Summary: The lives of the Cartwrights are turned upside down when Joe falls into an old well setting the stage for more mystery and danger.

Rating T   WC 38,900

The Third Son Series:

The Third Son
The Devil’s Hold
Payback

 

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The Devil’s Hold

 

“When he had spoken, all the twilight country shook so violently, the terror of it bathes me with sweat even in memory; the tear-soaked ground gave out a sigh of wind that spewed itself in flame on a red sky, and all my shuttered senses left me.  Blind, like one whom sleep comes over in a swoon, I stumbled in darkness and went down. —Dante Alighieri- The Divine Comedy: Inferno

 

Ben Cartwright would, in retrospect, have chosen a different path to have turned down that crisp autumn day.  If he had done as he had earlier planned, the fates might have dealt him a better hand.  But, all that would remain in hindsight, now that the horrible event had taken place.  The decision to head with his three sons to check on the new property he had purchased might have been made in haste, but had been made nonetheless.

Standing in front of the dilapidated building which had served as a shelter for the previous occupants, Ben surveyed the difficulty that he would encounter in having it torn down.  In the meantime, his youngest son, Joseph, walked around the front yard of the shack his mind on many things.  He hoped his father wouldn’t tarry in his examination and that they would all be heading back home soon.  Joe had his eyes on a night spent in Virginia City, but he knew he couldn’t even broach that subject until his father was satisfied that this inspection was completed.

Ben’s other two sons, Adam and Hoss ventured a little farther out to check on the possibility of using the eastern range land to move the large Ponderosa herd onto as a temporary grazing area.  They both were only a couple of miles from the homestead where their brother and father continued to check over the new acquisition.

Ben stepped into the doorway of the run down cabin, pushing aside mammoth cobwebs.  He noticed the floor boards were full of dry rot, and made it a point to be cautious as he continued over to the one and only window.  By the time he made it across the room he could see his youngest son through the broken window pane.  The boy turned and waved over to his father and, as Ben watched in muted horror, suddenly disappeared from view.  The shock of his son’s disappearance momentarily stunned Ben.  He hoped that the kid was pulling one of his usual stunts as a joke.  Something inside the worried father’s soul told Ben differently and he made his way out of the cabin taking long strides.

Ben moved to the side of the cabin, where he had last seen Joe.  It was only then that he spied the broken boards which had been covering what appeared to be an old well.  He fell to his knees and peered down into the darkened hole.  “Joseph!  Joseph—can you hear me?”  He hollered down to his son.  There was no response.

Still kneeling, Ben drew a trembling hand to his side and untethered the rawhide band to the hammer of his six-gun.  He pulled the weapon out of its leather sheath and fired three rapid shots into the air.  Ben knew that all his sons were aware of what the signal meant, and that Adam and Hoss would come quickly.

Ben cupped his hands around his mouth and called down into the well again, “Joseph?  Can you hear me, Boy?  Joseph!”

The response failed to come just as before and Ben’s heart felt the pangs of terror.   He looked around to size up the situation.  Jumping to his feet, Ben ran over to his horse and pulled the coiled rope from the saddle.  He ran back over and tossed one end down into the well.  The weight of the rope plummeted towards the fallen boy.  There was twenty foot of hemp dangling far above Joe’s head.  He was just starting to get his breath back after the tumble he had taken.  Looking up towards the small circle of light, Joe could barely make out the form of his father’s head.  Everything was becoming blurred, his eyes packed with dirt and grime.  Joe attempted to clear his vision with his hand and it was then that he realized he had suffered a bad break to his left arm.  He groaned and spit out some of the dirt which he had swallowed on the way down.  Joe could see nothing but blackness all around him, and the light from above was not enough to let him get a good look at his arm wound.  The only thing he was fully aware of was the trickling of blood coming down his sleeve and pouring out onto his hand.  Joe tried his best to maneuver his body to ease the throbbing of his arm but was afraid to move too much in case it would further unleash the dirt from around him and send him into another fall.  He could tell that he had been wedged between two large rocks, and was sure that he had not made it to the very bottom of the well.

“Joseph!”  The anguished voice called for the third time.  “Can you hear me?”

“Pa!”  Joe yelled, and coughed from the strain.

Ben heard the faint voice and tried to judge the distance the boy had fallen.  He turned from his position when he heard the sound of horses.  Adam and Hoss dropped the reins from their mounts and ran over to join their father.

“Pa!  What’s wrong?”  Hoss called over to him.

“Joe—he’s fallen into this old well,” Ben replied, and his face showed his two sons the gravity of the situation.

“Is he okay?”  Adam asked kneeling next to his father on the cold ground.

“He’s answered me.  Let me try again,” Ben paused and cupped his mouth again to offer more volume.  “Are you okay, Joe?  Can you see the rope?”

Joe looked up and just barely made out the sight of another shadow at the well’s opening which he presumed to be a brother.  “Rope’s too high!  Can’t reach.  Arm’s busted, Pa!”  Joe shouted as loud as he could manage.

Hoss ran to his horse and removed his rope and brought it back over to his family.  “Tie this on to the other one—this ought to work!”

Ben scrambled to pull the rope up as fast as he could and then tied two square knots to secure the ends together.  Fashioning a taut slip knot at one end, Ben pulled on it to be sure it would hold the weight of his son.   He tossed down the line and called down to his boy, “Joseph— catch this and wrap it around you.  Tug on the rope when you’re ready and we’ll bring you up!”

Joe saw the end of the rope come towards him, and, as he reached with his right hand to grasp it, he jarred loose the rocks which had him secure around the waist.  Unable to hold the life-line firmly, he fell further down the well.

“Joseph!  Do you have it?  Joseph!”  Ben called after he heard a loud rumble come up from out of the depths of the well.

Adam and Hoss felt petrified as they watched the look of horror overtake their father’s face.

“Joseph!  Joseph!”  Ben screamed down the well until his voice went hoarse.

Adam threw his arm around his father and said, “He’s fallen down too far now, Pa—-I don’t think a rope’s the answer.”

“No!”  Ben shouted and ran towards Adam’s horse.  He pulled the rope from the saddle and hurried back over to the site of the accident.  Ben, in a frenzied motion, added the extra length of Adam’s lariat to the other two.  He then lowered the rope back down into the well with another shout.  “Joseph!  Grab the line!  Try to find it—it should be there somewhere!  Grab the rope!”

Hoss looked over at his brother and tears spilled from his eyes.  Watching their father’s futile attempts to save their younger brother was breaking his heart.  “Adam’s right, Pa—we gotta think on something else now—Joe’s too far out of reach.  No telling how deep that well is!  It’s too narrow for any of us to try to go down there either!”

Ben finally looked up at his two sons and covered his eyes with his hands.  He wept over the thought that his youngest son might now be dead.  It took only a couple of minutes for the grief and uncertainty over his son and what might have happened to him, to lend it’s way to the internal fortitude that Ben Cartwright was known to possess.  He pulled himself to his feet and stared over at Hoss and Adam.

“Hoss—head into town, get as many men as you can.  Try the mines—get Roy Coffee—I want anyone we can get out here with picks and shovels.  Stop by Jeff Bridges’ office too he knows this area pretty well.”

“You thinking on digging another hole?”  Hoss asked.

“Yes–now get going—we have to start on this before it gets dark!”  Ben replied and Hoss jumped on his horse and spurred it away quickly.

“Adam—I want you to head back to the house—tell Hop Sing what’s happened.  Bring back a buckboard with you.  When we get Joe out of there he’s gonna need blankets and medical supplies.   Be sure to bring those and as much other rescue materials as you can grab fast.  We need to get some bonfires built too, so bring coal oil and all the lanterns we have!”  Ben had now recovered his wits about him and was back to being the strong and commanding father he had always been.  He now refused to think of his youngest son as being lost to them forever.  Ben needed to believe that the boy was still alive so that he wouldn’t cave in to hopelessness and defeat.  He would not stop trying to reach Joseph no matter how bad the odds seemed.

“Be back soon, Pa!”  Adam answered and hurried to his horse and turned it back towards the Ponderosa.

Ben fell back onto his knees and stared into the pitch black abyss which had, for all intents and purposes, swallowed his son.  “I’m here, Joseph!  Hang on–help’s on the way!”  He called down into nothingness over and over again.  He prayed that Joe would be able to hear his voice and hang on to the hope that he would be rescued soon.

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

Adam beat his brother Hoss back to the site of the tragedy by almost an hour.  With Hop Sing driving a buckboard loaded with supplies, Adam rode up in front of the old cabin and dismounted.  The Oriental jumped down from the wagon and hurried over to where his old friend and employer still sat on the ground staring down into the well.

“You hear Little Joe still?”  Hop Sing asked breathlessly as he dropped down to his knees next to Ben.

Ben turned his face and looked at the other man and shook his head but could not speak.  He had been shouting down the well at short intervals and his voice was just about gone now.  Hop Sing read the distraught father’s face and the pain that shot from his sad brown eyes.

“Little Joe strong—he be fine—you no worry, Mister Ben,” Hop Sing offered encouragement as he stared down into the blackened pit.

“Here, Pa,” Adam called and handed the man a canteen.

“Thanks,” Ben whispered and drank a mouthful of water.  He coughed to clear his throat and then went back to what he was doing before the two men had appeared.  “Joseph!  Joe—we are gonna get you out of there—you hold on!”  Ben shouted down to his son, though he had no idea if the boy had survived his fall.

Hoss arrived and with him, more than a dozen men on horseback and in wagons.  The crowd formed around the well and Ben stood to address his friends and neighbors.

“Thanks for coming—I know Hoss has filled you all in.  We don’t know how far down Joseph has fallen—and we haven’t heard anything from him.”  Ben paused to take a deep breath to try once again to pull from his inner strength.  “I thought we’d make a parallel tunnel and then dig across to get him out.”

“Wait a second, Ben,” a man called out and stepped closer to the worried father, “we need to check around for the best site before starting to dig.”

Ben stared over at Jeff Bridges; the man was not only a surveyor but also had assisted in numerous rescue missions with mine disasters in the silver rich Comstock area.  He was a man whom Ben had come to know and trust over the years.  “Whatever you think, Jeff, but let’s get right to it as soon as possible,” Ben replied and nodded towards the man.

“Biggest problem is this drought—it’s left the ground very unstable.  We brought plenty of shoring to help brace the dig.  But, we have to make sure that we start this hole a good distance from the other so we don’t cause the well to collapse from the impact of our shovels.  Let me take a quick look,” Jeff said and started his inspection of the area.

Ben and his two sons waited as patiently as possible while the surveyor combed the area around the well.  Roy Coffee, sheriff of Virginia City and long-time friend of the Cartwrights stepped forward and put his hand on Ben’s sagging shoulder.

“Doc said he’d be out in a little while–he’s patching up someone who got shot earlier today.  I brung me every available man I had—including a couple of prisoners.  Not the hard types mind you, just some folks who like to fight.  I figured we’d put them to use with shovels to get out some of their hostility in a useful way,” Roy tried to lighten his friend’s mental anguish but could tell it hadn’t worked.  Ben looked about as frightened as Roy had ever seen him before.  As Roy peered down into the seemingly infinite well, he understood why his friend looked the way he did.

“Thanks, Roy,” Ben answered and then fell back to his knees and called into the well again.

Jeff paced off the area a good twenty feet from the well and waved the crew over with their equipment.  “This is the spot, I want you all to be careful and with each ten feet dug we are gonna be shoring up the sides.  No need for anyone else to get killed,” Jeff said bluntly and then it occurred to him what words he had used.  He cursed his stupidity when he saw the look change on Ben’s face from fear to grief.  Jeff hadn’t intended to say the word “killed”, but in his own mind he was sure that most likely Joe had perished in the fall.  Though he fully surmised that the only thing the crew would recover would be Joe Cartwright’s body, he did not want to take away the little bit of hope the family still carried.  “Let’s get to it!”  He hollered, trying to recoup from his stupid statement by getting right to the job at hand.

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

And so it began, the long afternoon that bled over into the dark of night.  Torches lit the entire area and several campfires warmed the split shifts of workers.  Hop Sing kept the coffee going and served food to the men that he had brought along from the ranch house.  He tried his best to get Ben to rest, but the man had refused the offer of laying down in the buckboard for a nap.  Instead, Ben kept vigil over the well, constantly calling to his youngest son.

Adam and Hoss took turns along with the other workers, turning over shovel after shovel of crumbling soil into the buckets that hauled away the debris.  The cool night air sent a chill throughout their bodies as it hit the sweat covering their shirts as they continued to toil.  There wasn’t much conversation going on between the three Cartwrights nor the team of rescuers.  Everyone knew that the more time that had elapsed the more chance was that Joe had perished.  If the fall hadn’t killed him, the frigid ground, loss of blood, and lack of water might have caused his demise.

Hoss pulled himself up the ladder, which now had numerous lengths hammered to it.  As each new section was dug, rungs were placed on other poles and they were secured to the already existing lengths.  Jeff worked on the shoring along with four seasoned miners.  When they felt that the ladders had become unstable, they began to hammer horizontal slats onto the bracing and used them to get down farther into the newly dug hole.  Hoss walked over to one of the campfires and Hop Sing handed him a cup of coffee.

“Give me another one to take to Pa, will you?”  Hoss whispered to Hop Sing as he stared over at his father.  There by the glow of one of the lanterns, Ben sat all alone and inclined his head to stare down the well.  Hoss knew there wasn’t anything his father could see now, but that he was hoping still for any sign of a miracle.  The cook handed Hoss the additional coffee cup and the big man walked over and sat down next to his father.  “Here,” Hoss said and put the cup in his father’s hand so it couldn’t be refused this time.

Ben stared over at his middle boy and nodded his thanks.  He sipped at the steaming brew and it did help to warm up his insides some.  Unfortunately, the rest of his body was cold and numb, not so much from the cold breeze but from the thought of what had happened that day.

“I never should have bought this place, Hoss,” Ben started and pushed away a stray tear, “three families have owned this homestead and all of them fell upon hard times.  Now, look—look what has happened just because I agreed to buy this land!”

“Now, Pa–you just can’t think like that.  And, I know if you weren’t so worried about Little Joe you wouldn’t be talking like this.  This land is no more a curse than any other land it was just a bad accident–plain and simple.  Don’t give up, Pa—give us a chance to get to Joe—I know he’s not dead—-I can still feel him in here,” Hoss stopped and patted his chest, right over his heart.

“Thanks, Son,” Ben nodded and draped his arm around his son’s shoulder.  That enormous middle son of his would never cease to amaze his father with his warmth and encouragement.  Ben knew that Hoss loved his baby brother and was hurting himself at the time, but made sure that he tried to cheer his father up instead of asking for that from him.

“I’m gonna get back to it, Pa—we’re making good progress.  You finish that coffee you hear?”  Hoss smiled and stood to get back to digging.  Ben watched him walk away and then turned his attention back to the well.  Cupping his hands in front of his mouth, as he had done all afternoon and all evening, Ben shouted down into the well again.  “Joseph—we’re almost to you now– don’t give up, Son!  We’ll be to you soon!”

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

Long hours passed at a snail’s pace for the worried Cartwright family.  Finally, it was decided that the tunnel was both secure and deep enough that a horizontal shaft could be dug across the twenty feet of ground that separated the two holes.  Jeff Bridges figured that even if they were still a good bit above where Joe had landed that at least they might be close enough to pull him up to them and get him into the newly excavated hole and bring him back to solid ground.  They formed the shell of the tunnel from ready-made open-ended wooden crates approximately four feet square to brace the horizontal crawl-space that was now being dug.  It was slower going now as the dirt had to be passed bucket by bucket down the line and then each new crate was added to the others and pushed down through the new opening before they could dig out another section.  It was very fortunate that Jeff Bridges had assisted in the same kinds of rescues in the past, or the project would be going much slower. This particular system, using crates had been developed to assist in the silver mines, helped prevent the ever-rising loss of life of miners as they dug farther down into the Comstock stores of ore.  The surveyor hoped that this mission would prove to be one of rescue and not just a body recovery event.  Jeff kept his miners working at a fast pace, knowing all too well how a few hours could make the difference between life and death.

“How far are you now?”  Adam called down into the new shaft in the ground.

“‘Bout half way there I reckon!”  One of the miners called up from the bottom of the hole.

“Hear that, Pa?”  Adam said as he neared his father.  “Only another ten feet or so and they should be right above Joe.”

Ben finally stood and stretched and tried to get the kinks out of his back.  For the first time all evening he had decided to walk over to the new tunnel and leave the opening of the well.  Staring down into the new shaft Ben closed his eyes and whispered to his eldest son, “How long—how long has Joseph been down there now?”

“About fifteen hours, Pa,” Adam sighed.

“Going that long—and with a broken arm—and no telling what other injuries–” Ben trailed off.

“Hey—Doc’s here—he’ll patch the kid up, don’t worry!  Let’s get him out first–and that’s gonna happen real soon,” Adam tried his best to sound optimistic, but he, too, was having some serious doubts at the time.  He had tried his best all night to focus on retrieving his brother, but he knew all the things that might have happened to him.  For all they knew the kid could have broken his neck in the last plummet to the bottom of the well.  Adam’s stomach churned at the thought.  He hated to think about the good chance that they could be pulling out a dead body soon.

An hour later, the sound came up out of the tunnel that froze everyone in their tracks.  “We’ve broken through!”  A miner’s shout rang out.

Jeff Bridges eased to the end of the final crate frame and was handed a lantern.  He held it carefully out of the newly built passageway and stared down towards the bottom of the well.  Jeff could see the very bottom, it being little more than eight feet lower than his position in the tunnel.  He swallowed hard, feeling his heart fall in his chest.  There would be no rescue.

“Do you see him?”  Ben shouted down the tunnel.

Before Jeff answered he held the lantern above his head and peered up to make sure that the Cartwright boy was not lodged somewhere above his head in the well.  He wasn’t.

“There’s nobody down here!”  Jeff finally spoke to the man who was right behind him in the shaft.  “I don’t understand it!”

“Maybe there’s some rubble covering him up?” the miner asked in disbelief.

“No–I can see the bottom—clear as a bell—nothing’s there!”

“What the hell?”  The miner retorted.

“What is it?”  Ben demanded.  He had climbed down into the tunnel and now stood at the end of the horizontal shaft.

“Nobody’s down this well, Mr. Cartwright,” the miner called down the shaft.

“I saw him fall!  I talked to him!  He’s got to be there!”  Ben snapped back.

Jeff signaled the other men to let him back out of the shaft and slowly made it to the tunnel and faced Ben.  “Ben, go on—you go see for yourself–Joe’s nowhere to be seen.  I looked down–I looked up—he isn’t in there!  The bottom is solid, no debris—can’t be buried—I haven’t got a clue!”  He exclaimed shaking his head, confounded by what he had witnessed.

“I’ll go, Pa,” Adam stated, but his father grabbed his arm to stop him.

“No—I’ll go!”  Ben insisted and slowly crawled into the shaft.  Adam climbed in behind his father carrying a lantern.

Both Ben and Adam crawled down the makeshift horizontal shaft, passing crate barrier after crate barrier, their hearts in their throats.  Ben did the same inspection that Jeff Bridges had done and with the same end results.  He rolled onto his side allowing Adam to pass him to see for himself.  Adam decided he needed more than a lantern’s view and he called down the shaft for someone to hand them in a rope.  It was finally passed hand over hand to the two Cartwrights and Ben secured one end to the crate form and also kept a good hold of it just in case.  Slowly Adam lowered himself down the eight foot drop.  The sides of the well were narrow, but flared out by the time the bottom could be felt.   When he finally stood on solid ground, Ben sent him down a lantern.  Adam made his inspection of the floor of the well and also the side walls.  He then held the lantern above his head and looked above.

“Get a couple of lights at the well opening, I want to be sure!”  Adam hollered to his father and he called down the shaft.  Hoss got his brother’s message and gathered up six lanterns and carried them to the well opening.  He attached the lantern’s handles through a rope so he could hang them all the way across the top.

“What do you see, Adam?”  Ben called down.

“Same thing you can, Pa–look up!  There’s nothing above us—no way Joe could’ve gotten stuck between the top of the well and the bottom.  And there’s no sign of the kid down here!”

“That’s impossible!”  Ben called out exasperated.

Adam had just enough room to bend to his knees.  He stooped down when he spotted something glimmering against the lantern’s glow.  His hand clasped an oval object.  Pulling it closer into view, Adam caught his breath.  It was one of Joe’s prized possessions; his mother’s locket.  Shaking his head in pure wonderment, Adam tried to reason it all out, but had drawn a complete blank.  How could the kid fall into the well and disappear?

“Pull the lantern up, Pa–then I’ll start back!”  Adam shouted.

Ben retrieved the lantern and set it next to him and then helped to pull Adam up into the crate support.  It was just at the same moment when Adam cleared the well that a rumbling was heard and both Cartwrights could feel the shaft they were in start to shake.

“It’s coming down on us, Pa!  Hurry!”  Adam shouted and backed out of the shaft pulling his father along with him.

“No!  Not until I find Joe!”  Ben yelled fighting his son’s hold.

“Now!”  Adam yelled and pulled his father, against his will, out of the shaft and back to the original tunnel.

“Get out!  It’s all coming down!”  Jeff screamed and tried to push the men to the steps on the wall bracing.  Reluctantly Ben climbed up along with his son Adam.  By the time they made it back to the ground level they could see the thick dust pouring up from both the well and the newly formed tunnel.

“Ground was too unstable—we were lucky to get out!”  Jeff called over to the men as he watched the two holes in the ground cave in on themselves.

“Lucky?”  Ben said exasperated.  “My son is down there–buried under all of that!”

Jeff neared Ben and grabbed his arm.  “Yes, lucky!  You could have two other sons buried under there now–not to mention yourself!  As for Joe—he’s not down there!  You saw for yourself!”

“I saw him fall into that hole!”  Ben shouted.  “Hoss and Adam heard him call out from down there!  He couldn’t have just disappeared!”

Doctor Martin neared Ben he could tell the strain on his face and knew that the man was close to collapsing due to exhaustion and worry.  Paul Martin knew the family very well and it didn’t take him long to make the call.  He waved Hoss over and nodded to the young man.  Hoss knew what he was saying without waiting for the words.  The big man grabbed his father from behind by his shoulders and held him so that the doctor could place his injection into the fold of his elbow.  Ben struggled against the sedation.  He had no intention of going to sleep.  Furthermore, he had no intention of leaving the site until he had his youngest son in his arms; either dead or alive.

Ben fell into Hoss’ embrace once the medication had taken over.  Paul walked with both sons to the buckboard where Hoss set his father down out of his massive arms.  “It’s for the best, Boys.  Your father wouldn’t have made it much longer if I hadn’t done this.  Get him home, get him warm.  I’ll be by in the morning.”

“Thanks, Doc,” Adam patted the doctor’s shoulder.

“Hoss—Adam—I’m so sorry about Little Joe—well—you know how I felt about the boy.  I don’t have to tell you.  You boys get some rest.  Your pa’s gonna need you more than ever now.”

Hoss nodded and stepped up into the buckboard with Hop Sing sitting at his side now.

Adam tied the reins of the three horses to the back of the wagon and then walked over to Roy Coffee.  “Thank all the men for us, will you, Roy?  I know Pa would do it himself—but he’s gonna need some time–you know?”

Roy nodded, “Don’t you worry none—you all’s got enough to handle.  I will tell the men–but they already know.  Most of these fellows—including myself by the way—have turned to your family more than a couple of times in the past to help us out.  You’ve never let us down.  We all just wish that—” Roy stopped and turned away.  He couldn’t continue his statement.  It wasn’t often that he had to watch his best friend deal with this kind of a loss.  In fact, the last time he had seen Ben in a situation like he was in now, was when Joe’s mother had died.  Roy sighed as he walked over to the other men.  Marie had died so young, and now her son had followed her to the grave only fourteen years later.  Roy said a silent prayer that God would watch over his dear friends during the awful days ahead of them.

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

While the rescue workers made their way back to Virginia City, Hoss was carrying his father up the long staircase at the Ponderosa ranch house.  He settled the sedated man into his bed and then walked back down the stairs to talk with his brother.

“No understand—” Hop Sing was standing next to Adam in the living room waving his hands over his head, “where Little Joe go?  If fall in well—should be in well—where could he go?”

Adam shook his head and sighed as he fell down into his father’s red leather chair next to the fireplace.  “I haven’t a clue, Hop Sing!  Why don’t you get some rest—you are worn out and you won’t be any good in the morning if you don’t get some sleep now.”

“Adam’s right, Hop Sing—you go on to bed,” Hoss nodded and patted the cook’s shoulder.  “There ain’t nothing we can do right now, but get some rest and maybe figure this out in the morning when we are all thinking clearer.”

“Okay–Hop Sing go—but you boys go sleep too!”  Hop Sing stated and turned towards his quarters off the kitchen.

“We will,” Hoss called after the cook and then sat down on the settee and stared over at Adam.  He could almost see the wheels of thought turning in his older brother’s mind, trying to figure out what had happened to their little brother.  “So?  What do you think, Adam?”

“I’ve mulled this over so much since I stood at the bottom of that well that my head is hurting.  Joe fell in that well, we all heard him—Pa saw him fall!  He wasn’t at the bottom and he wasn’t above anywhere either.”

“What are we gonna do?”

“Let’s get some sleep—or try to at least.  Then in the morning we’ll go back out there.  If we have to reopen that damn well we will.  I mean–if the kid’s dead—well–we at least need to bury him right–not leave him out there.”

“Don’t even think that, Adam!”  Hoss argued and stood from the settee.  “He ain’t dead, I know everyone out there tonight thinks so, but I don’t!  I know he’s alive—somewhere!”

Adam stood and put his hand on Hoss’ shoulder and read the pain in the big man’s pale blue eyes.  “I don’t want to believe he’s dead either, Hoss.  But, we do know he was hurt—broke his arm—and no telling what that last fall did to him.  I just don’t want you getting your hopes up.  But, I’m not giving up either.  One way or another we will find out what happened to Little Joe, I promise you.”

Hoss nodded and walked toward the front door.

“Hey?  Where you going?”  Adam called across to Hoss.

“I want to check on the horses—you go on to bed—I’ll be up in a while,” Hoss replied sullenly and pulled the door open and stepped outside.

Adam knew why his brother had left, in spite of the feigned concern for the animals, Hoss just needed to get out of the house.  He knew his brother well, and knew all the while, the big man just wanted to be alone to pray.

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

There was only one reason that Ben Cartwright had slept soundly that night and that was due to whatever had been in Doctor Martin’s sedative.  When the rays of sunlight pierced through his bedroom drapes Ben sat up in the bed, still feeling the effects of the drug.  He tried to gather his wits about him and it was then that grief and fear became evident and even stronger than it had been the night previous.  Aching with the movement, due to a long day and night spent crouched down screaming into the well, Ben walked to his water basin and washed off.  He then hurriedly changed his clothes and headed out of his room and down to the living room.  Surrounding the desk in his study stood both Adam and Hoss along with Jeff Bridges.  They all turned when they heard Ben call over towards them.

“What are you doing?”  Ben asked and made it to the bottom of the staircase.

“Jeff’s got some ideas, Pa.  He just got here, we were going to wake you in a minute,” Hoss replied.

Ben made it over to the study and stared down at the maps that were laid out on the top of his desk.  He looked up at the surveyor, confusion in his glare. “What are these maps about?”

“Once I got back home last night, all I could think of was what happened to Joe.  Don’t think I got any more sleep than your two sons here, Ben.  But, it did get me to wondering if perhaps we missed something,” Jeff explained.

“We missed something—we missed finding my son,” Ben said gruffly but then tried to ease up on his anger.  It was no-one’s fault that Joseph disappeared, and everyone who aided in the rescue tried their hardest to get to the boy.  Ben cleared his throat and put his hand on Jeff’s shoulder and said, “Sorry, I know we’re all worked up about this.  Now—what do you have in mind?”

“I got the survey maps—I was the one who, ten years ago, set the boundary posts at that homestead.  I was trying to figure out if there was something we hadn’t thought about yesterday.  If Joe didn’t come up out of the well—” Jeff was cut off before he could finish his statement.

“I sat there—right there–all day and all night–Joseph did not come up–that’s for sure!”

“I know, Ben–let me finish,” Jeff retorted.  Ben nodded for him to continue.  “He didn’t come up out of there, and he did not leave from the bottom—but looks like he might have made it down there,” Jeff pointed over to Adam.

“I didn’t show you this last night, Pa—it was hard enough,” Adam explained and handed his father the locket that he had found at the bottom of the well.  Ben held it in his palm, knowing full well that it was the picture of Marie inside and that Joe never went anywhere without it, “It could have fallen out of Joe’s pocket–or he could have dropped it once he made it to the bottom.”

“I still don’t know where you all are going with this,” Ben complained as he tucked the locket inside his vest.

“If he did make it to the bottom of that well, then maybe he tried to pull himself out–maybe there is something we didn’t see down there,” Jeff answered.

“Yeah–you know, Pa–like some kind of crevice he could’ve crawled onto?”  Hoss jumped in on the conversation, trying to sound hopeful.

“Even if that were the case—the cave in—there’s not much hope in getting to him now–is there?”  Ben asked and stared directly into Jeff’s eyes, hoping for an honest answer.

“I don’t know, Ben, but we can go back there—bring the crews back—and start digging to find out.”

Ben walked around the desk and sank down into his leather chair.  He pulled up one of the maps in front of him and stared at it.  “Normally there are all kinds of underground streams feeding the area, but what with the drought all that has dried up.  Maybe there are some natural underground tunnels in the area—you don’t think that maybe–” Ben trailed off starting to count on even the remotest scenarios of how his son might have survived.

“I don’t have a clue, Ben, but until we excavate that well we will never know.”

“I’ll go saddle the horses!”  Hoss exclaimed, renewed in spirit.

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

The three Cartwrights, accompanied by Jeff Bridges, rode out towards the well.  They had just passed over the border to the old homestead when Hoss shouted and stood in his stirrups and pointed to the east.

“Pa!  Look!”  Hoss hollered.

Ben pulled back on his reins, stopping Buck in mid-stride.  He peered over to where his son had motioned.  Through the dense brush, that surrounded the opening of a cave, he saw a form appear and then fall to the ground.  “Joe!”  Ben shouted and all four men turned their mounts and raced to the entrance of the cave.

His legs shaking and his heart racing in his chest, Ben dismounted and ran over to the boy who lay spread out on the ground.  Kneeling down the anxious father carefully rolled Joe onto his back and took a good look at him.  Joe was covered from his head to his feet with dirt and grime.  His clothes were tattered and torn and he looked as though he had been ripped to shreds by something.  Joe’s left arm formed a strange angle, showing the break that he had mentioned the day before.  Ben surmised at the time, that the boy had sustained all the injuries due to the fall down the well.  He could not comprehend how his son had fallen into the hole almost a mile away and had come out at the entrance to the cave.

Hoss hurried to retrieve his canteen from his saddle and ran it back over to his father.  Lifting the boy’s head gently Ben attempted to get Joe to take a drink.

“Come on, Son–take some of this—Joe? Can you hear me?”  Ben whispered to the boy.  He watched as Joe slowly blinked his eyes open.  He did not reply to his father’s words, but a slow moan passed from his lips.

“That fall must’ve torn him up, he’s bleeding all over!”  Adam said staring down at his little brother.

“Joseph?  Can you hear me?”  Ben continued, giving up now on trying to give his son some of the water.

Joe’s eyes did not appear to focus up on the man who held him tightly in his embrace.  The gaze he wore seemed blurred, but fear was prominent in his pupils.  “Devil’s hold—devil’s hold,” Joe muttered and then passed out, sinking down farther in his father’s arms.

Ben could feel the tears leaving his eyes as he looked up at the three men surrounding him.  He was so filled with joy to have found his son to be alive, but worried nonetheless by the condition they had found the boy to be in.  “Devil’s hold?”  Ben asked, confused.

“Here, Pa–let me get him,” Hoss whispered and stooped down.  Ben reluctantly relinquished Joe from his arms.

“Careful—careful of that arm—it looks like it’s a bad break,” Ben warned as Joe was lifted into the strong arms of his brother Hoss.

“I got him,” Hoss replied and started over towards his horse.

Adam and Jeff shared a relieved glance and followed Hoss and Ben over to the horses.  Ben quickly mounted his horse and called down to Hoss, “Hand him up to me—I’ll take him in.”

Hoss handed his little brother up to his father.  He knew that it might be a bit easier if either he or Adam held Joe on the way back to the Ponderosa, but he understood that their father needed to hold the boy to reassure himself that Joe was truly alive after the long ordeal of believing him to be dead.  Ben settled his youngest son onto the saddle and positioned himself behind the boy holding him upright with one of his hands and turning Buck’s reins with the other one.

“Adam, you go on into town and bring Doc out.  Jeff, please tell Roy that we found Joe.”

“I will, Ben, I still don’t know how the kid got over here–but guess he’ll tell us when he comes around!”  Jeff replied and turned his horse along with Adam towards town.

“We’re taking you home, Joseph, you hang on,” Ben whispered and sent Buck into motion.

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

Hop Sing’s mouth fell open as he pulled the door forward and saw Ben carrying in the seemingly lifeless body of Little Joe.  He followed the man up the stairs calling out words in rapid fashion; and all in his native tongue.  Hop Sing wanted to know how they found the boy and what all was wrong with him.  Ben carefully settled Joe onto his bed and finally turned to address the cook.

“Found him just outside of a cave a ways from that well.  Don’t have any idea how he got there and right now none of that really matters.  Joe’s hurt bad,” Ben paused and slowly unbuttoned what little bit remained of the boy’s shirt.  His face winced when he spotted the deep red scratches that covered his son’s chest.  Hop Sing stood to the side of his employer and gasped when he got a good look at the boy himself.

“Vely bad–vely bad cuts, boy need clean—wounds infect,” Hop Sing insisted.

“From what I’ve seen his whole body is like this, Hop Sing.  Go get Hoss–he’s putting the horses up—tell him to bring the tub up here, will you?  Best way to get all this dirt and grime off of Joe is to bathe his whole body.  We won’t know how bad off he is until we can see what’s under all this.”

“Hop Sing get Mister Hoss and heat water.  Be right back!”  Hop Sing replied and turned out of the room.

Ben bent down and began removing what remained of the rest of his son’s clothes and his boots.  Once the boy’s long-johns were freed from his body, Ben was surprised and confounded to see the same types of deep scratches to be on his legs as well as his arms, his face and his chest.  “What in the devil did this to you, Joseph?”  Ben whispered, though he knew the boy was too far under to answer his question.  The worried father covered his son with the blanket from the bottom of the bed, not wanting to put him under the sheets until he was cleansed.  Sinking down into the chair next to Joe’s bed Ben stared at the boy and his mind raced. ****I can imagine you would be bruised from that fall—I can see how you broke your arm, Joe.  But, why are you so cut up?  How did you get from that well all the way into the cave?  My God!  You look like you were in a fight with a bear or worse! *****Ben reached over and stroked the side of his boy’s face.  Joe’s hair was matted with sweat and grime, but at least he was there in front of his eyes.****you will be okay, I know you will.  We’ll get you all fixed up, Son.  Thank you, Lord, for giving me back my boy.****Ben dropped his head and allowed himself to let out his pent up emotion.

It didn’t take the team of Hop Sing and Hoss long to get the bath ready.  Ben was concerned about infection, just as Hop Sing had suggested early.  He knew that the boy had to be cleaned before he could be doctored.  With all of that in mind, both Hoss and Ben set the boy into the tub and went about the task of scrubbing him down.  It took a whole lot of soap and buckets of additional water, but twenty minutes later they pulled a much better looking young man from the tub.  Gone was the dirt the grime and some of the clotted blood from Joe’s body.  Hop Sing waited over by the bed where he had placed several towels down onto the comforter in preparation to dry the boy off.

“Let me take a look at him before you put that nightshirt on him!”  Came a voice from the doorway.  Hop Sing, Hoss, and Ben were surprised to see Doctor Martin having arrived so soon.

“Paul!”  Ben sang out, “How’d you make it out here this fast?”

“Ran into Adam on the way in, he’s out putting up the horses.  I was heading out your way to check on you actually, Ben.  It was a wonderful surprise to hear that you found the boy.  Now, let me get a good look and then you can get him all settled under the covers.”  Paul neared the bed and set his black bag on the night stand.  Ben and the others backed away from Joe to give the doctor some room.

Paul checked Joe’s pupils and the scratches on his face.  He moved down to the boy’s chest and then his arms.  He noted the compound fracture of Joe’s arm and then moved down to palpate his abdomen.  Paul never said a word, but instead grunted an “uh huh” here and there.  He made his way down the boy’s legs and feet and then turned to Hoss.  “Help me roll him over so I can get a look at the kid’s back, Hoss.  Just kinda turn him onto his side for a minute.”

Hoss helped steady his little brother so that the doctor could inspect Joe’s back.  Running the whole course of the boy’s back, from the nape of his neck all the way to his legs, were deep festered scratches.  In some areas the wounds were so deep that they were still bleeding, even after the bath.

“Whatcha think, Doc?  You think Joe done that going down the well?”  Hoss asked worriedly.  Ben stepped to the other side of the bed so he could also see what Hoss and Paul had observed.

Paul shook his head concerned and a bit bewildered.  “I’m sure some of these might have happened in his fall, but I don’t know—” Paul responded, not at all sure what had caused all the markings.

Ben’s face winced up again after getting a good look at his son’s back.  He was upset to see it just as badly damaged as the front of Joe’s body.  “Looks like an animal got to him—you think?”

“Ben, I can’t say–really–haven’t a clue.  Maybe once the boy comes around we will find out.  Has he said anything yet?”  Paul stopped and signaled Hoss to ease Joe into his former position.

“Muttered something when we first got to him, didn’t make any sense though,” Ben answered.

“What did he say?”  Paul asked, as he drew up the boy’s right wrist to check his pulse.

“Devil’s hold I think–must’ve been delirious,” Ben replied shaking his head.

“Joe gonna be okay, Doc?”  Hoss jumped back into the conversation as he saw the man reach into his medical bag.

“He’s a sick boy guess you both know that already.  It’s gonna take some patching up.  Guess we’d better start on this arm.  Hoss, I am gonna need you to assist me with this one.  We gotta snap his arm, and it’s going to require the two of us to do it,” Paul said and looked across the bed.  He could see Ben’s face, the man was very pale.  Paul knew that witnessing Joe’s devastating injuries had turned the man’s stomach already.  He knew how close Ben was to his youngest son and how much it was hurting him to see Joe in such ill repair.  “Ben, why don’t you go downstairs for a bit?”

“No,” Ben insisted and moved up to the head of the bed.  “I need to be here—I’m all right.  You and Hoss do what you need to but I am staying with Joseph.”  Ben let his hand fall down to the boy’s curly head of hair and pushed away a wet curl from his forehead.

“Okay, well, let’s get to it.  Hoss, you hold Joe’s upper arm, as rigid and straight as you can.  I have to snap this bone back into place.”

“I got it,” Hoss nodded and held onto his brother.  Though Hoss preferred to assist with the doctoring of animals, he knew his strength was needed to help with his little brother.  It still pained him to watch as Paul made his move.   The cracking and popping sounds of bone meeting bone was heard by everyone in the room and the set was accomplished.  Doctor Martin drew out his suture kit and threaded the long needle.  The bone had now been placed into its normal position but the exit it had made when Joe had fallen had punctured the skin.  Ten stitches later the wound had been properly closed, and the doctor set aside his instruments.

Paul carefully wrapped Joe’s left arm tightly.  He knew that he would be casting the arm with plaster later on that night in order to keep it fully immobile.  For now, though, he turned his attention to the rest of the boy’s injuries.  Opening a bottle of antiseptic, Doctor Martin poured the liquid onto two cloths.  He then passed one over to Ben, figuring the father now needed to feel like he was helping his boy.

“This is gonna be a bit tedious, Ben, but we have to clean these wounds out good.  You start on that side—up at his face–and I’ll do this side.  When we’ve coated him good, then we’ll turn him over and get his back wounds.  Ben nodded and began the slow process of tending the long scratches his son now wore all over his body.  There were a couple of places where both the doctor and the boy’s father found some serious bruising.  They were sure that those were from Joe’s plummet to the bottom of the well.  Both men, however, drew no conclusions about how Joe managed to get so badly scratched.  As Ben dabbed the antiseptic on his son’s chest he was almost positive that the marks had been made by some kind of an animal’s claws.  There were other places, as he worked his way farther down the boy’s body that Ben thought the scratches had been caused by a human’s fingernails, noting sets of five markings instead of only four.  Ben shook his head it just didn’t make any sense.  But, he reasoned, as they turned Joe onto his stomach and started on his back, nothing had made any sense since the boy disappeared the night before.  They still didn’t know how Joe had reappeared so far away from the well.  Ben hoped that Joe would soon come around and offer an explanation that would solve the mystery of his disappearance and how he had gotten so badly mauled.

Once the doctor had bandaged the areas which held the deepest gouges, he stood upright and sighed.  It was yet another miracle, one of many that he had witnessed over the nineteen years that Joe Cartwright had lived.  Though the boy before him was in pretty bad shape, Doc believed whole-heartedly that he would survive his injuries with the proper care.

“That’s about all we can do right now, Ben.  I am going to go back to my office for a while and come back out here later tonight to cast that arm.  Keep him warm and try to get some liquids down him once he regains consciousness,” Paul remarked as he closed his medical bag and turned towards the door.

“Joe’s gonna be all right, ain’t he, Doc?” Hoss asked the man, worry framing his words.

“I think so, Hoss.  Your little brother has been through the mill, that’s for sure.  But, barring any infection, I would say he should do nicely.  That arm has me a bit worried, but we will just have to wait and see.  He went an awfully long time before having it set I hope he regains full use of it–especially since it’s his dominant arm.”

Paul walked over to the door and noticed that somewhere during all the doctoring that Adam had quietly entered the room.  The doctor was a bit surprised by the eldest son’s quizzical stare directed towards the patient.  “Adam?  You okay?”

Adam shook himself from his daze and looked into the doctor’s eyes.  “Yeah–just standing here wondering what the heck happened to Joe.  Those markings–rather peculiar aren’t they?  I mean–they are all over the kid’s body!”

Paul patted the worried brother’s shoulder and tried for reassurance in his reply, “I guess we will know how it all happened just as soon as the boy wakes up.  For right now I think we should all just thank the good Lord that Joe is still with us.  After what we all thought last night—well—it’s a miracle!  I’ll see you all later.”

“Thanks, Paul,” Ben called over to his friend as he reached down and pulled the sheet and comforter up around Joe’s shoulders.  Paul waved and turned from the room.

Adam walked closer to stand next to his brother Hoss.  “There’s something awfully strange about this,” Adam began and then noticed his father’s glare directed his way.

“Doc is right, all we should be doing right now is giving thanks that your little brother lived through his ordeal.  There’s nothing to be gained from worrying about how he got hurt,” Ben insisted and settled once again into the chair next to the bed.

“You think a bear could’ve done this, Hoss?”  Adam persisted as he touched Joe’s cheek and noted the length of the scratches.

“Well, there could’ve been something in that there cave–” Hoss began his reply only to have his father break in.

“Enough!  You two go on and get some rest.  I know neither of you slept last night. Since I am the only one who got some sleep—though it was forced on me—I will stay with Joe until Doc comes back later to cast his arm,” Ben was adamant with his orders.  He didn’t really want to hear all of the hypothesis over what might have gotten a hold of Joe.  He was also worried that if his youngest should wake up and hear what they were saying it might cause him more harm or fear.  Ben couldn’t shake the memory of the way Joe had stared blankly into his eyes and muttered the strange words before passing out.  He knew that whatever had harmed his boy, whether it was the fall, or perhaps something even more terrifying, was still holding on in Joe’s mind keeping him from coming back to his family.

“Okay—we’ll go, Pa,” Adam replied softly.  He knew why his father had insisted on quelling the conversation.  Looking over into the anguished brown eyes, Adam saw how upset Ben had become due to the speculation.  The last thing he wanted to do was to make his father any more stressed than he already was.  “Call us if you need us,” Adam said as he signaled Hoss to follow him out of the room.  Hoss put his hand on Adam’s arm preventing his move down the hallway.  They had closed the door to Little Joe’s bedroom to give both their brother and father some privacy, but, now Hoss had some things he wanted to say.

“What were you getting at in there, Adam?”

“Nothing—just wanted your opinion—you know about these things more than I do.”

“What things?”

“You know—animals—what kinds of wild animals might be around that area–you hunted there lots of times.  Both you and Joe for that matter!  You ever seen those kinds of marks before?”  Adam asked and stared into his brother’s eyes hoping to see a sign of recognition in them.

Hoss shook his head bewildered and leaned against the door to his own bedroom.  “Naw—don’t think I’ve ever seen marks like those.  I mean, not exactly like a grizzly you know?  Don’t know anything else that would make those kinds of scratches—not without at least some teeth marks somewhere along with them.  I mean—any wild animal that would claw at a prey like that would try to rip it apart with its teeth too.  There’s no bite marks on the kid, I know —I helped Pa scrub him down.  He’s got some bad bruises—but I would think they were from the fall–just like that busted arm.  But, it’s got me bumfuzzled for real, Brother!  If there’s something out there in that cave or in the woods that did that to Little Joe–then it’s something I ain’t never run up against!”

Adam felt a chill run down his spine just thinking on what his brother had said.  If Hoss didn’t have a clue, then it really was a mystery.  Adam hoped that their little brother would come back around soon, to tell them all what happened and dismiss all the horrible thoughts going around in their minds.

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

Ben noticed just a short while after Hoss and Adam had left the room that Joe began to stir in the bed.  The boy was lying on his stomach with his left arm propped up with a pillow to try and keep it immobilized.  Joe’s face was the first actual movement it winced up as though the boy was stuck in some kind of horrible dream.  Next, both of his legs began to move, as though he was trying to pull himself to a crawling position, and then Joe’s arms began to thrash about.  Ben jumped to his feet quickly to prevent his son from causing any further harm to his battered left arm.

“Hold on there, Joseph!  Settle down–it’s okay,” Ben tried to bring the boy around as he locked both of his hands onto Joe’s shoulders to prevent further movement.  Joe continued to thrash about and attempted to pull up from the bed.  “Stay down, Son, you’re hurt!”  Ben protested a bit louder, hoping that Joe would finally come around and realize what he was doing.

Joe battled his father, unaware that he was home and safe in his own bed.  In his mind he was still writhing in the tortuous crevice trying to free himself.  The sights and sounds and agony would not let go and he was left with only the will to live and escape the horrors that had pulled him into the cavern.  Joe could feel his skin tearing from the demonic claws and fought to break away from them.

“No!  Joseph!  No!”  Ben shouted still trying to keep his son on the bed, but the boy was fighting his efforts.  Wrapping his arms around his son’s waist, the terrified father struggled with all his might to hold the boy down.  Ben was confounded by his youngest son’s strength.  It was as though he was trying to hold down the two hundred and eighty pound Hoss, and not the much lighter Joe.  “Hoss!  Adam!  Come up here!”  Ben bellowed, knowing he needed reinforcements.

Joe continued to fight his father, unknowingly.  He had succeeded in knocking Ben to the floor with one frenzied motion.  It was then that both of the brothers burst into the room.  Ben pulled himself up from where he had landed next to the chair and his eyes showed his oldest sons the fear they contained.  Hoss was the first one over to Joe and he grabbed the boy before he could take the lunge off the bed.

“Hold on there, Short Shanks—you just calm down, Boy, you need to rest,” Hoss tried his best to coax his little brother into settling down, but Joe was not cooperating.

“Careful with that arm, Hoss,” Ben warned as he witnessed the battle between his sons.

“Dad gum it, simmer down,” Hoss raised his voice a tad higher when Joe managed to sock him with his right fist, catching the big man under his chin.  “This is like trying to wrestle a wild cat, Pa—how’d he get this strong all of a sudden?”  Hoss called out and Ben moved in closer.

“I’ll go get Doc back out here—Joe needs to be sedated before he hurts himself,” Adam said and hurried out of the room.

Ben moved towards the hold that Hoss had on his little brother.  It was only then that the boy opened his eyes and stared at them both.

“Devil’s hold—devil’s hold!”  Joe shouted and then started to lose strength.  Ben caught the boy as he fell back towards the head of the bed.  Ben pulled Joe’s head up to rest on his shoulder and held the boy tightly, waiting for his breathing to slow down.

“What did this to you, Joseph?  What are you trying to tell us?” Ben whispered and watched as Joe gave in to the embrace and his head fell to the side against his father’s chest.  Slowly the terror filled gaze lifted from the hazel eyes and Joe passed out once more.

Hoss sank down into the side chair as he watched his father trying to console his little brother.  Ben held Joe in his arms and rocked him back and forth, all the while distraught over what they had just witnessed.

“I barely got him down that time, Pa—the kid had the strength of ten men.  What in the world is going on?”  Hoss whispered.

Ben stroked the hair back off of Joe’s forehead, hoping to lull him into a more peaceful sleep.  “I have no idea, Hoss.  Whatever it was, it scared the hell out of him, that’s for sure.  I know that fall had to be traumatic for the boy, but there’s something else—something else that’s scaring him like this.  And this thing he keeps saying—devil’s hold—now what could that be about?”

Hoss turned pensive for a few moments and then suddenly remembered where he had heard those two particular words before.  “Pa—devil’s hold—that does ring a bell—I just realized where I heard that before!  It was a few years back—on a hunting trip Joe and me took–way up into the north woods.”

Ben’s attention had now been peaked, he looked over at Hoss for a badly needed answer, “What’s that got to do with devil’s hold?”

“Joe and me–we met this trapper feller–can’t rightly remember his name—have to think on it a minute.  But, he told us a couple stories–me and Joe around the campfire you know?  One of them stories was about something called the devil’s hold.”

“What was it about?”

“Pa–it’s all a bit hazy–you know it’s been several years–but I do know he said something about a devil’s hold—I think it was a pit or something.”

Ben looked down at the slumbering boy and then back over to Hoss.  “You think Joe’s got something stuck in his head about that story?  Why now?  Why after all these years?”

Hoss shrugged his shoulders and shook his head.  “I don’t know, Pa—it might not even have nothing to do with what’s wrong with the kid.  But, maybe –maybe if Joe don’t come around soon we might ought to find out about the story.  You reckon?”

Ben sighed he had no clue as to what to do for his son at that point.  He only knew that the boy had been scared to death about something and needed to get it out in order to deal with it better.  It did make him wonder, though, how Joe could suddenly have the strength to throw him off the bed, and almost out wrestle his brother Hoss.  Something was bad wrong, that was for sure.  “Let’s talk to Doc when he gets here.  He needs to cast this arm before Joe does more damage the next time he comes around.  Hopefully, Joe will come back to us and be able to tell us what he meant–but–if he doesn’t we might just have to go find that trapper.”

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

Doctor Martin made his reappearance at the Ponderosa a short time after Joe had fallen back off to sleep.  Adam had filled the physician in on how wild his brother had acted earlier and Paul was getting more concerned than he had been originally.

“Hoss, I want you to brace Joe’s shoulders just in case he comes around while we are applying the plaster.  Hold on to him good now, okay?”  Paul asked as he laid all the instruments and materials on the left side of the bed.

“I got him,” Hoss answered and locked his little brother in his massive grip.  Joe was propped up against a stack of pillows, but was still unconscious.

Paul set about the task of casting his patient’s arm, all the while trying to think of something he could do to pull the boy out from under the depths of confusion.  He could see by the expressions on the Cartwright family’s faces that they were all worried about something worse than Joe’s arm at the time.

“There—that ought to do it—let’s just give it a little time to dry and you can move, Hoss,” Paul stated and began to remove the extra towels from the bed which had been used to aid with the set.

“Paul—he still hasn’t come around—you know—well other than the time at the cave when we first found him–and earlier when he was so combative.  What are we going to do?”  Ben tried to get his point across, but was freezing on the words due to his fear of what the answer might entail.

“As soon as that cast is dry I’m gonna try something, Ben.  So, you and Adam might just as well go downstairs until I call you.  Hoss and I have it fine for right now.”

“Come on, Pa—let’s go and get some coffee for everyone,” Adam whispered.  He was hoping that his father would leave the room for a little while to regroup his emotional state.  It wasn’t hard to see that Ben was at his wit’s end worrying about the youngest son.

“Okay—be back in a few minutes,” Ben replied and shot one last glance towards Joe and turned out of the bedroom with Adam.

When Doctor Martin was fully confident that Joe’s cast was thoroughly dry, he turned towards the family to address what he wanted to do.  “Ben, I’m gonna bring Joe back around.  I’ll try to do this slowly.  We have got to get some fluids in him or risk dehydration.  I don’t know if the boy will battle us like you said he did earlier, so we’d all best be prepared.”  Paul stopped and looked back over at Hoss, who was still up by the head of the bed.  “Let go of his shoulders, but stay close–just in case,” Paul instructed and reached inside his medical bag.  He pulled out his bottle of smelling salts and readied to waft the cork under Joe’s nose.  “Here we go,” the doctor said and made one quick pass underneath his patient’s nostrils.

Joe coughed and his head shifted from side to side, attempting to rid himself of the acrid smelling medicine.  Paul began to lightly slap Joe’s face and call out to him.  “Joe–come on –time to wake up!  Open those eyes, Joe, come on—you can do it,” Paul coaxed the young man further.

Ben stepped closer to the bed, as did Adam.  They had no idea what to expect now from Joe, but did notice that his eyelids had started to quiver.  Paul spoke again, the same words as before and continued to urge Joe toward consciousness.

All of a sudden, and with such an abrupt motion that it made everyone else in the room jump, Joe sat up straight and screamed at the top of his lungs.  “Devil’s hold!  Devil’s hold!”

“Get a grip on him, Hoss!”  Ben sang out knowing Joe was about to bolt from the bed, just as he had tried to earlier.

Hoss grabbed his little brother’s shoulders and held on tightly.  “I got him,” Hoss stated firmly.

Paul still sat on the bed next to Joe and attempted to check the boy’s pupils.  The hazel eyes all at once focused in on the lamp that the doctor pulled up closer to his face.  Joe’s right hand shot towards the lamp, trying to knock it out of Paul’s hand as he continued to shriek,” Devil’s hold!”

The doctor was just barely able to keep the kerosene lantern from dumping onto the floor.  He moved to replace it on the night stand, wondering why the flame from the light had scared the boy even more than he already was.  “I put it down, Joe, it’s okay now—relax—settle back–” Paul attempted to quiet Joe again.

Ben moved around to the head of the bed and insisted on switching positions with Hoss.  He hoped that if Joe knew that his pa was there with him, that maybe he would know he was really safe from whatever held his mind in its grip.  Hoss reluctantly moved and allowed Ben to reach for the slender shoulders that were shaking now.

“Best hold on good, Pa, he’s really strong!”  Hoss exclaimed as he moved to stand next to Adam at the bottom of the bed.

“Joseph?  Joseph–can you hear me?  It’s Pa—you are safe—can you hear me, Boy?”  Ben calmly spoke to his son, hoping to see some form of recognition in his eyes when he turned the boy’s face towards him.  Ben wasn’t sure if it was his own imagination or whether it was just wishful thinking, but for one brief second he thought that Joe’s eyes softened like he knew he was looking at his father now.  Then the fear was back as strong as before, and Joe reached up, locking his right hand onto Ben’s collar and screamed, “Devil’s hold!”

Ben looked pathetically over at the doctor and shook his head at a loss over what to do or say now.  Paul reached over and poured a glass of water from the pitcher on the night stand and handed it over to Ben.  “See if you can get him to drink, at least it seems like he knows who you are–unlike the rest of us!”

Ben lifted the rim of the glass up to Joe’s trembling lips.  “Drink this, Son, you have to get some fluids in you.”

Joe looked down into the glass as his father lifted it to make him swallow.  The water simply dribbled down the boy’s chin as if Joe had no clue as to what the man expected him to do with the liquid.  Paul saw Ben’s difficulty and handed him a towel to clean up the wasted water.

“Keep trying, Ben.  We have to get him to drink,” the doctor insisted.

“Come on, Joseph—let’s get this done now—open your mouth—that’s it–now swallow.”

Joe filled his mouth with the liquid and finally nature took its course and the water slowly trickled down his throat.  Ben sighed relieved to see it had worked that time.  Joe still clutched his father’s shirt in his right fist and would not let go.  “Devil’s hold,” Joe said, but this time in a whisper, to the man who wiped the excess water off from around the boy’s mouth.

“I don’t understand, Son—what do you mean?  What are you trying to say?  What is this devil’s hold?”  Ben asked, internally exasperated, but trying to control his outward appearance.

Joe’s grasp on his father’s collar slowly loosened and his arm fell to the side of his body.  Closing his eyes wearily Joe whispered the two words one more time before falling back underneath the curtain of sleep, “Devil’s hold.”

“Shock,” Paul stated and stood from the bed, “and a rather bad case of it, I am afraid.  Guess there’s nothing much we can do for the boy right now.  Just keep him as calm as possible and hope that it gradually eases up on him.  Keep someone with him round the clock, Ben.  I will check back tomorrow.  Do your best to keep getting some fluids into him.  When I come back tomorrow we will see to those scratches to make sure they haven’t infected.”

Ben looked over to where Paul was now closing his medical bag, readying to leave.  “Do you think, perhaps, that the boy injured his head in the fall?”

Paul sighed wearily and shook his head before responding.  “I don’t see any evidence of that, Ben.  I checked him over pretty good.  Until we can talk to the boy–so that he understands and can respond, we won’t know what has caused this trauma.”

“Thanks for coming out, Paul,” Ben said and tried to muster a smile to send the doctor on his way.

“Don’t get discouraged, see you all tomorrow,” the doctor replied and left the bedroom.

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

Hop Sing forcibly insisted that Ben and the two oldest sons leave Joe’s room a little while after the doctor’s departure.  He could tell that they all were emotionally spent and decided that he alone would watch Joe for a while.  After taking the time to set out a hearty dinner, Hop Sing changed places with Ben and shooed the others out of Joe’s bedroom so that they could eat and relax some.

Ben and his two sons settled down into the living room after eating their meal.  There was a long silence that hung over the room, each man trying to think of what the next move should be.  It was Hoss who finally spoke up first.

“That trapper—the one I told you about, Pa?  Maybe Adam and me could go out and find him.  This late in the season he’s probably up in the north woods.  What do you think?”  Hoss asked.

“What trapper? What are you talking about?”  Adam jumped into the conversation.

“Sorry—we were so busy with Joe—Hoss remembered that he and Joe ran into this trapper a few years back.  Hoss said that the man told them both a story about something called the devil’s hold.  He thinks maybe that’s what is haunting your little brother’s mind for some reason.”

“What was the story?”  Adam asked.

“I can’t remember exactly–that’s why I thought–well you and me could go and find him.  Think his name was Flint—traps around these parts and over by Truckee meadow too.”

“Not Flint Buckley?”  Adam replied and stared over at Hoss.

“Yeah—that was him.  You know him?”

“Yeah, but I always thought he was a couple bricks shy of a load myself,” Adam remarked and then saw the frown set in on his father’s face.  “I mean—I could be wrong mind you–but I remember hearing some of his tales over at the Bucket of Blood years ago.  He would fall in there about three times a year and have stranger stories each time.”

“You think you can find him?”  Ben asked his eldest son, knowing that the trapper might hold their only clue as to what was wrong with Joe.

“That won’t be a problem–looks like luck is on our side for a change!”  Adam smiled over at his father and stood and headed towards the credenza.  Hoss stood and approached his brother as he began to strap on his holster.

“Huh?  Where you going?”

“I just saw old Flint in town today—when I went to fetch the doctor back here.  Now, he might need a bit of sobering up by the time we get to him–but I bet you we can persuade him to come out here.”

Hoss did not respond in words, instead he reached for his holster and his hat.  “Be back soon, Pa!” he called over to his father as he reached for the door.  Both Adam and Hoss left for Virginia City.

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

The grandfather clock in the living room chimed eleven times and Ben stood from his chair and stretched.  He had unknowingly fallen asleep due to the long exhausting day and the worry over what was going on with Joe.  Hearing the sound of boot steps coming towards the front door, Ben headed across the room to find out if it was his sons returning from town at last.

Pulling the door forward Ben smiled to see that his sons had not come back empty handed.  Walking towards their father with Flint sandwiched between them were Hoss and Adam.

“Sorry it took us a bit longer than we thought,” Adam spoke out and directed the trapper towards the settee.

Ben stared over at Hoss concerned with the appearance of the man they had brought with them.  Hoss shrugged his shoulders helplessly.  The trapper looked to be pretty intoxicated, and his clothes were crumpled from excessive wear.  Ben tried to dismiss the man’s appearance, knowing that he had lived out in the wilderness his whole life and was not all that concerned with cleanliness.

“Nice of you all to invite me!”  Flint called over to Ben, as the patriarch resumed his former position by the fireside.  “I ‘member your kids—good boys—all of ‘em,” Flint continued.

“I’ll go bring in some coffee, we had some in town—but it looks like we could all use some more,” Adam winked over to his father.  Ben nodded, knowing his eldest boy was trying to sober the man up more so they could get the information out of him better.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Buckley, I’m Ben Cartwright,” Ben addressed their guest and shook his hand.

“Call me Flint—everyone else does,” the man insisted.  “I always heard of this place and you of course—you have a fine spread, Ben!”

Ben watched with a pained expression as the trapper stretched out his dirty boots onto the coffee table in front of him.  If it had been Joseph, Ben would have had a pure fit, but the man there before his eyes was obviously not use to indoor living so he let the boots stay where they were for the time being.

“Thank you, we are glad you came to visit.  Hoss told me you hunt up in the north woods—and over around the Truckee—you live up there?”  Ben asked to be polite, though all he really wanted to hear about was what in the heck a devil’s hold was.

“Yeah, got me a lean-to right by Snake Crick, not much to speak of–but I like it fine.  Don’t get much company up that way–kinda nice to sit and talk to city folk once in a while.”

Ben held back his mirth at being called “city folk” but he guessed that having a regular roof over their heads and clean clothes on their backs qualified the Cartwrights as such, in Flint’s backwoods mind.

Adam set the tray down on the coffee table a short time later, being careful to avoid the man’s boots still planted there.  He poured their guest a cup and handed it over to him and then did the same for his father, his brother, and himself.

“Guess I need this all right–been partying a bit too much these last two days—and the older I get the more that snake bite remedy bothers me in the morning,” Flint laughed and slurped his coffee.  The sound of the man consuming his coffee caused the three Cartwrights to wince up their faces, but they quickly recovered so they could start in on their questions.

“So?  Why’s exactly did you folks want to see me?  Your boys just said you wanted to invite me over and talk.”

Ben cleared his throat he wanted to gather his thoughts to approach the subject as delicately as he could.  “My two youngest sons ran into you a few years back,” Ben began and set down his coffee, “they were very fond of the stories you tell.  Adam here, says he’s heard some of your tales as well, and found them most interesting.”

“Sure—I gots a million of ‘em!”  Flint called out and handed Adam his cup for a refill.  “I been around a long time, seen many things—been up to the Oregon territory and all the way down to Mexico!  I’ve run into a lot of folks, all different and all with a story to tell me.  You all want to hear one?”

“Well, we sure would,” Hoss replied and shared a quick glance over to his father to get the go-ahead.  Ben nodded and Hoss continued.  “How about telling my Pa and my brother the story you told Joe and me the last time we seen you?  You know—something about a devil’s hold?”

Flint dropped his cup from his shaking hand and the coffee spilled onto the coffee table and down onto the carpet underneath it.  The three Cartwrights were surprised that the man seemed so rattled by just the mention of the story.

“Sorry—didn’t mean to make a mess–” Flint apologized as Adam made his way back into the room after grabbing a kitchen towel to mop up the spill.

“No problem–no problem at all,” Ben said and helped his son.  “Go bring Flint in another cup, Son,” Ben called to Adam as he headed back into the kitchen.

Filling the new coffee cup, Adam passed it over to Flint and waited for the man to explain.

“Thank you, sorry—this sure is some fine coffee,” Flint was doing his best to stall and the other men in the room knew it.

“You do remember that story, don’t you, Flint?”  Hoss asked once more.

Flint sighed and shifted uncomfortably on the settee.  “I got plenty of stories—how about I tell you all about the Paiute ghost?  Now that was a story!”

Ben looked directly at the trapper and replied, “If it’s all the same to you—we’d really like to hear about the devil’s hold.  Hoss couldn’t really remember the story—we were hoping you could tell it to us.”

Flint stared intently into Ben’s questioning eyes and frowned.  “Just ‘cause I’m from the woods don’t mean I ain’t got no smarts.  You all ask me out here, in the middle of the night, and then want me to tell you that story.  You’d all better tell me why or I’m leaving.”

“What’s wrong, Flint?  Some reason you don’t want to tell it to us?”  Adam asked innocently.  He could read the fear on the trapper’s face that had not been there before the mention by Hoss of the devil’s hold.

“Yeah I got me some reasons—a whole pack of ‘em—now you want to spill the beans or do I leave?”

Ben nodded towards the man, “We weren’t trying to rile you, Flint, and yes–you are right–we specifically asked you to come out here to tell us that story.  We meant no harm, and I am sorry that we didn’t come right out with our intentions.  Something has happened to my youngest son, Joseph.  You remember the boy?”

“Yeah, remember him real well, a skinny kid—got a bright smile and a strange laughter!”  Flint recalled his meeting with Joe years earlier.  “What’s wrong—what’s happened to him?”

“He fell into an old well the other day Joe was down there for a long while.  We dug another hole and tunneled across to get to him–but he was gone.  It was as if he vanished completely.  We had just about given him up for dead—but he showed up the next day–coming out of a cave a mile away.  We have no idea how he got there—and the boy can’t tell us.  All he keeps saying—over and over again–is two words; devil’s hold,” Ben finished his recital and noticed the look of recognition on the trapper’s face.

“You got anything a little stronger than this here coffee in the house?”  Flint asked, his voice strained with fear.  “I’ll tell you what I know–but only if I have something to settle my nerves!”

Hoss walked over to his father’s study and opened the liquor cabinet.  He brought a decanter of brandy with him over to the trapper.  Flint held out his coffee cup and Hoss poured the expensive liquor, filling it up to the rim.

“Thanks,” Flint nodded and took a few long sips and then looked back over to Ben, who was waiting as patiently as he could.  “Your boy—did he have any scratches on him?”

The three Cartwrights exchanged surprised glances.  “Yes, Joseph was covered with deep scratches—all over him—deep gouges!”  Ben replied, now starting to believe the man might truly know something about what had happened.

“What about the sign—does he have the sign too?”  Flint continued.

“What sign?”  Hoss asked.

“You know—that star thing—don’t remember what it was called—had five points.”

“A pentacle?” Adam jumped into the conversation again.

“Guess so, think that’s the word.  Does he have it?”

Ben shrugged his shoulders.  “No, just bruises and scratches, and is in shock.  You better tell us what you know so we can figure out what has happened,” Ben said getting a bit upset now.

“Okay–okay I’ll tell you folks.  I’ll tell you what I heard then I’ll tell you what I saw myself,” Flint stood now and started pacing in front of the fireplace.  All eyes fell to him, eagerly waiting for the tale that was about to be finally revealed to them.

“I first heard about the devil’s hold back when I was trapping up in Oregon. There’s a couple different stories about this thing, and they all vary just a tad. But, basically what we are talking about is a hole—a hole in the ground–that when someone falls into it they end up being pulled into the devil’s hold.”

“And what is the devil’s hold–what does it mean?”  Hoss fired back at the man.  He could just barely remember what the trapper had told him years ago about the story.

“Well, it means a couple of things—one of course—that the devil himself gets a hold of you.  You know–devil’s hold?  Well, then some folks take it as a place, like an opening to Hades itself!  There’s demons, fire, you know—the whole Bible thing!”

“That’s preposterous!”  Ben stood and shook his head.  He didn’t want to even think about such a possibility.

“You believe in God don’t you?”  Flint argued, turning to face Ben head on.

“Of course I do!”

“Well–then—you gotta believe in the devil too!  And this is a fact, not just a legend, Ben.  I ought to know—I’ve seen what happens to a man when he falls into the devil’s hold,” the trapper announced, and Ben could now read in his eyes that he was being totally honest.

“Tell me,” Ben whispered and sank down into his chair.

“Well, you know–told you that I heard about this—many years before I actually witnessed it for myself.  Heard all kinds of stories about folks falling into holes—all over—supposedly these kinds of holes are all over the earth.  They are supposed to be entryways into Hell.  Once a feller falls in he never comes out the same as he was.  Devil grabs him, tortures him and tries to grab his soul,” Flint explained as he helped himself to more of the brandy.

“You said you knew someone—who had fallen into this devil’s hold thing?  Who?” Hoss asked.

“Reckon I left that part out when I told you and your little brother the story a few years back.  I just told you boys about the devil’s hold but I never told you about Hutch.”

“Hutch?” Ben questioned the man further.

“He was my cousin, was also my best friend.  Like a brother he was!  We grew up together and from the time we wuz kids we trapped varmints together all over this country.  One day, it’s been like un to ten years now—he fell in a hole.  It was over not far from Lake Tahoe–over on the California side ‘bout two miles from the shore we wuz that day.  I heard him shout and then he was gone!  I found the hole all right–even sent down a rope.  But, nothing—and no way to get him out either.  I got me some fellers from the closest logging camp to help me rescue Hutch.  Never found him.  I went down a rope all the way to the bottom–no Hutch no where!  So, I give him up for dead.  Then, ‘bout two nights later there he come–wandering into my camp.  He was all scratched up–looked like he had been in a fight with a mountain lion or something!  I helped doctor him up—bad gashes on him I tell you!  But, they didn’t rightly look like any regular claw marks I’d ever seen.  And believe me—being a trapper I know my varmints!  Worst of all though, he never talked—not for the first couple of days at least.”

“What happened when he finally started to talk–did he tell you what happened?”  Ben asked hopefully.

Flint shook his head sadly, “No sir—he could only say two words—devil’s hold.  He said it once–he said it a million times.  Now I was so worried about him—I had to force him to eat to drink–you name it!  It was like he was an empty shell, you know?  I even packed up and took him into Carson City–to that doctor there.  He just said he couldn’t see nothing really wrong with him.  But, when he done his examination—well that’s when he saw the sign.  That pentacle thing you just called it, Adam.  Doc there was plumb spooked by it too, I tell you!  Said he thought it was the sign of the devil.”

“What happened—I mean to Hutch?”  Hoss asked, horrified by all he had been told.

“Well, I decided I’d just take care of him–you know—he was my partner and my kin.  So, I watched him all the time.  He weren’t much good to help trap no more–but I brought him along with me—afraid to leave him alone you know?  He never spoke anything else—not till he died.  Just kept saying “devil’s hold”.”

“He died?”  Ben choked out.

“Yeah—walked out of camp one night–real late like—I was sound asleep.  Found him the next morning,” Flint paused again and hoisted down another swallow of the brandy.  Everyone could tell that he was still very hurt over the loss of his friend, even ten years later.

“Found him?  What happened to him?”  Ben urged the man on.

“Done a Judas—went out and took off his belt and hung himself on a tree.  Sad–sad thing.  Never get over it—wish I had never closed my eyes that night.  Blame myself for it.”

Ben reached over and poured some brandy into his own coffee cup.  His nerves were now as shot as the trapper.  He looked over at his two sons and saw how their faces went pale after hearing the story Flint had just told.

“Sorry to shake you all like I done—but if your boy fell into the devil’s hold–ain’t nothing that nobody can do for him now, sorry to say,” Flint remarked.

“What were you saying about that sign?  Your cousin Hutch—where’d he have it?”  Adam spoke up, not knowing if the man before them all was out of his head or not.

“Didn’t see it right away—he wuz cut up so bad–guess it kinda blended in between the bruises and scratches.  Doc spotted it.   It was under the hair on the back of his neck.  Wouldn’t come off neither—I tried to scrub it off you know?  I thought that if I could make that sign disappear that Hutch would come back to his right mind.”

“Joseph doesn’t have that mark—we doctored him and didn’t see it,” Ben replied adamantly.

“If he’s been in the devil’s hold—he’ll have it–trust me!”  Flint argued and then stood and headed for the door.  “Sorry—all this talk has got me kinda shaken—think I’ll just head on back to town.”

Ben strode over towards the door briskly before the man could leave.  “I’m sorry that we upset you, Flint.  I’m also sorry about your cousin.”

“It’s okay—just sorry I can’t help you folks.  There ain’t nothing to do–once Satan grabs you–you’re finished,” the man said and then felt bad that he had been so blunt.  “I’ll say a prayer for your boy.”

Ben opened the door and let the man move out onto the porch.

“Thanks for coming,” Ben called as he watched the trapper hurry to his horse.  Turning back into the living room the worried father noticed the looks on his son’s faces.  “So?  You believe anything that man said?”  He asked as he moved over towards the two of them.

“Don’t know, Pa—sure sounded a whole lot like what happened to Little Joe—I mean the scratches—the disappearance—then Joe muttering the same words and all,” Hoss answered shaking his head.

“And you, Adam?”  Ben shot a look at his eldest and most logical son.

Adam shrugged his shoulders and replied, “Legends are all based on some truths–but not everything matches.  Joe doesn’t have that mark on him–for one thing.  Maybe the story just got stuck in the kid’s head—and falling down that well—it might have made Joe think about it again.”

Ben sighed and looked up towards the top of the staircase.  He had mixed emotions over what the trapper had said.  Ben was a logical person however he had seen his share of strange things in the past.  In fact, a whole lot of things that were a bit odd, and a great deal of them had concerned his youngest child.  “I am gonna go spell Hop Sing.  You both go to bed.  We’ll discuss this in the morning.  For all we know your brother might come around by then,” Ben called over to his sons and tried to sound as hopeful as he could muster at the present time.  He slowly ascended the stairs wanting to be with Joe.

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

Hop Sing had spent a great deal of time with Joe that evening.  He was concerned for the boy’s well being.  Always just as over-protective as Joe’s father, Hop Sing prayed for the boy to come around and be as he had been before his fall.  The cook turned in his chair when he spotted the weary father entering the room.

“I’ve got it now, Hop Sing.  You need to go to bed,” Ben smiled and patted the Oriental’s shoulder.

Hop Sing relinquished his chair to Ben and said, “Little Joe no come to yet–Hop Sing vely worried.”

“He will—just have to give it a little time.  Now go on–you’ve had a long day.”

“Come and get Hop Sing if you need to,” Hop Sing insisted and left the room closing the door behind him.

Ben sank down in the chair and reached for Joe’s right hand.  He found himself to be dwelling on everything Flint had said downstairs.  Ben turned the boy’s arm over and pulled up his night shirt sleeve to take a good look.  Feeling a bit awkward, Ben decided he had to see for himself, just to be sure there wasn’t any kind of sign anywhere he hadn’t looked.  Pulling down the comforter and sheet Ben checked the front of the boy’s legs.  Everything looked normal.  He then checked Joe’s stomach and his chest, and still there was no sign.  All Ben could see was pale skin and the long scratches that marked his boy.  Then came the inspection of the neck and shoulders.  Staring pensively Ben wondered if he should turn his son over or not.  He was very concerned with waking the boy and perhaps him trying to bolt from the bed.  Slowly and carefully, trying his best to not jostle the cast on Joe’s left arm, Ben rolled his son onto his right side.  Propping Joe with pillows in front of him, Ben continued his search for the sign the trapper had mentioned.  He pulled back the curly hair which hung down past the nape of the boy’s neck and was relieved that there was no mark on his son found there.  Ben took a good look at Joe’s back and moved down to his legs and feet.  The worried father shook his head, feeling rather idiotic for even thinking that his son had in some way been marked with a demonic sign.  There were no markings anywhere other than the bruises and deep gouges.

Ben decided to leave Joe in his current position on his side, for fear of waking him if he moved the boy again.  Pulling up the sheet and comforter, Ben brushed his hand through the boy’s hair and whispered, “Sorry, Son—I had to be sure.  You rest easy.”

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

It had been a long week since Joe had been brought back from the cave and his family had no luck in finding anything more about what had happened to him when he had fallen into the well.  Doctor Martin was very confused about the scratches which the boy still wore, none of which appeared to be healing in any way.  They weren’t infecting either, the wounds looked just as fresh as they had that first day Joe had been found.  The doctor had never seen anything like it before, not in his thirty- plus years as a medical man.  Paul had spoken in length with the other Cartwrights and had even heard their rendition of the story that the trapper had told.  He did not believe a word of it.  It wasn’t as if Paul had not seen strange things in the past, most especially dealing with his most often patient; Joe Cartwright.  And, it wasn’t that Paul did not believe in the existence of the devil either.  It was the fact that he thought that Joe’s condition was more of a medical one, and not one based on the supernatural.

Standing in the living room of the ranch house, Paul addressed Ben after he had once again examined Joe.  He could read in the man’s eyes the concern and exhaustive worry that had taken over.  “Now, Ben, don’t go getting frustrated again!  Joe could snap out of this at any time.”

“And what about his wounds?  Why aren’t they healing?  And–he still isn’t talking!”  Ben protested shaking his head and pacing back and forth.

“These things take time,” Paul responded and put his hand on the man’s shoulder for comfort.

“These things?  What are we dealing with here?  You admit that you have no idea what happened to Joseph—and I have no idea!”

“Ben—you are just worried about that story that Flint told you.  Now, you have to put that out of your mind for your own good!  Nothing’s to be gained from believing that crazy story.”

“Was it crazy, Paul?”  Ben asked the man, his face showing great strain now to be asking such a question.

“Ben—Joseph fell down a well—somehow he found his way–perhaps a crevice—a tunnel–something—into a cave.  He broke his arm from the fall—most likely he also got scratched from the fall and the climb out too.  There’s nothing supernatural about that,” Paul tried to offer his best explanation.

“Why aren’t his wounds healing?  And why can’t he speak–other than those two blasted words!”  Ben reiterated.

Paul shook his head and shrugged his shoulders.  “I wish I knew.  But, you did say that Flint’s story mentioned a sign–a pentacle right?  I’ve been cleaning those wounds for a week now–checked him over thoroughly—he has no sign anywhere.  That should make you relax now, shouldn’t it?”

Ben frowned, he knew Paul was trying his best to ease his mind, but it wasn’t working.  He tried to accept the man’s opinions, as he had for many years when concerning his sons; especially Joe.  Paul noticed the long silence and decided he had to offer the man some hope.

“Now—I think it would be a good thing to start getting Joe up and around.  Just downstairs–not outside–mind you!  Maybe it will help his circulation some—which might just help those wounds.  Who knows?  It might help him mentally a bit too.”

Ben sank down into his chair and folded his hands together in thought.  “We have to tell him everything you know?  Like–swallow the water, Joe, chew your food, Joe—it’s like his mind is gone or something!”

“His mind is still there, Ben.  He has no sign of brain damage that I can detect, and his pupils check out fine.  It’s just as I told you before—a very bad case of shock.  Now how about it?  Why don’t you get him up and about tomorrow?”

Ben nodded and sighed, “If you think we should—we’ll try whatever you suggest.”

“Good,” Paul smiled and headed for the front door, “I’ll come out tomorrow afternoon to see how it goes.  Now–do me a favor will you?”

“What?”  Ben called across the room.

“You sleep in your OWN bed tonight, okay?  I know that you’ve been holding vigil in that boy’s bedroom for days now.  He needs you healthy, Ben, not sick from exhaustion!”

“I will, Paul, thanks again—see you tomorrow,” Ben agreed and watched as the doctor walked out of the house.

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

That night Ben did as instructed and for the first time in a week, accepted Hop Sing’s offer to keep watch over Little Joe so the tired father could sleep in his own room.  He settled down under the extra blankets to ward off the chill of fall.  Ben hoped he would be able to sleep.  He couldn’t stop thinking about Joe and why he had yet to speak to him about what had happened.  Ben so wanted to learn of his son’s ordeal so he could perhaps help him over it.  Just knowing the facts would be a great help and would also stop the awful ideas that were floating around in the family member’s heads.

Hop Sing nodded off in his seat next to Joe’s bed.  The room was hushed and only the faint clicking of the small clock on the boy’s night stand could be heard.  Ben, across the hall, had also begun to slumber, though it had taken better than an hour to doze off.  The door to Joe’s room had been left wide open, just in case the boy awakened and was combative.  Ben had left the door to his own room ajar as well, just in case Hop Sing needed any help tending Joe.

Somehow, Ben could sense the dim light from the hall’s lamp pushing into his room, even though he was sound asleep at the time.  Rolling from his side onto his back, Ben cast a squinty eyed glance towards his doorway.  Thinking he was dreaming, Ben rubbed his eyes with his fists and looked once more.  He was not dreaming after all.  There in the doorway stood Joseph.  Ben couldn’t make out the boy’s shaded facial expression but he could definitely tell it was his youngest son standing there looking in towards his father.

“Joseph?”  Ben whispered and threw his legs to the side of his bed and grabbed his robe and eased into his slippers.  Joe just stood there, offering no response to his father’s call.  Ben made his way over to the door and put his hands on Joe’s shoulders and tried to see into his eyes, hopeful that perhaps the boy had come around.  He sighed when he noticed that Joe still wore the same blank stare, but there were tears glistening in the boy’s eyes this time.  Ben hoped that was some kind of a breakthrough.

“Joseph?  Are you—all right?”  Ben asked, still praying for a reply.

“Devil’s hold—devil’s hold,” Joe whispered and seemed desperate in his few words this time.  A tear slid down from each of the boy’s eyes, and the sight stabbed at his father’s heart.

Ben pulled his son into an embrace and closed his eyes, feeling at a total loss as to what to do.  This was the first time that Joe had made it out of his bed, and Ben was glad that he hadn’t harmed himself in doing so.  He had to wonder how the boy ended up there at his door.  Ben hoped that meant that Joe still knew where to go to address his fears, just as he had numerous times when he was a small child and had awakened from a nightmare.  Maybe it was a good sign?  Ben thought to himself as he stroked the back of the boy’s head and could feel the chill to Joe’s skin when his hand drifted to the nape of his neck.

“You’re freezing—let’s get you warm,” Ben whispered and led his son over to his own bed and encouraged him to sit down.  Joe obeyed his father’s direction, no longer combative like he had been earlier in the day.  The troubled father sat with his back resting against the headboard and slowly eased Joe back so that he was resting on his shoulder.  He pulled up the heavy blanket and nestled Joe underneath it.  “That’s better,” Ben said and held Joe there in his arms hoping that the power of his love for his child would somehow unlock the boy’s mind and bring him back.  “Remember—remember all the times you’ve come in here late at night, Joseph?  When a nightmare woke you and you sought out your father?  I know you are still aware of the fact that you can always do that.  I just wish you could tell me what scared you this bad,” Be spoke softly to the boy.  He reached for a pillow to prop under his son’s left arm to ease the burden of the heavy plaster cast and hoped for a reply again.  Joe answered in the only way he could at the time.  The frightened boy reached with his right hand and locked it on the soft lapel of Ben’s robe.  It was a signal, and his father knew it.  In that one simple gesture he was letting his pa know that he needed him to help him, just as he had done so many times when he was a little boy.  Ben reached over and stroked his son’s cheek and felt the tears which were still drifting from Joe’s eyes.  “I want to help you, Son—please show me how,” Ben pleaded.

Joe turned his head and stared directly into the warm umber eyes of his protector.  “Devil’s hold—devil’s hold—Pa–” Joe whispered as tears slid down his cheeks.

Ben’s heart skipped a beat to hear that one added word to Joe’s normal soliloquy.  Hearing him say “Pa” meant so many things at the time.  Though it had not unlocked the boy’s mind to reveal what hurt haunted it, it did let his father know that Joe was fully aware of whose arms he was now held in.  Ben had to believe that it was a start, something tangible that he could think of as progress at last.

Before Ben could respond, Joe sank back down into his embrace and closed his eyes.  “You do know then—you know it’s me at least–that’s a start, Joseph.  I wish I knew what you wanted me to do for you—because you know I would do anything I could for you,” Ben whispered and stroked Joe’s head of curls.  It was only a few minutes later that Joe was once more fast asleep, the sound of his father’s rhythmic heartbeat lulling the boy back to a place where he was safe from his fear.  Ben closed his own eyes and allowed himself to doze off, content in the fact that his son was safe in his protective hold.

Hop Sing awoke hours after Joe had exited the room.  Casting a quick look over at the vacant bed, the caretaker was panicked.  Jumping to his feet, Hop Sing headed out into the hallway and decided to ask Ben to help him in his search for the boy.  Pulling the door open, relief spread over the Oriental’s face.  There, slumbering soundly, were both Ben and Joe.  Hop Sing sighed and quietly crept out of the room.  He knew that Joe was in the best hands he could be in now.

Ben was the first to awaken the next morning and was surprised to find his son sleeping in the exact position he had been in when he had first dozed off the previous night.  Not wanting to awaken the boy, nor jar the casted arm, Ben shifted his weight from underneath as carefully as he could.  Joe never batted an eye, still snoozing soundly as his father made his way over to his wash basin to prepare for the new day.

Donning a fresh change of clothes, Ben ran a brush through his snowy white hair and approached the door.  Pulling it open, he could see Hop Sing out in the hallway coming from the stairs.

“Vely sorry, Mister Ben, Hop Sing fall asleep last night.  So happy to find Little Joe with you,” Hop Sing apologized.

Ben patted the cook’s shoulder and smiled, “It was fine—Joseph somehow found his way to my room.  He’s still sleeping soundly.”

“I fix breakfast, Mister Adam and Mister Hoss already down at table, you go—Hop Sing watch Little Joe now,” he insisted.

“All right, as soon as I’m done we’ll get him up and dressed.  Doctor Martin wants us to get him up and around today.”

“But—boy still ill—bad cuts still all over,” Hop Sing protested the idea.

“Doc thinks it will help—said something about helping Joe’s circulation.  It’s worth a try at least,” Ben sighed, not at all sure about the move either.

“Little Joe—he talk last night?”

“Well—he did call me “pa” guess that’s a start–maybe today will be the day he tells us what’s happened to him.”

“Good–now you go—breakfast get cold,” Hop Sing smiled and headed into Ben’s bedroom to wait for Joe to awaken.

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

Ben ate his breakfast and discussed with his two oldest sons what had gone on the previous night.  He also informed them what he was going to try to do with their brother that day.  After they had eaten their food, Ben urged Adam and Hoss to try to get back to normal as far as the running of the ranch was concerned.  Reluctantly the two men agreed to go about their business and tend to needed fencing repairs along with bringing back some household supplies from Virginia City.

With Hoss and Adam on their way out to get their chores accomplished, Ben headed back upstairs to see what he could do with his youngest son.  He walked into the bedroom and noticed that Joe was wide awake and Hop Sing was having a time at trying to keep him in bed.  Joe was starting to get combative, just as he had been for days and especially upon awakening.

“Hold on there, Joseph!  You settle down now,” Ben called out and switched places with Hop Sing, who was having trouble holding Joe back.

Joe looked up into his father’s eyes and cried out, “Devil’s hold!”  Then he grabbed Ben’s shoulder and pulled up from the bed trying to escape.

Ben locked his hands tightly around the boy’s shoulders and held him there.  “It’s all right –now you just relax.  We’re gonna let you get out of this room in just a minute,” Ben tried to keep a calm tone to his voice.  “Hop Sing—will you bring in Joe’s clothes?  He can get dressed in here and then we’ll all go downstairs for a while.”

Hop Sing stared over at Ben and was not sure if he should leave the man alone with Joe.   He had noticed ever since Joe’s accident that the boy’s strength had tripled.  “Not leave while Little Joe so upset!”  Hop Sing argued.

Ben cast a hard glance towards the cook and replied, “I’ve got him—go on and get his clothes.”

Hop Sing hurried into the room across the hall to gather up what they would need.  He didn’t want to take any more time than he had to in doing the task, still wondering if Ben had the situation in full control.

Ben sat down on the side of the bed and eased Joe next to him, his arm holding the boy’s shoulders tight, but trying his best not to harm his injury.  “Now—we’re gonna get you all dressed and downstairs, Joseph.  You need to move around some so you can get to feeling better.”

Hop Sing came back into the room, his arms loaded down with a change of clothes as well as the boy’s boots.  “Got what we need—now what we do?”

“I’m letting you loose, Joseph—now you help us with this, will you?”  Ben tried for a smile to ease his son into the idea.  He could still read the terror all over his son’s face, and could not understand the reason for it.  Ben pulled his arm away from Joe and the boy stayed on the bed.  Hop Sing drew closer and helped to pull Joe’s nightshirt off.  It took both of them to maneuver the material up over Joe’s head and past the plastered arm, but they accomplished it quickly.  Hop Sing held out Joe’s pants towards him.

“You slip leg in here,” Hop Sing said to Joe and the boy just stared blankly at him.

“Joe—come on–lift your foot up—that’s it–slip it in the leg of your trousers–”Ben encouraged his son.  It took quite a while to get the process done, but finally Joe had his pants, socks and boots on.  Hop Sing held out the shirt to Ben and he sized up the plaster cast.  “No, this won’t work—wait I have an idea,” Ben paused and stared into his son’s eyes.  “Joe—I’m going to go get you a shirt to fit over that arm–now don’t move for a minute!”

Ben stood from the bed, keeping a watchful eye on Joe as he headed towards his bureau.  He quickly grabbed one of his shirts and walked back to the bed.  “Let’s see if one of mine will work over that cast, Hop Sing.”

Hop Sing held the right sleeve out and said, “Put arm inside, Little Joe.”

Joe stared back over at his father and noticed the man nodding over towards him.  Joe slowly pushed his arm through the sleeve and Ben reached around behind him to pull the other side over to the casted arm.  The added width of his father’s shirt allowed Joe to push his arm through the left sleeve.  Ben sighed glad to have that chore over with.  Hop Sing reached over in an attempt to button the shirt and Joe jerked back, scared by the sudden motion.

“Devil’s hold!”  Joe screamed and pulled his body to the other side of the bed.

Hop Sing and Ben exchanged frustrated glances over what had just happened.  Following Joe’s move to the side of the bed, Ben reached towards his son.

“Joe—-go ahead—you button up the shirt–go on–you can do it,” Ben urged him onward as he lined the two sides up to help assist.  Joe reached with his right hand and slowly buttoned the shirt.  Though it hung loosely around him, not being as broad shouldered as his father, Joe accomplished the task and was fully dressed now.

“Good—now—let’s go on downstairs, shall we?”  Ben said and reached precariously for Joe’s elbow to help pull him to standing.

Joe would not budge.  He sat on the bed and continued to stare blankly up into his father’s eyes.  Ben frowned he was running out of ideas on how to get Joe to go along with his plans.  Not wanting to scare the boy by a show of force, Ben simply sat down next to him and draped his arm around Joe once more.

“It’s okay—we’ll go down there when you are ready,” Ben whispered and turned his head to stare over at Hop Sing.  “How about heating up Joe’s food, Hop Sing?  We will be down in just a minute–he’s just getting his second wind.”

Hop Sing nodded and left both father and son alone for the time being while he headed to prepare Joe’s breakfast.  Ben remained next to Joe waiting for some sign from him.  When it didn’t happen he decided to try to talk to him again.

“Joe?  You remember last night don’t you?  Remember you came in here—because you were scared of something?  Can you tell me what that is?”  Ben coaxed his son.

Still Joe withheld whatever was haunting his mind, and did not respond verbally to his father.  Ben reached for the boy’s face and turned his chin to direct his full attention.

“What is the devil’s hold, Joe?  Why can’t you tell me?  I can’t help you if you won’t tell me what it is. What happened in that cave?”

Joe showed no sign of understanding what pa had just said to him.  His hazel eyes showed terror in them, but nothing else.  There was no sign of recognition of what had happened the previous night nor what the fear was all about that had been tormenting him for more than a week.  Ben shook his head in defeat and patted Joe’s shoulder, signaling the boy that he was done with his questioning.

“Let’s go,” Ben said firmly as he rose from the bed and reached down for Joe’s right arm.  He pulled Joe to standing and eased the boy over to the door.

Looking over at his son, who was sitting to his immediate left, Ben wondered why Joe had to be told what to do with the meal set out in front of him.  Ben knew that Doctor Martin was of the opinion that the boy had not suffered any brain injury, but that diagnosis did little to explain why he was acting so strangely.  Having been around others who had suffered a bout of shock, Ben really thought that Joe’s case seemed very different.  He realized that whatever had happened to his son had to have caused some deep trauma, but Ben felt there was something that they all had missed.

“Joe?  You need to eat,” Ben restated for what was the third time.  When the boy still just sat there looking blankly, Ben reached over and pushed a bit of scrambled eggs onto Joe’s fork and handed it to him.  Joe took the fork in his right hand and slowly raised it to his mouth.  His motions were slow and almost exaggerated as he chewed the eggs.  Ben shook his head, wondering just how long the boy would be like he was now.  “Here,” Ben paused and handed Joe a cup of coffee, “why don’t you wash those eggs down with some coffee?  It’s cooled off now.”

Joe took the cup and brought it up to his lips.  He took just a few sips and then as he lowered the cup he stared down into his reflection in the dark brown liquid.  The face reflected back at him was not his own.  Joe screamed and dropped the coffee cup, the contents splashing across the table.  Pushing his chair back with him, Joe fought to get away from the vision he had seen.

“Joseph!”  Ben yelled perplexed over what his son had just done.  Standing, Ben tried to wipe away some of his son’s coffee from off his own arm where it had splashed.  Joe had moved back against the wall terrified.  “What happened?”  Ben asked and then felt a bit foolish to be asking the question.  Joe did not reply, he just stayed where he was, visibly shaken.

Hop Sing had heard the crash of the coffee cup and hurried into the dining room.  “What wrong!”  He shouted over to Ben.

“I have no clue,” Ben replied, shrugging his shoulders.  “Something scared Joe again—he was drinking his coffee and–” Ben stopped in mid- sentence and reached for his son.  “Joseph—it’s okay–you are safe.  Don’t you understand?”

“Devil’s hold,” Joe whispered, but this time he pointed towards the table.

“I don’t understand—what are you pointing at?”  Ben pleaded for an answer.  He followed Joe’s gaze and found it to be directly focused on the coffee cup.  “You were just drinking your coffee—and–” Ben stopped again and thought on the situation.  “Was it your reflection?  Is that what spooked you so much?”

Joe didn’t move or respond this time.  Ben thought he needed to test his theory.  He walked over to the cook and whispered something to him.  Hop Sing walked into the study to retrieve a framed mirror that hung over the chair by Ben’s desk.  He handed the mirror over to Ben, who turned back towards his son.

“Joe?  Look at this for a minute will you?”  Ben whispered and then held the mirror up in front of his son’s face.  Ben watched as the most horrifying facial expression took over the boy and Joe pushed the mirror back abruptly and ran into the living room.

Ben turned back towards Hop Sing, who had his mouth now hanging wide open in surprise.

“Reflection scare Little Joe—but why?”  Hop Sing asked quietly.

Ben shook his head and handed the mirror back to the cook.  “I don’t know—I guess only Joe can tell us that.”

Walking over towards the fireplace where his son stood, still shaking from what he had seen, Ben put his hand on the boy’s shoulder.  “Joseph—I’m sorry–sorry I frightened you–but I have to know what is scaring you.  Please talk to me!”

Joe moved away from his father’s touch and sat down on the coffee table and covered his face with his hands.  “Devil’s hold,” Joe whispered his tone desperate and feeling so terrified that tears began to leave his eyes.

“I won’t do that again, Son, I’m sorry,” Ben replied and sat down next to Joe and waited for him to calm down.

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

The exasperating morning led in to an equally exasperating afternoon for Ben.  Joe was totally non-responsive and it was grating on the worried father’s nerves.  For a long while Joe simply sat on the coffee table entranced by the flames leaping from the logs in the fireplace.  Lunch had gone no better than breakfast had, with Ben once again having to tell Joe what to do regarding his food.  Ben tried to work on some paperwork over in his den, all the while keeping a trained eye towards Joe.

Doctor Martin came out late in the afternoon and examined Joe up in the boy’s bedroom.  Leaving him there in Hop Sing’s care, Paul walked with Ben to the front door.

“So his reflection scared him that bad?”  Paul asked confused by what Ben had related to him as they walked down the stairs.

“Yes—I have no idea why–all I ever hear is “devil’s hold” when I try to get an answer from the boy.  Paul—those scratches—they look just as fresh as they did a week ago.  They are not healing at all, how can that be?  They should’ve scabbed over by now—unless you think Joe has some infection going on under there.”

“I told you yesterday—no infection—but I don’t have any other answers for you, Ben.  All I can tell you right now is to continue to watch Joe and hope he comes around.  He’s obviously more traumatized then we originally thought,” Paul added and once more looked over at the concerned father before him.  “Ben—I will keep coming out here every few days.  And, I would understand it if you want to try for another doctor’s opinion.  I never said I knew everything you know?”  Paul remarked and shot a smile towards Ben to show him there were no hard feelings if the man chose to go in that direction.

“Paul, I trust you implicitly, you know that.  I guess we just have to wait–like you said.  And hope.”

“Send for me if you need anything.  I’ll come back out on Friday,” Paul said and opened the front door.

“I will—thank you, Paul,” Ben replied, trying to sound as cheerful as he could considering that he had no more knowledge of Joe’s condition now than he had when he had been found.

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

Each day that passed from that first day when Joe had been brought downstairs was equally frustrating for the whole family.  Joe continued to repeat the same two words and his general health remained the same.  Much to Doctor Martin’s chagrin, the deep scratches all over the boy’s body remained exactly as they had appeared on the first day he was found.  Five weeks passed at a snail’s pace, and Joe never was left alone for fear of what might happen to him.

There had been quite a few strange outbursts by Joe over the days and weeks since his injuries, and his family was becoming a bit numb to it all.  Several nights Joe had made his way to his father’s bedroom trying to get a message across to the man, but failing miserably.  All Ben could do at such times was to hold the boy and wait for him to settle down.  He was getting very concerned that there had been no further breakthrough in Joe’s mental condition.  The boy had only spoken the word “pa” that one night, when he first stole into Ben’s room.  From that point on all Joe would say was the typical statement of “devil’s hold’.

Ben decided that instead of summoning the doctor back to the ranch house for Joe’s cast to be removed that he would drive the boy into Virginia City to have it done.  He hoped that a change of scenery would help his son.  Hoss and Adam rode their horses alongside the buckboard that afternoon in case their father needed some backup with their brother.

Tying the reins of their horses to the hitching post in front of the doctor’s office, Adam and Hoss neared the buckboard.  They watched as Ben tried patiently to explain to Joe what they were going to do.

“Hi folks!” A voice came from the sidewalk and the Cartwrights turned to see Flint Buckley heading their way.  “Thought I seen you all heading in here—how’s the boy doing?”

Ben sighed and stared over at Joe, the man’s question seemed unnecessary just looking at the boy.  Joe sat on the seat of the wagon and his eyes stared off into blankness.

“Sorry—” the trapper stammered when he realized Joe was not all there.

“That’s all right,” Ben sighed and stepped down from the wagon and reached for Joe’s elbow to coax him down alongside of him.

Flint walked over to Hoss and whispered, “Ever find that sign?”

Ben heard what the man had said and turned around, his face showing the strain of all the family had gone through.  “He had no sign!”  Ben replied harshly and put his arm around Joe’s shoulder and headed into the doctor’s office.

“Sorry—I didn’t mean to rile your pa,” Flint apologized.

Hoss patted the man on the shoulder and tried to make up for his father’s outburst.  “Pa’s just mad at the situation–not you, Flint.  It’s been kinda rough you know?”

Flint nodded and his face showed sadness when he responded.  “Oh yeah—I know all right.  But, if the kid really ain’t got that mark–then maybe he’s not lost–you know like Hutch?  I mean–maybe that means something?”

“I hope so,” Hoss nodded and turned towards Adam.  “We better get in to help Pa—Doc’s cutting off that cast today and Joe might get scared again.”

“Yeah—he sure scares easily anymore,” Adam replied and stepped up on the planked walkway.

“See you later, Flint–maybe buy you a beer before we leave–how ‘bout it?”  Hoss asked, feeling like the man deserved the courtesy for trying to help them earlier.

“Sounds good—be over at the Bucket of Blood yonder!”  Flint called and headed across the street.

Doc Martin had everything ready to remove the plaster cast.  He was deeply concerned when he removed Joe’s shirt in preparation for the process of cutting the heavy coating and freeing the boy’s arm.  He could still see the fresh gouges that Joe wore on his chest and going down his back.  In all his years as a medical man, he had never seen a case like that, where a wound would not heal in any way.  Paul tried to look not quite so troubled so that the family would not catch on to his confusion; they were worried enough already.

“Now–Young Man—are you ready to get that arm free finally?” Paul asked and smiled up at Joe who was sitting on the examination table.  Joe sat quietly and never even blinked when asked the question.  Paul gathered his instruments and began to slowly cut parts of the cast away.  Ben stood right next to his son, letting his hand fall to Joe’s shoulder to offer his support.  After ten minutes of precision cutting, Paul had the whole cast off and prepared to remove the sutures.  He had worried about not getting them out sooner, but the break was so bad that he didn’t dare remove the cast any earlier fearing the set to move.  Paul soaked the knots of the stitches and with tweezers and a bit of prodding was able to get them all out with no trouble.  “Let’s get this washed down good now.  You have all of this plaster residue on your arm,” Doc stated casually and brought over a basin.

“How does it look, Paul?”  Ben asked, concerned over the outcome of the set.

“Looks good so far,” Paul mumbled and started washing Joe’s arm carefully.  “It’s gonna be stiff for a bit—but looks like–” Paul stopped abruptly.  His eyes showed a mixture of fear and disbelief.

“What’s wrong?”  Ben asked, releasing his hold on Joe’s shoulder and moving to the other side of the examination table.  Before Paul could answer verbally, Ben got a look at what the doctor had just noticed.  “No!”  Ben gasped and stared down at his son’s forearm.

Hoss and Adam moved quickly over to their father and brother, wondering what the two men had seen.  There on the underside of Joe’s left forearm was a very visible five pointed star.

“Devil’s hold,” Joe muttered, as if to answer the question himself.

Doctor Martin headed over to his cabinet and drew out some rubbing alcohol and brought it back to Joe.  He began to scrub the whole area where the strange star appeared.  No matter how hard he rubbed at it, it stayed just as dark and wouldn’t change in appearance.  Adam and Hoss shared a woeful glance and then looked to their father, who stood speechless.  Finally, surrendering to the notion that the mark could not be rubbed off, Paul turned and spoke to Ben, forcing calm to his voice.

“Ben, maybe it would be a good thing for Joe to go outside with his brothers for a minute so you and I can talk?”

Ben nodded and turned to his eldest son, “Adam, you and Hoss take Joseph out to the buckboard.  I’ll be out in a couple of minutes.

“Come on, Little Brother,” Hoss urged Joe down from the table and threw his arm around the boy’s shoulder.  The three brothers left closing the door to the examining room behind them.

After a few minutes of very awkward silence, Paul started the conversation.  “Ben, I’m afraid I am way out of my league now.  My diagnosis may not have been entirely correct this time.”

“All these weeks–” Ben started, trying to stop the rapid beating of his heart by drawing in a deep breath, “we were sure that the story Flint told us had nothing really to do with what happened to the boy.  I just figured that the story Joe had heard was locked inside his mind–causing this.  Now—” Ben stopped once more and shook his head sadly.

Paul put his hand on Ben’s arm and said, “I wish I could tell you something that would help right now, Ben, but I have no idea how to fix the problem this time.  I’ve seen just about everything imaginable over the years—and some pretty strange things concerning Joe for that matter.”

“I know—like last year,” Ben paused as his thoughts went back to another strange event in his youngest son’s life.  “Joe went through a rough time with that precognition stuff—that was a bit bizarre in itself.  But, nothing this bad–nothing that left him like a scared shell of his former self.  And now—to have that mark–not to mention those wounds that won’t go away.  What do you think we are dealing with, Paul?”

“I’m not sure if it’s a physician that you need this time—perhaps someone in the clergy is more called for now.”

“You think a minister might be able to help?”  Ben asked surprised that Paul was really giving up on his favorite patient.

“It’s worth a try.  Maybe you should just try talking to Reverend Hastings—just tell him what’s gone on.  Perhaps he could offer some suggestions?”

Ben frowned.   He was beginning to think that Joe was beyond everyone’s help now.  The warnings from the trapper haunted his thoughts.  He remembered the man saying that once the devil had a hold of a person there was no getting free.

While Ben and Paul continued their conversation and went over what the next plan of action would be, Adam and Hoss stood outside of the office with their little brother.  Joe stood next to the buckboard and stared blankly, his gaze traveling to places unseen by the others.  A few minutes later, a voice sounded out loudly and Hoss and Adam turned to see one of Joe’s worst enemies heading down the walk towards them.

“Hey!  Haven’t seen old “spooky” Cartwright in a while!  How you been, Boy?”  Pete Timmons addressed his call towards Joe.  “What’s the matter, Spooky?  Cat got your tongue—or is that devil this time?”  Pete laughed.

Hoss grabbed the man by the shoulders and stared down into his eyes, showing his immense displeasure with what the man had said.  “You want to keep those pretty white teeth you’d better shut up, Timmons!”  Hoss warned furiously.

“Oh, you boys look awfully glum!”  Pete continued, totally offering caution to the wind.  “What’s old Spooky done now?  Did he get a hold of another magical medallion?”

“Shut up—last warning!”  Adam called over to the man and stepped up onto the walkway.

“Geesh—touchy touchy–okay I’m going.  Don’t like to stand around Joe long—he might turn me into a toad or something!”  Pete laughed and then felt the fist to his right cheek.  He was knocked down off the walkway and onto the dusty road.

It was at that moment that Ben came out of the doctor’s office and shouted towards his sons, “What’s going on here?”

“Pete was hassling Joe, Pa,” Hoss explained and watched as his father stepped down next to the man lying in the road.

“Pete—I thought I settled up with you a year ago.  You did six months at hard labor the last time you came out after my son.  Would you like to go see Sheriff Coffee again?”  Ben spoke cold and deadly and his eyes looked piercingly at Pete.

Pete pulled himself off the ground and dusted his pants.  He started to walk away, but when he had gotten out of the reach of the Cartwrights he turned and yelled towards them all, “I told you the kid was in league with the devil—now maybe you all know it for a fact!”

Ben had to hold Hoss’s arm to prevent him from charging the man as Pete crossed the street and headed into the saloon.  “Leave it be, Son.  We’ve got to get your brother home.”

“I think I’ll go over and have a little talk with Flint if that’s okay with you, Pa?  Hoss and I promised him a beer anyway.  Can you manage Joe by yourself?”  Adam asked, still watching the slow boil Hoss was doing over all Pete had said.

“Only if you two promise not to get into it with Timmons.  I have more than I can handle already,” Ben sighed, exasperated over all that he had seen that afternoon.

“Sure, Pa.  C’mon, Hoss,” Adam replied and reached over for Hoss to comfort him a bit.

“See you both at home soon.  Come on, Joseph, let’s get up in the wagon now,” Ben said and reached for the boy’s elbow to assist him up the step.  Walking around to the driver’s side Ben climbed up next to Joe and sent the team forward.  Before they had gotten out of town completely, Joe suddenly grabbed his arm.

“What’s wrong, Joe?”  Ben asked pulling back on the reins.

“Devil’s hold, Pa,” Joe whispered and kept hold of Ben’s arm.

Ben stared into his son’s troubled eyes and his heart went out to him.  He knew that Joe was trying his best to convey what was going on in his mind, but could only get out those few words.  Tagging the end of his statement with the word “pa” only made it that much more heartbreaking for Ben.  He felt awful that he couldn’t get through to Joe any more than Joe could get through to him.  It was at that moment that Ben decided to contact the minister the next day in the hope that he might know of something to do for the boy.  “I know, Son, I know.  Let’s go home now,” Ben whispered.

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

The following day Ben walked up the steps to the parish home of Reverend Philip Hastings and knocked on the door.  He had thought on what he would say all night long, and was hoping to find some kind of an answer to Joe’s problem.  Regardless of the results of his visit, Ben, himself, felt he needed some spiritual guidance just to be able to stay strong enough for his son’s sake.

“Good afternoon, Cecilia, I was wondering if the reverend is around?” Ben asked the middle aged lady who had come to the door.

“Nice to see you, Ben,” she smiled up at the man, “Sorry to say that Reverend Hastings isn’t in – won’t be back until Sunday.  He left the day before yesterday for Carson City.  Is there anything I can do for you?”

Ben sighed sometimes he wondered why everything had to be so difficult.  “No – I just wanted to speak to him.  I’ll see him after Sunday service, then.  Good to see you again, Cecilia.”  Ben returned the woman’s smile and turned and walked down the steps.

Standing on C Street, Ben wondered what he could do in the absence of the local pastor.  His eyes followed the street down to the corner, where he spotted the white steeple of the newly built Catholic Church, Saint Teresa’s.  He knew the priest, if only casually, and decided it might be worth the effort of the downhill walk.  Ben believed a house of God was a house of God regardless of the particular denomination.  In fact, the Ponderosa had even donated some of the funds and materials to help build the new church.  There was a growing Irish Catholic population, along with more Italian immigrants pouring into the area due to the Comstock wealth.  Ben felt the need to help in whatever way he could, and that meant aiding both the funding and charity events for Saint Teresa’s.

“Ben!” Monsignor Fregapane grinned and bid the other man to the top steps of the church where he had been busy adding another coat of paint.  “How nice to see you.  So what do you think?  Have we made an improvement on the exterior?”

Ben shook the priest’s outstretched hand and stepped up next to him.  “Wonderful job, Father.  How are the pews filling up?”

“Very well thank you.  We were pleased to have a full house of worship at the last mass.  Now – what can I do for you?”

Ben stared down at the step, feeling a bit nervous over the subject matter he wanted to address.  He had just about decided that coming to see the priest was a hasty thought and was going to just make up an alternate excuse for his visit and leave when Monsignor Fregapane reached out for his arm.

“I can sense you have something that’s troubling you, Ben.  Why don’t you step inside and we will speak of it?”

“I feel a bit peculiar coming here like this —,” Ben started but the priest cut him off.

“Why — because you’re not of this faith?  Do you think you are going over to “the other side” or something?” The priest asked smiling.

Ben laughed, and it felt good to do so after all of the stress of the past month.  He knew from the way the priest had made his statement and by the twinkle in his eyes that he was trying to cajole the worried father into relaxing.

“No – not at all.  Yes – I’d like to come in as a matter of fact, if you have the time?”

“I would be happy to talk to you – and stop painting for a while too!” Monsignor replied and opened the doors to the church and bid Ben inside.

Removing his hat quickly and staring down the long aisle to the altar, Ben was awed to see how beautiful the church had been adorned.  Monsignor signaled his guest over to one of the pews and they both sat down.

“What no confessional?” Ben teased feeling more at ease now.

“No – I doubt you have all that much to confess anyway,” The priest replied and watched as Ben’s face took on a saddened appearance.  “Enough with the jokes – let’s hear what is troubling you.”

“What I’m about to tell you – well – it’s going to sound very strange,” Ben began.

“Strange – or perhaps supernatural?”

Ben frowned, he was now getting the impression that the priest knew a little bit about the problem already.  “What have you heard?”

“Oh – you know— bits and pieces – this town is small but the mouths are quite big.  Tell me, Ben – how is Joseph?”

“Not well – he’s not well at all.”

“I understand he fell down a well then disappeared for a short time and then he reappeared coming out of some cavern.  I also heard that the boy can’t speak.  What else do I need to know?”

“He speaks – but only two words, Father, the same two words time and time again, devil’s hold.  Whatever happened to him – in that well or in that cave has frightened him half to death.  And he has wounds – all over his body that will not heal.  On top of that – well –,” Ben stopped, not sure if he should go into the part about the sign they found on Joe’s arm.

“Go on, Ben – tell me – it will go no further than my ears I can assure you.”

“He has some sort of an image on his inner arm – looks like a pentacle.  We had no idea it was there – his arm was in a cast for six weeks.  Doc just took the cast off yesterday – that’s when we saw it.”

“I see,” Monsignor nodded and waited for Ben to continue.

“It’s just so bizarre – so totally crazy that this is happening!” Ben said frustrated and angry as well.  “I can’t get him to talk I have to remind him how to do even the simplest things – like eating and dressing.  Then the wounds he has — I’m just so scared that they will never heal.  And now this sign – I am at my wit’s end.  Paul suggested I talk to Reverend Hastings but he’s not in town.”

“Philip is a fine man, we’ve had many theological discussions recently,” The priest smiled again.  “But, I am happy that you came here today, especially since you are so troubled.”

“Is there — is there anything you can tell me that might explain this?  There’s this trapper and he said the same thing happened to his cousin years ago.  He said that the man ended up hanging himself to free himself from whatever this is.  I’m scared – scared for Joseph’s life.”

“It amazes me – it really does.”

“What?” Ben asked bewildered by the priest’s sudden statement.

“Ben – you are a good God fearing man.  You have gone out of your way to follow in the path of our Savior by helping folks.  You helped me get this church built – even though you don’t share my exact same religion.  Someone like you – who has such deep faith in God – such a deep belief – and yet you can’t force yourself to believe in the existence of Satan.”

“It’s not that really,” Ben argued.

“Isn’t it?  You have turned this over to the practice of medicine and nothing has worked.  Now, you finally turn to God for your answer.  Do you remember when Jesus himself cast out the demons?  There are quite a few passages concerning this very thing.”

“Well – of course – but that was centuries ago.”

“Who was it who said there’s nothing new under the sun?” Monsignor asked and nodded Ben’s way.  “Satan exists – oh if only that were not the case – then I wouldn’t be needed near as much as I am.  But he does.”

“Can you – can you help?” Ben was barely able to get the words out of his mouth, so fearful that the answer would be no.

“I can try,” Monsignor replied.  “The church has several rites to help in the release of a tortured soul.  Now there’s what’s called exorcism, but I am not all that sure that is necessary here.  I am more inclined to try to use the anointing of the sick – perhaps that will be enough for your son?  Has he a strong faith?”

“Yes – yes he does.  That’s what so surprises me that this happened to him.  Joseph has endured many things over his short life time – and always has turned to God at such times.  Why would Satan come after him?”

“Perhaps it’s because the others – the ones who don’t believe – are of no prize to him.  To pull a loving soul from God’s hands is a challenge I am sure.”

“Why – why would God allow it?” Ben asked his voice dropping to a whisper now.  He felt awful to ask the question, but hoped for an answer to what he had wondered all the previous night.

“Ben – God doesn’t promise us there will be no problems in our life – He just promises us that he will give us the strength to endure them,” Monsignor replied and touched the man’s arm in a show of comfort.

Ben nodded as he had heard his own words repeated by the priest.  He wondered how many times he had told his sons the very statement that Monsignor had just made.  “You’re right – I’m sorry –,”

Monsignor jumped in to alleviate Ben’s feeling of guilt for having voiced the most asked question that the priest had come across in his years in the ministry.  “Ben, don’t feel bad –even I have asked that question.  Now – when would you like me to visit your son?”

“As soon as possible – when you have time of course,” Ben replied, as the two men stood and approached the doors.

“I can come tonight – that is if someone would come and take me there – I’m afraid I might get turned around and lost in your wilderness.”

“That would be wonderful – thank you so much!  I will send one of my sons out for you.  Would seven be too early?”

“That would be fine.  Now – I’m not promising a miracle you know?  He’s the miracle worker!” Monsignor pointed up to a large painting of Jesus hanging in the foyer.

“I’ll just be thankful to have you come out and visit the boy.  Prayers are a mighty powerful cure.  Thank you!” Ben said gratefully and stepped out of the church.

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

Later that evening Ben and his sons welcomed the priest to their home.  A bit apprehensive, never knowing how Joe would react to the man, Ben walked up the long staircase with Monsignor, Hoss and Adam trailing behind.  Upon entering Joe’s room Ben introduced Hop Sing to the priest, and the cook moved away from the bed to give them all more room.  He decided to stand over by the doorway, always guarding the young man who he considered his surrogate son.

“Joseph this is Monsignor Fregapane,” Ben began as he came alongside of the bed.  He could see the same strange faraway look on his son’s face, and there was no response.

The priest opened his Bible and withdrew a piece of paper and handed it to Ben.  “You are not familiar with Latin are you?”

“I’m not but Adam – he knows a bit — learned it in college,” Ben explained and cast a glance towards his eldest son.

“I’m a bit rusty,” Adam nodded towards the priest.

“Well, I have written in English some of the passages from the Holy Bible for you all – I will be speaking in Latin and wanted you to know that all that I’m doing will be Biblically sound.  I have brought some holy water and some oil for the anointing – I hope that does not bother you?’ The priest stated and cast a concerned look over to the family.  He was fully aware of the fact that no-one in the room was of the Catholic faith.

Ben smiled and put his hand on the priest’s shoulder.  “I’m a bit acquainted with your religion — Joseph’s mother was raised Catholic actually.  You do whatever you think is best, I trust you.”

“Then – let’s begin shall we?” The priest nodded towards Ben and focused on Joe.  “Joseph?  Would you like to speak with me before I start?”

“Devil’s hold,” Joe stated bluntly and turned his head away from the onlookers.

Monsignor sighed and drew out his rosary.  He made the sign of the cross, touching his forehead, his chest, and the motion from left to right.  Next he began to recite the passage from the Bible in Latin.  Ben followed along, reading from the paper the priest had handed him.  It was from the New Testament, the book of James.  Ben read to himself the following pertinent verses, *** Is there anyone sick among you?  He should ask for the presbyters of the church.  They in turn are to pray over him, anointing him with the oil in the name of the Lord.  This prayer, uttered in faith will reclaim the one who is ill, and the Lord will return him to health.  If he has committed any sins, forgiveness will be his.  Hence, declare your sins to one another, and pray for one another, that you may find healing. ***

And, with the reading of scripture completed, Monsignor opened a small bottle of oil and dabbed it on his fingers and made the sign of the cross on Joe’s forehead.  “In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, I anoint thee,” The priest said and suddenly Joe screamed out as though he was in great pain.

Shocked, the priest and all of the others looked at the boy’s forehead and noticed the form of the cross which had been made from the oil, had turned bright red and the skin around it began to blister up.  Ben started to move towards his son to offer comfort and aid, but Monsignor’s hand stopped him.

“No – Ben – not just yet.  It means it might be working.  Wait!” The priest begged, and Ben reluctantly stood back to allow the man to try to help Joe.  Monsignor brought out a flask that he had filled with Holy Water, and reached for Joe’s left arm.  He had been told by Ben where he could find the pentacle which was very visible on the underside of the boy’s arm.  Speaking again in Latin, Monsignor added more prayers as he gently dabbed the water over the pentacle.  Then, just as the oil had, the Holy Water caused the skin on Joe’s arm to rise and blister and Joe fought to get out of his bed this time screaming out in pain.  “In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, I command you to leave hence from this boy, so that healing can take place!”

Joe fell back towards the pillows and tears fell down his cheeks.  Ben didn’t know what to do, he wasn’t at all sure that what the priest had done had any benefit, and may have actually caused more distress to his son.

“Now I would suggest that we all say the Lord’s Prayer—I will say it in English with you this time,” Monsignor stated, casting a look around the room.  He crossed himself again to ready for the prayer.

The room filled with the voices of Ben, Hoss, Adam, Hop Sing and Monsignor as they recited the Lord’s Prayer together.  Looking down at Joe afterwards, the priest sighed.  He could not tell if his prayers for healing had helped or not.  But, at least the boy had settled down and was now in a deep sleep.  Ben moved closer to the bed and let his hand fall to Joe’s forehead.  The earlier blistering was now totally gone, as were the blisters on the boy’s left arm.  Ben shook his head, totally bewildered by all the strange things they had witnessed.

“Well?” Ben asked, turning towards the priest, his eyes full of hope.

“I don’t know – we will see –I’m not sure that this is true possession of soul, it seems a bit different from ones that I’ve witnessed in the past.”

“You mean you cast out demons before?” Hoss asked in disbelief.  The whole idea of exorcism seemed beyond all reason to him.  But, he had spoken with his father that day and Ben was very adamant that something like that was indeed possible.  Ben had even pulled out the family Bible and had quoted his sons excerpts to prove his belief.

“No – not here, Hoss.  In my native Italy – I have seen it a time or two.  I have no doubt that there is something supernatural going on with your brother – but I’m not sure how far it has gone.”

“So—you really don’t know if what you just did helped, right?” Adam questioned.

Monsignor gave a wry smile and stood from the chair.  He put his hand on Adam’s shoulder and said, “It couldn’t hurt.”

“Thank you – thank you for coming out here, Monsignor,” Ben called to the man as he walked towards the bedroom door.  “Any idea of what else we can do for the boy?”

Monsignor nodded and stared at the four men, “Prayer – much prayer.  Send for me if you need me.  I will pray for Joseph at every mass until we have some results.  Goodnight all.”

Adam turned and followed the priest out in order to take him back into town.  Hoss walked over to his father and stared pensively into his eyes.

“Pa?  You reckon it helped some?” He asked.

Ben sat down on the bed next to Joe and reached for his left arm.  He stared at the pentacle and noticed it was just as evident as it had been earlier.  Ben sighed and answered, “Well, like Monsignor said – it couldn’t have hurt the situation.  Guess we’ll wait and see –and pray.”

Hoss nodded and reached for his brother’s hand, taking it into his own.  He slowly closed his eyes and joined his father in prayer for the boy’s recovery from whatever it was that had him locked in its grasp.

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

Once Adam returned from delivering the priest back safely into Virginia City, he settled in the living room with his brother Hoss.  Ben, along with Hop Sing kept a vigil over Little Joe.  The boy hadn’t awakened and they were starting to get a bit concerned over what had put him under so deeply.  Hoss came in from the kitchen carrying a fresh pot of coffee and cups for whoever wanted the hot brew.  Setting it down onto the coffee table, he looked over at Adam, who seemed deep in thought.

“Adam?”  Want some coffee?”

Adam shook himself from his daze and nodded over to his brother.  Hoss poured two cups of coffee and handed one to Adam and then took his own cup and settled down on the settee.

“You looked like you wuz thinking pretty hard there, Brother,” Hoss commented and sipped his drink.

“Yeah—just trying to put all of the pieces together in my head,” Adam replied with a strange expression on his face.

“What pieces?  What are you talking about?”

“Well, you remember last year?  Remember all that Joe went through?” Adam replied, trying to go the long way around the barn with his explanation.

“You mean that medallion thing that Uncle Josh left for Joe?”

“Yeah — don’t you think it’s kind of strange – I mean all that happened –and now this?”

“Well, it was awfully peculiar and all – I mean  – Joe getting that locket sent to him right when Uncle Josh died — and all the strange things that happened after he started carrying the danged thing around,” Hoss nodded over at his brother.  “But why do you think that has anything to do with what’s going on with Joe now?  He did throw that medallion away you know?”

“I don’t know – but last year – there were some folks who said that Joe was in league with the devil because all of a sudden he had precognition.”

“Now you sound like Timmons, Adam!” Hoss argued, getting upset over what his brother had just related.  Hoss could still remember the awful events that had gone on a year previous.  Joe was lucky to have escaped being tormented by some of the town’s folks, including the ring leader Pete Timmons.

“No!  Hoss I’m not saying that Joe was in league with the devil— you got me all wrong!”  Adam replied trying to get his point across.  “I’m just saying that how do we know that one thing doesn’t have something to do with the other?  Maybe whatever it was that gave Joe those strange powers last year kind of did something to him now?”

“I don’t see what that old medallion or anything else that Joe went through a year ago for that matter has anything to do with him falling into a well.”

Both Adam and Hoss stopped their conversation abruptly when they heard their father on the staircase clearing his throat to get the room’s attention.  He shot a stern look over at his sons as he moved down into the living room.

“Pa we wuz – just talking —,” Hoss started, trying to apologize in advance for whatever Ben had heard them saying.

“I heard it all, Hoss,” Ben stated and sank down into his chair and then looked piercingly at his eldest son.  “So, you think that Joseph is in league with the devil, Adam?” Ben asked harshly.

“No Sir!  Never meant it to sound that way – sorry if it did,” Adam was quick to explain, seeing the controlled anger on his father’s face.  “I just was trying to think about how this could be happening now – and well – it kind of made me think back to all Joe went through last year.”

Hoss handed his father some coffee, hoping to diffuse his anger.  Ben accepted it and nodded his thanks.

“I will admit that Joe has had more than his share of strange experiences.  I will also admit to being very confused about what happened last year with that medallion.  But, I agree with Hoss — that medallion lies at the bottom of Lake Tahoe – I see no significance in the two events.”

“It was just a thought – how’s Joe?” Adam opted to change the subject to help his father relax a bit.

“No change – Hop Sing is still with him,” Ben sighed.  “I think I’ll go out and get some air,” Ben said and set his coffee cup on the table and stood.

Adam and Hoss watched their father exit the house and could read on his face the deeply etched worry over Joe.

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

Yet another long week passed and Joe had not been freed of the terror that had haunted him for almost two months.  There had been no change at all in his behavior since the priest had come out to the ranch, and his family was starting to believe that the boy would never be as he had been prior to the fall down the well and whatever had taken control of his mind.  The deep lacerations as well as the sign of the pentacle still adorned Joe’s body, just as fresh in appearance as they had been that first day so long ago.

It was mid fall now, and the weather was very unpredictable.  One day it would be sunny and almost unseasonably warm, and the next day there would be a light dusting of snow on the tree tops.  Ben had risen early and stepped out onto the front porch.  He stared up at the foreboding clouds above.  It looked as though a severe storm was kicking up, and the wind gusts shot around him from the side of the house, chilling Ben to the bone.  He finished his coffee and made his way into the house.

“You want Hop Sing dress Little Joe?” The cook called over to his employer as he removed the dishes from the table.  Everyone, with the exception of Joe, had eaten breakfast earlier.  Ben sighed and his gaze floated towards the stairs.  He so wished he would see his youngest son bounding down the staircase as he had done so often after sleeping late.  It seemed like ages since Ben had seen the bright hazel eyes and heard the laughter of the boy he loved with all of his heart.

“No — I’ll go get him ready and bring him down.  You better go check on those chickens of yours, Hop Sing.  There’s gonna be a downpour soon.  Make sure you batten down the hatches!” Ben responded and headed for the stairs.

Pulling the door to Joe’s room open, Ben saw the boy was still in his bed, but no longer asleep.  He forced a smile and called over to the boy.

“Good morning, Son – hope you slept well,” Ben said and neared the bed.  Joe continued to stare straight ahead, showing no sign of having heard or understood his father’s statement.

Ben walked over to the window, the rain clouds had finally opened up and water was coming in on the sill.  He closed the window and looked back over at Joe.

“How about getting dressed now, Joseph?  Hop Sing has made blueberry pancakes — your favorite!” Ben forced a cheery tone to his voice.  As was typical, Joe did not respond in any way.  Ben didn’t allow Joe’s lack of response to deter him and headed over to the boy’s bureau.  He drew out some long-john bottoms, socks and a clean pair of trousers and brought them over to the bed and sat down next to his son.  Slowly, coaxing him on as he had done for weeks, Ben got his son dressed.  He then headed over to get the boy a shirt.  “It’s going to be a cold damp day, better get a thermal shirt on underneath your other one today,” Ben said mostly to himself and pulled open the second drawer of the bureau.  It was the first time since the previous winter that the weather was cold enough to require a thermal undershirt.  Moving several other shirts over to the side, Ben grabbed the heavy shirt, but his hand hit something underneath the soft material.  “What the —,” Ben said as he pulled the drawstring bag up from under the shirt and held it in his hand.  He pulled the small bag open and confusion painted his face.  There, in the palm of his right hand was the medallion which had caused so much trouble a full year prior.  Ben walked over to the bed and held the object out in front of Joe’s eyes.  “Joseph?  I thought you threw this in the lake?  That’s what you told me at least.  What in the world is it doing hidden in your drawer?” Ben exclaimed.

Joe’s head turned, as if he had fully understood everything that his father had said this time.  He held out his left hand and Ben placed the medallion there in Joe’s palm.  As soon as it touched the skin of Joe’s hand he jumped to his feet, knocking his father to the floor as he bolted out of the room screaming at the top of his lungs.  He ran down the hallway and charged the stairs.  Hop Sing, standing over at the breakfast table looked over at the boy shocked to see him running across the room.  Joe flung the front door open and ran outside into the storm.

Ben shook himself from the initial shock of his fall and Joe’s escape.  He hurried out in search of his son.

“Little Joe — he run outside Mister Ben!”  Hop Sing shouted as Ben made it down to the living room.

“I’ll get him!” Ben exclaimed and grabbed his coat in his hands as he ran out the opened door.

Joe had raced blindly out of the front yard and escaped behind the barn.  He continued to run like a frightened animal into the dense forest surrounding the Ponderosa homestead.

“Joseph!  Joseph!  Come back!” Ben shouted as he continued to follow his son.  The rain pelted him and the lightning flashed, crashing close behind the terrified father as he tried desperately to find his son.

Joe jumped over a fallen tree and hit a deep impression in the ground, causing him to tumble down into the wet grass, mud, and pine needles.  That fall assisted his father in catching up with the boy.  Ben ran to Joe and knelt down next to him before his son could get back up.

“Joseph – it’s okay – it’s okay,” Ben called loudly trying to rise above the sounds of thunder.  He turned Joe over to face him.  The boy’s face was covered in mud but his eyes were what struck Ben more so.  The fixed stare was gone at last!  Tears filled Joe’s eyes and Ben covered his son with his coat and pulled him into an embrace.

“Devil’s hold,” Joe started.

“I know, Son,” Ben nodded and then felt the tight clamp of his son’s hand on his neck.

“It’s got me, Pa — devil’s hold!” Joe shouted.

Ben pulled Joe back to look into his eyes again.  He was totally amazed to hear the boy talking, saying more than just the two words this time.  Rain soaked the two Cartwrights, and the downpour worsened.  But, the weather was now the last thing that Ben was thinking about as he clung to his son.

“You talked!  Joseph— you talked!” Ben exclaimed.

Joe squeezed the medallion into his palm and closed his eyes.  It was as if Joe knew that the strange antique was the only thing that could help him now.  “Pa – gotta tell you —oh, Pa!” Joe yelled and clung even tighter to his father now, terror gripping him but he was also so elated that he could finally let his Pa know why.

“Let’s get you inside – you are soaked – then you can tell me everything, Son,” Ben replied and pulled Joe to standing and wrapped his large coat around his son, covering his bare chest.  He pulled him close to shelter him from the deluge of rain.  Father and son walked back to the house together.

Ben helped Joe into the living room and sent Hop Sing for some towels.  The cook brought them and Ben tried to dry both himself and Joe while Hop Sing hurried upstairs to get new shirts for both Cartwrights.  Joe sat shivering on the hearth of the fireplace.  It wasn’t too long before Hop Sing returned and helped Joe on with his shirt.  Ben donned his own dry shirt and then pulled the Indian blanket from its position at the end of the staircase railing and draped it around his son’s shoulders for extra warmth.  He then settled next to the boy and pulled him close.

“Joe?  Talk to me – tell me what’s going on,” Ben whispered, knowing by the look of desperation on his son’s face that it was going to be very hard for him to begin his story.

“How long — how long have I been gone, Pa?” Joe asked watching his father’s face for an answer.

“Gone?  You mean – unable to talk?”

“No – I fell into that well – was it yesterday?”

Ben shook his head and brushed the wet curls aside which had fallen down into his son’s face.  “Joseph — that was almost two months ago,” He explained.

“Two months?” Joe asked in total disbelief.  “Where have I been?”

“You’ve been right here, Son – but you haven’t been able to talk.  The only words you’ve been able to get out were –,” Ben paused he was almost afraid to say the haunting words and risk sending Joe back in his mind again.

“Devil’s hold?” Joe broke in.  Ben nodded.

“Joe – what happened to you?  You fell into that well we had a bunch of folks help dig a tunnel next to it to get to you.  But, when we finally broke through late that night – you weren’t down there anymore.  Do you remember?”

Joe felt a chill rush over him and his heart skipped a beat.  The vision of what had happened was all too clear in his mind.  He looked down to the floor and Ben could tell that the boy was terrified.

“Here – you drink tea— help you – help relax,” Hop Sing insisted and handed a cup to both Ben and Joe.  He could also sense the fear that controlled Joe and it worried him.  Hop Sing was afraid of what would happen once the boy started to reveal what he had gone through.

Ben urged Joe to take his time and settle down a bit before continuing.  Slowly they sipped their tea.  Right before Ben was about to encourage his son to get back to the telling of his story, the door to the ranch house opened and both Adam and Hoss entered the room.

“It’s a pure gully washer out there, Pa!” Hoss called over to his father, as both he and Adam removed their slickers.

Ben waved his hand behind Joe’s head in an attempt to signal the two of them about what was happening.  Hoss and Adam neared the others and sat down onto the settee.

“Joseph was just about to tell us what happened to him,” Ben explained and noted the confusion and surprise on both of his son’s faces.

“Little Brother, you okay?” Hoss asked softly.

Joe nodded, though he didn’t feel okay at all.

“What’s going on?  You can talk, Kid?” Adam was next to pose his question.

“Yes – he can.  Now – if you feel up to it, Joseph – can you tell us about it?” Ben softly made his request to the boy.  He gave his son a slight reassuring pat to his right shoulder and left his hand there for comfort.

“You won’t believe me – it’s too crazy –,” Joe muttered and stared over towards the flames shooting around the fire logs.

“Of course we will, Joseph,” Ben argued and waited patiently for him to reveal all that had happened to him.

“When — when I fell, you know I busted my arm,” Joe stopped in mid-sentence as he looked down at his left arm and was surprised to find it to be no longer broken.  He attempted to once again continue with his tale.  “When you sent down that last rope — I tried for it, but then I fell even further down.  I ended up on the bottom of that well.  I couldn’t even see you anymore — I wasn’t even sure if you were still there,” Joe paused again, and wiped away the drifting tears from his eyes.

“Pa never left you, Joe – not for one minute – all that night,” Adam reassured his brother.

“It was so dark down there, Pa —,” Joe turned back towards his father, his eyes full of random pictures of the horror he had survived.  “I was so scared – scared that you all would never get to me.  I started climbing – digging my boots in and pulling up as best I could with just my right hand.  I don’t know how many times I fell back down — I was starting to give up.  Then I saw it – it was so strange —,” Joe broke off again and then felt his father’s hand on his arm.

“What was it, Joe?” Ben asked.

“A thin shaft of light – so strange – like an orange color – not far above me – maybe ten or twelve feet.  So, I thought that maybe there was some kind of a tunnel, you know?  I thought maybe I could dig my way out of there.  I inched up slowly, trying to avoid another fall.  My arm was killing me – but I thought I could make it.”

Adam and Hoss exchanged confused glances and their hearts raced to finally hear where Joe had disappeared that day.

“I made it up — and I was right.  It wasn’t much of a crevice – barely enough to pull my body into.  I had about decided to just stay there – and wait for you all to get to me – that’s when it happened,” Joe whispered and covered his eyes with his hands, dropping his head down.

Ben’s heart ached to see what the telling of his story was doing to his son, but he knew it had to be told.  He pulled Joe closer and whispered, “Joe – what happened?  Tell me, Boy, I want to help you.”

“Pa — -something grabbed me – hands —so many hands!  They pulled me down into the crevice.  I tried to fight them off— there wasn’t much light – just that orange glow – but I could see that they had long fingernails – almost like claws!  They ripped at my arms as I battled to escape by backing out.  But, I couldn’t fight them – Pa – they were too strong!  I screamed — I can still hear the echo of my shouts!  I’ve never been so terrified in my whole life!”

Ben looked over at his two older sons and saw the disbelief in their eyes.  He warned them with his gaze.  The very last thing that Joseph needed was to think that his family didn’t believe what he was conveying to them.  “Go on, Son.”

“I don’t know how long it was — how long it took them to pull me down — but I ended up in this cave – and that’s where –,” Joe stopped as the medallion fell from his sweaty palm and landed on the floor.

“Go on, Joe,” Ben pleaded, but then he became aware of the blank stare now in Joe’s eyes.  “Joe?  You okay?”

“Devil’s hold – devil’s hold,” Joe stammered.

Ben looked down at the medallion, and it dawned on him that without it, Joe was still locked inside of his mind.  He bent down and retrieved it placing it firmly into the palm of Joe’s left hand.  “Joe?  Joe, are you all right?”

Joe nodded and looked at the confused faces around him.  He had no idea why they all appeared to be frightened.  “What happened?”

“You dropped your medallion—and you started to talk just like before – you could only say those two words again,” Ben replied softly, trying not to scare the boy any more than he already was.

Joe tightened his grip on his medallion, feeling as though it was his only life-line to reality now.

“Joe – thought you threw that thing into Lake Tahoe?” Hoss called over to the boy.

“I was going to – but something stopped me,” Joe replied hesitantly.

“What stopped you, Son?” Ben asked.

“Uncle Josh – he said something to me – like I could hear him, you know?  He said not to get rid of it – that I would need it one day.  So I just stashed it away in my dresser – hoping no-one would find out.  I figured as long as I wasn’t holding on to it that nothing strange would happen anymore.  I was wrong,” Joe sighed.

“What happened in the cave, Kid?” Adam tried to get back to the story.

“It wasn’t really a cave, Adam, it was – it was Hell,” Joe said and could tell by the expressions on all of the faces before him that his family members thought that he was out of his mind.  “I told you – I told you that none of you would believe me!” Joe shouted and stood quickly, planning on escaping the inquisition that was going on in the room.

Ben stood and grabbed Joe’s arm, pulling him back over to him.  “No – Joseph – you are wrong!  We know that something got a hold of you – you are covered with scratches – deep scratches all over your body.  They haven’t healed in two months!  And then there’s that sign–,” Ben argued and then noticed how his youngest looked back over at him strangely.

“Sign?  What sign?  What are you talking about?” Joe asked somberly.

Ben slowly pulled the left sleeve of Joe’s shirt up and showed the boy the pentacle.  “This – we’ve tried to remove it – but it won’t budge.  Something did this to you.  Now – how about telling us the rest of the story?  Just because the story shocks us – perhaps scares us – doesn’t mean we don’t believe you, Son,” Ben whispered and held Joe close again.

“Okay,” Joe sighed and sat back down.  He fixed his gaze on the mark on his arm and shook his head.  “I do remember – something about this— but – I didn’t know –,” Joe trailed off and then forced his sleeve back down.  He didn’t want to see the strange brand he now wore, though he knew what it meant and it scared the daylights out of him.

“What happened in that cave?” Ben continued to pry the truth out.

“I was pulled down that long tunnel or crevice – or whatever it was.  Then, all of a sudden I was dropped on the ground, knocking the wind out of me.  I tried to figure out what was happening.  I kind of thought that I was dreaming, you know?  It was like I was stuck in some bizarre nightmare.  But, believe me it was real – all too real!” Joe stopped again and looked piercingly over at his father.  “Pa?  Remember – remember all the stories from the Bible – all of the ones that talk about Hell?”

Ben simply nodded, wondering what Joe was about to reveal.

“Well, they are ALL TRUE – but it’s even worse – even worse,” Joe repeated and looked around the room for confirmation that his family believed what he was relating to them.  “There was smoke – thick acrid smoke – and I gagged on it.  I could see the arms of whomever – or whatever had pulled me down there.  Once and awhile I could see a face amidst the thick cloud of smoke.  They were hideous – nothing that I can even describe!  Like tortured souls – screaming – and wailing and reaching for me.  My shirt was torn to shreds and I fought with all the strength that I had left to get away from them.  There were flashes of fire and the earth beneath me shook and rumbled.  I knew then exactly where I was.  It was Hell – no doubt about it.  But, I couldn’t figure out why I was there, you know?  I mean – had I died in the fall down the well?  And, if I had – then why was I down there?  I know I haven’t lived the best life — but I sure didn’t figure I had lived the worst kind of life either!”  Joe stood and moved away from his father’s hold.  He had to pace the floor in order to get the rest of the story out.  Joe wondered how his family would ever believe what he was telling them.  In deep reflection, Joe wondered how he would be able to believe a story like the one he was telling, if he was being told the same things by someone else.  But, he knew it was real nonetheless.

“I heard a voice – but I couldn’t see the face behind it.  All I can tell you is that it was pure evil.  It said for me to curse God and relinquish my soul.  I refused and could feel the sharp claw-like fingers grabbing at me again, ripping my flesh.  I couldn’t move, like my body was weighted down by something that was invisible.  Then there were coiled snakes – all around me –waiting to strike.  I was asked once more to deny the existence of God, and again I refused,” Joe said, and his voice was strained with the pain he had suffered.  Ben moved alongside of him, and wrapped his arms around Joe for solace.

“What happened then?” Ben whispered his question this time.

“All’s that I can remember from that point, Pa, is weird images.  Like separated pictures of what happened to my body – almost as though I was looking over at it from somewhere else.  I knew that I was in the devil’s hold, and there wasn’t anything I could do about it.  I tried to pray – I really did – but it was like the demon knew what I was doing –and I was struck before I could get the prayer sent to God.  I figured I would be killed — if I wasn’t dead already.  All the other images in my head are too horrible to get out — there’s no way to tell you — no way to tell you what was done to me down there.  The last thing – the last thing I can really focus on – was that mark — there was some kind of an iron – with the sign of the star – and I was told that Satan had marked me as his.  But, since I wouldn’t curse God he had to let me go.  The voice said I would come back – and at that time my soul would finally be his.”

The silence that fell over the living room of the ranch was deafening.  The emotions in the room were raw and intense as each man attempted to take into their heads what Joe had just told them.  They could tell by the look on the boy’s face that he was sincere in all that he had related, but it was still hard to believe.

Ben cleared his throat, trying to push all rational thought aside, and put his faith in the boy there in front of him.  He knew that something beyond reality had happened to Joe, even though it continued to make little sense.  “That’s all you remember, Son?” Ben enquired softly.

Joe nodded and sat down on the coffee table, feeling emotionally spent.  “I know this is hard to believe – but it did happen – I swear it happened.  The next thing I recall is earlier today – when I ran out into the rain— and you brought me in, Pa.”

“We believe you, Little Brother,” Hoss said and patted his brother’s shoulder.

“Something sure happened – you have the wounds to show that it did,” Adam jumped in.

“I’m kind of tired, I think I’ll go lay down for a bit,” Joe whispered and stood to walk towards the staircase.

“Joe!” Ben called over to him.  “Joe – we want to help you – you aren’t in this alone anymore.”

Joe shot his gaze down to the floor and replied filled with sadness, “Once you fall into the devil’s hold you can never be set free.”

At the precise moment that Joe had uttered those words the front door flew wide open and a loud crash of lightning hit the house, shaking the foundation.  All eyes in the room exchanged fearful glances.  Ben hurried over to the door and closed it while fastening the slide bolt to prevent the same thing from happening again.  It had spooked everyone, everyone except Joe, who looked as though he knew that it was Satan himself who had flung the door wide open.

Joe turned, distress filling his sad hazel eyes, and slowly walked up to his room.  Ben watched helplessly, not knowing what he could do for his son.  He turned back towards both Adam and Hoss.

“Well?  Anyone have any suggestions?” Ben asked, as he sank back down into his chair wearily.

“Pa?  Do you believe what Joe said?  I mean it’s so –,” Adam stopped as Hoss jumped in.

“Unbelievable?  Yeah – well – it might be – but just look at Joe, Adam!  Something’s sure got to him.”

“I’m not saying the kid is lying!” Adam defended himself loudly.  The frustration and worry in the room was causing tempers to flare now.  “I believe that Joe “thinks” this is what happened.  The mind is a powerful weapon, you know?”

“You think Joe is causing this to happen – because he believes it to be real?” Ben asked incredulously.

“You got a better explanation, Pa?” Adam replied, and stared over at his father.

“The Monsignor said that we all fail to acknowledge the existence of Satan – though we readily believe in God.  I believe everything Joseph said.  Though it is almost unfathomable I think that it’s true.”

“Well, if it is true, Pa – then what can we do to help him?” Hoss asked, casting a glance up towards the stairs.  If it had been any other kind of a foe, he would have gone and beaten the stuffing out of the enemy, anything that would protect his little brother.  Hoss was totally unsure how to combat this type of an assailant.

“I wish I knew – but we have to do something,” Ben frowned.

“What about that medallion?  Joe said that Uncle Josh – who has been dead for a long time now—told him to keep it.  Funny that it is the only thing that can bring Joe back around now, huh?” Adam said, still trying to pragmatically deal with the bizarre situation.

“If it is what finally got Joe to talk – then I’m glad he kept the thing.  Last year – all it did was get Joe into trouble.  Whatever supernatural power it might hold, it’s at least helping the problem this time,” Ben sighed and stood once again.  “I’m going up there – to see if he wants to talk.”

“What do you want us to do?” Hoss called over to his Pa.

Pa made his way over to the stairs and turned around.  His facial features were a mix of many things at the time.  He was afraid, he was upset, he was confused, but foremost he was worried for his youngest son’s life.

“Pray,” Ben stated firmly.  The sincerity of his one word answer could be felt by his other sons.  They knew that their father had an unshakable faith, and was hoping that it would work in combination with the other family members and help pull Joe to safety.

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

Joe sat in his chair by the window staring out at the crashes of lightning in the distance.  The rain pelted the window pane and tracked down in strange formations.  He didn’t hear the door open or his father’s quiet approach.

“Joe?  I was hoping you and I could talk privately.  You feel up to it, Son?” Pa asked and sat down on the bottom of the bed opposite from where his son sat at the window still staring out.

Joe turned his head as if in slow motion.   Pa noticed the streaks of recently spent tears on the boy’s face.  He could also see terror in Joe’s eyes, and a look about him which begged for help.

“Pa – I wish you could – I wish you could help me – but I don’t think that you can this time.  I’m not even sure if I am sane anymore.  Maybe I have just lost it, you know?  But, the pictures here in my mind — they’re just so real!”  Joe tried to explain, worried that his father was only placating him now.  He really wouldn’t blame the concerned man before him for assuming that his son had gone off the deep end mentally.

Ben reached out his right hand and placed it under Joe’s chin forcing the boy’s attention towards the eyes of his father.  “Hey?  This is me – your Pa here — now since when did I ever think you were sane?” Ben asked, smiling.

Joe sighed and forced a smile himself.  He knew what Ben was trying to do, and loved him for it.  “So – you think I’m not any crazier than I always have been, then?”

“No, Joe – none of this is crazy.  It’s hard to believe — I’ll give you that!  But, we’ve been through so much over the years, haven’t we?”

“Yeah – always me, Pa — I don’t know why – I guess I’m just lucky,” Joe nodded, and dropped his head back down away from his father’s gaze.

“No – I don’t think that’s it at all, Joseph.  I have my own theory about you,” Ben stated rather cryptically.

Joe looked back up again, wondering just what his father had meant.  “Okay, Pa, what’s your theory?”  Joe asked in a whisper.

“Well some, like your great uncle Josh might attribute all of this to you being the third son of the third son of the third son –,” Ben stopped and chuckled.  He regained his composure and continued, “Sorry – that was a lot to say, you know?  Then there are others — who might just assume you have some kind of a curse placed on you.  Some folks might even attribute it to just plain bad luck.”

“And you, Pa?  You don’t?” Joe needed to hear the answer and he needed it to be an earnest one.  His sad eyes stared over at his father intent on learning the truth.

“No I don’t.  My theory lies more towards the fact that you are one of the strongest souls that God has ever placed on earth.  That, along with your deep faith, Joe is why you are a challenge.  What kind of a challenge would it have been for the evil one to go after someone of a lesser faith?  No, you would have been a prize — what with the way you love, the way you feel for folks.  I know you hide it from the others – but I know more about you than you know about you at this point, Joseph.  And I know you have a very kind heart.  Just imagine the triumph Satan would have felt — to know he took away one of God’s favorites!”

Joe looked back over at his father in disbelief.  He didn’t picture himself as one of God’s favorites at all.  He felt like he had always been a work in progress.  Joe knew how many times he had fought to control his intense anger in the past.  How could he be considered a favorite with so many character flaws?

“I can’t be one of the favorites, Pa – not by any stretch of the imagination.  You know my temper – you know!  Yeah — I’ve tried not to hurt people – to always try my best to get along with folks and all.  But, I hardly picture myself as being a prize for Satan.  Now surely YOU would be a prize and probably even Hoss – but not me!” Joe confessed.

“I could sit right here for hours – and I will if you want me to by the way—and list off countless acts of selflessness – and all done by you over your nineteen years.  I think you are kind of confused about the difference with being a good person and being a perfect person, Joseph.  Let me help you.  No-one is perfect – so get that out of your head, okay?  But, the love that you have in your heart is far stronger, far purer than anyone I know.  I believe it is that love – and your deep faith – which saved you in that cave.”

Joe stood and walked away from his father, feeling very emotional after listening to what the man thought of him.  He always knew that Pa loved him, that was a given.  But, to hear such high praise from the man was a bit overwhelming for him, considering his own opinion of himself at the time.

Ben watched as his son paced the room, as though he was fighting for inner control and was losing.  He stood and approached Joe and stopped his progress.

“The force of evil is almost as strong as the force of love, Joseph, but just almost mind you!  In the end, I would bet my life on the power of love,” Ben whispered and pulled his son into his arms and held him tightly.  He wished that the boy knew how much he was loved by the whole family.  Ben wanted to surround Joe in the protective shield of that love and pray that the evil could not break through this time.

Joe closed his eyes, and fought his inner turmoil.  He knew that he had to go back to the cave soon.  Joe was terrified that if he didn’t go willingly, that Satan would come for him there at the ranch house.  He loved them all, his brothers, Hop Sing, and foremost the man in whose arms he now found comfort.  Joe clenched his fingers around the medallion, still held in his left hand.  He hoped that somehow it would help him in his mission.  But first, Joe had to make his father believe that he was all right.  He had to pretend at least, in order to later escape the ranch house and head out to do battle for his soul.

“It’s gonna be okay, Pa — I know that now.  So don’t worry,” Joe whispered, and hoped the words sounded better than they really felt in coming out.

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

Joe tried for the remainder of the day and night to appear more in control of his emotions and less troubled by all that he had conveyed to his family earlier.  It was a very difficult act, but he knew what was at stake.  Joe knew that if anyone caught onto the notion of what he was planning on doing and where he was going, they would never permit it.

After supper, Joe bid his family goodnight and once more headed for his bedroom.  A short time later, Ben decided to turn in as well.  Serious doubt over his son’s behavior pulled the anxious father into Joe’s room for one last peek at him before going to bed.  Ben walked over to the boy’s bed, and saw that he appeared to be slumbering soundly.  Moving to the night stand to lower the flame of the lamp, Ben noticed how Joe had fallen to sleep on his side.  There, between the fingers of his son’s left hand, Pa could see the medallion.  He shook his head sadly, knowing that Joe was much too afraid to part with the object even in his sleep.  Pausing long enough to pull the fallen covers back up around his son’s shoulders, Pa said a silent prayer for Joe’s safety.  “Goodnight, Joseph,” He whispered and turned out of the room.

Joe had dozed off, but only for a few hours.  He hurriedly dressed and waited in his chair by the window until almost daybreak.  Knowing he would have to steal out of the house, in order to avoid anyone hearing his departure, Joe quietly descended the stairs.  He stopped at the credenza wondering if he should strap the holster around his waist.  It seemed like a futile thing to do, so Joe simply reached for his jacket and hat and made his way quietly out of the house undetected.

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

Ben tossed and turned all night.  The vivid images played inside his dreams of all that Joe had told him that day.  Several times he had jumped up in his bed wide awake, only to discover it was still the wee hours of the morning.  Ben tried to settle back and force sleep once more.  Shortly before dawn, he had a terrible nightmare that shook him to the core.  Ben decided that enough was enough and he washed and dressed and prepared for another day.

It might have been father’s intuition, or perhaps typical worry on Ben’s part, but he felt the need to check on his youngest.  Pulling the door forward, his eyes fell on the empty bed and his heart stopped.  He hurried to the window and stared out into the blackness hoping to spot Joe heading towards the barn.  The boy was nowhere to be seen.  It was then that he realized where his son had gone.

There was no time to waste, so waking up the other family members was not an option at the time.  Ben ran down the staircase and quickly strapped on his holster.  It was then that he noticed that Joe’s Colt was still sitting there on the credenza.  Ben drew in a deep breath as he stared down at his Colt forty-five.  He knew it would be of little use if the story Joe had told him was fact.  Grabbing his hat and coat, Ben ran out of the house and hurried to the barn to get his horse saddled.  He knew exactly where Joe would be found and a combination of fear and dread stabbed at Pa’s heart.

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

Joe tied his horse’s reins to a small scrub bush just outside of the opening of the cave.  His terrified gaze focused in on what he considered the point of no return.  Joe fell to his knees and secured the medallion inside of his shirt pocket.  Then, closing his eyes, he began to pray.

*** Help me dear Lord, I am so scared but I know what I have to do.  I believe you have the power to save me from whatever has pulled me back to this place.  Please go in there with me – and help to set me free.  Amen. ***

Joe pulled himself back up and patted his pinto’s neck, for what he thought might be the very last time.  He then warily walked inside the cave.  A hauntingly familiar feeling made the hair stand up on the back of Joe’s neck as he pushed his way further and further inside.  The mouth of the cave was high enough for him to walk upright, but as he went deeper into the cold earth, Joe had to bend a bit through the narrowing passageways.

If it hadn’t been such a terrifying experience, Joe would have been awed by the strange formations of both stalactites and stalagmites which in some places met and formed shining crystal columns.  There was a glow of light far in the distance, and it was just radiant enough to throw strange shadows all around the sides of the cavern.  Joe could sense an increasing feeling of foreboding coming over him.  His right hand fell to one of the sides of the cave and Joe pulled it away quickly.  He could feel the thick slimy matter that was now caked between his fingers and tried to wipe it away.  All of a sudden there was a strange sound and Joe could feel the fly-by of a bat’s wings against his cheek.  Joe fell to his knees, startled by the creature.  Lying on the clammy floor of the cave, he heard a rumbling sound and could feel the earth beneath shake violently.  Whispering another quick prayer, he pulled himself back to standing and trudged onward.

The first assault to Joe’s senses was the sulfuric smell that permeated his nostrils.  The stench grew worse with each precarious step that he took, and Joe felt as though he would give up the contents of his stomach soon.  Then, instead of the atmosphere becoming cooler, as was typical at those depths, the air became both stale and hotter.  The cavern split into two tunnels, and Joe instinctively knew the one that he needed to follow.  He carefully bent his body to allow himself to go underneath the lower hanging ceiling of rock.  Soon, sweat poured from Joe’s forehead and he tossed off his hat.  A few steps later he pulled his jacket off, tucking it under his arm.

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

Ben dismounted and tied the reins of Buck up to where Cochise was patiently waiting for her master.  Then, throwing caution to the wind, Ben hurried inside the cave in search of his son.  He didn’t know how far ahead Joe had advanced he only knew that he had to get to the boy to try to help him.  Praying each step of the way, Ben descended farther and farther down into the bowels of the cavern.

Smoke encircled Joe’s body and he coughed trying to force air into his lungs.  His heart raced, knowing he was almost in the presence of the evil that had beckoned him forward.  There was another loud rumble and the quake following the sound dropped Joe down onto his stomach, hitting the sharp rocks beneath him.  He moaned and tried to pull himself to his knees.  Before he could accomplish the move, Joe saw numerous hands shooting out of the smoke grabbing and tearing at him.  He screamed out in agony as he was dragged away.

Ben had just made it to the division in the cave pathway when he heard the languished cry of his son.  His blood went cold as stone, and his chest tightened knowing he had to get to Joe fast.  It was far too dark to read any tracks, and the floor of the cavern was much too rocky anyway to give away her clues.  Ben chose the passageway to the right side and bent down and entered.  He had only made four steps down the passageway before seeing Joe’s hat lying against some rubble there on the floor of the cave.  Knowing that he was heading in the right direction, Ben hurried as best he could, down the long dark tunnel.

Joe felt the razor sharp claws as they tore at him from all directions.  Being pulled down further into the cave blindly, he fought to free himself.  The grotesque appearance of the demons that had him in their clutches made Joe squeeze his eyes shut in horror.  He could hear voices, though the language sounded foreign to him, almost other-worldly.  Trying to kick and thrash his body loose, Joe was only receiving that much more damage from the claws.  It had already seemed like an eternity, when his vicious abductors tossed Joe’s body down onto a large rock which gave the appearance of an altar stone.

Joe opened his eyes once more, forcing himself to stare into the evil that surrounded him.  He tried to reach for the medallion, which was still secure in the top pocket of his shirt, but his hands were weighted down by the demons holding him.  There was a sudden crash, as of thunder, and a brilliant flame danced in the background against one of the cavern walls.  Joe focused in on the strange light for a moment and his eyes burnt from the brightness hitting his pupils.  Then the claws ripped away his shirt and Joe screamed out.

“No!  No!” Joe’s voice echoed against the walls of the cave.  His shirt had been flung across the far side of the altar.

“You’ve come back, just as I told you that you would!” Another voice sounded out loudly.  It was as if it were Satan himself, or so Joe presumed.

It was at that precise moment that Ben stumbled into the chamber where his son lay stretched out on the rock mantle.  All that the troubled father could see was Joe.  He couldn’t see the demons which surrounded the boy, nor the bright glowing flame in front of him.  The only voice that Ben could hear was that of his youngest son.  It looked so peculiar from his vantage point.  It seemed like Joe had ripped his own shirt away and had gone to lie down on the stone himself.  Ben tried to move over to aid him.  It was only then that he realized what truly held his son.

Ben, advancing towards Joe, was hurled up against one of the walls of the cave by unseen hands.  The impact knocked his breath away.  He looked all around, wondering exactly what had happened to him.  Ben tried again to pull himself from his position against the cave’s wall but could no longer move his legs.  It was as though he had been rendered paralyzed by someone or something undetectable.

Joe could just barely make out the image of his father, his vision obscured by all of the demons who still held him down against the altar.

“Pa!” Joe screamed.  “Pa!  Go back – get out of here while you still can!” He pleaded with his father, terrified that Pa might be the next one who would be at the mercy of those who held him down.

Ben’s eyes focused in on his son’s shirt which had been thrown off to the side.  In the toss, the medallion had fallen halfway out of his pocket.  The gold piece looked as though it was pulsating in its own light.

“Take me!  Leave my son alone — and take me!”  Ben shouted towards the unseen enemies.

Another loud rumble shook the entire cave and Joe cried out in pain as he felt something strike him.  He looked up into the horrifying face of one of the demons at his side and saw the bright crimson stain spreading its pattern on the strange knife he had held in his cloven hand.  Joe had been stabbed and the demon appeared to be readying to do it once more.

“Leave now, Pa!  Go!”  Joe tried again to shout with all of his might, though weakened by what had already been done to his body.

“Take me!”  Ben screamed once again and hoped that the unseen enemy would hear him.

“Your father – he will have his turn – but not now.  Curse God and be done with it!” The evil voice boomed out in a way that shook the walls with its intensity.

“No – never!” Joe replied and once more felt the dagger’s assault.  Joe writhed in pain as the demon ripped open the flesh right above his heart.

Ben, still paralyzed, watched in horror as blood began to flow from his son’s chest and arm for no apparent reason.  All he could see was Joe trying to get up off of the stone altar but with each attempt he fell back.  He could only imagine what had its hold on his boy.

“Pa –,” Joe cried out, weaker still.  “Pa – if you’re still there – get me the medallion.”

Ben let his body fall straight down the side of the cavern.  Though he could not advance his legs, he found that he could at least move his arms.  Once he hit the floor of the cave Ben reached with all of his might for the medallion a short distance away.

“Please God – please help me,” Ben whispered.  He tried and tried to grasp the medallion with his fingertips but it was just a couple of inches too far away.

“Curse God and you will have eternal life!” The evil voice called again to Joe.

“Never – go ahead – kill me!” Joe responded and once more felt the blade of the dagger entering his body.  This time it had caught him in his left side, pinning his body to the altar.  ***Please God, save my father *** Joe prayed knowing he wasn’t going to survive now.

Just then the cavern quaked more fiercely than it had before and the motion that it had caused happened to jolt the medallion closer to Ben’s outstretched hand.  He wrapped his fingers around it, and at that very moment his body was freed so he could stand.

“Not my son!” Ben shouted and bolted across the chamber shielding Joe with his own body just as the unseen dagger was lifted up for one final attack.  “Take me!” Ben pleaded as he held his son in his trembling arms.

Joe’s hand pulled loose from the demonic hold and reached up to his father’s face.  He could feel the coolness of the man’s tears against his own fingers.  “I love you, Pa,” Joe whispered, intent on those being his final words before dying.

“I love you, Son,” Ben replied, seeing the increasing flow of blood spreading all over Joe’s body.  He was sure that the boy was about to give up the ghost.

Those two exchanges, between father and son had been more powerful than anything that Satan had to offer.  Upon hearing them, the demons were forced to release Joe from their clutches, and even the Devil himself gave up on trying to pull the boy away from his father or God.  The room shook violently, far more violently than ever before.  But, Joe’s body was free and his father was able to lift him up into his arms.  Hastily moving out of the final chamber and seeking the entranceway, Ben carried his son away from the danger.

“Don’t leave me, Joseph – don’t leave me –,” Ben whispered over and over again, worried that by the time they found themselves out of the cavern that Joe would succumb to his wounds and blood loss.

By the time that the two Cartwrights broke free of the mouth of the cave it had seemed like hours.  Ben, his breathing labored due to the strain of the rapid departure and his fear for his son, walked over to the two horses and carefully set Joe down in the shade of one of the close by trees.  It wasn’t until then that the worried father realized that he still held in his hand the medallion.  Biting back fear, Ben placed the object inside of his shirt pocket.  Joe’s body was covered in blood, and deep stab wounds could be seen in his chest, his arm and his side.

“Oh, Joseph,” Ben sighed, as tears drifted down from his eyes.  The boy didn’t look as though he had a chance in the world of surviving this go-round with the demons.

Joe’s eyes blinked open and he stared up at his father.  The fear and love on the man’s face shot straight through to his heart.

“Thanks, Pa,” Joe whispered and reached with his left hand and touched his father’s face.

“We’ve got to get you home,” Ben paused and looked over at the two horses.  He didn’t think he should move the boy, not in his condition but knew that if he was going to try to keep him alive he had no other choice.

“You go – go on home – get the wagon.  I’m safe here now,” Joe muttered and closed his eyes again, his exhaustion taking over.

“I can’t leave you, Son,” Ben protested.

“I won’t run off anywhere – you don’t have to worry about it this time,” Joe insisted.

Ben hurried to his horse and grabbed a canteen along with his bedroll from behind his saddle.  Walking back over to his son, Ben tried to make the boy as comfortable as he could.  He withdrew his neckerchief and secured it over the worst of the knife wounds.

Ben bent down and kissed Joe’s forehead and squeezed his hand tightly.  “I’ll be right back, Joseph.”  Reaching back inside of his shirt, he removed the medallion and placed it in his son’s left hand.  “You hang onto this,” He insisted and then stood and ran over to Buck and sent him into a gallop towards the ranch house.

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

Joe, weakened by blood loss, passed out shortly after his father’s departure.  He had no way to know how long he had fallen under the blanket of darkness.  It might have been an hour or just a few minutes, Joe wasn’t sure.  When he opened his eyes he squinted towards the figure hovering over him.  Joe forced his eyes shut once more, trying to clear his vision.  When he reopened them he clearly saw the form of his late great uncle Josh.

“Uncle Josh?” Joe murmured his question, wondering if it was some kind of a peculiar dream he was having.

“I thought I’d come and wait with you awhile, Joseph,” The man smiled and knelt down next to the boy.  He pulled back the blanket which Ben had used to cover his son before leaving.  “Those are some nasty looking wounds you have there, Boy.”

“I kept the medallion – just like you told me to, Uncle,” Joe whispered and held the object out towards the man.

The specter of Uncle Josh reached for the medallion, taking it into his hand.  “Very good, Joseph, — it helped save you.  Just as I thought that it would.”

“But — but how’d you know?” Joe asked bewildered.  It really didn’t bother him, the fact that he was talking to a man who had died over a year previous.  Joe had in the past seen several visions of the ghostly figure, so this didn’t surprise him in the least.  In fact, after doing battle with the demons in the cave, it was a welcomed vision at that.

“Long ago – many many years before you were born, I was told of what the future would hold.  I always knew there would be a Joseph Cartwright – and I also knew what plans Satan had for you.  I’m sorry that I couldn’t tell you before I died, but I was afraid to.  Sometimes it’s actually better not to know what’s going to happen to you.”

“Yeah –well – since you know all that — am I going to live?  I don’t feel like it right now, you know?” Joe asked, his face wincing due to the mounting pain from his many wounds.

Uncle Josh reached down and touched each of Joe’s wounds.  “Of course you will, Joseph!  Look at your arm,” The man said and pointed at the underside of the boy’s left arm.

With great effort, Joe lifted his arm closer to his face and noticed that the sign of the pentacle had totally disappeared.

“It’s gone!” Joe exclaimed.  “You mean I won?  It’s over?”

Uncle Josh patted the boy’s shoulder and nodded.  “It’s all over, my boy.”

“The medallion – it saved me.  I owe it all to you,” Joe replied and fought back his pain long enough to smile up at his uncle.

“Hold on there, Boy, the medallion helped some – that’s true – but it wasn’t what saved you.  Two far more important things saved you, Joseph.”

“What?”

“Your faith – and the love you have for your father – and the love that he has for you.  Love is a very powerful weapon against evil.  It always wins out.  Remember — love never fails,” Josh said and then pulled himself to standing.  “I have to be going now – your pa will be here any minute.”

“Uncle Josh – how can I ever thank you?”

“You’ve thanked me already – and who knows?  Maybe there will be another Cartwright along the line someday who will have a use for that medallion?  You keep it, just in case,” Uncle Josh said and handed it back to the injured boy.

“But – will I ever see you again?” Joe asked, saddened at the thought that the man would totally disappear from his life now.

“You may not “see” me – but I will always be with you, Joseph.  Don’t forget it, either!  I have to be going now— goodbye, Joseph,” Uncle Josh said with a smile and dematerialized right before Joe’s eyes.

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

By the time Ben and Hoss arrived with the buckboard Joe was once again unconscious.  They gingerly loaded him into the wagon and headed back to the ranch house.  Ben tried to bring Joe around worried that he might have lapsed into a coma.  The boy made no sound to show he had heard his father’s words of encouragement.  Ben cradled Joe’s head in his lap and instructed Hoss to drive faster.  They needed to have Joe seen by Doctor Martin immediately.  Adam had been dispatched to bring the doctor to the house.  Now it was just a race against time to get the boy back into his own bed and hopefully save his life.

Just as soon as Hoss had carried his brother up to his bedroom, the doctor arrived with Adam.  They hurried up the stairs to see how the boy was doing.  Pushing the bedroom door open, Paul Martin strode briskly over to the bed.  Ben and Hoss stepped aside to give the doctor some room.  Hop Sing was the next person in the room, carrying up with him boiling water and fresh bandages.

Paul gave a cursory examination, in order to decide which of the wounds would take priority over the others.  He shook his head wondering how the boy had suffered so much damage.  The three stab wounds were deep and had begun to fester.  Joe had scratches, much like he had sustained almost two months ago on his first trip into the cave.  Turning the boy’s left arm, Paul was amazed by the sight he witnessed and cast a glance over at the family.

“Well – one good thing at least – that sign has disappeared,” Paul called over to them all.

“Thank God,” Ben whispered and moved in for a closer look.  “What do you think?  Will he be okay?”

Paul shrugged his shoulders and shook his head once more.  “These wounds are quite deep, and this one here,” He paused and pointed at the cut right above Joe’s heart, “could have killed him.  I’m rather amazed that it didn’t.   Of course – with what we’ve seen here lately nothing surprises me anymore.”  Paul opened his black bag and pulled out implements he would need to make the repairs.  He then looked over at Ben and read the worry and fear in his eyes.  “Ben, I want you, Hoss and Adam to go on downstairs while I patch the boy.  Hop Sing and I have some serious work ahead of us.”

“But –,” Ben began but was cut off by the doctor.

“But nothing!  Now go on — you all could use a drink I’m sure.  I’ll come down just as soon as we’re done and I’ll let you know how he’s doing,” Paul gave his most adamant glare and they all knew that he meant business.

Ben knew better than to argue with his old friend.  Reluctantly he gave in.  Running a hand through Joe’s hair Ben whispered, “We’ll be back in a little while, Joseph – you hang on.”

The three Cartwrights turned out of the bedroom and Hop Sing and the doctor went about the task of trying to repair all of the damage to Joe’s battered body.  Paul closed the chest wound first, taking his time and cleaning the cut thoroughly before suturing the gaping hole.  He moved down to the boy’s side and did the same.  The last wound was less serious than the first two, but still held a problem in closing it.  Paul sutured the stab wound which fell right between Joe’s left armpit and his collar bone.  Satisfied that the closure would hold, Paul turned his attention to the scratches which seemed to cover both of Joe’s arms and his chest.  There were a few of the claw-like marks on the boy’s face, but the doctor deemed them to be superficial and simply dabbed on antiseptic instead of opting for more sutures.  The boy had enough of those already.  When everything was said and done, it had taken more than twenty sutures to close the wound on Joe’s chest, fourteen for his side wound, and almost that many for his upper arm.

Hop Sing gave Paul a fresh basin of water and a towel so he could clean off his hands.  By the time he was finished the water in the bowl was completely tinged with the color of Joe’s blood.  Paul dried his hands thoroughly and went about placing clean bandages over his patient’s wounds.

“What you think?  Little Joe gonna be okay?” Hop Sing asked.  He had hoped the doctor would say something during the hour of patching the boy, but he hadn’t.  The doctor turned and looked at the Oriental and smiled.

“Anybody else and I would say no.  But, this is Joe, right?  It’ll take a while but this time I’m willing to bet that his wounds will heal,” Paul replied and patted the man’s shoulder reassuringly.  “Why don’t you sit with him for a minute and I’ll go and tell the others?”

“Hop Sing stay – in case Little Joe wake.  You vely good doctor – but you know that — always save Little Joe!” Hop Sing grinned up at the doctor as he took a seat next to Joe’s bed.

“Well — it’s never been entirely up to me you know?  I think this boy is watched over by someone with far better healing abilities than me,” Paul answered and turned for the door.

All three Cartwrights downstairs took turns pacing and wondering what was taking so long upstairs.  Though they knew that Joe had some serious injuries and that the repairs would be tedious, they were just about ready to charge the stairs when Paul appeared.  He walked down to the living room and Ben met him at the bottom landing.

“Strong boy — must come from good stock!” Paul winked and smiled, giving away his prognosis.

“Then — he’ll be okay?” Ben asked, his voice shaking with worry.

“I think so – if past history is any example he should be fine.  He’s got a good deal of sutures in him, but hopefully we will actually see some healing going on this time,” The doctor reassured the family.

“Thank you, Paul,” Ben sighed feeling very relieved as he shook the other man’s hand.  “Is it okay to go up and see him now?”

Paul smiled broadly and nodded, “Like I could keep you away?”

“You got a point there, Doc!” Hoss laughed and patted his father’s shoulder.

“Thank you for coming out so quickly,” Ben stated as he started up the stairs.

“I think Adam had a lot to do with that – I’ll be happy to take a much slower ride back into town,” Doc grinned as he turned for the door.  “I’ll see you all tomorrow.  Keep Joe quiet, he’s going to need a lot of rest for a while.”

“We will,” Ben replied and hurried up the stairs, followed closely behind by his two sons.

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

Joe slept peacefully for hours surrounded by the love of his family who stayed at his side.  Later that evening Ben urged his two sons to eat their supper while he waited to see if Joe would come around.  Sitting in the chair next to the boy’s bed, Ben kept a watchful eye on his injured son hoping that there would be a sign soon.

A low moan escaped Joe’s parched lips and his head moved from side to side.  Ben was quick to pour a glass of water and offer it to the boy.   Gently lifting his son’s head Ben urged him to drink.  Joe’s hazel eyes finally showed recognition and he took a couple of sips of the water before waving his hand to show he was done.

“Thanks, Pa,” Joe mumbled and winced his face from the pain that had come back in full force.

“Well, Young Man, it’s about time you woke up.  How do you feel?” Ben tried to sound upbeat, in spite of the seriousness of his son’s numerous wounds.

“Kinda rough,” Joe paused and reached out his right hand and locked it onto his father’s arm.  “Pa?  Did you see it?  Did you see them?” He asked, hoping for assurance that what he had gone through was indeed a reality and not some strange figment of his imagination.

Ben stroked Joe’s hair lightly with his left hand while allowing his son to keep his grip on his right arm.  He could read the anxiety in his boy’s eyes.  “I didn’t exactly see them, Joe, but — I know that they were there.  Something had a hold of me – I couldn’t move.  It wasn’t until I got a hold of that medallion that I could make my way over to you.”

“But – you believe me now, right?”

“I always believed you, Son,” Ben nodded.  “It’s a good thing you held onto this medallion, huh?” Ben indicated the medallion which sat on the night stand.

“That wasn’t what saved me, Pa —,” Joe tried to explain.  He released his hold on his father’s arm and reached for the medallion and took it into his right hand.  “I know – somehow it helped and all.  But, it was love that saved me, Pa — love and faith.”

“I told you that love was a powerful weapon, didn’t I?” Ben smiled.

“Yeah – so did Uncle Josh,” Joe nodded, thinking back on the ghostly encounter earlier in the day.

“Uncle Josh?” Ben asked confused now.

“Yeah – he came to see me – when you went to get help.  He told me the same thing you had told me.   Love never fails.  He also told me to keep a hold of this – and maybe it will help another Cartwright someday.”

“Oh?” Ben responded, his eyebrows raised in surprise.  “So—you are going to save it for the third son of —,” Ben began and Joe broke in, knowing exactly what his father was going to say.

“Yeah – the third son of the third son –and so forth,” Joe smiled and winked.  “That is if I live long enough to have three sons.  At the rate that I’m going there’s not much chance of that, huh?” Joe said ironically, subtly referring to his many injuries.

“Oh – don’t know about that, Son.  You’ve gone through a whole lot — that’s true — but you always end up on your feet – stronger than ever!” Ben grinned and patted Joe’s arm.

“I hope so, Pa,” Joe said and paused again.  A strange expression spread across his face and he looked directly at his father.  The brightness was finally once more in his hazel eyes.  There was also a gleam in them that showed Ben that Joe was back to his former self.  Joe grinned and remarked, “You know what?”

“What?” Ben asked, knowing from past experience that Joe was about to say something outrageous, just to prove that he was back to normal.

“It’s been a hell of a day, Pa,” Joe laughed.

Ben shook his head and smiled.  The boy had not disappointed him.  His strange form of humor was back, and was just as endearing as it had always been.  “Oh yes, Joseph – one hell of a day all right!” Ben chuckled and watched as his son closed his eyes again.

Sitting by the bedside, Ben breathed a sigh of relief as he watched his youngest son sleeping so peacefully.  He had no doubt that the boy would recover fully from all of his injuries.  Joe was resilient, that was a well-known fact.  The boy also had some guardian angels apparently watching over him.  That would never mean that he wouldn’t have other problems in his life.  But, it did mean that he was never really alone in dealing with them.  Joe’s faith was as strong as the man who now sat there looking at him.  And that, combined with an abiding love, was all that he would ever need to protect him.

Ben closed his eyes, and eased back in the chair.  He knew he might just as well get comfortable as it would apparently be another long night.  Before he dozed off completely, he opened his eyes one last time and stared over at the medallion.  A smile filtered across his lips as he whispered, “thanks, Uncle Joshua.”

“You’re welcome, Benjamin,” Came a voice from the bottom of the bed, where the specter stood staring over at the injured boy.

Ben’s face took on a puzzled look.  He could have sworn that he had heard something.  Shrugging his shoulders, he settled back again and closed his eyes.

The End

By:  Wrangler

Written 8-23-02   Reformatted on 7-23-2025

Stories in the trilogy:

The Third Son

The Devil’s Hold

Payback

(Dedicated to Rob the story consultant, who liked this crazy tale.)