Summary: Alone on the set of the Bonanza reunion, Michael Landon and Lorne Greene encounter a sniper who wants to kill a Cartwright. Now they’ll have to summon their inner Pa and Little Joe to survive. Rating T, WC 6226

To Kill a Cartwright

It was the first of April in 1980 when filming began at Culver City Studios for Michael Landon’s Production Company.  They were only into the third day of filming of the new TV movie titled, “Bonanza–The Return”.  After a great deal of persuading, Michael Landon was able to finally get his former partner, Lorne Greene, to sign on and revise his popular role as Ben Cartwright owner of the Ponderosa Ranch.  It had been over eight years since the two of them had worked actively on a project together since the fourteen year run of the Bonanza series.  With the help of a good dose of medium ash brown hair coloring, Mike fit right back into his role as Little Joe Cartwright, Ben Cartwright’s youngest son.  Lorne still looked much as he had on the Bonanza series, the white as snow hair and the long sideburns were still his trademark.  He had been busy with his own production company at the time, but agreed to join back up with Mike in order to appease the man he had come to regard as a son in real life.

Michael Landon was a known workaholic.  He got along very well with his crew as they had all worked together on his series “Little House on the Prairie”.  Some had even come over from the old Bonanza series, so they were well aware of the way Mike strove for perfection in all he did.  They also knew that he was a bit odd at times.  From practical jokes to sudden bouts of moodiness the crew had seen it all.  So, when the word was sent out that evening for everyone to call it a day even though there were other scenes that still needed to be shot, no-one argued with the boss.

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

Lorne Greene looked over at his friend and shook his head amused.  Mike had been rapidly scribbling notes down on anything he could get his hands on.  He seemed to be in another world.  Finally, Lorne threw his script down on top of Mike’s left hand.

“What did you do that for?” Mike asked annoyed to have lost his train of thought.

“You sent everyone home, Boss, how about me?  Do I have to beg?”  Lorne laughed.

“Wait just a second, Lorne,” Mike paused and looked quickly around the studio.  He checked to make sure there were no stragglers anywhere around.  Deciding that they were truly alone he walked back over to the set and sat down opposite Lorne.

“Okay–now I can tell you what’s going on,” Mike announced cryptically.

Lorne stared over at Mike his eyebrows raised in wonderment. “Okay, Mike–so what’s the big secret?”

“There’s been some leaks about the script, Lorne.  There must be someone from the National Enquirer around or something.  So, I’ve done some changes,” Mike handed Lorne some new pages of script for him to look over.

“Mike, we are making a TV movie–not planning the invasion at Normandy!”  He laughed and started to look at the script.  “Not more lines!  I just finished learning the last script!” Lorne protested the extra work involved.

“Hey–you don’t hear me complaining, do you?”  Mike asked upset.

“Why should you complain, Michael–for God’s sake YOU wrote the damn thing–you don’t have to learn your lines!”  Lorne fumed, sometimes Mike really got on his nerves.

“It’ll be okay, Lorne.  We can rehearse tonight.  I’ve sent everyone away so we’ve got all night.”  Mike tried to win back his friend’s affection.

“All night?  That’s good for you–you sleep what?  Four hours a night?  I happen to need my sleep.  I knew I shouldn’t have caved in to do this movie.”

“Oh–please, Pa?”  Mike turned his hazel eyes on Lorne and fell back into his Little Joe imitation.

“Fourteen years I fell for that, Michael–but you know you aren’t quite as cute as you use to be?”  Lorne finally broke out into a grin when he saw how what he said seemed to injure the other man’s ego.

“I’m not?”  Mike asked weakly.

“Let’s read the stupid script,” Lorne sighed and changed the subject.  He looked over his parts and then looked back up at Michael.  “Oh, I see you suffer another tragic injury. What a surprise!”  Lorne exclaimed sarcastically.

“Oh, Lorne, you know the audience loves that stuff–the long-suffering Joe and all.”

Lorne skimmed the next page and then looked up at Mike again.  “I was waiting for this.  How unique! *** Ben sat at his son’s bedside stroking his left arm and praying that the boy would come around.  His heart ached for his son and for all that he had gone through.  Pa’s hand reaches for Joe’s forehead and pushes aside a stray curl*** Lorne shook his head again.  “Michael, do you know how many scenes I’ve done like that?”

“Oldie but goodie!” Mike laughed and leaned back on the settee.  He rested his feet on the coffee table and looked over his own lines.

“I’m not going to say it,” Lorne stated flatly looking at the placement of Mike’s feet.

“You have to, Lorne–it’s on page seven,” Mike grinned.

With a deep sigh, Lorne caved in again and said, “Joseph, how many times do I have to tell you to take your feet off of the table!”

“You’ve still got it, Lorne!”  Mike laughed and took his feet down.

Suddenly, without any warning the lights in the studio went off.  Only the red utility lights by the stage door were left.  Lorne and Mike looked at each other surprised.

“What–did you forget to pay the light bill, Mike?”  Lorne joked.

“That’s awful strange–the backup generator should have come on,” Mike said and started to walk over to one of the exit doors.  From out of nowhere a gun shot rang out, reverberating throughout the sound stage.  Mike dove back over the settee and pulled Lorne to the ground with him.

“What in the hell is going on?”  Mike whispered as he and Lorne crouched down.

“Well, it would appear that someone is shooting at us,” Lorne replied showing more anger than fear in his voice.

“Damn–wonder why?”  Mike cursed and stuck his head up to try and spot the assailant.

Just then another shot rang out and barely missed its target, Michael Landon.  Lorne yanked Mike’s arm bringing him down to the floor.

“This is real life now, Mike!  Those are not blanks, stick your head up like that again and there will be no sequel,” Lorne chastised his friend.

“What do you want?”  Mike yelled out to the gunman.  “Why are you doing this?”

From what seemed like far away came the gunman’s reply.

“I am going to kill the Cartwrights once and for all!”

Mike and Lorne exchanged confused glances, evidently the hidden sniper believed they were in real life Pa and Joe Cartwright.

“Oh the guy is a real nut case!”  Mike responded to the man’s statement.

“He thinks we are really the Cartwrights,” Lorne whispered confounded.

Mike stared over at his friend.  There was the trademark shirt, vest, all that made Lorne into Ben Cartwright.  “You know, Lorne,” Mike paused and cracked a smile.  “You do look like a Cartwright!”

Lorne sighed, Mike always chose the worst times to make jokes, this was no exception.

“I wouldn’t talk, Little Joe.  The green jacket–I believe it is corduroy right?  And the same shirt and pants,” Lorne nodded.  Mike frowned.  It was true.  If the man had been dead set on killing the Cartwrights, he picked a very opportune time to do it.

“Listen.”  Mike whispered to Lorne.  “It sounds like he is up on the catwalk,” Mike strained his ears to hear which direction the man was going.

“That gives him a great advantage now doesn’t it?”  Lorne stated getting more irritated. “Hey–what about the night watchman?  Surely he heard the gunshot and called the police.”

Mike’s face flushed in embarrassment.  “Um–Lorne–I paid him to leave.”

“Well, that was pretty stupid wasn’t it?”  Lorne responded staring into the hazel eyes.

“Hey–you never know who is working for the tabloids!  I didn’t want to take any chances.  You know we want this sequel to be a surprise!”  Mike protested.

“Michael–there isn’t going to be a sequel!  We are going to be found dead tomorrow.  Then, those tabloids that you are so worried about will have a field day.  I can see it now.  The two dead bodies of both Lorne Greene, actor, and Michael Landon, actor slash, writer slash, director slash, producer slash, victim were found today on the set of the old Bonanza TV series.  Dressed in their familiar Pa and Little Joe wardrobe the two men died together.”

“With their boots on.  Don’t forget that part,” Mike laughed at Lorne’s recital.  Another round of gunfire brought them back to their senses.

“C’mon!  You Cartwrights gonna just sit there or do something?”  The sniper yelled.

Mike looked at Lorne and asked, “You got a white flag on you?”

“You are a Cartwright for God’s sake–you can’t surrender!”  Lorne argued.

“Okay, Pa–and you suggest what?  We rush him?  Like in episode twenty-three?  That almost got Adam killed remember?”

“He lived.”  Lorne corrected thinking back on the plot line.

“We always live, remember?”  Mike grinned at the thought of the indestructible Cartwrights.

“That’s because they were using blanks, Mike.  Need I remind you this is real life and those are indeed real bullets?”

“Well, he has already fired three shots.  Only has three more, right?”

Lorne stared at Mike totally bewildered by what he had said.  “Michael, snap out of it will you?  You have been writing these westerns much too long.  That maniac up there has an automatic weapon not a Colt revolver.  He probably has several clips with him–so you can stop with the bullet counting already!”

Mike reached for his pad and pen on the coffee table and brought it down on the floor with him and started writing frantically.

“What are you doing now?”  Lorne asked not at all amused.

“You did it, Lorne!  You gave me a great idea for the next scene!  We go and get that Gatling gun–you know the one we used in season twelve?”

Lorne knocked the pen from Mike’s hands and grabbed his shoulders.  “Michael, stop writing!  You are absolutely obsessed with this stupid reunion.  We are now fighting for our lives!  Get the concept?”

Another round of bullets scattered around the set.  The two men hunkered down lower to avoid being hit.

“Real life sucks,” Mike said as he tried to catch his breath.

“Yeah, but let’s try to at least live through the night, okay?  I just thought of something.  Won’t your wife come looking for you when you don’t make it home?”

Mike frowned again.  “I guess you don’t read the National Enquirer, Lorne.  My wife and I just separated.  She won’t be coming for me.”

“Another great move on your part,” Lorne groaned.

“What about Nancy?  She will get worried and come looking for you, right?”

“Both Nancy and Gillian are in London at this moment.  I was going with them until you suckered me into this movie, thereby risking my life.”

“Let me think–there’s got to be something we can use for a weapon against that idiot,” Mike said and started looking cautiously around the set.

“How about the fire poker, Mike?  You could fence with him?”  Lorne did not feel as optimistic as his friend and was already thinking about writing a farewell note on Michael’s script pad.

Mike shot Lorne a very unkind look and replied, “You never got over the fact that they made me the swash buckler in the series did you, Lorne?  You were all jealous of me when I used to sword fight the villains!”

“We weren’t jealous, Michael–we laughed at you the whole time.  You looked pretty funny actually.  Remember the time they had you fencing with the umbrella?  Didn’t you feel stupid?”  Lorne smiled in remembrance.

“Give me a break!  That was in the pilot–hell I would’ve done anything at that point to get on a series!  But, if you remember I later used an actual sword and I was pretty good at it!”  Mike boasted.

“Oh yeah?  Then why was it when Guy Williams came on the show you never challenged him?”

“For God’s sake the man was Zorro!  I wasn’t a fool you know.”

“As I recall you never sword fought again, either.”

“Hey–” Mike looked over to the third camera.  He spotted a large spot light and eased over to it.  “This runs on batteries!”  He said excitedly as he made his way back to their hideout next to the settee.

“Don’t turn that damn thing on!”  Lorne protested.  “What are you trying to do make us an even easier target?”

“If I can get close enough to him, I could blind him with it.  You know distract him?”  Mike explained.

“Stick to writing fiction, Mike.  Do you know what range that guy has up there?  He’d pick you off in a minute.”

Mike frowned and settled back down on the floor.  They could both still hear the sniper walking around overhead.  Mike reached in his Little Joe jacket and took out a pack of cigarettes.  He fired one up.

“I thought you said you quit?”  Lorne asked disappointed.  He felt since he had beaten the nicotine monster that surely Michael could do the same.

“I did quit!”  Mike protested.  “I quit at lunch time.  But, you know, Lorne, there’s just something about being shot at that makes you want to start back up.”  He took a long drag and blew it out.  At that moment another shot sounded and this one was even closer.

“Damn!  It’s your cigarette.  You are drawing his fire!”  Lorne grabbed the cigarette from Mike’s lips and crushed it on the floor.

“You know, Lorne–you are starting to get on my nerves.”

“Well, if you are such a great writer, it seems to me that you could come up with a better conclusion to tonight’s story other than we get shot at point blank range.  So, come on, Genius, what are we going to do now?”

“Hey–you were always the one with all the answers, right?  You are Ben Cartwright!” Mike laughed to break the mounting tension.

“Ben could say nothing that the writers didn’t write for him.  You are the writer.  Now come up with something.”

“Okay.  Let’s see.  I know–Roy Coffee bursts in the front door and we are saved.”

“Ray’s dead.  Have to write someone else in,” Lorne again frowned.

“Okay–I guess at this point Joe would try for the door,” Mike paused and looked anxiously at Lorne.  “Well?”  He asked.

“Well what?”  Lorne returned.

“Pa would have told him not to go,” Mike stated hoping Lorne would insist he not try for the door.

“Go for it, Mike!  Hey–you may not be as young as you once were, but you could probably make it.  Hit the emergency release and I’ll be right behind you,”  Lorne was done with waiting to be killed.

“You really aren’t going to talk me out of this?”  Mike asked astonished.

“Mike,” Lorne paused and put his hand on his friend’s shoulder.  “Since it is your fault we are here, and since it is your fault that no-one else is other than the madman, it’s the least you can do.”

“Then I guess it’s really not true,” Mike sighed crestfallen.

“What’s not true?”

“I always thought Pa loved Little Joe best.”

“Oh, that is true–but you are not Joe and I am not Pa.  Geez you sound like the sniper now.  Snap out of it!”

“Okay–I’m going,” Mike looked around quickly and then sprinted the ten yards to the emergency door.  Right before he got there a bullet flew by, catching him in the upper arm.  He screamed out in pain and then turned back around.  He ran faster than before and once again flung himself over the settee and back to where Lorne sat.

“He got me!”  Mike announced biting his lip in pain. Lorne grabbed Mike’s lighter off of the floor and inspected the wound.  The bullet had grazed his upper arm, tearing the green jacket and tan shirt below.

“Oh, you’re okay, Michael.  It’s only a flesh wound,” Lorne sighed relieved.

“Flesh wound my ass, this hurts!  And look it’s bleeding!”  Mike was panicking now.

“Watch that language, Joseph!” Lorne harkened back to his former self as Pa.

“Hey — um — Pa — I’m telling you it hurts!” Mike complained.

“Yeah, and you’re bleeding real blood too!  C’mon, be brave.  I’ve seen worse,” Lorne joked and found Mike to be getting mad at him for not showing any pity.

“I’m telling you, Lorne, it’s bad,” Mike insisted grimacing in pain.

“Well, what about that arrow that got you in your chest?  I’m sure that had to hurt a lot worse than a mere flesh wound to the arm.”

“Lorne, the arrow was stuck to my chest with Elmer’s Glue, this is a real bullet from a live gun wound!”

Lorne looked at the wound again to appease his friend.  He took off his neckerchief and tied it around Mike’s upper arm.  “There now all better,” Lorne smiled.

Mike reached for his arm and looked at the blood on his hand.  “Lorne, how many pints of blood do humans have in their bodies?”

“Well, if we were talking about Little Joe Cartwright I’d say one hundred.  But, if we are talking about real life then I guess eight or so.  Why?”

“How many pints do you think I’ve lost so far?”  Mike had worry displayed on his face now.

“You haven’t lost a pint.  My gosh–big brave Joe Cartwright!  You need to get a grip.  You have barely lost a teaspoon.”

“You know, Lorne.”  Mike paused and shot the man an angry glance.  “You have no sympathy in your body, do you?  I mean here I was trying to save your life–I get shot and you make fun of my severe injury.”

Lorne brought the script up to his eyes and read.  ***Ben sat at his son’s bedside stroking his left arm praying that the boy would come around.  His heart ached for his son and all that he had gone through.  Pa’s hand reaches up and pushes aside a stray curl*** Lorne reached over, rubbed Michael’s arm and pushed the curls off his forehead.  “Now–are you satisfied?  Did that make all the hurt go away, Joseph?”  Lorne laughed as he saw a contented smile spread across Michael’s face.

“Well, you could’ve done it with more feeling, Pa –but I guess it will do for now.”

Just then another spray of gun shots rang out through the sound stage.

“Um, Mike, we’re kind of in the middle of a life and death battle right now.  I’ll do a better job comforting you if we survive this.  We have to try to stay alive right now.  You have any more great ideas?”  Lorne asked as they ducked down lower.

“I’m weak from blood loss, it’s your turn to think of something.  Gosh I wish Pernell had agreed to do this sequel,” Mike remarked remorsefully.

“Huh?  You and Pernell never got along too well on the set.  Why would you say that?”

“Well, he’d be here and it would give the sniper someone else to shoot at.”

“Very funny.  You know you’d better stop all this kidding around and get us out of this.  My contract specifically stated no sniper fire.”

“Okay, give me a minute I have to review four hundred and thirty-one Bonanza plots in my mind.”  Mike closed his eyes as reels and reels of film passed through his mind.

“Hey what’s with you Cartwrights anyway?  You don’t seem as brave as you once did!  You gonna stay behind that couch all night?  You cowards!  Where’s the spunk?”  The gunman taunted the two actors.

“It’s not a couch you idiot!  It’s a settee for God’s sake!”  Mike yelled upward.  “And you aren’t exactly brave yourself or you would come out where we can see you!”

“Hey, Little Joe–does that gunshot hurt?  You gonna cry?  C’mon you like to cry–you did it in almost every episode you sissy!”  The gunman again chided Mike on.

“Don’t call my son a sissy!”  Lorne yelled standing up.  As a shot flew by him, barely missing his head, he sank back down to the floor.  “Good Lord, what am I saying?  Maybe I am Ben Cartwright,” Lorne said exasperated.  Mike smiled over at him and patted him on the back.

“Thanks for defending my honor, Pa,” He laughed.  “Wait a minute!  I got an idea!”

“Oh, what is it going to be this time?  Where do you plan to get shot?”  Lorne asked.

“This guy thinks we are the Cartwrights right?”

“Yes, that seems to be the case.”

“Well, let’s get our holsters and our guns on and go up there and get him!”  Mike was really getting into it, but Lorne frowned.

“Okay, let me get this right.  You want us to put on our guns, which only carry blanks, and climb up there and have a shootout with that maniac?”  Lorne raised his eyebrows in gesture.

“Yeah,” Mike nodded exuberantly.

“He has real bullets–we have fake ones.  Now who do you suppose will win, Joseph?”

“Well, if he thinks we’re the Cartwrights, then maybe he’ll think we have real bullets?”

“Michael, maybe you’re getting a little lightheaded–you know you have lost a teaspoon of blood.”

“Well, then what do you plan on doing?  I’m all out of plot lines now,” Michael said irritated that Lorne wasn’t buying into his great idea.

“Let’s try to talk to him.  Maybe we can reason with him?”

“You’ve got the floor, Pa.  Go on and give him your best lecture.”  Mike teased.

“You up there!”  Lorne started.  “You mind telling us why you want to kill us?”

“Because I hate the Cartwrights that’s why!”  The sniper yelled down.

“People all over the world love the Cartwrights–why don’t you?”

“Because you always win–every freaking episode!  I can’t stand it anymore!”

“Then stop watching the reruns you jerk!”  Mike screamed.  Another bullet flew past the settee in response. “Hey–we didn’t create the damn characters–David Dortort did–he’s the one you want!  He’s in Palm Springs.  You could leave now and be there by morning!”

“You ingrate!”  Lorne whispered.  “That man gave you your start and you want to send that nut case over to David’s house?”

“I was gonna warn him–you know, call his house and leave a message?  Okay–I’ll try something else,” Mike thought a moment and then yelled again, “Hey–you think we were bad what about Adam?  Now there was someone you just wanted to shoot, huh?”

“Adam who?”  The gunman asked bewildered.

“Great–he didn’t catch the first six years–now I can’t send him to Pernell’s house.”  Mike sighed.

“You’re not so tough without your guns are you, Ben?  And what about you, Little Joe?  I don’t see any great feats of courage going on down there.  That sprint to the door was pretty lame.”

“Come down here and say that!”  Mike yelled, having his feelings hurt yet again.

“Um–Mike–it was pretty lame you know, he does have a point.  I mean I think I could have made that run faster than you.”

“One more word and I light a cigarette, Lorne.”  Mike fumed.

“I saw you get blown up by nitro, Little Joe!  How the hell did you live through that anyway?”  The gunman wanted some facts now.

“I went blind you moron!  It was a good script–I co-wrote it.”

“Then there was the gangrene–I was sure hoping you would lop off that arm.  But no–old Ben had to find you in time!”

Lorne looked over at Mike and shrugged.  “He’s seen all of your injuries, Michael.  He doesn’t seem happy that you survived.”

“No scars–and that damn green jacket!  What’s up with that?  You were shot a million times and that jacket never even had a tear in it!  But, looks like I finally took care of that!  Don’t feel so damned indestructible now, do you?”

“Now he’s making fun of my jacket!  Lorne, we have to do something.  It was bad enough getting shot, but he is picking on the Little Joe suit now.  Some things we have to hold sacred.”

“He seems to have a problem mostly with you, Mike.  Why don’t I leave the two of you alone to settle your differences?”  Lorne joked and Mike looked at him pathetically.

“If anyone fights anyone of us–he’s got to fight with me,”  Mike started singing the Bonanza theme song.

“Okay–okay–it was just a thought.  So, you want to strap on the guns and get this over with?  I mean there is something to be said about a fast death instead of a long drawn out one.”

“I don’t know, Lorne.  I’m feeling lightheaded again.  This wound is still bleeding.  By the way–if we survive this–will you donate some blood for me?”

“What?  What are you talking about?  You don’t need blood for God’s sake!”

“What’s your blood type?”

“O,” Lorne replied bluntly to stop the infernal pestering.

“Are you positive?”  Mike asked.

“Of course I’m positive–I ought to know my own blood type.”

“Stick to acting, Lorne.  Let me write the funny stuff.”

“Relax, we have the same blood type.  I’m your father so we should be compatible,” Lorne laughed.

“Thanks, Pa,” Mike smiled contently, even though his flesh wound hurt.

Another series of bullets rang out and hit the blue winged back chair by the fireplace along with the coffee table.

“Damn it!”  Mike stood this time as he yelled.  “You know how long it took for me to get these props?  Stop destroying my set!”  With his last word another series of shots were fired and Lorne pulled Mike to safety.

“You are just as crazy as that lunatic!  Props?  You are worried about props when this guy is trying to kill us?”  Lorne scolded and even raised his eyebrows in true “Pa” fashion.

“Well–it took a long time to fix this up just right.  I want it to be perfect for the movie.”

Lorne grabbed Michael’s shoulders and stared into his eyes.  “There isn’t going to be a movie! We are living the movie now–don’t you see it?  But, instead of the happy ending, we are getting Hamlet.  We are both going to die.”

“No we can’t, we are Cartwrights.  No matter what we ever do for the rest of our lives people will always consider us Ben and Little Joe Cartwright.  Face it, even on Little House, fans would yell for Little Joe to come out.  And you–you were father to the world for God’s sake!  So, therefore, as I said, we can’t die.”

“Then, get us out of here and prove me wrong.”

“All you had to do was ask.”  Mike smiled.  “I need to write for a minute first.”  Mike reached for his lighter again and his pad and pen.  He scribbled hastily for a few minutes and then handed the script to Lorne.  “Read this.  You’re gonna love it!”  Mike flashed an evil smile.

Lorne read the brief ending to their night of hell and looked back up at his friend.  “This is so stupid it will probably work.”  He laughed heartily.

“Hey, it was the stupid stuff that kept us on the air for fourteen years, remember?”

“Oh, yeah–I remember. Well, let’s get to it, then.”  Lorne was ready to end the siege of the Ponderosa sound stage once and for all.

Michael slid across the living room area on his belly trying to make it over to a prop bag that was stowed away under the rifle rack.  He made it there and back and carried with him what he would need for his magnificent ending.

“Here,” Mike whispered and handed Lorne a plastic bag full of fake blood.  Then he tore off some adhesive tape.  “Tape it right between my shoulder blades,” Mike continued as he lifted his shirt and jacket.

“Ah–another back wound! How clever of you,” Lorne chuckled as he strapped the bag on and pulled Mike’s jacket back down.  “And mine is what?  Head wound?”

“Naw–Pa is gonna get it right in the heart.  Lift your shirt,” Mike smiled getting ready for a great performance.  He taped the bag onto his friend’s chest and Lorne tucked his shirt back in.

“You ready to die, Pa?”  He grinned as he asked.

“We die together.  Just like the National Enquirer said,” Lorne nodded.  “Now how do we draw his fire?”

“Here,” Mike said and lit his cigarette and then placed it a couple feet away on the end of the coffee table.  Then they both ducked back down.  A rapid series of bullets were fired at the red light from the burning cigarette.

“He got me, Pa!  I’m hit bad!”  Mike screamed in pain.

“He got me too, Little Joe–my chest–oh no.!” Lorne made a loud thud as he landed on his back sprawled on the floor in front of the fireplace.

“I’m not going to make it this time, Pa.  Goodbye, Pa,” Mike said loud enough for the audience above them.

“At least we will die together, Son.  I love you.”

“I love you too, Pa,” Mike announced and collapsed on the floor face down.   “I’m gonna miss you.”  Mike continued.

“Stop hamming it up, Mike.  You’re dead–shut up,” Lorne whispered angrily.

“I’ve always suffered better than you,” Mike replied with a smile.

“Save the tears for later–I think I hear him coming now.”  Lorne tried his best to hold his breath so the gunman wouldn’t notice anything other than the profuse blood that was now seeping from his punctured bag of blood.  Mike was also bleeding from his imitation shot to the back and it seeped from his back and onto the floor.

The sniper made his way from the catwalk and over to the scene in the living room.  He carried with him a small flashlight so he could inspect the carnage.

“Yes!  Yes! Yes!”  He yelled joyously as he saw the two dead bodies.  “I killed the Cartwrights!  I will be famous!  I did what no-one else could do!  And direct hits too!”  He rambled on.  But, then, he made a bad move.  As he reached down to look closer at Little Joe’s dead body, Lorne managed to kick him really hard right between his legs.  The gunman reeled in pain and fell back. He hit his head on the coffee table and knocked himself unconscious.

“We did it, Pa!”  Mike yelled and picked up the man’s automatic weapon.  “I told you it was a great script!”

Lorne took the man’s flashlight and looked him over thoroughly.  “Yes, Joseph, we did.  Oh, by the way, he’s not dead, but he’ll sleep for a while,” He replied happy that the night of fright was over at last.

“Hey–you know Ben Cartwright would never have kicked a guy in the crotch.”  Mike teased his friend.

“No,” Lorne grinned as he put his hand on Mike’s shoulder.  “But, to prevent himself from being killed, Lorne Greene would.”  He laughed.

***********

After Mike had toyed with the backup generator the two actors called the police.  When the squad cars pulled up outside the two police officers were aghast at what they saw.  There were the two Cartwrights, covered in blood with a man who was tied from head to toe with electrical tape.

“You both okay?”  One of the officers asked expecting to call the ambulance.

“Sure–it’s just a minor gunshot,” Mike teased, watching the officers’ faces as they viewed the fake blood that dripped from both actors.

“Hey–aren’t you two the Cartwrights?”  The other officer asked.

“Well–we were for a while,”  Lorne nodded and gave Mike a peculiar grimace.

“Yeah–I use to watch you all when I was a kid.  Never thought that you both were still alive!”

Mike looked at Lorne and shrugged.  “Yeah–Sonny–we old codgers are still around.  That guy tied up tried to kill us.  As you can see we took care of him.  Here’s his gun.  We’ll follow you down to the station and file the report.  Then I have to get my arm looked at.  I’ve lost a lot of blood.” Mike bit his lip in pain as Lorne looked over at him and shook his head amused.

“Oh no–not that again.  C’mon, a Band-Aid will fix it,” Lorne grabbed Mike’s arm and led him to his car.

“It really does hurt, Lorne,” Mike protested as Lorne got in the driver’s seat.

“I can’t stroke your arm and drive–so get tough.”

“Later?”  Mike asked grinning.

Lorne laughed at his friend’s persistence.  “Pa always did love you best,” He answered and drove to the police station and then to the hospital.

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

Two weeks later Michael Landon and Lorne Greene met for drinks and to discuss what had happened during the siege of the Ponderosa.  They sat at the Beverly Hills Country Club and sipped their cocktails.

“You look pretty good, Mike.  How’s the arm?”

“Take a look.”  Mike pulled up his shirt sleeve.

“I’ll be damned!”  Lorne exclaimed.  “No scar.  Maybe you really are Little Joe Cartwright.”

“It’s a shame we had to shelve the reunion,” Mike sighed and drank more.  “But, I will come up with something else soon. Oh–I got you a present,” Mike reached for a box under the table.  He handed it to Lorne who, in return handed Mike a present.

“Great minds think alike,” Mike muttered as he tore into his package.

Lorne opened his first and found his Ben Cartwright Colt revolver.  “My gun?  What’s this for?”  He asked checking it out and watching as the waiter beat a fast exit to the kitchen after spotting the weapon.

Mike leaned over and whispered in Lorne’s ear, “It’s loaded with live ammo. You won’t have to worry the next time you encounter a maniac.”

Lorne laughed and replied, “How thoughtful of you.”

Mike opened his package and pulled out a green corduroy jacket.

“My jacket? I was wondering what happened to it.  Last time I saw it was in the hospital when they were putting the Band-Aid on my massive wound.”

“I had it repaired.  You can’t tell it was ever torn.”

Mike gave a contented sigh but then remembered something else he had brought to show Lorne.  “Thanks–it’s great to have it back in one piece.  Hop Sing couldn’t have fixed it better! Oh–have you seen this?”  Mike handed Lorne a current copy of the National Enquirer.

Lorne studied the front cover.  There was a big picture of both Lorne and Michael and the caption read, “Lorne Greene, actor and Michael Landon, actor, writer, director, producer, victim shot by vicious crazed fan.  Family keeps vigil as they wait for them to die.”

Lorne shook his head and laughed.  “I guess there were spies there after all.  They must have snapped this right when we walked out of the studio.  I better call Nancy, so she doesn’t see this and worry.”

“They have this crap in Europe?” Mike asked in disbelief.

“She’s coming back in tonight.  So, we are going to have to end our little celebration early.”

“Okay but first let me tell you what I’m working on.  I have this new pilot for a series where I play an angel.  It’s gonna be great!  So, I thought maybe you’d come on the show once it sells and film an episode.  You know, kinda like the Bonanza reunion—but no guns involved?”

Lorne stood and patted Michael’s shoulder.  “It’s not healthy to work with you anymore, Michael.  Think I’ll pass on it.  Besides, you’ll never sell it.  You as an angel?  That’s crazy!”

“Please?”  Mike turned his hazel eyes on his friend and tried to look as pathetic as he could, having consumed three drinks.

Lorne frowned and shook his head.  He knew that he would eventually cave in.  And despite what he had told Mike before, he did think his friend was still cute.  “Call my agent,” Lorne sighed.  “But wait awhile.  It’s going to take me a couple of years to get over this first reunion.”

“I knew you’d do it!”  Mike said exuberantly.  He stood and hugged his friend goodbye.

“Yes, Joseph.  Pa always did love you best.!”  Lorne chuckled and waved goodbye.

The End

Written by: Wrangler

5-3-01

Reformatted 6/5/2026

(Though this was written before I had a story consultant, I still dedicate it to Rob since he had to listen to it.  And to those who read my stories.  I’ll be back to my normal hurt-comfort dramas very soon!  But since this had been buried for twenty five years I thought it might be a nice lighter parody.)