Summary: The Cartwrights find mystery and danger when Little Joe is gifted a strange present by Ben’s late uncle; which proves to be a curse when Joe is attacked. Rating T, WC 41,000

The Third Son Series:

The Third Son
The Devil’s Hold
Payback

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Author’s Note:  (Contains a cute young Joe flashback scene which may ruin my rep.)

The Third Son

“There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.”

From: Hamlet, Act 1. Scene 5. By: William Shakespeare

The Ponderosa ranch house was filled to capacity with friends and neighbors the night the Cartwright family celebrated the youngest son’s eighteenth birthday.  Both the outside and inside decorations were lavishly designed to wish Joe Cartwright happy birthday.  Hop Sing had outdone himself this year with elaborate party foods and bright Chinese lanterns and all the special touches he had come up with to show the boy how much he was loved.

Ben Cartwright had watched his youngest son at a distance most of the night as the boy flirted with all the pretty girls and danced to almost every song the musicians had played.  He found it hard to believe that his youngest child had reached the age of eighteen already.  Joe was very rapidly becoming a fine young man and Ben had to admit to himself that Joe was indeed leaving the awkward childhood stage.  Though, the boy in the foreground now seemed at his most charming around the young ladies, Ben knew that Joe had much more to learn about both women and life in general.  Smiling to himself as he spotted his other two sons heading over to corral their brother, Ben was pleased at the job he had done in raising the three of them largely on his own.

****************************

It was very late in the evening when the last of the partygoers stepped up into their carriage and bid the Cartwright’s a fond good night.  The birthday party had been a smashing success, but nonetheless Ben was a bit happy to have it over with.  As he stepped into the house with his three sons Ben could see Hop Sing in the throes of house cleaning.

“We’ll help you with that in the morning, Hop Sing.  Why don’t you go to bed?  You have to be worn out after all the work you put in tonight,” Ben called over to the cook.

“Hop Sing clean up food—boys put furniture back.  Happy Birthday, Little Joe,” Hop Sing smiled and carried the last tray of leftovers into the kitchen.

“Thanks, Hop Sing!  It was the best party ever,” Joe replied and then turned to help Hoss move the settee back into its normal position.

Adam and his father moved the coffee table back into place, and then settled the two arm chairs next to the fireplace.  It was then that Adam noticed the grandfather clock over by the entranceway.

“Huh—that’s funny–I thought it was already after midnight,” Adam remarked to his father.

Ben turned to also look at the clock and shook his head. “It must be–wonder if the clock has stopped,” Ben replied, and drew out his pocket watch to check on the clock’s accuracy.  “It’s half past twelve.  Guess it needs some fixing.”  Ben walked towards the grandfather clock and opened the glass door of its housing.  “Rather strange–” Ben muttered.

“What, Pa?”  Joe asked as he neared his father.

“Oh–just a bit peculiar–I mean the time that it stopped.”

“Ten till twelve–what’s so funny about that?” Joe questioned again.

“Well, Joseph–” Ben turned and let his right hand fall to the boy’s shoulder.  A smile entertained his face for a minute as he stared into the hazel eyes of his son.  “At ten minutes till twelve—some eighteen years ago my life was changed forever.  It’s the exact time you were born.”

“Really?” Joe grinned.  “Hey–you never told me that, Pa.  So, I was almost born on November first—I only missed it by a little bit.”

“Yeah–I remember too,” Adam jumped in approaching the two.  “I remember being sound asleep when your screaming woke me up that night.  You had some set of lungs let me tell you.”  Adam laughed and patted Joe on the shoulder.

“Oh–you’re telling a story, Adam!”  Hoss entered into the conversation.  “You and me wuz both up, waiting right outside Pa’s door too!  I remember like it was yesterday.  All of a sudden I wasn’t the youngest anymore.”

“Yeah–well–I did you a favor then, Big Brother,” Joe smiled over at him.  “Cause it ain’t been easy being the youngest all these years.”

“Yeah, and it ain’t been easy having a pesky baby brother neither,” Hoss laughed and punched his little brother playfully in the arm.

Ben worked on the hands of the clock and suddenly they began to move and keep time again.  “Huh, guess it’s doing okay now,” He commented.

“Well, at least I learned something—now I know I was born right before midnight.  Hey–what day was it?  I mean–Monday, Tuesday?”  Joe was eager to learn more facts now.

“Oh, you know–” Adam teased.

“Huh?  No–nobody’s ever told me that either,” Joe protested.

“You have heard of the old poem, Sunday’s Child, haven’t you?”

Ben laughed heartily at what Adam was getting to in his mention of the poem.  “You have a point there, Adam.”

“Okay what’s the big joke?”  Joe asked again, getting a bit irked at the inside joke between the two oldest members of the family.

“Go ahead,” Ben nodded over to Adam to tell Joe.

“Monday’s child is fair of face—-I was born on a Monday,” Adam said trying to hold back his normal bravado, and then continued, “Tuesday’s child is full of grace,–Hoss was born on a Tuesday,” Adam looked over at Hoss and the man was grinning broadly now, knowing what was coming next.

“Is this the long way around the barn or what?”  Joe protested the delay.

“Okay–okay–you were born on a Wednesday,” Ben broke in on Adam’s recital.

“So?  What about the poem—what does it say?”  Joe was curious to hear what his brothers thought was so humorous about him being born on a Wednesday.

“Wednesday’s child is full of woe!”  Adam exclaimed and burst into laughter which was echoed by Hoss as well.

“Funny–very funny,” Joe sneered over at his brothers.  “You’re just making that up anyway.  Right, Pa?”  Joe turned his eyes on his father, hoping for a reprieve from what Adam had said.

Ben pulled Joe closer and then patted him on the back.  “It’s just a poem, Joseph.  Though I must admit you have had more than your share of woe.  But, you are beginning a new year now, and I am sure that’s all behind you,” Ben tried to sound positive about Joe’s future despite the boy’s past history.

“What day were you born on, Pa?”  Joe asked trying to ignore his brother’s mirth.

“That I can’t tell you, I don’t actually know.”

“I’ll find out for you, Pa.  Just have to go back in the records,” Adam called over to his father.

“Okay, you do that. But, for right now, I say it’s time for bed.  I am beat–don’t know about the rest of you.”

“Yeah, me too!”  Joe agreed.  “I’m almost eighteen years and one hour old now, not getting any younger.”  Joe headed towards the stairs and turned back to his family members.  “Thanks–for the birthday party–and for the presents.  Oh, and for putting up with all of my woe!”  Joe winked towards them and headed up the staircase.

“Goodnight, Joseph, happy birthday,” Ben called up the stairs.

***************************

The following day was Sunday and the Cartwrights did as they usually did, and that was getting up, eating a leisurely breakfast and then heading into Virginia City to attend church services.  They enjoyed the fellowship of their friends and neighbors as they listened intently to the words of the church’s new pastor; Reverend Philip Hastings.  The new preacher gave a long, but meaningful sermon and he seemed to have won his new congregation over that day.

After spending a little time in town, the Cartwrights headed back to the Ponderosa for just a few chores and an evening spent relaxing in preparation for the upcoming week.  Not too long after the four men adjourned from the dinner table and settled themselves in the living room that evening, a knock sounded on the front door.

“Howdy, Hoss,” The young man at the door said as Hoss led him into the house.

“Steve?  What brings you out here so late?”  Hoss asked and walked with him over towards the fireplace and the rest of the family.

“Got this telegraph, Mr. Olson said I needed to bring this right out to you, Mr. Cartwright,” Steve answered and handed Ben the piece of paper.

Reading the message to himself first, Ben’s face gave way to the notion that the telegraph had contained bad news.  Looking up and over towards all the others in the room, Ben finally cleared his throat and addressed the contents of his message.  “My uncle—Joshua–he passed away last night.  This is from Constance–his housekeeper.  She wanted me to know,” Ben said sullenly.

“I sure hate to be the bearer of bad news, Mr. Cartwright,” Steve apologized seeing the hurt all over the man’s face.

Ben sighed and shook himself from his grief.  “No, Steven—thanks for letting me know.  Here is a little something for your trouble.  And thank Pete for sending word to me,” Ben tried for a smile as he handed the young man the silver dollar.

“Thanks!  I will–well–sorry again.  See you all later,” Steve nodded and turned to head back into town.  As soon as he had closed the front door the Cartwright sons tried to make their father feel better.

“Well–” Adam started and moved over next to his father.  “Uncle Joshua was what?  Had to be close to ninety, right?  He lived a good long life.”

“Yes–yes he turned ninety last July.  He did live a full life,” Ben nodded, still in deep thought.

“I remember when we went to Missouri to visit him–guess I was about thirteen when I last saw him,” Hoss called over to his father.

“Yeah–I’ll always remember that trip,” Joe jumped in.  “I remember he had a spooky looking house, but that he was real nice.  I also remember him giving me peppermints and that he was a whole lot of fun.  He liked to play games with all of us.  Uncle Joshua sure liked to tell scary stories too.”

Ben laughed as the memories raced back into his mind.  He could still see Little Joe standing at his uncle’s feet bothering him for candy.  “Yes, Joseph, you were about six as I recall when we all took the trip to see him last.  Where have the years gone?”  Ben sighed again and shook his head.

“What do you mean the house was spooky?  I don’t remember that, Joe,” Hoss asked the boy to his right.

“Ah–you know–he had all those animal heads on the walls, and all those weird paintings and things.”

“That’s because he traveled all over the world, Little Brother.  Ain’t that right, Pa?”  Hoss questioned his father.

“Yes, he was an avid collector of fine art, and also some pretty unique antiques as well.  I am surprised you boys remember that trip so well.”

“Well, I remember,” Adam nodded and smiled fondly over his memories of the deceased man.  “I got the chance to visit him on my way back from college too—just a couple of years after we made the trip to his house.  We had lots of talks during that visit.  He was a very unique man as well as being a world traveler!  And, yeah, you were right, Joe, the stories that man could tell would knock your socks off.”

Ben chuckled recalling his own recollections of his uncle.  “He was some story teller all right!  I sure am gonna miss him.  Though, I didn’t get to see him often, we wrote each other every month.  It’s a shame he never had any children.  The last of the elder Cartwrights are gone now.  That leaves me as the patriarch of the family I guess.”

“You’ve always been the patriarch,” Joe smiled and patted his father’s arm.

“Well, yes, Joseph–to you–and your brothers.  But, with my father gone, and now both of his brothers–well–it’s the end of an era I guess.  And, what with my brother John dead—it’s going to be up to the three of you and your cousin Will to carry on the Cartwright name.”

“Oh, Pa—you don’t have to worry,” Hoss grinned and rallied around his father too.   “Why every time Joe goes into town he finds a gal he wants to marry.”

Joe jabbed his brother in the rib cage over the remark and laughed along with him.  “I am waiting for my older brothers to do the honors first.  Hey–Pa–I just thought of something.”

“What?”

“You said he died last night?”  Joe asked.

“Yes—Constance said in her telegraph Uncle Joshua died right before midnight,” Ben nodded while trying to look into the intent hazel eyes in front of him to figure out what Joe was getting at.

“Remember, Pa?  Remember the clock stopped right before midnight last night.  And, you said that it was the exact time of my birth.  That means that your uncle died the same time I was born eighteen years ago!  Kind of spooky, huh?”

Ben shifted a bit nervously in his chair over his youngest son’s comments.  It did make him feel a little uneasy now that he thought on the coincidence of it all.  Ben looked back over at the grandfather clock.  It had not skipped a beat since he had moved the hands the night before.  “Well—Joseph—that was just–um–coincidence,” Ben nodded towards the boy, trying to sound more sure of himself than he really was at the time.

“What’s the chance of it stopping, on my birthday, the same time I was born and it just happening to be the same time half way across the country that your uncle died?”  Joe argued against his father’s explanation.

“Come on, Kid,” Adam tried to jump in on the battle of wills going on between his father and his little brother at the time.  “You are trying to make up a story as good as old Uncle Joshua now.  In fact, I always thought that you were a bit like him.  What do you think, Pa? Doesn’t Joe remind you of Uncle Joshua in a way?”

Ben laughed when he saw that Joe looked worried about what Adam had just said.  He patted Joe on the shoulder and winked at him to get him to relax.  “Only when the boy tells me a whopper of a story,” Ben replied and saw Joe eased back a little on his perch on the hearth.

“Well, I still think it’s kinda strange,” Joe commented as he stood up.  “Think I’ll turn in.”

“Hey, Joe!  You want me to come up with you?”  Hoss called over to his brother as he made his way to the staircase.

“Huh?  What for?” Joe asked turning back towards him.

“You know—check under your bed for ghosts and stuff?”  Hoss teased grinning at the boy.

Adam laughed at Hoss’ statement, but, soon stopped when he witnessed the warning stare his father was shooting over at his two oldest sons.  Ben was not very happy with either of them for teasing their little brother, especially not when Joe was obviously troubled.

“Goodnight, Pa.  Sorry about Uncle Joshua, I really liked him—and I know you’re gonna miss him too,” Joe said to his father trying his best to ignore his brothers mirth.

“Goodnight, Joseph, sleep well,” Ben replied as he watched the boy disappear up the steps.   He then turned towards Adam and Hoss.  “You know it’s really not very nice of you boys to tease him like that.”

“Oh—Pa, we was just joshin him,” Hoss tried to explain.

“Yeah, Joe has just got to read all kinds of mystery into everything.  This clock business is another example of the kid’s wild imagination,” Adam insisted.

“Oh?  And I suppose you have a logical explanation?”  Ben raised his eyebrows as he forced his glare onto Adam.

“Well–just like you said–coincidence,” Adam remarked casually.

“Maybe,” Ben nodded.  “But, it was at the exact time of Joe’s birth, and most likely the exact time that my uncle passed.  I can understand Joseph’s point.”

Hoss and Adam exchanged confused expressions.  They wondered if their father really thought there was something strange going on, or whether, in fact it was just him siding with the baby of the family again.

“Well, Joe is right about one thing,” Hoss said and stood from his chair.  “It is late.  I’m gonna turn in myself.”

“Me too.” Adam nodded and walked with his brother to the stairs.  “You coming up, Pa?”

“Why–don’t tell me you two are afraid?”  Ben asked with heavy sarcasm.

Hoss and Adam laughed at what their father had said.  “No, I have Hoss with me–nothing is gonna go up against him–dead or alive.”  Adam quipped.

“Okay–you both go on to bed then I’m just going to stay up a little while,” Ben smiled over at his sons and they could tell that he was no longer angry with them.  “Goodnight, Boys.”

“Goodnight,” Adam and Hoss called down to their father and headed up the stairs for their bedrooms.

******************************

Ben settled back into his chair and watched the flames of the fireplace dance back and forth on the wood logs.  His thoughts took him back to his last visit with his uncle.  He remembered so clearly bringing all of his boys to the man’s large Victorian house that stood by itself at the top of a hill on the outskirts of the small town in Missouri.  Their trip from the Ponderosa had taken them almost three weeks back then and Ben was very happy to at last reach their destination.  Though he had eighteen year old Adam, and thirteen year old Hoss to help him with the wild six year old Joe, nevertheless, the youngest had been a handful the whole trip.

Uncle Joshua had led them all into the huge foyer and had his servant take all of their bags. He then had taken all four of his relatives on the grand tour of his house.  He showed them each one of his large collections of books, art, and other strange and wondrous items which filled the many rooms and had a little story to tell about each one of them to go with it.  It had seemed like hours to Ben before he at last had taken a seat next to the spry elderly man in the living room of his house.  Adam was busy in the library pouring his eyes eagerly over the volumes of books, while Hoss was in the next room checking out the rare collection of guns the man owned.  Little Joe, however, was bored.

Ben remembered having to yell at the little boy to remind him not to touch the crystal vases or the fine delicate china pieces which sat on the many tables in the large living room.  He tried to keep one eye on the six year old, and one eye towards his uncle as the man spoke.  Ben was wearing thin, when Uncle Joshua realized the dilemma the worried father was in and decided to help out.

“Joseph–come over and see your Uncle Joshua,” The man called over to the child.

Joe walked closer, looking down towards the floor very sure he had gotten himself into some kind of trouble.  His eyes shot up suddenly at his father and noticed there didn’t seem to be anger on his face and he breathed a sigh of relief.  Joe had already gotten quite a few pants warmings on the trip so far, and he didn’t want to get another any time soon.  “Yesss, Sirrr,” Joe stuttered as he moved next to the elderly man.

“Don’t look so afraid, I’m not going to bite you,” Uncle Joshua laughed and his arm came out and pulled the boy closer.  Joe looked into the man’s hazel eyes and saw a twinkle in them that let him know he wasn’t mad at him either.  “You are such a fine little boy, your pa has told me all about you over the years, Joseph.”

“He did?”  Joe asked surprised.  “Umm he didn’t tell you that I was bad on the trip did he?”  Joe asked worriedly and the two men laughed at his question.

“You weren’t bad, Joseph–now were you?”  Uncle Joshua asked quietly.

“Yeah–I wuz—I didn’t try to be–but sometimes I am bad and don’t even know it,” Joe explained and his words touched his father’s heart.  Ben was worried now that maybe he had been a little hard on the boy.  But Joe had turned into a perpetual motion machine and had almost fallen out of the stagecoach several times as he tried to look out the window a little bit farther than he should have.  Then there was the hide and seek he had played the night before they arrived in Missouri and it had taken all three of the Cartwrights to find that Joe had hidden in the small trunk they had brought with them.  The hide and go seek prank had almost scared the life out of Ben, when he realized that Joe had inadvertently locked himself inside the trunk and couldn’t get out.  That little game ended in a tanning.  Ben sighed now as he looked at his little boy who was giving his uncle the angelic face that could melt even the coldest heart.

“Well, Joseph isn’t exactly bad—he just has a bit of a problem following orders,” Ben smiled over towards his son.

“He’s just a bit precocious I am sure, Benjamin,” Uncle Joshua replied and hugged the boy closer to him.

Joe usually didn’t like folks hugging on him, well, no-one other than his father or Hop Sing, but he didn’t mind the affection Joshua was showing to him.  Joe felt unusually comfortable with the man who he had never met before that day.  “Papa–I thought your name was Ben?”  Joe asked confused.

Both Ben and his uncle laughed at the boy’s question.  “That’s short for Benjamin.  You know–like Joe is short for Joseph?”

“Oh—then are you Uncle Josh?”  Joe asked staring up at Joshua.

“Well, I guess I am!  You are a very bright lad!”  Uncle Joshua nodded as to Joe’s ability to put things together in his mind so quickly.

“I smell peppermints,” Joe said grinning.  He hoped there was some candy around, as it had grown to be his favorite food of late.

Uncle Joshua leaned back into his chair and put his hand under the little boy’s chin so that he could stare into his own hazel eyes.  “As a matter of fact I have some candy here in my pocket.  I’ll tell you what, Joseph—if you can guess which pocket it is in then you can have it.”

Joe stared at the man before him and then over at his father.  “Can I have it, Papa?”

Ben chuckled and nodded his head.  “If you guess where it is, then I suppose you can.”

Joe stared pensively towards Uncle Joshua’s suit coat then he closed his eyes to think even harder about in which pocket he would find the candy.  Joe loved candy, and he didn’t want to take any chances of missing on his guess. Finally, Joe shot out the index finger of his left hand and pointed at the right pocket of the man’s coat.  “That one.”

Joshua smiled and reached inside the pocket Joe had chosen and handed the boy a piece of peppermint candy.  “Very good, Joseph.”

“Yeah–but–” Joe stopped as he crunched down on the peppermint and pointed again with his finger.  “You got one in the other one too,” Joe smiled up at the man.

Ben stared over at his uncle, a bit exasperated by his little boy’s greed. “Joseph!”  Ben said sternly and shot him a warning look.

Uncle Joshua waved away his nephew’s anger.  “No, Benjamin!  Joseph is absolutely right.  Here you go, you earned this one too.”  He said and handed the boy the other piece. “Thanks Uncle Josh.”

“You are most welcome–you are the smartest little boy I have ever met.”

“Hey, Papa!  Uncle Josh says I’m smart!”  Joe responded gleefully.  The boy had recently taken to thinking of himself as being stupid, a problem that started as soon as Joe had entered school in Virginia City.

“Why of course you are, Son!  Now why don’t you go and give that piece to Hoss.  You want to share don’t you?”  Ben called over to the boy.

“Okay, Papa–thanks Uncle Josh!”  Joe patted the man’s arm and ran off to the next room.

“He’s quite a handful,” Ben chuckled as he watched his son race into the next room.

“You have done very well, Benjamin, with all your boys.  But, why was the lad surprised when I called him smart?  I should think he’d know that.”

“Well, Joseph has had a time of it this year I’m afraid.  Adam and Hoss adjusted to school well, but Joe hasn’t.  It’s all I can do sometimes to get him to go inside the school house to start his day.”

“He doesn’t like school?”  Uncle Joshua asked bewildered.

“Well, after Marie died last year, Joseph became a bit clingy.  He hates to be out of my sight–nor his brothers for that matter.  It was hard leaving him—and then he began having trouble with the teacher.”

“What sort of trouble?”

“The school master took it upon himself to force Joe to write with his right hand.  He had some confounded notion that no-one should write left-handed.  I had no idea what was going on, only that Joseph would come home crying every day.”

“You mean that teacher picked on the boy for being left-handed?”  The other man was now shocked at what his nephew was relating.  “I am left-handed you know—and so was my father–your grandfather!”

Ben smiled and nodded that he remembered that there had been a long line of southpaws in the Cartwright family.  “I know—and when I found out that the teacher was rapping my little boy’s knuckles with a ruler–well–let’s just say the man resigned that day,”  Ben stated, with anger still apparent in his tone over all that had happened the day he had his go-round with the school master.

“So, there’s a new teacher now then?  How is that going?”

Ben sighed wearily.  “It’s a woman this time, and she is a whole lot more understanding than the other teacher was.  At least she doesn’t correct Joseph about him using his left hand.  But, he seems to be in and out of trouble all the time.”

“Just precocious—like I told you before,” Uncle Joshua winked over at his nephew.  “If memory suits me you were the same way as a boy, Benjamin.”

“Well, maybe to a certain point, but nowhere as rambunctious as that boy of mine!” Ben exclaimed.

“Give him time.  I think the boy is a lot smarter than any of us know.  He guessed about the candy, remember?”

“He has a nose for those things,” Ben laughed as he saw Joe coming back in the room.

“I give Hoss the candy,” Joe said as he neared Uncle Joshua.

“You “gave” him the candy,” Ben corrected the boy.

“Yeah, that’s right,” Joe nodded happily.

“Well, how about you both coming into the kitchen with me and we will get some tea and maybe we can find something else for your sweet tooth too,” Uncle Joshua said and took Joe by the hand as he stood from his chair.

“I don’t like tea,” Joe scrunched up his nose to show his distaste.

“Oh, but I have special tea, Young Man–all the way from China!”  Joshua said as the three of them headed towards the kitchen.

“Hop Sing’s from China!  Can I bring him some back?”  Joe asked, thinking of his dear friend who had remained back at the Ponderosa to take care of things.

“Sure, we will pack some up for him.”

When they reached the kitchen, Uncle Joshua lit the stove and settled the tea kettle on top of it to boil the water.  He then noticed Joe looking curiously around the room at all the many cabinets and drawers.

“You got a big kitchen,” Joe said as he started to pull drawers open and peek into them.

“Joseph?  You think you should be snooping around?”  Ben asked the boy giving him a warning look again.

“Oh–sorry,” Joe apologized and walked over to the table where the two men were seated.

“While we wait on the tea, how would you like to play another guessing game, Joseph?”  Uncle Joshua asked.

“Sure!  I like guessing games,” Joe smiled.

It was then that Hoss and Adam filtered into the room and took seats next to them.

“Hey we’re gonna play a guessing game!”  Joe called over excitedly to his brothers.

“Oh we are?”  Adam patted his brother’s head and looked over at his father.

“Yes, we’ll just see who is the best at guessing where I have hidden a bag of candy,”  Uncle Joshua replied and stood and walked over to his china cabinet.  It was a huge solid oak piece of furniture, with six large drawers underneath the two glass doors, three on each side.  “There are six drawers, so you each can choose two of them for your guesses.  Adam, since you are the oldest I will let you start.”

“Hummm,” Adam winked over at Joshua to show him that he didn’t mind playing a kid’s game, not if it amused his younger brothers.  “That one and that one,” Adam pointed to the top left drawer and the bottom right drawer.

“Okay–you next, Hoss,” Joshua called over to him now.

“Let’s see—how about those!”  Hoss pointed to the two middle drawers.

“Well, Joseph—looks like your decision has been made up for you, huh?”  Joshua smiled but Joe wasn’t amused.  “What’s wrong?  Don’t you think the candy is in either of your two drawers?”

Joe stood and walked over to the china cabinet, his face showed he was in deep thought.  He finally turned around and looked at Uncle Joshua.  “Can I pick something different?”

“Well, your brother’s have already chosen their drawers I am afraid,” Joshua replied.

“Yeah–well–that’s okay.  I want what is behind the plate up there!”  Joe pointed to the top shelf behind the glass.  There was a highly ornamental dish, rimmed in gold plate.

The other Cartwrights looked confused.  All they could see was the plate, even from where they all now stood.  How would Joe know there was something behind it?  They thought the boy must be funning them.

“Joseph, now the game was the drawers, don’t give Uncle Joshua a hard time,” Ben scolded the boy.

“Just a minute, Benjamin.  First, let’s see how Adam and Hoss did,” Joshua said smiling as he pulled open the drawers where he had carefully planted small bags of candy in each one.  He handed Hoss and Adam the bags they had won in their little game.

“Ha ha, Little Joe–you don’t get nothing ‘cause you didn’t want a drawer.  There was candy in them all.”  Hoss teased his little brother as he joyously dug into his two candy bags.

“I knowd there was,” Joe fussed at Hoss, not liking to be laughed at.  “But, I wanted what’s up there instead,” Joe pointed up towards the plate again.

“Joseph–” Ben started but Uncle Joshua cut him off.

“No–now let’s just see if there’s something up there,” Joshua winked again and pulled Joe up into his arms.  “I’ll lift you up and you can reach behind the plate, okay, Joseph?”

Joe grinned over at the man who held him tightly and then over to his father.  Ben looked petrified that his youngest son would knock over the expensive plate.

“Careful,” Ben muttered as his uncle opened the glass door of the cabinet.

Joe reached as far as he could behind the plate and found a small box.  He pulled it to him as his uncle closed the cabinet and walked over to the table still holding the boy in his arms.  He sat down in his chair, dropping Joe into his lap.

“Can I open it?”  Joe asked anxiously.

“Well, you found it didn’t you?  I guess it was meant for you then.  Go on open it,” Joshua laughed when he saw the look of pure awe on the child’s face.

Joe lifted the lid to the small box and inside was a solid gold money clip.  “I know what this is!”  Joe squealed in delight.  “It’s to put your moneys in!”

“That’s right!  It’s a money clip–and it’s made of solid gold too,” Joshua nodded.

“Can I keep it–can I?”  Joe asked looking up into the man’s patient eyes.

“Joseph—that belongs to Uncle Joshua,” Ben shook his head “no”.

“No, Benjamin, Joseph found it, so I think it was meant for him.  Now why don’t you turn it onto the back and look and see?”

Joe turned the money clip over and saw the engraved initials of “J.F.C.”.  “Hey! Papa!  Those are my name–you know—Joseph Francis Cartwright!”  Joe shouted, more excited now than he had been.

Ben shook his head smiling at the boy’s enthusiasm.  “Actually, those are Uncle Joshua’s initials, Son.  Joshua Franklin Cartwright.”

“But mine too!”  Joe protested.

“You are right, Joseph.  And since you found it, then it’s only fair you keep it.  Let’s ask your brothers.  What do you think, Hoss, Adam?” Uncle Josh asked.

The two boys looked at each other and could see that it meant a whole lot to Joe.  They both nodded in unison.

“Yeah–it’s kinda like he was supposed to find it,” Adam agreed.

“Well, I guess–but can I have his candy?”  Hoss asked a bit shyly.

“Sure you can.  And, I do have a little something special for you both too,” Uncle Joshua smiled at the three boys and then over at his nephew.

Ben reached over for Joe and the boy leapt into his father’s lap to show him his treasure.  “Papa—this is special!”  Joe said as he showed it to him.

“It sure is, Joseph.  But–how did you know it was up there?”  He asked curiously.

“I closed my eyes and I saw in my head,” Joe answered and looked up at Uncle Joshua.  “Was that okay?  It wasn’t cheating was it?  I mean, I saw it in my head, I didn’t peek or anything,” Joe tried to explain.

Joshua reached across to the boy and patted his curly head.  “Of course it is okay!  I told you that you are a very smart child.  And sometimes when I close my eyes I can see things too.  And guess what else, Joseph?”

“What?”

“I am also left handed.  So, I want you to know that it’s okay to use your left hand, just as it’s okay to see things in your head that tell you where things are hidden.  Okay?”

Joe hopped down out of his father’s lap and ran towards Uncle Joshua and hugged him.  “Thank you, you are my bestest Uncle!”  Joe whispered in his ear.

The other three Cartwrights were still sitting at the table trying to figure out just how the youngest had seen the money clip in his head.

***********************

Later that first evening at Uncle Joshua’s house, he entertained his guests with many stories of all his world travels and the adventures he had along the way.  All three boys sat in their nightshirts and robes on the floor by the huge fireplace and listened intently, hanging on to each word Uncle Joshua said.  Ben sat smiling throughout his uncle’s long renditions of past experiences, some of which he had heard himself as a small boy.  He watched his boy’s faces and grinned at the way each child was apparently mesmerized by the man before them.  Ben tried to stifle a chuckle when he noticed his youngest drawing closer and closer to his father’s chair, and finally was seated on his feet.  Ben patted Joe’s shoulder as he noticed a look of both intrigue and a bit of fear painting the boy’s face as Uncle Joshua told about the time he was captured by natives in Africa.

“How come they didn’t kill you?”  Hoss was the first boy to ask their uncle.

“Well, I had a whole sack of trinkets and we kind of traded for my life,” Uncle Joshua answered, his hazel eyes twinkling down at the three boys.  “I think it was perhaps the best deal I ever got to tell you the truth.”

“Well, I believe these youngsters need to get to bed,” Ben finally broke in on the fun.

“Aw–Papa–just one more?”  Joe asked turning his head around and casting his pleading eyes into those of his father’s, begging for a reprieve.  He wasn’t too keen on the idea of going to bed, not after hearing all of the scary stories.  Joe felt much safer there in the living room surrounded by all the others.

“Okay–perhaps one more–but that’s it, understand?”  Ben gave in winking over towards his uncle.

“Thanks, Papa,” Joe nodded content with the agreement.

“Well–let’s see–what would be something good to tell you boys before bedtime?”  Uncle Joshua asked himself and the others.  “Can’t be something too scary, huh, Joseph?”

“I ain’t scared,” Joe defended his otherwise appearance. “But, it doesn’t “have” to be scary,” Joe bargained, rethinking his bravery.

Adam and Hoss laughed at their little brother and both boys reached over to Joe and ruffled his curls.

“NO–why Joe isn’t afraid of anything!” Adam exclaimed.  “Well, other than ghosts, and witches, and monsters.”

“I ain’t neither–Papa–tell him!”  Joe argued back.

“Yes, that’s right, Son.  You are very brave,” Ben cajoled the boy who still sat planted firmly on his father’s feet.

“I think I’ve got it.  And it just happens to be about you, Joseph,” Uncle Joshua grinned and signaled the boy over to him.  Rather reluctantly at first, Joe pulled himself off the floor.  But, the compassion was very apparent on the elderly man’s face and Joe still had the money clip in his pocket to remind him of Uncle Joshua’s fondness for him.  Joe climbed up on the man’s lap and waited for the last story of the night.

“Go tell them, Uncle Josh—a story about me,” Joe nodded looking up into the man’s eyes.

“Well, it goes back a long long while, long before there ever was a Little Joe Cartwright.”  The man started and soon all eyes in the room fell upon him.  “Your pa’s father was my brother, and your pa’s grandfather was my father.”

“I knowd that–I asked Papa on the way here who you were,” Joe grinned over at his father.

“Well, there’s something that you might not know.  Your father’s pa’s name was Joseph Benjamin Cartwright and he was the youngest of the three of us boys.  I was the oldest, then my brother Harold and then your Grandpa Joseph.  Then your pa was the third boy in his family.  There was your Uncle John, and the second son named Michael and then your pa,” Uncle Joshua was stopped when Ben broke in.

“What?  There were just the two of us, John and myself. Who is this Michael?”  Ben asked wondering what the man was saying, and if he was perhaps a bit mixed up.

“No, Benjamin, your mother lost a child–a boy–between you and John.  They named the child Michael, but unfortunately he only lived a week.  Your parents never mentioned it to either of you, and John was only a couple of years old at the time, so he surely didn’t remember.  And, you were born just a few years after they lost the boy.  So, as I was saying, you are the third son, of the third son.”

Ben tried to take in the new information.  It seemed odd to learn he had another brother, especially to hear of it so many years after his parents had died.  But, he was sure that if Uncle Joshua said it, that it was indeed fact.

Uncle Joshua pulled Joe’s chin up so he could stare directly into the boy’s eyes.  “Now do you know what that makes you, Joseph?”

Joe looked confused.  He shrugged his shoulders helplessly unaware of what the man was getting at.  “Uh uh,” Joe replied.

“Well, you are the third son of the third son of the third son,” Joshua replied and patted the boy’s head.

Adam and Hoss looked back and forth between each other.  They thought it was rather odd, but it still didn’t seem big news.  “So?  Why’s that so strange?”  Hoss asked when his older brother didn’t.

“Well, it means that this boy here is very special.”

“Oh–we know that!”  Ben laughed.  “He is special and a real handful too!”

“I think as you grow older, Joseph, that you will find that you can see things that others can’t.  You know–like today in the kitchen?  Remember how you found that money clip?  There are some folks who would say your birth order, and that you are the third son in a long line of them, will give you special insight.”

“I always heard that was the seventh son of the seventh son?”  Adam broke in.

“Ah, yes that too.  But, I think you will find that this little brother of yours will grow to have some pretty special talents.”

“You really think so?”  Joe asked getting excited now from the news.

“Yes, I do.  And, I have something very special to give you, but not just now.”

“Money for my money clip?”

Uncle Joshua laughed and set the boy down out of his lap.  “No not that!  Now, I have some things to give to your brothers–since they are older.  But, when you turn eighteen I am going to send you something very special.”

“Eighteen?”  Joe asked frowning.  “It will take me forever to get to be eighteen!”

“No, you will find the time will pass by very quickly.  And don’t you dare miss a moment of the fun you will have along the way, Young Man.  Now you go and get ready for bed.  I am going to take Adam and Hoss into the den to show them what I have for each of them.  I will see you in the morning, Joseph,” Uncle Joshua stood as Ben took the boy’s hand to lead him upstairs.

Ben settled the boy into the massive bed that stood in one of the guest rooms.  He had helped Joe wash his face and say his prayers and was ready to say goodnight to his youngest.

“Papa?”  Joe asked yawning from his long and exciting day.

“Yes, Son?”

“I wish I was old like Adam and Hoss.  Then I could get something special now.”

“Oh, now you have something special,” Ben paused and reached for the boy’s new money clip, now laying on the night stand.  “Are you forgetting this?”

“Naw–I like that—I like it a lot.  But, Uncle Josh said he was sending me something real special when I turn eighteen.  I have too long to wait.”

“No, you don’t,” Ben smiled and kissed the boy’s cheek.  “The years will fly by.  But, you need to enjoy them–like Uncle Joshua said.  Don’t go wishing your life away.  And, besides, I like having a little boy around.”

“Oh–Papa!  I ain’t a little boy!”  Joe protested and hugged his father tightly.

“You will always be my little boy,” Ben whispered to the child.  “Now you get yourself some sleep.  You’ve had a mighty long day.”

“Papa?”

“Yes?”  Ben asked as he stood from the bed.

“Am I really the third son of the third son of the third son?”

Ben laughed and ruffled his son’s curly hair.  “Yes, you are.”

“I’m special,” Joe grinned up at his father.

“Yes, you are.  Now go to sleep.”

“But, um, could you send Hoss up?  I don’t want to sleep in this big bed by myself.”

“If you promise to close those eyes I will send him up,” Ben called over to the boy as he reached the door.

“They’re closed now, Papa!  Bring him up—it’s scary in here.”

Ben chuckled when he noticed the look on his son’s face.  Here the child had just insisted he wasn’t a little boy one minute and the next minute he was asking for someone to sleep with him.  Ben realized that Joe had listened perhaps a little too closely to some of Uncle Joshua’s stories and they were already affecting the boy.  “I’ll bring Hoss right up.  Goodnight, Joseph.  Sleep well.”

“Goodnight, Papa.  I’ll sleep fine—once Hoss is here in bed with me!”

***************************

Ben shook himself from his fond memories of the trip the family had taken twelve years earlier to see the now deceased uncle.  As he stood and stretched out the kinks from his back, and tossed another stick of firewood into the fireplace he suddenly remembered the long forgotten promise Uncle Joshua had made to Joe.  Ben now wondered if Joe even remembered that the man had told him he would send him something very special for his eighteenth birthday.  It had not been mentioned for years.  Though the man had sent presents to the boys over the years, there was no further mention of anything out of the ordinary coming for the youngest.  Ben’s face scrunched up at the thought of it all.  The man, who had long ago promised Joe the special present actually died on the night of the boy’s eighteenth birthday.  It seemed rather odd.  And, what with the clock stopping to signal the event of his death, Ben couldn’t help thinking it strange.  Finally, trying to rid himself of all the memories that he had earlier summoned, Ben decided to turn in for the night.  Perhaps it had been just like he had told his sons, just a mere coincidence.

*****************************

While all of the other Cartwrights fell into deep slumber, Joe tossed and turned all night long. His dreams were a montage of strange sights and sounds.  He dreamt he was standing on a dark street corner so far away, in a place totally unfamiliar to him.  As Joe moved down the cobblestone walkway he made it to the hazy glow of a street lantern and stood staring off into the fog.  It was then that the black horse drawn hearse appeared heading towards him.  Joe could not make out the face of the driver as it was totally shrouded in the dense mist that floated over the whole town before him.  Only when the hearse passed him, did Joe detect a face, and it was that of Uncle Joshua.  He looked exactly as Joe had remembered him, except for one thing.  The face that peered out of the back window of the hearse wore the pallor of death.  Joe tried to call out to the man as the hearse drew farther and farther down the winding street.  His voice echoed in the darkness and only the wave of the deceased man’s hand told Joe that he had noticed him there at all.

Joe heard a soft clanging at his feet and stared down at the bright gold money clip which had fallen out of his own hand.  He bent down to pick it up from the cobblestone walkway, and it was then that he noticed the other set of shoes.  Looking up, Joe saw the face of his great uncle again.  This time the man was standing there, leaning against the lamp post.  He was smiling at him and reached his hand out.  Joe took the man’s outstretched hand and Uncle Joshua pulled him to standing.

“It’s your turn now,” Uncle Joshua said and patted the boy’s shoulder.  Before Joe could say anything in reply, the other man disappeared into the mist.

Joe sprang from his bed soaked in perspiration.  His heart was pounding so fiercely that he wasn’t sure if he was having a heart attack.  Unlike times in the past, a scream had not escaped the boy’s lips, though his nightmare had taken his breath away and sent chill bumps all over his body.  Joe stood and walked shakily over to his water basin and rinsed off his face.  He still felt as though he was somehow trapped inside the awful dream.  When he looked up into his mirror, the faint moonlight lit his reflection enough for Joe to see the terror he now wore on his face.  It was at that moment Joe saw a second face staring back at him; Uncle Joshua.  It scared Joe so badly that he jumped back and fell onto the floor hitting his head on the end of his bedframe.  The noise of his fall sent his father heading in from across the hall.  He had just awakened minutes before he had heard the loud thud, and Ben knew it had come from his youngest son’s room.

“Joseph?  What in the world?”  Ben called as he entered the bedroom and strode briskly across to the end of the bed.

Joe sat on the floor rubbing the back of his head.  He looked up into his father’s questioning eyes and wasn’t sure what he should say.

“What happened?  I woke up and all of a sudden I heard the racket in here.  How did you end up on the floor?”  Ben asked as he pulled Joe to his feet and threw his arm around his shoulders.

“I—I don’t know exactly, Pa,” Joe muttered still rubbing at the back of his head where a lump was starting to come up.

Ben moved Joe over to the bed and turned up the lamp.  He held it over to his son’s head and inspected the rising lump.  “You’ve got a good sized bump there, Joseph.  What were you doing?  It’s three in the morning!”

“I–I guess I was dreaming or something.  I’m okay.”

“Nightmare?”  Ben asked calmly and rubbed his son’s shoulder to try and comfort him.  He could read the look on Joe’s face and it worried him.

“Yeah, I guess.  I’m okay, you go back to sleep,” Joe insisted and moved back up to the head of the bed.

“You sure you’re okay?  Maybe we should put some ice on that lump?”  Ben’s concern showed in his tone.  He wasn’t just worried about the lump now.  He wanted to know what had scared his son so badly.

“No.  I’m just going back to sleep.  Sorry I woke you,” Joe tried his best to sound light hearted so his father would leave the room.  He didn’t want to tell his father that he was scared like some little kid.  After all, he was eighteen now and should not be acting like a child.  Or so Joe reasoned to himself.

Ben frowned and let his hand fall to the boy’s face.  He could tell that Joe was not exactly telling him the truth.  “Well, you go ahead and try.  But, if you need me–or if you want to talk–” Ben trailed off as Joe broke back in.

“I know, Pa.  Thanks. Go to bed.”

“See you in the morning.  Hopefully a little later in the morning that is,” Ben smiled and turned the lamp down again and left the room.

*****************************

Later that morning, Ben, Hoss and Adam sat at the dining room table just beginning their breakfast.  Ben had stopped by Joe’s room only to find him slumbering peacefully.  He decided to give the boy some extra time to rest after his earlier trouble sleeping.  Ben had filled his other sons in on what he had witnessed when their brother had his nightmare.  They were also, rather sternly, advised not to tease Joe about the incident.

Both Adam and Hoss never had the chance to address the nightmare to their little brother, as he slept so late that he missed their departure.  Hop Sing had kept something warm on the stove for the youngest of his family members and Joe sat at the dining table and hurriedly ate, feeling somewhat guilty for being the last one out of the house to do chores.  Ben came in from his study and smiled over at his son.

“How’s that knot on your head, Joseph?”

Joe grinned wryly and answered, “I’ve had worse–hey–sorry I slept late, Pa.”

“I thought you could use the extra hours.  Maybe you should take it easy today?”

Joe gulped down his coffee and pushed back his chair.  “Naw–I’m okay–gonna go out to the breaking corral before Adam ends up chewing me out for slacking!  See you later!”  Joe replied and headed for the door.

Ben watched his youngest son hurrying out to work and his face took on a puzzled appearance. He took Joe’s demeanor to mean that the boy was somewhat embarrassed over the nightmare and the fact that he had awakened his father.  Shrugging his shoulders, Ben walked back to his study to concentrate on his own work.

****************************

Preparing for end of the year round-up ran its course over the three weeks that followed Joe’s eighteenth birthday party.  Joe headed the crew breaking the new horses that would be needed for the up-coming cattle drive.  Hoss helped out with branding the last of the new calves and Adam was in charge of both the newly hired timber crew and signing on men for the drive east to market. It was late in the season, and there wouldn’t be a need for many drovers but the Cartwrights had decided not to winter feed what remained of the herd and instead had found a buyer who was willing to pay top dollar for as many steers as they could bring before winter set in.

Ben had just returned from a trip into Virginia City, where he had been in meetings with the Cattlemen’s Association as well as the president of the bank to secure funds that the Ponderosa would need for the many ventures they were in the midst of that fall.  He hung up his coat and hat and turned to the welcome home calls of his two oldest sons.  Smiling, Ben waved over towards his sons and headed over to his favorite chair by the fireplace.

“Hop Sing has been yelling for an hour, Pa.  I told him you would be in soon but Joe hasn’t fell in here yet,” Hoss called over to his father.

“It took longer than I thought it would, but at least we have the money situation taken care of.  Adam?  Did you get all the men hired for the drive?”  Ben asked, sinking down into the red leather cushions of his chair.

“Yes, sir, hired back about ten regulars from last year’s drive and a half dozen new men.  Hey—what do you have there?”  Adam pointed towards the small package in his father’s lap.

“Oh this—well it came in on the stage today—looks like it’s from Constance.  I imagine it’s something Uncle Josh left.”

“Well–ain’t you gonna open it?”  Hoss jumped in, curious in nature as was his character.

Ben smiled and shook his head, “This happens to be addressed to your little brother–not me–” Ben’s answer was cut short as Joe entered the house.

“‘Bout time!”  Hoss shouted towards his brother at the door.

“Hey–I told you I had two more broncs before I could make it in.  Hi, Pa—anything new in town?” Joe asked grinning as he made his way over to his family.

“Just this,” Ben answered and handed his son the package wrapped in plain brown paper.

“Huh?”  Joe said looking down at the package.  He read the return address and stared back over at his father.  “Constance?  That’s Uncle Josh’s housekeeper—why would she send something to me?”

“Why don’t you just open it?”  Adam answered tersely.  The question of what was inside the package was starting to peak his curiosity as well as the others in the room.

Joe shot his oldest brother a peculiar smile and set the package on the coffee table.  “Naw–I will open it after supper,” Joe teased, seeing the interest painted on the faces in the room.

Hoss made a move over to his little brother and clamped his massive hand on Joe’s shoulder and gave it a good squeeze.

“Ouch!  Okay–okay—I’ll open it now!”  Joe grimaced and pulled the package back into his lap.

All eyes in the room watched as Joe freed the small box from the wrapping paper.  Tied on top of the small ornate wooden case was a note from Constance.

“So?  What’s it say?”  Hoss asked, unable to read over his brother’s shoulder.

“Your Uncle Josh left specific instructions that you receive this gift for your eighteenth birthday, Joseph.  Unfortunately, I was unable to get it to you in time.  Your uncle was very ill right before he passed away, and I neglected to get this gift off to you.  I am sorry for the delay.  I hope you like it your uncle was adamant that you have this and that you always keep what is inside this box.  Respectfully yours, Constance McGhee,” Joe read the letter and then handed it over to his father.  “He wanted me to have it on my birthday, Pa.  I feel kinda bad—that he died that day and all.  But, now, come to think of it, I kinda remember him promising me something special on my eighteenth birthday.  Remember?  When we visited him a long time ago he told me that?”

Ben nodded, not letting on to Joe that he had already taken the long trip down memory lane weeks before when the news had come of Uncle Josh’s death.  “Let’s see what you have there, Joseph.”

Joe unfettered the bronze latch and lifted the lid.  The red velvet cushioning inside held one object.  There, nestled in its own hollowed depression inside the box was a bright gold medallion.  Joe carefully untied the ribbon which had held it in place and pulled the object up into full view.  When he did, he spied a small piece of paper which had been hidden underneath the medallion.  Reading the handwriting of his late great uncle, Joe’s mouth dropped open and he accidentally dropped the box onto the floor.

Ben and Joe’s two brothers noticed the strange frightened looked which now controlled the boy’s face.  Joe just sat there, staring at the medallion and reading the small note over and over again.

“Joseph?  Son?  What is it?”  Ben asked as he moved over next to Joe’s position on the settee.

Joe took a big swallow and tried to compose himself.  All he could think of was the nightmare he had the night that he learned Uncle Josh had died.  He remembered now so vividly the man’s words to him in the dream, “it’s your turn now”.

“Yeah—-Pa—I’m f-fine.  Just surprised me a little is all,” Joe tried to find the normal tone in his voice, but still came out a bit higher in octave.

“What’s the note say?”  Adam asked leaning towards his little brother, trying to catch a peek.

“Nothing—nothing important—all’s it is —is some kind of a medal, maybe something he bought on one of his trips,” Joe tried once more to make light of the whole incident.  He felt there was nothing to be gained by telling his family about his dream.

“Can I see it?”  Adam asked holding out his hand.

Joe reluctantly handed the medal over to his oldest brother, who seemed intent on reading some importance into the gift.

“This is some antique, Little Brother, in fact—I bet you it’s a couple hundred years old by the looks of the craftsmanship.”

“Yeah—here–hand it back will you?”  Joe was anxious to keep the medal on him now.  He wasn’t sure why, but figured it was something his uncle deemed to be important for some reason.

“Sure–here you go,” Adam nodded and turned the gift back over to his brother, seeing the intensity on the boy’s face.

“I—um—I need to get washed up—for dinner.  Be right back,” Joe announced abruptly and gathered up the box, the note, and the medal and headed towards the stairs. Taking the steps two at a time, he hurried up to his bedroom.

Ben’s concerned gaze followed his son up the stairs.

“What was all that about?  Joe looked like he’d seen a ghost!”  Hoss exclaimed.

“Yeah—and what was that note–what did it say?  Did you see it Pa?”  Adam asked.

“No–the boy took it away too fast.  But, as soon as Joe read it, his whole disposition changed,” Ben sighed and sank back down into his chair bewildered.

“You gonna ask him about it?”

“No, Adam—least not right now—I figure that Joseph will eventually tell us.  Let’s just drop the subject unless he brings it up.”

“Wonder why Uncle Josh would send Joe a medal?  I mean—I remember him promising Joe something special—back when we visited him.  But, I figured it would be one of his antique guns like he gave me—or a rare book like he gave Adam.  But, a medal—why?”

Ben shrugged his shoulders and stared back up towards the top of the stairs.  He was wondering the same thing.

***************************

Joe, still shaking, made his way to his bedroom with the medallion clutched tight in his left hand.  Tossing the box and note on top of his dresser, he moved to his wash basin to rinse some of the grime off his hands and face.  Placing the medallion on the wood base, underneath the oval mirror Joe began to wash his face.  The haunting memory came back again, and it prohibited him from looking up into the mirror.  All he could think about was his nightmare and the fact that he clearly had seen his late uncle’s face staring back at him weeks earlier.  Not wanting the same experience then, or ever again, Joe reached for the towel hanging on the side of the basin and mopped his face free of the water droplets, but avoided staring at his reflection.

****Come on, Joe—you are letting that imagination get the better of you! Calm down and don’t act like a kid****Joe chided himself as he reached for the medallion.  As soon as his fingers touched the ornate metal Joe felt as though a bolt of lightning had hit him and he gasped. ****What the heck?**** He asked himself internally, letting his eyes stare down at the object.  It appeared as though it glowed for a moment and then, after Joe made a good clearing blink, it was back to its normal state.  Joe stuffed it inside his pant’s pocket and hurried out of his room.

Dinner was spent going over the upcoming plans for the ranch and partaking in the wonderful feast that Hop Sing had diligently laid out for his surrogate family.  While his other two sons rattled on and on about events of the day, Ben cast a quick glance towards his youngest.  Joe was in the process of pushing his mashed potatoes from one end of his plate to the other; none finding their way to his mouth.

“Joseph?  Doesn’t look like all that bronc busting helped your appetite,” Ben commented, hoping to bring Joe out from his dazed countenance.

Joe looked over at his father, and for a brief moment contemplated unleashing his worries on the man.  He stopped the words from coming before he made a complete fool out of himself.  All he needed to do was to tell his family about what he had heard and seen and Joe was sure that they would be sending him away for some badly needed mental help.

“Joe?”  Ben reiterated, and reached for the young man’s arm to summon his attention.

“Oh—sorry, Pa—what did you say?”  Joe stuttered and watched the amused looks his brothers were sending his way.    “Joe, you look as white as Hop Sing’s table linen–is it that medal that’s got you so shaken?”  Adam asked, but Joe took it as typical older brother sarcasm.

“Why’d you say that, Adam?  I ain’t shaken!”  Joe fired back, his temper flaring.  It didn’t matter if his oldest brother had hit the nail on the head with his remark he was surely not going to confirm his fear to anyone at the table.

“I just asked—” Adam began but his father’s words cut him off.

“Enough—-I bet you boys are all tired.  You all put in a lot of hard days here lately.  Let’s leave it at that,” Ben interjected, trying for some semblance of normalcy at the dinner table.

Hoss looked over at his little brother, and he could read in the clouded hazel eyes that the boy was indeed troubled.  As was typical of the gentle giant, he wanted to help Joe in some way.

“Hey–Joe–can’t believe you broke that chestnut today so quick!  Hank said that four other wranglers tried before you and all of them ended up eating dust!”

Joe turned his attention to the baby blue eyes of his brother Hoss, and shot over a gracious smile.  He knew what his brother was trying to do, and he did appreciate the attempt at the save.  Joe wondered if maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea to confide his situation to Hoss.  A few pensive minutes later, Joe decided it was worth a try.

“Yeah—that chestnut was the toughest in the whole string that came in from McBride’s.  Oh—forgot to ask you earlier, Hoss, um— Cochise has been favoring her front right all day.  You think you could go out with me after supper and take a look?”

Ben watched the looks that passed between Hoss and Joe, and could tell from past experience with the both of them that his youngest son was asking for help in his own calculating way.  He also knew that Joe’s problem had little if anything to do with his horse.

“Sure–sure, Joe.  Let’s go, I’m done!”  Hoss answered and pushed back his chair.

Hoss lit the lantern that hung just inside the barn door and walked over toward the pinto’s stall.  Joe followed behind his brother and mulled over in his head exactly how he was going to address his problem.  When he saw Hoss go down on one knee inside Cochise’s stall, he knew it was time to confess.

“Hoss—sorry—I kinda fibbed in there.  There’s nothing wrong with my horse,” Joe began as he gently patted the pinto’s neck.

Hoss stood and looked down at his little brother and smiled.  He knew that Joe had been telling a lie, but wanted his brother to come clean about it in his own time.  “Well, I am glad nothing’s wrong with her.  So?  What’s wrong, Little Brother?”

Joe pulled over two empty barrels, up-ended them, and motioned his brother to sit down on one of them.  He followed suit, and was soon looking once again into Hoss’ questioning eyes.

“Well—I couldn’t tell Pa—and I sure couldn’t tell Adam.  But, I figured maybe you wouldn’t be too quick to judge me,” Joe began and witnessed Hoss’s warm smile taking over his face.

“You can tell me anything, you know that, Joe.  So–come on–get to it–what’s going on? Is it that medal like Adam said?”

“Well, yeah–but it’s more than that.  You remember the night we found out that Uncle Josh had died?”

“Yeah—what about it?”

“Well, that night I had a nightmare–” Joe started but noticed Hoss didn’t look particularly surprised to hear about the dream.  “Oh—I get it—guess Pa told you about me having the nightmare, huh?”

“Well, he did kinda mention it,” Hoss nodded.

Joe gave a wry smile at the thought of his father running interference for him as always.  He had wondered why no-one other than his pa ever said anything about the goose egg sized knot he wore for a week after he had hit his head that night.

“Should’ve known! Okay–well—what Pa didn’t know was what the dream was about.  I saw Uncle Josh in the dream, Hoss.  It was so dad gone real!  He was riding in the back of a horse drawn hearse.  He waved at me and then disappeared into the mist.”

“Well, Joe—I’ve had dreams like that—you just gotta forget them.”

“I’m not done!”  Joe replied, more harshly than he had intended.  He stood and began to nervously pace the floor of the barn.  “In the dream–right before I woke up he said to me these words—it’s your turn now!  It scared me so bad that I jumped out of bed.  Then, when I went to wash my face to get good and awake—well—I know you aren’t gonna believe this–but I saw Uncle Josh in the mirror looking right there at me!”

Hoss read the strange look of panic on his little brother’s face, and knew what the boy was relating was surely the truth.  Joe was about as brave as they came, or so his brother Hoss believed, so if something shook the boy that bad, he knew that it had to be real.

“Joe, I know that had to be plum awful for you–but are you sure you weren’t still dreaming?”

“No—it scared me so bad that I jumped back and hit my head on the bed frame.  That’s what brought Pa into the room.”

“Well, so—what’s bothering you?  Is the present he sent kinda bringing the whole thing back in your head or what?”  Hoss tried once again to figure his brother’s fear out so he could help him over it.

“Hoss—the note—the note that was underneath the medal–you know what it said?”

Hoss shook his head and smiled, “No, I don’t—remember?  You wouldn’t show it to none of us!”

“Well, it said the same words that Uncle Josh said in that dream.”

“Huh?”  Hoss asked, now jumping up from his seat.

“It’s your turn now—that’s exactly what it says!  I have it up in my room if you don’t believe me!”

Hoss took a big gulp and tried to wipe the look of fear off of his own face.  He wanted to be able to help his little brother, and he knew it wouldn’t help to look almost as frightened as Joe was himself.

“Okay–well that is strange–I’d have to give you that all right!  But, well—maybe it’s a coincidence?”  Hoss was now grasping for straws.  He believed it had to be a little more than mere coincidence.

“Hoss—I tell you this whole thing has me half crazy.  When I was upstairs cleaning up for dinner—-the medal–well it–” Joe stopped and looked down at the hay covered floor.

“Go on—you told me this much–might as well tell me the whole dad burn story,” Hoss urged his brother onward.

“The medal—well it was like—glowing or something—and when I picked it up—it felt like a bolt of lightning hit me.”

Hoss sank back down on the barrel and thought for a few minutes as his little brother continued pacing.  He wished at the time that Pa could be brought in on the whole ordeal, but Hoss knew Joe had taken only his brother into his confidence.

“You got the thing on you?”  Hoss asked.

“Yeah, why?”

“Let me hold it a second,” Hoss replied and held out his right palm towards his brother.

Joe dug the medal out of his pant’s pocket and placed it in his brother’s hand.  Hoss stared at it, and turned it over thoroughly inspecting it.

“I don’t feel nothing.”

“Guess now you think I am crazy, huh?”  Joe asked frowning as he took the medallion back away from his brother.

“Joe—I ain’t saying that!  I believe you, Little Brother.  You have told some whoppers in your time—I’ll give you that–but I know you aren’t pulling my leg about this.”

Joe settled back on his perch on the barrel opposite Hoss and shook his head defeated.  “So–you believe I am telling the truth–but what do you think about what happened?”

Hoss gave a deep shrug of his shoulders and reached over and patted his brother’s arm.  “I know old Uncle Josh always liked you—remember?  Maybe—maybe he did kinda come and see you–who knows?  Maybe he just wanted to tell you goodbye?”

“And the medal?  What about that?” Joe persisted.

“Don’t rightly know, Little Brother.  Guess it’s that something special he always said he was gonna give you.”

Joe looked at the strange medallion again and sighed.  “Okay, maybe it’s just like you’ve said–part coincidence and part Uncle Josh telling me goodbye.  Hey, Hoss?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t say nothing about this to Pa or Adam will you?”

Hoss nodded and playfully jabbed his brother in the rib cage with his right fist.  “Naw–you know I won’t do nothing like that!”

“Thanks,” Joe said, feeling a bit more relaxed at the moment.

“That’s what brothers are for youngin’,” Hoss laughed and stood and moved the barrel back against the wall.  “If’n they say anything we will just tell ‘em that Cochise picked up a stone and is okay now.”

“Good plan!”  Joe laughed and winked as the two of them moved out of the barn.

With little fan-fare, Joe had bid a hasty goodnight to his family and headed up to his bedroom just as soon as he and Hoss had returned to the house.  Hoss did as promised, and didn’t give a hint as to what the conversation had been about out in the barn.  Ben watched as his older two sons played a couple games of checkers and finally gave in to their exhaustion and headed to their own rooms later that night.  He wanted to go and check on his youngest son, but didn’t want to pry.  Ben hoped Joe would come to him instead, if the boy decided to bring his father in on his problem.  But, that wasn’t happening.

Ben was the last Cartwright to make his way to the second floor sleeping quarters later that evening.  Staring across the hallway, he noticed the light shining from underneath Joe’s door.  He took that sign as an invitation to check on his son.

“Joseph?”  Ben asked quietly as he pushed the door opened and stared over to the window where he saw the boy sitting.

Joe turned toward the call and replied, “Pa?  You still up?”

Ben smiled and moved over next to his son, taking a seat at the end of the bed opposite where Joe was sitting in the chair.  “I was wondering the same thing about you, actually.  You came up here hours ago— I figured you would be sleeping.”

Joe stood and stretched and looked away from his father’s eyes, not sure of what he should say.  He was hoping to handle his situation on his own, but was not at all sure of what his situation was.

“Guess I wasn’t as tired as I thought I was, Pa,” Joe answered and set the book he had been thumbing through over in his bookcase.

“You want to tell me about it?”  Ben asked, finally moving next to his son and forcing his gaze.

“About what?”  Joe tried to feign ignorance.

“Joseph?”  Ben raised his tone of voice an octave and raised his eyebrows.

“You know me too well,” Joe smiled and moved away from his father’s hold and headed toward his bed.

“So?  It’s that medallion?  Is that it–or is it that nightmare you had a couple of weeks ago?”

“Both—but—it’s probably just my imagination, Pa. You know how I am.”

Ben chuckled and nodded, “Well—I know you have a wonderful imagination–that’s true–but that look on your face tells me it’s something more.”

“I probably just need some sleep is all.  You go on to bed—I’m okay-really.”

Ben sighed and shook his head.  Evidently Joe was not ready to get to the crux of the matter and his father would have to back down and wait.  Ben reached over and patted Joe’s shoulder and gave him an understanding smile.

“When you are ready to tell me, Joseph, well, you know where to find me. Get some sleep.”

Joe nodded back over at his father, “Yeah, Pa, I know—thanks.”

Ben turned for the door at the same time that Joe lifted the medallion off of his night stand to stare at it once again.

“Pa?”  Joe called over to his father.

Ben turned back around, “Yes?”

“Good luck with Mr. Davis tomorrow, but read everything real good— there’s something about him that I don’t trust.”

Ben’s mouth hung open, shocked to hear what his son had conveyed.  “Joe?  I didn’t tell you about Mr. Davis and the railroad option—did I?”

“Must have,” Joe replied.

Ben thought for a couple of minutes, mulling over the day’s events and his conversation at the dinner table, which to his better recollection had only included Adam.  “I don’t recall telling you, Joseph.  And–when did you meet the man?”

“I haven’t actually met him, Pa–” Joe answered and then wondered what had possessed him say the things he had to his father.  The railroad contracts were not something he ever paid attention to, nor was paperwork involving contract negotiations.  Joe was perfectly content leaving such things to the expertise of his father and oldest brother.

“If you haven’t met the man–then how can you say you don’t trust him?”

Joe shrugged his shoulders and looked down at the floor.  He realized that what he had said had to sound foolish.  “I’m sorry, Pa—guess I shouldn’t have said anything. Just forget it.”

“Goodnight, Joseph.” Ben said, and left the room with a very perplexed expression on his face.

****************************

The next day Joe rode out to help Hoss with the branding, a nice change of pace from the settling of the horses.  The two brothers worked hard all day and Hoss was able to pull his little brother out of his somber mood by the end of the work day.  The two of them headed home looking forward to a quick dinner and then a night spent in Virginia City.  With it being Friday night, the town would be alive with local residents and payday enriched cowboys ready and willing to spend their money.

Removing their hats and holsters at the front door, both Hoss and Joe headed across the living room and over to their father’s study where they saw both Adam and Ben pouring over paperwork.

“Hi, Pa!  How you doing Older Brother!”  Joe called cheerily as he moved toward the desk, followed close behind by Hoss.

Adam looked over at Joe and then back to his father, and noticed the expression on Ben’s face.  He stood and straightened some of the papers, realizing that he needed to get Hoss over to the side so that their father could have a talk with Joe.

“You boys get all that branding done?”  Adam asked.

“Sure did, that chore is done for another year,” Hoss smiled.

Ben cleared his throat and stood next to Adam.  “Good job, Boys.  Oh–Hoss–why don’t you go get cleaned up for supper?”

“Yeah–me too–I’m heading to town as soon as I grab a quick bite!”  Joe grinned and started to turn with Hoss towards the stairs.

“Just a minute, Joseph—I’d like to talk to you first,” Ben called over to his son, stopping his progression.

Adam gave Hoss a warning look, and he knew it meant there might be trouble.  Both of the two oldest sons headed up the stairs, leaving Joe alone with Ben.

Joe slowly made his way back over to his father’s desk and leaned against it.

“What’s wrong, Pa?  Did I do something?”  Joe asked, wondering what all the secrecy was about and why his other brothers had purposely left the room so quickly.

“Sit down will you?”  Ben asked and pointed to the chair next to his desk.

Joe took a seat and stared up at his father, who had moved opposite him, standing next to the desk.  Joe took that as a bad sign, and wasn’t sure why he was about to get a lecture, but from past experience knew one was forthcoming.

“Adam and I went into town this morning to sign the railroad contracts,” Ben began.

“Oh?  Everything go okay?”  Joe asked, but from the look on his father’s face knew it was a stupid question.  Pa appeared to be upset.

“No–as a matter of fact, we found several clauses that Mr. Davis had taken it upon himself to add.  One of which, cut our profits on the railroad ties in half.”

“Knew he couldn’t be trusted!  Sorry, Pa—” Joe started but was cut off in mid-sentence.

Ben sank down so that he was now sitting on the edge of the desk, his arms folded and his head tilted in an attempt to seek the truth from his son.  “Just how did you know?  You told me last night that you didn’t trust him—even though you never met the man!  I’d like to know.”

Joe fidgeted in his chair and frowned.  He didn’t have an answer for his father, but knew the man wanted one.

“Guess–it was just a feeling, Pa–nothing I can pinpoint.”

“You don’t think it’s strange that you warned me about this last night and today I find it to be true?”  Ben asked raising his eyebrows.

“Well, yeah, guess it is, Sir.  But, it’s like I told you—I don’t know—I just had a feeling about it.”

Ben sighed and moved back to his chair and sat down.  He stared over at his son, and could tell by the boy’s face that he wasn’t lying to him.

“Can I go get ready for town now?”

“Go ahead,” Ben replied and started to pour over his paperwork again.

Joe stood and began to cross the room, he stopped in his tracks as his hand reached into his pocket and fell upon the medallion.

“Pa?”

“Yes, Son?”  Ben replied, with frustration still apparent in his tone.

“I wouldn’t worry about those ties.”

“Well, there won’t be any sale of ties now to worry about.”

“Yes there will—give it a couple of days.  I gotta go get washed up,” Joe hurried up the stairs.

Ben watched his son’s abrupt departure and wondered if perhaps he could be right again.  He shuffled the papers in his hands and shook his head.  There wasn’t anything he could do at the time but wait.

*******************************

“Okay, Little Brother, now don’t forget–Pa said no trouble tonight!  I’m going over to see Miss Becky and spend some time with her and her pa.  You better watch yourself in that saloon,” Hoss called over to his brother as Joe dismounted in front of the Bucket of Blood Saloon.

“Aw–you and Pa worry to much!”  Joe grinned and winked up at his brother.  “All’s I’m gonna do is turn this hundred dollars into a fortune and then head home!”

“Little Joe–you know you are the worse poker player this side of California!  If you were smart you would put your money in the bank and not throw it away!”

Joe’s infectious laughter filled the air as he waved to his brother and stepped up onto the wooden sidewalk in front of the saloon.

“You have fun with Becky–watch that her pa doesn’t see you kissing on her!”  Joe laughed as he walked through the swinging doors.

The saloon was crowded and noisy, and it heightened Joe’s spirits as he spied his best friend leaning up against the bar.  He walked over to Mitch Devlin and slung his arm around the young man’s shoulder.

“Joe!  Hey, I was hoping you’d show up!”  Mitch grinned and patted his friend’s arm.

Joe signaled the bartender for a beer and the man drew it off quickly and handed it over to him.

“Haven’t seen you in a spell, Little Joe.  How you been doing?”  The bartender smiled over at the young man.

“Yeah, Pa’s been working us pretty hard getting ready for end of the year round-up, Bruno.”

“So you here to relax then, huh?”  Bruno grinned and pointed over to a poker game that was just beginning.

“Yeah—you’re right.  C’mon, Mitch, let’s get in that game,” Joe said and grabbed his friend’s elbow and they headed over to a table towards the back of the saloon.

There were four men sitting at the table as Joe and Mitch approached.  Joe recognized three of them.  Two of the men, Frank Sellers and Claude Ogle, worked for the Bar S ranch which bordered the Ponderosa.  Another man worked in the local mercantile and had been a school chum of Mitch and Joe.

“Mind if we join you?”  Joe asked Steve Barrow, the storekeeper.

“Sure, Joe–you and Mitch take a seat,” Steve nodded towards the two of them.

Joe and Mitch sat down and said their hello’s to the men they knew.

“Joe–Mitch–this is Pete Timmons, he’s new around here–just started to work at the Bar-S with us,” Frank Sellers said and pointed over towards the new hired hand.

“Nice to meet you,” Mitch said and shook Pete’s hand.  “Name’s Mitch Devlin–my father owns the ranch to the east of the Bar-S.”

“Hi,” Pete said and then stared over at Joe.  “So, you are Cartwright?”

Joe studied the man there across the table.  He looked to be a couple of years older than him and Joe thought that Timmons didn’t exactly fit the description of a cowhand.  He would’ve pegged him as a gunslinger if he had seen him outside on the street.  His clothes were dark as were his eyes.  Joe remembered back to something his oldest brother had read to him.  It had been a phrase out of the play Julius Caesar and it was about Cassius having had a lean and hungry look.  That would have sized Pete Timmons up as well.  He was lean and lanky and with a look of deceitful hunger in his cold black eyes.

Joe laughed and held out his hand, “Well, yeah, I am one of them at least.  Joe Cartwright.  My pa owns the Ponderosa.”  Joe shook Pete’s hand.

There was something very strange going on, Joe was sure of it now.  He had inadvertently placed his left hand inside of his pocket where the medallion had been secured earlier when he reached to shake Pete’s hand with his right hand.  The moment that he touched the other man’s hand a montage of pictures ran through Joe’s head.  His breath went away from his lungs for a minute it was such an intense feeling.  He saw the man pulling a gun on him and shooting him in the leg.  He also saw the man beating him up outside in the street in front of the mercantile.  Joe could almost feel the man’s fists as they pummeled him in the alley next to the bank.  It was as if pure evil reeked from the grasp of Pete’s handshake.  When Joe finally let go, he sank back in his chair, feeling as though he had felt all the torment that he had seen in his strange vision.

“What’s the matter with you, Cartwright?”  Pete called over to him.  “You look like you’ve seen a ghost!”

Joe tried his best to gather himself and saw how all the other men at the table were staring at him now.

“Sorry—so—you’re working at the Bar-S, huh?”  Joe attempted to change the subject.

“Yeah–well, didn’t have a pa who owned a big spread–so had to find some real work,” Pete called across the table cynically.

Mitch witnessed his friend’s face taking on an angered look in response to Pete’s attempt at an insult. He grabbed Joe’s arm and tried to ease the tension.

“Well, there isn’t a harder worker in the territory than Joe here, Pete—no matter who he happens to work for.  Now, let’s get to winning!”

Joe grinned over at Mitch and knew that he was doing his normal job of trying to diffuse his temperamental best friend.

“Yeah, let’s get on with the game!”  Joe smiled and ignored Pete’s earlier insult.

The game started at ten minutes till eight that night.  Joe Cartwright was known by most as one of the unluckiest poker players in Virginia City.  Though, he had at times lucked into winning a couple of pots here and there, most of the time he lost all he had brought to the poker table.  That might have been one of the reasons that Joe was sought after as a player, since he seemed to be a pretty easy mark.  That night, however, everything changed to Joe’s advantage.  Hand after hand, Joe won.  If it hadn’t been for the fact that he never failed to claim the pot of money, perhaps the other players might have chalked it up to being a one- time stroke of luck.  But, by the time it was ten o’clock Pete Timmons was furious, furious and broke.  He over-turned the table after accusing Joe of cheating.  That was when the loud and rowdy melee started.  With fists flying, Pete and Joe battled it out.  Their fight helped to demolish a good amount of tables, glasses and chairs before Roy Coffee entered the saloon.  With one blast of his shotgun to bring the room’s attention, both young men stopped fighting and looked over at the stern face of the lawman.

“Virginia City extends her invitation to a cot in my jail.  Now you two come along.  Bruno—you gather up whatever money was on the table and we will dole it out to whoever it belongs once I get to the bottom of this,” Roy called over to the bartender.  “Oh, and you can also tally the damages—cause these two are gonna pay.”

“But, Sheriff, Cartwright was cheating!”  Pete hollered across the room.

“Let’s go,” Roy called back, not wanting an argument.

Joe grabbed his hat and turned towards Mitch.  “Better go get my father, Mitch,” Joe said and headed out of the saloon.

****************************

Ben had expected Hoss and Joe back late that night, but when Hoss arrived and Joe hadn’t made it back he was a bit worried.  When the loud knock had sounded on the front door around midnight his fears were realized.

“Mitch?  What’s wrong?”  Ben asked the young man, who seemed to be out of breath.

“It’s Joe–Roy’s got Joe in the jail–” Mitch coughed out.

“What!”  Ben boomed.  “Why?”

“He had a fight—in the saloon—some guy accused him of cheating–and well–you know Joe,” Mitch explained.

Ben scowled and reached for his hat and holster, “Yes, I know Joseph!”  Ben fumed and followed Mitch out the front door.

******************************

Roy Coffee had heard both sides of the story and had talked to all the other poker players in the game except Mitch.  He knew that he would have the chance to speak to him as soon as he returned from the Ponderosa.  Roy poured some coffee and settled down into the chair behind his desk.  He didn’t believe one word of Pete Timmons’ story.  He had known Little Joe Cartwright since he was born, and though the kid was a pure caution he was definitely not a cheat.  Pete seemed to take an instant hatred for the youngest of the Cartwright clan, and Roy decided to separate their cells so that neither young man would have a chance to start something in the back room.

Two in the morning the sheriffs’ office door flew open and in stormed Ben Cartwright with Mitch Devlin in tow.

“What in the devil is going on, Roy!”  Ben demanded.

Roy yawned and headed over towards the pot belly stove and poured two more cups of coffee.

“Drink this and simmer down, Ben.  I’ll get to that as soon as I ask Mitch a question or two.  Here, Mitch–you drink this and sit down over yonder!”  Roy pointed toward a chair in front of his desk.

Ben reluctantly took his own cup of coffee and sat down next to Mitch and waited. He knew Roy well enough to know not to anger him.  Roy was never happy about losing sleep at his age, and it was the middle of the night already.

“I talked to Frank, Claude and Steve and they gave me their story.  Now what’s yours, Mitch?”

“Joe wasn’t cheating!  He did win every hand—and yeah–that was kinda strange and all.  But, I was sitting right next to him the whole time–I never saw nothing–no cheating.”

“Well, that’s what them other three said,” Roy replied and nodded towards Ben.  “But, now Timmons back there insists Joe was cheating.  He ain’t got no proof though, so I am gonna take the majority here.”

“You don’t think Joe was cheating!”  Ben yelled angrily.

“Ben Cartwright, you hold your tone down with me or I will give you the cot next to your boy!”  Roy warned.

Ben leaned back in his chair and frowned.  “Sorry—-but you know better than to even doubt my son.”

“Ben—I am the sheriff here, remember?  My personal beliefs haven’t one iota to do with the law.  You know how I feel about Joe–so now–shut up okay?”  Roy smiled and winked over to his old friend to show him that he didn’t harbor any hard feelings over what had been said between the two of them.

Ben nodded and sighed, “Sorry–I did come in here kinda loud.  You going to release the boy now?”

“Yeah—first—Mitch you get on home before your pa has a pure fit.  If I need any more from you I will call for you.”

“Thanks,” Mitch replied and hurried out the door.

“Now, since nobody seen Joe messing with the deck—or holding any cards–there ain’t nothing substantial to the claim Timmons made. BUT—there’s bad blood between your boy and him so keep Joe away from here for a few days will you?”

“I will,” Ben said standing.

“As for the damages—I’m gonna take them out of Joe’s winnings—looks like he won almost four hundred dollars tonight.”

Ben’s mouth dropped.  “We are talking about Joseph Cartwright?”

Roy laughed, “Yeah–guess after all the years of losing hands the poker gods smiled upon the kid for one night!  Bruno figured the damages to be two hundred—but Joe will still have a right nice profit.  Here–you hold it for him–I’ll go get him.”

Roy brought the keys and unlocked Joe’s cell.  “Your pa’s here, Joe.  Come on.”

“Hey!  You can’t let that thief go!  Did those all mighty Cartwrights bribe you, Sheriff?”  Pete yelled, pressing his face up against the bars to his cell.

Roy spun around and looked at the other man, “I know you didn’t just accuse me of taking a bribe—did you, Boy?  Cause if you did it would mean a month in that there cell.”

“But—he stole my money!” Pete protested.

“He won your money, Boy.  And I have testimony of four other men that says he won it fair.  Now, I’ll let you outta there in the morning if you decide to act right.  Joe here has offered to pay all damages.”

“I did?”  Joe asked incredulously.

“You did!”  Roy said sternly and turned Joe towards the office.

Joe was soon facing his father, who was not happy by the look on his face.

“Hi, Pa,” Joe called weakly.

“Don’t “hi pa” me—”

“But–” Joe began but his father gave him a look that told him not to protest further.

“Sorry for all the trouble, Roy.” Ben apologized and reached for the door.

“All in a night’s work,” Roy winked and closed the door as both Cartwrights headed out to their horses.

****************************

A little after four in the morning a very tired Ben Cartwright led his horse into the barn, followed by his son leading Cochise.  Joe was getting worried because his father hadn’t spoken a word all the way home from Virginia City.  He hoped that he could just make it up to his room and deal with explanations in the morning, but Ben stopped his son as he tried to make his escape once they entered the house.

“Now, what was all of this about?”  Ben began sternly.

“Oh–Pa–can’t we just talk about this in the morning?”  Joe pleaded.

“It IS morning, Joseph!”  Ben yelled and Joe’s face winced in response.

“It wasn’t my fault, Pa—I didn’t do anything!”

“Oh really?  You didn’t bust up the Bucket of Blood?”

“Well–yeah—I did–but it was that Timmons fellow–he started it!”  Joe protested, raising his hands in gesture.

“I see—and you just naturally had to “finish” it?”

“Yeah–well looks like I had to pay for the damages–and that wasn’t fair!”

“Sit down,” Ben commanded and pointed toward the settee.

Joe took a seat, not wanting to increase his father’s ire at the moment.  Ben sat opposite his son on the coffee table.  He could see from the light given off by the fireplace that Joe had a cut above his eye and some bruising on his chin.  That sight was enough to ease up on his wrath momentarily.  Ben reached over and touched his son’s jaw tenderly.

“I sure hope Timmons looks worse than you do!”  Ben announced and broke into a smile.

Joe realizing his father was calming, let his own temper abate.

“Yeah–well I got in a couple good ones, Pa,” Joe smiled proudly.

Ben cleared his throat and decided to get back to the business at hand.  “Now–tell me about what happened.”

“Well, I just kept winning and that Pete fellow didn’t think I was doing it on my own.”

“From what I heard you won every hand.”

“Yeah—but Pa–I wasn’t cheating!” Joe was again back on the defensive.

Ben reached over and grabbed his son’s arm firmly, “Hold on there—did I ever say I thought you were cheating?”

“No Sir–but–I just wanted to tell you exactly what happened.”

“Well, I imagine that Pete was a sore loser and wasn’t too happy to be parting with his money.  I guess you just happened to be lucky—very lucky in fact.”

Joe looked away from his father’s eyes for a moment and then thought on what had happened during the poker game.  Turning his attention towards the roaring fire, Joe thought on what he could say that would truly explain what really had happened.

Ben caught on to his son’s avoidance and moved to sit next to him on the settee.

“Out with it—I know you are keeping something from me–what is it?”  Ben asked quietly.

Joe reached inside his pocket and pulled out the medallion.  “Maybe it’s this.”

“What?”

“It’s all I can think about, Pa.  Maybe this is what made me win?”  Joe turned and faced his father, concern controlling his facial expression.

“You think that medallion was what made you win every hand?  Come on, Joseph, you aren’t that superstitious are you?”

“Pa—it has nothing to do with superstition!  I had this in my pocket—and I think it helped me see the cards.”

“See them?  You mean you knew what was going to be dealt to you?”  Ben asked bewildered by his son’s confession.

“Not just them, Pa, I could see the cards that everybody got dealt to them too!  Is that cheating?”  Joe asked honestly seeking an answer.

Ben sat and thought for a few moments before addressing his son’s question.  He wondered if perhaps Joe was kidding him, but the look on the boy’s face said differently.

“So–you are saying that you could automatically tell what cards everyone had—is that right?”

Joe nodded and noticed the doubt painting Ben’s face.  He stood and reached across the coffee table where a deck of cards had been left out the night before.  Joe turned and handed his father the deck.

“Go ahead,” Joe stated bluntly.

Ben held up the first card in front of his face and waited for Joe to call to him his answer.

“Queen of clubs,” Joe stated and watched his father’s face change to surprise.

Ben cut the deck and pulled another card in front of his face.

“Three of hearts,” Joe continued.

Ben shuffled the deck and set out two cards face down on the table and looked up at his son.  “Well?”

Joe pointed at the first card and said, “That’s the eight of diamonds—that other is seven of clubs.”

Ben flipped both cards over and saw that his son was averaging one hundred per cent in his guesses.

“That’s quite amazing, Joseph!”  Ben finally announced, after shaking his head in awe.

“So–Pa—was I cheating?  I didn’t really know what was going on–until I got to the jail and started thinking about it.”

“Well, if you weren’t intentionally doing it—I would say no.  But—I think you’d better stay away from the gambling tables for a while.”

“You look kinda spooked, Pa,” Joe said raising his eyebrows.

“I don’t know what to think—-maybe after some sleep—” Ben stated firmly and moved to stand next to his son.  “Let’s get you up to your room and doctor that eye, shall we?”

Joe nodded and walked with his father up the stairs.  He could tell by the look on his father’s face that he was still mulling over in his mind just how his son had managed to guess the cards so accurately.

****************************

Adam and Hoss were almost done their breakfast by the time Ben made it down the stairs to join them at the table.  Both sons knew better than to broach the subject of their little brother’s escapade in town until their father had some coffee in him.  They both watched and waited for the moment that their pa looked a bit more alert before starting in with the questioning.

“You look beat, Pa—how late did you and Joe get in anyway?”  Hoss asked.

“Very late,” Ben stated groggily and reached for the platter of eggs.

“So?  What did Little Joe get himself into this time?”  Adam questioned, knowing all too well that Joe was probably in deep water with their father for keeping him out so late.

“There was a fight in the saloon—some new hired hand from the Bar S decided Joseph was cheating at cards.  Naturally your little brother helped to bust up the saloon.”

“Joe’s a lot of things, Pa–but he ain’t no cheat!”  Hoss was quick to defend his brother.

“I know that, Hoss—you don’t have to tell me.  It seems your brother did happen to win every round last night, though, which didn’t help his case with Pete Timmons.  The other men told Roy that they didn’t think Joe cheated and that was it.  Other than some bruises and cuts Joseph is no worse for the wear.”

“Little Joe won every hand?”  Adam asked incredulously.

“Yes,” Ben nodded, and was amused to see the look on both Hoss and Adam’s faces.

“That’s a first,” Hoss admitted, thinking back to the many times his brother had come back from town totally broke, and half the time owing some hefty debts.

“Let’s not bring this up to Joe, okay boys?  I think he’s gone through last night’s events enough by now.  I am sending him up to the timber camp—think it’s wise for him to stay away from trouble for a while.”

“He ain’t gonna like that none, Pa,” Hoss replied and then stopped when he saw Joe slowly descending the staircase.

Joe hurt from the night of brawling and it showed in his movements as he took a seat at the dining table next to his brother Hoss.

“Morning,” Joe said somberly and reached for the coffee.

“I was just telling your brothers that I’m sending you up to the timber camp for a week, Joseph,” Ben stated and waited for his youngest son’s temper to flare at the news.

“Okay,” Joe nodded, to the surprise of all around the table.

“You sure taking the assignment well, Little Brother,” Hoss commented staring over at him.

“Well—I’m too sore to bust broncs anyhow—-and guess I deserve it for keeping Pa out all night.”

Ben reached over for Joe’s arm and patted it, “Now, Son, I’m not doing this to punish you—just thought it would be a good idea to keep you away from town for a little while.  Besides, I want you to help the boys up there mark the next cut line.”

“Thought we weren’t gonna sell those ties, Pa?”  Adam asked.

“Well, I have a suspicion that we might just be making that deal after all—right, Joe?”

Joe smiled and nodded towards his father.  He remembered telling his pa that there might just be a change in plans soon, and apparently he had believed him.

“How long I have to stay up there, Pa?”

“How about until next Sunday?  Think you can stand it that long?”

“Guess I’ll have to.  Besides, it means that my brothers will just have to work a tad harder to fill my shoes here.”

Hoss laughed and punched his brother lightly in the ribs.  “You watch your mouth, Youngin or I just might have to give you a black eye to match that other one!”

Joe laughed and his father was relieved to hear the sound.  He hoped that Joe was letting go of his strange experience from the night before.  Ben hoped he could as well, but it still haunted him a bit, the whole idea of Joe being able to foresee what cards would be drawn had him baffled.

****************************

The week passed quickly for the Cartwrights who were left at the ranch house to tie up all the loose ends for the upcoming cattle drive.  Ben had received the news just two days after Joe had left for the timber camp that Mr. Davis had been replaced as the railroad spokesperson and a new contract was sent via courier to the Ponderosa.  With the new contract came a better offer and a much better price on the railroad ties; just as Joe had predicted.

Sunday morning right at dawn Joe reappeared at the ranch house.  He walked inside to see his family up and getting ready for church.  After being greeted heartily by Hoss, Joe headed towards the stairs.  He met his father on the first landing and was enveloped in a hug to welcome him home.

“How are you doing, Joseph?  I didn’t expect you until later.”

“I had enough of pine trees, Pa—so I headed back here.”

“Good, just in time for church!”  Adam called down from the top of the stairs.

“Well—I was kinda hoping for a little sleep–” Joe stuttered, knowing he was probably not going to get out of going with the rest of the family.

Ben smiled and patted Joe on the back, “You can sleep on the way in—that is if you want to ride in the buggy with me?”

Joe frowned, but knew there wouldn’t be a discussion about going now he was going no matter what.

“I’ll go get cleaned up,” Joe sighed and hurried up the stairs, passing Adam and giving him an unkind look which was met with laughter.

*****************************

Reverend Philip Hastings had only been the pastor of his church for a little more than a month, but he had already established himself as kind and Biblically versed.  The congregation was just becoming familiar with his subtle but firm way of spreading the Gospel.  On this particular Sunday, the church was filled.  The Cartwrights sat in the second pew, one they had occupied for many years.  Though there had been times due to weather or absences on the trail that they could not be present, for the most part they were regularly in attendance.  Joe fought to keep his eyes open and a couple of times he started to sink down and lean against his father’s arm.  Ben, though he knew his son was tired from the long ride from the northwest woods, continually jabbed his left elbow into Joe’s side urging him to sit up straight and pay attention to the Reverend’s words.

The sermon was well received and each church member made a kind comment to the preacher as they filed out of the church.  The Cartwrights were no exception.  While Ben and Adam stood on the top steps chatting with the Reverend, Hoss was walking his current girlfriend Becky down to her carriage.  Joe had made it to the front gate by the sidewalk and waited for his father to join him at their buggy.  A man stepped alongside Joe and shot out his hand to shake with the young man.

Mac Hartley smiled and said, “Joe–haven’t seen you in a while.”

Joe returned the man’s greeting, but when his hand met Mac’s hand a picture flashed in his mind.  Not taking the time to process what the mental image was Joe spoke.

“Mr. Hartley—I’m so sorry to hear about Martha.  I always thought fondly of her.”

“What?” the man asked bewildered.  “What are you talking about, Joe?  Martha is fine–she’s just home nursing a little cold.”

Joe’s mouth fell open as he stared into the other man’s troubled eyes.  “I’m sorry—I didn’t mean anything.  I hope she’s feeling better.”

Mac shook his head wondering what in the world Joe had meant by how sorry he was to hear about Martha.  It was almost like Joe was referring to her in the past tense.  He turned and headed for his buggy leaving Joe standing there.  Ben moved next to Joe, having heard the brief exchange between Mac and Joe.

“What’s going on, Joseph?’  Ben asked, seeing the strange look on his son’s face.

Joe looked down at the sidewalk and shook his head, “Nothing, Pa—nothing.  Let’s get going.”  Joe walked around and got in the left side of the buggy and grabbed the reins.

*****************************

Joe was very quiet on the way back to the Ponderosa, despite his father’s many attempts to find out what had gone on with Mac.  Joe decided to go to his room and rest and didn’t make it to the large lunch that Hop Sing had prepared.  Ben wasn’t sure just what to do about his son’s strange behavior but he hoped that once Joe got some rest that he would be in better spirits.  When Joe didn’t come down in time for dinner later that evening, Ben sent Hoss up to check on his brother.

“Joe?  Joe, you okay?”  Hoss asked moving over to his brother’s bed.

Joe pulled his arm down off of his eyes and stared over at his brother.  “I’m all right–just tired.”

“Well, Pa sent me to bring you down for supper.  You ain’t hardly ate anything all day.  You’re not coming down with something are you?”

Joe sat up in bed and shook his head “no”.

“It ain’t that medallion again is it?”  Hoss continued.

“I don’t know, Hoss,” Joe answered flatly.  He couldn’t get it out of his head what happened between him and Mac Hartley.  Joe knew he distinctly saw the vision of Mac’s wife lying in a coffin and couldn’t shake the image no matter how hard he tried.

“C’mon, Joe—let’s get some grub in you.  Maybe that would help?”

Joe swung his legs to the side of the bed and stood.  He wasn’t hungry, but knew that if he didn’t show up his father would be the next visitor to his room.

Just as the four Cartwrights had taken their seats at the table a loud knock sounded on the front door.

“I’ll get it,” Ben announced and headed towards the sound.  He pulled the door open and saw Roy Coffee standing there.  “Roy!  You are just in time for dinner–come on in!”

“I’d like to, Ben—but I can’t stay.  I’m afraid I got some bad news,” Roy said sadly.

“What is it?”  Ben asked as he moved with his friend in to the dining room.

“It’s Martha Hartley—she’s dead.”

With the words spoken by Roy, Joe dropped his coffee cup and the contents splattered all over the table.

“What!  How?” Ben asked surprised by the news.

“Happened this morning–guess while church was going on.  Mac came home and found her—she’d been shot.”

“That’s awful!”  Hoss called over to Roy.

“You getting up a posse Roy?”  Adam asked standing in preparation.

“Yeah—was hoping I could get a couple of you boys to ride with me.”

“Sure we will!”  Hoss headed over to the door for his gun.

Roy noticed that though Joe seemed shook, he didn’t act surprised by the news of Martha’s death.  He moved closer to the young man and stared at him.

“Joe–gotta ask you something.”

“Go ahead.”

“Mac told me you came up to him after church—and that you said something that bothered him.  You remember?”

Joe stared down at his plate and nodded.  Ben walked over to his youngest son and put his hand on his shoulder for support.  He could tell that Joe was having a hard time in dealing with the news.

“Mac said you said how sorry you were to hear about Martha—that you said it like she was dead.  And, as it turns out–from what Doc says–she had just shortly passed away.  Why did you say it, Joe?  Do you know something about the killer?”

“No, Sir—I don’t know about the killer,” Joe answered carefully, hoping to avoid what had really happened in his mind.

“Then why did you say that to Mac?”  Roy asked, his face scrunched up in bewilderment.

“I–I don’t know—not exactly—” Joe stammered.

“What difference does it make, Roy?”  Ben said trying to get his son away from the questioning.  “Joe had nothing to do with it–and he told you he doesn’t know anything about the killer.”

“Mac was purely spooked by what Joe said–he hurried home–to find Martha dead.  Now–that is strange, don’t you think?”  Roy replied staring into Ben’s eyes for effect.

“Let’s get to that posse before the killer gets a chance to get away scot free!”  Hoss called over to Roy.  He had no idea why or how Joe had figured out that Martha was dead, but he knew the boy had nothing to do with it.

Roy gave up on Joe’s questioning and headed to the door with Hoss and Adam in tow.

“Joe—something tells me you ain’t telling me everything.  Call it a gut feeling if you want to –but if we don’t catch this guy–well–I’m gonna pay you another visit,” Roy called over to Joe.

“Let’s go,” Adam said and pulled the door open and allowed Sheriff Coffee and Hoss to go in front of him.  He then cast a worried glance back at his father and his little brother and left the house.

Joe stood from the table and started to cross the room but felt the tug of his father’s hand on his arm and stopped his progression.

“You saw Martha dead, didn’t you, Joseph?”  Ben asked quietly.

Joe sank down onto the coffee table and put his head in his hands.  Tears began to flow from his eyes when he thought of the elderly woman who always took the time to say hi and sometimes dole out some homemade cookies to him on the way home from school years earlier.  He was very fond of Martha, and it hurt to have his vision realized as fact now.

Ben moved to sit next to Joe and draped his arm around his shoulder.  He pulled Joe closer, feeling the sobs that had begun to wrack Joe’s body.

“Tell me about it—come on–get it out,” Ben urged Joe out with his troubles.

“I–I saw her, Pa—I don’t know how—but I saw her—she was lying in a coffin–wearing a lavender dress—-and in my mind I knew she was gone.  I didn’t know she had been murdered—just figured maybe she had died while I was up at the timber camp.  I didn’t mean to hurt Mac—my God—what he must think of me!”  Joe cried.

“Did you—did you see anything else, Joe, anything that might help in catching the killer?”

“No—no if I had—I would’ve told Roy—but Pa—you know I couldn’t tell him about what I saw in my head—what would he have thought?”

“Settle down now—relax—Roy doesn’t think you had anything to do with Martha’s death–he just had some unanswered questions.  They’ll catch the killer and everything will quiet down.  Try not to worry, Joseph.”

“Martha—she was a kind woman—she didn’t deserve to go like this–” Joe sobbed.

Ben nodded and just held his son and allowed him to grieve.  But, he couldn’t help wondering how it had been that Joe had seen the vision of Martha’s death.  Things were getting a bit more precarious concerning Joe’s acute case of some kind of clairvoyance and it was starting to scare Ben for his son’s sake.

***************************

The headlines in the Territorial Enterprise the next day heralded the news that the killer of Martha Hartley had been captured by Roy Coffee’s posse the previous night.  It turned out that the man was a random drifter who had thought that the Hartley house was empty at the time.  When Martha had come out of the bedroom it had surprised the simple thief and his hand found his gun before he could think the move through.  The killer made a complete confession and was being housed in the Virginia City jail pending trial.

The news was little consolation for her grieving husband and friends, but at least it was an expeditious capture which helped answer the questions concerning Martha’s murder.  The following day the funeral preparations were made and the body of Martha Hartley was laid out in open casket in the church for the procession of mourners.  The whole town showed up as did the entire Cartwright clan.

Mac Hartley addressed the mourners after Reverend Hastings gave an uplifting eulogy concerning Martha’s service to the Lord.  Joe filed by the casket, his eyes moist with tears.  He saw that, just as in the vision, the woman was dressed in a beautiful lavender dress.  Ben shook hands with Mac, as did Hoss and Adam, each giving their condolences.  The widower was numb to the handshakes as well as the words of sympathy.  It was only Joe’s approach that brought Mac Hartley to his senses.

“I’m very sorry, Mr. Hartley,” Joe spoke quietly as he reached for the man’s hand.

“You!” Mac shouted and looked piercingly at the young man before him.  “You knew about this and yet you did nothing to stop it!”

Joe stood there stunned as the room full of mourners stared at him.   He didn’t know what to say or do.

“Mr. Hartley–if I could have stopped it–” Joe began but was cut off by the enraged man.

“You are Satan’s servant!  Get away from me–leave me to my grief!” Mac continued to shout.

Ben witnessed what was happening and hurried over to his son.  Joe shot past his family and ran out of the church.  The other Cartwrights followed Joe’s departure hoping to catch him before he reached Cochise.  They were too late.  Joe jumped on his mount and turned the animal away from town hastily.  All that was left in his wake was a good thick cloud of dust.

Ben and Adam had ridden to the funeral in the buggy, only Hoss had a horse close by.  Ben turned to his middle son.

“Hoss—ride on back with Adam—I need your horse—I have to catch up with Joe before he does something foolish.”

“Here, Pa,” Hoss replied and handed his father Chubb’s reins.  Ben mounted the large black horse and left in pursuit of his son.

**************************

Joe had headed out to the only place he could find solace; his mother’s grave.  His heart hurt from the accusations that Mr. Hartley had hurled at him.  He couldn’t believe that the man thought he knew about the killing and could have prevented it.  Joe could still remember the looks on the other people’s faces as he had been branded spawn of Satan.

Joe knelt down next to Marie Cartwright’s tombstone and pulled off his hat.  He wept with a combination of guilt and regret that he had said anything to Mac Hartley that day at the church.  He felt that the man hated him, and probably always would now.  Then there were the town’s folks.  There was no telling what they were thinking about Joe Cartwright now.  Trapped in his sorrow, Joe did not hear the approach of his brother’s horse, nor the sound of his name as his father approached the grave site.

“Joseph?”  Ben repeated the boy’s name and knelt down alongside of him.

“Go away, Pa,” Joe whispered.

“Joseph—Mac was just upset and confused—once he has time to work through his grief he won’t feel the same as he does today.”

“He’ll always remember what I said—and he’ll always think I could have stopped the killing of his wife.”

Ben turned Joe so that he could stare into his tear-filled eyes.  “No, Son–I think you’re wrong.  Come on home, will you?”

“Why is this happening to me, Pa?  Why do I keep seeing these things?”

“I don’t know,” Ben whispered and stroked the back of his son’s head soothingly.  “But, I do know that you never wanted to hurt anyone.  And, I believe those who know you know that too.”

“What am I supposed to do, Pa?  I can’t shut this off—if I could I would.”

Ben stared at the tombstone and for a brief moment he could almost hear the voice of his beloved wife Marie telling him to help their son.

“I think you just have a stronger sense of these things than most of us, Joseph–that’s all.  Sometimes I actually think I can still hear your mother—does that make me evil?”

Joe shook his head and wiped his eyes on his sleeve.  “No—but you don’t see her, Pa.”

Ben hugged his son closer and smiled, “Yes I do see her—every time I look at you, Son.  Now—will you come home?  Please?”

Joe drew in a deep breath and tried to gather the will to head back home. He finally nodded to his father that he was ready and they stood and headed towards the horses.

*****************************

Late that evening, Ben sat in front of the fireplace running the past few weeks events through his troubled mind.  He had done his best to calm his youngest son and to assure him that there wasn’t anything wrong with him.  Joe had turned in early and his brothers left shortly afterwards leaving their father alone in thought.

“Pa?”  Adam’s voice came from the staircase shaking his father from his daze.

“Thought you were in bed, Son?”

“I was—but I noticed you never came up—thought maybe you wanted to talk?”  Adam asked, but knew the answer just looking across the room at the foreboding Ben wore on his tired face.  Adam walked over to the study and reached for the brandy decanter and poured two glasses and brought them back to the living room.  “Here—I would say a nightcap might be in order.”

“Thanks,” Ben nodded and accepted the drink.  “So?  What’s on your mind?”

“Actually I was more concerned about what was on YOUR mind, Pa,” Adam grinned and sat down on the hearth.

Ben sighed and took the poker in his free hand and turned the logs.  “I just don’t know what to think about Joe—the boy has me worried.”

“I’ll admit it appears that my baby brother seems to lean toward the clairvoyant side here lately.  But, you do remember it kinda started with that gift from your Uncle Josh?”

“Yes, that medallion–but you don’t honestly believe a medal would be able to give off that sort of power, do you?”

“I don’t know, Pa.  Maybe Joe just thinks it has some kind of power and has sparked something in his mind which may have always been there.”

“You think Joseph has always had clairvoyance?”  Ben asked surprised by his son’s calm acceptance of Joe’s strange ability.

“He’s gotten out of quite a few tannings by knowing just what to say to get to you!”  Adam laughed.

“Yes–I’m sure he has–but that isn’t exactly clairvoyance–more like the ability to read this old man of his,” Ben chuckled and finally was relaxed enough to light in a chair.

“Seriously, Pa, I don’t think that hunk of metal has a thing to do with Joe’s visions.  I’ve read a bit about the subject recently—trying to figure out what’s going on here.  You know this goes back to Old Testament times?”

“Yes, the ability to prophecy—goes way back beyond those times I am sure.  But, I never thought I would have someone in the family who could read cards and predict deaths and lumber contracts for that matter,” Ben replied exasperated.

“You know Joe is at the age where these things sometimes pop up–according to the books I read that is.  He’s changing from a little kid to a man and maybe whatever sense it has summoned just might go away just as fast as it came to him.”

“So you wouldn’t worry about it?”  Ben asked, earnestly relying on his eldest for help with the problem.

“Well telling you not to worry would be like me telling Joe not to have his visions!” Adam winked and laughed at the thought of his father not worrying about the baby of the family.  It would never happen.

“Then what are you saying, Adam?”

“I think we should all be low-key about this—and maybe–it will make Joe settle down some.  The more we make an issue of it the worse the situation may become.”

Ben reached over and patted his son’s shoulder and chuckled, “I guess all that college helped after all.  You give sound advice—not unlike your old man–for that matter!”

“From you I take that as a compliment,” Adam replied and stood from the hearth.  “Now–what say we turn in?”

“Yet another great piece of wisdom–let’s go,” Ben nodded and walked with his eldest son up the stairs.

*****************************

While the rest of his family was in the land of Nod, Joe was struggling to come out of yet another nightmare.  His heart pounded and his breathing was rapid as he tried to awaken.  When he finally sat up in his bed he had to stifle the need to scream.  It was at that moment that the glow of the moon pierced the curtains and forced Joe’s attention towards the window.  There in the shadows stood the image of the deceased Uncle Josh.

“Don’t be afraid my boy—-I’ve come to speak with you.”

Joe pulled the comforter up around his shoulders and rubbed at his eyes, hoping to make the vision disappear.  When he again glanced at the window he could still see Uncle Josh, who slowly moved towards the bed.

“But—you’re dead–” Joe whispered as Uncle Josh made it to the end of the bedframe.

“I came back to let you know that the medallion was not meant to cause you trouble, Joseph.  I sent it to you to help you.”

“Well—it’s not been much help so far,” Joe shot back, not at all happy to have the gift nor the ghostly apparition talking to him for that matter.

“Give it time—you will see—that it will be a blessing and not a curse.”

“All’s it’s done so far is cause me trouble—and make people think I am evil or something.”

“That will pass, you have to believe me.  You are going to need it in the future, do not part with it,” Uncle Josh warned.

“But—” Joe started but the specter slowly started to dematerialize.

“I’ll see you again, Joseph–have faith,” Uncle Josh’s voice whispered as he disappeared from sight.

Joe settled back underneath the heavy quilt and shook his head. ****great–just great—now how am I gonna tell anyone about THIS?  They’re gonna think I am insane—-and maybe I’ll agree with them this time!**** Joe thought to himself and then closed his eyes.

****************************

The next few days on the Ponderosa the Cartwrights did their best to put behind the whole incident at Martha Hartley’s funeral and focus their attention on the continuing preparations for the cattle drive.  It took Joe longer than the rest of the family to try to bury the haunting memories of all that he had recently gone through, but he tried his best.  Unfortunately, the small town of Virginia City was using the event to spark a slow gossip spell and rumors spread rapidly about Joe Cartwright’s strange behavior.  The main instigator in fanning the flames of innuendo was Pete Timmons, who had been building his dislike of Joe into a serious hatred.

With Pete having a grand time wagging his tongue in the bar spilling off poisonous gossip to anyone who would listen regarding Joe Cartwright, it wasn’t long before the whole town had gotten the story about Joe and his strange luck at poker along with a much exaggerated version of what had really happened concerning Martha Hartley.  Some of the more gullible town’s folks decided that Pete’s story sounded too real to ignore.  At the urging of several church members a meeting was scheduled to discuss the ramifications of having a person around who had what was being deemed to be the power of Satan.

Ben had not been told of the meeting, and that was on purpose.  As fate would have it, however, he happened to be in town the night of the meeting paying a visit to Roy Coffee at the jail house.  The two old friends sat and talked and engaged in a couple of games of checkers but Roy’s peculiar behavior sparked his friend’s suspicions.

“Okay–you beat me two out of three, Ben, wanna try one more time to humiliate me?’  Roy laughed and started to set the checkers back up.

Ben stared over at the sheriff and raised his eyebrow to question the man’s strange acceptance at having lost so many times.  Usually Roy was a stiff competitor it wasn’t his true nature to be so calm and affable.

“Spill it, Roy—what’s going on that you don’t want me to know about?”

“Nothing, Ben, just in a good mood is all.  Now come on –it’s your move!”  Roy defended his behavior in vain.

“Roy—you know you don’t have much of a poker face—and that goes for checkers too by the way.   Now go ahead, I can see it in your eyes.”

Roy fidgeted with the checker pieces and tried to think of how he would be able to tell Ben about the meeting without the man exploding.

“Ben—it’s nothing—and I didn’t want to tell you ‘cause there wasn’t any point in upsetting you,” Roy began nervously.

“So–go on–tell me about what it is that you don’t want me to get upset over.” Ben insisted.

“There’s been a meeting set up–over at the church.”

“A meeting?  I wasn’t told anything about it–and I’m on just about every committee the church has.”

“It’s about Joe,” Roy stated bluntly and then watched his friend’s face turn to rage.

“About Joe?  A meeting was called to discuss my son?  What’s going on around here anyway?”  Ben replied and stood from his seat, anger controlling his expression.

“I’m sure that the reverend will calm everyone down—there’s nothing to worry about, Ben.”

“Nothing to worry about?!” Ben yelled and grabbed his hat, heading for the door.  “A bunch of idiots—who by the way—are masquerading as Christians—decided to call a meeting about my son!”

“Ben, wait!”  Roy protested and headed out the door following his friend.

“No, I’m not gonna wait—I’m going to go over there right now.  If you want to come–in your capacity as sheriff of this ignorant town–then by all means come along.  I promise you that you are going to get an earful!”  Ben growled as he headed down the street.

Ben walked in unnoticed to the foyer of the church and could hear some of the loud discussion going on inside.

“Well, I say he gets the abilities from Satan himself!”  A loud voice at the front of the church called out.

“Mr. Creed–please—I’ve asked you all to keep your voices down and wait to be called on.  This meeting is getting out of hand.”  The pleading voice of Reverend Hastings rang out.

“Thou shalt not suffereth a witch to live—now you know it says that in the Bible!” another voice rang out, and this time it was a woman who had called out to be heard.

“I say there is no proof of anything supernatural going on around here concerning Joseph Cartwright.  You should all use your hearts and not let fear control you,” the Reverend replied fervently.

“Hearts!”  The loud booming voice at the very back of the church rang out.  Ben Cartwright stormed down the aisle to the front of the church and turned and stared at the men and women who had dared to attend the meeting.  “What would you people know about hearts or the Bible for that matter?!”

“Ben–I’m sorry—I was hoping to spare you this,” Reverend Hastings apologized.

“I know what you’re up against Reverend—and I don’t blame you for this.  I also know some of these people here. In fact–I’ve had most of you to my home.  One minute you are breaking bread with me—and the next you are here condemning my boy!  How dare you–how dare any of you!” Ben shouted.

“What about Martha Hartley?  How you explain that, Cartwright?” The voice of Pete Timmons shouted out loudly.

Ben looked at the man and wondered why he seemed so eager to foster such bad feelings towards Joe.  “And who, may I ask, are you?”

“Pete Timmons—you know—the man your son cheated!  Didn’t bother to tell me he could see cards either!”  Pete yelled, and could tell he had stirred the other people around him up once more.

Ben walked towards Pete and got close enough to stare directly into his eyes.  “Mr. Timmons—-there are laws protecting folks from spreading slander about them.  I would advise you to rethink what you’ve said about my son.  I will also caution you to stay away from my son or I will handle you myself!’

“Hey, Sheriff!  Cartwright here just threatened me–ain’t you gonna do something about it?”  Pete yelled over to Roy.

“It’s not a threat, Timmons—it’s a promise!”  Ben warned and then turned back towards the rest of the congregation.  “Judge not–lest ye be judged.  Look it up–it’s in the Bible why don’t you read it?  I am ashamed of all of you for letting some idle gossip go to your heads to warrant this ridiculous meeting.”

“Yeah, I ain’t too happy with none of you either,” Roy added as he watched Ben move towards the back of the church.

Turning to stare one last time at the group of people, Ben called out, “I thought this was Virginia City Nevada—not Salem Massachusetts!  See you all in church on Sunday!”  Ben stormed out of the church followed close behind by Roy.

“Ben—don’t pay them no mind—that Timmons fellow just worked them all up is all.”

“Yeah—well I saw Hartley in there —he’s got his hand in this too.  I’m telling you right now, Roy—if anyone harms my son—I’ll kill them!”  Ben promised and headed down the street to get his horse.

****************************

Ben was still fuming inside by the time he had made it back to the ranch house. He decided to spend awhile getting Buck settled down for the night to give himself a little more time to cool off.  Curry-comb in hand, Ben brushed his horse wondering why people had the innate capacity to think the worst of another human.  He didn’t hear it when Joe pulled the barn door open and stepped inside.

“Pa?  You okay?’  Joe asked as he moved into Buck’s stall and stood next to his father.

Ben turned and glanced over at his son.  He wondered how he could hide his increasing anger from the boy.  “Yes,–just giving old Buck a good grooming,” Ben tried to sound upbeat.

Joe folded his arms in front of him and shook his head, “You look angry to me.”

“No—just tired—Roy gave me some hot competition tonight at checkers.  But, I’m happy to say that I once again triumphed,” Ben smiled towards Joe, but could tell by the look on his son’s face that he wasn’t buying his father’s carefree demeanor.

“How was the meeting, Pa?’  Joe asked bluntly.

Ben dropped the curry comb in surprise over his son’s question.  He bent down to retrieve it before answering the boy.  “Meeting?  What meeting are you talking about, Son?”

Joe sighed and leaned against the stall’s railing.  “The meeting about me, Pa.  You don’t have to mince words—I know about it.”

Ben approached his son and asked, “Who told you?”

“Nobody “told” me—-I just knew.  So?  They gonna tar and feather me or what?”

“It was just a bunch of foolish people who happened to be a bit scared by some evil lies spread by a couple of mean-spirited trouble makers.”

“Well–looking at you I can tell that it upset you.  I’m sorry, Pa.”

Ben rested his hand on Joe’s shoulder and replied quietly, “You have nothing to be sorry for, Joseph–nothing at all.  I think Reverend Hastings had a few choice words to say to his congregation.  And that will probably be the end of it.”

“Was Pete Timmons there?”

“Yes—and he’s the main trouble maker.  I warned him to stop spreading rumors and to stay away from you.”

“That guy just doesn’t quit—and I have a strong feeling that he isn’t going away any time soon, Pa.  I saw some things—” Joe stopped, not wanting to worry his father about the images that had come to him when he had first shaken hands with the cowhand.  He knew that he would have a whole lot of run-ins with the man in the future and there wasn’t a thing that he could do about it.

“What kinds of things?”

“Nothing—let’s just forget it,” Joe insisted and moved away from his father.

“Joseph—I know that you and your brothers all drew straws to see who was going on this cattle drive and all.  But–”

Joe cut his father off in mid-sentence, “Yeah—you want me to go with Hoss and change places with Adam.  You want to get me away from town for a few weeks for my safety.”

Ben sighed.   He wasn’t sure if Joe had figured his motives out on his own, or whether it was once again aided by his clairvoyance.  “Well, do you mind very much?  I mean–you did want to go, right?”

“No, Pa—I don’t mind–if it will ease your mind. But, I gotta tell you that I’ve heard some of the cow-hands talking about me—when they thought I wasn’t around of course.  It isn’t just the town’s folks who are afraid of me, you know?”

“Joseph—maybe it would be wise if you didn’t say anything—you know–to anyone else?  If you feel something–”

Joe cut his father off again, “Pa–it’s not exactly like I am out on a soap box spouting this stuff you know!”

Ben moved next to his son again and tried to calm the forthcoming tempest.  He put his arm over Joe’s shoulder and tried to reassure him.  “I know that, Son—I’m just saying let’s just keep things in the family from now on, okay?  If you happen to see something–like you did that day with Mr. Hartley—just try not to reveal it.”

Joe pushed away out of his father’s grasp, indignant by the words he had spoken.  Throwing his hands up in exaggerated gesture Joe let it all out.

“Now I’m an embarrassment, huh, Pa?  Maybe you are just as spooked by my visions as those folks in town?”

“That’s nonsense and you know it!” Ben fired back and then wished he hadn’t been so harsh.  “If you could read hearts as accurately as you apparently can read minds you would know why I said what I did.”

Before Joe could answer he had a terrible feeling and closed his eyes for a brief moment.

“Joseph?  What is it?”  Ben asked, noticing Joe’s facial expression.

“Hop Sing!”  Joe shouted and took off towards the house.  Ben headed out of the barn in pursuit of his son.

When Joe hurriedly pushed his way through the kitchen door he could see Hop Sing lying next to the stove.  He moved briskly over to his friend and determined that he had been knocked out cold.  Just as he began his inspection of the cook’s head, Ben made it inside the kitchen and headed over to lend a hand.

“Looks like he was reaching for something up there on the shelf and fell, Pa,” Joe explained as he held a kitchen towel to the back of Hop Sing’s head.

Ben looked up to see the coffee pot hanging precariously over the edge of the stove. He reached for it and pushed it back, scorching his hand.

“Good thing we got here quick—if that pot had fallen on him he would’ve gotten burnt badly,” Ben stated and rushed to the sink to soak another cloth.  He handed it to Joe who was trying his best to bring the cook back around.

“Hop Sing?”  Joe whispered, cradling the man’s head in his lap.  “Can you hear me?  Come on—wake up–please wake up.”  Joe urged, scared as to the extent of his friend’s injury.

Hop Sing blinked his eyes and stared up at Joe.  He broke into a muted smile and nodded slightly.

“Can you see us okay, Hop Sing?” Ben asked as he knelt next to Joe.

“Hop Sing turn over chair—not good,” the cook admitted wryly.

“Here—let’s see if you can stand, okay?”  Joe smiled and helped steady the man as he pulled him upright.  Hop Sing stood, and wavered just a bit before making it over to a kitchen chair and sank down.

“You got yourself a knot there, Hop Sing,” Joe announced and placed the cool wash cloth against the wound.  Upon inspection, it didn’t appear to be anything too serious, which allowed Joe to finally catch his breath.

“Yes–big change–Little Joe usually hurt,” Hop Sing remarked grinning and patted Joe’s arm to thank him.

“You’re lucky that pot of coffee didn’t fall on you–it was just barely hanging on the edge of the stove when we came in here,” Ben commented and cast a quick glance at Joe.

“Hop Sing vely glad you come in to help, Little Joe,” the cook replied.

Ben put his hand on Joe’s arm and grinned at him sheepishly, “Now about what you and I were saying out in the barn, Joseph—–never mind.  You go with your instincts from now on.”

Joe nodded towards his father and showed in his hazel eyes that he accepted his try at an apology.

“Let’s get you to your room, Hop Sing,” Joe stated and pulled the man up again.

“Hop Sing not too bad–” the cook protested.

“Don’t argue with me–not after all the times you made me go to bed!”  Joe warned and helped his friend towards his bedroom.

Ben stood in the kitchen and shook his head as he realized how close Hop Sing had come to being scarred from the scalding coffee.  He watched as Joe helped Hop Sing out of the kitchen and wondered if his son’s strange gift would prove to be a charm or a curse.

*****************************

Within a few days Hop Sing was back to himself, no worse for wear due to the family’s insistence that he take it easy for a while.  The four Cartwrights readied for the cattle drive which was set to head out in two days.  Adam wasn’t upset to be changing places with his youngest brother and was content to be staying back at the ranch with their father for a change.  Ben had given both Hoss and Joe a couple of days off and they took advantage of it.  Hoss, who was still smitten by Becky McCready headed to her ranch for some courting while Joe decided to hang around the house.

Ben was very happy when Joe’s friend Mitch dropped by to ask him to go fishing the next afternoon.  At first Joe declined the invitation, wanting to stick close to the ranch until the cattle drive began.  After some heavy coaxing on both Ben and Mitch’s parts, Joe finally gave in and agreed to meet Mitch the following day over by Miller’s Pond.

*****************************

Having spent almost an entire week stewing over his encounter with Ben Cartwright at the church meeting, Pete Timmons was ready to start trouble to settle the score.  Reverend Hastings admonitions to the congregation only quieted some of them.  There were others who still dwelled on the strange powers of Joe Cartwright.  Pete was still trying to rabble rouse, and spent many nights at the Bucket of Blood Saloon trying to incite others to join in his mission to get to the bottom of Joe’s unearthly gift of prophecy,

While Pete stood at the crowded bar, he just happened to overhear Mitch Devlin telling one of his friends about his planned fishing trip with Joe.  He also heard the mention of Joe leaving for the cattle drive soon.  It was then the evil wheels in his twisted mind began to turn and he formulated a plan.  As soon as Mitch and his friend departed the saloon, Pete started to gather a few cohorts who, for the price of a bottle of rot gut, could be talked into going along with his revenge.

*************************

Joe and his best friend cast their fishing lines out into the pond and leaned back on the tall grass to relax and wait.  Mitch had cajoled Joe into talking about old times in school and soon both young men were laughing and joking like nothing was wrong.  Joe was glad that Mitch didn’t appear to be affected by any of the talk that was going around about his visions, but then again, they had been friends ever since they were both eight years old and a strong bond had been formed during the years.

“Bet you I catch the biggest fish!”  Mitch bragged.

“Oh yeah?  You wanna bet me?”  Joe laughed.  “Don’t you know that Joe Cartwright sees all and knows all?”

Mitch punched his friend playfully in the arm and replied, “Yeah–maybe about some things–but you aren’t gonna tell me that you know what’s gonna happen today are you?”

Joe smiled and closed his eyes in deep thought and then said, “Yes—I can see it all now—you are gonna catch a fish—very very soon!”

“Really?”  Mitch asked, amazed over his friend’s ability.

Joe broke into a string of laughter and pointed at the pond, “You nit wit—look at your bobber—-wouldn’t take much of a witch to tell you that a fish is close!”

Mitch pulled back on his pole and soon had a fish on the shore.  “Yes!  I told you!  Look at the size of this one!”

“Oh stop bragging—you’re scaring away the really big ones!”  Joe teased and leaned back against the shore.

The morning gave way to afternoon and both Mitch and Joe were enjoying the day. They had already caught more fish than they would ever need, and had started to throw some of them back for another day.  The afternoon was soon vastly disappearing and the sun had just begun its descent when they decided to call it a day.

“Bet you’re looking forward to getting out of here for a few weeks, huh, Joe?”  Mitch said as he wrapped his fishing line around his pole, getting ready to pack everything up for home.

“Well– guess so—a change of pace would be nice after what’s gone on lately.  Besides—Hoss will be with me–and he’s so much more fun than Adam!”

“More fun–or easier for you to hood-wink into hitting the towns on the way east?” Mitch asked laughing.

“Oh–so now you are a psychic, huh?”  Joe answered jokingly.

Packing up their gear, Joe and Mitch started the trek up the hill to their horses when they heard riders approaching.

“Uh oh–that don’t look good—isn’t that Timmons up ahead, Joe?”  Mitch said grabbing his friend’s arm.

“Yeah–it’s him–let’s get to the horses before there’s trouble!”  Joe replied and started jogging faster.  He knew his gun and holster were still slung over his saddle horn and he would need them if Pete decided to play dirty.

Before either of the two made it to the horses, two other riders came out of the tree-line and beat them there.  Within minutes Joe and Mitch were surrounded by Pete and four of his drinking buddies.

“Hey, Cartwright!”  Pete shouted down to Joe as he pulled his horse to a stop right in front of him.  “Did I surprise you?  I thought you would know I was coming after you!” Pete laughed.

“Listen, Timmons—we don’t want no trouble–now just let us go,” Mitch insisted.

“I don’t want you, Devlin—you get on your horse and get the hell out of here.  If you turn back and I see you—well—Joe’s gonna catch a bullet!  Now go!”  Pete demanded waving his gun at Joe.

Joe stared at his friend and nodded his head towards him, “Do like he says Mitch—I’ll be okay.”

“But—”

“Go or I shoot Joe now!”  Pete yelled and tossed Mitch the reins of his horse.

Mitch jumped on his horse and gave Joe one last look before spurring his mount away.  He hated to leave Joe, but knew he would have to get some help for him.  Mitch also believed that Pete was serious in what he had said about shooting Joe if he didn’t leave right then.

“Five against one–nice odds, Timmons.  You wouldn’t want to go at me alone would you?” Joe spat out towards the man.

Pete kicked Joe and he fell to the ground.  “No—I ain’t gonna take you by myself–you might turn me into a toad or something!”

“What do you want?!”  Joe yelled as he pulled himself back upright.

“Show him what we want!”  Pete shouted to the two men to his right.

Two lariats came out and encircled Joe’s torso and then the ropes were pulled tight, almost knocking the wind from him.

“Take him up the hill there, Boys!” Pete called over to them and watched as the two men dismounted and tugged Joe’s ropes to be sure he couldn’t get his hands loose.

Slowly, Joe climbed the hill with the two men who held their lariats snug around his chest.  The other three men rode their mounts to the tree line and dismounted.  When Joe had made it up to where Pete waited he was violently thrust up against a tree and the ends of the ropes were circled around the base making it impossible for Joe to move.

“You’d better watch yourself, Pete!” laughed one of the men as he took a long swig of his whiskey bottle and passed it around.  “If he’s in league with the devil he might just disappear or something!”

“How ‘bout it, Joe?  Why don’t you show us some of your powers?” Pete asked standing only inches from his victim.

“Now, Pete—if I had powers do you think you’d be standing there holding a gun on me?  But, I must say–you all must be awful afraid of me–or else there wouldn’t have been five of you to capture one man,” Joe replied sarcastically.

Pete let loose with his right fist and caught Joe under his chin, throwing his head back so hard that it hit the tree behind him.

“Does that show you I’m scared, Cartwright?” Pete asked.

“No,” Joe said, spitting out blood from his lip.  “It just shows me that you’re a coward.  It’s easy to hit a man who can’t defend himself.”

“Ha ha!  You can defend yourself—you’re some kind of a witch, right?  You can just pick up that tree or something can’t you?  Or maybe start a rain storm and blow the damn tree plum over?”

“Go to hell,” Joe shot back.

“Hand me that deck, Phil!”  Pete called over to one of his friends, who in response tossed over the cards.  “Now—I want you to show my friends here what you can do.  You know, Joe–like that night you stole my money?  I’m gonna pull out a card and you’re gonna tell me what it is.  You understand?”

Joe just stood there and did not reply.  Instead he just shot daggers through his eyes at his evil nemesis.

“Looks like he don’t want to play with you, Pete,” Phil chuckled.

“Oh–he’ll play–just needs a little polite urging is all,” Pete replied and sent a battery of punches at Joe’s face and stomach.

Joe leaned forward, his body wanting to respond to the attack by crumpling onto the ground, but unable to, due to the ropes which held him taut against the tree.  He groaned loudly but refused to speak.

Pete grabbed Joe’s hair and tugged on it to force his gaze.  “You gonna play now, Joe?  Or–do you want some more coaxing?”

“You other men—” Joe started, but coughed from the pain which wracked his body and had to pause.  “Pete —he’s in for some serious trouble—you men want to be arrested with your friend here?”

There was a round of laughter sent out from the other men, who were well liquored up at the time.  They seemed to be unaffected by Joe’s warning.

“You ain’t got a leg to stand on, Cartwright!  You ain’t got one witness here!” called one of the other men, who Joe didn’t know by name but would surely remember his features.

“Mitch—he’ll testify!”  Joe replied.

“Mitch ain’t here–and we’ll be gone before he can get help to you.  Now stop the stalling and tell me what this here card is, Joe.  Make it easier on yourself, Boy!”  Pete said holding up a single card.

Joe looked through the thin film of blood which flowed from a cut over his right eye and winced.  “It’s the card that they will find on your dead carcass when my father gets done with you!”  Joe sneered.

“You want your daddy?  Oh–that’s so sweet! Why don’t you just conjure the old man up, Joe?  Come on–you can do it!”  Pete mocked back.

“He’ll be here soon enough–trust me,” Joe answered and his reply was met by another round of kicks and punches.

Pete held the card up to Joe’s eyes once more and tugged his head back by the hair.  “Tell me now!”

“Four of clubs,” Joe whispered knowing that his body couldn’t take much more abuse.

“Look Men!  He’s right!  See–I told you — that’s the only way he won my money.  Joe here is a male witch!”

“You mean a wizard?” Phil asked.

“Naw—you guys have it all wrong—I think it’s called a warlock,” one of the other men corrected.

“Okay—so—this is a warlock—and since it’s just the same as a witch–in my opinion—we will have to put him out of his misery,” Pete smiled and walked away from Joe and huddled with his pals for a few minutes.

Joe strained to hear what the plans for him would be, but they spoke only in whispers.  He fought to free his arms, but to no avail.  Joe felt violently sick to his stomach and each time the bile rose to the back of his throat he forcefully swallowed it.  He was trying to maintain whatever dignity he could and prayed that help would soon arrive.

“Now I ain’t gonna stand still for no killing, Timmons—you said we’d just scare the kid!” one of the men protested the plan.

“We aren’t gonna kill him—I promise.  But, Joe can’t know that—if he thinks we’re really gonna do this—well it will scare him all the more.  Now, you two grab the pine straw—Phil–you and Jim help me with the torches.  It’s almost dark now–this will be much more vivid since there’s no moon tonight.”  Pete pointed toward his men and each of them headed around the area to gather what they would need.

*************************

It was already dark when Ben heard a rider approaching the front yard.  He figured it was finally Joe coming back from the day of fishing.  Walking out onto the porch to welcome the boy back, Ben was surprised to see the rider was Roy Coffee.

“Roy?  I thought for a moment you were Joe—what brings you out here?”

Roy never got out of his saddle, instead he called down to his friend, “Ben—where’s Joe?”

“He’s over at Miller’s Pond with Mitch–why?”

“Bruno came to me earlier—thought he might have overheard Pete Timmons and a few of his friends talking about going after Joe.  At first he thought it was just big talk–nothing more than idle threats–but Bruno said Pete hasn’t shown up all afternoon.  And–from what he said–Pete is a regular customer after he gets off of work.  I got to worrying–and well–” Roy trailed off, seeing the effect his words had on Ben.

“I’ll get my horse!”  Ben exclaimed, filled with worry as he ran to the barn to get his horse.

****************************

Joe watched as two of his abductors piled stacks of dried pine straw all around the bottom of the tree he was tied against.  He was just starting to get the idea of what might be happening when Pete walked into view carrying a lit torch.  It was then that Joe’s blood went cold and he sucked in his breath to ward off the panic on his face.  His only hope had been Mitch getting to the Ponderosa and back with help in time to prevent any further harm coming to him.  But, now, none of that would matter if Pete were to ignite the pine straw at his feet.  It wouldn’t take long at all to be consumed by the fire.

No matter how well Joe had tried to hide his fear, it was reflected in his eyes as Pete held the torch closer to his face taunting him.

“You scared, Joe–real real scared?”  Pete asked sadistically.

“Drop that torch and you will hang—I promise you that you will,” Joe warned the man.

“Well–maybe I will–maybe I won’t –but one thing’s for sure–YOU won’t be here to see it now will you?”

“All of this—all of this just because you lost some money in a poker game?” Joe asked incredulously.

“No—-not all of it, Joe.  I hate you I hate your family–your easy life.  And—I think most of the folks in town would actually thank me to get rid of you!  They all think you are a tool of the devil anyway.  I am just doing a service to my community!”

“Yeah—you are so civic minded!”  Phil laughed and moved next to his friend.

“So–Joe—is it hot enough for you?” Pete chided as he wafted the torch close enough to his victims face that it singed the hair of his eyebrows.

Joe turned his head and smelled the sulfuric scent of his hair.  Pete’s once over with the torch also managed to singe part of the hair that hung down on Joe’s forehead, which also burnt his skin underneath.  He tried with all his might not to scream out, his horror held deep inside his gut.

“Don’t let him do this!”  Joe shouted as Pete stepped closer and bent down like he was about to ignite the pine straw.  He looked around and could only see three of the five men, and wondered if the other two might have run off in fear of repercussions.

“They burnt some witches at the stake–guess we’ll see how well that worked right now.  Go ahead and call out to Satan to save you, Boy!”  Pete yelled as he touched the torch to the dry straw.

Joe’s hope of a rescue died at that moment and he closed his eyes and prayed for a quick death.  The thought of being burned alive was almost as agonizing as the actual event.  Feeling the flames lapping at the legs of his trousers, Joe yelled out in pain.  It was at that moment that water was thrown onto the ring of fire, dousing it.  The two men who had disappeared earlier, had been waiting close behind the tree with buckets at the ready.

Pete laughed so hard that he collapsed onto the ground.  “Oh, Joe!  That was so funny!  You should’ve seen your face!  Bet you thought it was all over, huh?”

Joe’s whole body shook with fear and anger, and he wasn’t sure which emotion out-weighed the other.  He couldn’t believe anyone could be so cruel with their torment.

“Loosen those ends, Boys—we’re gonna go cool Joe off down at the pond now,” Pete commanded.

Joe was untied from the tree, but still was bound by the tight lariats.  His arms had gone numb from the amount of time he had been held against the tree and his ankles had started to blister from the burns caused by his burning trouser legs.  Pete walked behind Joe and changed the ropes so that Joe’s wrists were tied tightly behind his back.  It was then that he was shoved down the hill.  With only the lights from two torches, the six men made it down to the shore of the pond.

“Now—for the real test!  I read—way back when I was a little kid–that the real test of a witch—excuse me–warlock–whatever–was to see if they floated.  What they used to do was to tie them up and toss them in the lake and see if they could float.  If they float–they are witches–if they drown—well they aren’t.  So–let’s just see if Joe is or not.  If you drown, Joe–I promise to let the town’s folks all know they were wrong,” Pete made his speech and then gathered another rope and tied it tightly around Joe’s ankles.  The fire had caused part of the tops of Joe’s boots to ignite and eat their way through to his ankles.  It also had taken away a good four inches of the bottoms of Joe’s trousers as it spread upwards .  Because of that, Joe’s pain was further increased by the tight rope that Pete fashioned around both ankles.

Joe stared towards the waterline and fear gripped him once more.  Though Pete had at the last minute relented and had put out the flames earlier, Joe was afraid that he might not be so lucky if he were tossed into the pond.  If it wasn’t for the tightly secured ropes that held his wrists behind his back, Joe was sure he could swim away to safety.  But, there would be no way to keep afloat with both ankles and hands bound.  Joe knew he would sink like a rock, and it wouldn’t take long in his weakened condition to drown.

“Any last words, Cartwright?  You sure you don’t want to turn me into that frog before you go swimming?”  Pete laughed once more.

Joe simply stared over at his captors, knowing they were so liquored up that there was no use in begging for mercy.  He drew in a deep breath and readied for what was to come.

“Get his legs, you two—Phil–you help me with his shoulders,” Pete directed, and soon Joe was hoisted to a horizontal position.  “Okay—now on the count of three—give him your best toss!  We want to get him out there as far as we can so he has a better chance of floating.  One—two–three!”  Pete yelled and the four men sent Joe flying in the air.  He landed with a mighty splash in the water.

Pete sat on the shore smiling as Phil came up to him.

“Hey—we’re gonna go get him right?  I mean–you said no killing!”

“Relax–we’ll go in a minute—he can hold his breath that long!”

****************************

Ben and Roy had met up with Mitch just as soon as they crossed the eastern border of the ranch.  The young man was full of panic as he urged them to hurry to the pond after telling them what had happened.  The three men raced to Joe’s aid, coming to the hilltop just as Pete and his friends had tossed their victim in the pond.

Ben’s heart was pumping so fast that he thought he might not be able to stay on his horse as he charged down the hill and leapt from his saddle.  Roy was right behind him, as was Mitch.  Taking Pete and the other captors by complete surprise, they didn’t have time to pull their guns nor make an escape.

“We wuz gonna go get him—we was just funning!”  Phil called out to Roy.

Roy held his gun on Pete and his gang as Mitch rushed to the shoreline carrying one of the men’s torches in his hand.  Ben threw off his hat and gun and pulled his boots off in one continuous and fluid motion.  With Joe’s friend trying his best to light the way, Ben was able to see where the rings of water still heralded the place where Joe had been tossed.  Sucking in one big long breath, Ben dove underneath the murky waters of Miller’s Pond in search of his son.

The water was cold and the black depths of the pond’s floor made it impossible for Ben to see anything.  Using his hands in a sweeping fashion, Ben searched wrought with panic for his son’s body.  His right hand hit onto an object, which after further inspection was determined to be a large root.  As Ben began to move farther away from the thick fibrous object his other hand felt something underneath it.  In a frantic effort, blindly Ben realized it was his son’s feet that had become trapped under the massive tree root.  Soon, Ben had Joe free of his trap and pulled him into his arms and pushed off from the bottom of the pond seeking the surface in a hurry.

Roy had made quick work of tying the five perpetrators up and herding them into a circle, all the while keeping an eye out for Ben to resurface.  Pete and his friends were starting to fear the worse.  If Joe had drowned they knew good and well that a murder charge would be on their heads.  It hadn’t been their intention to kill the kid, just to scare him.  Roy forced the men, at gunpoint, to sit down with their backs to each other so there would be little chance of flight to escape the upcoming charges.

Mitch continued to hold his torch out towards where Ben had disappeared.  He prayed fervently that his best friend would survive the awful attack by Pete and his friends. Ben had been under the water for more than a minute and hope was beginning to seem futile.  It was at that moment that both father and son emerged from the pond.

“Look Sheriff!”  Mitch shouted and pointed towards Ben and Joe.

Roy’s heart leapt in his chest to see that both Cartwrights had come out of the murky depths.  He worried as Ben slowly made it to the bank of the pond that Joe had been under the water for more than just a couple of minutes.  Roy hurried to two of the horses and threw off their saddles to retrieve the saddle blankets.

Ben, soaked to the skin and shaking badly, sloshed his way towards the shoreline with the lifeless body of his youngest son in his arms.  He collapsed onto the tall grass and was met by Roy.

“Here—lay the boy out on this!”  Roy insisted, tossing one of the horse blankets on the ground.

Ben spread his son out onto the blanket and accepted the sheriff’s pocketknife. With two swift motions, he freed Joe’s wrists and ankles from their bonds. Listening to the boy’s chest, Ben knew that he was not breathing.  Instinctively the panicked father rolled his son over on to his stomach and turned his face to one side.  He then began pushing on Joe’s back, hoping to force the water from his lungs.

Mitch set the torch over to the side so that they could all get a better look at Joe.  He had to fight back tears to see that his best friend apparently had drowned.  Ben would not give up he continued to pound on his son’s back and every so often listen for a heartbeat.  There wasn’t one.

“Don’t you quit on me, Joseph!  You hear?  You fight—you fight back!”  Ben fought his tears as he checked his son’s mouth to see if there was anything blocking his airway.

Roy knelt next to Ben he hated to tell his old friend that Joe was beyond help.  The boy had spent at least three, perhaps four, minutes at the bottom of the pond.  There was little chance left for the boy to be revived, but knew Ben would not quit.

Joe’s head was killing him and his ears were filled with the most excruciating high pierced sounds he had ever heard.  He felt as though his lungs were going to burst in his chest, and fought to go back to the place where peace awaited.  It was then that the voice spoke to him.

****No, Joseph—you still have some things you need to do.  It’s not your time, Boy.  Your Pa is calling for you–you need to go to him.****came the familiar voice of Uncle Josh.

In Joe’s mind he struggled to return to his father.  First came the severe pain which stabbed at his chest.  Next there was a gagging reflex which shot out some of the swallowed pond water from his lungs.

As soon as Ben pushed on Joe’s back, for what must have been close to the fortieth time, he got the reaction he had been praying for.  With a rush the water poured out of Joe’s mouth and he began to cough.  Afraid to stop his movements, Ben continued to push on his son’s back, knowing that the boy had taken in a large quantity of the water.

“Good boy—that’s it—cough it out, Joe–cough it out!”  Ben called joyously and cast a glance over at both Roy and Mitch.  Both of them had tears in their eyes, so relieved to see Joe was alive.

Ben waited until his son had coughed and vomited a great deal of the aspirated water before he pulled him up into his arms.  Tears flowed down the distraught father’s face as he held the boy whom he loved so much.

“You’re gonna be okay, Joe—you’re gonna be okay–” Ben promised as he rocked him in his arms.

“Move that light over here closer so we can get a look at the boy,” Roy called to Mitch.

Mitch pulled the torch up from the forced hole in the ground and moved closer towards Ben and Joe.  Ben face winced to see the damage that had been done to Joe by his abductors.  There was blood still pouring from cuts that had been caused by Pete’s fists.  Above Joe’s right eye was a rather large gash, but there was something else there too.

“Leech—get it off of him,” Ben said to Roy, not wanting to release his son from his arms at the time.

Roy grimaced as he tugged on the insect trying to free it from Joe’s wound.  It was dug in good and required a little work, but finally the sheriff removed the blood-sucker and tossed it angrily off to the side.

Ben had to spread Joe out on the blanket in order to inspect his injuries.  Just putting him into a reclining position caused his son to scream out in agony.

“It’s okay—it’s gonna be okay,” Ben repeated over and over again.  He hardly knew where to start, Joe was so torn up.

“He’s got to get to a doctor and quick, Ben,” Roy whispered and put his hand on his friend’s shoulder.  “Let me grab a couple more blankets to hold you till I get back.”

Ben had to agree with the sheriff, it was little use in even trying to examine Joe out there on the hill.  The boy had begun to shake so bad that Ben was afraid he was going into shock.  Roy gathered as many bedrolls from all the horses as he could find and brought them over to Ben.  He then ordered Pete and his men to stand.  Ben shot a venomous stare Pete’s way.

“I told you I’d kill anyone who harmed my boy—-and look what you’ve done to him!”  Ben fired over at the man.

“We wasn’t trying to kill him, Cartwright—-just scare him!”  Pete protested.

“Tell it to the judge, Timmons,” Roy said pointing his gun at the man.

“After the law is done with you—-it’s going to be my turn,” Ben vowed as Pete walked past him.

Mitch helped to light two more torches and set them around Ben and Joe.

“Thanks, Mitch—now you go help Roy take those criminals to the jail and come back with a wagon and Doc.”

“I hate to leave you—you sure?”

“Roy’s gonna need your help—and there’s nothing you can do for Joe right now but get a doctor out here.  Go on,” Ben nodded.

“We’ll be back fast as we can!”  Mitch exclaimed and hurried up the hill to help Roy.

****************************

The breeze had picked up off the pond and Ben wrapped one of the blankets around his shoulders to try to ward off a chill.  The rest of the blankets were used to cover Joe from top to bottom.  Ben pulled Joe’s upper body into his arms and sheltered it from the wind. ****If only I could shelter you from people as easily****Ben thought to himself.  He was worried that Joe had dozed off and on but had yet to speak a word.  And the coughing fits were getting much worse along with his labored breathing which seemed very raspy from the sound of it.  Ben was terrified at the thought of what all Joe might have sucked down his windpipe while he was at the bottom of the pond.  He was also worried about the injuries his son had incurred at the hands of his abductors.  Ben could see some of the damage on Joe’s face, but it was what he couldn’t see that scared him more.

Joe could feel his father’s water-soaked shirt against his cheek as well as the rise and fall of his chest.  It was all starting to come back to him now.  He could see Pete’s face and hear his laughter as he threw him into the pond.  Joe shivered knowing how close he had come to death this time.  He pulled his left hand from his side and out of the pile of blankets holding him. Reaching up, he touched his father’s cheek and felt the tears that had tracked down from his eyes.

“Pa—” Joe whispered.

Ben covered Joe’s hand with his own and held onto it, keeping it pressed to his face.  It was cold and clammy but had reached up for his father nonetheless, and that meant everything to Ben. He tightened his hold on the boy in a show of security.

“Rest easy, Son—help is on the way,” Ben replied, forcing calm to his voice, though he felt anything but calm at the time.  Pressing his lips to Joe’s exposed forehead Ben closed his eyes as memories fell upon him.  The hand had been much tinier but had made the same motion reaching up for his father’s face as Marie had handed the premature baby over to him.  Ben thought back to that first moment when he had made eye contact with his youngest son as a newborn infant.  Though Marie had insisted that babies could not really focus until they were much older, Ben had argued that his Joseph had indeed looked right into his brown eyes.  Looking in awe at the hazel eyes which were so like Marie’s, Ben knew it was love at first sight.  Here was his third son, one who had fought to come into the world that snowy night way too early according to Doctor Martin.  Walking over to the bedroom window, Ben had spoken to his son just as if he could fully understand his meaning.  The tiny infant stopped thrashing his legs and arms the moment that he heard that deep baritone voice of his father.

****Joseph Francis Cartwright!  What you have put your poor parents through this night, Young Man, and your brothers and the doctor for that matter.  You just had to come in with the first snow of the season, didn’t you?  Just look out there will you?  There’s two inches covering the barn.****Ben remembered his first conversation with his child, and also remembered looking out through the curtains to see that in spite of the snow clouds, there were still some stars twinkling above.****A strange night all right—-guess we will have to expect some unusual things from you in the future, Joseph.**** Ben then thought back on what his wife had said to him and it sent an old pain throughout his body.

****Our boy is strong, Darling, though he will not grow to match Hoss nor Adam I’m afraid.  He is so very petite—-I hope he will be all right****Marie had said with tear filled eyes.

Ben smiled and walked back to the bed and leaned over and kissed his beautiful wife.  ****Now don’t you fret, My Love, our Joseph will be just fine!  Isn’t that right, Joseph?****Ben called down to his son. ****Now– just look at this-****Ben called down to Marie and pulled the blanket away from the baby’s face. ****He smiled at me—and only an hour old—my what an intelligent and gifted boy we have!****

With her loving husband’s words to assure her that the baby would survive, Marie’s laughter filled the room. ****Babies don’t smile, Benjamin, not this soon.****

****This isn’t just any baby, Mrs. Cartwright—this is OUR baby—and I tell you he smiled at me!****Ben protested and felt once more the tiny hand reaching up to touch his face.

****Of course you are right as always, if you say Joseph smiled–then he did****Marie laughed and reached for both her husband and child. ****Now—does his mother get to hold him again?***Marie asked amused at the way her husband had yet to put Joe back in her arms.

Ben sat down on the bed and grinned, ****You’ve held this boy for about eight months, I think it’s my turn for a while**** Ben teased his wife, and again leaned over and kissed her.

****You hold him then—-let him hear your heartbeat—so he knows it as well as he knows mine.****Marie insisted as her husband and child curled up next to her.

Only the fierce shaking of Joe’s body brought his father out from his remembrance of another time.  He looked down, and even by the dying torch light, could see the pain etched on his son’s face.

“Pa?”  Joe’s shaky voice called out again.

“Right here with you, Joseph,” Ben whispered.

“I —I saw—saw her,” Joe stuttered, his teeth chattering from the chill taking over his body.

Ben looked down at his son and asked with confusion, “Saw who, Joe?”

“Ma—-I saw her—-I heard her—and you too.”

Ben was starting to think that either he was losing Joe due to his injuries or that the boy was starting to hallucinate due to the trauma.

“In the bedroom—-when I was born,” Joe continued.

Ben looked down again astonished at what his son had conveyed.  He wondered if it was possible for Joe to have somehow tapped into his earlier thoughts of Marie.

“She was right—-” Joe stammered.

“Right about what, Son?”

“I know your heartbeat—-just like I knew Ma’s—and they’re the same,” Joe whispered and fell off into a deep exhaustive sleep.

Ben clung to his son and wept.

******************************

Gradually the evening settled in as the last torch flickered and went out casting both father and son into a world of darkness.  Ben continued to hold Joe to his chest and hope that the heat given off from his own body might help to warm the boy.  Joe didn’t stir and was sleeping so deeply that he felt like a dead weight in his father’s protective arms.  Looking up at the sky Ben prayed that help would arrive soon.  Stars twinkled in the heavens and Ben wondered if they were the same ones that had announced his son’s birth a little more than eighteen years ago.

“There they are!” cried the strained voice of Mitch Devlin as the horses crossed the wooden bridge and headed towards the Cartwrights.

Carrying lanterns, Roy and Doc Martin rushed to Joe’s side.

“Thank God,” Ben sighed and carefully moved Joe over onto the bed of blankets.  He pulled himself to his feet and readied to carry Joe to the wagon.

“I got him, Ben,” Roy sang out and pulled the injured young man into his arms.  He had decided that his old friend had to be worn out from all that had happened that night.

Ben climbed into the back of the wagon and accepted Joe back into his arms.  Roy tossed in the other blankets and the doctor moved to sit next to his patient.  Stepping back up into the driver’s seat, Roy looked over at Mitch who was still on horseback.

“You go on get home now, Mitch—Joe’s gonna be all right.  Don’t make your folks worry about you!”  Roy insisted.

“I want to go with him!”  Mitch protested.

Ben gave a tired smile and replied, “There’s nothing you can do for him now, Mitch.  You already helped him–now get on home and I’ll send you word as soon as I can as to how he’s doing.”

“Okay–Mr. Cartwright—let me know!”  Mitch frowned, dejected but knowing both men were probably right.  Turning his horse, Joe’s friend headed for home.

*******************************

Even as the wagon rolled onward to the Ponderosa Doctor Martin was trying his best to check out Joe’s injuries.  With the small amount of light given out by the lantern at his side, Paul inspected the boy’s head and then stuck the ends of his stethoscope in his ears and tried to listen to Joe’s lungs.  He looked at Ben and gave a non-committal shrug of his shoulders.  Paul felt that there was no use worrying Joe’s pa more than he was already.  He assumed Ben had already come to the conclusion that his son’s lungs were in bad shape, there was no point confirming it.

Both of Joe’s brothers had already decided that there was some kind of trouble when their father or brother had made it back home.  Ben didn’t have the chance to tell either of his other sons where he was going when Roy had ridden to the ranch to get him, but as the evening waned he figured they would know there was trouble.  He was right in his assumption.  The door to the ranch house flew open just as soon as the wagon pulled up in the front yard.

“Pa!  What happened?”  Adam shouted and ran to the wagon along with Hoss.

“Joe’s hurt —-we’ve got to get him into the house!”  Ben called over to his sons.

Without a second thought, Hoss moved to the back of the buckboard and hoisted his little brother into his arms.  He turned and as agile as someone with less than half his own weight, Hoss ran into the house.  Doc followed Hoss and Adam up the long staircase and into Joe’s bedroom.

Once Roy had seen that the Cartwrights and doctor had the situation in hand, he said a quick goodbye to Ben and climbed back up in the wagon.  There was the matter of some prisoners to attend to and he didn’t want to leave the venomous lot of them alone with his deputy for too long.  Ben patted the sheriff’s shoulder and thanked him for all of his help, and then turned and hurried to get to Joe.

Hop Sing had peeked out of the front door and knew that Joe was hurt.  He had made it up to the boy’s room right before all the others had.  Tossing a clean sheet over the quilt he prepared for Joe to be laid onto the bed.  As soon as his body touched the sheet Joe came back around and started to scream.

“Pa! Pa!  Help!” Joe shouted and started to thrash about.

Ben, who had jogged briskly up the stairs, sidestepped Paul Martin and hurried to Joe’s side.  He slid next to his son and tried to calm him.

“It’s okay, Boy—you’re home now—nothing to worry about.  We’re gonna fix you up,” Ben replied softly and took Joe’s hand.

“No—Pa—I can’t stand it—can’t stand it—help me!”  Joe cried and began to grab at his clothes.

Ben shot a bewildered glance at Paul and then asked Joe, “What is it?  What’s wrong?”

“Biting me—something’s biting me—get them off!”  Joe screamed again and tried to tear off his shirt.

Paul moved over to the bed and assisted Ben with removing Joe’s shirt.  It was then that everyone in the room saw the first problem they would have to deal with.

“Oh my God!”  Ben gasped.  All over his son’s chest were leeches and they appeared to be dug in deeply.

“He’s covered in leeches!  Get all his clothes off now!”  Paul sent his command to Ben and Hop Sing and then looked over at Joe’s brothers.  “Adam—we’re gonna need some matches—and some rubbing alcohol too.  Hoss—fetch a bath tub up here then start heating water!”

Adam and Hoss did not ask any questions, instead, they immediately went about their assignments. Ben struggled to calm Joe while helping the cook remove the boy’s clothes.  Joe was full of panic, not really knowing what was going on.  He had heard the doctor say leeches but could not see them because his father blocked his vision.

“Hold still now, Joe,” Paul said sternly, trying to force calm to the room.  “You stop squirming and we’ll soon have them off of you.”

“They’re biting me! Get them off of me! ” Joe replied fearfully and then began a round of coughing that was so deep that it gave way the confirmation that pneumonia was setting in.

Ben leaned over the bed looking at his son’s body and was paralyzed with fear.  He wasn’t sure how many leeches he had counted, but knew there were a lot of them.  Starting at his son’s chest, they moved down to his stomach and were planted as far down as his thighs.  His face winced to think of his son having had the blood suckers on him for so long.  Ben had no idea that the one that Roy had pulled from Joe’s face earlier had been a harbinger as to what lay underneath the boy’s clothing.

“I’ll get them off, Son, you just hold still,” Ben said trying to sound in control, but his voice shook so much that it told the real truth.   Reaching precariously towards one of the leeches, Ben’s hand was met by Paul’s grip.

“Ben—over here–” Paul stated in a whisper and signaled the worried father over to the far end of the room.

Ben reluctantly followed the doctor but couldn’t understand why he had stopped him from assisting his son.  Paul reached over to Ben and pulled him closer so he could speak in a whisper to prevent Joe from hearing what he had to say.

“Ben—if you go to ripping those leeches off of Joe we are going to have to battle infection.  From what I’ve already seen and heard, we’re gonna have our hands full trying to fix the boy up,” Paul warned.

“I don’t understand—why–he’s being eaten up with those things!  We’ve got to get them off quickly —they’re already dug in deep enough!”  Ben protested and turned to see Joe battling Hop Sing as he tried to get up from the bed.

Paul tightened his grip on his friend’s arm and replied, “They leave their teeth in the body if you carelessly yank them off.  I know this isn’t going to be easy on Joe or any of us for that matter.  You know I’d give the boy something for pain — but with the way his chest sounds—well–I don’t want to chance it.  We’ll get them off of him–but the right way.  Now go over there and do what you do best—hold his hand–stroke his forehead–whatever it takes to quiet him down!”

Ben drew in a deep breath and looked at Paul’s face.  He could see both the concern and the fierce insistence in his eyes.  He turned and hurried back to Joe’s side just as the boy was slinging his legs to the side of the bed.

“Now you stay put there, Joseph!”  Ben called down to his son and aided Hop Sing in pulling him back up on the bed.

“Can’t stand it—Pa—help me!”  Joe groaned and then began another coughing fit.

Ben sat up by the headboard and pulled Joe into his arms to quiet him.  The boy was still fighting to get off the bed, though his body was starting to weaken considerably.  Mercifully, it was then that Adam reappeared in the room carrying both the matches and the alcohol.  Hoss was close behind him and placed the steel tub on the other side of the room by Joe’s bureau.

“Hoss—wait on that water for a minute and come over here!”  Doc called out.

“I got the water heating up,” Hoss replied and neared the bed.  He looked down at his brother’s body and felt a bit weak at the knees to see how many leeches were covering it.

“Adam–you and Hoss are going to pull the skin tight on both sides of each of these varmints while I strike the match.”

“You gonna burn them off?”  Ben called down to the doctor, worried now about Joe receiving scars from the treatment.

“Burn them off — heck set me on fire — I don’t care–just get them off of me!”  Joe yelled and fought his father’s hold once more.

“Easy, Joe—no-ones gonna burn you.  But you are going to have to hold still,” Paul commented calmly.  “I’m going to strike a match and place the end against the top of each leech.  Between the heat and the sulfuric smell it’ll make them loosen their hold.  Let’s start up at Joe’s chest.  Hop Sing –hand me that waste can–gonna need some place to throw them.”

Hop Sing moved the trash receptacle next to the bed and stepped back to get out of the way.  Hoss stood on one side of the bed, his brother Adam on the other, waiting for instructions.

Paul reached up towards the first leech and lit the match.  “Pull the skin on both sides, Boys,” he called to Joe’s brothers.  Slowly the first leech unlocked its teeth and was able to be pulled off with a gentle tug by Doc Martin.  He tossed the first one inside the can and moved on to the next.

Ben watched the whole procedure, but blocked Joe’s vision with his hand.  He figured the boy had been through far too much already and didn’t need to witness what was happening.  Joe bravely held any further pain inside and struggled not to cough for fear of being burned by the match’s flame.  One by one the leeches were carefully pulled off of Joe’s body and tossed into the waste can.  The procedure was slow and grueling for all involved.  A good thirty minutes from the time they pulled the first one from Joe’s chest, the doctor removed the final leech.  He then motioned for Ben to help turn Joe onto his side to get a quick look at his back.  Paul wanted to be sure there wasn’t going to be any more surprises later.  After a once-over was completed he was satisfied that there were no more leeches on his patient.

“That’s got it,” Paul sighed and stood and stretched his back to free the kinks.  “Hand me over that alcohol, Adam.”

Adam handed Paul both the alcohol and the washcloth.  Ben knew the next part wouldn’t be very pleasant, but then, nothing that evening had been pleasant.

“This is gonna sting pretty bad, Joe, but gotta make sure that we have all the teeth out.  So, go ahead and latch onto something to steady you before I start to clean these out.”

Without thinking about it, Joe reached for his source of strength and held tightly to his father’s two hands.  Paul began to cleanse the wounds and watched the rubbing alcohol bubble up each time it hit a spot where a leech had dug in deep enough to draw blood.  Joe’s eyes filled with tears, but he did not scream or cry out.  Ben watched in awe of his son’s bravery and felt a combination of sadness and pride.  He wished the boy didn’t have to go through the awful things that had been handed to him in his eighteen years, but, was proud to see his inner strength was still very much intact.

“Okay, that’s done.  Hoss—you and Hop Sing go get that tub filled please.  As soon as I am done doctoring the rest of your brother’s injuries we’re going to have to bathe him.”

“Right, Doc,” Hoss nodded and turned out of the room with Hop Sing to retrieve the buckets of water they’d need.

“You’re as tough as they come, Kid,” Adam smiled and patted his little brother’s arm.  “I’ll go see if I can give Hoss a hand,” he said and turned and left the room.

Joe forced a smile, though he was hurting so much that all he wanted to do was to sleep. His father bent over and kissed his forehead, “Good job, Joseph, I know that had to hurt,” He whispered and eased Joe down on the bed before getting up and moving next to Paul.

“Thanks, Paul,” Ben said and let out a deep breath, glad to have one procedure out of the way.

Paul nodded and then moved to sit next to Joe on the bed.  “Now, let’s have another listen to that chest, Joe.”

Paul listened to his patient’s lungs and noted the deep congestion that had settled into them.  He checked the cut over Joe’s right eye and noted the tale-tell signs of the burn under the boy’s bangs.

“Looks like you have a nasty burn there, Boy.  Want to tell me about it?” Paul asked and reached inside his black bag for some ointment.

Joe broke eye contact with the doctor as the awful memories came back to him of his ordeal.  “Pete—he—well–him and the others–” Joe started but then was gripped with yet another coughing spell.

“Doesn’t sound good,” Ben whispered to Paul, worried that the worst of his son’s injuries was his lungs having taken in far too much water.

“Pete did what, Joe?” Paul continued as he dabbed first some antiseptic and then the salve on the boy’s forehead.

Joe drank some of the water his father offered and then replied, “They decided that I was some kind of a witch—-and that–well–they were gonna burn me at the stake.”

Ben’s mouth fell open as fast as his hands formed fists.  “I’ll kill him,” he stated enraged.

“They burnt you—-your forehead?” Paul asked shocked.

“They tied me to a tree—-then they piled pine straw under my feet.  Pete flashed the torch in front of my face to scare me—that’s how I got the burn on my head.   Then they set fire to the pine straw.  For a minute I thought it was all over–” Joe stopped after seeing what effect his words were having on his father.  “It’s okay, Pa—-”

“No it’s not, Son!  And it’s not over by a long shot either.  Now go ahead—tell us what happened so we know what charges we will be filing,” Ben replied and tried to gather control of his anger.

“Well—they set the stuff on fire—burnt my pants—my boots–but they tossed water on it before it got too far out of hand.”

“What else?”  Ben had to ask, though he didn’t know how much more he could emotionally handle.

“Well, Pete beat me up–the other men didn’t –but they sure as hell didn’t help either.  After they put out the fire, Pete said the only real way to see if I was some kind of a witch—or as one of them called it– a warlock—was to throw me bound into the pond and see if I could float.”

Paul shook his head, totally amazed by the cruelty of the human species.  No matter what strange power Joe Cartwright might actually possess, he had never been a threat to anyone.  If there was someone evil around Virginia City, it was surely Pete Timmons and not Joe.

“Let’s take a look and see what we find,” Paul finally stopped with his questioning.  He had already been informed by Sheriff Coffee about the time Joe had spent submerged in the pond.  He moved down to the boy’s ankles and saw that there were blisters around both of them from the fire.  “I won’t put ointment on these until after your bath.  A good hot soaking will help with a lot of your soreness from the beating you took, Joe.  Let me check your ribs to make sure they aren’t busted,” Paul stated and slowly and gently felt Joe’s abdomen and chest.  There were numerous bruises and scratches, but Paul was relieved to find no breaks.  “Ribs are sore, but no broken bones, thank goodness.  That cough of yours has me worried.  You drank a good bit of that pond water I’m afraid, Joe.  You’ve got a touch of pneumonia I expect.”

“How bad?”  Ben asked, his mind going back to a few experiences with his son battling the effects of pneumonia.

“Bad,” Paul stated looking only into Ben’s eyes, not trying to alarm his patient too much.

“My chest hurts—-how long was I under–anyone know?”  Joe asked and rubbed at his head.  The cut above his eye was itching so badly that he was starting to claw at it.

“Long enough—we got there right after you were thrown in, Joseph.  I got to you as quick as I could—but I’d say at least two to three minutes,” Ben answered and then watched his son scratching at his head wound.  His mind went back to how he had insisted on Roy pulling off the leech which had been on top of the cut above Joe’s eye.

“What is it?  Why you scratching that so much, Joe?  It’s a cut–you don’t want to open it back up,” Doc Martin fussed at the boy.

“It’s itching like crazy,” Joe commented.

“Paul—there was a leech on that cut when I got him out of the pond.  I told Roy to pull it off while I was holding Joe—guess it wasn’t the wisest thing to do,” Ben confessed.

“Now maybe you both understand why I had to take the time to carefully get those leeches off, huh?”  Paul sighed and reached back into his medical bag and drew out a scalpel.  He then rinsed the end off with some of the alcohol.  “This is gonna smart like heck, but I have to open that cut up and clean it.  It clotted so fast because of the leech—but there’s infection under there or you wouldn’t be itching, Joe.”

“Go ahead,” Joe replied, resolute that the night was going to be a bad one as far as pain was concerned.  He braced himself for the feel of the cool steel blade.

Paul lanced the cut, and forced it to bleed to try and get any foreign material out of it.  After the blood and water-like substance was visible, Paul applied the alcohol and Joe jerked back in pain.  “Almost done–hold still just another minute,” Paul stated and finished the cleansing and then applied ointment to the cut.  “That ought to work.  Is it still itching, Joe?”

Joe let out a deep breath and coughed again before answering, “No—just hurts like hell.”

Paul laughed and placed a bandage on the wound.  “I think I agree with your brother Adam, Joe–you’re about as tough as they come.  Now let’s get you into a hot bath before we doctor the rest of you,” Paul said and stood from the bed.

Hoss and Adam walked into the room, carrying buckets of water to fill the bathtub.  They hurried back down to the kitchen and made a couple more trips before they had the tub full.  Carefully Ben and Paul assisted Joe across the room and helped him into the hot tub of water.  Joe sank down and groaned from the effort it took to walk across the room.  His entire body ached and with each breath that he drew in, pain shot throughout his chest causing more coughing.

“Just soak for a few minutes, Joe, and then we’ll tend to your other injuries,” Paul instructed and then turned towards Ben.  “Come on, you and I are going to go downstairs and get some good strong coffee to get us through this night.”

“But—” Ben started and was cut off sharply by Paul.

“No buts about it!  Hoss and Adam can watch out for their brother just fine.  Now come along willingly,” Paul insisted and grabbed Ben’s arm, tugging him across to the door.

Ben cast one parting glance over at his sons and saw Adam and Hoss nod towards their father to let him know Joe would be well taken care of.  He turned and walked into the hallway with Doctor Martin.

*****************************

One could have made a good case as to Hop Sing’s own clairvoyance, because he was usually one step ahead of Ben.  When the doctor and worried father made their way down to the living room, Hop Sing was setting out the coffee pot on the dining table.  He also had a large platter of sandwiches waiting there.

“You eat–you drink—no need father get sick–or doctor!”  Hop Sing called to the two men and then disappeared back into the kitchen.

Ben sat down at the head of the table and poured coffee for Paul and himself.  “I can’t say that I’m hungry–but I imagine it’s going to be another long night,” Ben commented and grabbed one of the sandwiches and passed the plate to Paul.

“The boy’s chest has me worried, Ben,” Paul nodded his thanks for the food and accepted his coffee as well.  “But, we’ve battled pneumonia with Joe before, guess you know what to expect.”

“I can’t believe that Timmons and his bunch would put my son through all of that!  They deserve a rope around their necks—but unfortunately the law won’t be so kind to comply with the way I feel about them.”

“He’s been through a lot this time, that’s true.  But, before you go off on a rampage of revenge, let’s keep focused on fixing Joe up, shall we?”  Paul asked, trying to diffuse the angered father.  It wasn’t a behavior he hadn’t witnessed in the past either.  Paul had seen the law- abiding patriarch of the Ponderosa go off the deep end at times when his sons were harmed.  And Joe was harmed very badly that day.  Paul hoped that he could get Ben back to concentrating on his son’s health concerns to calm him down a bit and make him rethink any plans of getting even with one Pete Timmons.

Ben finished eating and upon Paul’s insistence, he too, took a good long soak in a tub to rid himself of any remnants of the pond water.  Paul had warned him to check himself over good to make sure he didn’t have any uninvited guests attached to him.  Thankfully, Ben didn’t find any leeches or other parasites on him, but he made sure to scrub his body down good with Hop Sing’s strong lye soap just in case.  Dressed in fresh clothes, and feeling a bit more relaxed, Ben made his way back into Joe’s bedroom just in time to see the doctor finishing with the last of his treatments.

Ben moved next to his son and placed his hand on the boy’s forehead and watched as Paul secured the tight mustard plaster to his patient’s chest.  The pungent odor of the poultice stung at Ben’s nostrils and he imagined how uncomfortable Joe must be having it so snug to his body.

“That’s it now, Joe.  I want you to drink this medicine and then close those eyes.  You’ve had quite a day,” Paul smiled and handed Joe the glass that contained a very light sedative mixed with water.  When the doctor was satisfied that his patient had drunk all the contents, he set the glass back onto the night stand and stood next to Ben.  “How was your bath, Ben?  Find any varmints attached to you?” Paul grinned.

Ben laughed and sank down on the bed next to Joe.  “No, apparently I do not taste as good as my son.”

Joe forced a smile and then looked up at the doctor, “I take it that I’ll live, huh, Doc?”

“If you follow doctor’s instructions, Young Man,” Paul nodded as he placed his instruments and ointments back into his medical bag.  “Those lungs need all the help you can give them right now, Joe.  I want you to stay propped up on those pillows–no sinking down flat on your back!  Your body took one heck of a beating too, so don’t expect to get out of bed for at least a week.”

When Joe didn’t complain about being confined to his bed, Ben shot a worried glance over to Paul.  He never could remember a time that Joe had not fought a diagnosis.

“What’s this?  No argument, Joseph?”  Ben asked and pushed the hair out of the boy’s eyes.

“Tell you the truth, Pa—I don’t feel up to anymore fights today.  I don’t feel so great,” Joe replied sullenly.

Paul noticed the look on Ben’s face and moved in and touched Joe’s forehead.  “You’ve got a touch of fever right now, Joe.  That’s what’s making you more compliant than you usually are.  You just take it easy and I’m sure that in a few days we will have to sit on you to keep you in this bed.”

“Thanks, Doc,” Joe whispered and his eyelids started to close as the medicine began to take effect.

“Ben—walk me downstairs will you?”  Paul asked and gave him a look that said he didn’t want to talk in front of Joe.

“Sure—Joseph—I’ll be right back,” Ben whispered, but saw that the boy was out of it already.

Out in the hallway, Doctor Martin spoke more freely with Ben.  “He’s been through a very harrowing experience, Ben.  It’s not just the boy’s health that’s got me worried.”

“I know—when I think of what they did to him–” Ben trailed off and had to fight his anger once more.  “He will be okay though, right?  I mean–he’s got that nasty cough—and a fever.”

“Pneumonia, Hop Sing knows what to do—we’ve gone down this road a time or two.  I had a chance to talk to Joe once I sent Adam and Hoss down to eat their supper.  We spoke a little about what’s been going on.  He’s very upset about what the town’s folks think of him.  Joe thinks this gift of his is directly tied into a medallion that his uncle gave to him.  He had me get it out of his pant’s pocket.  I have to tell you—he surprised me with a couple of things that he told me.”

“Yes—I’m well aware of what the boy can do, Paul.  Now whether or not it’s that medallion–or not—that remains to be seen.  What did he tell you anyway?”

Paul smiled and replied, “He told me about the Zephyr mine—and that a new vein is gonna be hit soon.  Joe told me to purchase a few more shares in fact.  Guess he was trying to pay my bill that way, you think?”

Ben chuckled and put his hand on Paul’s shoulder.  “If Joe said that—well—if I were you–I would listen.  But, please don’t pass it on.”

“I won’t.  But, now, seriously, if Joe thinks it’s the medal–perhaps you should talk him into getting rid of it.  Seems like it has caused a whole lot of trouble.  He was lucky this time to get away with his life.  People get kind of spooked over what they don’t understand.”

“I don’t have anything good to say about some of the town’s folks right now.”

“Yes, I heard about that meeting over at the church.  I’m sorry, but you have to remember that it was only a hand full of people, not the whole congregation, Ben.”

Ben nodded and started to walk to the stairs with Paul.  “What can I do for Joe right now?”

“Just keep him in bed, and try to keep him calm.  I’ve given Hop Sing instructions about his medication.  He has a tablespoon three times a day.   You can give it to him with his meals.  I expect that fever to get a little worse as the night goes on,” Paul broke into a smile and continued, “I would tell you to have someone stay with the boy—but after all of these years I know good and well who that someone is going to be!  Now, don’t you wear yourself out, you have three other people in this house to help.”

Ben grinned guiltily and replied, “Yes, I know that.  But, when he’s hurting—well—-he needs me there.”

“Really?”  Paul said and raised his eyebrows for effect, “I always thought it was the other way around?”

Ben laughed and patted Paul’s shoulder.  “Yes, I know—it probably is more me than Joseph–but I am sure you will keep my secret.”

“I’m going to have Adam drive me back into town.  I’ll stop by tomorrow to check on Joe.  Send word if he gets worse.”

“I will.  As always—we’re in your debt, Paul,” Ben said and shook the doctor’s hand.

“You will be, when you get my bill.”  Paul teased and headed down the staircase.

*****************************

Ben returned to his son’s room and sat down next to him on the bed.  He was surprised when Joe’s eyes opened and he stared sleepily at his father.

“Thought you were asleep, Joseph.  How do you feel?” Ben asked and reached again to feel of his forehead.

“Pa—I’m sorry—sorry for causing all of this,” Joe whispered sadly.

“Hush now—there’s nothing that has happened that’s your fault.”

Joe reached for the medallion on his night stand and held it in his hand.  He closed his eyes and thought about Pete and all that the man had done to him.  “Pa?”

“Yes, Son?”

“It’s not a good thing to know what’s gonna happen.  Actually, it’s pretty scary.  But, Uncle Josh told me not to get rid of this.”

Ben looked at his son confused by what he had conveyed, “Uncle Josh?  When did he tell you that?”

“The other night—here in my room.  He said I would need it.”

“Joe—you mean you had a dream where he said that?”

“No–he was here—right there by the end of this bed.” Joe returned as he pointed to the footboard.

Ben looked at his son and tried to determine if he was starting to become a bit delirious due to his fever.  Joe grabbed his father’s hand and held onto it, with the medallion in the same hand.

“Don’t do it, Pa,” Joe warned.

“Do what, Joe?”  Ben asked surprised.

“Don’t kill Pete—I know you want to—but don’t do it.  He hurt me—but he didn’t kill me.  You’ve got to let that alone.  Someday Pete is gonna get his—but not this time.”

“Is that a feeling—or something you see?”

“Both.  And—Pa—-I’m not delirious by the way,” Joe replied and smiled.

Ben shook his head and sighed.  “I’d better watch what I think from now on—seems like you know.”

“Not all the time—just some of the time.  Like out at the pond.”

“You remember that, Joseph?”  Ben asked and touched his son’s face tenderly.

“Yeah—I remember all right — seeing you—and seeing Ma—-and how much she loved you.  I could see it in her eyes.  All my other memories of her are so vague now—but tonight—well–it brought it all back.  And—Pa?”

“Yes?” Ben asked, beginning to choke up with emotion.

“You look better with white hair,” Joe grinned.

“Huh?”  Ben questioned and then thought back to the scene in his mind.  When his youngest had come into the world he did, indeed, have mostly dark black hair with only a hint of gray at the temples.  “You saw it pretty clearly then, didn’t you, Joe?”

“If nothing else—this medallion brought me a beautiful memory–of my mother—and my father–and how happy they were when I was born.  But, Pa?”

“Yes?”

“I think I will get rid of it—-some things are best kept a mystery.  And, I don’t want anybody else coming after me.  I was so scared—-I thought for sure–” Joe trailed off as the images began to flood his mind again.  He started another coughing fit and Ben moved to the night stand and poured some water and handed it to his son.

Once Joe had stopped coughing and had drunk the water, Ben moved to the top of the bed and sat down alongside of him.  He pulled Joe over to him so that he rested his head on his father’s shoulder.

“Well—first—you were right—I wanted to kill Pete Timmons, Joseph,” Ben began to explain what was on his mind that Joe had somehow honed in on.  “But, you are right—and I will leave it to the law.  Now–as for that medallion I would be lying if I told you that I thought you should keep it.  I am worried about you, and if that has something to do with all that has happened–well–I guess I’d like you to get rid of it.  But–it is yours—and I do have to let you make that decision yourself.”

Joe eased back against Ben’s shoulder and started to feel better about everything.  Just the feel of his father’s arms around him and the security in knowing that he would always be there made the young man breathe more easily.  Still holding the medallion, Joe closed his eyes as a thought came to him.  Since he planned to get rid of the medal soon, he found no harm in testing one last thing out with it.  Concentrating on a question that had worried him for most of his life, Joe focused on the power he believed the medallion to contain.  It was then that a clear mental picture popped into his head.

Ben wondered why his son had become so quiet and still all of a sudden.  “Joseph?  Are you asleep?”  Ben whispered.

“No, Pa—-just concentrating on something,” Joe replied and opened his eyes.

“Another prediction?”  Ben asked amused.

“Yeah—but this one was just what I wanted to know.  Kinda one for the road, you know?”  Joe answered and handed Ben the medallion.  “You can go ahead and set it over there, Pa.  As soon as I’m better I’m gonna toss it in Lake Tahoe.  I don’t need to know anything else.  Like I said–some things are best left a mystery.”

“What was it that you just saw, Joe?”  Ben asked curiously as he set the medal over by the lamp.

“Never mind, Pa.  Everything’s gonna be okay,” Joe whispered and closed his eyes again.

“Yes, everything’s going to be okay,” Ben sighed and felt Joe’s body ease down against his left shoulder.  Soon Joe was sound asleep and appeared to be breathing much easier than earlier.  Ben was glad to see that his son was resting peacefully in his protective embrace, but, he did wonder just what Joe had learned before he fell to sleep.  Whatever question that Joe had answered by the medallion, it seemed to melt the boy’s worry away.  Ben closed his eyes and dozed off still wondering if Joe would ever reveal the answer to him.

*****************************

Joe’s recovery from his injuries was slow at first as he battled the onslaught of pneumonia.  Fortunately, he had the love and care of his family to tend to his needs and gradually the deep congestion in his chest began to lift.  Paul was satisfied after a week had transpired that Joe was well enough to move around a bit.  He thought it was a good idea, in fact, in order to lift the young man’s spirits after such a long confinement in his bedroom.

Ben assisted his son down into the living room eight days after his torment at the hands of Pete Timmons and his evil cohorts.  Adding a few pillows to prop Joe up against the arm of the settee, his father covered him with a blanket.

“Thanks, Pa,” Joe nodded and eased into a semi-reclining position.

The front door to the ranch house opened and Hoss walked briskly inside.  “Hey, Pa—Mr. Bell just pulled up out front,” Hoss called to his father and moved next to Joe.

Ben frowned, not at all pleased that the visit by the prosecutor had come so soon.  He had hoped that the man could wait a day or two until Joe was healthier.  Ben strode over to the door in time to welcome William Bell into the living room.

“Ben–” the prosecutor sang out and shook the other man’s hand.  “Roy did tell you I was coming out didn’t he?” William asked warily as he saw the look of displeasure on the man’s face.

Ben forced himself to hide his true feelings and smiled over at the prosecutor.  “Yes—I just wasn’t sure it would be today, William.  Please—come in and sit down.  Can I get you some coffee?”

William made his way into a chair opposite where Joe was spread out on the sofa.  “Nothing for me, thanks.  Well, Joe—how are you feeling?”

Joe gave an ironic grin and answered, “I’m better than I was—guess that’s a start.”

Ben walked around the settee and motioned for Hoss to sit next to his little brother as he took a seat alongside the prosecutor.  “So?  Tell us what’s going to be done to Timmons and his pals?”

William frowned and tried to tactfully tell the Cartwrights the bad news.  “I’ve been talking to Jason McGiver–the attorney they hired.  He wanted me to talk to you all about a plea bargain to a lower charge.  He doesn’t feel that attempted murder is appropriate in this case.”

“What!”  Ben’s voice thundered out.  “He tied Joseph–bound by hands and feet and tossed him into Miller’s Pond for heaven’s sake!  If that isn’t attempted murder I don’t know what is!”

“Simmer down, Ben, and let’s talk about this in a calm manner,” William urged.

Joe looked over at the tight set of his father’s shoulders and the fierceness in his eyes.  He knew that his pa was about ready to explode in anger.  “Mr. Bell—what are they saying they did–invite me for a swim in the dark?”

Hoss stared over at his little brother and tried to keep from laughing at the way the boy had made his question sound like an ironic joke.  “Yeah–what did they say?”  Hoss jumped into the conversation while his father continued to fume.

“Pete and the others all say it was a prank, just something to scare Joe–” the attorney answered and Joe cut his statement in half.

“Well—if that was the whole idea—then they sure accomplished it!  You ever been thrown into the water tied up, Mr. Bell?  Or, for that matter—been tied to a tree while your boots are set on fire?”  Joe sang out.

It was Ben’s turn to enter the debate again.  He stood and stared down at the prosecutor.  “Where are you going with this, William?  Is there any valid reason that you didn’t tell their lawyer to stop his ridiculous idea of a plea bargain?”

“Ben—I was coming to that–that is if you will all settle down and let me get to it?”  William shot a stern look around the room and watched as Joe folded his arms across his chest in an attempt to hold back his own anger and Ben sat down reluctantly once more.  “Thank you, Gentlemen.  Now, let me spell this all out for you, shall I?  Once I am through—I will be glad to accommodate any of your suggestions or concerns.”

“Go ahead,” Ben nodded and braced himself for what he felt had to be bad news.

“The supposition is that a prank got out of hand somewhere along the way, due to the amount of whiskey the men had consumed.  They all insist that they were just about ready to jump into the pond and rescue Joe but you beat them to it.”

“Tell them we’ll see them in court,” Ben growled and shook his head madly.

“That may be the problem with this whole case, Ben–going to trial that is.”

“Why?” the three Cartwrights asked in unison.

“Pete’s plan is to get on the stand and make a great deal out of the fact that Joe cheated at cards which started this whole rift between the two of them.  He’s also going to bring up the whole thing about Joe foreseeing Martha Hartley’s death.”

“Joseph did NOT cheat at cards, William!  And as for Martha’s death—I find no pertinence in that coming out in court.”

“Pertinent or not, Ben–it WILL come out.  And, you know how some of the town’s folks are already a bit skittish about Joe’s apparent clairvoyance.”

Joe’s eyes shot over to his father and then his brother.  The whole idea of his behavior being used as part of a defense to get Pete acquitted sickened him.  But, he wasn’t going to go into a court where a couple of strange incidents might suggest that he was in league with the devil.

“Pa—-I’m not going to go in there–not and hear those kinds of things!  And, as for the card game—-I’m not all that sure now that I wasn’t cheating,” Joe said solemnly and Ben stared over at him hard.

“What?  You weren’t cheating, Joe—” Ben insisted but was cut off by his youngest.

“Pa—I knew what was going to be dealt—I didn’t know that going into the game–but–I don’t know–maybe I should have realized what was going on before I had won every hand?  That’s what got Pete so riled up to begin with.”

“Little Brother—-no matter what happened at that poker game–it don’t give someone the right to do what they did to you!”  Hoss argued and put his arm around the boy’s shoulder sympathetically.

“I know that—but—it’s not worth it–not worth it to bring all this stuff up again.  So—what would the plea bargain do, Mr. Bell?”  Joe asked staring into the prosecutor’s eyes hopefully.  He hated to think of Pete getting off lightly for what he had done and all the pain he had inflicted on him.

“They will accept a guilty plea of harassment—they’ll all get six months at hard labor.  I spoke to Roy about it–and he says there’s a ditch digging assignment over towards the Truckee River that would be pretty grueling.  He said he could get all of the men out there and work them sunup to sundown and they’d have plenty of time to think about what they did to Joe.”

“Pa?”  Joe asked, turning his pleading eyes towards his father for help.

“I don’t like it–not one bit!  It’s nothing but some form of bizarre blackmail!  They almost killed you, Joe!”  Ben protested.

“Pa—let it go—I told you before–Pete will get his—but like I said–not this time,” Joe replied, trying to remind his father of what he had felt earlier when they had addressed the issue.

“Six months?”  Ben sighed wearily and turned back towards the prosecutor.

“Yes—and I could get some type of court order barring Pete from coming within a hundred yards of Joe for a year—if that would help to sweeten the deal?”  William offered.

Ben shook his head, he wanted to seek justice for what had happened to his boy, and this was surely not justice by any means.  But, looking over at his son and realizing how affected he had been by all that had been said about him recently, he had to relent for Joe’s sake.

“All right,” Ben finally gave in to the majority of votes towards the sentence.  “But, before you tell them about it—I want to have a word with Mr. Timmons.  Understood?”  Ben stood and walked towards the credenza for his hat and holster.

A confused look passed between Joe and Hoss, wondering exactly what their pa was up to.  They had seen an intense anger in the man lately that they hadn’t witnessed in a long while.  Both brothers wondered what might happen if their father was turned loose on Pete Timmons.

William stood from his chair and looked down at Joe, “I think you made the best decision, Joe.  Put this behind you—but keep an eye on that Timmons fellow in the future.  William patted Joe’s shoulder as he made it over to Ben by the front door.

“You can see Timmons, Ben—but I must advise you not to harm him in any way.”

“Let’s go,” Ben replied, ignoring the wisdom of the prosecutor.  He had a thing or two to say to the man who had harmed his youngest son, and wasn’t going to wait another day to do it.

*****************************

As Buck kept a smooth gait, galloping right next to the prosecutor’s rig, Ben’s mind focused on the images of the night that he had pulled Joe from the pitch black bottom of the pond.  He remembered holding the lifeless body of his youngest son and how his heart was torn to pieces worrying that Joe would not survive.  Pictures of pulling leeches from his son’s battered body were as vivid as they had been the night Ben watched Paul Martin carefully removing them.  He tried to tell himself a million times the same things he had always told his three sons.  Ben had been a champion of the law and in sticking to the rules handed down by the many courts in the land that he loved and had fought for in the past.  Now, however, those laws seemed like an insulting cliche meant only to protect the perpetrators and not the innocent victims of their crimes.  Ben wasn’t at all sure that he could contain his emotions once he stood face to face with Pete.  If he were a little less of a man, Ben would have readied his Colt forty-five and settled for a more frontier type of justice.

Roy wasn’t very happy about his friend’s insistence to be let into the back room of the jail house to address the man who had arranged for Joe to be hurt.  In fact, the lawman had protested vigorously the idea.  It took the explanation by William Bell as well as the promise from Ben, himself, that no harm would come to Pete, to appease Roy.  He did make sure than Ben handed over his six-gun, before taking him back towards Timmons’ cell.  Roy had purposely locked the man in a cell by himself, in the hopes of keeping it quiet.  The other men shared cells that were a couple doors down from Pete, just in case.

“Okay—go on, Ben—say what you’ve come to say—you’ve got five minutes,” Roy said and turned to leave his friend standing there looking through the bars at Pete.

“Cartwright?  Hey–how you doing?”  Pete called over to the man and laughed.  “Hey—I was just thinking about Joe as a matter of fact!  How’s the boy doing?”

Ben placed his hands on his hips to calm the tempest swirling in his gut.  “Joe is just fine thank you,” Ben replied, but his words came out filled with venom towards the man.

“Great!  You know—we wasn’t trying to kill him–just—trying to get the demons out of the kid!”  Pete grinned and moved closer to the bars of the cell.

“The only evil I’ve seen is you, Timmons—not my son.  Perhaps you should think about exorcizing your own demons?”

“Ha!  Good one, Ben!  I was kinda worried though—looks like I got me a wart starting on my hand here—you don’t think Joe is fixing on turning me into a toad for real do you?”  Pete laughed.

Ben’s rage could not be contained, no matter how much he fought it.  He could remember telling his youngest son that temper was best kept under control and here he was in the same situation that Joe had been in so many times.  Ben, at least now, knew where the boy got it from.

“If you come near my son again—law or no law—I will shoot you down.  Understand?”  Ben threatened the man before him.

“Sure–sure I understand—no problem, Ben!  Fact of the matter is–well—that warlock kinda scares me!”  Pete joked, but his laughter was cut short.

Ben reared back and threw a punch, which miraculously cleared the cell’s bars and hit Pete squarely in the face, sending him sprawling onto the floor.  Pete looked up at Ben and mopped the blood coming from his nose.

“THAT was from the warlock—AND his father!  Come near us again—and you will really have something to be scared of!  Understand?”  Ben’s voice boomed.

“Yeah—yeah–” Pete replied, and this time he was no longer full of sarcasm; only fear.

Roy walked into the back room after having heard a loud crash, which proved to be Pete hitting the floor of his cell.  He walked casually over to his friend and watched Ben looking at his right fist, which was skinned from the punch he had sent.

“Someone have a little accident?”  Roy asked, and there was amusement in both his tone and in his eyes.

“Yes—well—Pete slipped on the floor of his cell.  Really, Roy—you should warn these prisoners about the dangers,” Ben smiled over at the sheriff.

“That what happened, Timmons?”  Roy called in to his prisoner.

Pete pulled himself to standing, but made sure to keep a good distance from the bars.  He could read the warning on Ben’s face.  “Yeah—I fell,” Pete nodded towards Roy and then settled down quietly on his cot.

Roy winked at Ben and the two men turned and walked out towards his office.

****************************

Joe stood up in his saddle stirrups and looked at the vast lake in front of him.  He had ridden up to one of the sharp inclines which offered a grand view of the waters of Lake Tahoe.  Joe remembered well all the events of the past month.  It was because of those memories that he reached inside his jacket and pulled out the medallion which his late uncle had sent him as a gift.  It had proven to be a curse, as far as Joe was now concerned.  He remembered telling his pa where he was going, and what he planned to do with the medal.  Joe clutched the object in his left hand and closed his eyes, ****I’m sorry, Uncle Josh—-you said it was my turn–but I don’t want it to be–third son of the third son of the third son or not!  I want my life back, and that means not knowing what awful things are gonna happen to me or the ones I love.****Joe said to himself and prepared to launch the medallion through the sky and to the deep waters of the lake.

“Don’t do it!” An ethereal sounding voice came out from the stand of trees behind Joe.

Joe turned in his saddle and saw the ghostly appearance of Uncle Josh.  The man seemed just as vivid as he had appeared the night he had given Joe the warning weeks earlier.

“I have to,” Joe called to the man.

“Put it away, Joseph—-somewhere safe—until you need it.  It was meant to help you–not to cause you pain.  Do it for your Uncle!” the ghost sounded once more and then vanished into thin air.

Joe frowned and looked again at the medallion.  He slowly tucked it back inside his pocket and lightly kicked at Cochise’ sides.  All the way home Joe wondered why his late uncle had given him the object and why he was so insistent that he keep it.  Figuring that he would never tell anyone that he hadn’t tossed the thing, Joe later placed it in a secure place; just in case.

*****************************

Ben sat in his favorite chair by the huge fireplace in the living room and turned the pages of a book he had recently bought.  He looked up and watched as Adam and Hoss battled it out in a fierce game of checkers.  Ben’s eyes shot towards the front door and wondered where Joe had gone off to.  He knew that the boy had taken the medallion up to the lake that afternoon and had gotten rid of it.  Joe seemed to be in good spirits when he had gotten home and had been talkative during dinner, but Ben had not seen him since then.

“Where’s your brother?”  Ben called over to Adam and Hoss.

“Last time I seen him–he was out in the barn, Pa,” Hoss answered and went back to his checker move.

Ben stood and tossed his book on the coffee table and headed for the door.  There was probably no need to worry about his youngest, but, he was curious as to what the boy was doing.  Joe’s health had improved greatly and he showed no ill effects of the incident with Pete which had happened some two weeks prior.  Ben decided there was no harm in checking on the boy anyway, and walked out to the barn.

Pulling the large planked door to the barn open, Ben stepped inside and cast a glance around the room.  He noticed a lantern glowing over by one of the far stalls and then heard Joe talking.  As he moved closer to the sound, it seemed as though his son was carrying on a whole conversation with someone, but there was no one present in the barn other than Joe.  Ben walked precariously across to where Joe stood.  The boy was directing his conversation down into one of the grain bins.  Ben approached his son warily, wondering if Joe was experiencing yet another strange encounter with something.

“Joseph?  You all right?”  Ben asked as he put his hand on the boy’s shoulder.

Joe turned around grinning.  He could see the bewildered look on his father’s face and it tickled him greatly.  “Sure, Pa–why do you ask?”

“Well—a minute ago—I could’ve sworn I heard you talking to someone,” Ben explained.

“Oh—-I was just talking to Pete, Pa,” Joe replied casually and focused back again inside the grain bin.

“Pete?  Pete who?  There isn’t anyone here, Son,” Ben countered with confusion painting his face.

“Pete Timmons,” Joe answered again.

“Huh?”

Joe laughed and reached inside the grain bin and pulled into his hands a very large toad and turned to show it to his pa.  “See?  I finally did it, Pa—took a lot of practicing–but he does look better like this doesn’t he?”

Ben shook his head and chuckled.  He decided to play right along.  “Yes–big improvement, Joseph!”

“Time to crawl back into your bed, Pete–now you catch as many insects as you like,” Joe turned around and placed the toad back in its new-found home.

“Joseph—sometimes you worry me, Boy, you really do!”  Ben sighed and reached for the lantern.  Joe responded with yet more laughter as he walked out of the barn with his father.

As the two Cartwrights made their way across the front yard heading into the ranch house, Ben suddenly stopped in his tracks and forced his son’s attention by grabbing his arm.

“Just a second—there’s been something that’s been bothering me for a while now. Maybe you can help me with it, Joseph?”

“What is it, Pa?” Joe replied and noticed the peculiar look his father now wore on his face.

“That night—you know—after your little swim?  You said something—something that you never explained to me.  Remember?”

“Oh–that!”  Joe smiled and knew exactly what his pa was getting at.  He remembered very well his little “one for the road” question that he had asked the medallion.  Joe also remembered the reason why he had purposely not addressed the answer to his father.  Though the answer was something that eased his own mind, Joe knew it wouldn’t help his father so he had side-stepped the man’s curiosity once before.

“Well?  Care to tell me what you asked the medallion that night?  Whatever it was seemed to have an awful calming effect on you, Joseph,” Ben continued to pry the truth out of his son.

“Oh–well–I just asked the medallion if you’d always be there for me, Pa,” Joe replied with a half-truth.

“Oh?  And what did it tell you?”  Ben smiled as they made their way to the front porch and both stopped again.

“It said you would,” Joe grinned.

“You didn’t need a medallion for that question, Joseph—-I could have told you that!”  Ben laughed and gave his son a quick hug before opening the front door.

***************************

EPILOGUE:

Joe lay on his bed almost lost to the worries of all that had happened to him since the day of his eighteenth birthday.  He knew that others would wonder for a while about his strange power of precognition, but eventually the hubbub of that would wear out and people would move on to a much newer piece of gossip.  Joe had tucked the medallion in his bureau far away from the view of his family members.  He didn’t feel compelled to tell any of them that he had failed in his mission to toss the object in the lake.  Joe would just stay away from the medallion until the time came, if ever, that he would need whatever strange power it contained.

Life went back to normal, and Joe was as glad as the rest of his family to have it that way.  He tried not to dwell on the awful things that the medallion had foreseen, and instead remember the two wonderful gifts it had given him.  Joe would never forget the vision he had received that traumatic night lying on the shore of the pond in his father’s arms.  He felt that he had been blessed to have witnessed the love his parents had for each other and for him the night of his birth.  It would be a memory he would carry with him always.

The last gift the medallion had given him was to answer a question he had carried in his heart ever since losing his mother as a small child.  No matter how old he was, that question still plagued him and now that worry was at last gone.  Joe felt a bit awkward about lying to his father when he had asked what the question had been.  He knew of no other way to dance around the truth of the matter, other than by telling his pa that he had asked the medallion if he would always be there for him.  It was as close to the original question as Joe could come without making his father sad or causing years of worry for the man.  The truth was a double-edged sword.  It would ease Joe’s fear while causing his father sadness, so it was better left a mystery to the man in order to protect him.  Joe knew the answer and the question and it allowed him to stop worrying about one thing.  He would not outlive his father.

The End

Written by Wrangler

11-19-02  (re-formatted 7-15-2025 )

(I’m posting this story now since it was requested by several people who had read it elsewhere in 2002.  It was the first part of a trilogy, The Third Son, The Devil’s Hold, and Payback)

(Dedicated to Rob, the story consultant, who chose the perfect picture for this!)