Summary:  A friend of Joe’s is accused of a serious crime.

Rated: T (62,605 words)

This is dedicated to my son Alex, because the idea was his.

The Vicious Circle Series:

The Vicious Circle
Shadow of Deception

 

The Vicious Circle 

Three horsemen rode through the dusty streets of Virginia City, their thoughts focused single-mindedly on obtaining a beer at the Silver Dollar Saloon. The heat was stifling, tempers flared easily, and life at the Ponderosa ranch had become so tense that Ben Cartwright banished all his sons from his presence. He was tired of settling disputes and listening to petty grievances. His orders were for them to go to Virginia City and not come back until they could be civil to one another. Now his sons rode together but they weren’t speaking to each other. Hostility crackled if their eyes met accidentally. Even Hoss, the natural peacemaker of the family had a hard edge showing today.

 

The men dismounted in front of the saloon. They strode across the plank sidewalk and through the swinging doors without so much as a glance at each other. Little Joe Cartwright could already feel a loosening of the tension that had been knotted inside him. As he moved easily through the noisy throng, he nodded a greeting to friends and favored his favorite saloon girl with his best smile.

 

The brothers, by unspoken agreement, separated as soon as they entered the bustling establishment. Adam was immediately hailed by a group of his friends and he joined their table with alacrity. He signaled for a beer, and heaved a huge sigh of relief at the first sip of the foamy liquid. He settled down for an evening’s entertainment that didn’t include his younger brothers, already feeling the stress slipping away from him.

 

Hoss favored a stance at the bar where he propped his meaty elbows and took a long appreciative sip of his own beer. He was soon deep in conversation with a local breeder of prize bulls. It wasn’t long before the twinkle returned to his blue eyes, and his booming laugh was heard more than once over the shouts in the crowded saloon.

 

Little Joe was seized by a large rowdy group of young men, and dragged bodily to their table. It was easily the most raucous group in the room and Joe was in his element. With his flashing green eyes and dazzling smile he soon had the saloon girls hanging on his arms and the young cowboys fighting for a spot at his table.

 

Due to a spate of contract deadlines and a pile of ranch chores, none of the Cartwrights had been seen in Virginia City for almost two months. Joe was quickly filled in on the latest gossip, who was sparking whom, and what girl had recently parted with some poor ranch hand. He leaned his elbows on the green baize table and flashed his white teeth at the giggling girl on his right. “Delores, honey, could I have another round, please?” he asked sweetly. Delores leapt to do his bidding, she left the table and quickly returned with the amber brew. Joe smiled his thanks and turned his attention to Tom Pruitt who was sitting to his right. Unlike the rest of the people gathered at the table, Tom was quiet, almost morose. He looked startled when Joe addressed him directly.

 

“What was that Little Joe?” he asked guiltily. “I didn’t hear you.” He was a tall man, and he stooped as he sat, almost scrunching down in his chair in an effort not to tower over his friend.

 

Joe smiled again. “I just asked how you were doing, Tom,” he replied easily. “You seem kinda quiet tonight. Is there anything wrong?” He took a long pull at his beer, absent mindedly wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

 

Tom hesitated, eyes darting around the room to see who was paying attention. Satisfied that no one was listening, he leaned forward intently. “Have you heard about Renny Miller?”

 

Joe shook his head negatively. Renny worked at the Bar T ranch, and often joined the group for a hand of poker and a beer. Joe’s friendship with both Tom and Renny dated back about three years. “What about him?”

 

“Sheriff’s got him over at the jail. He’s been accused of…” Tom’s voice trailed off, his cheeks turning pink. The tall man scrubbed at his face with a shaking hand.

 

Joe’s gaze sharpened, and he smiled encouragingly. “Accused of what?” He leaned a little closer to hear Tom’s low voice. He saw the signs of Tom’s discomfort and they worried him. What could Renny Miller possibly have done to have upset Tom so badly?

 

“Some of the girls say that he was…well, he was much to forward with his attentions,” Tom replied hesitantly, the color darkening on his cheeks. Again he hunched forward, almost shrinking in his chair.

 

Joe snorted in derision. “Renny Miller is afraid to talk to girls. He wouldn’t know how to be forward with any one of the opposite sex. There must be some mistake.” The youngest Cartwright smiled broadly as he waited for the joke he was sure was going to follow.

 

Tom shook his head miserably and raked his fingers through his short black hair. “Mary Sue Henderson says he tried to attack her at the dance last Saturday night, and she’s got witnesses to back her up. A couple of the other girls say he tried to corner them too”

 

The noise in the crowded saloon had reached a crescendo, so that even though Joe’s voice rose in reply it didn’t draw a glance from anyone around him. His eyebrows rose, and his voice was incredulous. “Are you sure we’re talking about the same Renny Miller? Because the one I know wouldn’t even say hello to a girl, let alone attack her.”

 

Tom nodded in agreement, his dark eyes were downcast. “That’s just what I said, Little Joe. But there’s a lot of folks in this town who believe Mary Sue and her friends. I’ve even heard talk of a lynching.” The lanky man buried his head in his hands, fear for his friend evident in every line of his body.

The fun drained out of Little Joe’s evening, leaving him tense and edgy. He leaned forward again, his body positioned so that no one could see what he was saying to Tom. “What does Roy say? He knows Renny wouldn’t do something like that.”

 

“Roy says his hands are tied. That since Mary Sue has sworn out a complaint he has to hold Renny for trial.” Tom’s face was tight with concern. “It’s her word against his, Little Joe. I think he’s going to go to prison.”

 

Joe was startled. “But if he’s innocent the jury won’t send him to jail,” he insisted vehemently. He vaguely noticed that Delores had given up on him in disgust and was entertaining herself with another of the cowboys at the table, but Joe found that he didn’t care.

 

“Mary Sue’s pa is the President of the Chamber of Commerce. He packs a lot of weight in this town, Joe,” Tom replied wretchedly. “It doesn’t look too good for Renny.”

 

Little Joe pushed his hat back on his head and gave a low whistle of concern. “Maybe I should have a talk with Mary Sue,” he said thoughtfully. “She must have some reason for saying what she is.”

 

Tom darted another nervous glance around the room. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea Little Joe. Her Pa’s pretty mad about all of this. I hear he’s got Mary Sue under lock and key.”

 

Joe nodded reluctantly. “You may be right,” he said slowly. “I guess we’ll just have to hope that the truth comes out at the trial. Any idea of when it’s gonna be?”

 

Tom shook his head slowly. “They’re just waiting on the Circuit Judge. Roy thinks it could be a couple more weeks.” He looked at Little Joe expectantly. If anyone could save their friend, it was the Cartwrights. They packed even more weight in Virginia City than the Henderson family.

 

Little Joe sucked in a worried breath. “How’s Renny doing with all of this?” he asked, his eyes clouded. Joe’s mind was whirling in confusion. He didn’t believe that Renny Miller could have done what he was accused of, but it seemed impossible to clear his name.

 

“He’s pretty low. He doesn’t understand how any of this could be happening to him,” Tom replied softly. “I don’t know what to do for him, Joe. Maybe you could go see him and cheer him up.”

 

Joe nodded. “I’ll ride in tomorrow and visit with him for a while. Maybe I can even get in to see Mary Sue while I’m in town.” Tom beamed at his friend, reassured that the problem had been taken out of his hands. His implicit faith touched Little Joe, who sat mulling over the information that Tom had just given him.                                                                               

 

Just then a fight broke out at a neighboring table as two miners argued over a game of poker. The fight quickly built in intensity, spilling over to the table where Joe sat with his friends. Bodies were flying, fists swinging wildly, but Joe just stood absently and moved away from the melee. He drifted to the bar, leaning next to Hoss, his distraction immediately evident to his older brother.

 

“Hey, Little Brother. I ain’t never seen you walk away from a good fight before. What’s wrong?” Hoss asked in some concern, his earlier bad humor forgotten. His frown deepened when it became evident that Joe hadn’t even heard him. Shaking his brother’s slim shoulder with one of his own large hands, Hoss claimed Joe’s attention. “Little Joe, I asked you a question. What’s wrong?”

 

Joe turned startled eyes on his older brother. “What?” he asked in confusion. “Did you say something, Hoss?” He sipped absently at his beer, lifting it high to avoid the sprawling body of one of the combatants as it fell at his feet.

 

Hoss reached over and laid a big hand on Joe’s forehead. “Nope, no fever. You feelin’ sick, Little Joe?” he asked tentatively. “You seem kinda out of it, all of a sudden.”

 

Joe shook his head. “I’ve got a lot on my mind, Hoss. I think I’m gonna head back to the ranch.” He moved to leave the saloon, only to be pulled up short by his brother’s firm grasp on his arm.

 

“Little Joe, I ain’t never seen you leave a saloon this early before in my life. Somethin’s going on and I want to know what it is.” Hoss’ voice rose over the confusion in the saloon, and it reached the ears of the quiet man in black sitting at a nearby table.

 

Adam Cartwright took in the posture of his two brothers and sighed heavily. When Joe and Hoss looked like that it usually meant trouble of some kind was brewing. He nodded farewell to his friends and rose, stretching like a cat. Putting his dark hat on his head, he ambled over to the younger Cartwrights. “You boys want to tell me what this is all about?” he asked quietly, jerking his head toward the door in a commanding gesture.

 

The fight was losing intensity, and the combatants were separating quickly, sheepishly going back to their cards and drinking. The Cartwrights carefully picked their way over fallen bodies and spilled poker chips. As they passed through the swinging doors, the steamy heat of the summer evening hit them full in the face. Adam sighed ruefully. He had known his evening’s fun was too good to last. He motioned for his brothers to leave. The three men headed for their horses, their movements slow and deliberate. Finally they were mounted and heading out of town at a gentle trot.

 

Adam turned his dark eyes on his youngest brother. “Now, come on Joe,” he said intently. “What’s up? I can see just as well as Hoss can that something’s wrong.”

 

Joe bit his lip in frustration. He proceeded to fill his brothers in on the details of Renny Miller’s plight, a sense of outrage creeping into his words as he spoke. By the time he finished they were halfway home to the Ponderosa, their previous animosity forgotten. Adam and Hoss listened intently to Joe’s story, unable to get a word in edgewise even if they wanted to comment. When Joe finally reached the end of his recitation, Adam let out a long, low whistle. He pulled his horse to a halt, his brothers following suit.

 

 

“Joe, I think Renny Miller is going to be hard pressed to prove his innocence,” he said quietly. Adam’s expression was grave as he stared thoughtfully at his little brother. “With Mary Sue Henderson and several other girls ready to testify against him, he doesn’t have a chance.”

 

Joe struggled to suppress the sudden surge of anger he felt. Adam was only telling him what he already knew. “What do you think I should do, Adam?” he asked.

 

Adam shook his head. “I don’t think you should get involved at all, Joe,” he replied quickly. “Roy won’t thank you for interfering, and it’s really none of your business.” Adam had a disturbing vision of his younger brother facing down a lynch mob flash through his mind, and he shuddered.

 

“Adam’s right, Joe,” Hoss interjected. “There just ain’t nothin’ you can do, so don’t go gettin’ involved.” He pushed his big white hat off his head and wiped the sweat from his brow as he spoke. “This heat sure don’t improve people’s tempers. Renny Miller’s gonna be lookin’ at a heap of trouble if he can’t come up with some way to prove he didn’t do it.”

 

Joe’s expression was mutinous. “I’m still going to talk to Renny. I just can’t pretend that I don’t know him. He’s my friend.” He gathered Cochise’s reins in an impatient gesture, prepared to ride again.

 

Adam reached out and roughly snatched the lead rein from his brother’s hand. “Joe, wait!” he ordered impatiently. “I’m serious. Stay away from Renny Miller and Mary Sue Henderson. None of this is your business and it will only lead to trouble. Pete Henderson is a power in this town, and he can be a vindictive man. Stay away from his daughter.”

 

Joe shot Adam a look of pure venom. “Let go of my horse, Adam,” he hissed angrily. “I’ll see whom I want, when I want to. I’m sorry I even asked for your advice.” Joe tore the reins from Adam’s grip and put his spurs to Cochise’s side. The black and white horse sprinted forward leaving Adam and Hoss in his wake.

 

Hoss sighed and scratched his head ruefully. “That sure went well, didn’t it, Adam?” he asked with a hint of humor in his tone. “It looks like our little brother wasn’t too happy with your advice.”

 

Adam watched until the clouds of dust from Little Joe’s passage settled back down again. His expression brooding, he slowly moved Sport forward. “He’s going to get himself into trouble over this, Hoss. I just know it.”

 

Hoss nodded in agreement. “You’re right about that, older brother. But there ain’t much we can do about it.” Together they turned and began the ride home in Little Joe’s wake. It was a silent ride, and both were lost in thought. As they stabled the horses in the barn neither was any closer to a solution.

+++++++++++++++++++++++

 

The sun rose high in the sky, scorched earth a testament to its power. The streets of Virginia City were dry and choked with dust. Little swirls of it eddied from Cochise’s hooves as Little Joe carefully made his way through the crowded town. He pulled up in front of Roy Coffee’s jail and dismounted quickly. Hitching Cochise to the rail in front of the small clapboard building, Joe strode confidently into the Sheriff’s office.

 

Roy Coffee looked up from the stack of paperwork he was scribbling on, a broad smile wreathing his face. “Little Joe!” he exclaimed eagerly. “What brings you to Virginia City today, son?”

 

Joe returned Roy’s smile and extended his hand in greeting. The pleasantries over he jumped straight to the heart of the matter. “I’m here to see Renny Miller,” he explained. “I just wanted to check on how he’s doing.”

 

Roy’s smile faded. “I don’t know that that’s such a good idea, Little Joe,” he mused. “Renny’s in here on a pretty serious charge.”

 

Oh, Roy!” Joe scoffed incredulously. “Renny hasn’t done anything wrong, and you know it. I don’t know why Mary Sue is making up such a ridiculous story, but Renny’s innocent. I just want to talk to him for a few minutes.” Joe’s voice was becoming strident with indignation.

 

Roy raised his hands placatingly. “Simmer down, Little Joe,” he ordered sternly. “Or you won’t be visitin’ no one in my jail. I guess if you keep it short I can let you have a few words with Renny, but you leave your gun out here.” He held out his hands as he spoke.

 

Little Joe was already unbuckling his gunbelt. He put the coiled leather into Roy’s waiting palms. “Thanks, Roy. I promise I won’t be long.” He moved toward the double doors that hid the cells from public view, slipping through them quietly.

 

Little Joe’s heart fell as he saw the miserable man huddled on the cot in the first cell. Renny Miller was a short, stout, young man, with a timid smile and a kind heart. At the moment that smile was nowhere in evidence. Renny was a study in dejection, as he lay curled in a ball on his cot. He didn’t even look up when the door clicked shut. Joe moved so that he was directly in front of Renny, separated only by the iron bars of the jail cell.

 

“Hello, Renny,” he called quietly as he gripped the bars in his hands. Joe shivered a little at the thought of being caged behind those bars. He hated confined spaces.

 

Renny slowly raised his head, his sandy brown hair falling limply over his brow. “Oh, hello, Little Joe,” he responded softly. “What are you doing here?”

 

Joe smiled sympathetically. “I just came to find out if there’s anything I can do to help, Renny. You look like you could use a friend.”

 

A sliver of hope rose in Renny’s mud brown eyes. “Can you help me, Little Joe? Have you talked to Mary Sue?” he rose quickly and moved to grasp the cell bars in both hands. “Has she agreed to drop the charges?”

 

Joe shook his head negatively. “I haven’t seen Mary Sue, yet. I wanted to talk to you first. Can you tell me what happened, Renny.” As he spoke, Joe reached through the bars and gripped his friend’s shoulder briefly in a gesture of support.

 

Renny leaned into Joe’s grip, his eyes filling with unwanted tears. “I didn’t do it, Little Joe. I swear I didn’t!” he gasped miserably. “I was at the dance, but I didn’t even talk to Mary Sue, or any of those other girls. I went into the alley for some air, and they were all standing out there whispering and giggling. It was a whole group of them. They saw me come out, and Mary Sue even waved at me. I waved back, but then I went back to the dance. That’s all, Little Joe, I swear! All I did was wave.” Renny’s voice trailed off, the tears falling faster. “I don’t want to go to prison, Joe,” he whispered brokenly.

 

Joe gripped Renny’s shoulder a little harder. “I’ll go talk to Mary Sue. I’ll ask her who the other girls were. Maybe one of them can help us. We’ll get this all straightened out, I promise. Is there anything I can get you before I go, Renny?”

 

The friendly sympathy in Little Joe’s voice proved to be Renny’s undoing. A sob caught in his throat, and he turned away, ashamed of his weakness. “No!” He choked out. “Just talk to Mary Sue, and get her to tell the truth. Please, Little Joe.”

 

 

Joe smiled reassuringly. “I’m going right now, Renny. You hold on now, and I’ll be back soon to tell you what happens.”

 

Renny pulled himself together, wiping his eyes on his shirt sleeve. He smiled tremulously, as he reached out to grip Little Joe’s outstretched hand. “Thanks, Little Joe!” he said fervently. “You’re a real friend.”

 

Joe smiled briefly, and tipped his hat a little. “You’d do the same for me, Renny. I’ll see you soon.” Joe took his leave, glancing back in time to see Renny resume his huddled position on the cot, his sandy head buried in his hands. The closing door blocked his view of his friend, and Joe turned in time to see Roy Coffee standing directly in front of him.

 

“How’s he doin’, Little Joe?” Roy asked in concern. “He ain’t been eatin’ or sleepin’ real well.”

 

Joe’s expression was grim. “He’s doing about as well as can be expected, considering that he’s an innocent man in jail for something he didn’t do.” He straightened his hat, and began buckling his gunbelt around his slim hips.

 

Roy put out a hand to stop Joe as he moved toward the door. “Where are you going now, Little Joe?” he asked brusquely.

 

“I’m going to see Mary Sue Henderson, if that’s okay with you, Roy,” Joe replied with a glare. He shook off the Sheriff’s outstretched hand. “I’m going to see if I can talk some sense into her.”

 

The Sheriff moved to block Joe’s path to the door. “You stay away from Mary Sue, Little Joe. Her Pa ain’t none too happy about what’s going on, and I don’t want you in the middle of it.” He stood with hands on hips, daring Little Joe to walk past him. “This is none of your concern, Little Joe. Stay out of my investigation.”

 

Joe’s glare was scathing. “Renny Miller is my friend, Roy. That makes it my business. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got things to do.” He pushed past the sheriff, and opening the door, he stepped out into the glare of the hot sun. He moved to Cochise without a backwards glance at the man who stood shaking his head in the doorway.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

Joe lead his horse through the streets until he arrived at the two-story clapboard house that the Henderson family called home. Tying the patient animal to the hitching post in front of the dwelling, he mounted the steps and knocked briskly on the door. After a few moments the door was opened a crack and a small girl of around ten peeked through. Her face broke into a wide grin when she saw who stood before her. She squealed with delight and threw herself at Little Joe, who caught her in his arms with an answering grin.

 

“How’s my best girl?” he enquired laughingly.

 

Kitty Henderson, Mary Sue’s little sister, was a blond-haired dynamo. It was well known that she harbored a crush on the green-eyed Cartwright. “I’m fine, Joe,” she said smiling up at him with wide, excited eyes. “I haven’t seen you in a while, though. You used to come visit Mary Sue all the time. Where have you been?”

 

Joe swung her in a circle, eliciting an excited scream from the little girl. “We’ve been kinda busy at the ranch, Short Stuff,” he responded. Setting the girl back on her feet, he leaned against the porch railing. “I’m looking for Mary Sue. Is she home?”

 

Kitty’s smile disappeared. “She’s in her room, Little Joe, and she won’t come out. Papa is upset all the time, and Mama just sits and cries.” The little girl’s blue eyes were round. “Do you know what’s going on?”

 

Joe smiled sympathetically, and he crouched down in front of the girl. “That’s what I want to find out. Do you think she’ll talk to me, sweetheart?”

 

Kitty shook her head doubtfully. “I don’t know, Little Joe. I’ll go see if I can get her to come out. Do you want to wait in the parlor?” She tugged his hand, and Joe rose gracefully to his feet. He followed his small friend into the house, doffing his hat, and tossing it onto a sideboard by the front door.

 

Taking a seat on the uncomfortable horsehair sofa in the immaculate front parlor, Joe waited patiently. In the distance, he could hear the soft murmur of voices at the top of the stairs. As he waited he thought of all the time he had spent sitting in the room waiting for Mary Sue. They had flirted on and off for years, neither one wanting to take their relationship a step higher. In fact, Joe hadn’t seen Mary Sue in more than three months. The busy life on the ranch had combined with other things to keep him away. Joe’s patient waiting was rewarded when he heard the sound of footsteps on the stairs. He glanced up, and rose as he saw Mary Sue Henderson slowly descending. He advanced toward the girl with a ready smile on his lips.

 

Mary Sue was one of Virginia City’s leading beauties. She had soft blond curls that hung to her waist, today tied back with a blue velvet ribbon. Her slender waist begged for someone to circle it with his hands, while her eyes shone like sapphires. At the moment those eyes were fearful. Mary Sue looked warily at Little Joe as he moved to the bottom of the stairs to watch her descent. He took her hand and held it as they went back into the parlor together.

 

“How are you, Little Joe?” Mary Sue’s voice was brittle. “It’s been a long time.” She perched nervously at the edge of a straight chair.

 

“I’m fine, Mary Sue. Busy as always, but that’s life on a ranch,” Little Joe replied easily. “I’m sorry I missed the dance Saturday night. It sounds like it was kinda exciting.” Instead of taking a seat on the sofa, he paced to the window and stood staring out onto the busy street. Taking a deep breath, Joe decided to come straight to the point. “I’ve just come from visiting Renny Miller.”

 

Mary Sue sat a little straighter, her eyes widening in fear. “I don’t want to talk about Renny, Little Joe,” she said insistently. “If that’s what you’re here for, you might as well go home.”

 

Joe turned to face the girl who was now fidgeting with the lace doily on the arm of the chair. “I think you’re going to have to talk about Renny eventually, Mary Sue,” he said quietly. “What are you going to do when you have to go to court? The judge and the lawyers will make you talk about what happened. If Renny is guilty then you shouldn’t be afraid to talk about it.” Joe stood by the window, keeping his distance from the agitated girl.

 

Mary Sue’s breathing came a little faster, and a flush rose high in her cheeks, staining them a soft rose color. “I don’t want to think about that, Little Joe. I’ll deal with that later,” she whispered.

 

“What about the other girls?” Joe tried to keep his voice calm, to avoid startling the frightened girl. “Who was with you that night, and why were you all out in the alley anyway?”

 

Mary Sue straightened abruptly. “I was with my friends, and it’s none of your business what we were doing outside.” Her voice rose higher, a hysterical note creeping into it. The slim girl rose abruptly and crossed the room to stand next to Little Joe at the window. She put her hand on his sleeve in a gesture of entreaty. “Why are you asking me all these questions, Little Joe? What business is this of yours?” she asked, obviously struggling to keep her voice level.

 

Joe turned haunted eyes on the girl, flinching a little at the fear displayed in her beautiful blue eyes. “Because Renny Miller is my friend,” he said carefully. “And I don’t want to see him put in prison for something that he didn’t do.”

 

The blue eyes flashed angrily, and Mary Sue stamped her foot in a rage. “Are you calling me a liar, Little Joe!” she stormed at him. “How dare you!”

 

Joe flushed, his innate sense of courtesy reminding him to watch what he said. “I’m not calling you a liar, but I think you might be a little confused about what really happened.” He turned to again look out the window. “Who was with you in that alley? I’m not convinced that Renny is capable of attacking someone, Mary Sue, and I want to know why you’re accusing him of something like this. You’re going to have to answer these questions sometime, you know. You might as well do it now.” Joe again struggled to keep his voice neutral. He didn’t want to upset Mary Sue any more than she already was. They had been friends, and maybe even something more, for a long time.

 

Mary Sue stood with her hands clenched, the knuckles blanching white. “I don’t want to talk to you, Little Joe. You get out of here, right now!” she exclaimed angrily.

 

Joe turned quickly and caught her by the arm. “Please Mary Sue, listen to me, Renny’s in that jail crying because he’s so frightened of what’s going to happen. He wouldn’t even look at a girl, let alone do what you’re saying he did. I’m not going anywhere until you explain why you’re persecuting an innocent man.” Joe’s gaze was steady, and he held her eyes with his own. “Why are you trying to send Renny Miller to prison?”

 

Mary Sue struggled against Joe’s grip, as she opened her mouth to reply. She was interrupted by the sound of shots from the streets outside. Joe dropped her arm and whirled toward the window, leaning forward and peering out intently. The streets were filled with running people, many holding sticks and boards. Several men ran by shooting their guns into the air. The words “Jail” and “Lynch” floated in the air back toward the watchers in the house.

 

Joe’s eyes widened in dismay as he realized what was happening. The citizens of Virginia City had decided to take matters into their own hands, and they were going to try to hang Renny Miller. Without a backwards glance at the now sobbing girl, Joe grabbed his hat, wrenched open the door and ran down the street. As he struggled to fight his way through the crowd, he saw Roy Coffee standing with a shotgun at the ready in front of the jail. He heard Roy telling the people to back off, and heard the blast of the shotgun as it was fired into the air. Joe fought his way through the crush of people when he heard another shot, and saw Roy fall clutching the wound on his shoulder. Joe reached the front of the crowd just as they surged forward to the door of the jailhouse. He stood tall, his gun drawn. “Back off!” he called in his loudest voice, firing the gun into the air as he spoke. “Everyone get back!”

 

Joe could no longer see Roy’s body, the sheriff had disappeared behind the roiling mob of people. The crowd wavered with Joe’s shot, but a voice called out, “Get out of the way, Cartwright, or we’ll hang you too!”

 

Another voice egged the crowd onward. “Are we gonna let this kid protect that animal? Let’s get him!” Joe backed against the door of the jailhouse as the crowd moved forward in a mass. He leveled his gun at the mob, prepared to shoot if he had to.

 

The large rock sailed out of the crowd like a missile. It caught Joe on the temple, and the world went dark. Joe felt the darkness reaching out for him, and as he crumpled he could feel the mob surging past him, tossing him aside like a rag doll. Before he lost consciousness completely, he heard Renny’s voice crying out in fear. Joe moaned and then knew no more.

 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

“Joe! Wake up, son.” The words were incomprehensible, but Joe struggled to understand. He felt a throbbing pain in his head and he moaned softly. The voice came again, more hopefully this time. “Joe, wake up now.”

 

Joe opened his eyes slowly, he winced as another wave of pain rolled through his head. Struggling to focus, he saw his father’s face take shape in front of his eyes. “Pa?” he asked in bewilderment. “Where am I? What happened?” He struggled to sit up, only to be gently pushed back down by his father’s firm hand.

 

“You’re in Doc Martin’s office, son,” Ben replied softly. “I didn’t think you were ever going to wake up, Little Joe.” The relief was evident in the older man’s tone.

 

“That goes double for me, little brother,” Hoss’ voice registered, and Joe turned his head to see his brothers hovering at the end of the bed.

 

 

Joe thought back over the day’s events. Remembrance of the mob rushed in and he gasped in shock. “Renny!” he cried wildly, as he tried to sit up again. “Pa, they were trying to lynch Renny.”

 

Ben exchanged glances with Adam, his eyes were clouded with some indescribable expression. Joe gasped in shock as fear replaced every other emotion in his mind. “Renny?” he asked.

 

Ben’s gentle hand squeezed Joe’s shoulder briefly. His shoulders were hunched with grief. “They hung him, son,” he replied. “Renny’s dead.”

 

Joe turned his face to the wall, tears forming and falling of their own volition. “He was innocent, Pa,” he whispered brokenly. “He didn’t hurt Mary Sue.”

 

“The only one who knows that for sure, now, is Mary Sue,” Adam’s deep voice was strained, and he paced the room in his agitation. “Renny sure isn’t going to be telling anyone.”

 

“I tried to stop them, Pa!” Joe’s voice was anguished, and his hand sought his father’s arm. “I couldn’t. There were too many of them.”

 

“I know, son. It was a very foolish thing to do. You didn’t have a chance against that mob. But, I’m proud of you, Little Joe.” Ben’s voice was warm, and he gathered his son in his strong arms as if he were a small boy.

 

Joe sobbed out his grief and anger, finally allowing exhaustion and pain to take him back into the darkness of sleep. Ben held him until his soft, even breathing told the older man that his son slept. Gently he laid the boy back on the bed, and drew the covers up around Joe’s shoulders. Dimming the lamp, he settled into a chair next to the bed, clearly prepared to hold vigil until his son woke again. Adam and Hoss exchanged another glance, and by unspoken consent left the room. Joe was in good hands, and there was talking to be done.

 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

The pounding on the door yanked Adam awake from his light doze. He looked around startled and realized that he had fallen asleep in a chair in Paul Martin’s waiting room. Hoss still snored in the chair next to him. The hammering came again, and Adam leapt from his chair, anxious to open the door before the visitor could disturb his little brother sleeping in the next room.

 

The man at the door had his fist raised as if to strike the wooden plank again. He lowered it slowly as Adam looked calmly out at him, recognizing the visitor as Pete Henderson, President of the Virginia City Chamber of Commerce and one of the town’s leading citizens. At the moment, Pete Henderson was a very angry man, he literally stamped his feet in rage. “Where’s that brother of yours, Cartwright?” he snarled, thrusting his way into the room. “Where’s Little Joe?”

 

Adam moved quickly to block the older man’s progress across the room. “Little Joe is sleeping. He was badly hurt today.” He put a hand on Henderson’s chest, stopping his movement. “What do you want with him?”

 

“I want him to leave my daughter alone. Mary Sue is crying her eyes out over something he said or did to her today.” Henderson’s face was puce with rage, flecks of spittle gathered at the corners of his mouth. “Little Joe had better stay as far away from my daughter as he can get, because if I see him around her again I’ll kill him. Just like we killed that other animal today.”

 

Adam’s face hardened, and he heard the low growl of anger from Hoss, who had risen from the bench where he’d been sleeping. The two Cartwrights towered over the older man, backing him slowly toward the outer door. “I’ll tell you what, Mr. Henderson,” Adam said coldly. “We’ll make a deal. You stay away from my little brother, and I won’t kill you.”

 

Hoss glared at the now silent man. “I think you’d better leave now, Mr. Henderson, or we’ll all do something we might regret.”

 

Henderson put his hand on the door knob, his face set in a stubborn scowl. “You’ll keep that brother of yours out of town, if you know what’s good for you and him!” He made his way into the night, the air of menace he exuded trailing in his wake.

 

Adam shut the door quietly, a heavy sigh escaping from his lips. “Little Joe sure knows how to keep things lively, doesn’t he?” he asked ruefully.

 

Hoss shook his head. “Our little brother could stir up a storm in a teacup if he had a mind to, Adam.” Hoss paced over to the inner door of Doctor Martin’s office, hoping for a glimpse of his little brother in the darkened room beyond. Giving up, he sat back down on the hard bench that was his bed for the night. “He’s not going to take this thing with Renny well, I know that for a fact.”

 

Adam sat down heavily, burying his face in his hands. “You’re right about that, Hoss. And there’s no way we’re going to be able to keep him from getting involved now.”

 

Hoss echoed Adam’s sigh. “You said it, older brother. That dadburned little cuss won’t keep his nose outta this one.”

 

The brothers lapsed into silence, each lost in their thoughts. Once again, Little Joe and his impulsive actions had conspired to create a long night for the rest of his family.

 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

Once again, three Cartwrights rode toward Virginia City. Adam and Hoss rode slightly behind Little Joe, who made a determined effort to ride in front of the other men so that he didn’t have to see his brothers. Frustration was etched into every line of his body, and his expression conveyed the anger he felt.

 

Ben Cartwright had been successful in keeping Little Joe out of Virginia City for almost three weeks. At first, Joe’s lengthy recovery from the severe concussion had kept him confined to the ranch. Later, Ben had resorted to ever weaker excuses to keep his youngest son at home and out of harm’s way.

 

The social event of the season proved to be his undoing. Little Joe was determined to attend the big barn dance being held that night, as all of his friends would be there. He challenged every argument his father gave him, exposing them for the fraud that they were. Finally, he had been allowed to go under the condition that his brothers go with him. Joe was furious to have acquired two chaperones, but at least he was getting off the ranch and into town. That didn’t mean he had to speak to his brothers while doing it.

 

The fiddles were playing a lively tune as the Cartwrights led their horses to the hitching post in front of the huge barn being used as a dance hall. Gaily clad women and cowboys dressed in their best string ties strolled past arm in arm. Joe slipped away from his brothers and entered the hall on his own, stopping just inside the door to survey the crowded room. The lanterns lit the throng of people, as they swayed to the music, or sat and chatted on the bales of hay being used as seating for the occasion. Several of Joe’s friends spotted him and waved, but he ignored them as his eye lit on Tom Pruitt, who was leaning against the far wall of the barn.

 

Joe’s feet marked a steady beat on the dirt floor of the barn as he moved purposefully toward his friend. He was only halfway across the room when he saw the bleak look on Tom’s face, and Joe’s step faltered just a bit. He continued across the floor, however, stopping to casually lean against the wall next to Tom.

 

“Looks like a good party,” Joe remarked casually, his eyes gazing out at the room.

 

Tom gave a meaningless grunt in reply, his hands in his pockets, his face shadowed and drawn.

 

“How have you been, Tom?” Joe tried again, turning to look the other man in the eye.

 

Tom sighed and at last turned to face Little Joe. “I’ve been better, Joe. But then I hear that you haven’t been feeling to well yourself,” he replied softly. He held up his hand to forestall Joe’s reply. “I know what you tried to do for Renny, Little Joe. I’m sorry I asked you to get involved.”

 

Joe rubbed a hand over the yellowing traces of the bruise on his temple. “I did it because I wanted to Tom.” Joe’s response was just as soft. “I still don’t think Renny was guilty.”

 

Tom flushed and glanced nervously around the room. “Well, you seem to be one of the few who feel that way, Little Joe. Most people think he got what he deserved.” Tom stopped speaking, his face losing its flush of color as he stared over Joe’s shoulder, his eyes registering some deep-seated emotion.

 

Joe spun around quickly and found himself face to face with Mary Sue Henderson. He drew a sharp breath, but before he could speak, she held out a soft hand.

 

“Why, hello, Little Joe,” she said sweetly, her voice fairly dripping with honey. “You walked right past me when you came in and didn’t even say hello.”

 

Joe took in the vision of the beautiful girl, her face framed by her long blond hair. He smiled half-heartedly. “I didn’t see you. I’m sorry, Mary Sue.” He stood awkwardly, wondering what to say next. Their last meeting had been very unpleasant, and Joe couldn’t forget what had happened after their discussion.

 

Mary Sue seemed to have banished all the unpleasant memories from her mind. She smiled again and tugged at Little Joe’s arm. “They’re playing my favorite song, Little Joe. Will you dance with me?”

 

With a glance back at Tom, Joe allowed himself to be pulled to the dance floor. At first hesitant, he forced himself to obey the rhythm of the dance, and he smiled stiffly at the deceptively lovely girl in his arms. Across the room, Hoss spotted the couple and groaned softly. He hastily set down his glass of punch and went in search of his older brother.

 

Hoss circled the huge barn several times before he found Adam sequestered in a quiet corner with one of the Perkins girls. From the looks on both faces, Hoss knew his interruption wasn’t welcomed. Blushing a bright scarlet, he stammered, “I’m sorry, Miss Millie, but I was wonderin’ if I could talk to Adam for a minute.”

 

At Millie’s gracious nod of assent, Hoss quickly yanked Adam away from the girl. Adam’s scowl would have intimidated most men, but Hoss wasn’t about to be deterred. “We got trouble, Adam,” he said quickly. “Look over there.”

 

Following Hoss’ pointing hand, Adam peered at the dance floor. He sucked in a quick breath of disbelief when he saw his youngest brother finishing a dance with Mary Sue Henderson, the one girl he had been warned to stay away from. As the music ended, the dancers left the floor. Adam tried to follow Joe, but lost track of his whereabouts in the constantly moving throng of people. He stopped and scanned the room, but couldn’t see Joe or Mary Sue. A feeling of unease was growing in the pit of his stomach, and he turned to find Hoss at his heels.

 

“Do you see him anywhere, Hoss?” Adam snapped. “I’ve lost him in this crowd.” The dark scowl had returned to Adam’s face, encouraging several people to dodge out of his way quickly.

 

Hoss pursed his lips in a frown. “I can’t see him either.” He swivelled in a slow circle, his big hands resting on his hips. “What is wrong with that boy, Adam? The one girl he should stay miles away from, and he’s disappeared with her.” Hoss shook his head in disgust, but he continued his circuit of the barn.

 

Adam flinched as he saw Pete Henderson enter the barn with his wife on his arm. “More trouble,” he sighed. Adam began to circle the barn, unobtrusively checking the shadowed stalls for his little brother. He kept a wary eye on Pete Henderson as he made his trek, as he wanted to find Little Joe before Henderson discovered his daughter was missing. Out of the corner of his eye, Adam saw Hoss checking the other side of the dance floor. From the frown on his brother’s face, Adam could tell that he hadn’t located Little Joe either.

 

The brothers met at the far end of the barn, frustration evident on their faces. Hoss opened his mouth to speak, but never got the chance to say a word. A shrill, hysterical scream rent the night air. It was quickly followed by another, and then another. Adam clutched Hoss’ arm, urging his brother to look at the apparition that had just appeared before them. A small cluster of girls ran into the barn, eyes wide with shock and fear. Following on their heels, her dress ripped in several places, hair disheveled, and her face scratched, was Mary Sue Henderson. As the crowd parted to allow the girls entrance to the barn, Little Joe Cartwright, his face ashen, stumbled into the room.

 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

Roy Coffee paced the confines of his office, the soft thumps of his boot heels lost in the noise and confusion that reigned in the small room. His pacing was hampered by the crowd of people clustered within the confines of the jail. The sheriff was not a happy man. Three weeks earlier, he had lost one of his prisoners to a lynch mob. That same mob had shot him in the shoulder and knocked him unconscious, trampling over his fallen body to get to their victim. Now he was faced with a different kind of mob, and they were all talking at the top of their lungs. Roy held his good hand high and shouted, “Enough!”

 

In the sudden silence, all eyes focused on the enraged sheriff. “Now! I want everyone to be quiet so I can sort out this mess!” he bellowed again, satisfied with the results of the order.

 

He stopped in front of Mary Sue, who was sobbing softly in her father’s arms. “Now, Miss Mary Sue, I want to know what happened tonight. Do you think you can tell me?” he said, kindly.

 

“That monster attacked my child!” Pete Henderson shouted before his daughter could speak. “I want Joe Cartwright arrested, Sheriff!” He cradled Mary Sue close to his broad chest as he spoke, carefully turning her head so that she wasn’t facing the crowd.

 

The babble rose again as Joe shouted his innocence and the assorted witnesses tried to claim the sheriff’s attention. Roy pulled his gun from his holster and fired it straight into the air. The sound of the shot instantly silenced the assembled people. Roy looked around the circle of shocked eyes, “All right!” he ordered. “I want everyone out of here, except Mary Sue and her pa. Little Joe, I’m gonna have to ask you to stay too.” His furious glare intimated the toughest men in the room, and sheepishly the citizens of Virginia City began filing out into the night.

 

Roy turned his baleful glare on Adam and Hoss where they leaned against the wall, but they calmly glared back, refusing to budge an inch. “Adam, you heard me!” Roy said icily. “I want this room cleared.”

 

Adam’s expression would have sent shivers of fear down a lesser man’s spine. “I’m not leaving Little Joe here alone, Roy. He’s going to need someone who’s on his side in here.”   He turned his dark eyes on the Hendersons, making it clear just whom he thought Joe needed protection from.

 

“I ain’t leavin’ neither, Roy,” Hoss growled. He moved to stand next to Little Joe, who was perched tensely on the edge of Roy’s desk. It was clear that Hoss was offering his physical protection along with his unswerving emotional support.

 

Roy glared at the three Cartwrights, but knew when he was beaten. He was aware that it would be next to impossible to separate the Cartwrights in a time of trouble, and he now backpedaled as gracefully as he could. “All right, you boys can stay, but I want you to stay outta this. As far as I know, Little Joe and Mary Sue are the only ones who know what happened tonight, and they are the only ones I want to hear talkin’.”

 

Adam’s dark eyes flashed angrily. “You might want to make that same speech to Pete. He doesn’t seem to want Mary Sue to tell her story, the way he keeps talking for her.” He gazed at Henderson in disgust. “What are you afraid of Pete? Are you wondering why Mary Sue is now accusing a second man of attacking her? I know I am.”

 

Pete Henderson turned purple with rage, rising almost onto his toes, the force of his anger was so great. “I’ll kill you, Adam Cartwright!” he ranted. “How dare you accuse my daughter of being a liar!” He clutched Mary Sue’s slender form, and pressed it closer into the circle of his arms.

 

Again, Roy’s voice filled the room, the ring of command unmistakable in his tone. “Pete, if you can’t be quiet, I’m gonna throw you outta here. Adam, I already told you to keep your mouth shut!” Roy readjusted the sling that supported his wounded shoulder, a stab of pain increasing his irritation. “Little Joe, you want to tell me what happened, since Mary Sue seems unable to talk at the moment?” Roy asked his voice softening sympathetically.

 

Joe slowly rose from his seat on the edge of Roy’s desk, his face was pale, his lips trembled slightly. “I danced with Mary Sue, and then she said she wanted some fresh air. I tried to talk her into a glass of punch instead, but she insisted that she needed to go outside. When we got into the alley behind the barn, a lot of Mary Sue’s girlfriends were already there. She walked right past them though, and we just leaned against the corner of the barn for a few minutes. The next thing I know, she ripped at her dress and started messing up her hair. Then she screamed and ran. All the other girls screamed too, and we all went back into the barn.” Joe’s narrative ended in a rush, and he nervously sucked in a deep breath. “I didn’t touch her, I swear.” Joe turned pleading eyes on his oldest brother. “Adam, you have to believe me, I never touched her,” he said in a whisper.

 

Adam’s eyes softened, and he reached out a strong hand, gathering Little Joe to him in a fierce embrace. “I know you didn’t, Little Joe,” he said firmly. “I believe you.” Adam’s eyes turned hard and cold as he shifted his gaze toward the sobbing girl. “Mary Sue, I think you need to tell us what’s going on,” he said harshly.

 

Every pair of eyes in the room turned toward the slender girl. She drew in a stuttering breath, and braced herself against her father’s chest. Speaking in a voice so low that it almost couldn’t be heard, she began her story. “Little Joe asked me to dance with him. I didn’t want to because he’d said some things to me a couple of weeks ago that I didn’t like. But I did it because I didn’t want to make a scene. When the dance was over, he grabbed my arm and pulled me out of the barn. I saw my friends outside, but they didn’t know how to help me. We walked past them, and leaned against the corner of the barn. Little Joe never let go of my arm the whole time, because he knew I’d run inside, the first chance I got.” Mary Sue’s voice trailed off, and she leaned back against her father, her breathing sounded loud in the silent room.

 

“Go on,” Roy said softly, as he tried to keep the girl calm, but talking. “We need to know what happened next, Mary Sue.”

 

“Little Joe….” Again Mary Sue stopped, and she tried to bury her head in her hands.

 

Her father gently pulled the hands from her face. “Just tell them the truth, honey,” he crooned. “You don’t have anything to be afraid of.”

 

Mary Sue pulled herself up straight and tall, her eyes flashed with a cold blue fire. “Little Joe grabbed me, and when I tried to get away from him, he ripped my dress. He was trying to drag me farther back into the alley, and he was so angry that I wouldn’t go with him. I tried to fight him off, but he kept holding on to me.”

Little Joe erupted in fury. “That’s a lie, Mary Sue, and you know it!” he turned desperate eyes at the assembled men. “It wasn’t like that, I swear. You’ve got to believe me.” Joe’s eyes widened in remembrance. “Roy, you just have to ask those girls who were in the alley. They must have seen the whole thing.”

 

Roy nodded, “That’s just what I aim to do, Little Joe.” He moved to gather up the big key ring that he kept on his desk. Moving toward Little Joe with sorrow filled eyes, he spoke quietly, “I’m going to have to lock you up until I can question the witnesses. I’m sorry, Little Joe.”

 

With a growl of fury, Hoss launched himself forward. “Roy!” he gasped in shock. “You cain’t do that! You know that Little Joe didn’t do nothing!”

 

Before Roy could reply, Pete Henderson pulled his gun from its holster, cocking it in the same motion. He aimed the gun at Little Joe’s chest, fury emanating from every fiber of his body. “There’s no need to lock him up, Sheriff,” he hissed in fury. “I’ll take care of the little monster right now.”

 

As the occupants of the room watched in stunned amazement, Henderson pulled the trigger of the gun. Adam, seeing what was about to happen launched himself across the room, knocking the older man’s arm up and to the side just as he fired the weapon. The bullet buried itself harmlessly into the wall of the office, as Adam delivered a fury filled punch to Henderson’s jaw. Henderson sank to the ground, unconscious, followed swiftly by Mary Sue, as she fainted in shock.

 

Roy Coffee shook himself free from his paralysis, and swiftly moved to take charge of the deteriorating situation. “Hoss, go for Doc Martin!” he ordered loudly. “Adam, you get away from Pete. Little Joe, I’m locking you up right now, for your own protection.” The sheriff grabbed Little Joe’s arm, and dragged the unprotesting boy toward the cells.

 

Joe had time to turn one last pleading look back at his brothers before the sheriff had shoved him into a jail cell, and slammed the lock home. Turning back to the main room, he rapidly closed the dividing doors, cutting the Cartwrights off from a sight of their brother. Shaking his head in anger and frustration, Roy began to pick up the pieces of his quiet night, as he ruefully considered that maybe it was time to retire.

 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

Ben Cartwright stormed into the Virginia City jail, bringing a cloud of dust in with him. The heat baked the little town, and the inside of the jail was stifling. As Ben slapped the dust from his clothing, he glanced searchingly around the small room. Roy was no where in sight, but the door to the cell area was ajar. Striding briskly to those doors, Ben pushed them open to find his son, sitting on the bunk in the cell conversing through the bars with his brothers. All three looked up expectantly as their father took the few steps necessary to join them.

 

Ben’s first glance was for Joseph, who looked back at him sheepishly. “How are you, son?” he asked quietly.

 

Joe stood up and moved to grip the bars that separated him from his family. “I’m fine, Pa. I just want to get out of here.” He wiped the sweat from his face with the back of one hand. “It’s just too hot to breathe in here.”

 

Ben reached through the bars to grip his son’s shoulder in a gesture of support. Joe smiled gratefully, his eyes displaying his misery. “I know this is hard for you, Joe, but we’ve got to do what Roy says for now. If he thinks you need to be in here while he investigates, that’s what we do.”

 

Ben’s raised hand forestalled the splutters from Hoss. Shaking his head grimly, he said firmly. “Joseph, I wish you would show some sense every once in a while. What on earth possessed you to go anywhere near Mary Sue Henderson?”

 

Joe grimaced uneasily. “I didn’t, Pa! She came up to me and asked me to dance. You can ask Tom Pruitt. He was standing right there when she did.”

 

Adam’s eyes flashed black fire. “Why didn’t you say that last night, little brother? It shows that Mary Sue is lying about part of her story, which makes the rest of it that much weaker.”

 

“I didn’t think of it last night, Adam!” Joe protested heatedly. “Things were a little confusing in here at the time, or don’t you remember.”

 

“I remember Pete Henderson trying to kill you in cold blood!” Adam snapped back. He turned to his father, “Pa, we’ve got to get Joe out of here, he’s a sitting duck in this cell. Henderson, or a mob like the one that killed Renny, anyone can walk in here and kill Joe.”

 

Joe looked startled as he realized that what Adam was saying was true. He had only been concerned with the heat, and the miserable conviction that he had done nothing wrong. The realization that the townsfolk could just as easily kill him as they had Renny had never crossed his mind. He gripped the bars convulsively. “Pa?” he whispered questioningly as his eyes sought his father’s.

 

 

Ben glared at Adam. Turning to Joe, he spoke reassuringly, “It’s going to be okay, Little Joe. Adam, Hoss and I are going to make sure that no one gets in here. You’ll be safe with us.”

 

Hoss grinned his gap-toothed smile. “You bet, Short Shanks. They’ll have to fight past me to get to you, and that’s a promise.”

 

Somewhat reassured, Joe smiled gamely back at his family. “What do we do now, Pa?” he asked hopefully.

 

“I’m going to confer with our lawyer. If anyone can get you out of here legally it’s Seth Greenwell. Adam, I want you to see if you can find out who those girls in the alley were. Hoss, you stay here and keep Joe company.” Ben patted Joe’s shoulder again. “We’ll get through this together, Little Joe. Don’t worry.”

 

Joe struggled to hide his growing unease from his father, as he smiled and winked a farewell. Watching his father and Adam leave the little cell area left him feeling a bit abandoned until he looked at the reassuring bulk of his brother, Hoss. Hoss had pulled up a chair and planted his large body in it, facing the door to the office. It was clear that no one was going to get past him without a challenge. Joe settled back on his bunk, a warm glow starting in his middle. His family would pull him out of trouble, of that he had no doubt.

 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

Mary Sue Henderson left her house, stopping only to glance surreptitiously to the right and left. After ascertaining that no one was watching, she hastily walked to the corner, and turned down a side street. She kept up her pace until she reached the home of her best friend, Ellen Meyers, a tall redheaded girl, known throughout Virginia City for her sharp tongue and quick giggle. Tapping on Ellen’s back door, Mary Sue slipped in quietly. She smiled a greeting at her friend, and hastily looked around at the assembly in Ellen’s kitchen. Her select group of friends had all arrived, and were waiting for her to begin.

 

Ellen quickly slipped the bolt on the door and drew the curtains shut. Satisfied that no prying eyes could penetrate their sanctuary she turned expectantly toward her friend. “Well,” she giggled happily, “It looks like you’ve got things under control, Mary Sue. Little Joe Cartwright is locked up in the jail.”

 

Mary Sue’s eyes blazed in sudden excitement. “Yes, he is, and I think he’s going to find out that the Cartwright name doesn’t mean so much anymore!” She looked around the circle of young women, a smile curving on her delicate face. “Renny was too easy. Little Joe is a much tougher matter. If the plan works on him, it will work on any man in this town.”

 

“But, Mary Sue,” Laura Carson, a willowy brunette, seated near the kitchen table spoke up, a worried expression marring her pretty face. “Isn’t someone going to get suspicious? I mean after all, you’ve accused two men in the last couple of months. After a while people will stop believing your stories.”

 

Mary Sue’s face tightened with anger, a scowl creased her perfect browline. “Not if we stick together!” she snapped. “You agreed to this Laura! If you’re going to back out on us now, say so, because you will no longer be a member of this club. We agreed that to belong to the club you had to go along with anything that we do or say.”

 

Laura shrank down in her chair, her face betraying her uncertainty. “I didn’t say that I wasn’t going to stick with you,” she said quickly. “I was just wondering how many more times we’ll be believed.”

 

“As many times as we want to be believed,” Ellen asserted boldly. “I think it’s thrilling that the men in this town are afraid of us.”

 

Maggie Holmes frowned worriedly. “We never said anything about people dying, girls,” she interjected. “This was supposed to be fun and exciting. Renny Miller is dead because of us, and now Little Joe Cartwright is in jail. What if someone finds out what we’re doing? What if they try to lynch Little Joe?”

 

“Little Joe has his family to back him up!” Mary Sue asserted strongly. “Nothing will happen to him. It would serve him right if he gets sent to jail. After all he’s done to me, it’s no more than what he deserves.”

 

“What has Little Joe ever done to you, Mary Sue?” asked Maggie, a frown on her face. “As far as I can see, the only thing he did was not fall in love with you like you wanted him too. That shouldn’t be enough to send a man to prison. For that matter, what did Renny Miller ever do to you?”

 

Mary Sue rounded on her friend in a fury, her eyes blazing. “That’s it, Maggie!” she hissed. “You are no longer welcome in this group. I want you to leave now.” She stood up quickly from her chair, and it fell backwards with a crash, startling all the girls in the room. They watched apprehensively as Mary Sue advanced on Maggie, fury making her movements swift and sure.

 

Maggie stood up slowly and backed away from the angry girl. “All right, Mary Sue, I’m going,” she said quietly. “But I want you to know that I think what you’re doing is wrong.”

 

Mary Sue thrust her face close to Maggie’s, watching triumphantly as a trace of fear dawned in the other girl’s eyes. “I don’t care what you think, you little traitor,” she snapped angrily. “But if you breathe a word of this to anyone, you’ll regret it till the day you die.”

 

Fear dawned full-fledged in Maggie’s face, and she backed up even further. “I won’t say anything, and you know that. You don’t have to threaten me.” Maggie’s voice was trembling, and she was on the verge of tears.

 

“Then get out of here, and don’t come back!” No one would have recognized the Mary Sue who was speaking. Her normally sweet, gentle voice was harsh and strident. With her hair flying about her face, and her eyes glinting like sapphires, she presented a formidable picture.

 

Maggie took one last terrified look around the room and stumbled to the door. The tears she had been struggling to hold back came fast and furiously, and she tried to wipe them away as she fumbled for the knob. Finally succeeding in opening the door, she blundered into the street, slamming the door shut behind her. Without looking up, she stepped forward, and then gasped in shock as she careened into the broad chest of a man clothed all in black.

 

Adam Cartwright kindly set the terrified girl back on her feet, his eyes wide with concern. “Maggie?” he asked gently. “Are you all right?”

 

Maggie gave Adam a look that positively radiated with immense fear. “I’m fine, Adam,” she managed to gasp. “I..I have to go, please excuse me.” She pushed past him and rushed down the street, leaving Adam standing on the doorstep, his expression puzzled.

 

Adam watched until the girl disappeared around the corner, shaking his head in bewilderment. He knew Maggie Holmes only through Little Joe. She was one of the circle of girls that he dated occasionally. He couldn’t fathom what might have upset her so badly. Heaving a sigh of frustration at his inability to help, he finally turned and knocked briskly on the door.

 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

Ellen Meyers peeked out the door, opening it just a slit to see who was knocking. Her freckled face paled when she saw who was standing on her doorstep. Instead of inviting Adam in, she opened the door a little wider and slipped out to stand on the steps. Adam caught a glimpse of several girls staring out at him wide-eyed just before Ellen briskly shut the door tightly. Standing with her back to the wooden portal, she looked at Adam with a question in her eyes. “What can I do for you, Adam?”

 

Adam tipped his hat to the young woman. “I’ve come to ask you a few questions, if you don’t mind, Ellen.” He crossed his arms over his broad chest, his expression calm and unreadable.

 

Ellen flushed, the color clashing with her vivid red hair. “Questions about what?” she managed to respond.

 

“About what you and your friends were doing in that alley last night, and what you were doing in the alley the night Renny Miller was supposed to have attacked Mary Sue Henderson.” Adam replied, carefully keeping his voice without inflection. He didn’t want to frighten the girl, knowing that if he did she would not say a word to him.

 

“How did you know that I was there?” Ellen stammered in surprise, her eyes wide with shock.

 

“Your statement is on file in the sheriff’s office, Ellen,” Adam replied smoothly. “My little brother is locked up in that jail. You didn’t think we would just sit back and leave him to the wolves, did you?”

 

Ellen’s flush had receded, leaving her freckles standing out in stark relief against her pale, white skin. “I see,” she murmured. Her head came up defiantly, her eyes flashing at Adam, almost belligerently. “Yes, I was in the alley. I watched Renny Miller try to attack Mary Sue, and I saw your brother do the same thing.”

 

Adam’s eyebrows rose skeptically. “Really, that’s very interesting? How far away were you? What reason could both Renny and Joe have for wanting to attack Mary Sue?” Adam’s voice rose as he fired his questions at the quaking girl, one by one.

 

Ellen flinched back in fear as Adam crowded a little closer to her. Realizing the effect he was having, Adam immediately backed up a couple of steps. Lowering his voice, he said as calmly as he could, “I’m sorry, Ellen. I didn’t mean to frighten you. I’m concerned about my brother. I’m sure you can understand that.”

 

Ellen pressed her back against the door. “I can’t tell you anything, Adam. I know what I saw, and I’ll tell the judge in court. But I’m not going to go over it all with you, not now, not ever.” Her voice shook with suppressed emotion, but Adam couldn’t tell if it was fear or rage.

 

Adam hesitated briefly, then tipping his hat again he took his leave of the young woman, striding down the street without looking back. If he had, he would have seen the young red-haired girl wipe a shaky hand across her forehead before she opened the door and slipped back inside. A confused babble of voices greeted her, and she quickly launched into an explanation of what had just occurred.

 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

Adam pushed through the swinging doors of the Silver Dollar Saloon. He pushed his black hat back on his head, and wiped the sweat from his forehead. The heat continued unabated and all of Virginia City seemed to be clustered in the saloon, searching for salvation from the debilitating heat and swirling dust that hung over the town in a cloud. Leaning up against the bar, Adam ordered a beer, and took a long appreciative sip when it was passed to him. Nodding his thanks to the bartender, he made his way to a table in a secluded corner of the saloon. As he sat and surveyed the restless crowd his father appeared, his own beer cradled in the big work-worn hands. Ben pulled up another chair and heaved his bulk into it, a sigh escaping from his lips.

 

“Any luck, Adam?” he asked quietly, as he glanced around the room to see who was listening.

 

Adam shook his head in frustration. “None, Pa!” he exclaimed angrily. “I talked to Ellen Meyers, and she refused to change her story. I could see that she was upset about something, but I couldn’t shake her. There were a lot of girls in her kitchen, but she wouldn’t let me in, so I couldn’t see who was in there. I tried two or three of the other names on the witness list, but none of them were home. I have a feeling that they were the ones with Ellen.” Adam’s narrative ground to a halt as he saw the look of fear that flashed across Ben Cartwright’s face. He reached out and put a reassuring hand on his father’s shoulder. “It’ll be all right, Pa. We still have time to get these girls to tell the truth.”

 

Ben shook his head, swallowing back the lump in his throat, as he said tiredly, “I don’t know, Adam. If we can’t get the girls to tell the truth, Seth Greenwell says that Little Joe is in trouble. It’ll be his word against all of theirs. It doesn’t look good, son.”

 

Adam hesitated, unsure if he should tell his father the next part of his news, but finally the need for his father’s reassurance won out. “There’s more, Pa,” he said, lowering his voice. “All over town, I’ve heard people whispering. This heat is driving people to do things they wouldn’t normally do. They’re saying that they got away with hanging Renny Miller, so why should they wait for a trial for Little Joe.” Adam’s dark eyes were bleak. “I’ve heard the word lynching mentioned more times than I can count, Pa.”

 

Ben swallowed thickly, the bile rising in the back of his throat. “If they move against the jail, it’ll be the three of us and Roy against a whole mob. Those odds don’t sound very good right about now.”

 

“Pa, we’ve got to get Little Joe out of there,” Adam said insistently. “We can’t protect him in there. It’s not easy to hold the jail against a mob.”

 

Ben sat silently, misery reflected in his eyes. “We don’t have much of a choice, Adam. Roy isn’t going to let Little Joe out until the trial, so we’ll just have to make sure that a mob doesn’t get in.” He patted Adam’s arm reassuringly. “Don’t give up hope, Adam. We’re just going to have to work harder at getting those girls to tell us what they know.”

 

Ben glanced around the saloon as he spoke, noticing for the first time the furtive glances being shot in their direction. Even as he looked, he saw one man stare angrily at the Cartwrights, and then turn to whisper to a friend. The town was in an ugly mood. The summer heat was taking its toll on everyone. Ben nudged Adam’s arm, “Let’s go, Adam, we need to get back to relieve Hoss.”

 

The Cartwrights stood and left the saloon. Ben made a conscious effort to ignore the unpleasant looks and hostile murmurs as they moved through the crowd. It was a relief to get out to the street, in spite of the immediate assault by the sun and heat. Quickly, the two men headed for the jail. Both dreading the news they were bringing to Little Joe.

 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

The setting sun had brought little relief to the sweltering townspeople. The jail became an oven, and the men inside were miserable. Little Joe lay on his cot, clad only in his pants and boots. The cell was situated so that no air moved through it at all, the thought of sleep was impossible. He stared sightlessly into the dark, thinking about the events that had led him to this place. As he tossed and turned, he saw the consoling bulk of his brother, Hoss, sleeping on the cot in the unlocked cell next to his. Joe smiled softly. Hoss hadn’t left his side all day, even when his father and Adam had returned from town and urged him to go have a beer. The knowledge that Adam and Ben were also somewhere in the jail house was comforting. Renny’s lynching weighed heavily on Joe’s mind.

 

Joe’s smile deserted him abruptly as he thought about the news that he had heard that afternoon. The case against him looked very bleak. He knew that he hadn’t touched Mary Sue, and he knew that she and the other girls were lying. But he could see no way to force them to tell the truth. The thought of prison terrified Little Joe. He felt like a caged animal just sitting in the little airless jail cell. How much worse was a real prison? He shuddered in terror, squeezing his eyes shut as if to block the thoughts from his mind.

 

Faint sounds drifted in through the tiny barred window, and Joe registered them vaguely, his mind occupied with his thoughts. It was only as the sounds grew louder that he realized what he was hearing. It was the sound of many voices raised in anger. Joe’s eyes flew open and he stood quickly to press his face against the barred window in the cell. He could see torchlight flickering ever closer as a mob approached the jail. The random noise began to separate itself into individual shouts. Joe heard the word “Lynching” and he blanched in terror. He tried to move from the window to awaken Hoss, but his feet seemed to be glued to the ground.

 

The sound of breaking glass freed him from his paralysis, as a bottle shattered against the side of the building. It had been hurled by one of the drunken men who comprised the mob. Joe flinched back, moving to the bars that separated him from Hoss. He realized that he didn’t have to call to his brother when he watched Hoss leap up, surprisingly graceful for such a big man. Hoss’s hand went instinctively for the rifle that was laying on the floor beside him. Taking the time to send his little brother a reassuring glance, Hoss moved to his own cell window. Squinting out into the gloom, he sucked in a worried breath.

 

The mob had stopped at the edge of the wooden sidewalk, while Pete Henderson detached himself from the crowd to harangue them. “That little animal is in there, boys! Let’s make sure the women of this town are safe! Let’s get him.”

 

The mob surged forward, more glass shattering as they hurled bottles and rocks at the jail. A shot gun blast roared into the night, followed rapidly by another, and then another. Roy Coffee stepped from the door of the jail, and planted his booted feet on the sidewalk, followed quickly by Ben and Adam Cartwright, rifles at the ready.

 

“You men, stay back!” Roy’s voice was commanding, his determination to protect his prisoner manifested by his tone. “Those first shots were a warning. The next ones will be to kill” Roy’s rifle targeted the center of the crowd.

 

There was a visible drawing back, as men shuffled their feet nervously. The implacable hatred on the face of Adam Cartwright was a deterrent unto itself. Ben Cartwright’s face was inscrutable, but the weapon he held was cocked and ready to fire. All three watched with bated breath to see what the mob of men would do next. Inside the jail, Hoss and Joe exchanged glances, and Hoss cocked his own rifle, aiming out the window toward the mob. Joe stood watching, feeling naked and vulnerable. He hated standing helpless while other men defended him, and his fingers itched for a trigger.

 

Outside, Henderson realized that his mob was falling apart, and he tried to revive the killing spirit that had infected them earlier. Again he shouted of Joe’s terrible crimes against women, and he exhorted the crowd to think of their own women’s safety. He might have been successful if Adam hadn’t slipped up behind him and put his revolver to the side of Henderson’s head.

 

“I suggest you stop shouting, Pete.” Adam spoke calmly, but the cold fury in his tone made Henderson blanch. He allowed himself to be pulled back toward the jail, his hands raised slightly in the air.

 

The ugly mob seemed to transform itself into a group of ordinary men at lightening speed. With the removal of their leader, the men stood sheepishly, shuffling their feet. The men lucky enough to be standing at the fringes of the group began to drift casually off into the night, disappearing quickly. A few stood muttering in front of the jail, but a threatening gesture by Roy made even those few turn and walk into the night. Shoving Henderson roughly forward, the Cartwrights and Roy returned to the brightly lit office.

 

Pete stood blinking in the light, a defiant look on his face. He faced the three angry men, hands planted on his hips. “I’m not going to apologize,” he spat angrily. “Little Joe deserves to die for what he’s done, and I’m going to find a way to make sure he does.”

 

 

Roy moved so that he was inches from the angry man. “This is my town, and my jail, Henderson. I won’t have people leading mobs in my town. I’ve got a good mind to throw you into a jail cell, right along side of Little Joe.”

 

Henderson’s eyes stayed steady, and he glared his defiance at the sheriff. “Go ahead, Roy, you do that. I’ll spend the time letting Joe know what I think of him, and what I want to have done to him.”

 

Adam moved forward threateningly, but Ben put up a hand to stop him. “You’re not going to get anywhere near my son, Pete,” he said levelly. “Little Joe may have to stay here, but he doesn’t have to be tormented while he’s in that cell.”

 

“Ben’s right,” said Roy, a little more calmly. “Go home, Pete. And don’t come back. I don’t want to see you anywhere near this jail until Little Joe ain’t in it. If you bring another mob near here, I’ll put you in the cell and let Little Joe go free.”

 

Henderson glared at the men surrounding him, but he nodded his head once, and turned to go. “I’ll wait for the trial, Roy,” he snapped. “But I’ll see Little Joe sent to prison, you can be sure of that Ben.” He pushed his way out of the small room, slamming the door behind him.

 

The three men let out long sighs. “Well that’s over for now,” sighed Roy in relief. “I don’t think we’ll have any more talk of lynching, for a while at least.”

 

Adam’s dark eyes were angry. “I can’t believe you’re just going to let him go free after what he’s done, Roy.” Adam’s voice crackled with disdain. “He incited a crowd to riot; there’s got to be a law against that.”

 

Roy sighed and shook his head slowly. “Well now, there is, Adam.” He tried to keep his tone reasonable, but Roy’s nerves were frayed with the events of the evening and his temper was starting to show. “But you heard what the man said. Do you really want him locked up in there next to your brother, spitting poison at the boy the whole time?”

 

Adam flushed slightly, “I don’t want him anywhere near Little Joe,” he said quietly. “But I don’t want him to go unpunished for trying to have my brother killed.” He strode over to the outer door, and pulled it open to look into the now quiet street. His eyes filled with worry, he sighed softly, his thoughts in a whirl of confusion. He didn’t know what he wanted anymore, except to be back at the Ponderosa, with his little brother safely at home beside him.

 

He heard Little Joe’s voice calling for his father, and Ben’s retreating footsteps as he headed for the cells. Adam quietly shut the door, and prepared to join his family. He too needed the reassurance of being with his father and brothers after the night’s disturbance. Pausing to give Roy a brief, conciliatory smile, and a quick clap on the shoulder, Adam moved to join his family.

 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

The crowd sat with bated breath, the only sound heard was the rustle of the ladies’ fans, and the occasional shifting of someone’s feet. The courtroom was packed with spectators; it seemed the whole town had turned out for what promised to be the event of the year. To see a Cartwright standing trial was exciting enough, but the circumstances surrounding the charges were sensational in and of themselves. The audience seemed to have divided itself into two distinct camps: those who thought Little Joe was guilty, and those who were convinced that Mary Sue was lying. The Cartwright family filled the front row, sitting quietly and ignoring the glances from the crowd. Little Joe was seated next to Seth Greenwell, the attorney hired by his father to defend his name. He kept glancing over his shoulder, each time receiving a reassuring nod from his father or one of his brothers. Heartened by his family’s support, Little Joe sat up straighter, some of the fear leaving him for the moment.

 

It had been a long week, the heat continued to bake the sweltering mining town, with no relief in sight. The unusually long hot spell would have typically given the townspeople more than enough to talk about, if the sensational trial of Little Joe Cartwright hadn’t swept more trivial topics aside. The arrival of the circuit court judge had galvanized the town, and a swirling tide of people had been swept into the airless courtroom, breathless in anticipation of the entertaining trial to come.

 

Little Joe had spent the intervening week pacing the little cell like a caged animal. The heat, and his worry about the impending trial contrived to put him on edge. He wanted desperately to see Mary Sue and find out what was going on, but knew that it was impossible. Adam and Hoss had spent the week tracking down every girl who had witnessed the events in the alley. Each of them had sworn that they had seen Little Joe suddenly attack Mary Sue for no reason. Joe struggled to believe that the trial would clear his name, but his spirits had plummeted with every passing day.

 

The aborted lynching seemed to have settled the town down for a while, however, and Little Joe had had no more nighttime visitations. His father and brothers had been a constant presence in the jailhouse, as they attempted to ensure his safety. As a result, none of the Cartwrights had slept much in the past week, and all of them were tense and edgy. The glowering looks they were receiving from the Hendersons, seated across the aisle, didn’t help matters.

 

The arrival of the judge, George Wheeler, created a rising murmur in the crowd, until the bang of his gavel silenced them. After the judge had announced the case and given instructions to the jury, the sweltering audience took a deep breath, almost in unison. Little Joe looked up wide eyed as Randolf Hill, the prosecuting attorney, strode to the front of the packed room. Hooking his thumbs into the top of his pockets, the man arranged himself in front of the jury box. He peered at Joe with a penetrating stare. Joe shifted in his chair, and glanced at Seth Greenwell, who was seated at his side. Seth caught the look, and he reached to pat his client’s arm reassuringly.

 

“Gentlemen of the jury,” Hill began in a serious tone. “I have come before you today to prove to you that Joseph Cartwright is guilty of the heinous crime of assault against the person of Mary Sue Henderson. I think that we all have a good idea by now that this girl is the undoubted victim in this terrible series of crimes. Today we will prove that Cartwright is guilty of everything he has been accused, so that this town can put an end to this unfortunate rash of assaults against our poor girls.” As he spoke, Hill strutted back and forth in front of the mesmerized jury. The crowd watched with bated breath, absorbing every detail for the inevitable discussions that would circulate through the town later. Hill finished his opening statements and strolled slowly back to his seat. Joe heaved a sigh of relief as the man sat down. He had felt the weight of condemnation on him while the attorney spoke, and he felt the nagging doubts rise again. He didn’t want to think about the possibility of going to prison.

 

Beside him, Seth Greenwell rose and cleared his throat. Walking slowly toward the waiting jury, he said calmly, “Nothing has been proven in this case. You will see no evidence presented, nothing but the word of Mary Sue Henderson and her friends. Why is Mary Sue accusing Joe Cartwright of something so unspeakable?   No one knows except for Mary Sue. Coming so quickly on the heels of her accusation against Renny Miller, should we believe that Joe Cartwright attacked Mary Sue in that alley behind the barn? We will leave it up to the jury to hear the testimony and make their decision. We know that Joe Cartwright is not guilty, and we rely on the jury to release him and send him home to his family.”

 

Greenwell continued to talk in his well-modulated voice, carefully presenting Joe in a positive light, mentioning the Cartwright’s prominent place in the community, and the fact that Joe had never been accused of a crime such as this before. Joe felt himself lulled into a sense of security as the man talked. Greenwell was a charming and persuasive man; the jury seemed to be drinking in his words. Once again, Joe’s hopes rose. As Greenwell finished his opening remarks and returned to his chair, Joe smiled at him warmly, his thanks written on his expressive face. Again, Greenwell patted his arm, but he pointedly refrained from speaking to his client. He knew that the combined testimony of the group of girls was going to be tough to surmount, and he didn’t want Joe to feel secure in expecting a judgment in his favor.

 

Hill returned to the front of the courtroom and called his first witness. Ellen Meyers rose, trembling slightly, and walked hesitantly to the front of the room. After a brief dipping of her eyes, she seated herself in the witness chair, arranging herself prettily as she awaited the lawyer’s first question.

 

“Miss Meyers,” Hill began, his voice coaxing. “Would you please tell us in your own words, what happened on the night in question.” He stepped back a few paces to allow the jury to have a full view of the young girl.

 

“Well,” Ellen hesitated, as if searching for the right words. “I was in the alley with a couple of friends. It was so hot we just wanted a breath of air.” She looked up pleadingly, trying to generate a feeling of sympathy from the watching audience. “I saw Mary Sue come by with Little Joe Cartwright. He had her by the arm, and when she tried to stop and say hello, he tugged her down the alley a little farther.”

 

“Did Mary Sue go willingly with Joseph Cartwright?” Hill interjected quickly. He leaned forward intently, encouraging Ellen to speak.

 

“No, Mary Sue was afraid,” Ellen replied without hesitation. She tilted her red head defiantly at Little Joe, who gazed back at her impassively.

 

“Objection!” Seth Greenwell jumped to his feet. “That is pure speculation on the part of the witness. She had no way of knowing what Miss Henderson was thinking or feeling that night.”

 

“Sustained.” The judge’s voice was cool and calm. It was early in the trial, and the courtroom was stifling. It appeared as though he was struggling to stay awake.

 

Hill tried a new line of questioning. “What happened after you saw Joe Cartwright walking Mary Sue down the alley?” He again stepped back to allow the jury the full view of the witness. She did present an attractive picture on the witness stand.

 

Ellen leaned forward confidingly, her eyes wide and guileless. “I saw them stop and lean against the wall for a few minutes. The next thing I knew Little Joe grabbed Mary Sue, and she screamed. I guess when he grabbed her, he ripped her dress. Somehow she managed to get away from him and ran toward us. We all ran into the barn, and he followed us in.” Ellen stopped talking and looked each member of the jury in the eye, willing them to believe her.

 

Little Joe leaned forward in his chair, his eyes flashing dangerously. He knew that Ellen was lying, but he had no proof. He started to rise, but stopped as he felt a firm hand grasp his arm and yank him back down. Seth Greenwell glared at his client. Shaking his head furiously, he willed Joe to sit quietly. Joe sank back into his chair, his struggle to control his temper clearly evident on his face. He noticed several members of the jury looking at him and he worked hard to make his face impassive once again.

 

During Joe’s struggle to regain control of himself, he had missed Hill’s final questions for Ellen Meyers. He was startled to find his own lawyer rising to ask his questions of the girl. Greenwell walked quietly toward the witness stand. His face was friendly, as he didn’t want the jury to think he was upsetting the pretty young girl. When he reached the front of the courtroom, he stopped in front of Ellen, gazing down at her for a few moments. The red-haired girl fidgeted a little, smoothing her skirt with shaking fingers, her eyes downcast.

 

When he felt he had drawn out the pause as long as he could, Greenwell asked quietly, “Miss Meyers, what were you and your friends doing in the alley on the night in question?”

 

Ellen looked up startled. “I already told you, we were hot, and we wanted some fresh air.”

 

“Who else was in that alley with you?” Greenwell’s voice remained neutral and he didn’t relinquish his hold on Ellen’s eyes.

 

Ellen carefully reeled off the names of several girls who had already filed depositions with the sheriff. The defense attorney again led her through her version of the events that led up to Little Joe’s supposed attack on Mary Sue. Ellen held her head high as she confidently repeated the same story over again.

 

Suddenly, Greenwell leaned closer to the girl and asked carefully. “How far away from Joe Cartwright and Mary Sue Henderson were you that night, Miss Meyers?”

 

Ellen’s eyes grew distant as she struggled to remember the alley in the back of the barn. After a tense moment she said hesitantly, “I don’t really know, I’m not very good at measuring things.”

 

Greenwell began moving away from the girl. He stopped a few feet from her. “Was it this far away?” he asked. At the girls negative answer, he continued to move. Stopping again, even farther away this time, he repeated his question. Again she answered no. Greenwell moved again, ending up against the far wall of the courtroom. This time when he asked the question, Ellen answered in the affirmative. He stood silently for a few minutes to allow the crowd and the jury to get a good feel for how far away he was. It was a good distance from the witness chair to where the lawyer was standing. Holding up his hand, Greenwell called out to Ellen. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

 

Ellen stared hard, and then squinted just a little. “Um, three,” she said quickly.

 

“Actually, it’s four,” he said triumphantly. Deciding that everyone had had enough time to digest the information, Greenwell made his way back to the front of the room.

 

Once again standing before the witness, Greenwell looked at her sternly. “So when you say you saw Little Joe Cartwright rip Mary Sue’s dress, you couldn’t actually see what his hands were doing, is that right, Miss Meyers?”

 

Ellen flushed guiltily, the ugly red stain creeping up her neck and spreading over her face. She shook her head silently, the tears starting to gather at the corners of her eyes. Greenwell spoke a little more sharply than he intended. “You’ll have to speak up, Miss Meyers! The jury can’t hear you shake your head.”

 

Ellen looked up defiantly. “I said, no! I couldn’t really see his hands.” Her voice rose in pitch, and she glared at the attorney. “But I know what he did, I saw Mary Sue’s dress. I saw it!”

 

Greenwell moved back a few paces, distancing himself from the girl who was crying openly now. “No further questions, Your Honor,” he said quietly, moving back to his own chair.

 

Randolf Hill rose quickly, and moved to stand in front of the still weeping girl. Offering her a handkerchief, he asked kindly. “So, even though you were far enough away from the couple that you couldn’t see Joe Cartwright’s hands, could you see how Mary Sue was reacting to the situation?”

 

Ellen nodded her head eagerly, smiling up at the lawyer as she spoke. “Oh yes, I could see Joe reach for her, and then she jumped back from him. And then she screamed.” She shot a vindictive look at Joe, and then stood as she was dismissed from the stand.

 

Joe was very careful to keep his head high and to look levelly at the girl as she walked past. He didn’t want the jury to think he had anything to hide. Thinking back over the testimony, Joe decided that his lawyer had scored a few points, but that the prosecution had also gained some ground. A lot depended on what the other witnesses had to say.

 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

Randolf Hill began a parade of young girls, who marched to the witness stand with their heads held high wearing an air of determination that didn’t bode well for Joe Cartwright. One after another they testified that they had seen Little Joe attack Mary Sue in the alley, and not one could be shaken from their story. The best that Greenwell could do was to make the jury aware that the girls had been a fair distance away from the pair, and that none had a good view of what happened. As he watched and listened, Little Joe tried to retain his belief that he would be vindicated, that the jury would not believe the web of fantasy that the girls were weaving. But every time he looked in the jury’s direction he could tell by the way they sat and avoided his eyes that they were soaking in every word that each girl spoke. Joe’s heart sank like stone in his chest, and he felt a sudden surge of nausea threaten to overwhelm him. As he swayed a little in his chair, he felt a strong hand grip his shoulder, and he turned slightly to see Adam reaching out to brace him. Giving his brother a grateful look, he turned back to continue listening to the witness, but his spirits were slightly higher. His family believed in him, and that was enough for now.

 

Joe listened gratefully as Judge Wheeler called for a noon recess, and he stood, along with the rest of the packed house, as the judge made his way from the bench. The Cartwrights and Seth Greenwell hung back to allow the people in the room to file out, and were surprised when not one person moved. Everyone seemed to be afraid that if they got up for lunch someone else would take his seat. The drama surrounding the trial ensured that a large part of Virginia City would go hungry today. Shrugging at the sight, the lawyer carefully shepherded his client out of the stifling room.

 

 

Roy Coffee appeared at Little Joe’s elbow. “I’ve got to take ya back to the jail, son,” he said quietly. “I’ve got some lunch waitin’ for ya.”

 

Joe nodded his acceptance and moved away at Roy’s side, his family trailing along behind him. Seeing that they were determined to follow him, Joe stopped, frowning. “There’s no sense in you all going hungry while I eat,” he said firmly. “You go to the hotel, Pa. Get something there, and then come back and join me.” Making little shooing gestures with his hands, Joe attempted his cocky grin. No one mentioned that he failed miserably.

 

More to humor Little Joe, than a desire for food, Ben and his sons adjourned to the hotel. They sat miserably at a table and waited for the waitress to bring their meal. “It don’t look good, does it, Pa?” Hoss looked so despondent that Ben reached for him instinctively, gripping his son’s large hand in his own.

 

“No son, it doesn’t look very good at the moment,” he agreed quietly. “If Seth can’t shake Mary Sue’s testimony, I’m afraid Little Joe will be going to prison.”

 

Adam slammed his fist into the table, the silverware clinked loudly and the glasses swayed. “There’s got to be some way to make that girl tell the truth. Joe shouldn’t be punished for something he didn’t do.” Adam’s face was dark with anger, and he glared at the other diners, who hastily looked away from him.

 

Ben shook his head sadly, “We’ve tried everything we could, Adam. It’s in the hands of the court now. There’s nothing more we can do.”

 

A commotion on the other side of the restaurant forestalled Adam’s reply. At that moment a little blond whirlwind spun up to the table. Kitty Henderson smiled at the three men, who automatically smiled back at her. Ben stood gallantly and bowed to the little girl. “Why, hello there, young lady, how are you?” he asked, the smile still on his lips.

 

Kitty looked around conspiratorially for a moment, and then leaned in close to the Cartwrights. “I’m fine, sir. I’m here with my family.” She gestured to the table at the far side of the room, and ducked a little as her father’s head swung around searchingly. “I told him I had to use the outhouse,” she whispered.

 

Hoss chuckled, “You’re doing a lot of sneaking around, ain’t ya, Miss Kitty.” He put his large hand out, and she quickly laid hers within his grasp. “What’s on your mind, punkin?”

 

Kitty leaned against the big man, smiling up into his blue eyes. “I was just wondering about Little Joe. Is it true he’s going to jail?” The smile faded from her lips, and the blue eyes sparkled with the glimmer of tears. “I don’t want that to happen.”

 

Adam cleared his throat, seeing that Hoss was unable to speak. “We don’t want it to happen either, Kitty,” he explained quietly. “But there isn’t really much anyone can do about that right now, except your sister.”

 

The little girl looked confused. “Mary Sue? What can she do to help?” she asked eagerly.

 

Adam scowled. “She could try telling the truth!” he exclaimed, biting back the rest of his words when he saw the girl flinch backwards.

 

“Is Mary Sue the one who’s making Little Joe go to prison?” asked Kitty in dismay. “Is that why she’s been pacing around in her room, and why Papa is so angry?”

 

Ben smiled gently. “Now, Kitty, you don’t need to worry your pretty little head about any of this. Little Joe is going to be just fine.” He glanced up sharply, and then said quickly, “I see your father looking for you, sweetheart. You’d better run along; we don’t want you to get in any trouble.”

 

Kitty darted a quick look back at her father, and saw that he was rising from his place at the table, obviously intent on finding his wayward daughter. She looked around at the seated Cartwrights, with an intense look. “I didn’t know it was because of Mary Sue,” she said. “No one tells me anything.” A look of determination crossed her face. “I won’t let it happen, Mr. Cartwright. I promise. I love Little Joe.” She quickly darted away, as Pete Henderson began to move across the room.

 

The three Cartwrights looked at each other and smiled ruefully. “She’s a sweet kid. Too bad her sister’s not more like her.” Adam commented.

“She sure is sweet on Little Joe,” Hoss said chuckling. “She’s been like that since she could talk. He sure can charm the ladies, no matter how old they are.”

 

Ben sighed. “I wish she could help, but I don’t see what she can do. We’d better be getting back boys; the recess is almost over.” He rose, placing some folded bills on the table to pay for the meal. The three men strode out of the restaurant, leaving behind their almost untasted meals.

 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

The Cartwrights once again entered the little courtroom, immediately feeling the blast of the heat that enveloped them. The people sitting tenaciously in their chairs looked wilted, their clothing a bit bedraggled and their faces dripping with sweat. A murmur of sound followed the Cartwrights down the aisle, as they seated themselves in the front row once again. Glancing back, Ben could see people whispering behind fans, and fingers pointing in their direction. With his jaw clenched in anger, Ben swung his head around, determinedly shutting the audience from his view. He saw Randolf Hill return to the courtroom and take his place, followed immediately by Seth Greenwell. Joe’s attorney took the time to smile at the three anxious men seated behind him, but he didn’t stop to talk. His mind was focused on the afternoon’s ordeal.

 

A crescendo in the crowd’s whispering brought Ben’s head up in time to see Roy Coffee escorting Joe in the side door. The sheriff walked the slender man to his chair, and left him with a kindly clap on the back. With a wink at Adam, Roy took up a station against the wall of the courtroom. The noise ceased abruptly as Judge Wheeler entered the courtroom and banged his gavel to call the chamber to order. Everyone sat up expectantly, even the fans were waved with less vigor, people were so intent on hearing every word.

 

Hill swaggered to the front of the room and called for his first witness of the afternoon. Joe was surprised to see Pete Henderson striding to the witness chair. The older man took his seat with determination evident in every line of his being. The glare he bestowed on Joe would have withered some men in their tracks. Joe stared back, his face a blank mask, but his mind whirling in confusion. What testimony could Pete Henderson have to offer? Joe’s eyes were riveted on the man, who looked very distinguished in a silk vest, and crisp, black string-tie. After the witness was sworn in, Hill launched into his questions.

 

“Mr. Henderson, did Joseph Cartwright visit your home the day Renny Miller died?” Hill’s voice boomed through the courtroom, serving notice to all the spectators that he was ready to fight. Many people shifted in their seats, heads craning for a better view.

 

Pete Henderson sat tall in his chair, vainly trying to suck in his portly stomach. “Yes, he did. I came home to find my daughter in tears. I saw Little Joe running out of the house; he almost knocked me over when he left. He didn’t even answer me when I called to him.” Henderson’s voice was indignant.

 

“Did you see your daughter when you entered the house?” Hill asked his witness.

 

“Yes, and she was very upset. She told me that Little Joe had threatened her.” Henderson stopped to draw in an agitated breath, his face was red with suppressed rage, and the glare he sent toward Little Joe was frightening.

 

“Hearsay, as to what she told him!” Greenwell was again on his feet.

 

“Excited utterance exception, Your Honor,” Hill replied smoothly, obviously expecting the objection.

 

Judge Wheeler didn’t even bother looking up this time. “Objection overruled,” he announced and then went back to a detailed study of his fingernails.

 

“What did your daughter say when you came in, Mr. Henderson?” Hill pressed intently.

 

“She said that Little Joe wanted her to change her story about Renny Miller.” Pete’s voice rose angrily.

 

Joe felt his own anger rising. How could Mary Sue blatantly lie to her father about what had happened? He hadn’t threatened her. He had certainly questioned her about Renny, but he had never tried to hurt her in any way. Again he felt a pressure on his shoulder, and this time he looked back to see Hoss give him an encouraging wink. Joe sank back into his seat a little, his anger abating. He winked back at Hoss, a brief smile crossing his face. Greenwell nudged him, and Little Joe quickly turned around to face his accusers again.

 

Hill turned the questioning over to Seth Greenwell, who walked toward Pete Henderson with a brisk, businesslike stride. “Mr. Henderson,” he said as he began his cross-examination. “Did you speak to Little Joe Cartwright on the day of Renny Miller’s lynching?”

 

At Henderson’s negative answer, Greenwell continued calmly, “If you didn’t speak to Little Joe, how do you know what he said at your house that day?” He stood with his hands crossed over his chest, his head tipped to one side.

 

Henderson sputtered indignantly. “Why, Mary Sue told me what he said, of course.” His face was turning an alarming shade of puce as his anger increased.

 

 

Greenwell turned his back on the irate man and strolled toward the jury, who watched his every move in fascination. “So, you really have no first hand knowledge of what your daughter heard that day, is that correct? Only Mary Sue and Little Joe know the words that were spoken?”

 

Henderson growled in rage, almost rising from the chair in agitation. “I believe my daughter, Mr. Greenwell. She’s not a liar!” he shouted angrily.

 

Seth Greenwell smiled calmly. “But you cannot testify that you heard Little Joe Cartwright threaten your daughter at any time, on the day that Renny Miller was murdered?”

 

Henderson was forced to answer in the negative, and he was dismissed from the stand. As he walked back to his seat, he stopped in front of Little Joe. Putting his face close to Little Joe’s, he hissed angrily. “If the jury doesn’t find you guilty, Cartwright, I’ll kill you myself.”

 

Joe sat calmly, but his face clearly displayed the anger he felt. Adam and Hoss stood quickly, while the courtroom behind them erupted in chaos. The judge’s gavel banged futilely in the sudden uproar, as Roy Coffee made his way forward to grab Henderson by the arm. He reached the other man’s side just in time, Hoss had already leaned forward to grab for the older man’s shirt, while Adam was trying to get over the row of chairs to interpose himself between Henderson and his brother.

 

At last, the judge regained control of the courtroom, his voice was harsh with displeasure. “Mr. Henderson. You will remove yourself from the courtroom immediately. Sheriff, see to it that this man doesn’t return for the duration of this trial.” He gestured to the throng of people who were settling back into their chairs, clearly enjoying the drama. “I will eject anyone else who gets out of control in my courtroom. I won’t have displays like the one we just saw, is that understood?”

 

Aghast at the thought of losing their precious seats for the dramatic event of the year, Virginia City’s finest immediately sat as quietly as church mice, not even a fan waved in the stifling heat. Judge Wheeler called for a fifteen minute recess to allow the participants a break, instructing the jury to disregard what they had just seen.

 

Little Joe stood gratefully, and followed Roy from the room, eagerly gulping in the outside air, which was only slightly lower in temperature than that inside the courthouse. Without even looking, he knew that his father and brothers had followed him outside. When he felt his father’s hand on his arm, he turned and buried his head on Ben’s broad chest.

 

“Pa,” he said, so softly that Ben had to strain to hear. “I don’t want to go to prison.” It was the cry of a frightened child, and Ben’s heart crumpled.

 

“Don’t lose hope, son,” he whispered. “It’s not over yet.” He rubbed Joe’s back gently, wishing he had more encouraging words to say. But the truth was, things looked bad for Joe, and they all knew it.

 

Adam and Hoss stood quietly, but still seethed with anger over Pete Henderson’s behavior. Adam cursed his inability to help his little brother. He had always felt a tremendous responsibility toward his youngest brother; he would have sacrificed his life for Joe. This was a threat he was unable to protect Joe from, and it rocked Adam to the core of his being. The Cartwrights closed ranks, surrounding the youngest member of the family. Roy Coffee stepped back to allow them their privacy. The long day wasn’t over yet. The worst was yet to come.

 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

Court was once again in session, and Little Joe sat moodily in his chair, his spirits at a low ebb. His hopes for a quick trial and an easy verdict had been dashed early on. He fought to retain his optimism, but knew he was losing the battle. He let himself feel the comforting presence of his family at his back, but he didn’t dare turn around to look at them. As if in answer to his thoughts, Joe again felt a quiet grip on his shoulder. This time Ben Cartwright was responding to his son’s instinctive need for support.

 

A ripple of excitement eddied through the courtroom as Mary Sue Henderson made her way to the witness stand. She looked fragile, in a sky blue dress, with a wide band of matching blue, holding back her soft blond hair.   Little sounds of admiration could be heard on many lips, and Mary Sue smiled softly in response. She carefully avoided looking in Little Joe’s direction, keeping her eyes instead on the prosecutor.

 

Hill allowed the jury to gaze on the lovely sight presented by the latest witness. When he finally decided to break the silence, some of the jurymen jumped visibly. At least one had to be elbowed by the man sitting next to him before he shut his mouth, which had been hanging open at the radiant sight before his eyes. “Miss Henderson, would you be so kind as to tell us what took place on the night in question?” Hill asked softly, almost afraid to break the spell.

 

Mary Sue took a deep breath and raised her eyes to meet those of the foreman of the jury. “Well,” she began, her voice ringing clearly in the hushed silence of the courtroom. “Little Joe approached me at the dance and asked me to dance with him. I didn’t want to, because he had been to my house three weeks earlier, and his behavior was ugly. But he persisted, and I knew that it was a crowded room, so I agreed. After all, what could happen with so many people watching? The dance was fine, but it was so hot, I felt faint. Little Joe suggested that we go outside for some air. I didn’t want to but he took my arm and pulled me out the door. I wanted to stop and talk to my friends who were outside in the alley, but Joe wouldn’t let me. He kept pulling on my arm, until we were down by the corner of the barn. He leaned against the barn, but he never let go of me the whole time. The next thing I knew he was grabbing at me. He ripped the front of my dress. I tried to fight him off, and my face got scratched. Somehow I broke away from him, and ran for my friends. When they saw what was happening they screamed and ran also. We all managed to get inside the barn, with Little Joe following right behind us. It was a terrible experience.” Mary Sue’s face was placid, it appeared almost blank as she recited her story.

 

Hill couldn’t contain his brief smile at the sight of the jury staring mesmerized at the witness. He could tell that she was having a devastating impact on the men in the box, which could only help the case in his opinion. He had let her tell her story without interruption to give the jury the full affect of her words. He carefully led Mary Sue to tell of her alleged conversation with Little Joe three weeks earlier when he had threatened her if she didn’t change her story about Renny. Mary Sue’s face was the picture of bewildered innocence when she explained that she still considered Joe a friend when she let him in her house that day. She protested that she never dreamed that he could be so violently angry. The attorney concluded his questions, convinced that his case was made.

 

Seth Greenwell rose carefully. He walked quietly to the front of the room. He was well aware that his treatment of Mary Sue would make or break the jury’s opinion of Little Joe Cartwright’s character. A lawyer who browbeat such an attractive witness could make himself very unpopular and that would hurt his client’s chances of a favorable verdict. Schooling his face into a bland mask, Greenwell began his questions.

 

“Miss Henderson, why did Little Joe Cartwright visit your home on the day that Renny Miller was murdered?” he asked quietly.

 

“I’ve already explained that,” she replied petulantly. “He came to try to get me to change my story about Renny.” For the first time, Mary Sue lost some of her prettiness, a trace of anger marred the lines of her face. “And anyway, Renny wasn’t murdered, he was hung for committing a terrible crime!”

 

The realization that she was losing some of her charm snapped Mary Sue to her senses. “I don’t see what that has to do with anything!” she cried, letting tears swim in her blue eyes. Pulling a dainty handkerchief from her sleeve, she dabbed at her eyes.

 

Changing tactics, Greenwell paced the small open space in front of the witness box. “How would you describe your relationship with Little Joe Cartwright before the hanging of Renny Miller?” he asked unexpectedly.

 

Mary Sue flinched visibly. “Why, we were friends, that’s all.” Her answer seemed a little forced, and her voice was becoming brittle.

 

“You’ve never been in love with Joe Cartwright?” Greenwell stopped pacing and moved forward until he was close to the girl. Gazing at her intently, he waited impassively for her answer.

 

Mary Sue flushed, the color rising in her cheeks. “No!” she cried angrily. “Never!” Mary Sue crossed her arms across her chest, tapping her foot impatiently. “I have never been in love with Little Joe!” she repeated, her voice rising.

 

Greenwell stepped back, his face revealing nothing. He glanced at the jury, and could see they were looking at Mary Sue with speculation. Her vehemence was in total contrast to the picture she had presented earlier. She was no longer the calm, self-possessed girl who had taken the stand. Greenwell could only hope that the jury would take the time to question which was the true Mary Sue. He stepped back a few paces, and announced that he had no further questions.

 

Randolf Hill decided that it was best to get the girl off the stand before she disintegrated completely. He quickly stated that he had no desire to redirect, and Mary Sue was allowed to leave the stand. Again, Little Joe found himself confronted with an angry witness. The look that Mary Sue gave him would have taken paint from the walls. Joe stared back at her, his eyes hard. He was having trouble restraining his anger, he could only hope that the jury couldn’t read it in his face.

 

 

Mary Sue had been the prosecution’s star witness, and Hill rested his case after her testimony. Again Judge Wheeler called for a brief recess to allow Seth Greenwell time to prepare for his turn in the limelight. The Cartwrights stood as one and filed out the door after Little Joe. None of them spared a backwards glance for the enrapt audience.

 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

Little Joe sat on the cot in the jail cell and gratefully accepted the tin cup of cold water from the sheriff. He nodded his thanks and leaned back against the wall closing his eyes. Sipping from the cup, he wiped the sweat from his forehead. Visions of life in prison were beginning to crowd his thoughts, and he tried to shake them off. He heard booted feet approaching and he opened his eyes quickly to see the three men he loved most in the world approaching.

 

Hoss plunked down on the bunk beside Joe, and they all laughed as the cot squeaked alarmingly under his added weight. Silently blessing his brother for reducing the tension, Joe smiled at them gamely. “It doesn’t seem to be going too well, does it?” he remarked to the room in general.

 

Three pairs of eyes instantly swung away from his, in automatic avoidance. Joe’s wry chuckle drew his father’s dark brown orbs back immediately. “What’s funny, son?” he asked quietly.

 

Joe’s laugh faded quickly. “You,” he replied. “And Adam and Hoss. You’re all trying so hard to keep me from knowing that you think it’s hopeless. You can’t protect me from this, you know. I know where this is heading.” Joe’s eyes closed again and he leaned back against the wall, only barely acknowledging the support of Hoss’s massive arm that rested behind his shoulders.

 

Adam watched the despair growing in every line of Joe’s body. Moving quickly to kneel before his little brother, afraid to sit next to him on the already overloaded cot, he reached to grasp Joe’s knee. “Hey, little brother. Don’t give up yet.” Adam’s mellow voice was filled with suppressed feeling, and Joe reluctantly opened his eyes to face his older brother.

 

“I don’t know what else to do, Adam.” Joe laid his hand over Adam’s and patted it gently. “I have to start thinking about the future, and it looks like that future includes some time in prison.” A rueful smile graced Joe’s lips. “Here’s the time where you can say, I told you so, older brother. You told me not to go near Mary Sue, and I didn’t listen to you.”

 

Adam drew a sharp breath as he looked at his gallant little brother, who even in his despair was attempting to lighten his family’s mood. “You didn’t have much choice, Joe. From the sound of things, if you hadn’t agreed to dance with her, she would have caused some sort of scene anyway.” Adam’s fist slammed into his own knee in sudden fury. “I just wish I knew why Mary Sue is doing this. I don’t understand how someone can treat another human being the way she’s treating you.”

 

Joe smiled sadly. “Thanks, Adam. You’ve always been a great brother!” He gently patted Adam’s shoulder. “We may never know what’s behind all this. I think Mary Sue is a sick girl. She needs help, and I wish someone would give it to her. Her father’s been no good to her in all of this.”

 

Hoss’s face tightened at the mention of Pete Henderson. “He’s just as crazy as Mary Sue,” he growled. “He needs someone to teach him a lesson he won’t forget, and I’m the man for the job.”

 

Joe shook his head. “No Hoss, that’s not the answer. The only way out of this is to find some way to shake Mary Sue’s story, and I don’t see how that’s going to happen. Seth is doing all he can, but the jury is sure being taken in by all those girls.”

As he watched his three sons launch into a discussion of the case, and the trial tactics being used by Seth Greenwell, Ben’s eyes filled with tears. He, of all of them, knew what they were facing. He knew that Little Joe’s chances of being exonerated were disappearing with each passing minute, and his heart sank at the thought of his youngest son going to prison. Ben was touched as he watched each one of his sons try to comfort the others. They were a tight-knit group. He knew that life on the Ponderosa was going to be very grim, if Little Joe were not with them to be a part of it. Ben’s sigh was interrupted by the arrival of the sheriff, who had come to take Little Joe back to court.

 

They all rose and followed Roy out of the jail cell, their steps slow, all trying to enjoy the last few moments of each other’s company. They knew the trial was rapidly coming to a close, and they were all aware that such moments might not happen again for a long time. With heavy hearts they returned to the courtroom.

 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

The heat in the courtroom had risen to the point where men had removed their jackets and rolled up their sleeves, but still the sweat poured from their faces and bodies. The women fared worse, unable to remove any part of their clothing. One woman fainted, and as soon as she had been carried from the courtroom her seat was eagerly claimed by someone who had been waiting outside for just such a chance. The stench from so many sweaty bodies was almost unbearable. The smell hit Little Joe’s nose as soon as he entered the room from the side door. He gagged just a little, and he knew that when he remembered the trial, it would always be associated in his mind with that particularly offensive odor. Crossing the expanse of floor to his now-familiar seat, Joe carefully avoided meeting the eyes of anyone in the room. The swell of whispering rose in pitch as he walked, and he ducked his head a little. It seemed like an eternity before he gained the sanctuary of the chair, and Joe sat quickly, ducking behind the shielding bulk of the lawyer’s shoulder.

 

The entrance of Judge Wheeler quickly silenced the buzz, and once again all eyes strained forward. Joe felt the brush of fabric on his arm as Seth Greenwell rose and headed for the front of the courtroom. He watched hopefully as Greenwell called for his first witness, Tom Pruitt. Glancing behind him, Joe watched his friend walk through the courtroom to take his place on the witness stand. After being sworn in, Tom sat gratefully, an embarrassed flush already staining his cheeks, his shirt plastered to his body with sweat.

 

With a sympathetic glance at the nervous man, Greenwell launched into his questions, in the hope that Tom’s nerves would settle down soon. “Mr. Pruitt, did you attend the dance in Virginia City on the night in question?”

 

Tom straightened and cleared his throat. This was one he could answer. “Yes, I did.”

“And did you see Little Joe Cartwright at that dance?” Greenwell was deliberately firing the questions at a rapid pace.

 

Tom nodded and said firmly, “Yes, I did. We talked for a little while, although I don’t remember what time it was.”

Greenwell positioned himself in front of Pruitt and asked his next question carefully. “Did you see Little Joe Cartwright and Mary Sue Henderson together at the dance that night?”

 

Tom again nodded, more eagerly this time. “Yes, I did. Mary Sue came up to us as we were talking and she begged Little Joe to dance with her. Joe looked a little uneasy about it, but he finally gave in.”

 

A whisper rippled through the courtroom as people realized what Tom Pruitt had just said. The bang of the judge’s gavel jolted people into silence. Little Joe sat up straight, his eyes eager. Tom’s testimony was in direct contradiction to Mary Sue’s assertion that Little Joe had asked her for a dance. Although the judge’s gavel had silenced the whispers, a palpable air of excitement made itself felt in the courtroom. Little Joe decided that if someone dropped a pin just then, the noise would reverberate through the room like a cannon blast.

 

Greenwell fully realized the effect of his questions, and he milked his moment for all it was worth. “Are you certain that Miss Henderson asked Joseph Cartwright to dance, and not the other way around, Mr. Pruitt?” he asked again, strolling toward the jury as he spoke.

 

Tom repeated his assertion, more forcefully this time. His confidence was rising rapidly as he fought off his case of nerves. Greenwell indicated that he had no further questions, and Randolf Hill rose to take his place in front of the witness. Looking into the prosecutor’s hooded eyes and blandly smiling mouth, Tom’s spirits plummeted abruptly. His newfound confidence disappeared as rapidly as it had come.

 

“Mr. Pruitt, how long were you at the dance before you spoke to Joseph Cartwright?” Hill asked quietly. He stood easily, his thumbs hooked into his vest pockets, but his glare was intimidating.

 

Tom shrugged briefly, and he stopped to do some mental calculations. “I don’t know for sure,” he replied hesitantly. “I guess about an hour.” For lack of something better to do, Tom gripped his knees tightly, his knuckles showing white with tension.

 

“Did you sample the punch, Mr. Pruitt?” Hill’s voice was deceptively gentle, and Tom relaxed visibly.

 

“Yes, I did,” he answered with a slight smile. “It was pretty good.”

 

“How many times did you visit the punch bowl that night?” Hill asked, again keeping his voice mild.

 

Tom never even hesitated. “I don’t know, I lost count,” he answered heartily. “It was mighty hot in that barn, you know.”

 

“Were you aware that the punch was spiked with alcohol, Mr. Pruitt?” Hill pressed, his voice losing its friendly tone.

 

The sudden realization that he had fallen into an ambush made Tom feel sick to his stomach. “Yes, I knew that,” he replied sullenly, refusing to meet the prosecutor’s eyes.

 

“And would you say that you consumed three cups of punch? Or more?” Hill’s eyes bored into the witness. The prosecutor’s tone was harsh and unforgiving.

 

“More,” Tom whispered softly. He looked at his knees, his fists clenched tightly.

 

“Five?”

 

“Probably about that many,” Tom replied belligerently, suddenly looking up to face his accuser.

 

“Would you say you were drunk when you spoke with Little Joe Cartwright that night?” Hill asked, as he leaned forward pushing his face close to the white-faced man.

 

“No, I don’t think I was drunk at the time,” Tom insisted, his voice ringing with intensity. “I’m sure of it,” he asserted.

 

“It might be possible that your judgment was impaired that night, and that you might not be absolutely certain what happened before Joe Cartwright and Mary Sue Henderson began to dance,” the prosecutor announced triumphantly. “Would it be correct to say that Mr. Pruitt?”

 

“I know what happened that night,” Tom said again, his face rigid with anger. “I know.”

 

No further questions, Your Honor,” Hill stated with disgust, as he spun on his heels and stalked away from the man on the witness stand. He clearly conveyed to the jury his contempt for the pitiful specimen that he had been forced to deal with.

 

Seth Greenwell leaped to his feet and quickly crossed the room. “Mr. Pruitt, did Mary Sue Henderson ask Little Joe Cartwright to dance?” he asked forcefully.

 

Tom Pruitt looked like a drowning man who had suddenly been thrown a lifeline. “Yes, she did,” he stated again. “I’m sure of it.”

 

Tom repeated his words when Greenwell asked him to speak up for the benefit of the jury. But the damage had been done, and Greenwell could tell that the jury was speculating on the veracity of Tom’s testimony. Greenwell swore silently to himself. He had been counting on Tom Pruitt’s testimony to knock a huge hole in the prosecution’s case against Joe Cartwright. He quickly announced that he had no further questions for Tom, and called his final witness to the stand. Little Joe rose quietly from his seat and moved confidently to the front of the room.

 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

The courtroom was silent and still, not a muscle twitched, not a fan waved to cool the air. Joe walked through the expectant hush with his head held high, a dangerous glint in his eye. He moved to the witness stand and swore to tell the truth. As he settled into the chair set at the front of the room, he lifted his head and calmly surveyed the crowd. He was somewhat surprised to see that while some people met his gaze, many more flinched away, turning their eyes from his. When he glanced at the jury almost all of them looked away. It wasn’t a good sign. Joe took a deep breath and let the fear wash from his mind. He gazed calmly at Seth Greenwell, who had been waiting for his client to compose himself. Seeing that Joe was ready to begin, Seth smiled gently and led him through the events at the dance.

 

Under Seth’s shower of questions Joe recounted the story of entering the dance hall, talking to Tom and being approached by Mary Sue. With Seth’s prompting he explained his decision to dance with the girl in order to avoid a scene. He shook his head ruefully as he chastised himself once again for that bad decision. Greenwell was a skilled attorney, and he was careful to keep his questions within the letter of the law. He didn’t want a barrage of objections from the prosecution before Joe had a chance to tell his whole story.

 

Greenwell had Joe back up and explain his actions the day of Renny’s lynching. Joe patiently answered question after question. No, he hadn’t threatened Mary Sue. Yes, he wanted her to say that Renny was innocent. No, he had not meant to make her cry. Joe again looked around the courtroom. He saw people shaking their heads; he knew he wasn’t reaching them. Many of the good folks of Virginia City had tried and convicted him already, and they had found him guilty. As Joe answered Greenwell’s questions, his sense of despair grew. He could feel the disbelief of the crowd, and it rankled him. These were his friends and neighbors. They had watched him grow up. How dare they believe that he would ever attack a girl.

 

As the turmoil grew, Joe’s eyes more and more often sought the eyes of the people he knew trusted and believed in him. As he looked again at his father and brothers, Hoss smiled gamely, his blue eyes unable to hide their worry. Adam tried to send his brother a message of hope and confidence, his dark eyes carefully hiding his own whirling thoughts and emotions. Ben Cartwright simply gave Joe a look of love, and it warmed his heart and gave him the strength to continue.

 

At last, Seth Greenwell had asked Joe all the questions he could. He had extracted every last nuance from Joe about his thoughts and motives on the night of the dance. He had tried to show the jury that attacking Mary Sue was the last thing Little Joe Cartwright would have done that night. But Greenwell was aware that the testimony of all the girls had been damning. Little Joe’s words were too little, too late. With a sinking heart, Greenwell announced that he had no further questions for his witness. He moved back to his chair, and watched as Randolf Hill sprang to his feet and moved in for the kill.

 

Hill paced up to Joe, a scowl fixed firmly on his face. He looked contemptuously at the calm young man sitting in front of him. “Mr. Cartwright,” he began. “You say you didn’t threaten Mary Sue Henderson the day of Renny Miller’s death. And yet, her father has testified that he found her in tears. What did you say to Mary Sue to cause those tears?”

 

Joe sat up straight in the chair, his eyes carefully blank. “I simply asked her to think about what actually happened the night Renny supposedly attacked her,” he replied, with a tight hold on his temper. “She got angry because she thought I was calling her a liar.” Joe’s eyes strayed over to the pretty blond, who was sitting next to her father. Her face just then was marred by an angry scowl. It made her considerably less attractive.

 

Hill switched tactics, in the hope that he could confuse the witness. “Did you ever date Mary Sue Henderson?” he asked genially.

 

Joe looked up in confusion. “We went out a couple of times,” he said in bemusement. “But I don’t see what that has to do with anything.” Joe felt a trickle of sweat work its way down his back, but he pushed the irritation to the back of his mind as he focused all his thoughts on avoiding the trap being laid for him.

 

“Did Mary Sue ask you not to come call on her anymore?” Hill’s voice lost its air of geniality, and he closed in on his victim. “Did she tell you she didn’t love you? That she was interested in someone else?” The questions rained down on Joe in a firestorm.

 

“No,” he answered firmly. “No, she didn’t, in fact…” Joe’s words were cut off by Hill’s next quick question.

 

“In fact, Mr. Cartwright, it might be possible that you were in love with Mary Sue Henderson, and she rebuffed you, isn’t it?” Hill rocked back on his heels, a smug look crossed his face, and his eyes gleamed with satisfaction.

 

Joe’s face betrayed his anger and confusion. “No!” he shouted. “That’s not true! None of what you’re saying is true!” He made a visible effort to clamp down on the fury in his tone. “Mary Sue never asked me not to call on her.”

 

Again Hill interrupted before Joe could go any further. “Renny Miller was your friend, wasn’t he?” Hill was pacing in front of Joe as he spoke, his heels tapping out a staccato beat on the floor.

 

“Yes, he was,” Joe agreed quietly. “A good friend.”

 

“Were you angry with Renny Miller for flirting with Mary Sue Henderson?” Hill asked smoothly, and continued without giving Joe time to answer. “Did you feel jealous of any man who got close to Mary Sue?”

 

Joe shook his head, baffled. “No, Mary Sue and I didn’t have that kind of relationship,” he replied. Before he could add more, Hill took advantage of the pause and rushed to fill it with more heated accusations. Joe watched him in frustration.

 

The prosecutor was building a picture for the jury. He was painting Joe Cartwright as a jealous man, passionately in love with Mary Sue Henderson. A man who could be driven to attack a girl out of rage and frustrated desire. He flung question after question at Joe, who could only helplessly answer in the negative. Until finally, the onslaught stopped. Hill stepped back, his face registering his disdain for Joe Cartwright. Taking a deep breath, he hissed, “No further questions, Your Honor,” and he stalked back to his seat, his boots sounding loud in that hushed chamber.

 

Joe sat back limply, utter misery etched on his face. He knew what had just been done, but he had been powerless to stop it. He saw Seth Greenwell rise from his seat and approach him quickly, a tight smile on his face. Greenwell’s eyes implored Little Joe to sit up straight, to pull himself together. Joe read the message, and with a sigh, he straightened up wearily. Schooling his features to careful blankness once again, Joe waited for his attorney to ask a question.

 

As Greenwell walked toward Little Joe, Kitty Henderson slipped into the courtroom. Joe’s eyes widened as he saw her approach Adam and tug on his sleeve. From where he sat, Joe couldn’t see what Kitty was saying, but he saw Adam freeze, and then turn and glance in Joe’s direction. Adams eyes reflected his moment of indecision. He gazed at Joe as if trying to gauge how his brother was faring. Joe nodded to him briefly, a question in his eyes. Adam inclined his head, a tight smile at his lips, but he shook his head as if to indicate that he had no answer to Joe’s silent question. Joe watched his brother rise and walk out of the courtroom, a little blond tugboat pulling him along behind her.

 

“Were you ever in love with Mary Sue Henderson?” Greenwell asked. He leaned forward, his eyes conveying a measure of strength to the weary man on the witness chair. Joe jerked in surprise, he had almost forgotten that he was sitting on the witness stand. He thrust the thoughts of Adam and Kitty from his mind, and turned his attention to his lawyer.

 

Joe seized on the question. “No,” he replied vigorously. “No, I was never in love with her. We dated a couple of times, but it was very casual.”

 

“So you would have no reason to feel betrayed or jealous?” Greenwell responded quickly. “You had no cause at all for anger, in fact?” The attorney repeated his question several ways, in the hopes that the jury would remember his point during their deliberations.

 

Again, Joe’s voice rang out defiantly. “No! I wasn’t angry with Mary Sue, or jealous. We were friends, casual friends, and that’s all.”

 

“Did you attack Mary Sue in the alley that night, Joe?” Greenwell’s voice was confident. It filled the silent room, and the audience leaned forward almost as one, their indrawn breath casing an audible ripple in the air.

 

Joe’s eyes were clear, and he looked straight at the jury. “No!” he stated. “I didn’t attack Mary Sue.”   His voice rang with conviction, and several of the jurymen were visibly startled.

 

Greenwell announced that he had no further questions, and Judge Wheeler instructed Joe to return to his seat. Joe rose on legs that almost refused to support him, and he took a deep breath before he moved across that expanse of floor. He felt the stares from countless pairs of eyes, and a flush worked its way up from his collar, suffusing his face in a crimson glow. With a sigh of relief, he dropped into his chair, and scooted backwards toward his family. Instantly two hands shot out, gripping his arms and shoulders in a loving cocoon of protection, as Ben and Hoss reminded Joe of their support. Joe relaxed into the arms, and allowed the emotion to drain from his tense body. Beads of sweat dotted his forehead and he wiped them away with a shaky hand. At least his part was over.

Greenwell was about to announce that he had no further witnesses, when there was a stir at the courtroom door. Adam Cartwright strode boldly up the aisle, Kitty Henderson skipping along behind him. He handed a note to Greenwell, who read it casually, and then again, more eagerly the second time. Greenwell swiftly turned toward the judge. “Your Honor, I request a fifteen minute recess,” he asked quickly. “I need time to prepare my next witness for her testimony.”

 

Randolf Hill shot to his feet. “What witness, Your Honor?” he shouted out. “It’s a little late to be introducing new witnesses to this trial. I object to any new witnesses.”

 

“Your Honor,” Greenwell interjected hastily, “I beg the court’s indulgence on this matter. A new witness has just come to light, and her testimony needs to be heard. We will of course allow the prosecution ample time to question her as well.”

 

“Objection overruled, fifteen minute recess,” the judge ordered, banging his gavel once. “Mr. Greenwell, this witness better have relevant information in this case or you will be in serious trouble with this court.” The Judge’s gaze was baleful, his eyes menacing.

 

“Your Honor, I promise that this witness can provide extremely relevant information to this case,” Greenwell replied, a smile playing about his lips.

 

The people stood as the judge left the bench, and Greenwell hastily escorted Joe from the stifling courtroom.

 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

The Cartwrights clustered around Seth Greenwell in an excited knot. The little anteroom where they were standing barely had enough room for the five men, and the heat was unbearable. Hoss swabbed at his damp forehead with a large white handkerchief, while Adam’s black shirt clung wetly to his muscular frame.

 

Ben’s gaze was sharp as he buttonholed Greenwell and demanded answers. “Seth, who is this witness? What do you know?” Ben’s voice rose in anxiety.

 

Greenwell smiled exultantly. “I’ll let Adam explain it to you, Ben. I’ve got to go talk to my new witness.” He strode from the room, while three pairs of eyes swung immediately to the tall man in black.

 

“Talk now, Adam,” Hoss growled. “I don’ like been’ kept in the dark.” He moved closer to his brother, his bulk pressing Adam back toward the wall.

 

Adam laughed a little, and gave Hoss a mock shove. “Now I know how the Christians felt when they were thrown to the lions,” he replied playfully.

 

“Adam!” Ben’s voice was sharp. “We’ve all been through a lot today. I’ll thank you to stop playing around and put our minds at ease.” Ben jerked his head toward Little Joe, who was gazing at Adam silently, his face white with tension.

Adam’s tone was contrite, and his eyes softened in sympathy. “I’m sorry, Joe, it’s just that I was so excited by what I’ve found out.” He put his arm around Joe’s slim shoulders. “Maggie Holmes is going to testify.” He clapped Joe on the back exultantly.

 

Joe was confused. “So what, Adam? Just what I need is one more girl telling the court that she saw me attack Mary Sue.” He pulled free from Adam’s arm and moved to gaze out the window. In the distance the mountain peaks towered against an ominous sky. Thunder heads were building on the horizon. It looked like a storm was finally going to break the heat wave that had held Virginia City captive for so long. Joe’s expression mirrored the darkening sky as he swung back toward his waiting family. “I just want this all over. I want to go home!” he said slowly.

 

Ben moved for his son, and bracing a strong arm behind Joe’s back, he pulled the boy close. “Soon, son. Adam must think Maggie can help in some way, or he wouldn’t be so happy about this. Let’s trust him to know what he’s doing.” Ben’s eyes sought Adam’s over the top of Joe’s head, a question forming in the coffee colored orbs.

 

Adam nodded back reassuringly, and he pulled Joe’s attention back to himself. “I didn’t find Maggie Holmes, Joe. Your little friend, Kitty Henderson, did. If Maggie’s testimony helps in any way, you can thank Kitty.”

 

“What’s Kitty got to do with all of this?” Joe’s tone was hostile. He didn’t have the energy to even pretend to hold his emotions in check anymore.

 

Before Adam could answer, Roy poked his head in the door, and announced that the judge was ready to reconvene the court. He motioned for Joe to precede him out of the room. Joe allowed himself to be pushed along to the courtroom, his thoughts a roiling mass of confusion. He glanced back at the family trailing behind him, but they didn’t have time to exchange any more words. When he reached his seat, Joe was surprised to see Kitty Henderson perched in a chair next to the three reserved for the Cartwright family. She flashed him a devilish grin, and he couldn’t help but grin back at her, giving her a quick wink in place of a greeting.

 

The judge entered the courtroom and everyone rose silently. After he had taken his place and the assembly reseated themselves, Seth Greenwell walked briskly before the judge’s bench and called for his surprise witness. The audience looked on in confusion as Maggie Holmes walked timidly toward the witness stand. Joe glanced at Mary Sue as Maggie moved forward and he was surprised to see a look of fear cross the blond’s face. It was quickly suppressed, and Mary Sue again turned a bland face to the watching crowd.

 

Seth looked at Maggie kindly, as he allowed her time to compose herself in the witness chair. He waited while she was sworn in, and then he strode forward, ready to begin his questions. Maggie looked up at him fearfully, her eyes huge in her tear-streaked face.

 

“Miss Holmes,” Greenwell began softly, “Were you present at the dance the night that Little Joe Cartwright allegedly attacked Mary Sue Henderson?”

 

Maggie gulped and nodded, needing to be prompted to answer aloud. “Y-y-yes, I was,” she replied softly.

 

“Where were you while Little Joe and Mary Sue were in the alley?” Greenwell’s eyes maintained their kindly glint, and he smiled paternally at the frightened girl.

 

“I – I was in the alley with the rest of the girls,” Maggie answered carefully.

 

Greenwell framed the question that was now on everyone’s mind. “Then why weren’t you on the witness list filed in the Sheriff’s office?” He stepped back a few paces to allow the girl some breathing room.

 

Maggie’s face was pale, and her hands trembled uncontrollably. “I don’t know. Maybe because I didn’t go into the barn after I saw Mary Sue and Joe go in. I was so frightened that I went home, but I’m surprised the other girls didn’t tell someone I was there.”

 

“Did you see Little Joe walk from the barn to the corner with Miss Henderson?” Greenwell’s questions were coming quickly now, as he tried to ease the girl into a more confident state of mind.

 

“Yes, I did,” Maggie replied eagerly. “Joe was holding Mary Sue’s hand, and he stopped to say hello to us.” Maggie smoothed her dress with nervous fingers as she glanced fearfully at Mary Sue, who was now glaring back at her.

 

“What happened then?” Greenwell’s tone deepened and he leaned forward a little, as eagerly as the jury to hear the answer.

 

“Mary Sue tugged on Joe’s hand and asked him to walk farther away. She said she could talk to us later, and that she wanted to be alone with Joe. So they went to the corner.” Maggie’s voice had stopped shaking as she let her thoughts drift back in time. The events of the night were clear in her mind.

 

“Did you see Little Joe Cartwright attack Mary Sue Henderson, Miss Holmes?” The lawyer’s question was fired like a rifle shot.

 

Maggie’s head came up, and she answered firmly. “No, I didn’t. I saw Mary Sue rip her own dress, and mess up her hair, and then she started screaming. When she ran toward us, I saw her reach up and scratch her own face.”

 

The courtroom erupted in chaos. Mary Sue let out a furious scream and leapt up from her chair, only to be grabbed firmly by the prosecutor. Pete Henderson jumped up as well, his chair flying back into the lap of the stout matron sitting behind him. That good woman let out a wail like a banshee, while the rest of the audience broke into loud conversation. Roy Coffee sprang forward just in time to head the irate man off, as he tried to lunge toward Little Joe. Only when Roy pulled his gun and pointed it at Henderson’s chest did he stop his furious charge. Little Joe sat stunned in his chair, his eyes wide in his white face. Ben turned and looked fiercely at Adam, who returned his father’s glance steadily. Ben was reassured by what he saw and suddenly his face crumpled in relief, tears forming in the corner of his eyes. Hoss started thumping Little Joe on the back in excitement, unaware that he was leaving bruises that his brother would feel for weeks.

 

The banging of the judge’s gavel finally penetrated the bedlam. “Order! Order in the courtroom!” Wheeler bellowed. He continued banging for several more seconds until an uneasy silence returned to the courtroom. “Continue, Mr. Greenwell,” Wheeler ordered. He turned a hooded glare on the assembled people. “Let everyone be aware that if we have any similar disruptions, I will clear this courtroom.”

 

Seth Greenwell couldn’t contain his smile as he resumed his questioning. “Why would Miss Henderson do that?” he asked quizzically.

 

Hill shot to his feet. “Objection!” he roared, as if relieved to finally find a place to voice his displeasure with the events. “Speculation on the part of the witness.”

 

“Sustained,” Wheeler responded firmly.

 

Greenwell changed his tactics. “Miss Holmes, the whole town has been aware of this trial for some time. Why have you waited until now to come forward with this testimony?” Seth paced back and forth slowly, waiting for the answer that everyone wanted to hear.

 

Maggie hung her head in shame, her cheeks flushed with a crimson stain. “I was afraid,” she whispered. Flinging her head up abruptly, determination replaced fear. “Kitty told me that Little Joe was going to go to prison, and I couldn’t let that happen. He’s innocent. Mary Sue made it all up.”

 

Hill was on his feet, but was unable to find a reason for an objection. Under the judge’s heavy glare he sank back into his chair.

 

“Why?” Greenwell’s one word question hung in the air as Maggie considered her answer.

 

At last the young girl raised her head, her trembling fingers ceased their smoothing motions and she sat up straight and tall. “It was part of the club’s initiation,” she said simply, as if that explained everything.

 

A little ripple of conversation spread through the courtroom, and Wheeler lifted his gavel. Before he could even bring it down, the murmur died. No one wanted to be ejected from the courtroom. In the distance, the low rumble of thunder could be heard, rising to a crescendo and then trailing off. The storm was moving closer.

 

Again Greenwell asked the question that begged to be answered. “What club?” he asked, his eyebrows almost disappearing into his hairline as they rose in excitement.

 

“It’s a club that Mary Sue started. At first it was just for fun, but then things changed,” Maggie’s voice was gaining strength, and her eyes gleamed with determination. “We were tired of all the boys in this town treating us like we were good for nothing but dancing with. We wanted some fun and excitement, too, because we’ve been so bored. So Mary Sue started this girl’s club. The only rule was that we had to do things to make the boys angry and get away with it. No matter what someone did, we had to back them up. If you didn’t back up a person’s story, then you got kicked out of the club.”

 

Maggie’s story trailed off, and she looked nervously over at Mary Sue, who was obviously fuming. The jury was also looking at Mary Sue in speculation, while Pete Henderson simply glared in red-faced fury at everyone around him. The girls who had testified against Little Joe were sinking in their chairs, while the people sitting near them were whispering and pointing behind raised fans or shielding hands. Again Judge Wheeler’s gavel banged, and more than one person jumped.

 

Joe sat in stunned silence throughout Maggie’s testimony. He closed his eyes, as he struggled to control his anger. Was it possible that Renny Miller had died because some girls were looking for a little excitement? He felt sickened at the thought. The fact that Mary Sue had been willing to let him go to prison for a crime he didn’t commit was a thought he shoved ruthlessly out of his mind. He couldn’t afford to let anger take control at this moment. When he heard Greenwell continue his questioning, Joe opened his eyes. He gazed across the crowded courtroom, and saw that Mary Sue was looking back at him. Joe looked at her, pity shining in his eyes. Mary Sue flinched, anger burning in her blue eyes, an ugly red flush staining her neck and cheeks. Deliberately, she turned her head away, and she refused to look back at him again.

 

Joe’s attention returned to the proceedings, and he realized that he had missed several of Seth’s questions for Maggie. It appeared that she had been describing in more detail the club’s activities and was in the process of naming the members, all of whom had appeared before the court as witnesses in the trial. It was clear that Maggie’s testimony was dealing the case against Joe Cartwright a severe blow. At last, Greenwell finished, and turned the witness over to Randolf Hill.

 

Hill was furious, and he stalked toward the witness stand, a lethal gleam in his eye. Maggie cringed before him, her confidence leeching away with each passing second. “Miss Holmes.” Hill made the words seem like an epithet. “Why would you wait so long to come forward with such a ridiculous story?” he demanded angrily. “You were certainly given ample time before the trial to come forward and give a deposition. Indeed, if what you say is true, there might not even have been a trial. Why, Miss Holmes?”

 

 

Maggie’s voice was again barely audible. “I was afraid,” she whispered.

 

“Afraid of what?” Hill pounced quickly, leaning forward intently so that Maggie cringed backwards away from him.

 

“I was afraid of Mary Sue,” the girl replied quietly. “She said if I told anyone about this she’d find a way to get to me.”

 

Hill drew himself up to his full height, and his voice was harsh as he demanded, “Are you saying that this… this young woman,” and here he pointed dramatically at Mary Sue, who was contriving to look as young and sweet as possible, “that Mary Sue Henderson has been threatening you, Miss Holmes?”

 

Maggie’s eyes filled with tears, but she spoke with determination. “Yes, she has. She told me to watch my step, or she would find a way to hurt me.”

 

Hill stopped a moment to rethink his strategy. “Are you now a member of this so-called club, Miss Holmes?” he asked searchingly.

 

Maggie shook her head. “No, I’m not. I was kicked out of the club, because I didn’t like what happened to Renny Miller.”

 

Hill nodded sagely. “Ah, so you are no longer a member of this ‘club’, and that makes you unhappy. Is that right? Perhaps you are bitter about being asked to leave the organization? Are you holding a grudge against Mary Sue Henderson?”

 

Maggie’s eyes went wide with disbelief. “No!” she exclaimed. “It was the best thing that ever happened to me. I’m glad I’m not in that group anymore. Those girls were awful, and they got worse every day.”

 

Hill realized that he wasn’t going to be able to shake Maggie’s story, and he decided to wrap up his questions quickly. He could tell that the jury was drinking in every word she said, and his case was disintegrating before his eyes. He announced that he had no further questions, and retired to his seat with a show of disdain.

 

Judge Wheeler, his face dripping with sweat from the stifling heat in the crowded room, called for a recess to allow the attorneys to prepare for their closing arguments. Once again the crowd sat in their seats, but bedlam reigned as their voices strove to outdo each other. Speculation, comments and whispers were traded, but when Little Joe rose and was escorted from the courtroom, a visible hush fell over the crowd. Once he was safely out the door, the noise began again.

 

+++++++++++++++++++++++

 

Joe stood silent in the midst of a storm of emotion. He felt spent and drained. Despite his innocence, he had begun to fear he had no way to prove it. Maggie’s testimony had blown Mary Sue’s assertions to bits, but it all depended on whose version of the story the jury would believe. Ben looked up from his conversation with Hoss and Adam, who were discussing the testimony in excited tones. He saw the bleak expression on Joe’s face and swiftly moved to his son’s side. Outside the rumble of thunder moved closer, booming through the courthouse.

 

“What’s wrong, son?” Ben’s face was concerned. “You should be happy at being vindicated.” Ben slipped his arm around Joe’s tense and unyielding shoulder.

 

“I’m relieved, Pa,” Joe replied quietly. “But I’m not sure that I’m happy. I just can’t believe that Renny died for something so stupid.” Joe’s eyes reflected his desolation.

Ben squeezed his son’s shoulder gently, and he pulled Joe closer to him. “It’s a horrible thing, I’ll agree, Joe. I’m just glad that the same thing won’t happen to you.”

 

Joe turned to his father, a trace of fear on his face. “What if the jury doesn’t believe Maggie?” he asked. “What if they decide that Mary Sue was telling the truth, Pa? I’ll still go to prison, or worse!”

 

Ben smiled gently. “Maggie was very convincing, Joe. We’re just going to have to rely on the jury’s common sense. If they do decide to believe Mary Sue, we have a sound case for an appeal.”

 

Joe nodded, his smile still doubtful. “I guess I’ll celebrate when it’s all over, Pa. I’m afraid to get my hopes up.” Joe’s head jerked up as the roll of thunder boomed through the room. “That storm’s getting close. It’s a big one.”

 

Ben nodded, knowing that Joe was trying to ease the tension of the situation. “I hope it brings a break in this heat wave. The whole town’s on edge because of it.” The two men moved off chatting of the storm, both trying to keep their fears at bay with their idle conversation.

 

Roy arrived to summon Joe for a return to the courtroom. The Cartwrights filed out of the room for what they hoped was the last time. Joe noticed that both Adam and Hoss found some way to clasp his shoulder, and that Ben never let go of his arm. He took strength from the love of his family and it brought him a measure of peace. Whatever happened the Cartwrights would deal with it together.

 

Joe saw the courtroom was still packed, the stillness in the air a presage of the impending storm outside. The bright flash of lightening occasionally lit the sky, accompanied by ever closer booming peals of thunder. It wouldn’t be long before the storm arrived, hopefully to break the grip the heat had on the town. The arrival of the judge brought Joe’s thoughts back to the present, and he watched attentively as the prosecutor walked briskly to the front of the courtroom, ready to begin his closing argument.

 

Randolf Hill looked calm and self-possessed. His walk was almost a swagger, as he paced in front of the breathless courtroom. Every eye in the place was riveted to the man, and he reveled in it. Hill launched into a restatement of the prosecution’s case against Little Joe Cartwright. He mentioned the events at the barn dance, and Joe’s asking Mary Sue to dance. He depicted Joe as a passionate man, who was suffering from a bad case of jealousy. Mary Sue had rebuffed him, and he was angry. Angry enough to pull her into an alley and attack her in front of a group of her friends. He mentioned Maggie Holmes’s story about a girl’s club, and dismissed it as pure fantasy. Maggie was clearly jealous of Mary Sue’s beauty and popularity. He hinted that perhaps Cartwright money had bought and paid for Maggie’s story, without actually coming out and saying the words.

Joe felt the slow burn of anger begin in his gut, and move throughout his body. He knew that Hill was only doing his job, but to hear the man twisting every word that had been said infuriated him. How could anyone believe the pack of lies that had been paraded as the truth in this courtroom? He glanced at Mary Sue and saw that she was wearing a triumphant smile as Hill talked about her sweetness and virtue. She was clearly enjoying her moment in the spotlight.

 

Hill talked and talked. He paced the floor in front of the jury, arguing, pleading and cajoling them to accept the word of the girls who had appeared before them. They all told the same story, and they all were convinced that they told the truth. The jury watched wide-eyed throughout Hill’s speech, soaking in every word. They never moved their eyes from the energetic speaker, doubts about Maggie Holmes beginning to creep into their minds. At last Hill wound down. He stopped dramatically in front of Joe and pointed an outraged finger at the slender man.

 

“Gentlemen of the jury!” he thundered. “This man attacked an innocent young girl in full view of her friends. Punish him for what he has done. Make this town safe for women again!” With that parting shot still reverberating through the hushed room, Hill walked grandly back to his seat and sat down with a flourish. Almost in unison, everyone in the crowd took a deep breath. More than a few people had been holding their breath for the duration of Hill’s speech to the jury.

 

Seth Greenwell rose and walked forward into the silent room. He allowed the silence to build until people’s nerves were at the breaking point. “Gentlemen of the jury, I’d like to tell you a story,” he began quietly. “I’d like to tell you about a group of girls who were bored, and tired of the young men in the town treating them unfairly. What did they do about this feeling? They started a club. At first the club was just something to pass the time, but then it became something more. Little things were done to annoy the young men of Virginia City, to the great amusement of these girls. Then the little things became bigger. And finally, the most exciting thing of all was planned. Renny Miller was accused of attacking a young girl and arrested on a criminal charge.” Greenwell was pacing back and forth in front of the jury, his pleasant tone giving way to a stronger, more forceful one. The jurymen swung their heads back and forth, following his every move

 

“Think of how exciting Renny Miller’s arrest was for these girls. At last, something was happening in this dull, old town. They agreed to stick together through thick and thin. And sure enough, they did. But something went wrong. Renny was lynched, hung by a mob led by an irate father, who didn’t know that Renny was innocent, that it was his own daughter who was lying. And suddenly, the games of this group of girls weren’t games anymore. Did that satisfy them? No, it didn’t. One of them went looking for another victim, and Little Joe Cartwright walked into her trap. Again the girls stuck together, agreed on a story, and were willing to send an innocent man to prison, or worse, to his death. All except for one girl. One girl with a conscience, who at last found the courage to come forward and speak the truth.” Greenwell stopped pacing and stood before the jury, his eyes passionate and commanding, as he forced them to listen to his words.

 

“You have heard the so-called evidence presented against Little Joe, the words of all the eyewitnesses to his alleged crimes matched perfectly. But stop to consider, were they too perfectly matched? If the girls were speaking the truth, their stories might have varied just a little, don’t you think? They had different perspectives, and should have seen different things, but their stories were all exactly the same. Gentlemen of the jury, it is time to tell these little girls that their game is over. They need to stop playing with lives in such a callous fashion. It is up to you to let them know that Virginia City won’t tolerate their behavior anymore! Declare Joe Cartwright innocent, because that is what he is.” Greenwell stopped speaking, he walked deliberately back to his chair and sat down tiredly.

 

 

The booming crash of thunder rolled through the room, as a bolt of lightening hit somewhere near the courthouse. The screams of the women in the room testified to their shock at being awakened from the trance they were in. Judge Wheeler banged his gavel to call the court to order. When it was silent at last, he gave some last instructions to the jury and sent them to deliberate on the fate of Little Joe Cartwright. Outside, the storm broke, and rain fell to the ground in a torrent. The long heat wave was over at last.

 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

The Cartwrights had gathered in the little anteroom to await the jury’s decision, but they barely had time to get settled. It seemed to take only a matter of minutes for the call to return to the courtroom was heard. Joe’s eyes were troubled as he sought his father’s face. A quick verdict could mean the jury had totally dismissed Maggie Holmes’s testimony, or it could mean that they had believed every word she said. Ben silently gripped Joe’s arm, and he didn’t let go as they walked into the courtroom. Joe leaned into the welcome support, and drew a measure of strength from it. As they walked into the courtroom, he found the peace to smile into his father’s eyes. Ben smiled back encouragingly, and then they were forced to separate, Joe moving to his chair, and Ben filing in behind him, along with Adam and Hoss.

 

They watched grimly as the jury filed in and took their places. The judge asked for the verdict and quietly received the slip of paper that was handed to him. He read it without expression, and handed it back to the bailiff, who returned it to the foreman of the jury.

 

Judge Wheeler’s voice rang into the hushed courtroom. He had to speak loudly to be heard over the torrential rain outside. “Gentlemen of the jury, what is your verdict?”

 

The foreman of the jury looked directly at Joe and spoke in a loud voice. “We find the defendant Not Guilty.”

 

The courtroom erupted into chaos. The people of Virginia City, held captive in their chairs for so long, sprang up and the swell of conversation roared through the room. Mary Sue Henderson sat in stunned silence, her face pale, except for two bright red spots of anger that burned on her cheekbones. Her father leapt to his feet, and with a loud scream of rage, launched himself toward Little Joe. Adam had been anticipating such a move and he hastily pushed aside two chairs, and leapt in between Little Joe and the irate father. The sheriff also moved forward and between the two men, they wrestled Pete to the ground. Roy Coffee hauled the still-struggling man upright and happily dragged him off to the jail.

 

Ben Cartwright reached to shake Seth Greenwell’s hand, trying to voice his gratitude. Greenwell waved him off with a deprecating smile, and then he turned to Little Joe. Joe was still standing in stunned disbelief. He had been so sure that he was going to prison that he couldn’t quite believe his name had been cleared. Greenwell placed both hands up on Joe’s shoulders and smiled into the bewildered green eyes. “Come on, Little Joe, wake up!” he smiled. “You’re a free man.”

Joe shook himself and let a smile break out on his face. “I am, aren’t I?” he whispered. “I’m really cleared?” When he saw the answering smiles on the faces gathered around him, Joe let loose with his wicked giggle. “Thanks, Seth,” he said gratefully.

 

Ben saw the courtroom was finally clearing and he shepherded his sons and the lawyer outside into the teeming rain. He marched them down the street to the International House, determined to provide Little Joe with a grand dinner to celebrate his acquittal.

 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

A couple of hours later, the five men sat lazily around a table littered with the remains of their dinner. Even Hoss had a look of repleteness, an unusual occurrence for him. The conversation had dwindled to a few desultory remarks about the cool air that was coming in the open windows. The rain had finally stopped and the temperature had dropped considerably. Joe looked at the group of men around the table, and the warmth of his feelings threatened to overwhelm him. He was saved from the embarrassment of making an emotional spectacle of himself by the arrival of Kitty Henderson.

 

The little girl danced up to the table, a huge smile on her face. Joe stood up as she approached the table and swept the squealing girl into a bear hug. Between giggles the little girl pressed her lips to Little Joe’s ear and whispered, “I’m so glad you’re not going to jail, Little Joe.”

 

Joe hugged the child tightly, and whispered back, “I’ve got you to thank for that, Kitty.”

 

Kitty smiled sweetly, and then let a serious expression take over her small face. “My Pa is pretty angry, Little Joe. He was yelling something fierce a little while ago.”

 

Joe looked startled. “Your Pa is home, Kitty? I thought Sheriff Coffee…?” Joe let his voice trail off before he could say something to upset the little girl.

 

Kitty didn’t seem to notice though, and she immediately put on a confiding expression. “He came home from the jail not too long after the trial. He said something about bailing. I don’t know what that means, though.” Kitty continued innocently, “He sure was mad, it made his face all red. So I came looking for you, Little Joe. I got tired of listening to Pa and Mary Sue yell at each other.”

 

Joe put the child down and pulled up a chair for her at the table. Signaling the waiter, he ordered a piece of chocolate cake for the little girl. He watched with a smile as her eyes danced with excitement at the sight of the huge slab on her plate. Joe looked up to see the rest of his family watching him with worried eyes.

 

“Joe,” Ben’s deep voice was hesitant. “Do you think it’s a good idea for Kitty to be here with us right now?” He glanced at the girl who was happily digging into her piece of cake, her feet swinging back and forth in ecstasy as she swallowed each mouthful. “Her father and sister aren’t going to be too happy with us after the trial, and Kitty could get in a lot of trouble if she’s seen with us.”

Adam lowered his voice, as he tried to keep the child from overhearing the conversation. “I don’t understand how the judge could let Pete Henderson out on bail so quickly. That man deserves to be in prison for all he’s done to Little Joe.”

 

Hoss growled, “So does his daughter!” A scowl made Hoss’s face look menacing.

 

Ben urgently signaled his sons to stop talking as Kitty’s head swung up to listen to the conversation, a frown on her face. “Are you enjoying your cake, young lady?” he asked heartily, in an attempt to distract her.

 

Before Kitty had a chance to answer there was a commotion in the dining room. Pete Henderson, his face dark red with anger, strode across the crowded room until he stood glaring down at the Cartwrights. “So you must be feeling pretty good, Ben,” he hissed angrily. “Your lying son sits here, happy as a clam, while my daughter is home crying her eyes out.”

 

Kitty shrank down in her chair, in the vain hope that her father wouldn’t notice her sitting with the Cartwrights. Adam casually moved his chair so that his body partially shielded the little girl from her father’s line of sight. Hoss stood abruptly, ready to spring into action if Henderson should turn violent, but Ben waved him back down. They were already attracting attention in the dining room, and he didn’t want Hoss’s looming bulk to draw more eyes.

 

The object of Henderson’s tirade sat numbly in his chair. Little Joe heaved a weary sigh. He wanted to believe that he could put the whole ordeal behind him, but apparently the Hendersons weren’t going to let that happen. He lowered his eyes to his plate and concentrated on ignoring the angry man, which seemed to irritate Henderson more.

 

Ben spoke abruptly, his tone harsh. “Why don’t you go on back home, Pete? There’s nothing more we have to say to each other right now. The jury found Little Joe innocent, and that’s the end of the story.”

 

Seth Greenwell, who had been a silent witness to the whole event, stood up. “Pete, if you don’t leave Little Joe alone, Ben can have a restraining order placed against you. With your actions during this whole ordeal there would be more than enough reason for a judge to move against you.”

 

Henderson almost danced, his rage was so great. Flecks of spittle flew from his mouth and his eyes bulged from his head, while a great vein throbbed in his forehead. “You just try it, Greenwell!” he shouted loudly. “I’ll show you what I think of your damn restraining order.” Henderson pulled a derringer from a hidden pocket in his coat, and aimed it directly at Little Joe.

 

The Cartwrights and Seth Greenwell sat frozen, their mouths open in shock. Hoss awoke first and started to lunge toward Henderson’s outstretched arm. At the same moment, Adam smoothly drew his own gun, and pointed it toward Henderson. They were both too late. The little gun spoke once, and Joe stared unbelievingly at the red stain that started to grow on his shirt front. Then his vision blurred and darkened, and he slid to the floor without a sound.

 

The yap of the little gun was almost lost in the answering roar of Adam’s larger one. Pete Henderson fell like a stone, his heart pierced by Adam’s bullet. The only sound in the hotel dining room was the piercing scream of a ten-year-old girl.

 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

Ben Cartwright paced the small waiting room that adjoined Doc Martin’s office. His feet tapped out a steady, measured beat. He had been walking without stopping for hours now, and Hoss and Adam despaired of getting him to stop.

 

 

They had rushed Joe to the doctor’s office, horrified by the amount of blood pouring from the wound in his chest. Ben had been a calm tower of strength at the restaurant, directing the attorney to take little Kitty Henderson into his care, obtaining a stack of linen napkins from the hovering waiters to staunch Joe’s wound, and then helping Hoss and Adam move Joe carefully across the rain slick streets. Once Paul had taken a look at Joe and ordered everyone from his operating room, Ben had crumbled. It was then the pacing started, and he seemed unable to stop. The longer the door between the two rooms remained closed, the more shuttered and grim Ben became.

 

Adam stood and moved to his father for another attempt. He stepped into his father’s path, forcing him to a stop. Putting both hands on Ben’s shoulders, he said urgently, “Pa, please sit down. You’re wearing yourself out! This isn’t doing Little Joe any good.”

 

“He was pretty bad, Adam.” Ben’s voice was strained and tired. “He lost a lot of blood on the way over here.” Ben tried to start moving again, but Adam held him still.

 

“He’s going to be fine, Pa. He’s just got to be.” Adam looked into his father’s tired eyes and smiled pleadingly. “Little Joe is a fighter. He won’t give up for love or money.”

 

“Now that he’s been acquitted, he’s got so much to look forward to,” Ben said softly. “He’s got to make it, Adam.”

 

Hoss rose from his chair and moved to join his family. “He’ll be all right, Pa. He’s probably in there right now, fussin’ at the doc, and itchin’ to go home.”

 

Ben turned grateful eyes to his sons. “Thanks boys, a man couldn’t ask for better sons. I’m glad you’re here with me.”

 

Adam’s next words were interrupted by the opening of the surgery door. Paul Martin emerged, rubbing tiredly at his eyes and wiping his hands on a towel. Spots of blood could be seen on his shirt, and Ben winced as he realized that it was Little Joe’s. Paul smiled tiredly at the three men who looked at him anxiously. “I’ve had to do quite a bit of stitching, Ben. That bullet came closer to Joe’s lung then I like, but I’ve done the best I can. It’s up to Little Joe now.”

 

“Can I see him?” Ben’s face was as tired as Paul Martin’s, but his eyes were pleading.

 

“Of course, Ben. I’ve got him sedated, so he won’t be able to talk to you. But you can sit with him, if you like.” Paul smiled as he spoke. He knew that Ben Cartwright wouldn’t leave Little Joe’s side unless he was ordered to do so by the doctor.

 

Ben moved quickly to the bed where Little Joe lay, pale and unresponsive. He sank into a chair that was set by the bedside, and reached for Joe’s hand. Joe’s face was waxy and still, his skin made translucent by the loss of too much blood. He made no response to Ben’s warm clasp, and he didn’t move as Ben reached to smooth the unruly curls that fell on Joe’s forehead. “Joe,” Ben whispered. “Can you hear me, son?”

 

Joe didn’t answer, but Ben continued to speak, telling Joe of the many things they would do now that the trial was over, of plans for the ranch, and the horses that Joe was thinking of selling to a breeder in Carson City. Adam and Hoss hovered uncertainly in the background, not wanting to interrupt, but feeling the need to be close to their little brother. As the minutes turned to hours, the two men pulled up chairs, and the Cartwright family prepared to hold a vigil at Joe’s bedside.

 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

Sunlight sparkled through the windowpane, the patterns created by the reflected light glancing off the face of the young man in the bed. Ben stirred and stretched, as he realized that he had drifted off sometime in the small hours of the morning. He looked quickly at Joe, but could see no change in his son’s condition. Glancing around the room, a smile came to his lips as he saw Adam asleep in a chair on the other side of the bed, his head resting on Joe’s arm. Hoss was sleeping in another chair set next to Adam’s. The big man was tipped back, his snores reverberating through the room.

 

The door opened and Paul Martin strode into the room, a steaming cup of coffee in his hand. Seeing that Ben was awake, he promptly handed the coffee over to his friend, who took it gratefully. “There was no change during the night, Ben.” Paul answered the question before it was asked. “But in this case that’s probably a good thing. With a wound like this the first few hours are critical. The fact that Joe’s still with us is a sign of his will to survive.”

 

“Pa?” The words were a bare whisper of sound in the room, but Ben’s head jerked toward the bed excitedly.

 

 

“Little Joe?” he breathed, and he moved quickly to his son’s side. “How are you feeling, son?”

 

“Fine,” Joe answered briefly. He struggled to move his arm, but it was caught under Adam’s dark head. The movement woke Adam, who struggled to wipe the sleep from his eyes.

 

Seeing that Joe was awake, a broad smile lit Adam’s face. “Hey, little brother. Finally awake, I see. It’s about time you stopped being so lazy.” Adam’s words were accompanied by his gentle hand lifting to Joe’s forehead as he checked for signs of fever.

 

Joe smiled weakly back at his older brother. “Aw, come on, older brother,” he said softly. “A man’s got a right to rest, doesn’t he?”

Hoss’s snores ceased abruptly as he jerked awake, startled by the voices in the room. His blue eyes widened in pleased surprise, and he hastily jumped to his feet. “Hey, Short Shanks! It’s good to see you back with us!” he crowed excitedly. “How are ya, Little Joe?”

 

“Never better, brother,” Joe replied. He tried to laugh, but the sound was cut off abruptly as he gasped in pain.

 

Doc Martin leapt forward, forcibly moving the concerned men aside in order to get to his patient. “Let me take a look at you, young man,” he said with mock sternness. “Ben, why don’t you take Adam and Hoss for some breakfast. You’ve had a hard night, and I’m sure you could all use some food. I’ll look after Little Joe.” He shooed the men out of the room, and began a careful check of the bandages that swathed Little Joe’s chest.

 

Joe winced in pain, as the doctor probed an especially tender spot. “How does it look, Doc?” he gasped out finally.

 

“The Cartwright luck was working yesterday, Little Joe,” the doctor replied soberly. “A fraction of an inch to the right and that bullet would have seriously damaged your lung. As it is, you’re going to be laid up for quite a while.”

 

Joe grimaced, as the doctor began to change the dressing on the wound. “Doc?” he asked suddenly. “What happened to Pete Henderson?”

 

Martin busied himself with the soiled dressing, as he tossed the old soiled bandages out and replaced them with new, he carefully avoided Little Joe’s questioning eyes. He mixed a powdery substance into some water, and returned to Joe’s side. “Drink this first, and then I’ll answer your question, Joe,” he said quietly.

 

The doctor lifted Joe’s head, and held the glass to the young man’s lips. It was obvious that he wasn’t going to let Joe argue his way out of the medicine, so Joe didn’t even try, although he grimaced at the bitter taste of the drug. It was only when the last drop had been drained from the glass that Paul gave in. “Pete Henderson is dead; your brother shot him trying to defend you.”

 

Joe’s eyes clouded, as he struggled to remember the scene that had become somewhat blurred in his mind. “Adam?” he asked soberly.

 

At the doctor’s nod, Joe closed his eyes. The drug was already starting to work its way through his system, and he could feel himself drifting. Another thought inserted itself into Joe’s mind, and his eyes snapped open. “What about Mary Sue?” he asked groggily. “And Kitty?”

 

Paul stood silently for a moment. “Mary Sue has disappeared, Little Joe. No one’s seen her since she argued with her father after the trial. Roy has questioned all of her friends and they aren’t talking. Kitty has been taken in by some friends in town. Roy sent a wire to her maternal grandparents, and they’re on their way.”

 

Joe struggled to form words to express his thoughts about Mary Sue and Kitty, but he couldn’t fight the pull of the drug. The welcome release of oblivion overtook him, and he let the darkness take him.

 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

As Little Joe rode toward Virginia City, he reveled in the crisp fall air. After the long summer of stifling heat, the first few days of autumn were a welcome change. In the month since the trial and the shooting, Joe had struggled to recover in both mind and body. He knew that he had given his father and brothers some anxious moments during his initial recovery. The chest wound had been serious, and he still was feeling the effects. It was only a week that he had been allowed to ride freely around the ranch. His father had hovered over him like a hen over its lone chick. Joe, never one to take recuperation times seriously, had been restless and edgy until he was finally given permission to ride again.

 

Joe’s thoughts turned toward Kitty Henderson. He hadn’t seen the little girl since the day of her father’s death, although he had been kept up to date on her during his recuperation. He was going to say goodbye. Kitty’s grandparents were taking her to live in St. Louis. The girl had been left an orphan when her father was killed, and with the disappearance of her sister, her grandparents were all she had left. Guilt stabbed through Joe, as he thought of all the girl had lost because of him. He hoped that she would forgive him enough to let him say goodbye.

 

Thoughts of Kitty led Joe into thoughts of Mary Sue. He wondered vaguely where she had gone, and if she would ever turn up in his life again. No one had seen Mary Sue in Virginia City since the day of the trial. Her friends stoically denied any knowledge of her whereabouts, but the townsfolk looked on them somewhat askance, knowing what had been revealed at the trial. The little clique of girls seemed to have been forcibly disbanded by their horrified parents, and most of the girls were being kept from seeing one another. The town was slowly recovering from the events that surrounded the trial of Little Joe Cartwright, but the deep wounds would take time to heal completely. The death of Renny Miller was a blemish that the town would like to wipe away, but everyone knew that Renny’s death couldn’t and shouldn’t be forgotten. The return of the cool weather had brought a return of sanity to the town, and people were deeply ashamed at their part in the tragic events.

 

And so, as Little Joe rode quietly through the streets of Virginia City, he wasn’t surprised to see some of the townsfolk turn away in shame, while others smiled and waved somewhat sheepishly. He acknowledged the people who waved, but didn’t stop to talk. He headed for the stage depot with a single-minded determination to see Kitty Henderson before she left the town forever. Tying Cochise to the hitching rail in front of the depot, Joe scanned the crowd. He was afraid that he had missed the girl’s departure, until he suddenly spied her, walking toward the waiting stage, a little carpetbag in her hand. She was flanked by an older couple, who looked pleasant and mild-mannered. He could tell, just by the way Kitty’s grandfather laid his hand on her shoulder, that there was love for the child present. Joe smiled in relief. Kitty was going to be all right.

 

Joe walked toward the trio hesitantly, afraid that Kitty would turn away from him in anger. His steps faltered a bit, but he planted himself in their path, so that they would have to walk right past him to reach the stage. Joe’s hands were clenched nervously, as he waited for Kitty to see him.

 

The little girl was chattering to the older woman on her right. Her grandmother was smiling down at her, as she responded to the girl’s comments, when suddenly Kitty’s eyes went wide. She stared at Little Joe in surprise for a moment, and while Joe stood waiting, she suddenly broke free from her grandfather’s hand and ran toward him. Throwing herself into Little Joe’s arms, she beamed happily. “Oh, Little Joe, you’re all right! I was so afraid I’d never see you again!” Kitty was babbling, while tears streamed down her face.

 

Joe hugged her fiercely and stroked the pretty blond hair gently. “It’s okay, darling,” he crooned softly. “It’s okay now. I couldn’t let you go without saying goodbye, now could I?” His eyes were bright with his own tears as he held the sobbing girl close.

 

“I thought my father had killed you, and I was so scared! And then Pa…” Kitty’s voice trailed off, and her eyes went blank with remembered horror. She buried her face in Joe’s shoulder again, and hugged him tighter.

 

Kitty’s grandparents reached the pair at that moment, and in the flurry of introductions, the little girl was able to pull herself together. Wiping the tears from her eyes onto the back of her sleeve, she sniffed a little, but smiled, as she said, “I’m going to St. Louis with Grandma and Grandpa, Little Joe. They say it’s really pretty there.”

 

Joe smiled broadly at the return of Kitty’s smile. “That sounds fine, Kitty, real fine.”   He met the eyes of Kitty’s grandfather, and gazed at them with a wordless plea. “I’ll miss you so much!”

 

The older man smiled back, and nodded. “We’ll make sure she keeps in touch, Mr. Cartwright. Kitty won’t ever forget her friends here in Virginia City,” he promised. “And if you should hear any word of Mary Sue?” He stopped quickly, afraid to go any farther, as he remembered who he was talking to.

 

Little Joe just smiled. “I’ll let you know if there’s any news,” he promised quietly. Joe turned his attention back to the little girl, as the stage driver bellowed for his passengers to climb aboard. “Now you write to me, Kitty! Promise!”

 

The little girl promised and gave Joe one last hug, and then climbed aboard the waiting stage with her grandparents. The last view Joe had of her, she was leaning out the window waving frantically.

 

Joe turned and slowly moved to remount his horse, his thoughts on the Henderson family, and the tragedy that had befallen them. Pete dead, Mary Sue missing and Kitty gone. So much had happened in such a short time. Joe shook the thoughts from his head. He hoped that he would see Kitty again sometime, but if the truth were told, he would be just as happy if he would never see her sister. He hoped that Mary Sue, wherever she had gone, and whatever she was doing, would never return to Virginia City. If she did, the law was waiting for her, at the very least a perjury charge would be filed against her.

 

Joe rode at a leisurely pace out of Virginia City. He gazed back at the little town, the people bustling through the streets, and he smiled. It was good to put it all behind him. He turned his eyes toward the Ponderosa and home. Touching his heels to Cochise’s sides, he urged the horse to a faster pace. It was time to go home.

 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

Epilogue

 

The girl wore a dress that had once been of fine quality, but was now stained and dirty. Her once pretty hair was snarled and tangled and matted with filth. As she walked through the back streets of Reno, she thought about what had reduced her to this state. Her friends had helped her this far and then turned their backs on her. She had no money and no friends, a fine life in ruins. And for it all she blamed one person, not herself, but Little Joe Cartwright. Her fine features twisted with hatred. The thought repeated itself over and over in her mind. *I’ll make him pay*.

 

 

The End

 

 

Shadow of Deception

by

Karen Fedderly

 

 

The barn was dark and shadowed with the coming night. As dusk crept in and the horses settled for the night, Little Joe Cartwright gave his beloved pinto a final rubdown with the curry comb and then headed for the house. He stopped briefly by the horse trough to splash his face with cool water from the pump. He let the water trickle down the back of his neck and soak his shirt. The heat, combined with a long day of breaking horses had left him sweat-soaked and weary.

 

Sighing with relief as the water refreshed his spirits, Joe straightened, his thoughts already turning toward dinner and a relaxing evening with his family. The glint of something gleaming silver in the feeble light thrown off by the early moon caught his attention. He stopped and bent over to pick up a pair of shiny silver spurs that were lying half-concealed in the loose dirt near the water trough.

 

A perplexed frown creased Joe’s face. He had seen just this set of spurs for sale in the mercantile in town the other day. In fact, he’d stopped to admire them and had even considered purchasing them. A quick check of his wallet had convinced him to wait until payday later in the week, and he had put the spurs out of mind. Now here they were lying in the dirt in front of his house. Who could have left them there? He had only seen a single pair of the spurs in the little store, so this must be the same set. It was a mystery. Joe quickly put the spurs into his shirt pocket, making a mental note to check with the hands in the morning to see who had bought the spurs, so that he could return them. The smell wafting from Hop Sing’s kitchen quickly put the thought of the spurs out of his mind, and he headed for the house, his hunger the only thing on his mind.

 

Later that evening, as the Cartwrights relaxed in front of the fire, Joe was reminded of the spurs in his pocket. He felt the weight of them as he leaned forward to pounce on Hoss’s remaining checkers. As he cleared the board and gave his brother a cheeky grin of triumph, Joe fished the spurs from his pocket.

 

“Look what I found out front,” he announced, holding the spurs up for all to see. “They were in the dirt by the horse trough.”

 

Adam and Hoss leaned forward for a closer look, Adam letting out a soft whistle of admiration. “Those are nice spurs, Joe. They look expensive. Who would have left them lying around outside?”

 

Joe frowned. “I don’t know. I looked at them in the mercantile the other day and they were pretty expensive. I was going to buy them, but I didn’t have enough money. I didn’t think one of the hands would have had the cash to buy them before payday, but someone must have had something in his poke. They didn’t get here by themselves, that’s for sure.”

 

“Why don’t you just ask around tomorrow, Joseph?” Ben Cartwright advised his son. “I’m sure the hand who lost them will be worried about losing something so expensive.”

 

“I think I’ll do just that, Pa,” Joe replied. “I want to know who bought them. I kinda wanted them for myself, maybe whoever it is will let me buy them offa him.”

 

Hoss chuckled. “I knew there was more to this than just worry over some ranch hand losing their things, Short Shanks. I shoulda figgered that you’d want those for yerself.”

 

Joe feigned annoyance with his older brother, and playfully punched his arm. “Hey, I always think about the other guy, Hoss. You know that!” And with that the two men were off on a round of wrestling, which Adam and Ben tolerated until they upset the table that held Adam’s cup of coffee.

 

Ben quickly called his unruly sons to order, and the roughhousing was discontinued for the night. The Cartwrights bid each other goodnight and headed up the stairs for a good night’s rest. The spurs were forgotten, lying in a little silver heap on the coffee table in front of the fireplace.

 

~*~**~*~**~*~

 

Joe was reminded of the spurs when he descended the stairs the following morning. He quickly spotted them lying where he had left them the night before and, once again, he slipped them into his shirt pocket. After a hasty breakfast and a farewell to his father, Joe set off for his day’s assignment. Although he questioned every hand he met that day, no one admitted ownership of the spurs. Joe pushed any thoughts of them to the back of his mind as he concentrated on breaking the day’s quota of horses. He would ask his father what he should do that evening.

 

The day was long and exhausting. Joe pulled himself wearily from Cochise’s back with a sense of satisfaction. The current crop of horses was a good one, and he knew the army would be pleased with them. In fact, they might even be able to drive the price up from last year’s figures. He strolled toward the house, a soft whistle on his lips.

 

Joe’s booted foot had only made it up onto the planked porch that flanked the large ranch house, when again he stopped and stared. Lying in a little heap on the rough board planking was a brand-new neck cloth. Joe had seen one exactly like it in the mercantile the same day he had admired the spurs. It was a soft green color, and he had fingered it momentarily, while debating about the spurs. He was just vain enough to know that it would set off his eyes nicely. Stooping to pick it up, he could tell that it was the same one he had admired in the store. It had a subtle flaw in one corner, in exactly the same spot as the one he had looked at.

 

He frowned in consternation. First the spurs, and now the neckerchief. Who was dropping the little objects around the Ponderosa? It wasn’t one of the hands. None of them had known anything about the spurs, and he’d be willing to bet that they wouldn’t admit to knowing about the kerchief either. Still fingering the soft cloth, he entered the house.

 

Adam looked up from his chair by the fireplace as Joe entered. The greeting he’d been about to utter died on his lips when he saw the expression on Joe’s face. Standing quickly he moved to meet his brother. “What’s wrong, Joe?” he asked quickly. “You look worried about something.”

 

Joe raised troubled eyes to his older brother’s face. “I found this out on the porch, Adam,” he replied, his voice betraying his confusion. “I was looking at this in the mercantile the other day, when I saw the spurs.”

 

“So, what’s wrong with that, little brother?” Adam couldn’t understand why Joe was upset by such trivial incidents. “Anyone could have dropped those things. We get a lot of men coming through here all day long.”

 

“But I asked all the hands about the spurs, and no one knew anything about them,” Joe said quietly. “I know if I ask about the kerchief I’ll get the same response. Someone is leaving these things for me to find, Adam, and I want to know who it is.”

 

Adam chuckled. “I think you’re making a mountain out of a molehill. How do you know the things were left for you, Joe? They could have been meant for me, or Hoss.”

 

Joe shook his head stubbornly. “They were left for me. I know it. I was the one who saw them in the mercantile, and I was the one who found them. I want to know who’s playing games with me.” He brushed past Adam, a flash of irritation appearing on his face. “I should have known you wouldn’t listen to me.”

 

The chuckle died on Adam’s lips and he quickly grabbed Little Joe’s arm and spun the younger man around to face him. “I am listening, Joe!” he protested. “I wasn’t trying to make fun of you or belittle your feelings. It’s just that we don’t have any evidence to back up your theory. I still say the spurs and the neckerchief could have been dropped by anybody, and they aren’t necessarily being left for you to find.”

 

Joe shook his head. “You’re wrong, older brother. Somehow, I’ll prove it to you. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going upstairs to clean up for dinner.”

 

Adam stood watching Joe as he took the stairs two at a time. He flinched when the slam of the bedroom door reverberated through the house. A sigh escaped his lips. It never failed to amaze him how often he and Little Joe knocked heads, even when he had no intention of fighting with his younger brother. Wearily he headed back for his chair and picked up his book, but the words danced meaninglessly in front of his eyes. He’d find a way to make Joe talk to him later.

 

~**~*~**~*~**~

 

Joe stayed tense and watchful over the next couple of days, but he found no more small trinkets lying in strange places. Adam kept a close eye on him, and when he saw Joe start to relax, he became less tense as well. The two men were fixing the fence line on the North Ridge and had spent the day in casual conversation, the earlier argument long forgotten. When even Adam had to admit that the fence line had been repaired enough to meet even his exacting standards, the two men called it quits and headed for the ranch house.

They rode companionably for several miles, when Joe reined in suddenly. Slapping a hand to his forehead, he exclaimed in dismay, “Adam, I left those new work gloves back on that tree stump. I’ve got to go back and get them, or they’ll be ruined.”

 

Adam sighed heavily, his muscles were aching after the long day’s work, and the last thing he wanted to do was go back the way they had come. But the older man gamely turned his horse’s head to follow his brother up the trail. “It’s all right, Joe,” he called to his brother. “I’m sure they’ll be right where you left them, after all, who else has been out this way today.”

 

Joe nodded. “You’re right, brother,” he called back. “But Pa just gave me those gloves, and he’ll be furious if I lose them the first day I use them.”

 

They rode quickly back to the fence line, and Joe spotted the gloves lying on the tree stump where he had left them. Dismounting quickly, he leaned over to pick them up and then stopped his body frozen in shock. Adam looked up in time to see the blood drain from Joe’s face, and he quickly leaped from Sport’s back.

 

“Joe, what’s wrong?” he asked urgently, as he moved to grab the swaying form of his younger brother.

 

Joe just pointed to the gloves. Adam followed the pointing finger with his eyes, and he gasped in shock. The gloves were still lying on the tree stump, but they were now ripped and torn. It looked as if they had been shredded with a sharp knife. Joe reached for them with a shaking hand, but Adam pushed him aside and quickly grabbed them himself. The dark-haired man examined the tattered leather gloves and let out a low whistle.

 

“It looks like some animal really tore these to pieces,” he mused quietly. “It must have smelled your scent on the leather, Joe, and attacked them.” The mellow voice trailed off as Adam eyed the gloves speculatively. Even to his ears the story sounded weak and implausible.

 

Joe raised wide, green eyes to his older brother’s face. “No animal did that, Adam,” he said shakily. “An animal would have dragged them off into the woods, not left them on that stump, and you know it.”

 

Adam hastily tucked the gloves into his hip pocket. Placing strong hands on the slender shoulders of the younger man, he struggled to infuse his voice with confidence. “You don’t know that for sure, Joe. It’s possible that an animal shredded these gloves. We certainly didn’t see anyone else out here today.”

 

Joe shook his head in disbelief. “We both know that’s not what happened, older brother. I can’t explain it, but someone was here and destroyed those gloves.”

 

In silence the men mounted their horses and resumed their ride home.

 

~**~*~**~*~**~

 

Over a lavish dinner provided by Hop Sing, the Cartwrights discussed the shredded gloves. Joe was adamant in his believe that someone had deliberately shredded them and left them for him to find. Adam was equally insistent that it could have been an animal who had taken a dislike to the human scent on the leather. Finally, in disgust, Joe slammed his hand down on the table and asked his father’s permission to go to his room. When Ben had waved him away, Joe stormed up the stairs and showed the depth of his distress by the harsh closing of his bedroom door.

 

The three remaining Cartwrights looked at each other in consternation.

 

 

“Joe sure is riled up ‘bout those gloves,” Hoss observed with a frown of concern. “It ain’t like him to carry on like that about his things.”

 

He moved as if to follow his brother away from the table, but Ben motioned for him to stay where he was. “Joe needs some time to cool down, Hoss,” he advised calmly. “And I think it’s more than the gloves. He’s been tense and edgy since he found the spurs and the neckerchief.”

 

Adam snorted softly. “You’re right about that, Pa. You should have seen his face when he walked in here with that neck cloth. He acted like it was a snake about to bite him.”

 

Ben’s craggy face clouded over with worry. “I wonder what’s got into the boy?” he asked, not really expecting an answer.

 

Adam and Hoss exchanged telling glances, once again Little Joe had managed to cause his father worry. Both shrugged without answering and returned their attention to their forgotten dinners. There was no use trying to talk Ben Cartwright out of worrying about his youngest son.

 

Again, Ben’s voice broke the silence. “I think I’ll send him into town tomorrow. He can pick up that load of grain from Silas Wheeler’s place and get the mail. A trip to Virginia City always perks him up.”

 

“Do you want me to go with him, Pa?” asked Adam. “He might like the company?”

 

Ben shook his head. “No, son. We’re behind schedule with that timber contract and I need you and Hoss to ride out and get the men working more quickly. You’ll get your own trip to town in soon, I promise.” He smiled broadly at the chagrined expression on Adam’s face.

 

Hoss chuckled loudly and slapped Adam on the back. “He’s got ya there, older brother. You thought you’d sneak in a trip to town, but Pa’s onto ya.”

 

Adam raised his glass in a silent salute to his father, and once again the men returned to their meals, Joe and his problems pushed to the background for the moment.

 

~*~**~*~**~*~

 

With a sudden lifting of spirits, Joe joyously flicked the reins of the team and moved away from Virginia City. His father’s sudden decision to send him into town to fetch the mail and the grain had taken him by surprise. He had finished his errands with time to spare and had enjoyed a pleasant hour at the Silver Dollar saloon. Feeling relaxed and refreshed, Joe lost himself in contemplation of the upcoming barn dance, parading a bevy of Virginia City girls before his mind’s eye as he considered which one to ask to the festivities.

 

The horses were familiar with the route home, and even in his abstraction, Joe kept a guiding hand on the reins. Mile after mile the horses trotted, until they reached a sudden downward turn in the path. Joe was anticipating the turn and he reached to gather in the reins to slow the horses’ gait. As they swung into the turn, the reins parted with a sudden pop of leather, the ends dangling loosely in Joe’s hands. Feeling no guidance, the horses continued their rapid descent around the turn, the wagon swaying precariously behind, the large load of grain making it hard to control.

 

Joe screamed for the horses to stop, but they were caught up in the joy of the run and they continued blindly onward. With a stricken gasp, Joe realized that the wagon was going to overturn and at the last second he hurled himself clear of the conveyance. With a sickening crash, the wagon toppled over onto its side, spilling its load of grain all over the roadway. The horses, panicked by the strange noises behind them, careened away into the distance, trailing their broken harness behind them.

 

Joe found himself rolling uncontrollably down the slope, and reached out to snag a low hanging branch as he tumbled by.   His shoulder muscles screamed in protest, as he caught and held the branch, but he held on and panted in the sudden stillness. Joe dropped his head to hands and buried his face for a moment, overcome with the realization of how close he had come to being killed in the crash. Finally, pulling himself together, he painfully hauled himself to his feet and moved slowly to inspect the results of his accident.

 

~*~**~*~**~*~

 

“Pa! I wasn’t careless! I did inspect the leather before I hitched up the team.” Joe’s protests were shrill, and he paced restlessly before the fireplace.

 

“Then how do you explain what happened, Little Joe,” Ben bellowed furiously. “You could have been killed today, do you realize that?” The coffee colored eyes flashed angrily, and the big man towered over his slender son.

 

When he saw Joe flinch before him, Ben visibly tried to settle himself down. He couldn’t wipe the picture of the team of horses, lathered and sweating and trailing broken harnesses as they entered the yard. He had immediately given orders for horses to be saddled, and he and Adam had thundered down the trail to find Little Joe. They were about a mile from home when they discovered the youngest Cartwright limping painfully along the roadway. Ben had pulled his son into a fierce embrace and then swept him up onto Buck’s broad back. They had ridden home, his anger mounting as he rode. Now Little Joe was taking the brunt of his father’s relief-fueled temper.

 

Adam stood next to the great stone fireplace, one booted foot propped up on the hearth. He watched the scene, speculation written on his face. His eyes flashed with pity as he studied Joe’s forlorn look, and he noticed the trembling in his younger brother’s hand. Deciding that it was time to intervene, he moved gracefully between the two men, and placed a hand on either shoulder. “Okay, you two. Let’s calm down and talk this over rationally,” he said quietly. “Yelling at each other isn’t going to help this situation.”

 

Joe smiled gratefully at the older man, and then turned back to face his father. “Pa, I swear I checked that harness before I hitched the team. I always do. You taught us to do that when we were kids. It’s a habit.”

 

Ben nodded in conciliation. “I know, Joe, and I’m sorry I lost my temper. It’s just that I thought..” the older man’s voice trailed off, and he wiped a tired hand over his eyes.

 

Joe and Adam exchanged a look; they both knew what Ben had thought. Joe reached to pat his father’s shoulder. “I’m okay, Pa. And I really don’t know what happened to that harness.”

 

Joe was interrupted by Hoss’s deep voice joining in the conversation. “I can help ya with that one, Short Shanks.” He held up a frayed length of leather. “This harness was completely frayed through. Now you say you checked it this morning. That means it wore through awful quick.”

 

Joe snatched the harness and inspected the leather. He turned wide eyes on his family. “Someone scraped at this with a knife while I was in the saloon. It’s the only explanation.”

 

Ben shook his head slowly. “Joe, I know you want to believe that the harness was fine this morning, but who would want to tamper with your harness? Have you been in any fights recently? Made any enemies that we should know about?” It was obvious that Ben was struggling to believe his son’s story, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to admit that the harness had been tampered with deliberately.

 

Joe’s eyes narrowed and the flash of temper returned quickly. “No, I don’t have any enemies that I know of, and I haven’t been in any fights. But Pa, someone deliberately tried to hurt me today. I’m sure of it.”

 

Adam again stepped between his father and brother, anxious to avert another battle. “We’ll look into it, Joe. If someone did this deliberately, we’ll find out who it was.” He reached for Joe’s arm, only to be shaken off by the irate young man.

 

“If? Someone did do it deliberately, Adam!” Joe stormed up the stairs. “I thought my own family would trust me.”   They all caught the words as they drifted down the stairs, the hurt trembling in every syllable. Once again, the slam of a door echoed through the house.

 

“That door sure is gettin’ a workout lately,” Hoss said, a glint of humor in his blue eyes, as he struggled to lighten the mood.

 

Ben sighed heavily. “Adam, ask around town and see if anyone noticed someone hanging around the team while Joe was in the saloon. Hoss go with him and see if anyone has been making threats against Little Joe or any of the rest of us. I’ll go talk to Joe.”

The three men separated to their assigned tasks. None of them were convinced that they’d have any success.

 

~*~**~*~**~*~

 

Ben hesitated before Joe’s door, but he finally tapped lightly and went in. As he had expected, Joe was lying on the bed, his hands laced behind his head, his legs stretched full length on the coverlet.   The older man chuckled softly as he moved to take a seat on the edge of the bed, playfully slapping at Joe’s booted feet. “Take your boots off if you’re going to be lying in bed, son.”

 

Joe sat up slowly and moved his feet to the floor. He stared moodily at the ground, not meeting his father’s eyes. The silence grew between the two men, until Joe couldn’t take it any longer. “I’m sorry I got upset, Pa,” he ground out reluctantly. “I didn’t mean to yell at you, but I just got angry when no one believed me.”

 

Ben placed a solid arm behind Joe’s back. “It’s not that I don’t believe you, Joe. I simply think there may be some other explanation for that frayed harness. Maybe there was a flaw in the strap that you didn’t see when you inspected it.”

 

Joe frowned, his brow wrinkled as he considered his father’s words. “I can see your point,” he conceded hesitantly. “But I still think someone tampered with that rein deliberately.”

 

Now it was Ben’s turn to frown. “Why are you so sure that someone tampered with the rein, Joe?” he asked. “That would mean there is a person out there who tried to kill you. Do you have any reason to believe that you have angered someone so much that they would deliberately try something like that?” Ben stood and paced to the window as he talked. The thought of a continuing threat to his son worried him.

 

Joe stood too, crossing the room to stand beside his father. “I can’t think of anyone who would want to hurt me, Pa,” he confessed ruefully. “But I know what my instincts are telling me. And they’re saying that someone deliberately shredded my gloves and just as deliberately tampered with the reins of the team. I don’t have any proof, but I just know what I feel.”

 

Ben drew a deep breath. “Joe, if you’re right about this, then I want you to stick close to the ranch for a little while. I don’t want to take any chances if someone is trying to hurt you. Here at the house they’ll have to come through me or your brothers.”

 

Joe scowled. “I’m not going to hide like some baby, Pa,” he said fiercely. “I don’t hide from trouble.”

 

“It’s just for a few days while we get this straightened out. Please, son. For my sake, stick close to the house.”

 

The pleading look on his father’s face made Joe pause. With a wicked grin he grabbed his father by the arm and walked with him to the door. “Just for a few days, Pa. And only because I’m such a well-behaved boy.”

 

Ben’s booming laugh echoed through the hallway, once again peace had been restored. But he had to wonder for how long.

 

~*~**~*~**~*~

 

The saloon was at its liveliest when Adam and Hoss met there that evening. Hoss was already leaning up against the bar when Adam strolled in and casually propped a booted foot on the rail. Standing shoulder to shoulder no one would have guessed they were related, let alone brothers, so dissimilar were their looks. But on this night, both men carried the same air of grim determination and it made most of the people in the bar steer clear of them.

 

Hoss turned and surveyed his brother’s dark, brooding features. “No luck, huh, Adam?”

 

Adam’s eyes were bleak. “Does it show?” he responded quietly. “Nobody saw anything, heard anything or will admit to knowing anything. How about you?”

 

Hoss’s shoulders sagged wearily. “About the same. I found one guy who might have heard from someone else that someone he knew might have seen something . . . if I paid him ten dollars to talk to me.”

 

Adam chuckled, little mirth present in the sound. “I take it you didn’t bite?”

 

Hoss was indignant. “Whaddya take me for? A fool?” He placed his massive hands on his hips and stood squarely in front of his brother. “I can smell a story like that a mile off, older brother.”

 

Taking a long, slow pull at his beer, Adam said thoughtfully. “So that means the kid was wrong. No one tampered with those reins. He’s not going to like hearing that.”

 

Hoss tipped his mug at Adam in mock salute. “You’re right about that, Adam. Joe’s sure convinced that someone was trying to kill him. He don’t want to think he missed something when he hitched up that team.”

 

Adam was about to respond when he felt a soft hand running up and down his arm. He turned to find a garishly dressed saloon girl hanging on him breathlessly. “Hi, Adam,” she cooed softly. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you around.”

 

Adam grinned engagingly. “Hello, Lindy. I’ve been in town a couple of times, but I didn’t see you in here. Where have you been hiding?”

 

The red-haired girl batted long, artificially dark lashes at him. “Oh here, and there,” she murmured seductively. “Were you looking for me?”

 

Adam’s natural gallantry rose to the surface automatically. “I always look for you, Lindy,” he responded politely. “But if you’ll excuse me this evening, I’m not really in the mood for company right now.”

 

The girl simpered at him, and again the eyelashes fluttered. “I might have something to tell you, if you’re interested.” Seeing that the dark-haired man didn’t look convinced, she added, “It’s about your handsome little brother.”

 

Adam and Hoss glanced at each other, both instantly alert. “What about Little Joe, ma’am?” Hoss demanded eagerly.

 

Lindy laughed shrilly. “Uh-uh, it’s gonna cost you a drink, big fella.” She patted Hoss’s massive forearm, and giggled again when he blushed a dark red. She waited eagerly as Adam signaled to the bartender, and then quickly downed her whiskey in a single gulp. The two men waited with ill-concealed impatience while she drank.

 

Drawing out her moment of glory, Lindy surveyed the Cartwrights over the rim of her glass. “I hear you’ve been asking about Little Joe’s last visit to town,” she said finally, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. “I think I saw someone hanging around his team while he was in the saloon.”

 

“Who?” Adam’s voice was sharp, his gallantry forgotten. “What exactly did you see, Lindy?”

 

She gestured at her glass, and Adam once again signaled the bartender, who filled it quickly. Lindy sipped it slowly this time, drawing out her answer as long as possible. “Well, I was on my way to work, and I passed by Little Joe’s team. I thought I saw someone standing by the lead rein, but when I got closer the person had moved on.”

 

Hoss’s face fell. “So you didn’t see who it was, or what they was doing, ma’am?”

 

The girl hesitated, clearly wanting to make a different answer, but her basic honesty won out. “No, not really. By the time I got closer, whoever it was had moved away and into the shadows of the alley.”

 

Adam tipped his hat to the girl. “Thank you, Lindy. I’m grateful for your information. Come on, Hoss, Pa’s going to be waiting for us.” He moved toward the swinging doors, Hoss trailing behind him. Lindy watched them go, disappointment clearly written on her face. She always loved to be seen with handsome Adam Cartwright.

 

Once outside, Hoss grabbed Adam’s arm and pulled him to a stop. “So what do you think, Adam. Did she really see anything?”

 

 

Adam hesitated briefly. “It could have been anyone, brother. Lots of people probably passed by that team while Joe was in the saloon. It’s really not much to go on.”

 

Hoss sighed. “I guess you’re right. I sure hate goin’ home and tellin’ Little Joe that he’s wrong.”

 

Adam squared his shoulders and began to mount his horse. “Well, we’d better go get it over with, brother. I don’t look forward to it myself.”

 

~*~**~*~**~*~

 

Virginia City was throbbing with excitement. The first big barn dance of the season was in full swing when then Cartwrights rode into town, resplendent in their Sunday best. All three of Ben’s sons had taken extra care with their appearance, with Little Joe hovering in front of the mirror far too long for his brothers’ tastes. He had chatted like a magpie during the long ride to town, keyed up with the excitement of the occasion. Joe loved any excuse to be seen with a pretty girl on his arm, and he knew that he looked his best tonight.

 

As they reined in and dismounted in front of the livery stable, Joe was the first off his horse. He tossed the reins to a waiting stable hand and bounded off to join the throng swarming into the barn. Already the lively strains of the fiddle could be heard in the clear night and gaily dressed couples were swarming into the structure. Ben smiled to see Joe put aside the moodiness that had plagued him all week. His youngest son had chafed against his father’s desire to keep him close to the ranch, and it had been a long week for everyone. Adam and Hoss had been correct when they assumed Joe wouldn’t be happy with the results of their trip to town. He had taken his frustrations out on the two men until they were ready to strangle their youngest brother. The interminable week had passed without further incident, and Ben was inclined to dismiss Joe’s speculation that someone had deliberately tried to harm him as just that, speculation.

 

Joe felt his spirits rise even higher as he let the swirl of activity engulf him. He smiled and nodded at his friends and neighbors and waved at several attractive young ladies who were trying to attract his attention. He spotted pretty Laura Carson standing by the punch bowl and headed her way, never looking back at his family, who had entered the crowded hall in his wake, and were even now watching him make his entrance to the room with smiles on their faces. Laura smiled a greeting at Joe and the pair soon swung into a dance. Joe was at his most charming and the evening passed by swiftly.

 

Joe escorted Laura to the punch bowl. They had just finished their third dance of the evening. Both young people were popular and both were in high demand for the dances. But Joe found himself admiring Laura’s glossy dark hair and snapping brown eyes more and more and he made sure that he booked her for a fourth dance later that evening. But for now they were both tired and thirsty. Joe procured two cups of the punch and pulled Laura to a quiet corner, where he gallantly helped her into the chair that stood there. Laura sighed in relief and set her cup of punch on a small table that stood conveniently placed next to the chair. She raised a fan and lazily fluttered it back and forth in front of her face.

 

Joe grinned as a sudden breeze brushed against his face, and he leaned closer to the beautiful young lady. “Are you having fun tonight, Laura?” he enquired, fairly certain of her answer.

 

Laura giggled a little and waved her fan at him again. “I certainly am, Little Joe,” she replied, her dimples appearing as she smiled. “And I thank you for all the dances tonight. You just might turn my head with all this attention.”

 

Joe set his cup down next to Laura’s and leaned in even closer. “Well, you do have the most beautiful face and head in the room, Laura. It makes it easy to give you a lot of attention.”

 

Laura giggled again, and then closing the fan quickly, she rapped it against the palm of her other hand. “I declare, Little Joe, I am being forgetful,” she said in dismay. “I promised that I would pass on a message from little Kitty Henderson, and I forgot all about it until just now.”

 

“Kitty Henderson?” Joe frowned slightly. “I wasn’t aware that you kept in touch with her, Laura.”

 

 

“Oh, yes,” the girl replied, her smile fading slightly as she remembered the trial from the preceding summer. “Since Kitty went to live with her grandparents, she’s written me several times. She likes to hear about the doings in Virginia City, and I was a friend of her sister.”

 

Joe’s frown deepened. “You haven’t heard from Mary Sue, have you? You know she’s still wanted for her part in what happened last summer.” His words came out a little harsher in tone than he realized, and Laura flinched back.

 

“Of course I haven’t heard from her, Little Joe. I’d have told the sheriff if I had. You know that. Now do you want to know what Kitty has to say, or not?” Laura’s stiff back and the loss of the beguiling dimples clearly indicated her distress.

 

Joe hastily smiled at her, and he reached to pat her on the shoulder. “Of course, I want to hear all about how Kitty’s doing, and what she has to say. She always was my favorite Henderson girl.” He leaned closer to Laura, his full attention on her as she quickly unfolded a little note that she pulled from her pocket.

 

“She says that everything is going well in St. Louis and that her grandparents are thinking of letting her come back for a visit fairly soon. She wanted to know if you would like to see her when she comes.” Laura folded the note back up and tucked it away, aware that Joe’s eyes were riveted to the little piece of paper. She was fully aware of Joe’s connection to the Henderson family, indeed, she had been a friend of Mary Sue’s until the girl had been driven into hiding after the unsettling trial of Little Joe Cartwright the past summer. Now struggling to reclaim the happy mood of the evening, she stood up quickly. “Now where did I put that punch glass?” she asked.

 

Joe found the two glasses and gallantly bowed to his lady as he handed over her glass. Laura sipped at hers while Joe polished off the contents of his cup. “Would you like some more, Laura?” he asked.

 

“No, thank you, Little Joe, I think I’d really rather have that last dance you promised me.” Joe’s green eyes sparkled and he hastily set down his now empty cup.

Bowing from the waist, he held out his arm, his good mood restored with the return of Laura’s dimples. The handsome couple returned to the dance floor.

 

The fiddles were singing a slow, sad tune, and Joe pulled Laura close for the dance. They were swaying gracefully through the set moves, when the first wave of dizziness hit him. Joe’s steps faltered, but he recovered. Laura glanced at him in concern, but he smiled reassuringly. And then, just as quickly another surge engulfed him and Joe stumbled again, this time knocking into the couple who danced next to them.

 

The other couple glared angrily, and Joe rushed to apologize. “I’m . . . I’m shorry . . . don’ know whas come over me . . . ”

 

Laura stopped dancing and stood with her hands on her hips. “Why, Joe Cartwright!” she exclaimed indignantly. “I believe you’re intoxicated.” She rushed from the dance floor with Joe stumbling in pursuit.

 

He knocked into yet another couple and then staggered, clutching at his head. “L…l…laura,” he choked out. And then another surge of dizziness overwhelmed him. Joe fell to his knees, darkness spiraling up to meet him. With a low moan he allowed himself to be swept away by that swirling tide of oblivion.

 

A shrill scream cut through the air, and the fiddles ceased abruptly. In the sudden silence, all eyes turned toward the crumpled figure on the floor. A rough laugh rang out as a gruff voice exclaimed, “Looks like Joe Cartwright’s been hittin’ the punch bowl pretty hard tonight.”

 

Ben Cartwright turned to see what the excitement was about, and noticed Hoss and Adam also circling the dance floor for a better view. Where there was trouble, Little Joe Cartwright was often to be found too. When he heard his son’s name mentioned, Ben began pushing through the throng to reach Joe’s side.

 

He saw the crumpled figure and reached out with gentle hands, turning Joe over onto his back. He felt another pair of hands join his, and he looked up gratefully to see Adam bending over his brother in concern. “Joe,” he murmured. “Joe, wake up. Adam, find the doctor, will you?”

 

Adam hurried off to do his father’s bidding, and Hoss immediately moved in to take his place, crouching next to his brother, and using his bulk to shield him from the watching crowd. “Pa, he ain’t had much to drink tonight,” Hoss exclaimed worriedly. “I’ve been keepin’ my eye on him all night.”

 

Ben gently patted Joe’s cheek. “Joe,” he called gently. “Come on son, wake up.” He bent to put his face close to Joe’s, sniffing lightly. “You’re right, Hoss. I don’t smell alcohol on his breath. But what else could be wrong with him?”

 

“Well, Ben, why don’t you move aside and let me take a look at him. Then maybe I’ll be able to answer your question.” Doc Martin’s calm, professional voice intruded on the scene. He glanced around at the avid eyes that were soaking in every detail. “Hmm, maybe we’d better move him over to my office, Ben. Can you and the boys lend a hand?”

 

Ben nodded quickly and signaled for Hoss and Adam to move in and help. With gentle hands they lifted Joe and carried him from the dance floor. The crowd moved apart silently, until Adam turned angrily. “Okay, folks, the show’s over,” he cried out. “Why don’t you go back to your party?”

 

The people of Virginia City turned away sheepishly, a low buzz of conversation filling the room. The fiddlers began playing again, and reluctantly, unwilling to allow the drama to end, the gaily clad couples again began to fill the floor. Laura Carson sobbed quietly in a corner, allowing herself to be comforted for her part in the debacle by several willing young men. It was a barn dance that would be talked about for days.

 

~*~**~*~**~*~

 

Ben paced slowly around the small confines of Paul Martin’s surgery. Adam and Hoss leaned against the wall, none of the men anxious to leave the young man who lay on the table. Paul raised the boy’s eyelids and listened to his heartbeat. He finally straightened slowly and turned to face the waiting Cartwrights. Ben immediately moved closer, the agitated pacing stilled by the doctor’s movements. “How is he Paul?” he asked quickly. “Is he just drunk, or is it something more?”

 

Paul smiled ruefully and reached to pat his old friend’s shoulder. “He’s not drunk Ben. I think he’s been drugged.”

 

“Drugged!” Adam’s face conveyed his shock and agitation. “But who would drug Joe? And with what?”

 

Paul shook his head. “It could be any number of things, actually. There are many substances that mimic the effect of alcohol. But as to whom and why, those questions I can’t answer.”

 

Hoss screwed up his face in thought. “Pa, do you think that all those other things that Joe told us about were true, then? Is someone really trying to hurt him?”

 

Ben considered the question thoughtfully. “I’m beginning to take this very seriously. I think Joe’s been right all along. Someone has been trying to harass him, and now they’ve stepped it up to actually trying to hurt him. And I want to know who.”

 

Adam’s face was grim. “I’ll find out, Pa. Don’t you worry about that. And when I do, they’ll wish they’d never tangled with the Cartwrights.”

 

A low moan from the bed brought everyone’s attention back to Little Joe. Ben immediately went to his son’s side, stroking the pale cheek gently. “Is he going to be all right, Paul?”

 

“He’ll be just fine, Ben. He just needs to sleep off the effects of the drug. At least he doesn’t appear to have ingested an overdose of whatever was used. I’d assume that whoever did this put the substance in whatever Joe was drinking.”

 

Ben pulled up a chair, silently declaring his intention of staying by his son’s side. He glanced up at Adam and Hoss. “Boys, I want you to go back to the dance.” He held up a hand to forestall the protests that immediately sprang to both men’s lips. “I want you to talk to everyone who was there. See if anyone saw anything that would indicate who put the drug in Joe’s drink.”

 

Adam took one last look at the huddled form of his brother. He silently patted the top of Joe’s head, and then he left the room. Hoss, too, stayed a moment to touch his brother before he exited from the room. Ben’s heart constricted at this evidence of the depth of caring that existed between his three very dissimilar children. He reached to take Joe’s flaccid hand and prepared for a long night.

 

~*~**~*~**~*~

 

A searing shaft of pain spiked through Joe’s head, and he reached to clutch it with both hands. He moaned softly as a bright beam of sunlight hit his eyes, and he squeezed them shut as tightly as he could. He sensed a movement and knew that he wasn’t alone in the room. When a second pair of hands joined his and began to gently massage his shoulders, he sighed in relief. “Pa?” he asked. “Is that you?”

 

Ben’s mellow voice cut through the pain. “I’m here, Joe. You just take it easy.” The strong fingers continued their gentle movement, and Joe moaned again in response.

 

He felt the headache ease and the surge of nausea receded slightly. Feeling brave enough to open one eye, he squinted up at the older man. “What happened? Where am I?”

 

“Shh, lie still. You’re in Paul Martin’s surgery,” Ben replied. “You’ve slept the night away.” His fingers finished their massage and moved to pat Joe gently on the top of his head. “Paul left some medicine for you to take when you woke up. He said your head would hurt.”

 

Ben rose and busied himself pouring a mixture from a bottle that Paul had left on the bedside table. Joe watched in some trepidation as he eyed the dark-colored liquid. “I feel fine, Pa. Really I do,” he said hastily, scrunching himself up in the bed and trying to turn away from the proffered spoon.

 

By now, Ben was used to Joe’s reaction to being ill, and he blandly ignored his son’s feeble protests. He firmly inserted the spoon in Joe’s mouth and watched in satisfaction as the boy swallowed reluctantly. That done, he resumed his seat next to the bed. “Do you remember anything about last night, Joe?” he asked quietly.

 

Joe squinted in thought, his eyes clouding over as he struggled to find a memory from the previous evening. His head felt as if someone were shoeing a horse inside his skull and it made thinking difficult. “I was dancing with Laura . . . and I gave her some punch. We talked . . . and then I don’t remember anything after that. What happened, Pa?” Joe’s eyes were wide with apprehension. “Was I in a fight?”

 

Ben patted the boy’s shoulder soothingly. “No, son. You weren’t in a fight. The doctor thinks someone drugged you to make it look like you were drunk. You collapsed on the dance floor and we brought you here last night.   Adam and Hoss checked around the dance hall, but no one saw anyone come near your drink. That’s all we know so far.” Ben finished his narrative, keeping a close eye on his son’s face as he talked. He watched the emotions flickering across Joe’s face with a lightening fast rapidity.

 

“Do you believe me now?” Joe’s question took Ben by surprise and he raised his eyebrows questioningly.

 

“Believe you about what, Joe?” he asked, puzzled.

 

“That someone is out to get me. That all these things that have been happening are more than coincidence.” Joe’s voice was emphatic and there was a touch of belligerence in his tone. He winced in pain, as his sudden movement jarred his sensitive head.

 

“Easy son,” Ben’s hands gently pressed Joe down on the bed. “Yes, I believe you. I certainly don’t believe that you were drunk last night. The doc has said someone drugged you. That’s more than a coincidence.”

 

“What are we going to do about it?” Joe asked grimly. “I don’t like the idea that someone is following me around, hiding, and I don’t know who or why.”

 

“We go back to the Ponderosa, and we keep a close eye on you.” Ben replied slowly. He knew that his words were not what Joe wanted to hear. His youngest son was not fond of being hovered over, preferring to meet his challengers head on. “We’ll find this person. They’ll have to show themselves eventually if they want to get to you.”

 

Joe sighed and closed his eyes. “When can we go back to the ranch, Pa?” he asked plaintively. It was the cry of a small child seeking the security of his home. “I’ll feel better once we get home.”

 

Ben smiled. “The doctor says you can leave this afternoon. But he wants you to eat something first,” Ben ordered. “If you can keep your lunch down and your head feels better, then we’ll head back to the ranch. Hoss and Adam are bringing the buckboard out for you.” He raised a hand to stifle Joe’s protests. “And no, you are not riding Cochise home. Doctor’s orders.”

 

Joe sighed and lay back on the soft pillows. He knew there was no point in arguing. When the doctor ordered something, Ben Cartwright would stick to it to the letter. But at least they would be home, and then he would see about finding the person who was haunting his every move. Joe had no intention of sitting back quietly waiting for the unknown person to strike again. He closed his eyes and let sleep retake him. It was time to take action.

 

~*~**~*~**~*~

 

The days passed slowly on the Ponderosa. Tempers frayed rapidly as Little Joe railed against the confinement and restrictions imposed by his father. He paced around the house and barn like a caged animal. Every attempt he made to leave on his own had been thwarted by the vigilance of his brothers. With the realization that someone had actually been behind all the strange occurrences of the past few weeks, came a closing of the ranks. The three older Cartwrights were determined that whoever this unknown tormentor was, they would not get close to Joe.

 

Joe was equally determined that he was going to go off and track down the culprit. He was tired of sitting back and waiting for something to happen. At last he found himself alone in the house. Hoss and Adam were out riding fence, and his father had been called into Virginia City unexpectedly. He could tell that Ben was nervous about leaving Joe to his own devices and the older man had delayed his trip as long as possible. He finally ran out of excuses and headed off on his big buckskin horse.

 

Joe waited all of ten minutes before he too headed for the barn. He hastily grabbed Cochise’s saddle and tack and began the task of saddling his mount. He was totally engrossed in what he was doing, and didn’t hear the footsteps that approached from the barn entrance.

 

“Just what do you think you’re doing?” Adam’s voice was cutting.

 

Joe jumped and whirled around to face his brother. “Adam, you startled me. I didn’t hear you coming,” he stammered out, his eyes wide with fright. He pulled himself together rapidly, narrowing his eyes at his older brother. “What does it look like I’m doing? I’m going to go look for some evidence of who has been playing these stupid tricks on me.”

 

Adam shook his head slowly. “I don’t think so, younger brother. Pa asked me to come back to the house and keep an eye on things. He left explicit instructions that he wanted you to stay home. So let’s get that saddle off of Cochise and go back into the house.”

 

Adam’s reasonable tone added fuel to Joe’s growing fire. “I don’t have to listen to you, Adam,” he ranted. “I’m a grown man and if I want to leave the house, I will. You can’t stop me.”

 

The older man struggled to retain his temper. “I’m only doing what Pa wants, Joe. You know that. And I happen to agree with him. Someone out there wants to hurt you, and wants it pretty badly. You’re safer staying home for the time being.” He moved to Cochise and began to unsaddle the little pinto. “Now, are you coming peacefully, or do I have to carry you into the house?”

Joe bristled angrily. “You couldn’t carry me even if you wanted to,” he snapped. “Now get your hands off my horse and get out of my way.” As he spoke, he attempted to push past Adam.

 

The older man simply grabbed Joe by the collar of his shirt and hauled him backwards toward the house. Joe struggled and tried to twist around to reach Adam, but the dark-haired man was skilled in controlling his younger brother. He continued to move relentlessly forward. They finally reached the front door, which Adam pushed open with his booted foot. With a final heave, he pushed Joe into the room and slammed the door shut behind them.

 

Joe was so angry that he charged into Adam full tilt, barreling into the older man with such force that Adam was knocked off his feet. He lay winded and gasping with Joe sitting astride his chest, green sparks flying from the angry eyes. “How dare you treat me like a ten-year-old, Adam. Don’t you ever do that again,” Joe cried.

“If you continue to act like a ten-year-old, that’s the way I’ll treat you,” Adam replied calmly when he finally regained his breath.

 

He pushed Joe off his chest and pulled himself to his feet. He leaned down and offered his younger brother a hand up. When Joe disdainfully batted the offered hand aside and got himself to his feet, Adam shrugged and turned away. “Pa said you were to stay near the house until this mystery is cleared up. Don’t think you’re going to leave until he gives you permission to do so,” he said as he walked away.

 

Joe’s temper surged again. “You’re not my father, and you don’t speak for him,” he snapped. “If I want to leave, I will.”

 

Adam noticed that Joe made no effort to head outside again, as he watched with a feigned disinterest. In truth, he was as worried about the mysterious person who seemed to be targeting Joe as his father. Adam was prepared to hogtie Joe if it meant keeping him safe. He sighed in relief when Joe headed up the stairs. It was obvious that while Joe was willing to talk strongly about defying their father, he wasn’t prepared to put his words to the test. When Adam heard the bedroom door slam yet again, he let loose with the chuckle he’d been struggling to suppress. Shaking his head, he sat down and picked up a book. He hoped it would be a quiet afternoon.

 

~*~**~*~**~*~

 

Later that evening, Joe emerged from his room and headed down the stairs. The succulent odors of Hop Sing’s cooking had been wafting through the house for quite a while and he knew the oriental housekeeper would be calling the family to dinner shortly. He was surprised to find Adam was gone from the great room, and there was still no sign of his father or Hoss. Glancing around distractedly, Joe wondered where everyone was.

 

A sudden thought came to mind. If someone was really trying to harm him, they might be hiding outside the house. He decided to stroll casually around the yard in an effort to spot anything out of the ordinary. Moving to the credenza, he looked for his gunbelt. It was lying in its usual spot, but the pearl-handled pistol that usually filled the holster was gone.

 

A silent curse on his lips, Joe glanced around the room. He had a suspicion who had removed the gun from its accustomed spot. “Adam!” he yelled loudly. “Adam, where are you?”

 

Adam came around the corner from the kitchen holding an apple in his hand and polishing it on his shirt. “You yelled, little brother?” he asked mildly, one eyebrow raised in curiosity at the sight of his obviously seething younger sibling.

 

“All right, what’dya do with it?” Joe demanded roughly, moving to stand inches from Adam, glaring up into his brother’s dark eyes.

 

Adam remained placid, refusing to let Joe ruffle him. “Maybe you should tell me what you’re looking for, and then I can help you find it,” he offered politely as he took a bite of the apple.

 

A touch of uncertainty danced across Joe’s expressive countenance, but he maintained his belligerent stance. “My gun,” he replied shortly. “You took my gun so that I wouldn’t leave the house, and I want it back.”

 

Adam’s second eyebrow rose to join the first and he stared at Joe in surprise. “I didn’t take your gun, Joe,” he said with such obvious honesty that the wind was taken from Joe’s sails.

 

The younger man watched in confusion as Adam walked quickly to the credenza. A quick glance was all that was necessary to confirm the disappearance of Joe’s gun. Adam’s heart beat a little faster as he contemplated the meaning implied by the missing weapon. The gun was Joe’s prized possession; a gift from his father when Ben had deemed him old enough to learn to shoot. It was a beautiful piece with Joe’s initials engraved on it. He turned to Joe in consternation. “I haven’t seen your gun, little brother,” he said again. “Someone’s been in the house and taken it. We’re the only ones here at the moment besides Hop Sing, and I know he wouldn’t touch it. I’ve been out in the barn, and he’s been in the kitchen. I suppose anyone could have walked in here and picked up that pistol.”

 

Joe’s face fell. He reached to finger the tooled leather of the holster disconsolately. “Why would someone want to take my gun, Adam?” he asked plaintively. “And how could they get into the house without anyone seeing or hearing them?”

 

Adam’s face reflected the anger and worry that he was feeling. “I don’t know the answer to either of those questions, Joe, but I aim to find out. I don’t like the way this person is able to invade our home at will. And I’m tired with them upsetting my brother.” He reached to place a consoling arm around Joe’s shoulders. “Let’s go outside and see if we can find any signs of the intruder, okay?”

 

Joe nodded, some of his former spirit returning on the crest of a wave of anger. “I’ll find the guy, Adam, don’t you worry. And I’ll make him pay for touching my things.” He pulled away abruptly and started for the door, Adam trailing in his wake. It was obvious that Joe’s spirit was returning quickly. It took a lot to keep the irrepressible youngest Cartwright down.

 

The two men quickly scouted around the yard and barn with no success. There were too many people who had a legitimate reason to be in and around the yard for any clear cut tracks to be spotted. Nothing appeared to be out of place and there was no sign of the missing weapon. Joe’s face grew more and more despondent as the minutes passed, while Adam’s showed clear evidence of his concern.

 

They entered the barn at last, on a futile mission to find the weapon hiding under some conveniently placed object. Adam was a few steps behind Joe, and he entered the barn slowly, his eyes still scanning the dusty yard for a clue. He bumped forcefully into his brother’s back as he entered the darkened interior of the big barn. Joe was standing stock still, his eyes wide with fear. Adam grabbed his arm quickly, and turned to look in the same direction that his brother was facing.

 

“Joe, what is it?” he demanded quickly. “What’s wrong?”

Joe’s voice was a breathy whisper, the fear striking deep into Adam’s soul as he listened. “Wh . . . where’s Cochise, Adam?”

 

Adam’s heart dropped to the soles of his booted feet as he surveyed the wide expanse of the barn. Sport stood placidly munching on his evening feedbag, just where Adam had left him earlier, but Cochise’s stall was empty. As a matter of course, Adam had fed and watered both animals only fifteen minutes earlier. The feed bin was still full in the pinto’s stall. But there was no sign of the black and white horse that was the center of Little Joe’s heart. Adam was fully aware of how much Joe cherished his horse, and he walked forward slowly, hoping against hope that the pinto had just broken loose of his tether and meandered out of his stall. That hope was dashed when he examined the unflawed leather and realized that a human being had untied the beast and led it away.

 

Adam looked back to find Joe still standing rooted to the same spot, his face white and his eyes wide. The misery was etched so deeply onto his expressive features that Adam felt an answering pang in his own body. He quickly returned to his brother’s side. “Joe, we’ll find him, I promise!” he said urgently. “If it’s the last thing I do, I’ll get that horse back for you.”

 

Joe turned to look deeply into Adam’s eyes, and the older man felt a chill as he watched the green eyes change. The look of fear disappeared to be replaced by a deep and consuming rage. “You won’t have to find Cochise, Adam. I will,” Joe said grimly. “And when I do, I’ll kill the bastard who dared to touch him.”

 

~*~**~*~**~*~

 

The clatter of hooves in the dusty yard yanked Joe’s head up. He dashed out of the barn, hoping that his beloved horse was being returned to him. When he saw the familiar buckskin being ridden by his father, followed closely by Chubb and Hoss, his face fell. Scuffing the toe of his boot in the dirt, he levered himself down disconsolately to sit on the edge of the water trough.

 

 

Ben dismounted, gathering Buck’s reins in one hand in preparation for leading the big horse into the barn. He took in Joe’s dejected attitude and his heart sank. He didn’t need another crisis with his youngest son. The events of the past few weeks were taking their toll on all of the Cartwrights, and Ben was heartily sick of it. Sighing, he placed a gentle hand on Joe’s shoulder. “What’s wrong, son?” he asked quietly. “You don’t look very happy at the moment.”

 

“Someone took my gun and Cochise,” Joe blurted out, his anguish enshrouding him in a haze. “What if they hurt him, Pa? You saw what that monster did to my gloves. If he kills Cochise . . . ” Joe’s voice broke, and he found himself unable to continue.

 

Ben’s quick intake of breath indicated his immediate understanding of the situation. If someone wanted to hit Joe where it hurt they had picked the right way to go about it. Cochise was the thing he held nearest and dearest to his heart. A threat to the pinto would be more than his youngest could bear. “How long ago?” Ben asked quickly. “Have you looked for tracks?”

 

“Of course we looked for tracks!” Joe snapped. “There’s been too many people in and out of here all day for us to pick up anything unusual. The person who took Cochise had to have left here within the past hour, but I can’t find a trace of them.” He put his head in his hands, the tears starting to trickle down his cheeks.

 

Ben pulled Joe to his feet, and braced a strong arm around the slim shoulders. “We’ll find your horse, son,” he said gently. “And then we’ll see the person who’s been behind all of this gets punished to the fullest extent of the law.”

 

“I don’t think we need to worry about taking him in to the law, Pa,” Joe growled angrily, but he leaned into the man’s strength. “I’ll kill him first.”

 

Ben gave Joe a gentle shake. “No, you won’t Joe. You’ve been taught better than that. I don’t care who’s behind these incidents. We’re going to let Roy Coffee handle it. Do you understand?”

 

 

Joe sighed heavily. “I understand, Pa,” he ground out reluctantly. “But I don’t have to like it.” He stood up, pushing his father’s arm off his shoulders. “I think I’m going up to my room. Don’t feel hungry for dinner any more.”

 

Ben turned wise eyes on his youngest son. “You don’t have to like it to know that it’s right, Little Joe,” he said gently. He watched the young man turn away sadly, the shoulders slumped with anxiety. He felt the sudden surge of anger in his own heart when he thought of the person who was willfully inflicting such distress on his child. The older man struggled to fight back that rage that threatened to consume him. He knew that if he couldn’t conquer his hatred he would have a hard time following his own restrictions. With a heavy heart he, too, returned to the ranch house.

 

~*~**~*~**~*~

 

The bay gelding had a smooth gait and was a well-trained mount, after all Joe had worked with the animal since he had first broken him to a saddle. But the horse wasn’t Cochise, and Joe fretted over his lost horse with a fierce intensity. The search for the missing horse had proved to be fruitless. There were no clues and no leads to be found. Joe mindlessly went about his chores on the ranch, but his smile had disappeared.

 

After a long day of searching for strays, Joe headed for home, still puzzling over the mysterious events that had plagued his life for the last several weeks. He was convinced that they were all connected, and had been since the beginning. It had taken the loss of his gun and his horse to convince his family that Joe wasn’t jumping at shadows. Lost in thought, Joe realized that he was near the grove where his mother lay buried.

 

On impulse he rode to her tombstone and dismounted. Behind him the lake sparkled in the waning sunlight. Joe knelt next to his mother’s grave, in a position that was familiar to him from long years of crouching in the same spot. He bent his head to say a prayer and halted suddenly. His breathing stilled and he reached slowly for a small package wrapped in oilskin paper that was lying next to Marie Cartwright’s headstone.

Joe knew without being told that the package was for him. The person who had been leaving messages and gifts had already demonstrated a great depth of knowledge about the youngest Cartwright. This was Joe’s favorite spot. It was a foregone conclusion that anything left here would eventually find its way into Joe’s hands. He fingered the paper, working at the leather string that held it closed. A thin finger of dread was working its way up his spine when the paper finally fell open revealing a folded slip of paper and a lock of black and white horse hair.

 

Joe blanched as he read the note. “If you care for your horse, be at the line shack on the Upper Rim at midnight Friday. Come alone and tell no one.” He gently handled the little lock of horse hair. It was obvious that the hair had been snipped from the pinto’s coat.

 

Joe’s mind raced frantically. His father had only reluctantly allowed him to do his ranch chores without an escort today. It had taken days of coaxing and convincing the older man that he should be allowed to leave the ranch house, and several days more than that to get to the point where he didn’t have an appointed shadow. He knew for a fact that his father wasn’t going to want him meeting his foe alone and in the middle of the night. Joe’s face hardened. This was his fight, and he wasn’t going to take a babysitter to the meeting.

 

He straightened abruptly and moved to his horse. Once again, the pang of missing Cochise swept through him and his resolve hardened once again. Riding toward home, Joe began to plan how he could get out of the house without his family being aware of his movements.

 

~*~**~*~**~*~

 

Joe feigned a huge yawn and allowed his eyes to droop sleepily. He propped his booted feet up on the square table in front of the fire and let his eyes close all the way.

 

Ben looked up from his book, a frown creasing his forehead. Joe had been quiet all evening, and his father was concerned that the events of the past few weeks were weighing heavily on his son’s mind. He grimaced at the sight of the boots on the table, and cleared his throat loudly. “Joe, if you’re that tired, go on up to bed,” he said firmly. “Otherwise, I want those feet off the table.”

 

Joe sat up sheepishly and moved his feet. “I guess I am kinda tired, at that, Pa. I think I will go on up to bed,” he replied quietly. Bidding his father and brothers good night, he meandered up the stairs slowly. With a sigh of relief he shut his bedroom door quietly, and flopped down on the bed. He hoped that his nervousness hadn’t been apparent to the men downstairs. Now all he had to do was kill the time until the older members of the household went to sleep.

 

Down in the great room, the three remaining men exchanged glances. “Joe seemed quiet tonight,” Adam remarked to no one in particular. “I think this thing is finally getting to him.”

 

“Aw, Adam, you know he misses that horse somethin’ fierce,” Hoss said in concern. “If anything has happened to him, Joe won’t be fit to live with.”

 

Ben nodded morosely. “I’ve had just about enough of this, as well. I don’t like the idea of someone sneaking around this ranch with not one person able to spot a trace of him.”

 

Adam nodded, a trace of anger evident in his dark eyes. “Especially since this person appears to have quite a grudge against Joe.”

 

“Don’t worry, Pa,” Hoss put in optimistically. “Adam and I’ll find ‘im, and then we’ll take him into Virginia City to talk to Roy.”

 

The older man nodded his head gratefully, but his eyes remained clouded with worry. Snapping his book shut suddenly, he stood and stretched. “I think I’ll go on up, too,” he remarked. “I think I need some shut-eye as much as Joe does.” He headed up the stairs slowly, leaving behind two worried men.

 

~*~**~*~**~*~

 

Peering out into the dark night, Joe carefully eased up the wooden frame of the window in his bedroom. He held his breath as the wood squealed a little under the pressure, but then relaxed as it began to move silently. He had many years of practice at slipping out of this window into the darkness, but each time felt like the first, as he lifted his leg over the sill, his heart in his mouth, his breath exhaling in relief as he made it over without a sound.

 

Carefully following the path that he had created many years earlier, Joe tiptoed over the roof line, and then slipped nimbly over the edge at just the right spot. He landed softly, little puffs of dirt eddying up from the dusty yard as his boots connected with the earth. Moving swiftly, but still silently, he eased open the door to the barn and, in minutes, he was leading his temporary mount out into the night. He sorely missed Cochise at this time. The black and white horse had been his constant companion on almost all of his nighttime jaunts, and seemed to sense when to move silently, and when to pick up his speed. It was only when they were well out of ear shot of the ranch that Joe mounted the bay horse and touched his heels to its silky flanks. Moving as fast as he dared in the dark, moonless night, he headed in the direction of the line shack on the Upper Rim.

 

Hours later, as the sky was at its darkest, just before the shifting hues would melt into the dawn, Joe approached the line shack. He swayed in the saddle, a wave of exhaustion overtaking him. He hadn’t slept in the last twenty four hours, and the ride to the line shack had been grueling. He knew that he was hours late for the appointed meeting, but he hoped that his mysterious tormentor would still be waiting for him. At the very least, he hoped to find some clue as to the whereabouts of his beloved horse.

 

Joe pulled the horse to a stop several yards from the little shack, taking care to stay in the thickest part of the trees that surrounded the one room building. He tethered the horse to a tree and crept forward on foot. He could see no signs of life anywhere near the little shack, no trace of smoke, or signs that a human had been near the place in a while. Joe felt his spirits plummet again as he realized that he might have missed the person who summoned him, and Cochise might be lost to him forever.

 

He crept to the edge of the shack and peered around at the door. The snap of a twig made him whirl around, but a sharp blow to the back of his head halted the motion. Pain exploded in his head sending a shower of white stars dancing in front of his vision. With a soft moan, he crumpled to the ground and the world went dark.

 

~*~**~*~**~*~

 

Dawn spread its light across the sky, and the Ponderosa stirred, stretched and came to life once more. Hop Sing hastened to his kitchen and soon tempting smells wafted through the house. Hoss sniffed appreciatively and hurried down the stairs, still buttoning his shirt, in his haste to reach the food. Adam followed at a more sedate pace, every button fastened neatly, his hair combed perfectly and a serene look on his face. Ben sat in his familiar place at the head of the table, a cup of coffee firmly planted in his hand.

 

The silver-haired man smiled a greeting at his sons, and offered the coffee pot to them. “Morning, boys! Did you stop in to wake up Joe?” he asked Hoss.

 

The big man groaned. “I forgot, Pa,” he said regretfully, his hand hovering over a steaming platter of hot cakes that Hop Sing had brought to the table. “Can I get him in a few minutes, please? I’m hungry enough to eat a horse this morning.”

 

Ben frowned. “You can wait a few minutes to eat, Hoss. Now go upstairs and wake that rascal up. Those hot cakes will still be here when you get back.”

 

He smiled in amusement as Hoss reluctantly got up from the table and headed back up the stairs. The smile faded abruptly when a shout echoed through the house. “Pa, Adam, he’s gone!”

 

Ben and Adam pushed back their chairs abruptly and quickly flew up the stairs. They collided in the hallway with Hoss, who was heading back down. Pushing past the others, Hoss left the house at a trot, opening the barn door and disappearing inside. By the time Ben had checked Joe’s empty room, and started back down the stairs, Hoss was back, his face screwed up in a worried frown.

 

“There’s a horse missing, Pa. The one Joe’s been using the past couple of days.” Hoss turned worried eyes on his father.

 

 

Ben’s face displayed a curious mixture of fury and anxiety. Under any other circumstances Hoss and Adam would have found it comical to see their father wrestling with the emotions created by their younger brother. All three of the older Cartwrights were more concerned about Joe’s mysterious stalker than they had let on. It was just like Joe to be so foolish as to leave in the middle of the night when he knew that someone was trying to hurt him. Without a backward glance at the laden table, the Cartwrights grabbed their guns and hats and headed for the barn.

 

~*~**~*~**~*~

 

It was a constant plopping sound that dragged Joe back from the blackness that had consumed him. Somewhere in the distance water was dripping. He struggled to open his eyes to find the source of the annoying noise. The fleeting hope that Hoss was playing a practical joke on him raised his spirits momentarily, but were quickly dashed when he tried to move. The splinters of pain that danced in his abused head were enough to convince him that his brother wasn’t involved. A muffled groan escaped Joe’s lips as he tried to pull himself upright. He realized quickly that his hands were secured tightly behind his back and no amount of tugging and wriggling loosened the bonds that held him.

 

He blinked several times, trying to clear his vision, but suddenly realized that he was lying in a dark cavern. It was the lack of light that hampered his vision, not the lingering effects of his head injury. Hesitantly, his body protesting every movement, Joe pulled himself upright. He leaned back against the rough stone walls of the cave and took a deep breath in an attempt to still his racing heart. For the first time, Joe regretted the impulsive gesture that brought him to face his tormentor alone. He knew his father was going to be furious when he found out that Joe was missing.

 

“Hello, Joe.” The voice was a whisper in the darkness, and Joe’s eyes struggled desperately to pierce the darkness that kept the speaker hidden from his sight. “I was afraid that you wouldn’t come”

 

“Who are you?” Joe was dismayed when his voice shook slightly. It wouldn’t do to show fear before he knew who his enemy was. “What do you want from me?”

 

“Retribution.” The single word hissed through the air like a whip crack, and Joe jerked as if he’d been struck.

 

“Retribution for what? Do I even know you?” The curly head turned from side to side. The echoes in the cavern kept him from being sure which direction the voice was coming from, and his eyes were still unable to see the person who spoke.

 

The laugh was shrill, with a tinge of hysteria, as it echoed around Joe. “Know me? I think you know me, Joe. You haven’t guessed, have you? I was sure you’d know who I was by now.”

 

For the first time, Joe was aware that the speaker was a woman, and he peered intently to his left as the voice drew nearer. He was able to make out the figure of a woman moving toward him, but he still couldn’t distinguish her features or determine her age, or her hair color. He waited, wide eyed, the chill of the cavern combining with a thread of fear to produce a slight tremor in his aching muscles. Closer and closer, the woman moved, she seemed to glide through the darkness with an effortless grace, and to Joe’s confused vision, it appeared as if she were floating through the air. The tremors in his muscles gave way to outright shaking, and he drew in his breath sharply. The woman did seem familiar. With a gasp, he recognized her, just as she spoke.

 

“It’s me, Joe. Mary Sue.” And the woman leaned close and kissed Joe fully on the lips.

 

~*~**~*~**~*~

 

Little Joe huddled against the cold stone walls of the cavern. The air was damp and chill, and he shivered in his green jacket. The flickering light of the single lamp did little to dispel the darkness, and he struggled to keep an eye on Mary Sue’s movements around the little chamber. She had a tiny fire blazing, but the warmth was minimal, and it was too far away to warm him. He could smell something cooking in the pot that hung over the blaze, but so far, his captor had offered him nothing to eat or drink. Soft footsteps alerted him to Mary Sue’s return. She had stepped out of the little cave a few minutes earlier, and was now coming back along the passage that led to his place of imprisonment.

 

Joe struggled to pierce the shadows that enshrouded the opening to the passageway and was rewarded by the sight of a slim figure looming in the darkness. He was amazed at the change in Mary Sue. A once-proud beauty, who would only wear the best clothing and accessories, the figure he was confronted with now was tattered and dirty. Her hair hung limply around her face, and her gown was ripped in places. Where once Mary Sue had been pleasingly curved, she was now gaunt and worn. Time had not treated her well. But the biggest change was in her eyes. Joe had dated Mary Sue casually, and they had maintained a friendship after the romance had died a natural death. At that time her eyes had been soft, sparkling with a flash of fun on occasion. She could be arrogant and a trifle haughty, but her eyes had been beautiful. Now they flashed a cold hatred, cloaked with the shadow of madness.

 

Little Joe shivered as his tormentor drew near. “What are you going to do now, Mary Sue?” he asked softly. “You know you can’t keep me here forever. My Pa and brothers will be out looking for me, and you’re wanted by the Sheriff for what happened last year. Why don’t you just let me go, and I’ll forget I’ve ever seen you?”

 

Mary Sue threw back her head and a wild laugh filled the air. “Let you go, Little Joe? I’ve been working for a year to come up with the perfect way to make you pay for what you did to my family, and you think I’m just going to let you walk away? You’re stupider than I thought.” The tattered woman crouched down next to Joe, her face inches away from his. “You and I are going to have a lot of time together, Joe. I’m going to enjoy making you pay for what you’ve done.”

 

Joe pulled away from the woman; the madness in her eyes was unnerving. He tugged futilely on the tight ropes at his wrists, but the rope was new and didn’t budge as he twisted and pulled at it. “I didn’t do anything,” he insisted. “I was innocent and you knew it. You’re the one who filed the false charges against me.”

 

 

Mary Sue spat in Joe’s face, her eyes glittering with hatred. “You killed my father!” she screamed hysterically. “You destroyed my family. And now I’m going to kill you and see your family torn apart the way mine was.” She surged to her feet, moving away from the bound man at her feet.

 

Joe followed her with his eyes. He wanted to protest his innocence, but he knew she wouldn’t listen. He could feel her saliva dripping down his cheek and the urge to wipe it away was overwhelming. He struggled to bring his cheek to his shoulder, allowing the rough fabric of his corduroy jacket to absorb most of the moisture. He knew he was in serious trouble, and once again he berated himself for heading out on his own. His father and brothers wouldn’t even know where to start the search for him. He could be dead and buried by the time Mary Sue was caught. Closing his eyes, Joe leaned his head back against the stone wall of the cavern. He had to come up with some sort of plan, or he was a dead man.

 

~*~**~*~**~*~

 

Three saddle-weary men rode toward the Ponderosa ranch house and slid gratefully from their mounts. They handed off the reins to a waiting ranch hand, who took the horses into the barn for the night. Without a word, the Cartwrights turned and entered their home, their thoughts centered on the missing member of their family. The question of where Little Joe could have gone was first and foremost in each mind. They had been riding since daybreak, and hadn’t turned up a trace of the boy. Ben slumped into his favorite chair and buried his head in his hands. He felt a consoling arm on his shoulder and looked up to see Adam and Hoss hovering over him.

 

“We’ll find him, Pa,” Hoss’s voice was comforting, but his eyes betrayed his lack of confidence.

 

“He’s right, Pa. Joe’s out there somewhere, we’ll find him tomorrow,” Adam chimed in. The dark eyes were shadowed with weariness and something else. He, too, felt uncertain about their chances of finding Little Joe.

 

Ben’s heart lifted at his son’s half-hearted attempts to cheer him up. He, too, doubted whether they would find a trace of Joe. The mysterious person who had been threatening his son had been clever enough to hide any trace of himself so far. It would take a miracle to track him down now. But with Joe’s life hanging in the balance, Ben wouldn’t rest until he traced every available lead. He pulled himself to his feet, his muscles screaming in protest. “Thanks, boys,” he responded with fervor. “I can’t tell you how much it means to me that you haven’t given up hope. Let’s get something to eat, and go to bed early. We’ve got another long day ahead of us tomorrow.”

 

He clapped each son on the back, and left his hands resting on each broad shoulder. Together the three men moved toward Hop Sing’s kitchen.

 

~*~**~*~**~*~

 

Joe walked through a thick fog, his eyes straining to make out shapes in the distance. He tried to bat away the clinging mist, but it just swirled ever thicker before his eyes. With a soft moan, he began to run, his breath coming in harsh gasps. He ran on and on but never came to a place where the fog ended and the real world began. “Pa?” he screamed. “Adam, Hoss? Where are you?” There was no answer to his cries, and he continued to run until the strength left his limbs and he lay in a huddled heap on the ground. Sobs racked his body and he tried again to push away the mist. “Pa?” he whispered desolately. “Help me.”

 

With a jerk, Joe awoke, the nightmare clinging to his mind, refusing to dislodge itself. He bit back the cry that threatened to escape from his lips as he searched the dimly lit cavern for a sight of his tormentor. He stilled as he saw the huddled form next to the fire. Mary Sue was sleeping, a ragged blanket thrown over her tattered dress.

 

With a desperate sense of hope, Joe staggered to his feet, pushing back against the wall of the cave for leverage. His hands were still bound behind his back, but a terrible sense of urgency drove him forward. He ghosted silently across the rough, rock-strewn floor of the cave, every noise he made caused him to stop and check to make sure the woman still slept. He was halfway across the cavern when a skittering sound echoed softly through the chamber. It was followed quickly by the pattering sound of tiny footsteps. He gasped as a large, furry shape dashed in front of his feet, only to disappear into the darkness on the other side of the cave.

 

The noise wasn’t loud, but the rat must have brushed by the sleeping woman, because she stirred and moaned softly, clutching at the blanket as it slipped from her shoulders. As she woke, Joe’s heart sank and he turned to make a mad dash for the door. He had only gotten a couple of steps when the distinctive sound of a gun being cocked echoed through the chamber. It was quickly followed by the explosion of a bullet ripping from the gun, and Joe felt the bullet pass by his cheek, so close that the brush of air rippled across his face. He stopped and turned slowly, his face draining of color as he saw Mary Sue approaching, the hammer of his own gun drawn back, ready to fire a second time.

 

“Leaving so soon, Little Joe?” she queried softly, her face creasing in a wicked smile. “I don’t think so. You wouldn’t want to be so rude to an old friend, would you?” She gestured with the gun, making sure that Joe could see that her finger never left the trigger. Her face tightened into a snarl. “Now, get back over there and sit down, and don’t try leaving again.”

 

Joe complied with her orders, his heart sinking in his chest. “What do you expect to gain from keeping me here?” he asked abruptly as he sank back down on the floor. “Why don’t you just kill me and get it over with?”

 

Mary Sue crouched down in front of him, the gun aimed straight at his heart. “You want to die so soon, Little Joe? I thought it would take a few days with me before you got to that point. You’re giving up too quickly.”   She reached out with one grimy hand and traced the caricature of a caress down his cheek. She smiled at the shudder the gesture drew from him. “What do I expect to gain from this? I expect to gain satisfaction. You ruined my life, Little Joe, and now I’m going to ruin not only your life, but the life of your entire family. I’m going to rip the Cartwrights apart, just as surely as you ripped apart the Hendersons.”

 

She stood abruptly and crossed the little chamber quickly. She stooped to pick up a bag that clanked as it moved. She hauled it back to Joe, dropping it in front of him with a thunk. “I didn’t think I’d have to use these so soon,” she murmured, almost to herself. “But you’ve forced me into it. I’ve got to be able to know that you’ll still be here even if I fall asleep.”

 

 

Joe’s eyes widened as she rummaged in the bag, and his heart hammered in his chest at the distinctive clanking that accompanied her movements. He wasn’t surprised when she drew a set of manacles from the bag, but he couldn’t control the ripple of fear that spread down his spine and raised the hair at the back of his neck. “You’re not going to chain me up!” he exclaimed quickly. “You can’t do this to me, Mary Sue, we were friends once.”

 

Mary Sue’s laugh was wild, the hysterical edge striking straight into Joe’s soul. “Friends! We were never friends, Little Joe. I used you because it was to my benefit to be seen around town with a Cartwright. When I was tired of you, I dropped you. You were always just someone to help me get what I wanted. Friends! Never. And besides, any hope of friendship died right along with my father.”

 

As she continued her demented ranting, Mary Sue was busily fastening the heavy manacles to Joe’s ankles. The chain linking the metal cuffs was only four or five links long, effectively hampering his movements.   With his hands still bound behind his back, Joe would have a difficult time escaping again. She smiled with satisfaction at her handiwork, giving the metal a gentle pat when she was done. Humming softly, she moved back to the fire and huddled up under her blanket.

 

Joe watched in horrified fascination as his hopes of freedom were dashed so easily. He gazed at his tormentor uneasily when she sat unmoving, gazing unblinkingly into the flickering flames. The wild humming did little to settle his nerves, and he closed his eyes to shut out the sight. With a convulsive swallow, he prayed silently that his family would find some trace of him and put an end to his torment.

 

~*~**~*~**~*~

 

The minutes ticked by slowly, inexorably turning into hours, and Joe’s body ached with tension and fatigue. He kept a wary eye on his captor through slitted eye lids. Occasionally he would doze off, but found himself jerking awake every few minutes with every rustle or whisper of sound in the dark cavern. Mary Sue slept by the fire for hours and Joe welcomed the respite from her insane mumbling and eerie humming. He watched uneasily when she finally stirred again, stretching like a cat and rising with a sensuous grace.   The darkness disguised the tattered clothing and softened the gauntness of her frame. Under other circumstances Joe would have admired the beauty of the woman before him, but now he felt only revulsion for the creature Mary Sue had become.

 

Goosebumps rose on Joe’s skin as Mary Sue turned and made her way toward him, a mocking smile on her lips. He kept still until she was once again crouching before him. “How did you manage to take my gun?” he asked abruptly in an effort to deflect anything she might be planning.

 

Mary Sue smiled like a cat before a saucer of cream. “It was so easy!” she exclaimed gloatingly. “You Cartwrights are such simpletons. You never found my hiding place, and I was able to get in your house any time I wanted to. Even that foolish cook of yours never suspected anything.” She laughed mockingly, her eyes gleaming with madness. “I followed you around Virginia City for weeks and you never saw me. I’ve become invisible.”

 

Joe licked his dry lips. It had been more hours than he could count since he’d had anything to eat or drink, and his head swam with dizziness. “Is it worth it?” he choked out finally. “Is revenge worth all of this?”

 

Mary Sue’s eyes grew hard. “It’s worth more than you will ever know,” she replied bitterly. “You took everything away from me, Little Joe. You’re going to die for that.” She stood up abruptly and moved away again.

 

Joe followed her every movement. He hadn’t been the one who pulled the trigger of the gun that had killed her father, but he felt responsible for what had happened, nonetheless. Despair threatened to overwhelm him, and he fought it off. He berated himself mentally for being unable to come up with a plan for his escape. The exhaustion and lack of nourishment were taking their toll on his mental state. His vision wavered and blurred and he blinked in an effort to clear his sight.

 

He watched as his captor knelt before the fire. She threw another log on the fire, and then paused, staring intently into the flames. Joe’s eyes narrowed as he wondered what she was thinking. Her eyes reflected the light of the fire, giving off an eerie glow, and once again, Joe felt his skin crawl.

 

Mary Sue stood abruptly, a burning branch from the fire in her hands. Stalking toward Joe triumphantly, she laughed softly. “I’ve brought you a present, Joe,” she whispered, holding up the flaming branch. Her eyes grew speculative. “How do you think it would feel to burn to death?” she mused softly.

 

Joe blanched as the flaming branch was thrust nearer to him. He tried to escape the heat of the flame by backing away, but was quickly stopped by the wall at his back. “Mary Sue, don’t!” he pleaded desperately. “You can’t do this.”

 

Again Mary Sue laughed her eerie cackle. “I can if I want to Little Joe. Burning would be a fitting punishment for the murder of my father, don’t you think?” She thrust the branch closer, a look of sheer delight on her face as she read the terror in Joe’s eyes.

 

Beads of sweat stood out on Joe’s forehead, his breathing was ragged and harsh. Again he tried to back away from his tormentor, but failed. Wrenching uselessly at the bonds on his wrists, a moan of fear escaped his lips. He felt his face redden from the flames and the smell of scorched hair assaulted his senses.

 

As quickly as she had moved toward him, Mary Sue turned away, the burning torch in her hand forgotten as she trailed back toward her ragged bed in front of the fire. Absently, she tossed the branch into the flames, forgetting its existence before it could be consumed. Without a backwards glance at the shaken young man behind her, she curled up on her blanket and closed her eyes.

 

Joe fought to quiet his breathing, but the panic that remained from Mary Sue’s attack was hard to dispel. His singed lashes were wet with tears as he struggled to regain a measure of calm. *Pa will come soon* he repeated to himself, over and over again. At last exhaustion won out and he slipped into a troubled sleep.

~*~**~*~**~*~

 

 

Joe scraped his bound arms up and down against the rough stone. He felt the strands parting, the bonds loosening with each motion. A shaft of pure joy surged through him when he felt the last thread part with a pop, his hands separating involuntarily. He flexed his numb and bleeding hands in an effort to get the blood circulating through the stiff fingers. Knowing that he had to escape before his tormentor returned, he stood slowly, fighting back the dizziness and nausea that accompanied the movement. Swaying against the wall momentarily, he breathed deeply, trying to will himself to stay calm. Taking first one step and then another, he crossed the small cavern.

 

Just as it seemed freedom was at hand, an ominous rattling sound echoed through the cave. Joe stopped his movements instinctively. He’d grown up knowing what to do in the presence of a rattle snake. Looking down he saw a large distinctively marked snake coiled just before the entrance of the cave. His heart in his throat, Joe froze in fear. He watched in horrified fascination as the snake uncoiled, his feet feeling as if they were encased in lead. The snake struck quickly, sinking its fangs into Joe’s leg, just above the soft leather of his boot. With a scream of agony, he fell, watching helplessly as the snake slithered out of sight. Another movement caught his eye, and Mary Sue loomed over him.

 

“I see you’ve met my little friend. Did you have a nice talk?” she asked simply, a grin of pure pleasure on her face. “I left him there just for you, Joe.”

 

Joe felt the burning pain in his leg spreading throughout his body, and another scream left his throat. Mary Sue’s laugh echoed in the cave, and his last conscious thought was of his family.

 

Joe woke with a scream. The dream had been so real, he ached to clutch his leg to make sure that he hadn’t really been bitten by a snake, but his hands were still tied tightly behind his back. His searching eyes brought him the realization that he was in total darkness. The little fire had burned out and Mary Sue was either gone or asleep. In the total darkness, it was impossible to tell which. Joe guessed that she was gone, his scream would surely have awakened her if she were here.

 

He wondered how long he’d been imprisoned in the cave. It seemed like months, but had probably only been days. He battled against increasing weakness, brought about by the conditions in the cave and the lack of nourishment. Mary Sue had given him only tiny amounts of water and little food. His dreams were becoming increasingly vivid and confused, and Joe prayed desperately for help. He didn’t know how much more of this he could take. He bitterly wished that he had taken his father into his confidence, and not gone off without telling anyone. It had seemed like the best idea at the time, but he now knew how wrong he’d been. He hoped he lived to offer his apologies to his family.

 

Once again, Joe felt the lure of unconsciousness beckoning him. With nothing to keep him anchored to reality, he allowed himself to disappear into its depths. Time passed inexorably onwards, but Joe had ceased to care.

 

~*~**~*~**~*~

 

Ben rode toward the abandoned mineshaft, a sense of foreboding overriding all other emotions. He had been searching for his youngest son for over a week now, and there hadn’t been a trace of Joe anywhere. Adam and Hoss were completely worn out from searching, spending every waking moment in the saddle. Ben felt older than his years, his joints aching and every muscle stiff from the hours in the saddle and too little rest. His heart was heavy with worry and fear for his son. And now he had one more spot to search. This mineshaft appeared to be like all the others that he had seen so far. The Ponderosa was dotted with these gaping dark holes, the remnants of a prospector’s faded dream. Ben’s search for Joe had taken him into far more of these nooks and crannies than he cared to remember now, but he doggedly continued to search every conceivable place where a person, or a body, could be hidden.

 

The opening loomed large and dark before him, the timbers half-rotted and creaking ominously as he passed beneath them. He could hear the creaks and sighs of the wood as it shifted with the rhythms of the earth. Ben held his breath as a trickle of dirt fell from the ceiling spraying him with minute particles of rock and dust. Going ever deeper into the mine, he called Joe’s name over and over, hoping against hope that he would at last find his son. Something spurred him onward, and he couldn’t put a name to the emotion that drove him. Holding aloft the makeshift torch that he had scrabbled together at the entrance to this gloomy hole, Ben peered into every corner. As he rounded a bend in the mine, his heart leapt to his throat. Ahead of him he spied a splash of color against the somber darkness of the mine. A touch of green trailing into the whiteness of a human hand. Rushing forward, his heart hammering madly, Ben knelt next to the fallen body of his son. With a cry of anguish he felt for a pulse and found none. Joe lay waxen and lifeless, his eyes closed, his features slack. It was obvious he’d been dead for some time. Cradling his son’s body in his shaking arms, Ben loosed an agonized cry that seemed to tear from the depths of his soul.

 

He felt rough hands shaking him, and heard his name being called over and over. Waking abruptly from his dream, he found himself looking into the worried eyes of his oldest son. Shivering slightly in reaction, Ben sat up slowly and found himself on the settee in front of the fire. It was late, and he must have dozed off before he could make his way up to bed. Rubbing his eyes with a rough hand, he blinked, trying to shake off the dream.

 

“Are you all right, Pa?” Adam’s voice was concerned, his eyes shadowed with fatigue and worry. “You screamed and I was worried about you. That must have been some dream.”

 

Ben smiled shakily and patted Adam’s hand. “I’m fine, son.” His words lacked conviction and he buried his face in hands.

 

Adam felt a flash of fear as he watched his strong father crumple before his eyes. Feeling helpless, he moved to sit down beside the older man, and wrapped a gentle arm around his shoulders. “Would it help to talk about it?” he asked quietly, knowing from long experience with Joe that sometimes talking helped to dispel the nighttime terrors.

 

Ben lifted his eyes to survey his son, and managed a weak smile. He took a deep breath and murmured, “I found him. I found Joe, but he was already dead. I held his body in my arms.”

 

Adam shuddered at the thought, and tightened his grip on his father’s shoulders. “It sounds horrible, but it was just a dream, Pa. That’s all it was, a dream. We’ll find him, I promise.”

 

“It’s been over a week with no word, no trace, nothing, Adam. I don’t think we can be certain that we’ll find him alive.” Ben’s eyes were bleak, and his voice betrayed his fading hope.

 

Adam closed his eyes against the sight of the pain in his father’s face. “We’ll find him,” he repeated doggedly. “And he’ll be alive. You can’t give up now, Pa. You just can’t.”

 

Ben smiled grimly. “I won’t give up until I find him. Someone has him and they’ll pay for what they’ve done.” The sights and sounds of his dream surged up again, and he shivered. “I dreamed I found him in an abandoned mine shaft. Have we looked at all of them?”

 

Adam stopped to consider. “We’ve checked most of them, Pa. But there’s always the chance that we’ve missed something. And there are a lot of caves in the upper reaches that could be used to hide someone. That is if he’s on the Ponderosa at all.” He stopped suddenly, not wanting to broach the thought that Joe might have been spirited away where they would never find him.

 

Ben stood up suddenly. “That settles it. In the morning we’ll start searching all the mine shafts and cave systems again. Put every available man on it, Adam. We must have missed something.” He moved toward the stairs, pulling Adam along with him. “Get some sleep, son. We’ll have another long day ahead of us tomorrow.”

 

As the men ascended the stairs, they were both lost in thought. Hope flared anew in Ben’s heart. At least he had a focus again. He stopped in front of Adam’s bedroom door and faced the dark-haired man. “Thank you, Adam. I appreciate all you’ve done.” He pulled Adam into a brief embrace, more than his reserved oldest son would usually tolerate.

 

Adam returned the embrace, letting his guard drop for once, as he sensed his father’s desperate need for reassurance. “I haven’t done anything you wouldn’t do for me, Pa,” he replied quietly. “We’ll find him.”

 

 

Taking comfort in his son’s strength, Ben smiled and turned toward his own room. Adam was right. They would find him.

 

~*~**~*~**~*~

 

Joe woke again, his knowledge of the passing of time growing blurred. He had no idea how long he’d been held a prisoner. The days and nights had gotten all mixed up in his head. Mary Sue was deliberately keeping him with very little food and water, and Joe’s body felt limp and lethargic. His thoughts moved sluggishly and he had trouble focusing on anything for long. He didn’t realize that what he felt was a combination of despair and malnourishment, and he berated himself for being unable to defeat this woman who held him.

 

Mary Sue’s year in hiding had obviously warped her mind, and Joe could see the signs of madness every time she looked at him. Her touch made him shudder in revulsion and he found himself flinching away from her when she came near him. Of course this made the bedraggled woman chuckle in insane amusement at her power over this once proud man.

 

Even now, Joe heard her stirring around in some far corner of the dark cavern, and he wondered vaguely what she was doing. He heard her footsteps drawing near him, and something inside him snapped. He felt a sudden surge of hatred well up within him and it consumed his entire being. His body shook with the effort, but he levered himself to his feet and stood waiting for his tormentor.

 

Mary Sue’s eyes widened when she saw Joe on his feet, she had begun to believe that all the fight had drained out of her former friend. Her jaw tightened in anger and she clutched a jagged piece of wood firmly in her hand. Her intent had been to build up the fire, but she wasn’t above using it as a weapon if she had to.

 

Joe stood silently, watching her come toward him, his face impassive. He could feel the fine tremors that racked his entire body, but he ignored them, concentrating instead on how much he hated the creature that Mary Sue had become. When she stood before him, he glared at her, hoping to intimidate her with his anger. “Let me go, Mary Sue,” he ordered loudly. “This has gone on long enough. You’ve had your revenge, you’ve kept me here, made my family crazy with worry. It should be enough.”

 

Mary Sue laughed eerily and spit in Joe’s face. “It won’t be enough until I see you dead, Little Joe!” she rasped. “And from the way you look right now, I don’t think that’s going to be long.”

 

She waved the rough wood threateningly. “Now sit down like a good boy, Joe. You don’t want to get hurt, do you?”

 

The exaggerated leer on her once-pretty face made Joe’s stomach lurch. He felt his anger being replaced by panic, and he squelched that emotion quickly. He couldn’t afford to fall apart now. Drawing himself up to his full height, ignoring the screams of protest from his abused muscles, he glared back at Mary Sue. “I want you to get these chains off my legs, Mary Sue. And I want you to do it now,” he said commandingly. “I’m tired of your games and I want to take my horse and go home.”

 

Mary Sue cackled again. “Your horse! That black and white thing! I killed that miserable beast the first night I stole it from your barn.”

 

Joe’s heart contracted and his vision disappeared in a rush of scarlet. “Cochise!” The anger and pain in his voice were terrible to hear, and Mary Sue stepped back a pace involuntarily. “You can’t have killed Cochise!”

 

Joe moved forward, his rage overriding his common sense. The manacles at his ankles hampered his steps and he stumbled, but pulled himself upright again. He headed toward the woman who had dared to touch his horse, murder in his eye. The fact that his hands were still tied tightly behind his back had been lost beneath the depths of his fury.

 

Mary Sue raised her weapon, panic in her eyes. She had never thought Joe capable of such anger, and she was afraid of what he would do, in spite of his bonds. As he reached her, she raised the wood and brought it down on his head with all her strength. Joe blinked at her in surprise, but his anger kept him standing. He advanced another step, and Mary Sue hit him again. This time he crumpled to his knees, unable to take the second blow on his already abused body.

 

Joe looked up, blood streaming from a deep wound in his scalp, the scarlet stream leaching onto the dirty green of his jacket. “What are you doing?” he whispered shakily. “Stop it, Mary Sue.”

 

But the sight of Joe’s blood appeared to have completely removed the last vestige of Mary Sue’s sanity. With a shout of triumph, she raised her hands again and again, until Joe sprawled at her feet, blood puddling from a horrific collection of wounds, his eyes closed and his breathing shallow. Coming to her senses, Mary Sue surveyed her handiwork with satisfaction. Joe Cartwright was dead, or close to it. Her work was done. Humming, her breath coming in deep gasps, she turned away without another look, and began to gather her few, ragged belongings. Now all that remained was to leave and begin her new life.

 

~*~**~*~**~*~

 

Ben Cartwright rode doggedly, his face set in a determined mask. He was going to find his son at all costs, and the sense that time was running out had been growing steadily throughout the last several days. Joe’s life force was flickering, and his father knew it. He urged Buck forward toward yet another dark hole in the hills of the Ponderosa. He had lost count of the number of such places he had visited, but this one looked vaguely familiar. Ben passed a weary hand over his eyes. Of course it looked familiar, didn’t they all look alike? Hoss, Adam, and every available hand on the Ponderosa were conducting similar searches all around the area. They were all stretched to the limits of their endurance, and Ben knew that it would soon be time to call off the search.

 

Dismounting by the yawning opening of the cavern, Ben threw Buck’s reins over a bush that nestled next to the entrance. With a fond pat for the buckskin, he made his way into the interior of the cave, stopping only long enough to fashion a rough torch out of some debris by the cave entrance. Again a nagging sense of familiarity nagged at Ben’s mind, but he dismissed the thoughts out of hand. Moving deeper into the dark, narrow passageway, Ben listened to the creaks and moans of the cave, the natural sounds a counterpoint to the absolute darkness that encroached on the flickering edges of the torchlight.

 

Moving slowly forward, Ben held the torch aloft, intermittently calling his youngest son’s name. Receiving no response, he moved further into the bowels of the earth. Abruptly the narrow passageway widened into a small cavern, the torch light lost in the open space. With a weary sigh, Ben decided to make a circuit of the cavern and then return to his horse. Yet another dead end, he decided. It was as he came to this decision, that his foot struck the remains of a campfire, metal utensils still strewn about next to the cold ashes. Crouching hastily to examine his find, Ben sifted the ashes speculatively. They were cold, but not as old as he would have imagined. He lifted the torch a little higher, and saw a few ragged pieces of cloth in a heap next to a pallet of branches and leaves. Obviously a drifter had been using the cave as a place of residence. Another bundle of cloth caught his attention and he straightened, striding across the open space quickly. With a strangled cry, he recognized the vision from his dream, a white hand encased in a dirty green sleeve. Dropping to his knees, he groped for the wrist, cold dread freezing his blood in his veins. “Joe?” His voice was tremulous, and his hand shook and he listened for a pulse.

 

It was there, faint, thready, but present. Joe was still alive, at least momentarily. His skin was cool and clammy, and his hand lay limply in his father’s grasp. “Joe!” Ben’s voice was jubilant. Gathering the bundle of rags that was his son into his arms, a sob burst from his throat. “Oh, son, what have they done to you?” Ben stood, the torch dropping to the ground as he rose. In the sudden darkness, Ben hesitated. His need to get Joe into the sunlight overrode everything else and he moved forward cautiously, feeling his way along the rough-hewn walls.

 

The journey seemed to take forever, and Ben paused more than once to rest, propping himself and his precious burden up against the stone. After many heart-pounding minutes, he emerged, blinking, into the sunlight. Moving to a clearing near the entrance to the cave, Ben stooped and deposited the body of his son gently onto the ground. Crouching next to the limp form, Ben got his first glimpse of the extent of Joe’s injuries. At first sight, his youngest son appeared to be bleeding from every point on his body. As the older man frantically tried to wipe away the worst of the stains from Joe’s face, he realized that the bleeding appeared to be concentrated around Joe’s head and shoulders.

 

A frisson of fear lanced through him as he took in the damage done to his son. Rising hastily, he grabbed a canteen off of Buck’s saddle, and moved back to Joe. Propping a strong arm under the thin shoulders of Joe’s emaciated frame, he held the canteen to the boy’s lips. “Come on, Joe, try and drink,” he murmured quietly. “Don’t give up on me now.”

 

At first the water trickled back out of Joe’s mouth, but then with a weak cough, Joe swallowed reflexively, and then again, with a little more intensity. Ben smiled in relief, and patted Joe’s shoulder as he pulled away the canteen. “Not too much all at once, son. We’ve got to take it slow.”

 

He laid Joe down again, and then moved as far away from the battered body as he felt comfortable. Raising his gun high in the sky, he fired twice, waited a few seconds and then fired twice again. Hoping that at least one of the ranch hands was within hearing distance, Ben hurried back to his son. Patting Joe’s cheek gently, he crooned, over and over. “Joe! Joe, wake up. Joe.”

 

At last, the worried father had the response he had been waiting for. Joe stirred and moaned, his eyes clenching tightly in pain. “Pa?” The words were a thready whisper of sound that Ben had to strain to hear.

 

Again, Ben gathered Joe’s battered body into his strong arms, sitting behind his son and holding him close against his chest. “Hold on to me, Joe,” he said quietly. “Pa’s here.”

 

Joe sighed, his breath hitching in his chest, as he nestled closer to his father’s broad chest. He didn’t speak, but within minutes his breathing eased slightly, and the lines of pains lightened on his face.

 

Instinctively, Ben tightened his hold, cradling his son as if he were still a child. They sat that way for a long time, until the distant clatter of hooves indicated that someone had heard his signal. He waited impatiently until the rider came into view. With a shout of joy, he recognized Adam’s black-clad figure.

 

 

Adam almost threw himself from Sport’s back in his haste to reach the pair sitting in front of the cave. “Pa! Is Joe . . . ?” Adam’s voice trailed off as he knelt before Joe’s tattered figure. Reaching out with a trembling hand, he brushed a knuckle gently down Joe’s battered cheek.

 

“He’s alive, but barely.” Ben’s response was quick, in an effort to reassure Adam. “We’ve got to get him home and get Doc Martin to him quickly. He can’t hold on much longer, he’s lost so much blood, and I can feel his fever right through his jacket.”

 

Adam’s jaw tightened as he fought for control of his emotions. “I’ll help you get him up on Buck, Pa, and then I’ll go for the Doc. We’ll meet you back at the Ponderosa.”

 

Ben nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He waited until Adam had gathered the frail form in his arms, and then he rose stiffly, stretching to ease the tension from his body. Quickly mounting Buck, he reached to pull Joe from Adam’s waiting arms. Ben noticed that Joe never showed any signs of awareness of the movement, and it both worried him and pleased him that his son was spared further pain.

 

Once Joe was safely stowed in his father’s arms, Adam allowed himself one final pat of the booted foot. Then he turned and gracefully vaulted into Sport’s saddle. With a final tip of his hat, he urged the horse to a gallop, leaving his father to move forward at a more sedate pace.

 

The trip home was grueling. Ben felt every jolt and bump in the trail vicariously as Joe twisted and moaned in his arms. Joe never completely regained consciousness and seemed to be caught in a haze of nightmares. At times he sat passively in his father’s arms, while at other times he fought against an unseen tormentor. It was at those times that Ben had to use all his strength to hold Joe in the saddle. He rode steadfastly forward, exhaustion threatening to overcome him. To keep himself awake and Joe calm, Ben kept up a constant soft crooning, without really hearing what he said. Joe would clench and moan, and Ben would tighten his grip, whispering endearments. “Easy, son. We’re almost home,” he said over and over.

 

 

Only once did Joe open his eyes fully, his wide green gaze bewildered and blinking in the bright sunlight. “Pa?” he asked softly, his voice thready and weak. “Are you really here? Am I dreaming again?”

 

Ben’s heart cramped in his chest at the pitiful words. He pulled Joe back against him tightly and freed a hand to gently stroke Joe’s arm. “It’s not a dream, Joe. I’m here, and we’re almost home.”

 

Joe didn’t answer, but he sighed contentedly and closed his eyes once again. Ben noted with relief that they were finally within sight of the ranch house, and he was greeted by the welcoming sight of Adam, astride Sport, racing into the yard alongside of Doc Martin’s buggy.

 

With many questions left unanswered, but with a profound gratitude that he had found his son, Ben rode slowly toward the hitching post in front of the house. He allowed Adam to pull Joe from his arms and dismounted quickly to join the waiting men. Together they moved into the house, the doctor leading the way toward Joe’s room.

 

~*~**~*~**~*~

 

Adam made his way carefully along the hallway, still breathless from his trip up the stairs with his precious burden. He watched as Ben moved ahead of him to fling open the door for the doctor. Paul went immediately to the dresser to set up his instruments, while Adam deposited his brother’s limp form on the bed. Working silently, Adam began to strip off Joe’s boots while Ben bent to try and pull the torn and bloody jacket from Joe’s shoulders. Noticing that his father was having trouble with the jacket, Adam finished quickly and moved to help with the task. The vicious attack had left Joe bleeding copiously from a myriad of wounds. Whatever weapon had been used, it had apparently had a protruding nail of some kind. The wounds were deep and cloth fibers had been driven into Joe’s flesh.

 

When the two men had finally managed to remove the jacket, Ben struggled to pull the remains of the tattered shirt from Joe’s body. Adam turned to get a basin of water, seeing that the shirt was stuck to the wounds with a crust of dried blood. It seemed to take forever, as the two men labored over their work. The only signs of consciousness from Joe were an occasional soft moan, or the twitch of a finger. When the shirt was at last removed, the three men got their first look at the extent of Joe’s injuries. Ben’s face paled, and he clutched Adam’s arm convulsively.

 

Adam sucked in a deep breath, and struggled to school his face into a bland mask, but the rage that burned in his eyes was a frightening sight. Joe’s body was a mass of bruises and abrasions. It was apparent that he’d been beaten with a blunt object, and that object had been decorated with a sharp object. His skin was punctured in many places, blood oozing slowly from a welter of small puncture marks. Some of the wounds were shallow, others so deep that the doctor knew many hours of stitching were going to be required.

 

Paul took a long look at the two men who hovered over Joe’s bedside. Ben’s stricken face and Adam’s angry eyes were enough to convince him that his next words were necessary. “I want you two out of the room, please. This is going to take a while and I don’t want you in my way.” He held up a hand to forestall the protests that he knew were coming. “Send Hop Sing up to me please, Ben. I’ll need his help. You go get some coffee and rest. You can come back up in a little while.”

 

Adam made a noise. Obviously he was about to protest the expulsion from the room. Paul spoke quickly to forestall him. “Adam, you’re done in. I want you out of here. You won’t help Joe any if you collapse on the bed while I’m working on him. Now go.”

 

Ben stooped over Joe’s inert body. He reached to caress the still face, looking in vain for an unmarked spot to touch. He contented himself with a gentle touch to Joe’s head. “All right, Paul. I’ll get Hop Sing and I’ll leave for a while, but I’ll be back shortly.” His face was determined and Paul knew that Ben would only obey orders for a short time. The other man’s need to be with his son was a palpable thing.

 

The doctor nodded quietly. “So be it. Now both of you get out of here and let me do my work.” He placed a firm hand on Ben’s arm and escorted him to the door. “Go on, don’t come back until you’ve had a cup of coffee.” He turned and saw Adam still hovering by Joe’s bed. “You too, Adam.”

 

Adam’s eyes were bleak as he surveyed the huddled form of his youngest brother. “You’re going to save him, Doc?”

 

Paul’s own eyes softened, and he rejoined Adam at Joe’s side. “I’m going to do my best, Adam. He’s been to hell and back, but I’ll save him if I can. You know that.”

 

Adam nodded, accepting the promise for what it was, the sense that Joe was in good hands easing his fears a bit. “All right, Paul. I’ll leave. But I’ll be just downstairs if you need me.” He traced the line of Joe’s jaw with a gentle finger. “Hang in there, little buddy,” he whispered before turning to go.

 

Paul waited until the door shut softly behind the grim man in black, then he turned to his patient. Joe’s condition was grave, and the doctor was fully aware that his promise was going to be difficult to keep.

 

~*~**~*~**~*~

 

A firm hand dropped to Adam’s shoulder, squeezing lightly. He looked up blearily to see his father standing over him, his face haggard and drawn. “How’s Joe?”

 

Adam moved as if to rise, but Ben pressed him down firmly, and then rounded the settee to settle himself next to his oldest son. “He’s sleeping. The Doc gave him some pretty strong medication for the pain, and he said that Joe should sleep for quite a while.” He buried his face in his hands, exhaustion washing through every fiber in his body.

 

It was Adam’s turn to put a comforting hand on his father’s shoulder, and he waited patiently for Ben to pull himself together. “What else does the Doc say, Pa? Is Joe . . . ?”

Ben’s head jerked up quickly. “He’s going to be fine.” The vehemence startled both men, and Ben quickly modulated his tone. “Who would do such a thing? Who hated Joe enough to beat him almost to death?”

 

Adam closed his eyes briefly in a futile effort to shut out the sight of his father’s pain. He felt a hot tide of rage course through his body, and he let it happen, drawing strength from his fury. “I’m going to find out.” The words were simple and spoken quietly, but they radiated such cold ferocity that they fairly hissed in the quiet room.

 

Ben’s head jerked up, and he peered at Adam intently. “You’ll stay within the law, Adam. I don’t want you to hang over this. If we find the person, I want you to promise me that you won’t do anything to put yourself in jeopardy.”

 

Adam’s eyes glinted frostily in the light of the fire. “It won’t be *if* we find the person who did this. It’ll be *when*. And *when* I find that person, I’ll try to control myself. But I swear, Pa, when I remember how Joe looked when you found him, I find it hard to keep myself in check.” He stood and paced the room, his wrath prevented him from sitting still any longer. “If Joe dies, then all bets are off,” he concluded. “I’ll go after the animal who did this to him, and I won’t hold back. That’s a promise, Pa.”

 

The sound of footsteps descending the stairs interrupted the two men from their conversation. Doc Martin’s voice preceded him into the room. “He’s not going to die if I have anything to say about it, Adam. He’s in bad shape, fighting infection and fever, but Joe’s a tough kid. I’ve never seen anyone fight harder to stay alive than your little brother. The next twenty four hours will be critical, but if he can hang on that long you can be certain he’ll live.”

 

Ben took a deep breath. “What can we do to help, Paul? What do you need for Joe?” He rose to his full height, sloughing off his own exhaustion in his concern for his son.

 

Paul’s face softened as he looked at his old friend. “You can go to bed. You’re not helping Joe by wearing yourself out. I’ll sit with him for a while, and you can spell me after you’ve gotten some rest.” The doctor scowled fiercely. “But don’t you show your face in Joe’s room until you’ve slept, my friend.”

 

Adam cleared his throat, but before he could utter a word, the doctor hastened to cut him off. “And as for you, Adam. I’m telling you the same thing that I just told your father. I won’t let you near Joe until you’ve had some rest. The two of you are exhausted. You’ve been driving yourself into the ground searching for Joe, and now you’ve got nothing left. Both of you, go to bed.”

 

Ben and Adam exchanged sheepish looks. “It doesn’t look like we’ve got any choice, Pa.” Adam’s words were rueful. “He’s pretty fierce when he’s got a patient.”

 

Ben chuckled softly, but a smile lit up his tired face. “Thanks, Paul. We’ll go to bed, but I’ll see you in two hours. Your authority only carries so far in this house.”

 

Paul clapped the silver-haired man’s shoulder affectionately. “I didn’t figure I’d get that long out of you, Ben.” He shooed the two up the stairs in front of him, looking for all the world like a sheepdog with its flock. “Go on! Get!”

 

It was only when two bedroom doors had closed behind the two weary men that Paul allowed his concern to show through. He headed back to Little Joe’s room to find Hop Sing sitting beside the bed, crooning in Chinese. The two exchanged knowing looks, and then both settled in for a long vigil. Neither was willing to relinquish his post.

 

~*~**~*~**~*~

 

The early morning sun peeked through the windows of Joe’s bedroom. A shaft of light tiptoed across the windowsill and meandered slowly through the room. It touched briefly on the form of a man clothed in black sleeping in a chair. His booted feet propped onto a small night stand. Stretching across the room it lingered on the form of the large man snoring, his back propped against the wall, resting on the floor because the only other chair in the room was filled by the bulk of an older man with silver hair. Dancing giddily across the room, the light glanced across the face of the young man in the bed, causing him to twitch, a sigh escaping his lips as he sleepily brushed the back of one hand across his face.

 

The movement sent shards of pain lancing through Joe’s battered shoulders, and he cried out involuntarily. Three men woke instantly, rising to their feet almost as one.

 

Ben beat his sons to the bed easily, and he leaned over Joe in concern. “Joe? Are you all right, son?” His voice was husky with exhaustion, but his face broke into a triumphant smile when Joe’s eyes opened. “He’s awake,” he cried jubilantly. “And I think his fever’s lower. Hoss get the doctor, please.”

 

Joe looked around in confusion, the sunlight dazzling his eyes, so that he squinted at the shapes hovering over him. “Pa?” The eyes blinked again, and he covered them with his hand. “So bright,” he whispered.

 

“Adam, close the shade,” Ben ordered quickly. “The light’s too much for him.” He moved his bulk so that it blocked the light until Adam drew the drapes shut, dimming the room considerably. “Is that better Joe?”

 

Joe lowered his hand, his gaze unfocused and uncertain. “Another dream,” he murmured. “I’m just dreaming again.”

 

Ben felt a small stab of alarm, and he exchanged worried glances with Adam. “Where is that doctor?” he murmured to himself. He gently took Joe’s hand in his, his fingers searching to find a place that wasn’t marked with a bruise. “You’re home, Joe. It’s not a dream.”

 

Adam moved in close, his eyes sharp with worry. “Joe, who did this to you?” he asked abruptly. “Who beat you like this?”

 

Ben gave Adam a hostile glance. “Not now, Adam, he’s not fully awake yet, and he’s still feverish. Don’t worry him about it yet.”

 

Joe stirred, his gaze focusing for the first time. “Pa? Am I really home?”

 

Ben swallowed, overwhelmed with a sudden flash of anger at the person who had damaged his son both physically and mentally. He struggled to keep his voice warm, hiding the anger as best he could. “You’re home, Joe. We’re all here with you.”

 

The door opened, the sound loud in the stillness of the room. Joe flinched in fear, his hands rising to defend himself from attack. “Don’t let her in here. Don’t let her get me, Pa!” His voice was shrill, and his eyes showed nothing but panic. “She’s crazy, Pa. She’s going to kill me.”

 

“She?” Adam’s voice was bewildered. “Are you saying it was a woman who did this to you? What woman?”

 

Paul Martin strode across the room briskly. “I’m sure Joe’s not up to answering any questions right now, Adam. I want you all to leave me alone with my patient right now. I want to examine the stitches in his back and check his fever. Go have some breakfast and I’ll call you when I’ve got Joe settled.”

 

“But Doc,” Hoss sputtered indignantly. “I ain’t even got a chance to talk to Joe yet. Let me stay with him while you work on him. He needs someone in here with him.”

 

“No, boys!” Ben spoke firmly. “The doc’s right. You two go on downstairs and have some breakfast. We’re upsetting Joe with all these questions. I’ll call you when Paul is finished up here.” Ben’s tone brooked no argument. It was clear to both the doctor and to his sons that they were going downstairs and he was staying in the room.

 

Adam and Hoss reluctantly headed for the door, both moving slowly. When they had finally cleared out of the room, Ben stepped back and allowed Paul to start his examination of Joe, although he hovered protectively close. Joe’s eyes were closed again, and he seemed unaware of the examination. Paul took his time, checking every stitch, bruise and battered spot on Joe’s body. Finally satisfied, he drew the sheet up to Joe’s shoulders and patted the boy lovingly.

 

With a tired sigh, he straightened and stretched, trying to work some kinks from his back. He turned to find Ben watching him expectantly. Taking pity on the worried father, Paul drew the man to the door. “Let’s go down and talk to the boys, Ben. Joe’s going to sleep for a while. I gave him another dose of laudanum and it should keep him out most of the morning.”

 

They descended the stairs to find Hoss and Adam at the breakfast table. In spite of their worry, both had plates piled high with breakfast food set in front of them. Ben chuckled when he saw their expressions. “I see that Hop Sing has been hovering over you again,” he commented, taking his customary seat at the head of the table. He gestured for Paul to sit opposite him, and as if on cue, Hop Sing appeared with the coffee pot and two fresh plates.

They waited while breakfast was urged on them, and soon they were staring at their own loaded plates in amazement. Hop Sing hovered by the kitchen door, and it was clear that he wasn’t budging until he heard what the doctor had to say.

 

Paul heaved a sigh of contentment as the first wave of hot coffee and Hop Sing’s pancakes hit his stomach. Between mouthfuls he updated the waiting family about Joe. “His fever has broken, and the wounds don’t look too bad. A little infection but that’s to be expected. He’ll be in considerable pain for a while. Those bruises are quite extensive. I’ll need to check on those stitches in his back daily, and I’ll take them out in about two weeks if all goes well. On the whole, I’d say that Joe is doing amazingly well considering that he is malnourished and dehydrated on top of his wounds.”

 

The doctor paused to take a breath and gazed back at the four pairs of watching eyes. “I hope you find out who did this and get that animal put in jail. What’s been done to Joe is sick and inhuman. I don’t ever want to see anyone in this condition again.”

 

When he finally finished his impassioned speech, the doctor tucked into his breakfast. Hop Sing’s cooking was too good to let go to waste. He appeared not to notice the bemused expressions on the faces that watched him. Ben wracked his brains but couldn’t remember a time when he’d ever heard Paul sound so vehement about anything. A sudden vision of Joe’s bruised and bloody body flashed through his mind. He nodded his agreement with what the doctor had said. They needed to find the animal who had attacked Joe. Ben knew that he wouldn’t rest until they had, and he was aware that Hoss and Adam felt the same way. It was time to turn the tables on Joe’s stalker.

 

~*~**~*~**~*~

 

The late afternoon sun was riding the sky toward the horizon when the sound of hoof beats was heard in the ranch yard. It was a commonplace sound, but still, Ben stood quickly and crossed to the window. He was seated in Joe’s room, waiting for his son to wake from the doctor’s second dose of laudanum. His eyes widened in amazement when he saw a young girl riding astride a bay mare leading the reins of a distinctive black and white pinto. He heard Adam yelling for him, and saw his two older sons hurrying from the house. Quickly he left the room and headed down the stairs. Arriving in the yard, he found Hoss helping Laura Carson down from her horse and Adam holding Cochise’s lead rein.

 

“Laura,” Ben said pleasantly, a bemused expression on his face. “Where did you get Joe’s horse?”

 

Laura shifted nervously and wiped her palms on her skirt. Her eyes downcast, she said in a soft voice. “I have a confession to make Mr. Cartwright.”

 

The Cartwrights listened silently, waiting for the girl to gather her courage and speak. When she saw that they weren’t going to ask questions, she continued haltingly. “I’ve done a very bad thing. I thought I was helping a friend in a harmless prank, but it turned out to be more than that.”

Adam couldn’t hold still any longer. “What friend? And what prank? You’re going to have to be a little more specific than that.”

 

Laura blanched, her pale skin losing what little color it had. “I bought a pair of spurs at the mercantile. And a neckerchief that Joe had been admiring. A friend asked me to follow Joe around town without him noticing, and to buy anything that he appeared to admire. I thought it was a joke, Mr. Cartwright! I really did. I even slipped something into Joe’s drink at the dance. I didn’t know what it would do to him. You have to believe me.”

 

Ben’s face was stern, his eyes unreadable. “Who asked you to do such a thing, Laura? And what now makes you think it’s not a joke?”

 

“Because that person came to me last night. She was riding Little Joe’s horse and she was . . . was…” Laura’s voice trailed off, and she lifted eyes that reflected her fear. Her voice became a whisper, as she continued. “She was so odd. She was laughing to herself, and humming, and she was so filthy and wild looking. I asked her where she’d gotten Joe’s horse. Everyone knew that Hoss had been looking all over for Cochise, and she just laughed. I was frightened, so I waited until she went to sleep, and then I snuck Cochise out of our barn and hid him. She was furious when she woke up and he was gone. I told her he must have gotten loose and run away, but I don’t know if she believed me or not. She stormed out of my house and I haven’t seen her since this morning.   Then I brought Cochise here.” Laura’s eyes brimmed over with tears, the drops falling down her cheeks unheeded. She paused to wipe them away, bringing her flow of words to an abrupt halt.

 

Adam leapt into the silence with barely concealed impatience, his voice sharp with anger. “Who? You keep saying *she*. Who are you talking about, Laura!”

 

Laura looked at him uncertainly, trying to gauge his temper. “It was Mary Sue Henderson,” she said finally. “She was a friend of mine, so when she asked me to follow Joe I did it.”

 

Three pairs of eyes looked at her in horror. “Mary Sue Henderson!” Hoss’s usually mild mannered face was set in stone. “How could you do anything that Mary Sue asked you to, ma’am, after what she did last year?”

 

Laura looked at him in confusion. “Well, I know she acted badly, but I was out of town for most of the summer. I just assumed that the rumors that I heard were untrue. You know how people exaggerate. She was my friend, and she looked like she needed help. I felt sorry for her.”

 

Ben sighed. “I’m glad you’ve returned Cochise to us, Laura. Joseph will be so pleased to have his horse back. I just wish you’d come to us sooner. It might have saved us all a lot of heartache.”

 

Laura bit back a sob. “I’m sorry, I really am. Please tell Little Joe that I never meant to hurt him. If I’d known what Mary Sue was like now, I’d never have done it.” She turned to go, silently accepting Adam’s assistance as she mounted her horse. With a final sorrowful look, she rode out of the yard, leaving a stunned silence in her wake.

Finally Hoss let out a long, low whistle. “Mary Sue Henderson. What do we do now, Pa?”

 

Adam interrupted before Ben could speak. “We find her and we make sure she suffers as much as Joe.” He saw Ben’s look and hurried to continue. “I know she’s a woman, Pa, but think of Joe. Think of what she put him through. She doesn’t deserve to be treated like a woman anymore. She’s a crazed animal that needs to be put down.”

 

“Let’s find her first, Adam.” Ben replied slowly. “At least we know whom we’re looking for now.” He reached for Cochise’s reins and headed for the barn.

 

Adam and Hoss watched him go. The older man’s need to care for Joe’s horse personally was evident to both of them. Standing shoulder to shoulder, they each made a silent vow to bring Joe’s tormentor to justice.

 

~*~**~*~**~*~

 

Darkness had descended on the Ponderosa, and most of the residents of the sprawling ranch house had retired to bed. Ben sat in the chair by Joe’s bed watching each breath his son took. Joe hadn’t wakened from the doctor’s dose of laudanum, but it was only a matter of time. The sight of the dark bruises standing out in vivid contrast to the pale hue of Joe’s skin made Ben clench his fist in anger. He struggled with the idea that a woman had caused such extensive damage to his son. He remembered Mary Sue Henderson, had watched her grow up in fact. The last time he’d seen her she’d been incoherent with anger over the death of her father and the loss of her reputation in the town. The fact that she held Joe Cartwright directly responsible for both of these occurrences leant credence to the idea that she hated Joe enough to attempt murder.

 

His thoughts turned to Adam and Hoss. Both men had turned in early, in preparation for an early morning departure. They intended to leave in the morning to scour the cave where Joe had been held a prisoner and the surrounding countryside for signs of the missing woman. He was afraid of what Adam might do if he caught the woman. Hoss would never harm a woman, regardless of what she had done, but Adam was another matter. In the heat of the moment, he was very capable of wreaking vengeance on anyone who threatened his family, Little Joe in particular. Ben feared the long-term consequences to his oldest son if he succumbed to those murderous impulses. He knew Adam well enough to know that when he returned to his senses, he would never forgive himself for hurting or killing a woman.

 

The heavy intake of breath from the slight form in the bed alerted Ben to the first stirring as Joe awakened.   He sat up quickly, and reached for the limp hand, cradling it within both of his own. He sat without speaking as Joe twitched and moaned, his eyelids fluttering as he struggled to fight off the effects of the medication. He was rewarded for his patience by the sight of Joe’s eyes gazing at him sleepily.

 

“Hi, Pa.” Joe spoke softly, his voice husky with pain and the aftereffects of the laudanum.

 

Ben smiled, warmth spreading throughout his body as he spoke. “Hi, yourself, son. How are you feeling?” He smoothed the coverlet a little and then grasped Joe’s hand again.

Joe grimaced, “I’ve felt better. You look tired.” He glanced around the room searchingly, taking in the darkness. “Where are Adam and Hoss?”

 

Ben stood briefly, fetching a pitcher of water and a glass. He busied himself with propping up Joe’s shoulders and holding a glass to his lips. He watched contentedly as Joe swallowed thirstily, waiting until he was done before speaking. “I’m feeling fine now that you’re awake. Adam and Hoss are sleeping, they’ll stop in and see you in the morning.” He grimaced when he saw the spasm of pain that flashed over Joe’s face as he was eased back onto the pillows. “Will you tell me about it?”

 

Joe closed his eyes briefly, willing the pain to go away. “It was Mary Sue, Pa. She’s lost her mind. I stupidly thought that I could go get Cochise back from her, and she…” His voice broke, and he stopped, swallowing convulsively. “She killed Cochise .” A hint of moisture shimmered in his eyes and he reached to swipe it away with the back of his hand.

 

“No, Cochise is fine, son.” Ben hastened to assure him. “He’s in the barn eating his fool head off. Laura Carson brought him back today.” He smiled when he saw the sheer joy flood over Joe’s face.

 

“Cochise! She told me she killed him, just before she…” Again words failed him and he couldn’t go on.

 

Ben waited him out, soothingly stroking the few unmarked spots he could find on Joe’s body. “Easy, Joe,” he murmured. “It’s all right now. You’re home.”

 

It took a few moments for Joe to bring his emotions under control. When he was finally able to speak, he looked up at his father miserably. “I was so stupid, Pa. I thought that I could handle this all by myself, and I rode out of here without saying a word to you. The whole time she had me in that cave. I kept thinking about how I hadn’t even left you a note. I’m sorry, Pa!”

 

Ben’s smile was grim but his words were calm and measured. “We all made mistakes, Joe. I’m not saying that we won’t discuss what you did later, but for right now, I’m just happy that we have you back safe and sound. Now all you have to do is lie here and do what the doctor tells you to do and get well again.”

 

Joe’s eyes were drooping with weariness, the pain gnawed at him relentlessly. “I’ll try. But I’ve got something to do pretty soon.”

 

The question in his father’s eyes was plain to see, and so Joe continued. “I’ve got to find Mary Sue. She shouldn’t be out there on her own. She’s dangerous.”

 

Ben laughed grimly, the sound chilling in the dimly lit room. “Your brothers are going to find her, don’t worry. You won’t be going anywhere for a while, and you can believe that I’m going to be right here to make sure that you don’t.”

 

He realized that Joe’s eyes were closed again, and could tell by the soft breathing that his son had slipped off to sleep once again. Pulling the covers close around the slender shoulders, Ben settled back into his chair. He fully intended to sit by Joe’s side until he was well again. He knew his son too well. The minute his father’s back was turned he’d be out the door on a foolhardy mission to find Mary Sue. That Ben was determined to prevent. Mary Sue would be dealt with, just not by Joe.

 

~*~**~*~**~*~

 

The clatter of boots on the porch signaled the arrival of visitors and Ben left his desk to see who was approaching. He kept his gun at the ready, prepared for anything. He wasn’t going to let anyone near his injured son while Mary Sue was still at large. The door opened as he approached and he relaxed at the sight of Adam and Hoss entering.

 

The two men were obviously trail-weary, caked with dirt and dust and a couple of day’s growth of beard. Adam was brushing futilely at the dirt on his pants when they entered, but he stopped when he saw his father waiting for him. “Hi, Pa. How’s Joe?” he asked quickly. “I hope he looks better than he did when we left three days ago.”

 

Ben put a finger to his lips and gestured toward the settee. “Look for yourself, son. But go quietly, he’s sleeping.”

 

Hoss’s broad face lit up with a beaming smile. “He’s out of bed? He must be better then. The doc wouldn’a let ‘im up otherwise.” He hastened to peer over the edge of the settee and the smile softened. “He looks a lot better, don’t he, Adam?”

 

Adam moved to join his brother and clasped a hand on his shoulder as he too bent to look at Joe carefully. The bruises were now an interesting assortment of yellows and greens and blotchy dark shades, making Joe look like a battered prize fighter, but it was a definite sign of improvement. What little undamaged skin that could be seen underneath the bruises was a much healthier color, and his breathing was soft and even. Adam took a deep breath and felt the weight of some unnamed worry fall from his shoulders. “I’d say he looks much improved, brother.” He gestured to Ben and tugged on Hoss’s arm. “Come on, let’s see if we can wangle a hot meal out of Hop Sing and we’ll fill Pa in while we eat.”

 

An hour later, feeling much more human, the Cartwrights huddled together over coffee. “No sign of Mary Sue?” Ben asked. He’d restrained himself from asking questions while his sons had eaten an obviously much needed meal. Now he couldn’t help but ask for the information he desperately wanted.

 

Adam shook his head in disgust. “We’ve got every available ranch hand scouring the surrounding area and there’s no trace of her, Pa. It’s almost like she’s invisible.”

 

Ben flinched. “Don’t even joke about that!” he said vehemently, causing both of his sons to look at him in amazement. Seeing that he needed to explain himself further, he added. “Mary Sue taunted Joe by telling him that she was invisible. I don’t want Joe to hear you say those words. He’s been through enough without letting thoughts like that worry him.”“Thoughts like what?” Joe’s sleepy voice rose from the depths of the settee. His head slowly followed, as he pulled himself up painfully.

 

As he started to rise, Ben hastily left his seat at the table and crossed the room. He reached Joe in time to place a gentle hand on the bruised shoulder and firmly held his son down. “Stay right where you are, Joe, and I’ll have Hop Sing bring you a tray. You know the only reason you’re down here is that you promised Paul you’d stay put.”

 

Joe nodded, in truth his body felt weighted down and sluggish, the bruises and battered muscles still causing him excruciating pain. “That sounds good to me, Pa,” he replied. “But only if Adam and Hoss fill me in on what’s going on.”

 

His brothers joined the family group in front of the fire with alacrity, and Hoss gamely launched into a description of the futile search the two had been on for the last three days. When he finished his recital, he smiled at Joe. “So maybe she’s left the territory, right, Joe?”

 

Joe snorted in disgust. “I don’t think so, brother. She’s lost her mind and she wants to kill me. I really don’t think she’d just ride out of town.”

 

Adam stared into the fire speculatively. “She might think you’re dead, you know. When she left you, you were certainly well on your way to death’s door.”

 

Hoss shook his head sorrowfully. “It’s all over town, what happened, Adam. Everybody knows Joe ain’t dead. If Mary Sue heard anyone talking she’d know he’s here.”

 

Ben nodded his agreement. “I’d say it’s a safe bet that she knows right where Joe is. She was able to move around undetected before, and it’s possible she’s doing it again. Adam, I want you to increase the number of men patrolling around the house, and Hoss, take another look around town.” He pounded his leg in frustration. “Someone’s got to know something, seen something. She has to make a mistake sometime.”

 

The older Cartwright sons nodded in agreement with the orders, while Joe rolled his eyes in disgust. “I’ll be fine, Pa. I’m expecting her this time. She won’t take me by surprise again.”

 

Ben glared at Joe, his brows drawn together fiercely. “You aren’t leaving this house, Joe. Not until Mary Sue is caught. The woman is capable of murder, and who knows where she is right now.” He tried to soften his tone, and he reached to pat Joe’s leg gently. “We’ll catch her, son, and then life will go back to normal.”

 

Joe nodded sullenly, suddenly too tired to argue. “I think I’ll go on up to bed, Pa,” he murmured, painfully levering himself off the settee.

 

Hoss moved instinctively to help him, smiling a good night at his father as he placed a firm arm around Joe’s waist. “I’ll go on up with ya, Joe. I’m done in myself, and it’ll be another long day tomorrow.” His eyes sent a message of reassurance to his father and the two made their way slowly up the stairs.

Ben waited until the door of Joe’s room shut, and he felt that it was safe to talk. “What do you think, Adam? Where is Mary Sue?”

 

Adam sighed and steepled his fingers together in front of his face. “I don’t know, Pa. She’s capable of anything, and has shown that she can move around at will. I’m worried.” The simple statement hung in the air, bringing with it the air of unease that Adam was feeling.

 

Ben stood and stretched tiredly, his face drawn with worry. “Then we’ll keep watch until she’s found. I don’t want her to have another shot at Joe.” He patted Adam’s shoulder and headed for the stairs. “I’m turning in too, and I’d suggest you do the same. Hoss’s right. It’ll be a long day tomorrow.”

 

Adam smiled gently. “I’m not ready to go up yet, Pa. I’ve got some things to think over. I’ll head up in a little while.” He watched as his father moved up the stairs, and couldn’t help noticing how old his father appeared. The whole situation was draining the life out of the man. Adam stared morosely into the fire. There had to be a solution. He’d be damned if he let someone get away with hurting his brother the way Mary Sue had hurt Joe. Adam would follow her to the ends of the earth if necessary. He leaned back against the back of the chair, and allowed his mind to roam freely. It would be a long night.

 

~*~**~*~**~*~

 

A week later, Joe was chafing at the bit to get out of the ranch house and away from his family. His bruises were now fading, and his muscles had quit protesting at the slightest movement. He was still stiff and sore, but felt more like his old self. He had only been allowed to the barn and back, and he spent much of his time out there, crooning endearments to his horse. Cochise responded in kind, both man and horse overjoyed with their reunion. Adam and Hoss had scoured the countryside for most of the week to no avail. Mary Sue had vanished as completely as if she were truly invisible. Forced by missed deadlines, and overdue ranch chores, they had reluctantly called off the search and returned to work. Ben made good on his promise to keep Joe in eyesight, however, until his youngest son was ready to scream.

 

Joe’s need for freedom remained unfulfilled, however, the day finally came when Ben agreed to leave him unsupervised at the ranch. Hoss and Adam had been called out to the timber camps to discuss some problems with filling an order, and Ben urgently needed to consult with his lawyer about some business matters. It galled Ben that he had to leave Joe alone after he had taken his stand against this very thing, but at last he gave into necessity.

 

He swung into Buck’s saddle, his face set in a scowl. “Now, Joe. You stay near the house, that means you don’t get on Cochise’s back for any reason, you hear?”

 

Joe nodded wearily. “I’ve already promised to be a good boy, Pa. I’ll be fine, I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself, you know.”

 

Ben took in the fading bruises, and noted that Joe still stood uncomfortably. His face softened and he bit back the obvious reply.   “I know son, I’m sure you can. But if you’d like to make your father happy, please do as I say, just this once.”

 

Joe nodded reluctantly. “I’m going to be in the barn for a while, Pa. I hope that’s okay with you?”

 

Ben ignored the obvious sarcasm, and patted Joe’s shoulder gently. “Thanks, Joe. I’ll be home soon. Take it easy today, you’re not as well as you think you are.”

 

Joe rolled his eyes, but he smiled back at the worried man. “Go on, Pa. Get out of here, I’ll be a good boy, I promise.” He shooed Ben and Buck away with his hands. “Go on.”

 

With a final measuring look and a tip of his hat, Ben rode out of the yard at a gentle trot. Joe sighed with relief and felt at peace with the world. It was the first time he’d felt truly alone since he’d returned to the Ponderosa. He loved his family, but the constant hovering had been grating on his restless spirit. Wishing he could saddle up and go for a long ride, he headed for the barn. He knew that he would honor his promise to his father, but he fully intended to spend a while with his horse.

 

A few pleasant hours had passed, and Joe flexed his shoulders gingerly. He was still sore, even though he’d never admit that to his father, and the long hours of grooming had made him ache. He turned to put away the brushes and stopped abruptly. Standing before him, eyeing him malevolently was a familiar tattered figure.

 

“Hello, Little Joe.” Mary’s Sue’s voice was bitter and filled with suppressed rage. “I see you survived your little beating. I’m sorry to see that.”

 

 

Joe stood still and eyed her warily. She was dressed in a pair of britches hitched up with suspenders, and her hair tucked into a boy’s hat. He would have known her anywhere because of the crazed eyes, but to a casual observer, she would appear to be just another hand on one of the local ranches. Joe understood now how she seemed to appear and vanish at will. It had never occurred to anyone that she was masquerading as a boy.

 

“What do you want, Mary Sue?” Joe’s voice was even and toneless, as he struggled to control the frisson of fear that shot up his spine. “If you value your life, you’d better ride out of here, half the territory is looking for you.”

 

Mary Sue laughed, and Joe’s flesh crawled at the sound. “You know that’s not true, Joe. They stopped looking for me a few days ago. You forget I have ways of knowing what’s happening in Virginia City. I know all about you almost dying and about the search being called off. So don’t even try to lie to me.”

 

She moved forward a step and Joe instinctively moved backwards into Cochise’s stall. The pinto moved restlessly as he sensed the tension emanating from his master’s body. Joe put out a hand to steady himself and to calm the horse at the same time. “I asked what you wanted, Mary Sue,” he said again. “You’ve had your revenge, now get out of here and leave me alone.” He moved back another step and realized that he was pressed against the wall of the barn, with nowhere to go.

 

Mary Sue moved forward again, drawing a knife from behind her back as she did so. “Oh, I won’t leave just yet, Little Joe,” she crooned lovingly. “I’ve got some unfinished business with you. You aren’t dead yet, after all.”

 

Joe glanced frantically around the stall for a weapon, but there was nothing at hand. He cursed inwardly and braced himself for Mary’s Sue’s attack. She moved inexorably forward, an insane gleam in her eye and a feral grin on her lips. Joe followed her every movement warily, and he was ready when she made her first lunge. As she swung the knife at him, Joe dodged to the side, only to run into Cochise’s broad side. The pinto danced and whinnied nervously, the movement pushing Joe back toward Mary Sue. It had been enough to have the swing go wide, and instead of burying itself in Joe’s chest, the knife glanced off his arm, leaving a trail of blood in its wake.

 

Joe hissed in pain, but he moved to the offensive, lunging out at Mary Sue in an attempt to grab her arm. She was expecting the move and sidestepped his outstretched arm. Joe was boxed into the corner of the stall, with Cochise shuffling nervously to his left and the solid wall to his right. He backed as far into the stall as he could and braced himself for the woman’s next attempt. Cochise let out a shrill scream of fear as he caught the waves of tension that emanated from the human being that he knew best.

 

Joe turned his eyes toward the horse instinctively, and he reached to stroke the beast’s nose. “It’s okay, boy,” he said, as calmly as possible.

 

But the division of his attention proved to be his undoing. Mary Sue darted forward, knife raised high. She slashed it down toward him, and he could only twist futilely in an effort to get out of the path of the blade. He screamed as he felt the blade plunge into his back, sinking to his knees in agony.

 

Cochise, the scent of blood strong in his nostrils, screamed again, the sound splitting the air. Mary Sue moved in for a killing stroke just as the horse launched himself upwards, the leather that tied him to the stall loosening with the violence of his movements. The horse’s hooves crashed down indiscriminately, and Joe screamed again as he felt one glance off his thigh. He was lost in a world of pain and chaos, the sounds of the shrieking horse intermingling with another high-pitched sound. The world went dark as he lost his fight to stay in control of the situation.

 

~*~**~*~**~*~

 

Adam rode up to the hitching post in front of the ranch house. He dismounted quickly, tied Sport’s reins to the post and headed for the house. “Joe!” he called as he entered. He stopped as silence greeted him. “Joe!” He tried again.

 

Hop Sing bustled around the corner from the kitchen. “What you yelling for?” he asked briskly. “Mister Joe not in here.”

 

Adam frowned. “Not in here? Where is he then? He knows that Pa wanted him to stay around the house. That’s why I came back, I knew he wouldn’t listen.”

 

Hop Sing headed back toward the kitchen, a string of Chinese words following in his wake. He stopped just before he disappeared around the corner, cocking his head back at Adam. “Mister Joe go see horse hours ago. All a time, he’s with horse. Probably still in barn.” He faded out of sight, still muttering as he went.

 

Adam grinned briefly at the little man, and then he turned to head for the barn. He had a strong sense of foreboding pressing on him. Joe wasn’t known for obeying instructions and this was his first opportunity to leave the house without someone holding him back. Adam wouldn’t be at all surprised to find Cochise gone when he got to the barn.

 

The barn’s interior was dim, shafts of light filtering in through cracks in the walls and ceiling, creating a pleasing view, as small motes of dust swirled gently in the air. Adam entered the structure, waiting momentarily for his eyes to adjust to the change in light. He heard Cochise shuffling, uttering nervous snorts and snuffling at something in the stall. “Joe?”

 

Adam moved forward quickly, and then stopped, his blood freezing in his veins. He saw Cochise first, as the animal danced nervously around the stall. The walls and floor were liberally daubed with splotches of red, and Adam caught the acrid tang of blood. Two crumpled figures lay at the horse’s feet, in constant danger of being stepped on by the prancing hooves.

 

“Joe!” Adam’s voice rang out stridently, and Cochise’s head jerked up as the horse gave a shrill cry of fear.

 

Adam forced himself to walk calmly, holding his hand out to the animal, crooning in a soft voice as he walked. Cochise finally allowed him to grab the halter, and Adam spent a few precious seconds calming the animal down. He quickly untied the remaining thongs of leather that held the horse in the stall, leading him quickly to a clean one across the barn. That taken care of, he dashed across the barn to the carnage.

 

At first Adam’s eyes were only for Joe, who lay in a crumpled heap in the corner of the stall. A bleeding gash on his arm, and deeper, pulsing wounds on his back and thigh gave silent evidence of what had transpired. Adam knelt and felt for a pulse, heaving a sigh of relief when he found one. “Oh, Joe. What have you done now?” he whispered to himself.

 

It was only after ascertaining that Joe still breathed that Adam turned his attention to the other still form. His eyes widened when he rolled the boy over, only to find Mary Sue’s sightless eyes staring back at him. He felt for a pulse with shaking fingers, finding none. The deep depression on the back of her skull gave evidence of what had killed her. In his panic, Cochise had brought his hooves down on anything in his path. Mary Sue had borne the brunt of his unwitting attack.

 

Adam quickly closed the staring eyes, and turned his attention back to his brother. He would deal with Mary Sue later, but Joe took precedence in his thoughts. Scooping up the slender body, he headed for the house, bellowing for Hop Sing as he went.

 

~*~**~*~**~*~

 

Once again, three men paced before the great stone fireplace, their faces set in grim masks. This time joined by Sheriff Coffee. The doctor had arrived at the same time as Ben and the sheriff, all summoned by the ranch hand that Adam had dispatched. Ben had only glanced at the grisly scene in the barn before racing for the house. He left Roy Coffee making an examination of the scene. Hoss had ridden in on a lathered horse moments later, the urgent summons he’d received leaving him no doubt that his presence was needed back at the house. Roy had finished his study of the scene and dispatched a couple of men to town, bearing a grisly burden wrapped in a blanket and draped over the saddle of a pack horse.

 

Now all four men looked up as the doctor appeared at the head of the stairs. When Paul reached the bottom, he almost turned and fled back up, as the men moved forward in a mass.   Holding his hands up in mocking self-defense, Paul smiled wearily. “Well, you’ve got a lucky boy, there Ben.” He settled himself into a chair and gratefully accepted the cup of coffee that Hoss silently handed him. “His arm is badly bruised, but not broken. The wound on his thigh was very bad and I’ve stitched it up, but I want him to stay off that leg for a while. His back will be sore, and he’s got a couple of cracked ribs, but not much more than that. I think once I examine the other body we’ll see that Mary Sue took the brunt of the horse’s hooves.”

 

Ben smiled in relief. “Is he awake? Can I see him now?” He was already heading for the stairs and it was clear that he was going to be with his son regardless of the answer he received.

 

When Hoss and Adam moved as if to join him, Paul intervened. “Let your father go up first, boys. Joe is pretty upset and I think he needs some time alone with his father.” He saw Roy make a move and shook his head at the sheriff. “You too, Roy. You can question him later. Let Ben talk to him first.”

 

Grudgingly the three men sat back down, but their eyes and their attention were focused on the stairs. Given the word they would all have left their seats and rushed for the bedroom, but the doctor held them back.

 

Ben opened the door softly and moved into the room, an expectant smile on his face. He was greeted by a pale face, and the sight of Joe lying swathed in bandages. Seeing his father enter, Joe turned his face to the wall. “I don’t feel much like talking right now, Pa,” he whispered. “I think I need to rest.”

 

Ben pulled up a chair and sat down next to the bed. He couldn’t refrain from gently touching the exposed shoulder that peeked over the tops of the bedclothes.   “It might help to talk about it, son,” he said gently. “But in either case, I think I’ll just stay here for a while.”

 

Joe turned and tried to smile at his determined father. He was fully aware that Ben wouldn’t leave his side when he was sick or injured. “I’m fine, Pa. The Doc says I’ll be okay.”

 

Ben’s eyes were calm, his face carefully dispassionate. “I really thought you might like to talk about Mary Sue. You haven’t asked about her at all.”

 

 

Joe grimaced. “I feel so stupid, Pa,” he said finally. “I really thought I could handle her on my own. She came after me with a knife and there wasn’t anything I could do to stop her. And then Cochise got upset and started rearing . . . ” his voice trailed off.

 

Ben reached for Joe, taking his hand in an instinctive gesture of comfort and support. “She’s dead Joe, and now you can finally put all this behind you. She won’t hurt you anymore.”

 

Joe’s eyes were haunted, his face drawn into grim lines that made him look older than his years. “She hated me so much. She blamed me for all her troubles.” He turned to look deep into his father’s eyes. “Could I have done anything different? Would it have made a difference to Mary Sue if I hadn’t found out what she was doing to Renny?”

 

Ben stroked Joe’s hand within his, his thumb smoothing away the tenseness of the fingers. “We can’t go back and undo the past, Joe,” he replied quietly. “You made your choices, just as Mary Sue made hers. She wasn’t completely sane when she came back here. You know that. You know in your heart that you wouldn’t do anything differently, would you? You can’t help being who you are, son. And if it makes you feel any better, I wouldn’t want you any other way.”

 

Joe grinned softly. “I appreciate that, Pa. You always know just what to say, don’t you?”

 

Ben laughed. “My job as a father is to make you *think* I always know what to say, Joe. The truth is I’m often at a loss.”

 

Joe’s eyes were closing in spite of themselves. He winced a little as he shifted restlessly on the bed. “You coulda fooled me,” he murmured. His breathing became soft and even and he succumbed to the oblivion that sleep could bring.

 

Ben’s smile faded and he gazed at his son, reflecting on how close he had come, yet again, to losing this child. He settled more comfortably into his chair, all the while keeping his hold on Joe’s hand. It would be some time before anyone would be able to persuade him to leave Joe’s side.

 

~*~**~*~**~*~

 

Joe rode Cochise slowly toward the edge of town. He had only been allowed on the horse for the past two days and he’d finally escaped from his father’s watchful eyes. He rode with silent determination, his mind focused on his destination. Absently he patted his pocket, thinking of the letter that resided there.

 

He pulled out the letter and read it again as he rode, although he’d memorized the words already.

 

Dear Joe,

I’m sorry I haven’t written to you before, but Grandma and Grandpa didn’t think I should write to a grown man. They said it wasn’t proper! Who wants to be proper, anyway? When Grandma and Grandpa told me about Mary Sue and what she did to you, I begged them to let me send you this letter. I was so sad to think of my sister dying, but she wasn’t the same girl that I remember. She never did get over Pa’s death, and I don’t think she was herself anymore. She never wrote to me after I left town with my grandparents. I’m sorry if she hurt you, but please remember, that I love you, Joe! Not all of the Hendersons are bad people. Will you do me a favor, and take Mary Sue some flowers from me? I cry when I think of her all alone with no one to care for her anymore.

 

Love,

Kitty

 

 

Joe smiled softly as he thought of the little blond-haired dynamo, who’d always held the key to his heart. He could remember the exuberant hug she’d given him, before she’d been whisked off to St. Louis by her grandparents. He felt he owed it to her to honor her wishes. And now he rode toward Mary Sue’s final resting place, the graveyard at the edge of town.

 

The Cartwrights had quietly paid for the burial of the woman who had kidnaped and tortured the youngest son of the family. Joe had been too ill to attend the simple service that had been held over the grave, but Ben Cartwright had lent his presence to the ceremony. He had reported that besides the preacher and the grave digger, he’d been the only person in attendance.

 

A pang of regret struck Joe to the quick as he thought of Mary Sue’s promising life gone so viciously wrong. He still wrestled with the nightmares of his imprisonment at her hands, and would perhaps do so for months to come. But in some corner of his heart, he still held himself to blame for her descent into madness. After all, he had caused the death of her father and destroyed her reputation in Virginia City. Adam might have been the one who pulled the trigger, but it was Joe who had shredded Mary Sue’s character in court and enraged her father to the point where he’d lost control and drawn his gun.

 

He dismounted at the gate, hitching Cochise to the fence post before crossing quickly to the fresh grave at the corner of the small cemetery. A simple tombstone, paid for with Cartwright money, stated the name and dates of the occupant of the plot, but that was all. Joe knelt next to the grave and let all his memories of Mary Sue wash over him, starting with the last glimpse he had of her insane eyes and snarling grin. He covered his eyes and let himself move back in time. Seeing her crouching before the fire in the cave, sitting on the witness stand at his trial, smirking up at him during the fateful dance when she’d accused him of trying to attack her. But then he let older memories surface, scenes of them enjoying other dances, playing in the schoolyard and chasing each other around town as children flickered through his mind at a rapid pace. He smiled slightly as the visions of the mad-woman’s face was replaced by one of the small girl who’d been his friend.

 

He picked up a handful of dirt from the mound heaped over the grave site and let it trickle back through his fingers. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust . . .   With a last look at the headstone, he laid a small bouquet of flowers under Mary Sue’s name. For Kitty, he thought. But for himself too. He felt more at peace than he had in a long time.

 

Rising to go, his eyes caught sight of something that fluttered gently in the slight breeze, just past Mary Sue’s tombstone. He bent to pick it up, and felt the small hairs on the back of his arms stand up. It was a beautiful blue satin ribbon, very like one Mary Sue had worn in their schooldays. Joe glanced around quickly. No one else was in sight. No other graves were close to this one. He let the ribbon drop to the ground and turned to go.

 

Joe almost ran for Cochise, glad he’d left the flowers and allowed some healing to begin, but unsettled by the ribbon. As he turned for home, he caught sight of two horses moving toward him. He smiled happily, and moved to meet them. His brothers had come to make sure he was all right and escort him home. Under normal circumstances he would have chafed under their watchful protection, today he welcomed it.

 

As the three Cartwrights rode for home, the breeze picked up briskly, rippling through the trees with a rustling sound. Joe cocked his head and listened, for a moment it had sounded like the ripple of a young girl’s laughter as she had chased a curly-haired boy through the school yard. Putting his heel to Cochise’s side, he urged the horse forward. “Let’s go home,” he called and the men rode quickly away from the graveyard.

 

The wind stilled, finally dying. The ripple of laughter continued.

 

 

The End

July 2001

Next Story in The Vicious Circle Series:

Shadow of Deception

 

 

Tags: Family, jail / jailed