Summary: Joe rides out with some cowboys to fix fences, but by evening, he is gone.

Rating: PG    Word Count: 9200

Forgiveness

 

Standing at the bar of the Silver Dollar, I took a few deep gulps of my freshly tapped beer and wiped the foam from my lip. The bitter drink moistened my parched throat and washed away the past week’s dust.

“Let’s find a table, Hoss! I just want to sit, enjoy the drink, and relax!” I  shouted over the loud piano music and the laughter and chatter of the good-humored cowboys, miners, and saloon girls. It was Saturday night, and the men were determined to squeeze as much fun as possible into their few free hours.

“Hey, boy, that’s my girl you’re holdin’!” someone hollered as Hoss, followed by me, pushed through the crowd. As usual, when a lot was going on, the air was thick with the smell of sweat, alcohol, and unwashed bodies.

“I bought Pearl a drink, so get lost!” The familiar voice caused me to turn around. It was our ranch hand, Fred, a lean young man who was a nice fella but gambled away all his money or spent it on girls. His clothes were neat but worn, for he was always broke. I knew him as a shy boy who didn’t talk much, and I was surprised that he had the guts to defend his girl.

“What’s a down-and-out, stinking cowboy got to offer a woman like Pearl?” The miner, a sinewy man with a shadow of a black beard, gripped the gal’s slim, bare forearm.

She made a startled sound. “You’re hurting me! Besides, I’m not your girl, William. Don’t make a fuss.”

“Let go of the lady, mister!” Fred straightened to his height and glared at the man towering half a head above him.

The miner had his sleeves rolled up to his upper arms, and you could see his hard muscles and callused hands dangling at his side.

“There’s going to be trouble,” I whispered to Hoss. Before my butt touched the chair seat, the woman screamed, covering her mouth with both hands.

Fred, hit in the jaw by his opponent’s fist, flung over a table. With a thud and a grunt, he landed on the floor, along with a broken chair and glass.

“You stay out of this, Joe!” Hoss shook his head, his fingers digging into my shoulder as he saw me tense up. “You know how Pa thinks about us brawling. He’ll be mad if he has to pay another bill for damages.”

I shook off his hand. “Shall we watch him beat Fred to mush?”

“It’s a fair fight,” Hoss muttered, barely audible over the crowd that had formed a jeering circle around the two fighters, roaring and clapping.

I watched them with my fists clenched under the table, ready to intervene. Even though the miner was superior, Fred refused to give in. He’d already taken quite a beating and knew he would soon be on the floor. He put all his remaining strength into this final blow. The miner stumbled and struck his head against the brass rail of the bar, causing it to rattle. Any other man would have stayed down. But William’s skull was hard. Only a little blood was visible when he struggled back on his feet. I could see his expression turn from puzzled to furious as he fingered the back of his head.

“You’ll pay for this, you stinking little …” He reached for his knife. The blade sparkled as William lunged at Fred, who was holding on to the counter, swaying and wiping his bleeding lip with the back of his hand.

I bolted up, squeezed through the onlookers, and slipped between the fighting men, weapon in hand. “Hold it!”

The miner lifted his gaze from the gun to my face. He saw my flared nostrils, clenched jaw, and my jutting chin. With a shrug, he spat on the floor and sheathed his knife. “I’ll get you someday,” he threatened Fred before turning and leaving the saloon.

The crowd dispersed, and the cowhand, his legs buckling under him, sank into the nearest chair. He rubbed his sore knuckles. “Thanks for your help, Little Joe! That fella would have killed me!”

I pulled a sympathetic face as Pearl rushed over and began dabbing the blood from Fred’s bruised cheek with a damp cloth. “That’s what friends are for.”

“Uh, Joe, can you lend me two dollars?”

“I already gave you one buck pay advance last week.” I rolled my eyes but pulled a greenback out of my pocket. “You’ll pay me back, okay?

“Sure thing.”

With a squeeze of the ranch hand`s shoulder, I turned away to return to my beer.

++++

With a sideways glance, I ensured the buckboard team grazing in the shade was comfortable. On the other hand, Fred and I worked in the blazing sun. Only a light breeze brought a touch of relief. Fred hummed a tune I recognized as ‘Down by the River Liv’d a Maiden.’ I grimaced when he hit a few notes off-key. Licking salty sweat from my upper lip, I put the shovel down, leaning on the handle. “What’s going on between you and Pearl? She’s a sweet little gal!”

“We’re together, though I don’t understand what she sees in me. I have no money and nothing to offer.”

“Come on, Fred. You’re a nice young fella. Girls don’t always want expensive stuff. They want you to pay attention to them and spend time with them.”

“You’re successful with girls, ain’t you?” Fred looked at me with a raised eyebrow.

I shrugged, ramming the fencepost into the hole we’d just dug. “I sort of am.”

“You’re rich, so you’ve got no trouble with women!”

I rolled my eyes. “I wouldn’t say so. If you knew …”

“Can you recommend a restaurant, Joe? A good one with, uh, moderate prices? I want to take Pearl out for dinner next Sunday.”

“Try Lydia’s Café. They serve Ponderosa steak!”

“Thanks!” Fred flashed me a broad grin, took off his hat, and ran a hand through his blond hair, which hadn’t seen a barber in a long time.

“Joe, um … you think you would borrow me a white shirt? Just for this one evening. I want to ask Pearl to marry me. And I really want to impress this gal.”

“Sure. I’ll lend you a shirt. You’re my size. It should fit, and you can have the suit, too. And maybe some of Adam’s Bay Rum if I can steal the bottle without anyone noticing!” I let out a brief giggle and shoveled the earth back into the hole. “Keep that post a bit more to the left!”

“Thanks, Joe, you’re a real friend.”

++++

The morning saw three hands and me heading toward the eastern pasture. My satisfied gaze flitted over the peaceful picture of grazing cattle. We’d put much work into the herd, and it showed. The beeves were well-fed and healthy, and the calves thrived. “Each of you checks a section of fence. Adam found some cattle disappeared in the last couple of days, so keep an eye out for anything unusual.”

I hated to see Tim and Sam, two older Wranglers, look at each other and smirk. “Sure, boss.” Samuel’s sarcastic tone and accent told me he didn’t take me seriously. Still, he was an excellent and experienced worker, so I swallowed my anger and decided to ignore the provocation. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of getting upset.

“I’ll take the western fence,” Tim said, turning his horse.

Fred rubbed the back of his neck. “Um, let me check on the hilly part?”

“No, that’s the hardest section. I’ll do that.” I sat up as tall as possible. “Fred, you take the north, Sam the south.  That’ll take us several hours. We’ll meet here later, okay?” With a sigh, I watched the ranch hands leave in different directions. It was going to be a long, hot, dusty day.

 

“Darn heat,” I grumbled, squinting into the bright midday sun, sweat pouring down. The light-colored wood of a broken fence rail caught my eye. As I approached, I saw some of the crossbars were loose and crooked, as if someone had pried them off and then put them back on without care. The grass on the outside of the fence was trampled. This was strange, and I was determined to find out what was going on.

After removing the upper rail, I steered Cochise a few yards away to get a running start. My heart leaped excitedly as the horse’s body tensed beneath me, and we took off over the fence. “Good boy!” I patted his neck with a chuckle, then bent over to examine the ground. There were tracks of shod horses, two or three of them, overlapping the cattle prints. I knew what that meant. Rustlers! I set my jaw. I was mad that people thought they could take what others worked hard for.

Squinting my eyes, I glanced up into the sky. The sun was high in the south. There would still be enough daylight to track down the cattle and drive them back. “Come on, Cooch! Let’s find those beasts!”

After a couple of miles, it became clear it wasn’t just a few steers that had been driven away from the herd. The marks—in fact, it was a small, worn-out trail—led uphill into more rolling terrain. Rocks and pine trees, interspersed with small canyons, replaced the lush grassland.

Glancing over the slopes, I reined in my pinto and sipped from my canteen. It was dead silent. The prints were now hard to find on the stony, dry ground. I wished Hoss was here. He would have no trouble following them. My impatience was the reason I wasn’t as good as Hoss. You had to take your time finding every overturned stone or crushed blade of grass.

Should I go back and tell the others? That would put me on the safe side. I touched my gun butt, undecided. Maybe I’d made the wrong decision by going on alone, but the thought of Tim and Sam’s mockery if the boss didn’t find the stolen cattle was unbearable.

The back of my neck tingled, and I rubbed the spot. Something bothered me, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. Was it the unusual silence? Did someone watch me? It was like the bar of soap that slipped out of your hand in the bath, and you tried in vain to catch it. After a look around, where I found nothing unusual, I spurred my horse on. “Just a bit longer, Cooch. We’ll call it a day if I can’t find the tracks again!”

We rode through the barren landscape for another half an hour. It was dead silent. The sun drew a sharp shadow of me and my horse on the scorched earth. Two buzzards circled in the cloudless sky, and I wished I were in their place. From above, I would have a good view of the arroyos and canyons.

Just as I was about to give up, I saw a pile of fresh cow dung and a broken branch with wilted leaves that looked out of place. I was familiar with the area. There was a narrow gorge with a small stream nearby. Since it only had one entrance, it would be ideal for keeping stolen cattle. I guessed the old silver mine up there had collapsed by now, but it would make a good hideout if it hadn’t.

My heart beat fast, and my tiredness was gone. Ready to take on the rustlers, I removed the little sling and loosened the gun in my holster. Squeezing my thighs, I steered Cooch forward while my eyes scanned the terrain. I knew my family would call me reckless for pursuing the crooks alone, but I would only risk a glance down the canyon and then retreat. I wanted to be sure where they hid the livestock. It made no sense to arrive with a party the next day and find no one there.

The gunshot was as loud as thunder. A burning pain exploded in my head, and everything turned black.

When I came to, I found myself lying on my belly, cheek pressed against a rough rock, not knowing how I got there or how long I’d been out. Sitting in the saddle was the last thing I remembered. Something warm ran down my face. Did Cochise throw me? Was he spooked by a rattler or a cougar? Through a dull red veil, I saw the black and white legs. Cooch was still here. I have to get up and get back into the saddle. I was about to lift my head to spit the grit between my teeth, but an upset-sounding voice made me pause.

“Heck!” someone shouted. “I warned you he’d find the tracks!”

“And I told our dumb friend to keep his eyes open. It was foolish to shoot. That shot was heard for miles!” The man sounded angry, but the blaze raging through my skull made it almost impossible to concentrate on what was happening.

“What should I have done? He would have found our hideout,” lamented a man with a Texas drawl.

“He wouldn’t if you hadn’t been so sloppy about covering our tracks. I guess you didn’t put the fence slats back on like I told you?”

“Yeah, I did. Why are you so mad? Just another day or two, and we’ll be outta here!”

“You’re a bloody fool! Do you know who you killed? That’s Joe Cartwright!”

I stayed motionless, eyes closed, heartbeat racing. I was almost sure I’d been shot, but I didn’t know how bad it was. It was likely the men would leave me for dead, and …

“Let’s hide the body. Otherwise, the buzzards will betray us. You take care of it. After all, it’s your fault!”

Heavy footsteps approached me. Trying to look as dead as possible, I let my body slump. A boot toe slid under my hip and flipped me onto my back. Someone knelt beside me, grabbed my chin, and turned my head. I could smell chewing tobacco and foul breath while rough fingers dug under my collar for a pulse. “Boy’s still alive. It’s just a graze. What are we going to do, Boss? Want me to finish him off?”

“No. I don’t want the Cartwrights on our tail for murder. We’ll hold him until we’re done. If we hurry, we can be out of here by morning. One of you stands guard at the canyon entrance while we go on branding. Blindfold him. He must not see us.”

Before I could think of anything, a pair of hands was on my head. I winced at the touch of the cloth to the sore spot on my temple. The fabric that was tied around my eyes stank of old sweat. I tried to struggle, but a rough kick to my ribs made me stop and gasp for breath.

“There’s no need to be so rude,” an angry voice shouted.

Though the buzzing and humming in my head reminded me of a colony of bees, I thought I could distinguish three different voices.

The men jerked me to my feet. Angry flashes shot through my skull, and a bitter taste of bile rose to the back of my throat. Somebody pulled my gun from my holster. “Tie his hands and get him on the horse,” I heard the man, probably the leader, say.

“Up you go!” The hands pushed and pulled at me until I slumped over my saddle, belly first, like a sack of flour thrown over a pack mule. But a sack of flour would not feel pain. Someone grabbed my right leg and yanked it over Cochise’s butt, forcing my boot into the stirrup. I let out a moan. As if sensing my weakness, my horse took a few nervous steps and snorted.

“I said don’t treat him so rough!” one of the men hissed.

“You’re a wimp!” the other scoffed, and I heard a dull sound and a grunt.

“Stop fighting, you two; we’ve got a job to do! You stay here, boy. Keep an eye out for anyone coming.”

“Yessir.”

For a moment, I considered removing the blindfold but lowered my hands again, instead feeling for the saddle horn for support. If I saw the men’s faces, my survival chances would be near zero. They weren’t very high anyway.

My head injury and the blindfold left me disoriented, and I had trouble staying in the saddle when we started to move. Taking deep breaths, I tried to fight the nausea and concentrate on my hearing.

The ride wasn’t very long. When I recognized the echo of the hoofbeats bouncing off nearby cliffs, I knew we entered a canyon. The sun was blocked out, and the sounds of a nervous herd of cattle reached my ears.

“Get him into the mine. Then we’ll go on with branding!”

“Sure, Tra—”

“Shut up! No names! Geez, am I the only one with sense?”

Led by the rustler, Cochise’s shoes clattered over the rocky ground, and the temperature dropped as if entering Hop Sing’s root cellar.

“Get off!”

Without protesting, I obeyed and let myself slide down. My headache was a loud concert. It flooded my senses until thinking was nearly impossible.

“Sit down and stay put. Maybe we’ll let you go tomorrow if you don’t cause any trouble. Do you understand, boy?”

I gave a nod.

“Stop chatting to Cartwright. I need your help!”

“Coming, Boss!”

The footsteps faded, and I was alone. With my hands still tied in front of me, I grabbed the blindfold and pulled it up. Inside the mine, it was gloomy and cool. Roughly hewn, weathered beams supported the entrance, and one of the walls shone damp. An old wheelbarrow and shovel lay on the floor beside a pile of ore lumps.

I winced and groaned as my fingertips found a frayed furrow on my temple. Clotted blood stuck to my hand as I withdrew it. I crept toward the wall where water had gathered in a puddle. It was cool and refreshing, tasting of iron. After scooping a few handfuls into my mouth, I drenched my blindfold. The blood on my face was already drying, and it took me some effort to remove it.

The liquid in the shallow basin was dark red when I finished my cleanup. I looked around to grasp every detail while pressing the wet cloth against my wound. On a ledge lay three small candle stumps. There was a broken kerosene lamp and rotten wooden beams piled against the wall. None of it was suited as a weapon.

I wasn’t the type to take orders from villains or sit around doing nothing. Rising, I took a couple of deep breaths to fight the sickness in my stomach, hoping the water I swallowed remained where it belonged. Weakness and exertion made my heart race as I crawled toward the opening. I had to get rid of the restraints, but first, I wanted to get an overview, although it was risky. Careful to stay in the shade of the bushes overgrowing the mine entrance, I inched forward. I needed to get an idea of how many men I faced and if there was a way to escape.

The smell of smoke and scorched fur hit my nose. One steer bellowed in protest. A small fire with a running iron inside burned a few yards away. Behind a makeshift barrier was a bunch of Ponderosa cattle at the dead end of the canyon, perhaps a hundred of them. A dark-haired fella in a black vest stood with his back to me. The other, brawny, with stubble, a red shirt, and black gloves, lassoed another animal and led it to the fire pit. The man glanced up—and met my eyes. “Heck! Cartwright escapes!” He let go of the steer, drew his gun, and ran toward me.

I spun around and fled back into the mine. Cursing my carelessness, I grabbed two candle stumps from the ledge and stumbled toward the darkness.

A shot echoed through the tunnel, reflecting off the rock walls and intensifying the pounding in my head. Another shot! I could hear the bullet ricochet and whistle through the shaft. Rocks splintered next to my face, hitting my cheek. I forced my feet to move even faster. The farther I ran, the darker it got, until it was so pitch black that it was impossible to move without banging my skull against a wall.

Squatting on the ground, I tried to calm my panting breath enough to hear something. Under the sole of a boot, rubble crunched. A hammer clicked being cocked. Stones rolled across the floor. There was muffled cursing. Then, it was as quiet as a tomb.

I had a vision of the other lurking in the darkness. To catch the slightest sound of his prey, he would tilt his head back and forth. He would breathe silently through his mouth, his eyes wide open to catch my every move. He’d feel his way along the wall with his hand, inching his body forward. I could scent the man: cigar smoke, unwashed body, cow.

The sweat covering my chest began to evaporate, causing me to shiver. As if to melt into the unyielding stone, I pressed myself against it.

The voice sounded close, making me jump. “I know you’re here, Cartwright! Come out, or you’ll regret it!”

I didn’t move a muscle. When I became dizzy, I realized I held my breath. I inhaled as low as possible. The heartbeat roared in my ears. Could the other one hear it as well?

“Have it your way, kid.”

Fabric rustled. After a ripping sound, a flame emerged. Though only a match, it was so bright it blinded me for a moment, but the slight glow was enough to give me orientation. Bolting up, I ran along the straight tunnel. Gunshots rang out, thundering through the mine. Bullets, followed by the man’s laughter, thudded against the walls and ground.

I sprinted until my shoulder hit a ledge. With a groan, I sank to my knees. I needed some light! Reaching into my pocket, I felt for the items inside. Paper, probably an old grocery list, two slugs, and matches. To be exact, five matches. The first broke when I rubbed it against the rock. Easy. Don’t screw it up! Still clutching the two candle stubs, I opened my cramped fingers. I tried another match. Yes! Suppressing my trembling, I held the flame to the wick. It hesitated, flickered, and threatened to go out. Until it steadied, I didn’t dare breathe.

The warm glow was comforting and pushed back the darkness. Now I would be able to see where I was going. “Yeah,” I murmured, one corner of my mouth raised. “Bet I can find a way out of here?”

The rustlers would be after me, for sure. The first thing I had to do was get rid of these restraints. I glanced at the candle. This would be painful, but it was the fastest way to free my hands. Rubbing the rope on the edge of a rock would work as well, but this could take ages, and I didn’t have that much time. Determined, I gritted my teeth and raised my wrists to the flame.

The stench of glowing hemp and burnt skin hung in the air as I tore my hands apart, uttering a moan of relief. Ignoring the reddened, throbbing burns, I stood, using the candle stump to light my way. I had to be quick. My pursuer would soon return with a lantern or torch.

Step by step, I felt my way deeper into the old tunnel. The ceiling was sagging. The supporting beams had been eaten away by dampness and creaked and groaned under their weight. Dust and small stones trickled down from above. I shuddered and barely dared to breathe, fearing the mine could collapse at any moment. But the air was fresh, not musty and stale. I even thought I could feel a faint breeze. There sure was a way out.

I remembered Adam’s detailed drawings when he helped dig and shore up a tunnel years ago. Ventilation shafts were needed in the pits going deep underground. So, I assumed there should be an air supply here as well. I was familiar with this old mine. It had been built long before the Great Silver Rush and didn’t go very far down into the rock, maybe half a mile. The promising ore vein was exhausted and was abandoned.

A triumphant grin crossed my face when I spotted a narrow shaft at the end of the passage that led diagonally up to the surface. That’s it! My way to freedom! The draft caused the flame to flicker and go out, but I could already see a patch of blue sky. Legs wedged against the walls, I pushed into the shaft. My chest tightened with a brief moment of panic when my shoulders got stuck, but then my head popped into the open.

A refreshing breeze ruffled my damp hair and dried my sweat. After the cold, clammy air of the tunnel, the sun felt nice and comforting. I turned my head—and froze in place. The candle fell from my hand, tumbled over the sloping cliffs, and disappeared from my sight.

I was in the middle of the canyon wall! As I glanced down, everything spun. The abyss pulled at me like a drowning man’s hands would shoot out of the water and claw at his rescuer’s jacket. My stomach knotted. For several dozen yards, the cliff dropped in a scary angle. It wasn’t so sheer that a good climber couldn’t make it up the wall, but I wasn’t a good climber. There was one problem I was reluctant to admit: my fear of heights.

Wrapping one hand around a ledge, I opened my squinted eyes and risked a second glare. Dizziness gripped me, and a tingling and prickling sensation spread all the way to my fingertips. Air rushed past me, and I had the feeling of falling. It was similar to one of my occasional nightmares. I tumbled off a cliff, hit the bottom, and my body was shattered.

Prone, I lay in the narrow shaft for long minutes, trying to muster the courage to climb over the edge and descend into the canyon. But I couldn’t. My shirt clung to my shivering body, and the thought of moving left me breathless. In frustration, I banged my fist against the unyielding rock until it hurt, but even that didn’t help me overcome my fear.

Something touched my lower leg. “Heck!” I cursed, expecting my heart to stop. Then, it continued to beat in a furious gallop.

“Your trip is over!” said a muffled voice near my feet, and a hand clutched my calf in a bruising grip.

Resignation made my body slump. Giving way to the pull, I slid down. It was over. On the verge of escape, I’d lost my chance.

Opposite me stood the dark-haired man. A crooked nose dominated his clean-shaven face. He nudged my ribs with his gun barrel and gestured along the shaft with the makeshift torch he carried. “Come on, let’s get back!”

“Why don’t you end it now? Why do you take the trouble to bring me back?”

“Ain’t no use to provoke me. You can—” The rustler gasped as I whirled around and slammed into him with my shoulder, sending him crashing into the rock face. The torch fell, sending a wild flame dance through the tunnel. My hand closed around the .45. Muscles bulged as we struggled for it. A shot rang out, but the bullet struck the wall without doing any harm. Aiming for my groin, my opponent jerked a knee up.

“Oh God!” I let go of the gun. My legs gave way, and I collapsed. Clasping my hands over my privates did little to help the waves of pain coursing through my lower body. Groaning in agony, I swayed back and forth.

“You’ve only yourself to blame.” The rustler picked up the torch and stepped back; his expression twisted in rage. “Move along, Cartwright, before I hurt you even more. On your feet. Let’s head back!”

I tried to obey, but it took me a couple of long minutes to get up and put one foot in front of the other. I didn’t fool myself. My fighting spirit was broken for now.

 

“Gee, Travis, what took you so long? I can’t carry on here alone,” the one with the gloves complained as we stumbled out of the mine. He got up from the rock he was sitting on and spat out.

The sun was low and bathed the canyon in a reddish light while the black shadows of the rock walls grew longer. The cattle lay in a loose pile, chewing the cud. A thin rivulet gurgled in the nearly dry riverbed, reminding me how thirsty I was. When Travis reached for a canteen, I licked my parched lips, not expecting the man to offer me a drink. I was right.

“Gus, you get Cartwright back inside. Tie him up properly this time! Lash him to a beam.”

“Alright.” The beefy man pushed his chewing tobacco from one cheek and cut a piece off the lasso lying on the earth. Then he pulled out his gun. “C’mon, Cartwright, you heard the boss.”

With a nasty ‘pop,’ the blisters burst as the rough rope hit the raw, sensitive flesh of my wrists. Gus did his job well. After a final testing tug, he stood and left the cleat.

I rested my throbbing head against the beam and allowed my eyes to fall shut. The soft trickle a few feet away mocked me. The wound on my temple felt hot and tight. Although the raging ache in my groin had subsided to a dull pressure, I felt miserable.

My carousel of thoughts started moving. By this time, our cowhands must have realized that something was wrong. Did they search for me, or were they on their way to the ranch house to tell Pa? With luck, someone would rescue me in a few hours.

At last, my exhausted body relaxed, my chin sank to my chest, and I fell asleep.

 

When I woke up, I felt stiff and sore. It was so dark that I couldn’t see my legs stretching out in front of me. Muscle spasms rippled through my backward twisted shoulders. My neckbones crunched when I moved my head. I bent my knees, trying to turn sideways and lie down, but the pull on my wrists was unbearable. With a resigned sigh, I shoved my back against the beam again. My tongue lay thick in my mouth, and the dripping water was sheer torture. I could smell it: clean, moist, and metallic.

To distract myself, I thought of home. Pa would lie in bed, sleepless, staring at the ceiling, eager to see the first daylight so he could begin the search. I wasn’t sure if I longed for the morning even though my situation was more than uncomfortable. I doubted the men let me off that easy now that I’d seen their faces. At least I was still alive, and there was hope as long as I breathed.

The coming hours were cold, silent, and lonely. At one point, I fell asleep again, tormented by restless thoughts and dreams that kept waking me.

I stood on a narrow ledge in a steep rock face, my bloody fingertips clinging to a lip. The howling wind tore at my body, trying to pull me from the wall. Dark gray clouds gathered, looming over me, and opened their floodgates. Rain soaked my clothes. My icy fingers went slick and slipping. Stone crumbled beneath my soles, and crows circled me, cawing as if telling me to let go. Pas’ voice echoed in the distance, urging me to hold on. But I couldn’t. I was too weak. The pain was too intense. I closed my eyes and let go.

Wet with sweat and panting, my eyes snapped open. I wasn’t pressed against a stone wall. I was still tied to that beam. Grit crunched under the soles of boots. Someone came—to my rescue? Or to kill me?

Though the mine was still dark, it must be morning, for I could hear the first birds outside, replacing the nightly concert of the tree frogs. Blinking, I turned my face toward the approaching source of light. A figure walked up, torch in outstretched hand.

A relieved smile spread across my face, and the tension slipped away. It was over! I wouldn’t die! “Fred!” I whispered in a hoarse voice as I recognized the person. I cleared my throat. “How did you get here? Did you follow my trail?”

“Little Joe …”

I grimaced and gasped, waiting for the cramp to subside, turning my shoulder muscles to stone. “Untie me, Fred. Hurry! You didn’t see anyone outside?”

The blond cowboy lay the torch on a rock, pulled the stopper from his canteen, and held it to my lips. Cool, refreshing liquid filled my mouth and moistened my parched throat. My greedy gulps caused water to run down my chin, dripping onto my shirt. I licked my lips. “Thanks! Go ahead, cut the ropes. Are you alone?”

“Joe …” The ranch hand avoided my gaze. Instead, he looked down at the cloth-covered container in his hand before closing it again. “Um, I can’t untie you.”

“You can’t? But … Of course! I’m such a darn fool.” My glance searched my friend’s eyes. “You’re one of them, aren’t you? You’re a rustler.”

“I’m sorry, Joe. We didn’t plan it that way.”

“What was your plan? Stealing Ponderosa cattle? Make a quick buck?” My voice dripped with contempt.

“You’ve seen us. You know what that means.”

It was too dark to read Fred’s expression, but I heard regret in his voice. From the start, I knew the men wouldn’t let me go. I also knew I wouldn’t accept my fate without a fight. “So what? A clean shot to the head?”

Fred shifted his weight. “I have no choice. You must understand. Travis doesn’t trust me. He said it’s a test of my loyalty. I only get my share when I … ” The boy fell silent, staring at his boot tips.

“You always got a choice. We were friends. Don’t you care about that?” Where was that nice, shy boy I’d lent my shirt to a few weeks ago?

“We’ve never been friends. You were my boss.”

“Oh, come on, Fred. You can’t look me in the eye and say I was just your boss. Would you really shoot me in cold blood? Can you face Pearl, knowing you killed me? The girl’s also a good friend of mine.”

“Shut up!” Fred took off his hat, ran his fingers through his hair, and began to pace back and forth.

“I’ll put in a good word for you if you let me go. You won’t hang.”

“Oh, hell! I can’t do that, Joe. Travis and Gus are my friends.”

“Watch out. So-called friends aren’t always so fair when sharing the money.”

“Stop it. Even if I changed my mind … I stole cattle and switched brands. How long do you think I’ll get? Ten years? Fifteen? And how many men do you think would survive a prison sentence that long? Do you know what it’s like in there?”

I didn’t answer. Everyone knew about the conditions in prison: the lousy food, beatings, and violence. I hadn’t expected my former friend to agree to the proposal, either. “So you hired on to the Ponderosa intending to steal cattle.”

“You’re wrong. Travis and Gus approached me in the saloon the day after my fight with the miner. They asked me if I was interested in a profitable deal.” He shrugged. “I wanted to know how it is to be rich.”

“No matter what the cost? You don’t mind leaving a few dead bodies behind, do you? I always thought I judged people well, Fred. But with you, I was wrong.”

Fred clenched his jaw and blew out air as if trying to calm down or make a decision.

“How much is your cut? A thousand bucks?”

“I know you can’t understand that. It may not be a lot of money for you. But I’ve never had more than a week’s pay on me. Your father won’t even notice if he’s missing a few beeves, but it will start a whole new life for me! I’m doing all this for Pearl!”

“You were well paid on the Ponderosa. She would have been happy to—”

“But I wanted to give her more! Pretty clothes, jewelry, a nice home …”

“Sure. Of course, you only did it for the gal.”

With clenched fists, Fred took a step toward me. “No! You don’t understand! Don’t talk like that!”

“I know Pearl. She’s an honest girl. What would she say if she knew you stole livestock?”

“We’ve got it all figured out! A buyer in Genoa will pay us thirty dollars a head, and he won’t ask any questions.”

“And then? A posse will hunt you down. There will be wanted posters with your faces all over the place. You want spend your life running away? Go on!”

“Everything would have been fine. If you hadn’t caught us—”

“There’s always an ‘if’.

“We can’t just let you go.” Fred’s anger seemed to have subsided, and his voice showed desperation. “I didn’t want you to get involved, Joe. If you had let me check that part of the fence …”

Travis called from outside, “It’s getting light! Do as I have told you. Then we’ll be on our way before they look for him!”

I ran my tongue over my lips and watched my former friend draw his gun and point it at me. Turning my head to the side, I closed my eyes. Besides the ‘click,’ when Fred cocked his weapon, it was dead silent. Even the trickling water paused. So that’s it. I’m going to die here. There are so many things I want to do. It will break Pa’s heart. Will they bury me beside my mother? Am I going to feel that bullet hit me?

“Damn it. I can’t.” Fred holstered the pistol and scrubbed his face with both hands. He knelt behind me, and I felt the ropes loosen.

“What the hell is taking you so long? We gotta move!” Travis hollered, his voice showing his anger and impatience.

“Get on your feet, Joe. You’re coming with us.” Fred urged, scratching the back of his neck as if doubting his decision.

I crawled to the puddle and dropped to my stomach. Like a half-starved animal, I gulped down as much water as I could, not knowing if or when I would get another drink. I could hear the wrangler stepping from one foot to the other. “Hurry up!”

The boss frowned as I walked out of the mine, followed by Fred. “What are you doin’? Have you grown fond of young Cartwright?”

“We’ll take him with us.”

“NO! We’re not taking him. He’ll only slow us down and cause trouble! From the beginning, I knew you were too soft for the job, kid.”

“Just think about it, Travis. We could collect a good ransom.” Gus scratched his crotch and grinned, showing his brown teeth. “How much do you think the kid’s worth to his pa? A few thousand dollars, for sure. That’s easy money!”

“It’s not easy money. It’s a stupid idea. He knows who we are. There is no way we can set him free.” Travis countered.

“What could go wrong? Let the old man put up the money, and he’ll get his boy back. Or better yet, his boy’s body!”

“Gus, you’re an idiot. Anything can go wrong. But I think we can come up with a decent plan on the way. Tie him to his pommel, and we’ll get out of here.”

With encouraging shouts, the men set the herd in motion. Travis took the lead, while Gus and Fred, along with me on Cooch, drove the animals from behind and kept them together. It would take us all day to get to Genoa. Pa and my brothers might already be on the lookout for me, but I didn’t have much hope of getting out of this alive. Still, I was grateful to Fred for giving me that tiny chance to survive. On a journey like this, a lot could happen.

If only I weren’t tied to the saddle horn! I tried to move my hands, but Gus had done an excellent job, leaving me no room to maneuver. I couldn’t even reach the reins. They were knotted behind Cochise’s neck because it was impossible to keep a herd of stubborn beeves together while leading a horse in tow.

 

By mid-afternoon, we stopped at a river for a rest. The three rustlers dismounted from their horses, which, along with the cattle, crowded on the riverbanks for a drink of water. No one paid attention to me when I let me and Cooch drop back. You could steer a horse without using your hands, by shifting your weight and applying pressure with your thighs. I knew Cochise felt my determined tension as his muscles tightened beneath me. We were a well-oiled team. My pinto’s ears pricked up, and he began to prance.

Since the men were distracted, the timing was right. While Travis refilled his canteen at the stream, Gus and Fred stood with their backs to me, relieving themselves into some bushes. I knew the risk of trying to escape, but I was nobody who shied away from danger. It was better to be hit by a speeding bullet on the run than to face certain death like a calf in the slaughterhouse. Leaning forward, I kicked my heels into my horse’s sides.

Travis yelled, pulling his Colt from the holster. “Damn, he’s getting away!”

A shot rang out, and I felt the bullet whistle past, tearing a hole in my jacket sleeve. Hell, this fella’s a good shot! I bent lower above Cochise. The river plain echoed with another shot. This time, the slug hit my horse. Cooch jerked and stumbled but caught himself and kept running.

A glance over my shoulder showed a deep, ugly gash on the hip. Blood spilled out, staining the black-white fur. “I’m sorry, Cooch,” I whispered, and it hurt me to have to keep pushing him, for Travis and Fred were on their horses, chasing after me. They caught up fast. The boss pulled up short, drew his rifle, and took aim.

I almost lay on my horse’s neck, snuggled up against his fur, tensing in anticipation of the impact. I knew I had no chance. At that distance, the bullet couldn’t miss me. A gun discharged, followed by an angry roar. Before Cochise and I disappeared into a hollow, I caught a glimpse of Travis struggling with Fred, who must have knocked the barrel aside for the rifle.

“Hang in there, Cooch,” I encouraged my four-legged friend, who began foaming and slowing down. I followed the river as it made a wide circle to the north, heading for the ranch house.

Today I paid no attention to the beauty of the landscape with its mighty pines and the snow-capped peaks of the Sierra to my left. I concentrated on keeping my horse moving as we covered mile after mile. I figured we had lost our pursuers for now, but they would guess I was heading home and try to cut me off.

I tugged in vain at the restraints that still bound my wrists to the saddle horn. The rough rope was soaked with blood from my chafed, burned skin. Maybe I could—

Cochise stumbled, and then his legs buckled under him. The air was knocked out of my lungs as I slammed into the hard ground with a thud. Something snapped. Sharp as a knife, pain shot through my arms and unnaturally twisted shoulders. As I and Cooch slid down the embankment, I couldn’t stop myself from screaming in agony. Just before my boots plunged into the foaming stream, the cinch snagged on a shallow root. The horse and I came to a sudden halt.

My heart beat wild like a caged bird. My breaths were short, choppy gasps as I tried to control the furious pain raging through my left elbow. Cochise’s legs flailed as he tried to rise, but the jammed girth hindered his efforts.

Tears welled in my eyes as the jerking motion spread to my arm, bone rubbing against bone. “Easy, Cooch, easy!” I tried to calm my pinto, who was on the verge of panic. “Whoa, slow down, boy!” My voice was raw with pain. “Everything will be fine. I’ll free you in a moment.”

It worked. My mount rested his head on the ground, surrendering to his fate. With a groan, I crawled closer to take the weight off my arms. It was pure torture to bend the injured elbow. Bringing my face close to the ropes, I began the laborious task of working them with my teeth.

My lips were sore, and my jaw ached when the hemp gave way. Disgusted, I spat out fibers, blood, and grit. With my injured arm pressed tight against my body, I slid to the river on my knees. The water felt wonderful, soothing my sore skin, quenching my thirst, and giving me new strength. I could not afford to take a break, although I only wanted to lie down and rest. At any moment, my pursuers could appear.

I felt through my jacket for my left elbow, expecting sharp bone fragments to poke through the fabric, but as far as I could tell, the skin wasn’t broken. My knotted spare shirt made a good makeshift sling. Biting my lower lip, I tucked my forearm in. This way, I would be able to get home.

With stiff fingers, I fumbled at the snagged cinch until it loosened. Cochise was quick on his feet and shook himself, enveloping us both in a puff of dust. The Cartwright’s typical dogged determination got me back in the saddle, even though I groaned with pain. When I was back in control of myself, I patted the black and white neck and clicked my tongue to cheer Cooch up. “Just a few more miles to go!”

It was already dark as we made it into the Ponderosa yard. My pinto was severely lame, and the fur around the wound was shaggy and crusted with blood. The windows were not as bright and inviting as I’d hoped, but black. No one hurried out the door to help me off my horse.

I didn’t bother to stifle a scream as I dismounted; after all, no one was around to hear me. Everyone was out in search of me.

We had been taught from an early age that a cowboy’s first concern was his horse, and I wouldn’t make an exception, even if it took all the energy I had left. I didn’t know how I managed to undo the cinch and pull the saddle off with one hand. After removing the bridle, I opened the barn door and slapped Cochise’s butt. “You know where your stable is.” Someone would take care of my horse later.

The toes of my boots shuffled over the porch’s wooden planks as I walked towards the house, my injured arm clutched to my chest. With a sigh of relief, I dropped onto the settee. I lifted my feet and propped my head on the armrest. ‘I made it. I can rest now,’ were my last thoughts before my eyelids fell shut as sleep overtook me.

 

The door was jerked open, and heavy footsteps trampled toward me, startling me from my slumber. Before I could force my eyes to open, someone touched my shoulder. “Joseph?”

“Hey, Pa!”

“Are you all right?”

I nodded and gave him a tiny smile. Pa exhaled with relief when he saw I wasn’t critically injured. He slipped his arm behind my back and helped me to sit up.

Adam joined our father and leaned over me. Calm as always, his gaze swept over my body as he took stock of the situation. “I’ll get him to bed, Pa.”

“Careful, Adam, his arm.”

“I know that.”

“I send a hand to the doctor.” Grim determination filled Pa’s voice. “I pray Hoss and the posse catch the men who did this to my boy.”

Usually, I would get annoyed if they talked about me like I wasn’t there, but today I didn’t mind. It was good to have a family that took care of everything. Without protest, I allowed Adam to pull me to my feet. “Can you walk, or do you want me to carry you?”

“Walk.”

Adam wrapped an arm around the small of my back, careful not to touch my busted arm, and helped me up the stairs.

++++

Doc Martin looked satisfied as he washed the plaster residue from his hands in a bowl. “You’re lucky, young man. It was a clean break. There’s no direct damage to the elbow joint, and with a little rest and care, you’ll be as good as new in a few weeks!”

Pa’s worry lines smoothed out at the doctor’s words, a small smile appearing at the corner of his mouth. “That’s good news, Paul!”

“Thanks, Doc!” I eyed my cast arm resting on a pillow to dry. I also had bandages around my chest—Doc thought one of my ribs might be broken—my wrists and forehead, and I felt like those Egyptian mummies pictured in one of Adam’s books.

A knock sounded on my door. When Hoss, followed by Sheriff Coffee, burst in, the room became cramped. They both looked tired, and dust covered their clothes and faces.

“Dadburnit, Joe! What happened to you?” Hoss clutched my bed’s footboard, his eyes betraying his concern.

With a thin smile, I raised my right hand in greeting. “Hey, Hoss. I’m a bit banged up, but I’ll be all right.”

“Adam, Pa, how did you find Joe?”

Pa stood beside me, adjusting the pillow beneath my injured arm. Not because it was necessary, but to keep his hands busy. “He made it home on his own. What about the posse, Roy? You caught them rustlers?”

“No, it got too dark, but we’ll ride out again tomorrow. They’re easy to track down and don’t move fast with the herd. We shouldn’t have any problem catching them.” Roy exchanged glances with Hoss and scratched his head.

“What is it, Roy? Hoss? Spit it out,” I demanded, a queasy feeling forming in my belly.

“Little brother … I know you were getting along fine with Fred. He didn’t come home last night, either. He probably followed the rustlers and even tried to free you. We found him down by Clear Creek. He was shot. I’m sorry.”

I opened my mouth to reply, then closed it, staring at my blanket. My eyes got hot and moist. “Dead, huh? He tried to help me. He …” My mind raced. I already had a hunch Fred had stopped Travis from shooting me in the back. What good would it do to tell everyone the ranch hand had been one of the bad ones?

“What exactly happened, Joe?” The Sheriff stepped closer. “I need a detailed report for the minutes!”

“They caught me following them and held me overnight in this old mine near Dead Horse Canyon. After I saw their faces, they wanted to kill me but decided to take me and collect a ransom.”

“How many men were there?”

“Three. Uh … I can tell you two names. Travis and Gus.”

“That’s enough for today, Roy!” Doc Martin looked into my face. I guess he could see how exhausted and sore I was. “This bustle is not good for my patient. The boy needs rest. I would suggest we continue this conversation downstairs. Ben, I could use a cup of coffee anyway.”

Before he left, I touched the doctor’s arm. “Paul, can you go and check on Cooch, please? He’s hurt, too.”

“All right, then. Don’t worry about him, son, I’ll take care of your mount. Getting a horse patched up is a change. Hoss, will you give me a hand?”

As the door to my room closed, my eyelids fluttered shut. The laudanum began to take effect, causing my body to relax. I no longer had to fight the drug’s pull. Instead, I let myself drift into a healing sleep.

 

Epilogue

With my arm in a sling, I sat in the rocking chair on the porch and let the sun beat down on my face. Pa insisted on wrapping me in a blanket like an invalid, and Hop Sing provided lemonade and cookies.

When Hoss climbed down from Chubb, beads of sweat on his forehead and a streak of dirt on his face, I flashed a naughty grin as I slurped the cool, lemony drink. “Hey brother, rough day?”

“If you didn’t have that cast on your arm, I’d show you what a rough day is,” Hoss muttered, grabbing a cookie from the plate.

“Did you catch the rustlers?”

“We got two. Travis and Gus, from your description. Both dead. There was a gunfight.  We don’t know where the third was. Can you tell us what he looked like, Joe?”

Hoss noticed me squirming in the chair, fiddling with a loose thread on the blanket. “You know, I was blindfolded, and it was dark in that mine. I was kind of dizzy from the graze, too.”

“Roy found out they were wanted for rustling. They’d done this before. There’s a two thousand dollar reward. Of course, the posse members split the money, but I’ll get four hundred bucks.”

“I know it’s a lot to ask, Hoss, but could you maybe …? I hesitated.

“Out with it, Joe!”

“Would you mind giving Pearl a part of the reward? She and Fred had marriage plans, and … well, you know. Then, the money can be used for good. She will always remember him with pride.”

“I don’t mind supporting the girl. But why do I feel you ain’t telling me the whole truth, Joe?” Hoss snatched up another cookie and shot me a suspicious glance.

“Maybe I’ll fill you in someday. Hey, it smells like Hop Sing’s got supper ready. Don’t you think we should get in before he starts yelling about how everything’s getting cold?”

The End

September 2024

 

Author’s notes:

Tags: SJS

The song “Oh My Darling, Clementine” is based on an earlier song called “Down by the River Liv’d a Maiden” by Thompson from 1863