Summary: There’s a first time for everything and everyone.

Rating:K+/T

Word Count: 12,449

Late one fall evening, Adam and Hoss looked up from their game of checkers as the front door opened and their father walked through.  “Hey, Pa!” Hoss called.  “You come just in time to see me whup older brother here.”

A ghost of a smile tickled Ben’s lips at this rare revelation.  “You must be out of practice, son,” he said to Adam.

“Perhaps I’ve been concentrating too much on chess lately,” Adam said.

He didn’t exactly wink at his father, but Ben spied a twinkle in the older boy’s eye and knew, without a doubt, that he was letting Hoss win, a kindness Ben knew his other son, a highly competitive fourteen-year-old, would never have granted.  “Where is Joseph?” he asked.

“Upstairs, doing his homework,” Adam said.  “He’s been very diligent about that lately.”

Ben smiled, broadly this time.  He knew exactly, as did both his older sons, what was producing the unaccustomed diligence to schoolwork and all other duties.  That very diligence, however, was creating a complication for the boys’ father.

“You want I should fetch him down, Pa?” Hoss asked.

“No,” Ben said so quickly that Hoss’s broad brow wrinkled.  “There’s something I need to discuss with the two of you, and I’d rather he didn’t hear it ‘til later,” he explained.

The wrinkles deepened in Hoss’s forehead, while Adam straightened up to ask, “Anything to do with your trip to the Governor’s office?”

“Oh, yes,” Ben chuckled.  He might have known his most intuitive son would make the connection.  “He gave me a commission to fulfill, and I didn’t feel I could say no, although it does put a fly in the butter of my own plans.”

“Which you didn’t feel disposed to tell the Governor, I presume,” Adam said with what looked very much like a smirk.

Ben’s head swiveled to fix an irritated stare on his eldest.  “Not when he insisted I was the only man he could trust with the job.”

“Ah!”  There was no mistaking the smirk this time.  “Succumbed to flattery,” Adam announced to his younger brother.

“I’ll give you something to succumb to, young man,” Ben warned.

The threat was an idle one, as both boys knew, although Hoss still looked a bit worried.  He hated friction of any kind, and there was always the chance that Pa might mean it this time.

“Sorry, Pa,” Adam said dutifully.  “Just what thankless task has our esteemed governor saddled you with this time?”

Ben moved toward the fireplace and dropped into the padded leather armchair beside it.  “There’s a meeting in Sacramento to discuss the boundary dispute between California and our territory.”

“Again?”  Hoss’s mouth gaped open.

“Well, the governor thinks this one might be decisive,” Ben said, “and he wants me there to advise him.”

“It makes sense, Pa,” Adam said.  “The governor’s still fairly new to the territory, so he needs someone with local knowledge of our issues at his side.  He couldn’t pick a better man.”

“Yeah, Pa,” Hoss agreed readily, “and we was going to Sacramento anyways, so it ain’t like you’d just be barkin’ at a knot.”

“That’s exactly what it is, young man!” Ben sputtered.  “I can’t think of anything more useless than dealing with a nest of politicians on a subject they’ve never been able to agree on.”

“Is it the drive you’re concerned about?” Adam asked with his usual discernment.  “Should I ask how the timing matches up with this unexpected assignment or just assume the worst?”

“Is it ever anything but with politicians?” Ben grunted.  “When did they ever understand the needs of a working man?  Yes, of course, the meeting’s timed in exact conflict with our trail drive!  In fact, I’ll need to leave in the morning.”

“I can handle the drive,” Adam said quietly.

Ben took a deep breath.  “Are you sure, son?  I don’t doubt your capability, but you’re young still, and some of the men may test you because of that.”

“Aw, no, Pa,” Hoss protested.  “They’ve seen what ole Adam can do, and they respect him.”

“I wasn’t talking about our regular hands, Hoss,” Ben explained.  “I have no doubt they’ll follow Adam’s orders as readily as mine, but he’ll have some new men to manage, too.  That’s where the testing might come.”

“I can handle it, Pa,” Adam reiterated softly.

Ben smiled.  “I’m confident you can.  However, there is one particular new hand who might give you some trouble.”  His quick glance toward the stairs identified the “new hand” instantly for the two young men with him in the great room.

“Oh, that new hand.  I can handle that one, too, Pa,” Adam said confidently and entirely too easily, Ben felt.

He sighed.  “I really do hate to saddle you with that responsibility when you’re bossing your first trail drive, son, but I’m not sure I have another choice.  Hop Sing will be managing the chuck wagon for us, and I can’t leave Little Joe home alone.  Any number of friends would probably take him in for a couple of weeks, but I promised the boy he could go on the trail drive if all his homework and chores were done.  He’s fulfilled that to the letter; he’s earned his reward.  I’m reluctant to deprive him of it, but I, of course, expected to be there to guide him and keep him safe.  Now, you’ll not only be a man short, but you’ll have that on your shoulders, and . . .”

“Pa, I can handle it,” Adam said once more, hoping three times would suffice.  “I do understand the challenges, and I know it won’t be easy, but I’ll manage.”

Ben took a deep breath and nodded.  “Before I make a final decision, however, I want to talk with Dan Tolliver.  He’s our top wrangler, and I think he’ll be willing to help shoulder the extra responsibilities.  Before I agree to send Little Joe along, though, I’d like to get his opinion.”

“If you feel it’s necessary,” Adam said tersely, his tight grip on his temper slipping.

“Now, don’t take it that way,” Ben chided.  “It’s no reflection on you, son.  I just want to be sure you’ll have all the support you might need.”

“Aw, you know how ole Dan feels about the kid,” Hoss said.  “Dan trained Joe hisself in herdin’ cattle and ropin’, and I’ve heard him say the kid’s a natural.  He ain’t likely to say no.”

“I expect you’re right,” Ben said.  Turning back to Adam, he added, “Well, if all that meets with your approval, boss, I’ll go talk to Dan now.”  At Adam’s tight-lipped nod, he smiled.  As he took the doorknob in his hand, he said, “Let me be the one to tell Little Joe, either way it goes.”

The door had no sooner closed behind their father than Adam sputtered, “When have I ever not taken responsibility for that boy?  What does it take to make Pa realize I can handle him?”

“When you can?” Hoss said with a wide grin to let Adam know he was teasing.

It worked.  The tightness in Adam’s face eased.  “I’m counting on your help,” he said.

“Aw, you got it,” Hoss promised easily.  “Besides, as saintly as little brother’s been here of late, he may not give us a lick of trouble.”

“I still see the tarnish on that halo, if you don’t!”  Adam said it with a grin, though, and Hoss knew he’d successfully restored older brother’s good temper.

Within ten minutes, Ben was back in the house.  “What’d ole Dan say, Pa?” Hoss asked.  “I get it about right?”

“Just about,” Ben said.  “Dan did say that Little Joe was a mite younger than he liked to see a boy make his first trail drive, but he also said the boy has good skills and so long as he does as he’s told, he should do fine.”

“Ah, and therein lies the rub,” Adam, hand dramatically over his heart, declaimed in his best imitation of Edwin Booth’s Hamlet.

“I’ll lay down the law before I leave,” Ben promised, “but enforcing it will be up to the two of you, with Dan’s support, if needed.”  He sighed.  “Well, no time like the present, I guess.”  He squared his shoulders and headed toward the staircase.

*****

“Pssst!  Hoss!”  Hoss grunted and turned his back to the pesky horsefly buzzing in his ear and tried to bury in his head in his pillow.  The horsefly just buzzed louder.  “Hoss!”

Hoss cracked open one eye.  In the murky darkness he couldn’t see much, but he didn’t need to.  He knew that pesky voice and the name it went by.  “What you doin’ up, Joe?” he asked, yawning widely.  “Ain’t even first light yet.”

“Sorry,” Little Joe said, sounding not in the least regretful.  “I couldn’t sleep for frettin’.”

That was different.  No longer irritated, Hoss sat up with concern.  “Aw, you ain’t missin’ Pa already, are you, punkin?  Ain’t been even a full day since he left.”

“I ain’t a baby, Hoss,” Little Joe said with an offended whine that sounded very much like what he was denying.

“Are you ailin’?”  Hoss’s voice was now thick with worry because he didn’t know what they’d do in a fix like that.  If the boy was sick, they couldn’t take him on the drive, and they couldn’t foist him off on neighbors or leave him home alone, either.  That was a fly in the butter no one needed to deal with!

“No, Hoss!”  Little Joe was still whispering but sounding more perturbed by the minute.  “I was just a mite worried about gettin’ the drive started on time and . . .”

Hoss held up a silencing hand.  “Gettin’ a mite big for your britches, ain’t you, Shortshanks?  Adam and me’ll handle that; ain’t no need of you frettin’, little feller.”

Little Joe sighed deeply.  He loved his big brother Hoss like no one else, but sometimes he could be hard work.  “I just meant since we’re a man down, with Pa bein’ gone, maybe I could be of some help today, be an extra hand, you know?”

Joe wanting to be of help was rare enough than even guileless Hoss’s suspicions were triggered.  “You got school today, remember?”

“Yeah, but how much good is one more day gonna do me?” Little Joe argued, “and if I could take some of the load off you and Adam . . .”

“Adam ain’t likely to fall for that, young’un.”

Little Joe put on his sweetest smile.  “If you back me up, he will.”

“Oh, you little scoundrel!”

Little Joe caught the twinkle in his brother’s eye, though, and knew the battle was won.  “Let’s talk to Adam, then!”

Hoss caught his arm.  “Not at this time of the morning, not if’n you want to win him over.  Now, get back to your own bed and let me get back to sleep, you ornery horsefly!”

Realizing the wisdom of his brother’s advice, Little Joe high-tailed it back to his own room.

*****

Having had trouble getting back to sleep, Little Joe was later down to breakfast than he had planned.  Fortunately, Adam just saw that as business as usual and made no more than the usual bad jokes about “Sleeping Beauty” and the need to “get a move on” if Joe were to make it to school on time.

“I wanted to talk to you about that, Adam,” the boy said as he slid into his seat at the table with an anxious glance at his other brother.  Hoss shook his head slightly.  He hadn’t tattled.  Good.  “See, I was thinking,” Little Joe began as he was heaping his plate with sausage and eggs.”

“Always a commendable thing when heading off to school,” Adam observed.  He wasn’t sure what his little brother was edging up to, but he recognized the signs.

Little Joe sighed at the predictable teasing.  “Yeah, but about heading off to school,” he started again.  “I was thinkin’, maybe I shouldn’t.”  He hurried to finish his pitch before Adam cut him off.  “I mean, with you bein’ a man down and, maybe, needin’ some extra help, and with me just havin’ this one puny, little day of school left anyway and . . .”

Adam held up a silencing hand.  “You figured you’d start your vacation a day early.”

Little Joe shook his head wildly.  “Not a vacation.  No, sir!  I just figured there’d be plenty of ways a feller like me could help out.”  He’d instinctively known that calling himself a man would earn him nothing but hoots of laughter and decided “feller” might suffice and definitely be better than the demeaning “boy.”

The hoot of laughter almost came anyway.  Having been a champion debater in school, Adam easily saw through the rather flimsy proposition his brother was making.  It was only rather flimsy, however, and not completely without merit, so he said, “Go on.”  At worst, it would be entertaining to see how cogent an argument his little brother could frame.

“Well, like I said,” Joe went on, encouraged by what he viewed as a positive response, “You and Hoss will already be busy.”

“Busy as a stump-tailed horse in fly season,” Hoss put in, to keep his promise about helping Joe butter up ole Adam.

“Right!”  Little Joe flashed their middle brother a grateful grin and plunged on.  “And, face facts, Adam, how much am I likely to learn this one last day if all I can think of is how hard things is on you and whether we’ll be ready on time and what I could’ve done to help, if’n you’d only let me and”—he finally had to take a breath before continuing.  “And, and, well, wouldn’t it help if’n I was to take up some of the more routine jobs—nothing real major, of course—and free someone up to do what only a man can do?”  That last phrase was added strictly for older brother’s benefit, not because Joe really believed himself incapable of pulling a man’s weight.

Adam lifted his palm toward Little Joe.  “All right; you’ve made your point.”

Little Joe held his breath.  He’d used every argument he had, and he knew the odds were against him, but he was the kind of boy who lived in hope.  And there was always hope, wasn’t there, that older brother would listen to reason, just this once in his life?

“You might not like the assignment I gave you,” Adam warned.

“Don’t matter,” Little Joe rushed to say, his eyes lighting in expectation.  “I’ll do anything you ask.”

“Even if it’s something as mundane as loading the bed wagon?”

The light dimmed in the shining green eyes.  Loading a wagon with supplies the men needed to take on a long trip wasn’t exactly the sort of glamourous, manly cattle work he’d dreamed of, but after all, he wasn’t a top hand . . . yet.  He should have expected that a first-time trail hand like him would have to start at the bottom, but it still beat sitting in school all to pieces!  “Sure,” he agreed cheerily, covering his minor disappointment with a wide grin.

Adam’s lips twitched with amusement at the easy compliance, and he couldn’t resist throwing one more bucket of cold water on little brother’s sudden enthusiasm for work.  “You’d also need to take your schoolbooks along and try to keep up with your class.”

Little Joe sighed.  “Pa already made me promise that, Adam, though I don’t see how I’ll find much time for studying on the trail!”

“You might be surprised,” Adam said, smiling in fond memory of another boy, even younger, who’d regularly managed to find time for study on a wagon train headed west.  “With that understood,” he said, finally taking compassion on the antsy kid, “yes, you may skip school today and load the bed wagon, including a few of your textbooks, your primer and arithmetic, at least.”

“Great!  Thanks, Adam!  I’ll get those put in my carpetbag right away and start loading that wagon.”

He was already on the stair landing by the time Adam recovered enough to say, “Pack some clothes, too, including a suit for the theater in Sacramento!”

“Already did!” Little Joe yelled as he raced up the remaining stairs.

“You can eat breakfast first!” Adam called.

“Be down in two shakes!” Little Joe shouted back without breaking speed.

“Well, he’s certainly a beaver for work today,” Adam said drily.

“Yeah,” Hoss said, looking dazed.  “You surprised me, older brother.  I didn’t think there was a snowball’s chance on a summer day you’d fall for that.”

Adam chuckled.  “I didn’t fall for anything, but the truth is, he gave me some pretty good reasons to say yes.  We are a little short-handed, and even if we weren’t, having a boy handle loading that wagon will free up a tried and tested hand for more skilled labor, and the men will just plain appreciate it.  It might win him an ounce or two of favor with them, too, which a kid of his age can use.  Besides, Little Joe’s exactly right in saying his mind will be on anything but schoolwork today.  Might as well set him some tasks a little more useful than daydreaming about glories to come.”

“Sounds about right,” Hoss said, “long as it’s you and not me that has to lay down the law when the time comes.”

“As if you ever laid down the law with that boy!” Adam scoffed.  “Just how did he trick you into backing him this time?”

Hoss shrugged.  “Not sure.  He woke me up way before daylight, so I reckon I might have been half-asleep and anxious to stop him jabberin’ at me.  You think he planned it that way?”

Adam laughed.  “With that kid, you never know!”

*****

The next day dawned, and the three Cartwright brothers rose to meet the rosy amethyst tones of first light.  As the owners of the Ponderosa, they could have exercised the privilege of one last night in their own beds, but it was more practical to sleep in camp with the rest of the men.  After all, they’d have had to rise that much earlier to get the timely start Adam was insisting on.  Besides, Hop Sing couldn’t be in two places at the same time, and as “cookie” for the drive, the greater responsibility was to feed the men, hard to do on time if he stayed at the ranch long enough to serve the Cartwrights a separate breakfast.

Little Joe looked a little groggy that morning, but Adam figured he’d come by the weariness honestly.  The kid had worked hard the previous day, and without complaint, too.  Not a grumble about the tiresome task of loading bed rolls and baggage, spare equipment and gear, extra food and medical supplies and firewood for Hop Sing’s cookstove.  Some might have said it was a luxury to even take a bed wagon along on the short drive over the Sierras, but it eased the load on the chuck wagon and would enable Hop Sing to stock supplies for more satisfying meals for the men.  Not up to the quality of the fluffy cinnamon rolls he’d brought from home for this first morning’s breakfast, but better than could be found on any other drive over the mountains.  The men were grateful, and the little cook beamed at the warm words coming his way.

Little Joe hadn’t gotten that many for his contribution to the drive so far, but there had been a few men who thought to express their appreciation when they’d handed in their gear to the youngest wrangler on the crew.  Most had simply treated the boy as one of them and that seemed to be fine with Little Joe.  No thanks needed for doing his job, which was as it should be, Adam reflected with satisfaction in the boy’s performance.  Oh, there’d been two or three of the new hands who had looked down a lofty nose at the kid, whose diminutive size made him appear even younger than he actually was.    Only one, however, had made any derogative remarks, at least in Adam’s hearing.  Bart Jenkins, his name was, barely a man himself with no more than four or five years on Joe.  Maybe that was why he’d made such a point of complaining about babysitting a snot-nosed kid, as well as a bunch of dumb steers.  Not a particularly bright comment to make about the brother of the trail boss, but Adam decided to let it ride.  Little Joe wouldn’t appreciate his big brother fighting his battles for him, and honestly, it would just make things harder for the kid in the long run.

The long-term hands, some of whom had watched Little Joe grow up, knew he could be a handful, but they apparently trusted Adam and, to a lesser extent soft-hearted Hoss, to keep the boy in line.  So far, no line-keeping had been necessary, and that first day on the trail did much to relieve any concerns the men might have held.  Little Joe was a better horseman than most, and throughout the day, the kid had done just as he was told.  “If only that could continue!” a grateful Adam muttered to Hoss at day’s end.

“Aw, it will,” Hoss predicted easily.  “He knows what’s at stake if’n he don’t—namely, his hide.”

So far, that had held true, even when Adam had assigned his kid brother a pretty low-level assignment the first day on the trail.  Little Joe had apparently seen it as the test it was and had just shrugged off any frustration he felt.  By the time they bedded down for the night, Adam had no complaints about his little brother’s performance, nor did any of the men.  He went to sleep that night in satisfaction with the way his first time bossing a trail drive was going.

Little Joe, on the other hand, found it hard to fall asleep.  Things hadn’t gone entirely as he’d hoped.  He felt his skills hadn’t been used to their fullest, but as the youngest man on the crew, he’d sort of expected he’d have to prove himself.  He thought he’d done that today and hoped for better things tomorrow.  (He was, after all, a kid who lived in hope.)  As he turned in that first night, he was grateful Adam hadn’t assigned him to night watch—not that he’d have told Hoss, much less Adam!  He was exhausted, however, not having slept well the night before, both in antsy anticipation of the day to come and a certain yearning for his well-stuffed mattress and pillow at home.  Tomorrow night would be soon enough to volunteer for more manly responsibility, and if Adam didn’t give it to him, why then he and older brother might have to have words!  (Hope could only take a man so far!)

*****

Far enough, as it turned out.  The next day, morning to night, went about as well as Little Joe could have hoped.  Older brother wasn’t keeping such an eagle-eye on him as before and seemed to be trusting him with more responsibility.  When Adam collared him during the noon break and suggested he might want to take a lie-down in the bed wagon in about two hours, however, the boy had almost exploded.  A nap?  On a trail drive?  What did Adam take him for, that snot-nosed kid of Jenkins’ taunts.  Joe’d managed to hold his temper, though, and he’d assured his older brother he wasn’t tired (not entirely true) and didn’t need a rest.

“Maybe,” Adam conceded easily, having expected a far more volatile reaction, “but it’s standard practice when a man’s going on night watch in a few hours.  Your choice, but you’d be wise to take advantage of the opportunity to catch a few of the winks you’ll be giving up later.”

Little Joe hadn’t said anything to that, ‘cause it was hard to talk with his mouth hanging open.  When he finally was able to breathe again, he sputtered out, “Really?  You’re trustin’ me on night watch?”  Without his even asking!

“You’ve earned it,” Adam said.  He almost left it at that, but decided his image as the strict and starched older brother needed a little bolstering.  “Of course, if you think you’re not ready, kid . . .”

“No, no.”  Little Joe frantically waved aside any hint of concern.  “I’m ready; I’m ready!”

“All right, then.”  Adam managed to keep his stern boss-face in place until he’d turned his back and moved a few paces away before he let loose his proud-brother grin.

*****

Little Joe was glad he’d taken Adam’s advice about the lie-down that afternoon and even more glad that older brother wasn’t around to see his wide-mouthed yawn about halfway through his assigned watch that night.  He’d never actually stayed up this late before, and it was a challenge.  One he welcomed, however.  So far, the herd had been quiet, but he kind of liked it that way, peaceful and still, stars twinkling above and a gentle breeze to cool him as he rode the perimeter.  There were three other wranglers making the same slow circuit.  He could hear one of them—Smitty, probably—crooning a song to the beeves, who seemed to like the off-key tune just fine.  He was almost tempted to nod off in the saddle himself.

Suddenly, everything changed.  A small light flashed on the far side of the herd.  Nothing major, maybe just a match flaring, but Little Joe had been thoroughly schooled in how skittish steers could become over the slightest change in their surroundings.  And these steers took it into their heads to prove the wisdom of that schooling, as they started to run, first away from the flame and then every which way, as if they’d plumb lost their senses.

He started to ride toward one thoroughly turned-around steer, but Dan Tolliver, who’d been circling the herd behind his position, rode up and shouted, “Little Joe!  Ride back and rouse the camp.  We’re gonna need help.  Tell Adam first!”

It irked a bit—well, a lot—being sent on a kid’s errand, instead of trusted to handle the cattle, but Little Joe knew he didn’t have any real experience with managing a stampede, and he figured Dan was right about them needing more help.  No one back in camp would have seen that little flash of light, even if they’d been awake, and, well, a good wrangler did the job assigned to him, didn’t he?  All that came to him as he was urging his horse campward.  It wasn’t his favorite mount from back home, but it was a good sturdy cow pony who seemed to understand the urgency with which Joe slapped the reins.

He rode straight for the place he knew Adam would be sleeping and flew off the horse within seconds of pulling him to a halt, yelling, “Stampede!  Dan needs help!”

Adam woke instantly, and Hoss, who was sleeping at his side, only moments later.  Other drovers nearby woke, and soon the cry of “Stampede!” was echoing through the camp.  Adam caught his panting youngest brother as he lurched forward and told him, “Get to Hop Sing and stay there.”

“Adam, no!” Little Joe protested.  “I wanna help.”

“Do as you’re told!” Adam shouted, grabbing the reins of the horse his little brother had just vacated and mounting.

“No!”  The protest started strong, but trailed off in a whimper of frustration.

Hoss put a hand on the boy’s slim shoulder.  “It’s best for now, young’un.  Take care of Hop Sing.  He’ll be scared.”  Then he took off running toward the remuda to find his own mount.

Little Joe scuffed the ground with an irritated kick, but then sighed and headed toward the chuck wagon.  Hoss was probably right about Hop Sing, who was pretty much terrified of steers, even when they weren’t running around like crazed buffalo.  Babysitting the cook wasn’t the man-sized work he’d dreamed of when he’d begged to come on this drive, but Hop Sing was his friend.  More than that, really.  He was family, and family mattered more than a whole herd of crazy cows . . . or any amount of hurt pride.

*****

The men dragged into camp, exhausted, but they’d finally managed to calm the spooked beeves.  As Little Joe ran to meet his brothers, it was obvious he was the only one with energy to spare.  “Everything okay?” he asked Hoss.

Hoss put his long arm around his little brother and, with a tired grin, said, “Everything’s all right.  You get Hop Sing settled?”

“Yeah,” Little Joe said.  “He sounds mad, but ain’t.”  He understood a smattering of Chinese, at least enough to know when the cook’s dressing-down of all cowmen, Cartwrights included, was serious and when it was just obligatory scolding to save face.

Hoss gave the slim shoulders a squeeze of understanding and said, “Good job.”

Little Joe shrugged out of the one-armed embrace, not wanting the men standing around to think he was some little kid in need of huggin’.  Hoss understood and let him go with a slap on the back.

Adam was the last to return to camp.  After handing his mount off to the wrangler assigned to manage the horses, he strode briskly into camp and called out the names of the four men who had been on watch before the stampede started, including, of course, his youngest brother.  Those four had already been replaced on watch over the now calm, but still skittish cattle.

“All right,” Adam said sternly.  “Can any of you shed light on what spooked the steers?”

“I saw somethin’ like a match flare up,” Smitty said.  “Ain’t much, I know, but I’ve seen steers spook over nothin’ bigger.”

“I seen it, too,” Dan Tolliver said.

“Me, too,” Bart Jenkins quickly put in, adding with a snide curl of his upper lip, “I reckon the kid must’ve thought to sneak himself a smoke whilst big brother wadn’t lookin’.”

A hush fell over the assembled men, except for Tolliver, who hissed, “Hobble your lip.”

Little Joe found his voice again and, still shocked, sputtered out, “Adam, I wouldn’t; I couldn’t!”

“I know, boy,” Adam said with grave quietness.  “I know.”  His hardened gaze fell on the man who’d made the accusation.

Jenkins thrust out his chin.  “Blood sticks with blood, but I know what I seen.”

Adam took a deep, stabilizing breath.  “More accurately, blood knows blood, and I know this boy.  In the first place, he’s got no taste for tobacco.”  He knew that for a fact because he’d held the kid’s drooping head after Little Joe actually had snuck his first smoke and suffered such gut-wrenching nausea that he’d sworn off the stuff forever.  “And in the second place,” Adam added with taut anger, “he’s grown up around cattle and been thoroughly schooled in how to behave around them.”  He didn’t have to see his brother’s face to sense the relieved look that now enveloped it.

“Well, the spark I seen came from his side of the herd,” Jenkins insisted.

“Hobble your lyin’ lip!” Dan growled, more forcefully this time.  “I seen the flare, too, and it wadn’t comin’ from Joe’s position, Mister Adam.”  He hesitated a hair’s breath and then with an almost apologetic glance at Little Joe, he added, “I sort of been keepin’ an eye on the boy, him bein’ young and this bein’ his first turn at night watch, so I know where he was when that match flared up.”  He turned flashing eyes on the boy’s accuser.  “That light didn’t come from anywhere near the boy.  More like from the direction you was ridin’.”

“Well, might have been Smitty,” Jenkins suggested.  “I guess I could’ve got turned around in the fracas.”

“I don’t smoke, neither!” Smitty shouted.  Two hands nearby held him back from pummeling Jenkins.

Jenkins scanned the other faces near him and quickly discerned that the tide had turned against him.  “Well, well, no . . . probably not Smitty, then.”  That only left Dan Tolliver, and even Jenkins had sense enough to know the most experienced wrangler on the crew was not the man to accuse.  “Maybe Dan got turned around, too,” he suggested, though weakly.  Then his voice strengthened, as he decided to tough it out.  “I still say it had to be the kid.  Babies don’t belong on trail drives.”

Little Joe lunged toward Jenkins, but Hoss held him back.

“I hated to say anything, Mister Adam, without bein’ sure,” Smitty put in, “but unless the two of ‘em switched positions sometime in the night, I’d say it was Jenkins and not the boy who lit that match.”

“I thought as much,” Adam said gravely, “and your verification, along with Dan’s, convinces me.”  He fixed his icy gaze on Jenkins.  “I won’t turn any man out in the middle of the night, but come first light, take your gear and get out of camp!”

“I got wages comin’,” Jenkins snarled.

Adam coolly turned his gaze toward the senior wrangler on the crew.  “Did we lose any beef, Dan?”

“At least two, boss,” Dan said.  “Could be more.  And one man hurt.  Bill Martin’s got a busted leg.”

Adam’s eyes again filled with ice as he turned back to Jenkins.  “Your wages won’t even cover what you cost us, much less what you cost Bill.  First light, clear out!  The rest of you men get back to your bed rolls, with my thanks for handling the matter so quickly and so well.”  Signaling Hoss to follow him, Adam strode off before he lost all control of his temper.

Assuming Adam might want Joe, too, Hoss turned his little brother around and marched him in Adam’s wake.  When they’d gotten some distance away from the others, he called out, “We’re clear now.  You wanna give us a chance to catch up to them long legs of yours?”

Adam stopped abruptly and turned around, and Hoss was almost sure he still saw smoke spouting from his big brother’s nostrils.  “Thanks,” Hoss said.  “I was afeared I’d have to snatch Shortshanks up and tote him like a bag of cornmeal.”  When Adam didn’t respond, he gulped and asked, “You did mean him, too, didn’t you?”

Adam’s shoulders finally relaxed.  “Of course, I meant him, too.”  He closed the distance between them and rested both hands atop the boy’s shoulders.  “You did well tonight. Joe.  I’m proud of you.”

“I didn’t do much,” Little Joe said.  He sounded disappointed.

“You did exactly what you should,” Adam persisted.  “You rode for help; you roused the camp, and that no doubt saved a good portion of our herd.”

Little Joe shrugged.  “Dan told me to.”

“And you obeyed the orders of the man over you,” Adam said.  “That’s all I ask of any hand.  You did well, and I’m proud of you.”

Little Joe flushed, relishing the unexpected praise.  Then he brightened.  “So, can I take night watch again tomorrow?”

Adam chuckled at his brother’s enthusiasm.  “No man takes night watch two nights running, kid.  That’s standard.”

“Oh, yeah.  I—I knew that.”  Joe’s flush this time was one of embarrassment at overlooking the obvious, but the enthusiasm quickly bubbled up again.  “But the next night, okay?”

Older brother’s laugh was louder this time, and warmer as he grabbed the scruff of the boy’s neck and herded him back toward camp.  “If that’s what you want, eager beaver.”  He tossed a wink at Hoss over Joe’s head, and Hoss returned it, along with a toothy grin of satisfaction.

*****

Despite the upheaval of the previous night and their consequent loss of sleep, the men seemed cheerful the next morning as they stood in line for breakfast.  With good reason, Hoss realized when he reached the head of the line and received his plate.  “Steak!” the big man cried with enthusiasm.  “Now, that’s somethin’ we don’t see much on the trail.”

“Mr. Adam say make . . . make what, Little Joe?”

“The best of a bad situation,” the youngster said.  He’d elected to help the cook this morning with the butchering and the serving up, just for the pleasure of seeing the surprise on the men’s faces, especially Hoss’s, at the better-than-usual breakfast.  He put the largest cut of meat he could see on his big brother’s plate, along with a heap of fried potatoes and a couple of biscuits.  Hoss took the plate in one hand and used the other to tousle the boy’s curly locks.  “Get yourself some, too, young’un,” he advised, “before I head back for seconds.”

“And wipe us clean out, you mean!” Little Joe accused playfully.

“Exactly,” Hoss said.  “Word to the wise, if’n you know what that means.”

“You listen to wise man,” Hop Sing advised.  “Time you eat, too, Li’l Joe.”

“I reckon,” Little Joe said, filling a plate with about half as much food as he’d given Hoss and trailing behind his best friend.

As the line petered out, one final man came up to the cook.  Looking at him, Hop Sing frowned.  “What you want, bad man?”

“Well, I sort of provided the beef, didn’t I?” Jenkins snorted.  “Seems only fittin’ I should get my share.”

“Bad man no deserve good beef,” Hop Sing declared with a scowl.

As Jenkins reached across the table to grab the Chinaman’s loose-fitting cotton tunic, a new voice called out, “Let him go, Jenkins!”

Recognizing the boss’s voice, Jenkins released Hop Sing and, with a curled lip, turned to face Adam Cartwright.  “You gonna send a man out with empty pockets and an empty stomach, to boot, boss man?”

“I’d be justified,” Adam said, maintaining taut self-control, “but if it’ll give you the strength to ride far and fast, I guess we can spare a plate of vittles.  Feed him, Hop Sing.”  A steady stare accentuated the order, for he could see Hop Sing’s reluctance to waste any of his good food on the troublemaker, especially after hearing the man’s accusations of his beloved Little Joe.  For a moment, Adam thought the cook might refuse, but then Hop Sing straightened to his full height, gave a curt nod and picked up a tin plate.  When he took his time and picked through the remaining steaks for one that appeared to be the smallest and most likely to be riddled with gristle, Adam merely gave him a conspiratorial nod.  As culinary revenge went, it was far from the worst the Chinese cook could have concocted.

“You can do better than that, chink!” Jenkins snarled.

Adam grabbed the man by his shirt front.  “It’s not a fancy San Francisco eatery, Jenkins; eat what you’re given and clear out!”  He released him with a force that made the man stumble back a pace or two; then he turned his back and strode off before he could yield to the strong temptation to plow a fist into the man’s impudent nose.

Jenkins spit his disdain into the dust and muttered, low enough that even Hop Sing couldn’t make out the words, “You’ll get yours, Mr. high-and-mighty boss man.”  He took the platter of food, scarfed it down as fast as the gristle permitted and hit the trail before the herd started moving.  As he rode, he pondered how to make Adam Cartwright pay, and a snide smile began to twist his mouth as a plan formed in his revenge-brined brain.

*****

Special efforts were taken that day to keep the cattle comfortable and calm, and that goal was achieved.  The day’s travel went smoothly, almost as if the expulsion of that one man had transformed the rest into a well-oiled machine.  As that thought ran through Adam’s mind, he knew it was an exaggeration, an unfair one at that.  After all, until he’d struck that ill-fated match, Jenkins had been a decent hand, following orders and causing no problems.  Adam briefly entertained the thought that he’d been too harsh with the boy who, after all, wasn’t that much older than Little Joe, although a sight less savvy about handling beeves.  Then the image of his little brother’s face when he was wrongfully accused of starting the stampede hardened Adam’s jawline and his opinion of Bart Jenkins.  Making a mistake was one thing; blaming someone else for it was altogether different.  For that, there was no excuse.  He knew it and the men knew it.  None of them would have trusted Jenkins after that, so he’d had to go.

There was still enough fresh beef to give the men another fine meal at the end of the day, and Hop Sing had even put together some dried peach cobbler to make it more special.  As always, the men going on night watch were first in line, but no one minded waiting tonight.  There was plenty to go around.

Since Dan Tolliver would also be exempted from doing watch that night, Little Joe sought him out after he’d filled his plate for advice on how a stampede should be handled.  Always willing to teach and patient with a young hand’s questions, Dan explained how the goal was to get the cattle milling, turning in a circle, so they’d slow down and tire out.  “Not that you’ll be putting that into practice anytime soon,” Dan said, “but I reckon it’s best that you know what to do.”

“You don’t think they’ll stampede again?” Little Joe asked.

Dan shook his head firmly.  “Not unless someone lights a match or somethin’ equally stupid.  We don’t got anybody that green left in camp.”

Little Joe’s eyes shot wide, and Dan laughed as he read the boy’s mind.  “You was never that green, boy, and I take some pride in that ‘cause I think I had somethin’ to do with it.”

“You did,” Little Joe said with warmth and gratitude.  He stood up. “I’m gonna see if there’s any of that good grub left.”

“Best get it while you can,” Dan advised.  “All the men is mighty grateful for the fine vittles, even if they come about the wrong way.”

Grateful and full, everyone except those on night watch bedded down that night as content as they all hoped the beeves would remain.

*****

The supply of fresh meat was dwindling down, but Hop Sing used the last of it to dice into gravy as a topping for the biscuits he served the next morning.  “Reminds me of what Pa used to cook for us back in the early days,” Adam said as he and his younger brothers sat together.

Hoss looked almost dreamy.  “Yeah.  “It was one of my favorite meals.”

“Everything’s your favorite meal,” Little Joe teased.  “I don’t remember anything like this at all.”  He shot an anxious look at Hop Sing and added quickly, “But it’s right tasty.”

“Before your time,” Adam told his youngest brother.  “Just Pa and Hoss and me in those days.”

“And Pa cooked?”  Little Joe looked incredulous.

“Of necessity,” Adam chuckled, “before either your mother or Hop Sing came onto the scene.  I was younger than you are now, and Hoss was barely out of diapers.  Neither of us was much help.”

Little Joe shook his head in wonderment.  It was always hard for him to picture his older brothers as anything but men to look up to.  Adam had seemed full grown when Joe was born, and while he’d gone to school with Hoss, the big fellow had been man-size even back then.  In diapers?  Naw, that never happened.

Adam stood and stretched.  “Time we started ‘em down the road,” he said.  He turned to Little Joe.  “I assume you remember how a man prepares himself for night watch?”

“Yeah, I know. Take a rest in the bed wagon.”  He was perturbed that Adam had felt the need to reemphasize that advice, but he didn’t argue this time.  If there was one thing he’d learned from his first experience on night watch, it was that a man couldn’t afford to fall sleep in the saddle.  Best he get a little shuteye during the day to prepare himself for a long night of watchfulness.

*****

Now, this is what it ought to be like, Little Joe thought, smiling in contentment.  The night was cool here in the mountain meadow where Adam had settled the herd for the night.  The scent of pine hovered in the air and mingled with the fragrance of possible rain.  He hoped they wouldn’t get any, though.  A downpour could turn the cool night chilly pretty fast!  And if it came with thunder and lightning, that could spook the herd and give him his first chance to test Dan’s advice about stampedes.  Exciting as that might be, Little Joe didn’t really feel ready for that test yet, and hoped for a nice, quiet night.  As he circled around the herd, he found himself humming the tune one of the other riders was singing, soft and low, to the beeves.  More tuneful than Smitty’s singing the last time he’d ridden night watch, this song was soothing as a lullaby, but thanks to his afternoon nap in the bed wagon, Little Joe stayed alert.

*****

Behind the cover of the pines hovered a watcher, his eyes scanning the riders circling the herd until he fixed on the face he’d been hoping to see.  He was a little surprised to see it so soon, the Cartwrights having enough men to grant them more time between night watches than forty-eight hours.  Quicker and easier this way, he thought, feeling a rush of exultation.  Now, he could pay Adam Cartwright back tonight for the sorry way he’d treated him!  And he could hit him where it’d hurt most.  Not just by stampeding his precious cattle again, but by getting that fool kid with nothing under his hat but hair caught up in it.  Bart Jenkins almost slobbered in anticipation as he raised his rifle, waited until the target rode into range and squeezed the trigger.

*****

Little Joe heard a crack like thunder, and then a bolt of lightning struck his right shoulder.  Thunder and lightning, he thought.  That’s bound to spook the cattle!  Got to get them milling.  First, though, he had to get his own horse under control.  It was dancing around so skittish-like that the boy struggled just to stay in the saddle.  Bad enough that he had to deal with a panicky horse and panicky cattle, but now his own body wouldn’t behave like it ought!  It seemed to lurch first one way and then the other.  As he slumped across his saddle horn, a startled steer thundered past just to his left.

*****

The men sleeping in camp roused at the sound of the rifle shot, Adam first of all.  Hoss, sleeping beside him, responded only seconds later, looking dazed.  “What was that?” the big man asked.

“Gunfire!” Adam shouted back as he scrambled into his boots.  “Come on!”

Hoss was already responding, as were men all around them, each understanding how the sharp sound could affect the cattle.

Just before he ran toward the remuda for a mount, Adam shouted to his brother, “Keep an eye out for Joe!  Send him back to camp, if he doesn’t have enough sense to know that’s where he belongs!”  There was not a flicker of doubt in the oldest brother’s mind that the youngest did not have the sense required to resist the temptation to help control the stampede.  Dear God, he prayed as he ran, make him remember he’s only fourteen!

Hoss was worried about Little Joe, too, although he had more confidence in the boy’s horsemanship and cattle skills than Adam did.  He figured Joe would do the right thing, as best he understood it, but he was just a kid and didn’t know as much as he thought he did, doggone it!  Hoss couldn’t ignore the immediate need to get the herd under control, though.  They were all at risk until they could get the beeves circling and tire ‘em out.  He instinctively rode to the head of the thundering herd and started them milling around, all the time keeping an eagle eye out for little brother.

He finally spotted the boy just outside the ring of beeves and immediately sensed something wrong.  Little Joe wasn’t trying to help out, like he’d expected.  Instead, he was folded over his saddle and looked to be barely hanging on.  Leaving the herd to the other men, he made a beeline for his little brother.  “Joe!” he shouted as he galloped up to the boy and reined in hard.  He almost followed it up with Adam’s order to get back to camp, but something told him Little Joe couldn’t do that.  Something was wrong, he realized—real wrong.

He took the reins of the kid’s horse and led him further away from the cattle.  No one who looked as dazed as this kid needed to be anywhere near that milling ring!  He led the boy’s horse into a sheltering grove of pines at the edge of the mountain meadow.  “What’s wrong, Joe?” he finally felt he had time to ask.

Little Joe looked up bleary-eyed.  “Lightning,” he babbled.  “Spooked cattle.  Tried to mill ‘em, like Dan said, but . . . but I think it . . . hit me.”

Looking perplexed, Hoss shook his head.  There’d been no lightning.  The kid sounded plumb out of his head.  With fear?  Naw.  Little Joe didn’t have a fearful bone in his body.  “Lightning hit you?” he asked, his face scrunching with the effort to understand.  Then, suddenly, he realized there’d been another sound that could’ve been mistook for a crack of lightning.  Hoss grabbed the boy and turned him enough to see his other side.  When he saw the blood-stained right shoulder, he pulled Joe from the saddle, quick as lightning itself, and took him onto his own horse.  Then, trailing Joe’s animal behind them, he headed for camp, fast as he could ride.

*****

In the twilight of pre-dawn, Adam slapped his hat against the side of his leg.  It provided a little release for the frustration he felt, but he still had a snort full.  Oh, the men had gotten the cattle under control as quickly as could be hoped.  It helped that they’d had less space to run in the little meadow, although some had taken off down the road toward California and might never be found.  Most of the herd had been saved, however, and while that was gratifying, Adam wasn’t looking forward to reporting the loss of that many beeves to his father.  Though he’d done his best, his first stint as trail boss had been far less successful than he had hoped.

Then there was that other worry.  He hadn’t once spotted Little Joe and had even lost track of Hoss for a good spell.  The big man had returned to help with the cattle, however, and while Adam hadn’t had a chance to ask, he assumed that Hoss had found the boy and toted him back to camp.  No chance the kid had gone on his own!  He’d obviously bucked the order, forcing Hoss to leave his own assignment to force him to safety.  Adam’s anger needed to spew somewhere, and the kid was just lucky he was nowhere in sight.

Though he thought he’d reined it in, he felt the anger surge again as he rode up to Hoss.  “How much trouble did he give you?” he snapped.

“Who?” Hoss asked.

“Our little brother, who else?”  Adam was practically shouting.

“Joe?  Nary a bit.”

“Well, that’s hard to believe!” Adam sputtered.  “Where did you disappear for so long, if you weren’t dragging him back to camp?”

Hoss gulped, but he fixed a hard stare on his older brother as he said, “Now, Adam, you better watch what you say or you’re gonna wish you had.”

“Is that a threat?”

“No, doggone it, it ain’t!” Hoss said.  “I know you’re lookin’ for a goose to cook, Adam, but Joe ain’t it.  He ain’t the one fired that shot; he is the one took the bullet, though, and he cain’t hardly help that it dazed him a mite.”

Adam blanched.  “He’s shot?  Where—where is he?”

Hoss wasn’t sure if he’d been asked one question or two, so he answered both.  “In the shoulder; I took him to Hop Sing, told him to get the bleedin’ stopped.”

“Good,” Adam said, shoulders slumping.  Hoss was right: he already wished he could take back the words spoken in haste.  “Sorry.”

“I understand,” Hoss said.  “I feel mad enough to spit nails myself.”  He finally asked the question that had bothered him since he’d first seen that blood stain on his little brother’s shirt.  “Who would’ve shot him, Adam?”

“I don’t know,” Adam said, shaking his head.  “I thought we got rid of the only bad apple in the barrel.”

“You don’t suppose”—the question trailed off, unasked.

“Jenkins?” Adam guessed.  “Maybe . . . but I . . .  I can’t think straight right now.  We’d better get back and check on Little Joe.”

*****

Riding up to the chuck wagon, Adam dismounted and handed the reins of his horse to Hoss.  “Where is he?” he asked the cook, more abruptly than he intended.

“Other side wagon,” Hop Sing said.  “I think . . . safer.  I stop bleeding, but bullet still in.”

Adam laid a supportive hand on the Chinaman’s shaking shoulder.  “Exactly right.  Well done, Hop Sing.”  He circled to the side of the wagon that had been furthest from the herd during the excitement and found his youngest brother sitting propped against the rear wheel, chin nearly resting on his chest.  Little Joe looked so young, so drained and defenseless that Adam didn’t think he would have had the heart to scold him, even if he had been guilty of what his older brother had earlier accused him.  Now, he squatted in front of the boy and, cupping his cheek tenderly with one hand, asked softly, “How’re you doing, little buddy?”

The boy’s drooping head came up slowly.  “I dunno, Adam,” he quavered, with a hint of bewilderment.  “H-Hop Sing says I’m shot.”

Shock, Adam realized.  “Yes, I’m afraid you are,” he said, forcing his voice to remain calm, “but you’re gonna be all right.”  Struck by sudden shock himself, he recalled Hop Sing saying the bullet was still in that bandaged shoulder and knew instinctively that he would have to remove it himself.  Such was the lot of a man who was not only trail boss, but oldest brother.  Reluctantly, but with willing acceptance, he let the responsibility settle onto his shoulders.

Shouldering the responsibility was easy, compared to what came next: telling Little Joe.  Still gently touching his brother’s cheek, he said, “We need to get the bullet out, little buddy.”

For the first time, Adam saw fear shimmering in the emerald eyes.  “Now?  It gonna hurt?” Little Joe asked hesitantly.

“As soon as possible,” Adam said.  “I’ll go as easy as I can, but, yes, it’s gonna hurt.”  It was a hard truth for a kid to absorb, but he trusted Little Joe to do it.  After all, they’d both been schooled at their father’s footstool, and Ben Cartwright had never sugar-coated the truth, even when that truth was as painful as the death of a boy’s mother.

“O-okay,” Little Joe said, voice shaking.

Giving the boy a proud pat on the uninjured shoulder, Adam stood and said to Hoss, “Stay with him; I’m gonna get things ready.”

Hoss pressed his lips together as he nodded slowly.  He knew the next little while was going to be tough on both his brothers, but he trusted both of them to do their part.

*****

Breakfast would be late that morning, but none of the hands complained.  The table where they were normally served was set up for the surgery; knives and tongs were sterilized with boiling water, and Hop Sing stood ready to hand them over, when asked.  Hoss set his little brother down on the table, and Adam stood over him, looking steadily into the boy’s quivering face.  He took the cup Hop Sing offered and handed it to Little Joe.  “Sip, don’t gulp,” he advised, “It’s whiskey.”

Little Joe’s eyes flared wide.  “I-I ain’t allowed,” he stammered.

“For medicinal reasons, you are,” Adam said.  “It’ll help with the pain.”

Little Joe took the cup with almost visible anticipation and sipped, as directed.  He immediately choked, and cackles circled through the hands standing about, each remembering his own first encounter with the strong liquor.

Hoss tried to hush the men, lest his little brother be embarrassed, while Adam patted the boy’s back, smiling in wry hope that the burning taste would act as a deterrent to future experimentation.  “I don’t really need an audience,” he said gruffly to the men, and they backed off, some readily, some slowly, as if reluctant to pass up the show.  Adam laid his brother flat on the table, and after a bolstering squeeze of Little Joe’s left hand, he took a deep breath and raised the knife.

Both patient and surgeon were drained by the time the operation ended, the surgeon perhaps feeling the emotional strain more than the boy the physical pain.  With a sigh of relief, Adam dropped the extracted bullet into a metal pan and left the bandaging to Hop Sing.  “You done good, Adam,” Hoss said proudly.  “Get yourself some rest now.  I’ll settle the boy in the bed wagon.”

Rest?  Adam would have laughed if he hadn’t been so tired.  He still had to make a final check on the herd and make any needed adjustments to the men’s assignments.  He could delegate that to Dan Tolliver, though, and then he might just join Joe in the bed wagon.  Then he huffed in self-disgust at how slowly his brain was working this morning.  He needed a lie-down rightly enough, but with two injured men already in the bed wagon, there wasn’t room for another.  You wanted to be boss, he reminded himself.  Well, you got it!

*****

The ranch crew made a late start that morning, but Adam let it be known that he wasn’t disturbed.  “While I regret the delay to your breakfast, men, I think the cattle actually needed a little more rest after last night’s disturbance, and a slow start will do us no harm, either.  I would appreciate having a couple of volunteers to ride out before the herd and see if you can round up any of the strays we lost last night.”  He scanned the group before him, and finally a couple of reluctant hands were raised.  “Thank you, Pete and Hank.  Since you’ll be riding out early, please go to the head of the line.  I think Hop Sing is about ready to serve up breakfast.”

Pete and Hank, who’d felt a mite reluctant to volunteer for extra duty, were now the envy of every other man on the crew.  Since Adam intended to let all the men eat before him, he decided to make one more check on Little Joe.  He found Hoss there already, trying to get the boy to eat some biscuits and bacon.  Not the best food for an injured man, Adam had to concede, but there were few options on the trail.  Little Joe was barely nibbling the food, but that was predictable and not too worrying.  Still, he felt obliged to suggest that his little brother eat up.  “Long time ‘til supper, and once we get the herd moving, we can’t be stopping.”

“I’m not very hungry,” Little Joe said, “just tired.”

Adam smiled.  “I’m not surprised.  Get some sleep, then.  I’ll have Hop Sing bring you some more biscuits for later . . . if our hungry hands don’t eat them all up!”

“Reckon I’d better get lined up for breakfast before them hungry hands beat me to it.”  Hoss looked worried, though Adam thought the attitude was put on for either his benefit or Little Joe’s.    Adam gave him an amused nod, knowing full well that Hoss also would let the others have first chance at the food.  It was just what bosses did, especially if their last name was Cartwright.

“Think I might could have some of them extra biscuits, if’n there is any?” the other man lying in the bed wagon asked.

“Sure, Bill,” Adam told the hand whose leg had been broken in the first stampede.  “You’ll have earned it, just for putting up with this one.”  He jerked a thumb toward Little Joe.

“Aw, now,” Bill protested.  “Don’t be bad-mouthin’ the young’un.  He’s been a right smart hand, from all I hear.”

“That he has,” Adam said proudly.  With a wink at his little brother, he exited the wagon.  The serving line had dwindled, so he stood at its end, until those ahead of him noticed and insisted that he move to the front.  Adam didn’t argue.  Grateful for the respect shown, he just accepted the bonus of being trail boss, along with the responsibilities that seemed almost overpowering that morning.  When he got his plate, he suggested to Hop Sing that he save back any extra biscuits for the men in the bed wagon, although as he walked away, he smiled at the designation of Little Joe as one of the “men.”   Well, maybe it was deserved, he conceded, for thus far, his little brother had handled a man-sized challenge with unexpected maturity.

*****

The day’s drive had barely started before Adam sighted a rider galloping into camp.  He groaned, half in fear even that would spook the cattle at this point and half in dread of what anyone riding that hard would have to report.  His concern only deepened when he saw who the rider was.  Pete, one of the two men he’d sent out in search of strays, did manage to slacken his pace upon reaching the herd, but he looked to be frantically trying to spot . . . probably me, Adam realized.  He took off his hat and waved it and then began walking his horse toward the man in hopes that he’d take the hint and do the same as he came past the cattle.

Pete did, not quite as much as the trail boss might have hoped, but enough that it gave Adam time to speculate on what problem he was about to present.  Please, not something else to slow us down, he thought with exasperation.  Nothing like a landslide or a washed-out road.  He was almost afraid to ask when Pete pulled up beside him, but he did. “Problems?”

“Yes, sir,” Pete panted out.  “We found—we found . . .”

“Take a breath and spit it out,” Adam said, forcing himself to seem more patient than he was.

“A body, caught up in the stampede last night, from the signs,” Pete sputtered.  “Pretty sure it’s Jenkins,” he added, lowering his voice.

Adam nodded slowly, relieved it wasn’t some innocent person.  He’d suspected, almost from the first, that Jenkins was behind that stampede.  The choice of Little Joe as target had practically screamed revenge.

“We—uh—was wonderin’ what you wanted done with the body, Mr. Adam,” Pete said.

“What have you done so far?”

“Just moved it to the side, sir, so’s the cattle could get by.”  He smiled as he gave a report he hoped would cheer the boss up some.  “We found six beeves, Mr. Adam.  Holdin’ ‘em down the road a piece, ‘til the rest of the herd comes up.”

“Good, Pete,” Adam said.  “That’s good.”

“Placerville’s not too far if’n you wanted to take him to an undertaker,” Pete suggested.

“No,” Adam said sharply.  Then taking better control of his tongue, he explained, “We can’t spare a man, just to ride him in, and there’s no other way to transport the body except the bed wagon.  I won’t put our two injured men through that.”  Make Little Joe ride for miles next to the moldering body of the man who had shot him? Inconceivable!

“You’re right, Mr. Adam,” Pete said quickly.  “Ain’t fair on them.  Bury him then?”

“It seems best,” Adam agreed.  “I’ll take care of it, and I’ll inform the sheriff when we get to Placerville, so his family can be contacted, if he had any.”

“Best we can do, I reckon,” Pete agreed.

Adam smiled.  “You rode that horse pretty hard, Pete.  Get a fresh mount from the remuda, and ride back . . . slowly . . . and help Hank with those strays.”

Pete grinned.  “Yes, sir.  Guess I did panic a mite.”

“Understandable,” Adam said.  They rode in opposite directions, Adam toward the bed wagon, which Hoss was driving today to be close to his injured brother in case of need.

Hoss reined in the horses at Adam’s signal and asked, as soon as his brother drew near, “What’s up?  Trouble ahead?”  He’d seen Adam talking with Pete for long enough to hint at a problem.

“Not really,” Adam said.  “I just need to get a shovel out of your wagon . . . for a burial.”

“A burial!”  Hoss squelched his voice at the imperative palm Adam aimed toward him.

Adam leaned closer.  “The men found Jenkins, caught up in the stampede he started.  His memory flashed back to a homily he’d heard in college chapel, and he murmured, “They have digged a pit before me, into the midst whereof they are fallen themselves.”

Hoss recognized Scripture when he heard it, though he had no idea what part of the Bible it came from.  “Yeah,” he said.  “I reckon that fits.  So, it was him, like we thought.”

“Like to keep it from the kid, at least for a while,” Adam said.  “He’s got enough to deal with just now.”

“I’ll try,” Hoss said with a half-grin that said he didn’t think it would prove possible in the end.

Luck was with Adam, though, in that his little brother was asleep when he entered the back of the wagon to get the shovel.  He told the naturally curious Bill why he was there and said, “Let me be the one to tell Little Joe.”

Bill agreed at once.  By rights, jobs like that ought to be done by family.

As Adam came out and mounted his horse, Hoss asked, “We still gonna make it to Placerville in time to take those two to the doctor?”

“We should, but why don’t you move this wagon out in front of the herd, so we don’t slow you down?”

“Good idea,” Hoss said and started turning the team to make the change.

*****

When the knock came at his door, Ben was stretched out in his hotel room and in no particular mood to rise to the summons after wrestling with the diplomats of California and Nevada all day.  Then, realizing it might be his overdue sons, he practically sprang off the bed and hurried to the door.  When he saw Adam, a broad smile widened his face.  “Ah!” he cried.  “I thought it might be you.”  Seeing the empty hallway behind his oldest son, his smile faded.  “Where are your brothers?” he asked.

“They’re here in town,” Adam assured him.  “Hoss is finishing up a few final details for me . . . and Little Joe is with him.  I wanted to fill you in on how the drive went, so I came ahead.”  Left unsaid was exactly why he thought that the more urgent responsibility than the final reckoning at the stockyard which would ordinarily have been a job for the trail boss.

Ben’s brow wrinkled slightly.  “Any problems?” he asked cautiously.  The late arrival had already signaled there might have been, but he’d tried not to borrow trouble.  After all, Adam was a responsible man and perfectly capable of dealing with anything slung at him.  At least, that was how he’d kept himself from worrying . . . too much.

Adam nodded.  “We ran into a little trouble . . . well, a significant amount, actually, but don’t worry; everything’s all right.”  He caught the anxious look in his father’s eye and, knowing how he was about to deepen it, he took time for a cleansing breath of air before breaking the worst news.  “We had to deal with a couple of stampedes,” he said.

“Two?” Ben asked.  “That’s unusual on such a short drive.  Weather problems?”

Adam shook his head.  “No.  The first one was started by a green hand lighting a match on night watch.”

Ben frowned soberly.  “Anyone hurt?”

“Bill Martin’s leg was broken,” Adam told him.  “I set it, and we dropped him off in Placerville to see a doctor and rest up.  I left him at a boarding house and promised we’d pick him up on the way home.”

“Lose much beef?”  Ben had left the, to him, less significant loss to be tallied later.

“Couple of steers,” Adam reported.  “I fired the man who started the stampede.”

“Well, whatever you thought was best, son,” Ben said slowly.  Personally, he might have given a green hand a second chance, but this was Adam’s first drive as boss, and he, too, deserved the grace of making a few mistakes.

Adam read his father’s mind in his face.  “He didn’t deserve a second chance, Pa, not after laying the blame on . . . someone else.”  The significant pause hinted that Adam was holding back something, but Ben let it pass, assuming his son was only concerned with his father’s approval

Ben quickly supplied it.  “You made the right decision, son.  No crew can tolerate a liar of that sort.”

“Well, it was a costly decision in the long run, Pa.”  He wiped the sweat now beading his brow.  “I thought we were done with him when I sent him down the road, but . . . he came back.”

“The second stampede,” Ben guessed with a low murmur.

“Yeah,” his near-breathless son confirmed.  Then, in a sudden burst, all his pent-up guilt and stress flew out.  “It was my fault, Pa.  If I’d been more patient, not fired him out of hand, he’d never have come back, looking for revenge.  He’d never have taken that shot at Little Joe!”

Every ounce of breath left Ben Cartwright’s lungs, as if someone had punched him in his gut.  “Little Joe?” he finally asked shakily.  “He shot my little boy?”

Adam finally found relief in a choking laugh.  “Whatever else you do, Pa, don’t call him that!  Not to his face, at least.  He’s been quite the little man about it all.”  Then, coming more fully to himself, he said the words he knew his father most needed to hear.  “He’s all right, Pa; he’s all right.  It was a shoulder wound.  I took the bullet out as soon as possible, and he saw the doctor in Placerville, too.  He’s gonna be just fine.”

“Thank God,” Ben whispered.  Then he reached for his oldest son.  “Now, come here, boy.”  And Adam came, a little awkwardly, since he wasn’t a youngster like Little Joe, but in that refuge, he finally found peace from the guilt that had been eating at him for days.

Further explanations followed, details about Jenkins’ false accusation and how well Little Joe had handled it and how the men had all stood behind him, a description of the wonderful meals Hop Sing had produced from the lost livestock, a fuller doctor’s report and the final tally of steers delivered and profit made.  Adam had barely finished when a knock sounded on the door, and both men rose in anticipation.

Little Joe was first through the door.  “Pa!” he cried joyously.

Ben gasped in involuntary reaction to the sling cradling the boy’s right arm.  He’d planned to heed Adam’s advice and treat his youngest with the respect he’d earned, but what did that young whippersnapper know about parenting, anyway! His little—yes, little—boy was hurt and there was only one way to handle that.  Struggling to hold back the tears and lips trembling so much he couldn’t speak, he opened his arms wide with compassionate welcome.  Little Joe skittered across the room and all but flung himself into his father’s embrace.

“Oh, my boy,” Ben murmured with a sound that sort of reminded of Hoss of a mama sage grouse cooing over her chick.  He tossed his older brother a knowing grin.  Adam nodded, also touched by the tender portrait of love between father and son.  As Ben stroked his fledgling’s wind-blown curls, Adam saw the façade crack, and his brother, who, had handled everything thrown at him on this trip with so much manliness, became, briefly, the frightened little boy he must have been fighting to hide.  Then, true to his quixotic nature, the little boy was gone again, replaced with something more natural and real. Looking deep into his father’s eyes, Little Joe saw nothing but loving acceptance, and he smiled, content to be who he was, nothing less and nothing more.

Ben smiled, too, clapping the boy’s left shoulder, while only gently touching the swaddled one.  “Right, then,” he said, pulling back as he brought his own emotions under control.  “First, baths all around, I think, and after that dinner at a fine restaurant.  Then, for you”—he tapped his youngest on the nose—“bed.”

“Bed sounds good to me, too,” Adam admitted with a weary smile.  “As drives go, this one’s been pretty tiring.”

“Yeah,” Ben said with an understanding look.  For him, too, the trip to Sacramento had been exhausting.  Seeing it in his father’s face, Adam asked, “How did your meetings go, Pa?”

Ben shrugged.  “About like you’d expect.  I think we made some progress, but politicians—bah!”

After their baths, the four Cartwrights left the hotel, the boys content with whatever restaurant their father might choose.  It was enough that they were all together again and mostly in one piece.  After a week of fine food and assorted entertainments, they headed back to the Ponderosa.  For the first-time trail boss and the first-time hand, it had been a challenging drive, and it was good to be home.

***The End***

Author’s Notes:

Written for the 2025 Ponderosa Paddlewheel Poker Tournament. This year we played 7-card stud where we were dealt seven cards and had to keep at least five cards each of which represented a word or phrase.  The words/phrases I kept were:

Hobble your lip
There’s nothing under his hat but hair
Barkin’ at a knot
Busy as a stump-tailed horse in fly season
Pssst!

Dan Tolliver is featured in the Season 8 episode, “A Time to Step Down,” written by Frank Chase.

The verse Adam remembered from college chapel is Psalm 57:6—They have digged a pit before me, into the midst whereof they are fallen themselves.