Summary: Ben and Little Joe are targeted in retaliation of being key witnesses in a murder case that lead to a hanging.
Word count: 4,928
rated: M

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Ben Cartwright looked up as he heard hoofbeats outside the house. It was a little soon for Hop Sing to be back with the supplies and Hoss had ridden in with him to meet Adam at the stage. They weren’t due back for another few hours. He set down the papers he was working on and walked to the door in preparation for the knock he expected. Just when he reached for the handle, the knock came and he opened the door. Suddenly and without warning, the door flew open after he unlatched it. Ben was knocked backward and his hand went to his head where the door had hit him. He blinked twice when his eyes focused on the business end of a .45 revolver. 

 

“I don’t want no trouble. Jist do what I say.” The man holding the weapon gestured with it and a second man closed the door as they walked Ben over to the main room at gunpoint. “Sit down.” He obeyed. The younger of the two who was not holding the gun on Ben yanked his arms behind the chair and tightly bound him with rope.

 

“You alone here?”

 

“My sons are in town.”

 

“You know who I am?”

 

“Yes.” Ben had recognized the man right off. His name was Wayne Bronson. Just last week this man’s youngest son Matt had been hanged in Virginia City for the murder of one of the bank clerks. It had been Ben and Little Joe’s eyewitness testimony that had convicted him. Joe had taken it hard because the boys had been in school together. At the time, Matt had been living with his aunt Patricia. Everyone always said that his father Wayne was away with the army, but over the last couple of months since he had arrived in Virginia City, rumors had spread that he had been in the territorial prison instead. Which rumor was true, Ben didn’t know. What he did know, though, was that since Wayne had shown up, Matt had slowly turned from a quiet well behaved young man into a roughian who seemed to cause more than his share of trouble. The day of the murder, Ben and Little Joe had entered the bank to deposit a draft they had gotten from the sale of some horses.

 

******

*previously*

 

“I’ll be here for just a bit to deposit, then I’ll meet you down at the store to load the supplies.”

 

“If it’s all the same to you, Pa, I’ll just come in with you. Not like it’ll save much time to start down there alone.”

 

“You wouldn’t be hoping to see Sarah Jane working today, now would you?”

 

Joe grinned at his father. “Well, there’s no hope of seeing her if I don’t even try!” Ben laughed at his youngest son’s antics and gestured him through the bank’s front door only for Joe to be knocked aside as 

two masked men ran out. Joe pushed himself back off the wall where he had fallen inside the bank and felt his jaw drop from seeing his old school friend Matt holding the clerk at gunpoint. He could hear commotion outside and knew the two that had run had been stopped. He felt Ben at his back but held still, worried that he might trigger Matt into doing something rash. They weren’t even armed that day. Ben had left his sidearm at the gunsmith to fix a small problem before it became a larger one. Joe simply had left his gun belt looped around Cochise’s saddle horn.

 

Matt’s gun hand shook and his wide eyes darted around the room. “St…stay back! I’ll shoot him!”

 

“Matt, what are you doing? Put the gun down!”

 

“I can’t do that, Little Joe. They left me behind, and I’m not gonna take the fall for everyone!”

 

“It’s too late, Matt. We’ve all seen you here, and the sheriff is probably already on his way over. You won’t hang for this. But you WILL hang if you kill that man!” Joe tried inching toward the other man. He kept his hands visible and could see Matt’s nerve wavering. Joe had almost reached the pair when Matt’s eyes hardened and even as Joe lunged to try to stop him, he pulled the trigger and the bank clerk crumpled to the floor. Joe reached Matt and they both fell to the ground, each struggling for control of Matt’s revolver. Another shot rang out and someone shouted. A third shot fired and both men stilled, realizing that shot had come from somewhere else. 

 

“Hold it!” Roy and Clem had arrived. Both had their weapons drawn and it was Clem who had fired into the ceiling to gain the attention of the two men on the floor. Joe yanked the revolver out of Matt’s hand and threw it across the room. Matt slowly pulled himself to his feet. The fight had gone out of him and he went silently and without any further struggle. Joe stayed where he was on the floor and Ben rushed over to his son. 

 

“I’ll be fine, Pa. Just give me a moment.” He breathed deeply and moved his hand briefly away from his left side. “It’s just a crease.” He replaced his hand and grimaced when he moved to stand with Ben’s help.

 

“Sure wish I had listened to you and gone to the store instead.” He joked breathlessly. 

 

Ben, for his part, didn’t like how pale Joe had turned when he stood. “Take your time, Joe.” He walked close to his son on the way to Paul Martin’s office to both offer support and make sure Joe went instead of ignoring the injury. After hearing the doctor confirm that while painful, it was not a serious injury, Ben left Joe there to be bandaged up and went to the store to load the fencing supplies before they headed home.

 

Matt and the two others who had been caught leaving the bank had stood trial the very next day. The other two were sent to prison for attempted robbery, but Matt was sentenced to hang for killing the clerk. At dawn the following morning, he was dead. Joe had been quiet for the few days following the trial and hanging. He and Matt had been good friends while they were in school, and it was hard for him to reconcile the person that was in the bank with the memory of his friend. His injury from the bullet graze had healed quickly and soon Joe was back to working normal hours on the ranch. It had been a week since the incident and the last few nights, Joe was up at all hours with the mares foaling. He knew that tonight would be no different, so he had taken the opportunity to take a nap while Hoss went into town to meet Adam at the stage. He was woken by the slamming of the front door. He lay on the bed for a few minutes listening before he decided to get up and look out the window when he wasn’t able to recognize who was visiting just from the muffled timbre of the voices.

 

Joe could see two sorrels at the hitching post, but didn’t recognize them. Hearing nothing else from downstairs, and having no one come up to get him, he figured whoever was visiting didn’t need him. He lay back down hoping to get a few more hours of shuteye before any of the mares started foaling for the night. Downstairs, the men heard the floorboard squeak as Joe crossed back from his window. Ben closed his eyes and hoped they didn’t think to check it out. He was out of luck as Wayne ordered the younger man to go upstairs.

 

“Thought you said your sons were in town. You didn’t try to lie to me now, did ya, Cartwright?” 

 

“I said the truth. Hoss and Adam are both in town.”

 

Wayne’s mouth slid into a wicked grin. “And that whelp that killed my boy? He’s upstairs, ain’t he?”

 

“Your boy got himself killed. Joe tried to stop him from murdering that clerk. If he had listened, he’d be alive right now!” Ben was cut off as Wayne backhanded him with his revolver. Dazed, Ben sagged against the ropes holding him hostage.

 

Upstairs, Joe was startled back awake when a hand slapped across his face and a rope tightened around his neck. The man dragged him from his bed and halfway down the hall before Joe was able to get his feet underneath himself. He was shoved down the stairs and experienced a brief moment of terror when he tripped and felt the rope around his neck pull tight. He caught himself on the banister and walked down the rest of the stairs with the other man close behind him. Joe stumbled into the main room and immediately noticed his father tied and subdued in one of the chairs. His eyes blazed but he wisely decided not to anger the man holding him captive. Joe was shoved into another chair and also tied up. Ben shook his head trying to clear his vision from the pistol-whipping. Once he was able to focus again, he saw his youngest son sitting across from him also held captive by the mad man.

 

“Pa! Are- urk!” Joe’s speech was cut off again by the rope still held by the man behind him. He coughed and tried to catch his breath.

 

“Stop that! What do you want from us?” Ben was well beyond angry seeing his son treated in that manner.

 

“What do I want from you? Hm… Let’s see. I want to see your son taken from you like mine was.” Wayne’s laugh sent chills down Ben’s spine. The mad man nodded to his compatriot and the younger man began slowly tightening the rope again. Joe struggled as much as he could but only succeeded in pinching his throat closed quicker. He threw his head back suddenly straight into the man’s solar plexus. He stumbled back and let go of the rope. Joe let his head fall forward, panting and trying to see through the spots. He looked up and locked eyes with Ben. His father could see that Joe was bordering on panic. With them both tied up and the gun still held on Ben, there wasn’t much they could do to get out of the situation. Joe heard the man behind him regain composure and move forward again. He closed his eyes not wanting to see the terror passed back to him from his father. 

 

“Thompson, wait. This would be over too fast. I’m thinking maybe I want to play a little game.” Wayne holstered his weapon and walked out of the room into the kitchen, coming back a moment later with a small brown bottle nearly full with liquid in one hand and a sharp paring knife in the other both of which he set on the table. “Here’s the rules, Cartwright. Either your kid here does what I say, or I start carving.”

 

“Joe! Joseph, listen to me. Don’t try to-” Ben was cut off again as a leather strap was harshly forced between his teeth and fastened behind his head.

 

“Nuh-uh. You’re gonna stay nice and quiet.” Leaving Ben and walking back to Joe, Wayne crossed the room back to the younger Cartwright and stood over him. Joe tried to avoid looking up at him. He knew the fear was plain on his face and he didn’t want to show weakness. Thompson yanked Joe’s head back with his hair, exposing his neck and forcing his gaze to center on the other man. Wayne’s sadistic smile hadn’t left his face. He held up the bottle of laudanum and popped the cork out. His other hand pried Joe’s jaw down as Thompson held Joe’s head back. 

 

“Drink it.” He poured the bitter liquid into Joe’s mouth. Joe spit it back out in Wayne’s face. Wayne snarled and picked up the knife he had brought out of the kitchen with the laudanum and sliced it quickly down Joe’s left upper arm. “Let’s try that again.” Again he poured the drug into Joe’s mouth and again Joe spit it back at him. Wayne ran the knife across Joe’s chest this time, not deep enough to cause serious damage, but enough to make blood start beading up and soaking into the surrounding fabric of his shirt. “I can do this as many times as you want, runt.” 

 

“He aint gonna listen to you to save hisself, Wayne.” Thompson spoke in a raspy voice. Wayne glared at the other man before raising one eyebrow. “Yer right. But there’s other ways.” This time when Wayne poured the drug into Joe’s mouth, he clapped his hand over Joe’s nose and mouth, not allowing him to breathe unless he swallowed. Joe fought it for nearly a minute and a half. He started to feel lightheaded and his body betrayed him. He swallowed convulsively without intending to, then gasped as Wayne dropped his hand and allowed him to breathe again. The sudden rush of oxygen back to his brain shot his vision from black to white and left him feeling sick. He shook his head “Please….” he begged Wayne.

 

“Please what? Please more?” Wayne laughed sadistically, “Thought you’d never ask.” He repeated the process. Joe tried again to hold out as long as he could. Instead of swallowing the laudanum this time, though, he choked on it. His eyes widened and his chest heaved trying to draw air into his starved lungs and unable to because of the hand still held tight across his face. The madman holding him laughed again and removed his hand. Joe hacked and wheezed. The bitter liquid dribbled down his chin and dripped into his lap when he tipped his head forward to try to breathe easier. 

 

“You really won’t take the easy way, will you? Here.” He handed the bottle of laudanum to Thompson and walked across the room to stand next to the elder Cartwright. “Well, snitch? What’s it gonna be? Drink it all or daddy dearest here will take your punishment.” Joe’s eyes met his father’s. Ben felt his heart break for his son. Bound and gagged as he was, he couldn’t do a thing to stop the situation or comfort his boy. He tried to communicate to Joe just through their gaze that he didn’t hold him at fault for anything that might happen. 

 

“Last chance. Drink the rest of it.” Joe stubbornly refused. Wayne shrugged and drew the knife down the side of Ben’s face leaving a red trail behind.

 

“NO!” Joe shouted. 

 

“I won’t have to if you do what I ask of you.” Wayne’s comment was said so reasonably, it seemed so out of place with his actions. Ben shook his head and pierced his gaze into Joe’s again, trying to send the message not to do what Wayne wanted him to. Joe’s breath rasped through his damaged throat, “Pa….”

 

“Drink. It.” Wayne moved the knife and placed the tip against Ben’s right side, pressing straight in and drawing a single drop of blood to soak into the fabric of his blue shirt.  Joe shook his head again, hesitantly this time and Wayne shrugged and plunged the three inch blade to its hilt and yanked it back out. Joe screamed and thrashed watching his father be stabbed. Ben’s eyes widened and he inhaled sharply, too much in shock to have any other response.

 

“Drink. It. All.” 

 

With a single tear falling down his face, Joe nodded and obediently opened his mouth, swallowing every drop of the bitter tincture. Wayne laughed and unfastened the leather strap from behind Ben’s head. Thompson dropped the now empty bottle of laudanum and it rolled under the settee. He silently strode out of the room, leaving the front door open. Wayne laughed again when he stood over Joe. With a belittling smile, he absurdly stroked his hand through Joe’s hair and looked back over to Ben. “Don’t worry. He won’t be in any pain at all.” Another foul laugh, and Wayne strode out of the room. The hoofbeats of two horses echoed back to the injured men left inside.

 

Joe slowly raised his head. “Pa… I’m sorry,” he whispered.

 

******

 

Ben had been struggling against the ropes for 20 minutes now. Joe had tried his at first as well, but after ten minutes the drug had begun to take effect. His vision blurred, his muscles became lax, and it was all he could do to keep his eyes open. Every sound echoed in his head and seemed to be coming either from a distance or from underwater. He tried to focus on his father’s voice, but that was getting harder and harder by the minute. Ben could feel the ropes getting wet and knew that he had rubbed his wrists so raw they were bleeding. He pulled harder, hoping that it would allow him to slip a hand out. Just as the ropes started to feel a little loose, he heard more hoofbeats in the yard then the barn door being pulled open. He shouted as loud as he could, hoping to gain the attention of Adam and Hoss before they took the time to put up their horses.

 

Not a minute later, hurried footsteps sounded on the porch and the door was pushed ajar. Hoss entered the room followed closely by Adam, both with their guns drawn. They rushed forward reholstering the weapons when they saw Ben tied up.

 

“No! Leave me. Get Joe.”

 

“Pa, you’ve been stabbed!”

 

“I know I have. But Joe…. Adam, untie him. Hoss get the ipecac from the medicine cabinet. Make him drink it.” Both moved to follow their instructions instantly. Adam didn’t bother with untying, he simply cut the bonds and eased Joe down to the floor. Joe blinked up at his oldest brother sluggishly. He was still conscious, but so sedated he was unable to form words or respond to Adam in any way. He tried to speak, tried to assure his family that he would be alright, but nothing happened. He wasn’t even able to make a sound. In his mind he wasn’t so sure that was the case anyway. He was terrified that the amount of laudanum he had ingested would be enough to sedate him so far as to stop his heart. He concentrated on breathing in and out. Joe was honestly worried that if he let himself fall asleep that he would simply cease to breathe and would suffocate to death without being able to even say goodbye to his father and brothers.

Hoss rushed back into the room with the syrup of ipecac. He placed the bottle to Joe’s lips and was surprised when Joe found the fortitude to shove it away. 

 

“Come on little buddy, you’ve got to. Pa’s asking ya to.” Adam had seen the empty brown bottle of opiate tincture where it lay beneath the settee, and he encouraged his youngest brother to do as Ben asked. This time when Hoss presented the bottle to him, Joe obediently drank the proffered syrup. Adam placed Joe onto his side, and Hoss sat with him listening as Ben regaled them with the story of their experience. By the time he finished telling them what happened and who had caused it, Adam had him free from his bonds and a towel pressed into the jagged hole the paring knife had left in Ben’s side.

 

“I’ll get a fresh horse and be back with the doc. Hoss, take care of him.” Adam left and they heard his retreating hoofbeats at a gallop just minutes later. Hoss figured he had 15 minutes at the most until the ipecac took effect. He used the time to check on their father and clean and bandage his wrists and the cut on his face. He also poured some iodine over the knife wounds that Wayne had inflicted on Joe and secured bandages over them as well. 

 

Only ten minutes had passed before Joe moaned. His breathing picked up and he started sweating. Hoss lifted Joe from the floor and sat behind him leaning his little brother forward and bracing an arm across his chest. He’d laid out towels on the floor in front of Joe in preparation for what was to come. The next half hour after that was miserable for everyone. Joe was unable to control anything and vomited spastically and painfully. He was hardly able to catch his breath in between heaves and by the time it slowed down, his nose was bleeding and tears streamed from his eyes. Ben had sat down next to them and murmured words of love and encouragement; however he was starting to feel the effects of the blood loss and by the time Joe had rid his body of the ipecac and the previous poison, Ben had sunk sideways into the settee and was unconscious. Hoss held his little brother through the whole ordeal, offering the strength and support that Joe needed. He used a damp towel to clean the younger man’s face of blood, vomit, and tears.

 

Five minutes after his last bout of heaving, Joe let his eyes slip closed. He was exhausted and still extremely sedated from the laudanum. Hoss didn’t let him fall asleep. Instead, he heaved Joe to his feet and forced him to walk around the room. He hauled Joe step by step from the corner near the study to the far end of the dining area next to the kitchen. Joe could barely put one foot in front of the other. His head hung limply forward and most of his weight leaned on his older brother. Joe tried his best to focus, but it seemed that his brain lagged slower than molasses in January. He knew he wasn’t supposed to go to sleep, but couldn’t remember why that would be such a bad thing. His mind was so garbled, he couldn’t figure out how to form a question to ask Hoss why he was doing this to him. He became aware of voices floating through the fog to him. He knew the voices. Were they talking to him? What were they saying? Joe gave up trying to figure it out and went back to concentrating on keeping himself breathing.

 

Hoss kept talking to his younger brother trying to get a response and continuing even though he never got one. They continued their slow trek around the room. Every time Joe stumbled, Hoss caught him and kept him moving. He glanced at their father every so often where he still sat leaning against the settee. The towel that Adam had secured on the stab wound was still in place, and no blood showed through it. Hoss took that as a good sign and hoped that Ben wasn’t in danger because he couldn’t stop what he was doing with Joe. He knew that if they stopped moving and Joe fell asleep, there was a good chance that there was still enough laudanum in his system to paralyze his diaphragm. 

 

On another pass across the room, another glance toward their father showed Hoss that Ben was beginning to stir. He slowly sat up and took stock of the situation. Seeing his middle son assist his youngest son, he knew that Hoss was doing all he could to prevent the drug from continuing its hold on Joe. He had been powerless to stop this from happening, and was now so weak and in pain, he was not able to help his recovery either. He groaned as he sat up and pressed a hand into his side. 

 

“Hoss, how is he doing?” 

 

“He’s pretty bad off, Pa. Hasn’t been sick since I started him moving, but he’s not responding and barely walking himself. How’re you doin’, Pa?” 

 

“I’ll be fine, son. Don’t worry about me. You’re doing everything right. Just keep him moving until Adam gets back with the doc, hopefully soon.”

 

Ben slowly made his way into the kitchen to boil water and make coffee. He made it excessively strong in the hopes that the extra caffeine would counteract the opium. He brought it back into the main room and sat heavily down at the table. “Hoss, bring him over here. Let’s see if we can get him to drink some of this.”

 

Hoss guided Joe across the room to stand next to the table. His head lolled loosely when he tried to raise his eyes to meet his father’s. Ben could see that Joe’s pupils were so constricted they looked like pinpricks in his green irises. Joe’s jaw sagged open and his eyes remained unfocused. His mouth moved and his lips formed the word “pa,” but his voice didn’t sound.

 

“Joseph, I need you to drink some of this. It’s just coffee, son.” Ben handed the cup to Hoss. “I’m going to get some fresh cold water. Keep at it.” Hoss nodded and gently held his brother’s head and tipped the coffee cup so Joe could drink. Joe felt the warm liquid trickle into his mouth. He tried to drink it, but couldn’t make his body respond in time and the coffee just ran down the side of his face instead. Hoss used his sleeve to mop it up and tilted Joe’s head back further to try again. This time, Joe successfully swallowed the caffeinated drink. Sip by sip, he finished two cups of coffee by the time Ben slowly walked back into the room with water fresh from the well.

 

He sat down again at the table and plunged a towel into the bucket before wringing it out and reaching up to drape the cold fabric across the back of Joe’s neck. He hoped the sudden temperature change would help increase Joe’s heart rate which would in turn help pull him back from the sedation. They’d forced three cups of coffee down Joe’s throat and doused him with cold water twice when his eyes seemed to slide back into focus. 

 

“Hoss…Pa… ‘m sry. Had to.” His words were slurred, but the simple fact that he was able to talk again brought a relief to the other two men.

 

“Don’t you go worrying about that, Little Joe. You done what you thought was right.” Hoss kept his little brother walking up and down the room. Each lap, he felt Joe take more of his own weight and he had started to respond verbally to the questions Hoss pressed on him. Hoss questioned him about the horses that were set to foal, about how the weather this spring would affect the chances of fires later on in the summer, and about Sarah Jane and if she would be going with Joe to the dance next week. He didn’t care the topic, his goal was just to get Little Joe to work both physically and mentally through the sedation. By the time the sun had set and they heard Adam’s horse return to the ranch house with another person in tow, Joe was answering in nearly full sentences and only leaning his weight slightly on his older brother.

 

Adam came through the door with Dr. Martin. He had informed Sheriff Roy Coffee while he was in town what had happened and the man had roused his deputy Clem and ridden straight to the Bronson’s house. Sheriff Coffee would inform the Cartwrights the next day that Wayne had admitted everything. He claimed he was justified in everything he had done even as Roy tightened the irons around his wrists. Thompson hadn’t said a word, just submitted to the arrest. 

 

Dr. Martin took stock of the situation and went first to Ben. He disinfected the stab wound and stitched him up. Declaring that there was so far no sign of infection, he went to Joe next. Hoss answered most of the questions for his little brother about what had happened when Joe was out of it, but Joe was able to chime in for how he currently felt. 

 

“Well Hoss, it seems that you’ve gotten Little Joe through the worst of it. It’s alright to let him stop moving and if he falls asleep, he’ll be fine. You did excellent. In fact, it would probably be best if we got both him and your father up to bed for a while.”

 

“But the horses, the little palomino Trixie. She’s gonna foal tonight, I just know it!” 

 

“Hush, Joe. I’ll take care of her. Me and Adam won’t let anything happen to any of your girls.”

 

“Little Joe, both you and your pa have just one job right now, and that’s to get better. I expect you’ll be tired and a bit out of it for the next few days. Don’t go riding alone for at least 3 days, and Hoss, Adam, you wake him up a few times throughout the night tonight. But I think you’ll both make a full recovery.”

 

The doctor let himself out and left for town as Hoss and Adam cleaned up the living area and Ben and Joe slowly made their way upstairs. They sat in Joe’s room for a bit each just glad the other was alright. Ben gave Joe a hug before he left for his own room. 

 

“I’m proud of you son. Even though I don’t approve of you putting yourself in harm’s way to save me, I am proud of how brave you were. Thank you, son. Thanks for being you.”

 

END