Summary:  Strange happenings on the Ponderosa. –

Rated: T (30,095 words)

The Vicious Circle Series:

The Vicious Circle
Shadow of Deception

 

Shadow of Deception

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

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

 

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

 

The three remaining Cartwrights looked at each other in consternation.

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

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

 

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

 

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

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

Joe’s voice was a breathy whisper, the fear striking deep into Adam’s soul as he listened. “Wh . . . where’s Cochise, Adam?”

 

Adam’s heart dropped to the soles of his booted feet as he surveyed the wide expanse of the barn. Sport stood placidly munching on his evening feedbag, just where Adam had left him earlier, but Cochise’s stall was empty. As a matter of course, Adam had fed and watered both animals only fifteen minutes earlier. The feed bin was still full in the pinto’s stall. But there was no sign of the black and white horse that was the center of Little Joe’s heart. Adam was fully aware of how much Joe cherished his horse, and he walked forward slowly, hoping against hope that the pinto had just broken loose of his tether and meandered out of his stall. That hope was dashed when he examined the unflawed leather and realized that a human being had untied the beast and led it away.

 

Adam looked back to find Joe still standing rooted to the same spot, his face white and his eyes wide. The misery was etched so deeply onto his expressive features that Adam felt an answering pang in his own body. He quickly returned to his brother’s side. “Joe, we’ll find him, I promise!” he said urgently. “If it’s the last thing I do, I’ll get that horse back for you.”

 

Joe turned to look deeply into Adam’s eyes, and the older man felt a chill as he watched the green eyes change. The look of fear disappeared to be replaced by a deep and consuming rage. “You won’t have to find Cochise, Adam. I will,” Joe said grimly. “And when I do, I’ll kill the bastard who dared to touch him.”

 

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

 

The clatter of hooves in the dusty yard yanked Joe’s head up. He dashed out of the barn, hoping that his beloved horse was being returned to him. When he saw the familiar buckskin being ridden by his father, followed closely by Chubb and Hoss, his face fell. Scuffing the toe of his boot in the dirt, he levered himself down disconsolately to sit on the edge of the water trough.

 

Ben dismounted, gathering Buck’s reins in one hand in preparation for leading the big horse into the barn. He took in Joe’s dejected attitude and his heart sank. He didn’t need another crisis with his youngest son. The events of the past few weeks were taking their toll on all of the Cartwrights, and Ben was heartily sick of it. Sighing, he placed a gentle hand on Joe’s shoulder. “What’s wrong, son?” he asked quietly. “You don’t look very happy at the moment.”

 

“Someone took my gun and Cochise,” Joe blurted out, his anguish enshrouding him in a haze. “What if they hurt him, Pa? You saw what that monster did to my gloves. If he kills Cochise . . . ” Joe’s voice broke, and he found himself unable to continue.

 

Ben’s quick intake of breath indicated his immediate understanding of the situation. If someone wanted to hit Joe where it hurt they had picked the right way to go about it. Cochise was the thing he held nearest and dearest to his heart. A threat to the pinto would be more than his youngest could bear. “How long ago?” Ben asked quickly. “Have you looked for tracks?”

 

“Of course we looked for tracks!” Joe snapped. “There’s been too many people in and out of here all day for us to pick up anything unusual. The person who took Cochise had to have left here within the past hour, but I can’t find a trace of them.” He put his head in his hands, the tears starting to trickle down his cheeks.

 

Ben pulled Joe to his feet, and braced a strong arm around the slim shoulders. “We’ll find your horse, son,” he said gently. “And then we’ll see the person who’s been behind all of this gets punished to the fullest extent of the law.”

 

“I don’t think we need to worry about taking him in to the law, Pa,” Joe growled angrily, but he leaned into the man’s strength. “I’ll kill him first.”

 

Ben gave Joe a gentle shake. “No, you won’t Joe. You’ve been taught better than that. I don’t care who’s behind these incidents. We’re going to let Roy Coffee handle it. Do you understand?”

 

Joe sighed heavily. “I understand, Pa,” he ground out reluctantly. “But I don’t have to like it.” He stood up, pushing his father’s arm off his shoulders. “I think I’m going up to my room. Don’t feel hungry for dinner any more.”

 

Ben turned wise eyes on his youngest son. “You don’t have to like it to know that it’s right, Little Joe,” he said gently. He watched the young man turn away sadly, the shoulders slumped with anxiety. He felt the sudden surge of anger in his own heart when he thought of the person who was willfully inflicting such distress on his child. The older man struggled to fight back that rage that threatened to consume him. He knew that if he couldn’t conquer his hatred he would have a hard time following his own restrictions. With a heavy heart he, too, returned to the ranch house.

 

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

 

The bay gelding had a smooth gait and was a well-trained mount, after all Joe had worked with the animal since he had first broken him to a saddle. But the horse wasn’t Cochise, and Joe fretted over his lost horse with a fierce intensity. The search for the missing horse had proved to be fruitless. There were no clues and no leads to be found. Joe mindlessly went about his chores on the ranch, but his smile had disappeared.

 

After a long day of searching for strays, Joe headed for home, still puzzling over the mysterious events that had plagued his life for the last several weeks. He was convinced that they were all connected, and had been since the beginning. It had taken the loss of his gun and his horse to convince his family that Joe wasn’t jumping at shadows. Lost in thought, Joe realized that he was near the grove where his mother lay buried.

 

On impulse he rode to her tombstone and dismounted. Behind him the lake sparkled in the waning sunlight. Joe knelt next to his mother’s grave, in a position that was familiar to him from long years of crouching in the same spot. He bent his head to say a prayer and halted suddenly. His breathing stilled and he reached slowly for a small package wrapped in oilskin paper that was lying next to Marie Cartwright’s headstone.

Joe knew without being told that the package was for him. The person who had been leaving messages and gifts had already demonstrated a great depth of knowledge about the youngest Cartwright. This was Joe’s favorite spot. It was a foregone conclusion that anything left here would eventually find its way into Joe’s hands. He fingered the paper, working at the leather string that held it closed. A thin finger of dread was working its way up his spine when the paper finally fell open revealing a folded slip of paper and a lock of black and white horse hair.

 

Joe blanched as he read the note. “If you care for your horse, be at the line shack on the Upper Rim at midnight Friday. Come alone and tell no one.” He gently handled the little lock of horse hair. It was obvious that the hair had been snipped from the pinto’s coat.

 

Joe’s mind raced frantically. His father had only reluctantly allowed him to do his ranch chores without an escort today. It had taken days of coaxing and convincing the older man that he should be allowed to leave the ranch house, and several days more than that to get to the point where he didn’t have an appointed shadow. He knew for a fact that his father wasn’t going to want him meeting his foe alone and in the middle of the night. Joe’s face hardened. This was his fight, and he wasn’t going to take a babysitter to the meeting.

 

He straightened abruptly and moved to his horse. Once again, the pang of missing Cochise swept through him and his resolve hardened once again. Riding toward home, Joe began to plan how he could get out of the house without his family being aware of his movements.

 

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

 

Joe feigned a huge yawn and allowed his eyes to droop sleepily. He propped his booted feet up on the square table in front of the fire and let his eyes close all the way.

 

Ben looked up from his book, a frown creasing his forehead. Joe had been quiet all evening, and his father was concerned that the events of the past few weeks were weighing heavily on his son’s mind. He grimaced at the sight of the boots on the table, and cleared his throat loudly. “Joe, if you’re that tired, go on up to bed,” he said firmly. “Otherwise, I want those feet off the table.”

 

Joe sat up sheepishly and moved his feet. “I guess I am kinda tired, at that, Pa. I think I will go on up to bed,” he replied quietly. Bidding his father and brothers good night, he meandered up the stairs slowly. With a sigh of relief he shut his bedroom door quietly, and flopped down on the bed. He hoped that his nervousness hadn’t been apparent to the men downstairs. Now all he had to do was kill the time until the older members of the household went to sleep.

 

Down in the great room, the three remaining men exchanged glances. “Joe seemed quiet tonight,” Adam remarked to no one in particular. “I think this thing is finally getting to him.”

 

“Aw, Adam, you know he misses that horse somethin’ fierce,” Hoss said in concern. “If anything has happened to him, Joe won’t be fit to live with.”

 

Ben nodded morosely. “I’ve had just about enough of this, as well. I don’t like the idea of someone sneaking around this ranch with not one person able to spot a trace of him.”

 

Adam nodded, a trace of anger evident in his dark eyes. “Especially since this person appears to have quite a grudge against Joe.”

 

“Don’t worry, Pa,” Hoss put in optimistically. “Adam and I’ll find ‘im, and then we’ll take him into Virginia City to talk to Roy.”

 

The older man nodded his head gratefully, but his eyes remained clouded with worry. Snapping his book shut suddenly, he stood and stretched. “I think I’ll go on up, too,” he remarked. “I think I need some shut-eye as much as Joe does.” He headed up the stairs slowly, leaving behind two worried men.

 

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

 

Peering out into the dark night, Joe carefully eased up the wooden frame of the window in his bedroom. He held his breath as the wood squealed a little under the pressure, but then relaxed as it began to move silently. He had many years of practice at slipping out of this window into the darkness, but each time felt like the first, as he lifted his leg over the sill, his heart in his mouth, his breath exhaling in relief as he made it over without a sound.

 

Carefully following the path that he had created many years earlier, Joe tiptoed over the roof line, and then slipped nimbly over the edge at just the right spot. He landed softly, little puffs of dirt eddying up from the dusty yard as his boots connected with the earth. Moving swiftly, but still silently, he eased open the door to the barn and, in minutes, he was leading his temporary mount out into the night. He sorely missed Cochise at this time. The black and white horse had been his constant companion on almost all of his nighttime jaunts, and seemed to sense when to move silently, and when to pick up his speed. It was only when they were well out of ear shot of the ranch that Joe mounted the bay horse and touched his heels to its silky flanks. Moving as fast as he dared in the dark, moonless night, he headed in the direction of the line shack on the Upper Rim.

 

Hours later, as the sky was at its darkest, just before the shifting hues would melt into the dawn, Joe approached the line shack. He swayed in the saddle, a wave of exhaustion overtaking him. He hadn’t slept in the last twenty four hours, and the ride to the line shack had been grueling. He knew that he was hours late for the appointed meeting, but he hoped that his mysterious tormentor would still be waiting for him. At the very least, he hoped to find some clue as to the whereabouts of his beloved horse.

 

Joe pulled the horse to a stop several yards from the little shack, taking care to stay in the thickest part of the trees that surrounded the one room building. He tethered the horse to a tree and crept forward on foot. He could see no signs of life anywhere near the little shack, no trace of smoke, or signs that a human had been near the place in a while. Joe felt his spirits plummet again as he realized that he might have missed the person who summoned him, and Cochise might be lost to him forever.

 

He crept to the edge of the shack and peered around at the door. The snap of a twig made him whirl around, but a sharp blow to the back of his head halted the motion. Pain exploded in his head sending a shower of white stars dancing in front of his vision. With a soft moan, he crumpled to the ground and the world went dark.

 

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

 

Dawn spread its light across the sky, and the Ponderosa stirred, stretched and came to life once more. Hop Sing hastened to his kitchen and soon tempting smells wafted through the house. Hoss sniffed appreciatively and hurried down the stairs, still buttoning his shirt, in his haste to reach the food. Adam followed at a more sedate pace, every button fastened neatly, his hair combed perfectly and a serene look on his face. Ben sat in his familiar place at the head of the table, a cup of coffee firmly planted in his hand.

 

The silver-haired man smiled a greeting at his sons, and offered the coffee pot to them. “Morning, boys! Did you stop in to wake up Joe?” he asked Hoss.

 

The big man groaned. “I forgot, Pa,” he said regretfully, his hand hovering over a steaming platter of hot cakes that Hop Sing had brought to the table. “Can I get him in a few minutes, please? I’m hungry enough to eat a horse this morning.”

 

Ben frowned. “You can wait a few minutes to eat, Hoss. Now go upstairs and wake that rascal up. Those hot cakes will still be here when you get back.”

 

He smiled in amusement as Hoss reluctantly got up from the table and headed back up the stairs. The smile faded abruptly when a shout echoed through the house. “Pa, Adam, he’s gone!”

 

Ben and Adam pushed back their chairs abruptly and quickly flew up the stairs. They collided in the hallway with Hoss, who was heading back down. Pushing past the others, Hoss left the house at a trot, opening the barn door and disappearing inside. By the time Ben had checked Joe’s empty room, and started back down the stairs, Hoss was back, his face screwed up in a worried frown.

 

“There’s a horse missing, Pa. The one Joe’s been using the past couple of days.” Hoss turned worried eyes on his father.

 

Ben’s face displayed a curious mixture of fury and anxiety. Under any other circumstances Hoss and Adam would have found it comical to see their father wrestling with the emotions created by their younger brother. All three of the older Cartwrights were more concerned about Joe’s mysterious stalker than they had let on. It was just like Joe to be so foolish as to leave in the middle of the night when he knew that someone was trying to hurt him. Without a backward glance at the laden table, the Cartwrights grabbed their guns and hats and headed for the barn.

 

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

 

It was a constant plopping sound that dragged Joe back from the blackness that had consumed him. Somewhere in the distance water was dripping. He struggled to open his eyes to find the source of the annoying noise. The fleeting hope that Hoss was playing a practical joke on him raised his spirits momentarily, but were quickly dashed when he tried to move. The splinters of pain that danced in his abused head were enough to convince him that his brother wasn’t involved. A muffled groan escaped Joe’s lips as he tried to pull himself upright. He realized quickly that his hands were secured tightly behind his back and no amount of tugging and wriggling loosened the bonds that held him.

 

He blinked several times, trying to clear his vision, but suddenly realized that he was lying in a dark cavern. It was the lack of light that hampered his vision, not the lingering effects of his head injury. Hesitantly, his body protesting every movement, Joe pulled himself upright. He leaned back against the rough stone walls of the cave and took a deep breath in an attempt to still his racing heart. For the first time, Joe regretted the impulsive gesture that brought him to face his tormentor alone. He knew his father was going to be furious when he found out that Joe was missing.

 

“Hello, Joe.” The voice was a whisper in the darkness, and Joe’s eyes struggled desperately to pierce the darkness that kept the speaker hidden from his sight. “I was afraid that you wouldn’t come”

 

“Who are you?” Joe was dismayed when his voice shook slightly. It wouldn’t do to show fear before he knew who his enemy was. “What do you want from me?”

 

“Retribution.” The single word hissed through the air like a whip crack, and Joe jerked as if he’d been struck.

 

“Retribution for what? Do I even know you?” The curly head turned from side to side. The echoes in the cavern kept him from being sure which direction the voice was coming from, and his eyes were still unable to see the person who spoke.

 

The laugh was shrill, with a tinge of hysteria, as it echoed around Joe. “Know me? I think you know me, Joe. You haven’t guessed, have you? I was sure you’d know who I was by now.”

 

For the first time, Joe was aware that the speaker was a woman, and he peered intently to his left as the voice drew nearer. He was able to make out the figure of a woman moving toward him, but he still couldn’t distinguish her features or determine her age, or her hair color. He waited, wide eyed, the chill of the cavern combining with a thread of fear to produce a slight tremor in his aching muscles. Closer and closer, the woman moved, she seemed to glide through the darkness with an effortless grace, and to Joe’s confused vision, it appeared as if she were floating through the air. The tremors in his muscles gave way to outright shaking, and he drew in his breath sharply. The woman did seem familiar. With a gasp, he recognized her, just as she spoke.

 

“It’s me, Joe. Mary Sue.” And the woman leaned close and kissed Joe fully on the lips.

 

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

Little Joe huddled against the cold stone walls of the cavern. The air was damp and chill, and he shivered in his green jacket. The flickering light of the single lamp did little to dispel the darkness, and he struggled to keep an eye on Mary Sue’s movements around the little chamber. She had a tiny fire blazing, but the warmth was minimal, and it was too far away to warm him. He could smell something cooking in the pot that hung over the blaze, but so far, his captor had offered him nothing to eat or drink. Soft footsteps alerted him to Mary Sue’s return. She had stepped out of the little cave a few minutes earlier, and was now coming back along the passage that led to his place of imprisonment.

 

Joe struggled to pierce the shadows that enshrouded the opening to the passageway and was rewarded by the sight of a slim figure looming in the darkness. He was amazed at the change in Mary Sue. A once-proud beauty, who would only wear the best clothing and accessories, the figure he was confronted with now was tattered and dirty. Her hair hung limply around her face, and her gown was ripped in places. Where once Mary Sue had been pleasingly curved, she was now gaunt and worn. Time had not treated her well. But the biggest change was in her eyes. Joe had dated Mary Sue casually, and they had maintained a friendship after the romance had died a natural death. At that time her eyes had been soft, sparkling with a flash of fun on occasion. She could be arrogant and a trifle haughty, but her eyes had been beautiful. Now they flashed a cold hatred, cloaked with the shadow of madness.

 

Little Joe shivered as his tormentor drew near. “What are you going to do now, Mary Sue?” he asked softly. “You know you can’t keep me here forever. My Pa and brothers will be out looking for me, and you’re wanted by the Sheriff for what happened last year. Why don’t you just let me go, and I’ll forget I’ve ever seen you?”

 

Mary Sue threw back her head and a wild laugh filled the air. “Let you go, Little Joe? I’ve been working for a year to come up with the perfect way to make you pay for what you did to my family, and you think I’m just going to let you walk away? You’re stupider than I thought.” The tattered woman crouched down next to Joe, her face inches away from his. “You and I are going to have a lot of time together, Joe. I’m going to enjoy making you pay for what you’ve done.”

 

Joe pulled away from the woman; the madness in her eyes was unnerving. He tugged futilely on the tight ropes at his wrists, but the rope was new and didn’t budge as he twisted and pulled at it. “I didn’t do anything,” he insisted. “I was innocent and you knew it. You’re the one who filed the false charges against me.”

 

Mary Sue spat in Joe’s face, her eyes glittering with hatred. “You killed my father!” she screamed hysterically. “You destroyed my family. And now I’m going to kill you and see your family torn apart the way mine was.” She surged to her feet, moving away from the bound man at her feet.

 

Joe followed her with his eyes. He wanted to protest his innocence, but he knew she wouldn’t listen. He could feel her saliva dripping down his cheek and the urge to wipe it away was overwhelming. He struggled to bring his cheek to his shoulder, allowing the rough fabric of his corduroy jacket to absorb most of the moisture. He knew he was in serious trouble, and once again he berated himself for heading out on his own. His father and brothers wouldn’t even know where to start the search for him. He could be dead and buried by the time Mary Sue was caught. Closing his eyes, Joe leaned his head back against the stone wall of the cavern. He had to come up with some sort of plan, or he was a dead man.

 

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

 

Three saddle-weary men rode toward the Ponderosa ranch house and slid gratefully from their mounts. They handed off the reins to a waiting ranch hand, who took the horses into the barn for the night. Without a word, the Cartwrights turned and entered their home, their thoughts centered on the missing member of their family. The question of where Little Joe could have gone was first and foremost in each mind. They had been riding since daybreak, and hadn’t turned up a trace of the boy. Ben slumped into his favorite chair and buried his head in his hands. He felt a consoling arm on his shoulder and looked up to see Adam and Hoss hovering over him.

 

“We’ll find him, Pa,” Hoss’s voice was comforting, but his eyes betrayed his lack of confidence.

 

“He’s right, Pa. Joe’s out there somewhere, we’ll find him tomorrow,” Adam chimed in. The dark eyes were shadowed with weariness and something else. He, too, felt uncertain about their chances of finding Little Joe.

 

Ben’s heart lifted at his son’s half-hearted attempts to cheer him up. He, too, doubted whether they would find a trace of Joe. The mysterious person who had been threatening his son had been clever enough to hide any trace of himself so far. It would take a miracle to track him down now. But with Joe’s life hanging in the balance, Ben wouldn’t rest until he traced every available lead. He pulled himself to his feet, his muscles screaming in protest. “Thanks, boys,” he responded with fervor. “I can’t tell you how much it means to me that you haven’t given up hope. Let’s get something to eat, and go to bed early. We’ve got another long day ahead of us tomorrow.”

 

He clapped each son on the back, and left his hands resting on each broad shoulder. Together the three men moved toward Hop Sing’s kitchen.

 

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

 

Joe walked through a thick fog, his eyes straining to make out shapes in the distance. He tried to bat away the clinging mist, but it just swirled ever thicker before his eyes. With a soft moan, he began to run, his breath coming in harsh gasps. He ran on and on but never came to a place where the fog ended and the real world began. “Pa?” he screamed. “Adam, Hoss? Where are you?” There was no answer to his cries, and he continued to run until the strength left his limps and he lay in a huddled heap on the ground. Sobs racked his body and he tried again to push away the mist. “Pa?” he whispered desolately. “Help me.”

 

With a jerk, Joe awoke, the nightmare clinging to his mind, refusing to dislodge itself. He bit back the cry that threatened to escape from his lips as he searched the dimly lit cavern for a sight of his tormentor. He stilled as he saw the huddled form next to the fire. Mary Sue was sleeping, a ragged blanket thrown over her tattered dress.

 

With a desperate sense of hope, Joe staggered to his feet, pushing back against the wall of the cave for leverage. His hands were still bound behind his back, but a terrible sense of urgency drove him forward. He ghosted silently across the rough, rock-strewn floor of the cave, every noise he made caused him to stop and check to make sure the woman still slept. He was halfway across the cavern when a skittering sound echoed softly through the chamber. It was followed quickly by the pattering sound of tiny footsteps. He gasped as a large, furry shape dashed in front of his feet, only to disappear into the darkness on the other side of the cave.

 

The noise wasn’t loud, but the rat must have brushed by the sleeping woman, because she stirred and moaned softly, clutching at the blanket as it slipped from her shoulders. As she woke, Joe’s heart sank and he turned to make a mad dash for the door. He had only gotten a couple of steps when the distinctive sound of a gun being cocked echoed through the chamber. It was quickly followed by the explosion of a bullet ripping from the gun, and Joe felt the bullet pass by his cheek, so close that the brush of air rippled across his face. He stopped and turned slowly, his face draining of color as he saw Mary Sue approaching, the hammer of his own gun drawn back, ready to fire a second time.

 

“Leaving so soon, Little Joe?” she queried softly, her face creasing in a wicked smile. “I don’t think so. You wouldn’t want to be so rude to an old friend, would you?” She gestured with the gun, making sure that Joe could see that her finger never left the trigger. Her face tightened into a snarl. “Now, get back over there and sit down, and don’t try leaving again.”

 

Joe complied with her orders, his heart sinking in his chest. “What do you expect to gain from keeping me here?” he asked abruptly as he sank back down on the floor. “Why don’t you just kill me and get it over with?”

 

Mary Sue crouched down in front of him, the gun aimed straight at his heart. “You want to die so soon, Little Joe? I thought it would take a few days with me before you got to that point. You’re giving up too quickly.”   She reached out with one grimy hand and traced the caricature of a caress down his cheek. She smiled at the shudder the gesture drew from him. “What do I expect to gain from this? I expect to gain satisfaction. You ruined my life, Little Joe, and now I’m going to ruin not only your life, but the life of your entire family. I’m going to rip the Cartwrights apart, just as surely as you ripped apart the Hendersons.”

 

She stood abruptly and crossed the little chamber quickly. She stooped to pick up a bag that clanked as it moved. She hauled it back to Joe, dropping it in front of him with a thunk. “I didn’t think I’d have to use these so soon,” she murmured, almost to herself. “But you’ve forced me into it. I’ve got to be able to know that you’ll still be here even if I fall asleep.”

 

Joe’s eyes widened as she rummaged in the bag, and his heart hammered in his chest at the distinctive clanking that accompanied her movements. He wasn’t surprised when she drew a set of manacles from the bag, but he couldn’t control the ripple of fear that spread down his spine and raised the hair at the back of his neck. “You’re not going to chain me up!” he exclaimed quickly. “You can’t do this to me, Mary Sue, we were friends once.”

 

Mary Sue’s laugh was wild, the hysterical edge striking straight into Joe’s soul. “Friends! We were never friends, Little Joe. I used you because it was to my benefit to be seen around town with a Cartwright. When I was tired of you, I dropped you. You were always just someone to help me get what I wanted. Friends! Never. And besides, any hope of friendship died right along with my father.”

 

As she continued her demented ranting, Mary Sue was busily fastening the heavy manacles to Joe’s ankles. The chain linking the metal cuffs was only four or five links long, effectively hampering his movements.   With his hands still bound behind his back, Joe would have a difficult time escaping again. She smiled with satisfaction at her handiwork, giving the metal a gentle pat when she was done. Humming softly, she moved back to the fire and huddled up under her blanket.

 

Joe watched in horrified fascination as his hopes of freedom were dashed so easily. He gazed at his tormentor uneasily when she sat unmoving, gazing unblinkingly into the flickering flames. The wild humming did little to settle his nerves, and he closed his eyes to shut out the sight. With a convulsive swallow, he prayed silently that his family would find some trace of him and put an end to his torment.

 

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

 

The minutes ticked by slowly, inexorably turning into hours, and Joe’s body ached with tension and fatigue. He kept a wary eye on his captor through slitted eye lids. Occasionally he would doze off, but found himself jerking awake every few minutes with every rustle or whisper of sound in the dark cavern. Mary Sue slept by the fire for hours and Joe welcomed the respite from her insane mumbling and eerie humming. He watched uneasily when she finally stirred again, stretching like a cat and rising with a sensuous grace.   The darkness disguised the tattered clothing and softened the gauntness of her frame. Under other circumstances Joe would have admired the beauty of the woman before him, but now he felt only revulsion for the creature Mary Sue had become.

 

Goosebumps rose on Joe’s skin as Mary Sue turned and made her way toward him, a mocking smile on her lips. He kept still until she was once again crouching before him. “How did you manage to take my gun?” he asked abruptly in an effort to deflect anything she might be planning.

 

Mary Sue smiled like a cat before a saucer of cream. “It was so easy!” she exclaimed gloatingly. “You Cartwrights are such simpletons. You never found my hiding place, and I was able to get in your house any time I wanted to. Even that foolish cook of yours never suspected anything.” She laughed mockingly, her eyes gleaming with madness. “I followed you around Virginia City for weeks and you never saw me. I’ve become invisible.”

 

Joe licked his dry lips. It had been more hours than he could count since he’d had anything to eat or drink, and his head swam with dizziness. “Is it worth it?” he choked out finally. “Is revenge worth all of this?”

 

Mary Sue’s eyes grew hard. “It’s worth more than you will ever know,” she replied bitterly. “You took everything away from me, Little Joe. You’re going to die for that.” She stood up abruptly and moved away again.

 

Joe followed her every movement. He hadn’t been the one who pulled the trigger of the gun that had killed her father, but he felt responsible for what had happened, nonetheless. Despair threatened to overwhelm him, and he fought it off. He berated himself mentally for being unable to come up with a plan for his escape. The exhaustion and lack of nourishment were taking their toll on his mental state. His vision wavered and blurred and he blinked in an effort to clear his sight.

 

He watched as his captor knelt before the fire. She threw another log on the fire, and then paused, staring intently into the flames. Joe’s eyes narrowed as he wondered what she was thinking. Her eyes reflected the light of the fire, giving off an eerie glow, and once again, Joe felt his skin crawl.

 

Mary Sue stood abruptly, a burning branch from the fire in her hands. Stalking toward Joe triumphantly, she laughed softly. “I’ve brought you a present, Joe,” she whispered, holding up the flaming branch. Her eyes grew speculative. “How do you think it would feel to burn to death?” she mused softly.

 

Joe blanched as the flaming branch was thrust nearer to him. He tried to escape the heat of the flame by backing away, but was quickly stopped by the wall at his back. “Mary Sue, don’t!” he pleaded desperately. “You can’t do this.”

 

Again Mary Sue laughed her eerie cackle. “I can if I want to Little Joe. Burning would be a fitting punishment for the murder of my father, don’t you think?” She thrust the branch closer, a look of sheer delight on her face as she read the terror in Joe’s eyes.

 

Beads of sweat stood out on Joe’s forehead, his breathing was ragged and harsh. Again he tried to back away from his tormentor, but failed. Wrenching uselessly at the bonds on his wrists, a moan of fear escaped his lips. He felt his face redden from the flames and the smell of scorched hair assaulted his senses.

 

As quickly as she had moved toward him, Mary Sue turned away, the burning torch in her hand forgotten as she trailed back toward her ragged bed in front of the fire. Absently, she tossed the branch into the flames, forgetting its existence before it could be consumed. Without a backwards glance at the shaken young man behind her, she curled up on her blanket and closed her eyes.

 

Joe fought to quiet his breathing, but the panic that remained from Mary Sue’s attack was hard to dispel. His singed lashes were wet with tears as he struggled to regain a measure of calm. *Pa will come soon* he repeated to himself, over and over again. At last exhaustion won out and he slipped into a troubled sleep.

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

 

Joe scraped his bound arms up and down against the rough stone. He felt the strands parting, the bonds loosening with each motion. A shaft of pure joy surged through him when he felt the last thread part with a pop, his hands separating involuntarily. He flexed his numb and bleeding hands in an effort to get the blood circulating through the stiff fingers. Knowing that he had to escape before his tormentor returned, he stood slowly, fighting back the dizziness and nausea that accompanied the movement. Swaying against the wall momentarily, he breathed deeply, trying to will himself to stay calm. Taking first one step and then another, he crossed the small cavern.

 

Just as it seemed freedom was at hand, an ominous rattling sound echoed through the cave. Joe stopped his movements instinctively. He’d grown up knowing what to do in the presence of a rattle snake. Looking down he saw a large distinctively marked snake coiled just before the entrance of the cave. His heart in his throat, Joe froze in fear. He watched in horrified fascination as the snake uncoiled, his feet feeling as if they were encased in lead. The snake struck quickly, sinking its fangs into Joe’s leg, just above the soft leather of his boot. With a scream of agony, he fell, watching helplessly as the snake slithered out of sight. Another movement caught his eye, and Mary Sue loomed over him.

 

“I see you’ve met my little friend. Did you have a nice talk?” she asked simply, a grin of pure pleasure on her face. “I left him there just for you, Joe.”

 

Joe felt the burning pain in his leg spreading throughout his body, and another scream left his throat. Mary Sue’s laugh echoed in the cave, and his last conscious thought was of his family.

 

Joe woke with a scream. The dream had been so real, he ached to clutch his leg to make sure that he hadn’t really been bitten by a snake, but his hands were still tied tightly behind his back. His searching eyes brought him the realization that he was in total darkness. The little fire had burned out and Mary Sue was either gone or asleep. In the total darkness, it was impossible to tell which. Joe guessed that she was gone, his scream would surely have awakened her if she were here.

 

He wondered how long he’d been imprisoned in the cave. It seemed like months, but had probably only been days. He battled against increasing weakness, brought about by the conditions in the cave and the lack of nourishment. Mary Sue had given him only tiny amounts of water and little food. His dreams were becoming increasingly vivid and confused, and Joe prayed desperately for help. He didn’t know how much more of this he could take. He bitterly wished that he had taken his father into his confidence, and not gone off without telling anyone. It had seemed like the best idea at the time, but he now knew how wrong he’d been. He hoped he lived to offer his apologies to his family.

 

Once again, Joe felt the lure of unconsciousness beckoning him. With nothing to keep him anchored to reality, he allowed himself to disappear into its depths. Time passed inexorably onwards, but Joe had ceased to care.

 

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

 

Ben rode toward the abandoned mineshaft, a sense of foreboding overriding all other emotions. He had been searching for his youngest son for over a week now, and there hadn’t been a trace of Joe anywhere. Adam and Hoss were completely worn out from searching, spending every waking moment in the saddle. Ben felt older than his years, his joints aching and every muscle stiff from the hours in the saddle and too little rest. His heart was heavy with worry and fear for his son. And now he had one more spot to search. This mineshaft appeared to be like all the others that he had seen so far. The Ponderosa was dotted with these gaping dark holes, the remnants of a prospector’s faded dream. Ben’s search for Joe had taken him into far more of these nooks and crannies than he cared to remember now, but he doggedly continued to search every conceivable place where a person, or a body, could be hidden.

 

The opening loomed large and dark before him, the timbers half-rotted and creaking ominously as he passed beneath them. He could hear the creaks and sighs of the wood as it shifted with the rhythms of the earth. Ben held his breath as a trickle of dirt fell from the ceiling spraying him with minute particles of rock and dust. Going ever deeper into the mine, he called Joe’s name over and over, hoping against hope that he would at last find his son. Something spurred him onward, and he couldn’t put a name to the emotion that drove him. Holding aloft the makeshift torch that he had scrabbled together at the entrance to this gloomy hole, Ben peered into every corner. As he rounded a bend in the mine, his heart leapt to his throat. Ahead of him he spied a splash of color against the somber darkness of the mine. A touch of green trailing into the whiteness of a human hand. Rushing forward, his heart hammering madly, Ben knelt next to the fallen body of his son. With a cry of anguish he felt for a pulse and found none. Joe lay waxen and lifeless, his eyes closed, his features slack. It was obvious he’d been dead for some time. Cradling his son’s body in his shaking arms, Ben loosed an agonized cry that seemed to tear from the depths of his soul.

 

He felt rough hands shaking him, and heard his name being called over and over. Waking abruptly from his dream, he found himself looking into the worried eyes of his oldest son. Shivering slightly in reaction, Ben sat up slowly and found himself on the settee in front of the fire. It was late, and he must have dozed off before he could make his way up to bed. Rubbing his eyes with a rough hand, he blinked, trying to shake off the dream.

 

“Are you all right, Pa?” Adam’s voice was concerned, his eyes shadowed with fatigue and worry. “You screamed and I was worried about you. That must have been some dream.”

 

Ben smiled shakily and patted Adam’s hand. “I’m fine, son.” His words lacked conviction and he buried his face in hands.

 

Adam felt a flash of fear as he watched his strong father crumple before his eyes. Feeling helpless, he moved to sit down beside the older man, and wrapped a gentle arm around his shoulders. “Would it help to talk about it?” he asked quietly, knowing from long experience with Joe that sometimes talking helped to dispel the nighttime terrors.

 

Ben lifted his eyes to survey his son, and managed a weak smile. He took a deep breath and murmured, “I found him. I found Joe, but he was already dead. I held his body in my arms.”

 

Adam shuddered at the thought, and tightened his grip on his father’s shoulders. “It sounds horrible, but it was just a dream, Pa. That’s all it was, a dream. We’ll find him, I promise.”

 

“It’s been over a week with no word, no trace, nothing, Adam. I don’t think we can be certain that we’ll find him alive.” Ben’s eyes were bleak, and his voice betrayed his fading hope.

 

Adam closed his eyes against the sight of the pain in his father’s face. “We’ll find him,” he repeated doggedly. “And he’ll be alive. You can’t give up now, Pa. You just can’t.”

 

Ben smiled grimly. “I won’t give up until I find him. Someone has him and they’ll pay for what they’ve done.” The sights and sounds of his dream surged up again, and he shivered. “I dreamed I found him in an abandoned mine shaft. Have we looked at all of them?”

 

Adam stopped to consider. “We’ve checked most of them, Pa. But there’s always the chance that we’ve missed something. And there are a lot of caves in the upper reaches that could be used to hide someone. That is if he’s on the Ponderosa at all.” He stopped suddenly, not wanting to broach the thought that Joe might have been spirited away where they would never find him.

 

Ben stood up suddenly. “That settles it. In the morning we’ll start searching all the mine shafts and cave systems again. Put every available man on it, Adam. We must have missed something.” He moved toward the stairs, pulling Adam along with him. “Get some sleep, son. We’ll have another long day ahead of us tomorrow.”

 

As the men ascended the stairs, they were both lost in thought. Hope flared anew in Ben’s heart. At least he had a focus again. He stopped in front of Adam’s bedroom door and faced the dark-haired man. “Thank you, Adam. I appreciate all you’ve done.” He pulled Adam into a brief embrace, more than his reserved oldest son would usually tolerate.

 

Adam returned the embrace, letting his guard drop for once, as he sensed his father’s desperate need for reassurance. “I haven’t done anything you wouldn’t do for me, Pa,” he replied quietly. “We’ll find him.”

 

Taking comfort in his son’s strength, Ben smiled and turned toward his own room. Adam was right. They would find him.

 

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

 

Joe woke again, his knowledge of the passing of time growing blurred. He had no idea how long he’d been held a prisoner. The days and nights had gotten all mixed up in his head. Mary Sue was deliberately keeping him with very little food and water, and Joe’s body felt limp and lethargic. His thoughts moved sluggishly and he had trouble focusing on anything for long. He didn’t realize that what he felt was a combination of despair and malnourishment, and he berated himself for being unable to defeat this woman who held him.

 

Mary Sue’s year in hiding had obviously warped her mind, and Joe could see the signs of madness every time she looked at him. Her touch made him shudder in revulsion and he found himself flinching away from her when she came near him. Of course this made the bedraggled woman chuckle in insane amusement at her power over this once proud man.

 

Even now, Joe heard her stirring around in some far corner of the dark cavern, and he wondered vaguely what she was doing. He heard her footsteps drawing near him, and something inside him snapped. He felt a sudden surge of hatred well up within him and it consumed his entire being. His body shook with the effort, but he levered himself to his feet and stood waiting for his tormentor.

 

Mary Sue’s eyes widened when she saw Joe on his feet, she had begun to believe that all the fight had drained out of her former friend. Her jaw tightened in anger and she clutched a jagged piece of wood firmly in her hand. Her intent had been to build up the fire, but she wasn’t above using it as a weapon if she had to.

 

Joe stood silently, watching her come toward him, his face impassive. He could feel the fine tremors that racked his entire body, but he ignored them, concentrating instead on how much he hated the creature that Mary Sue had become. When she stood before him, he glared at her, hoping to intimidate her with his anger. “Let me go, Mary Sue,” he ordered loudly. “This has gone on long enough. You’ve had your revenge, you’ve kept me here, made my family crazy with worry. It should be enough.”

 

Mary Sue laughed eerily and spit in Joe’s face. “It won’t be enough until I see you dead, Little Joe!” she rasped. “And from the way you look right now, I don’t think that’s going to be long.”

 

She waved the rough wood threateningly. “Now sit down like a good boy, Joe. You don’t want to get hurt, do you?”

 

The exaggerated leer on her once-pretty face made Joe’s stomach lurch. He felt his anger being replaced by panic, and he squelched that emotion quickly. He couldn’t afford to fall apart now. Drawing himself up to his full height, ignoring the screams of protest from his abused muscles, he glared back at Mary Sue. “I want you to get these chains off my legs, Mary Sue. And I want you to do it now,” he said commandingly. “I’m tired of your games and I want to take my horse and go home.”

 

Mary Sue cackled again. “Your horse! That black and white thing! I killed that miserable beast the first night I stole it from your barn.”

 

Joe’s heart contracted and his vision disappeared in a rush of scarlet. “Cochise!” The anger and pain in his voice were terrible to hear, and Mary Sue stepped back a pace involuntarily. “You can’t have killed Cochise!”

 

Joe moved forward, his rage overriding his common sense. The manacles at his ankles hampered his steps and he stumbled, but pulled himself upright again. He headed toward the woman who had dared to touch his horse, murder in his eye. The fact that his hands were still tied tightly behind his back had been lost beneath the depths of his fury.

 

Mary Sue raised her weapon, panic in her eyes. She had never thought Joe capable of such anger, and she was afraid of what he would do, in spite of his bonds. As he reached her, she raised the wood and brought it down on his head with all her strength. Joe blinked at her in surprise, but his anger kept him standing. He advanced another step, and Mary Sue hit him again. This time he crumpled to his knees, unable to take the second blow on his already abused body.

 

Joe looked up, blood streaming from a deep wound in his scalp, the scarlet stream leaching onto the dirty green of his jacket. “What are you doing?” he whispered shakily. “Stop it, Mary Sue.”

 

But the sight of Joe’s blood appeared to have completely removed the last vestige of Mary Sue’s sanity. With a shout of triumph, she raised her hands again and again, until Joe sprawled at her feet, blood puddling from a horrific collection of wounds, his eyes closed and his breathing shallow. Coming to her senses, Mary Sue surveyed her handiwork with satisfaction. Joe Cartwright was dead, or close to it. Her work was done. Humming, her breath coming in deep gasps, she turned away without another look, and began to gather her few, ragged belongings. Now all that remained was to leave and begin her new life.

 

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

 

Ben Cartwright rode doggedly, his face set in a determined mask. He was going to find his son at all costs, and the sense that time was running out had been growing steadily throughout the last several days. Joe’s life force was flickering, and his father knew it. He urged Buck forward toward yet another dark hole in the hills of the Ponderosa. He had lost count of the number of such places he had visited, but this one looked vaguely familiar. Ben passed a weary hand over his eyes. Of course it looked familiar, didn’t they all look alike? Hoss, Adam, and every available hand on the Ponderosa were conducting similar searches all around the area. They were all stretched to the limits of their endurance, and Ben knew that it would soon be time to call off the search.

 

Dismounting by the yawning opening of the cavern, Ben threw Buck’s reins over a bush that nestled next to the entrance. With a fond pat for the buckskin, he made his way into the interior of the cave, stopping only long enough to fashion a rough torch out of some debris by the cave entrance. Again a nagging sense of familiarity nagged at Ben’s mind, but he dismissed the thoughts out of hand. Moving deeper into the dark, narrow passageway, Ben listened to the creaks and moans of the cave, the natural sounds a counterpoint to the absolute darkness that encroached on the flickering edges of the torchlight.

 

Moving slowly forward, Ben held the torch aloft, intermittently calling his youngest son’s name. Receiving no response, he moved further into the bowels of the earth. Abruptly the narrow passageway widened into a small cavern, the torch light lost in the open space. With a weary sigh, Ben decided to make a circuit of the cavern and then return to his horse. Yet another dead end, he decided. It was as he came to this decision, that his foot struck the remains of a campfire, metal utensils still strewn about next to the cold ashes. Crouching hastily to examine his find, Ben sifted the ashes speculatively. They were cold, but not as old as he would have imagined. He lifted the torch a little higher, and saw a few ragged pieces of cloth in a heap next to a pallet of branches and leaves. Obviously a drifter had been using the cave as a place of residence. Another bundle of cloth caught his attention and he straightened, striding across the open space quickly. With a strangled cry, he recognized the vision from his dream, a white hand encased in a dirty green sleeve. Dropping to his knees, he groped for the wrist, cold dread freezing his blood in his veins. “Joe?” His voice was tremulous, and his hand shook and he listened for a pulse.

 

It was there, faint, thready, but present. Joe was still alive, at least momentarily. His skin was cool and clammy, and his hand lay limply in his father’s grasp. “Joe!” Ben’s voice was jubilant. Gathering the bundle of rags that was his son into his arms, a sob burst from his throat. “Oh, son, what have they done to you?” Ben stood, the torch dropping to the ground as he rose. In the sudden darkness, Ben hesitated. His need to get Joe into the sunlight overrode everything else and he moved forward cautiously, feeling his way along the rough-hewn walls.

 

The journey seemed to take forever, and Ben paused more than once to rest, propping himself and his precious burden up against the stone. After many heart-pounding minutes, he emerged, blinking, into the sunlight. Moving to a clearing near the entrance to the cave, Ben stooped and deposited the body of his son gently onto the ground. Crouching next to the limp form, Ben got his first glimpse of the extent of Joe’s injuries. At first sight, his youngest son appeared to be bleeding from every point on his body. As the older man frantically tried to wipe away the worst of the stains from Joe’s face, he realized that the bleeding appeared to be concentrated around Joe’s head and shoulders.

 

A frisson of fear lanced through him as he took in the damage done to his son. Rising hastily, he grabbed a canteen off of Buck’s saddle, and moved back to Joe. Propping a strong arm under the thin shoulders of Joe’s emaciated frame, he held the canteen to the boy’s lips. “Come on, Joe, try and drink,” he murmured quietly. “Don’t give up on me now.”

 

At first the water trickled back out of Joe’s mouth, but then with a weak cough, Joe swallowed reflexively, and then again, with a little more intensity. Ben smiled in relief, and patted Joe’s shoulder as he pulled away the canteen. “Not too much all at once, son. We’ve got to take it slow.”

 

He laid Joe down again, and then moved as far away from the battered body as he felt comfortable. Raising his gun high in the sky, he fired twice, waited a few seconds and then fired twice again. Hoping that at least one of the ranch hands was within hearing distance, Ben hurried back to his son. Patting Joe’s cheek gently, he crooned, over and over. “Joe! Joe, wake up. Joe.”

 

At last, the worried father had the response he had been waiting for. Joe stirred and moaned, his eyes clenching tightly in pain. “Pa?” The words were a thready whisper of sound that Ben had to strain to hear.

 

Again, Ben gathered Joe’s battered body into his strong arms, sitting behind his son and holding him close against his chest. “Hold on to me, Joe,” he said quietly. “Pa’s here.”

 

Joe sighed, his breath hitching in his chest, as he nestled closer to his father’s broad chest. He didn’t speak, but within minutes his breathing eased slightly, and the lines of pains lightened on his face.

 

Instinctively, Ben tightened his hold, cradling his son as if he were still a child. They sat that way for a long time, until the distant clatter of hooves indicated that someone had heard his signal. He waited impatiently until the rider came into view. With a shout of joy, he recognized Adam’s black-clad figure.

 

Adam almost threw himself from Sport’s back in his haste to reach the pair sitting in front of the cave. “Pa! Is Joe . . . ?” Adam’s voice trailed off as he knelt before Joe’s tattered figure. Reaching out with a trembling hand, he brushed a knuckle gently down Joe’s battered cheek.

 

“He’s alive, but barely.” Ben’s response was quick, in an effort to reassure Adam. “We’ve got to get him home and get Doc Martin to him quickly. He can’t hold on much longer, he’s lost so much blood, and I can feel his fever right through his jacket.”

 

Adam’s jaw tightened as he fought for control of his emotions. “I’ll help you get him up on Buck, Pa, and then I’ll go for the Doc. We’ll meet you back at the Ponderosa.”

 

Ben nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He waited until Adam had gathered the frail form in his arms, and then he rose stiffly, stretching to ease the tension from his body. Quickly mounting Buck, he reached to pull Joe from Adam’s waiting arms. Ben noticed that Joe never showed any signs of awareness of the movement, and it both worried him and pleased him that his son was spared further pain.

 

Once Joe was safely stowed in his father’s arms, Adam allowed himself one final pat of the booted foot. Then he turned and gracefully vaulted into Sport’s saddle. With a final tip of his hat, he urged the horse to a gallop, leaving his father to move forward at a more sedate pace.

 

The trip home was grueling. Ben felt every jolt and bump in the trail vicariously as Joe twisted and moaned in his arms. Joe never completely regained consciousness and seemed to be caught in a haze of nightmares. At times he sat passively in his father’s arms, while at other times he fought against an unseen tormentor. It was at those times that Ben had to use all his strength to hold Joe in the saddle. He rode steadfastly forward, exhaustion threatening to overcome him. To keep himself awake and Joe calm, Ben kept up a constant soft crooning, without really hearing what he said. Joe would clench and moan, and Ben would tighten his grip, whispering endearments. “Easy, son. We’re almost home,” he said over and over.

 

Only once did Joe open his eyes fully, his wide green gaze bewildered and blinking in the bright sunlight. “Pa?” he asked softly, his voice thready and weak. “Are you really here? Am I dreaming again?”

 

Ben’s heart cramped in his chest at the pitiful words. He pulled Joe back against him tightly and freed a hand to gently stroke Joe’s arm. “It’s not a dream, Joe. I’m here, and we’re almost home.”

 

Joe didn’t answer, but he sighed contentedly and closed his eyes once again. Ben noted with relief that they were finally within sight of the ranch house, and he was greeted by the welcoming sight of Adam, astride Sport, racing into the yard alongside of Doc Martin’s buggy.

 

With many questions left unanswered, but with a profound gratitude that he had found his son, Ben rode slowly toward the hitching post in front of the house. He allowed Adam to pull Joe from his arms and dismounted quickly to join the waiting men. Together they moved into the house, the doctor leading the way toward Joe’s room.

 

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

 

Adam made his way carefully along the hallway, still breathless from his trip up the stairs with his precious burden. He watched as Ben moved ahead of him to fling open the door for the doctor. Paul went immediately to the dresser to set up his instruments, while Adam deposited his brother’s limp form on the bed. Working silently, Adam began to strip off Joe’s boots while Ben bent to try and pull the torn and bloody jacket from Joe’s shoulders. Noticing that his father was having trouble with the jacket, Adam finished quickly and moved to help with the task. The vicious attack had left Joe bleeding copiously from a myriad of wounds. Whatever weapon had been used, it had apparently had a protruding nail of some kind. The wounds were deep and cloth fibers had been driven into Joe’s flesh.

 

When the two men had finally managed to remove the jacket, Ben struggled to pull the remains of the tattered shirt from Joe’s body. Adam turned to get a basin of water, seeing that the shirt was stuck to the wounds with a crust of dried blood. It seemed to take forever, as the two men labored over their work. The only signs of consciousness from Joe were an occasional soft moan, or the twitch of a finger. When the shirt was at last removed, the three men got their first look at the extent of Joe’s injuries. Ben’s face paled, and he clutched Adam’s arm convulsively.

 

Adam sucked in a deep breath, and struggled to school his face into a bland mask, but the rage that burned in his eyes was a frightening sight. Joe’s body was a mass of bruises and abrasions. It was apparent that he’d been beaten with a blunt object, and that object had been decorated with a sharp object. His skin was punctured in many places, blood oozing slowly from a welter of small puncture marks. Some of the wounds were shallow, others so deep that the doctor knew many hours of stitching were going to be required.

 

Paul took a long look at the two men who hovered over Joe’s bedside. Ben’s stricken face and Adam’s angry eyes were enough to convince him that his next words were necessary. “I want you two out of the room, please. This is going to take a while and I don’t want you in my way.” He held up a hand to forestall the protests that he knew were coming. “Send Hop Sing up to me please, Ben. I’ll need his help. You go get some coffee and rest. You can come back up in a little while.”

 

Adam made a noise. Obviously he was about to protest the expulsion from the room. Paul spoke quickly to forestall him. “Adam, you’re done in. I want you out of here. You won’t help Joe any if you collapse on the bed while I’m working on him. Now go.”

 

Ben stooped over Joe’s inert body. He reached to caress the still face, looking in vain for an unmarked spot to touch. He contented himself with a gentle touch to Joe’s head. “All right, Paul. I’ll get Hop Sing and I’ll leave for a while, but I’ll be back shortly.” His face was determined and Paul knew that Ben would only obey orders for a short time. The other man’s need to be with his son was a palpable thing.

 

The doctor nodded quietly. “So be it. Now both of you get out of here and let me do my work.” He placed a firm hand on Ben’s arm and escorted him to the door. “Go on, don’t come back until you’ve had a cup of coffee.” He turned and saw Adam still hovering by Joe’s bed. “You too, Adam.”

 

Adam’s eyes were bleak as he surveyed the huddled form of his youngest brother. “You’re going to save him, Doc?”

 

Paul’s own eyes softened, and he rejoined Adam at Joe’s side. “I’m going to do my best, Adam. He’s been to hell and back, but I’ll save him if I can. You know that.”

 

Adam nodded, accepting the promise for what it was, the sense that Joe was in good hands easing his fears a bit. “All right, Paul. I’ll leave. But I’ll be just downstairs if you need me.” He traced the line of Joe’s jaw with a gentle finger. “Hang in there, little buddy,” he whispered before turning to go.

 

Paul waited until the door shut softly behind the grim man in black, then he turned to his patient. Joe’s condition was grave, and the doctor was fully aware that his promise was going to be difficult to keep.

 

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

 

A firm hand dropped to Adam’s shoulder, squeezing lightly. He looked up blearily to see his father standing over him, his face haggard and drawn. “How’s Joe?”

 

Adam moved as if to rise, but Ben pressed him down firmly, and then rounded the settee to settle himself next to his oldest son. “He’s sleeping. The Doc gave him some pretty strong medication for the pain, and he said that Joe should sleep for quite a while.” He buried his face in his hands, exhaustion washing through every fiber in his body.

 

It was Adam’s turn to put a comforting hand on his father’s shoulder, and he waited patiently for Ben to pull himself together. “What else does the Doc say, Pa? Is Joe . . . ?”

Ben’s head jerked up quickly. “He’s going to be fine.” The vehemence startled both men, and Ben quickly modulated his tone. “Who would do such a thing? Who hated Joe enough to beat him almost to death?”

 

Adam closed his eyes briefly in a futile effort to shut out the sight of his father’s pain. He felt a hot tide of rage course through his body, and he let it happen, drawing strength from his fury. “I’m going to find out.” The words were simple and spoken quietly, but they radiated such cold ferocity that they fairly hissed in the quiet room.

 

Ben’s head jerked up, and he peered at Adam intently. “You’ll stay within the law, Adam. I don’t want you to hang over this. If we find the person, I want you to promise me that you won’t do anything to put yourself in jeopardy.”

 

Adam’s eyes glinted frostily in the light of the fire. “It won’t be *if* we find the person who did this. It’ll be *when*. And *when* I find that person, I’ll try to control myself. But I swear, Pa, when I remember how Joe looked when you found him, I find it hard to keep myself in check.” He stood and paced the room, his wrath prevented him from sitting still any longer. “If Joe dies, then all bets are off,” he concluded. “I’ll go after the animal who did this to him, and I won’t hold back. That’s a promise, Pa.”

 

The sound of footsteps descending the stairs interrupted the two men from their conversation. Doc Martin’s voice preceded him into the room. “He’s not going to die if I have anything to say about it, Adam. He’s in bad shape, fighting infection and fever, but Joe’s a tough kid. I’ve never seen anyone fight harder to stay alive than your little brother. The next twenty four hours will be critical, but if he can hang on that long you can be certain he’ll live.”

 

Ben took a deep breath. “What can we do to help, Paul? What do you need for Joe?” He rose to his full height, sloughing off his own exhaustion in his concern for his son.

 

Paul’s face softened as he looked at his old friend. “You can go to bed. You’re not helping Joe by wearing yourself out. I’ll sit with him for a while, and you can spell me after you’ve gotten some rest.” The doctor scowled fiercely. “But don’t you show your face in Joe’s room until you’ve slept, my friend.”

 

Adam cleared his throat, but before he could utter a word, the doctor hastened to cut him off. “And as for you, Adam. I’m telling you the same thing that I just told your father. I won’t let you near Joe until you’ve had some rest. The two of you are exhausted. You’ve been driving yourself into the ground searching for Joe, and now you’ve got nothing left. Both of you, go to bed.”

 

Ben and Adam exchanged sheepish looks. “It doesn’t look like we’ve got any choice, Pa.” Adam’s words were rueful. “He’s pretty fierce when he’s got a patient.”

 

Ben chuckled softly, but a smile lit up his tired face. “Thanks, Paul. We’ll go to bed, but I’ll see you in two hours. Your authority only carries so far in this house.”

 

Paul clapped the silver-haired man’s shoulder affectionately. “I didn’t figure I’d get that long out of you, Ben.” He shooed the two up the stairs in front of him, looking for all the world like a sheepdog with its flock. “Go on! Get!”

 

It was only when two bedroom doors had closed behind the two weary men that Paul allowed his concern to show through. He headed back to Little Joe’s room to find Hop Sing sitting beside the bed, crooning in Chinese. The two exchanged knowing looks, and then both settled in for a long vigil. Neither was willing to relinquish his post.

 

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

 

The early morning sun peeked through the windows of Joe’s bedroom. A shaft of light tiptoed across the windowsill and meandered slowly through the room. It touched briefly on the form of a man clothed in black sleeping in a chair. His booted feet propped onto a small night stand. Stretching across the room it lingered on the form of the large man snoring, his back propped against the wall, resting on the floor because the only other chair in the room was filled by the bulk of an older man with silver hair. Dancing giddily across the room, the light glanced across the face of the young man in the bed, causing him to twitch, a sigh escaping his lips as he sleepily brushed the back of one hand across his face.

 

The movement sent shards of pain lancing through Joe’s battered shoulders, and he cried out involuntarily. Three men woke instantly, rising to their feet almost as one.

 

Ben beat his sons to the bed easily, and he leaned over Joe in concern. “Joe? Are you all right, son?” His voice was husky with exhaustion, but his face broke into a triumphant smile when Joe’s eyes opened. “He’s awake,” he cried jubilantly. “And I think his fever’s lower. Hoss get the doctor, please.”

 

Joe looked around in confusion, the sunlight dazzling his eyes, so that he squinted at the shapes hovering over him. “Pa?” The eyes blinked again, and he covered them with his hand. “So bright,” he whispered.

 

“Adam, close the shade,” Ben ordered quickly. “The light’s too much for him.” He moved his bulk so that it blocked the light until Adam drew the drapes shut, dimming the room considerably. “Is that better Joe?”

 

Joe lowered his hand, his gaze unfocused and uncertain. “Another dream,” he murmured. “I’m just dreaming again.”

 

Ben felt a small stab of alarm, and he exchanged worried glances with Adam. “Where is that doctor?” he murmured to himself. He gently took Joe’s hand in his, his fingers searching to find a place that wasn’t marked with a bruise. “You’re home, Joe. It’s not a dream.”

 

Adam moved in close, his eyes sharp with worry. “Joe, who did this to you?” he asked abruptly. “Who beat you like this?”

 

Ben gave Adam a hostile glance. “Not now, Adam, he’s not fully awake yet, and he’s still feverish. Don’t worry him about it yet.”

 

Joe stirred, his gaze focusing for the first time. “Pa? Am I really home?”

 

Ben swallowed, overwhelmed with a sudden flash of anger at the person who had damaged his son both physically and mentally. He struggled to keep his voice warm, hiding the anger as best he could. “You’re home, Joe. We’re all here with you.”

 

The door opened, the sound loud in the stillness of the room. Joe flinched in fear, his hands rising to defend himself from attack. “Don’t let her in here. Don’t let her get me, Pa!” His voice was shrill, and his eyes showed nothing but panic. “She’s crazy, Pa. She’s going to kill me.”

 

“She?” Adam’s voice was bewildered. “Are you saying it was a woman who did this to you? What woman?”

 

Paul Martin strode across the room briskly. “I’m sure Joe’s not up to answering any questions right now, Adam. I want you all to leave me alone with my patient right now. I want to examine the stitches in his back and check his fever. Go have some breakfast and I’ll call you when I’ve got Joe settled.”

 

“But Doc,” Hoss sputtered indignantly. “I ain’t even got a chance to talk to Joe yet. Let me stay with him while you work on him. He needs someone in here with him.”

 

“No, boys!” Ben spoke firmly. “The doc’s right. You two go on downstairs and have some breakfast. We’re upsetting Joe with all these questions. I’ll call you when Paul is finished up here.” Ben’s tone brooked no argument. It was clear to both the doctor and to his sons that they were going downstairs and he was staying in the room.

 

Adam and Hoss reluctantly headed for the door, both moving slowly. When they had finally cleared out of the room, Ben stepped back and allowed Paul to start his examination of Joe, although he hovered protectively close. Joe’s eyes were closed again, and he seemed unaware of the examination. Paul took his time, checking every stitch, bruise and battered spot on Joe’s body. Finally satisfied, he drew the sheet up to Joe’s shoulders and patted the boy lovingly.

 

With a tired sigh, he straightened and stretched, trying to work some kinks from his back. He turned to find Ben watching him expectantly. Taking pity on the worried father, Paul drew the man to the door. “Let’s go down and talk to the boys, Ben. Joe’s going to sleep for a while. I gave him another dose of laudanum and it should keep him out most of the morning.”

 

They descended the stairs to find Hoss and Adam at the breakfast table. In spite of their worry, both had plates piled high with breakfast food set in front of them. Ben chuckled when he saw their expressions. “I see that Hop Sing has been hovering over you again,” he commented, taking his customary seat at the head of the table. He gestured for Paul to sit opposite him, and as if on cue, Hop Sing appeared with the coffee pot and two fresh plates.

They waited while breakfast was urged on them, and soon they were staring at their own loaded plates in amazement. Hop Sing hovered by the kitchen door, and it was clear that he wasn’t budging until he heard what the doctor had to say.

 

Paul heaved a sigh of contentment as the first wave of hot coffee and Hop Sing’s pancakes hit his stomach. Between mouthfuls he updated the waiting family about Joe. “His fever has broken, and the wounds don’t look too bad. A little infection but that’s to be expected. He’ll be in considerable pain for a while. Those bruises are quite extensive. I’ll need to check on those stitches in his back daily, and I’ll take them out in about two weeks if all goes well. On the whole, I’d say that Joe is doing amazingly well considering that he is malnourished and dehydrated on top of his wounds.”

 

The doctor paused to take a breath and gazed back at the four pairs of watching eyes. “I hope you find out who did this and get that animal put in jail. What’s been done to Joe is sick and inhuman. I don’t ever want to see anyone in this condition again.”

 

When he finally finished his impassioned speech, the doctor tucked into his breakfast. Hop Sing’s cooking was too good to let go to waste. He appeared not to notice the bemused expressions on the faces that watched him. Ben wracked his brains but couldn’t remember a time when he’d ever heard Paul sound so vehement about anything. A sudden vision of Joe’s bruised and bloody body flashed through his mind. He nodded his agreement with what the doctor had said. They needed to find the animal who had attacked Joe. Ben knew that he wouldn’t rest until they had, and he was aware that Hoss and Adam felt the same way. It was time to turn the tables on Joe’s stalker.

 

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

 

The late afternoon sun was riding the sky toward the horizon when the sound of hoof beats was heard in the ranch yard. It was a commonplace sound, but still, Ben stood quickly and crossed to the window. He was seated in Joe’s room, waiting for his son to wake from the doctor’s second dose of laudanum. His eyes widened in amazement when he saw a young girl riding astride a bay mare leading the reins of a distinctive black and white pinto. He heard Adam yelling for him, and saw his two older sons hurrying from the house. Quickly he left the room and headed down the stairs. Arriving in the yard, he found Hoss helping Laura Carson down from her horse and Adam holding Cochise’s lead rein.

 

“Laura,” Ben said pleasantly, a bemused expression on his face. “Where did you get Joe’s horse?”

 

Laura shifted nervously and wiped her palms on her skirt. Her eyes downcast, she said in a soft voice. “I have a confession to make Mr. Cartwright.”

 

The Cartwrights listened silently, waiting for the girl to gather her courage and speak. When she saw that they weren’t going to ask questions, she continued haltingly. “I’ve done a very bad thing. I thought I was helping a friend in a harmless prank, but it turned out to be more than that.”

Adam couldn’t hold still any longer. “What friend? And what prank? You’re going to have to be a little more specific than that.”

 

Laura blanched, her pale skin losing what little color it had. “I bought a pair of spurs at the mercantile. And a neckerchief that Joe had been admiring. A friend asked me to follow Joe around town without him noticing, and to buy anything that he appeared to admire. I thought it was a joke, Mr. Cartwright! I really did. I even slipped something into Joe’s drink at the dance. I didn’t know what it would do to him. You have to believe me.”

 

Ben’s face was stern, his eyes unreadable. “Who asked you to do such a thing, Laura? And what now makes you think it’s not a joke?”

 

“Because that person came to me last night. She was riding Little Joe’s horse and she was . . . was…” Laura’s voice trailed off, and she lifted eyes that reflected her fear. Her voice became a whisper, as she continued. “She was so odd. She was laughing to herself, and humming, and she was so filthy and wild looking. I asked her where she’d gotten Joe’s horse. Everyone knew that Hoss had been looking all over for Cochise, and she just laughed. I was frightened, so I waited until she went to sleep, and then I snuck Cochise out of our barn and hid him. She was furious when she woke up and he was gone. I told her he must have gotten loose and run away, but I don’t know if she believed me or not. She stormed out of my house and I haven’t seen her since this morning.   Then I brought Cochise here.” Laura’s eyes brimmed over with tears, the drops falling down her cheeks unheeded. She paused to wipe them away, bringing her flow of words to an abrupt halt.

 

Adam leapt into the silence with barely concealed impatience, his voice sharp with anger. “Who? You keep saying *she*. Who are you talking about, Laura!”

 

Laura looked at him uncertainly, trying to gauge his temper. “It was Mary Sue Henderson,” she said finally. “She was a friend of mine, so when she asked me to follow Joe I did it.”

 

Three pairs of eyes looked at her in horror. “Mary Sue Henderson!” Hoss’s usually mild mannered face was set in stone. “How could you do anything that Mary Sue asked you to, ma’am, after what she did last year?”

 

Laura looked at him in confusion. “Well, I know she acted badly, but I was out of town for most of the summer. I just assumed that the rumors that I heard were untrue. You know how people exaggerate. She was my friend, and she looked like she needed help. I felt sorry for her.”

 

Ben sighed. “I’m glad you’ve returned Cochise to us, Laura. Joseph will be so pleased to have his horse back. I just wish you’d come to us sooner. It might have saved us all a lot of heartache.”

 

Laura bit back a sob. “I’m sorry, I really am. Please tell Little Joe that I never meant to hurt him. If I’d known what Mary Sue was like now, I’d never have done it.” She turned to go, silently accepting Adam’s assistance as she mounted her horse. With a final sorrowful look, she rode out of the yard, leaving a stunned silence in her wake.

Finally Hoss let out a long, low whistle. “Mary Sue Henderson. What do we do now, Pa?”

 

Adam interrupted before Ben could speak. “We find her and we make sure she suffers as much as Joe.” He saw Ben’s look and hurried to continue. “I know she’s a woman, Pa, but think of Joe. Think of what she put him through. She doesn’t deserve to be treated like a woman anymore. She’s a crazed animal that needs to be put down.”

 

“Let’s find her first, Adam.” Ben replied slowly. “At least we know whom we’re looking for now.” He reached for Cochise’s reins and headed for the barn.

 

Adam and Hoss watched him go. The older man’s need to care for Joe’s horse personally was evident to both of them. Standing shoulder to shoulder, they each made a silent vow to bring Joe’s tormentor to justice.

 

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

 

Darkness had descended on the Ponderosa, and most of the residents of the sprawling ranch house had retired to bed. Ben sat in the chair by Joe’s bed watching each breath his son took. Joe hadn’t wakened from the doctor’s dose of laudanum, but it was only a matter of time. The sight of the dark bruises standing out in vivid contrast to the pale hue of Joe’s skin made Ben clench his fist in anger. He struggled with the idea that a woman had caused such extensive damage to his son. He remembered Mary Sue Henderson, had watched her grow up in fact. The last time he’d seen her she’d been incoherent with anger over the death of her father and the loss of her reputation in the town. The fact that she held Joe Cartwright directly responsible for both of these occurrences leant credence to the idea that she hated Joe enough to attempt murder.

 

His thoughts turned to Adam and Hoss. Both men had turned in early, in preparation for an early morning departure. They intended to leave in the morning to scour the cave where Joe had been held a prisoner and the surrounding countryside for signs of the missing woman. He was afraid of what Adam might do if he caught the woman. Hoss would never harm a woman, regardless of what she had done, but Adam was another matter. In the heat of the moment, he was very capable of wreaking vengeance on anyone who threatened his family, Little Joe in particular. Ben feared the long-term consequences to his oldest son if he succumbed to those murderous impulses. He knew Adam well enough to know that when he returned to his senses, he would never forgive himself for hurting or killing a woman.

 

The heavy intake of breath from the slight form in the bed alerted Ben to the first stirring as Joe awakened.   He sat up quickly, and reached for the limp hand, cradling it within both of his own. He sat without speaking as Joe twitched and moaned, his eyelids fluttering as he struggled to fight off the effects of the medication. He was rewarded for his patience by the sight of Joe’s eyes gazing at him sleepily.

 

“Hi, Pa.” Joe spoke softly, his voice husky with pain and the aftereffects of the laudanum.

 

Ben smiled, warmth spreading throughout his body as he spoke. “Hi, yourself, son. How are you feeling?” He smoothed the coverlet a little and then grasped Joe’s hand again.

Joe grimaced, “I’ve felt better. You look tired.” He glanced around the room searchingly, taking in the darkness. “Where are Adam and Hoss?”

 

Ben stood briefly, fetching a pitcher of water and a glass. He busied himself with propping up Joe’s shoulders and holding a glass to his lips. He watched contentedly as Joe swallowed thirstily, waiting until he was done before speaking. “I’m feeling fine now that you’re awake. Adam and Hoss are sleeping, they’ll stop in and see you in the morning.” He grimaced when he saw the spasm of pain that flashed over Joe’s face as he was eased back onto the pillows. “Will you tell me about it?”

 

Joe closed his eyes briefly, willing the pain to go away. “It was Mary Sue, Pa. She’s lost her mind. I stupidly thought that I could go get Cochise back from her, and she…” His voice broke, and he stopped, swallowing convulsively. “She killed Cochise .” A hint of moisture shimmered in his eyes and he reached to swipe it away with the back of his hand.

 

“No, Cochise is fine, son.” Ben hastened to assure him. “He’s in the barn eating his fool head off. Laura Carson brought him back today.” He smiled when he saw the sheer joy flood over Joe’s face.

 

“Cochise! She told me she killed him, just before she…” Again words failed him and he couldn’t go on.

 

Ben waited him out, soothingly stroking the few unmarked spots he could find on Joe’s body. “Easy, Joe,” he murmured. “It’s all right now. You’re home.”

 

It took a few moments for Joe to bring his emotions under control. When he was finally able to speak, he looked up at his father miserably. “I was so stupid, Pa. I thought that I could handle this all by myself, and I rode out of here without saying a word to you. The whole time she had me in that cave. I kept thinking about how I hadn’t even left you a note. I’m sorry, Pa!”

 

Ben’s smile was grim but his words were calm and measured. “We all made mistakes, Joe. I’m not saying that we won’t discuss what you did later, but for right now, I’m just happy that we have you back safe and sound. Now all you have to do is lie here and do what the doctor tells you to do and get well again.”

 

Joe’s eyes were drooping with weariness, the pain gnawed at him relentlessly. “I’ll try. But I’ve got something to do pretty soon.”

 

The question in his father’s eyes was plain to see, and so Joe continued. “I’ve got to find Mary Sue. She shouldn’t be out there on her own. She’s dangerous.”

 

Ben laughed grimly, the sound chilling in the dimly lit room. “Your brothers are going to find her, don’t worry. You won’t be going anywhere for a while, and you can believe that I’m going to be right here to make sure that you don’t.”

 

He realized that Joe’s eyes were closed again, and could tell by the soft breathing that his son had slipped off to sleep once again. Pulling the covers close around the slender shoulders, Ben settled back into his chair. He fully intended to sit by Joe’s side until he was well again. He knew his son too well. The minute his father’s back was turned he’d be out the door on a foolhardy mission to find Mary Sue. That Ben was determined to prevent. Mary Sue would be dealt with, just not by Joe.

 

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

 

The clatter of boots on the porch signaled the arrival of visitors and Ben left his desk to see who was approaching. He kept his gun at the ready, prepared for anything. He wasn’t going to let anyone near his injured son while Mary Sue was still at large. The door opened as he approached and he relaxed at the sight of Adam and Hoss entering.

 

The two men were obviously trail-weary, caked with dirt and dust and a couple of day’s growth of beard. Adam was brushing futilely at the dirt on his pants when they entered, but he stopped when he saw his father waiting for him. “Hi, Pa. How’s Joe?” he asked quickly. “I hope he looks better than he did when we left three days ago.”

 

Ben put a finger to his lips and gestured toward the settee. “Look for yourself, son. But go quietly, he’s sleeping.”

 

Hoss’s broad face lit up with a beaming smile. “He’s out of bed? He must be better then. The doc wouldn’a let ‘im up otherwise.” He hastened to peer over the edge of the settee and the smile softened. “He looks a lot better, don’t he, Adam?”

 

Adam moved to join his brother and clasped a hand on his shoulder as he too bent to look at Joe carefully. The bruises were now an interesting assortment of yellows and greens and blotchy dark shades, making Joe look like a battered prize fighter, but it was a definite sign of improvement. What little undamaged skin that could be seen underneath the bruises was a much healthier color, and his breathing was soft and even. Adam took a deep breath and felt the weight of some unnamed worry fall from his shoulders. “I’d say he looks much improved, brother.” He gestured to Ben and tugged on Hoss’s arm. “Come on, let’s see if we can wangle a hot meal out of Hop Sing and we’ll fill Pa in while we eat.”

 

An hour later, feeling much more human, the Cartwrights huddled together over coffee. “No sign of Mary Sue?” Ben asked. He’d restrained himself from asking questions while his sons had eaten an obviously much needed meal. Now he couldn’t help but ask for the information he desperately wanted.

 

Adam shook his head in disgust. “We’ve got every available ranch hand scouring the surrounding area and there’s no trace of her, Pa. It’s almost like she’s invisible.”

 

Ben flinched. “Don’t even joke about that!” he said vehemently, causing both of his sons to look at him in amazement. Seeing that he needed to explain himself further, he added. “Mary Sue taunted Joe by telling him that she was invisible. I don’t want Joe to hear you say those words. He’s been through enough without letting thoughts like that worry him.”“Thoughts like what?” Joe’s sleepy voice rose from the depths of the settee. His head slowly followed, as he pulled himself up painfully.

 

As he started to rise, Ben hastily left his seat at the table and crossed the room. He reached Joe in time to place a gentle hand on the bruised shoulder and firmly held his son down. “Stay right where you are, Joe, and I’ll have Hop Sing bring you a tray. You know the only reason you’re down here is that you promised Paul you’d stay put.”

 

Joe nodded, in truth his body felt weighted down and sluggish, the bruises and battered muscles still causing him excruciating pain. “That sound good to me, Pa,” he replied. “But only if Adam and Hoss fill me in on what’s going on.”

 

His brothers joined the family group in front of the fire with alacrity, and Hoss gamely launched into a description of the futile search the two had been on for the last three days. When he finished his recital, he smiled at Joe. “So maybe she’s left the territory, right, Joe?”

 

Joe snorted in disgust. “I don’t think so, brother. She’s lost her mind and she wants to kill me. I really don’t think she’d just ride out of town.”

 

Adam stared into the fire speculatively. “She might think you’re dead, you know. When she left you, you were certainly well on your way to death’s door.”

 

Hoss shook his head sorrowfully. “It’s all over town, what happened, Adam. Everybody knows Joe ain’t dead. If Mary Sue heard anyone talking she’d know he’s here.”

 

Ben nodded his agreement. “I’d say it’s a safe bet that she knows right where Joe is. She was able to move around undetected before, and it’s possible she’s doing it again. Adam, I want you to increase the number of men patrolling around the house, and Hoss, take another look around town.” He pounded his leg in frustration. “Someone’s got to know something, seen something. She has to make a mistake sometime.”

 

The older Cartwright sons nodded in agreement with the orders, while Joe rolled his eyes in disgust. “I’ll be fine, Pa. I’m expecting her this time. She won’t take me by surprise again.”

 

Ben glared at Joe, his brows drawn together fiercely. “You aren’t leaving this house, Joe. Not until Mary Sue is caught. The woman is capable of murder, and who knows where she is right now.” He tried to soften his tone, and he reached to pat Joe’s leg gently. “We’ll catch her, son, and then life will go back to normal.”

 

Joe nodded sullenly, suddenly too tired to argue. “I think I’ll go on up to bed, Pa,” he murmured, painfully levering himself off the settee.

 

Hoss moved instinctively to help him, smiling a good night at his father as he placed a firm arm around Joe’s waist. “I’ll go on up with ya, Joe. I’m done in myself, and it’ll be another long day tomorrow.” His eyes sent a message of reassurance to his father and the two made their way slowly up the stairs.

Ben waited until the door of Joe’s room shut, and he felt that it was safe to talk. “What do you think, Adam? Where is Mary Sue?”

 

Adam sighed and steepled his fingers together in front of his face. “I don’t know, Pa. She’s capable of anything, and has shown that she can move around at will. I’m worried.” The simple statement hung in the air, bringing with it the air of unease that Adam was feeling.

 

Ben stood and stretched tiredly, his face drawn with worry. “Then we’ll keep watch until she’s found. I don’t want her to have another shot at Joe.” He patted Adam’s shoulder and headed for the stairs. “I’m turning in too, and I’d suggest you do the same. Hoss’s right. It’ll be a long day tomorrow.”

 

Adam smiled gently. “I’m not ready to go up yet, Pa. I’ve got some things to think over. I’ll head up in a little while.” He watched as his father moved up the stairs, and couldn’t help noticing how old his father appeared. The whole situation was draining the life out of the man. Adam stared morosely into the fire. There had to be a solution. He’d be damned if he let someone get away with hurting his brother the way Mary Sue had hurt Joe. Adam would follow her to the ends of the earth if necessary. He leaned back against the back of the chair, and allowed his mind to roam freely. It would be a long night.

 

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

 

A week later, Joe was chafing at the bit to get out of the ranch house and away from his family. His bruises were now fading, and his muscles had quit protesting at the slightest movement. He was still stiff and sore, but felt more like his old self. He had only been allowed to the barn and back, and he spent much of his time out there, crooning endearments to his horse. Cochise responded in kind, both man and horse overjoyed with their reunion. Adam and Hoss had scoured the countryside for most of the week to no avail. Mary Sue had vanished as completely as if she were truly invisible. Forced by missed deadlines, and overdue ranch chores, they had reluctantly called off the search and returned to work. Ben made good on his promise to keep Joe in eyesight, however, until his youngest son was ready to scream.

 

Joe’s need for freedom remained unfulfilled, however, the day finally came when Ben agreed to leave him unsupervised at the ranch. Hoss and Adam had been called out to the timber camps to discuss some problems with filling an order, and Ben urgently needed to consult with his lawyer about some business matters. It galled Ben that he had to leave Joe alone after he had taken his stand against this very thing, but at last he gave into necessity.

 

He swung into Buck’s saddle, his face set in a scowl. “Now, Joe. You stay near the house, that means you don’t get on Cochise’s back for any reason, you hear?”

 

Joe nodded wearily. “I’ve already promised to be a good boy, Pa. I’ll be fine, I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself, you know.”

 

Ben took in the fading bruises, and noted that Joe still stood uncomfortably. His face softened and he bit back the obvious reply.   “I know son, I’m sure you can. But if you’d like to make your father happy, please do as I say, just this once.”

 

Joe nodded reluctantly. “I’m going to be in the barn for a while, Pa. I hope that’s okay with you?”

 

Ben ignored the obvious sarcasm, and patted Joe’s shoulder gently. “Thanks, Joe. I’ll be home soon. Take it easy today, you’re not as well as you think you are.”

 

Joe rolled his eyes, but he smiled back at the worried man. “Go on, Pa. Get out of here, I’ll be a good boy, I promise.” He shooed Ben and Buck away with his hands. “Go on.”

 

With a final measuring look and a tip of his hat, Ben rode out of the yard at a gentle trot. Joe sighed with relief and felt at peace with the world. It was the first time he’d felt truly alone since he’d returned to the Ponderosa. He loved his family, but the constant hovering had been grating on his restless spirit. Wishing he could saddle up and go for a long ride, he headed for the barn. He knew that he would honor his promise to his father, but he fully intended to spend a while with his horse.

 

A few pleasant hours had passed, and Joe flexed his shoulders gingerly. He was still sore, even though he’d never admit that to his father, and the long hours of grooming had made him ache. He turned to put away the brushes and stopped abruptly. Standing before him, eyeing him malevolently was a familiar tattered figure.

 

“Hello, Little Joe.” Mary’s Sue’s voice was bitter and filled with suppressed rage. “I see you survived your little beating. I’m sorry to see that.”

 

Joe stood still and eyed her warily. She was dressed in a pair of britches hitched up with suspenders, and her hair tucked into a boy’s hat. He would have known her anywhere because of the crazed eyes, but to a casual observer, she would appear to be just another hand on one of the local ranches. Joe understood now how she seemed to appear and vanish at will. It had never occurred to anyone that she was masquerading as a boy.

 

“What do you want, Mary Sue?” Joe’s voice was even and toneless, as he struggled to control the frisson of fear that shot up his spine. “If you value your life, you’d better ride out of here, half the territory is looking for you.”

 

Mary Sue laughed, and Joe’s flesh crawled at the sound. “You know that’s not true, Joe. They stopped looking for me a few days ago. You forget I have ways of knowing what’s happening in Virginia City. I know all about you almost dying and about the search being called off. So don’t even try to lie to me.”

 

She moved forward a step and Joe instinctively moved backwards into Cochise’s stall. The pinto moved restlessly as he sensed the tension emanating from his master’s body. Joe put out a hand to steady himself and to calm the horse at the same time. “I asked what you wanted, Mary Sue,” he said again. “You’ve had your revenge, now get out of here and leave me alone.” He moved back another step and realized that he was pressed against the wall of the barn, with nowhere to go.

 

Mary Sue moved forward again, drawing a knife from behind her back as she did so. “Oh, I won’t leave just yet, Little Joe,” she crooned lovingly. “I’ve got some unfinished business with you. You aren’t dead yet, after all.”

 

Joe glanced frantically around the stall for a weapon, but there was nothing at hand. He cursed inwardly and braced himself for Mary’s Sue’s attack. She moved inexorably forward, an insane gleam in her eye and a feral grin on her lips. Joe followed her every movement warily, and he was ready when she made her first lunge. As she swung the knife at him, Joe dodged to the side, only to run into Cochise’s broad side. The pinto danced and whinnied nervously, the movement pushing Joe back toward Mary Sue. It had been enough to have the swing go wide, and instead of burying itself in Joe’s chest, the knife glanced off his arm, leaving a trail of blood in its wake.

 

Joe hissed in pain, but he moved to the offensive, lunging out at Mary Sue in an attempt to grab her arm. She was expecting the move and sidestepped his outstretched arm. Joe was boxed into the corner of the stall, with Cochise shuffling nervously to his left and the solid wall to his right. He backed as far into the stall as he could and braced himself for the woman’s next attempt. Cochise let out a shrill scream of fear as he caught the waves of tension that emanated from the human being that he knew best.

 

Joe turned his eyes toward the horse instinctively, and he reached to stroke the beast’s nose. “It’s okay, boy,” he said, as calmly as possible.

 

But the division of his attention proved to be his undoing. Mary Sue darted forward, knife raised high. She slashed it down toward him, and he could only twist futilely in an effort to get out of the path of the blade. He screamed as he felt the blade plunge into his back, sinking to his knees in agony.

 

Cochise, the scent of blood strong in his nostrils, screamed again, the sound splitting the air. Mary Sue moved in for a killing stroke just as the horse launched himself upwards, the leather that tied him to the stall loosening with the violence of his movements. The horse’s hooves crashed down indiscriminately, and Joe screamed again as he felt one glance off his thigh. He was lost in a world of pain and chaos, the sounds of the shrieking horse intermingling with another high-pitched sound. The world went dark as he lost his fight to stay in control of the situation.

 

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

 

Adam rode up to the hitching post in front of the ranch house. He dismounted quickly, tied Sport’s reins to the post and headed for the house. “Joe!” he called as he entered. He stopped as silence greeted him. “Joe!” He tried again.

 

Hop Sing bustled around the corner from the kitchen. “What you yelling for?” he asked briskly. “Mister Joe not in here.”

 

Adam frowned. “Not in here? Where is he then? He knows that Pa wanted him to stay around the house. That’s why I came back, I knew he wouldn’t listen.”

 

Hop Sing headed back toward the kitchen, a string of Chinese words following in his wake. He stopped just before he disappeared around the corner, cocking his head back at Adam. “Mister Joe go see horse hours ago. All a time, he’s with horse. Probably still in barn.” He faded out of sight, still muttering as he went.

 

Adam grinned briefly at the little man, and then he turned to head for the barn. He had a strong sense of foreboding pressing on him. Joe wasn’t known for obeying instructions and this was his first opportunity to leave the house without someone holding him back. Adam wouldn’t be at all surprised to find Cochise gone when he got to the barn.

 

The barn’s interior was dim, shafts of light filtering in through cracks in the walls and ceiling, creating a pleasing view, as small motes of dust swirled gently in the air. Adam entered the structure, waiting momentarily for his eyes to adjust to the change in light. He heard Cochise shuffling, uttering nervous snorts and snuffling at something in the stall. “Joe?”

 

Adam moved forward quickly, and then stopped, his blood freezing in his veins. He saw Cochise first, as the animal danced nervously around the stall. The walls and floor were liberally daubed with splotches of red, and Adam caught the acrid tang of blood. Two crumpled figures lay at the horse’s feet, in constant danger of being stepped on by the prancing hooves.

 

“Joe!” Adam’s voice rang out stridently, and Cochise’s head jerked up as the horse gave a shrill cry of fear.

 

Adam forced himself to walk calmly, holding his hand out to the animal, crooning in a soft voice as he walked. Cochise finally allowed him to grab the halter, and Adam spent a few precious seconds calming the animal down. He quickly untied the remaining thongs of leather that held the horse in the stall, leading him quickly to a clean one across the barn. That taken care of, he dashed across the barn to the carnage.

 

At first Adam’s eyes were only for Joe, who lay in a crumpled heap in the corner of the stall. A bleeding gash on his arm, and deeper, pulsing wounds on his back and thigh gave silent evidence of what had transpired. Adam knelt and felt for a pulse, heaving a sigh of relief when he found one. “Oh, Joe. What have you done now?” he whispered to himself.

 

It was only after ascertaining that Joe still breathed that Adam turned his attention to the other still form. His eyes widened when he rolled the boy over, only to find Mary Sue’s sightless eyes staring back at him. He felt for a pulse with shaking fingers, finding none. The deep depression on the back of her skull gave evidence of what had killed her. In his panic, Cochise had brought his hooves down on anything in his path. Mary Sue had borne the brunt of his unwitting attack.

 

Adam quickly closed the staring eyes, and turned his attention back to his brother. He would deal with Mary Sue later, but Joe took precedence in his thoughts. Scooping up the slender body, he headed for the house, bellowing for Hop Sing as he went.

 

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

 

Once again, three men paced before the great stone fireplace, their faces set in grim masks. This time joined by Sheriff Coffee. The doctor had arrived at the same time as Ben and the sheriff, all summoned by the ranch hand that Adam had dispatched. Ben had only glanced at the grisly scene in the barn before racing for the house. He left Roy Coffee making an examination of the scene. Hoss had ridden in on a lathered horse moments later, the urgent summons he’d received leaving him no doubt that his presence was needed back at the house. Roy had finished his study of the scene and dispatched a couple of men to town, bearing a grisly burden wrapped in a blanket and draped over the saddle of a pack horse.

 

Now all four men looked up as the doctor appeared at the head of the stairs. When Paul reached the bottom, he almost turned and fled back up, as the men moved forward in a mass.   Holding his hands up in mocking self-defense, Paul smiled wearily. “Well, you’ve got a lucky boy, there Ben.” He settled himself into a chair and gratefully accepted the cup of coffee that Hoss silently handed him. “His arm is badly bruised, but not broken. The wound on his thigh was very bad and I’ve stitched it up, but I want him to stay off that leg for a while. His back will be sore, and he’s got a couple of cracked ribs, but not much more than that. I think once I examine the other body we’ll see that Mary Sue took the brunt of the horse’s hooves.”

 

Ben smiled in relief. “Is he awake? Can I see him now?” He was already heading for the stairs and it was clear that he was going to be with his son regardless of the answer he received.

 

When Hoss and Adam moved as if to join him, Paul intervened. “Let your father go up first, boys. Joe is pretty upset and I think he needs some time alone with his father.” He saw Roy make a move and shook his head at the sheriff. “You too, Roy. You can question him later. Let Ben talk to him first.”

 

Grudgingly the three men sat back down, but their eyes and their attention were focused on the stairs. Given the word they would all have left their seats and rushed for the bedroom, but the doctor held them back.

 

Ben opened the door softly and moved into the room, an expectant smile on his face. He was greeted by a pale face, and the sight of Joe lying swathed in bandages. Seeing his father enter, Joe turned his face to the wall. “I don’t feel much like talking right now, Pa,” he whispered. “I think I need to rest.”

 

Ben pulled up a chair and sat down next to the bed. He couldn’t refrain from gently touching the exposed shoulder that peeked over the tops of the bedclothes.   “It might help to talk about it, son,” he said gently. “But in either case, I think I’ll just stay here for a while.”

 

Joe turned and tried to smile at his determined father. He was fully aware that Ben wouldn’t leave his side when he was sick or injured. “I’m fine, Pa. The Doc says I’ll be okay.”

 

Ben’s eyes were calm, his face carefully dispassionate. “I really thought you might like to talk about Mary Sue. You haven’t asked about her at all.”

 

Joe grimaced. “I feel so stupid, Pa,” he said finally. “I really thought I could handle her on my own. She came after me with a knife and there wasn’t anything I could do to stop her. And then Cochise got upset and started rearing . . . ” his voice trailed off.

 

Ben reached for Joe, taking his hand in an instinctive gesture of comfort and support. “She’s dead Joe, and now you can finally put all this behind you. She won’t hurt you anymore.”

 

Joe’s eyes were haunted, his face drawn into grim lines that made him look older than his years. “She hated me so much. She blamed me for all her troubles.” He turned to look deep into his father’s eyes. “Could I have done anything different? Would it have made a difference to Mary Sue if I hadn’t found out what she was doing to Renny?”

 

Ben stroked Joe’s hand within his, his thumb smoothing away the tenseness of the fingers. “We can’t go back and undo the past, Joe,” he replied quietly. “You made your choices, just as Mary Sue made hers. She wasn’t completely sane when she came back here. You know that. You know in your heart that you wouldn’t do anything differently, would you? You can’t help being who you are, son. And if it makes you feel any better, I wouldn’t want you any other way.”

 

Joe grinned softly. “I appreciate that, Pa. You always know just what to say, don’t you?”

 

Ben laughed. “My job as a father is to make you *think* I always know what to say, Joe. The truth is I’m often at a loss.”

 

Joe’s eyes were closing in spite of themselves. He winced a little as he shifted restlessly on the bed. “You coulda fooled me,” he murmured. His breathing became soft and even and he succumbed to the oblivion that sleep could bring.

 

Ben’s smile faded and he gazed at his son, reflecting on how close he had come, yet again, to losing this child. He settled more comfortably into his chair, all the while keeping his hold on Joe’s hand. It would be some time before anyone would be able to persuade him to leave Joe’s side.

 

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

 

Joe rode Cochise slowly toward the edge of town. He had only been allowed on the horse for the past two days and he’d finally escaped from his father’s watchful eyes. He rode with silent determination, his mind focused on his destination. Absently he patted his pocket, thinking of the letter that resided there.

 

He pulled out the letter and read it again as he rode, although he’d memorized the words already.

 

Dear Joe,

I’m sorry I haven’t written to you before, but Grandma and Grandpa didn’t think I should write to a grown man. They said it wasn’t proper! Who wants to be proper, anyway? When Grandma and Grandpa told me about Mary Sue and what she did to you, I begged them to let me send you this letter. I was so sad to think of my sister dying, but she wasn’t the same girl that I remember. She never did get over Pa’s death, and I don’t think she was herself anymore. She never wrote to me after I left town with my grandparents. I’m sorry if she hurt you, but please remember, that I love you, Joe! Not all of the Hendersons are bad people. Will you do me a favor, and take Mary Sue some flowers from me? I cry when I think of her all alone with no one to care for her anymore.

 

Love,

Kitty

 

 

Joe smiled softly as he thought of the little blond-haired dynamo, who’d always held the key to his heart. He could remember the exuberant hug she’d given him, before she’d been whisked off to St. Louis by her grandparents. He felt he owed it to her to honor her wishes. And now he rode toward Mary Sue’s final resting place, the graveyard at the edge of town.

 

The Cartwrights had quietly paid for the burial of the woman who had kidnaped and tortured the youngest son of the family. Joe had been too ill to attend the simple service that had been held over the grave, but Ben Cartwright had lent his presence to the ceremony. He had reported that besides the preacher and the grave digger, he’d been the only person in attendance.

 

A pang of regret struck Joe to the quick as he thought of Mary Sue’s promising life gone so viciously wrong. He still wrestled with the nightmares of his imprisonment at her hands, and would perhaps do so for months to come. But in some corner of his heart, he still held himself to blame for her descent into madness. After all, he had caused the death of her father and destroyed her reputation in Virginia City. Adam might have been the one who pulled the trigger, but it was Joe who had shredded Mary Sue’s character in court and enraged her father to the point where he’d lost control and drawn his gun.

 

He dismounted at the gate, hitching Cochise to the fence post before crossing quickly to the fresh grave at the corner of the small cemetery. A simple tombstone, paid for with Cartwright money, stated the name and dates of the occupant of the plot, but that was all. Joe knelt next to the grave and let all his memories of Mary Sue wash over him, starting with the last glimpse he had of her insane eyes and snarling grin. He covered his eyes and let himself move back in time. Seeing her crouching before the fire in the cave, sitting on the witness stand at his trial, smirking up at him during the fateful dance when she’d accused him of trying to attack her. But then he let older memories surface, scenes of them enjoying other dances, playing in the schoolyard and chasing each other around town as children flickered through his mind at a rapid pace. He smiled slightly as the visions of the mad-woman’s face was replaced by one of the small girl who’d been his friend.

 

He picked up a handful of dirt from the mound heaped over the grave site and let it trickle back through his fingers. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust . . .   With a last look at the headstone, he laid a small bouquet of flowers under Mary Sue’s name. For Kitty, he thought. But for himself too. He felt more at peace than he had in a long time.

 

Rising to go, his eyes caught sight of something that fluttered gently in the slight breeze, just past Mary Sue’s tombstone. He bent to pick it up, and felt the small hairs on the back of his arms stand up. It was a beautiful blue satin ribbon, very like one Mary Sue had worn in their schooldays. Joe glanced around quickly. No one else was in sight. No other graves were close to this one. He let the ribbon drop to the ground and turned to go.

 

Joe almost ran for Cochise, glad he’d left the flowers and allowed some healing to begin, but unsettled by the ribbon. As he turned for home, he caught sight of two horses moving toward him. He smiled happily, and moved to meet them. His brothers had come to make sure he was all right and escort him home. Under normal circumstances he would have chafed under their watchful protection, today he welcomed it.

 

As the three Cartwrights rode for home, the breeze picked up briskly, rippling through the trees with a rustling sound. Joe cocked his head and listened, for a moment it had sounded like the ripple of a young girl’s laughter as she had chased a curly-haired boy through the school yard. Putting his heel to Cochise’s side, he urged the horse forward. “Let’s go home,” he called and the men rode quickly away from the graveyard.

 

The wind stilled, finally dying. The ripple of laughter continued.

 

The End

July 2001

 

Tags: Family