t get up, I’ve got this.”

“Go,” Ben stated emphatically, pointing his finger towards the other bunk.

Joe dropped his hand down onto Pa’s right arm.  He gently rubbed it slowly for a minute or so.  Ben grinned up at him and said, “Who did you learn that from, Joseph?”

The boy just nodded his head, as a knowing smile played on his lips.  He knew that Pa, of all people, had to know that his son had just mimicked one of his father’s classic comforting moves.  “As if you don’t know, Pa,” He chuckled.  “I’ll check on you in a little while.  Just call out if you need me, okay?”

“Yes, Sir,” Pa agreed.   Once he saw Joe finally settling down on the other bunk, he relaxed a little and closed his eyes.  The thought of being back in his own bed the next night sounded just as good to Ben as it had to his son.  With that his final thought, he fell into a deep sleep.

 

Joe didn’t remember passing out, but evidently he had.  For eight straight hours his body had taken over, surrendering to all the energy that had been spent during the long day prior.  Struggling to sit up on the bunk, dull reality hit.  He hadn’t checked on Pa all night.  The thought of that fact scared the young man half to death.  He moved swiftly across the cabin over to where the other injured Cartwright was sleeping.  Joe softly touched his father’s forehead to see if the fever had gone up while he slept.

“I’m fine, Son,” Ben said, opening his eyes and witnessing Joe’s fear laden expression.  “I got a good rest, and seeing you finally asleep also helped me.”

“You’re still a tad warm, Pa.  How’re you feeling for real?” Joe asked, sitting down in the chair he had vacated hours earlier.

“Not worse.”

“But, not any better either, right, Pa?”

Ben shook his head and replied, “You know you’re starting to sound more like your old man every day.  “I’m fine, Boy.”

“You think you could stomach some coffee?”

Pa nodded, “I think I could, Joseph, even if it is a little burnt.”

Joe grinned and nodded towards his father at the reminder of his talent or lack thereof in making coffee.  “Be right back.”

 

The decision was made as soon as Joe had gotten some coffee and water into his father.  Joe would head out to try to find a couple of horses, or at least one if need be.  But the worry still showed on the boy’s face as he made ready to leave.  Pa’s wound had already been tended and re-bandaged and Joe had made sure to set plenty of water and other essential things next to the bunk.

“Okay, Pa,” Joe began, as he held up his father’s gold pocket watch to check the time, “ I’m going to walk for exactly one hour.  If I don’t find anyone to help me out with a horse I’ll turn back and check in with you then try another direction.  I think I’ll head west towards the old Wheeler place first.”

Ben tried to shift his weight on the bunk as he looked up with concern evident on his face.  “You know the Wheeler place was abandoned two years ago, Joe.”

“Yeah, Pa, I know.  But, I figure that the road up there gets the most horse traffic.  Maybe I’ll be lucky and come upon somebody.  If not, there ought to be a remuda not far from there if memory serves,” Joe answered, determination framing his face.  Pa needed to get back home, and he wasn’t going to stop trying until he got him there.  He yearned to be back where it was safe and his big brother Hoss would be there waiting on them.  Joe tightened his holster and bent forward to tie the rawhide strings.  He had to bite back his pain from the movement.  His side felt even worse than it had the previous day.  Joe hoped that Pa hadn’t seen the grimace on his face.

“Just be careful, Son,” Ben said, and reached out and put his hand on his son’s arm as the boy stood back up.

“I’m more worried about you.  Now here’s your gun, and here’s the canteen.  And I’ve left you the remaining jerky just in case you get hungry,” joe pointed at all of the provisions he had moved right next to his father’s bunk.

“I’d darn sure rather eat that jerky than drink it again,” Ben smiled as he attempted to tease Joe regarding the horrible beef broth from the day before.  He hoped it would make his son smile, as he could tell the boy was worrying about leaving him.

Joe understood his father’s not so subtle attempt to cheer him.  “I’ll be back as quick as I can.  Stay down, Pa, don’t get up, I’ve got this,” he insisted, using his continuing mantra.  “Oh, and I’ll sing out before walking back inside here.  Don’t take any chances, Pa, your gun is right next to you if you need it.”

Ben nodded, “I’ll be fine.  Now take care, Boy.”

Normally Joe would have made some attempt to reach over and give his father a reassuring hug upon departing on a mission such as this, but he couldn’t.  He knew that he couldn’t bend forward without pain showing on his face, and that would mean Pa would then learn about his deception.  So instead, Joe simply patted his father’s shoulder gently then turned for the door.

 

Joe drew out his father’s pocket watch and stared down at it.  He had been journeying for just a little over an hour.  It had been slow going until his eyes caught on the corral just outside the dense forest he had just gone through.  He knew he finally had made it to the old Wheeler spread.  Joe wished that Jed Wheeler was still around, but he had died some two years prior, leaving no kin to leave the place to.  So, it had come as a complete surprise to the boy to see smoke arising from the large chimney in the middle of the main house.  Joe spotted a man as he stepped outside and onto the porch.  Joe waved towards him, trying to show he wasn’t a threat.  The man leveled his shotgun anyway, so Joe stopped his progression into the yard.

“I’m a neighbor — you don’t need that, Mister,” Joe sang out.

“Toss down that six-gun, Sonny!” the man shouted.

*** I’ve already been shot once — I don’t need more bullets going through me *** Joe thought to himself.  He dropped his weapon down onto the ground in front of him.  Joe hoped he wouldn’t have to make a dive towards it, as he didn’t think he had it in him at the time.  His wounds were absolutely killing him and only the concern for his father had kept him going.

The man headed towards Joe and kicked the boy’s gun over to the side, to make sure he wasn’t going to try for it.  “What do you want?”

“My name’s Joe Cartwright, my family owns a spread over that way,” he paused and pointed in the direction from where he had come.  “My Pa’s hurt bad, some rustlers jumped us the night before last — took our horses.   He’s been gut shot.  I just need the loan of a horse or two, I’ve got to get him home and seen to by a doctor.”

The man studied Joe’s face and then noticed the blood that coated his jacket.  “My name is Pickens — Will Pickens — just moved in last week.  I heard of the Cartwrights.  Ponderosa right?”

“Yes, Sir, I didn’t know anyone was here until I saw the chimney smoke.  I sure could use the help,” Joe paused when he caught sight of two horses and the buckboard they were hitched up to already.  “Any chance you could loan that buckboard to me — just for the day?”

Mr. Pickens scrubbed his stubble of beard and thought on the request.  “I don’t know you at all and that there’s my only wagon.  All I got besides those horses there is one old mare.  You take off with that team and don’t come back I’d be in a real fix.  Don’t even think about making a fool out of me, Boy.”

“I won’t, Sir, and like I said, I’ll pay you for them.  My family owns the Ponderosa, and we’ll stand good for them, I promise.  I’ve just got to get help for my pa.  Right now he’s at one of our line shacks in bad shape,” Joe stopped and reached inside his jacket.  He pulled out what money he had.  “Here’s twenty dollars — and I’ll give you more when I get back if you want.”

“Your money won’t do me no good if you don’t come back.  I need that wagon.”

Joe thought hard, the man wasn’t making it easy, but then again, nothing had been easy lately.  He finally reached inside the other pocket of his jacket and removed Pa’s watch.  Joe hated what was on his mind, but there wasn’t too much else he could think of to try to get Mr. Pickens to trust him.  “Here — this watch is my pa’s.  It’s solid gold and it’s something that means a lot to him, his father gave it to him when he was young.  If I don’t make it back — which I promise you I will – well, you can keep it.  It would buy you more than you need for a wagon and a team to pull it.”

Mr. Pickens took the watch out of the boy’s hand and studied it.  He flipped open the watch cover and noticed what was written inside.  “This is your pa’s, you say?”

“Yes, Sir,” Joe replied, hopeful that the man wouldn’t see a need for him to leave it along with the twenty dollars.

“You know what it says here inside?”

Nodding, Joe answered, “It says faith — which is what I’m asking from you.  Just show me just a little faith and I promise you I’ll be back with your wagon and team.  Then I’ll claim that watch back for my father.  But, right now I need to get my pa to a doctor as quick as possible.”

Mr. Pickens frowned but when he looked again at the blood on Joe’s jacket he felt sorry for the boy.  “That your pa’s blood you got all over you, Boy?”

***Great, I’ve got to get him to trust me and I’m going to have to lie about this blood again *** Joe thought.  “Yes, Sir,”

“You have it back to me tomorrow, you hear?” Mr. Pickens announced and walked towards the buckboard.  Joe followed closely behind the man, so relieved, that he started to get his second wind.

“Would it be okay with you if I got my gun, Mr. Pickens?  I don’t think those rustlers are still around these parts, but I really can’t chance anything stopping me from getting help for Pa.”

Pickens nodded and watched Joe turn back to retrieve his six-gun.  He watched him holster the weapon and then untied the reins to his team of horses.  Joe hurried to the buckboard and climbed up onto the bench seat.  “Here, Sir,” He said, and handed the man the twenty dollars.  “And this wagon will be here by this time tomorrow, I swear on my life.”

Mr. Pickens took the money, and along with the gold watch, tucked them into his pants pocket.  “I’ll be holding you to that, Boy.  Take it easy with that team of horses, mind you.  I just fed and watered them so they should get you home all right.”

“Thank you, Sir.  I’ll never forget this —and neither will my father,” see you tomorrow!”  Joe exclaimed, and sent the team towards the direction of the line shack.

 

Ben had heard the sound of horses coming in fast.  He attempted to lift himself up on the bunk, readying his six-gun.  He didn’t think it could be Joe, as it sounded like a wagon being driven hard.

“Don’t shoot me,” Joe sang out as he jumped from the buckboard and hurried up onto the cabin’s steps.  “It’s me, Pa!”

Sighing, very relieved that the boy had identified himself, Pa set the gun back down onto the chair to his right.  “Come on in, Joseph!”

Joe bounded into the line shack and over to his pa.  “You ready to go home, Pa?” he smiled.

“Did you find help, Joe?” Ben asked, bewildered as to why his son had a genuine smile on his face for the first time in days.

Joe reached over and felt of his father’s forehead, and replied, “Well, I’ve got a buckboard and a pretty fast pair of horses.  Hey, you’ve still got a fever.  Did you drink anything while I was gone?”

“I’m fine, Son.  And, yes I drank some water.  Now where did you find someone to loan you a wagon?  I’m assuming you didn’t steal it?” Ben said, only half-way jokingly.  That boy of his seemed so intense the last two days that it wouldn’t have surprised his pa if he had gone to whatever lengths necessary to get them both back home; including horse theft.

Joe giggled at the expression his father wore.  “No, Pa — but I swear I would’ve if Mr. Perkins hadn’t let me rent them for the day!”

“Perkins?” Ben questioned.

Joe began gathering up saddle-bags and supplies as he replied, “I’ll tell you later.  I’m getting you home.  Let me get all of these things outside and into the buckboard then I’ll come back and help you down into it.”

“Stop!”  Pa exclaimed as loudly as he could manage.

Joe spun around to look at his father.  “What’s wrong?”

“You sit down for a minute, have some water and catch your breath.  Five minutes won’t make a difference one way or the other, Joseph.”

Staring over at his Pa, Joe could tell he meant business, wounded or not, he was still in charge to a point.  He shook his head, almost annoyed, but walked over towards the bunk and sat down in the chair.  “You may be running a fever and gut shot, but you still scare me at times, Pa!” Joe quipped.

Nodding, Ben chuckled and patted his son’s arm.  “That’s nice to hear, Joseph. I’m glad I still have the ability to make you listen — at least once and awhile.”

Joe drank some water from the canteen and allowed himself to catch his breath.  He wouldn’t mention it then, but once Pa was all better he would tell the man that resting even for a few minutes might have made a bigger difference than he would’ve thought.  Joe felt awful.   His side was beyond painful now.  If he had been forced to walk another mile, Joe didn’t think he would have made it.  His body had been taxed in just about every way.  Joe had been so immensely terrified over his father’s survival, that he had pushed himself almost to collapse.  But, now he could see the light at the end of the tunnel; and that light would be in the living room of the Ponderosa ranch house.

The five minutes were up, and Joe had insisted that they get ready to leave the cabin as fast as possible.  He gathered everything that they had hauled there the previous day, setting it all into the back of the buckboard.  Joe spread out the two bedrolls onto the bed of the wagon, to cushion the hard wood as much as possible.  He then moved back inside and helped Pa slowly down the stairs.  Joe made sure to keep his father once again leaned towards his own left side, in order to prevent his wounds from getting bumped in the process.  He was glad that Pa still had yet to see how much pain was written all over his son’s face.

“Here’s your canteen, Pa,” Joe handed the water to his father, and helped ease the man into a reclining position.  He covered Pa with a saddle blanket.  “You sing out if you need me to stop.  I’ll try my best not to hit too many ruts but I’m not going to be driving very slowly.”

Ben smiled and nodded, “I’ll be fine, Son.  I think we will both be happy to be in our own beds tonight, huh?”

*** You have no idea, Pa! I might sleep for a week or more *** Joe thought to himself as he readied for the trip home.

“Just stay down, Pa — don’t get up — I’ve got this!” Joe smiled and walked around and climbed up to the bench seat.  He tapped the reins and quickly pulled away from the line shack.

 

After two long days and nights of fighting the unimaginable, Joe was so thankful to have things going his way at last.  Not only had he acquired the buckboard and successfully gotten his father into it, but he had also spotted two of the Ponderosa ranch hands just a mile or so from the house.  He had signaled them over.

“Fletcher, I need to you to go and fetch the doctor right quick!” Joe announced as the two men came to a halt right alongside of the buckboard.

“You okay, Ben?” both men sang out in unison as they peered into the back of the wagon, and realized their boss looked bad off.

“I’ll be okay, just listen to your new boss up there,” Ben pointed towards his son.  “Joseph has gotten a promotion while we were heading home.”

“Pa’s been shot,” Joe jumped it, refusing small- talk, they were just too close to the end of the mission to save his father.  “I need you to go into town, Fletcher, and for you, Bill, to follow me in.  I need someone to take this wagon back to the old Wheeler ranch and give it to a man named Perkins.”

“Doc was over at the Miller’s place,” Fletcher announced, “I seen him there just a little while ago.  Maybe we’ll be lucky and he’s still there.  I’ll go as quickly as I can, Joe!”  The hired hand reined his horse hard and took off.

“Bill, just as soon as Hoss and I get Pa out of this thing unload it will you and take it to that fellow Perkins.  And be sure to get something I left with him!  He will remember what it was,” Joe finished his statement and tapped the reins again.  The hired hand followed closely behind the buckboard all the rest of the way to the ranch house.

Hoss Cartwright heard the frantic shouting coming from outside.  He set down his coffee and hurried out into the yard.  Hoss was surprised to see his brother pulling up in a buckboard.  He had been expecting his family to show up the day before, but figured they had taken a detour due to the horses they had been bringing home.

“Give me a hand, Hoss!”  Joe shouted towards his brother as he hopped out of the buckboard.  The hired hand tied his reins up to the hitching post and walked over to help Joe.

“What in the world?” Hoss began as he made it close enough to spy his father laid out in the back of the wagon.  “Pa— what happened to ya?”

“He took a bullet,” Joe replied, not wanting to make his father do anything but allow his sons to get him inside.  “Bill, just unload the rest of this up onto the porch.  We’ll take care of it later.  The main thing is to get this back to the old Wheeler place.  I promised that man Perkins I’d get the buckboard back as soon as I got home.   And be sure to remember to get that thing I left as a guarantee that I’d keep my word.”

“Joseph?  What did you leave?” Ben asked, as he felt Hoss’ big hand easing him into a seated position in order to move out of the wagon.

Joe shrugged his shoulders and chose the other side of his pa to assist Hoss with the move.  “I’ll explain later, Pa.  Let’s get you inside.”

“One of you want to tell me what’s going on?” Hoss jumped back into the conversation.  He wanted to know how bad his father was and who had hurt him.

“You two boys,” Ben shook his head, and had to fight off a grin, “I swear you act as though no-one in this family has ever been shot before.  I can make it inside myself!”

Joe stared directly into his brother Hoss’ blue eyes and gave him the sign that his father was badly injured.  Hoss must have read the look on his brother’s face because, before Ben had a chance to make the move completely out of the wagon, his large hands swooped in and lifted the man into his massive arms.

“I reckon I’ll just save you a few steps, Pa,” he said, and headed into the house.

Joe felt like he wanted to just sit down in the living room and weep, once he stepped across the threshold.  He didn’t ever remember feeling that way before, but it never felt so good to be home, nor had it ever seemed so elusive to get there as it had the past two days.  He hurried up the stairs ahead of his brother and father.  Joe wanted to get Ben’s room set up quickly.  He threw back the comforter and pulled down the sheet just as Hoss walked through the doorway.

“Eric!” Ben exclaimed.  He so rarely referred to his middle boy by his given name that it almost frightened Hoss.  “I told you I could make it up here on my own!”

Hoss eased his pa down onto his bed and scrunched up his face, just as he had done when he was a kid and his father wasn’t happy with him.  “Come on, Pa, you carried me enough when I was a youngin’ it’s the least I can do now.”

“He’s been shot in the stomach,” Joe cautioned his brother as he slowly removed his father’s boots.  “Rustlers got to us two nights ago, stole the horses and shot up the camp.”

“Bullet still in there?” Hoss asked, worry very apparent on his face.

“No, it’s not, “Ben jumped into the conversation, though he was beginning to tire from all the day’s efforts.  “Your little brother removed the bullet up at the West Bend line shack.”

“Pa –,” Joe tried to quiet the man, “Pa, just lie back and try to calm down.  Doc will be here soon.”

“Joe’s right,” Hoss jumped in.  “Here have something to drink,” he said, and handed his father a glass of water which he had poured from the decanter on the night stand.

“He’s been running a fever,” Joe got back to the business at hand.  “But, I ran into Fletcher and he’s on his way in with Doc, so we’ll know more then.”

“Stop your worrying both of you, “Ben muttered, resting his head on the pillow.  “Joseph you need to go eat something.  You just wouldn’t believe what I’ve put this boy through, Hoss.”

“I’ll eat and rest once Doc gets a look at you,” Joe insisted.  “But, until then you’re stuck with me.”

“I’ll make sure he eats in a bit, Pa, now just rest,” Hoss said, and both he and his brother took opposite sides of their father’s bed, settling down into chairs there.

“Hoss, do you have anything you can use to make some broth?  Beef or chicken it doesn’t matter which.  Pa hasn’t had anything but some water and coffee.”

“Don’t give him your recipe, Joe,” Ben teased.

Joe nodded towards his father and turned back towards his brother.  “Seriously, I’m worried, he’s lost a lot of blood, Hoss.”

Hoss stood from his chair and replied, “I think I can manage that, since we’ve got to wait for the Doc, I’ll go heat something up.  I admit that I went to Virginia City and loaded up on some grub yesterday from the Café.  Miss Millie made sure I had enough for the three of us, since I expected you yesterday.  I’m pretty sure I’ve got some chicken that will make a good stock.  I’ll be right back!”

Joe turned back towards his father, pulling the chair closer to the bed.  He reached over to feel of his forehead.

“Now, Joseph, I sure wish you’d just settle back.  You’re worrying me watching you worry.”

“Pa, I’m gonna keep on worrying until Doc tells me I didn’t make you worse taking out that bullet.  I also wanted to tell you something before Hoss gets back.”

Ben shifted as best he could towards his right side so he could get a good look at his son.  “What’s on your mind?”

“I — I have to tell you what I did.”  Joe fought to justify what he had done concerning Mr. Perkins.  “Pa, I’m sorry — it wasn’t mine to hand over — but I let Perkins hold onto your pocket watch — so he would trust me enough to loan me the buckboard.  If there had been any other way — or anything else I could’ve used I would have.”

Ben shook his head as a knowing smile filtered down onto his lips.  “Is that what’s been bothering you?”  Pa reached over and brushed his fingers through his son’s tousled hair.  “I figured that mystery out the minute you changed the subject outside, Joseph.  You’re not all that hard to read, you know?   You let Perkins hold my watch in order to get me help, so why in the world would you think I’d mind?”

Before Joe could answer he noticed a man standing in the doorway flanked closely behind by Hoss.  “Well, Joseph Cartwright, I would’ve given odds that it was you needing my care and not your pa!”

Joe’s eyes lit up with relief.  “Thank goodness you’re here, Doc!”

Hoss moved back towards his father’s bed as Doctor Martin headed over to the fallen man.  “Excuse me if I don’t get up, Paul,” Ben said, and reached for the other man’s hand.  He gave it a welcoming shake.

“Pa was shot two days ago, Doc.  I had to dig a slug out of his stomach yesterday.  It was in just a tad more than an inch,” Joe explained.

“Well if you two boys will give me some elbow room I’ll check your father to see how he’s doing,” Paul motioned both of the hovering men off to the side.  He could see the white bandages that pressed tightly against Ben’s abdomen.

Joe stood behind his brother, his head starting to swim, and for a second he thought he was going to faint.  Pulling from the last ounce of internal fortitude he had left, Joe fought to hold on.  He just had to be certain that Pa was going to make it.  But, that was Doc’s call, not his.

Doctor Martin checked his patient’s temperature and his pulse.  He turned back towards Joe who stood close to the door.  “He lost a lot of blood didn’t he, Joe?”

“Yes, Sir,” Joe replied apprehensively.

Paul pointed directly at Joe’s jacket.  “I take it that’s your Pa’s blood and not yours, right?”

Joe needed all attention to be solidly focused on Pa, not on him.  He knew that if he spilled the truth of the matter, that all three of the other men in the room would be concerned about his wounds instead.   He couldn’t have that.  Pa had to take center stage, at least for now.  “Yeah, Doc, it’s Pa’s,” He affirmed.

The wait seemed excruciating, as both Hoss and Joe waited for Doc’s final assessment to be over.  Finally, after some prodding and poking and talking to Ben about how he was feeling, he was ready to render his opinion.

“This man needs rest — and lots of it!   I’m not saying he’s completely out of the woods.  However, if he minds his doctor, well, I believe he’ll be fine,” Doctor Martin announced.

Ben looked across the room over towards his two boys.  “I told you,” He chided both of his sons.

“Wait just a second, Ben Cartwright, I said you’re not quite out of the woods.  Joe over there did a very good job getting that bullet out.   At least we won’t have to worry about blood poisoning!   But, you’ve lost a lot of blood.  You do have a little bit of infection going on too.  I said IF you mind your doctor.  That’s going to mean rest and quiet along with nourishment.  We need to build your system back up, and like I said, that’s going to require time.  And absolutely NO getting out of that bed for ANY reason.”

“Don’t worry, Doc, I’ll keep him down,” Hoss vowed.

Joe felt his body go numb.  It was as though his relief over his father’s prognosis had finally caused the last ounce of his strength to ebb out of him.  He knew he needed to leave the room, afraid he might go down to the floor right there in front of all the others.  Hoss moved closer to their father’s bed to talk to him about how he was going to help him, as Joe waited for his chance to exit the bedroom.  That opportunity came when Doctor Martin went about putting a proper bandage over the newly inspected gun-shot wound.  With both his brother and the doctor preoccupied, Joe slipped quietly out of the room.  Fortunately his father didn’t notice his son’s disappearance, or was far too weak to protest if he had.  Joe staggered across the hall, and barely made it inside his bedroom.  He closed his door and approached the bed.   Hoping to just lie down for a few minutes, he struggled to make it there.  Just inches from the soft mattress he had been thinking of for days, Joe crumpled to the floor unconscious.

Hoss and Doctor Martin worked for several hours trying to make Ben comfortable and seeing to all his needs.  Hoss helped his father get cleaned up and settled him into a nightshirt.  He could see how weak the man was, and watched as he finally fell into a deep sleep.  Paul stayed until the late evening, attempting to calm the worried son and taking care of his old friend.  He advised Hoss that Ben needed all the rest and calm he could get.  Hoss listened intently to all of his instructions.

“You reckon I ought to wire Adam?  He’s in Ogden right now, so it’ll take a few days to get to him.”

Paul shook his head and replied, “Let’s see how it goes, Hoss.  No need to alert him right now.  Like I said, if we can get your pa to stay down and rest I believe he’ll be fine.  It’s just going to be awhile before he’ll be up and around.”

“I guess Joe must’ve headed to bed.   Pa was telling me some of the things the kid went through trying to tend to him,” Hoss said, after he realized that Joe hadn’t returned.

Paul smiled and replied, “That brother of yours must’ve been scared to death — especially with having to remove that bullet.  I’m sure he’s exhausted.  I think that as soon as I told you and Joe that your father was going to pull through that he finally decided he would get some shut-eye.  Best let him be for now — I don’t need any more patients!”

Hoss walked the doctor down the stairs and to the front door.  “I sure appreciate you coming so fast, Doc!  I know I’m gonna have my hands full with Pa, what with Hop Sing gone.”

Paul reached over and touched the big man’s shoulder sympathetically and said, “When I come back tomorrow I’ll bring you some supplies including some ready-made food so you won’t have to spend too much time away from your pa.  Between you and your little brother I know you’ll be just what your father needs to get through this!  I left that medicine to help with the infection.  Get that broth you made into him and then give him a dose.  The instructions are on the bottle.  I think his wound will be fine until I get back.  By the way — don’t YOU forget to eat, Hoss!”

Grinning towards the doctor as he pulled the front door open, Hoss replied, “I ain’t likely to forget to eat!  I sure appreciate it, Doc.  Any supplies you get just put on our bill and we’ll take care of it.”

“I’m sure once your pa’s friends hear he’s laid up you’ll get many meals donated from the town folks.  No-one can do without Ben Cartwright!  See you tomorrow around noon.  Good night,” Doc said and walked outside to his buggy.

 

Ben finally started to stir in his bed around midnight.  He looked over to his left and saw his son Hoss asleep in the chair by the bed.  He had to smile, thinking of the big man trying to get comfortable in the hardback chair.  Ben tried to quietly reach for a glass of water on his night stand.  Hoss instantly perked up and hurried to his father’s side.

“I’ll get that for ya, Pa!” he sang out.

Ben shook his head, somewhat amused at the intensity on his middle boy’s face.  “I think I can manage to get a glass of water, Son.”

“Well, I’ve got orders to keep you quiet and I’m gonna do it!”  Hoss poured water into a glass and handed it to his pa.

“Now I know who your little brother learned about being over-protected from.  That boy was really something — you would’ve been very proud of him.”

“Yeah, Pa —I don’t think I’ve ever seen the kid so scared.  I guess it was rough on him, huh?”  Hoss asked, once again taking his seat.

“He must’ve told me the same thing a hundred times,” Ben paused.

“What was that?”

“He kept saying — stay down Pa, don’t get up, I’ve got this,” Ben returned.

Hoss shook his head amused.  “Was he saying that for YOU or for HIM?”

Ben set the glass back down and grinned, thinking of his youngest.  “I think mainly for himself.  I wanted him to go for a horse and leave me in the camp but he just wouldn’t leave me.  You know he made that travois and told me that you had showed him how to build one years ago.  But, I didn’t think there was any way that he could pull my weight.  He then told me he would rig up a counter-weight system to help displace the weight of my body.  Danged kid did it!  Then he hauled me to the West Bend line shack — almost two miles!”

Hoss sighed, he hated to think of everything his little brother had gone through.  “We still think of him as a kid — but, he’s thinking and working like a man.  Maybe we need to start giving him more credit?”

“Where is he anyway?” Ben asked, staring towards the door.  “I figured he’d be here hovering over me.”

“He went to his room once Doc said you’d pull through.  Guess he’s finally getting some rest.”

“I hope he took the time to change his clothes.  He scared me when I saw that blood all over his jacket!”

Hoss looked down at the floor feeling bad that he’d never noticed any blood until Doc had asked Joe about its source.  “I’m gonna let him rest, Pa.  Tomorrow I’ll be sure to get some grub into him!  He looked a bit puny to me.”

“You make sure you get some grub into YOU too, Young Man!”

Hoss laughed, “When have I passed up a meal, Pa?  Speaking of which, I’ve got that chicken broth ready and Doc said you needed to get it into you then take some medicine.  I’ll be right back!”

Ben watched as his son hurried out the door heading to the kitchen.  His eyes peered towards the hallway.  Though he couldn’t quite see Joe’s bedroom door due to his obscured view from the bed, his thoughts went to his youngest.  After days of being with him constantly, including the last forty eight hours of non-stop drama, Ben missed the ever-present sight of his youngest boy.

Hoss set up camp in his father’s bedroom that night.  Though his pa had insisted he go into his own room, he had not relented.  Ben’s fever spiked a few times but had evened out by the time it was dawn.  Hoss manned the dampened cloth brigade, making sure there was never a time that his father’s forehead was without a cooled cloth.

“Well, Young Man, how does it feel to have to sleep in a hard chair?” Ben smiled over at his son.

“I don’t know how you managed it all these years, Pa!” Hoss exclaimed, stretching his sore back to get the kinks out of it.  “Now how about I get you some grub?  Maybe you can tolerate an egg and toast today, you think?”

“Maybe some toast,” Ben nodded.  “Hey, make something for both you and Little Joe, will you?  That boy hardly ate a thing the last couple of days.”

“Okay, now you stay put until I come back, you hear?”

Ben nodded, “I’m following doctor’s orders — I’m not as hard headed as my three sons.”

Hoss laughed and headed out of the bedroom to fix some food for his father and brother.  He would also make sure he got something to eat, since he had missed a meal the previous day also.  He scrambled some eggs and made toast and coffee.  Bringing the coffee and toast up to his father first, he set it onto a tray and settled in Pa’s lap.  “Now see if you can handle that and I’ll go wake Joe up,” Hoss said and turned out of the bedroom.

Hoss knocked on his little brother’s bedroom door before barging in.  He hadn’t heard a sound coming from inside, even after hollering through the door a few times.  He took two steps into Joe’s room and his heart almost stopped seeing the boy sprawled out on the floor just shy of his bed.  Before he could lift Joe into his arms, he heard Paul’s voice in the doorway.

“What’s going on?” Doc asked, moving towards the two brothers.

“I don’t know, Doc, I just got in here a second ago,” Hoss returned, and rolled his brother over onto his back.  It was only then that both he and Doctor Martin noticed Joe’s shirt, along with fresh blood on it.

“Get him up on the bed — I need to shut the door so your pa doesn’t hear us.  The last thing he needs to do is get up —and if he knows something’s wrong with the boy you know we won’t be able to keep him down!”

Hoss gently spread his brother out onto his comforter.  His hands shook as he nervously undid the buttons of Joe’s shirt.  Both men saw the bandage which the kid wore.  It was covered in scarlet stains.

“Let me see,” Paul moved in closer, and as gently as possible, pulled aside the bandage which surrounded Joe’s waist.  He carefully inspected the wound a few inches down from the boy’s right ribcage.  Then he rolled him halfway over and looked over the exit wound.  “This boy’s been shot — and it’s an old wound like your Pa’s.”

“He must’ve been hit the same night — and didn’t want our pa to know,” Hoss started, feeling his eyes misting up at the thought of what his brother had done.  “He must’ve worried that if Pa knew that he would never have let Joe get him to the line shack.  Lordy — Doc—that means Joe pulled that danged travois after having been shot!”

Paul turned to stare into Hoss’ frightened eyes and replied, “We’ve got a heck of a problem now, Hoss.  We just can’t let Ben know about this.  If we do, then everything this boy tried to do to save your pa will have been done in vain.  Your Pa hasn’t the strength to sit in here worrying himself over Joe.  So, I’m going to do my best to help your brother, and you’re going to have to go tend to your father.  Hoss I know you’re not the best actor in your family — but if I’m going to try to save both of these men, I’m relying on you to give it your best try.”

Hoss wiped spent tears from his eyes.  “How bad is Joe, Doc?”

Paul shook his head as he went about removing the young man’s clothes for further inspection of his injuries.  “I’m not sure, but you saw that jacket — that was NOT Ben’s blood —it was Joe’s!  And by exerting himself in all his efforts to save your pa — well, he’s very weak.  I can barely make out a pulse,” Paul said whole holding Joe’s left wrist in his grasp.

“I got to get back to Pa — I don’t know how I’m going to manage this, Doc — but I will,” Hoss said, setting his shoulders and putting on a brave face.

“Don’t let him know I’m here yet.  Come back in here in a little while and you and I’ll change places.  I’m going to see what I can do for this boy.”

Hoss nodded, sadness framing his face, “Take care of my Little Brother, Doc.”

“I’ll do my very best, Hoss,” Paul returned, and then began to pull different items from his medical bag.  It was going to be yet another long day.

 

Ben watched Hoss as he re-entered the bedroom.  The young man had a forced smile on his face, and his father knew that something was wrong.  “Hoss?  What’s the trouble, Boy?”

Shrugging his shoulders, while trying to hide his true feelings, he replied, “Oh, Pa — I guess it’s just me worrying over ya — I can’t help thinking of all you went through!”  *** I hope he buys that *** Hoss thought to himself.

“I’ll tell you —all you boys are cut from the same cloth, aren’t you?” Ben smiled knowingly.  “Your little brother worried himself half sick over me, and now that I’m home, I have TWO boys worrying about their old man!  I guess it’s a good thing that Adam is on that buying trip or I’d have three of you to deal with!  Now —did Little Joe finally get up and eat?”

Hoss paused before replying, he had to think up a good response first.  “He just wanted to sleep, Pa.  I left him on his bed in his room.  I’m sure he’ll eat something later.”  *** Well, he IS on his bed — I just hope he’ll pull through so this whole charade won’t cost me for lying to you, Pa *** Hoss thought to himself.

“Well, I know he has to be exhausted.   But, when that boy wakes up, you tell him that I want to see him.  I need to go over all that happened with him — to make sure Joe knows I’m proud of him.”

“He knows, Pa — he knows,” Hoss nodded, as he sat down once again in the chair.

Much later that afternoon, when Pa had at last fallen to sleep, Hoss was able to rejoin the doctor in Joe’s room.  Paul was seated in the chair next to the boy’s bed; the same chair that their father always sat in during all of Joe’s previous injuries.  “How is he?” Hoss asked.

Doc stood and walked slowly back to the boy’s sick bed and reached once more for his wrist.  “His pulse is very faint and very thready — he’s lost too much blood, Hoss.  There’s not much I can do, I’m afraid.  I’ve doctored his two wounds.  They’re both infected pretty badly.  Actually, he’s worse off than your pa is; we just had no way of knowing.  Your brother just cared far more about his father than he did himself.  I’ve done everything I can possibly think to do, and used every medicine I have to doctor him.  I think it’s up to your brother and of course God now.”

“You ain’t giving up, are you, Doc?” Hoss’ eyes were pleading towards the man.

“Of course I’m not, Hoss.   And I’m not saying not to hold out hope, either.  I’m just bracing you for what might happen.  If we can somehow get him to come around and get fluids into him, — well it would help.  But, he’s unconscious.  He keeps muttering something — but he’s going back and forth from a semi-conscious state to full unconsciousness.”

“What’s he been saying?”

“Sounds like he’s talking to Ben — telling him to stay down and not get up,” Paul replied.

Hoss sighed, his heart feeling as though it would surely break outright.  “Pa told me that Joe kept repeating for him to stay down, not get up, and that he had things in control.   I guess he used it to keep his spirits up during that whole awful event.”

“Hoss, we still need to keep this from Ben.  I know it’s a tough thing to do.  — Maybe if your brother can hang on another day— your pa will be strong enough to come and see the boy for a few minutes?  But, tonight we need to keep things the same.   We can’t let Ben know.  And, I’m not leaving you tonight.   I left word in town that I would be staying here at the Ponderosa.”

Hoss nodded and reached over to pat the doctor’s shoulder gratefully.  “You want to spell me with Pa?  I’ll sit here with Joe for a while — you can just tell Pa I’m downstairs cooking.”

“I will,” Paul said moving towards the door.  He cast a glance at the two brothers.  He could see Hoss leaning in on the bed wrapping a hand around his brother’s head, pulling the boy close.

 

“Mr. Cartwright?”  Came the voice from just outside of Ben’s bedroom.

Ben turned towards the sound and noticed Bill, one of his hired hands, standing there in the threshold.  “Come on in, Bill,” He called.

“How are you feeling?”

“I’m getting there — you need something?  Hoss should be back shortly — I think he’s making some food.”

“No, just wanted to return this,” Bill paused and walked over to his boss’ bed.  He handed Ben his gold pocket watch.  “Sorry, I was going to bring it back yesterday, but I didn’t get in from the old Wheeler spread until dark and didn’t want to bother you.  But, I know Joe was worried about this being returned to you.  I thanked that man Perkins for you all, and he said he’s going to come visit you once you’re better.  Oh, he also gave me this to give back to Joe,” Bill handed over the twenty dollars Joe had left Mr. Perkins.  “He said that he doesn’t charge neighbors for favors.  Seems like a nice man.”

Ben held the watch in his hand and stared down at it fondly.  “Thank you, Bill.  I know Joseph will be relieved —- it worried him to leave my watch.  I’ll also give the boy his money back.”

“Well, I don’t want to tire you, Sir.  You get well, you hear?” Bill turned for the door.

“Thank you, and please tell Fletcher I said thanks for bringing Doc out here.”

“I will,” Bill nodded and left.

Paul heard the exchange from the hall as he was bringing Ben up some fresh broth and more toast.

“Sounds like you’ve got some new neighbors, Ben,” Paul said, setting down the tray.

Pa nodded and received the food gratefully.  “Yes, I guess they bought the old Wheeler ranch while we were gone.  Oh, and I hope that youngest boy of mine wakes up soon so I can show him that I got my watch back.  Joseph had to leave it with that man Perkins as a show of faith — and that boy was worried over it.  Have you seen him today, Paul?”

“I looked in on him,” Paul paused, choosing his words carefully, “he was asleep.”

“Well, after two days of very little sleep — and barely anything to eat I’m sure Joe is tired.  But, if you run into him before you leave, please tell him I want to see him.  Now where’s my middle boy?”

“I made Hoss lay down too, Ben.  I’m okay here for a while.   It’s been quiet in Virginia City, so, I don’t mind watching over you for a bit.  I’ve got to give you some medicine in just a little while, which means you need to try to eat a little something.  I’ve brought some food from Miss Millie’s Café.  She insisted I bring it out here, even though she gave Hoss a basket full the other day.  You think you can stomach something more than just toast?”

“I guess, if it’s something not too heavy.  I want to gain my strength so I’ll get out of this bed sooner than later,” Ben paused, “I’m starting to sound like Joseph now, huh?  That boy is always trying to get out of a sick-bed not long after you’ve told him that he has to stay down.”

Paul fought back his emotions.  ***If only you knew, Ben! *** Doc thought to himself.  “Well, there’s some baked chicken that Millie made for you.  I’ll go get some.  And then you’re going to let me see to that wound, take your medicine and get some sleep,” Paul announced and tried his best not to show his urgency in leaving the bedroom.  He needed to go check on Joe.

 

That night had to be one of the hardest nights that Doctor Paul Martin had ever known.  He divided his time between both Ben and Joe’s bedrooms.  He had to keep up the ruse that all was well to Ben all the while having to tell the God’s honest truth to Hoss.  There was no change with Joseph.  The boy lingered on, he had yet to show any sign of coming around, and his temperature continued to climb.  Both Paul and Hoss swabbed the boy down with rubbing alcohol to try to lessen the fever which had taken hold.  Doc prayed, as did Hoss, that they could get fluids into Joe, as there was little they could do to help him if he didn’t regain consciousness.   The boy continued to call out, though in a hoarse barely audible voice.  And, it was always the same words that came out, sometimes with intensity.  They were the same words he had continually told his father during their time after the shoot-out with the rustlers.  He urged his pa to stay down, and not get up, and he insisted that he had it under control.  Somehow, even in his semi-conscious state, Joe’s mind never let go of his struggle to keep his father alive.  Both Paul and Hoss teared up, wondering if those were going to be the boy’s last words ever spoken.

Fortunately, Ben had slept through the entire night, and way into the late morning.  Hoss was there at his father’s bedside as he awakened.  Then he had prepared his father his breakfast and watched as he ate.  All the while, Pa noticed that there appeared to be a bit of redness around his son’s eyes.  He also saw the way that Hoss had avoided direct eye contact when Ben had asked to see Joe.

“Out with it, Hoss,” Ben said sternly as he handed his son his breakfast tray, removing it from his lap.

“Huh?”

“What’s going on?  There’s something you’re not telling me.”

Hoss turned to set the tray down onto his father’s bureau, just in order to move away from the bed and the other man’s eyes.  He didn’t think he could do it any longer.  He couldn’t keep what was on his mind and in his heart from his pa.

“Where is Joseph?!” Ben demanded.  He sat up too quickly and grimaced from the pain coming from his wound.

“Now, Pa — no need to get all worked up  — you’re hurting yourself!” Hoss attempted to side-step the question as he eased his pa back onto the pillows.

“I know something is wrong — now either go get your little brother or tell me where he is or I’ll go to his room myself!”

Hoss turned when he noticed Paul coming through the doorway.  He thought for a moment that Joe had passed away, and his heart was caught in his throat, rendering him unable to speak.

“It’s all right, Hoss.  It’s time we talked with your pa,” the doctor announced and took a seat next to Ben’s bed.

“What is it — where’s the boy?” Ben asked, feeling his stomach seizing up on him.  It had little to do with his wound and everything to do with his fear.  Ben was acutely aware of the hesitancy of a response to his question from both men.  “Did something happen to Joseph?”

“Ben, firstly, if you don’t settle back I swear I’m going to sedate you,” Paul admonished.  “I’ll tell you what’s going on, but only if you lean back in that bed.”

Reluctantly, Ben slowly eased back against the pillows at the head of his bed.  “Go on,” he replied.

“None of us knew, so I don’t want you blaming yourself, Ben.  You have to know how much your sons love you.  And Joe — well — you’ve always had a special kind of bond with that kid —maybe because he’s the youngest –or maybe  because he’s always needed you just a tad more than the others?”

“Paul — what’s happened to my son?”

Doc motioned towards Hoss and the big man nodded.  He knew that he was being urged to go to his father and sit down in the chair next to the man for comfort.  Hoss dropped a large hand down onto his pa’s arm.  Then Paul continued, “Joe was shot the same night you were.  We don’t have any of the particulars because he’s not been conscious.”

Tears automatically filled Ben’s eyes.  He didn’t know if he had gasped aloud or not because he was having trouble breathing.  His mind swirled taking in the beginning of the doctor’s information.  *** Joseph shot?  I would have seen it, I would have felt it!  He would have told me!  This can’t be happening! *** Ben thoughts flooded his mind.

Paul gauged how the worried father had taken the news.  He reached for the medication he had placed in his pocket prior to coming into the bedroom.  Doc knew it was going to be necessary to sedate his patient.  “Ben, take this and I’ll tell you all that I know,” Paul insisted and handed the pill to his friend while Hoss handed his Pa a glass of water.

Reluctantly Ben swallowed the medication.  He pushed aside his tears and then nodded over to Paul.  “Tell me now.”

“The day after you got home Hoss found Joe on the floor of his bedroom.  I had just arrived so we checked him over right away.  Evidently after you were shot Joe took a bullet.  It went through his side and came out just below his ribcage.  I don’t think it hit any organs — which is good.  But, he’s had so much blood loss — that — well — I’m not sure if,” Paul paused.  He didn’t want to offer his friend false hope, but he didn’t want Ben to give up on Joe either.  There wasn’t much chance that the boy could last much longer, but that fact could wait.  “He’s a very sick boy.  He’s still unconscious, Ben.  If he would just come around — and if we can get some fluids into him — we’ll just have to wait and see.”

“That blood on his jacket,” Ben stopped, he had to get control of his voice first.  He finally drew in a deep breath and continued, “that blood was Joseph’s wasn’t’ it, Paul?”

The doctor nodded.  He found it excruciating to look back and forth between both Ben and Hoss.  They both looked petrified.  “Yes, but he knew if he told you that you would never have allowed him to get you safely home.”

“That fool boy!” Ben yelled, his anger taking over.  “Why did he lie to me?  Why did he pull me all those miles — after taking a bullet himself?!”

Hoss reached over and answered for his brother, “you KNOW why, Pa.  Joe loves you — and getting you home was all he cared about.  You never would have let him take care of you if you’d known he was shot!  And that would mean you would’ve left him at your camp and you would’ve gone to get help with a danged bullet in you.  Joe knew that, just like he knew there was a bullet in his father, but not in him.  He just did what you would’ve done, Pa.”

Ben covered his face with his hands and wept.  He was consumed with guilt because he suddenly felt such an intense anger towards his youngest.  Ben knew his rage was misplaced, due to the paralyzing fear which had fallen over him.  He knew that Joseph loved him, and had only done whatever he could possibly think of in order to try and save his pa.  But, outright panic had now taken over his heart and he couldn’t shake it.  Ben could see the absolute terror in his middle boy’s eyes along with the sadness worn by Doctor Martin.

“I need to be with him, Paul,” Ben whispered, pushing aside his remaining tears while fighting to control his emotions.  It was a losing battle.

“Settle back and let that medicine work first, Ben.  You have to rest and then I promise I’ll get you in to see Joe.  If you’ll just stay in bed until I return from town then I’ll have a way to get you across the hall without tiring you.  Now, you don’t want to let something happen to you, right?  How do you think Joe would be able to handle it, if he felt he had caused you to get sicker?”

The sedative began to work, and Ben felt his eyelids starting to droop.  Before he fell back into a medication induced sleep he cast a glance at Hoss.  He reached for his son’s hand and took it into his own and said, “Go take care of your little brother, Hoss.  You tell him his pa loves him —- you tell him I’m mad at him — but tell him I love him anyway.”

Hoss nodded and watched as his father fell asleep.  He then made plans with Paul as to what their next move would be.  They decided that it was time to send for Adam, and hoped the telegraph would reach him in Ogden.  Though the trip home would take him at least a week; and even that would depend on if he got the wire right away.  Busy working on contracts with the rail-line, it was a coin toss if Adam would get word of the trouble at home in time to help Hoss with their father; should things go from bad to worse.  Still, both Hoss and Paul deemed it necessary to at least try and reach the eldest Cartwright son.  Doctor Martin assured Hoss that he would send the telegraph, which had been quickly scribbled down by Ben’s middle boy.  He also promised Hoss that he would come back to the ranch just as soon as that errand was done and he had time to stop by his office.  There was the matter of procuring a wheelchair, one which Paul had kept in his waiting room, and bringing it back via a buckboard that Hoss supplied in exchange for the doctor’s buggy.

Hoss divided his time between both his father and his brother’s bedrooms.  Ben was still fast asleep hours after taking the sedative Paul had forced on him.  And then there was Little Joe.  Hoss had spent the majority of his afternoon bathing his brother’s forehead with cool water, attempting to lessen the boy’s fever.  The kid continued to mutter the same few words and Hoss prayed that he would finally open his eyes.  But, instead, Joe just lingered with no sign he was improving in any way.  Hoss had prayed more than he ever remembered praying before.  He sought God’s help with both his brother’s struggle to live and his father’s heartbreak over what had happened to the boy.  Just before four that afternoon, Ben began to stir.  He was disoriented at first, but once he tried to move in his bed his memory cleared.  Though his stomach wound wasn’t as painful as it had been the previous day, it still hurt with the least bit of movement.  Suddenly Ben remembered what Paul had discussed before he had given him the medication.  He knew he needed to get to Joseph.  The minute he attempted to swing his legs off to the side of his bed, his son walked into the bedroom.

“Now, Pa — you know what Doc said!” Hoss exclaimed, moving quickly to the man’s bedside.

“I’ve got to get to him, Hoss.  Your brother needs me — and I need him.  I can’t just sit here with him in the next room maybe dying,” Ben fought with his words.  He wished he hadn’t said the word “dying” as it made that thought much too real to him.

“We’re gonna get you in to see Joe in just a little while, Pa.  Doc will be back real soon.  Now please lay back.”

Ben sighed and reluctantly eased back onto his pillows.  “How is he, Son?”

Hoss chose his response carefully, “he’s not any better — but he’s not any worse either.  I’m going back in there in just a minute.  I just wanted to check on you.  Let me get you something to eat, Pa.’

Ben shook his head wearily and replied, “I couldn’t eat right now if I wanted to.  I will eat once I’ve seen your brother.  You go back and sit with Joseph.  I don’t want that boy left alone — not for a minute, you hear?”

“I will if you’ll at least drink something, Pa,” Hoss bargained with his father.

Ben gave a slight nod.  He felt as though every ounce of his strength had been used up by his worry.  “I’ll drink some water, and I can manage that on my own, Son.  Before you go — over on my bureau — bring me my Bible.  At least I can try to help Joseph from in here by seeking the Lords’ counsel.  I’m helpless right now to do anything else,” he said solemnly.

Hoss did as he had been instructed.  He handed his pa his Bible and placed his hand on his shoulder.  “Pa, I’m doing about the same thing over in Little Joe’s room.  I’ve been praying for hours.  You always told all of us that God will hear our prayers, but we have to ask for His will to be done.”

“I know, Hoss, I know,” Pa teared up again.  “You go on now — and tell that boy I expect him to come back to us.”

Hoss nodded and turned for the door and replied, “I’ll tell him, Pa.  I’ll let you know when Doc gets back, and then you can tell those words to Little Joe yourself.”

Ben Cartwright sought out God’s guidance as he pulled his Bible up to his chest and began to pray.  The hours passed by slowly as he waited for the announcement that Paul had returned.  It had proven to be one the longest and saddest afternoons of his life.  His only comfort coming from the words in the book he held in his two hands.

Doctor Martin walked into his friend’s bedroom just before sunset that night.  Ben was awake and turned towards the sound of both Paul and Hoss coming through the doorway.  He noticed what they had brought with them.

“Hoss said you listened to me, so here’s your reward, Ben,” Paul said as cheerfully as he could muster.  He rolled the wheelchair next to the wounded man’s bedside.  “Hoss, help your father carefully into that chair and we’ll go see your little brother.”

“C’mon, Pa,” Hoss urged his father to swing his legs over to the side of the bed.  “Now here’s your robe, I’ll help you.”  He eased Ben’s arms into the robe one at a time, with little resistance from his father.

“Take me to him,” Ben whispered, fighting to control his emotions.  The last time he had seen Joe the boy had a smile on his face, so happy to have gotten his father home.  Now things were so different, and it sent a pain into the nervous father’s heart.  He allowed Hoss to steer the wheelchair out through the doorway and over across the hall to Joe’s bedroom.

“Get me closer to him,” Pa whispered as his eyes caught the sight before him.  Joe looked pallid, his complexion almost matching that of the white sheets on the boy’s bed.  His hair fell lifeless on his head.   The weight from the dampness of his fevered brow caused the normal curls to have lost their shape.  Ben’s hand trembled as it searched out his son’s arm, gently dropping it down onto Joe’s right wrist.  “Oh – no— Joseph!” Ben cried, his words seizing up in his throat.  He turned towards the doctor, his eyes said it all.

Paul neared his old friend.   He knew what the man was asking.  “Ben, I tried to prepare you — Joe hasn’t been able to take in any water for two days now.  Hoss and I even tried using an eye-dropper with water in it.  The most we got was a few drops on his tongue.  But, we’ve kept trying anyway.  He’s had a high fever on top of that.  Yesterday I decided to cauterize both of his wounds.  It stopped the bleeding, but he had already lost so much.  I’ve wired several specialists to ask if I’ve missed something.  But no-one has any remedies other than what I’ve tried already.  I’m so sorry — so very sorry.”

Ben stopped looking at Paul as he described Joe’s condition and turned back towards his son.  Attempting to move his body closer to the bed, Ben strained his ears.  He was sure he had heard something, though very faint in volume.  Then it began, Joe was making the motion with his lips, though his words were almost too subtle to make out.  “Stay — down — Pa — don’t — don’t — don’t —get up — I’ve — I’ve,” and the boy stopped speaking abruptly.

Hoss sighed and placed his hand on his father’s shoulder, “That’s the only thing that he says, Pa — over and over again.  I guess somewhere in his mind he’s still stuck there at that camp —worrying about you.”

“Pull me closer — up to the head of the bed,” Ben insisted.

Hoss had to move Joe’s nightstand to accommodate the wheelchair.  He pushed it over closer so his father could get better access to the boy.  Ben reached for the bowl with cool water inside.  He dipped the cloth into the water, squeezing out the excess, before reaching up towards Joe.  Pa mopped the boy’s face with the cloth while speaking to his son, “Joseph — It’s Pa — YOU got me home, boy, you did a good job, Son.  But, I need YOU to come home now.  Do you hear me, Joseph?  YOU have to come back — YOU have to make sure I stay down, right?  I still need YOU — your brothers need you too.  Come back, Joe.”

When there was still no response, or change to Joe’s appearance, Paul looked over at Hoss and nodded.  He was worried that Ben was only going to tire himself over what was obviously a pointless attempt to bring his son back from what was essentially death’s door.  “Ben, you have to rest now, you can come back later tonight — or maybe tomorrow.”

Ben turned and looked uncharacteristically harsh over at Paul and said, “You know as well as I do that there won’t be a tomorrow if we don’t do something!”

Hoss intervened and tried to force a sense of calm to the situation.  “Pa, Doc here is just worried about you.”

Ben looked down at the floor, so swept up in his fear, that he didn’t realize what he had said to the doctor.  “I’m sorry, Paul.  I just can’t let this boy go.  There has to be SOMETHING that we can do!”

“I wish there was, Ben,” Paul replied softly.

Pa reached over and let his hand softly comb through Joe’s matted hair, seeking the curls which usually adorned his head.  He could feel the heat radiating from his son, and his heart seized up once more.  “Paul — do you remember — when Joseph came into this world — that long night, eighteen years ago?”

The doctor nodded, and responded wistfully, “Oh I’ll never forget that night, Ben!   I told you back then that this boy couldn’t possibly live through the night of his birth.”

Ben’s mind reflected back to Joe’s birth as he responded, “Yes — I remember Marie had cried herself to sleep after you told her that her baby had come too early to survive.  She had already lost one son, and she couldn’t bear it.  Then once she fell asleep, you swaddled this boy and told me I needed to hold him just once.  You said he was almost two months premature, and that he was far too weak.  I carried Joseph over to the window in my room and talked to him.  He was so still, so quiet, that I had to place my hand over his chest to check to see if he was still breathing.  Joe’s little body was dwarfed by the size of my hand.  I stood there, looking down at my father’s name sake.  I told Joseph right then and there that he had to live.  I told him that his Ma needed him — that his two brothers needed him — but that I needed him the most.  The very next time I reached down to feel his chest, one of Joseph’s little hands somehow found one of my fingers.  He clung to it so tightly that it shook me to my very core.  I couldn’t believe that such a tiny baby could possibly show that much strength!  Right then and there, I knew that boy was a fighter,” Ben stopped his recollection in order to mop his face with his hand.  The tears had come again, just thinking about the first time everyone had presumed that Joseph would die.  “By morning, when I placed him into his mother’s arms, this boy was screaming his little lungs out and Marie was laughing!  She was amazed that HER boy had lived.  HER boy — then he became MY boy —once she was gone.  He’s still MY boy,” Ben stopped again.

“I think we all know that, Ben.  Joe is truly YOUR BOY — and he loves you so much!  So, you need to take that to heart.  He loved you so much that he needed to make sure that you survived, no matter what happened to him.  Joseph would want you to go on, Ben.”

Pa drew in a deep breath, letting it out slowly.  He finally replied, though his voice was now trembling, “Go on?  How? — After what he did — and what it cost him?”

“Ben, I think you’ve had enough for one evening.  We’ll bring you back first thing in the morning.”

“No!  I haven’t said my peace yet,” Ben argued.  He turned back towards Joe, once again mopping the boy’s face with the cool cloth.  He dipped the ends of the cloth into the water basin, and then patted it gently onto Joe’s parched lips.  “Joseph, I need you to listen to me now.  I’m so mad at you for lying to me, Boy!  You said it was MY blood on your jacket!  Now, you know that was a bold faced lie that you told me!  You need to make amends for that, Young Man.  And you can’t do that if you’re going to just lay here like this!  So — if you will open your eyes and TRY I will forgive you!  I’ll willingly go back to my room and do like you’ve said over and over again.   I’ll stay down, and not get up!  But, YOU have to do your part.  All you need to do is just call for me again, and I’ll come right back in here and then you can explain yourself to me.  I expect you to answer for all that you did, Joseph.  Now don’t let me down,” Ben fought to sound stern and in control of the situation, though it was the farthest thing from the truth.  He couldn’t see any way possible that his son could survive much longer.  But, he HAD to try one last time to elicit a response, even subconsciously from his son.

“Okay, Pa, if Joe can hear you — I know he’ll try,” Hoss agreed and readied to move his father back into his bedroom.

“Wait,” Ben whispered, taking his youngest son’s hand again, holding onto it tightly, “Joseph — I wish you wouldn’t have —- I never would have allowed you to make this sacrifice for me — you don’t understand — I need you.  I need YOU far more than you’ve ever needed ME!  I’ll be back, Son.  If you have any fight left in you, please, Boy — please keep fighting,” Ben leaned over as far as the wheelchair would permit and softly placed a kiss on his son’s cheek.  “I love you Joseph,” He whispered.  Then Hoss turned his father’s chair and wheeled it out into the hallway.

That evening the ranch house felt so ominously still, as if the Ponderosa had itself begun the grieving process for the youngest Cartwright.  Paul had forced both Hoss and Ben to eat some of the food he had brought from Virginia City.  There were so many town folks who loved the Cartwrights, and had wanted to help out in any way they possibly could.  Doctor Martin had declined their offers to come and stay at the ranch to help tend the two injured men.  Paul thought it best that everyone wait.   He knew that there was a good chance that Joe might expire and the other Cartwrights would need their privacy should that happen.   But, he had accepted the food prepared for the Cartwrights by the loving hands of Miss Millie.  Doc felt that having freshly baked meals already prepared would be the most helpful at the present time.  At least it would free Hoss up from dealing with that.  The middle boy was much more needed there at his father’s side during the long hours that lay ahead.  Paul would tend to Joe, though there still wasn’t much that the physician could do for the boy.  He continued to try to drop water onto Joe’s tongue, in a desperate attempt to get the boy to swallow.  It wasn’t making much difference, as Paul could tell by the way Joe’s temperature showed no signs of going down.  All the worried doctor could do was to stay at the boy’s side, bathe his forehead with the dampened cloth and pray.

Ben had eaten what he could, there in his bedroom with Hoss at his side.  He could see that his middle son barely ate any of his own dinner, something which would have seemed funny to his little brother.  He could also see the stress on Hoss’ face as he reached over to remove his father’s tray, setting it over on the bureau.

“I wish you’d eaten more, Pa,” Hoss said, once he returned to the chair next to the bed.  “Doc says you’ve got to eat to get your strength back.”

Ben shook his head and gave a tired sigh.  “I could say the same for you, Young Man.  You didn’t eat much, Son.”

Hoss shrugged his shoulders and replied, “well, I could stand to lose some weight —- but you can’t, Pa.  Doc says he brung a pie — I think it’s apple — your favorite.  You want to try a piece?”

Pa shook his head.  He knew that they were both just going through the motions, avoiding what was going on across the hall.  “Talk to me, Hoss.  I know I’m not the only one dealing with this.”

“I just don’t rightly know what to tell you, Pa,” Hoss paused and took in a deep breath.  “Seeing my little brother like this — it’s just so hard.”

“I blame myself —- I should’ve paid more attention to him.  I was hurting but I should’ve studied his face — if I’d only taken a good look I’d of known Joseph was keeping something from me,” Ben’s voice broke with his confession.

“C’mon, Pa!  It weren’t your fault.  Joe only let you see what he wanted you to see.  How could you know he was shot?  You got shot first, there’s no way you’d have known.”

“No, Hoss.  Yes, I was shot first.  But, there were still a few minutes during the whole raid on the camp where I could hear your brother.  He threw our two saddles on top of me — to protect me from the gunshots that were ringing out in different directions.  Then I must’ve passed out for a bit.  When I came around I could hear him — he was running back and forth — trying to draw fire away from me.  I should have known then what he was doing, and that it caused him to be hit!”

“Pa — you want to tell me how you got hit?” Hoss asked, though he had pretty much guessed how his father came to be shot in the first place.

“When I heard the horses stirring and the sound of boots, I realized what was going on.  But, Joe and I were sitting right in front of the campfire.  There just wasn’t any time,” Ben stopped, he couldn’t continue.

“So — let me guess — you jumped up to draw fire from Little Joe, right?” Hoss forced his gaze on his pa.  “So, you did exactly the same thing that Joe did.  You both tried to save each other.”

Ben sighed and shook his head sadly.  “Yes — that about sums it up,” he finally admitted the truth of the matter.  “But, I’m his father — I’m the one who’s supposed to risk my life!  Not the boy — he shouldn’t have.”

Hoss reached over to his father and touched his arm, trying his best to provide comfort.  “Pa, he’s one of YOUR sons — there’s not a one of us who wouldn’t take a bullet for you!  Maybe you shouldn’t have been such a good pa?  You taught us to love each other — and we just followed your example.  You’re here still upset that Joe did that — risked his life — trying to protect you and get you back home — but if my little brother could talk to you right now he’d tell you that if he had to do it all again he’d do the same thing.”

Ben held his hands up to his face fighting his tears.  “Then I wish I hadn’t been a good father, Hoss — because I never wanted any of you boys to risk your lives to save mine.  If we lose Joseph — Hoss — I just don’t know how any of us are supposed to go on.”

Hoss stood and leaned in towards his pa.  He wrapped his arms around Pa’s shoulders and embraced him as gently as he could manage.  There wasn’t any need for further words.  The two of them cried, and they prayed.  It was now in God’s hands.

 

Morning dawned with Paul having to make a terrible decision.  He had done the best that any doctor could do to try to save his patient.  But, Joe hadn’t regained consciousness.  It was now the third day since his patient had taken in any real fluids and Paul knew it was only a matter of time before Joe would be leaving his family and those who loved him.  Joe Cartwright had always been like family to Paul too.  He had tended the boy many years, and had brought him back from a lot of life threatening illnesses and injuries.  Doc always knew that someone must have been looking over Joe, maybe from heaven, in order for him to have survived so many ordeals, which would have surely killed anyone else.  But, it seemed that Joe’s luck had finally run out.  Paul hated to make that call, and had waited until there just wasn’t anything else that he could do, before he had summoned Hoss into the hallway.  Ben had finally passed out, which ended up being a blessing.  He didn’t want him to hear what he had to say to his middle son.  Ben would be hearing it all soon enough.

“Hoss, I just wish I could’ve done more.  But, it’s very important that both you and your father say your goodbyes to your brother now.  Somewhere deep inside Joe will hear you, I really believe that.  So, I wanted you to go in there first, I’ll sit with your pa and wake him up slowly,” Doc paused and reached over to the grief-stricken young man, “just tell him what you feel inside — but let him go peacefully, Boy.”

Hoss wiped his eyes, though it really didn’t matter, as his tears just kept flowing out.  He took in a deep breath and then walked into Joe’s bedroom.  He then closed the door and moved over to the chair next to his brother’s bed and sat down.

“Little Brother, I — I just don’t hardly know what to say to you.  I guess you already know how much I’ve been praying for you, right?  I would rather I go than for you to.  You know — I can’t hardly remember a time when you weren’t my little brother.  Just maybe a few memories of when it was just Adam and me — but back then I was the youngest, you know?  I know that’s a rough thing that you got stuck with — I never envied you that.  But, I was just so happy to be your big brother,” Hoss paused and reached up for Joe’s forehead.  He wiped his big hand across his brother’s brow, noting the fever which still persisted.  “I don’t want you to suffer none, Little Joe, and I know you wouldn’t want to just lay here.  You’re not the kind of kid who can lay around — you always have to keep moving!  Pa told me everything you done to bring him here.  I’m just so dog gone proud of you, Joe!  Pa said you even built a travois — and said you learnt it from me.  I wasn’t done showing you how to do things yet — Joe — there’s still so much I wanted to do with you,” Hoss paused, remembering what Doc had said.  He was supposed to be easing Joe’s mind, not causing him to feel sadness.  “Little Brother, I know you’re tired, so I don’t want you to worry none, okay?  If you’ve got to move on — well that’s what you’ve got to do.  I promise you, I will take care of Pa.  You done your part — it’s gonna be okay.  Just remember that I love you —and for the rest of my life I’ll be waiting for the day when you and me will be back together,” Hoss stopped again, this time standing up before he continued, “I love you, Boy.  Thanks for being my little brother —even when you wuz teasing me — or got me in trouble with Pa going along with your hair-brained schemes — I wouldn’t have missed it for the world!  Now you go ahead and rest, you’ve earned it.  Goodbye, Little Joe,” Hoss finished his sad goodbye.  He leaned down and attempted to hold his brother gently before turning abruptly for the door.  He cast one final look at the still figure on the bed.  Hoss wiped his eyes on his sleeve and opened the door moving across the hall.  Pa would need him now.

Ben was helped into his robe by Doctor Martin.  Hoss noticed the grimace on his pa’s face as he sat there, readying to make the move into the wheelchair.  Hoss made it quickly to his father and helped guide him.  Ben simply nodded that he was ready.   Hoss got behind the chair and pushed it out of the room, and into the hallway.  The three men moved in unison to Joe’s bedroom.

“I need to be alone with the boy,” Ben announced, his voice betraying his attempt at being strong.

Paul nodded to his friend and responded, “Hoss and I will be out in the hall, Ben.  Hoss briefly touched his father’s shoulder and then moved with the doctor out into the hallway, closing the door behind him.

Pa looked at his youngest son lying so lifeless on his bed.   Joe, having lost so much blood, appeared that much more fragile.  Ben maneuvered the wheel chair until it was flush with the boy’s mattress.  With nothing to fuel him other than love and willpower, Pa braced his body and pulled himself to standing.  He then made the move to sit next to his son on the bed.  There was no way possible he would allow his son to leave him without feeling his presence first.  And sitting in a wheelchair would not allow the grieving father the chance to say his goodbye properly.  Ben leaned forward to stare at his son’s face.  Pa’s left hand fell softly onto Joe’s right cheek, and his other hand grabbed Joe’s left hand and squeezed it.  He fought to find the words to say.

“Joseph, Paul said it’s time for me to let you go,” Ben began, as tears fell from his eyes.  “I just don’t think I can do it.  Son, it shouldn’t have been this way — my life was not worth yours.  I should have known that it was your blood on your jacket—– I’ll never forgive myself for that.  You had to be in so much pain — dragging me to that line shack!  Why didn’t I realize it?” Ben stopped when Joe’s hoarse whisper began abruptly, and he bent closer to hear.

“ Stay — down — Pa —Don’t — get— up —Pa–,” the words came out and just as fast they stopped.

Pa leaned in towards the boy, gently wrapping his arms around him.  He realized his son was still caught up in the horror and worry from the shooting.  Ben didn’t want Joe’s last moments to be spent reliving such a traumatic experience.  He had to try to ease his mind, even though the boy was only semi-conscious.  “It’s okay, Joseph, I know — I know.  Don’t you worry none — you did good, Boy, real good.  You got me home just like you said you would— no-one could’ve done any better than you did.  I am so very proud of you,” Ben struggled once again, knowing he had to finally say goodbye, though his heart was breaking.  “Joseph — I don’t want you to waste away like this — so— I have to let you go — it’s okay — I want you to look for your Ma, Joe, she’ll be there waiting for you — she’ll keep you safe until I can join you,” Ben paused one last time as he heard the sound again.  He released his son from his embrace and stared at him.

“Stay — down — Pa —don’t — get up— Pa —,” Joe faintly whispered.

Ben gazed down at his son, and, disregarding his own wound, bent forward and kissed Joe’s forehead.  The movement caused tears to spill out of Pa’s eyes, falling down onto the boy’s face.  “I won’t say goodbye, Joseph — I can’t— but I want you to be out of pain — just know that your pa loves you — and I always will.”  Ben continued to lean over his son, his forehead touching Joe’s.  He was unable to let him go.

“Stay down —Pa — don’t— get — up — Pa – Pa—I – I – I got you— home,” Joe’s words came out, just as softly and just as hoarse, however they were not the exact same words that he had been repeating for days.

Slowly, almost afraid to look at his son’s face, Ben eased back to a sitting position.  He stared at his boy in dismay, which quickly changed to a hesitant optimism.  Joe’s eyes were halfway opened.  “Joseph?  Joseph — can you see me?”

“Pa —,” Joe scarcely could get out the one word.  He was fighting to stay conscious.  Joe fought to return to his father, though he was extremely weak.

Ben shot a trembling hand over to the night stand and poured a glass of water.  He gently raised the boy’s head up far enough to try to get Joe to take a drink.  “Come on, Son — drink!” Pa pleaded as he held his breath.

Joe took several sips of the water, though the effort had taxed what little strength he had.  Pa fought to encourage his son to try to drink more.  “Please, Son, you have to get more down.  Try it again!” Ben held the glass to Joe’s lips again, while still supporting his head.

Slowly Joe struggled to swallow, but he was able to get more down.

“Paul!  Hoss!”  Ben shouted.

Out in the hallway Doctor Martin reached for Hoss, touching his shoulder sympathetically, “your father is going to need you now more than ever, Hoss.  I know you’ve lost a brother — but he’s lost a son.  Try to help him, and I’ll be there for you too.”

Hoss nodded and both he and Paul turned to go into Joe’s room to comfort Ben over the loss of Little Joe.  So, it came as a complete shock to them both when they spied Ben up on Joe’s bed.  And, what shocked them far more was the sight of Joe being assisted in drinking the glass of water!

“What happened?”  Paul asked as he hurried to his patient.

Ben smiled, as he continued to urge Joe to drink more.  “I have no idea — but I’ve gotten some water into him.  I guess that’s a start!”

“Hoss, come take your father off of this bed and put him into his chair!” Doc called out, feigning anger.  He was, in fact, very encouraged, but that was tempered by worry over the long road ahead for his patient.

Hoss wiped at his eyes, almost afraid to believe his brother was going to live.  He carefully eased his pa back down into his wheelchair.

“Now, give me some room to tend my patient, both of you!” Paul went about checking Joe’s fever and his wounds.  All the while, the other two Cartwrights looked on, so grateful and amazed, that their prayers had been answered.  Finally, Paul addressed the room.  “I need to get a lot of fluids into this boy.   But, if he will cooperate, and with a lot of luck — or divine intervention — I think once again this kid is going to pull through.  His fever is high, but nothing that we can’t handle once we get more fluids and some medicine into him.  It’s going to be a long haul, even longer than you, Ben.  And he’s going to need lots of REST like his pa is supposed to be getting right now!”

Ben and Hoss shook their heads in amazement.   They had gone from total despair to unimaginable joy in the course of just a few minutes.

“And, as for you, Joseph Cartwright,” Paul paused, and smiled at the boy, “Don’t you even think about closing those eyes until I get a lot more water down you — and some very distasteful medicine for that fever too!”

Joe managed a very tired nod and looked over at his family.  He didn’t know what had gone on, or even what day it was.  All Joe noticed was the fact that his pa and brother were smiling over at him, while happy tears streamed down their faces.  Too weak to ask any questions, he hoped eventually he’d be told what he had missed that day.

 

Epilogue:

Hoss Cartwright had his hands full trying to tend his father and also look after his little brother.  And worst of all, though both he and Doctor Martin had argued with Ben, they had lost their battle to keep him from insisting on going across the hall into Little Joe’s bedroom.  Hoss had grown weary of lifting his pa in and out of the wheelchair, and fussing at the man for not staying in his own room.  Paul finally came up with a solution which would help all three of the Cartwrights.  The day after Joe finally had come around and started to take in fluids, Hoss had summoned two of the ranch hands to help him with a project.  They had found an old bedframe and mattress out in the storage room.  After cleaning it up a bit, they assembled in in Joe’s room.

“Okay, Pa,” Hoss started and moved to his father’s bed, “grab them pillows behind you!”

Ben looked up at his son very confused.  “Pillows? Why?”

“Because you’re taking them into Little Joe’s room, that’s why!”

“Does he need more?  Is he doing okay?” Ben was back to his normal worry over his youngest.

“Yeah, he’s just fine.  Paul dosed him with some medicine and the kid’s asleep right now.”

“Then I don’t understand —“

“Come on, Pa.  Just grab ‘em and let me get you into that dad blasted chair!”

Ben pulled his robe on and took two of the pillows from the head of his bed.  He was assisted into the wheelchair and placed the pillows in his lap.  Hoss pushed the chair out into the hall and over to his brother’s room.  He had a good laugh when he noticed the surprise on his father’s face when he spied the bed over just to the right from where Joe was now sleeping.

“There!” Hoss pointed to the bed smiling down at his pa.  “Now just maybe my back can get a rest from lifting you and wheeling you around.  You KNOW you can’t keep yourself away from the kid — so Doc and me decided to put you both in the same hospital ward.”

Pa reached up and patted Hoss’ hand and smiled broadly.  “I guess this will save you and Doc some steps, huh?”

Hoss bent down and lifted his father and the pillows that he held onto the new bed.  “Yes, Sir, and I reckon it’ll make Little Joe feel a mite better too!”

Ben settled back against his pillows and nodded his thanks to his son.  “I’m lucky to have all of you boys,” he replied.

“We’re lucky to have you, too, Pa!  Now that the youngin is asleep, you need to do likewise.  I’m gonna heat your supper up in a bit, and there’s plenty of broth cooking on the stove for Joe,” Hoss said, turning for the door.

Pa closed his eyes and took the time to thank God for his intervention.  He opened them back up briefly and cast a contented glance over towards Joseph.  Then Ben fell to sleep so much easier than he had for the last three days.

Joe had rallied after two days of his fever spiking and going back down to normal.  He had done his best to drink everything that both Paul and Hoss had offered, in an effort to get well.  It didn’t hurt in the least that Pa continually stared over at him from across the room.  Joe wanted to spare his pa any more worry over him and drew much comfort from his father’s presence there in his room.

“Good job, Joseph!” Ben called over to his son.  He had watched the boy finish his first solid food in five days.  It was only some toast and just a few tablespoons of scrambled eggs, but it meant Joe would regain his strength soon.

Joe leaned back against the propped-up pillows behind his head.  “Thanks, Pa.  How are you doing over there?”

Ben laughed at the way his son continued to worry about him, though he was in far worse shape than his father.  “I’m fine, Son.  Hopefully just another couple of days and I’ll be able to get out of this bed for a while.  Then I imagine Adam and Hop Sing will be making it home in time to fuss over us both!  And I think I’ll send your poor brother Hoss on a vacation.”

Joe attempted to move onto his side to stare over at his pa, but he had to stifle a groan.  It was, of course, the side with the two bullet wounds in it.  “I’ve got an idea, Pa,” he began.

“What’s that, Joseph?”

“How about sending Hoss on a little horse buying trip — you know — like the one I beat him out of?”

Ben shook his head and laughed, “I can see you’re feeling better.  And now that you mentioned it — you know our little adventure with the horses?”

Joe looked over to Pa and noticed “the look” he was sending over towards him.  He knew what was coming.

“Joseph, you have some explaining to do — about that lie you told me!”

“What lie?” Joe feigned innocence, though he knew exactly what Pa was referring to.

“I asked you very clearly if it was YOUR blood on that jacket.  You told a whopper of a lie!  You said it was MY blood, Joseph.  And it almost cost you your life.”

Joe shifted nervously as he thought of what to say to cover for what he had done.

“Well?” Ben continued to press the boy.

“I didn’t really lie, Pa,” Joe insisted.

“Oh?  Now how’s that?” Ben raised his eyebrows in gesture.

“Well, Pa — your blood IS my blood — it’s all the same, right?  We’re Cartwrights —so it’s OUR blood!” Joe smiled, hoping he had gotten his message across to his father.

Ben shook his head, and returned, “Think you’re going to get off on a technicality, huh?”

Joe laughed.  It wasn’t his normal twittering kind of laughter, because he hadn’t quite gotten his strength back; but it was a laugh, nonetheless.

“Joseph — we’ll discuss this further when I can make it over to your bed.  Then you and I are going to have a real discussion about all of this,” Ben stated firmly.

Joe eased down into his bed and pulled the covers up under his chin.  He then grinned over at his pa and said, “Stay down, Pa, don’t get up — I’ve got this!”

Pa fought back a smile as he shook his head.  His relief over his son’s recovery was very apparent in the way he looked over at the boy.   “Go to sleep!” He called over to his son.

 

The End

12-22-2024

Dedicated to Carol, and to everyone whose love of Bonanza keeps the Cartwright family alive in our hearts! (And to Rob, my permanent story consultant)