Summary: Hoss and Adam step in when Joe riles up the saloon, but not in the way you’d think.

Rating: G  Word Count: 1839

Written for the 2026 Brothers Day Challenge: Write a story which features Hoss and one or more of his brothers.

Inspired by an exchange between Adam and Hoss in “The Gamble.”

What Brothers Do

Joe had been winning hand-wrestling matches for ten minutes before his big brothers knew what was happening. At seventeen, short and scrawny compared to the rest of his family, the young man felt like he had a lot to prove. Today, he was doing it by taking on every man at the Bucket of Blood.

It had started friendly enough, a drunken old miner that challenged Joe. At first, the youth laughed it off, but when the miner insisted, Joe patted the table.

“Sit down then,” he encouraged with a grin.

The miner returned the smile with one of his own, boasting, “Nobody in this town can put my hand down.”

“Well, we’ll just see about that,” Joe replied.

Five seconds later, the miner’s knuckles hit the table and the room erupted.

Another jostled forward, and another one, the roars and cheers drawing the attention of Hoss and Adam. Leaning back against the bar with beers in their hands, they took in the scene. A dozen drunk miners crowded around their baby brother, insisting on their chance at besting him. Wagers started changing hands.

“What’s all that about?” Hoss asked, craning his neck to get a better look.

The bartender laughed as he polished a glass. “Little Joe’s robbing half the town.”

Adam frowned. “Joe?”

“Won six straight already.”

As if to prove the point, a broad-shouldered miner slammed his elbow onto the table opposite Joe. The man looked twice Joe’s age and nearly twice his weight. Cheers went up around them.

Joe merely rolled up his sleeve another inch and planted his elbow. His expression was infuriatingly cheerful.

“Ready?” he asked.

The miner grinned. “Son, I’ve been swinging a pickaxe since before you were born.”

“Then your arm ought to be tired.”

———-

Leaning back against the bar with beers in their hands, they took in the scene. A dozen drunk miners crowded around baby brother, insisting on their chance to take him on.

His hat had long since disappeared. Dark curls stuck to his forehead, his sleeves were rolled to the elbows, and he wore the smug expression of a young man discovering that an audience found him impressive.

Another miner dropped into the chair opposite him.

The crowd immediately began shouting advice neither man wanted.

“Break his wrist, Charlie!”

“Don’t listen to him, Charlie, he’s bet against you!”

“Put the kid down!”

Joe flashed a grin.

“Take your time, gentlemen. I ain’t going anywhere.”

The remark earned groans, laughter, and several good-natured insults.

Hoss nudged Adam with his elbow. “Think we oughta put a stop to it?”

The eldest shook his head, taking another drink. “Boy’s been in a funk lately. Might do him some good.” The riotous cheers as the next challenger sat down at the table made him chuckle. “Even if they are drunk.”

A roar went up as Joe slammed another hand onto the tabletop.

“That’s nine!”

Joe stood briefly to acknowledge the applause with an exaggerated bow.

Adam groaned.

“There it is.”

“What?”

“The showing off.”

Joe sat back down and pointed at a particularly large miner near the rear of the crowd.

“You, sir. You look strong enough to give me a challenge.”

The miner laughed so hard he nearly spilled his whiskey.

Hoss snorted into his beer.

“He’s gonna run outta them drunks soon though. Little Joe’s gonna get a big old chest, feel all puffed up, and do something mighty silly.”

Adam watched Joe accept another wager with far more confidence than wisdom.

“Probably.”

The two exchanged a look, laughing softly.

“No brawls,” Adam stated, drawing a firm line. “Don’t have enough cash on me to pay for a saloon tonight.”

Hoss guffawed. “You just don’t want to explain to Pa why his baby boy is all roughed up.” He laughed harder when Adam didn’t deny it.

At that exact moment Joe pinned another opponent and leapt to his feet with both arms raised triumphantly. Looking out over the saloon, he demanded, “Anybody else?”

The noise in the Bucket of Blood dipped for a moment as heads turned his way. Cards paused in midair. A man halfway through a drink lowered his mug.

For the briefest second, the entire room seemed to collectively consider whether the youngest Cartwright had truly just challenged every man present.

Hoss shot a knowing look at his older brother and received an eyeroll in return.

Initially, there was no real response, and the big man felt relieved.

Maybe they’d reached the natural end of things. Joe had won his matches, earned his cheers, and would ride the victory home without causing any permanent damage to either himself or the town.

Then Joe spread his arms wider.

“Come on now. Surely this isn’t the best Virginia City can do?”

The challenge echoed through the saloon.

Several miners immediately began grumbling.

One laughed.

Another narrowed his eyes.

A third set down his whiskey with the deliberate care of a man considering a very poor decision.

“Sit down before somebody gets hurt!”

“The only thing getting hurt is your pride!” Joe pointed toward the last speaker. “You next.”

The unfortunate miner instantly found his drink fascinating.

“I wasn’t volunteering.”

“Too late.”

The saloon erupted again.

Men pounded tables. Coins rattled. Somebody nearly fell out of a chair laughing.

“Get over there, Charlie!”

“Don’t be yellow!”

Charlie looked around desperately for support and found none whatsoever.

Adam winced and rubbed a hand across his eyes. “This was a mistake.”

Across the room, Joe had already vaulted over a bench and was weaving through the crowd toward his newest victim.

Grinning from ear to ear, Hoss shook his head, watching Joe half-drag another man to the table. “Aw, look at ‘im, though, Adam.”

Joe looked happier than he had in weeks. There was a spring in his step that hadn’t been there lately. The frustrations that had been dogging him—being treated like a kid, feeling overshadowed by his brothers, whatever latest grievance had settled into his head—had vanished beneath the roar of approval surrounding him.

Every victory made him stand a little taller. Every cheer made him grin a little wider. And every passing minute convinced him he was completely invincible.

“That,” Adam said dryly, “is exactly what worries me.”

Joe shoved Charlie into the chair and slapped the tabletop. “Come on. Let’s see what you’ve got.” He settled into his chair, rolled his shoulders, and flashed another dazzling smile at the crowd.

The reaction was immediate. Half the room cheered for him. The other half suddenly wanted very badly to be the man who wiped that smile off his face.

Adam watched the growing line of volunteers forming behind the table and groaned.

“Hoss.”

“Yeah?”

“I think he’s recruiting challengers.”

Hoss followed his gaze and started laughing.

Sure enough, men who hadn’t intended to participate ten minutes earlier were now rolling up their sleeves and pushing toward the front.

Joe noticed them too. His grin somehow widened.

“Half of them look like they wrestle steers for fun.”

Adam wasn’t exaggerating.

The line of challengers waiting their turn looked increasingly less like a collection of drunk miners and increasingly more like the sort of men hired specifically to move boulders. One had forearms the size of fence posts. Another looked capable of lifting a wagon by himself. A third was missing two front teeth and seemed deeply offended by Joe’s continued success.

At the table, Joe was completely oblivious to the danger. Or worse, aware of it and enjoying it.

Nodding, Hoss finished his beer, prepared to break it up and hustle baby brother out of the saloon. “Joe’s gonna be mighty unhappy if I have to carry him outta here,” he sighed, plunking the glass down.

The sound of the glass striking the bar sparked an idea.

Adam’s eyes drifted to the row of empty mugs behind the counter. Then to the crowd. Then back to Joe. Slowly, a smile appeared. Adam put an arm around his brother’s shoulders and waved the bartender forward.

“Here’s what we’re gonna do…”

———

Hoss plunked a beer down next to a hefty fellow waiting near the front of the line.

“Compliments of the Cartwrights.”

The man blinked in surprise before breaking into a grin.

“Well now. Much obliged.”

He immediately took a long swallow.

A few minutes later, Adam appeared beside another challenger.

“Wouldn’t want anybody getting thirsty,” he said pleasantly, sliding a mug across the table.

“That’s mighty generous.”

“I try.”

The miner emptied half of it before Joe even finished his current match.

Slowly but surely, Hoss and Adam made certain every potential challenger had at minimum one drink at their expense. Sometimes two. In some cases, a man received a beer from Adam and another from Hoss before either realized they’d targeted the same customer. The fellow accepted both without complaint.

Joe neither noticed nor cared that his opponents were becoming increasingly worse for wear. He was far too occupied basking in his growing legend.

“Feel sorta bad about cheatin’ like this,” Hoss sighed, relaxing at the bar once again. “He’s gonna be real sore iffen he finds out.”

“Who says it’s cheating?” Adam countered.

Hoss stared at him.

Adam took a thoughtful drink. “We’re supporting a local business.”

“By gettin’ Little Joe’s competitors for a fool game drunk?”

The eldest brother shrugged. “Consider it investing in his reputation.”

Hoss thought that over. Slowly, he nodded. “That’s a fair point right there.”

Across the room, Joe had just put down yet another beefy ranch hand whose balance appeared questionable even before the match began.

The crowd erupted.

Joe sprang to his feet.

“Anybody else?”

The cheer that answered nearly rattled the windows.

Several men volunteered immediately.

One accidentally volunteered twice.

Adam glanced toward Hoss. “How many has he beaten?”

“I lost count.”

“So did I.”

“I think we’re past twenty.”

Adam winced. “Boy’s gonna be insufferable.”

“Yeah,” Hoss agreed.

The two watched Joe shake hands with another defeated challenger before accepting congratulations from three complete strangers.

“But this is what brothers do, ain’t it?”

Adam smiled into his beer. “Sure is.”

————–

An hour later, Joe walked out of the Bucket of Blood with a fistful of winnings shoved into his pocket and enough confidence to power a small city. The evening air was cool after the heat and noise of the saloon. Joe practically bounced down the boardwalk.

“What can I say?” he asked, grinning from ear to ear. “Talent like this can’t be taught.”

Adam nodded solemnly. “Natural gift.”

“Happens once in a generation,” Hoss agreed.

Joe accepted this praise as though it were entirely reasonable. “I don’t like to brag.”

Adam choked slightly while Hoss looked away to hide a laugh.

Joe continued undeterred. “Some men are born with advantages.”

“Clearly,” Adam replied drolly.

“Can’t help it if I’m stronger than everybody in Virginia City.” Joe continued striding down the street, shoulders back, hat tipped at a jaunty angle.

Hoss watched him go, then let out a slow breath. “We’re gonna regret this.”