Summary: A man wants revenge.

Rating: PG     Word Count: 8280

An Eye For An Eye

Ben

I closed the Bible and turned down the lamp’s wick, leaving Joe’s room dimly illuminated. “An eye for an eye,” said the Old Testament in the book of Exodus. However, in the New Testament, Jesus reinterpreted this principle in the Sermon on the Mount, advising people not to respond with violence.

My coffee had long since gone cold. I grimaced as I took a sip, tasting the bitter liquid. Exhausted, I rubbed my eyes with the heel of my hand, trying to keep from yawning. I hadn’t slept much the last few nights. The chair creaked as I shifted, and the figure in the bed beside me stirred with a low moan.

When I leaned over and placed a hand on Joseph’s shoulder, he calmed down. The lines on his tense face smoothed out, and the corner of his mouth curled up in a barely visible smile. Careful not to wake him, I checked the temperature of his forehead with the back of my hand. Warm, but not feverish. Good.

Joe was strong. It seemed that his body had overcome the infection. Paul said something about germs causing such inflammation, and he had done his best as usual, but at some point, it was up to the patient to heal himself.

I took another sip of the cold brew. The other option, getting up and making fresh coffee, was too much effort. How many times had I sat by Joe’s bedside over the years? None of my sons had been hurt as often as my youngest. Always brave, unruly, and reckless, he`d never shied away from a fight or an argument. But as time passed, he had grown calmer, more reasonable, and more mature. After Hoss died, I thought for a while he had lost his will to live. But then he ran into this new girl in town, Flora. She was to him like spring rain to a wilted plant.

When he told me at dinner one night that he`d met a young woman and she had agreed to see him, my heart leaped for joy. It was one of the first times Joe had smiled again. I sent a prayer of thanks to Heaven, hoping all would be well. I wished for Joe to find his way out of the valley of grief, to find joy in life again. But of course, everything turned out quite differently.

As I held Joseph’s battered body in my arms some days ago, I cried to God not to take him away from me. I couldn’t bear to lose another son. I wanted a happy future with a wife and children for my son, and I wanted it so much that it hurt.

Stroking the cover of my leather-bound Bible, I rested my head on the back of the chair and allowed my eyes to fall shut. The fever was down, which meant Joe was out of the woods and on the road to recovery. Once again, he had proved how strong he was. There was no need to worry anymore. I would try to get a few hours of sleep.

 

Joe—Seven days ago

“You have no idea why you’re here, do you, Joe?”

The strange voice with a mocking undertone forced its way into my sluggish consciousness. Searing pain raged through the left side of my chest, and I couldn’t move.

The man, for it was a man’s voice, let out a harsh laugh. He was right. I didn’t know where I was or what this man wanted. My head felt as if it were the home of a swarm of bees, so I kept it as still as possible, pressed against the wooden wall behind me. It gave me strength, since everything swayed. I opened my eyes, but everything remained dark. With calm, even breaths, I tried to fight the nausea and clear my head.

“Do you know why you’re here?”

“No.”

“Then guess!”

Thinking was tedious and painful, and I wasn’t interested in his games. “Want money?”

“I don’t care about money.”

There was a scuffle of boots as the man in front of me moved, and I could feel him standing close to me. I smelled his sour sweat and his breath, which reeked of whiskey.

When I moved my head in his direction, I realized why I couldn’t see anything. A piece of coarse cloth was wrapped around my eyes. I concentrated on my other senses. Floorboards creaked. It was cool in the room. Not cold enough to freeze, but cold enough to feel uncomfortable, especially since the man had removed my jacket.

Little by little, I began to understand my predicament. I was a prisoner. My arms were spread wide on either side of me at head height and bound so tightly that I had already started to lose feeling in my hands. The man seemed to have planned this to make me uncomfortable. To relieve the pressure on my aching shoulders, I shifted my position, pushing myself against the wall. It didn’t help much.

The rush of air and the sharp crack gave me no time to brace myself against the blow that struck my chest. The searing pain came as a surprise. My body jerked, and a gasp escaped me.

“What do you want from me?” I yelled between more lashes with the cane or whip or whatever the fella was using while I tried to dodge, which of course was impossible.

“Remember April a year ago?”

“What?” By now, I was breathing hard. Hot welts had formed on my chest. Sweat or blood, maybe both, ran down my belly in tiny drops, and the way it felt, my shirt was tattered, and my skin split in places.

“Do I need to refresh your memory?”

“I really have no idea …”

The man made a sound of disgust or annoyance. “In fact, I wanted to kill you—a clean shot through the heart. Lucky for you, your horse turned the moment I pulled the trigger. Or bad luck. Whichever way you look at it. When I realized that I’d only grazed you, I changed my mind. If you had died without knowing why, it would have been a shame.”

The tip of the whip or rod brushed across my arms. “Does it hurt? This is just the beginning since I plan to torture you for days. You will suffer until you beg me to put an end to your miserable life. Then your father will receive a gift he`ll remember for the rest of his days! Your battered corpse!”

When the footsteps moved away, my body slumped in its restraints with relief. A door was slammed shut, and I heard the man’s muffled laughter, or was it sobbing?

I was alone.

 

++++

It had been a mild spring day, with a deep blue sky and scattered white clouds. I`d ridden to the fence of the north pasture that afternoon. One of the hands had mentioned that some posts were crooked and poles were broken, and I wanted to get an idea of the damage and the materials needed to repair it. I was in a good mood since it was an excellent opportunity to get away from branding the new calves. Rather than inhale the dust and stench of singed hides, I preferred the fresh, tangy spring air. “That’s one of the perks of being the boss,” I’d said with a mischievous grin as I waved goodbye to Candy, who stood bare-chested and sweaty by the fire pit with a branding iron in his hand. He`d just shrugged.

Tonight I will take my girlfriend Flora to this new French restaurant. A broad smile spread across my face at the thought of what I had in my pocket. Through the thin fabric of my pants, my fingers felt the ring. I knew having it with me at work was silly, but it felt good. Carrying it in my pocket was like having a piece of Flora with me. I imagined how her eyes would light up when I put it on her finger at our wedding. It was a simple gold ring with no diamonds, for Flora wasn’t the kind of woman who liked to show off precious stones.

When I saw movement in the hillside above me out of the corner of my eye, it was too late. My hand flew to my gun, but before I could get it from its holster, a bang echoed across the meadow. A fiery pain shot through the side of my chest, tearing me from the saddle.

I fell, hitting my head hard on the ground. The rich smell of fertile earth and lush grass enveloped me, and a blurred face with a dark hat replaced the blue sky. The mouth had formed words I couldn’t understand, and rough hands were on my body, pulling at me. I remembered hanging belly down over a horse, and the swaying had made my stomach turn. Then, my memory was just a jumble of unrelated images. The stinging sun scorched the back of my neck. Someone gripped my jacket to yank me to the ground. I was dragged by my ankles across a wooden floor. Rough ropes were bound around my wrists. 

 

++++

Somehow, I made it through the night. I couldn’t see anything, but the temperature had dropped noticeably. The cabin felt deserted and vacant. There were many such places in the Virginia City area, and I had no idea where or how far we had ridden.

The cool air caused goosebumps on my skin since my torn shirt offered no protection, and the fella had probably removed my jacket. The welts and the bullet wound burned like fire, and my head pounded to the beat of my heart. Dried blood crusted the skin on my chest, making it tight and itchy. A cool bath and a drink of water would be heaven!

I didn’t know if I had been asleep or unconscious, but the cloudy fog in my skull had begun to clear. As I rubbed the back of my head against the rough wooden wall, trying to move the blindfold, spasms shot through my arms and shoulders, but it was worth the effort. Through a gap underneath the cloth, I could see a piece of dirty, worn wooden floor, the legs of a table, a couple of chairs, and a potbelly stove. As suspected, I was inside a cabin, and I needed to find out why I was here and who this man was who held me captive.

As I twisted my wrists back and forth in the restraints to loosen the ropes, I tried to remember. What had happened in April of last year? Who was the man? I was sure I had never heard his voice before. He was out for revenge, but for whom? I had had fights in the saloon occasionally, but I was no longer the young, hot-blooded, reckless ladies’ man I used to be. I had learned to control myself and think before I acted.

Trying to take the weight off my numb butt, I bent my knees and shifted. The cabin smelled of dust and mustiness with a hint of mold. I could hear the sound of chirping birds drifting through one of the broken windows. If I bent my head far back, the lower frame of the window was visible. Dust-covered, jagged shards of glass scattered on the floor reminded me I had to free myself before the man returned. However, the more I tugged at the ropes, the tighter they became. Darn! I didn’t even have to try to reach the shards because they were several yards away.

Leaning my head against the wall, I tried to relax and focus on something other than my current situation.

My mouth twisted into a small smile as I remembered how I saw Flora the first time. Accompanied by an aunt who traveled to San Francisco, she stepped off the stagecoach. She wanted to meet her brother in Virginia City, but he never showed up. He wasn’t the reliable type, she told me later.

She stood on the main street, a little lost, next to her luggage, which contained a suitcase and two bags. Her simple traveling dress was wrinkled and dirty from the journey. It was grey with some lace around the neckline, and her light brown hair was tied up in a knot with loose strands coming out. Frowning, she yanked at the suitcase, which had caught on a nail in the sidewalk. When it finally came loose, she stumbled backward with a small yelp.

My reflexes worked well, and I caught her before she landed in the dust. She freed herself from my grip with a curt “Thank you,” snorted in frustration, brushed the dust off her dress, and accepted my help carrying her luggage to her hotel room with a sigh. After placing her bags on the table, I stood in the doorway, kneading my hat, wondering how to find out about this charming woman.

Her eyes flashing, she approached me. “What’s the matter? You don’t expect any favors in return for your help, do you?”

“Um … no, I just wanted to … oh, whatever. It was nice meeting you.” Spinning around, I left the hotel in a hurry. When it came to young ladies, I was a bit out of practice.

 

Thinking about how I asked Flora out a few weeks later, my face grew hot. Asking her had taken more courage than the decision to amputate my arm after the horse had hurt me. I knew she worked at the small café, but I didn’t realize there was a women’s coffee party that afternoon. Well, I might have known if I’d read the sign on the door that said “Ladies Only.”

God, I was so embarrassed to find myself in that group of females. The woman looked me over from head to foot, making me feel as out of place as a cow pony in a herd of Arabian horses. They followed my every move with raised eyebrows, and I squirmed with shame as I hurried past them toward the kitchen, where I hoped to find Flora.

But it had been worth it. She accepted my invitation, and we have met almost every day since. At first, it felt like a betrayal to Hoss to feel happy again, laugh, and dance with a woman without a care, but I knew he wouldn’t have wanted me to spend the rest of my life in mourning.

 

The squeak of a door brought me back to the present, and a breeze carried a hint of spicy pines. The floorboards creaked under the weight of the man. My body tensed up.

“Sleep well, Cartwright?”

I straightened, determined not to show how uncomfortable I was, but my heartbeat quickened.

“My God, you stink of piss!” An ice-cold gush of water hit the middle of my body, causing me to flinch. Now, I was wide awake. I licked the few splashes that had hit my face from my lips, but it wasn’t nearly enough to quench my thirst.

“I was going to give you some water, but I’m afraid I spilled all of it. You’ll have to do without.”

“What do you want from me?” I snapped at the man.

I could hear in the tone of his voice how upset he was. “You still haven’t figured that out, have you? I’m Taylor. Last April, your father sent my son to prison.”

Taylor. The face of a drunken, unkempt man with stubble flashed in my mind. He ran a small farm outside of Virginia City. He was in his late thirties but looked fifty since his wife had died a few years before.

Now I remembered something Pa had mentioned about Taylor’s son last year.  He’d been in the mercantile when the fleeing kid ran right into him.

“He caught your boy stealing money!”

“Yeah, but he was hungry. You don’t have any idea what it’s like to be hungry, do you? Your father reported him. How could he be so cruel?  Sammy was charged and convicted, and he was sent to prison. The kid was just a fourteen-year-old wanting to fill his belly!”

“He’s your son! You should have taken care of him!”

“Our farm was suffering from drought. The wheat didn`t grow, and we had no money!”

“I`m sorry, Taylor, but my pa isn’t responsible for—” My head snapped to the side as two punches struck my jaw.

“You’re sorry? Sammy died in prison. That broke my heart!”

I gulped, the copper taste of blood on my tongue. I knew what it was like to lose a loved one and how much Pa had suffered over Hoss’ death.

“Keeping me here won’t bring your son back.” I made sure to sound calm and reasonable.

“No, but knowing someone is paying for it feels good. I want your father to feel the same pain I did when he holds your body.”

“Revenge is not going to help, believe me. I—”

“Do you know what they did to Sammy in prison? Can you imagine how much he suffered?”

Even though I had a good idea of how the inmates would treat a young fellow, I shook my head.

“An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, as the Bible says. Think about it, Cartwright. I’ll be back in a few hours.”

 

It was one of the worst days I’d ever had. My torn shirt and trousers clung damp to my skin. Starting at my feet, the cold crept over my whole body like a shadow when the sun disappeared. I began to tremble, which set my shoulder joints and wrists on fire. My hands were numb, and my head still hurt from the fall and the lack of fluids. The gunshot wound was hot and tense, and the thirst pushed all thoughts of my empty stomach away.

If Hoss were still alive, he could have followed my tracks. I knew Candy and Pa would do anything to find me, although they weren’t as good as Hoss. Had Cochise run home?

Flora! My date last night! I hadn’t shown up, and she had waited for me. She would have stood in front of the mirror in her yellow flowered dress, her hair in a loose knot, watching the clock. She must have paced up and down, looking out the window, and wondered why I didn’t come.

 

The door opened again. It could have been an hour or more. I had lost track of time. My body stiffened, and I broke out in an uncomfortable cold sweat, a reaction I couldn’t suppress.

“Ready for another round?” Taylor asked, and I heard a scraping noise.  I turned my head but could only see his black, worn boots. He seemed to pick something up off the floor. I held my breath and listened. What was he up to?

With a sound like a snapping log, the blow hit my shin. A scream burst from me and echoed through the cabin, mixing with the man’s raucous laughter. I wanted to curl up and clutch my leg, but the ropes held me in place. Trying to regain control, I gritted my teeth. My whole limb was on fire, and my breath came with rough, panting gasps. All other pain faded into the background as the tormenting blaze raged through my lower leg.

Taylor had hit the same spot as the horse three years ago, crushing my shin in the barn during the storm.

Clenching my fists, I pressed the back of my head hard against the wall. I didn’t want to give the man the satisfaction of showing him how much pain he`d caused me. Something clattered to the ground, perhaps the iron pipe or something similar.

“Are you happy now?” I yelled at him.

“Sammy broke his leg when his fellow prisoners brutally beat him. There was no doctor to help him. He must have suffered for days. Then he died of an infection.”

“It’s not my pa’s … or my fault what … happened to him,” I squeezed out between choppy breaths.

“Sure. No one wants to take the blame.”

I slumped back into my restraints after hearing moving steps and the slamming of a door. The pain tore through my leg like a whirlwind through a rotten trunk, and it was almost unbearable. I knew it was broken, and I was in for a rough time.

 

Under normal circumstances, I would sit in a restaurant with Flora, as we did almost every night for the past week. We would discuss the house we were building and how many children we wanted. A lot, we agreed. At first glance, Flora seemed shy and quiet, but she had a sharp tongue and could talk quite a bit when she felt comfortable.

Although my clothes began to dry, another chill ran through my body, making me shiver. Trying to push back the self-pity, I rested my head on one shoulder. Maybe I would meet Hoss again when I died. He was up there somewhere, waiting for me. I wondered if he could see me now. My chances of dying here were quite good. How long could you go without water? Three or four days? The only thing keeping me alive was Flora. The thought of never seeing her again was more unbearable than the pain.

My blindfold caught on a splinter, and I could remove it after turning my head several times. It was dark in the room. Only a little moonlight fell through a window, casting a pale rectangle on my legs outstretched in front of me. My left foot was turned sideways at an unnatural angle. This was the leg the horse had shattered.

For the first time, I could see the bullet wound stretching across my left chest to my armpit, a furrow as if torn by a plow. It was red, hot, and crusted. I pulled my eyes from the disgusting sight and scanned the cabin.

I glanced at my bound arms. They were tied to beams. My wrists were bruised and swollen. I tugged at the ropes, but they didn’t give much.

Wait! Was there a nail in the wall? I bit my lip as I raised my right arm, causing the muscles to tighten into painful cords. The rope scraped over the nail that protruded only a fraction of an inch. To reach it, I would have to brace my good leg and push up the wall. It would take me hours to free myself. Was it worth the effort? I was so tired, and my whole body ached. It would have been so much easier just to give up and resign myself to my fate.

But then I saw Flora’s delicate face floating in front of my eyes. I could almost smell the lemony scent of her hair as she rested her head on my shoulder during one of our barn dances. Her lips had been soft and cool as silk when I first kissed her, and her small hands had sent pleasant shivers down my skin when they touched me. When I`d held her in my arms, an unexpected wave of desire had swept over me, taking my breath away. Flora was the woman I wanted to marry, to have children with, and to grow old with.

No, I wouldn’t give up. “You don’t know, Taylor, how stubborn the Cartwrights can be,” I muttered. I’d do anything to stay alive.

 

 

I spent what felt like hours rubbing the rope over the nail tip. It wasn’t as if I had anything better to do. My muscles burned when the last hemp snapped. With a thud, my freed hand fell to the ground like a piece of meat, and I stifled a sound of triumph. The hand was still numb and useless, but the unpleasant stinging showed it wouldn’t last long. The sensation was so painful that for a brief moment, I wished the numbness back.

Taylor’s first mistake was overlooking the nail in the wall, and his second was the knife in my boot. Luckily, it was in the right one. My left foot was uncomfortably swollen, and I would never have been able to take the boot off.

Determined, I flexed the fingers of my right hand. As soon as they worked again, I would get the knife out of my boot shaft and cut myself free.

 

Crawling on my elbows, I inched toward the door, eyes fixed on the wooden bucket. I barely dared blink, as if averting my gaze would make it disappear. Did it still contain any liquid? The aching leg I dragged across the dusty floor faded into the background. My dry tongue ran over chapped lips.

 

I closed my eyes briefly in relief after I tipped the bucket and peered into it, my heart pounding with pain and exertion. The stale finger’s width of water was the best thing I had ever tasted. It took all my willpower to drink slowly, keeping the liquid in my mouth for a while before swallowing. Each drop brought life back to my parched body.

 

It was morning the next time I opened my eyes. Dust motes danced in the light streaming through the windows. My cheek was pressed against the rotten floorboards, and the musty smell in my nose.

Darn, how could this have happened? Did I fall asleep or pass out? I couldn’t afford to linger. I had to get out of here. It was only a matter of time before Taylor returned.

By now, I was no longer cold but hot. When I touched my lower leg, I winced. As far as I could tell, it was broken in more than one place.

The bigger problem, however, was the gunshot wound. Redness, swelling, and pain confirmed what I already knew. An infection had set in, but I could do nothing about it.

I had to get outside to my horse. I didn’t worry about how I was going to mount Cooch with only one working leg or if he had run home. I would think about that later. I was stubborn and determined, and there was always a solution.

 

The door opened, slamming against my arm. A surprised yelp escaped me. A silhouette stood in the doorway, legs apart, one hand placed loosely on the revolver at his hip.

‘Where is the knife?’ flashed through my mind, but I couldn’t remember. Instead, a deep sense of resignation flooded my exhausted body as I realized that all my efforts had been in vain. Taylor was going to kill me. As I squinted into the orange morning sun streaming through the door—the last thing I might see—Taylor took a step inside the cabin. He stared down at me. For a long moment, our eyes locked. He screwed up his face and muttered something that sounded like an curse. After he turned away, I wondered why I hadn’t seen hostility or hatred in his face but rather regret and pity. No, that wasn’t possible. I must have imagined it.

Taylor took the bucket and shuffled out, slumping his shoulders as he closed the door behind him.

I flipped onto my back and stretched out on all fours. My hand found its way into my pocket, searching for the ring. Flora would never wear it. “I’m sorry, darling,” I whispered, blinking against moisture that gathered in the corners of my eyes. I held the slim gold ring up to my face. It reminded me of her sparkling brown eyes with the ochre speckles that shimmered brightly when she laughed. The cool metal was smooth and silky like her skin. The cool metal was smooth like her skin, and I imagined slipping it on her finger and kissing her slender hand.

When the door opened again, a refreshing breeze hit my heated skin. Would Taylor finish me off quickly? A bullet in the head, or would he leave me here to die of thirst?

I heard the water sloshing in the bucket next to my head. More torture? My fist tightened around the ring.

 

Ben

I sat alone at the breakfast table with a cup of coffee, forcing the bitter liquid into my knotted stomach. Weary, I ran my hand over my eyes. I felt the calluses of decades of hard work. But for what? Adam was gone, Hoss was dead, and Joe was missing for days.

Joseph and I had supported each other, but I had no strength or will to continue without him. I thought that I was strong and nothing could break me down. My unwavering faith in God has carried me through my life so far. But I was exhausted. Candy and I had been on a relentless search since Joe’s disappearance, but to no avail. It was as if a crack in the earth had opened up and swallowed my son. We had found blood and some hoof prints, but they were lost on the sunbaked ground.

As I stood at the credenza to buckle my gunbelt, my hands shook like an old man’s. My gaze swept across the room and stopped at our favorite spot in front of the fireplace. How many nights had I spent there with my sons?

Joe had been sitting at the living room table, playing checkers with Hoss. Adam had been curled up in the blue armchair, reading a book or strumming his guitar while I had been smoking a pipe and enjoying a glass of brandy.

Maybe I should turn the ranch over to Candy and Jamie. I no longer had the energy to run the Ponderosa alone. Candy was a—

“Mr. Cartwright!” Something urgent in my foreman`s voice sent a hot wave of energy through my body. Had Joe returned?

I yanked the door open so fast it banged against the wall. I would have scolded Joseph for that. The morning light blinded me as I hurried across the porch, sending Hop Sing’s chickens clucking in all directions.

A lump formed in my throat. Cochise had returned, but my son had not. The horse was saddled, the reins knotted behind his neck.  Candy went through the saddlebags. I stepped up beside him to run my hand over the saddle in search of some remnant of my youngest’s body heat or bloodstains. But there was only the soft, worn leather beneath my fingertips, bearing witness to countless hours Joe spent on horseback.

Candy’s voice sounded as tense as I felt. “Look! I found something!” He pulled out a crumpled piece of paper and smoothed it. Frowning, he deciphered, “Sun Mountain Shack.”

Our eyes met. We had the same thought. “I’ll hitch up the buckboard, Mr. Cartwright, and send a hand for the Doc.”

Hope and fear of what we would find there made my heart beat faster. “I’m saddling Buck.”

 

It was twenty miles to the old cabin on Sun Mountain, and I`d never traveled that distance faster. My eyes watered from the dust, and my mouth was dry like an overbaked cookie.

As I pulled my heavy-breathing horse to a stop in front of the run-downd cabin, white foam flakes fell from its neck. My heart pounded so hard it almost hurt. Rubbing my chest, I forced myself to take a couple of deep breaths before letting my eyes wander over the building, the well, and the collapsed shed. Everything looked deserted. Only the hoof and boot prints showed that someone had been here recently.

A cold tingle ran down the back of my neck. Was it a trap? It had happened before that one of my sons had been kidnapped for ransom, but the note had only said that one word. I drew my gun and looked around. A buzzard hovered above me on a warm updraft, its piercing cry the only audible sound.

I walked towards the cabin door—and stopped dead. My heart skipped a beat, only to continue racing twice as fast. The figure huddled in the shadow of the porch was barely visible. His torn shirt and pants were as dirty as the crumbling floorboards. “Joseph!” One fast glance was enough to tell me he was not in good condition. As I dropped to my knees next to him, the pungent smell of urine and sweat and the sweet stench of an infected wound hit me. Without touching, I knew his body burned with fever.

 

Joe

I opened my eyes suspiciously, my fist clutching the ring pressed against my chest. I was alone. It was strange Taylor still hadn’t returned, and I no longer believed that his absence was a ploy to make me suffer more. Why had he changed his mind? I had expected him to be furious that I’d freed myself. Instead, he’d mumbled something before closing the door behind him. I couldn’t stop thinking about his last words: “You know, Cartwright, you were right. This won’t bring Sammy back.”

Pressing my palms against the floorboards, I pushed myself into a sitting position. The bucket stood right next to me. I grabbed it with both hands and tilted it so that the water sloshed into my mouth. As the cool, refreshing liquid flowed down my throat and dripped past my chin onto my chest, I closed my eyes in pleasure. So good!

 

With my belly full of water, my brain also started to work properly again. I had to get out of this cabin! “Move,” I muttered, reaching for the doorknob. For a terrible second, I thought it was locked, but with a reluctant squeak, the handle turned.

The fresh morning breeze on my feverish skin was heaven as I crawled over the threshold onto the porch. As I moved, I was careful not to break through the rotten boards, which were splintered and cracked. Shielding my eyes against the unaccustomed brightness, I looked around. No Taylor, no Cochise, just a dusty courtyard, covered with dried tufts of grass and lined with scattered pine trees. Without a horse, I had no way of getting out of here. Of course, it would have been hell to mount and ride with a broken leg, but I would have found a way to manage.

There was one thing I had to do. I bent down to my injured leg with the knife and placed the blade. The boot leather was tough and unyielding, but I managed to cut it open to the ankle. I moaned with relief as the pressure eased, lowering the knife with trembling fingers. I felt the injury through my pant leg, but refrained from rolling it up. There was no blood, which probably meant that no bone fragments had pierced the skin, even though my foot was positioned at an odd angle. I should set the bone and make a splint out of wooden slats, I thought. The idea made me grimace.

As I examined the area around the cabin with my eyes, I started to feel dizzy, and the water I’d drunk too quickly made my stomach rumble. I had to rest. Lying down on the porch, I closed my eyes for a moment.

I may have fallen asleep.

 

A hand was placed on my forehead, startling me from my slumber. “Flora!” With a sigh, I leaned into the soothing touch. Now, everything was fine. I reached for her as she stroked my face—and opened my eyes in surprise. It wasn’t the soft, slender woman’s hand I had expected. “Pa?”

“Yes, son. I found you.” His voice sounded hoarse, and I could tell he was struggling to control his feelings. It was hard to imagine just how worried he’d been.

As my father helped me into a sitting position and leaned me against the wall, dizziness overcame me, which subsided after a few deep breaths.

He felt my ribs and arms. I saw deep furrows form on his forehead when he saw the crusted, furiously red, swollen bullet wound. Then, he moved his hands over my knee toward my twisted lower leg.

“Don’t!” I gasped as he tried to touch it.

“You’re right. Let’s leave it up to Paul. Candy should be here any minute with the buckboard. You thirsty?”

Licking my lips, I shook my head. I’d drunk enough in the last hour.

Pa unknotted his kerchief, soaked it with water from his canteen, and began to wash the crusted blood off my chest.

“How’d you find me? Where am I anyway?”

“At the old Sun Mountain cabin. Son, who did this to you?”

“Taylor.”

Pa rubbed his neck as his eyes wandered over the yard. “Taylor … that was the boy I caught stealing from the store last year!”

“Yeah. He died in prison. His father sought revenge. He planned to kill me. He wanted you to suffer as he did.”

As Pa continued cleaning me up, I turned my head away and clenched my fists, not wanting to show him how much it hurt. He was already worried enough.

Distraction would be good right now. “Tell me what happened last April.”

“Hoss and I went into Virginia City to get supplies. I was walking into the mercantile when this boy bumped into me. He had pushed old Mr. Cropin, the owner, to the floor when he caught him robbing the till. Cropin broke his hip. As you know, he has been bedridden ever since. It wasn’t the first time Sammy stole something. So far, it had only been a few groceries, and Cropin had turned a blind eye. He knew the farm wasn’t doing well, and Sammy’s father was drunk all the time and didn’t care about the boy..

As Pa tended to the bullet wound, I bit my lip. “Go on.”

“I grabbed Sammy and turned him over to the Sheriff. At the trial, the boy was sentenced to a year in prison. I didn’t know he died.”

“How’d you find me?”

“Today, Cochise came back with a note in his saddlebag.”

“That’s strange. I thought Taylor would kill me. But he said something before he put a bucket of water beside me. ‘It won’t bring him back.'”

“Maybe he was sorry for what he had done. It takes a lot of cruelty and nerve to torture a defenseless man. Here comes Candy!” Pa stood, and I listened to his footsteps as he hurried towards our foreman. “Candy, quick! Joseph is here! He’s badly hurt. Stop the wagon right in front of the porch. Is Paul coming to the Ponderosa?”

“Yeah, I’ve sent a ranchhand to town. When we get back, the doctor should be waiting. What happened to Joe?” I watched as Candy leaped off the buggy to run toward me.

 

Pa told him in terse words, “The worst thing is a broken leg. We should put a temporary splint on it. He also has a nasty graze that has become infected.”

With a grin on his face, since Candy never lost his sense of humor, even in serious situations, Candy bent over me. “Howdy, Joe. You’ve looked better! Come on, buddy, let’s fix you up and get you home!”

 

++++

Paul Martin had outdone himself again and patched up my leg. In a few weeks, it will be as good as new. It had been an uphill battle to get the infection from the gunshot wound under control, but by now, I was on the mend and even able to hobble around on crutches.

I let out a deep sigh. The enforced rest was hard to bear, especially with no Hoss or Adam around to entertain me with conversation, a game of checkers, or guitar playing. Pa, Jamie, and Candy were busy with the spring roundup. I understood they didn’t have time to sit by my side and hold my hand.

I swung my legs out of bed with a groan and a grimace. I could have sworn Doc Martin had put me in an extra heavy cast to keep me still, but maybe it was my imagination.

The knock on my door wasn’t imagination. “Come on in!” Holding my left arm as still as possible—every movement tore at the half-healed wound—I struggled with the unruly garment. “Would you help me with this damn nightshirt, Hop Sing? It’s too tight for me to …”

“No, not Hop Sing.”

I froze in place. Darn! A female voice. There was a woman in my bedroom. What the hell was Hop Sing thinking, sending her upstairs?

“Wait, let me help you, Joe!”

“Uh, hey, Flora!” With a sheepish grin on my face, I allowed her to pull my nightshirt off over my head. I wasn’t sure if that was an improvement because now I sat in front of her in just my cut-off long johns—the only piece of clothing that would fit over the cast.

“Give me the robe, will you?”

Better. I maneuvered my legs back onto the bed and drew the covers up to my waist. Flora watched with mocking amusement while sitting down on the mattress next to me.

“No need to be embarrassed, Joe. We’re getting married soon.”

“Once this leg is healed. I won’t be standing at the altar like a cripple on crutches.”

“Has the sheriff caught the man who did this?”

“No, he’s gone. They haven’t found a trace of him, but I told Pa I didn’t want to press charges. Everyone reacts differently when they lose someone. In the end, I think he regretted what he did.”

Flora bent over and touched my cheek. “How are you, darling?”

“I’m fine” was on the tip of my tongue, but I didn’t want to lie to my future wife, so I chose the honest option.

“Now that you’re here, I forget that the leg under the cast itches like crazy, the chest wound hurts with every movement, and the skin on my upper arm is strangely numb. Paul said something about nerve damage. There’ll be a nasty scar, and …”

The softness of Flora’s lips on mine silenced me, and everything else was forgotten. She tasted sweet and tempting, and her freshly washed hair smelled like vanilla. Her hand stroked my neck like a feather, sending pleasant shivers down my entire body. With a sigh, I rearranged the blanket to hide my growing arousal.

“Hop Sing will be here soon with lunch,” Flora murmured into my mouth, as if she had guessed my desire to drag her into bed with me and do much more than just kissing. My pain and itching had disappeared as if by a miracle.

“We have the rest of life ahead of us. We’re going to be together forever,” she promised as we pulled away from each other.

 

One year later

“It’s like a vacation, our trip to Placerville, right?” Candy asked me, laughing out loud, as we rode down the main street. We had delivered four fresh, broken-in horses to a nearby ranch and would treat ourselves to a beer and a bath and then check into a hotel room for the night.

“Just like the old days, when we were both bachelors.” I chuckled, giving him a playful nudge on the arm after we dismounted in front of the saloon.

“Unlike you, I’m still a bachelor. I’m going to grab one of the saloon girls and have some fun with her.”

I shrugged, smiling. For me, those days were over, and I didn’t regret it. I had a lovely wife waiting for me at home, and the prospect of becoming a father soon made my chest swell with pride.

“What’s wrong, Joe, ain’t you coming into the saloon?”

“Yeah, just a minute. Back at the mercantile, they had this beautiful fabric in the window. Flora has been looking for something like it to make curtains for our children’s room. We will need it soon. Go ahead. I’ll meet you at the saloon.”

“Yeah, Boss. You’re paying?”

“Sure!” I sighed, reached into my pocket, tossed Candy a coin, and headed for the store.

As I opened the door and stepped inside, a bell rang. My eyes swept over the goods. Copper pots, cloths, jars of oil, dishes, and bags of food were neatly arranged on the shelves. The smell of spices mixed with the scent of fresh apples in a wooden crate sat near the entrance.

“Can I help you?” the man behind the counter asked, and something about it made me feel uneasy. The voice was familiar. I took a closer look at the man. He was not so old, clean-shaven, wearing a well-pressed shirt under a black vest.

“I’d like some of that fabric I saw in the window …”

“Cartwright!” the man hissed, drawing a rifle from under the counter and uncocking it at the same moment.

Staring into the black muzzle, I stared into the black muzzle and raised my left hand away from my gun, gazing him firmly in the eye. A muscle in his cheek twitched. “I’m not going to draw,” I said, tucking my hands behind my back under the gunbelt.

Taylor exhaled and lowered his weapon. “Old reflexes.” He gave a sheepish shrug and laid the rifle down on the counter.

Neither of us said a word, and the awkward silence hung between us until a woman stepped from the next room, order slip and pencil in hand.

“Honey, how much of the molasses should I—” She paused, looking back and forth between us. A frown creased her brow as she hurried to Taylor’s side, aware of the strange tension in the room. “What’s wrong?”

The man cleared his throat. “This … um … is Joe Cartwright from Virginia City.”

“Cartwright?” I saw in her eyes, which grew wide and round, that she knew what had happened between us. An anxious expression crossed her face, and she grabbed her husband’s arm protectively. “Please, Mr. Cartwright …”

I took a deep breath and gave the woman a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, Mrs. Taylor. I’m not out for revenge. My father taught me about forgiveness. Now, may I buy this fabric?”

 

Avoiding my gaze, Taylor wrapped the bundle of cloth in a rustling sheet of paper. “About what happened last April, I’m sorry, Joe. I was kind of … out of line.”

“What I asked myself all the time was, why didn’t you kill me back then?”

“When I looked into your eyes when you lay on the floor behind the door, I saw they were just as green as Sammy’s. I couldn’t do you more harm after I saw these eyes.”

Taylor looked embarrassed as I slid the coins across the counter. “Keep the money. It’s the least I can do. I appreciate your not reporting me and giving me this second chance. I put it to good use. Look at my wonderful wife and the job I`ve got.”

I nodded, tucked the bundle under my arm, and tapped my brim. Then I stepped out into the street, inside a wild jumble of feelings. Meeting Taylor had been unexpected, and it had reopened old wounds.

“What’s wrong, Joe? Are you all right?” Candy asked with raised eyebrows as I joined him. He knew me like he was my brother.

“Some sort of old acquaintance who wanted to make amends.”

Candy handed me the beer he’d ordered and studied me as I drained half of it without setting it down. Sitting back in my chair, I let out a deep sigh, wiping the foam from my lip.

“Will you tell me what acquaintance you met? I’m guessing it wasn’t a pleasant one, judging by the way you’re looking.”

“You weren`t born yesterday.”

“I know that!”

I took another gulp of beer, set the glass down on the scratched tabletop in front of me, drawing in a deep breath. “He was the fella who tortured me in the Sun Mountain cabin.”

 

++++

“How was the trip, Joe?” Flora greeted me on the porch, a bright smile on her face, her hands resting on her round belly as she did so often since the beginning of her pregnancy.

The sight of her was still so breathtaking that I could hardly believe my luck.

“Full of surprises!” I grinned, drawing her into my arms and pulling her into a deep kiss. “But I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“He’s been brooding all the way home,” Candy grumbled as he loosened his horse’s cinch. Yeah, Candy was right—I had been brooding. I wondered if it had been right to let Taylor get away with it. There had been moments when Pa and Doc Martin feared for my life. The fracture that hadn’t healed properly would stay with me for the rest of my life. But seeing my beautiful wife showed me what mattered—not revenge or bitter thoughts of the past, but the present moment.

I’ve brought a surprise for you, too.” I let Flora go, walked toward Cochise, and untied the paper-wrapped fabric behind my saddle. My steps felt light and relaxed as I walked back to my wife, still waiting on the porch. Even the slight limp that had plagued me since the incident had disappeared.

Flora took me by the hand, a glow crossing her face. “You look happy, Joe!”

“I am!” I put my arm around her not-so-slim waist.

Although the encounter with Taylor had been painful and had brought back terrible memories, it had been healing to reconcile with him. I knew I would now be able to put the incident behind me.

The End

Tags: SJS

 

Episodes referenced:

A Matter of Circumstances, written by B.W. Sandefur

The Initiation, written by Douglas Day Stewart

Inspired by Forever 1, written by Michael Landon