Summary: It’s time for payback when Little Joe is unwittingly duped by Pete Timmons, setting the stage for one final battle between them. The conclusion of “The Third Son” Trilogy.

Rating T    WC 22,067

The Third Son Series:

The Third Son
The Devil’s Hold
Payback

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Payback

(the follow-up story to The Third Son and The Devil’s Hold)

Yielding his coat collar to the advancing wind, Joe Cartwright pulled back on his horse’s reins and stood in the stirrups. The massive Ponderosa pines swayed in the distance and the skies above threatened a downpour at any moment.

“Better hurry back home, Cochise—we’re gonna be in for it soon!” Joe called down to his mount and patted the pinto’s neck.

After having spent half of the morning rounding up strays, Joe was more than ready to take a break. And, now that the weather had turned on him, he thought the journey back to the ranch house would be justified. With both his father and brother Hoss way up on the north range with the cattle, Joe decided it was up to him alone to batten down the hatches back at home. Even the Cartwright family cook and caretaker, Hop Sing, was absent from the homestead and wasn’t expected back for a few days.

Joe kicked lightly at his horse’s sides and the pinto picked up its pace heading up the incline above the Tahoe rim. Just as both young man and mount reached the summit, Joe heard a pleading voice cry out. Tugging back hard on the reins, Joe’s abrupt motions sent the pinto up on both back legs in protest.

“Help! Somebody help me!” came another call from somewhere down below the ridge.

Joe dismounted and pulled his horse along behind him as he made it to the side of the trail and scanned the area below. He didn’t spot the fallen man right away, but, after one more call for help, Joe tuned in on the direction of the sound and his eyes fell on the form. Laying some twenty feet down the hillside was Joe’s old nemesis, Pete Timmons.

“I’ll be damned,” Joe muttered to himself and turned around to unhook the lariat from his saddle. His mind was deluged with awful images of past encounters with the man who was lying injured below. Pete Timmons was a scoundrel and had been a thorn in Joe’s side for more years than he could remember. The evil contemptuous man had in the past beaten Joe, had thrown him bound into a pond, shot him and in all ways tried to humiliate him. Their hatred for one another had grown over the years since the first meeting over a poker game when Joe was eighteen. Now, some three years later, they had both abided by an unwritten agreement to stay far away from one another. In the past, Pete had seen the inside of sheriff Roy Coffee’s jail quite a few times, and all because of his many assaults both verbally and physically on the youngest son of Ben Cartwright. Joe hadn’t seen Timmons for almost a year, and had wondered if he had finally decided to move on and harass someone else. But, now, looking down at the man, Joe sighed when he realized that he was now in the position to have to save him. Joe shook his head and cursed under his breath. “If I thought I could get away with it, I’d leave the son of a gun down there,” Joe muttered and uncoiled the rope in his left hand. Joe knew better. As much as he would enjoy riding away and leaving Pete to a very just fate, he knew he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he did. That was one of the drawbacks of being a son of Ben Cartwright. They had been brought up with moral fiber due to their father’s teachings.

“Hold on—I’m coming!” Joe shouted down to the fallen man. He hooked one end of the rope around his saddle horn and then began scaling down the hill. When he had finally made it to where Pete was laying, Joe noticed the man’s right leg appeared to be caught underneath his body at a rather awkward looking angle. He figured that had been what had prevented Pete from climbing up the incline himself.

“Cartwright?” Pete said, his voice straining as he stared up into Joe’s eyes.

“Yeah—fancy running into me, huh?” Joe replied, in not altogether friendly tones.

“Never thought I’d be relying on you for help,” Pete groaned as Joe slowly pulled on the man’s leg to straighten it out some. “My horse spooked and tossed me down here—-I’ve been stuck for hours.”

Joe examined the man’s injury and squinted up towards Cochise. “Doesn’t look like your leg is busted, probably just bruised and sprained. But, there’s no way you can climb up there on your own—and I sure as hell can’t lift you myself. Grab onto this rope and I will help ease you up the hill,” Joe instructed and handed Pete the end of the lariat.

“Why’d you come down here? Didn’t know it was me?” Pete asked as Joe secured the rope around the man’s waist.

“I knew it was you,” Joe sighed and began the long process of easing Timmons towards the top of the incline.

“Then why did you climb down, Cartwright?” Pete continued his questions, unable to comprehend why Joe would do such a thing as to help him.

“I’d do the same thing for an injured animal, so don’t think you are anything special to me. Now shut up and help me get you up this hill!” Joe spat back and Pete helped tug on the ropes in order to ascend the slope.

Once both young men were up on safe turf, Joe surveyed the surrounding area but did not see Pete’s wayward horse anywhere. The first drops of rainfall began to come down and off in the distance they could both hear the sound of thunder.

“Looks like we ride double. Can you mount or do you need a boost?” Joe asked the injured man.

“I can do it,” Pete muttered and used his good left leg to pull himself up into the saddle.

Joe secured the lariat to his saddle horn and then mounted his horse so that he was positioned behind his former foe.

“I’ll take you back to the ranch house—storm’s gonna be too bad to get you all the way back to town,” Joe explained as he turned the reins and tapped at Cochise’s sides with his boots.

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

Together both Pete and Joe headed back to the Ponderosa ranch house dodging the onslaught of pelting raindrops. The afternoon sunshine was only a memory as they rode towards the homestead. The sky was black and foreboding, but both men arrived at the Cartwright home just a few seconds before a bright flash of lightning struck right next to the barn. It took all of Joe’s experience with his pinto to prevent the animal from knocking off both men due to the terrifying sight and the crashing boom of thunder which followed.

“Easy Cochise—easy!” Joe called to his horse and maneuvered his mount to the front hitching post. He jumped down from the saddle and held onto the reins in order for Pete to make a safe dismount of his own.

Precariously, Pete swung down from the saddle and almost fell into Joe’s arms. His injured leg had gone out on him, causing him to tumble. Joe was quick to catch the other man under the arms and steadied him.

“Let’s get you into the house quick—then I need to take care of my horse!” Joe shouted over the sound of even more thunder.

With Pete’s right arm slung over his shoulder, Joe made it into the house with him. He assisted the man over to the settee and Pete half fell onto the soft cushions.

“Be right back—gotta get my horse under cover!” Joe called as he headed back into the inclement weather.

Pete settled back with his head resting on the arm of the settee and his eyes surveyed his surroundings. He had never been invited to the great Ponderosa ranch house, and it appeared to be even more grand than he had presumed. Pete had always envisioned the Cartwrights as being great kings who presided over a kingdom that they had somehow carved out of the wilderness. He knew his past hatred of the family had a great deal to do with envy. Pete had left home at the early age of fifteen and headed out into a world that didn’t seem to want the likes of him in it. Though he had managed to become a gifted wrangler, and earned top wages at whatever ranch he signed on at, it was never enough. Pete wanted what the Cartwrights had. In fact, he wanted even more. Pete wanted to be wealthy, so wealthy that he would command respect from all those who had earlier shunned him. At the age of twenty-four, he doubted that would happen any time soon.

Joe brought his horse into its stall and made sure Cochise was dry and well fed before he left the barn and headed back into the ranch house. He laughed to himself as he made it to the front door, filled with a strange feeling of irony over who he had brought to his house. Of all the people in all the world, the man he would have chosen last to be laying on his sofa was Pete Timmons. His thoughts went to his father and brothers and he shook his head amused. If only they were there to see who he had brought home for dinner!

Pete turned his head towards the door when he heard Joe re-enter the house. He watched silently as the young man pulled off his soaked green jacket and undid his gun belt.

“Kinda nasty out there, ain’t it, Cartwright?” Pete said, not knowing how to make any other small talk. He thought the weather would be the only thing the two of them could agree on at the moment.

“Yeah– a real frog choker,” Joe replied and headed over to his guest. “How’s that leg of yours?”

“I don’t think it’s busted–just pretty banged up is all. If you would loan me a mount I will get out of your hair.”

Joe frowned, he wished nothing more at the time than to bid the man adieu and be done with it. But, now that he had brought him to the ranch house, he figured he might just as well take care of him.

“You won’t be riding nowhere tonight, Timmons. What with that leg of yours—and since the storm’s so bad. You might just as well get use to the idea that you are as stuck with me as I am with you.”

Pete laughed and the sound of it grated on his host’s nerves. “Look, Cartwright—I know you’d just as soon be rid of me—and I hate to say it–but I do owe you for helping me and all. So, thanks!” Pete said, trying his best to be sincere in his gratitude.

Joe simply nodded towards the man and then headed to his father’s study. Once there, he poured two shots of brandy and brought one back for Pete while already starting to sip his own liquor.

“My pa always said we should be gracious to our guests. He never told me there were exceptions to that rule—so you might as well have some of this,” Joe said and handed the brandy to Pete.

Pete accepted the glass and then his face winced up, as if he was in great pain. “The old leg is smarting quite a bit. Thanks–maybe this brandy will help quiet it down some.”

Joe stared at the man and decided that perhaps he had better bring a doctor in on the situation. He had not gotten a good look at Pete’s wound, only having the chance to check it by feel out on the hillside. There was the chance that Pete had broken a bone or two, and Joe knew that if that was the case that it would need to be set before too much time elapsed.

“Look—Timmons—” Joe began and then chuckled to himself and stopped his statement.

“What’s so funny, Cartwright?”

“This last name thing—-I mean—seems a bit strange now that I saved your life and all,” Joe laughed again. “I’m sure you know my first name—so at least for now–let’s put our mutual hatred aside, okay?”

Pete grinned at the other man and nodded, “Yeah, Joe—I guess I’d go along with that. For tonight at least. You do kinda have me at a disadvantage.”

“Well, you have had me at a disadvantage a time or two you know?” Joe replied and raised his eyebrows to show Pete that he had never forgotten what he had done to him over the years.

“Joe—-I was a kid then—not much older than you were. I admit I was a rowdy sort—but I ain’t like that no more. If this was back then—I probably would rather have died out on that hill than to let you go and rescue me. I can’t change what I done to you in the past, Cartwright—I mean– Joe—but I can ask you to forgive me for it. What do you say?” Pete asked and slowly reached out his hand, hoping that the past could be buried between them both.

Joe looked down at Pete’s hand and thought hard for a few minutes. Yes, his father had always taught him to forgive those who asked for forgiveness. But, this was an altogether different circumstance. The man there reaching up towards him had almost killed him, and more than once too! Joe, after much thought, decided he would shake the man’s outstretched hand, but never turn his back on him either.

“Okay—I can’t say I will forget any of the stuff you put me through, Pete. But, I don’t see any need to carry a grudge. Like you said, we are older now—don’t need to act like kids. I accept your apology—and hope you mean it!” Joe explained and shook the man’s hand.

“You’re really not such a bad fellow, Joe—thanks,” Pete nodded.

“Well–thanks,” Joe replied, trying to sound sincere, “Now–what’s got me concerned is that leg of yours. You think we need to get Doc out here to look at it?”

“Hate to make anyone go out in this storm and all. You got any hired hands who can go to town to get the doctor once it lets up a bit?”

“Naw–it’ll have to be me. Pa and Hoss are out with the herd–won’t be back until late–if even then. All the hands are up there with them today.”

“Maybe the leg can keep then,” Pete conceded, but his face flinched once again negating his statement.

“I’ll go,” Joe sighed and moved toward the staircase. “First I’ll get us both something to change into–no sense catching a cold. I’ll get you a night shirt and you can go and settle in the guest room while I’m gone. Be right back,” Joe said and began his ascension up the stairs.

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

Doctor Paul Martin could have been knocked over with the Proverbial feather once he walked into the Cartwright guest room later that evening. While Joe had informed him that a man was back at the house injured, he had failed to mention who the patient was by name. When Paul walked towards the bed and saw Pete Timmons laying there looking over at him the doctor turned abruptly and shot Joe a stunned look.

“Timmons?” Paul asked Joe, still finding it hard to believe. The doctor’s mind raced with visions of another patient at another time. He could still see Joe Cartwright laying in his bed covered in leeches after having been thrown bound into Miller’s Pond. Paul also remembered very distinctly who had thrown the young man into the murky waters; one Pete Timmons. But, that had not been the only time that the perplexed doctor had treated injuries that Joe had sustained at the hands of the man he now harbored in his own house. There had been at least a half dozen other times that Paul had patched Joe up due to the cruelty of the rowdy cowboy who quite obviously hated the youngest Cartwright son.

Joe couldn’t help himself, and burst out laughing. The look on Paul’s face was priceless and almost worth the effort it had taken to ride to and from Virginia City to bring the doctor out to the ranch.

“You brought me out here to help Timmons?” Paul asked incredulously, not amused by Joe’s surprise in the least.

“Yeah—found him out by the Tahoe rim—his horse threw him and he was stuck laying on the hillside. He’s got a bum leg,” Joe explained.

“Hey–you both don’t need to talk about me like I am dead or something—I can hear everything you say, you know?” Pete protested.

Paul shook his head and gave Joe a warning look. He would have to have a long talk with the young man, of whom he had brought into the world twenty-one years earlier. Paul wondered if Joe had knocked himself out earlier and suffered from amnesia or something. He couldn’t come up with any other reason why the kid would challenge the terrible storm in order to bring help to such an evil man like Pete.

“Well—I am a doctor—and that means I don’t get to pick and choose my patients. Let’s have a look at that leg of yours,” Paul sighed and moved closer to the bed, medical bag in hand.

“I’ll go put on some coffee, Doc—call me if you need me,” Joe said and turned and left the bedroom.

Paul thoroughly checked his patient and administered whatever help he could to the man’s wounds and then headed out to the dining room where Joe was waiting.

“So? Timmons gonna live, Doc?” Joe smiled and handed the man a cup of freshly made coffee.

Paul moved to sit down next to Joe and accepted the coffee cup. “Yes—more of a bruise than a break. Got some scrapes and cuts from the fall, but all in all it’s not bad. I told him to stay off of it for at least a couple of days. Then—with a little rest he should be fine.”

“That’s good,” Joe nodded and then leaned back in his chair. “Okay–I can see it in your eyes–go ahead and say it!”

“Joseph Cartwright–have you lost all of your senses? Why in the devil did you bring that man to your house? Have you forgotten how many times he has tried to kill you? ‘Cause if you have—let me tell you that I haven’t! Do you know how many hours of my life I have spent suturing your injuries, bandaging your wounds—and all due to that man?” Doc replied exasperated.

“You done yet—or is there more?” Joe shot back, and there was a good amount of amusement on his face.

“Wait until I see your father—-he’s gonna hear more than you just did!” Paul warned.

“You just hit the nail on the head, Doc.”

“What’s that? What do you mean?”

“My father—if you wanna blame anyone–blame him!” Joe laughed. “You think my Pa would let anyone suffer–no matter who they were?”

“I didn’t tell you to let him suffer—I just don’t understand why you’d bring him here!” Paul replied, still fuming by the sound of his voice.

“Oh–that–well—it was raining to beat the band–didn’t see any reason to get him soaked twice. We were both drenched when we rode in here. And–at the time I wasn’t really sure if his leg was broke or not. Now–don’t worry—it’s not like I am turning my back on him–I’m not stupid you know?”

“Sometimes I wonder—-you sure you didn’t hit your head today?” Paul asked, but this time there was mirth on his face. He realized that the young man had truly followed his father’s teachings, in spite of any personal feelings Joe had towards Pete.

“No I didn’t—gee—if you are this rough on me–wonder what Pa and Hoss will say when they get here?”

“I sure don’t want to be here when they get in—so—I will bid you goodnight!” Paul grinned and stood from his chair, setting down his coffee cup after finishing the contents.

“Hey–maybe you should stay–you know—back me up with Pa?” Joe protested as he followed the doctor to the settee where the man’s cloak was still sitting.

“You’re on your own, Boy—but if I am needed back later–in my capacity as a doctor–just send someone for me,” Paul said pulling on his coat.

“Why? You worried about Pete’s wounds?” Joe wondered as he walked the man to the front door.

“Pete? No not him—if YOU need me in the capacity as a doctor! I’m not altogether certain that your father is gonna be happy to see who you brought here!”

Joe set off a string of laughter as he pulled open the door. “Oh–now he can’t very well get angry at me for doing what he would’ve done!”

“Oh yes he can!” Paul winked and stepped out to the front porch. “Good luck, Joe, and watch yourself with Timmons—don’t let your guard down for a minute. Understand?”

“Yeah—I’ll watch out for him–thanks for coming!” Joe called to the doctor as he made his way to the surrey. Joe walked back into the house pulling the door closed behind him. A frown took over his face when he wondered if Paul’s assumption was correct. Would Pa be angry with what he had done? Joe figured he would find out before very long as surely Pa and Hoss would be arriving momentarily, if they were coming at all that night.

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

Ben did not miss the sight of Doctor Martin’s buggy as it headed back towards Virginia City. For that matter, neither did Hoss. Still more than a mile from the house, they pulled back on the reins of the two horses and looked over at each other. The worry shot back and forth between the two men, both assuming that the doctor had come out due to something that had happened to Joe. Paul, being too far ahead of them to catch up with quickly, they kicked at the sides of both horses and hurried to the ranch house. Ben figured that he was needed at home more than he needed the information that Paul could offer at the moment. His heart began beating a little harder in his chest and the blood that coursed through the anxious father’s veins seemed to grow colder as he hurried to find out what had befallen his youngest son.

Ben immediately handed over Buck’s reins to Hoss as he abruptly dismounted in front of the house. With his slicker flapping against the wind, Ben jogged up to the entrance way and pulled the door open.

“Joseph!” Ben called frantically as he made it inside. He did a quick survey of the living room but did not see the boy anywhere. “Joseph!” he shouted again, and hurried towards the staircase, presuming if Joe was hurt he might be up in his bedroom.

Before his father could make the first landing, Joe entered the dining room from the kitchen.

“Hi Pa! I was starting to think you and Hoss wouldn’t be back till the morning,” Joe called across the room.

Ben stopped in his tracks and did a quick visual accounting of his youngest son. ****no bruises, no casts visible, no bandages****Ben ran the inventory of potential injuries through his mind.

“Hey–what’s wrong?” Joe asked as he drew closer to the other man.

Ben stepped down the few stairs he had ascended and made his way over to his son. He placed a calloused hand against Joe’s brow and shook his head.

“What happened? You okay?” Ben asked.

“Huh? I’m fine—why?” Joe replied bewildered by the strange expression on his father’s tired face.

“I just saw Paul—and he was coming from here—I just figured–” Ben stopped as Hoss walked in.

“Little Brother–you all right?” Hoss asked out of breath.

“I’m fine—fine. Doc wasn’t out here for me. Geesh—why would you think that anyhow?” Joe smiled, knowing very well why they would make that assumption. He had long been known as the most injured of the family and it was a title he wasn’t too thrilled to have obtained.

“You know why!” Hoss replied as relief spread across his face. He pulled off his slicker and hung it up next to the door.

“Why was Paul here?” Ben got back to his own questioning as he pulled off his own rain-gear.

“Oh—brought home someone who got hurt,” Joe offered only a small bit of detail, hoping to break the news gently.

Ben hung up his slicker and joined Hoss next to the fireplace for warmth.

“Oh–who?” Hoss asked.

“Umm—the guy had a pretty bad fall—hurt his leg. So–I had no other choice than to bring him home with me and go fetch the doc,” Joe continued.

Ben read the eyes of his youngest son and knew that there was much more to the story than Joe was telling.

“Does this person happen to have a name—or is there some other reason you didn’t bother to mention it?” Ben further interrogated the young man who was edging his way back towards the dining room.

“Yeah—but first—let me just remind you that he was hurt and all and I had no other recourse than to bring him here,” Joe stalled as his eyes turned toward the door to the guest room.

Ben and Hoss exchanged confused glances, still trying to figure out just who the house guest was beyond the door by where Joe now stood.

“Joseph? Spit it out—who’s in there?” Ben’s voice boomed out. He had been through a rather difficult and tiring day and was no longer going to go along with whatever game his youngest son was playing.

Joe gave up on his guard of the guest room and walked back towards his father. He had the appearance of a much younger version of himself as he looked up into Ben’s questioning brown eyes. Joe had honed that look over the years and it had always worked on his pa. It had saved him from some tannings over the years as the young man had perfected it. There was no way that his father could be mad at him now; or so Joe thought.

“Well?” Ben asked again, and this time a bit louder. He fought to avoid the hazel eyes of his youngest, knowing they were purposely going after his heart.

“It’s Pete Timmons,” Joe mumbled.

“What? I didn’t hear you?” Ben shot back. He had heard the name, but refused to believe it.

“I said Pete Timmons, Pa,” Joe repeated.

Hoss moved in closer to his father and younger brother, disbelief apparent on his face.

“Stop joshin us—-who do you really have in there, Joe? Some gal?” Hoss laughed. There was no way that his brother would have brought home Pete Timmons, not in a thousand years.

“I ain’t kidding—it’s really Timmons,” Joe said weakly and watched the expressions of both men who stood before him. Both of their mouths were opened in astonishment. It wasn’t long before that expression turned to anger on Ben’s face.

“Timmons!” Ben shouted.

“Shush—Pa—he’s still awake in there. Doc gave him something for pain but–” Joe began but was immediately cut off by his father.

“I’ll give him something for pain!” Ben yelled again.

“Pa—come on–settle down,” Joe pleaded and reached for his father’s arm, which was held high in the air in gesture.

“Don’t tell me to settle down, Young Man!” Ben warned and then turned towards Hoss. “Your little brother has quite obviously lost his mind!”

“That’s what Doc said,” Joe whispered, mostly to himself.

Ben heard the remark and stared at the boy hard. “Oh did he? Did he also remind you how many times that man in there almost killed you too?”

“Yeah—that too,” Joe replied, and had to fight back a grin. Pa was surely not in the mood to see any humor in the odd turn of events, even if Joe now did.

“Little Brother–why’d you have to bring that varmint here?” Hoss jumped in, trying to prevent their father from going on a rampage.

“I didn’t have any choice–when I found him–his leg was messed up. He’d fallen off his horse and was down a hill when I came upon him. It was raining like all get out–so I brought him here cause it was closer than town,” Joe fought to make sense out of his actions.

“Oh really? How many times did that–that—animal—leave you for dead, Joseph?” Ben continued to rant.

“What would you have done?’ Joe fired back, he was starting to get angry himself now.

“I’d have left him there!” Ben shouted and turned back towards the fireplace.

Joe turned his eyes on his brother and asked him the same question, hoping for some help with their father. “Hoss? What about you?”

Hoss looked back towards their father and saw that the anger and frustration hadn’t yet subsided. Then, he looked at Joe and knew that the boy was asking for some back-up. Putting his arm around Joe’s shoulder for support he eased him over to where Ben stood.

“Now—there’s something that you gotta understand, Joe. Me and Pa–well we’ve seen what that man has done to you over the years. We’ve seen you shot–half drowned—beaten bloody—well–you know! This ain’t just some run of the mill stranger who needed help.”

“You didn’t answer me!” Joe insisted as he faced off again with the big man.

“It’s not a fair question,” Hoss complained.

“Well—all of this is Pa’s fault–not mine!” Joe shouted, and struck almost the same pose as his father had earlier. He had his arms waving in the air and his face was beet red now that his decision to bring Pete home with him was being challenged by his family.

“MY fault!” Ben shouted right back and grabbed Joe’s arm this time. “How in the devil is it MY fault that you would do something this stupid?”

“It’s YOUR fault for teaching me–no for teaching all three of your sons–to be kind!” Joe replied hotly.

“Watch your tone, Joseph!” Ben warned and still held control of the young man’s left arm.

Joe sighed and shook his head. Looking up at his father he began to feel badly about yelling like he had. He felt that Pa deserved more respect than that. But, he was still angry at both Pa and Hoss for making him feel like he was stupid.

“I’m sorry,” Joe whispered and broke his gaze with his father. He looked down at the floor boards and it was then that Ben started to feel the pangs of regret.

“Joseph–” Ben paused and let go of the boy’s arm. “I’m sorry too—it’s just that–well–here I was worried that you were hurt—and then get home to find you brought that man into this house. Let’s sit down and discuss this without yelling, okay?”

Joe nodded and moved over to the settee. Hoss and Ben sat down close by and looked over at the forlorn young man sitting opposite them.

“Pa—you always taught us to do the right thing—and well–you know I would have loved to just leave him down there! But, I couldn’t do it. I know that makes me dumb—maybe even out of my head—but I had to bring him here and get him some help,” Joe confessed.

“I guess Joe’s right, Pa,” Hoss jumped back in to the conversation, “I probably would’ve done the same thing. No matter how bad we dislike that snake—we’d have helped him—all three of your sons.”

Ben gave an ironic smile and nodded towards his sons. “Maybe I shouldn’t have taught you about turning the other cheek, huh?”

Joe knew from his father’s smile that he was at last off the hook with him. He was glad that whereas he didn’t exactly have either man’s full agreement over what he had done, at least he had their understanding over why he had brought Pete home with him.

“Well–you did–so you can’t un-teach us now, Pa!” Joe grinned.

“Okay–so what did Doc say—when do we get rid of him?” Hoss asked hopefully.

“ His leg isn’t broken–just kinda sprained and bruised some. I fed him some dinner and he just took the medication Doc left so he should sleep through the night. I’m gonna take him back to town tomorrow. He’s staying at the Grady Boarding House and that’s where he will be first thing in the morning. Okay?”

“Okay,” Ben nodded and then reached over and patted Joe’s arm affectionately. “I’m sorry I went off on you like I did, Son.”

“That’s okay—Doc said you would–so I was kinda prepared,” Joe laughed.

Ben stood and motioned to Hoss and said, “Let’s see what we can find for dinner then let’s get to bed. We’ve got to go back up to the cow camp in the morning to see what that storm has done to them.”

Joe smiled and moved towards the dining room with his family. “At least you will be happy about one thing I did today. I made a meatloaf—and there’s plenty left.”

Hoss chuckled and threw his arm around Joe’s shoulder and said, “Joe? Did you give Pete some of that meatloaf?”

“Yeah–why?”

“Well–that’s one way to get even with the little creep. If he had to sit there and eat your cooking he should be hurting in his belly as much as his leg by now!”

“Very funny,” Joe replied and poked Hoss in the rib cage with his fist playfully.

“Unfortunately he’s probably right, Joseph–that is if it came out like the last one you made!” Ben laughed as the three of them made it into the kitchen.

“Well—he’s still alive–least he was the last time I checked—so no one can say I tried to kill him!” Joe winked and walked towards the stove.

“If they’ve tasted your meat loaf they can!” Hoss called across the room.

“Just for that remark YOU get two big pieces!” Joe threatened and started to carve through his concoction.

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

Ben was the first one downstairs the next morning. As he shrugged into his leather vest and headed towards the kitchen his gaze fell on the settee. Laying there was Joe. Ben had to stifle a chuckle when he noticed the way his son had one leg hefted onto the top of the sofa and the other leg hanging down off of it. Joe also had one of the sofa pillows laid out over his face.

“Joe? Joseph?” Ben called down to his son and reached for the boy’s left arm to rouse him.

Joe pulled the pillow from off his face and stared drowsily up at his pa. “Huh? What time is it, Pa?”

“A little after six—what are you doing sleeping down here by the way?”

Joe slowly pulled himself up to a sitting position and gave a wry smile. “Well—with Timmons in the house—I just wanted to be close by. I’m not as stupid as you think I am!”

Ben cleared his throat and thought back to the previous night’s conversation. “I never said you were stupid, Joseph! I said what you did was stupid—and I believe I apologized, didn’t I?”

“Yeah—-guess you did. But,–you also said I was out of my head!” Joe put his father on the spot as he stood from the settee and moved next to him.

Ben threw his arm around his son’s shoulder as they both turned for the kitchen. “Now—I never took that one back—not sure I will either!” Ben teased as they headed out to make the morning coffee.

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

Joe did as he had promised he would. After bringing Pete his breakfast and offering some assistance Joe stood outside the guest room waiting for the man to let him know he was ready to head back into Virginia City. It wasn’t long before Pete pulled the door open and limped into the dining room. He was relieved to see that the other Cartwrights weren’t out there waiting on him. Pete knew what they all thought of him and he didn’t want to have a row with them over his visit.

“Here,” Joe said and handed Pete a pair of crutches. “You might as well take these—Doc says you need to stay off that leg a few days.”

“Thanks,” Pete nodded and positioned the crutches underneath his armpits. “I’ll get them back to you.”

“Haven’t needed them since I was shot in the leg a year ago,” Joe mentioned and shot Pete a look which told him he hadn’t forgotten just who had sent the bullet that had caused his prior injury.

“Yeah—I remember,” Pete frowned. “Joe—I told you yesterday—I ain’t the same fool kid who ran around half-crazy back then.”

“I hope not—well—let’s go,” Joe replied and they headed out to the waiting buckboard.

A few hours ride brought the two young men into Virginia City. Joe pulled the wagon up in front of the boarding house and watched as Pete climbed down.

“I’ll see if I can find your horse while I’m out riding today. If I find it I will bring it into town and leave it at the livery,” Joe called over to Timmons.

“Thanks—guess I owe you big time, Joe. I won’t forget this—I promise you I won’t,” Pete vowed and headed towards the door.

“Yeah–well–take care of that leg,” Joe answered, finding words not easy to come by at the time. He sent the team of horses forward, feelings somewhat relieved to be parting with the man, who was in the past, his worst enemy.

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

Joe was able to find Pete’s horse the day he had driven the man into town, and he did as he had said, and left the animal there at the livery stable in Virginia City. That accomplished, he turned his thoughts back to his chores and headed out to the cow-camp where his family were busy trying to move the cattle to lower grazing land. Joe tried to put the whole Timmons affair out of his mind, though every now and then he wondered why fate had dealt him the cards that it had. He couldn’t help wondering why it had been him who had found the injured man. Joe finally conceded that the event had been some strange message from God, who the young man had come to realize, had a great sense of humor.

It had taken two weeks of hard work to move the large herd of cows down to the southernmost pasture and all three Cartwrights were happy to have the job completed. The cattle were now in position to wait out the coming winter and all was well. The three men rode back to the Ponderosa ranch house and settled in for a couple days of rest. Joe considered rest as being a night spent in Virginia City talking with friends and perhaps hoisting a few beers. Everyone was very happy to have the Oriental member of the family back.

After several weeks left to their own devices, the Cartwrights enjoyed the culinary skills of Hop Sing and plowed in to the great dinner he had prepared to welcome them home. Later, Ben and Hoss stretched out in the living room while Joe primped upstairs. After washing and dressing in clean clothes, the young man headed into town. He was looking forward to a relaxing evening as his reward for putting in quite a few days of grueling work out with the herd.

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

Virginia City was charged with the excitement of rowdy cow hands who had the same thought as Joe had that night. They had worked hard on the various ranches and had pockets full of pay which they were anxious to spend at any one of the three saloons in town. Joe chose the Silver Dollar Saloon over the grungier Bucket of Blood Saloon down the street. He walked in through the swinging doors and was instantly greeted by Sam the bartender.

“Haven’t seen you in so long that I started to think you done left the country!” Sam called over to one of his favorite patrons.

Joe eased up to the bar with a smile to greet the other man and replied, “Yeah—seems like the r and r time gets less and less here lately, Sam. But, you know how Pa is. For some strange reason he expects me to help run the place!”

Sam laughed at Joe’s remark and drew off a draft for him and handed the glass of beer over. “Imagine that—a father who expects his son to work! What’s this world coming to?” Sam grinned and then was signaled down to the other end by another customer.

Joe took in the sights and sounds in the room and winked at several of the saloon girls as they passed by. He could see several tables of poker playing cowboys but decided not to get in on the games this time. Though he had also been paid his wages that day, Joe decided not to do as he usually did and lose it too quickly.

“Hey Joe!” A voiced sounded out loudly as a man pushed his way through the crowded saloon. “Where you been Boy?”

Joe smiled to see his best friend, Mitch Devlin, approaching the bar. He turned and whistled down to Sam and motioned for the man to bring another beer over. “Come on up here, Mitch!” Joe said and grabbed his friend by the arm to sandwich him between him and another patron so they could talk. Mitch eased his way next to Joe and Sam handed him the beer that Joe had called for.

“I wasn’t even looking for you to be here tonight. Did you get those nasty cows delivered to South shore already?” Mitch asked and then took a good gulp of his beer.

“Yeah—just finished. Poor Hoss is so tired that he wouldn’t come here with me tonight. I even told him I would buy!”

“He’s got to be tired to turn down that offer. Usually it’s you who gets the free rounds from him!” Mitch grinned.

“How’s your folks doing?”

“Oh they’re fine. Mattie has been driving them crazy lately. She’s gone boy crazy all of a sudden and Pa keeps threatening to send her to an all girl boarding school!”

“Hard to believe—-she’s really growing up. If I was a little younger—” Joe trailed off when he felt the slight punch to his right arm.

“Not my sister you don’t!” Mitch warned but then broke into laughter. He knew Joe’s reputation was not based on reality. Joe had gotten a bad rap as to being a ladies man, but most of that was due to the young man’s good looks and nothing else.

“Yeah–yeah—guess not—cause if we ended up hitched you’d be a relative–and there’s no way I’m gonna do that to my family!” Joe teased back. “So, what’s been going on out your way? What have you been doing?”

“Oh we got that new barn done–and added a bunk house. Pa’s putting on more men now that we got them extra horses and all. Haven’t been out much myself. But, I was over in Carson to get some equipment for my pa and guess what I heard?’

“What?”

“Timmons is over there and believe it or not he’s won tons of money at poker. Seems like everyone I talked to mentioned something about him. Can you believe that?”

Joe put down his beer mug and stared at Mitch trying to take in the information. He guessed that Pete would have healed by then, as Doc said the man’s leg wasn’t all that bad. But, it seemed odd to hear that Pete was doing so well at cards. Though the man had done all right at the game, most of the time he either broke even or ended up just barely ahead.

“Really? Timmons winning that much?”

“Yep—” Mitch said and then his face took on a quizzical appearance. “You know what that reminds me of?”

“What?”

“That time—you know—when we both met Timmons for the first time? Remember?”

“What about it?” Joe asked, wondering why his friend would bring that incident up after so many years.

“You know—-you won every hand—-you told me later that it was because of that medallion you got from your great uncle! Remember how mad Timmons was when he heard about it?”

“Remember—hell—you think I wouldn’t remember being tied and thrown in Miller’s Pond by the little creep?” Joe replied angrily. Just the image that Mitch’s remembrance had conjured sent Joe’s blood to boiling.

“Kinda funny isn’t it? I mean—here he is winning every hand. Almost like he has some special powers or something. Strange,” Mitch stated and then turned back to his beer.

Joe closed his eyes to ward off the feeling that was starting to engulf him. He felt almost dizzy enough to pass out. ****Pete’s winning every hand? Like he had special powers? Two weeks after he was at the Ponderosa? He didn’t—no—he couldn’t have****Joe thought to himself.

“Joe? Joe you all right?” Mitch asked seeing the confused expression on Joe’s face. He shook his friend’s arm to bring him back to reality.

Joe opened his eyes again and stared over at Mitch. “Mitch—-I just remembered something I have to do at the ranch—I’ll catch you later, okay?”

“Huh? What’s wrong, Joe?”

“Probably nothing—but I have to be sure—” Joe trailed off and dropped two silver dollars onto the counter to pay for the beers.

“Be sure about what?” Mitch called to his friend as Joe hurried out of the saloon.

Joe didn’t reply. He pulled the reins from off the hitching post and vaulted up into his saddle. Turning towards the end of town, Joe kicked at Cochise’s sides and raced on home.

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

Hoss had given in to exhaustion and had gone to bed a short time after Joe left for Virginia City. Ben sat by the warm fireplace and was already in the middle of a novel when the door to the ranch house flew open and Joe made his entrance.

“Joseph? Back already?” Ben called to his son.

Joe did not respond, just as if he hadn’t seen or heard his father there in the room. Without even taking the time to remove his hat or holster, Joe ran towards the staircase and rushed up to his room.

Ben watched the streak go through the living room and wondered just what could have been going on with his youngest son to have made him completely ignore his call to him. He stood from his chair ready to find out.

Once in his bedroom, Joe pulled the heavy oaken drawers to his bureau open one by one and hunted for the medallion that he had hidden away there years earlier. Frustrated and with his anger mounting by the second, Joe started tossing out all of his clothes onto the floor. It was at that moment that his temper got so far out of control that the young man began to pull the bare drawers out of the chest and tossed them onto the floor as well.

When Ben walked through the opened door to his son’s room he could see Joe kneeling down next to his bureau with his torso sticking inside of it searching frantically for something.

“Damn it—I’ve been had!” Joe muttered as his fingers found nothing, though they had searched every single inch of the inside of his bureau.

“Joseph!” Ben called to his son sternly. “What in the devil are you doing? It looks like a tornado struck this place!”

Joe ignored his father at first, as he turned towards the piles of clothes that lay on the floor. He began tossing them around, hoping that the medallion was somehow trapped inside of them. It was then that Joe felt the tug of his left elbow and he turned to look up at his father.

Ben was not happy, in fact his face was formed into a scowl as he said, “Answer me now, Young Man! What are you doing?”

Joe reluctantly stood and faced his father. The words seemed stuck in his throat. Joe hated to admit he had been tricked by his nemesis.

“Well?” Ben repeated, but not quite as harshly as before. He could read something in Joe’s hazel eyes that told him the boy was between tears and frustration.

“Pa—” Joe began but stopped once more. “I can’t believe I was so stupid—I can’t believe it!”

Ben locked his two hands onto his son’s shoulders and stared directly into his eyes. “Stupid? Why? What are you talking about—and why have you torn your room up like this?”

“The medallion—-Pa—it’s gone,” Joe replied sullenly.

Ben looked down at the stack of clothes and then at the drawers to his son’s bureau. It finally came back to him. He knew that Joe had agreed never to use whatever powers that the medal held. It had been years since either of them had even spoken of the present that Ben’s late uncle had bestowed on Joe when the boy turned eighteen. Ben remembered all the harm that had befallen his boy during the times he held onto it. He also remembered how the medallion had created such an uproar with some of the town’s folks that they had deemed the boy to be a tool of the devil. Ben’s eyes tracked back towards Joe’s bed. He closed his eyes as images of his son filtered into his mind. Joe had been attacked by Pete Timmons and some other evil men once they had learned that Joe had the ability to not only read cards, but also to predict the future. Ben remembered diving into the black waters of Miller’s Pond. He remembered pulling his son’s lifeless body to the surface, thinking that he was dead. There in that very room, both Doctor Martin and Ben had painstakingly pulled off dozens of leeches which had clung to the boy’s body due to the event. Ben cringed at the thought of that, and along with it, the thought of the time his son had been unable to say any other words but “devil’s hold”. A year after his row with Pete Timmons, Joe had fallen into an old well and had come back almost catatonic. It had been a strange and perplexing time for all the Cartwrights. Somehow the medallion had played a part in unlocking Joe from whatever held his mind. And, still later, it was Joe’s belief in the medallion’s powers that helped to save his life.

Both Ben and his youngest son agreed that the future was best left unknown, and Joe had tucked the medallion away. Now, looking at the floor and the chaos that Joe had made of his room, Ben finally realized what the boy was trying to tell him. Ben knelt down on the floor and started to sift through the contents of Joe’s bureau, hoping that the medallion was just misplaced.

“It’s not there, Pa—I checked,” Joe whispered as he knelt next to him.

“Then—where is it?”

“Timmons — Pa—he has it!” Joe replied angrily. “And it’s all my fault! I am so stupid! I let that son of a —” Joe stopped, not wanting to continue his statement at that time. He would say it to Timmons when he saw him, but would watch his language in front of his father.

“You mean—when he was here a few weeks ago–he stole it?” Ben asked incredulously.

“There’s no other explanation, Pa!” Joe insisted.

“What makes you think he took it? Maybe it’s here —somewhere–” Ben cut off his words and began searching through the clothes again.

Joe reached over and stopped his father’s hand. “No–Pa–he has it—don’t bother to look cause it isn’t here! I ran into Mitch—he told me he went over to Carson—and Pete is there winning lots of money—beating everyone at poker!”

Ben pulled himself back up from off the floor and waved for Joe to follow him over to the bed. He sat down wearily and waited for Joe. Reluctantly, Joe stood and walked across the room and sat down at the end of the bed. He hung his head, feeling defeated.

“Joe—just because Timmons is having a lucky streak–well–that doesn’t mean he’s got the medallion. Maybe his luck has just changed?”

“Pa–he was in this house—I was gone for hours to fetch Doc—” Joe started but his father cut him off.

“But, you said he was hurt–you think he hurt himself on purpose? You think he planned to lay on that hillside for hours and hope you’d be the one who stopped to save him?”

“Yeah I do!” Joe insisted.

“Okay—let’s just say you are right—let’s just presume that Timmons came here–after he set the whole thing up. How would he know that you would take him to the ranch house instead of into town?”

“Because he knows I am stupid!” Joe shouted and stood from the bed, his arms raised in exaggerated gesture.

“You are not stupid!” Ben called over to his son.

“Oh yeah? Come on, Pa—you–Hoss—heck even Doc thought I was that night! And you were all right. I had to play the good Samaritan! I had to set this whole thing up–cause I am a chump! I might just as well have handed the thing to him and saved him the great acting job, huh?”

“Wait just a second—first of all—you are not stupid, a chump, or anything of the like. And I don’t want to hear you say it again! As for the good Samaritan–yes you were that–and as you pointed out so eloquently—I was the one who made you that. Now simmer down!” Ben said and moved over to Joe and tried to calm him.

“Pa—it took everything I had inside not to ride off that day and leave him there. Now—I wish I had done that. He’s got the medallion.”

“But, it doesn’t make sense to me, Joe. This whole medallion business—I thought it worked because of you being the third son–you know–like Uncle Josh told you? Why would this, if we are still assuming that it does have power, work for Timmons?”

“I haven’t got a clue,” Joe sighed. “You’d think the power of good in it—would know the power of evil in him!”

“Let’s get some coffee okay? We’ll go downstairs and talk about it and decide what to do.”

“Oh I know what to do!” Joe said hotly. “I’m gonna go after that creep and get it back. And then I am gonna do some of the things to him that he did to me while I’m at it!”

“You are going to cool down before you do anything! Now come on—let’s talk about it rationally,” Ben tried to calm the tempest he saw rebuilding in Joe’s eyes.

“Rationally?” Joe asked and then set off a string of laughter. “Okay—we are gonna sit and drink coffee and talk rationally about a magical medallion?”

Ben grinned and nodded. He understood Joe’s point exactly. It was hard to think of such strange topics like precognition and a magical medallion as being discussed rationally due to their rather bizarre nature.

“Okay–well–maybe brandy and not coffee,” Ben winked and pulled his son into the hallway with him.

Ben had to use all of his paternal persuasion to get Joe to the point where he gave up on the idea of going off to Carson City that night in search of Pete Timmons. Though Joe was not happy with the idea of waiting until the next day, he reluctantly agreed to deal with the man after he had slept off some of his anger.

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

The next morning the three Cartwrights sat in the living room after breakfast and tried to piece all of the information together. It was hard to believe that Pete could have staged the elaborate charade of being hurt in order to gain entry into the house. But, there was no denying that the medallion was indeed missing and Timmons was winning quite a bit at the poker tables in Carson City.

“All I’m asking, Joseph, is for you to take your brother with you into Carson,” Ben argued his point.

“Pa–come on! I think I’m old enough to handle my own problems!” Joe insisted as he stood and faced off with his father. “It’s not like I’m the same kid he got his hands on years ago, you know?”

“He’s dangerous, Little Brother, we’ve all seen what he’s capable of doing,” Hoss entered into the discussion. His thoughts were filled with the same kinds of visions that haunted their father. Both men knew that Pete had come close to killing the young man who now wanted to go off after him alone.

“I want to go alone—there’s no need for Hoss to come with me, Pa. Unless you don’t think that I’m man enough to handle Pete?” Joe forced his gaze into the eyes of his father.

Ben stood and dropped his hand down onto Joe’s shoulder and shook his head. He had to proceed with his argument without making his youngest son feel like he considered him a baby. “Joseph—just let Hoss go with you. He’ll let you handle Pete, but would make a good back-up in case that criminal has his friends with him. Will you do that? For me?” Ben asked again, but this time there was a softness to his voice. He hoped it was enough to garner Joe’s compliance.

“No—the last thing I need is a babysitter. And, if Timmons has his friends with him I can handle them too!”

“Oh? Like that time they threw you into Miller’s Pond?” Ben retorted hotly, raising his eyebrows.

“That’s not fair, Pa! I was just a kid back then—that was years ago!”

“That was three years ago – only three years, Joseph!” Ben continued to argue with his son’s logic. He had a bad feeling, one that always warned him that trouble was up ahead and usually concerning his hot tempered youngest son.

“Three years or three hundred it don’t make any difference to me, Pa!” Joe countered showing a goodly amount of bravado in his tone of voice.

“What’s it gonna hurt if I ride along with you, Joe? I told you I’ll stay out of your way,” Hoss tried once more to ease the tension between his brother and father.

Joe walked to the credenza by the front door and strapped on his holster. He donned his jacket and hat. Looking back over towards his family he shot them both a defiant look.

“I’m gonna get the medallion back,” Joe called over to them and pulled the front door opened. He left the house without looking back.

“Well?” Hoss asked his father.

“You know what to do—just stay far enough away so that your little brother won’t see you,” Ben nodded and walked with Hoss to the door.

“I’ve been doing this most of my life, Pa—I know,” Hoss grinned and readied to head out after Joe.

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

The miles it took to cover the territory from the Ponderosa ranch house to the main street in Carson City just flew by. Joe was preoccupied with just how he would take care of one Pete Timmons. Just the thought of the creep laying in wait for him to come along that day earlier in the month made Joe’s blood boil in his veins. Worst yet, was that Joe felt like such a complete fool for believing in someone who had proven to be such a liar in the past. It made him physically ill just to think on how he took care of the man. When he came to the realization that he had braved the torrential rain to ride into Virginia City in order to bring Doc Martin to treat Pete, Joe became even more enraged. Now Joe understood why there had only been a little bruising and a couple scratches visible on the man. Just scaling down the hillside could have caused as much, or so Joe assumed. He could still see Pete sitting there smiling up at him laying on the settee. Joe remembered shaking the other man’s hand and how their conversation had ended by each agreeing to being on a first name basis. His face scrunched up in a revenge-filled scowl, Joe urged Cochise into a faster clip. He wanted nothing more than to look into Pete’s cold dark eyes and then with one quick motion to knock the smile off of his face with a good left hook.

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

Joe tied his mount to the hitching post in front of the Crystal Palace Saloon and stared down Main Street. He scanned both sides of the street, hoping to see the man’s horse. Joe knew the horse well, having been the one who had found it the day after the rainstorm. Pete sure played the whole masquerade to the hilt, Joe thought to himself. He had left his valuable chestnut mare alone up on the ridge just to make the whole event of his fall seem feasible. Joe remembered going out of his way to bring Pete’s horse back to the injured man. He decided he would make Pete pay for all the trouble he had caused him; and then some.

Pushing his way through the swinging doors of the bar Joe cast a quick glance around the room. It was still early enough to get a good look. With it being just a little past one in the afternoon, the bar was only partially full of patrons. Joe had enjoyed quite a few drinks in that very saloon and knew when the “regulars” would be showing up. He walked over to the counter and signaled the bartender for a beer.

A short rotund looking man wiped his hands on his apron and grabbed for another beer mug. He drew up the draft and then walked it over to the young man standing at the end of the bar.

“Joe—haven’t seen you since last spring. How’s your dad and brothers?” the man asked smiling broadly.

“Oh they’re all just fine, Cosmo. Thanks,” Joe nodded to the man and set his money down on the bar. “Hey—you seen Pete Timmons? Someone told me he’s been hanging around winning at poker.”

Cosmo shook his head and sighed. “Oh yeah—that cowpoke cleaned out most everybody in town. I never seen anyone with such a winning streak as he’s been riding!”

“Yeah—-you know where I can find him?”

The bartender got a good look into Joe’s hazel eyes and could tell that he was after Timmons for some reason that wouldn’t be altogether pleasant. “What’s he done to you this time?” Cosmo asked in a whisper. He had heard the stories over the years about the feud between Joe and Pete.

“Just tell me where he is, will you? I’ll explain some other time,” Joe replied.

“Well I’m afraid you missed him Joe—him and a few of his buddies pulled up stakes last night.”

“Any idea where they went?”

“I think one of them mentioned Virginia City—but can’t swear to it.”

Joe chugged his beer and waved to the bartender as he set the mug down, “Thanks—see you!”

Cosmo watched as the young man hurried out of the bar. Joe wore the look of a man on a mission of revenge.

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

Hoss had kept a good distance behind his brother on the way into Carson City so he was caught totally unaware when the pinto came into sight heading in the other direction. Joe spotted the ten gallon hat and the large man beneath it. He tugged back on Cochise’s reins and frowned as his brother approached him. Hoss knew he had been seen and that it would be pointless to try and pretend he wasn’t tailing Joe. He pulled Chub up alongside Cochise and forced a smile.

“Hi, Joe—um—where you going?” Hoss asked with feigned innocence written all over his face.

“I could ask the same thing of you, Big Brother,” Joe replied suspiciously.

“Well—I wuz–well–” Hoss stalled trying to think of some other reason to be traveling to Carson.

“So Pa sent you anyway—regardless of what I asked him?”

“Dad gum it, Little Brother—we just don’t want nothing to happen to your ornery hide. Is that such a crime?” Hoss protested.

“Well–no–it’s not a crime–but it makes me feel like a two year old!”

“So–where you heading—and where’s Timmons?” Hoss tactfully changed the subject.

“The little creep pulled up stakes and headed to Virginia City—so you gonna follow me there too? Or are you gonna let me have some pride?”

“I’ll stay out of your way—just let me ride along. Okay?”

“Hoss—I don’t want to walk in there and confront Timmons with my big brother. Can you just please let me do this myself? What you and Pa don’t seem to understand is that I have been waiting for years to take that bastard on. No matter how you and Pa feel about him, it’s nothing compared to what I feel. He’s made me look like a real chump by setting me up this time. I need to get more than my medallion back—I need to get some self respect back too!”

Hoss frowned and cursed under his breath. He knew he had promised his father to watch after the youngest of the clan, and he had every intention of doing just that. But, he also understood Joe’s point of view in the matter. Joe had been duped by Timmons, and it wasn’t the first time either. He could understand why Joe needed to seek his own personal vengeance on Pete.

“I’ll give you one hour’s head start—that’s as good as I can give you, Little Brother,” Hoss conceded.

Joe nodded and reached over and patted his brother’s arm. “Thanks.”

Watch yourself, Joe!” Hoss called after his brother, who had already sent Cochise in motion, he“ading towards Virginia City.

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

One by one Joe checked out all the saloons in Virginia City in search of Pete Timmons. He was getting nowhere fast. Darkness had already fallen over the mining town when Joe sidled up to the bar at the Silver Dollar Saloon and signaled for a drink.

“Still haven’t found him huh, Joe?” Sam asked as he approached his customer.

“No—must be hiding from me or something. Give me a whiskey this time—I need something strong,” Joe answered, his tone showing his anger was not subsiding.

Sam poured a shot of rot gut and slid it over to Joe, who tossed it right down. It was at that moment that Hoss walked into the saloon to join his brother.

“I take it you haven’t found Timmons?” Hoss asked and dropped his hand down onto his brother’s sunken shoulder.

“The little creep is around here somewhere—just have to wait him out. I checked with Phil and he said Pete signed in at the Palace and is renting out the most expensive suite,” Joe explained and signaled Sam over again. “Get me another one of these and a beer for my brother, Sam.”

Hoss watched as his brother downed another shot of whiskey. He could see the intensity on the young man’s face and hoped to somehow talk him out of the search and persuade him to go back home.

“Let’s come back tomorrow, okay? No telling how long Timmons is gonna be ducking you, Little Brother.”

“No–you go on, Hoss. I bet he’s holed up in some hotel room playing poker. He’s got to come down sometime–and when he does I’m gonna fix him once and for all.”

“There’s no talking you out of this, huh?”

“No—so you go on back. Pa’s probably having a pure fit waiting for us to get home. I’ll be fine. I ain’t gonna kill him if that’s what you are worried about!”

“No—that’s not what I’m worried about—it’s what that creep does to you that’s got me worried!”

“I can handle him–just like I told you. Now go on—I’m gonna get a table and wait,” Joe insisted and waved Sam back over.

“You’re gonna be plumb drunk, Joe, if you keep swilling that rot gut,” Hoss argued as he watched Sam hand the bottle to Joe to take to the table with him.

“See you,” Joe said to end the discussion. He brought the shot glass and bottle of whiskey to one of the tables and sat down where he could keep an eye on the doorway.

Hoss shook his head and gave up his mission. He knew Joe was right about one thing, and that was that their father would be worried sick about both of his sons. Hoss decided to check in with his pa and then return to town to see if Joe had found Pete.

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

Joe waited at the Silver Dollar for a good two hours and still Timmons had not made an appearance. Deciding that he would check back over at the Bucket of Blood, Joe paid his bar tab and headed out into the darkness. As soon as he cleared the swinging doors over at the saloon across the street, Joe spotted the target of his anger. Pete was sitting at a table over towards the back of the saloon. From the look of the large sum of money sitting in the middle of the table, Joe assumed that his old foe was risking more money than usual, and all because of his sudden good luck. Joe walked through the crowd of people and neared the poker game. Pete had just laid down his cards to reveal yet another winning hand. As he was pulling the pot towards him smiling, Joe’s hand fell onto Pete’s shoulder.

“You have something of mine,” Joe announced.

Pete stared up at Joe and smiled menacingly at him. “Oh yeah? What would that be, Cartwright?”

“Oh–no Pete—remember? We are on first name basis—have been since that day I saved you!”

The other men around the poker table could tell that trouble was brewing and gathered what little money they still had left and stood to make a hasty getaway.

“Oh–sorry–you are right, Joe. How you been doing?” Pete replied and stood to stare eye to eye with Joe.

“I want it back now,” Joe sneered. “You can hand it over—or I can take it from you. Either way is fine with me.”

Pete turned his head and nodded towards three of his friends who were standing at the bar drinking.

“You aren’t asking for a fight are you, Joe?” Pete laughed.

Joe slammed his left fist against Pete’s cheek and the man toppled over a chair from the impact.

The bartender ran out from behind the counter and made his way over to the two young men.

“You two have trouble–you take it outside! I’m not gonna have my place busted up!” the bartender shouted.

Pete rubbed at his cheek and slowly pulled himself back to standing. “Yeah–you’re right—Cartwright if you want to finish this—meet me in the alley!”

Joe headed towards the back of the saloon and walked out to the alleyway. Pete followed, but sent a signal towards his friends before clearing the door.

The alley was dark, with little light other than the small lantern that hung on the side of the grain store at the end towards the street. Joe stood and waited for Pete to come into sight. When he approached he unstrapped his holster and waited for Joe to do the same. Both men threw their weapons over to the side and squared off.

“You sure went to great lengths to get a hold of that medallion, Timmons.”

“Yeah—and being the goody two shoe that you are—you sure went to great lengths to save me didn’t you, Cartwright?” Pete replied laughing. “How’s it feel to know you were that stupid?”

“Like this!” Joe shouted and slugged the man, catching him off guard once again.

Pete sprawled out onto the ground and stared up at Joe. He was not surprised to see him that angered but he was more than willing to take him on in a fight. Pete slowly pulled himself to his knees as Joe approached once more with his fists clenched and revenge painted all over his face.

“I’ll give it back to you—just as soon as I’m done with it,” Pete grinned and then dove at Joe, knocking him onto his back

Both men fought as they rolled around on the cold earth. Fists and insults flying, they each sent off rapid blows at each other’s face. Joe was sent falling back against the wall to the saloon as Pete kicked him with all of his might. Joe quickly regained his wits about him and charged Pete, knocking him against a stack of crates laying next to the grain store.

“You know what’s funny?” Joe asked, as he momentarily stopped his assault and regrouped his senses. “You persecuted me—calling me a witch for having that medallion—now what’s it make you, Timmons? Maybe I ought to go throw you into Miller’s Pond, you think?”

Pete wiped the blood out of the corner of his mouth and drew in a sharp breath. He had underestimated his opponent and knew that he couldn’t take much more abuse. It was then that he stood and moved towards the back door of the saloon.

“Oh no—you’re not getting out of this that easy—-I ain’t done with you!” Joe shouted and moved towards Timmons.

Pete was able to pull the door open, where he saw his three friends standing and waiting for their signal. Waving towards them, Pete stepped back as his friends charged out of the saloon and met Joe head-on.

Joe was pinned up against the wall of the saloon by two of the men, while the other one sent a series of punches that knocked the wind out of their captive. Joe struggled to draw air into his lungs as Pete staggered over towards them all.

“You—you’ve never taken me alone—-not in all these years—” Joe started, between deep breaths. “You’re not man enough to fight your own battles, Timmons!”

Pete laughed and pulled away the man who had just punished Joe with his fists. He stared directly into Joe’s eyes and smiled.

“There’s no point taking you on alone, Joe–is there? No–not when I have my friends to do it for me! You remember Miller’s Pond—well—that’s gonna look like a Sunday social to you after tonight. And, I’m gonna sit right over there on that crate and watch the show!” Pete grinned and tapped Joe’s cheek with his hand before moving away. “Go for it, Boys!” Pete yelled across the alley.

Joe looked into the faces of Pete’s friends. He figured that his nemesis had paid them well for their loyalty. All Joe could do was to close his eyes and pray that the goons would get it over with fast. It was at that moment that all hell broke out and Joe began to feel the impact of fists pummeling his entire body. Even when his legs had gone out from under him, Joe continued to be attacked by the boots of all three men. Joe prayed that he would pass out in order to spare him the visions of his assault at the hands of Pete Timmons and his associates. Time stood still throughout the terrifying ordeal, so that Joe could not tell if it had been minutes or hours that he had stayed conscious. He remembered the pain and the sound of the laughter echoing in the alley. Mercifully Joe fell unconscious before he sustained the full range of the torment that Pete and his friends inflicted on his body.

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

Ben had been consumed with anxiety all during the day and by the time evening had fallen over the Ponderosa, he decided to head out after both of his sons. He had luckily ran up on Hoss, who had just made it to the eastern border of the ranch. Ben listened to all his son had to say and then decided it was time to go and bring Joseph back home forcefully if necessary. They turned their mounts and headed into Virginia City.

Hoss hoped they would still find Little Joe at the Silver Dollar Saloon, but after speaking with Sam, he moved with his father out onto the street.

“Well—let’s try the Bucket of Blood—Sam said he thinks Joe was heading over there,” Hoss explained.

“Cochise is still here—so Joseph shouldn’t be far,” Ben sighed as he tied Buck’s reins next to the pinto.

Joe’s senses started to return to him. He tried to pull his body up off the ground, but the shooting pain stopped his movements. Collapsing back on his stomach Joe groaned and stared towards the street. It was a good twenty yards to get there, and he wasn’t really sure if his body would cooperate. Inch by agonizing inch Joe crawled on his belly towards the street. His only hope was that some passerby might see his body and go for help once he was spotted. Joe knew he was just barely alive. Every time he tried to suck in a breath the right side of his chest felt as though it was going to explode. Blood dripped down into his eyes as he crawled, but he fought to ignore the pain and continue on.

Ben and Hoss had just stepped up onto the walkway in front of the Bucket of Blood when out of the corner of their eyes they spied the hand reaching out of the shadows. The two men stopped in their tracks, disbelief spreading across their faces as the image of Joe pulled its way out of the alley.

“Joseph!” Ben yelled and hurried down the steps towards the boy.

Hoss moved along with his father and soon both of them were kneeling down next to Joe.

Ben slowly and gently rolled his son onto his back and tried to get a good look at his injuries. Joe had once again passed out and was unaware that his father and brother had come to help him. Ben could barely make out his son’s striking facial features. The boy’s entire face was beaten so badly that he was hardly recognizable. It didn’t take more than one glance to see that his youngest was close to death. Hoss instinctively pulled his brother into his arms.

“Let’s get him over to Doc’s,” Hoss called to his father.

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

The loud pounding on the door to his office summoned doctor Paul Martin from his backroom. He had already put in a full day tending to folks and had just stopped back at his office to resupply his medical bag before heading home. Pulling the door open he saw Hoss Cartwright and the wounded young man held tightly in his arms. Behind the hulking figure Paul noticed Ben Cartwright who wore a panicked expression on his face.

“What happened?” Paul asked as he moved aside to afford Hoss more room to bring his brother into the office.

“He’s been beaten half to death,” Hoss replied, full of emotion as he carried Joe into the examination room and gently set him down.

Ben was immediately at the head of the table and helped Hoss remove Joe’s jacket and shirt. Paul walked to the water basin and scrubbed his hands and then joined the other men. First he checked his patient’s pupils and then listened to his chest and abdomen. He made a few grunts as he went about his examination, showing his ire over what had happened to the young man. Palpating Joe’s stomach Paul’s facial expression grew more severe.

“Well?” Ben asked impatiently.

Paul simply shook his head and then gathered up some antiseptic and began to cleanse Joe’s face to remove the blood and grime. Hoss looked over at his father and on his face he gave away the fear that was increasing in his heart over the fate of his little brother. Paul usually was more optimistic in appearance, neither man saw that this time as he worked to make his patient more comfortable. Finally, after a long intense pause, Paul spoke out loud the seriousness of the situation.

“He’s bleeding internally—-I’m not sure—-his spleen may have ruptured or we might be talking of other organs that were punctured by the ravages of fists and boots against most of the boy’s body,” Paul stated grimly.

“But—you can help him—can’t you?” Ben’s voice shot out pleadingly.

“I’ll do what I can—you know that, Ben—it’s just–well—I’m not sure this time,” the doctor spoke a bit more softly and touched his old friend’s arm sympathetically.

“I never should’ve left him—it’s all my fault–” Hoss choked out, fighting back tears.

Ben moved next to his middle son and forced his gaze. “Don’t say that—-Joseph wanted to handle this alone—it’s not your fault—-it’s probably my fault for not putting a stop to it in the first place.”

“I’m gonna kill Timmons, Pa—I swear I am!” Hoss turned his anger back on the person he knew had to be responsible for his brother’s condition.

“They’ll be a time for that, Son—right now—we have to take care of your brother,” Ben insisted and turned back towards Paul. “What can you do for the boy?”

Paul sighed and listened again to Joe’s chest before responding to Ben’s question. “His breathing is labored—I think he’s got a rib that’s either rubbing up against his right lung or has punctured it. Best thing now is to tape him up and hope for the best. He’s in a coma—Joe took quite a battering to his head.”

“He’s gonna make it–he has to, Doc!” Hoss replied vehemently.

“I’ll do everything I know how to try and keep him here with us—but I don’t want to give you false hope either. Joseph—in my opinion has perhaps a fifty-fifty chance at best.”

Ben brushed his hand against his son’s battered cheek and bent down close enough to whisper in the boy’s ear.

“Joseph—-we’re here—-your Pa—your brother Hoss—we’re right here next to you. Now you hang on—I know you can hear me—-we need you. You’ve got to fight—fight with everything you’ve got, Son—you can do it. I know you can,” Ben spoke softly and prayed that in the recesses of the boy’s mind he would hear his words and respond. Pushing back his own tears, the distraught father placed a kiss on his wounded son’s forehead and stood back up to face the doctor. “Paul—-do whatever you can—don’t give up on the boy! We’ve been down this road in the past—-and he’s proven us wrong each time we thought it was over.”

Paul gave a patient smile and nodded towards Ben. “You know I’d never quit on that kid–no matter how grim his prognosis seems. Now—help me with his chest bindings and we’ll sit and wait—and pray.”

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

Doctor Martin did everything he could think of in order to try and mend Joe’s wounds. He watched carefully the boy’s vital signs and concentrated most of all on the swelling that was very apparent on Joe’s abdomen. Debating on whether he should try to perform exploratory surgery he decided on waiting due to the weakness in his patient’s pulse. Looking across the room, Paul’s heart fell in his chest. There was Hoss on one side of the table where his little brother lay unconscious, and Ben on the opposite side keeping a constant vigil. Paul settled down in a chair close by and wondered how many times he had been through a life and death struggle with Joe Cartwright. He knew all along that it wasn’t merely his medical prowess that had pulled the boy away from death’s door time and time again. Paul was more than aware that Joe’s longevity had been due to a power far greater than a country doctor possessed. He closed his eyes and prayed for God’s healing power to once again join him in tending to the boy.

Ben held his son’s left hand locked tightly between his own two hands. It seemed so cold in his grasp that the anxious father’s fingers sought out the boy’s wrist to check for a pulse. It was still there, though extremely weak. Watching the rise and fall of the sheet which covered his son’s chest, Ben fought the kind of fear he had come to know so well. He had to believe that his youngest would once again pull through, though he wondered if he had the right to beg God’s intercession. Ben knew he had asked so many times for divine intervention that he worried what would happen if this time the answer was no. Joe’s face had doubled in size due to the swelling and there were times that his father wasn’t sure if he was really looking at his boy. His youngest had been blessed with such striking good looks that seeing him like he was now sent an anger surging throughout Ben’s soul. He wondered how many fists had battered his boy, how many boots had wreaked such havoc on Joe’s body. Seeing the full extent of damage, Ben knew it wasn’t a matter of Joe going up against only Pete Timmons. Ben surmised that just as in the past, Timmons had gathered together his rowdy cohorts and attacked Joe head on. No matter how proficient Joseph was in the art of self defense, it would do little good if he were surrounded. Ben knew that had to be exactly what had happened. Ben’s right hand reached up again and touched his son’s bruised jaw and traveled up to the mass of curls which graced his head. The early twinge of guilt that he had felt seemed to become a major pang when he thought on his own failure to spare his son all the pain he had endured. Ben knew in hindsight that he should have demanded Joe stay with his brother Hoss and not head out on his own to retrieve what was taken from him. He would have rather dealt with Joseph’s displeasure at not being treated as an adult, than to have to deal with what the result of his independence had cost. Ben felt as though the last couple of years he had been walking a tightrope with his impetuous and hardheaded youngest son. He had tried to give Joseph the space in which to spread his wings and fly solo while still keeping an eye out for the trouble he might encounter out in the world. Ben wished that his son was still a child and could be contained much more easily. He wished he could have told Joseph in no uncertain terms that he would not be allowed to run off after Pete Timmons and let that be the end of it. Unfortunately Ben knew that even in Joe’s teens he had a problem with following orders and apparently that was not going to change no matter how old he got.

****You’ve got so much ahead of you, Joseph—so much. You have to pull through—I can’t imagine life without you, Son. No matter what challenges you put me through–no matter how many white hairs you have placed on my head—life without you would hold no joy.**** Ben thought to himself and again said another prayer. ****I know I have no right asking you, Lord—I’ve asked you so many times—in so many situations just like this—but I have to ask you once again. Please spare my boy. For me—for his brothers–for all of those who love Joseph—and for Joe as well. You know the good that exists deep inside of him—you know how much love and compassion he’s shown to others in his twenty- one years. Please don’t let it end this way, God, please let him live.****

Hoss looked across the table at his father and noticed the tears which streaked down his cheeks. Ben’s head was bowed and resting up against his little brother’s arm. Still, the tears were visible as they drifted down from the worried father’s face and landed like raindrops on the sheet which covered Joe’s body. Hoss turned to cast a glance over at the doctor. It didn’t surprise him to see that Paul also had his head bowed, as if in prayer. The doctor had brought the rambunctious youngest member of the Cartwright clan into the world to begin with, and had spent so many crucial moments trying to save him from various illnesses and injuries. Hoss was sure that his father considered Paul a surrogate brother after having shared so much of his life with him. He couldn’t think of a time that Paul hadn’t entered the Ponderosa ranch house in a blind rush in order to patch Little Joe up. Hoss knew that if his little brother were to succumb to his injuries this time that Paul would never be the same, no more than any of the Cartwrights would be the same, or the world for that matter.

****Okay Little Brother—I played it your way and look where it’s gotten you! If you ain’t the dadgumest hardest headed kid that the Good Lord ever sent to pester a big brother! You should have left Pete up to me—that’s what big brothers are for. Guess you thought you’d show us—show us how grown up you’ve gotten by taking him on all by yourself. You never learn do you? Together—-we are unbeatable. Together no-one can get the better of us. Joe—you don’t have to take on the world alone—don’t you know that yet? That’s why you’ve got family. It don’t make you weak to have to turn to us—wish I could get that through your hard head. But, I figure if Pa can’t do it—no way I can! You gotta get better, Joe—I love you—and I wouldn’t want to go on without you to aggravate me. Please—Please God—don’t let him leave us!****

Hoss finished his prayer and stood and walked over to the doctor.

“Think I’ll go in the back and fix us some coffee,” Hoss whispered and made a hasty getaway to give him time to brush away his tears.

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

****Joe walked, as if shrouded in a fog, towards the light that shone in the distance. Once he made it to the source of the glow he stood in front of a huge old house. Joe reached for the door and opened it slowly. Bit by bit objects began to materialize in front of his eyes. The room was warm and inviting and Joe knew he had been there before. Moving over towards the huge stuffed chair that sat in front of a blazing fireplace, Joe heard his name called and he turned towards the sound.

“Joseph—come on over and sit down!” the man called cheerily.

Joe now stood looking down at his late Great Uncle Joshua, who was seated in another chair smiling up at him.

“Uncle Josh?” Joe’s voice came out with confusion apparent in its tone.

“Yes–you aren’t seeing things, Boy, come set yourself down.”

Joe settled into the comfortable chair and stared over at his uncle. “I–I–don’t understand—where am I?”

“Where do you think you are?” Uncle Josh asked softly.

Looking around at the strangely decorated den full of rare and exotic artifacts, Joe’s mind sought an answer to the question posed to him. He remembered the furniture seemed a whole lot bigger the last time he had been in that very room, but then again, that had been many many years ago. Joe was just a small child the last time he had been entertained by his uncle in his house in St. Louis.

“It—it looks like your old house—but–it can’t be!” Joe exclaimed.

Uncle Josh reached across to calm the young man with the touch of his hand. “Settle down now, Joseph. Everything’s going to be all right.”

“But—you’re dead—-you died years ago. How can I be in your house–unless—am I dead too?”

Uncle Josh laughed at the strange expression on his nephew’s face as he tried to reason away how he had come to be in the old house again.

“No—you’re not dead, Joseph.”

“Then—where am I?”

“Let’s just say you are in between,” Uncle Josh answered, nodding his head.

“In between? In between what?”

“In between life and death. And as for this old house—well—usually folks are taken to more familiar surroundings. Since the last time you and I were together—and both alive—I thought this might be a bit more comfortable for you.”

“I’m starting to remember now,” Joe whispered and closed his eyes tightly. “The fight—the fight in the alley.”

“Yes siree—that there was some tromping you took!” Uncle Josh replied. “Now why would you think that old Pete Timmons would play by the rules and fight you fairly?”

Joe shook his head and frustration spread across his face. “Because I’m stupid I guess,” he answered bitterly.

Uncle Josh chuckled and reached across from his chair and patted the young man’s arm. “No—no–you aren’t stupid by any means. You just think that folks naturally play by your rules and then when they don’t you get upset. The world’s full of much trickery!”

“The medallion—-he got the medallion.”

“Yes—I know.”

“I don’t understand that either—why did it work for him, Uncle Josh? I thought it worked for me because you told me I was the third son and all. It worked just the same in the hands of someone who is evil than it did for me!”

“Well, not quite–when you found out that you could see the cards you never played poker again while you had the medallion, did you?”

“No—I didn’t because it was cheating. Timmons has won tons of money using whatever power that thing has inside it. I was trying to get it back so he couldn’t.”

“Just because he won some money doesn’t mean that it will prove to be good luck for him. I think you know what I mean by that, don’t you?”

Joe thought on what his uncle had said and remembered something he had foreseen years ago. He remembered after Pete had hurt him, and had half drowned him over at Miller’s Pond, he had seen something while holding the medallion. It had happened when his father had been upset that Timmons had not been punished for what he had done. Joe remembered seeing exactly how Pete would be killed and why.

“Yeah—I know,” Joe nodded. “But, that still doesn’t explain why he was able to see the cards—just like I was able to see them.”

Uncle Josh laughed knowingly and replied, “Sometimes we see folks getting everything they want while for some reason the same luck hasn’t befallen us. Just look at what you tried to do for that man! You thought you were saving him that day. You even went out of your way to get the doctor for him and helped him make it back to town the next day. Then, you find out he used you to get the medallion. Doesn’t seem fair now, does it?”

“No–not at all. Makes me feel stupid too!”

“You’re never stupid for helping someone, Joseph. Don’t let what’s happened change the way you are. We both know that in the long run good wins over evil.”

“Does it?” Joe asked in disbelief. “I’ve seen an awful lot of evil winning lately.”

“Life is like a book, you haven’t read all the chapters yet, now have you?”

Joe smiled, “Well that depends I guess. Am I going to die?”

“No—I think you already knew that one too! I know what you asked that medallion once, and I think you saw that you have a long life ahead of you.”

“Then—why am I here?”

“Oh I guess we figured that you could use a little break from all of the chaos below. You could say a little reward for the good that exists inside of you.”

“What now?” Joe asked and looked around.

Uncle Josh smiled as he stood from his chair and reached for Joe’s hand. “I wouldn’t be much of a host if I didn’t offer you some tea before you head back. As I recall you liked my kitchen–let’s go there and have us some before you have to return.”

Before Joe could reply he found himself seated in his uncle’s kitchen with a cup of tea in front of him. It had seemed like it had been just a blink of an eye.

“What do I do about the medallion, Uncle Josh?”

“Well, once you have it back in your hand, I know you will be just fine.”

“But–how do I get it back?” Joe asked, still confused.

“All you have to do is ask for it, Joseph.”

“Ask? I don’t understand.”

“Just ask—” Uncle Josh replied and patted Joe’s hand one last time.

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

“He’s not getting any better—his pulse is weakening,” Doc Martin whispered to Ben after setting Joe’s wrist back alongside of his body. “Ben—I’ve always believed—that when someone is in a coma that they can hear everything we say to them. If you have something—something you need to say to Joe—maybe you’d better say it now.”

Ben looked up into Paul’s somber eyes and understood what he was trying to tell him in a round about way. The doctor had all but come out with his medical prognosis that Joe was not going to last much longer.

“Can’t you do something, Paul? Can’t you operate—anything?” Ben pleaded.

“If I had operated he wouldn’t have lasted this long. I’m sorry—it’s times like these that I hate being a doctor,” Paul replied and walked away from his friend. He couldn’t bear to watch the last minutes of Joe’s life tick by.

Ben looked over at Hoss and could tell that he was no longer trying to cover up his tears. They streamed out of the big man’s eyes and down to his chin.

“Joseph—” Ben started, but had to stop and cough in order to clear the emotion from his throat. “Joseph—if you have to go—if your body has finally had enough–then—I want you to go peacefully. I can’t keep you here if it’s your time—but I want you to know—I want you to know how much I love you—how much I always have and I always will,” Ben stopped his sorrow-filled words abruptly. He felt as though the life was ebbing out of his own body as well, just in having to say goodbye to his youngest son. He placed a final kiss onto his son’s brow in order to try and let him go.

Hoss gathered around his father and wrapped a massive arm around the man’s shoulder to offer him some strength. It was at that moment that Joe’s lips began to move, as though he was trying with all his might to speak.

Ben saw the movement and drew closer to try and hear what Joe was trying to say. “Joseph? Joseph—can you hear us?”

“M—me–medallion—get—get me–medallion–” Joe mumbled, just barely loud enough to be understood.

Ben turned and cast a bewildered look over at Hoss.

“Medallion?” Ben asked, confused by the request.

Hoss looked at his little brother, who had apparently gone back under again. “If Joe says to get it—by gosh I’m gonna get it for him!” Hoss stated emphatically and turned towards the door.

“Hoss!” Ben called after his son, but it was too late. Hoss was on a mission and no power on earth was going to stop him now.

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

Hoss followed Pete’s trail from over at the Bucket of Blood, where he had been told Pete and his bunch had gone after Joe, to the Silver Dollar across the street. Standing at the swinging doors, Hoss gave a glance around the room. The saloon was half full of late night partying cowboys. Hoss spotted Timmons at one of the back tables playing poker with a group of men. Pushing through the bar doors, Hoss walked to the counter and signaled Sam over.

“How’s Little Joe doing?” Sam whispered so that the other patrons would not hear him.

“Tell me what you know, Sam,” Hoss asked quietly.

“Timmons and his bunch came in a couple of hours ago bragging. I heard they worked Little Joe over pretty bad.”

“I’ll take care of Timmons in a minute. I’ve figured out that it took a whole lot more than what he had to hurt my brother so bad. Where are his pals?”

“Hoss—I know you’re mad and all—but maybe you ought to get the sheriff over here. I don’t want this place torn to shreds,” Sam pleaded.

“Here,” Hoss replied and drew out a wad of bills from his wallet and put it in the bartender’s hand. “That will take care of the damages—now tell me where Pete’s friends are hid?”

“They’re drinking in the back room–but there’s three of ‘em–” Sam started to explain but Hoss wasn’t listening.

Moving into the room towards the back of the saloon, Hoss stared over at a table where three menacing looking men sat drinking. He walked close enough behind the men to see their hands and noticed the skin knuckles. That was all it had taken to confirm that they were the ones who had attacked Joe.

“You men been over in the alley across the street lately?” Hoss asked politely.

“Huh?” one man asked and stared up at the hulking figure next to him.

“I said—you been over in the alley?” Hoss repeated, as he calmly unbelted his holster.

“What’s it to you?” another man sneered. He knew that the man standing there was Joe’s big brother.

Hoss dropped his holster in the middle of the table and smiled. “Just want to be sure—wouldn’t want to hurt someone accidentally”

The three men stood from their seats and stared over at Hoss. “Whatcha gonna do about it, Cartwright? You want some of what we gave your baby brother? There’s three of us and only one of you!”

“Yeah—I can see that,” Hoss nodded. “But—-maybe I could just put one hand behind my back to even the odds?”

The three men made a sudden move towards Hoss, totally disregarding the fact that not only was he bigger than them, but he also had another advantage; the power of revenge. As each man made their move towards him, Hoss threw a punch that took care of the first one of Pete’s cohorts. The force of his punch sent that man sprawling to the floor. The next man made his target, hitting Hoss underneath his chin. Hoss didn’t even show that he had felt the blow. He lifted the man into the air over his head and threw him half way across the room. The man landed against the wall and hit the floor with a loud crash. The third man started to back away, now realizing that he held no chance against the angered brother of their former victim. Hoss was immediately on him, and sent him flying with one mighty blow to his face. One by one Hoss took care of each of the men, but he stopped short of killing them.

“That was for my little brother—-I’d leave town now–before I get mad and kill you!” Hoss threatened as he stared down at the three battered men. He would have caused more damage, but knew that he had a medallion to fetch back to Joe. Hoss moved over to the table and strapped his holster back around his waist. He then turned and headed out of the room to do some business with Pete Timmons.

Pete was having a grand night. In fact, he had made more money in the last two hours than he had in the week spent in Carson City. The other three men sitting around the poker table had sat in disbelief as Pete won each and every hand of cards. Pete didn’t see the approach of Hoss Cartwright, as his back was turned towards him. He was just scooping up yet another large pot of money when he felt the hand on his shoulder.

“I’ve come for the medallion,” Hoss stated gruffly.

Pete turned his head around to see Hoss. He could tell that the big man was outraged over what had happened to Joe. Pete stood and looked towards the back room.

“Your friends are sleeping right now—don’t think you’re gonna get any back-up this time, Timmons! Now hand me that medallion!”

Pete reached a shaky hand into his vest pocket and began to pull out the stolen medallion.

“What’s this about a medallion?” one of the poker players asked Hoss.

Hoss looked down at the man across the table. He had never seen the guy before, but he looked like a professional gambler by the clothes he wore. Only such a man would dare wear the freshly starched garb that he had on.

“You men have been playing with a cheat—that medallion there—Timmons has it–and it helps him to read cards. You’ve all been taken!” Hoss announced.

The man who had asked about the medallion was enraged by what Hoss had said. He had been the biggest loser of the evening and just the thought of someone cheating, no matter how it was accomplished, sent his hand down to his six-gun.

“Here,” Pete said as he handed over the medallion to Hoss.

Just as the object changed hands and Hoss had it secure in his palm, the angered gambler drew on Timmons.

“You lousy cheat!” the man shouted and before Pete could reach for his own gun, a slug hit him square in the chest. He fell to the floor in a crumpled heap.

Hoss had seen the move, but it was too late to do anything about it. Sam was immediately over to the men and had his shotgun pointed at the man who had fired on Pete.

“I think Sheriff Coffee will want to talk to you all,” Sam said as he knelt next to Pete. “Timmons is dead,” he announced as he checked for a pulse.

Hoss stared down at the man who had tormented his little brother for many years. He couldn’t honestly say he was sorry that Pete had been killed. Hoss wrapped his fingers around the medallion and thought on the fact that it had just passed from Pete to him right as the deadly shot was fired. He figured that Pete’s luck had indeed changed at that moment.

“I gotta get to Little Joe, Sam—if Roy wants me I’ll be over at Doc Martin’s office,” Hoss said and hurriedly left the saloon.

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

“Hoss?” Ben asked, relief and concern in his tone of voice. He stood as his son came into the examination room and did a quick survey of him to see if he had been harmed by Timmons and his pals.

“I’m okay, Pa,” Hoss replied and moved in between his father and the examination table on which his little brother still lay unconscious. He took a hold of Joe’s hand and pressed the medallion into his brother’s palm. Hoss gingerly wrapped the boy’s fingers around the medal and stared over at his father and the doctor. “Any change while I was gone?”

“No—he hasn’t come around and his vitals are still the same,” Doc sighed wearily.

“Little Brother—-can you hear me?” Hoss whispered as he knelt on the floor next to the boy. “I brung you that medallion—it’s right in your hand.”

Ben put his hand on Hoss’ shoulder and said, “I don’t think that medallion has any real power, Son. I always thought that it was your brother’s belief in it that was the real force behind its magic.”

“I’m hoping that it’s a lot more lucky for Joe than it was for Timmons. He’s dead, Pa,” Hoss announced and looked at his father to gauge his reaction to the news.

“Did you—-did you kill him?”

“No—not that I didn’t want to—but it wasn’t me. Some gambler—as soon as he heard that Pete had been cheating he hauled off and shot him. Strange thing—it was right after he handed me that thing!” Hoss replied and nodded towards the medallion.

Ben sank back into his chair and watched Joe’s breathing pattern. It hadn’t changed, not all night. He was starting to wonder if the boy would be drawing his last breath at any moment.

“You know—I was sitting here thinking about this whole medallion thing while you were gone, Hoss. I remembered something Joe said several years ago—back when he made the decision to put it away for good. He said he knew Pete would eventually get his punishment—as if he could see what his final fate would be.”

“Did he tell you what he saw back then, Pa?”

“No—and I never asked. As far as I know–Joe hasn’t even touched that medallion in the last couple of years. He wanted to forget everything—everything he knew about the future.”

“I kinda wish now that old Uncle Josh had never given the kid that thing! It’s been nothing but trouble.”

“I don’t know—-it might have helped him some too, Hoss. Back when he fell into that old well—-it was that medallion that finally brought the boy around, remember?”

“Yeah—I remember,” Hoss nodded and then looked over at his brother again. “I do know that Joe never used it for the wrong things–like Pete did.”

“If it does have any power–” Ben stopped as he reached over and touched Joe’s hand that still held the medallion, “then I sure hope it helps your brother this time!”

Hoss looked over at Paul and could tell that the man was having difficulty believing in the strange talk of a medal that contained magical powers. The doctor listened once again to his patient’s heartbeat and stared over at Joe’s family.

“I don’t know anything about magic—-not that I haven’t seen some awfully strange things when it comes to this boy here! I’d even go so far as to say that he’s shocked me a time or two in the past. It does surprise me that he’s lasted through most of tonight already. But, if anything keeps him here—it’s the power of your love for him—and the power of the man upstairs!”

Hoss placed his right hand on top of his father’s, which still rested on top of Joe’s hand. He believed in the power of love, and if that was all it took to heal his little brother, Hoss knew that Joe would survive.

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

The sun slowly rose from behind the mountain range to the east of the mining town of Virginia City. It had been a long night for all three of the men who kept vigil over Joe’s bedside. They could do little more than wait and pray and listen out for the sound of the boy’s breathing to assure them that he was still with them. Paul had gone off for the third round of coffee making while Hoss stood from his chair and began pacing the room. Ben was fighting his body’s request for sleep. There was no way he was going to give into it, not with his youngest at the throes of death. He stood and moved next to Hoss to once again ask him to go over to the hotel across the street for some rest.

“Don’t even say it again, Pa. You know I ain’t leaving this room no more than you are!”

“It could be hours before we know—” Ben stopped in mid-sentence when he noticed Joe’s head turn on the pillow. He rushed over to him, fearing the worst.

“Joseph?” Ben whispered and bent down in order to make sure that his son was still with them.

“H–h–oss,” Joe’s lips made the word, though the weakness of his breath couldn’t make it sound as it should.

“I think he’s asking for you!” Ben turned and called across to his other son.

Hoss made it over to the side of the bed opposite his father and brushed his hand against his brother’s cheek. “Right here, Short Shanks,” Hoss whispered softly.

“Th–thanks—-gonna—be okay,” Joe muttered and soon felt his father’s hand on his shoulder.

Ben stared across the bed at Hoss and the puzzlement in his eyes mirrored in the blue eyes of his middle son.

“You’ve had a rough time of it, Little Brother—but you hang in there, okay?”

“Medallion—thanks for—medallion,” Joe whispered as his left hand clutched at the object.

“You remember me bringing it to you last night, Joe?” Hoss asked, surprised that his brother even knew that the object was in his hand at the time.

“I knew—gonna be okay—don’t worry,” Joe insisted and turned his attention over to his father. “Pa—should’ve listened—shouldn’t have gone. S-sorry, Pa – sorry I didn’t listen to you.”

Ben smiled at his youngest and nodded over to him. “Won’t be the first time, Joseph—nor the last time apparently. You’ve had a rough time of it –you just hang in there – and that’s an order by the way,” Ben whispered.

“Gonna sleep—gonna sleep now,” Joe whispered and slowly closed his eyes. Ben combed his fingers through his son’s curly hair to ease him back into slumber.

“What’s going on here?” Paul asked as he came in from the back room and noticed Hoss and Ben staring down at Joe.

“He came around–” Ben started to explain as the doctor approached the bed, “he told us he’s gonna be okay.”

Doc shook his head filled, with confusion. He should have known after twenty-one years of doctoring Joseph Cartwright that he should never count the boy out. Paul listened again to Joe’s heart and then inspected the damage to his abdomen. Though the swelling still existed, it appeared to be going down somewhat. Joe’s heartbeat was much stronger than it had been all night. Reaching across the bed to feel his patient’s pulse to his left wrist, Paul could see that Joe still held tightly to the medallion. Paul decided not to disturb the object. It wasn’t that he thought it was the medallion which had assisted in keeping the young man alive, but he was to the point where he wasn’t going to challenge its powers either. If Joseph Cartwright thought that the medallion could help him then so be it, he was not going to argue with the logic of the belief.

“Well—don’t want to offer any false hope—but Joe’s seems to be doing better than he has all night. His pulse is stronger—and it would appear that some of the swelling is subsiding,” Paul announced and couldn’t hide the relief on his face.

“Then—he’s going to be all right?” Ben asked hopefully.

“I’d say if he continues to improve the rest of the day he’ll be out of the woods,” Paul replied.

“You reckon that thing does have the power to heal the kid?” Hoss pointed towards the medallion.

Paul shrugged his shoulders and winked over at both men, “No comment. And you can quote me on that! Now come over here and drink this coffee!”

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

Joe spent the next three days convalescing in the doctor’s office surrounded by the constant care of both his family and Paul. The doctor reluctantly agreed that his patient could head on home provided that he take it easy once there.

Paul stood outside his office and gave last minute instructions to Ben while Hoss got his little brother comfortable in the back of the buckboard.

“He’s still real weak—and those ribs are tender. You make sure that he doesn’t move around much, Ben!”

Ben turned and cast a glance back at his youngest and replied, “He’s still a bit puny, Paul, I don’t think he’ll do much fighting for awhile. But–if he does—Hoss and I will sit on him if need be!”

Paul laughed and patted Joe’s arm showing how pleased he was that his favorite patient had surprised him with his phenomenal healing ability yet again. “No nonsense—doctor’s orders!”

Joe nodded and smiled towards the man, “I’ll do as told—don’t worry. Thanks again, Doc.”

Paul took on a stern countenance, folding his arms across his chest. “And, by the way, don’t go spreading around that it was the medallion that you think healed you either! Next thing you know folks around here will be buying jewelry instead of coming to see me!”

Joe laughed at what Paul had said and replied, “Nothing can replace you, Doc—don’t worry. Besides, I never said I thought the medallion healed me—I just asked for it.”

“Yes—but your condition sure changed as soon as you had it in your hand—good thing I am a man of science and don’t believe in superstitious nonsense,” Paul winked towards Ben and stepped back up on the walkway. “I’ll be by to check on Joe in a few days.”

“Thanks, Paul,” Ben said as he waved goodbye to the man and sent the team forward.

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

Epilogue:

Once he was finally home, Joe’s condition improved a bit more each day. He didn’t give his father or his brother any hassle about following orders even though he wasn’t happy to be stuck inside his room for so long. After a week had passed, Joe had gone stir crazy enough to slip out of his bedroom and made it gingerly down to the living room. He was glad that his father was still in town and wouldn’t be shouting at him for disobeying the current rules. Hoss had been given the task to meet back up with the herd, so Joe had peace and quiet as he sat on the hearth and thought about everything that had happened.

Joe’s time of internal contemplation was short lived. He had only been downstairs for a few minutes when the front door opened and in stepped his father. Had it been any other time and he was in good health, Joe would have bolted up the steps in the hopes of escaping his father’s wrath. But, with his rib cage still bound and his body still aching from the beating it had taken, all Joe could do was sit there on the hearth and look pathetic enough to calm the tempest he could see building in his father’s eyes as the man approached.

“Joseph! What are you doing out of bed young man?”

“Sorry—-I’ve only been down here a few minutes, Pa.”

Ben shook his head angrily, but then settled down once he took a good look at the face that stared up at him. The poor kid was still a total mess, or so his appearance said. Some of the black and blue bruises had turned to a rather ugly shade of green on Joe’s face. He also sported two black eyes and a nose that was still swollen. Ben couldn’t bring himself to yell at his son, not yet. There would be a time for that, but for now he just was too busy thanking God that the boy was still in the land of the living to get back to his normal parenting skills. Ben sank down in the blue velvet chair next to his son and reached over and patted Joe’s knee.

“I imagine it would get a bit boring up there, Son—but you promised Doc that you would obey orders this time,” Ben stated, forcing calm into his voice.

Joe smiled, and it was the one aspect of his face that was still intact and just as endearing as always. “Gee—I must’ve been pretty bad off, huh?”

“Yes—yes you were,” Ben nodded.

“Figures—I was wondering why you weren’t hollering at me,” Joe laughed.

Ben chuckled and grinned over at his son, “Oh I am quite sure that I will be hollering at you soon enough, Joseph—but not until you are well. You gave us all a scare.”

“Yeah,” Joe said glumly and stared down at the floor.

Ben noticed how fast his son’s mood had changed and wondered if the boy was finally ready to discuss all that had happened. He had waited to broach the subject with Joe after they had brought him home. But, just one look into the soft hazel eyes let his father know that Joe was confused about many things that he couldn’t bring himself to express.

“You want to talk about it, Joe?”

Joe frowned and sighed, not knowing exactly where to start. He reached into the left pocket of his robe and pulled out the medallion. Ben wasn’t surprised to see that the boy still kept the thing close to him, and he would be the last person to tell his son to get rid of it.

“Pa—this thing sure has caused a lot of trouble, hasn’t it?”

“Yes—it has that—but it’s also helped a time or two, Son,” Ben replied.

“You think it really has power—don’t you?” Joe looked into his father’s eyes, begging for an answer.

Ben stared down at the object and then back up into his son’s questioning eyes. “Joe–even I don’t have all the answers, you know? I’ve seen some pretty strange things happen since you were given that medallion by my uncle. I think it’s all how you look at things. I mean—I guess you could call it a curse at times—but then again you could call it a blessing at other times.”

“But—do you believe it causes good luck–or bad luck for that matter?”

“It could be mere coincidence that Pete was killed the moment he handed the medallion to Hoss. You could say the same thing about you recovering so quickly after Hoss brought it to you that night,” Ben tried to side-step the issue as best he could.

“You’re dancing around my questions, Pa,” Joe argued, frustrated now.

“Yes—maybe I am,” Ben laughed and sat back in his chair to think for a moment. Finally he stared back over at Joe and said, “Good luck, bad luck–it really doesn’t matter what I think of the medallion, Joe—it matters what you think of it. Evidently you must have thought it would help you when you were injured or you wouldn’t have asked Hoss to bring it to you.”

“I think there’s something to it—-but heck—I have no idea what it is, Pa! I still can’t get over Pete going to all the trouble to get it from me. I can’t believe he staged that whole thing just to get his hands on this!”

“Yes—but there’s something I wanted to ask you,” Ben paused and reached for Joe’s arm to direct his attention. He stared intently into his son’s eyes and asked, “Joseph—did you know that Pete was going to be killed because of that medallion?”

“What?” Joe replied surprised by his father’s question. “You think I knew he was gonna do all of this?”

“No—it’s not that I think you knew all that was gonna happen–but you remember that years ago–you told me that Pete would get his–as you put it. What did you see back then?”

Joe thought on the question for awhile and then looked back up at his father. “All I saw—or all I remember seeing—was someone shooting him–and killing him. I never saw it as having anything to do with the medallion though. Pa—if I had known—why would I have gone after the guy?”

“Sorry—I wasn’t implying—well—just wondering,” Ben tried to apologize for the small piece of doubt that had been pestering him for a week.

“Heck—if I had known that giving Pete the medallion would lead to his downfall I would’ve given it to him years ago!” Joe stated, still full of anger towards the man.

“You don’t mean that!” Ben insisted.

“How do you know I don’t? You know his friends almost killed me–and all the while Pete sat up on a crate and laughed! You think I didn’t want him dead?” Joe asked incredulously.

“I know you enough, Son, that I believe that if you had known that the medallion would cause him to be gunned down you would have said something to him about it,” Ben replied, and as he did he raised his eyebrows in a gesture to get Joe to admit the truth to himself and his father.

“Well—- I did try to get it back –but not to save him.”

“But–you would have—right? If you had known he would be killed–you would have warned him?”

Joe’s frown slowly lifted into a wry smile as he nodded towards his father. “Yeah—I guess—but part of me would’ve hated myself for doing it!”

Ben grinned at his son’s remark, he knew the boy well. “I just wanted you to admit some things to yourself—in case you had any little bit of guilt over this. I know how you are.”

“Yeah—I’m too much like my father!” Joe exclaimed and then winced.

“Your father doesn’t have bruised ribs!” Ben teased as he watched Joe fold his arms tighter across his chest. “We need to get you to bed.”

“Wait—I want to ask YOU something now!” Joe insisted.

“You’re not just stalling?” Ben asked wearily.

“No—I’ll go willingly in a minute. You danced your way around my first question about the medallion. But, let me ask you this—-why do you think the thing worked for Pete? I mean–I remember testing Hoss with the medallion right after I got it from Uncle Josh. He couldn’t see the cards—neither could Adam when I let him hold it. Why do you think it worked for Timmons?”

“Hand me the thing!” Ben said and pointed at the medallion.

Joe reluctantly eased the medal into his father’s palm. He watched as Pa closed his eyes as if he was seeking an answer to the question Joe had posed by using the medallion’s powers.

“Timmons—” Ben started, still with his eyes closed tightly, “Timmons—I see him as being the youngest of three sons—two brothers—named Clint and Thomas—making him the third son.”

Joe’s mouth fell open listening to his father’s trance like answer to the question. He had never tried it on Pa before. “So—Pete was the third son? I never knew he had kin–figured someone that evil wouldn’t have a family. You see anything else?”

Ben nodded and opened his eyes, “I see my youngest son in bed.”

Joe laughed, “Very funny—but no kidding, Pa—you saw that about Pete’s brothers?”

“No—I saw Pete’s two brothers in town today. They got off the stage and met Roy to claim his body. Roy introduced them to me after he had informed them all about their brother’s death. So, yes, they told me that he was the third son —if that was one of the reasons that he could read cards through the medallion, who knows? Does it really matter?”

“Guess not—I’m getting rid of the thing—and letting everyone know about it too. I got to thinking that someone else could try to take it if I kept it here.”

“What are you going to do with it?”

“I remember how Adam always said it was an antique—so I figured since he’s in Boston right now I’d send it to him. Bet there’s some museum somewhere that can put it on exhibit or something. It’s saved me three times anyhow—think that’s my limit!” Joe winked at his father as the man handed the medallion back over to him.

“Now—about my earlier vision—time to see that it comes true. Off to bed, right now–no arguments!” Ben announced sternly as he stood and reached for Joe’s arm. He pulled him to standing and they walked slowly to the staircase.

Joe managed the first three steps unassisted, Ben trying to watch his son but not hover as much as he had lately. By the fourth step, Joe was starting to feel a bit weak and missed the strong hand of his father guiding him to his bedroom. He stopped in his tracks and looked over at Ben.

“Pa? Remember about a week ago—when I told you to let me handle things on my own and go after Pete by myself unassisted?”

“Yes, I remember that quite clearly,” Ben smiled knowingly at his son.

“I was wrong for saying that—–we all need help at times–no matter how old a fellow gets he can always use some help,” Joe apologized and cast a somewhat pathetic look at his Pa.

Ben chuckled and grabbed his son’s elbow.  He knew that in his own inimitable way Joe was asking for assistance in getting up the stairs.  “Yes—we can all use some help now and then. And, that’s what having a family is all about,” Ben said as he helped his son up to his room.

The End

By: Wrangler

1-31-03 and rewritten/formatted 8-4-2025

(Dedicated to my story consultant Rob for the extreme amount of patience he showed when I lost my word program and had to try to load this page by page while he rooted me on.)

Stories in this trilogy:

The Third Son

The Devil’s Hold

Payback

( Pete Timmons half drowns Joe in The Third Son, beats Joe in The Promise part 2 “The Jonah”, and shoots Joe in the leg in Every Purpose Under Heaven part 2 “Another Season”. R.I.P. to a handy bad guy!)