Summary:  What was the real reason behind Adam leaving the Ponderosa?  He claimed Justice.
Rating:  Teens, due to western-themed violence.  (29,265 Words)

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Justice Served

PROLOGUE 

From the mud-splattered boardwalk I watched him ride into our sleepy town as the sun slipped behind the distant mountains.  Stepping down, he tied his horse to the railing, and cast his gaze around before gradually making entry into our only hotel.

A few hours later, I saw him in the far corner of the saloon.  Dressed all in black, back to the wall, left leg bent at the knee, foot resting on the edge of an empty chair at the table.  His left forearm rested on the table as his hand relaxed around a half empty glass of warm beer that sat before him.  His eyes drew me to ponder who, and why?  With his right hand close to his holster, as I earlier noticed, he didn’t wear it like a gunfighter; many of whom stopped over as they passed through, while some remained — six feet under.

Conversations halted when Sebastian, an elderly gentleman of Spanish descent, gently strummed the strings of his well-worn guitar.  Softly, the melody floated across the room, quieting the clicks of poker chips being tossed onto a couple of table tops.  The music paused before starting a second, livelier tune, encouraging his granddaughter, Isabella, to dance across the floor in rhythm to the music; her colorful skirt fanned out as she twirled.  Her sultry looks and beguiling movements captivated the men within the room.  Her loose-fitting, low-cut peasant blouse teased at men who had been too long without female company.  A few of those chips made their way to her cleavage; but if any man acted otherwise on his longings, they were soon set to right by either Jonas or Matthew, who stood behind the bar.

Remarkably, this stranger’s eyes focused on the hands of the musician, and not the dancer.  What could be taken as a smile appeared as he watched the intricate movements; Sebastian’s left hand deftly glided along the neck of the guitar while the fingers of his right hand varyingly picked and strummed the strings.  Leaning his chair onto its two back legs, our visitor closed his eyes, slightly tapping the beer mug in rhythm to the music.

Slipping across the floor, edging around the various tables, I made my way across the room.  Eyes opened at my approach.  He remained silent to my greeting.

Not put off, “We’ve a nice, quiet little town here.”

He nodded, again his eyes drifted to Sebastian and his guitar.

“You looking for someone?”

It surprised me when his dark eyes turned to me; they spoke volumes, but I still didn’t know what I wanted to know.  Quite the enigma for someone in my profession who’s used to reading people.

“Care to tell me why you’re here?”

Eyes boring into me, the chair thudded to all four legs as he lifted the beer mug to take a sip.  I only heard one word as he placed the empty glass on the table, “Justice.”

Standing, he flipped two coins to the table, tipped his hat, and left as quietly as he’d arrived.

Hands on my hips, I stayed put but watched his progress out the door. Through the window I could see light from the glass-enclosed, brass wall lanterns reflected off the droplets that slipped from the brim of his hat as he crossed the street; the rains returned.

*****

I should have followed, that little voice that served me all these years tried to tell me, but I didn’t listen.  He wasn’t a gunfighter.  He didn’t have the appearance of a troublemaker.  They don’t seek justice, they seek vengeance or a reputation; and I can tell the difference, even when they say otherwise.  The stranger just didn’t come across that way.

But then again, maybe I did listen, and that was why I was in my office a lot later than usual a couple of nights later.

*****

The jail door clanged shut after he shoved two harried men inside.  Following me to the front office, I figured two could play that game.  I waited for him to speak.  

“They both have minor wounds.  I treated them best I could, but you probably should get your doctor to take a look at them.”

Standing in front of my desk he held out a sheet of paper, which I read, again.  Taking repossession of the page and slipping it into an inside pocket of his coat, I saw what that little voice had been trying to tell me.  Damn, I should have listened harder, low on his left side there was blood, a lot of it.  I barely stood before he crumpled to the floor unconscious.

 *****

Remaining nearby while the Franciscan doctor and another monk worked to remove the bullet, I didn’t let my guard down.  Behind the closed door, bloodied hands worked to stop the bleeding and save this man’s life.

‘Who was he?’  With his hat and gun belt in my hands, I grew restless.  I didn’t like not knowing.

After a while I went out and left the hospital and walked back to the hotel in the rain. 

*****

Other than the fact that he’d trailed two men for justice, I didn’t know anything about this stranger or why the three of them crossed paths in of all places — Why.

Yeah, that’s what we call this town… it’s different.  Not quite two hundred people call it and the surrounding area home; trying to make a living and keep out of the way of the troublemakers and the few gunfighters who ride in, and the even fewer who ride out.  Plenty of people seeking a better life pass through with little impact on our lives, other than spending money for necessities or entertainment, if you get my drift.  They come, they go; a few stay and build a new life.

*****

More than twenty years ago, it was a small group of travelers who decided they’d gone far enough, so here they stopped.  Living and working without the need of the contrivances of a big city was a dream they shared.  It isn’t perfect.  In the beginning, they saw their fair share of lawlessness, and that’s how I came to be here.  

We were thankful when the Franciscan monks decided to establish a mission a few years back.  Thankful, but that’s when the arguments started.  Father Bernardo spoke of the need to inform their Order of where their new mission would be built.  He needed to know where here was.  Names were bandied back and forth for weeks; the response to each suggestion was, ‘Why?’  Eventually, in good humor, the folks began using it in greeting and it stuck – Why.   Why, Arizona.  

Early in my career, I traveled through what once had been a fairly small town.  The long abandoned and neglected ghost town stood testament to how fickle people can be.  A weather-worn sign greeted any traveler to Ohno, Wyoming.  Guess Why ain’t so bad, after all.

But that’s our past . . .  What about doc’s patient?

*****

Before stepping from the boardwalk, there stood a number of horses.  Calling out to one of the men walking past, we managed to get them all to the livery.

Hugo, the owner of the hotel, allowed me to enter the stranger’s room to search through his belongings.  Saddlebags hung from the spindle-backed chair pulled away from the desk.  Untying a flap and opening it, one side contained items a traveler would require to take care of himself during his journey; a shaving kit, matches for a campfire, as well as a box of bullets, a rag, and several rods for cleaning his weapons.  There was also a box of cartridges for a rifle that I left with Charlie at the livery.  Imagine my surprise to find a book by William Shakespeare among his possessions.  The other pouch contained a couple of shirts, a pair of pants, and a few manly unmentionables.  And, what I was looking for, a name – Adam Cartwright.  

As for what he was, the cut and fabric of his clothes spoke of means, as did the leather of his saddlebags, and then there were his weapons.  I’d bet my last dollar Adam Cartwright was no drifter.  Most transients carry nothing more than vague identification, if any.  As I reviewed his papers, I found detailed credentials; a letter of introduction from the territorial governor of Nevada.  Sure, it weren’t too recent, signed a month or so back, but there was also a contract signed by an army commander for Ponderosa beef, horses, and lumber, and bank draft from the First Bank of Wickenburg, Arizona dated just a week ago. 

Nothing ventured, nothing gained . . . I wired the bank in Wickenburg and inquired of Adam Cartwright.  Within fifteen minutes I had my answer; Adam Cartwright was from Virginia City, Nevada a ranch called the Ponderosa. So, I scratched out a second wire and addressed it to the sheriff, this time I inquired had he any family, and to notify them of the situation.

Within a scant few hours, a return wire was received.

Sheriff Dade Bayonne
Why, Arizona

Spare no costs for care of Adam Cartwright /stop

Will reimburse /stop

Do not release until doctor authorizes /stop

Ben Cartwright
The Ponderosa
Virginia City, Nevada

“Nope, not a drifter.  Seems he’s got family who cares.”

Orson, the telegrapher, began to say something, but the ticks and clicks drew his attention back to his equipment.  He handed a second telegraph addressed to me from Sheriff Roy Coffee inquiring about two men who I knew were sitting in my jail and would be until the authorities arrived.

“Wire back telling Sheriff Coffee, ‘They’re here.’”

*****

Three days after being shot, our guest sorely stood to his feet, reaching for support as I’m sure the room began to spin, as he declared he was leaving.  It was there in Doc Kern’s back room that I showed him the telegraph I’d received.

Seeing his reaction, I took an educated guess, “I take it Ben Cartwright is your father?”

The man half fell, half sat back to the bed, petulantly folding his arms across his chest, before moving them to the bed top, to support his upper body while he leaned forward and nodded once.  I smirked; this only confirmed he wasn’t a drifter.  I guess he knew that if he left before the doctor said he could, there would probably be more to contend with at home than he was prepared to handle.  And so, he stayed.  Later that night, with Doc’s permission and assistance, he left the hospital and returned to his hotel room where he took his meals and waited until the doctor said he could travel.

The hard part of my job concluded four days later, when a prison wagon arrived and departed with their very vocal and belligerent quarry; the two men Adam Cartwright had brought in single-handedly.  The prison wagon had its first stop in Tuscon, Arizona before it would ultimately stop in Carson City, Nevada.  Them two would spend a lot of hard time in prison.

Fifteen days after our initial meeting, one hour after his stitches were removed, and less than thirty minutes after all his expenses were settled; Adam Cartwright, with a packhorse in tow, rode out of Why.  I still didn’t know that much about him, other than he has family.  I presumed he would be heading home and that he’d have quite the story to tell.  But based on what I figured out about this man, he’d probably be as tight-lipped to them as he had been to me; revealing only the bare minimum of facts.  I bid, “Goodbye Cartwright”, offering a wave as he turned his mount from the hitching rail.

I settled back in my chair on the boardwalk and watched as folks came and went, doing their business, living their lives.  In amused silence I wondered what kind of a man this Ben Cartwright was that if only by written words he could stop his adult son from doing as he pleased.  

*****

Adam Cartwright was still as much of an enigma the day he rode out of Why as the day he rode into our town.  Over the years, I thought about our visitor; and the motives behind his trailing after Donner and Brandt – justice.  There had to be more to his story; and little did I know, at the time, it had started right here…

~ B ~ O ~ N ~ A ~ N ~ Z ~ A ~

Sheriff Dade Bayonne’s chest and belly sagged a little more than before. His brown hair graying at the temples; though his eyes were as sharp as ever.  If it wasn’t for the badge worn on his vest, most people wouldn’t pay him too much attention; he was as average as the next man walking along the boardwalk.  Before accepting the badge, he’d spent years traversing the land searching for those on wanted posters.  His career as a lawman spanned twenty plus years in some of the roughest towns west of the Mississippi; before deciding to call the town of Why home for the past ten years.  Because of the badge, he had a knack for knowing good folk from the not so good and the down-right rotten.  

Good folk who, years before, grew weary of the constant traveling and all its hardships; people who decided to settle down in the fertile valley.  They had enough of the mountains… Santa Rosa, Comobari, Galiuro, Pinaleno, Peloncillo…  Just one too many to have crested and more ahead of them … Growler, Granite, Sierra Pinta, Copper, Gila… the ranges went on and on, before they would arrive at where they had originally planned to go.  Sometimes a body just has to say, ‘We’re here, this is home.’ 

*****

Homesteaders traveling on their way to California routinely passed through the valley and stopped to stock up on provisions or just stopped to catch their breath for a day or two.  These were the kind of people who tipped their hats in greeting and said, “Howdy”.  Children skirted along the main dirt road as they answered their mothers’ calls.  Horse or oxen drawn wagons populated the street as people entered the general store, a one-place serves all… groceries, dry goods, clothing, hardware, weaponry, etc.  If they didn’t have it, you didn’t need it.  A few necessary items could also be purchased down at the livery and smithy; pre-forged shoes and nails.  Travelers were lucky that Why also boasted a wheelwright.

Most of the small wagon trains would stop and establish a camp on the outskirts of the community long before the sun set.  Women cooked meals, mended clothes and canopies.  Men went about tending to the larger animals or making repairs on wagons and wheels.  Some men bandied around the portable coal pit as horseshoes were hammered into the required shape; hooves grown too long were trimmed, or they were rounded over to replace a thrown shoe.  The older children took care of the goats and chickens, as well as their siblings and some of the other youngsters.

Once the sky darkened and the children were settled in their pallets within or under their wagons, some of the men folk returned to town.  Jonas’ Place did a good business; most travelers said his bar boasted the best whiskey.  According to ol’ Jonas, nothing but trouble ever came from watering down the goods and still charging full price.  A tidy and honest establishment was his business, enforced by the Kentucky long rifle hanging above the rows of bottles and backed up by the double barrel shotgun he kept under the countertop.

Sheriff Bayonne entered the saloon and acknowledged the nod from Matthew, the oldest son of the owner.  Laughter and shouts of camaraderie emanated from inside Why’s only saloon.  A few modestly dressed young ladies moved among the tables, delivering drinks from the bar; nothing compared to the scantily dressed women who worked in the saloons back in Tucson and other locations.  Still, they had a smile for the customers and a quick slap of the hand for those who tried for more.  An occasional repartee about a possible shotgun wedding quieted those who had imbibed a little too much.   When it came to chance that one too many preemptive slaps were administered, the whole establishment watched as Jonas escorted the man outside with a word of warning and a click of the hammer being drawn and cocked.  He was their father and owned more than one shotgun and wasn’t afraid to use it.  Rarely, if ever, did he have to go so far as to claim his brother-in-law was the sheriff, even though the sheriff’s wife, his sister, had died some years back.  Brotherhood ran strong between the two.  These were the good times, the times where a lawman could sit back and watch.  

However, there were times where the good folk needed the law.  Or times when the law needed to see that the good folk were spared from having to deal with the bad elements.  Why had its fair share of the pistoleros riding north of the border in an attempt to get away from the Rurales, the federal authorities of Mexico.  There were also the gun hawks out to build a reputation; earn money enough to live a life more luxurious than the mundane lives that was their lot in the west.  But sometimes, the bad were men who passed through in an effort to circumvent or escape the law of Phoenix or Tucson.  Regardless, these were the men who would ultimately wind up hanging from the gallows or consigned to the remainder of their lives in a Territorial Prison.  Other options left to these men were to be shot down in the middle of the street and buried in a pine box in the second cemetery the town contained; the one where good folk never tread foot.  Some lived, maimed for life, but no longer our concern as they rode to hide away from their past.

*****

Rudyard “Rudy” Donner and Jebediah “Jeb” Brandt would ultimately fit into one of those categories of men; cousins who had turned their backs on the righteous and faithful teachings of their families back in Missouri.  Could be they were also running away from the war and its aftermath from back east.  Regardless, they were in search of easy money, fast horses, and faster women; none of which was to be found here in Why.

 *****

As they had in many other towns before, the two strangers rode in and stopped in front of the livery.  From inside the barbershop Sheriff Bayonne watched and appraised the tattered clothing the men wore as they dismounted across the street.  Light tan patches indicating thinning leather, of probably poor-quality saddles, sat on top of the equally worn-weary horses.   Shaking his head, the lawman knew the destination of the two, Jonas’.

Similar in size and build, the men could almost be mistaken for twins was it not for one was a brunette and the other having auburn-colored hair.  Both wore almost identical shaggy mustaches that helped hide decaying teeth as they laughed out loud at a private joke.  Their scruffy cheeks and chins spoke of days in the saddle with little regard for personal appearance or hygiene. The fact that their holsters rested on opposite hips helped as they held each other up while woozily walking down the boardwalk.

The newcomers batted away trail dust from their clothes as side by side they pushed through the double-swinging doors, ignoring the patrons who attempted to exit at the same time.  Indignant declarations were silenced when a hand strayed to a holster worn tied down low to a leg.

 *****

The pair occupied a table in the middle of the saloon; having earlier joined a boisterous, low-stakes poker game.  A number of paper bills and a small pile of coins rested where they landed after being tossed to the center of the table.  The current dealer dealt the cards around and each man tried to better his hand by discarding a few and asking for others, rarely had any participant stood pat.  Glasses of beer with contents varying in levels were close at hand as the men tried their best to win the last pot as Jonas warned it was past his closing time.

The bartender pulled his shotgun moments later when tempers flared, and the first shouts of ‘Cheat!’ broke from the group.  Hands reached to rake in their winnings, only to be denied.  Chairs scraped across the floor and hands grabbing the offending appendages only encouraged the men to argue the results.  From behind the men a figure had been keeping an eye on the table.  Setting his ring-stained coffee cup aside, he stood and quietly approached.  Adding his hands to the melee, he pulled back a tattered sleeve only to reveal a hidden Ace of Hearts.

“Split the pot, boys,” Sheriff Bayonne ordered above the disgruntled shouts of men who felt cheated out of their money and honest fun.  

Emotions ran high among the players.  The restrained wrist broke free as self-preservation kicked in.  The man panicked, upturning the table, spilling cards, money, and beer to the floor.  Sheriff Bayonne stumbled back, the unfortunate recipient of the contents of the table.

During the confusion, the cousins grabbed what money they could before running from the establishment while those who remained, a few ranch hands out for fun on a Saturday night, helped the sheriff to his feet.  In time, the table and chairs were set right, liquor-soaked money collected, and the shotgun returned to its resting place.  

Finally vacant of patrons, only two men remained within.  Jonas wiping out the glasses and stacking them for use the next day, acknowledged the lawman’s assistance.

“You gonna do anything about them two who scrambled out of here?”

“The boys said they didn’t get away with much.  If I see them, I’ll warn them out of town.”

Jonas nodded to his brother-in-law.  Sheriff Bayonne walked out the doorway and into the night.  

*****

“You cheated!” Rudy declared through ragged breaths as they hid in the darkness of the livery hayloft.  “Why’d you have to go and do something so stupid?  I had that pot!”

“Ah, quit your bellyaching,” Jeb retorted, sinking down into the opened bale of straw bedding.

“What’re we gonna do now?  We ain’t got…” Rudy counted out the money they had scavenged from the floor. “…twenty-eight dollars and sixty-five cents.  That ain’t gonna last us long enough to get to Oregon!”

“Just shut up.  I’ll figure something out in the morning.”  Jeb’s eyes drifted closed as whiskey and beer mixed in his stomach and the warmth of the loft lulled him to sleep.

*****

Sixteen-year-old Aramis Manning entered the livery to begin his morning chores of feeding and watering the horses before their owners came to claim them.  Climbing the ladder to the hayloft, he found two men stretched out asleep.

“Hey misters!” Aramis called in an attempt to rouse the men.  

Receiving no response, he walked over and kicked the still booted feet a couple of times before one man woke.

“This ain’t no hotel, and ya best get outta here before my pa comes,” Aramis stated as he slowly backed away from the grumbling sleepers.

“Yeah, I hear ya kid.  Be down in a minute,” Rudy answered, fumbling through the straw in search of his hat and gun belt.  “Hey Jeb,” he reached over and punched his cousin in the shoulder, “we got our marching orders.  Wake up.”

Five minutes after being found, the two climbed down the ladder and left the establishment.  Out front, they looked up and down the main street until they spotted a sign for Why’s little café. 

Breakfast depleted their plunder a grand total of fifty-five cents by the time they stepped to the boardwalk and began meandering.  Most of the people they passed were heading towards the same destination, the church.  

*****

Even though it was Sunday, the mercantile opened for several hours before and after services to stockpile the travelers wishing to continue their journey.

“Boys,” Sheriff Bayonne walked up behind the two troublemakers from the night before, “I’ll give you until noon to get out of my town.  This town don’t take too kindly to your ways, and personally, I’m quite partial to jailing cheats.  If you cause any more trouble before you leave or I hear of anything, whether you’re involved or not… you’ll both be prime candidates to take up residency in my jail.  Just remember… noon.”

“Yeah, we heard ya.  We’re fed up with this town anyway, not enough games and no good women,” Jeb answered.

“We have plenty of good women, and they don’t care for your kind any more than their husbands do.” Bayonne looked back and forth between the two. He cautiously watched the two walking towards the livery.

*****

Settling back to the hitching rail, Rudy asked, “Well?  You come up with anything, Jeb?  We done been warned out of another town.  We ain’t got too many dollars between us, not nearly enough to get us where we’re agoin’.”

“Yeah, lunch time tomorrow…”

“The sheriff said noon today!” hissed Rudy.

“So, we ride out and come back.”

“Why?”

“We’re gonna make a withdrawal from the mercantile, seems that’s where all the money is.  This town ain’t got no bank.”

“Are you crazy?”

“Nope.  I been watchin’ all them wagons comin’ and goin’, buyin’ things… Must be a good amount of money stored in there.  We pretend to buy supplies and when one of them opens the cash box, we take all the money.”

*****

During Monday’s lunch hour, Jeb Brandt and Rudy Donner returned to town, while carefully avoiding the sheriff.  They meandered within the mercantile, waiting for the opportune time to put their plan into motion.

****

As the sun reached its apex, people walking and horsemen alike froze after hearing a name yelled.  Realization sank in, causing folks to scurry out of harm’s way as one man stood in the middle of the road, his left arm behind his back, holding the long tail of his duster away from the gun belt that hung low from its owner’s hips.  The pulled open coat revealed the man wore dusty black pants and a grey plaid shirt.  The battered Stetson on his head sheltered his eyes from the sun overhead.  His feet were spread as far apart as his shoulders were broad, he lifted his weapon in and out of its holster a few times while the man whose name he yelled casually walked into the now vacant thoroughfare.

The second man wore black calzoneras with silver conchos from waist to ankle and a flamboyantly embroidered green shirt worn under a black bolero jacket trimmed in red scroll.  It was obvious the reason for the snug fitting pants was to stabilize the low-slung holster tied to his left leg.  No sense having a loose-fitting pair of pants hinder the draw and slow down the pistolero’s response.

While the two men stared each other down, Why’s populace looked on in shock, surprise, and rapt attention.  It had happened before and was bound to happen time and time again; it was just something these men were compelled to do.  As driven as they were, so too were the mothers, pushing young boys with eager eyes into alcoves or farther into the buildings.  The young girls were pulled to their mother’s skirt or breast, depending on age.  Fathers and husbands looked around corners of a building or from behind crated goods or wagons.

Only the two men involved knew what triggered action; speedily hands moved to hips, guns hardly aimed before fired.  The challenger’s gun slipped from dead fingers, the body had yet to realize its fate and collapse to the ground.  The victor leaned at an angle to the right with his non-gun hand covering over the red line indicating the bullet had creased him under his rib cage.  Had he not moved as he fired, the projectile would have lodged itself in his side or worse.

From the far end of the town, Sheriff Bayonne heard word of the challenge and was making his way to stop the carnage, to prevent any innocent bystander from being wounded.  His pace slowed at seeing one man collapsing to the ground; the champion slipped his weapon back to his holster and stood erect.

The two met over the dead man in the middle of the main street.

“He called me out,” was spoken in clear English with only a slight Mexican accent.

“So I heard.”  Pointing to the gunman’s side, Bayonne authoritatively instructed, “Get that looked after down at the Franciscan hospital then get out of my town.” All the while motioning for the men nearby to come and take the deceased to the undertakers.

“Was planning on heading out anyway.”  Reaching into his jacket pocket he pulled out a twenty-dollar gold piece and tossed it to the lawman.  “His name was Richard Veith, most folks called him Rooster.  See that it’s put on his headstone.”

“I never heard of him.”

“Sorry you had to hear about him now.”  The gunhawk slowly turned away.

A block away, several women screamed when two masked men fled the mercantile with guns drawn.  Seeing the sheriff so close, one fired as he trailed after his companion.  Both continued errantly shooting while racing their horses from town; citizens and visitors too shocked to return fire hid in order to not become a victim.  The lawman and the gunhawk were the only ones to fire at the fleeing figures.

As the sounds of the retreating outlaws quieted, Hannibal Penobscot, owner of the store yelled, “They robbed the mercantile!”

Standing, and pulling spent cartridges from his revolver, the sheriff called out as he ran towards the establishment, “Was anyone hurt?”

“No, no one inside was injured,” the nervous proprietor answered.  That was before his shaking hand pointed down the adjoining street to the site that caused his heart to miss a beat.

In the entryway to the livery, with his leg in a cast, Marcus Manning sat on the ground, cradling his son in his arms.

“Oh God, please no.”  The lawman ran to the downed father and son.

A tear-streaked face looked up, when a shadow crossed over his face.  “My boy… My Aramis’ been shot.”

“Give him here Marcus, I’ll get him to the hospital.”  

*****

Oh yeah, that mission ended up being only the beginning.  Those Franciscan monks also decided to build a real hospital.  Quite fortuitous, some might say.  But, if’en you ask me, I think it was all part of a greater plan. – Thankfully so.

*****

The slightly built youth roused while being transferred into the sheriff’s arms.  Pain flared along the side of his chest and down his left arm.  

“Take it easy there, son, you got a lot to live for so don’t you think about doing anything else.”

Aramis whispered, “Good guys aren’t supposed to die,” before he passed out again.  Penobscot had followed the lawman and wrapped his arms around limp legs to assist in getting the teen to the doctor.

Marcus looked at the hand extended down to him.  Looking up, he saw a gentle face with green eyes, their own pain visibly etched.  Once the liveryman stood to his feet, the gunhawk from south of the border helped position the crutches beneath his armpits.

“Thanks,” Marcus offered as the two slowly followed the fast-moving sheriff and store owner.

*****

While Doctor Kern operated to remove the bullet from Aramis Manning, Sheriff Bayonne pulled out supplies to patch up the wounded gunfighter and offered the drifter his thanks.  As he worked, he switched back and forth between a running commentary of what his hands were doing and asking questions of Marcus to determine whose bullet had struck an innocent victim.

“The gunfight was over.  Them two varmints racin’ from town struck down my boy,” the scared father declared while sitting on a padded bench against the far wall, close to the surgical room.

Looking to his patient, Bayonne stated, “We’re a small community.  Most we have to deal with is the aftermath of…”

“Yeah, sorry about that.  But most of us are honest and don’t wish to involve anyone in our little dance.  That’s part of why we wait… we don’t want no one else to get hurt, and then… when someone leads…” he shrugged his shoulders and gave a grunt as the bandage tightened around his lower ribs, “the other reacts.  Then the dance is over.”

“Of late, all I’ve dealt with are boisterous cowboys who drink too much and get rowdy at the saloon, or sometimes rustlers.  We don’t have a bank so it’s been a long time since I’ve been faced with a robbery.”

“Guess you’re asking if I’m up to riding with you?”

“Pays two dollars a day, posse pay…”

“I’d do it without the pay.” Skeptic eyebrows rose, the gunfighter responded, “Yeah, I want to see justice served to them two.”

“Dade Bayonne,” the lawman held out his hand after tying off the bandage wrapped around his new deputy’s ribs.

Accepting the handshake, “Mateo Menendez.”

Raised eyebrows preceded, “Rumors aren’t accurate.”

“Never are,” Mateo failed to prevent a smile from appearing on his face while he reached for his shirt and jacket.

“Can you be ready to ride in fifteen minutes?”

“Yeah, just need to get dressed.”

Turning to the aggrieved father, “Marcus, I’m praying everything will turn out okay with your boy.  The doc’s good.”

“I know…  Any other doc would of taken my leg off five weeks ago,” Marcus weakly smiled.

*****

The sun set for a second night when on the outskirts of town Bayonne offered thanks to Menendez and the three others who’d ridden with him on the posse for trying to help him.

“Just come with me to my office and I’ll see you each get paid.”

“Nah, as I said, I’d do it without pay.  Just wish we’d a caught them.”

“Would have been foolish to have followed them any farther into the badlands… shale rock and no hope for finding any prints, too many directions to possibly choose from… worse yet, had we continued, we’d like as not become a permanent part of the scenery.”

“You felt it too?”

The others looked between the two, trying to figure out what they were talking about.

Nodding, Bayonne answered, “Yeah, someone was there… watching us.”

“Someone, but not the men we were after.”  Menendez shook his head.  “Shame we don’t know who those two were, who did that to the boy so you could put a poster out on them.”

“I knew they were troublemakers, just didn’t figure they’d rob the mercantile.  I’ll put out notices, they’ve probably caused trouble elsewhere and another town might have a name for them.”  The others peeled off one by one, but the two continued to ride into the heart of town, “Never thought I’d be saying this, but it’s been a pleasure riding with you.”  Bayonne extended his hand.

“Anytime.”  Mateo reciprocated and smiled, “You’ve made a friend in me sheriff, anytime you need anything, you give Mateo a shout.”  Touching the brim of his hat he turned and rode away.  

*****

That was the last I’d saw of Mateo Menendez; he tipped his hat and headed West; he knew it wasn’t worth trying to spend the night in town.  I heard he finally settled down, even took a stint at wearing a badge down along the border.  Did a right fine job from what I heard.

And those other two, I was glad to be rid of them, the whole town was.  I felt sorry for Mr. Penobscott for all the money he lost, but we eventually got ourselves a bank with a real big safe because of those hombres.  

Fall turned to winter and life continued on in Why, Arizona.  The cousins ultimately slipped from conscious thought once Aramis returned to running the livery with his father and looking after his eight younger siblings.

******

Having watched the posse following their trail and getting closer, the cousins crouched lower behind the boulders where they had taken refuge, their sweat-soaked horses a short distance away still heaving from the exertion of their hasty exit from Why.  Perplexed they watched the five men stop and huddle around, some drank from their canteens while others removed their hats to wipe away the perspiration before quenching their thirst.

“What…”

“Shhhh,” Jeb admonished, pushing his partner lower.

Angry at being shoved, “Why’d…?

In a low, guttural growl and eyes backing up his intent, Jeb spat, “Shut up.”

They watched as one stepped from his horse and began walking around, occasionally kneeling and touching the ground with a hand before rising and walking again.  Fifteen minutes later the man returned to the group shaking his head.  Swinging into the saddle, the flamboyantly dressed stranger made a motion, indicating he’d not been able to pick up the tracks.

Turning around, Jeb slid down the boulder and sat.  

“Wonder why they ain’t following us no more?” Rudy asked, mimicking his cousin to take a seat.

“Because they lost our trail once we started riding over them rocks, stupid,” Jeb answered, frustration evident in his tone of voice.

“Ain’t no cause to be mad at me!”

“Dang, I know it.”  Removing his hat and running a hand through his hair, “I just don’t understand how it all went so wrong.”

“Wrong? We got the money…”  Scrambling toward the horses, Rudy shouted, “The money!”

Slowing down as their horses became skittish at his movements, he held out his hand and coaxed Jeb’s horse to settle down so he could remove the saddlebags.

Returning to where his cousin still sat, “How much money do ya think we got?”

“Maybe a hundred or so, I guess,” Jeb answered, reaching forward to take his saddle bags.

Five minutes later the cousins were whistling, amazed at the four hundred and sixteen dollars they’d managed to steal.

“Wha’d ya think of heading down to Mexico?” Rudy asked.

“I hear tell they got tons of pretty Signeritas that’ll do most anything a man can ask down there,” Jeb answered.  “Shame they didn’t have none of them kinda women in that town.”

“Ya, but them two at the saloon were sure purdy.”

“I know, but the way the barkeep kept looking at us and to that long rifle over the bar…  It wasn’t worth that kind of trouble.”

“And ya just had to cheat at that card game!” Rudy spat.  “We didn’t need that kinda trouble.”

“I done it before and never been caught.”  Shaking his head in dejection, Jeb continued, “It just don’t make no sense.”

Wishing he hadn’t brought the subject up, “Ya know, if’n we go to Mexico, how we gonna let them Signeritas know what we wanta do to them?  They don’t speak American.”

“Where’s ya hear a dumb thing like that?!” Taking his hat and slapping it against his cousin’s head.  “Down near the border they have to speak Mexican and American, too.  Don’t make no sense otherwise.”

“Oh,” Rudy answered, looking around.  “What’aya want to do now?”

“Reckon we should take care a the horses and make camp right here.  Come morning we can head south.”

*****

Rising well after sunrise the cousins took care of nature’s call before fixing a meager breakfast of coffee, beans, and jerky.  By eight o’clock horses were saddled and the two were heading south.

By evening, having been slouching in the saddle for the past hour, they were ready to call it quits for the day.

“Not a livin’ body anywhere, all day long.” Grabbing his canteen hanging from the saddle horn, he uncapped it and took a deep drink.  Wiping his sleeve across his mouth and recapping the canteen, “God what I wouldn’t give to see someone.”

“Whadda ya think I am,” Rudy challenged.

“Someone other than you,” Jeb answered.  Turning in the saddle to look one way and then another, trying to figure out the reason for the hairs on the back of his neck to start tingling, “Ya know, I think I smell smoke.”

Following the smell, the two halted before making their presence known.  Stepping down from their mounts and tying them to nearby trees, they made their way towards the noise; people laughing and shouting, some shooting off handguns or rifles.  Coming to the edge of the rise, Rudy and Jeb sank to the ground and crawled to peek down into the draw.

Temporary corrals with horses and cattle were positioned at the far end, well down wind, while tents and cook fires were scattered around open area by the lake.  Men lounged around the camp, some cleaning their weapons while others were having a shooting contest. A couple of women were cooking, turning a pig on a spit, while one woman was chased by a man around the camp.

“Look, they got food!” Rudy whisper in response to the growl of his stomach.

“And they got women,” Jeb’s eyes widened as the man caught up to and grabbed a woman in a colorful peasant blouse and skirt.  She didn’t seem terrified of the man who was after her; in fact, she was laughing as she looked over her shoulder and hiked her skirt higher than was truly necessary for her to run.   Men started whistling and calling out to him, congratulating him on his catch. Pulling her towards him and kissing her deeply, his hands roamed over her breasts.  A quick slap to his face momentarily broke their contact causing others to raucously laugh.  Picking the woman up and slinging her over his shoulder like a fifty pound bag of flower, he carried her towards a tent; this only set the others off even more as she half-heartedly fought and pleaded to be put back to her feet.

“That ain’t all they got,” Rudy answered, eyes widened, his hand pointing as he saw several negroes come out of a central tent.  “They got blacks with im.  Look over there.”

“That ain’t all,” Jeb whispered, as he saw others exiting what could best be described as a wickiup. “They got injuns, too.”  They watched the two bare-chested, breechclout-clothed men walk towards a Mexican wearing a wide sombrero and holding a huge lance.  The man lounged in a canvas chair in front of the largest tent in the encampment.  The camp quieted as the three began talking.

“Told ya they don’t speak American.”  The cousins could hear the argument but didn’t understand the words.

“Rudy, I got a bad feeling about them.”

“Whatcha mean.”

“I got’s the heebie jeebies,” Jeb answered and involuntarily shivered. 

“I don’t blame ya, there’s all them kinds a people down there,” Rudy whispered.

“If we go down there, they’re gonna wanna know what we’re doing out here.  What’s gonna happen if they find out we got all this money.  They could kill us an take it all.”

Gulping hard, “Ain’t there another way for us to head to Mexico?”

“And if they find our trail and follow us?” Jeb asked.

Feeling dejected, “I guess we ain’t going to Mexico.”

“No, maybe someday.”

“Then where we gonna go?”

Tapping his cousin on the shoulder and drawing back, intending to make their way back to their horses, “Maybe North.  We hears words about gold being found around the Sierra-Nevada range.”

“I don’t wanna pan for gold!” Rudy whined.

Figuring they were far enough away, and all the noise of the camp would drown out anyone hearing them, again, slapping his hat against his cousin’s head, “I do declare!  You must be the dumbest Donner ever born.  We don’t have to do no panning.  All we have to do is play our cards right.”

“Not again!” moaned Rudy.

“One time out of how many times I get caught and you act as if the world in crashing down on us.  So, we got chased outa that town.  Well, we taught them they don’t mess with us.  Didn’t we?”  Jeb reached back to pat the saddlebag hanging from the cantle of his saddle.

Rudy smiled broadly, showing his decaying teeth, “Yeah, but if’n we go north, we gotta remember to skirt that town.  Don’t wanna get tossed into jail.”

 “Guess you ain’t all that dumb.”

~ B ~ O ~ N ~ A ~ N ~ Z ~ A ~

Spring had come early to the Sierra Nevada; the snowpack had retreated from the hills and valleys, allowing the trees to bud and flowers to break forth from the ground.  The mountains maintained their snow-capped peaks well into summer and beyond.  Livestock and wildlife gave birth to their young, while ranchers estimated their winter kill and hoped for a good crop of cattle and horses to offset their losses.  Ranchers and their hands also spent countless days repairing or replacing fence lines and line shacks damaged by the hard winter.  The new season was making Winter a memory as the workloads finally lessened.

*****

After weeks of working hard on the Ponderosa with the only trips to town being for urgent supplies and to pick up the mail, Ben Cartwright finally allowed his three sons a Saturday evening to themselves.  Mounting their respective horses, with good graces, all three listened to their father give directions on his expectations of not getting into trouble and what time he expected them home.  

“Yes, Pa,” they each answered when Ben finished, his hands firmly planted on his hips.

“Get out of here,” Ben chastised.  “I’ve got work to do.”

“See ya Pa!” Joe called out, he and Cochise were first to round the corner of the barn.

*****

Three hours later, the brothers were settled at various tables in the Bucket of Blood; Joe playing poker while Adam and Hoss sat at another table talking with Ross Marquette.

Annie sauntered towards the older Cartwrights, placing a beer in front of each man, before stopping to whisper in Adam’s ear.  A blush began to creep onto Hoss’ face, but then he realized Adam wasn’t enjoying whatever it was that Annie was saying.  With a curt nod of his head, Annie left their table and headed over to the bar. 

Following the barmaid with his eyes, “What’s up Adam?”

“Hopefully nothing, but Annie said two of the players at Joe’s table were called out earlier today for being a little too lucky at cards, but nobody could prove they were cheating.”

Turning in his chair, Hoss took in the four players to whom Joe was dealing cards.

“Do ya think we need to check it out closer?”

“Not yet.”  Reaching for the mug Annie had left for him, “I’ll keep an eye on them.  I asked Annie to let Cosmo know he might want to move that shotgun he keeps under the bar close at hand.”

Fifteen minutes passed before Adam’s attention was drawn to the raised voices coming from Joe’s table.

“And I say ya can’t be that lucky all the time without making your own luck,” Cody Anderson called out, reaching across the table to grab the wrist of one of the other players.

Without warning, Joe stood and had his weapon drawn and pointed at the possible cheat, “Ah, ah, ah,” he warned as the two who’d introduced themselves as Rudy and Jeb were struggling to pull their guns.  “Finish pulling them out nice and slow but set them on the table.”  Smiling with a wicked gleam in his eyes, “And I highly suggest you don’t do anything stupid.”

Setting their guns down, Rudy bitterly replied, “You think you’re so much better than us.  We coulda taken ya.”

“Maybe, but there’s no way you ‘coulda’ taken the three standing behind you, not when they’re backed up by Cosmo and his shotgun.”

Making his way between the three friends, Cosmo announced, “Game’s over.  Take your winnings, and split the pot. 

“But they cheated me!” Cody shouted, throwing a pointed finger to the cousins.

“We did not!” Rudy yelled back.

“No?” Joe asked.  Gun still in his left hand, his right hand reached for Jeb’s left sleeve, pulling it back he revealed the Ace of Hearts. 

“That’s different!” Cosmo announced, “I run a clean establishment, NO ONE and I mean NO ONE cheats here!”  Everyone heard the shell enter the chamber as he worked the pump action on his shotgun.

“Now either you clear out of here on your own, or I’ll bring the sheriff in on this,” Cosmo announced, pointing the barrel towards the two cousins.

“All right!  We’re out of here!”  Jeb sneered, grabbing the bills in front of where they were sitting; the two forced their way through the crowd, heading for the door.

*****

Customers settled back to their tables after the troublemakers left the establishment.

Nodding to Adam, Hoss, and Ross, Cosmo lowered his shotgun, making his way to the bar.

“Thanks guys,” Joe offered, finally slipping his revolver into his holster. 

“How much did ya lose?” Hoss inquired.

“Didn’t,” Joe grinned.  “Won about forty-five bucks tonight.”  Turning to Cody and his brother Colton, “We good guys?”

“Joe, you know we never have trouble losing money to you.”

“Ain’t that the truth!” Colton snickered, collecting the twenty dollars still in front of his seat.

“Well, guess we should head on home,” Joe suggested.  “Don’t feel much like playing poker anymore tonight.”

“Come on J.J. Bryant,” Adam teased, turning from his brothers.  “Ross, maybe next week.”

(Note:  J.J. Bryant was a renowned Mississippi Riverboat gambler.)

“Sure Adam, let us know when life on the ranch lets up.  Delphine keeps talking about inviting you over for supper.”

Nodding, Adam reached for his mug and downed the last of his beer before heading for the swinging doors, followed in close order by Hoss and Little Joe.

*****

Monday morning found Joe Cartwright scampering from the kitchen doorway.  “I heard you the first time!” Joe teased back to Hop Sing, who stood at the door to his domain, arms crossed, expression on his face daring the youngest son of his employer to forget any item on his list.  “We’ll be back by lunch!  I promise!  And I won’t forget a thing!”

Joe Cartwright was filling out; his body taking on the proportions of a man; no longer a gangly, awkward, slightly built youth.  The previous fall had seen him observe his eighteenth birthday.  He laughed, worked, and fought right alongside his two older brothers and father on the land they called home, The Ponderosa.

The largest of his brothers, perched on the wagon seat, shaking his head at Joe’s antics while enjoying the banter that flowed between the two, in English and in Cantonese.  Hoss couldn’t stifle the laugh as Hop Sing’s towel finally connected with Joe’s backside.

“That’ll teach ya to wear such tight pants,” gawffed Hoss.

Foregoing rubbing away the sting, Joe climbed into the seat next to Hoss, “Yeah?  If you hadn’t parked the rig so close I could have gotten away from him.”

“Better the towel and not his wooden spoon,” Hoss retorted, reaching for the reins and released the brake.  Seeing Joe settled beside him, “Now Joe, you sure you got that list in a safe place?  You remember where you put it?”  Hoss encouraged the horses to move out.

“Hardy, har, har,” Joe pulled his hat down over his eyes.  “It wasn’t my fault that I couldn’t find the list last time.”

“Sure, little brother.”  Hoss shook his head.  “Just don’t let no little filly distract you and you’ll remember.”

Pushing his hat back up, “You can’t blame me that the ladies find me so irresistible,” Joe folded his arms and settled back into the Cooper seat, feet on the front board.

“Irresistible, huh…  Then just who is to blame?”

“Now there brother, don’t tell me you weren’t listening when Pa had that little talk with you.  Do I have to explain the facts of life to you?”

Hoss blushed and urged the horses into a trot; Joe cackled at his brother’s discomfort concerning the subject.

“Just you let Pa hear you say that next time he gets all flustered at your antics, little brother.”

The good-natured camaraderie between the brothers continued the entire trip into Virginia City.  The two-horse hitch plodded along, crossing a few small streams as the road to town wound its way through the countryside.  Ears of the horses flickered forward and back as the brothers laughed and enjoyed their time together.

*****

“You want me to get the mail?” Joe inquired, jumping down as Hoss halted the team in front of the general store.

“Sure, and why don’t you drop this contract off for Pa at Mr. Woods, since yer aheadin’ that way.” Hoss reached under the seat to retrieve the envelope.

“Anything else?”

“Yeah, I seem to remember Pa mentionin’ somethin’ last night about a haircut.” 

“Rub it in.” Joe childishly stuck out his tongue, followed by a cackling laugh when Hoss reciprocated in kind.

“Joe!” Hoss climbed down and hollered as his little brother began to jauntily walk down the boardwalk.

“What?”  Joe turned around; his brother held out his hand. “Oh,” he pulled Hop Sing’s list from his jacket pocket and handed it over.  “Sorry.”

“You shore woulda been,” laughed Hoss.  “I’ll see you in about an hour, it’ll take Jake here and Owen over at the hardware store that long to get both Hop Sing’s and Adam’s orders together.  I’ll go by the bank and deposit that bank draft Pa got for that railroad timber contract.”

“See you, brother,” Joe bid, beginning his own list of things to complete.

Before entering the general store, Hoss shook his head from side to side, watching Joe head towards Hiram Woods’ office.  

*****

“That little brother of yours sure is something else,” store owner Jake Haverty spoke in greeting.  “My Elsie…  She sure wishes she was at least six years older.”

“Joe seems to have that effect on the ladies,” laughed Hoss.  “They either want to be older or a whole lot younger.”

“Morning Mr. Hoss!” ten-year old Elsie Haverty slipped in from the back room.  Hoss smiled at the girl with her blonde hair in pigtails, wearing a creamy-white pinafore that covered over her pale blue dress.

“Good morning, Miss Elsie.  Are you going to help your Papa fill my order?” Hoss removed his hat before he lowered his upper body, resting his hands on his knees.

“Don’t you mean Hop Sing’s order?” she asked after taking the list from Hoss and heading to the counter.  “Can you come back in an hour?  Papa and me…” Hearing her father clear his throat, Elsie corrected herself.  “Papa and I should have everything ready by then.”

“Well, are you sure that’s enough time?” Hoss stood to his full height.

Turning around and placing both fisted hands on her hips, Elsie replied, “I’m ten years old, you know!”

“Elsie!” Jake reprimanded, at least he tried to, but wasn’t too successful at being heard over Hoss’ boisterous laughter.

Seeing the young girl’s indignant expression and now crossed arms, Hoss immediately sobered up and became serious, “Yes Miss Elsie, please forgive me.  I don’t know what I was thinkin’.  Joe and I’ll be back in an hour.”

“Oh, Mr. Joe is here?”  She sounded disappointed that he hadn’t come to the store as well.

“He’s doin’ some important business for Pa,” Hoss stated with dedication.  “But I’ll make sure he comes see you before we leave town.”

Grinning from ear to ear, Elsie walked back to Hoss, wiggled her finger to indicate for him to come down to her level.  As Hoss leaned down, the young girl lifted up on her toes and placed a kiss on the big man’s cheek.

“I like you a lot too, Mr. Hoss.  You won’t tell Mr. Joe that I kissed you, will you?”

Blushing over the attention, Hoss stood tall and answered, “Nah, this’ll be our secret.”

“Got to get your order ready.  Bye!” Elsie turned and skipped across the floor.

Jake Haverty stood in amusement; it wasn’t just Joe Cartwright who could cause the opposite sex to blush, so could his little girl.  The man gave thanks that his wife would be the one to deal with their daughter when the time came.

“I’ll be back, have to go to the hardware store and place an order with Owen.”

“Hoss, will you tell Owen that I’ll be over after lunch to pick up my order,” Jake asked.

“Sure, after I stop in at the bank.”

*****

“Hey, Little Joe!” Sheriff Roy Coffee called, seeing the youngest son of Ben Cartwright making his way along the boardwalk.

“Roy,” Joe shook hands with the lawman.

“Can I talk with you for a minute?”

“Sure, but I need to get this contract to Mr. Woods before he closes his office.   Pa said he’d be in court this afternoon.  And you know Pa, he’ll skin me alive if I don’t get this here contract to him.”

“Won’t take but a moment.”  Roy motioned Joe inside.  “Just need to know if the Ponderosa has hired any strangers lately.”

“A few…  What’s up?”

“I received notification about a couple of outlaws.  They’re wanted in connection with a few robberies.  Seems they’ve been making their way from down in Arizona and the authorities think they might be heading this way.”  Roy handed the poster to Joe.

“The descriptions don’t really fit anyone we’ve hired to work the cattle or they could fit anyone.  Don’t think they’d be at any of our lumber camps, those men don’t take in strangers.  As for the mines…” Joe shook his head.  “I’d have to ask Adam.  Probably don’t have anything to worry about at the Ponderosa anyway, if they’re resorting to robbery, they’re not likely to want to work for their money.”

“Reports are inconsistent, about their look, but robbers seem to be headin’ in our direction.”

“Doesn’t give us much to go on…  No names?”

“Not so far.”

“I’ve a few new hands working the horses…”

“Someone other than Joe Cartwright breaking Ponderosa horses?” Roy laughed.

“No,” Joe emphatically answered.  “Adam, Ronny, Murph, and I are the only ones who break Ponderosa horses.  The others handle the saddling and loading the horses in the chutes and moving them between the corrals.  Wranglers have to know what they’re doing, a rider can get hurt otherwise.  I can’t see any of my men being the ones you’re looking for, ‘sides they’ve all been with us for a few years.”

“Just thought I’d let you folks know to keep your eyes open.  If you see or hear anything, you get word to me.”

“Sure Roy, I’ll let Pa and my brothers know.”

“Thanks, and tell your Pa I said hello and that I can’t wait for our next game of cribbage.”

“That might be a while, Pa came home last week madder than a hornet, said you were up three games over him?”

“Yep, ‘bout time I won a few rounds.” Roy smiled.

“I’ll tell Pa.”

“You do that.”

*****

Joe felt pleased with himself; he’d delivered the contract before Hiram closed his office.  Walking in front of the stage depot and telegraph office, he spotted a poster announcing the upcoming spring social the following week.  Knowing he’d want to make a good impression, he decided to go ahead and stop in at the barber shop, like his father asked.

With ten minutes to spare before needing to meet up with his brother, Joe left the barber shop and picked up the mail for the ranch, and a telegram for his father.

*****

In front of the mercantile, a tidily trimmed Joe stopped to chat with Evelyn Grant.  The young woman would turn eighteen on the summer equinox.  Her long brown tresses framed her face and fell around her shoulders.  Her dress was the latest fashion from back east, where she’d just returned from spending two years going to a finishing school and living with her mother’s sister.  

The two young adults chatted about their plans for the upcoming spring dance.  

Noise drew Joe’s attention.  He looked around and spotted three masked men with weapons drawn run from the bank, cross the opening of the alley, mount their waiting horses, and race from town.  The riders fired their weapons indiscriminately as they rode.  In one fluid movement, Joe pushed the young woman to the safety of lying flat on the boardwalk, drew his gun, and continued firing toward the fleeing riders until the weapon was empty.  The clicking of the hammer on the casing filled chambers alerted Joe of his need to reload.

One would-be robber struggled to remain in the saddle before falling to the ground.  The other two rode around the corner of a building; apparently getting away without a scratch.

“Evelyn, are you okay?” Joe assisted the young woman up from the ground; her hands trembled, her complexion paled.  The skirt of her light-colored dress showed dirt from where she landed, as did the white gloves she wore.  Evelyn shook her head and began to whimper.  Seeing her worried mother coming out of the millinery shop, she ran away from the youngest Cartwright and into the caring arms of family; leaving Joe standing speechless.  Looking to where the riders disappeared, Joe began to slip bullets into his revolver before returning it to its holster.

Roy Coffee ran to the street, knelt and checked the fallen rider.  “What happened?” he demanded while looking around.

“They robbed the bank!” Walt Cummins declared, anything he had to say afterwards was lost in the noise of Roy demanding to know if everyone was okay and asking for volunteers for a posse.  

Some standing nearby, and who had money in the bank, demanded to know if their own money was safe; others demanded their money, even though the money was now missing.  Slowly the miracle announced itself that none of Virginia City’s residents having been walking along the boardwalk had been struck by an errant bullet.  Among the clamor of shouts of okay and families looking for members, six men volunteered to ride with the Sheriff.

Running towards the livery, Roy saw the youngest Cartwright.

“I need a horse,” Joe fell in step, everything else forgotten.

Within ten minutes Joe raced out from Virginia City with seven other men on the posse.

*****

Hop Sing’s angry exclamations greeted his employer and eldest son as they returned home for supper; having spent the day inspecting one of their lumber camps, making sure everything was ready for the first trees of the season to be felled.  The two stood in front of the closed wooden door, removing their gun belts, wrapping the leather around the holster before placing them on the sideboard. Adam’s eyebrows rose while his father cringed at the banging of pots and pans that accompanied the shouting.

“Wonder what your other sons have done this time?” Adam dared ask as he walked through the dining room and peeked around the corner into the kitchen; closely followed by Ben.

“Brothers no return home!” Hop Sing declared, seeing the dark head of hair.  “Supper no ready!  Need supplies they bring home!”

“I’m sure they will have a good reason,” Ben entered the factotum’s domain in an effort to calm his employee.

“No reason good!  Lit’le Joe promise!  Promise no forget.  Promise home by lunch.”

“By lunch,” Adam repeated, fully entering the kitchen.  “Joe said he and Hoss would be home by lunch?”  Hop Sing nodded.  “They should have been home… six hours ago.”

“You don’t suppose…” Ben couldn’t finish his statement.

“I don’t know, Pa.  Even if the buckboard had broken down… surely they’d have been home by now.  Hoss would have insisted on unhitching one of the horses and sending Joe home for help.”

“They take wagon, not buckboard.  Pick up Mr. Adam order from hardware store.”

“My order…  I was planning to make that run tomorrow.” Adam struggled to finish his thoughts, just as his father had moments before.

“Brothers want save number one son extra trip to town.  They go town, save you trip.”

The three men’s attention turned to someone pounding on the front door.

Ben opened the door to find a youth, who had the month before started working at the hardware store, worrying the brim of his hat while waiting on the porch.

“Yes?”

“Mr.” hard swallow, “Cartwright?”

“Yes, I’m Mr. Cartwright…”

“I’m Cory… Cory Miller.  My Pa, he owns the hardware store.  He…”

“Go on…” Adam encouraged.  “What trouble did my two brothers get into?”

Cory knew the news he had to impart was important, but the two big men in front of him made him nervous.  He’d overheard Joe and Hoss talking a few times about their formidable brother, and then there was their father.  His own father garnered the Ponderosa patriarch as a man above men, a man who made things happen, a man to be highly respected.

“They didn’t get into trouble… they…uh, they got caught up in it.  The bank…  it … was robbed.”

“They must have ridden with Roy on the posse,” Adam stated with relief as he turned to look at his father.

“No, they didn’t.”  Cory didn’t know everything that happened, he’d snuck away from school during the morning break to check on his horse at the livery to ensure he was okay after throwing a shoe.  His Pa had spent the afternoon keeping him busy to help relieve his scare after watching those men ride away, firing their weapons indiscriminately, and then witnessing others carrying a bloodied Hoss from the bank, right in front of him, on their way to the clinic.  “My Ma… she helps out over at Doc Martin’s and she… she came home…  worried why you hadn’t come to town… Pa sent me to… make sure you knew…”

“Knew what?” demanded Ben.

“There was so much blood.”

“Blood?” Adam and Ben said in unison.

“Mr. Hoss got shot.”

Father and brother were immediately out the door after scrambling to retrieve their gunbelts and hats from where they were placed less than fifteen minutes before.

*****

I couldn’t imagine there’d be any words that could describe the gut-wrenching fear that settled over Ben and Adam as they urged their mounts on their desperate flight into town.  Their worry, had the boy been right in his description or had he, like boys could, had he exaggerated his description?  

Then, Cory hadn’t said anything about Little Joe.

*****

Lathered horses delivered riders to town where the men jumped from their saddles in front of Doctor Martin’s clinic.  The front door opened allowing the light from within to spill across the porch, bidding them to enter.  Mrs. Miller, Cory’s mother, sympathetically greeted the two who barely remembered to remove their hats in the presence of a woman.

“Hoss?” fearfully Ben inquired at seeing the woman’s worried expression.

“Holding his own… for now.  Paul’s still in with him.  I’ll let him know you’re here.”

Moments later, a grim-faced Paul stepped through the doorway that separated the waiting room from his surgery.

“Have a seat, Ben… Adam.”

Standing close to his father, Adam asked, “How’s my brother?” 

“Alive.”  With neither Cartwright sitting, the good doctor stated, “If you don’t mind, I need to sit.”  Once seated, he continued, “I’ll warn you, Hoss may not make it through the night.” Shaking his head, “The bullet lodged perilously between his heart and a lung.”

“Haven’t you operated to get it out?” Ben gasped.

“Yes, I removed it earlier… But he’s lost so much blood.  I don’t know if he has the strength to survive.”  Paul removed his glasses, pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and cleaned the lenses.

“My brother is strong…”

“Physically he is, but there was so much trauma he suffered from the gunshot wound… and the damage I caused while removing the bullet.”  Slowly changing from looking at Adam to his long-time friend, “Ben, it’s going to take a miracle to pull Hoss through this.”

“May I see him?” Ben inquired.

“He won’t know you’re here.  He’s yet to regain consciousness.”  Knowing the upcoming argument, “To ease your fears I’ll allow you to see him for a few minutes, but just a few.”

Paul led the worried family back through the door and into his now clean surgical suite; where only hours earlier the room contained bloodied cloths and surgical instruments.  Paul had discarded his own bloodied apron and cleaned his hands and arms all the way up to his elbows.  The sheet that lay across Hoss was pristine, newly purchased as Paul became increasingly conscious of how imperative it was to prevent all risks of infection.  The room no longer bore any trace of the bloody battle waged in an effort to save the life of the gentlest member of the Cartwright family.

Ben took his middle son’s hand in his, leaned over and brushed his own hand against his son’s forehead.  “Hoss, I’m here.  Pa’s here.  Please son… you have to pull through.  You have to… fight this…”

Paul indicated their all too brief time was up and witnessed the tears flow down the older man’s face and the quivering façade worn by Adam.

“I’ll do everything in my ability to see that Hoss pulls through.  I just wish there was more that I could do.”

“What of Joe?” Adam asked once they returned to the waiting room.

“Joe?”

“Hoss and Joe came to town to run errands. Hop Sing said my brothers left in the wagon.”

“I didn’t know Joe was in town, and I’m surprised he’s not here, what with Hoss injured.”

“My God, you don’t think…” Ben’s knees began to buckle before he finished his sentence.

Adam guided his father to a chair to have a seat.  Paul pulled out a vial of smelling salts and waved it under Ben’s nose, rudely rousing the man from his stupor.

Kneeling in front of the man, Paul spoke firmly, “Ben, if something had happened to Joe and he was over at the undertaker’s… don’t you think someone would have told either me or Mrs. Miller.  You’ve been in my clinic long enough that Horace would have been here by now to speak with you.”

“You’re right.  I know you’re right, it’s just…” Ben looked into the sympathetic eyes of one of his oldest friends.

“I’ll ask Lorelei to fix you a cup of coffee.”

Kneeling next to the physician, “Pa, I’m going out to see if anyone knows anything of Joe’s whereabouts or the status of Roy and the posse.”

Ben nodded, giving his eldest son’s shoulder a gentle squeeze.

*****

With a flurry of conflicting emotions, Adam stepped from the clinic and momentarily hesitated, taking time to consider where to begin.  Finding Joe in one of the saloons was out of the question, there’s no way with Hoss injured Joe would have stepped foot inside one.  The undertaker’s was a logical place, but as Paul had indicated Horace would have kept an eye on the street and seen them arrive.   Deciding, Adam headed to the Sheriff’s Office and Jail.

Twenty minutes later, Adam stepped foot to the porch in front of Paul Martin’s clinic and paused.  He’d found out quite a lot and wanted a moment to process the facts before facing his father.  He also dreaded entering for fear that Paul’s dire prognosis for Hoss’ chance for survival might have come true in the time he had been gone.

*****

Adam had found only Cletus in the sheriff’s office; the man was cleaning out the jail cells in anticipation of a visitor or two.  Cletus was known around town as a hard worker, even at the most-simplest of tasks; his ‘simple wit of ways’ made him the perfect choice to fill these jobs.  It surprised Adam how the man with only minimal education could recall the minutest of details regarding the robbery and the shootout as the outlaws blazed their way out of town.  Adam learned how one of the robbers was now at the undertakers due to a bullet fired by none other than Joe Cartwright.  

The man dropped his mop into the bucket and took pleasure in mimicking Joe’s actions.  “He shoved that young lady down to the ground and hovered over her while… bam, bam, bam… bam… bam.”

“Young lady?” Adam’s question went unheard by the man.

“Sure was strange seeing that little brother of yours riding something other than that horse a his.  This one was giving him fits,” Cletus acted out as if riding the feisty mount.  Eventually, he pulled the mop from the bucket, and turned to throw the dirty water out the back door.

“What kind of fits?  Which horse was Joe riding?”

“That hammerhead that got left at the livery when that dang-fool cowboy thought he could draw to an inside straight and then called the man a cheat two weeks ago.”

“I thought Earl was going to get rid of it.”

“Yeah, he planned to.  Heard he contacted one of them traveling wild west shows to see if they wanted it.”

“Cletus, where was Joe going when he was riding this horse?”

“He was with the sheriff, they all raced out of town not ten minutes after the robbery.”

“Then he’s not out there on his own hunting down the men who shot Hoss.”

“He was gone long before they carried Mr. Hoss out of the bank.  Don’t think your brother knew about your brother,” Cletus answered while returning the mop and bucket to their place in a small closet.

Leaving the jail, Adam sent up a silent plea for God to watch over both his brothers.  

“Hey Adam!” Mitch Devlin called from the other side of the street.

“Mitch, I’m in a hurry.”

“I know you probably are, but I thought you’d want to hear about Hoss.”

“I know he’s over at Paul’s.”

“Yeah, but before that.  Ma was in the bank when it got robbed.  She only gathered her wits a little bit ago and told Pa and me what happened.  They were going to shoot her.  Hoss stepped between them.”

“Is your Ma okay now?”

“She just got scared.  Some of the ladies from church have been tending to her.”

“We’ll be thinking about your family.”

“Adam,” he turned at the guilt in the young man’s voice.  “I didn’t know anything had happened.  I mean, Pa and I got home and didn’t find Ma anywhere.  We’d just come back for lunch after checking our pastures. Eventually, Mrs. Vance, one of those busy-body women, sent one of her boys running to the house to tell us about Ma, he didn’t say anything about Hoss.  If he had, I’d of ridden out to the Ponderosa.  I wish now that I’d insisted on driving Ma to town.”

“I can understand your feelings.  Pa and I didn’t know anything about Hoss being shot until this evening.”

“Ya mean Joe didn’t come home or send word to tell you?”  Surprise etched Mitch’s face.

“I just found out from Cletus that Joe’s with the posse.”

“Hopefully they’ll catch the bastards.”

“Mitch, look I really need to get back to Hoss.”

“We’ll pray for your family, too.”

“Thanks.”

*****

Breathing deeply, Adam finally entered Paul Martin’s clinic as the clock on the wall struck eight-thirty.  Adam knelt down and placed a hand on his father’s arm.

“Adam?  Sorry, I must have fallen asleep.”  Ben struggled to sit upright in the chair.

“Thought you’d like to know that Cletus saw Joe riding with the posse.”

“That’s a relief.”

Paul Martin entered the room, “Ben, if you’d like, I think it’s safe to move Hoss into a bedroom.  Once in a private room, I can set up a cot for you; it’s best to have someone stay with him all the time, at least until we know more.  If you wouldn’t mind… I need some sleep; didn’t get much last night due to a brawl down at the Gould and Curry.”

“I’ll stay with Hoss, Paul.  I’m sure your cot will be easier to sleep than this chair.”

“Do you have a second cot?” Adam inquired.

Paul shook his head no.

“I’ll get my bedroll from the livery and bunk down on the floor.”

“Adam, get some pillows and blankets from the hotel.  I’d prefer to keep Hoss’ room as clean as possible.  I don’t want to introduce anything into his room that could increase his risk of developing an infection; his condition is precarious at best.”

“I’ll be back in a few minutes,” answered Adam before he slipped out the door.

*****

With Hoss resettled into a private room near the back of the clinic; Adam made himself as comfortable as possible with a pallet of blankets on the floor.  Ben never once lay on the cot, choosing instead to sit in the overstuffed chair pulled near the bed.

Turning over to lay on his side Adam watched his father.  “You do know that Joe’ll be okay.”

“He won’t be until I can see him.”  Slowly shaking his head from side to side.  “What was he thinking?”  Huffing, “I’m sure he wasn’t.  Probably thought about all the excitement from riding with the posse.”

Sitting up, back against the wall, “Pa, Joe knows there’s no excitement in riding with a posse.  He understands how important it is to keep focused on the law and not get caught up in a lynch-mob mentality.”

“Still…”

“Pa, you forget how he saved my noggin’, as Hoss would say, when the two of us rode after the men who murdered Vannie Johnson?”  Moving his legs to sit Indian style, “Joe asked some difficult questions when we were out there.  Questions that surprised me; considering his age.  There’s no doubt Joe will follow every rule or command Roy gives.”

Bowing his head, “I just want him home.  Or at least here with us.”

*****

Virginia City’s saloons had closed only an hour or so before Doc Martin quietly entered the room to check on his patient.  Knowing the worry that had enveloped the family and understanding their exhaustion, it did surprise him to see both men asleep.  Trying to be as quiet as possible, Paul moved the blanket and pulled back the bandage wrapped about the big man’s chest before placing the stethoscope in position to listen. Inevitably, a slight head movement and an exhaled groan issued in response to the doctor’s prodding, woke the man sleeping in the chair.  “Easy Hoss, you’re going to be fine.  Go back to sleep,” Paul whispered.

“How’s Hoss doing?”

Removing the medical implement from his ears before draping it around his neck, “You’re going to have a kink in your neck if you continue to sleep in that chair,” Paul offered.  “I had a cot brought in for a reason.”

Becoming more alert, and ignoring the admonishment, “My son…”

Returning the sheet to cover his patient’s chest, “Remarkably, he’s holding his own.”

“Thank God,” whispered Ben.

“I was over at the Bucket of Blood before they closed, the aftermath of a little dispute, I heard news that Joe rode out with Roy.”

“That’s what Adam heard too.”

“If it’s any consolation, Ben, be thankful it was Hoss who was in the bank, and not Little Joe.”

Sitting up straighter while trying to alleviate the kink Paul had warned of earlier, “Why would you say that?  I’d have preferred none of my sons to have been shot.”

Turning to face his long-time friend, he rested on the side of the bed occupied by Hoss, “Ben, think about it.  Had it been Little Joe who’d been shot…”  Exhaustion warred with Paul’s need to explain himself.  “The bullet that struck Hoss, lodged below his heart, close to his left lung,” he pointed to the location on his own anatomy.  “Had Joe been standing in the same place and shot by the same individual, I truly believe the bullet would have struck Joe in his heart, and he would have died before they could ever have carried him out of the bank.”  

Paul heard a gasp from next to the wall.  He looked to see Adam’s eyes wide open, his face paler than he’d ever remembered. 

Ben’s exclamation, “Thunderation!” and deep gulping, brought Paul’s attention back to him.  “Easy Ben,” he offered at Ben’s greenish complexion.  Paul moved to push Ben’s upper body and head down between his knees.  “Deep breaths, slowly in, hold it, slowly out.”  The doctor repeated his mantra a few times, looking directly at Adam to let him know he needed to do the same. 

Shortly, Ben raised his hand and pushed his body upright once more.  “I’m okay.”

Moving to the nightstand, Paul filled two glasses with water and handed one to each of them.

Adam sat up, having flipped the blankets back to take the water glass, “I think I need something a lot stronger than water.”

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything.”

Ben acknowledged the regret drawn on the physician’s face.  “It’s alright Paul,” he whispered after drinking the entire glass of water.

*****

Shortly before sunup, father and eldest son roused at hearing someone banging on the door to the clinic.  Brushing sleep from his mind, Adam pulled his weapon from his holster where he had placed it next to him on the floor.  “Pa, I’ll see what’s up.  You stay with Hoss.”

Slowly making his way to the front office area, Adam made sure Doc Martin knew he was there and motioned him to carefully open the door.

Arm raised, ready to pound on the door once more, Jacob Branson, dirty, tired, breathing heavily, and one of the men who rode with the posse stood on the porch as Paul Martin opened the door.

“Doc, you’re needed at the Ponderosa!”

“What’s wrong?” Adam pushed the doctor aside to find out why this man who didn’t work for them would be asking for the doctor to ride to the Ponderosa so early in the morning.

“Mr. Cartwright, I… I didn’t know you were here.  Roy and the others…”

Not allowing the man to continue, “Why is Paul needed at the Ponderosa?”

“Joe got thrown, he’s busted up pretty bad.”

Torn with worry, “I’ll tell Pa,” replied Adam, remembering to release the hammer and lower his weapon.

“I’ll get my bag.  Jacob, tell the livery I’ll need my horse and buggy.”

“Tell Otis that I’ll need Sport saddled, too.”

Entering the room where Hoss still lay unconscious, “I’m heading home.  Joe’s been hurt, I’ll get word to you once I know more.”  Adam picked up his hat and holster, slipping his gun in its holster before fastening the gun belt around his hips.

Ben stood and placed a restraining hand on his eldest son’s arm.

“Adam, I know you’re doubly worried now… so am I.  Please, don’t make me worry for all three of my sons.  Ride carefully.”

“I will Pa.”

Ben looked beyond his eldest to the opened doorway and back to where his middle son lay.

“Pa, Hoss needs you more, here and now.  You need to stay here for Hoss,” Adam answered.  “I’ll take care of Joe.”

The eldest brother knew that his little brother always responded better to their father’s tender ministrations whenever he was injured or sick, but Adam wouldn’t risk letting their father ride home as exhausted as he had to be.  He’d do anything in order to keep their father from being injured as he rushed to one of his sons, especially his youngest.  Besides, having his Pa at the doctor’s office just might make all the difference in Hoss’ recovery.  Adam just hoped that his youngest brother would accept him being there instead.

Worried brother and anxious physician met at the livery, “I’ll ride on ahead and let them know you’re on your way,” Adam checked the tightness of his cinch before climbing into the saddle.

“Be careful Adam,” Paul advised.

“See you!”  Adam slapped Sport’s flanks with the end of his reins at the same time he kicked his flanks, encouraging him to run.

*****

Adam arrived at the Ponderosa just as Roy was telling the other men to head over to the bunk house and bed down to catch some sleep or head back to town.  Most chose to ride back home.

Not seeing Charlie stepping from the barn, Adam flipped Sport’s reins over the rail, and called out.  “How’s Joe?”

“We just got him home and into bed.  I sent Jacob on ahead to get the doc while we made our way slowly here,  Hop Sing’s up there with Joe.”

“Paul’s following behind me, he’ll be here shortly.”

The two men headed towards the front door; Roy outlining what happened.  He reached out to stop Adam from entering.

“Joe fought that horse from the moment he mounted, as long as he was going forward there weren’t no real problem.  After about twenty minutes the beast settled down, at least it seemed that way.  Can’t believe Otis kept that rogue.”  Roy shook his head in regret.

“Jacob said Joe was thrown.”

“Thrown weren’t exactly the term I’d use. We were gaining on those robbers.  That hammerhead took the bit between his teeth, I know Joe was pushing him, but he just went flat out.  Next we saw, the horse reared up, came down real hard, then whirled about and lost its footing.  Joe tried to stay in the saddle at first, but when the horse went down, and Joe realized what was happening, he tried to kick free, but he went down too.  By the time we got to where Joe lie, the horse was up and took off a ways.”

Stopping under the lantern that hung above the wooden porch, “He’s got a head wound from striking the ground, bled a lot.  Looks like he’s busted his left wrist and dislocated the shoulder.  Not too sure about damage to his legs, we tied ‘em together until Doc could take a look.”

“If he couldn’t ride…”

“Some of the men made a travois, that’s what took us so long to get here. While they’s doing that, I took some others up into the hills to look for tracks, but we lost ’em.  That’s rocky shale up there and you know Hoss’d have trouble finding any sign.” Roy pushed open the door.  “Oh, and Adam, one of the men did find the horse.  It was dead… it had been shot through the chest.  Possibly, that’s what set it off?”

“Not that it matters.”

Adam pushed past the lawman to enter his home, crossed the room, climbed the staircase, and entered his brother’s room barely hearing Roy call out, “Listen Adam, I gotta get back to town.  I hope things go alright for Little Joe.”

Adam didn’t hear the front door close as the lawman left.

*****

“Keep him in bed for the next few days, and quiet for the following week,” Paul advised as he placed his medical instruments back in his Gladstone bag.

“I’ll do my best.  What’s your prognosis?”

“Concussed for sure and a broken left wrist.  I’ve slipped his left shoulder back into the socket, but it’s going to be sore for some time.  His left hip bears a rather colorful bruise, and I’d say his left knee was wrenched, same for his ankle.  It’ll bother him for a few weeks, and it needs to stay bandaged for support.  As for his ribs, couldn’t find any broken, but I’m sure they’re bound to be uncomfortable.”

“Guess he really did a number on himself,” Adam sighed, sinking onto the chair, wishing he’d brought a glass and the decanter of brandy upstairs with him.

“But he’ll recover,” encouraged Paul.

“Unlike Hoss?”

“I can’t say one way or the other.  Adam, you know I don’t like to sugar coat anything.  The odds are stacked against Hoss.  If the medical profession was more advanced… Maybe he’d stand a better chance of surviving.  But I’m not saying that he won’t survive.”

“Just that it’s more than likely he won’t.”  Adam the pessimist was asserting his presence.

“It’s a possibility, but there’s also the possibility that he will survive.  I just don’t know which way the pendulum will swing.”

“I’m sorry, Paul.  I’m just tired.” 

Sitting in the chair he wasn’t sure how Paul was able to stand in the room, after spending the previous night tending to miners involved in a ridiculous fight, the time spent attempting to save one brother’s life, a bar fight, and finally riding to the Ponderosa to spend the morning hours repairing the damage inflicted on another brother.

“Get some sleep, Adam.”

“I could say the same for you.”

“I will, after I’ve informed your father about Joe and checked Hoss one more time.  Is there anything you want me to relay to Ben?”

“Just tell him about Joe, and that I’ll remain here to keep an eye on the kid.  Tell Pa I’ll do my best to keep him in bed.”

*****

The afternoon sun had beamed through the partially opened curtains as Adam rose from the chair in which he’d restlessly slept the few hours after Paul left.  Stretching, he wondered what had woke him; Joe was lying as he had since the physician had left.

“I bring coffee,” Hop Sing spoke as he entered, carrying a tray.  “I make roast beef sandwich.  You need eat.  Keep up strength.  Fatha and brothas will need you.”

Adam offered, “Thank you Hop Sing,” before reaching for the steaming cup of coffee and one of the sandwiches on the tray.  He waited for his brother to regain consciousness as afternoon turned to evening, and then became night.

*****

Before the black of night gave way to the gray pre-dawn, Adam shifted uncomfortably in the chair; throughout the night he’d woke at the slightest sounds from outside, a howling wolf or coyote, or the horses snorting as they shuffled in the corral or when Hop Sing entered the room to check on the brothers. 

A second night of broken sleep left Adam exhausted.  Standing to stretch, he felt and heard his back popping in release of tension and from sleeping crooked in the soft chair.

*****

The long clock downstairs by the front door chimed eight o’clock in the morning only a few moments before as Adam watched the figure begin to come to life under the covers.  He smiled when green eyes groggily peered up at him. 

“How’re you feeling?” Adam inquired, standing beside his brother’s bed and taking back the half empty cup of water, pleased that Joe had drank as much as he had.

“Fine.  How long you been in here?”

“A little after the posse brought you home.”

“They still here?”

“No.  They left yesterday morning.”

“Yesterday morning?” Unable to stifle a yawn, “You been here all this time?”

Adam nodded, pleased his brother appeared to be coherent.

“How long have I been out?” Joe inquired.

“You were brought home, a little after six thirty yesterday morning.  Jacob Branson rode to town for Doc, we didn’t get here until almost seven.  Roy said you’d been unconscious since the accident, before sunset.”

Unable to prevent the groan escaping, Joe thought differently about trying to sit up.  “Where’s Pa… and Hoss?” Joe asked in that peculiar tone of voice indicating he was surprised not to find his father in his room; more so surprised to find his oldest brother in his room tending to him.

“Pa’s with Hoss, he was still unconscious when I left town to come home.”

Lost in confusion, Joe stared up at his oldest brother, groaning at the hammering he felt in his head.

Adam moved his hand to the deepening-colored bruise on Joe’s temple.

“Paul had to perform surgery.”

“Surgery…?”  Joe squeaked out as he promptly batted away his brother’s hand.  His mind focusing hard to comprehend what his brother said.  “What happened?  Why’d Hoss need surgery?”

From the one-word question and his further quests for clarification, remembrance came of Cletus’ statement that the posse had left before they’d pulled Hoss from the bank.

Joe scrunched his face, growing worried and concerned; collapsing to his bed when he tried to sit up. 

“What do you remember Joe?”

“Adam, just tell me what happened.”

“First answer me.  What do you remember?”

“Hoss and I were in town, we split up to run all the errands we needed to.  I went to Hiram’s while Hoss went to the store and the ban…”  Gulping Joe stopped, his face turned green.

Adam quickly placed a bowl in front of his brother as he lost the meager contents of his stomach.

Settling Joe back and after placing a wet washcloth to his brother’s forehead, “You with me Joe?”

“Yeah, tell me about Hoss.”

“Hoss was in the bank when it was robbed.  Mitch told me that when the outlaws were preparing to leave, one turned to fire at his mother who was in the bank, too.  Hoss stepped between them, pushing her out of the way and the bullet struck him.”

“We have to get to town! Why… why aren’t you in town with Hoss?” Joe struggled to speak, shock from his brother’s words set in.  He tried to sit up, pain due to his own injuries screamed in protest. 

Pushing the smallest Cartwright back to his bed, Adam answered, “Oh, I don’t know, maybe because we received word that another Cartwright was hurt and I wanted to make sure he was okay.  Why do you think I came home?”  His sarcasm hung thick.

Guiltily, Joe grabbed for his injured shoulder, allowing himself to be pushed back to lying down.  “How’s he doing? He’s going to be okay… right?” 

Silently Adam sat on his brother’s bedside, refusing for a moment to look at his youngest sibling.  Shaking his head he answered, “Not so good.  Doc’s not even giving him a fifty, fifty chance of survival.”  Adam’s clipped words sounded bitter; his attention drifted to the open window at hearing their hands head out for the morning.

Joe was perceptive of the grief and regret in his brother’s voice.  Unable to speak, his own actions from that day tore at him.  He remembered planning to meet Hoss at the bank, only stopping when Evelyn Garret batted her eyes in his direction.

Stuck in bed, Joe groaned, “I should have been there with him.  I told him I’d meet him there.”

“And if you’d been there?  There’s every chance you might have been shot too.”

“You said they were only shooting at Mrs. Devlin.”

“That’s what Mitch said, what he didn’t know was there were additional shots fired while they were trying to make their way out of town.  Guess we can be thankful they were such great gunmen and managed to miss everyone on the street.”

“Yeah… But why’d they have to be good enough to hit Hoss?”  Joe moaned, his body protesting his movements.

“You in pain?”

“I’m fine.”

“Fine…   A busted wrist, dislocated shoulder, bruised hip and ribs, and a wrenched knee and ankle… not to mention a concussion.  Yeah, I’d say you’re just fine.”

Allowing his brother his own thoughts, Adam walked from the bed to the nightstand, where he mixed the pain medication into a glass of water, and returned to his brother.

“Here, drink this.  No arguments.  Doc said you’d need it.”

“Thanks.” 

Finishing the medicated drink, Joe closed his eyes, begging the drug to take away everything as pain overwhelmed his senses, but worst was the hurt in his heart.  Joe grieved over a future without his brother Hoss.

*****

The afternoon sun intruded into his thoughts as the worried father sat alone in the room with his still unconscious son, Ben heard footsteps in the hallway.  Halfway turning in the chair his expression asked the question.

“I arrived back a little while ago, but you were asleep.”  Seeing his friend’s expression, “You needed the sleep.  Joe’s pretty banged up; broken wrist, dislocated shoulder, a pretty good concussion, a wretched knee/ankle, and bruised ribs on top of it all.  Told Adam to keep him in bed for a few days, and then he can get up and around a little.  But he’s on restrictions until his body heals and his head no longer hurts.”

“Thank you.  At least that’s one relief,” Ben settled back into the chair.

“Ben, go get a meal at Daisy’s and then get a room at the International House.  You look horrible.”

“I feel horrible.  But I need to…”

“You need to take care of yourself,” Paul interrupted.  “Lorelei should be here soon to keep an eye on Hoss so we can both get some sleep.  I promise, she or I will send someone for you should Hoss wake.  Okay?”

*****

Begrudgingly Ben stepped from the clinic and nearly ran into Roy Coffee.

“Ben!  I’m surprised you’re in town considering the shape Joe was in last night.”

“Why wouldn’t I be here in town!” defended Ben.

“Just know how you are about that young pup of yours,” jested Roy. 

“Well, I do have more than one son.  And right now, I don’t care for your attitude.  Hoss is fighting for his life!”  Ben pushed past his long-time friend.

“Sorry about Ben,” Paul Martin offered the lawman, having stepped to the boardwalk and overheard the conversation.  “He’s having a hard time about Hoss.”

“What about Hoss?”

“You don’t know?”

“Now how should I know?  I led a posse out of here and only returned to town a few hours ago to get some sleep.”

“Hoss was in the bank.  He saved Margaret Devlin’s life, but…”

“Ben said…”

Paul nodded and explained the facts.

“Damn,” Roy watched Ben enter Daisy’s café.

*****

Waiting for the pain medication to take him to oblivion, Joe thought back to his day in town.  The horse wasn’t one Joe would have chosen, but it was the only one remaining in the livery.  Its dull coat gave anyone looking at it the wrong impression, that it was compliant.  He’d seen the look in the horse’s eyes, it wasn’t scared or wary, it was looking for a way out.  Yet it was the only horse available if he were to ride with the posse. 

*****

Reining the horse in and keeping him beside Roy’s mount took sheer tenacity on Joe’s part as they rode from town.  Once they were beyond the city limits, Joe had enough.  He realized that in the two weeks since its previous owner had been killed for stupidly calling out ‘cheat’ to a professional gambler, the horse had probably not had any opportunity for a run.

“Need to wear him down a little Roy, I’ll be right back.”

As the rest of the posse loped their horses in the direction the outlaws took, Joe stood slightly in the stirrups and gave the horse its head, guiding it in a large sweeping arc away from the trail the posse followed so as to not disturb any tracks.  With legs blurring, the gelding exploded forward with pent up energy as its stride lengthened and quickened.  Fifteen minutes later, with flanks heaving, the horse finally gave into Joe’s request to rein in.  He rode back to rejoin the posse as they turned off the Virginia City Road.

*****

Jacob Branson a cowboy working for the Bar None ranch had stepped from his mount and surveyed the tracks that lead up to and away from the stream. He looked up as a shadow crossed over.

“Joe, I’m not sure.  What do you think?”

“Wish we’d waited for Hoss.  He’s good a reading tracks.”

“I heard Hoss say he thought you were almost as good as him,” Jacob encouraged.

“Thinking and being, are two different matters.”

“Give it a shot.  See what you think and we’ll compare.”

Ten minutes later the posse followed the trail the two men pointed out, winding their way through a broad stand of trees.  After clearing the woods, Joe and Jacob once more found themselves on foot as they scoured the ground and found the distinct hoof prints that advised them they were still on the right track.  

Joe returned to where the posse waited; his mount giving the man who held him a difficult time.  Grabbing the reins and swinging into the saddle, Joe whirled the horse round in a circle in an effort to indicate that its actions were not acceptable.  By the time he felt he had the horse under control again, the posse was a quarter mile ahead of him as he raced to catch up.

Shadows from the hills on their left flank lengthened across the range as the air temperature dropped; Joe’s mount grew rank once more.  It fought the fact that Joe was deliberately keeping him to the rear of the posse.

Joe should have reacted a moment sooner than he did to the sun glinting off something off to the side of the group, up in the hills.  With a blaring scream, the horse grabbed the bit between its teeth and with flared nostrils, it bolted forward; bodily pushing the horses immediately in front of it aside.  Had this been the Founder’s Day Race, Joe would have thrilled once more at the power.  The horse refused to obey his commands; he tried hard to make the animal zig-zag erratically as shots struck the ground in front of them.

Without warning, the horse reared before its front hooves crashed to the ground, spinning, it fell to the left; giving Little Joe little time to react.  “NO!!” was his only thought before darkness descended.

*****

“NO!!” Joe screamed, bolting upright in his bed.  His right arm flailed around in an effort to save himself from the fall, while struggling against the restraining bandages binding his left arm to his torso.

Startled from his nap, Adam slipped to the bed and attempted to rouse his brother from his dream.  “Come on Joe, you’re safe.  You’re home.”  Adam encouraged and gently slapped his brother’s cheeks.  Awareness slowly returned; his brother’s frantic movements quieted.

“You okay, now?”

“It was so real…”

“Want to talk about it?”

Struggling with the images and his memories, Joe recounted his dream, just before everything went black and he woke up at the Ponderosa. 

“Can’t tell you why it bolted, other than the fact that you and I both know that horse should have been destroyed weeks ago.” Adam stated when Joe stopped talking, “But I think I can tell you why it reared and then went down; still it got up and ambled away.”  Joe reached for Adam’s arm.  “Roy said one of the men found the horse; with a bullet through its chest.”

“I thought I saw a glint up in the hills… the sun was setting, just the perfect angle for an ambush.”

“Are you alright now?”

“Yeah, I guess.  Sorry, Adam…  I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“Are you hungry?  I can ask Hop Sing to bring up a cup of soup.”

“No, not now.”  Joe cringed at the thought of eating.  Worry over Hoss turned his stomach.

“Nauseous?”

“Some, I just want to sleep.”

“Okay, just lie back down.”  Watching Joe pull the blanket over his shoulder, Adam mused, ‘Must have been one hell of a nightmare little brother to break you out of Doc Martin’s drugs.’

Before leaving the room, Adam waited until his brother’s breathing evened out indicating he was once again in deep slumber.  Boredom and worry plagued the eldest son, leaving him to wonder how his other brother was fairing.  Leaving his brother alone, he picked up his coffee cup and saucer and headed downstairs to brood.

“Fatha send word when things change,” Hop Sing quietly offered as Adam stood contemplatively in front of the long cold fireplace; the great room began to warm by the sun hitting the roof of their home.

“I know.  I’m just not good at waiting.  I want to get those… men and crucify them for the harm they’ve inflicted.”

“Understandable.  Heart pull in different directions, with no certainty as to outcome.”

“No certainty… that’s an understatement.  I can’t lose him, I can’t lose either of them.”

“Then pray, pray to your Heavenly Father.”

“I’m a pragmatist, do you really think…”

Hop Sing interrupted, “Won’t know unless try.  Won’t know unless do.  Still, ours is not to understand, only accept.  He knows us better than we know us.”

“Thank you, my friend.”

“Very welcome.”

*****

Adam returned upstairs to his chair and his book.  To an outsider, one would think he was deep in thought over the book in his lap, but Hop Sing knew this son.  He was deep in thought, but it had nothing to do with reading or praying.

Seeing his brother become restless, Adam sat forward and wondered what images were disturbing the sleep the boy so needed in order to heal.

*****

Night fell one more time before Joe naturally woke.  In silence, Adam set the volume aside and slipped to the bed as Joe began to move assertively under the covers; a sure sign the drug had worked its way completely out of his system.

“No!  Hoss!” he called out, rousing closer to consciousness.

“Take it easy, Joe,” Adam comforted, avoiding his brother’s injured arm.

“Adam, NO!” Joe sat bolt upright.  Blinking rapidly, lungs heaving for breath, Joe looked around. 

After stabilizing his brother, Adam handed a glass of plain water to Joe, who scowled at him.

“It’s only water.”

Sipping his fill, Joe offered, “Thanks.” 

“Feeling better?”

“Yeah.”

Adam didn’t have to ask, but he did anyway, “Care to talk about your dreams?”

Joe shook his head, before saying, “The same one,” and looked away.  Finally, he asked, “Any word on Hoss?”

Adam returned to the stand with the water pitcher and basin.  “No.  I’m sure Pa would have sent word had Hoss regained consciousness or…”

“I’m so sorry.”

“What for?” Adam turned at his brother’s voice.

“I didn’t know he’d been shot.  Honestly Adam, you have to believe me. I didn’t know he’d been shot when Roy asked me to ride.”

“It’s okay kid.  I probably would have done the same in your shoes.”  Adam returned to the bed.

“Did they catch any of the robbers?”

“No.  Before the posse left, Roy left word with Charlie.  The only one captured was the one you shot in town.”

“Did he say anything?  Could he tell Roy who the others were?”

“No.  He couldn’t.”

Struggling to sit up, Joe ignored his pain, “Couldn’t or wouldn’t?  You’ve got a way with words, Adam.  I’m sure Roy would let you en… entero…” Joe’s breath came fast again; he had to know who was responsible.

“Interrogate,” Adam offered and tartly shook his head no.  “He’s dead Joe.  Your bullet silenced the only lead we might have had.”

Sinking back against the pillows piled around him, the youngest Cartwright furrowed his brow; the news kept getting worse.  Tears threatened to fall.  He sensed there was more, but Adam wasn’t saying anything. 

Thinking back, he thought how could things have gone so horribly wrong after the two brothers arrived in town for supplies?  They had bantered back and forth in good humor.  Things had been going so well.  But now…   Joe stared at Adam…  There was something about Adam…

“Are you crazy?” Adam responded when Joe grunted after throwing back the covers and swinging his legs from his bed.

“He’s my brother too!” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I can see it in your eyes, Adam.  You’re mad you weren’t in town when Hoss was shot.  You think you could have done better than me!  And now, because of me, the posse had to turn back from trailing those bastards and the one we had is dead.”

“That couldn’t be helped,” Adam interrupted.

“I rode with Roy because he asked.  I didn’t know!  And now… Now you’re mad that you had to leave Hoss to come home and take care of me.  You’re mad at me because you’re forced to do nothing more than sit here.”

“I’m not mad at you Joe… I’m… I’m pissed that those outlaws put both of my brothers in harm’s way.  They need to be brought to justice,” announced Adam.

Staring again and realizing his error, Adam wasn’t mad at him. “You’re heading out, aren’t you?”

“Yes, I’m leaving as soon as it’s daylight.  Just needed to make sure you were alright. Hop Sing will look after you until Pa gets home.  I wrote Pa a note.” Keeping his emotions tightly reined in while standing at the foot of the bed and crossing his arms, Adam watched with amusement that he didn’t find amusing when his brother struggled to his feet.

“I’m going with you.”  Joe’s voice was dead serious and reflected pain.   His body leaned precariously as a well-muscled, but weak good arm wrapped around the bedpost, using it as an anchor while attempting to stand in front of his oldest brother.

“And how far do you think you’ll get?  You can’t even stand straight from that knock on the head.” Sarcasm hid fear.  Adam tried to prevent his youngest brother from doing something stupid.  “How can you expect to ride in your condition?”

“If you’re going, I’m going too.  Don’t worry about me, this time I’ll have Cochise.”  Joe fought for balance as Adam pushed him back to bed.

“You’ll only slow me down.”

“Slow and steady is better than fast and furious.”  Joe winced.  “You go out there like you’re feeling…and… and… you’re bound to miss the signs.”  Joe’s voice increased in volume and pitch as he struggled against his brother.  “Let go of me, I’m going!”

“What about your shoulder and your arm?  How do you expect to saddle your horse with those ribs?”

“I’ll manage,” Joe argued.

“Yeah, you’ll manage.  Face it kid, you can’t ride, not in your condition.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Joe pushed away his brother’s interference.

“Why?!” Adam expressed his exasperation by throwing his hands up in the air and turning to go stare out the bedroom window.  He recognized that he needed to rein in his emotions and once back in control… he turned around and stated, “Just tell me why you’re so damn determined to go with me.”

“Because I remember Vannie Johnson.(The Hanging Posse)”

Adam sobered. 

“I had a dream.”  He remembered the posse that he and Adam had rode with several months before.  His nightmare had changed, this time Adam rode as a one-man lynching party; and for him to be legally hanged afterwards for lynching the outlaws.

“Vannie…  Mrs. Johnson,” Adam struggled to understand the connection.

“Her husband and those others were out to find the men who killed her…  They would have hanged them.”

“I’m not going out to hang those men.” Adam answered adamantly.

“Oh, come on Adam!  They’ve possibly killed Hoss.  Regardless how, you want them dead!” Joe knew he was fighting more than one losing battle; his little excursion getting up from bed had sapped his strength and he knew he was in no condition to ride, yet he had to stop his brother. 

“And what’s wrong with that?!” Adam yelled in response to Joe’s breaking through his defenses.

“Because he’s not dead!  Not yet…  And God… even if he does die…” Joe’s good arm desperately reached for his brother.  “Adam, you told me, justice has to be served, by the law.  You go out there now, like you’re feeling…  I want them dead or behind bars just as much as you do, but not like this.  Please, Adam…  I can’t risk losing you, too.  Please, leave it to Roy.”

The eldest Cartwright son looked in shock at his little brother who he helped collapse gently to his bed.  Adam gave serious consideration to the words spoken.  A brief moment passed before Joe’s eyelids slipped lower and lower to finally closing as his body tilted backwards to the right, almost off the end of the bed.

“Out of the mouths of babes…” mused Adam as he carefully worked to reposition Joe to lying fully on the bed.

Mumbling, “Ain’t no… babe,”  Joe’s breathing evened out as exhaustion claimed him.

*****

A fourth night began to pass with Ben barely eating any of the food Mrs. Miller brought over from Daisy’s cafe.  All his waking time was spent wiping away the perspiration from the fever that had taken hold of his middle son, and seeing that every hour water or chicken broth was slipped to his son’s lips took most of his attention.  Bloodshot eyes with dark shadows underneath and several days’ worth of whisker growth marred the face that earnestly prayed for God to spare his son’s life.

Having not given any consideration to his own needs except the bare basics, Ben’s body began to rebel and take matters into its own; slowly his eyes closed as sleep deprivation took its toll.  

*****

Paul Martin entered his patient’s room to see rivulets of perspiration streaming down Hoss’s face with pale blue eyes appearing between slits of waking eyelids.  A mouth parted, allowing a tongue to push out in an effort to moisten dried lips.  Quickly Paul walked to his patient and lifted his head from the pillow and offered a sip of water from the glass he’d retrieved from the side table.

“Just a little right now, Hoss,” Paul whispered.  “I’ll give you more in a few minutes if you can keep that down.”

“Hurt,” Hoss breathily replied.

“I know you do.  Your father will be happy to see that you’re awake.”

“Pa’s… here?”

“He’s sleeping, first time he’s really slept since he arrived.”

“Thirsty…”

“Okay, just a little more.  And slowly.”

Paul lifted the glass and was happy that Hoss was slowly drinking the liquid; indicating he was lucid enough to understand and follow the doctor’s instructions.

Nodding, Hoss indicated he’d had enough.  Paul lowered his head back to the pillows and set the glass aside.

“Better?”

“Yeah,” Hoss answered with a little more voice.  “Hurt.”

“You will for a while yet.”

“Paul?” Ben asked, eyes still closed in sleep.

“Someone’s been waiting to see you, sleepyhead,” Paul looked across his patient and saw Ben sitting stiffly forward in the chair.

“Hey Pa…”

“Hoss.”  A large smile spontaneously appeared.

“Doc said you was sleepin’.”

“Yeah, I guess I was.  How are you feeling, son?” Ben slipped from the chair to the side of the bed, placing his palm to his son’s forehead.

“Hurt some.”

“I told him he would, but now that I know how cognizant he is of things, I don’t think it would hurt to give him some laudanum to ease the pain,” Paul stated.

Hoss whispered, “Sorry ‘bout the supplies.”

“Don’t worry about that.  You focus on getting better,” Ben encouraged.

“And to do that, you’ll need to sleep.  Here drink some more of this,” Paul offered Hoss a glass of water laced with pain medication.

“Nice an’ cool.  Good.”  Hoss yawned.  “Think… I’m gonna sleep.”

“You do that son.”

Ben breathed a huge sigh of relief that his son was going to make it.

“Come with me, Ben.  He’ll sleep for a few hours.  We need to talk.”

Sitting down in the doctor’s office, Paul watched as Ben stiffly lowered himself to one of the chairs.  Realizing the man was as comfortable as he could be… Doc began, “Ben, Hoss is going to have a long road ahead of him in order to recover.”

“But he’s going to recover.”

“Yes, I’m more confident that he’ll recover than I was even yesterday, but I want to keep him here for at least another week to evaluate his progress and to make sure he doesn’t pull any stitches.  The Ponderosa is too far away for me to travel in case anything happens.”

“You’ve never had trouble coming out before.”

“Never have any of your sons come so close to dying.  Ben,” sitting behind his desk, forearms resting on top with his fingers interlaced, Paul breathed deeply and exhaled, “the bullet lodged precariously close to his heart and nicked a lung.  On top of all that… was the damage I inflicted while removing the bullet and all the blood he lost…  He’s going to be extremely weak and vulnerable to infections.  I’ll think about letting him go home once I remove his stitches, but not until then.”

“But a week…”

“At least a week,” corrected Paul.  “Ben, your son has regained consciousness, now why don’t you go to the hotel and get a room.  Order a hot bath, a shave, and a meal.  And then go to sleep, in a bed.”

Ben glared.

“Doctor’s orders.  Hoss will sleep at least until sometime this afternoon.  Should he wake, I’ll send word.  Besides, you need to arrange to get a message to Adam and Joe that Hoss is going to be okay.”

Ben accepted the physician’s instructions and after checking to make sure Hoss was truly asleep, he left to take care of business.

*****

Having heard no word from town since he woke in his own bed and found Adam at his bedside several days before, Joe continued to stay in his room and fret about his actions.  Foremost on his mind was how Hoss would feel about the fact that he had ridden out of town without making sure his brother was alright.  Having stopped Adam from riding out to seek revenge didn’t ease his own guilt towards leaving his other brother.  

*****

“You ready to get out of room?” Hop Sing inquired as he stripped Joe’s bed after watching Adam aid Joe in dressing for the day.

Joe’s response was a mumbled, “I guess.”

“Come on Joe, you’ve nothing to feel guilty about,” Adam answered, hoping to cheer up his brother; yet understanding exactly why the boy felt as he did.

Hot with temper, “You wouldn’t have ridden off without checking on Hoss first!” 

“Wouldn’t I have?” Helping Joe to his feet.  “As reckless as you said those mem were, I probably would have done exactly as you did, had Roy asked me to join the posse.”

Closing his eyes as the room slightly spun, “Still doesn’t make me feel better.”

“No, but I’m sure getting you out of your bedroom will help.”

“The only thing that will really make me feel better would be getting word from Pa that Hoss is alright.”

“You and me, both, little brother.  You and me, both.”  With a light touch, Adam stepped away from Joe and paused, “Doc has your knee and ankle wrapped well enough, but we’ll still take it easy going down the hallway and especially down the staircase.”

“Would have made a lot more sense to have left me in the downstairs bedroom when they brought me home, then I wouldn’t have to worry about the staircase.”

“Yeah, but you were unconscious at that time, and Roy had no idea that Hoss had been shot and that Pa and I would be in town.”

“’Sides, I tell them take you upstairs,” Hop Sing responded.  “I have coffee and cake when you settled downstairs,” and then exited the room with a wad of bedsheets in his arms.

*****

With his oldest brother hovering close by his side, in case his knees buckled, Joe slowly made his way down the staircase.  His vision blurred as they stopped on the mid-landing, he hadn’t counted on such a small effort causing him to want to go back to bed.

“Just a few more steps and then you can rest in Pa’s chair,” Adam encouraged as they reached the last step.

“I don’t think… I can.  How about the settee… if that’s okay.”

Nodding, Adam again supported his youngest sibling.

“Pa’s not here so you can prop your leg on the table.” 

“Uh… thanks.” Joe positioned his foot on the tabletop, with Adam placing a cushion underneath his heel.

Leaving his brother alone for a short while, Adam left the house to check in with their foreman.  A short while later he returned, heading straight for the alcove and Ben’s desk.  A few hours spent bringing the books up-to-date, and Adam had had enough.   Standing to stretch his back, Adam headed for his blue chair and a copy of the Territorial Enterprise that had been brought home by one of the men who had picked up the mail earlier in the week.  Joe sat with his eyes closed.  Sounds of Hop Sing in the kitchen, putting the finishing touches on their meal, sounded through the all too silent home.

“I’m sorry, Adam,” Joe quietly stated, having given Adam time to settle into his seat.

“Excuse me?” Adam answered, lowering the paper.

“I’m sorry about Hoss…”

“You’ve nothing to be sorry about, Joe,” Adam answered.  “You weren’t the one who shot him.”

“But if it weren’t for me…” Joe quieted, raised his head from the back of the settee and stared at Adam.

“He’ll be okay.  We just have to believe,” Adam sat forward on the settee.  “You want to talk?”

Joe shook his head, “No” as his tears began to fall.

“Oh Joe… Please, don’t do this to yourself.”  

Adam moved from his chair to the low table, not knowing how his brother would interpret his actions or if he was even welcome… Adam placed his hand on his brother’s uninjured knee and gave a gentle squeeze.

“We have to keep the faith, as a very wise man told me.  We’ll never know if we don’t try.”

The eldest son turned to look over his shoulder, sensing the presence of the man who had advised him so eloquently.

“What happens if he dies?” Joe whispered.

Trails of tears streamed down Joe’s face as hitching shoulders revealed his quiet sobs.

“Joe…  all I can say is that we’ll cross that bridge IF we come to it.  Right now, we have to believe.”

“Brothas need faith that fatha’s other son will come home.  Will take time to heal, with faith, all is possible.”

“Thank you, Hop Sing,” Adam offered.

Suppa ready,” Hop Sing announced, coming farther into the great room, his heart saddened to see the brothers so unhappy. 

“Come on Joe, let’s get you to the table,” Adam stood and held out his hand to assist his brother from the settee.

“I’m not hungry…”

Sounding gruff, Hop Sing offered, “Bones need food so they can heal.”  Gruff was his voice, but his eyes expressed his emotions.

Through the years, the caring Chinese man had been an extended member of the family and knew how emotions and worry tended to rob the youngest of his appetite.  He couldn’t help but wonder if the boy would have grown as large as his father and brothers had he not stopped eating after his mother had died.  Hop Sing remembered the weeks that led to almost two months where their father had disappeared in grief after having lost a third wife to death.  The youngest son had constantly cried for his mother and father; it took all Hop Sing knew in order to see that the boy ate something to keep him alive.  He had spoken with the Chinese elders as well as the honorable doctor to come up with a regimen that worked.  Even once the boy’s father returned, the child still didn’t eat enough to truly satisfy the cook, or his family.  And then Adam left, and it seemed the battle began all over again.

And now… it appeared that the cycle was ready to begin anew.  Smiling, Hop Sing felt triumphant at getting Joe to the table and hopefully to eat.

His dominant wrist and forearm encased in plaster, so with his right hand, Joe pushed his food around the plate more times than his fork made the trip to his mouth.  Hop Sing was somewhat pleased to see the boy at least drink his milk.  

“I get door,” Hop Sing announced as Adam began to rise in response to the pounding on the front door.

“Hop Sing,” asked the young man standing on the wooden porch, the other side of the open door.

“I Hop Sing.”

“I’ve a letter here for Mr. Adam.”

“Who’s there Hop Sing?”

“Boy from town, with letter.  Fatha’s handwriting.” Hop Sing answered as he took the envelope.

“Kenny, what are you doing out here so late?” Adam stepped from the dining room and saw the fifteen-year-old son of Virginia City’s telegrapher.

“Your Pa stopped by this morning and asked Pa to see that this message got out here.  Pa got busy with wires coming in and… sending wires for the sheriff…  There’s been a lot happening with them outlaws who robbed the bank and shot Mr. Hoss.  Mr. Adam, please don’t be mad that Pa forgot to send me out here with this message.  He was real busy and I was at school…”

“I’m not mad, at least not at you or your father.”

Adam pulled a few coins from his pocket and handed them to the boy before he accepted the letter from Hop Sing.

Joe had turned around in his chair and looked up from where he sat at the table to watch Adam open the envelope and pull out a sheet of paper.

“Adam?…. is it Hoss?” Joe gulped.

A smile came to Adam’s face as he perused the letter before he returned to the table and read it aloud.

*****

Adam and Joe,

I hope all is well at the Ponderosa.  Joe, I’m sorry that I am not able to be there for you.  However, I believe you understand and that you should know about Hoss.  Paul Martin has explained the severity of your brother’s injury and the need for constant monitoring during his recovery.  Yes, I did say recovery.  Hoss woke this morning, and two bluer eyes I’ve never been happier to see.  He was coherent and understood all we said before falling back asleep a short time later.

I trust the two of you are more than capable of watching over the Ponderosa and each other in my absence, as I am needed here until Paul says it is permissible to bring Hoss home.  

Your loving, Pa

*****

“What a relief,” Adam sighed.  “Hoss is going to be okay.”

“Yeah, but how long until he can come home?  How long before Pa comes back?”

“I don’t know, Pa didn’t say.  Do you want to go to town to visit Hoss and see Pa?” Adam inquired.

Adam knew that of all the brothers, Joe was the most tactile when it came to comforting.  He’d done his best during the early part of Joe’s recovery to be there, but now that he was out of any danger, Adam’s attention was focused on the ranch, now that they were down three men.

“Doc Martin wouldn’t be none too happy to see me in town,” Joe stated, pushing his half eaten plate of food away and standing to leave the table.  

“I’ll tell him I kidnapped you.  Besides, it would save him a trip out here.”

“Maybe another time.  Besides, Pa wants us to look after the Ponderosa, and we can’t do that traipsing into town.  Would you help me back upstairs?”

“Joe… Why don’t you spend some more time down here with me?  We can play some checkers.”  Adam had hoped that his sibling would take him up on his offer.  The past few days Joe had been uncharacteristically quiet in not demanding to get out of bed as he had any time he previously had been sick or injured.  The only reason Adam felt that his brother had joined him downstairs this night was because he had cajoled the youth.  “Maybe we can raid Pa’s brandy.”

Adam was positive he saw a slight gleam in Joe’s eyes before he answered, “Sure.”

“Maybe I can teach you some strategic moves so you won’t have to cheat to beat Hoss,” offered Adam.

“I don’t cheat!” Joe defended himself.

Mission accomplished.  “Come on.  I’ll set up the board.”

“How about poker instead,” Joe offered.

Several hours and two tumblers of brandy each, Joe was feeling better than he had since he rode out with the posse.

*****

Ben smiled once Hoss set the bowl that had contained a hearty beef stew back to the tray on his lap.  It was the first day that Hoss had reclaimed his appetite and willingly sat up in bed during the day.

“That shore was good,” Hoss quietly voiced and then wiped his mouth with a napkin.  “Do you think I could have some more?”

“I’ll see if Daisy has any more for you son.”  Ben took the tray from his son’s lap and set it on the bureau across the room.  “It’s good to see you eating so well…  Maybe Paul will let you come home soon.”

“Cain’t wait for that.  This bed ain’t nearly as nice as my bed at home.  Sides, I miss them two brothers of mine.  I’m surprised they’ve not been here… things can’t be that busy at home, can they?”

Ben knew this day was coming and dreaded informing Hoss about the events that transpired after the bank robbery.  He hoped he could keep his own emotions in check as he relayed the news.

“Joe can’t ride, and with the two of you laid up and me here… most all the work of running the ranch has fallen on Adam’s shoulders.  I’ve sent notes to the Ponderosa letting them know how you’re coming along,” Ben stated.

“Why can’t Joe ride?  He get bucked off a horse he was breakin’?”

“No… If only,” grumped Ben.  “Foolish boy rode with the posse.”

“What’s foolish about that?  We’ve all rode with Roy before…”

“He’s never rode a posse when there wasn’t you or Adam along.”

“Pa, he ain’t a little boy no more.  He did good when he and Adam rode with that posse earlier this year.  Don’t ya trust that Adam taught him right?”

Losing all his bluster, Ben exhaled and gave a brief laugh.  “When did you get to be so smart?”

“I had a good teacher Pa.” Hoss knew how much of a mama bear could be over his youngest.  “Joe’s gonna be alright, ain’t he?  What happened?”

“Paul said he’d be okay after a few weeks of taking it easy.  And I suggest that you lie back down under the covers and get some sleep too.  Paul said for you to take a nap once you’d finished eating.”

“Mr. Hoss takes naps too?” Elsie Haverty inquired as she pushed on the slightly opened door and peeked into the room.

“Elsie… you shouldn’t…” Ben began.

“Ah, Pa… Me and Elsie are good friends.”

“I brung Mr. Hoss some chocolate chip cookies I made with Mama’s help.  Doctor Martin said it would be alright for me to come here.  He said that Mr. Hoss could only eat them if he ate all his lunch.”

“My tray’s over there.  And the bowl is completely empty.”

Both Hoss and Ben grinned as Elsie lifted up onto her tiptoes to verify the dish was empty.

“You said chocolate chip cookies?” Hoss inquired.

“Uh huh.  Mama said you’d like them nice and gooey.”

Hoss rubbed the palms of his hands together in eager anticipation.

“You can have one too, Mr. Cartwright.  We made plenty.”

Elsie set the basket on the table beside the bed.

“Mama told me I shouldn’t stay too long.”

“You stay as long as you like, honey,” Hoss encouraged.

Elsie blushed slightly, “I wish I could, but like Mama tells me, it’s not proper for a young lady to be in a gentleman’s bedroom, even if his Pa is there.  So… I really should leave.  I just wanted to make sure you were getting better.”

“Your cookies will sure see to that.  Won’t they Pa,” Hoss slipped an entire cookie into his mouth and smiled at the delicious taste.  

Jake Haverty waited in the hallway for his daughter to finish delivering her cookies to the injured man.  The past ten days had been miserable at their household with their daughter crying and declaring she had to see Hoss, to make sure he was going to get well.  And the only way to do that was to deliver cookies to him.

After Elsie’s departure, Ben realized Hoss hadn’t forgotten his unanswered question, so taking a deep breath, Ben recounted all that he knew had happened to his youngest.

*****

It had been ten days since the robbery and all the events it spawned.  Adam usually dared not enter the kitchen of their home, but he was on a mission.  Joe’s bedroom door had been slightly ajar as he walked down the hallway.  He had hoped to greet his brother and help him start the day in a better frame of mind…  Inside, there were the obvious signs that his brother had spent the night in his bed; however, his youngest brother was nowhere to be seen. As he walked the staircase, he didn’t see his sibling downstairs, which left him the possibility of Joe being in the kitchen or maybe the wash house or outhouse.

“Good morning, Hop Sing,” Adam greeted.

“Good morning, Mr. Adam.  Breakfast not yet ready, will be soon.”

“That’s fine.” Adam glanced around the room and saw no sign of his youngest brother.  “I was looking for Joe… I’d hoped he’d be in here with you, maybe talking…”

“Joe no come downstairs to talk.  He up in bed.”

“No, he’s not.  Maybe he’s in the wash house?”

“No, brother not in wash house.  No hot water ready for bath.”

“That’s strange…” Adam responded, crossing his arms and leaning against the butcher block table that stood central to the room.

“Maybe go outside?  Brother miss family, miss horse.  Maybe brotha see horse, sooth sorrows.”

“You feel it too?”

“Brotha upset, not Lit’le Joe.”

“No, he sure wasn’t himself last night, hasn’t been since he found out about Hoss.”  Standing straight to leave, Adam stated, “I’ll check to see if you’re right, maybe Joe went out to see Cochise and Chubbs.”

“Me no hear horse, so he no leave.”

“That’s a small blessing.  We’ll be back in a few minutes.”

The Oriental nodded his head and continued to prepare breakfast for the brothers.

*****

Thumping sounds emanating from the barn encouraged Adam to jog across the dirt yard.

“Joe!”  Entering through the open doors, the pile of hay bales having tumbled haphazardly on the ground from the hayloft alarmed the eldest brother.  “JOE!” Adam ran to the stack, fearful of what he might find.

“Up here,” Joe responded while looking over the edge of the hayloft.

Looking up, Adam’s words were sharp, mimicking his rapidly beating heart.  “What do you think you’re doing?!”

“Throwing down hay.  What does it look like I’m doing?” Joe retorted, walking over to the ladder.

“Joe, your wrist, what about your shoulder and leg!”

“I’m fine Adam.” Stepping to the ground Joe turned and elevated his casted arm.  “See, I’m being a good boy, I’m using the sling.”  His walk still revealed a slight limp.

Striding to his brother, Adam failed in his attempt to rein in his temper, “Are trying to kill yourself?!  What do you think you were doing climbing up there, and then down again when you only have one good arm and your knee isn’t one hundred percent?!”

“Someone has to do the job Adam.  I know I can’t ride, but you’ve enough to do out on the range without worrying about simple chores.  I can take care of the horses and all, and maybe help with the books.”

“Joe…” Adam was flummoxed; he hadn’t expected the rational response from the youngest member of the family.  Inhaling deeply and letting it out slowly, he continued, “You should be taking it easy.  I appreciate the offer, but even without a cast on your arm, your writing is hardly decipherable, I can’t imagine you writing right-handed.”

“I try my best, Adam.”  Joe attempted to hide his hurt.  He knew that his writing wasn’t the best in the world, his left-handedness had a direct bearing on its lack of neatness.

Adam’s fear of his brother injuring himself clouded over his ability to hear Joe’s hurt.  “I can’t believe you’d take such a risk.  Working by yourself out here… Joe if you’d fallen from the hayloft or lost your balance on the ladder… Pa would kill me for putting you in such a situation.”

“You didn’t put me, anything.  I did,” argued Joe.

“I know you did, but until Pa gets home, you’re my responsibility.”

“I’m not your responsibility!” Joe turned to leave.

Stepping forward, Adam’s hand came to stop Joe, feeling an extremely tense shoulder.

“Joe, I promised Pa I’d take care of you.  You’re the only ‘little’ brother I have.  I don’t want to see you get hurt again.  It’s bad enough about Hoss, I can’t lose you too.”

Understanding his brother’s words, “I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to lose my temper.  I just wanted to help.”  Joe looked to his feet as Adam released him.

“I know you did.  You just scared me.”

“Adam?”  Hesitating to look his brother in the eye, he tilted his head as he had so many times as a small child, “Is your offer to kidnap me still valid?”

“Right after breakfast.  And you,” a smiling Adam poked his brother in the chest, “can help me harness the horses.  If you can toss down hay, you can help to hitch the team.”

Joe smiled as the brothers walked from the barn, one with a rather noticeable limp.

*****

Adam reined the team to a halt in front of Paul Martin’ clinic, both brothers let out a heavy sigh.  

“How do you think he is?”

“Pa’s notes said he’s been improving.” Tying the reins around the footboard railing, “Won’t know until we go see him.  You ready?”

Joe nodded.

“You want help getting down?”

“Yeah, especially if Doc Martin is waiting in there.  You know he’ll be watching.”

Guiding Joe carefully down from the buggy and across the boardwalk, Adam removed his hat as he pushed the door open.

“We moved him to a back room before I left town,” Adam announced.  “Follow me.”

Joe’s eyes brightened at hearing his middle brother’s laughter.  Knocking on the doorframe, they waited to be acknowledged.

“Adam! Joseph!”  Ben hurried to his sons.  “It’s good to see you.”  He gave his youngest a fierce hug before pushing and holding him to arm’s length, and taking a critical look.

“Adam’s been taking good care of me.  Almost as good as you, Pa.”

“I’m glad to hear that.  But what are you doing here?” Ben inquired.  “Is everything okay at the ranch?”  He looked between both of his sons.

“Adam kidnapped me.”  Joe beamed.

“I’m glad he did.”  Ben looked to his eldest, unspoken words of understanding passed between the two.  “I’m glad you’re both here.  You can both help keep an eye on Hoss.”

Ben escorted his sons to where Hoss sat up in bed.

“Adam.  Hey Shortshanks!  Pa said ya went and got busted up.  Why can’t you keep out of trouble?”

“Least I didn’t go and get myself shot!” Joe retorted.

“Yeah, well. . . I hadn’t planned on it.”

“I know Mitch’s gonna be thankful you didn’t think too hard,” Joe responded.  He hoped Hoss understood his reference to keeping Mrs. Devlin safe.

“Na, I leave all the thinkin’ ta Adam.”  Reaching for a cooking tray on the table. “Ya want one?”

“How’re you feeling?” Adam asked.

“Oh, I feel alright.  Hurts every now and then if’n I move funny.”

“When’re they gonna spring you?” Joe asked.

“Joseph, Hoss’ll be here a few more days before Paul will release him to come home.”

Having taken a good look at his brother, Adam answered, “He looks fine to me Pa.”

“He’s looking good, but he’s going to have a lot of physical therapy when he gets home.”

“What for?” Joe inquired.

“Complications from the surgery and blood loss,” answered Ben.

“Yeah, cain’t walk at all.”

“You’re paralyzed?” worried Adam.

“Na, I can feel and move my feet and legs, they just don’t know how to listen to what I tell ‘em to do.”

“That, and you still have broken ribs.”

“How’d he break his ribs?” Joe asked.

Ben answered, “Paul did it while operating to get the bullet out.”

‘Oh’, Joe mouthed.

“But I’m getting’ better every day, especially with Miss Elsie bringin’ me cookies.”

“I thought she was Joe’s girl,” teased Adam.

“She was,” Ben laughed, the first real laugh he’d had in over a week.  “I think her heart now belongs to Hoss.”

“She’s been bringing me a platter of cookies several times each day.  Chocolate chip, sugar cookies, peanut butter cookies.”

“Hop Sing’s going to be jealous,” Adam warmly retorted.  “Pa, since I brought Joe to town, I thought Paul could take a look at him too, make sure his shoulder’s healed and possibly his knee.”

“He’ll be back in a few hours.  He’s delivering Madilyne Crawford’s baby.”

“Pa, I need to step out,” Adam advised.

“Oh?”

Feeling honesty was the best answer, “I want to stop by and talk to Roy.”

“You’re gonna leave it to the law, right?” Joe inquired.  “You said…”

Nodding, Adam stated, “I’ll keep my word Joe.  I’ll be back soon.  Maybe stop by the diner and order dinner to be delivered.”

*****

Stepping up to the boardwalk, Adam looked around before opening the door to Roy’s office.

Looking up from a stack of wanted posters, “Adam?  How’re ya doing?

Removing his hat, “Hanging in there.”

Shuffling the papers on their end and placing them in a desk drawer, “How’s Joe?”

“I brought him to town, thought it about time he saw Hoss, and for Paul to give Joe a once over, too,” Adam replied, taking a seat in one of the chairs in front of Roy’s desk.

“And for your Pa too, no doubt.”

“No doubt.”

“I take it this isn’t a social call.”

“That why you hid those wanted posters?”

Slowly shaking his head, “Now Adam, I know you ain’t one to go vigilante on me,” Roy remembered the posse after Vannie Johnson’s killers.

“No, I’ve too much to do on the Ponderosa, what with Joe laid up, Pa spending all his time with Hoss, not to mention everything that’ll need done in order for Hoss to come home and all the time it will take him to recover.  I really wanted to go after them.  But Joe…”

“Joe what?”

“He was bound and determined to go with me if I did.”  Shaking his own head, “Fool kid.”

“He weren’t that much a fool kid on the last posse he rode with.”

“No, but I couldn’t risk him.  I couldn’t put Pa through that.”

Rubbing a finger back and forth under his nose to scratch it, “You sure do have a lot on your plate, glad I don’t have to worry about you taking off after those thieves.”

“Is there any word on who they are or where they came from?”

Inhaling and rapidly exhaling, Roy looked down at his hands, clasped together on top of his desk.

“We think we’ve a lead with the one Joe killed.  He was a small-time hoodlum, but bragged about joining up with a couple of real desperadoes to a saloon gal over in Placerville.  Seems they might be brothers or possibly cousins that have run afoul of the law from down in Arizona all the way to here.”  Deciding to gather the wanted poster he’d been looking at before Adam arrived.  Pulling it from his desk drawer, Roy handed it over.  “They ain’t killed anyone, yet.  But like Hoss, they’ve left plenty of carnage everywhere they’ve been.”

Carefully taking the sheet, Adam’s hands shook as he looked at the men who’d caused so much heartache for his family.  “Rudyard ‘Rudy’ Donner and Jebediah ‘Jeb’ Brandt.  At least from these drawings they look a lot alike.  Half-brothers or cousins, or just two men who look a lot alike.”

“I have your word, Adam?”

“Yeah Roy, I couldn’t leave now even if I wanted to track them down.  Who knows where they headed after leaving Virginia City.”

*****

A week later, Adam and Joe looked up from where they sat at the dining room table as the front door opened.  Moments later, having divested himself of his hat and gun belt, a weary Ben stepped around the corner.

Adam was the first to see and eagerly greet their father, “Welcome home Pa.  How’s Hoss?”

“Paul said he can come home this afternoon.”

“That’s great!  That’s real good news to hear,” Adam answered.

“I’ll be right back after I wash up a little bit,” Ben announced.

“I’ll help Hop Sing set a plate for you Pa.”

“Thank you, Little Joe.”

*****

Hop Sing set the last of the food dishes to the table while the brothers listened to their father’s good, yet somber news of the past week surrounding Hoss’ ordeal.  He went on to reveal the hurdles that Hoss would face after his return home as he tried to fully recover from the bullet wound that almost took his life.  

The conversation waned as hunger forced its attention to filling their plates, and stomachs.  Spoons scraped the bottom of serving bowls and clinked on the plates as the dishes were passed around.  Taking a steak from the platter, Ben passed the plate on to Adam.

“You want some help there, Joe?” Adam asked, knowing he might be rebuffed, it varied from meal to meal with Joe.   

“Please.”  Joe gave up awkwardly trying to transfer the corn from the dish to his plate right-handed.  He sat back and watched his brother placed food to his plate, as well as begin to cut his steak into bite-size pieces.

“I for one am anxious to have Hoss home,” Adam stated a little while later as he set his coffee cup to its saucer.

“He won’t be able to work any time soon.  Paul stated at least two more weeks of bed rest before he can even think of coming downstairs.  As I said earlier, there will be plenty of what Paul described as physical therapy to get him back on his feet.  Besides, he had a rough day of it today, Paul and I worked to get him to his feet; he could barely stand.”

“Two weeks flat on your back is bound to have that effect on a man Hoss’ size,” Adam offered.  “On top of the injury and surgery…”

“If Hoss had been any smaller a man…” Ben let the remainder of his thought die on his lips, not wanting to voice Paul’s comments that had it been Joe and not Hoss in the bank, Joe would have been killed.

“Why don’t we put him in the guestroom down here?  He’d be closer to the family when we eat and the hours that we’re home,” suggested Joe.  “Be easier for Hop Sing to help care for him.”

Hesitating in raising his coffee cut to his lips, “Thank you Joseph.  I can’t imagine why I didn’t think of that.”

“You’ve had a lot on your plate, Pa,” Adam answered.  “I think it’s a great idea too.  Sorry I didn’t think about it either.  Could have already had the room set up for Hoss.”

Ben offered ‘thanks’ as Hop Sing refilled his coffee cup.

“Helping Hoss no extra work, I get room ready while family bring Mista Hoss home.” Hop Sing stood to the side of his employer with the coffee pot.  “Have good dinner ready for when boy come home.”

“Your efforts will be greatly appreciated, and I’m sure Hoss will appreciate all your culinary skills, Hop Sing,” Ben rejoined.

The small Oriental man smiled, returning to his kitchen.

“Pa, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll work with Charlie to bed down the back of the wagon to make it more comfortable for Hoss’ ride home,” Adam offered.

“I’m sure your brother will appreciate your thoughtfulness,” Ben continued with his eating, happy to know that his middle son would soon be home.

“Can’t wait to be released back to working,” Joe grumped.  “I’d be a lot more help around the Ponderosa if I hadn’t taken that hammerhead out.”

“Joe, it wasn’t all the horse’s fault.  Didn’t Adam tell you that the horse was shot?  At what point it happened, no one knows.  But when they found him, there was a bullet hole in his chest.”

Dropping his fork, Joe gulped for air.  “I thought I remembered shots being fired, but figured it might have been a dream.”

“You did what you felt you had to do, and I can’t fault you for that.”  Reaching over to place a large hand over his son’s smaller one, “And Paul would like to see you this afternoon.  Hopefully he’ll release you to being able to do more work after examining your leg and ribs.”

“Great, another doctor appointment.”

*****

Even though the back of the wagon was empty except for all the bedding Adam and their foreman had loaded, Ben carefully guided the team of horses to prevent jarring the young man who sat on the seat next to him.  It had been wonderful to greet both his sons at the lunch table and discuss their upcoming trip to town and finalize the plans for relocating Hoss’ bedroom downstairs.  

Joe sulked when Ben advised him that he was expected to present himself for a thorough examination by Paul Martin before returning to activities he could do one handed.  They’d only been on the road for a little while before Joe realized he couldn’t keep up the pretense of being angry at having to submit to another examination.  Bursting out laughing, it was good to have his father by his side, and he’d soon be released to help Adam, and knowing that Hoss would soon be home made it all the better.

Every now and then, Adam turned in the saddle to look back to his family when he was forced to ride in front of the wagon, or Joe would turn in the seat when Adam chose to move Sport to the rear.  Most of the time he was able to converse while riding next to his family, alternating sides as the road narrowed and widened along their journey.  

*****

Ben halted the horses and wrapped the long reins around the brake handle before he offered a helping hand to guide his son down from the seat; only stepping back once Joe’s feet were firmly on the ground.

“Boys…”

“Yeah, Pa?” they both answered.

“Don’t be too shocked at Hoss’ condition.  He’s getting better, but it’s all taking a toll on him.”  Ben knew of no other way to make his request.  They had talked during the trip of how difficult things were for Hoss, his weakness caused by the injury, blood loss, and the surgery.

Joe answered, “I’ll try Pa.  I’ll try,” to Adam’s nod of his head.

Ben nodded and allowed his youngest son to walk in front of him into the physician’s clinic.

“Joe,” Paul warily greeted his most favorite patient, until he heard, “Pa drove.”

“How’re you doing?  No trouble with your previous unauthorized trip to town?”

“Hey, I was kidnapped!”  Joe looked to Adam as he removed his own hat.  “Sides, I’m ready to get back to work…”

“Only those you can do one-handed, and with Paul’s blessing,” warned Ben.

“You know the drill, come into my examination room and hop up on the table.”

“Can’t I see Hoss first?”

“He’s a little indisposed right now.”

Ben grew alarmed at the doctor’s words.

“Nothing to be alarmed about, Ben.  It’s just taking him longer to address his personal hygiene… shaving.  He insisted on trying to take care of it himself before you arrived.”

Joe entered the examination room and allowed Paul to poke and prod his ribs, and bend and twist his shoulder, knee, and ankle.  Without raising his head, the physician cast his eyes to look surreptitiously at the wearer of the dirty cast.

“I tried to keep it clean,” Joe sheepishly offered.

“You would have been more successful had you stayed indoors.”

“But Adam…  I couldn’t…” Joe sighed.

“I understand.  The good news is… that whatever you’ve been doing hasn’t damaged the cast.  And from the healthy appearance of the tips of your fingertips, you’ve not jarred the bones out of alignment.”

Joe happily smiled.

“Now, tell me truthfully… any headaches?”

“Only last night…” Joe admitted after looking up to see his father standing in the doorway.

“How long did it last?  Did you take any of the headache powders I left when I was out last?” Paul inquired.

“It wasn’t that kind of a headache.  It went away once I talked with Adam.  We’re good now.”

“Oh,” Paul stated as he understood the implications behind the words.  “Okay, Ben.  This one is now on light duty, until the cast comes off.  And you, young man, you’ll be ‘happy’ to know that there are still a few restrictions…”

“I promise, I haven’t tried riding or anything.”

“I think you can ride lightly, just no roping or breaking horses.  There’s also still the restriction against chopping wood.”

Joe began cackling at hearing Adam’s half-hearted groan.  “Adam, you can always have one of the hands chop kindling for Hop Sing.  You don’t have to do it all on your own.”

“Another excellent idea, son.  Isn’t it Adam?”

Humbly accepting that there were other options than for him to do it all, Adam stood there, slowly shaking his head from side to side.

“Paul?” Mrs. Miller entered the room.  “Hoss is ready to see his family.”

*****

Joe entered the room, full of good-natured bantering.  “What do you mean telling us we couldn’t come in until you were presentable?  Have you forgotten who we are?”

“Joe…” Ben’s voice held a hint of warning.

“Pa,” looking from his father to his big brother, “this big galoot forgets that we’ve seen him after spending days and weeks on end on a cattle drive.  We know how bad he can look.”

“Oh, little brother,” Hoss grumbled, “I don’t think I’m ready ta go home…”

“But we came all this way?” Joe protested, crestfallen that maybe Hoss wasn’t going to be able return home.

“I can’t do it… not if’n yor gonna make me laugh like this.”  Hoss grabbed his chest, a smile breaking forth, and Ben realized it was genuine as the large man’s eyes brightened.

*****

Not that it would happen any other way, but Spring turned to Summer.  From what I later learned, those Cartwright boys recovered well enough to finally return to working on their land by Fall; the youngest faster than the middle one.  

*******

Adam originally wasn’t thrilled to learn that he would need to travel so far to negotiate a cattle contract.  He’d argued for hours with his father before finally agreeing that his brothers were healthy enough and could handle the tasks while he was away.  He wasn’t thrilled about where he was heading, but knowing both his brothers would be riding the Ponderosa was the best news he’d had in a long time.

He’d spent plenty of time over the years traveling by stage, he just wished that the railway would one day decide to lay tracks so this journey wouldn’t take as long as well as provide a higher level of comfort.  

Carrying a letter of introduction from Lewis R. Bradley, the Nevada Territorial Governor, Adam was shown into the office of General George R. Crook.

“Fort Verde is a relatively new post, Mr. Cartwright,” the general informed as he showed his guest to a chair and casually walked around to take a seat.

“It’s a long way from the Ponderosa to practically Phoenix, General,” answered Adam while accepting a cup of coffee from a corporal.  “Surely there are other ranchers who could fulfill your requirements for cattle.”

“It’s not just cattle that we need.  I asked a representative of Ponderosa to come so we could negotiate a contract for cattle, horses, and lumber.”

“Still… the distance.”

“You don’t mind if I call you Adam,” the officer asked as he pulled an amber colored bottle from a bottom drawer of his desk.

Shaking his head in response, Adam set the empty cup and saucer aside.

“Yes, there is a distance, but we need the best.  Sure some ranches could provide one or the other, but we need all three.”  The man wouldn’t have made it as far up the chain of command as he had, if he wasn’t adept at reading unspoken words.  “Truth is, it’s not just the need, it’s the quality.  The Ponderosa stands for quality. I told ol’ Ulysses that he can’t keep sending our men out on shoddy horses and eating beef from scrub cattle and have them keep up day after day.  As for the lumber?  This territory is growing.  Look around at all the lumber used for this fort…”

*****

After a week of negotiations, Adam secured a very large contract with an initial payment; the balance would be paid upon each delivery.

*****

After leaving Fort Verde, Adam rode towards Wickenberg, intent on wire transferring the funds from the bank draft to their bank in Virginia City.

Arriving in the small town shortly after lunch, Adam was surprised to see the street void of people, except for two men who stood not more than fifty feet apart.  Guiding his rented mount into an alley, Adam watched, shaking his head.  Even without knowing the two involved, it was evident who would win, should weapons actually be drawn.  

The man with his back to Adam, was highly animated, tense, and vocal.  The other man, dark haired and evidently of Mexican descent, based on his choice of clothes, stood casually, waiting.  Adam could almost envision the man rolling his eyes at the absurdities the other spouted.

Moments later it was over; only one shot sounded.  The victor holstered his revolver and slowly walked to the challenger who was crouched on the ground, holding his left hand close to his chest.  Kicking the gun away, he spoke, “You best get to the doctor, get that hand looked at.”

Confused and pain-filled eyes looked up, “Why didn’t you kill me?”

“Because I know your hurt.  I also know you got family that needs you. Don’t let your pride deprive your family of you.  You’ll still be able to use your hand, just not shoot a pistol with any accuracy.”

Offering his hand, he helped the man up and walked him towards the doctor’s office.

Within moments, the main street was alive with people and animals; the sounds of a vibrant community.

*****

Finishing his transaction with the branch manager, Adam extended his hand before leaving the man’s office.  Without realizing it, he walked straight into a tableau he envisioned with Hoss.  Two masked men were preparing to exit the front door, one hesitating and turning, pointing his weapon with indecision.  At the voice from outside calling, “Jeb, get out here!”, the man holstered his gun and ran.

Momentarily there were people shouting as they scrambled out of the way of the horses moving in a ground-covering gallop spurred on by their riders and ultimately gunshots echoed through the town.

Cautiously exiting the bank Adam encountered the gunhawk saying, “Not them two again.”

“Again?” Adam inquired, hand resting on the handle of his own revolver.  “You know them?”

“Not personally, but I encountered them down in Why last year.  Joined the sheriff on the posse after they robbed the general store and shot a boy; only we lost their trail up in the mountains.”

“I’m sure the sheriff here would want to know what you just told me.”

“Maybe you’re sure,” looking down the boardwalk towards the men running in their direction, “I’m not.”

“What’s going on here?” blustered the leader who was wearing a Marshal’s badge and drew on Adam and the gunhawk.

“Put your gun away, Cole.  These two had nothing to do with robbing the bank,” declared the manager.

Looking peeved, the man did as told before shouting, “I need every available man to join the posse.  We’ll leave town in ten minutes.”  Before turning to head to the livery to saddle his own horse, he looked at the two strangers, one in particular, “We don’t need your kind riding with us.”  And then he left.

“Guess he doesn’t like people who wear black?” jested Adam, trying to ease the tension the lawman’s words invoked.

“Maybe but definitely doesn’t like half-breeds.”

“His loss.”  Extending his hand, “By the way, I’m Adam Cartwright.”

Taking Adam’s hand, “The Ponderosa, right?”

“You’ve heard of us?”

“Who hasn’t.  I bet those two yahoos were the ones who raised such a ruckus in your neck of the woods earlier this year.” 

“You said you encountered those two before.”

“Yeah, I’m Mateo Menendez.”

“You need to do something about those rumors,” answered Adam.

“I’ve heard that before, too.”

“You want to trail behind the posse?” inquired Adam.

Pulling his weapon from his holster and making sure each hole in the cylinder contained a bullet, “No, I have a feeling those two are heading back towards Why, possibly heading towards Mexico.”  Slipping his gun back into his holster, “You want justice?”

“That’s the only way; vengeance just makes you as guilty as those you’re after.”

Pulling a tattered wanted poster from the bulletin board, “Come to the livery, they’ve got a better mount than the one they gave you.”

*****

By nightfall, Adam and Mateo encountered the posse returning to town.  Shaking his head, Adam contained his fury at the flasks of alcohol being passed among some of the men.

“You think they got them?” Mateo asked.

“No.” Adam encouraged his mount forward, continuing on the trail he and Mateo had been following.

*****

By noon the following day, rising from a kneeling position where he had been examining the trail, “I can’t tell if they split, the trail’s been ridden over.”

“You said you thought they were going to Why,” offered Adam.

“I know, but they’ve been giving it a wide berth and with all these tracks…. I’ve lost ‘em.”

“So, this is where we split up.”

Circling his horse around Adam’s, “It was a pleasure riding with you.”

“Same here.  You know, you could give up being a gunhawk.  You have a skillset that could be better suited for staying alive.”

“Been thinking on it for a while.  Might decide to wear a badge; can’t see giving up the gun though.”

“Regardless, take care of yourself.”

*****

Knowing he was closer to Why than anywhere else, Adam turned his mount and headed out.

*****

I don’t know why Adam didn’t show me the wanted poster he had that first night.  To be honest, had our situations been reversed, I probably woulda done the same.

Surprised the heck out of me the next morning when he did stop by my office, pulling a wanted poster from my wall and slipped it across my desk.

“These two are close by.  I want to bring them in, I want you to deputize me,” he’d said.

“I don’t know you from Adam.  You think you can waltz in here and have me make you a deputy?” I barked back.

“Then think of me as a bounty hunter.  I will bring them in.”  He turned and headed out the door, but not before saying, “Alive.” 

Little did I know then that he’d be bringing them varmints back and he’d be presenting his own copy of that wanted poster.  But then there was that little voice that said, ‘He’ll do it.”

*****

They must have been plain dumb or drunk… or maybe both.  I sat there, gob smacked and listened as Rudy Donner and Jeb Brandt alternated in telling the story of how they ended up sitting in my jail.  Guess they didn’t realize what they were a saying could be held against them in a court of law.

*****

Rudy and Jeb hunkered down in an old-abandoned farmhouse about five miles outside of Why. The two were thankful the roof was in good enough repair to keep out the rain, even if the windows were broken out years ago; they found their way into the center of the structure and set about counting the money in the bags they carried from the bank in Wickenburg.

“Don’t know why we came back all this way,” whined Rudy.

“I’m tired of being cold.  I ain’t gave up on sashaying with a pretty signorita or two; there’s more than one way to keep warm down in Mexico.”

“Still, we gotta keep away from Why, don’t want that Sheriff rememberin’ us and sending out another posse.”

“Ah, quit yer belly achin’.  We’re far enough away from there.  Sides, that posse out of Wikiberg won’t come this far.  That marshal ain’t worth what they pay him.”

Jumping at the house shaking at the bolt of thunder, “How long do ya think this storm ‘l last?” Rudy asked.

“How’s I supposed to know?” Jeb laid out his bedroll.  “Least we’re warm and dry here.  We’ll head out to Mexico as soon as the rain stops.”

“What if it’s still dark?” 

Rolling his eyes at his cousin, “Do I have to spell it all out for you?”

“You cain’t spell!”

Grumbling in answer, “Jest go to sleep.”  Turning over, he pulled a blanket over his shoulders and angrily resettled his hat.

The floor creaked. 

“Jeb, you hear that?”

“I said go to sleep.”

“But that sound.”

Pulling his hat from his face and grumpily sitting up, “It’s an old house.  Old houses make noise.”

Cousins pulled their guns on hearing a horse whinny.

“That wasn’t one of ours.”  

Rising to their feet, they saw a dark figure standing in the doorway when the next bolt of lightning illuminated the room.  All three fired.

By morning, Rudy and Jeb were uncomfortably sitting against the wall.  Rudy’s arm was bandaged as was Jeb’s shoulder; both had their hands tied behind their backs with their legs roped together at their ankles.

“Who do you think he is?” Rudy whispered.

“Don’t know.  Ain’t now lawman, he’s not wearing a badge.”

“Ya think he’s after the money?”

“If he were, I think we’d be dead.”

Looking up at the sound of a throat clearing, the two heard, “You two ready to go back to Why?”

“Why?” they asked in unison

Shaking his head as if they couldn’t be that stupid, “I’ve got your horses saddled outside.”

“But it’s still raining,” Rudy mumbled.

“That’s what slickers are for.”  After untying the ropes that bound their legs together, Adam hauled each one to their feet, keeping alert in case either tried something.  Even with their hands tied behind their backs, he wasn’t sure they wouldn’t try to get away.

Not wanting to risk a leg injury to any of the horses, Adam kept them at a walk.  When the storm intensified, he led them into a cave large enough for the horses that he’d passed the previous day.  Helping them down, he pulled his revolver and motioned them to the far wall.

*****

The storm had let up as the sun was setting.  Knowing his prisoners needed treatment, even though the wounds were minor, he didn’t want it said he’d treated them cruelly.

It was full dark by the time they stopped in front of the Why Sheriff’s Office.  

Once again, he pulled them individually from their saddles and marched them inside, through the office and straight to the cells.

Turning, he gave a slight smirk at the lawman’s expression and followed him back to the front office.

*****

“Yep, that was two weeks ago, and you already know what happened next.”

*****

Two strangers stood watching the lawman wave to the man dressed in black who turned the horse he was riding away from the hitching while leading a packhorse out of town.  Pausing in front of them, Sheriff Dade Bayonne cast a wary eye.  Taking in their appearance and having heard rumors of Comancheros hiding somewhere out in the hills; they hadn’t caused any trouble in his jurisdiction, but he was bound and determined to pre-empt any attempt.

The bigger of the two was the first to speak, “That man, did I hear you call him Cartwright?”

“Now I don’t figure that’s any of your concern.”

“I once knew a man named Ben Cartwright, but that one, he looked too young to be the man I knew.”

“That wasn’t the man you knew, that was his son, Adam.”

“Imagine that, Little Adam all grown up.”

“You know the family then?  They own the Ponderosa up in Virginia City, Nevada.”

“It’s been a long time…”  Turning to his compatriot, “Vacca come on.  I feel the good sheriff here would appreciate it if we left his fair town.”

Walking away, Vacca quietly asked, “You think he knows we’ve been up in the mountains?”

“If he didn’t, it won’t take him long to figure it out.  Besides it’s time we moved on; we’ve got all the supplies we need to tide us over for a good while.”

“Where are we going?”

“To visit family.”  Seeing the look in his friend’s eye, “Get the wagon and get back to camp,” Gunnar Bergstrom growled.

 

EPILOGUE

It took me a long time to learn all there was to know about his story.  Wished I’d kept my goodbye private and said nothing to those other two fellas.  But that’s a different story; yet, it kind of had the same ending as what happened in Why.

*****

My hair’s a lot thinner and a lot grayer than it was all those years ago.  My knees ache and my hands can’t grip a revolver like they used to…no need to anymore, anyways.  Long ago I gave up sitting a horse for hours and days on end while leading a posse.  For quite some time this here rocker is about as wild a ride as I can manage…  

Yeah, it happened just that way.  From the beginning I knew there was more to Adam Cartwright’s story… In all my years as a lawman I’ve known the good and the bad sides of humanity, and a man as dedicated as that Adam Cartwright wouldn’t have just left his family to come all the way down here seeking justice.  That might have been his reason, but there was more that drove him.  Back then I was good at reading people.

Dressed all in black as he was, people might have gotten the wrong impression that he lived a precarious life on the edge of right and wrong or that maybe he really was a bounty hunter.  Some people probably shied well away from him, but not me.  Oh, I was curious in the beginning…  Not for terrible reasons, but because it was my nature as a lawman.  Right away I knew he wasn’t a bad sort of a fellow.  I could tell that early on.  I also knew he wasn’t really looking for justice, either.  Nor was he looking for revenge.  

Many times over the years I’ve second guessed myself about giving Donner and Brandt a chance to get out of Why when I did.  Maybe if I hadn’t, they’d of never robbed the mercantile and made it that far north; never would have caused all that hurt and heartache, at least not to our town nor the Cartwrights.  But once events were set into motion; had that gunfight not occurred, nor young Aramis been shot, I’d have been closer on their trail, and maybe they wouldn’t have gotten away.  Just my luck to have two wrongs occur at the same time…  

Aramis… No, it wasn’t the gunfight that injured young Aramis Manning, but those mangy cousins trying to get away after robbing the mercantile.  I remembered as I carried the young man to the hospital about the time when as a young boy he told me how his momma named him after a character in a book she had read about three French swordsmen.  ‘The heroes aren’t supposed to die,’ Aramis told me before he closed his eyes; darkness consumed the lad.  Long before Adam Cartwright came to our valley, Aramis Manning was lucky that Doc Kern decided to set his practice at the mission hospital not six months prior to that fateful day.  What about young Aramis?  Oh… he lived to get married and I officiated the event.  They had a passel of boys, and have quite a number of grandchildren now.  Shouldn’t digress…  Shucks, maybe if Donner’s and Brandt’s families had raised them two differently… raised them the way that Adam was raised, as well as Aramis.  I know… It’s not always the parents’ fault, sometimes men are just rotten.  

Why?  See that’s the greatest question of all.  Why…  Why didn’t I know those two were in the area?  Why did it all happen?  Why couldn’t it have been me instead of my brothers?  People ask those questions all their lives.  I learned a lot in dealing with people.  People make things happen; good and bad.  Unfortunately, when bad things happen most don’t do anything more than ask… why.  But not that Adam.  Oh, he asked why, and I know he suffered just as much as his brothers did; only his suffering was altogether different.  But he finally got his answer; he came to realize that it hadn’t been him because he was the one best suited to trail after those responsible.  If you’re willing to work, you’ll find your answers, like Adam did.  And I do mean find… those answers aren’t handed out on a silver platter, so sir-ee.  Guess it was meant to happen as it had.

I’d been a law enforcement official for most of my life.  And before that, I knew all about being a man on the trail of justice, that’s why I eventually pinned on the badge and took the oath of office.  Sort of like Mateo Menendez eventually did.  Yep, like I said earlier, he was a good lawman while he wore the badge.  Then one day, he gave it up; it and his gun.  You know I heard he ended up back east going to a university and became a lawyer.  Dang it, don’t that beat all.  But me, I did my duty until the day I couldn’t.  

My eyes glazed over with those memories flittering through my mind before escaping my grasp and returning me back to now.

But this story wasn’t about me…  It’s about Adam Cartwright, a man seeking peace of mind for what he perceived as not being in the right place at the right time back then.  Yeah, eventually he was in the right place, at the right time, but there’s more to it than that.  It’s a story almost as old as the story of Adam and Eve… a story unlike Romulus and Remus.  Surprised you that I knew about them, didn’t I.  Any way, it’s a story about a brother’s love – that was why.

Sure wish I could have met that Ben Cartwright and those other two sons of his.  If Adam were a representation of his family, they must have been a powerful force with which to contend.

Tired, I am.  

Still, they must have been some kind of a family.  

Brothers they were.  Yeah, I had younger brothers… loved ‘em too.  Lost ’em in the war.  Can’t wait to see ‘em.  Been too long as it is.

The sun set, chin rested to his chest. The rocker stilled as old, cataract-covered eyes closed one last time, 

 ~The End    (FINALLY!!)

 

End note:  I hope I didn’t leave you too confused with all the different timelines and story tellers, as well as inserting in couple of what probably appeared as unimportant snippets here and there.   But…. didn’t you ever wonder how Uncle Gunnar found Ben, Adam, and Hoss? 

Consider this story a prequel to The Last Viking.

 

My story references people/events the following episodes:

The Hanging Posse (S1 E12)
The Last Viking (S2 E10)
The Dark Gate (S2 E24)
Between Heaven and Earth (S6 E9)

 

Author Note:  This story began as a result of three Challenges posted in the Virginia City Literary Society Forum, all on September 1, 2014.  Yikes! Has it really been that long since this story began?

The Chaps & Spurs Challenge asked members to write a story using this picture:

The Seedling Challenge prompted members to write a story including the word: Justice.  

Finally, the Pinecone Challenge teased writers with the following: “After a while I went out and left the hospital and walked back to the hotel in the rain.” as the ending to their vignette.

A short time after posting my original response to the Challenges in the Forums, the narrative continued.  My original two chapters are contained in the “Prologue”.  Over the years my muse teased me with scenes to continue the story.  Though my muse didn’t always cooperate, there were long gaps (years) without even a hint of remembering this story existed.  Beginning in January 2025, I decided it was time to finish the story.  I had to change a little bit here and there as the story fleshed out, but for the most part, the changes only minimally impacted the storyline.