Nine months after Little Joe was abducted his nightmares resume, leading him to believe that the bad man is still alive. His father and brothers try to quell his worry until the unimaginable happens. Sequel to “The Bad Man” link included. Rating T, WC 54,367
The Bad Man #2 – You’ve Got to Have a Plan
*** “Why are you perspiring so much, Little Joe?” Aram smiled sinisterly as he ran the palm of his hand over the boy’s head, admiring the hair he had coveted for many years.
“Because you’re standing in front of me holding those shears, that’s why!” Joe shouted and struggled against the two leather restraints that pinned him face-down to the examination table. He turned his head in the direction of the man who was readying to begin cutting the curls off his head one at a time. “Just let me go, Mister Cullen. I swear I’ll never tell anyone that it was you who abducted me when I was five years old! And I won’t tell anyone that you drugged me and brought me out here – or that you shot me in the leg last night.”
Incensed by what the boy had said, Aram grabbed the back of Joe’s head pulling on the thick curls that he had decided twelve years earlier would be his someday.
“That’s not my name! Now – you’d better say it right. Who am I, Little Joe?” He urged his captive to address him the exact way that he had done back when Joe was a scared five-year-old being held in a cave.
Wincing his face, Joe reluctantly gave in to the man just to get him to release his hair from his hand and relieve himself of the pain the barber was inflicting. “You’re him – you’re the bad man!”
Aram let go of the boy’s hair and laughed maniacally. The sound echoed throughout the abandoned stamp mill where Little Joe was held captive. ***
Springing up in his bed, Little Joe fought to breathe and tried to slow the rapid beating of his heart. It was pounding so hard in his chest that he was sure he’d end up having a heart attack due to the uncontrollable fear that the dream had caused. *** Breathe, Son, just breathe! He could hear Pa’s plea the day that he found him tied up on the examination table inside the stamp mill. The minute that his father had ridden him of his bonds, Little Joe had stopped breathing simply due to panic over what had happened earlier that morning. He could still hear the metallic snip, snip, snip of the shears cutting away his curls and the man’s joyous laughter over having gotten what he wanted. All that Aram had left him was just about a half of an inch of hair on his head along with lingering fear and persistent dread inside his mind. You’ve got to have a plan! ** He could still hear the bad man’s voice as he had gone to great lengths to explain exactly how he had managed to capture him twice. Joe tossed off his sheet and blanket and hurriedly climbed out of his bed. *** Dear God – when is he going to stop tormenting me in my sleep? *** He groaned and peered across the room. Joe prayed that he hadn’t cried out in his sleep and waited to see if his father was going to hurry inside his bedroom to check on him. After several minutes had passed by and Pa hadn’t made an appearance, he breathed a heavy sigh of relief that he had been able to keep his nightmare a secret, just as usual. Walking to his dresser, Little Joe stared at the clock sitting there on top. *** Five o’clock. I’ll just stay up until daybreak. I hope that no one has figured out why I’m no longer the last one to show up around the breakfast table. They don’t need to know any of this. *** Joe sighed and began to pull clothes out of his top drawer, so he’d be ready to leave his bedroom at first light.
The Bad Man #2 – You’ve Got to Have a Plan
“Goodnight, Pa – goodnight, Cousin Harden,” Joe called from the stairs after his two brothers had already offered their own parting words and were now ahead of him by a few steps as they all began the trek up to their bedrooms. They had stayed up long enough to chat with Ben’s cousin for an hour after supper, but all three of the Cartwright boys needed to get some sleep due to the chores that were lined up for them early in the morning.
“Goodnight, Boys,” Ben replied. He watched his three boys, pride showing on his face, as one by one his sons filtered out of the living room and went up the staircase heading to their rooms.
Harden Matthews smiled at his cousin and remarked, “They looked tired, Ben, guess they’ve all put in a hard day, huh?”
Ben leaned forward in his chair as he poured two glasses of brandy, handing one to Harden. He chuckled, “Yes, all three of them have put in some long days here lately. But then again, getting this ranch ready for winter requires more work than you’d think. I know they’d much rather stay up and chat with you more, but they’ve got a lot of work ahead of them tomorrow. Hoss and Adam are going to be busy moving the herd down to South Shore where the cattle will be grazing on winter grass and Joseph will have his hands full restocking the line shacks, so they’ll be ready come next spring when they’ll be needed.”
Leaning back on the settee, Harden raised his glass to his host and toasted Ben. “To my gracious host – the slave driver!”
Ben touched his glass to his cousin’s and smiled. “I’m sure my sons would have to agree with you on that. But they’ll get a few days off soon and then they’ll change their opinion of their old man and won’t think that I’m a tyrant.”
“I know it’s been a short three-day visit, but I’ve had a great time with you and the boys. Unfortunately, I’ve got to be on that stage tomorrow, Ben, though I wish I could stay longer. However, duty calls. I love being the new editor of the San Francisco Chronicle, but it takes up a lot of my time and I’m needed back there.”
“I’ll have to come and see that prestigious office of yours, Harden. Hopefully I’ll be able to take a trip to San Francisco to visit you after the first of the year – weather permitting.”
“Prestigious office?” Harden grinned. “It’s not much bigger than your study, Ben! And most of it is covered in old editions of the newspaper. But I’d love you to come for a visit. Of course, I won’t be able to rival the hospitality you’ve shown me here at the Ponderosa twice this year – but there are some fine restaurants close to the office that I’m sure you’d like.”
Ben nodded and replied, “That sounds good to me – I miss seeing the ocean and eating fresh seafood!”
“Still have saltwater in your veins after all of these years?”
“No,” Ben shook his head, “I much prefer the life that I’ve made here on the ranch with my boys. I’m the captain of this ship –well, most of the time.”
Harden grew quiet for a few minutes, and Ben could tell that he wanted to say something but was debating about whether he should bring it up for some reason. “Something on your mind?” he finally asked setting his glass on the coffee table.
“I almost hate to mention the past, Ben, but I must admit to being a bit curious,” Harden nodded.
“I think I know what you want to ask me,” Ben sighed and directed his attention to the top of the stairs. “It’s been nine months since your last visit and things were very unsettling around here this past spring.”
“All I got from you in your letters were just some dribs and drabs, Ben. But – well – would you mind telling me exactly what happened with Little Joe? The night before I left last March, he was having an awful time with that sleepwalking problem of his. You wrote that you didn’t need Doctor Iverson’s help in assisting the boy to recover his memories by using hypnosis. You also mentioned that Joe had been abducted by the same man who had taken him when he was five years old but that you’d gotten him back safely. He doesn’t look any worse for wear – but of course it’s hard to tell how a person’s handling things inwardly. Would it bother you to talk about it?”
Ben shook his head and wondered how to explain everything that had happened to his youngest boy. Standing from his chair, he paced in front of the fireplace a few minutes without speaking, much like he had done back when Harden had first visited the ranch all those months ago. His thoughts were transported back to what had happened the night before his cousin had left on the stage to San Francisco.
*** Ben rolled from his back and onto his side upon hearing the light tapping on his bedroom door. He wasn’t quite sure if he had been dreaming or not but, once the knocking grew a bit louder, he sat up in his bed and tried to get his bearings.
“Ben?” Harden quietly called through the door, unsure if his cousin had heard him.
Donning his robe and slippers, Ben hurried to the door and opened it to see Harden there in the hall with a very strange expression on his face. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes he asked, “What’s wrong?”
“I heard a sound in the kitchen – it woke me up. I decided I’d better go see what it was – and found Little Joe in there. Ben – he’s acting strangely – you’d better handle this.”
“Strangely?” he returned, perplexed by what the man had said. Ben moved out into the hallway and headed for the staircase. “What’s the boy doing?”
“He’s in the pitch dark sitting on the floor in the corner of the room. He just keeps repeating the same couple of words.”
A sudden reminiscent feeling of dread filled Ben’s mind as he increased his pace down the hall and hurriedly descended the staircase. With Harden trailing behind him, he made his way to the kitchen, grabbing up the oil lamp that his cousin had left just outside the guest room. Cautiously Ben made his way to the far-right corner of the kitchen just to the side of the sink. Little Joe was hunkered down with his arms tightly wrapped around his knees that were pulled up to his chest. His eyes wide open reflecting the fear he was experiencing Joe didn’t move a muscle as his father set the lamp onto the floor and reached for his arm.
“Joseph?” Ben called softly trying not to spook the boy. He used the same approach that he would’ve used with a frightened animal, quiet and gentle. Ben had seen his son in that exact same place on the floor several times over the past twelve years, but the appearance of fear on the boy’s face never ceased to alarm him. “Son, are you alright?”
“The – bad – man’s – coming,” Little Joe answered in a broken whisper and held the index finger of his left hand up to his lips warning his pa to be quiet. He hesitantly leaned forward, his eyes darting back and forth as though he was expecting someone to suddenly jump out from the darkness and steal him away.
Knowing that his former worry had been realized, Ben cast an uncomfortable glance back at Harden. “I’ll handle this – why don’t you go on back to sleep?”
Harden placed a comforting hand onto his cousin’s shoulder and whispered, “Ben – what is it? What’s the boy talking about?”
Ben drew himself up off the floor and pulled the other man back a bit to explain. “What Joe’s going through is a bit like sleepwalking. We can’t try to wake him or it’ll make matters worse. I’ll get him settled back in his bedroom. There’s nothing that you can do right now.”
With a hesitant nod, Harden turned out of the kitchen not wanting to do anything that might prove detrimental to Joe’s well-being. He walked back inside the guest room to give his cousin time to tend to his son.
Dropping down onto one knee, Ben reached for Little Joe’s shoulder and coaxed him calmly, “Joseph, son – let’s get you back up to your room now.”
“But the bad man’s coming – Pa,” He returned, sounding very agitated over his father’s dismissiveness. Sliding back against the corner of the room to make sure that he couldn’t be seen by the hidden abductor, Joe drew his knees to his chest again and held onto them as tightly as he could. He wasn’t willing to budge from the corner where he had sought shelter.
“No, he’s not coming, Boy – he’s not coming back ever again,” Ben continued and carefully reached for Joe’s elbow. He slowly eased the boy to his feet and wrapped an arm around his shoulder to reassure him that all was well.
“Don’t let him find me – Pa,” Little Joe whimpered as he looked back down to the corner where he had purposely hidden.
“It’s okay, Joseph – your Pa’s here now. He won’t find you ever again. He’s gone,” Ben cajoled the boy. Making their way out of the kitchen one coaxed step after the other, Ben patiently maneuvered his son across the living room. He knew that he needed to get the boy back into his bed. They climbed the staircase slowly and every other second Joe’s gaze was directed down into the darkened room, expecting to see the person he had hidden from earlier.
“The bad man always finds me, Pa,” Little Joe whispered, a note of despondency in his tone.
“No, he won’t find you again, Joseph – because he’s never coming back.***
Clearing his throat, attempting to control the anger that was never far from the surface when it came to the person who had stolen his son from him twice, Ben began to explain.
“Let’s see – when you were here last you found Joseph cowering in the corner of the kitchen and muttering those same words, he always said when he’d have one of his spells.”
“Yes – it was the bad man is coming. I’ll never forget hearing that haunted whisper of his – he seemed so frightened and I didn’t know what was going on. I had no idea that he was sleepwalking – and I didn’t know the boy had been abducted at such a young age. I couldn’t get Little Joe to talk to me – which was why I went and woke you up so you could help him.”
Ben nodded as he grabbed the fire poker and turned the logs out of habit and not necessity. “That’s right. Then after I got the boy back up in his room I told you all about the incident. But nine months ago, I had no idea who had kidnapped Joseph or why. Things changed dramatically about a week after you left here.”
“You wrote that Joe had been abducted again – and by the same person. Who was it, Ben – and why did he take the boy?” Harden asked, eager to learn all the details.
Sinking back down in his chair, Ben poured a few fingers worth of brandy for himself and his cousin and then continued, “It turns out the whole terrible ordeal had to do with Joseph’s hair.”
“His hair?” Harden questioned confused by what his cousin had said.
“Yes,” Ben nodded, is lips twisting into a scowl due to the evil man’s plan and how he had captured his boy. “The local barber in town, Aram Cullen, strange as it sounds, had a bizarre fixation with my son’s hair. Of course, nobody knew it. He had been the one who kidnapped Joe out of the kitchen when he was five and held him like an animal in that cage inside the cave about five miles from here. I’d sent Joseph into Virginia City to get his haircut the Friday after you left on the stage,” he stopped and dropped his face into his hands over the horrifying reminder that it had been at his insistence that Little Joe had ended up facing Aram alone that day. Ben knew that he had inadvertently placed his son in danger by ordering the boy to get his hair cut thereby giving Aram the opportunity to kidnap him once again.
“You okay, Ben? If it’s too much on you – well – you don’t have to go into it right now,” Harden said, witnessing how the retelling of events was causing his cousin great distress as though he was reliving the whole awful ordeal.
Ben lifted his head and drew in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “No – it’s alright, Harden. I’ve not spoken about this since right after it happened. Maybe it would be good to get it off my shoulders so I could finally purge it from my thoughts?” He reached for his brandy, taking in a few sips before getting back to the story. “Joseph filled me in on most of it – but that was right after we brought him back home. Since then, the boy refuses to say a single word about what happened to him. I still don’t know everything that the man put my son through. Joseph went silent about everything a few days after we brought him home and now, he’s adamant that I stop talking about the trauma he went through at the hands of the man who kidnapped him. It worries me that he’s got it all bottled up inside of him.”
“What’s that about Joe’s hair, Ben? Why was the barber so fixated on it?”
“When he stole Joseph from me at five years old it was just to take one of the boy’s curls – one he told my son was a test of sorts. He told Joseph that it was just a sample of his hair. That maniac actually showed that curl to the boy having kept it for twelve years! You see Aram was bald and he’d been looking for the perfect hair – to fashion a hairpiece out of. That insane man told Joseph that his curls were exactly what he needed.”
Ben closed his eyes tightly as he thought back to what Little Joe had relayed to him after they had rescued the boy. He had told him exactly what Aram had said to him about wanting his hair.
*** “Here – now look at this, Little Joe,” the man said, sitting back down in the chair. Reaching over to the table he’d brought over, he held up a piece of board with what looked like strands of human hair pinned to it. “These are just samples, mind you. Like I had in some of those sacks at my house. There are all types of hair, you know? There’s thin, thick, wavy, curly, straight. Then there’s coarse, wiry – well all kinds of textures. I’ve seen and felt them all over the years. But when your Pa brought you in for your first haircut, I knew that you had the finest hair of anyone who had ever been in my chair. That’s when I knew that it would be yours that I’d need.”
Swallowing the lump that was rapidly growing in his throat, Little Joe finally choked out, “My hair – you needed it for what? For that curl you took off me when I was a kid?”
“No, Boy,” Aram sighed and impatiently shook his head. “That was just a sample – you know – something to keep with me until you were ready.”
“Ready?”
“Yes — I knew at the age of five it was much too soon to take what I needed from you. So, I kidnapped you just to get that sample.”
“Wait – if you cut my hair in your shop back then, why didn’t you just take that curl when I was sitting there – then you wouldn’t have needed to kidnap me?”
“Because I needed to take that curl off down at the root – your Pa wouldn’t have liked that! That’s why I had to snatch you. I hadn’t planned on keeping you for a week, Kid. But that darn ranch of yours was swarming with people out looking for you by the time it got dark the first night. So, I had to lay low until I could escape. Believe me, I didn’t want to get stuck inside a cave on the Ponderosa with a brat who kept trying to escape and calling for his Papa every other minute! It was a stroke of pure luck that you didn’t remember anything about me after they found you so I was in the clear and could bide my time until now.” ***
Shaking himself out of yet another painful memory of what had happened, Ben stared over at his cousin.
“That kind of sends chills up my spine, Ben,” Harden admitted as he sipped more brandy. “Why on earth would he take the boy and keep him for seven days if he just needed to get one curl from him? Couldn’t he get the curl from Little Joe when he gave him a regular haircut?”
Ben frowned and shook his head, filled with righteous indignation over what Aram had done to his son. “Joseph told me that Aram needed to cut that curl off down at the root for some bizarre reason. He knew that if I’d seen him doing that, I would’ve had a pure fit – and he was right! Joe also said that Aram wasn’t planning on keeping him for seven days, but he couldn’t get away from that cave because at the time there were too many people out searching for the boy. He didn’t think he could evade detection.”
“This story is beginning to sound like something from Edgar Allan Poe – it’s that frightening. So – what happened when that man took Little Joe this time?”
“He drugged Joseph with chloroform shortly after the boy sat down in his barber chair. Joe awoke in the man’s basement tied up to a support beam. When the boy didn’t make it home we all tried to find him –even asking Aram if Joe had made it to his place for his haircut. He said he hadn’t seen my son and even offered to help us find him!” Ben exclaimed and then stood once again. “We finally got Sheriff Roy Coffee involved and then we discovered that Aram was gone. It was in the wee hours of the morning when we made it back there only to find his saddle horse and buckboard were missing. Roy and I made our way down to the basement looking for Joseph. We found ropes that had earlier been used to tie my son to that wooden beam. We found something else too,” Ben paused as his face took on a stricken appearance.
“What?”
“Bags and bags of hair – they were lining one whole wall in Aram’s basement.”
Ben could still see and hear his friend Sheriff Roy Coffee and the way his voice sounded abnormally shaken by what he had discovered that night in Aram’s house.
*** “Bring that lamp a little closer will you, Ben,” Roy said stooping down after spotting something leaning against the far wall.
Drawing closer to the sheriff, Ben held the lamp lower to the ground where he spotted what Roy had just found. It was a big burlap bag, and it was overturned with its contents strewn across the floor.
“Hair,” Roy groaned as he picked up a handful off the floor. “And look!” He pointed to the numerous bags that lined the entire wall. “Reckon why in the world old Aram would’ve kept all this?”
Ben’s face paled over what they had found. He watched as Roy dropped the hair onto the floor and stood. ***
“My God,” Harden muttered, feeling a bit ill. “The man saved hair?”
Ben nodded, “Yes – apparently, he had continued searching for just the right kind of hair that he needed and spent a great deal of time bagging it up. But unfortunately, he had already found exactly what he wanted some twelve years ago – that being Joseph’s curls.”
Harden frowned and added, “He had to be completely insane to have been planning this for so long! Go ahead, Ben.”
“The sheriff, Hoss, Adam, a few hired hands and I began searching everywhere for Joseph, unaware that Aram had moved him to an old, abandoned stamp mill not far from the Truckee River. But while we were trying to track the man’s buckboard Aram was busy tying Joseph face down on an examination table. He told Joseph that he had been planning on kidnapping him again someday but once the local telegrapher informed him that the hypnotist you’d told me about was coming that Saturday, he quickly set things into motion.”
“Oh? I guess he was worried that Doctor Iverson would help Little Joe recover his memories and then the boy would be able to tell you who had abducted him back when he was five, right?”
Nodding his head, he answered, “That’s right.”
“I guess he was still after the boy’s hair, huh?”
“Yes – unfortunately that was the plan all along. What Joseph went through – watching what Aram was going to do to him had to be terrifying. He was very obviously insane, and Joseph was never sure it the man was going to kill him. Aram had already shot the boy in the leg when he tried to run off so there wasn’t any way to tell if he was going to hurt him or just take his hair and leave.”
“I’m just so sorry, Ben. I can’t imagine what the boy went through – and you as well.”
“Thank you,” Ben sighed and continued to pace there in front of the fireplace. “Aram had gotten what’s known as a wig block – a wooden form of a head. He had already procured everything that he needed in advance prior to kidnapping my son. He forced Joseph to lie there on his stomach as one by one he cut each strand of hair from his head. Joseph said he threatened to kill him if he had made even the slightest move. Then Aram took the time to sew every one of those curls to a sort of flesh colored mesh material to fashion his hairpiece. Joseph told me that the evil man gleefully pulled the hairpiece onto his head there in front of him and then modeled it. He then forced the boy to tell him how nice it looked! Aram had finally gotten the one thing he’d coveted for years – my son’s hair. But as for Joe, by the time Aram was through with him, he only had about a half of an inch of hair left on his head.”
Ben had been horrified when he first saw his son’s head so devoid of hair and later had heard what Joseph had endured at the evil man’s hands. The boy had told him exactly what Aram had done to him before he had finally passed out due to the trauma inflicted on him along with the blood loss caused by the gunshot to his leg.
*** The damage had been done and Little Joe finally passed out on the examination table after the evil man had cut the final curl from his head. Aram had mocked the boy by waving the strand of hair in front of his eyes and calling it “his best curl”. Afterwards, due to both shock and blood loss, Joe had closed his eyes and let his head drop down onto the examination table. He didn’t know if Aram was going to kill him and after witnessing what he had, Joe didn’t much care anymore if he did.
Piece by piece and strand by strand, Aram stitched the small bundles of hair onto the flesh-colored silk mesh. He was an artist when it came to hair and took great pride in his work. By the time he was through daylight streamed through the windows. Aram anxiously pulled on his new hairpiece and grabbed the hand mirror he had set on the table. He gleefully smiled over the fact that he finally had a full head of hair after so many years of being bald. It was brown, curly and thick, and it was his.
“Wake up, Boy! I got something to show you!” Aram yelled in Little Joe’s ear.
Pulling himself from a horrible dream that happened to be reality, the boy moaned as he turned his head in the opposite direction of his captor.
“Boy – you got to see this!”
“Go away,” Little Joe muttered angrily.
“You want me to get that chloroform? One more dose will probably kill you,” Aram threatened and yanked Joe’s head over to him.
Blinking his eyes open, Little Joe stared up at the horrendous sight of his own hair looking back at him. The insane man was smiling ear to ear as he displayed the vile thing. Little Joe’s head was cold, and he wondered if Aram had left any hair at all on top of his head or not.
“What do you think? Nice huh? In fact, these curls look much better on me than they did on you!”
Numb by all he had endured; Joe simply shook his head.
“Oh, don’t worry Boy! My guess is it’ll take six months or so, but you’ll grow it back. Right now, you look a little bit on the bald side – but it won’t be permanent,” Aram laughed at his victim.
“I hate you,” Joe whispered and slowly closed his eyes, praying that he’d fall back to sleep. He’d had enough of the insane man’s taunts; enough to last a lifetime.
Aram moved in closer to the boy and roughly yanked his chin up, forcing Joe’s gaze. “Tell me how good I look!” he demanded.
“You’re ugly – both inside and out. You can keep that hair, but it’ll never be yours,” Joe responded bitterly.
Incensed over what the boy had said, Aram slapped Joe’s face hard. “You’d better remember who I am!”
Little Joe nodded, “Yeah, I know who you are — you’re – you’re the bad man.” And with that statement he passed out cold.***
Harden’s face paled over what he had heard. “That poor kid – I noticed how the boy liked to wear his hair long. It had to be horrifying to see his own curls being worn by that sadistic man.”
Ben shook his head and frowned as his gaze shot back up to the top of the stairs again. “I guess now I finally understand why Joseph has always shied away from going to the barbershop to get his hair cut. Somehow deep down inside of him there was always that memory of Aram and it must’ve plagued his thoughts. Back when he was five years old, he hadn’t seen Aram’s face because he was wearing a mask of sorts. But deep down in his subconscious Joseph probably remembered the man’s voice. If I had only known –” Ben trailed off still wondering if he could have done something to prevent what had happened to his son.
Giving his cousin a few minutes to regroup after describing such harrowing details, Harden waited until Ben turned back towards him before speaking. “How did you find the boy – and what happened to the barber?”
“Hoss, Adam, and I were able to track the man’s buckboard which led us right to where he’d taken Joe. But Aram was already mounted on his horse by the time we got there. I sent my two boys after him while I went to find Joseph. He was in rough shape, but I thanked God that he was still alive. Once I’d gotten a good look at his head, I realized what Aram had done to my boy. There wasn’t too much I could do other than hold Joseph in my arms and try to comfort him. He was still suffering the after-effects of the chloroform plus Joe was weakened due to that gunshot wound in his leg. I stayed with him and waited for Hoss and Adam to return.”
Ben closed his eyes again. The memories were far too vivid even after nine months. He witnessed his son as he fought to breathe due to the memory of his first abduction when he was only five years old. Both times the boy had suffered through a panic attack and it took some coaxing for Ben to help him out of it.
*** In a pure panic, Little Joe cried out again, “I can’t breathe, Pa! I can’t breathe!”
“It’s going to be alright, Son. You and I are going to do this together. Now take in a deep breath and hold it,” he coaxed the boy in the same fashion that he had done back when he was only five years old. It had taken longer to convince his son now that he was older, but patiently Ben urged him to take a breath, hold it in and then expel it slowly. “Now – is that better, Joseph?” He asked after going through several minutes of breathing along with the boy.
“Oh, Pa! It was him – it was him all along,” Little Joe sobbed, covering his eyes with the palms of his hands. It was then that he found himself pulled forward on the table. Pa wrapped his arms around him, holding him tightly in his loving embrace.
“It’s alright, Son – everything’s going to be alright,” Ben whispered. His right hand moved onto the boy’s head and the fact that it was so devoid of curls pained his heart though he tried not to show it on his face. It hadn’t mattered to him that the hair was gone, Ben gently stroked his son’s head, trying to instill a sense of calm in him.
“It – it was the bad man, Pa.” Little Joe’s voice trembled as tears fell from his eyes. His thoughts were filled with the terror he had experienced that night, along with all the repressed memories that he’d finally recalled. Joe’s left hand reached up and touched the top of his head and then he passed out cold, still held in his father’s arms.
“Oh, Joseph – Joseph — I’m so sorry,” Ben whispered as he pulled the boy tightly against his chest. He couldn’t help believing that he had failed his son and had, in fact, pushed him toward danger by insisting that he get a haircut. Now, as he nervously rocked the boy in his arms, he couldn’t help feeling guilty. When his chin fell onto the crown of Little Joe’s head, the fact that the curls were all gone hit him hard. He glanced over to the wig block on the table next to where they sat. Ben wondered exactly what Aram had done to his son. Of course, there was the bullet wound in his leg and that was bad enough, but for some reason the horrible man had removed almost all his son’s hair, and Ben had no idea why. ***
“Did they catch him?”
Finally settling back into his chair, Ben replied, “They got close. After firing some warning shots my sons had to exchange gunfire with him. Aram was shooting at them as they tried to get close enough to stop him. Apparently one of Hoss’ bullets hit the man and he fell from his horse. He had been riding at a fast clip at the time, and it knocked him off his horse. Aram rolled down the embankment and into the Truckee River. His body was carried away in the rapids. With the Truckee being swollen from all the snowfall we’d gotten the previous winter the current was swift. There’s just no way that he could have survived even if Hoss’ bullet hadn’t killed him.”
Harden shook his head and remarked, “I guess that was a fitting end for that insane man. I guess he ended up taking that coveted hairpiece to the grave with him.”
“Not exactly, Harden.” Ben replied glumly.
“What?”
“Hoss found the hairpiece on the banks of the river. He and Adam brought it back to show me. It was a stark reminder of what had happened to Joseph.” Ben couldn’t help still seeing that dreadful thing in his mind. He remembered the moment that Adam had shown it to him the first time.
*** “Better come over here a minute, Pa,” Adam announced and walked over to his horse.
Ben walked next to his two boys and came to an abrupt stop when he spotted what Adam pulled out of his saddlebags. He closed his eyes and winced upon seeing the hair; Joseph’s hair.
“We chased him down to the Truckee River, Pa. He was shooting at the two of us and I guess one of my bullets hit him hard enough to send him flying into the rapids. Aram went into the river – but his body must’ve ended up downstream somewhere. I found that,” Hoss said and pointed to the hairpiece that his father was holding in his hands.
Ben coughed to loosen the tightness in his throat and handed the hair back to his eldest boy. “I guess you’d better show that to Roy when you get into town.” ***
“That’s awful, Ben. Did Little Joe see it?”
Ben shook his head as he polished off the last of his brandy before speaking. “No, we didn’t tell him that we had found it. The boy had been through enough. We felt it best that Joseph thought it went down the river along with Aram’s body. And what with the man being dead we knew that there wouldn’t be a trial, so it wasn’t needed for evidence. So, I simply had Adam bury it. Joseph will never know and that’s for the best.”
Harden reached over and placed a reassuring hand on his cousin’s arm. He could easily see how the retelling of events had affected the man. “Well, at the very least that man won’t ever kidnap Little Joe ever again. The boy hasn’t had any bouts with sleepwalking since then, has he?”
“No – he hasn’t. And as you can clearly see Joseph’s hair has grown very long in the nine months since all that happened. In fact, it’s even longer and thicker than it was when Aram got his hands on the boy.”
“I’m sure you don’t want to say anything about Little Joe getting a haircut, right?”
Ben nodded, “I know he surely needs one – but I just can’t bring myself to mention it. Hopefully he’ll say something about it – so I won’t have to.”
“I still say that story you just told me is far more frightening than one of Poe’s tales. Like me, I’m sure you wish that it was a work of fiction and not something that you had to personally experience along with Little Joe.”
Trying to shake himself from the ghastly reminder of what had happened earlier in the year, Ben managed a smile and said, “I’m just glad we won’t ever have to worry about Aram getting his hands on Joseph again.” He stared over at the grandfather clock and added, “Harden, much like your last visit, I’ve kept you up far too late. You’ve got to pack in the morning, and I’ll be taking you to catch the stage around noon. You’d better get some shuteye.”
Harden stood and dropped a hand down onto his cousin’s shoulder, offering him a smile to try and allay his worry, “I guess you’re right, Ben. I suppose I’d better turn in. Now don’t you stay up ruminating on what we’ve just talked about, okay?”
Ben stood and tried to return the man’s smile, though it hadn’t been much of one due to the circumstances. “I won’t – goodnight.”
Harden walked into the guest room to the left of the dining table while Ben set one last log on the grate in the fireplace before heading up the stairs. He hoped that he could finally put away all the reminders of there ever having been a man named Aram Cullen.
Two days after Harden Matthews left to go back to San Francisco Little Joe had completed his task of restocking the nine line shacks on the Ponderosa and had gone into Virginia City to get the payroll money from the bank. While his two brothers were busy moving the herd down to the south shore of Lake Tahoe, Joe was walking into the Silver Dollar Saloon and treating himself to a beer before heading back to the ranch.
After he had ordered and received his mug of beer, Little Joe casually glanced around the saloon. He tossed his hat on top of a table and sank down into the hard wooden chair. Joe swept a hand through his hair. Lately his hat had fit a bit too snugly due to the thick curls that had grown back fast after his run-in with Aram Cullen. The first few months Little Joe had to wear his old black hat because his newer one was far too loose. In fact, he barely had any hair at all because the evil man had only left about a half of an inch all the way around his head. But now it was all that he could do to get the tan Stetson to stay down and not pop up due to all the hair that it had to hold. Little Joe sipped his drink, taking in the sounds around him. The place wasn’t very crowded. There were only about twenty men sitting around at the various tables and standing up at the bar hoisting a few beers. But then again, it was midday on Thursday. Joe knew that business would pick up once the local cowhands all drew their pay the following day. A couple of cowboys were having a loud conversation to his left and there were four men to his right who were in the middle of a heated poker game.
“You just having one, Little Joe?” Sam asked, smiling down at one of his favorite patrons.
“Yeah – gotta get back home soon,” Joe nodded to the man.
“How’s your brothers and your Pa? Haven’t seen them in a while.”
“Everyone’s fine, Sam. But we’ve all been busy lately. I’m sure Hoss and Adam will be coming by for a beer sometime this weekend after they get the herd moved.”
Sam wiped his hands on his apron and turned when he spotted another customer up at the bar. He patted Joe’s back and said, “Duty calls.” And with that, Sam returned to his position behind the counter.
With his attention drawn over to the poker game at the next table, Little Joe didn’t spot the approach of his long-time nemesis as he sauntered into the saloon. Pete Timmons was just a few years older than the youngest Cartwright son and worked on a neighboring ranch to the southeast of the Ponderosa. He had always had it in for the boy sitting there at the table though, if asked, Little Joe couldn’t say why.
“Why excuse me, Miss, are you new in town?” Pete directed his question to Joe wearing his usual annoying lopsided grin.
Little Joe shot a glance up at the man and frowned. He decided to ignore him and turned his attention back to the card game going on at the table next to him.
Pete walked over to the bar and ordered a beer. Sam drew it off at the tap and handed the mug to his customer warily. The bartender was well aware that Timmons and Joe Cartwright had a longstanding feud, and he hoped that there wouldn’t be any trouble that day.
“Thanks, Sam,” Pete grinned and tossed his money on the bar before turning back to Little Joe’s table.
“Miss? You never answered my question.”
Little Joe bit at his bottom lip trying his best to ignore the man who was hovering over his left shoulder trying to force a response out of him. After the last two fights with Timmons, Pa had instructed Joe to ignore him and if necessary, turn and walk away. Little Joe wondered if he should take his father’s advice and polish off his beer quickly and leave the saloon.
“Oh, the shy kind, huh?” Pete chided and then laughed at the way that the boy was trying his best to avoid looking at him. “My you have such lovely long curly hair – if you don’t mind my saying so?”
“Cut it out, Timmons,” Joe warned angrily as he set down his mug.
“I didn’t mean to upset you, Ma’am. I just came over to tell you that you’ve got the loveliest hair I’ve ever seen! Did you get all dolled up just to come in here looking for a date?”
Little Joe finally had his fill of Pete’s snide remarks, and he wasn’t going to simply sit there and let him keep trying to get underneath his skin. He stood from the table and spat out another warning, “Get out of my face, Timmons, before I have to mop the floor with you again!”
Pete dropped his glass onto the tabletop and laughed, “Oh, a feisty gal! That’s my favorite type of woman!”
Little Joe’s left fist shot out and abruptly knocked the cowboy flat on his back.
Mopping the blood off his lip, Pete called up to Joe, “You hit pretty good for a girl!” He stood and stared directly into the angry hazel eyes before him. “You know my pa always told me that I should never raise my hand to a lady – but I guess there’s an exception to every rule.”
Pete threw a right hook which Joe had seen a split second before the man could make contact. Joe ducked down low. The man looked confused to have missed his target, and it was then that Little Joe used the opportunity to pummel Pete in his stomach several times. Due to the impact from having taken the unexpected blows, Pete fell back against the table over to the left where the two cow hands had been sharing a bottle of rotgut. Angered that their whiskey had gotten dumped over, the two men jumped into the fray going up against both Pete and Little Joe. Within a few minutes the whole saloon had erupted into a big free-for-all with tables being knocked over and several chairs being tossed up to the bar. Sam moved out of the way just as a whiskey bottle sailed through the air barely missing his head. It was then that a loud blast from a scatter rifle caused the saloon to go suddenly silent.
“That’s enough playing around, Boys!” Sheriff Roy Coffee announced and looked over at the bartender. “Okay, Sam – who started it this time?”
Shrugging his shoulders, not really wanting to get Little Joe in trouble but knowing that he had thrown the first punch, Sam answered, “Pete came in here trying to rile Little Joe, Roy. I guess the two of them started it. But you know it don’t take much to make these rowdy cowhands start to throw chairs around the room.”
Roy walked over to where Little Joe was searching for his hat which had fallen underneath the table he had been sitting at prior to the fight.
“Little Joe – is that the way of it? Was it you and Timmons who started this brawl?” Roy questioned, staring at the son of his best friend.
Shaking the bloodied knuckles on his left hand, Little Joe nodded over to the sheriff. “Yeah – I guess. Timmons came in here looking for a fight, Roy.”
“And you decided to give him one, huh?”
“Yes, Sir,” Joe sighed, knowing that he should have simply left the bar.
Roy directed his attention to Pete Timmons who was attempting to slink out of the saloon unnoticed. “Not so fast there, Pete! I want the pleasure of your company over at the jail. You and Little Joe’s got to take care of these damages.”
“He threw the first punch!” Pete shouted as he mopped the blood off the corner of one of his eyebrows.
“I don’t give a hoot. You both tore up the saloon and you’ll both pay for the damages,” Roy argued. He then turned to look at Sam once more. “What’ll it cost to clean up this place, Sam?”
Walking around the saloon and setting some of the overturned tables back into their former positions Sam shook his head wearily. He then checked on the damages up at the counter and replied, “A couple busted chairs, about four bottles of whiskey wasted and about six or seven broken mugs of beer. Then there’s the cleanup I’ll have to do. I guess sixty dollars ought to square things, Roy.”
“Fine,” the sheriff nodded. “Little Joe – Timmons – let’s go down to the jail. I ain’t gonna hold neither of you unless you can’t pay your share of the damages.”
Little Joe groaned. He figured that the payroll was now going to be about thirty dollars short and his father wouldn’t be happy about it. Following Roy out of the saloon, he sneered over at Timmons.
“You idiot,” Little Joe fumed as he shook his head, disgusted due to having to pay for half of the damages from the brawl.
“Now, Miss – don’t go getting yourself all upset. Though I’m saddened to tell you that our little fight did mess up that lovely hair of yours,” Pete laughed when he witnessed the look Joe was firing his way. He knew that he’d gotten under the boy’s skin and Pete took that as being worth the thirty dollars he’d have to cough up now.
Roy stepped in between the two young men to prevent another fight from breaking out on the way to the jailhouse.
“Whoever says one more word will be cooling their heels in a jailcell tonight. Now let’s go!” the sheriff exclaimed and then herded Little Joe and Pete down to his office.
Ben had gotten up from his chair and walked to the front door to peer out at least four times in the last hour. Little Joe was late and his father was worried. Even though he had expected his youngest home no later than six that night it was now after seven and the boy hadn’t made it back from town. Ben stood from his chair once more and walked across the room to stare at the grandfather clock again.
“Where is that boy?” Ben fussed and turned to look at both Hoss and Adam. “Joseph knows good and well what time we eat supper around here!”
Hoss and Adam exchanged frowns. They presumed that their little brother would be arriving soon if for no other reason than to stop their father from giving him a lecture about his tardiness.
“He ain’t all that late, Pa,” Hoss offered trying to ease his father’s mind.
“Well, he’d better be here soon if he knows what’s good for him,” Ben returned gruffly. He wasn’t all that mad that the boy was just over an hour late, however every time Joseph failed to arrive home on time, Ben’s heart was filled with a familiar feeling of dread due to what had transpired earlier in the year. Joseph had been late the night when he had disappeared from the barbershop and ever since then Ben couldn’t stop worrying about the boy. “I hope nothing’s happened to him,” he sighed and shook his head, the anger had dissipated leaving only concern in its wake.
“Oh, Pa – you worry too much,” Hoss called across the room.
“Joseph was supposed to pick up the payroll and come right back. I don’t like it – maybe someone followed the boy?” Ben responded wondering why neither of his sons seemed the least bit concerned over the fact that their brother hadn’t gotten home yet.
“Hey – I just heard someone,” Adam announced walking to the front door. He pulled it open and looked across the yard.
Little Joe had dismounted just outside the barn and was pulling Cochise into her stall.
Ben quickly met Adam at the door and glanced over to the barn. *** Thank the Good Lord! *** He thought. Relieved, he then turned back into the living room. “Hoss, go and tell Hop Sing that the boy is home and he can start setting the food on the table.”
“Yes, Sir,” he nodded and walked to the kitchen to talk to the cook.
Ten minutes later Little Joe eased the front door open and walked inside cautiously. He knew that once everyone spotted the cuts and bruises on his face that there would be an inquisition and he dreaded it. Tossing the payroll on top of the credenza, Little Joe unbuckled his holster and rolled it up.
“What kept you?” Ben called over to his son having taken the time to sit back down in his chair so the boy wouldn’t know that he’d been worried.
“Sorry, Pa,” he muttered his response and hoped to make a quick break for the staircase to clean up a bit before his father caught sight of his battered face.
Ben stood when he noticed his son’s sudden attempt to leave the room. Hurrying over to Little Joe, he reached for the boy’s elbow and turned him back around. It was then that he spotted the damage to his son’s face.
“Just what in the devil happened to you?” Ben fussed as he placed a hand on the boy’s cheek trying to inspect his injuries.
“I’m fine,” Little Joe insisted and tried to pull himself away from his father’s grasp.
“Fine? Oh, sure you’re just fine!” Ben fumed. “Now – what happened?”
“Pa? Can I go and get cleaned up?” He asked weakly, finally releasing himself from his father’s hold.
Drawing in a deep breath, Ben tried to will away his desire to get to the bottom of the reason why his youngest was standing before him with cuts and bruises across half of his face.
“Alright, Joseph, go get cleaned up – and don’t dawdle! You’ve made Hop Sing upset by not getting home on time and making him wait on setting out our dinner.”
“Yes, Sir. I put the payroll on top of the credenza,” he said and turned back for the stairs.
Ben’s gaze followed his son’s departure up the staircase. He shook his head wondering what the boy had gotten himself into that day.
Adam and Hoss approached their father and could tell that he was very upset.
“I guess now we know why Little Joe was late,” Adam offered wryly.
Hoss added, “Yeah – from what I saw my little brother had himself a fight with somebody.”
Shaking his head in frustration, Ben walked across the room and lifted the payroll satchel off the credenza. “Hoss – better tell Hop Sing to wait a few minutes before setting out the food.”
Hoss groaned and replied, “He’s gonna throw a pan at me for sure this time, Pa!”
“Just tell him it won’t be long – just long enough for Joseph to wash up.”
“Yes, Sir,” Hoss nodded and walked into the dining room. He could tell that his father wasn’t in a very good mood and didn’t want to push him. But Hoss wasn’t happy about having to tell Hop Sing to wait on putting the food on the table either.
Watching the boy sitting there on his right during dinner, it was clear to Ben that Little Joe was trying his best to avoid talking about what had happened to him. Earlier, while the boy had tended to his facial cuts and washed off, Ben had instructed both Hoss and Adam not to press Joseph on how he had gotten hurt because unless he offered an explanation himself, he was going to wait to discuss it with Joe after they ate. It hadn’t taken long for Ben to realize that his youngest wasn’t about to offer any clues about what had gone on that afternoon. The conversation around the table had been purposely geared on discussing what progress had been made on moving the herd and various other chores that needed to be done the following day. Little Joe hadn’t said a single word, nor had he looked at any of his family members’ faces, keeping his eyes trained down to his dinner plate throughout the meal.
Clearing his throat after blotting his mouth with his napkin, Ben announced sternly, “Joseph, I want to see you in my study.”
Joe watched in woeful anticipation as his father stood from the table and walked across the room. He finally stared at Hoss and witnessed him giving him a warning look.
“You’d better just fess up and tell Pa the truth this time, Little Brother,” Hoss whispered. “He’s not in the mood for any of your tall tales tonight.”
Little Joe frowned and nodded over to Hoss. He stood from the table and then apprehensively approached the study dreading what was coming next.
“Sit down, Joseph,” Ben instructed and pointed to his left as he sank down into the chair behind his desk.
Wishing that he could come up with some excuse so he could just go up to his room, Joe reluctantly sat down where he had been directed and waited.
“Well?”
“I’m sorry, Pa,” Little Joe began, his eyes directed on the floor and not at his father. “The payroll is short thirty dollars.”
“Yes, I’m aware of that,” Ben nodded. “What happened?”
With a slight nervous shrug to his shoulders, Little Joe answered, “I got into a fight at the Silver Dollar. I only stopped to get one beer – and well – the place got busted up so Roy made me split the damages with the other guy.”
“And just who was the other guy?”
“Pete Timmons.”
Ben groaned and shook his head angrily. “How many times have I told you to steer clear of that man?”
“I know, Pa,” Joe responded, not knowing what else to say.
“What started the fight this time?”
Little Joe stood and began pacing in front of his father’s desk. “He just walked inside the saloon and started right in on me, Pa! I couldn’t help it.”
Pursing his lips, Ben thought for a minute and returned, “Okay — who threw the first punch?”
Dropping his head down to his chest, Joe answered quietly, “I guess I did.”
“You guess? You mean you don’t know?” He questioned, exasperated over the very limited details that his boy was offering him.
“No, Pa – I know – it was me.”
“Sit back down, Young Man,” Ben once more pointed his finger, directing the boy over to the chair.
“C’mon, Pa!” Joe exclaimed. “I’ll pay you back. There’s nothing else to talk about!”
“Joseph, I said sit down.”
Groaning, Little Joe retook his seat and folded his arms tightly across his chest showing his displeasure.
“There is something to talk about, Young Man. What caused the fight?”
“I just told you! Timmons came into the saloon and started in on me!” Joe sounded out hotly.
“Don’t fire off at me, Boy, you’re in enough trouble already,” Ben warned, his eyes showing his ire over the way that his son was acting as well as the angry inflection in his words.
Little Joe drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly trying to control his frustration over his father’s attempt to get to the bottom of why he had gotten into a fight.
“What did Timmons say to you that caused you to lose your temper and throw that punch?”
“I don’t exactly remember,” Joe purposely lied to his father. He wasn’t about to mention what Pete had said about his hair. It was the very last thing that he wanted to discuss with his pa.
“You don’t remember?” Ben returned incredulously, not buying one word that Joe had proffered. He was surprised to hear his son deliberately obfuscating the truth because Joseph was usually a lot more forthcoming when explaining why he had gotten into a brawl. On top of that the boy knew better than to lie to him.
Little Joe simply shook his head.
“Joseph, what’s going on with you?” Ben’s voice was softer, aware that his son was obviously upset over what had happened.
“Nothing,” he replied flatly.
Ben stood and approached the boy, setting a hand onto his shoulder. “Why don’t you talk to me anymore, Son?”
“I talk to you.”
Shaking his head, Ben directed the boy’s gaze as he lifted his chin up. “No, you don’t. You give me very short answers, and not always truthful ones. Then you leave it at that. It’s been that way between the two of us for quite a while now and I’d like to know why.”
“I don’t have anything to say, Pa,” Joe whispered, turning his head to shake himself free from his father’s hold.
“I want to know what Timmons said to you, Joseph,” he urged his son out with the truth.
“I told you I don’t remember. Now – I’ll pay you the thirty dollars I owe you. Isn’t that enough?”
“This doesn’t have a thing to do with the thirty dollars. It has to do with your attitude of late and your reluctance to tell me what’s really going on with you.”
“Pa, I’m tired. Can I just go to bed?”
“Your face needs doctoring – most likely that right eye will be shut in the morning,” Ben complained and placed a hand on his son’s cheek, studying the cuts and bruises.
“I’m fine,” Joe insisted, moving his face to the side to rid himself of his father’s hand. “I’ll tend to it before I turn in.”
“Joseph?” Ben whispered and leaned down to look into the boy’s eyes. Lately his son shunned all physical contact with him and that was a sure sign that something was wrong with the boy. Joseph had always welcomed his father’s touch until recently. “Are you angry with me about something?”
“I’m not angry,” Little Joe sighed and closed his eyes to avoid his father’s penetrating gaze.
Ben shook his head, upset over the way his son had been doing his best to avoid both his gaze and his touch. “If you’re not angry with me then why do you keep pulling away from me?”
“I’m just tired, Pa. Can I go to bed now?”
Ben groaned as he wearily leaned back on the desk. “Go on to bed then,” he announced defeatedly and watched as the boy hurried to the staircase. Within a minute he heard Joe’s bedroom door closing. He walked to his chair and sank down folding his hands in front of him. There was something troubling his youngest and Ben didn’t have a clue what it was. Joseph had always confided in him when he was upset about something. However, during the last few months it seemed as though the boy was purposely distancing himself from him for some reason. He wished that he could figure out what was going on with Joe. Ben missed the closeness that he had always shared with his youngest boy who had been the most demonstrative of all his sons until recently. His fatherly intuition told him that somehow Joseph’s problem had something to do with his abduction earlier in the year though he didn’t know what. When the boy had been taken back when he was five years old and returned seven days later Joseph had clung to him. Ben had insisted that the boy stay in his bedroom with him at night because it was easy to tell that Little Joe was petrified every time that he left his father’s side. However, after the abduction nine months ago Joseph had acted completely the opposite, going to great lengths to distance himself from his pa. Shaking his head, Ben struggled to come up with a reason for the change in his son’s behavior. They had always been so close until Aram Cullen had changed all that by taking his son away for the second time in his life. Sighing to himself, Ben closed his eyes and wished it was as simple to solve Joseph’s problems as it had been twelve years ago. He could still see the little five-year-old and hear Little Joe’s voice as he had pleaded with him never to leave.
*** “Papa?” The five-year-old whispered as he placed a hand on his father’s shoulder trying to awaken him.
Ben fought to get his bearings after having been in a deep sleep. Coughing as he slowly sat up on the bed, he looked over to where his son was sitting by the pillows with a terrified look on his face.
“Joseph? What’s wrong?” He asked, placing his arm around the boy’s tiny shoulders pulling him closer.
“I’m a-scared, Papa,” Little Joe returned, his eyes brimming with tears.
“What are you afraid of, Boy? Your Pa’s right here,” Ben answered soothingly and pulled his son into his arms. Little Joe’s body was trembling, and it gave his father cause for concern. “What’s this now?” Ben smiled and gently pushed away the boy’s fallen tears from his cheeks
Sniffing in his tears and wiping his nose on the sleeve of his nightshirt, the little boy replied, “You – you were gone, Papa. It was dark and I couldn’t find you nowhere! The bad man tooked me and I just couldn’t find you, Papa—I was a-scared!”
Realizing that his son had just awakened from another nightmare about being in the cave where he had spent time in the dark without anyone to care for him other than whoever had kidnapped him, Ben tried to calm him.
“Son — that was nothing but a bad dream. I’ve not left this room all night,” Ben cooed to the frightened boy. “Don’t you remember me telling you that I won’t go anywhere unless someone else is with you – someone you know and love – like Hop Sing?”
Little Joe nodded his head sadly and then choked out, “But – I thought I was all alone, Papa.”
Ben kissed his child’s cheek and whispered, “Just a bad dream, Joseph – nothing more than that. And I’m not going to leave you – you don’t have to worry about that. Now,” he paused as he pulled the boy onto his shoulder and eased back in the bed. “How about you and your papa get some sleep? I promise that I’ll protect you from those bad dreams, Son.”
With the side of his head now resting on his father’s shoulder and with his left arm stretched across his chest holding on to Pa tightly, Little Joe yawned and replied, “Papa — don’t never go away. Promise?”
“I won’t go away – I promise. Now close those eyes for me,” Ben whispered as he patted the boy’s back trying to lull Little Joe to sleep. ***
Shaking himself from the memory of the way he and his youngest had always been so close and the fact that he had been the only one who the boy had wanted to stay with him the first few weeks after returning home, Ben decided that he’d go into Virginia City the next day. He hoped that he could find out how the fight started and maybe that would give him some answers. It was very apparent that he wasn’t going to learn anything about what had happened that day from Joseph.
Waking with a loud gasp escaping his lips, Little Joe struggled to come out of the terrifying dream he had just experienced. It was becoming a nightly occurrence, and he had to pull himself off his bed to regroup a bit. Joe moved over to his water basin and rinsed his face in the cool water from the pitcher. His eyes caught sight of his mirror, and he noticed how wild his hair looked. It wasn’t just the fact that it was long and thick, it was beginning to look totally out of control just like his emotions of late. Little Joe walked to his bureau and swept his brush through his hair hoping to tame his curls some. He stared over to his bed and was glad that he hadn’t cried out due to his nightmare. Joe hadn’t wanted to awaken his family, especially not Pa. Fortunately, he had been able to stop himself from screaming which would have elicited numerous questions from Pa if he had come into his room. That was the last thing he needed. Walking over to his bed, Joe grabbed the blanket and pulled it over to the chair and sat down. The room was chilly, so he decided that he’d just cover himself and sit there until it was morning. He assumed that it would be better than the alternative which would’ve been lying back down and perhaps enduring yet another horrible dream.
***Aram reached down and ran his fingers through the thick brown curls on the back of the boy’s head. “I told you that you have the perfect hair. Though I have searched around every single year – cutting hundreds of heads of hair — since I took that one perfect curl of yours. No one’s ever been able to top the feel and appearance of these. Fortuitously only your hair will suit me,” He paused and separated each curl between his fingers. “It is the finest – you know!”
His eyes growing wide, Joe hesitantly asked, “What – you’re going to give me a haircut and stick my hair on that thing?” He motioned toward the wig block and swallowed hard due to the thought of Aram’s insane plan.
“Not just a haircut, Little Joe – I need to remove each strand close to their root. So, by the time I’m done I will have what you have,” he paused and swiped a hand over his bald head and added, “And you will have what I have now.”
Joe shook his head, his voice turning deadly, he threatened the man, “The only way you’ll get my hair is to kill me!”
“I knew you’d feel that way,” Aram nodded, “And that’s a pure shame, Joe. But – you’ve had your time on earth – and with a lot of admirers whereas I’ve been bald since I was very young. I lost all of mine due to a bout with scarlet fever. It was a rare thing – doesn’t happen often – but unfortunately, I went almost completely bald within a year after getting that disease. But now – thanks to you, Boy – I’ll have these thick – beautiful – curls of yours! It took twelve years, but you’ve now got the perfect head of hair – which will soon be mine!”
Little Joe yanked at the leather restraints as he struggled to free his wrists from the bonds that held him, but with no success. ***
Little Joe found himself on the floor next to the chair where he had fallen asleep. He shook his head and wondered what he was doing down there. It was then that he remembered that he had moved off his bed and sought the security he had thought that the chair would have provided him. Staring over to his window, Joe saw the light streaming in through the gingham curtains. He was both surprised that he had gone back underneath the blanket of sleep and that another nightmare had invaded his dreams. Little Joe fought back the fear again, the fear that the bad man was still alive.
“Little Joe?” Hoss called through the bedroom door. “Hey, Short Shanks – you up?”
Pulling himself to his feet, Joe tossed the blanket back on top of his bed and replied, “Yeah – I’ll be down in a couple of minutes!”
“Well, me and Adam’s fixing to leave but Pa’s at the table waiting on you!”
“Alright, Hoss – I’ll see you later.”
“Stay out of trouble Joe!” Hoss returned and then headed back down the stairs.
Setting down the previous day’s newspaper, Ben watched as his youngest made his way to the dining table. He inspected his son’s face as he sat down next to him.
“Your eye is half closed just like I thought it would be,” He remarked with a frown and passed the boy a cup of coffee.
“I’m okay,” Joe whispered trying not to look directly at his father.
“I’ve got to go pay the hands and then I have a couple of errands in town, Joseph. And I want you to stick around here.”
Little Joe shook his head surprised by what his father had just said. “I thought you wanted me to go up to the timber camp and make sure they got all of the equipment put up for the winter, Pa?”
“No – I’ll give that job to one of the ranch hands. There’s wood to be cut – and enough of it to keep you busy for the next few days.”
“I guess that’s my punishment for getting into a fight, huh?”
Ben set a hand onto his son’s left arm and forced his gaze. “Do you realize that you haven’t looked at me once since you sat down, Joseph?”
Joe didn’t know how he could respond to what his father had said because it happened to be true. He simply sat there unmoving.
“Still not going to speak to me, is that it?”
“I just spoke, Pa,” Joe sighed, “I asked you if I was being punished for getting into that fight.”
“No, you’re not being punished,” Ben insisted. “We’re going to need plenty of firewood to see us through the winter. But that’s not exactly what I was just referring to. You never really talk to me anymore, Son – not the way that you used to. It’s been months since you’ve shared how you’re feeling with me – or even spoken more than a few words when I’ve asked you about it. I’ve also noticed that you don’t look as though you’ve been sleeping very much here lately. I can see the dark circles under your eyes. Are you having those nightmares again? Is that what you’ve been keeping from me?”
“No, Sir.”
“Look at me and say that,” Ben attempted to direct his son’s gaze by touching the boy’s arm. Just as usual, Joe simply moved his arm away.
Little Joe frowned and shook his head upset over being put on the spot. “I’m fine. You don’t have to worry about me all the time,” he complained.
“Fine,” He sighed, attempting to hide the hurt he felt due to the constant rejection that he continued to get from the boy. “Eat your breakfast, Joseph,” Ben said, wishing that he had made some progress in getting his son to confide in him. He stood from his chair and looked down at the boy. “And then you stay put, you understand? I don’t want you leaving the yard.”
“Yes, Sir,” he returned with another frown, dropping his head down again.
Ben shook his head sadly as he began to walk away from the table. Then, unable to leave without making one final effort to get through to his son, he turned back and dropped a hand onto Joe’s shoulder, squeezing it gently. “Joseph – you’re my son and I will always worry about you. And I wish you’d tell me what’s really going on with you,” he said softly with sorrow coming out in his words. Getting no response from the boy, he turned and walked away.
*** I’m sorry, Pa. *** Joe thought as he fought back his tears.
After paying the ranch hands and sending one of them up to the timber camp, Ben made his way into Virginia City. Once he’d stopped by the mercantile for a few small items that Hop Sing had requested and picked up the mail, he made his way to the Silver Dollar Saloon. The place was full of rowdy cowhands who had drawn their pay and were spending it on liquor when Ben walked through the swinging doors. Spotting Sam down at the far end of the bar he made his way in between the crowd of cowboys and over to him.
“Hi, Sam,” Ben smiled at the man as he turned around after drawing off a beer.
The bartender handed the mug to his customer and then looked over at Ben. “Well, Little Joe said that his brothers would be coming by this weekend – he didn’t say anything about his pa!” Sam grinned and shook hands with the white-haired man.
“I think I got a jump on my two older boys,” Ben chuckled. “How have you been doing?”
“Busy,” Sam nodded as another customer handed him two silver dollars and ordered a bottle of whiskey. He reached underneath the counter and retrieved the rotgut and handed it over to the man. “But Fridays are one of my most profitable days of the week so I ain’t complaining.”
“Listen, Sam,” Ben began, lowering his voice and moving closer to the other man. “I won’t hold you up, but I was just wondering if you could tell me what that fight yesterday was all about?”
“Didn’t Little Joe tell you?”
Frowning, Ben shook his head, “No, the boy was tight-lipped about it when he got home. Do you know what started it?”
“Sure do,” Sam replied with a quick nod to his head. He leaned closer to Ben so they could speak privately without anyone up at the bar hearing the exchange. “Timmons started right in on the boy the minute he walked in.”
“What did he say to Joseph?”
“He was teasing him about his hair.”
“His hair?” Ben asked, surprised by the information. “What did he say – do you know?”
“He kept calling Little Joe miss and ma’am and such. He really railed on the boy, Ben. I can’t say I blame Joe for getting mad.”
Ben groaned and shook his head. “So – he kept teasing the boy and Joe hauled off and hit Timmons?”
“That’s about the size of it, Ben.”
“Well, at least I know now.”
“Ben?” Sam whispered, leaning forward on the counter. “You know Little Joe’s hair sure is long – and well – he’s probably going to get teased about it again if he doesn’t do something about it. There’s a new barber in town.”
“Yes, I heard,” Ben nodded. *** But how in the heck am I supposed to try and tell Joseph that he’s got to get a haircut? The last time I made him get one he was almost killed! *** He thought to himself
“Maybe it’d be a good thing if you took Little Joe to go see him – before someone else harasses him about his hair?”
“All I can do is try, Sam,” Ben sighed. “Thanks for explaining everything to me – it’s good to know. I’ll let you get back to making a profit.”
“Don’t you want a drink before you go?”
Ben shook his head, “No, I’m afraid I’d overindulge. It’s been a long week. Thanks again!” And with that being his last statement, he walked out of the saloon after leaving a dollar on the bar for Sam.
“Now, Boys,” Ben paused casting a wary glance in the direction of the staircase. Little Joe had gone up to his room to wash up before supper, and he wanted to make sure that the boy didn’t hear what he was going to say to Adam and Hoss. “Like I told you just go along with me during dinner. When I mention the new barber both of you subtly announce that you want to go with me Saturday to get your hair cut, okay?”
“Sure, Pa,” Hoss nodded.
Adam thought for a few minutes and then replied, “Do you really think that Joe will go along with the idea?”
Ben sighed and raised his arms in gesture, “All I can do is try, Son. After listening to what Sam told me today I’m afraid that the boy is going to have more insults thrown his way if he doesn’t get his hair cut soon. It’s at least three inches longer than it was when Aram cut it. And it was awfully long back then.”
“Okay, Pa,” Adam agreed. “I’ll try my best to sound convincing. I only hope it works. The kid must know that he needs a haircut! It’s way past his collar now.”
“He knows,” Ben frowned. “But after what he went through – well – I think we can all understand what the thought of going back into a barbershop is doing to him.”
“Pa? I thought I heard a sound coming from Little Joe’s room last night. By the time I’d sat up in my bed the noise had stopped. Is he having those same nightmares again – the ones he had right after Aram cut his hair?”
“I don’t know, Hoss. It’s gotten to the point with Joseph that he hardly ever confides in me anymore. You both said those six weeks he was with you on the cattle drive he acted okay but since you all got back in September, he’s changed. He’s standoffish — well, at least with me!”
“Yeah,” Adam agreed. “Hoss and I were talking about that last week. Neither of us have ever seen the kid act so coolly towards you. It just doesn’t make any sense!”
Ben stood from his chair and let out a deep sigh filled with both frustration and concern. “It makes sense if that boy blames me for what happened.”
“I don’t get it, why now? I mean right after it happened Little Joe didn’t act any differently towards you, Pa. He was just as close to you as he’s always been.”
Adam jumped back in, “Maybe it’s his hair. It might not have bothered him until it started to get some length to it. By September it had finally grown to the length that it was when Aram abducted Little Joe.”
Ben stared at his eldest and nodded, “That could be the case – I just don’t know –” Ben paused when he spotted Little Joe coming down the stairs. After sending a warning glance over to his other sons he addressed the boy. “I hope you’re hungry after all that wood chopping, Joseph! Hop Sing made a nice roast for all of us.”
Making his way down to the living room, Little Joe nodded to his father, “Yeah, I’m hungry.”
Ben patted the boy’s back as they turned to the dining room.
The conversation around the table began normally with everyone talking about their day and what they had accomplished. Ben didn’t offer any information about going to the Silver Dollar Saloon for obvious reasons. He waited patiently until they were halfway done eating and then began to address what he’d told his two older boys earlier.
Sending an uneasy glance around the table, Ben began to broach the subject delicately.
“I noticed that there’s a new barber in town,” he mentioned casually as he sipped his coffee, purposely avoiding looking directly at the boy to his right.
Both Adam and Hoss shot apprehensive looks back and forth and then stared over at Joe. Upon hearing his father’s statement, the boy abruptly set his fork on his plate and dropped his head down to his chest.
“Oh? Have you met him, Pa?” Hoss asked, trying to give his little brother some time to regroup a bit.
“Yes – Roy introduced us today. He’s from New England originally and seems very nice,” Ben said and looked at his youngest to try and determine how he was handling the topic of discussion.
Deciding that he should jump in on the subject Adam looked down the table at his father and remarked, “You know I could sure use a trim. I mean Hop Sing’s done a pretty good job with his kitchen shears, but he told me that he doesn’t really like that one particular chore. He told me that he’s got enough to do around here already.”
Clearing his throat, Ben replied, “I was going back to town tomorrow to get some supplies and maybe get a haircut. How about the two of us go together, Adam?”
“Sounds good, Pa,” Adam nodded to his father.
“What about you, Hoss?” Ben continued, still avoiding staring over at his youngest.
Hoss felt Adam’s kick under the table and looked over at him frowning. He hadn’t needed the coaxing as he was just getting ready to pipe up. “Yeah, Pa – I wouldn’t mind getting spruced up a bit.”
Turning his attention to the subdued seventeen-year-old to his right who was trying his best to avoid his father’s eyes as well as the subject of barbers, Ben asked, “Joseph? What about you?”
Joe abruptly slid his chair back from the table and answered sharply, “No!” Then he stood and turned away from the others, hurrying up to his bedroom.
Ben shook his head and let out a discouraged sigh. “Maybe it’s still too soon?”
“No, Pa,” Adam responded. “Personally, I think it’s been long enough. Nine months ago, Joe was kidnapped – that’s almost a year. It’s time that the boy faced up to it.”
“You can’t blame Little Joe,” Hoss interjected. “He’s the one who had to lie there strapped down to a table and watch that evil man cut the curls off his head one at a time. It’s still fresh in his mind – something like that just don’t go away especially knowing how Little Joe’s always liked to wear his hair long.”
“Hoss – the kid used to wear his hair down to the collar of his jacket. It’s a good four inches past that now. You don’t want folks to tease Little Joe – like Timmons did!”
Hoss’ face revealed his anger over what had happened at the saloon, he announced. “I’ll take care of Timmons the next time I see him!”
“No – I don’t want any of you boys going after him,” Ben insisted. “As for Joseph’s problem – well it’s not just a matter of how long his hair has gotten. I don’t want that boy to spend the rest of his life being afraid to go into a barbershop or being too scared to get his hair cut. Just last month Hop Sing tried to talk your brother into letting him trim his hair and the boy got so angry that he didn’t speak to him for days. I’ve just got to get Joseph to listen to reason about getting his hair cut somehow.”
“You want me to talk to him for you, Pa?” Hoss offered after witnessing the frustration and worry spreading across his father’s face.
Ben shook his head slowly and answered, “No – but thank you, Son. If he’s going to get mad at someone then I guess it might just as well be me. Joseph hardly speaks to me now –” he trailed off.
“If you need any help, Pa –we’re both willing to talk to the kid,” Adam nodded over to his father.
“Thank you,” Ben nodded and stood from the table. “Well, I guess I’d better go talk to him now before he falls to sleep.”
“Good luck, Pa,” Hoss called across the room as he watched his father heading for the stairs.
Standing just outside his son’s bedroom, Ben drew in a deep breath before knocking on the door. “Joseph? You still up?” he asked, opening the door and slowly easing inside the room.
Little Joe was seated on his bed with his back resting up against the headboard as his father made his way over to him.
Ben forced a smile on his lips as he sat down on the bed next to his youngest. “Are you feeling alright, Joseph?”
Only offering a slight nod to his head, Little Joe didn’t speak.
“You didn’t say goodnight –and well, to tell you the truth I was worried. I hope that what I said about going to get a haircut didn’t upset you.”
Finally looking into his father’s eyes, he answered, “I don’t want to talk about it.”
Placing a hand on his son’s shoulder, Ben whispered, “Joseph, you wouldn’t be going by yourself. We’d all be there with you.”
Abruptly swinging his legs over to the side of his bed, Little Joe pulled himself to standing. He made his way across the room and over to his bureau to escape from what Pa was suggesting. Facing the mirror, he studied the appearance of his hair along with his father’s reflection, wondering if he’d make the move over to him. Just a minute later Joe could clearly see Pa pulling himself up from the bed. He took note of the determined set to the man’s shoulders as he approached. Joe knew what was coming next; yet another attempt at convincing him to go to the barbershop. Grabbing his hairbrush he calmly ran the bristles through his long locks trying to appear as though he was more concerned with his grooming than with anything that Pa was preparing to offer by way of the usual lecture.
“Joseph,” Ben called out as he set a hand onto the boy’s shoulder hoping that he’d turn around.
“Drop it will you, Pa?” he complained, trying to control his anger over what Pa was suggesting.
“We have to talk about it.”
Tossing his brush down on top of the bureau, Joe spun around to face his father. He angrily exclaimed, “It’s my hair! Don’t I have the right to decide what I do with my own hair?”
Ben studied the boy’s appearance, and it was very easy to see that he was reflecting on having his hair stolen from him by Aram or he never would have shouted at him. Recovering from his son’s loud outburst, he drew closer to the boy. “Son,” he began with a great deal of compassion in his tone of voice. “I just don’t want you to be afraid of going to get your hair cut due to what happened.”
“Afraid?” Little Joe questioned, with a great deal of irony in his voice. “Now why would I be afraid, Pa? Just because I was strapped down onto a table and had to watch a maniac slowly cut every last curl off my head one by one – why should that make me afraid?”
“Joseph,” Ben sighed. He yearned to pull his son into his arms and help him cope with everything he was feeling but due to the circumstances he couldn’t. “Joseph – Aram’s dead.”
“Not Aram, Pa – the bad man – and you’ve got no proof that he is,” Joe whispered. He dropped his head down to his chest and squeezed his eyes shut tightly trying to rid himself of the visions of the evil man and what he had done to him.
“Hoss shot him – and he fell into the river. If he wasn’t killed by your brother’s bullet those rapids would’ve torn his body apart,” Ben insisted, still trying to ease the boy’s mind that there was no longer anything to worry about concerning Aram ever coming back.
Little Joe simply looked down at the floor, not convinced by his father’s explanation. He felt that without a body to verify that Aram was dead there wasn’t any real proof that he was.
“Are you having the same nightmares you had right after we brought you home?” Pa struggled to get his son to admit to what he was going through. When he failed to get a response from the boy he lifted Joe’s chin, forcing his attention. “Joseph? Why won’t you confide in me anymore? You know that there’s nothing that you can’t tell me. It’s not good to keep everything bottled up inside of you, Son.”
Joe’s accusatory gaze fell onto his father as he replied, “C’mon, Pa! I know the real reason why you suddenly suggested that we all go to get our hair cut at the same time! You went into town today and of course you just had to find out what started the fight between Timmons and me! Okay – so now you know. But don’t think that I’m afraid because I’m not!”
Ben placed a firm hand on his son’s arm, forcing him to make eye contact. “Joseph, there’s nothing to be ashamed of – if you do happen to be afraid – not after what you went through.”
“No, Pa – I’m not afraid,” Joe insisted vehemently. “I’m absolutely terrified! There – now you know! Does that answer all your questions? Is that what you wanted me to admit to you?”
“Son,” Ben responded softly, hoping to instill some calm in the boy. “Like I said a minute ago – he’s dead. You don’t have to worry — he can’t hurt you anymore.”
Little Joe just shook his head, frustrated over the fact that he couldn’t make his father understand the way he was feeling deep inside. He walked away from Pa and back over to his bed. Crawling underneath his covers he muttered, “Yeah, you said that – you’ve said that a lot, Pa. But as far as I’m concerned, it’s just like I told you nine months ago — you can never kill the bad man. I’m going to sleep.”
Ben sighed and walked back across the room, staring down at his son once more. “Joseph?” he called down to the boy. “Do you blame me?”
“Blame you for what?” he muttered, closing his eyes.
“I sent you to get that haircut.”
Little Joe shook his head, “It wouldn’t have mattered whether you did or not. He had a plan, Pa – he was hellbent on taking me anyway – I told you that.”
“I know that’s what you said – but the way you’ve been acting towards me – I can’t help wondering –” he paused trying to get through to the boy. “Joseph – I’m so sorry that I unknowingly put you in danger.”
“Forget about it, Pa. Afterall, it’s only hair,” he answered, making light of something that had harmed him in so many ways. Little Joe rolled over onto his side, deliberately facing away from his father.
“Joseph,” Ben whispered. He paused and wondered if he should make the move or not. Finally, deciding it was worth a try, Ben leaned down and gently combed his fingers through the boy’s hair in the same fashion that he had done most of his son’s life. “Please don’t shut me out.”
Little Joe never said another word, but he did shrug his father’s hand off his head. Then he simply pulled the covers over his shoulder and willed himself to go to sleep. It left Pa standing there more worried than he had been before coming into the room. Ben sighed wearily wishing that he had gotten through to his son, but he knew that he hadn’t. Surrendering for the night, he quietly walked out of the bedroom.
*** “Is that fear I see in your eyes, Joe?” Aram laughed as he moved the shears closer to the boy’s face.
“I’m not afraid,” Little Joe insisted and then let out an involuntary gasp when the blades of the shears passed within an inch from his right eye.
“Sure, you are! Your fear is easy to spot in the reflection on the blades of my shears! But you don’t have to worry. I’m not going to kill you unless you give me more trouble. Now you just hold nice and still and we’ll get started in just a minute.”
“You’re insane, Mister Cullen!”
Aram’s mouth twisted into a scowl. He reached down and grabbed a handful of the boy’s curls and yanked hard. “What’s my name again, Boy?”
Moaning from the pain caused by the man’s sudden move, Little Joe answered weakly, “The bad man.”
Aram laughed and patted the boy’s cheek, “That’s a good boy! You remember that and I won’t have to do it again. Afterall, I don’t want to ruin those curls by pulling on them so hard. They’ll be my hair soon.”
“Never,” Little Joe answered coldly, “they’ll never be yours. Not even if you kill me.”
“You’re wrong, Boy,” Aram returned sinisterly, “very wrong – they’re already mine!” And with his statement, suddenly the hairpiece was finished and the man stood before Little Joe wearing his curls.
“No! Give them back!” Little Joe shouted and fought with the bad man, somehow pulling himself free from the leather restraints and lunging toward his neck. ***
“Joseph – Joseph – stop!” Ben pleaded with his son, purposely keeping his voice low and monotone trying to soothe the anger he was seeing on Joseph’s face. The boy grabbed a handful of his father’s nightshirt and robe as he fought against the hold he had on his shoulders. “Joseph – it’s me – it’s Pa – it’s alright – you’re having a nightmare.”
“Give them back! They’re not yours! They’re mine!” He yelled and fought against the hands that were trying to keep him down on the bed.
“Joseph – it’s me – snap out of it, Son,” Ben insisted as he finally freed himself from the boy’s hands. He pushed Joe back against his pillows and tightly held on to his shoulders.
Thrashing his head from side to side, Little Joe screamed again, “Give them back! They’re mine! They belong to me – not you!”
Still attempting to control the sound of his voice, Ben said, “It’s alright, Boy – it’s alright. Settle down now.”
Finally, the fight having left him, Joe’s head stopped moving on the pillow as his father watched and waited. “That’s it – just breathe, Joseph. Breathe,” Ben crooned and waited for his son to open his eyes.
“They’re not yours – they’re mine,” Joe whimpered, his expression going from intense anger to sudden sadness.
Ben gently slapped his son’s cheek, attempting to release him from the horrific dream.
“It’s okay, it’s okay now, Joseph.”
“Pa?” Joe whispered as his eyes suddenly blinked open, bewildered to see his father sitting there on the bed next to him and not Aram Cullen. “What – what happened?”
Reaching over to the pitcher on the boy’s nightstand, Ben poured a glass of water and encouraged Joe to drink. After a little coaxing, Little Joe finally got down a few sips before he waved the glass away.
“That’s good, Son,” Ben nodded with a forced smile on his lips trying to hide his worry.
Staring up at his father and witnessing the concern that controlled his face, he asked filled with confusion, “What are you doing in here, Pa?”
“You were having a nightmare, Joseph – and a very bad one at that,” Ben replied sympathetically. “I believe you’ve probably had quite a few of these lately – but you’ve kept them from me.”
Little Joe stared down at his blanket trying to disguise the guilt on his face over the fact that Pa had been right. He had tried so hard to prevent himself from crying out when he’d had nightmares, and until that night, he had been successful. But now Joe knew that he had sent Pa scrambling into his bedroom to be at his side due to his screams.
Ben had to stop himself from reaching over and setting a hand on top of his son’s head. He couldn’t comb his fingers through Little Joe’s hair to calm him, not with the way that the boy had rejected his touch lately. “That’s why you’ve had those dark circles under your eyes. I knew something was going on with you. Joseph, I wish you’d told me what you’ve been dealing with.”
“Nothing to tell, Pa.”
“Joseph,” Ben began, groaning in frustration over his failure to get the boy to admit to him about what he had been dealing with. “It’s about time that you started to talk straight with me. I know you’re lying. Now – what’s going on? I want to know exactly how long you’ve been having these nightmares!”
“I don’t know,” he mumbled unable to look into Pa’s eyes and continue to hold the truth back from him.
“Joseph?” Ben forced his son’s gaze as the boy pulled himself up against his headboard. “Come on – you’re not that hard to read, you know? I’ve always been able to tell when you’re holding something back from me.”
“Go back to bed, Pa – I’m sorry I woke you up,” Joe returned as he dropped his head down to break loose from the eyes that knew him too well.
“Those nightmares are going to keep happening if you don’t deal with the cause of them.”
“I know what’s causing them. I’ll handle it – nothing you can do about it. Goodnight,” Little Joe insisted and crawled back underneath his blanket.
Sighing in defeat once again, Ben shook his head sadly. He just couldn’t understand why his youngest had been pushing him away. Little Joe had always come to him with his problems in the past and it just didn’t make any sense that he wouldn’t turn to him now.
“Goodnight,” Ben whispered sadly and turned to leave the room.
“What do you want, Hoss?” Little Joe asked as he set down the axe. He had been working on the wood pile for several days and had finally gotten to the very bottom.
“It’s Saturday and we’ve both worked hard enough this week. I already saddled Cochise for you,” Hoss smiled as he patted his little brother’s shoulder. “You’ve got enough done for one afternoon, Short Shanks. Let’s go for a ride, okay?”
Studying his brother’s face, Little Joe wondered if Hoss knew about the nightmare that had awakened their father the previous night. Pa hadn’t said anything about it at breakfast but then again, he didn’t think that he would have. But that didn’t mean that his father wouldn’t have discussed it with Hoss and Adam when he was out of earshot.
“I’ve got to get this done,” Joe complained mopping the sweat from his brow.
“It’s done,” Hoss chuckled and grabbed the axe, tossing it aside. “Go mount up, there’s something I want to show you.”
Shaking his head, Little Joe gave up on his protests. He knew that Hoss wasn’t going to give up no matter how much he insisted that he wasn’t going anywhere. Joe rolled his sleeves down and retrieved his jacket lying on the front porch. Soon the two of them were mounted on their horses and riding out of the yard.
The two brothers rode for well over an hour until they pulled up at a spot overlooking the Truckee River. Staring over at Hoss, Little Joe suddenly realized why they had ridden out there. His body stiffening due to the thought of what his brother was about to say, he stared down at his saddle.
“Climb down, Little Brother. Let’s stretch our legs some,” Hoss insisted as he swung down from his horse.
“I’d just as soon not.”
Hoss neared his brother and set a hand on his left leg. “It’s okay, Little Joe – there ain’t nothing to be upset about. Just come down from there so I can explain something to you. It ain’t gonna take long and then the two of us are going into Virginia City for a beer. Pa and Adam should be there and the four of us can just relax for a change.”
Wondering if what Hoss was planning by taking him to town was the same thing that his father had mentioned the previous night, Joe announced angrily, “I’m not getting a haircut!”
“I didn’t say you were, now did I? Pa and Adam went to the barbershop – but you ain’t got to go. Climb down, will you?”
Giving up on turning his horse and riding away, Little Joe dismounted and stood next to his brother. “Okay – what do you want to tell me?”
“Over here,” Hoss nodded to his brother and walked down to the riverbed. He waited until the boy caught up with him before continuing. Finally, Joe stood there next to him, and he shot out his hand and pointed. “That’s where Aram fell into the river after I shot him out of his saddle. I know I hit him, Little Joe, and that bullet probably killed the evil varmint. But if it didn’t — well, the river had all that snow run-off last spring, and the current would’ve pulled him into the rapids. It would’ve torn his body to shreds what with all those sharp rocks and boulders and as fast as it was moving.”
Little Joe’s gaze followed the river as far as he could see and then he glanced up at his brother. “Why are you telling me this, Hoss?”
“Because I never got the chance to bring you out here – and I just wanted you to see it for yourself,” Hoss explained, setting one large hand onto his brother’s shoulder.
Dropping his gaze down to the ground, Little Joe responded in a low reserved tone, “Pa told you about that nightmare I had – that’s why you decided to bring me here today.”
“I wuz gonna do it anyhow,” Hoss explained and offered a reassuring pat to Joe’s back. “I just thought today was as good as any to bring you here so’s I could show you. And since I figured it was a good day to go into town – well – here we are.”
“You don’t have to make up excuses for me, Hoss. I know why you did it. Pa thought that I’d believe that Aram was dead if you showed me where it happened. Right?”
Hoss shrugged his shoulders and replied, “Yeah – but honest I wuz planning on bringing you out here someday, Joe.”
Staring at the river again, Little Joe shook his head. He wasn’t convinced that the man was really dead. “Without a body there’s no way of proving that he died that day,” he muttered.
“Joe – now you know the power of those rapids when the water’s as high as it gets in the spring. There’s just no way that he could’ve survived that not to mention the slug I put in him!”
Looking downstream again, Little Joe shook his head and frowned. “Yeah sure. And by bringing me out here Pa probably thinks I won’t bother him anymore with my darn nightmares!”
Hoss shook his head; he knew that his brother was upset over the fact that he had awakened their father. Pa had told both Adam and him that his little brother had missed a lot of sleep lately and was doing his best to hide the fact that he’d been having nightmares.
“Pa don’t mind coming into your room when you have a nightmare, Little Brother. None of us do – if we can help,” he said softly trying to get Joe to understand that they were all worried about him.
“Well, Pa might not mind – but I do!” Joe returned, still upset that Pa had figured out the secret he’d been keeping from him for months. “I wish he hadn’t told you and Adam. I feel stupid enough for bringing him into my room last night.”
“How about you tell me about your dreams? You know it just might help,” Hoss offered, wrapping an arm around his brother’s shoulder hoping to comfort him.
“Hoss,” Little Joe began, trying to find the right words to say but he was having a difficult time explaining his feelings lately and preferred to keep everything to himself. “There’s nothing any of you can do about these nightmares I’ve been having. Like I told Pa – I want to work them out by myself.”
“They’re about Aram?”
Little Joe nodded and answered, “Yeah – but I don’t want to talk about it, okay?”
“I just thought if you came out here, you’d realize that there’s no way that he could’ve lived after being shot and then being pulled downstream in those rapids.”
“I appreciate what you’re trying to do and say, Hoss – but –” Joe paused as he closed his eyes. The images of Aram cutting his hair off a piece at a time were so vivid that some days he couldn’t shake them off and it had been one of those days. “Let’s just go. I’ve seen enough.”
“He couldn’t have survived that current, Little Brother,” Hoss insisted as he watched the boy walking back to Cochise.
Little Joe didn’t respond. He vaulted up onto his horse and turned towards town. Frowning over his inability to get through to his brother, Hoss mounted his horse and rode with him to Virginia City.
By the time both Hoss and Little Joe arrived in Virginia City it was late afternoon and the town was bustling with both cowhands and residents mulling about on the streets. They swung down from their saddles and tied their horses up to a hitching post in front of The Silver Dollar Saloon.
“Hey, Hoss,” Joe began, turning towards his brother who was preparing to walk through the swinging doors.
“Yeah?”
“I’ve got something that I need to do – so you go get a table and I’ll be back in just a little bit.”
Hoss didn’t want to take his eyes off his brother due to the way he had been acting all afternoon. To him it seemed like Joe’s mood had turned very glum ever since they’d gone to the place where Aram had met his demise. “I ain’t got to go in there yet. How about I go with you, Little Brother?”
Joe shook his head and replied, “No – I’ll handle it, just something I’ve got to take care of. Go on get a beer. I’ll be back.” And before his brother could object, he turned and walked off.
Hoss frowned and wondered if he should follow his brother. Deciding that Little Joe wouldn’t appreciate being tailed, he turned and walked through the swinging doors.
The bell above the door to the office of Doctor Paul Martin announced his arrival as Little Joe walked inside. He glanced around the small waiting room and was relieved that there weren’t any patients at the time. Only a minute later the doctor came out of his examination room and walked over to his most frequent patient.
“Little Joe!” Doc greeted the boy warmly and made his way over to him. “Haven’t seen you in a while – how have you been?”
Shaking Paul’s outstretched hand, Little Joe wondered how he was going to answer his question. He finally returned, “Oh, not bad, Doc. How about you?”
“I’m fine – just putting up some supplies that just came in on the stage. How about coming inside my examination room with me and the two of us can talk while I unpack everything?”
“Sure,” Joe nodded and followed the man into the next room.
Paul busied himself by unpacking a few small boxes and opening some of the bags he’d brought over from the mercantile.
“Did you just drop by to say hi or are you hurt? I see you’ve got some bruises on your face. What happened, Little Joe – forget to duck again?” He quipped.
“Oh yeah – the other day I got into a little fracas with old Timmons. I’m okay – just wanted to ask you something,” Joe replied nervously.
Paul placed a few jars of medicine on his shelves and then reached inside a brown paper sack and withdrew some candy. “Would you like some, Joe?” He offered, holding out the peppermint sticks that he’d just brought over from the mercantile for his younger patients.
Getting a glimpse of what the doctor held there in his hands, Little Joe’s mind suddenly retrieved a memory from when he was five years old. Just like many others recently, it was from the period of time just after his first abduction. It played out in his thoughts, and he couldn’t make it go away no matter how badly he wanted to.
*** Ben watched as Doctor Martin examined his child, knowing that Paul was going to be extra gentle with the boy due to the awful ordeal he had gone through. Little Joe had been afraid of leaving the house when Pa had suggested that the four of them go into town and it had taken a great deal of coaxing to get the boy into the buckboard.
“How about you take in a deep breath for me, Little Joe? Then I’ll let you put that shirt back on and we’ll be done,” Paul explained as he held the bell of his stethoscope in his hand. He had already examined the little boy and found him to be in much better shape than he had presumed he’d find him to be after the terrible ordeal of being locked inside a cage inside of a cave by an unknown abductor. Still, he found Joe to be very skittish and had done his best to get the examination over with as quickly as he could.
Little Joe stared anxiously at his father, not knowing what to do. He watched as Pa nodded his way and drew in a deep breath to show the boy. Joe finally did the same as his father and held it in until Paul told him to exhale.
“That’s fine, Little Joe,” Paul smiled and surreptitiously inspected the boy’s back for any bruises or cuts. He looked over at Ben and nodded that all was well. “You’ve got just a few small scrapes on your knees and hands, Little Joe. But then again, most boys your age have those just due to playing around. Is that how you got them?”
Little Joe shook his head “no” and stared over at his father. He didn’t want to talk about his time held in the cave and until that day he hadn’t let anyone touch him other than Pa, his brothers and Hop Sing ever since he’d gotten rescued.
“Here you are, Little Joe – just like I promised,” Paul smiled and handed the boy his shirt. “Can you do those buttons up all by yourself or do you want me to help you?”
“Papa — Papa can I go home?” Little Joe asked nervously as his fingers fumbled with the buttons of his shirt.
Witnessing how fearful his little boy was and that he’d misaligned the buttonholes with the buttons, Ben stepped closer to the examination table and helped his son with his shirt. “We’ll be leaving soon, Joseph,” He nodded to the boy. “Okay, here you go,” he announced and lifted Joe off the table, setting him onto the floor.
“You were a good patient,” Paul announced turning for his counter. “And I’ve got something for you because you listened better than most of my patients do. Now – here you are – a peppermint stick.”
After taking only one glance at what the doctor had in his hands, Little Joe quickly ran behind his father’s legs and held onto them for dear life.
Both Doc and Ben were surprised that the boy looked so terrified and neither of them had a clue as to what had caused it. Ben pulled Joe around in front of him and dropped down to his knees so he could look into his eyes.
“What’s wrong, Boy? Tell your Pa what’s got you so frightened?”
Little Joe wrapped his arms around his father’s neck and held on tightly.
“Joseph – you’re shaking – now tell me what’s wrong,” Ben insisted as he patted the boy’s back.
“The bad man, Papa.” Little Joe whimpered and pointed to the peppermint stick that Paul was holding in his hand.
Exchanging confused glances, Ben and Doc wondered what had triggered Joe’s outburst. It was almost as though the instant that the little boy had seen the piece of peppermint he gave the appearance of being scared to death.
Doc walked back over to his counter and dropped the peppermint into its original jar and moved over to the other candy dish on the far side of the room. Reaching inside he drew out something else to offer the frightened boy.
“You know what, Little Joe?” Paul asked as he returned to where both father and son waited. “I think you’re more of a gumdrop kind of boy. Now here you are,” He smiled as he held the piece of candy out to show Joe.
Staring cautiously at the piece of candy held there in the doctor’s right palm, Little Joe realized that it was a gumdrop. He looked back over to his father and saw him nod his way.
“It’s okay, Joseph,” Ben reassured his son.
The little boy reached for the candy, popping it inside of his mouth. Ben and the doctor nodded at each other, glad that Little Joe had responded better to that type of candy. They presumed that something must have happened to the boy during his abduction which had brought on his earlier fear along with his mention of the bad man.
“Thank you,” Little Joe said to the doctor and then reached his arms up towards his father.
“You’re very welcome,” Doc nodded.
Smiling down at his child, Ben lifted Little Joe into his arms. The boy wrapped his arms around his father’s neck and held on tightly.
“I think you’re going to be just fine, Little Joe,” Paul smiled and offered a quick pat to the boy’s head. ***
“Little Joe?” Doc tried to get the boy’s attention for the second time. It appeared as though he was in a trance.
*** All little boys love peppermint. *** Little Joe thought to himself, remembering what the bad man had said to him back when he was five years old and how he had reprised that saying some nine months ago in the stamp mill. *** I was better off nine months ago when I couldn’t remember any of this stuff! *** “Oh – sorry, Doc,” Joe responded after shaking himself from the haunting memory. “What did you say?”
“I asked you if you weren’t feeling well, Joe.”
Shrugging his shoulders, Little Joe replied, “I’m feeling okay — but – to tell you the truth I’ve not been sleeping too good, Doc.”
“Oh? What do you think is causing it?”
“I’ve been having some nightmares,” Joe confessed and hoped that the doctor wouldn’t make him delve into what they had been about.
“Nightmares about what?” Paul asked and motioned for Little Joe to take a seat in the chair opposite him.
“I don’t know exactly, Doc. Anyway – I was wondering – do you think you could give me something that would help me sleep? If I could just get a few nights without these dreams, I’d feel a whole lot better.”
Frowning, Paul shook his head, “I don’t like to give a patient medication unless I think it’s called for. How long have these nightmares been going on?”
“A couple of months I guess.”
“Months?” Paul asked, surprised by the boy’s revelation. “Have you had them every night, Little Joe?”
“No – I mean at first it was just a couple of times a week – but here lately they happen about every night. Couldn’t you just give me something to try and see if it’ll work?”
““Don’t you think that you should talk about these dreams you’re having? That might be enough to make them stop.”
Joe shook his head and sighed, “Doc, they’re about what happened – you know – with Mister Cullen. I’d just as soon not go into them. Can you help me?”
Doc stood from his chair and walked across the room. Opening one of his cabinets he took out a container with numerous small packets of powdered medicine.
“I’ll tell you what I’ll do,” He began and walked back over to Little Joe. “It’s Saturday. I’ll give you enough for four nights. The fifth night – that’ll be Wednesday – I want you to try it on your own without this medicine to see what happens,” He placed four small brown envelopes with medication inside into Joe’s outstretched hand. “Now – you must be careful with this, Little Joe, like all medication you’ve got to take it according to the instructions. Do I have your word that you will?”
“Yes, Sir,” Joe nodded as he placed all the envelopes inside his jacket. “I promise.”
“One packet – and only one each night. Put it in some water at dinner time. It’ll probably hit you about thirty minutes after you take it so get right up to your room as soon as you’re done eating, okay?”
“Okay,” Little Joe smiled, relieved that the doctor had gone along with his plan. He stood in preparation to leave the office.
“Joe – I think you should tell your Pa that you’re taking those. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about and it might be a good thing that he’s made aware of the fact that you’re taking sleeping powders. In the morning you might be a little groggy.”
Frowning, Little Joe stared up at the doctor and replied, “Do I have to?”
“I can do it for you? I saw Ben down at the barbershop a little while ago. He’s still in town.”
“Never mind, I’ll tell Pa,” Joe begrudgingly agreed.
Setting a sympathetic hand on the boy’s shoulder, Paul insisted, “Do it tonight, Little Joe.”
“I will. Thanks, Doc. Let me pay you,” Joe reached inside his jacket for his wallet.
Paul smiled and reached for the boy’s arm, stopping him. He waved the money away. “No charge this time, Joe. I figure you’ve brought me plenty of business over these last seventeen years – this one’s on the house.”
Little Joe chuckled and patted the doctor’s arm. “I guess that’s true. Hey – thanks a lot.”
“I want to see you right back here next Thursday, Young Man. Don’t make me drive all the way out to the Ponderosa, you hear?”
“Sure, Doc. See you then,” Joe nodded and turned out of the office.
When Little Joe stepped out of Doctor Martin’s office the afternoon sun had begun to set behind the mountain range to the west and darkness was fast approaching as he made his way down the wooden walkway. Heading back to the Silver Dollar Saloon to meet up with Hoss, he passed the bank and the mercantile. Just as he was about to cross the street, Little Joe happened to walk by an alleyway where a hand shot out from the darkness in between two buildings, pulling him into the shadows.
“Going somewhere, Joe?” Came the voice of Pete Timmons.
Looking over at the man, Little Joe frowned to see that he wasn’t alone. Standing next to him was another roughneck by the name of Billy Murdoch who hung around Pete and usually did his bidding.
“What do you want?” Joe hissed over at the two men. His hand slipped down to his Colt as he prepared to unfasten the hammer loop. Joe was just about to make a play for it when Billy drew his own weapon and held it on him.
“Toss that thing over here,” Pete instructed pointing to Joe’s revolver.
“Why don’t you come and take it, Pete? Or do you need Billy to do all the rough stuff for you?”
Pete reached over to remove Joe’s gun and was surprised when he felt the left fist to his jaw. Billy hurriedly grabbed Little Joe’s Colt and placed it inside his belt.
“You’re gonna be sorry that you threw that punch, Joe,” Pete fumed. He slugged him hard in the face, ripping Joe’s bottom lip open from the ring he wore on his right hand.
Little Joe fell back against the brick wall to the feed and grain store readying for another assault from the man’s fists. He kicked Pete across the alleyway only to have Billy step forward and hit him in the stomach so hard that it knocked him down to his knees. Pete regrouped after having taken Joe’s boot to his gut. While Little Joe was still down, he reached behind the boy and caught a fistful of his hair, tugging it hard.
“Your hair is so long you’re starting to look like a girl. Maybe we ought to do you a favor and give you a haircut, Little Joe?” Pete laughed as he yanked the hair on the back of Joe’s head so hard that it almost pulled him back up on his feet.
Joe heard the voice in his head again as he struggled against the hold Pete had on his hair.
Aram’s mouth twisted into a scowl. He reached down and grabbed a handful of the boy’s curls and yanked hard. “What’s my name again, Boy?”
Looking up at Pete Little Joe no longer saw the bully but instead in front of him stood the bad man who had tormented him and stolen his hair. Swept up in a white-hot surge of anger and hatred, Joe managed to break away from the man’s hold and then knocked him onto his back. Then one by one he pummeled him with his fists, shouting with every blow he sent down on Pete’s stomach.
“They’re mine! They’re mine!” Joe yelled and continued to vent out his contempt for the man who had taken his hair and frightened him as a small child.
“Billy!” Pete gasped. “Billy! Knock this fool off me! He’s plum loco!” Pete screamed, unable to pull himself up high enough to defend himself.
Billy was finally able to shove Little Joe off Pete and then the two men relentlessly beat the boy with their fists and the toes of their boots. But the loud shout from the sidewalk stopped them before Joe was hurt any worse than he already had been. A rough-looking middle-aged cowboy moved swiftly into the alleyway and sent both Pete and Billy scrambling to run off in the opposite direction.
“You’d better run!” The man shouted as he watched both Pete and Billy high-tailing it out of the alley. “If I catch you two polecats, I’m gonna pull your ears off and stuff them down your throats!”
Dropping down to his knees the man cradled Little Joe’s head and asked, “You okay, Boy?”
Spitting blood out from the side of his mouth, Little Joe nodded as the man helped pull him to his feet. Rubbing the back of his neck he attempted to grin at the foreman. “Thanks, Fletcher. I owe you one,” Joe muttered as he held a hand to his stomach.
“Dad burn stupid little idiot! Why’d you go up against those two lowlifes?” Fletcher scolded the boy, shaking his head.
“Not of my own choosing, Fletcher, they jumped me when I was heading over to the saloon,” Joe explained as the foreman helped him out to the walkway.
“Sit down yonder,” Fletcher pointed to one of the two horse troughs on the street.
Staggering on wobbly legs, Little Joe managed to make it to the water trough and sat down on the edge still trying not to lose what little he had eaten that morning at breakfast.
Fletcher removed his neckerchief and groaned. “I’d better clean you up before old Ben sees you and has a pure fit. Hold still you no account shiftless scallywag!”
Little Joe simply sat there as the man soaked the material in the cold water and wrung it out. Fletcher gently wiped away some of the blood on Joe’s face and then soaked the cloth again. “I ain’t no nurse maid – here, you take care of yourself, you worthless little rapscallion!” he said and handed the cloth to Joe.
“Yeah, I know,” Little Joe tried to smile but his lip had a nasty cut on it, so he stopped. “I’m no good just like you said,” he nodded. “Why’d you even bother with me?”
“You’ve got the Ponderosa brand on your hindquarters so’s you belong to my boss. I figured he just might want to keep you alive. But I’ve never figured out why your Pa puts so much stock in you!”
Little Joe began to chuckle but had to stop because his ribcage was hurting too much. “I don’t know why either,” he admitted groaning due to the pain he was experiencing.
Fletcher looked across the street where he spotted both Ben and Adam getting ready to walk into the saloon.
“Well let’s just find out if I’m right,” Fletcher grinned and pointed. “Hey, Ben! Come and fetch your little maverick! He’s got himself tore up again!”
*** Oh no! This is the last thing I need right now! *** Little Joe thought when he heard the foreman shouting for Ben to come across the street.
“You just had to do that, didn’t you?” Joe complained as he watched both Pa and Adam running over to the two of them.
Fletcher laughed and patted the boy’s shoulder. “Yep, that’s right, Little Joe. Old Ben’s gonna have himself a heart attack when he sees that face of yours in about ten seconds!”
“Thanks for saving my life,” Joe groaned. “Once he finds out who I just got into another fight with, Pa will probably want to tear into me more than those two idiots just did. At the very least I’ll have to endure one heck of a lecture!”
“You’re welcome,” Fletcher replied with a grin. “Always eager to help one of you little varmints that Ben calls his kids. Though if it were me, I’d have put all three of you in a burlap sack and tossed you into Tahoe just as soon as you started to talk. Come to think of it,” He paused and eyed the boy. “You’re still young enough and small enough that Ben could still stuff you in a sack and toss you, Joe. And if’n I was your Pa – you’d never have made it past two years old – what with that mouth of yours,” he quipped and swatted the boy on the back so hard that he almost knocked Joe into the water trough. “Now you owe me a dollar for that neckerchief – I don’t want it back now that you’ve bled all over the danged thing!”
“Yeah, I figured that was coming next,” Little Joe replied and reached inside his jacket, pulling out a silver dollar. “Doubt the thing was worth a dollar even when it was brand new – but here,” He slapped it into the foreman’s hand.
Fletcher chuckled, “Oh it wasn’t — I stole it off your brother Hoss anyhow. Thanks, Little Joe, looks like my first drink tonight will be on you. Oh look – Ben’s about here now. He made it in record time — and he sure don’t look happy!”
“I wish Pa had tossed me into Tahoe – that way I wouldn’t have to –” Joe stopped in midsentence when he heard his father’s commanding voice.
“Joseph!” Ben shouted as he made it there next to him followed by Adam. “What in the devil happened to you?”
“I’ll leave it to you to explain, Youngin,” Fletcher nodded to the boy. “You need to keep this one locked up at the ranch or send him back east like you done with your oldest boy, Ben,” he smiled and walked across the street heading for the saloon.
Ben shot the foreman a perplexed glance and then stared hard at his youngest boy. “Well?”
“Pa – I got jumped on the way across the street,” Joe moaned trying to avoid looking directly at his father.
“Who was it, Little Joe?” Adam asked after witnessing the anger spreading across his father’s face.
“Timmons and his friend Billy. Hey – let’s go get a beer – Hoss is waiting on us,” Joe attempted to sound better than he felt at that moment.
Ben reached down and grabbed his son’s elbow, pulling Joe to his feet. “Adam, go tell Hoss what happened and then let Roy know about all this so he can pick Timmons up and arrest him! I’m going to take your brother to Doc’s.”
“Pa – no use – Timmons won’t stay in jail long anyhow. He’ll just post bail like usual,” Little Joe insisted.
“You just keep still,” Ben ordered. “Adam take care of it.”
“Yes, Sir,” He nodded and walked back across the street heading to the saloon.
Joe held a hand to his stomach and said, “Pa – I’m not hurt too bad. I don’t need to see Doc.” Little Joe hoped to hide the fact that he’d already been in to see the doctor and had gotten the sleeping powders from him.
“When I want your opinion, I’ll ask for it, Joseph,” Ben grumbled and wrapped an arm around the boy’s shoulder turning him towards the doctor’s office. “Let’s go.”
Ben Cartwright stood inside the examination room of Doctor Paul Martin and watched intently as the man thoroughly inspected his son’s body for injuries. Holding the boy’s shirt and jacket in his hands he shook his head, frustrated by all he had witnessed lately concerning Joe getting into fights.
“That’s about the best that I can do, Little Joe,” Paul nodded to the boy as he turned to wash his hands.
“Thanks, Doc,” Joe whispered. He was hesitant to talk too loudly after witnessing the scowl that his father wore on his face as he stared over at him.
Paul turned and looked at the anxious father and stated wryly, “That chest binding is mainly for you, Ben. Joe’s ribs held up this time – they’re just a bit bruised. But since you’re picking up the tab I figured I’d throw it in for free.”
“Thank you very much,” Ben muttered, shaking his head unamused.
“Hand the boy his shirt, he’s done,” Paul returned as he neared his patient again.
Making his way to the examination table, Ben accidentally dropped his son’s green corduroy jacket and the contents from the inner pocket spilled out on the floor. Bending down, he grabbed both the jacket and the four little brown envelopes that had fallen out.
“What are these?” Ben questioned suspiciously, holding the packets out in front of his son’s nose.
When Little Joe failed to reply right away, Doc piped up, “Didn’t you tell your pa, Joe?”
“Didn’t have time,” Joe frowned. He hadn’t really planned on telling his father about the medicine, but now he knew that Doc would be sure to inform him.
“Well, someone tell me!” Ben demanded loudly as he held the packets out in front of both Doc and Little Joe.
“Little Joe came in to see me earlier and the boy said he’s been having trouble sleeping. I gave him enough sleeping powders to see him through Tuesday night. Wednesday, I want him to try it on his own and I told Joe to come back to see me Thursday and we’ll discuss how he’s doing,” Doc explained.
“I see,” Ben nodded and shot an accusatory glance at his son. “Were you planning on telling me, Joseph?”
Dropping his head down as he pulled on his shirt, Little Joe attempted to hide the guilt showing on his face. Pa could always see right through his lies and he knew it. But that didn’t mean that he wasn’t going to try. With a quick nod of his head he replied, “Sure, Pa — later.”
Paul watched the odd looks that went back and forth between both Cartwrights. It was easy to read that there was some trouble brewing between the two of them. It surprised the doctor because he’d always known Ben and his youngest to be very close. “Well, Ben, you know about it now and that’s all that really matters,” he attempted to get Little Joe off the hook. “Other than some bruises, a split lip and a pretty good headache, the boy should be okay. Like I said those ribs are just going to be sore so he can keep that chest binding on for a couple of days.”
“Thanks, Paul,” Ben nodded over to his old friend.
“Joe – ,” Doc paused and set a hand onto the boy’s shoulder before Little Joe hopped down from the table. “You take it easy and no heavy lifting for a few days. That medicine should help you sleep. I’ll see you on Thursday. Now stay away from alleys and Pete Timmons!”
“I will. Thanks, Doc,” Joe smiled as he reached for his jacket that Pa still held in his hands.
Paul followed both men to the front door and offered Ben a commiserative pat to his shoulder. “You both take it easy going back to the ranch.”
“We will,” Ben nodded. “Thanks again!”
“I’ll send you my bill,” Paul chuckled and watched as both men stepped out onto the walkway.
“One,” Ben stated firmly as he and Little Joe stood up at the bar waiting for Hoss and Adam’s return.
“It’ll take at least two before I’ll get to feeling better, Pa,” Joe complained as Sam handed him a mug of beer.
“One,” Ben reiterated, still angry with the boy standing off to his right. “Then I’m taking you home.”
“I don’t know why you’re mad at me – it was Timmons and his henchman who started the fight,” Little Joe fired back only to witness the stern glare that his father was sending his way.
“It’s not the fight that I’m angry about, Young Man,” Ben responded as he sipped his own beer and placed the silver dollar on the bar to pay for the drinks.
Little Joe frowned and shook his head. He knew that his father was intimating that he had hidden both the fact that he couldn’t sleep and that he had gotten the medicine from the doctor.
“I was going to tell you about it.”
“No, you weren’t,” Ben returned staring into the hazel eyes which were trying to avoid him. “Don’t even bother to lie, Joseph. We’ll talk about it on the way back home.”
Dropping his gaze to the floorboards, Joe didn’t bother to reply. Pa always knew.
Adam and Hoss walked through the swinging doors and approached both Ben and Little Joe.
“Here you go,” Hoss smiled at his little brother. He handed the boy his Colt. “Roy took that off Billy Murdoch. He said the kid was getting ready to throw it away when he found him and Pete a little while ago.”
“Roy’s got the two of them cooling their heels inside the jail right now, Pa,” Adam offered as he signaled Sam for two more beers.
“They won’t stay long,” Little Joe announced as he polished off his drink. “One more?” He asked hopefully, staring over at his father.
Ben dropped his mug on top of the counter and shook his head. “Adam, you and Hoss take our horses back to the ranch. We’re going to the livery and rent a surrey. Your little brother doesn’t need to ride Cochise right now.”
Little Joe shook his head. The last thing that he wanted to do was to ride in a surrey with his father who would be trying to drill him over what he’d been up to lately regarding hiding his nightmares from him. “I’m not hurting that bad, Pa – I can ride,” He protested.
Ben placed his hand on the boy’s shoulder and stared at him hard. “We’re taking a surrey, Joseph, end of discussion.
“What discussion – I never got to talk,” Little Joe mumbled.
Ignoring the boy’s remark, Ben looked over at his older boys and said, “Hoss – you and Adam finish your beers then head on home.”
Hoss watched the looks that passed between his father and little brother. He felt sorry for Little Joe. The kid was banged up and apparently wasn’t too thrilled to be heading home in a surrey where their father would probably be trying to drill him about the nightmares that he had mentioned to him earlier.
“Yes, Sir,” he replied and watched as his father turned out of the saloon with his arm locked securely across Little Joe’s shoulder to prevent any further objections to riding home with him.
The ride home had been long and for the most part silent. Though his father had asked him why he had continued to push him away and not share what was going on with him, Little Joe hadn’t offered much by way of an explanation. A few miles before the turn off, which would lead them to the ranch house, Ben pulled back on the reins and stared over at his youngest.
“I’m going to ask you one more time. Why won’t you confide in me, Joseph? I just don’t understand. You’ve always come to me when you were troubled before now. What’s changed all that?” Ben’s words came out softer trying another approach with his boy.
Little Joe dropped his head down, unsure as to what he could say to his father. He didn’t know why he felt so uncomfortable in sharing his worries with Pa, but he did.
“It isn’t anything that you’ve said or done, Pa. It’s like I told you last night – I’m just trying to work it out on my own,” Joe replied, his voice barely audible.
“I know that those nightmares of yours are about what Aram did to you. I don’t know why they’ve started up again – but if you’d talk about it with me just maybe you wouldn’t need those sleeping powders, Joseph.”
Shaking his head, Joe let out an uncomfortable sigh and said, “I just need some solid sleep. Maybe once I get a few nights without nightmares waking me, I’ll forget all about them.”
“You’re sure you’re not blaming me for sending you to get that haircut?”
Groaning, Little Joe answered, “Pa – I told you already— it’s got nothing to do with that!”
Ben draped an arm across the boy’s shoulder and stared at him again. “It’s hard for me to believe that when every time I get close to you – you push me away.”
Leaning forward in the seat Little Joe shook his head and replied, “I’m not trying to push you away.”
Studying the way that his son had moved forward on the seat as though he had a problem with his father’s arm over his shoulder, Ben didn’t believe what the boy had just said to him. Giving up the cause, at least for the moment, he sent the horse forward and drove to the ranch house.
Little Joe’s sleep hadn’t been interrupted for two nights in a row, and he hoped that meant that the medicine was playing its part in keeping the nightmares at bay. The only drawback in taking it was that he ended up feeling groggy when he made his way down for breakfast every morning. No one said anything about it, especially after Pa had informed Hoss and Adam to ignore their brother’s drowsiness and told them why he was taking the sleeping powders. On Monday Adam had business in town, Ben was busy working on his ledger books in his study and Hoss was out by the barn shoeing his horse when Little Joe made his way outside.
Hoss turned when he spotted his little brother walking across the yard heading his way. “Hey there, Short Shanks!” He called and set the tines next to the forge.
“Hi, Big Brother.”
“You gonna give me a hand?”
“Naw – looks like you’ve got it okay,” Joe returned with a smile.
When he spotted a dog that was lying on the ground not far from Hoss’ boots and noticed that it was happily chewing on an old piece of rawhide, Joe moved closer.
“Hey – where’d you get the mutt?” He asked and went down to one knee so he could pat the dog’s head.
Hoss knelt next to his brother and playfully ruffled a hand across the scruff of the dog’s neck. “Oh, I think this little guy belongs to the Miller’s. They had a pup that looked just like this when I stopped over there about a month ago. He sure is a cute little guy, isn’t he?”
“Yeah,” Joe nodded and stared over at his brother. “You gonna let them know he’s here?”
Standing, Hoss shook his head. “Naw – I figure if they don’t come by in a day or two, I’ll carry him back there. Meanwhile I don’t mind the company.”
Little Joe chuckled, “You and your critters! Hey where’s Adam? I didn’t make it to the breakfast table until he was gone.”
“He’s handling some business for Pa at the lawyer’s office. I reckon he’ll be back later this afternoon. What’re you planning to do today?”
Frowning, Little Joe shook his head and replied, “Well, I got enough sleep – I guess I’d better go earn my keep. I thought I’d –” he paused as they watched the dog run off toward the side of the house. “Wonder what he’s chasing?”
“He’s just a pup, Little Brother, he’ll probably find something else to chew on. They bring their teeth in that way.”
Joe shrugged his shoulders knowing that his brother was an expert on just about everything concerning four-legged animals. He went back to the topic of what he was planning to do with his day. “I guess I’ll go saddle Cochise and see if Fletcher needs any help with those fence repairs over by Syler’s Ridge. He was fussing just last week that no one around here ever helps him.”
Hoss laughed and called after him, “Good luck with that Little Brother — glad it’s you and not me dealing with that old coot!” He heard the boy chuckling as he walked inside the barn.
Once he’d gotten Cochise saddled and tied the reins to the front hitching post, Little Joe made his way into the house to get his holster, jacket and hat. He had finally shaken himself out from the groggy haze he’d experienced since he’d first gotten up and hoped that a good long ride out in the fresh air would act like a tonic to clear his mind. Stepping out on the front porch he witnessed Hop Sing coming out through the kitchen door, his arms laden down with a full basket of wash.
“Give it here,” Joe insisted stepping over to the cook. “I’ll take it for you.”
Hop Sing gladly surrendered his burden to Little Joe and smiled. “You good boy –thank you, Little Joe. Please to bring around back so Hop Sing can hang on line?”
“Sure, I will,” he smiled at the man who was much more than just a cook and caretaker. Hop Sing had helped his father raise him and he thought of the man as part of the family, as did the rest of the Cartwrights.
“I be out in just a minute – must get clothespins,” Hop Sing explained and hurried back inside the kitchen.
Walking around the side of the house, Little Joe made his way into the backyard, his arms burdened with the wash basket. Setting it down on the ground next to the clothesline, he noticed the dog that had been out front earlier. Little Joe walked over to see what it was doing.
“You’ve dug yourself a good hole there, Pup,” he chuckled and then watched as the dog retrieved something that had been buried underneath almost a foot of soil. “What’s that?” he muttered and finally tugged the object away from the mutt. Little Joe stood in stunned silence as he shook the dirt off what the dog had dug up. His mouth dropped open in pure terror. In his hands Joe held the hairpiece that the bad man had made from his own curls. *** Oh my God! How did this get here? The last time I saw this he – he was wearing it on his head and taunting me with it – trying to force me to tell him how good it looked on him! *** he thought, scrunching his eyes closed. He was suddenly catapulted back in time and remembered the horror he had felt once the bad man had showed off his new hair; his hair.
*** “What do you think? Nice huh? In fact, these curls look much better on me than they did on you!”
Numb by all he had endured; Joe simply shook his head.
“Oh, don’t worry Boy! My guess is it’ll take six months or so, but you’ll grow it back. Right now, you look a little bit on the bald side – but it won’t be permanent,” Aram laughed at his victim.
“I hate you,” Joe whispered and slowly closed his eyes, praying that he’d fall back to sleep. He’d had enough of the insane man’s taunts; enough to last a lifetime.
Aram moved in closer to the boy and roughly yanked his chin up, forcing Joe’s gaze. “Tell me how good I look!” he demanded.
“You’re ugly – both inside and out. You can keep that hair, but it’ll never be yours,” Joe responded bitterly.
Incensed over what the boy had said, Aram slapped Joe’s face hard. “You’d better remember who I am!”
Little Joe nodded, “Yeah, I know who you are — you’re – you’re the bad man.” And with that statement he passed out cold. ***
Joe had to force the memory back to where it lingered inside his mind daily and attempted to breathe again. With a sudden overwhelming wave of panic overtaking him, Little Joe tossed the vile thing down on the ground and ran away from the terrible reminder of what had happened to him the previous spring at the hands of the bad man.
Less than a minute later, Little Joe sprinted over to Cochise. He yanked the reins loose from the hitching post and launched himself up into the saddle. Without taking the time to stick his boots inside the stirrups, he kicked the horse’s sides and rode out of the yard at break-neck speed. Hoss watched in confusion as his brother raced past him, never looking back.
Hop Sing had also seen Little Joe’s abrupt departure and made his way over to Hoss.
“What wrong Little Joe, Mister Hoss?”
Raising his hands, bewildered by his brother’s rapid exit from the yard, he replied, “Gosh, I don’t know. Where was he anyway? I just thought he’d gone to get his jacket.”
“He take wash round back for Hop Sing,” the cook explained.
“Then I don’t know what could’ve fired the boy up like that. He didn’t even hear me when I called out to him,” Hoss sighed and went back to shoeing his horse. Hop Sing shook his head, still wondering if Little Joe was alright. He decided that he’d better get back to his wash and wait until later to hear the reason from the boy’s own mouth at suppertime.
Ben Cartwright heard the loud string of Chinese rants coming from the kitchen. He stood from his desk and made his way into the dining room just as Hop Sing approached looking like he was winded.
“In English – Hop Sing – please — in English,” Ben groaned as the man went on fussing for another minute in his native language.
“You come – you see!” Hop Sing insisted and grabbed Ben by his shirtsleeve. He led the man into the backyard and pointed at the freshly dug hole which was just underneath the clothesline.
“Someone’s dug a hole? Is that what you’ve taken me away from my books to see?” Ben questioned exasperatedly, shaking his head upset by the interruption. He hated working on the ledgers and just wanted to get them done.
“No – Mister Ben – not hole on ground,” Hop Sing tried to explain. “Look!” he pointed over to where the dog was chewing on something.
Ben carefully approached the dog and tried to determine what it had in its mouth. He was finally able to pry the thing out from between its teeth and stood back up horrified by what he now held in his hands.
“Little Joe’s curls!” Hop Sing shouted as he pointed to the hairpiece.
“Yes, I know,” Ben sighed, his mouth twisting into a grim frown.
“What boy’s curls do there?” He asked confused.
Ben cleared his throat trying his best to think of a good response, but he was having trouble. Though Hop Sing was aware of what had happened to Little Joe nine months ago, Ben had never explained about the hairpiece nor the fact that he’d been the one who made his eldest bury it after he and Hoss had found the thing next to the river where the man had been killed.
“It’s a long story,” he began and placed a hand on the cook’s shoulder. “I’ll dispose of it before Joseph finds out that we buried it back here.”
“Little Joe – he ride off – he ride off vely fast! I think he see this and upset!”
“What? Joseph was back here?” Ben returned, upset that the boy had seen the hairpiece. And, what with the nightmares that had plagued his youngest, he was petrified over the thought of what having seen it would have done to him.
Hop Sing nodded insistently, bobbing his head up and down. “Little Joe carry wash for Hop Sing. Hop Sing go back get clothespins. Little Joe go — he ride out of yard – vely fast, Mister Ben!”
Staring at the hairpiece Ben shook his head in frustration. He had told Adam to bury the thing in the yard, but he never expected anyone to dig it up. Ben hadn’t counted on a dog digging it up either.
“I’ll go find the boy, don’t worry,” Ben said, offering the man a slight pat to his shoulder. He was aware of the way that Hop Sing felt about his youngest boy and knew that he’d worry about him. The fact of the matter was that Ben was worried far more than the cook was at the time. “I’ll go saddle my horse.”
Little Joe hadn’t gone back to the cave since the past spring and when he tied Cochise’s reins up to a choke cherry bush it all came back to him. He hadn’t remembered being taken there when he was five years old. In fact, when he found the cave while rounding up strays, he hadn’t even remembered going inside. But now, standing there and staring over at the mouth of the cave, it all came back to him. Joe didn’t know why he had gone there right after finding the hairpiece, but he couldn’t stop the impulse to go back there again. Reaching inside his saddlebags, he dug until he found an old tallow candle and lit it as he drew closer to the entrance.
Old latent memories took him to the exact place where he had been held inside a cage by the bad man. Little Joe dropped down to his knees and set the candle on the cold rocky ground. He found the remnants of the cage which had held him twelve years ago and picked up one of the wood bars that was now old and weathered. Little Joe closed his eyes as the haunted reminders of the past filled his mind.
*** “I wanna go home! I want my Papa!” Little Joe yelled over to the man who stood there looking down at him.
The man wearing the burlap mask called down to the little boy. “Lord, Kid, do you ever shut up? Won’t you please stop yelling? I’ve got a headache! All I’ve gotten out of you for four days is that you want your darn Papa! I’ll give you back to Ben Cartwright gladly just as soon as it’s safe to get out of here. I didn’t know that there would be so many search parties out there looking for you!”
“I wanna go home – let me out and I can get there all by myself. Please!” the boy pleaded and then sat down on the ground and began to cry. “My Papa will get lonely. I’m his little boy – and he needs me!”
“He’s got two other boys – he won’t be lonely,” The bad man returned with a groan. Time spent with the kid was wearing on him and he just wanted to leave the boy and go back to Virginia City and lay low until he found out if anyone knew that he was the one who’d stolen the kid from the ranch house.
“No, Papa has three!” Little Joe insisted and held up three fingers. “He has Adam and he has Hoss and he has me. But he needs me – he told me he did! My Mama went to heaven and Papa said she left me for him so he wouldn’t get lonely. He needs me!”
“Yeah, yeah,” Aram said with a tired sigh. “I know about your Ma, Kid. Tough break but I didn’t have a ma either – you’ll live. If you’ll quiet down, I’ll make sure that you see your Papa again.”
“Why you gotta keep me inside here? I ain’t been a bad boy,” Little Joe asked as he stood and put his hands on the wooden slats of the cage.
“Listen, Kid, I wasn’t about to keep you tied down with ropes. I ain’t that heartless. You see – you’ve got to have a plan. And part of the plan was to bring you out here and get that curl – the one I took from you the other day.”
With his chin quivering, Little Joe looked up into the eyes that were just about all he could see of the man’s face due to the mask. “You tooked my best curl. My Mama said it was this one,” he said sadly and pulled his bangs off his forehead and pointed to the slight separation that was caused by the man taking the curl from him. “Give it back!”
Aram chuckled and replied, “No, it’s mine now. But I told you that you’ll make some new ones. I bet you that it won’t take long either. Now will you please just sit there and hush up?”
“I wanna go home – I want my Papa – and I want my best curl back!” Joe insisted loudly and pushed against the bars of the cage.
“Wait a minute, I’ve got something that will keep you quiet for a while,” Aram announced and reached inside his coat. He fished around in his pockets and finally drew out the piece of candy. “Now – here – take this peppermint stick and eat it. That way you won’t be hungry, and I’ll have a few minutes of peace and quiet.”
Little Joe sniffed back his tears and looked up at the man whose face was hidden by a mask. “I told you I don’t like peppermint.”
Aram shook his head and returned, “All little boys love peppermint!”
“I don’t,” Little Joe argued. “And I don’t like you neither!”
Having lost all patience with the little boy, Aram reached through the bars and grabbed a handful of Joe’s shirt. His voice low and menacing, he warned, “I don’t like you either, Kid. Now do you pipe down or do you want me to get angry with you? Trust me you wouldn’t like me when I’m angry!”
Struggling to free himself from the bad man’s hold, Little Joe began to cry. ***
“Joseph?”
Little Joe was startled to hear the voice coming from behind him. Shaking himself from the memory of both the cave and his first abduction, Joe’s left hand dropped down to his Colt as he quickly stood and spun around. He was surprised to see his father standing there. Little Joe hurriedly swept the tears off his face before Pa could see them. He was confused by the realization that he’d been kneeling there crying due to the ghastly visions of the past he had conjured up after seeing the cage that had once been his prison. Then, unable to speak, he just stared into Pa’s eyes and witnessed the look of apprehension that he wore on his face.
“Son – are you alright?” Ben questioned quietly, resting a hand on Joe’s shoulder.
Breaking his father’s sympathetic gaze, Little Joe stared down at the floor of the cave. “You should’ve told me, Pa – you shouldn’t have hidden it from me.”
Acutely aware that the boy was referring to the hairpiece he had found earlier, Ben struggled to find the right words that would explain his actions. “Son, I knew that you were deeply hurt by all that had happened to you last spring. I didn’t think you needed that dreadful reminder of what Aram did to you. I didn’t think our finding it was something that you needed to know about.”
“W-where – where did you get it from?” Joe stuttered, still fighting both the fear and dread he had felt ever since he had held the hairpiece in his hands. The frightening remembrance of seeing Aram wearing it right before he had left the stamp mill had haunted him both day and night. The minute he had taken it out of the dog’s mouth; Little Joe was filled with terror over the prospect that the man had come back and had left the hairpiece as a calling card to announce that he was still watching him.
“Your brothers found it – when Aram went into that river. They only brought it back just in case anything ever came up about how that evil man died and what he had done to you. Adam took it into town to show Roy. He said that there wasn’t any reason to keep it because Aram’s death was a pure case of self-defense since he’d shot at both of your brothers first. And so – well — Adam brought it home to ask me what he should do with it. I told your brother to bury it.”
“It’s been in the yard all this time? You should have told me – it would’ve been better to hear it from you than to find it like I did today!” Joe fired back incredulously.
“Joseph – I just thought –” Ben was cut off by his son.
“Everyone knew but me! And you fuss at me for keeping secrets! Well, I guess I get that from you!” Joe shouted indignantly, raising his arms in the air as he vented out his anger and frustration.
Surprised by the sudden loud outburst, Ben stood there stunned to hear his youngest shouting at him the way he had. He finally concluded that the boy wasn’t angry with him but was acting that way due to his shock over finding the poignant reminder of what Aram had done to him. “Maybe I should’ve said something to you about it. I’m sorry, Joseph.” He returned quietly, hoping to calm the boy with his apology.
An awkward silence hung over the cave, and it was a harsh reminder of the distance that existed in the relationship between Little Joe and his father. Ben wasn’t sure what more he could offer that might help his son and Joe was still so caught up by the day’s troubling events that he struggled to dislodge the words from his throat.
After what seemed like hours, Joe finally whispered, “Just like the bad man – nothing stays buried for long.”
Little Joe’s attention was drawn back to the broken pieces of the cage which had once imprisoned him. He turned his head the minute that he spotted the glow of red eyes as they shot past him scurrying down the far wall of the cave. It was a stark reminder of the way he had coped with his abduction when he was just a scared little five-year-old boy who yearned to go home to his Papa. The comfort he’d found most nights in the cave came only from the two rats which had curled up on his chest. As a small child who was afraid and alone, Little Joe had welcomed the nightly visits by his two friends who were there to keep him company and share his misery. He had even named the two rats.
Ben spotted the rodents too and he shuddered at the thought that his child had drawn comfort from having them sleeping on him. He could still hear the five-year-old Little Joe explaining to him about his “friends”.
***“I don’t like the bad man, Papa – but I liked my friends,” Little Joe answered.
“Your friends? Who? Are you talking about your brothers and Hop Sing?”
Little Joe shook his head and yawned. “No, Papa – my friends where the badman was.”
Ben wondered how he could ask his boy for answers without scaring him further. He decided to just phrase his question as calmly as possible and maybe he’d learn if the bad man, as Joseph called him, had accomplices.
“How about telling your Pa about those friends of yours? What did they look like, Joseph?”
“It was dark, Papa – I couldn’t see them too good.”
“I understand— how about telling me something that you liked about them? You called them your friends so there must’ve been something that you liked about them, right?”
Little Joe nodded again and replied, “They were nice and warm.”
Ben shook his head, not knowing what the boy was talking about anymore. “Oh? They were warm?”
“Yep. They laid on my chest, Papa, and they were warm. I was so cold, Papa.”
Now his face was the picture of confusion and Ben didn’t know what to ask. He finally continued. “Joseph – how many friends did you have?”
“Two, Papa – and they were warm and had soft fur too.”
“Oh,” Ben sighed and had to hope that the boy was referring to either puppies or kittens. He was almost too afraid to ask but he finally relented. “Son, were they cats or dogs?”
“No, they had red eyes, Papa. Everybody knows that cats and dogs don’t have red eyes.”
Ben reached his right hand up to his mouth and hoped he would be proven wrong in what he was about to ask the boy. “Joseph— those friends of yours – were they perhaps mice?”
Little Joe snuggled down in the crick of his father’s neck just underneath his chin. “No, Papa – they were bigger. They had fur like a mice – but they were bigger and warmer.”
Ben cleared his throat, so worried over what his son had just explained to him. “Joseph? Your friends didn’t by any chance bite you, did they?” Ben prayed that the boy hadn’t been bitten. He now knew that it had been a pair of rats which had spent time on his son’s chest there inside the cave.
“No, Papa, they were my friends. Friends don’t bite friends, Papa,” Little Joe answered innocently and closed his eyes.
*** Well thank the Good Lord for that! *** Ben thought to himself and combed his fingers through the boy’s hair to get him to settle down. “Joseph, those weren’t exactly mice – they must’ve been rats.”
“What’s a rat, Papa?”
Ben sighed, not happy to be having that conversation at so late an hour. “It’s a big mice – I mean mouse.”
“Oh,” the little boy nodded though he looked a bit confused for a few minutes. “Papa, my rat friends had names,” Little Joe announced as he yawned once more.
“Names?” Ben asked, though he wished that the boy would move on to another topic; anything other than rats!
“Yeah, Papa. You know what they were?”
Ben closed his eyes and wondered what he could say or do to get the boy to go to sleep. He didn’t think he could take much more. Trying to be supportive, he went ahead and replied wearily, “No, Son, go ahead and tell me. But then you need to go to sleep.”
“One I called skinny – because he was thin. The other one I called chubby.”
Ben cleared his throat. He really didn’t want to ask but he had to or the little boy would pester him about it. “So let me guess – he was fat, right?”
“Yeah, Papa – but I don’t think he was really a “he” rat, I think it was a momma rat.”
*** Oh, Dear Lord! *** Ben tried to hold back his groan, but it came out anyway. “Well, that’s enough talking for now. I want you to close those eyes again.”
“I wish I’d stayed a little longer,” Little Joe remarked and reached an arm across his father’s chest trying to get comfortable.
“You wanted to stay longer? Didn’t you want to come home to see your Papa and your brothers and Hop Sing?” Ben asked, surprised by what the boy had said.
“Oh, Papa! You know I missed you – I called for you to come get me every minute and begged the bad man to let me out so’s I could get home. Don’t you ‘member I told you the bad man made me a-scared?”
“Yes, I remember. But why did you just tell me that you wished you’d stayed longer, Joseph?” Ben questioned, very confused by what the boy had said.
“Papa – if I’d stayed there one more day, I think chubby would’ve had her babies and then I’d have a lot more friends!”
That had been it! Ben pulled the blanket up around Little Joe’s shoulder and patted his back again; a bit more briskly than before. He doubted he would ever fall back to sleep himself. Not after listening to the boy’s excitement over the prospect of having numerous baby rats crawling around on top of him.
“Go to sleep, Young Man, no more talking about your friends. It’s far too late for that!”
“Okay, Papa,” Little Joe nodded and yawned again. “I’ll tell you more about my friends later, okay? I don’t like talking about the bad man – but I like talking about my friends.’
Ben didn’t comment. He simply leaned down and kissed his son’s forehead. “Goodnight, Joseph.”
“How many friends do you think chubby would’ve give me, Papa?”
“Goodnight, Joseph – now no more talking!” Ben stated a little more firmly. He waited a few minutes, and the boy finally fell to sleep held there in his arms. *** Sure, he’s able to sleep — but it’s a sure bet I won’t get any more tonight. It’s just as well – I’d only end up dreaming about rats crawling around on this bed! *** Ben sighed to himself and closed his eyes. ***
Ben drew in a deep breath as he reached over to his son and gently shook his shoulder to bring him out of the latent memory of his earlier abduction.
“No, Joseph,” Ben responded firmly. “Aram is dead. He’s never coming back. And as for that hairpiece – I’ve gotten rid of it now too. You’ll never see either again.”
Warm tears stinging the corners of his eyes, Little Joe pulled away from the tight hold his father had on his shoulder. “You can never kill the bad man, Pa,” he muttered and bent down to retrieve the candle.
Ben shook his head sadly, again wondering why Joseph continued to push him away. He knew that his son hadn’t been able to let go of the memories of either abduction. Nine months ago, he had prayed that Joseph would remember back to when he was five years old just so his trips down to the kitchen in the wee hours of the morning to hide from the bad man would stop. But now he wished that the boy hadn’t recalled the first abduction after all. He was being tormented at night by all that had transpired both times and, as his father, Ben felt devastated that Joe had turned away from him, attempting to handle it all on his own.
His voice rife with worry, Ben softly called down to his son, “How about the two of us go home now?”
Without a reply, Little Joe held the candle in his hand and simply turned and walked away.
For the next few days Ben simply watched as Little Joe continued to keep him at arm’s length and still refused to tell him how he was feeling. The boy never said anything more about finding the hairpiece nor had he mentioned one word about the bad man. Joe had taken all the packets of medicine that Doctor Martin had given him and would have to try to sleep unassisted that night.
The four Cartwrights gathered around the desk in Ben’s study and spoke about the upcoming plans for the rest of the week.
“So, I’ll be heading to Gold Hill first thing in the morning,” Ben explained as he set the telegram he had received earlier in the day on top of the desk and stared over at his boys who were seated in front of him.
“How long you fixing to be gone, Pa?” Hoss asked as he shot a glance at Little Joe who didn’t appear to be listening.
“Well – I have meetings Thursday and Friday. Harve Peters won’t get there until Saturday, and I’ve got to talk to him along with those other two investors, so I guess I’ll be back later that day,” he replied, also noticing that his youngest seemed to be in another world. “Joseph? You’re going to see Doc tomorrow, right?”
Finally shaking himself out from the fearful thoughts that continued to plague him, Little Joe looked over at his father and nodded, “Yes, Sir – I’ll go.”
“I’ve got some errands in town too. How about I go with you?” Adam asked, knowing that his youngest brother didn’t always remain true to his word, especially if that meant seeing the doctor.
“No,” Joe shook his head adamantly. “I’ll go by myself.”
Ben cleared his throat and stared back and forth between Hoss and Adam. “You see that you do that, Joseph,” He remarked, eyeing the boy and wondering if he’d voluntarily let Paul examine him.
“I said that I would. I’ll go around noon,” Joe frowned. “I’m going to bed,” he said and stood from his chair. He hadn’t appreciated the remarks that both his father and older brother had made but knew why they thought he would avoid seeing Doctor Martin. If it hadn’t been for the fact that the medicine had helped him get some solid sleep, he wouldn’t have bothered to go back to see the doctor.
“Goodnight, Son,” Ben called after witnessing the boy’s quick exit and his fast jaunt towards the staircase. “Adam – you and Hoss make sure that your brother goes to see Doc.”
“We will,” Adam nodded.
“I guess I’d better get some sleep since I’m going to leave at daybreak. Goodnight, Boys,” Ben smiled as he stood from his chair. Patting each of his sons on the shoulder, he turned for the stairs.
Ben had no idea what had awakened him that night and as he sat up in his bed, he listened intently to determine if he might have heard his youngest son having another nightmare. The house was stone cold silent. Still, the lingering doubt persisted, and unable to shake himself from his worry, Ben reached for his robe to check on Joe to relieve his mind. Walking out into the hall, he noticed that the boy’s bedroom door was wide open. Ben stared inside and quickly discovered that the bed was empty. An old familiar dread filled his mind as he hurried to the staircase and ventured down to the living room. Little Joe wasn’t there in front of the fireplace which caused the worried father to head to the kitchen.
Little Joe stood there at the kitchen door with his hand on the slide bolt. He hadn’t heard his father’s approach as Pa made his way into the room.
“Joseph?” Ben whispered, unsure what his son was doing and surprised that he hadn’t even turned his head upon hearing his voice. He had half expected to find Joseph cowering on the floor next to the sink like he’d done so many times ever since his first abduction from the house twelve years earlier. Confused as to why the boy failed to answer his call, he walked to the door, setting a hand on Joe’s shoulder. “What is it? Did you have trouble nodding off? I know you’ve run out of the medicine that Doc gave you.”
Finally turning his head, though never removing his right hand from the lock on the door, Joe stared at his father. “This door was open,” he muttered trying his best to hide the terror and all out panic which had gripped him the minute he had walked into the kitchen some thirty minutes ago.
Ben looked at the kitchen door and then back over at his son. “What?”
“The door, Pa – it was wide open when I got down here.”
Now completely aware as to why he was reading panic on his son’s face, Ben stared at the lock and mulled the situation over for a minute before trying to convince the boy that everything was fine and that there wasn’t anything to worry about.
“Hop Sing probably put the dinner scraps outside for that stray cat that’s been hanging around right before he went to bed, Son. He probably just forgot to close the door all the way.”
Little Joe, unconvinced by what his father had just offered by way of an explanation, stared at him hard and replied, “Why didn’t he bolt the door, Pa?”
“Well,” Ben fought to put his son at ease, but he could tell by the look on his face that it wasn’t going to be an easy thing to do. “Like I just said – he must’ve just forgot.”
“The door was open a good six inches when I came in here a while ago,” Joe said, agitation in his tone of voice. “Even if he didn’t slide the bolt into position the door should’ve been closed.”
Ben cleared his throat, giving up on trying to provide some rational explanation about why the door had been left ajar. He patted his son’s shoulder and asked, “What were you doing down here? Couldn’t you sleep, Joseph?”
“Kinda hard to sleep when everyone leaves the doors to the house unlocked,” Joe retorted, angered that his father had been so dismissive regarding the whole event.
“I’ll speak to Hop Sing about it before I leave,” Ben agreed, hoping to reassure his son. “Now –why did you come down here?”
Little Joe dropped his gaze to the floor knowing that Pa would be able to read the fear in his eyes and then he would ascertain what he had been worried about and why.
“You had another one of those nightmares again – didn’t you?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
Ben sighed and shook his head in frustration, “That doesn’t surprise me – you never want to talk about it, Joseph. I wish I knew how to get you to open up to me – instead of trying to handle everything on your own.”
“I’m fine,” he insisted and then directed his attention back to the door.
Reading the continuing dread on the boy’s face, Ben reached for the slide bolt, giving it a good hard tug. “There – now it’s bolted shut – nothing to worry about. Do you want something to eat? Maybe it’d help you fall to sleep?”
“No, Pa.”
Ben offered the boy a slight reassuring smile, but it failed to help the situation due to the circumstances and because he knew that he’d never get Little Joe to let go of the fact that the kitchen door had been left open.
“How about the two of us head upstairs now so we can get some sleep?”
Joe didn’t answer and he didn’t budge from his position next to the door either.
“I’ll tell you what,” Ben began, weighing the options over what he could say or do that might get Joseph to stop worrying and go back to bed. “Let’s walk around the house – to put your mind at ease.”
Finally nodding his agreement, Little Joe walked out of the kitchen alongside his father. One by one they checked all the rooms on the bottom floor and upstairs as well. To ease the boy’s mind, Ben had even gone so far as to peer into Adam’s and Hoss’ bedrooms before joining back up with his youngest out in the hallway.
“There now – the house is secure and no one’s gotten in,” he whispered.
Little Joe nodded, though he didn’t look very convinced that there hadn’t been any intruders that night.
“Joseph – would you like to go with me to Gold Hill in the morning? The meetings may seem a little boring to you – but who knows? Maybe you’d learn the fine art of negotiation from your old man?” he suggested, worried that his son would be dwelling on the open kitchen door all night.
“No, Pa — I’m okay. Besides I’ve got to go see Doc tomorrow. Goodnight,” he answered and walked to his doorway.
“Goodnight, Son,” Ben sighed in defeat as he watched the boy closing his bedroom door. *** If only I could get that boy to confide in me he’d stop worrying about Aram Cullen and what he did to him. What’s it going to take for him to realize that the man is dead? *** Ben thought as he made his way back to his room.
***********
The Bad Man
“It’s like I’ve always said,” the man announced chuckling to himself. “You’ve got to have a plan!” The boy was lying face down across his saddle as Aram tugged on his victim’s left leg allowing his body to fall lifelessly onto the ground with a loud thud. Humming to himself, he grabbed the unconscious young man’s bootheels and slowly dragged him inside the cave. “Sure was a stroke of pure luck to find that kitchen door open so I’d know where everyone was going to be today!” he chatted to himself after lugging the kid down past the entrance a good two hundred feet. “That’s not to say I wouldn’t have picked the kid up anyway – it just made it a whole lot easier!”
Everything had been prepared in advance. The chair, the ropes he would need to bind his prisoner as well as all the little minute details which Aram Cullen had labored to set up well before he had captured Little Joe Cartwright. He could barely contain the surge of joyous anticipation he felt as he waited for the boy to come out from underneath the aftereffects of the chloroform. “Stupid kid thought I was done with him – it just gets easier every time that I snatch him!” Aram tied the ropes into their proper positions. It had only taken a few minutes before Little Joe had both his wrists and ankles securely tied down and his head lying back against the barber chair. “Nothing but the best for you, Boy,” Aram laughed as he patted Joe’s right cheek. He walked over to the small table sitting just in front of where the incapacitated victim sat and readied everything he would need. Grabbing a rag, Aram leaned forward and exhaled on the mirror that he’d placed opposite Little Joe. “Gotta have everything picture-perfect. I can’t wait to see the expression on your face, Boy!” He exclaimed as he wiped a few smudges off the mirror until it was spotless and ready for the big reveal.
“Great,” Little Joe muttered to himself as he opened and closed his eyes twice. “Not another one! Damn Doc could’ve given me a few more packets of that medicine so I wouldn’t keep having these nightmares! I hope I didn’t scream out again.” Moving his head back and forth, Joe groaned and wondered why he was hurting so badly. He finally chalked it up to the fact that he’d not had any sleeping powders and because of that he was probably experiencing some kind of withdrawal from them now. He reasoned that the combination of not enough sleep plus the thorough pummeling he’d gotten at the hands of Pete, and his buddy Billy a few days ago would’ve been enough to make him feel as lousy as he did. “I don’t hear Pa out in the hallway about to burst into my room – so I guess I didn’t make a spectacle out of myself again,” he sighed and then tried to force his eyelids to open again. Little Joe coughed as he shifted on the chair, having no idea why his body suddenly felt so inhibited. “This is the worst nightmare ever – how am I gonna shake myself out of it?”
“No nightmare, Boy,” Came the voice of the bad man from somewhere behind the chair.
Joe’s eyes flashed wide open and he instantly caught sight of his reflection in the mirror that was hanging on the wall in front of him. And worse than seeing himself and witnessing the fear he held in his eyes, was the sight of Aram Cullen standing behind him smiling sinisterly. Little Joe forced himself to shut his eyes again, still praying that he was merely experiencing a very vivid nightmare instead of believing that he was wide awake.
“Did you miss me, Boy?” Aram laughed as he walked over to the right side of his prisoner.
“It – it can’t be,” Joe’s voice shook as he attempted to swallow the large lump that had instantly formed in his throat.
“Oh, but it is!”
“But – but you’re dead –” Joe stuttered and then began to pull on the ropes that bound his wrists to the arms of the chair.
“Not as dead as you’d think,” Aram chuckled. “And don’t bother to pull at those, Little Joe. I’ve got you tied down even tighter than you were in those restraints last time.”
Turning his head he tried to ascertain where he was. “How – how did I get here?”
Reaching over he offered a quick pat to the boy’s cheek, and grinned, “Don’t you remember? You were going to see Doc Martin today.”
Closing his eyes, Little Joe tried to shake himself from the dull effects of the chloroform so he could try to figure out how he had gotten abducted. He remembered leaving the ranch house and riding about three miles until he’d gotten to the sharp turn in the road that led to Virginia City. But he couldn’t recall anything after that.
“I’ll help you, Boy. You stopped in the middle of the road; do you remember that?”
“Yeah,” Joe mumbled, still confused and fighting back the familiar feeling of dread that swept over him. “I dismounted because Cochise began to favor her front right.”
Aram laughed loudly and patted Joe’s shoulder. “That’s something isn’t it? I wonder what caused your horse to get that stone bruise anyhow?”
“You – you did that?”
Nodding proudly, Aram replied, “Didn’t take much. I just wedged a good-sized stone in between her footpad and the horseshoe. I knew that she’d come up lame after just a couple of miles so I just followed along and bided my time. I spotted you when you stopped to check her over. You and that darn horse – everyone in town knows how much stock you put in that pinto. There’s no way that you’d ride her all the way to Virginia City and risk her getting hurt worse.”
Dwelling on what the evil man had just explained, Little Joe grew angrier than he already was. And that was saying something because he was positively livid over the fact that Aram had abducted him for the third time in his life.
“How did you knock me out this time?”
Aram patted the boy’s head and returned, “Simple little tap of the old Colt to your noggin and you fell down on the road like a sack of potatoes. You never even saw me creeping up behind you, Joe. Then it was just a matter of lugging you out here. I just slung you across your saddle. Oh, don’t worry. I turned that mare loose. She’s still limping a little – but she’ll be alright. Darn pinto slowed me up a bit, but it was worth dragging her here so she could tote you. I’m sure she’ll eventually show up back at the ranch house sooner or later. But they’ll never find any sign of you I made sure to hide the tracks. Yep – it’s just like I told you last time – you’ve got to have a plan!”
Attempting to twist his body in the chair so he could see better, Little Joe stared at his surroundings. There were only two lanterns, one in front of him and one somewhere off to his left side. “Here? Where’s here? It’s too dark — I can’t see a thing other than your ugly face of course!” Joe spat back.
Unamused by what the kid had said, Aram grabbed a fistful of his shirt and cautioned, “Better talk a whole lot better to me than that, Boy! I don’t have much to lose anymore.”
“Listen, Mister Cullen,” Joe began, attempting to sound more cooperative than he had. “I don’t know what you want with me – but you obviously survived the last time – so why not just go away and leave me be? You’re lucky that my brother’s bullet didn’t kill you –maybe next time he won’t miss and you’ll end up dead!”
“You don’t know what I want with you?” Aram questioned, amazed that the boy would even say that to him. “You sure you don’t know, Joe?” The man walked behind the chair again and placed his hands on the boy’s shoulders.
Little Joe watched in the mirror as Aram then began to run his fingers through his curly hair. *** Oh no! Please, Lord – not again! *** he thought while witnessing the eerie glow to the evil man’s eyes.
“Thank you for not going to see that fancy new barber in town, Little Joe. If you had then I would’ve had to wait longer. Yeah – I’ve been watching you – from a distance of course! The funny thing about having everyone believe that you’re dead is that they stop looking around for you. I’ve been able to go into Virginia City on many occasions without anyone batting an eye. Why I’ve stood next to Sheriff Coffee a couple of times and he never suspected that it was me. I even spotted your brother Adam and your Pa going to get a haircut last week. Imagine my relief to find out they hadn’t convinced you to join them!”
“How – how did you know I’d be going to town today?”
“Oh, come on, Boy – figure it out! I just told you a little while ago that I rigged up that stone in your pinto’s hoof. You know the “why”– now think on it and you’ll come up with the “how.”
Closing his eyes again, Little Joe ruminated on what had happened the previous night. The sight of the kitchen door being open and unlocked hadn’t left him for long. “You – you were in our house?” He choked out.
“Good job, Joe! I guess the aftereffects from the chloroform are finally easing up, huh? Yes, siree it was me! I was able to slip back into that kitchen – you know – the one where I snatched you from back when you were a tiny little brat? That Chinese Cartwright walked outside to feed some cat, and I slipped inside before he could turn around. I heard everything that your pa, you and your brothers said last night. Then I simply went out the same way I’d come in. I’m sorry that I couldn’t lock the door behind me – hope no one else got in after I left,” he chuckled. Watching his captive’s eyes in the mirror he could tell that the boy was both confused and scared by what he had offered. “I must admit to wanting to just drug you with chloroform right there in your bed last night – but I knew that I’d better wait. Like I told you before – you’ve got to have a plan!”
Little Joe closed his eyes for a minute, taking in all that the evil man had just explained. Trying to control his mounting fear, he warned angrily. “My family will come looking for me – and you won’t get away with it this time!”
“Come on, Boy – I’ve already gotten away with it! And I’m not worried about your family,” Aram laughed as he ran his fingers through Joe’s hair again. “I got sloppy the last time – but I’ve learned from my mistakes. And all my planning will be worth it once these thick brown curls of yours are finally mine!”
“You said that last time,” Little Joe fumed. “And see where that got you! My brother put a bullet in you!”
Aram stood alongside the chair and lifted his shirt to display the scar he had on his right side just above his waistline. “It wasn’t much of a wound, Boy. Just barely bled – went in and out like a hot knife through butter. And what luck! That cold water from the river helped stop the bleeding!”
“How did you survive those rapids?”
Pulling a stool over, Aram sat opposite his captive and explained, “Oh –they were fierce there for a little while, but I was lucky to have gotten a hold of a big tree limb and held on tight. It took me downstream a good piece, but I was able to make my way to the riverbank and just pulled myself out.”
Little Joe shook his head filled with anger over the whole terrible situation and how such an evil man always seemed to survive whereas good decent folks wouldn’t have been as lucky.
“I guess it’s true,” Joe muttered, dropping his head down to his chest.
“What?”
Looking over at Aram, he replied, “Evil doesn’t die.”
The sound of maniacal laughter echoed against the walls, which gave away the first real clue as to where Joe was being held.
“A cave?” Little Joe questioned. He’d heard that same kind of laughter out of Aram before back when he was a scared five-year-old boy and was held inside a cave on the Ponderosa. “Have you brought me back to the same cave that you took me to the first time?”
“Little Joe,” Aram sighed wondering how the boy could be so dense. He reached over and sent a quick pat to Little Joe’s knee before standing again and moving behind the boy. “Kid, do you honestly believe I’d be that stupid? If you disappeared that’d be the first place they’d look – either there or at that stamp mill. No – we’re not anywhere near there. But – well – we are in a cave. I guess that’s not giving too much away. But you’d never figure out which one. There must be twenty or thirty of them around Virginia City and inside the surrounding ranches. In fact, I scoped out most of those caves back when I decided to snatch you years ago. I chose the one closest to your house because I hadn’t planned to keep you long. I just wish I’d known that there would’ve been a slew of men out looking for you. I’d have chosen a different cave a lot further from the Ponderosa. But, well, I didn’t have a good plan back then. But I do now!”
“What are you going to do with me this time?” Joe queried, though he’d pretty much figured it out already.
“You tooked my best curls!” Aram teased, using the vernacular that Joe had used when he was five. “And I want them all back. Good thing you let your hair grow out even longer and thicker than it was when I tooked it back in the spring.”
Joe let out a deep groan, not amused by what the man had said and how he was teasing him. He stared into the eyes that watched him through the mirror. Haven’t you done enough to me already, Mister Cullen?”
Running his fingers through the boy’s hair he grabbed a handful and gave them a good yank. “Those curls were mine and I lost them in the Truckee! I spent days walking on both sides of the river — searching for my hairpiece! Your brothers just had to chase after me! I worked hard to get those curls – and I spent hours sewing them onto that mesh to get it perfect only to end up back where I started!”
Little Joe shook his head. He thought about finding the hairpiece buried behind the ranch house. He could picture Aram searching for the darn thing for days never knowing that his brothers had found it the same day the evil man had gone into that river. Staring up at his captor he replied, “No, Mister Cullen – they were never yours – they were mine!”
Aram let go of the curls and placed his hands on either side of Joe’s head and squeezed hard to get his message across. “What’s my name, Boy?”
*** Here we go again – I knew that would be next! *** Joe sighed as he witnessed the reflection of anger spreading across his captor’s face. “You’re the bad man,” he groaned.
Patting the boy’s cheeks, Aram smiled, “Best remember that, Little Joe. Now, like I told you – you’ve got to have a plan. And boy did I! You see — back before I captured you the last time I got all my supplies ready just in case things didn’t quite go the way I’d hoped. I took all the money I’d saved and stashed it away. You’d be surprised how much money a barber can acquire after years of tips! Anyway, then I got everything I’d need in case I had to lay low for a while. I had clothes, food, money and a place to hide out. Then I went about getting ready for what we’re about to do now.”
“Let me guess,” Little Joe’s face winced up at the thought of what Aram had in mind. “You’re going to cut my hair off again, right?”
“No,” Aram shook his head and then grinned. “You are!”
“What?” Joe’s voice shot out in disbelief. He was beginning to think that his earlier assumption had been a correct one and that he really was trapped inside a nightmare and just hadn’t awakened yet.
“You heard me right, Boy. I’m going to hand you my shears and you’re going to cut your own hair this time. Of course I’ll help you. It’s got to be done just right so you’ll need a professional to assist you.”
Little Joe watched as the man walked away from the chair and over to the small table underneath the mirror opposite where he sat. Aram knelt there for a minute and retrieved something that the boy wished he’d never ever see again. It was a wig block, the same thing that the man had used the previous spring. And on top of it was a flesh-colored mesh material that would be used to secure the freshly cut curls needed for a hairpiece.
“Yeah – I got a new one – just like the last. It took some finagling, since I had to order it in Sacramento. Yeah, cost me a pretty penny but it’s just as good as the last one – maybe even better!”
“You can buy a hundred of those things, but I’ll never cut my hair!” Joe swore.
Aram placed the wig block on top of the table and then turned back to face his prisoner. “Oh yes, you will.”
“No,” Joe argued adamantly. “I won’t.”
Reaching over to the side of the table where he had placed Joe’s Colt revolver along with his own gun, Aram lifted the boy’s ivory handled pistol and aimed it at him.
“You sure about that, Boy?”
“Go ahead and shoot me,” Joe nodded to the man. “It won’t be the first bullet you’ve put into me!”
“What if I don’t shoot you in the leg like I did the last time, Joe? What if I aim for your heart?”
“I’m not afraid to die.”
“You know,” Aram paused and chuckled. “I believe you! In fact, I think you’re just crazy enough to take a bullet instead of cutting your own hair!”
“Yeah, I am,” Joe nodded. “So go right ahead. But there’s nothing you can threaten me with that’s ever gonna make me cut my hair for the likes of you!”
“Nothing?” Aram asked again raising his eyebrows. He knew better because he knew Little Joe Cartwright and the way he thought.
With a firm nod to his head, Little Joe stated bluntly, “Nothing.”
Placing the gun inside his belt, Aram turned and began to walk away. “I’ll be right back. Now don’t go anywhere,” he announced and walked into the dark passageway of the cave.
While the evil man was out of earshot Little Joe continued to tug at his ropes. He hoped that he could somehow loosen his bonds and escape before Aram returned. Unfortunately, the crazy man had been right about the ropes being tied up good. They felt even more sturdy than the restraints that had bound him inside the stamp mill.
A few minutes later Little Joe heard something being dragged along the floor of the cave coming from the direction that Aram had gone. Unable to see what the man had been doing, all Joe could do was just sit there and wait.
Aram, looking a bit winded, drew closer to Little Joe and grinned slyly. “So, nothing in this whole wide world could ever make you take my shears into your hand and cut off all your hair, huh?”
Snarling at the man, Joe returned, “I already told you that.”
Grabbing the gun out of his belt, Aram reached over and spun the barber chair around so his captive could get a look at what he’d brought out from the depths of the cave. Little Joe watched as the man took about seven steps and knelt. He could see that there was something on the floor, but his eyes hadn’t quite homed in on it yet. It was then that Aram reached down and yanked the blanket off the surprise that he had for Joe.
“How about him?” Aram smiled as he pointed his gun in the direction of the figure wrapped in a blanket.
Little Joe looked on in shock and horror as he witnessed his father lying on the floor of the cave, bound, gagged and helpless.
“Pah –” the boy choked out, the word thick with despair as the reality of the situation crashed down upon him, tearing his heart in two. Joe would’ve endured anything without complaint if it meant that his father hadn’t been captured along with him.
It was at that moment that Little Joe realized that Aram was holding his own Colt, the one that Pa had given him for his fifteenth birthday, and now it was aimed at his father’s head. “No!” he shouted tugging on the ropes that bound him as hard as he could muster, trying to free himself to save his father.
“Oh? You don’t want me to kill him?” Aram questioned with a twisted and satisfied grin on his lips.
“Don’t – don’t kill him! Please!” Joe pleaded as he continued to fight against his bonds.
“Oh? Are you suggesting that there is something that would make you cut your hair after all?”
Little Joe just sat there as tears glazed his eyes. Not only would he have cut off all his hair to save his father, but he would have cut his own throat if it meant that Aram wouldn’t hurt his pa. Drawing in a deep and remorseful breath he announced, “hand me those damned shears!”
Ben was groggy and still suffering the aftereffects from inhaling a rag full of chloroform. But he had gotten a look over at the boy strapped down in the chair and it revived him enough to try to fight the ropes that bound his wrists and ankles.
“Now I don’t want no trouble from you!” Aram called down to Ben. “But – since I’m sure you’d like to see your boy giving his first haircut — I’ll just pull you up a bit so you can get a better view of this momentous occasion.” He yanked Ben’s body over to one side of the cave until he was in a semi-reclined position. “There – nice and comfortable, Ben?” Aram laughed as he stood. “What’s the matter cat got your tongue?”
Joe was incensed over the way the man was taunting his father. He shouted to him, “Leave my Pa alone!”
Spinning around, Aram walked back to the boy in the chair and smiled. “No yelling, Little Joe. I let you get away with that kind of thing when you were five – but that’s only because I don’t hurt little kids.” He walked to the table underneath the mirror and grabbed his shears and made his way back to his youngest captive. “I’m sure you remember the story about Samson, right?”
Wondering where the evil man was going with his question, Little Joe sat quietly and waited.
“I asked you if you’ve heard the story of Samson, Boy – now you’d better answer me. I’ve got the biggest bargaining chip ever — right over there,” he pointed at Ben.
“Yeah – yeah I’ve heard it.”
Laughing at the way his plan was coming along so smoothly, Aram walked behind Joe and ran the fingers of his left hand through the boy’s hair. “He had the strength of a hundred men — that is until he got himself a haircut! Yeah – that took it all away. Tell me, Little Joe, did you feel weak after I gave you that close shave – so to speak – last spring?”
Ben and his son exchanged apprehensive glances, each convinced Aram was mad. Though gagged and unable to guide him, Ben could tell from the boy’s expression that Joe knew how to respond to the insane man’s question.
“Yes – you made me weak,” Little Joe decided to tell the man exactly what he wanted to hear.
“Did you pay much attention in church, Boy?”
“Yes.”
“Then – do you know what ultimately happened to Samson after he lost his hair and the Philistines captured him?”
Growing tired of the man’s questions, Little Joe just shook his head.
“You really don’t know?”
“No – I don’t.”
Aram stepped closer, opened the shears near Joe’s face, and aimed the blade tips at his eyes. Ben shifted against the cave’s cold stone wall, trying to speak through his gag, but only muffled sounds escaped. He feared the man intended to blind his son. If Ben could’ve gotten his words out, they would’ve sounded louder than cannon fire and they would’ve been, *** In the name of God leave my boy alone! ***
“You want to take a guess, Little Joe?”
The boy swallowed hard, too terrified to speak with the tips of the shears hovering so close to his eyes. Knowing the man expected an answer, he finally stammered, “He—he was blinded.”
Aram doubled over with laughter and announced, “You should’ve seen your face, Joe! That was priceless! I ain’t gonna blind you, Boy, – don’t worry. Well – that is – unless you do something stupid. Hold on, I brung you a little present. I told you I had all this ready for you. That’s right – you’ve got to have a plan!”
Little Joe glanced across the cave at his father. Even from three yards away, he saw the tears that were glistening in Pa’s eyes and fear for his son’s life displayed on his face. Knowing Pa feared losing him, Joe nodded to show he was all right.
Aram returned to the table, opened a drawer, and pulled out a small pouch. After rummaging through it, he found what he wanted and approached his captive. “Here you go, Boy! Now open your mouth!”
Little Joe wanted to open his mouth but only to curse the man who relished having two Cartwrights at his mercy. But with his father’s life at stake, he obeyed. He closed his eyes and waited until Aram shoved a piece of candy between his lips.
*** Damn, peppermint! I told that crazy fool both times that he captured me that I hate peppermint! *** Joe thought, fighting the urge to gag.
“Eat it all up like a good boy, Little Joe,” Aram chided him and walked behind the chair. Easing his hands on top of the boy’s shoulders he leaned in closer and whispered in his right ear, “All little boys love peppermint!”
*** If I get out of this alive—and right now, that seems doubtful—I’ll shove every piece of peppermint that madman owns down his throat until he chokes! *** Joe fumed as he forced himself to chew and swallow the candy.
Ben considered sawing the ropes around his wrists against the rocky wall until they frayed, hoping Aram was too distracted by taunting his son to notice. Deciding it was worth the risk, he discreetly began trying to work himself free from his bonds.
Aram swung the chair back toward the mirror, forcing his captive to face his reflection. “Now for the main event. I’ll go lay everything out. You’re going to enjoy this, Boy! I remember the first haircut I ever did — I was terribly nervous. You aren’t nervous, are you, Joe?”
Little Joe glanced at his father again, hoping Pa was doing exactly what he suspected. He knew Pa wouldn’t simply wait to be killed or stand by while his son was harmed; he would find a way to saw through the ropes.
“You didn’t answer me, Boy,” Aram sang out, turning from the table where he was busying himself with setting out the ribbon and everything else that would be needed to fashion the brand-new hairpiece. “Are you nervous?”
“Why should I be nervous?” Little Joe quipped sarcastically. There really wasn’t any point in telling the man that he was scared to death at that moment and cutting his hair was the very last thing he wanted to do. He wanted to somehow break out of his bonds, make sure his Pa was okay, and remove the ropes that bound him. Then he wanted to stab the evil man with his own scissors.
Chuckling, Aram turned back to the table satisfied by what the boy had said. “That’s right – you’ve got nothing to be nervous about! It’ll just be a minute and we’ll start.”
Little Joe looked to his father for guidance. Bound and gagged, Ben couldn’t respond verbally, but he gave a slight nod, signaling his son to cooperate with Aram and buy them enough time to escape alive.
A few minutes later Aram walked over to Joe, shears in hand and a big smile on his face. “Here – just because we’re not in my barbershop doesn’t mean that we can’t be tidy about this!” he said and held out the cape. He gave it a quick shake and then settled it around Joe’s neck. “There – that’ll keep those hairs from going down your shirt. I always say there’s nothing worse than a sloppy barber!”
Little Joe’s throat was so tight that he was sure that he would choke on his own saliva. His heart fell in his chest when Aram lifted the shears in his hand.
“Let me explain to you how we’re going to do this. In case you’ve got some crazy notion that you’ll try to get me with these shears – since they are very sharp – I’ll tell you what will happen if you do.”
Little Joe drew a sharp breath; certain Aram had read his mind. He had planned to stab him at the first opportunity, cut through his ropes with the shears, and free his father. But when he met Aram’s gaze, his eyes had turned cold and deadly.
“I can get to this Colt in my belt long before you can do any damage to me,” Aram began and pointed over to Ben. “And I won’t be shooting your father in the leg like I shot you, Joe. I’ll get him straight through the heart. I know people don’t give most barbers much respect, but I’ve got many talents – one of which is that I’m a very good marksman. And after I kill him, I’m going to take that straight razor on the table and instead of leaving you with about a half an inch of hair I’ll shave it all off. Then I’ll turn you loose and you won’t be much more than a young bald orphan. Do you understand me, Boy?”
Little Joe had to try one last time, for his own sake as well as his father’s. “Please, Mister Cullen, turn us loose! We won’t come after you – I swear it!”
Incensed by his captive’s constant whining and his refusal to address him properly, Aram reached over and slapped the boy’s face. “How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that? Now what’s my name!” He shouted and watched as Joe recoiled in fear.
“The bad man,” Joe muttered and shot a quick glance over to Pa who looked furious after witnessing the violence Aram was displaying.
*** Oh, Joseph, I’m so sorry — I wish I could help you! But if I get out of this, I promise you that he’ll pay dearly for hitting you and for everything else he’s done! *** Ben thought as tears stung his eyes. The thick ropes refused to loosen, and he feared his son would be forced to cut his own hair. Aram was clearly beyond reason and Ben believed him to be positively insane.
“Just remember that,” Aram nodded and pulled the stool closer to the chair. “Here’s how we’re going to get this done, Joe. Now listen up, because there’s no room for errors in the hair cutting business. And since it’s your neck and your father’s too – and they’re both on the line you’d better do as you’re told. Understand?”
Attempting to fight both his fear and the blinding hot anger that was surging through his veins, Joe was forced to reply, “Yes, I understand.”
Walking behind the chair, Aram bent forward and loosened his prisoner’s left wrist from the ropes that held it. “I know you’re a southpaw, Boy. So, you’ll be working with your left hand. I’m not fool enough to release your other one. I’ll pull up the sections and all you have to do is make the cut. Now to take these curls off right, all you have to do is this,” he paused and pulled a strand of the boy’s hair up. “Relax, I’m not making this cut – it’s just to demonstrate. You’re going to lay the shears right on top of your head.” He paused and dropped the scissors down, so they were placed horizontally against the boy’s scalp. “Then once you feel the coolness of the blades you’ll know you’re low enough to make the cut.”
“Wait –” Joe interrupted the man. “Can I just ask you one question?”
Aram scowled at Joe and warned, “Don’t try to stall, Boy – it wouldn’t be healthy!”
“No, Sir – I’m not stalling. I just want to know why you’re making me do this? You’ve got me tied up – and my Pa too. If you want my hair so badly why not cut it yourself like you did the last time? What’s the point in making me do it?”
Aram leaned in towards the boy and replied, his voice filled with rage, “You got me shot out of the saddle and you made me lose that hairpiece! If your family hadn’t stopped me, I would be starting my life all over again right now. So, I think it’s proper justice that you repay me by gracefully giving me your curls. And that means you give them to me willingly by performing the haircut yourself!”
“I didn’t shoot you—my brother Hoss did. Why don’t you try tying him down like this and see how far you get?” Joe knew the retort would anger Aram, but he had never held back before due to his temper, and he wasn’t about to start now, even in such dire circumstances.
Grabbing the boy’s shoulder and squeezing tightly he hissed, “Do I get the gun and kill your Pa now?”
Shaking his head knowing that he’d never be able to talk sense into the maniac, Little Joe surrendered. Nothing was worth losing his Pa. “Give me those shears – I’ll do what you say.”
“Here,” he handed the boy the scissors and watched his eyes in the mirror. “Joe – as a barber, I’ve learned a lot over the years by watching the reflection of my customer’s eyes in the mirror that was in my shop. So don’t even think about doing anything stupid.”
Little Joe simply nodded his head; the words wouldn’t come. The overwhelming feeling of dread was weighing on him as well as the devastating reminder of losing his hair nine months ago. He now wished that he had done as his father had asked and gone to get a haircut the previous week even if that had meant he was simply postponing the inevitable, and that he’d still have fallen victim to Aram’s plan; it didn’t matter.
Aram took his comb and sectioned out the first curl. “We’ll start with that best curl of yours, Little Joe. Drop those shears down on your head until you feel the coolness of the blades. Open the blades and then close them on this section.”
His hand shaking, Joe glanced over at his father one last time before beginning the haircut. Pa had a pained expression on his face, and Little Joe knew why it was there.
“I have to, Pa,” Little Joe said, his voice cracking with emotion.
Ben nodded his understanding and closed his eyes. It would break his heart to watch Joseph cutting the curls that had taken almost a year to grow back after Aram had stolen all his previous ones from the boy. He silently prayed that his son would have the inner strength to do it so Aram wouldn’t harm Joseph again.
Looking in the mirror, Joe closed the blades on the first section of hair and Aram caught the curl in the palm of his hand.
“Not too bad, Boy!” Aram shouted excitedly. He bent down and placed the hair onto the stool where he’d set the ribbons he’d use to tie off each strand. “Hold on – let me make a knot,” he said and fashioned a slipknot around the curl and then set it down. “Next section,” Aram announced and drew a larger amount of hair up from the front of his victim’s head. “Set the shears on your scalp and make the cut!”
Staring into the mirror once more, Little Joe tried to ignore the single tear which had drifted down from his right eye. It didn’t really matter anyway. He placed the blades of the shears exactly where the evil man had instructed and made the next cut.
Ben could no longer keep his eyes closed. Unable to free himself or help his son in any way, he was heartsick as each curl fell. Still, if Joseph had to watch his hair being cut strand by strand, Ben would watch too, offering what support he could by sharing their mutual pain. The memory came upon him so fast that it had almost stolen his breath away. Little Joe was about to turn five in a couple of months, and Ben had told his wife that it was time that he got his first haircut. Marie had balked at the very idea of having her little boy going to get his beautiful curls cut off. She loved the sandy brown curls that graced her son’s head and didn’t think Joseph was old enough to go to the barbershop with his Pa. However, Ben had prevailed though it did cause some friction in the family. When he and Little Joe had returned from their visit to Aram Cullen’s barbershop the woman had given Ben the silent treatment. But he had saved one of the little boy’s curls as an appeasement gift to his wife. Marie had taken it and put it inside her bible where it remained even after her death a few months later. Watching their son now, tied and forced to cut his curls one at a time made Ben grateful that Marie hadn’t lived to see it.
“Oh, c’mon stop with the tears, Boy! You’re doing good so far!” Aram sang out exuberantly as he tied yet another strand, placing it in a nice row on top of the stool.
Little Joe dropped the shears down into his lap and took a quick second to wipe the involuntary tears from his face. He hated that he had broken down that way, but he couldn’t help it. Staring over at his father he knew what he was thinking and feeling. Trying to be brave, he nodded Pa’s way that he was all right and lifted the shears once more.
It had taken almost an hour to remove most of the hair from the top, front and sides of Joe’s head because there was a pause each time a section was cut so Aram could tie neat bundles in preparation for their placement on the hairpiece later.
“All we have is just the back of your head now, Boy!” Aram exclaimed joyously and moved the stool behind the chair. “I’ll help you angle those shears for the back. It’ll be a little tricky, but you’ve got a professional with you to assist you – so don’t worry.”
“Can—can I have some water?” Joe’s question came out both broken and laced with sorrow because he had been forced to surrender to Aram’s will just so the madman wouldn’t kill his Pa. And to make matters worse, he had witnessed the entire haircut in the reflection from the mirror hanging there in front of him. It hung in place by a thick metal wedge that had been painstakingly hammered into the wall of the cave; obviously yet another part of the sadistic man’s plan. Little Joe was sure that he would pass out and end up slumping down in the chair thereby sending the bad man into another fit of blind rage that just might get his father killed.
“No,” Aram sang out brusquely. He reached inside his pocket and drew out another piece of candy which he forced through Little Joe’s parted lips. “There that’ll keep your mouth from drying out. We’ve got to get back to this. Now tilt your head forward some so we can finish this haircut!”
There wasn’t a point in protesting the move or the piece of peppermint that had been stuffed inside his mouth. With all the hair on the top and sides of his head gone, other than a scant quarter of an inch, Joe knew that he’d have to finish the haircut. Aram wrapped his fingers around his victim’s hand and helped him close the blades on the strands of hair on the back of his head. Little Joe heard the metallic snip, snip, snip of the shears. But this time the sound was much worse because the hair was falling by his own hands. When he looked into the mirror and witnessed how awful he looked it was all he could do not to bawl his eyes out. But he hadn’t and when he glanced over at Pa, he watched him nod as if to say. “I’m proud of you”.
“You did it, Boy!” Aram exclaimed, thrilled to see the stool now full of the coveted locks of hair. “And a good job too! These curls are thicker and longer than they were the last time. They’re going to make the finest hairpiece ever created.” He removed the cape from around the boy’s neck and folded it neatly. Then he once again secured Little Joe’s left wrist to the arm of the chair.
Little Joe sat there stiffly as he unfortunately got a good long look in the mirror. He had to take a few deep breaths because he wasn’t sure if he was either going to pass out or vomit at the sight of his reflection.
“I’m going to start working on my sewing now. You can just sit back and relax now, Joe.”
“Can I have some water?” he repeated his earlier request.
“No time for that – how about another piece of peppermint?” Aram replied holding up his last piece of the candy.
Little Joe just shook his head and closed his eyes. The thought of eating one more piece of the bad man’s peppermint made him want to puke.
*** Once I’m free, I’ll deal with that sadistic man, Joseph. He won’t get away with this again! *** Ben vowed as he looked at his son, slumped in the chair as though the life had drained from him. He couldn’t help thinking back to what Aram had said about Samson having lost all his strength after he had been shorn. Joseph looked that way now.
Ben and Little Joe were forced to just sit and wait as Aram slowly and meticulously sewed each curl to the fine silk mesh material. Just like the last time he had abducted the boy the madman sat there at the table and hummed as he worked. There had been some glances exchanged between father and son and each time Ben had reluctantly given the impression that he hadn’t had any success in loosening the ropes which bound his wrists together behind his back.
“It’s done!” Aram sang out cheerily as he stood from the table. “Now – neither of you two look at me just yet. Give me a minute or two to get it on my head and I’ll model it for you!”
Little Joe shook his head as he fought back the nausea that swept over him upon hearing what the maniac had said. He had gone through it before, and he didn’t relish seeing his own hair staring back at him again.
“Okay – here we are – it’s ready!” Aram sang out and after making a few minor adjustments in his mirror he turned around to model the hairpiece. “Well?” he asked as he shot a glance between the father and son. “How do I look?”
Staring over at his father, Little Joe warned him in his gaze not to try to make a sound even from underneath his gag. He had learned the hard way last time not to get the man riled up when he asked about his stolen curls or he’d probably turn violent like he had there inside the stamp mill.
“Joe? What do you think?” Aram questioned again drawing closer to his prisoner.
“Nice,” he nodded, trying his best not to say what he wanted to. If he could have, Joe would have used some of the foul language he’d heard from some of the ranch hands out in the bunkhouse whenever rotgut came up missing.
“Oh – just nice? They were yours, you know? And you did such a fine job with your first haircut too! I’m sure you can think of something a bit more polished than just the word nice!”
Coughing trying to dislodge the lump in his throat, Little Joe replied biting back his sarcasm, “Great—great job. I wish I had hair like that.”
Aram laughed and patted the boy’s shoulder. “Very funny! Seriously – don’t these curls look natural on me?”
“Sure, they do,” Joe nodded and offered the most insincere smile he’d ever given to anyone before.
Turning to look at Ben still lying against the wall of the cave, Aram asked, “Well? Oh – I know you can’t talk – but you can nod. If you think I did a good job nod your head, Ben!”
Little Joe’s eyes grew wide and he shook his head, once more trying to send his father a signal that he needed to do whatever he could to prevent sending Aram into a blind rage.
Noting the look on the face and eyes of his youngest, Ben very reluctantly nodded his head even though it killed him to do so.
Aram smiled broadly and said, “I’m glad you think so, Ben. It would’ve been a pure shame to have to kill you. I always appreciated your business – you were a great tipper! Well, thank you both – I’m glad you can appreciate my hair and what a wonderful job both Joe and I did to create it! Now I’ve got to get some things packed up and then I must go. Just sit tight – I won’t be long.”
Ben and his son exchanged hesitant glances. Was Aram planning to kill them before he left? If so, they were helpless; Pa had made little progress with his ropes. All they could do was wait and hope Aram departed without further violence, though neither believed he would.
After packing his gear and provisions and carrying everything to the horse waiting at the cave’s entrance, Aram returned to address his prisoners one last time. Pointing his Colt at Little Joe, he moved closer.
“What do you think, Boy? Should I shoot you again? You did tell me you weren’t afraid to die, right?”
“What do I think?” Little Joe began, staring up at the madman wearing the hair he had stolen from him. Aram now considered it his own, not concerned in the least that he had taken it by force. “I think you’ll do exactly as you please, Mister Cullen.”
Ben couldn’t tell whether his son had deliberately used the man’s real name, but if so, Joseph was likely offering a small act of defiance against the man who had stolen his hair. He braced himself for another explosion of Aram’s temper.
Aram approached the silent boy in the barber chair, leaned close, and stared at him with contempt. “Didn’t I tell you that isn’t my name?” he hissed.
Little Joe knew he should have kept his composure, but the sight of the monster before him leaving with hair that had been his only hours earlier was just too much to bear.
“Yeah,” Joe replied ironically, giving no thought to the angry man looming over him. “You’re not Aram Cullen—you’re the bad man. And you have nice hair. And I should know – because it’s mine.”
*** Oh, Joseph! Ben thought to himself and held his breath. You’ve got to learn not to stir up an angry nest of vipers. *** He sent off a silent prayer that Aram wouldn’t end up killing his boy due to what he had said.
Laughing, Aram began to simply walk away. Both Ben and Joe looked at each other, relieved to see that the man’s temper hadn’t erupted again. Just then he suddenly turned back and lunged for the boy, grabbing his shirt up into his fists. “You just had to ruin this moment for me, didn’t you?” he thundered, shaking Joe with each word. “I’ll let you live for one reason – and only one reason.”
“Why’s that?” Joe asked, still held in the clutches of the bad man.
Aram laughed cruelly, then backhanded the boy with all his strength, splitting Little Joe’s lip. He seemed pleased by the sight and sent a barrage of slaps to the boy’s face until he grew tired and drew back to view the damage. “You’ll have to admit you had that coming, Joe. But I’ll let you live because –” he paused and winked— “I might need your hair again someday!”
Ben lunged forward the instant Aram struck his son. For hours, he had tried to loosen his bonds, but the rope had only begun to fray—not nearly enough for him to cross the cave and punish the animal who had forced Joseph to cut off his own hair, stolen it, and repaid him with a vicious backhand followed by numerous other slaps. Seething, Ben watched Aram hurry from the cave.
Little Joe reeled from the blows he had taken and from Aram’s abrupt departure. Having been abducted by the man three times, he kept his guard up, wary that Aram might return to torment them again. Joe glanced at his father and nodded to show he was all right, though inside it felt as if his heart had been torn from his chest for the third time.
The cave fell eerily silent, broken only by the sound of the wind at its entrance as father and son waited, uncertain of what would happen next.
“I think he’s gone, Pa,” Little Joe whispered, still wondering why Aram had left them alive.
Ben could only nod to reassure his son as he worked feverishly at the rope binding him. Every so often, he glanced at Joseph, who stared blankly into the mirror. Ben could only imagine his thoughts. This time, the ordeal had cost him more than his hair: Aram had forced him to cut off his own curls and surrender them to the madman who had pursued him for years. Ben understood what that forced participation had taken from his son. Joseph was undeniably brave, but his hair was part of his identity, and losing it this way would wound him even more deeply than it had nine months earlier. Ben feared that the humiliation and helplessness would haunt his son for a long time.
Little Joe lowered his head, struggling to hide the anguish in his voice. “How are you doing with the ropes, Pa?” He lifted his head long enough to see his father’s arms still moving feverishly against the wall behind him.
After struggling against the tight ropes for so long, Ben’s strength had nearly failed. For his son’s sake, however, he summoned what little remained and kept trying.
Rubbing the ropes that bound both his right and left wrists hoping to do something with them, Little Joe discovered something poking out of the arm of the chair just down from his left wrist. “Pa!” He cried out. “I might be able to do something with the ropes on my left wrist – I think there’s a loose nail just underneath the armrest of the chair.”
Casting a hopeful glance over at his boy, Ben continued to fight with his bonds, never giving up just in case Joseph wouldn’t be able to free himself. He knew the boy was about as played out as he was, maybe more.
Working diligently for what seemed like hours, Little Joe felt like he couldn’t go on much longer. He again looked at his Pa and was answered by a subtle shake of his head which let him know that neither of them was having much success in trying to get out of their bonds. Little Joe decided that he needed to calm himself so he could regroup a bit and then go back to trying to free himself. He closed his eyes.
Deep inside the cave, without a clock or sunlight, they had no way to measure how long they had been there. Exhausted by Aram’s cruelty, Little Joe drifted off, trusting that Pa would eventually free himself, even if it took days. The chloroform had affected him more severely this time, leaving him with a blinding headache and waves of nausea, but his emotional anguish was worse. Before sleep overtook him, he glanced at the mirror again and felt tears gather. He fought them back, clinging to what little pride had remained and unwilling to let his father see how close he was to breaking down. It wouldn’t have mattered; Pa always knew.
Little Joe jolted awake, unsure how long he had been unconscious. “Pa? Pa, are you all right?” In the kerosene lamp’s fading glow, he saw his father lying motionless. When Pa failed to answer his repeated calls, not even with a nod of his head, terror gripped him. Driven by the combination of fear and love, Joe frantically worked the rope imprisoning his left wrist against the nail, desperate to break free and reach him. His lost hair and everything that Aram had done to him no longer mattered. He could do without hair, and he could live without his pride. But there was one thing that he just couldn’t live without; his Pa.
With one final Herculean effort, Little Joe tore through the rope, freeing his left wrist. “I’ll be there in just a second, Pa! It’s gonna be okay – it’s gonna be okay!” he cried out as he quickly loosened the ropes on his right wrist and then leaned forward to free his ankles. When Little Joe pulled himself out of the chair his head was still swimming due to the aftereffects of the chloroform and the fear that something had happened to his beloved father. He grabbed the lamp Aram had left on top of the table which had held the wig block earlier. Then he jogged over to his Pa and dropped down to his knees.
Little Joe leaned forward and surveyed his father’s face. Pa’s eyes were closed and he wasn’t sure if he was breathing due to the gag that was inside his mouth. Joe placed an ear to his chest and sighed with relief when he heard the steady beat of his father’s heart. “Let’s get those ropes off you, Pa,” Joe whispered, unsure if he had heard him. It was then that the sound of Ben’s muffled cough broke the deafening quiet of the cave and his eyes blinked open. Little Joe was never so happy to see the brown eyes of his father than he was at that moment. Ben eased up a bit to allow his son to loosen the ropes that held his wrists together. “You almost got out of this one, Pa, you frayed it good,” Little Joe tried to sound amused though the words kept tightening in his throat. “Now – I need to hear you fuss at me for getting kidnapped again – so let’s get this gag off.” Little Joe carefully untied the kerchief.
Seeing how easily his father sank back to the floor, Joe studied him with mounting panic. Hurriedly ridding Pa of the ropes that bound his ankles, Joe then turned back around and leaned down close to him again. The very next minute Little Joe felt the familiar touch of his father’s hand against his cheek and the fingers that began to softly caress the bruises there. The loving gesture had caught him by surprise, and Joe couldn’t contain his tears of relief over the fact that Pa was awake and aware that he was kneeling there next to him.
Ben’s eyes surveyed the damage done by Aram’s hand as it had relentlessly struck his youngest boy. His heart fell in his chest when he witnessed the black and blue bruises that now marred his son’s handsome face. It took his breath away when he visually examined the boy’s head and noticed that it was so devoid of its usual abundance of chestnut brown curls. Since the day that Little Joe had drawn his first breath, there had only been two times when he hadn’t had the thick curly headful of hair that he was known for; and both occasions had happened that year. Ben ached at the thought of what Joseph had gone through and how it might affect him going forward.
Finally recovering his voice, Little Joe asked breathlessly, “Pa – are you – are you okay?”
Ben wanted to assure his son that he was fine, but that would have been a lie. Seeing Joseph’s head stripped of the curls that had always defined him, Ben understood the depth of his sacrifice. His son had surrendered them to save his father without knowing whether Aram would spare either of them. Joseph had valued Ben’s life way above his own hair, and the weight of that choice—and all he had endured—left Ben unable to answer truthfully.
“Oh, Joseph,” Ben choked out, his lips quivering and fighting the tears that were welling up in his eyes.
Little Joe knew why his father was looking at him the way he was at that moment. He realized that he looked horrible and Pa was hurt by the sight before him. Joe knew that the man lying there understood him more than anyone in the world so with that knowledge came the realization that it wounded his father to see him as devastated as he was at the time.
“Pa, I was so scared – so scared he was going to kill you! I don’t know what I would’ve done if –” he trailed off still fighting the paralyzing fear he’d felt when Aram had threatened to shoot his father in front of his eyes.
“I’m fine, Boy,” he nodded trying to reassure his son, still fighting for control of his own tears and staring into the glassy eyes of his youngest. “I’m just so sorry – sorry that he forced you to do it, Joseph.”
“Thank God you’re okay,” Joe sobbed as he wrapped his arms tightly around his father. His whole body shook due to the horrors he had witnessed that day. Joe had been terrorized by Aram Cullen, drugged, beaten and then forced to cut his own hair strand by strand and curl by curl. However, those things paled in comparison to being petrified that he was going to lose his father at Aram’s hands. Finally pulling himself back a bit, he stared into the compassionate brown eyes of the one person he loved most in the world. Little Joe choked out, “Oh, Pa — It’s only hair.”
Just seconds after his selfless declaration, Little Joe felt Pa’s arms as they suddenly came up from where they had been resting on the cold floor of the cave. Ben fiercely pulled Joseph to his chest holding onto him with an intensity that conveyed to the boy just how much his father truly loved him. Only then did Joe realize how much Pa had missed the closeness that the two of them had shared because it was evident in his touch. Little Joe’s grief was magnified, not by the loss of his hair or the damage done to his pride but by having refused to let his father help him through what he had been experiencing nightly. He now regretted his foolish decision to handle everything on his own and that he had drawn away from the love and understanding Joe could only find in the arms of the man lying there next to him.
Ben clung to the boy, holding him tightly against his chest; afraid that if he were to let go of him that Joseph would fall victim to the madman again. He closed his eyes and tried to fight off the memories of all three abductions, but they were too strong and deeply embedded in his mind. They ripped through his soul like a dagger, causing a deep pain in his heart. He remembered the first with devastating clarity; pulling his five-year-old son into his arms, trapped together inside the cage momentarily until crawling out to the freedom that awaited on the other side of the wooden bars. Ben had rocked the little boy in his arms and couldn’t stop kissing him and thanking God that he had found him alive. Then next was the memory of the stamp mill earlier in the year which clouded the anxious father’s mind due to the horror of finding his son tied down to the examination table. The boy looked so distraught when he had freed him from the restraints and turned Joe around to view the damage done to him. Ben remembered what it felt like to see his son’s head of curls devastatingly gone and to wonder why anyone would do that to his child. All he could do at that moment was to pull Joseph into his arms and try to shield him from the cruelty that he’d endured at the hands of Aram Cullen for the second time in his short life. And finally, the third abduction. Ben had witnessed that for himself, though bound and gagged, he had seen everything that the evil man had done to his boy. He had watched Joseph’s trembling fingers as they wrapped around the shears and cut every curl off his head; and all done because the boy was trying to stop Aram from shooting his father. All three events vibrated in his mind, each bearing its own unique horror, yet each one inevitably ending with Joseph locked in his father’s arms. This time was no different than the previous two abductions, other than the knowledge that he had been there to see it all; thus, making it more heart wrenching due to the fact that it had been his son’s love for him that had caused Joseph to lose his hair.
Quiet minutes passed by slowly, ticking away with the rhythm of their heartbeats as though they were lost in time itself. Both father and son, swept up in the knowledge that they could have lost each other that day at the hands of the insane man, let their mutual pain flow out in their tears. Ben knew that once he released the boy from his arms, that Joseph would be forced to remember the horrifying events that had happened that day. He wished that things could be different. Ben prayed that somehow he could shield Joseph from the evil that always seemed to stalk and find him. *** If only I could. *** he thought to himself.
“I’m sorry, Pa – sorry that I pushed you away,” Joe confessed sadly. He felt Pa’s hand gently drift over the top of his head and the warmth radiating from his palm let the boy know that it hadn’t really mattered that the curls were now gone. Pa was making the same loving gesture that he’d always made.
“It’s all right, Son,” he nodded to the boy. “I know you were trying to work it out in your own way. But –” Ben paused and pulled his son back so he could look into the eyes he knew so well. “I’ve missed you, Boy,” he whispered and then pulled Joseph back against his chest. Tears stinging at his eyes, Ben let out a deep sigh and repeated those same words, “I’ve missed you.”
“That darn kid!” Adam fumed as he slammed the front door. “I checked in town. Doc said Little Joe never showed up today!”
Hoss stood from his father’s chair next to the fireplace and met his brother by the front door. “I reckon what with Pa over at Gold Hill Joe just ran off somewhere, Adam. He’ll drag in here later and have some tall tale to tell us.”
“Please to come supper now,” Hop Sing called from the dining room.
“We’re coming,” Adam returned as he rolled up his holster and set it down on top of the credenza. He walked over to the table and sat down.
“Where Little Joe?”
Hoss frowned as he looked over at the cook. “We ain’t exactly sure, Hop Sing. But he’ll be back in a bit. Why don’t you keep something on the stove for him?”
“He need eat on time! Boy too thin!” he protested and set the last platter on the table.
Hoss chuckled and nodded. “Yeah, but I make up for him. Hey the roast looks great and I’ll eat Joe’s share!”
Hop Sing turned for the kitchen muttering in Chinese to show his displeasure over the youngest boy’s failure to show up in time for supper.
The loud thud on the door interrupted the meal a few minutes after the two Cartwright boys had just begun to eat. Adam stood and looked over at Hoss, who wasn’t about to turn loose from eating. “I’ll get it,” he sighed and walked into the living room.
Pulling the door towards him, Adam saw Fletcher standing there with a frown on his face. “Fletcher? I thought you planned on going to town tonight?”
Taking a few steps inside the room, the foreman glanced at Hoss and then turned his attention to the eldest. “Yeah, that’s what I planned on doing. Unfortunately, I found a pinto without a master not far from the turn off. Where’s that no good, worthless little shyster hiding, Adam?”
Hoss, having heard what the man had just said, came away from the table, worried for his little brother.
“Little Joe might leave one of us behind, but he’d never leave that horse of his!” Hoss exclaimed moving closer to the two men standing by the door. “Where’d you find Cochise?”
“I just told you –weren’t you listening?” Fletcher fired back. “I was at the cut off on the road to town. She was grazing on meadow grass.”
Adam and Hoss exchanged worried glances. Then they walked outside next to the foreman.
“She’s come up lame. I gave her a quick once-over. Nothing but an old stone bruise. I’ve told that shiftless fool that a man takes care of his horse. Guess he just walked off and left her.”
“No – like I said Little Joe might leave one of us behind but never this horse,” Hoss insisted and knelt to inspect the animal’s hoof. “It’s a bruise alright. But not bad enough that Joe couldn’t have walked her back here.”
“Then he never made it home?” Fletcher asked, though he had already spotted the concerned looks going back and forth between the two brothers.
Adam shook his head and replied, “No – he was supposed to go to see Doc today. But I rode right past that turn off twice and never saw Cochise.”
“Don’t tell me the kid’s got himself kidnapped again!” Fletcher groaned. “Didn’t we just go through all of that?”
Hoss frowned, “That was last spring, Fletcher.”
“Don’t make no never mind, it was this year, wasn’t it?” he fussed. “Ben’s over to Gold Hill – you want me to wire him?”
Adam thought about what the man had said. He didn’t want to alarm his father needlessly unless they knew for a fact that something had happened to the boy. “Let’s go saddle our horses, Hoss. Tell Hop Sing that we’re going out after the kid. If we don’t find him, we’ll send Pa word that he’s missing.
“I’ll go saddle your mounts,” Fletcher offered.
“Thanks, that’ll help,” Hoss nodded to the man.
“Don’t go getting all mushy on me – I’m just helping you so I can find the kid and unload on him. Lord knows that boy has it coming to him for worrying me by getting in fights – getting in trouble – leaving his horse –” the foreman ranted on as he walked to the barn.
“Let Hop Sing know, Hoss. I’ll go get a couple of lanterns in case we need them,” Adam said and walked to the storage room. ***What have you gotten yourself into this time, Kid? *** He thought to himself as he readied the provisions.
“What about this, Pa?” Little Joe asked, lifting the lamp off the table.
Walking over to his son, Ben replied, “It looks like it’s about out of fuel, Joseph, just like the other one. No sense in carrying more than we need to since we’re unsure how far we’ll have to walk.”
Joe nodded. “Well, we’ve got those two blankets that he had you wrapped up in and that one canteen he’d left where he’d been hiding you. I guess it’s better than nothing. I wish he hadn’t taken my darn jacket though.”
“Well, how about we go and check to see how dark it is outside – and then just stay in here if we’ve lost the daylight?”
Joe shook his head adamantly. “I don’t care if it’s midnight, Pa – I don’t want to stay here one minute longer than I have to.”
Ben read the look on his son’s face. He couldn’t blame the boy for feeling like he did. Joe had gone through enough and it was easy to see that when he had looked at the mirror a few minutes earlier it had sent him spiraling back in his mind and reliving the whole ordeal of cutting the hair off his head.
Dropping his arm across the boy’s shoulder he said, “We’ll be fine with what we’ve got. If you need my coat to keep you warm you can have it.”
“I’m good for now,” Little Joe insisted. He had been very worried about his father and had noticed that he seemed a little off due to having gotten a good dose of chloroform just like he had. “I’ll just throw one of these blankets over my shoulders if it gets too bad.”
“That’s fine, Boy. Let’s go and try to figure out where that insane man brought us,” Ben nodded and they walked out the way they’d seen Aram leaving earlier.
Surprised to find that they hadn’t completely lost daylight yet, Ben and Joe made it out of the cave. The sun was just beginning to set over the mountain range to the west as they stood by the mouth of the cave and tried to determine where they were.
“Any idea, Pa?” Joe questioned as he walked around by the entrance to the cave and didn’t find any clue that might tell him their current location.
Stretching his back, attempting to loosen up from hours spent bound in the cave, Ben sighed. “No, Joseph – it doesn’t look familiar – other than I know it’s not the one he took you to back when you were five.”
“Yeah, that fool told me that,” he frowned. “He also said that there’s twenty or thirty caves close by so there’s a good chance neither one of us have ever been here before. So? What’ll we do now, Pa?”
Ben pointed to the setting sun and smiled, “God gave us that sun for a sign – and the sign tells us that’s west. It’s a start. I guess let’s go south and hopefully something might jog my memory if I’ve been in this area – wherever it is!”
“Okay, Pa,” Joe nodded and offered his father the canteen. “You might want to drink a bit more – from my earlier experience that chloroform can really make your throat hurt.”
Ben held the canteen and gave it a little shake. “No – let’s make sure that we find some drinking water before we polish off what little is left in here. I’m fine – how about you?”
“I’m fine too,” Little Joe offered a slight reassuring smile so his father wouldn’t worry. The truth of the matter was he was anything but fine. His head hurt and it was cold. Without any hair or a hat and what with it being November, Joe already felt his ears going numb. But Pa didn’t need to know that. He was worried about the aftereffects of the chloroform and the fact that Pa had spent hours tied up on the cold damp floor in the cave. The last thing that his father needed was more worries.
“Use that blanket,” Ben called to the boy as they began to walk off in the direction they had surmised was south.
“Huh?”
“Your head – use it,” Ben nodded to the boy.
Grinning sheepishly, Little Joe wondered why he had even thought he’d be able to keep his father from realizing how cold he was; especially his head. Pa could always take one look at him and practically read his mind. He set the blanket across his shoulders, pulling one end over the top of his head.
Ben patted the boy’s shoulder but didn’t mention anything about the missing hair. Joseph surely didn’t need the reminder. He knew that his son was pretending that he was fine, but he was anything but that, something that Pa was very keenly aware of. First, they had to try to get to safety so Ben could broach the topic once they were bedded down somewhere for the night.
Adam, Hoss and Fletcher had retraced Cochise’s tracks but there was no sign of Little Joe. They finally decided that it was time to wire their father in Gold Hill or he’d get upset that they’d kept Joe’s disappearance from him. The three men rode into Virginia City and tied their horses to a hitching post just outside of the telegraph office.
“Bang on the door again, Hoss,” Adam instructed. He was getting annoyed due to the mounting worry over his youngest brother’s disappearance. “Pete’s got to be in there – he rarely goes home until after nine and it’s eight fifty-two right now.”
“Pete!” Hoss called in through the closed window. “Pete open up!”
The door to the office opened and Pete came out to see what Hoss Cartwright wanted.
“Hoss – Adam – I’m closing up,” he complained. “It’s been a long day!”
“Pete,” Adam began as he stepped closer to the man. “We need to send a telegram to our Pa – it’s important.”
“Stop asking him so politely!” Fletcher growled. “He owes you for running his mouth back when Little Joe got abducted last time. He’s the one who told Aram all about that hypnotist fellow that Ben had sent for!”
“I told your Pa I was sorry about that,” Pete groaned. “Now what’s this about Ben?”
“We have to wire him in Gold Hill,” Hoss jumped in hoping that Fletcher would calm down but that wasn’t likely.
“Gold Hill?” Pete asked. “I got me a wire earlier from some man in Gold Hill – think he’s a business partner of Ben’s. He wired your Pa to ask him why he didn’t make it to some meeting today.”
“What!” Both Adam and Hoss yelled in unison.
Pete jumped back, surprised by the anger that the two Cartwright boys had written all over their faces and their loud outburst. He expected that from Fletcher who had always fussed at him, but not coming from the much more level-headed Adam and Hoss Cartwright.
“Yeah, a man named Brennan – – Clyde Brennan. He wired Ben to see if he’d be getting there tomorrow. I got it so late I couldn’t get it delivered to your father but figured I’d send someone to give it to him in the morning.”
Hoss stared at his brother and pulled him over to the side. He didn’t want to give Pete any more fodder for gossip unless it was absolutely necessary. Fletcher was right about Pete and his mouth and the fact that he had inadvertently told Joe’s abductor what they were planning on doing so they could get the boy to remember his earlier abduction.
“Pa and Little Joe – and neither of them got to where they were supposed to be heading today. What do you want to do now?” Hoss asked quietly.
Sighing with frustration, Adam shook his head and said, “Better get Roy in on this now.”
“You boys want to send that wire or can I close up?” Pete asked upset because he couldn’t hear what the two men were saying.
“Close up – we won’t need you tonight, Pete,” Adam returned and then walked down the steps and over to the hitching post.
“Fletcher – let’s get on down to the jail,” Hoss called to the foreman as he swung up onto his horse.
“Darn kid – just like his Pa, I tell you! Neither of them is worth much,” Fletcher said cussing under his breath. But behind his insults there was worry which he wasn’t about to show the Cartwright boys. He could see that they were afraid for both members of their family.
Looking to the west again, Ben called over to his son, “Joseph, we’ve walked just about as far as we can for the night. We’d better find some kind of shelter and make camp. We’ve about lost the light – the path is getting too dark to see more than a few feet in front of us.”
Joe was just about to comment when he heard a sound not far from them over to the west. “Pa—Pa do you hear that?”
Stopping in his tracks, Ben listened carefully, trying to ascertain what his son was talking about. “Sounds like water.”
“Yeah, a lot of water – and it’s coming from over there!” Little Joe pointed to the right of the path they had been following for several hours.
“Let’s head in that direction – at least we’ll have plenty to drink, Boy,” Ben smiled and picked up his pace matching his son’s gait.
The sound of fast running water increased and helped both father and son reach the waterfall in only a few minutes. They both looked around trying to determine the best spot to set up their camp for the night.
“You know, Joseph,” Ben began as he stared at the waterfall and then the surrounding rock formations on both sides of the stream flowing out from it. “If I’m not mistaken, I believe I know where we are.”
“Yeah?” Joe asked as he bent down, beginning to gather wood for a fire. “Where, Pa?”
“I think this is Clement’s Falls. If it is – which I’ll know for sure once daylight hits – then we’re only about eight or ten miles from the ranch and that line shack on the northeast border.”
Joe grinned at the thought. It was comforting to know that home wasn’t all that far away. “Then I’m glad that I resupplied that place when I made my little run around the ranch a couple of weeks ago. There’s food and some whiskey too, Pa.”
Ben nodded to the boy, “Well, I think we could use both about now. But that’ll have to keep until tomorrow. Let’s get a fire started, Joseph. The temperature’s going to dip dramatically in a few hours. Thank the good Lord the snow’s held off.”
“Where do you want it?”
Looking around, Ben pointed to a rocky overhang just on the other side of the falls. “That looks like the best place to bed down. We’ll have some cover and at least one side will provide a windbreak. Here, let me help you – it’ll go faster.”
“Why don’t you just rest, Pa?” he asked, worried about the long walk they had taken along with all that his father had endured that day.
Chuckling, Ben dropped an arm around his son and answered, “There’s still life in your old man yet, don’t worry. C’mon let’s gather the wood then we can fill the canteen and relax.”
“Where Little Joe?” Hop Sing asked. He had been waiting up and worrying over his surrogate son and was about ready to hitch up the buckboard and go look for everyone when Adam and Hoss walked through the door.
“Hop Sing,” Adam sighed wearily. He and Hoss had a long ride back and forth to Virginia City and both men were exhausted. “We don’t know where the kid is. Roy’s getting up a posse and we’re all going to go out again at first light.”
“Need to tell Mister Ben! He get vely mad you don’t!”
Hoss moved closer to the cook and wrapped an arm around his shoulder to quiet him. “We can’t tell Pa – because he’s missing now too. We ran into Cody on the way back from town and he had Buck with him. He found Pa’s horse about three miles from here. Most likely, whoever got a hold of Little Joe also got a hold of Pa. Now all the worrying and fussing ain’t gonna find them. But we will in the morning.”
Hop Sing looked back and forth between both Cartwrights and gauged the expressions on their faces to see if they had been truthful to him. He finally reasoned that they had and settled down for their sakes. Though he was worried about both Ben and Little Joe he wanted to do something to help Adam and Hoss, who he could clearly see were afraid that they would lose their family members. It was his job to keep them calm now.
“I bring in coffee — Mister Adam – Mister Hoss – you sit by fire. You rest,” he insisted as he pointed to the fireplace.
“Thank you, Hop Sing,” Adam nodded to the man and watched as the faithful caretaker and Chinese member of the family hurried into the kitchen to get the coffee.
The campfire was putting out a decent amount of heat, which was needed as the temperature had dropped about twenty degrees by the time both Ben and Little Joe had set up the camp and filled the one canteen. They had a decent amount of shelter there under the rocky overhang which kept the wind off their backs and provided a covering for their heads. Ben laid out one of the blankets close to the fire which was about six feet from where they rested their backs against the face of the rock-wall.
“Here, Pa,” Little Joe said and offered his father half of the blanket he had been holding onto the whole walk from the cave.
“Joseph – you’re forgetting I have a coat and you don’t.”
“Yeah, but I don’t need all of this. Come on take half, will you?” Joe insisted.
Ben shook his head amused at the way his youngest worried about him. “Alright, give me half.”
Satisfied that he’d gotten Pa to concede, Little Joe handed his father the blanket and pulled his own half up to his chin.
Ben surreptitiously stared over at his son’s head hoping that he wouldn’t catch on. He wondered how the boy was handling what had happened and if he was cold and just refused to admit it. Joseph had gone silent ever since they had shared the water in the canteen and then the blanket.
“Did you eat breakfast today?”
“Yeah, Pa – I was late as usual. Sorry I didn’t see you off,” Joe answered, shaking himself from his thoughts.
Ben cleared his throat, hoping to have a serious discussion with the boy but grasping for the words to use.
“That’s okay, I knew you’d been up late.”
“Yeah,” Joe nodded and finally turned to stare at his father who was seated on his left. “The door – now I know how it got open. I feel bad that I blamed Hop Sing, Pa. Aram was watching us all night. He told me that when Hop Sing went out to feed that stray cat that he just walked in without him knowing it. That’s why the door wasn’t bolted too. There wasn’t any way he could do that when he left.”
Shaking his head over the boldness of the evil man, Ben replied, “I’m sorry, Son, you were right all along. I really thought he was dead.”
“It’s like I said to him – evil doesn’t die, Pa,” he announced somberly.
“Well, it dies, but sometimes we’re not around to see it.”
“Pa – you sure you’re okay? That chloroform can really mess you up,” Joe continued to worry about his father.
“Stop fussing over me, Joseph – I told you I’m fine. Your old man is a lot tougher than you think.”
“How did he get you, Pa?”
Ben sighed and shook his head, upset over having let his guard down earlier that morning. “I was on my way to Gold Hill but after I’d ridden a couple of miles, I saw a man lying in the middle of the road. I didn’t see a horse anywhere and he wasn’t moving. I got off Buck and went down on one knee to check on him when he suddenly turned and hit me over the head with the butt of his gun. It didn’t knock me out, but it dazed me pretty good. The next minute I had a rag over my mouth. Then I woke up all trussed up in that cave.”
“You’ve got to have a plan,” Little Joe muttered angrily. He could hear Aram’s words as he laughed over having gotten the jump on him after hurting Cochise.
“What’s that, Son?”
“Nothing, Pa,” he frowned. Then Joe simply stopped talking altogether. He sat there rigidly on the blanket, his eyes reflecting exactly what he had been thinking about; the bad man. But he held his peace not wanting to be the first to mention what had happened.
Studying the way his son had closed his eyes, not due to exhaustion but due to the anger he was feeling at the time. He wondered how to broach the subject with the boy. After waiting longer than he wanted to, Ben decided that it would be up to him to start the conversation.
Wrapping his arm around the boy, Ben gave him a slight squeeze and said, “Alright, I could dance around this all night but there’s no point in my doing that. Tell me what’s been going on with you, Joseph. Let’s hear what you’ve been keeping from me.”
Little Joe drew in a deep breath and tried to figure out what he should say. He wasn’t sure he could get out the words. “Pa — after what we’ve gone through today there’s no reason to talk about it.”
“Joseph – come on – it’s about time, don’t you think? For months you’ve kept me at arm’s length from you. Now I want to hear why,” he cajoled the boy still attempting to get Little Joe to lay his burden down and allow him to help.
“Okay,” Joe nodded as the two of them eased back against their rocky shelter. “Pa, I had nightmares for a few weeks after the stamp mill, but they faded. I thought that I’d put that out of my mind and that the nightmares would never return. But after I got back from the cattle drive in September things suddenly changed.”
Ben noticed that his son had dropped his head down some and he wasn’t sure if the boy was clamming up on him again or if he was just too overwhelmed to get it all out. “Go on,” he coaxed the boy with a gentle pat to his shoulder.
“One day – after I’d gotten back – I looked in my mirror. That’s when I noticed that my hair had finally grown to the length that it was when he kidnapped me. I guess that’s what started it all over again – in my mind. Before – before he took me back in March, I had lost all memory of what had happened when he kidnapped me when I was five. But – after what happened in the stamp mill – well — I got them all back. They came on me like a flood – that day that he was going to cut all my hair off. Once he offered me that peppermint stick — I knew what had happened and who was standing next to me!” Joe drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly attempting to hide the fear which was growing both overwhelming and terrifying. After a few silent minutes he continued. “So, for the last two months I’ve been dealing with both times that he abducted me. In my dreams one minute I’m five and in that cage and the next I’m strapped down to that table in the stamp mill. It’s been horrible, Pa!”
Ben shook his head sadly and tried to think of something to say that would help. It hurt him to know all his son had endured, and he just wanted the boy to know that he wasn’t alone anymore. “I know that’s been awful to have to try and deal with on almost a nightly basis, Joseph. But why couldn’t you tell me? You’ve always come to me when you’re hurt. I just don’t understand.”
Little Joe shrugged his shoulders helplessly and answered, “I didn’t want to admit it to you, Pa – because you and my brothers kept telling me that there wasn’t any chance that Aram was still alive. But every time I woke from another nightmare it was as if I was being warned that he was still out there somewhere waiting for the chance to take me again.”
Witnessing the sudden uncontrollable terror spreading across his son’s face, Ben pulled the boy a little closer to him trying to offer Joseph the comfort he needed. “I’m sorry, Son – sorry I was so dismissive with you. I should’ve tried harder to understand the way you were feeling. It’s my fault. But I honestly believed him to be dead, Joseph.”
“I know, Pa – and it’s not your fault. None of it was. I know you kept bringing up that you blamed yourself for sending me to get that haircut – but that wasn’t your fault either. He told me he’d planned to take me anyway – he just decided at the last minute to drug me and take me away when I was at his shop that day.”
Sighing deeply, Ben studied his son’s face to try and gauge if he had told him everything that had been troubling him. “I’m still sorry that I sent you that day, Son. I’m also sorry that I tried to talk you into getting a haircut last week. I should’ve just let you decide on your own when to do it.”
Staring down at the blanket, Joe mulled over what his father had said. “Pa – I know this won’t make sense to you – but –” he paused.
“C’mon, out with it,” Ben coaxed his son. He knew that the boy had something on his mind besides his nightmares.
“I needed to feel like I was in control – of something in my life. After what that man put me through at the stamp mill – well – I needed to feel like my hair was mine – and the decision to cut it was part of that. I guess I would’ve eventually gone to that new barber,” he paused again and touched the top of his head. “I guess that’s not important now. It’ll take me months to grow it back anyhow.”
“I can understand that, Joseph,” Ben nodded. “And your hair is yours – no matter what happened last spring or today. I just wish it had been in my power to stop him from forcing you to do that today.”
Little Joe shrugged his shoulders, trying to find the right words to say. “It’s only hair, Pa. It’ll grow back.”
“Joseph,” Ben began and forced the boy to look directly into his eyes. “I know that it was much more than just hair to you. What he forced you to do was a terrifying ordeal to go through and it never should have happened. I know that it hurt you — because it hurt me to witness it. But you were very brave, Son,” He stated proudly. “And you kept your wits about you. Joseph, I’m very proud of you.”
Joe shook his head and confessed, “Pa – I was scared to death every single minute I was in that chair.”
Ben patted the boy’s shoulder and offered a knowing smile, “I was scared to death every single minute on that floor. That still doesn’t negate the fact that you were brave, Joseph.”
“Pa?”
“Yes?”
“I know that he should’ve died after Hoss shot him and he fell into that river. So, it’s not your fault that you insisted that he was dead.”
“Maybe,” Ben nodded as he turned and slowly ran a hand over his son’s head taking note of how cold it was now that there was only a scant quarter of an inch of hair left there. The temperature had dropped to just above freezing and Ben was getting concerned that the boy would catch his death of cold if something wasn’t done about it. He took his share of the blanket and leaned forward to drape it over his son’s head. He didn’t need to tell Joe why he had made the move; he knew.
“No, Pa – you need it. You were on that cold floor of the cave most of the day,” Little Joe protested and pulled the blanket off, shoving it into his father’s hand.
“Hey I’m the father around here not you,” Ben stated firmly and once again draped the blanket over his son’s head. “Now keep it there – that’s an order.”
Joe sighed in defeat; there wasn’t much point in arguing they were both too worn out after such a tragic and exhausting day.
“There is something you could do – that is if you’re really worried about me, Joseph,” Ben smiled as he faced the boy.
“What, Pa?”
Reclining against the rock barrier, Ben reached for his son. “Put your head on my shoulder then we can both go to sleep.”
“No, Pa – I’m okay right here.”
“Joseph, I’m not thinking of you – I’m thinking of me!” Ben argued raising his eyebrows in characteristic fashion to show the boy that he meant business.
Little Joe shook his head and managed a tired smile as he asked, “Now just how will it help you if I lay my head on your shoulder?”
“You make a perfect windbreak, Joseph. The breeze is coming from that direction,” He pointed to Joe’s right and grinned. “It’s the very least you can do for your poor old father after you’ve hogged that blanket all night.”
Letting out a resolute sigh, Little Joe slunk down some and rested his head on his father’s right shoulder and said, “Okay, I’ll keep the wind off you, Pa.”
“Good,” Ben nodded and reached for the blanket again, wrapping it around the boy. “Now let’s try to get some shuteye, Joseph. I think that fire will keep for a couple of hours.”
“Sure, Pa,” he whispered, closing his eyes.
Just as Ben was beginning to nod off, he thought he heard the boy say something, but it was too muffled for him to make out.
“What was that, Joseph? I didn’t catch what you just said.”
“I — well,” Joe hesitated for a minute, unsure how to say it to his father.
“Yes, Son?”
“I’ve missed you too, Pa,” he whispered.
Ben grinned and patted the boy’s shoulder. He was both relieved and thankful to hear what his son had offered him before the boy had finally settled down and drifted off to sleep.
“I love you, Joseph,” he sighed and closed his eyes, a contented smile playing on his lips.
The two of them had somehow survived the horrendous ordeal with Aram and neither were hurt too badly. But Ben knew that Joseph’s emotional wounds would run deep and perhaps last a long while. However, he took comfort in the knowledge that he was holding his youngest in his arms and the boy was sleeping soundly there in the comfort of his embrace. And that was what they both had needed for a long while. It was a start.
“Hoss?” Adam sighed wearily as he stepped into the barn, setting down the kerosene lantern just inside the door. “It’s the middle of the night – what are you doing?”
Hoss turned from Cochise’s stall, directing his attention over to his brother. “Just checking on Joe’s horse. I was thinking about it, Adam. It don’t make any sense.”
“Huh?” Adam asked as he neared the big man. “What doesn’t make any sense?”
“If someone got a hold of Little Joe – how’d they know that his horse would come up lame?”
Stopping to consider what Hoss had just offered, Adam was beginning to think that he was right to be suspicious. “They wouldn’t know – that is – unless they hobbled her themselves.”
Hoss nodded his head, “Then that means that whoever it was had to be here the night before last – and came into this stall. It’d be easy to rig up something – like a rock – underneath one of Cochise’s hooves.”
“Yeah – the kid wouldn’t know about it and ride off. Fletcher found her about three miles from here – just far enough to hobble her.”
Hoss frowned as he stepped out of the stall, giving Cochise a quick pat to her hindquarters. “There might be tracks around the barn that I can pick up on once it’s daylight. Then we can go catch up with Roy and the posse.”
Adam was still thinking about all the strange coincidences in the two disappearances and how their father must’ve also been trailed when he had left early the previous morning. “Pa left a good four hours before Little Joe. If the same person kidnapped him, they’d have had plenty of time to get Joe too.”
“I just can’t figure it,” Hoss groaned. “Can’t figure who’d want to get either of them, Adam? There ain’t been any bad blood around here. Yeah, Joe got into it with Timmons a couple of times in the last week – but that polecat’s still locked up with his friend Billy. That leaves them out.”
Adam wrapped an arm around his brother’s shoulder, directing him out of the barn. “We’ll find them, Hoss. Let’s go get some coffee and wait until daybreak. We’ll look in the yard for any suspicious tracks before we head out.”
“I just hope they’re okay,” Hoss frowned and walked with his brother to the house.
The long day’s events along with the rough way that they had been treated by Aram Cullen caused both Ben and Joe to nod off a few minutes after they had closed their eyes. The sound coming from the close by waterfall helped to lull them both into a deep sleep. Unfortunately, Little Joe hadn’t been spared the terrifying reminders of all that he had gone through during his three abductions. The nightmares returned, and they came back with a vengeance.
Just a few hours after he fell asleep, Little Joe had rolled away from the protection of his father’s arms. Ben hadn’t noticed because his body was too exhausted and he was too far under at the time.
“No! They’re mine – you can’t have them!”
Ben slowly blinked his eyes open. It took a good while to get his bearings due to suffering through the aftermath of being drugged and bound the previous day. He listened out for the sound that had awakened him.
“No – no I won’t do it!” Joe cried out once more, his body tossing back and forth on the cold hard ground.
Through the light given off by the dying embers of the campfire, Ben spotted his son, who had rolled off the blanket to his right.
“Joseph?” Ben whispered, sitting up and then crawling over to the boy. He set a hand on his son’s shoulder and tried to awaken him.
“I won’t do it! They’re mine!”
“Son – come on – it’s okay, just a dream,” Ben called down to the boy. He placed a hand on Joe’s cheek and tried to bring him around gently.
“No!” Joe shouted, springing up from the ground with such fervor that it surprised his pa.
“It’s alright, Joseph – just a dream,” Ben crooned and tried to pull the boy closer.
His face filled with confusion; Joe stared over at his father. “Pa?”
“Come on, Son – get back on the blanket – you’re about frozen,” Ben insisted and pulled the boy closer to him.
Focusing on the dying campfire, Joe shook his head and tried to remember why they were there on the ground.
“I guess I had another one.”
“You sure did,” Ben nodded as he pulled the blanket up around his son’s shoulders. “It must’ve been a bad one, huh?”
Glad to have the warmth of the blanket and then the arm that found its way around his shoulders, Little Joe sighed. “Yeah, it sure was,” he admitted.
“Tell me about it.”
Joe’s right hand reached up and touched the top of his head. The hair was really gone though he had hoped that it had all been a dream. “I don’t know what good it’ll do to talk about it, Pa. Not after what we just went through yesterday.”
Ben pulled his son closer and replied, “Don’t tell me you’ve gone back to shutting me out already?”
“No, Sir,” Joe responded, still trying to slow the rapid beat of his heart. “It’s not that – it’s just — well what good can come of it?”
“It’s been my experience that talking it out is the best way to get over these kinds of things. Now – come on tell me about it.”
Knowing that his father wasn’t about to give up, Little Joe nodded. “Okay. It didn’t make any sense – but I’ll tell you.”
“I’m a captive audience – go ahead,” Ben answered hoping that his tone of voice would alleviate his son’s hesitancy to explain what he’d seen in the nightmare.
“I was in that cave – the one he took me to when I was five. But in the dream, I wasn’t five – I was seventeen – and he had put me inside that small cage again, Pa. Then he handed me those shears of his,” Joe paused still trying to rid himself of the paralyzing fear that had come over him again.
“Go on.”
“In the dream – he — he made me cut off my hair – all of it except one curl. Then Aram handed me a mirror and made me look at it. I was practically bald – all except that one curl in the front.”
Staring knowingly at his son, Ben finally spoke, “Your best curl.”
Shocked to hear those words from his father, Little Joe stared at him, a question in his gaze.
Ben could tell that the boy was surprised by what he had offered. He nodded over to him and explained, “You told me about the bad man cutting off that curl back when you were five, Joseph. You called it your best curl. You see you forgot – or repressed all of that until recently but I didn’t. You were gone for an entire week – and that’s not something that a father ever forgets!” Ben paused as he watched the boy processing what he had just told him. “That was an awful time for all of us, Son. And as for me – well I made you sleep in my room with me for a good three months after we brought you home. I didn’t want to take my eyes off you!”
Somehow the fact that Pa knew and understood the meaning of his dream seemed to help settle the battle he had waged in his mind which had forced him to shut his father out for the last two months. Now he wished that he had come to Pa with his nightmares to begin with. Joe had never considered how much his father had also suffered due to all three abductions.
Ben watched the boy mulling over all that he had told him. He knew that Joe needed time, so he waited a few minutes before continuing. With a gentle pat to the boy’s shoulder, he whispered, “Joseph, after all you’ve gone through—well – I’m not worried about you having nightmares. I’d be more worried if you didn’t – because after three abductions I think it’s perfectly normal to have them. You went through a very frightening experience – three actually – and I’d say it’s natural that all those events would play out in your sleep.”
Little Joe crawled over to the campfire to restoke the wood. He blew on the embers until the branches they’d found earlier had ignited. Somehow doing that had helped him feel normal again and freed him of the dread he had been experiencing since waking up from the terrifying dream.
Leaning back against the rocky shelter, Joe looked over at his father. “I think that’ll keep us until daylight, Pa.”
“Good job,” Ben nodded. He knew why the boy was trying his best to avoid the earlier topic and Pa didn’t mind. He would wait and see if Joe needed any further reassurance before offering any. “There’s only a couple of hours until daybreak. Come over here and be my windbreak again, will you? I’m cold.”
Moving back into the comfort and warmth of his father’s arms, Little Joe settled his head down onto the offered shoulder once more and closed his eyes. No more words were needed. Pa was there to help and this time he wasn’t going to turn it down. Being held there in the loving arms of his father helped Little Joe more than all of Doctor Martin’s powders had ever done, and it was all that he needed to fall off into a peaceful sleep.
Ben watched as the hazel eyes closed one final time and let out a deep sigh. He pulled the extra blanket over his son’s shoulder and settled back hoping that he could keep Joseph’s nightmares at bay simply by being there next to him and holding him in his arms.
Sheriff Roy Coffee’s request for volunteers to search for both Ben and Little Joe Cartwright had been answered by twenty men. By the time they met up with Adam, Hoss and Fletcher it looked as though Roy was leading a small army.
“What’d you find, Hoss?” Roy asked, swinging down from his saddle.
“These tracks,” Hoss returned as he pointed to the ground. “They’re the same ones we found just outside of our barn. Whoever took Little Joe – and probably our Pa too, made it here – no doubt to turn Cochise loose. I think we should see where they take us now that it’s light.”
“Sounds good,” Roy nodded his agreement and turned to stare at the men he had brought with him. “Just in case it’s a trick or we lose these tracks, I want the rest of you to spread out. “Adam, Hoss, Fletcher and me will see where these tracks end up and the rest of you break into five groups of four men each. Go in every direction. If you see anything, fire two shots in the air. If we’re too far away and don’t hear you, we’ll meet up right here around noon.”
“Thanks – for helping,” Adam called over to the posse members as they readied to begin the search.
“We’ll find them, Adam,” One of the men called over to him. “Meet up with the four of you later – good luck!”
Roy watched the twenty men divide into five separate groups and ride out in all different directions.
“Okay, Hoss, let’s go!” the sheriff said as he climbed into his saddle.
The Cartwright brothers, Roy and Fletcher sent their horses into a gallop heading northward.
“How far do you think we’ve gone, Pa?” Little Joe asked as they stopped next to a small stream to refill the canteen.
Ben glanced over at the boy and remarked, “Oh I don’t know, Son – according to my feet about two hundred miles.”
Little Joe grinned, he knew why his father was trying to keep things lighthearted due to all that had happened the previous day. They were both tired, cold and hungry.
“Yeah, I thought as much,” Joe smiled as he stood and capped the canteen. “We couldn’t be lucky and find us a remuda, huh?”
Ben nodded, “Well, it shouldn’t be too much longer, Son. We’re probably about halfway to that line shack. Now tell me again – what kind of wonderful cuisine awaits us there?”
“Let’s see,” Joe began, closing his eyes as if in deep thought. “There’s roast turkey, mashed potatoes and a big apple pie.”
Chuckling, Ben patted his son’s shoulder, “You outdid yourself stocking the line shacks this year, Joseph.”
“Naw – just wishful thinking. Okay there’s some sugar, flour, a couple cans of beans, oh – and coffee. But best of all there’s a whole bottle of rotgut – unless some vagrant stopped by and stole it after I restocked the place. There’s also a rifle and shells – but I hid those good just in case, Pa.”
“Good thinking.”
Little Joe turned suddenly pensive and Ben read the serious expression he was now wearing.
“What’re you thinking about, Joe?”
Joe groaned and ran the palm of his left hand across the top of his head. “If you really want to know, Pa – I was thinking about the insane man who forced me to give him my hair. I was wondering which way he went after leaving the cave yesterday.”
“No telling – but I doubt he’d stick around here, Joseph,” he answered, hoping that he was correct in his assumption.
“I don’t want to see him until I have my hands on that rifle. Then he’s welcome to stop by,” Joe retorted angrily.
“I just think that –” Ben stopped in midsentence when he heard the rapid approach of horses. “Sounds like we’ve got company.”
Joe’s face filled with dread and his body stiffened.
Slinging an arm across the boy’s shoulder, Ben attempted to calm him, “It’s okay – it’s more than one rider –so it can’t be Aram — don’t think we’ve got anything to worry about. We might be in luck, and someone will give us some help.”
Coming in fast from around the bend in the road was the welcomed sight of Hoss Cartwright’s ten-gallon hat, Adam’s horse Sport, Roy Coffee’s badge, and Fletcher’s usual scowl.
“Pa!” both Adam and Hoss sang out in unison. They reined their horses back and hurriedly dismounted.
“Good to see you, Boys,” Ben answered the enthusiastic greeting and offered each of his sons a relieved smile along with a pat to their backs.
Little Joe purposely stood directly behind his father, unwilling to display his practically bald head in front of his brothers or the two other men.
“You two okay?” Roy asked as he dismounted and neared the four Cartwrights, followed closely behind by Fletcher.
Clearing his throat and hoping the other men wouldn’t say anything about Joseph’s appearance, Ben nodded. “We’re fine — just a little tired and hungry right now.”
“My Lord, Boy! Did you run into a band of renegade Apache? Who scalped you, Little Joe?” Fletcher exclaimed after getting a good look at the boy.
Ben Cartwright was positively livid over the foreman’s outburst and if he’d had a little more energy he would’ve knocked the man down to the ground, but he didn’t. He glanced over at his youngest and noticed how the boy had dropped his head down to his chest trying to hide his embarrassment.
“Who got a hold of you, Pa?” Adam asked though he was beginning to get the idea that someone who they had thought was dead must’ve gotten to Little Joe again. There was no other explanation for the boy’s appearance other than the resurrection of the insane barber who had gone into the Truckee River the previous spring.
“Aram Cullen – he’s alive,” Ben called over to his son and shot another angered glare at Fletcher.
“Oh – that figures,” Fletcher muttered and tried to avoid Ben’s penetrating eyes. “Gee, Little Joe – I’m sorry I ran my big mouth.”
“It’s okay,” Joe sighed, though he wasn’t very happy about what Fletcher had blurted out. Little Joe was sure that everyone else was gawking at him too; surreptitiously or not. He knew that the foreman wasn’t the only one of the four men standing there who had been wondering why he looked like warmed over death.
“We need a couple of mounts,” Ben continued, hoping to keep the conversation off the topic of Joe’s hair or lack thereof.
“Hoss,” Adam began and turned his attention on him. “Bob Wiley’s ranch is the closest place from here to get a hold of a couple of horses — and he’s probably got two saddles he’d be willing to loan us. You want to go fetch them?”
“Sure – it shouldn’t take more than twenty or thirty minutes there and back,” Hoss nodded. He didn’t mind volunteering to get the horses for Pa and Joe because he was having a hard time looking at his little brother and witnessing the damage that the evil barber had done to him this time.
“I’ll help you, Hoss,” Adam announced as he swung back up into his saddle.
“Leave that rifle will you, Hoss?” Little Joe asked as he neared his brother. “That skunk stole my outfit.”
“Sure, Little Brother,” he nodded and removed his rifle from the scabbard. “Here you go,” Hoss handed the weapon to the boy. “It won’t take us long, Joe.”
“Thanks.”
Clearing his throat, Roy motioned over to a large fallen tree off to the right side of the dirt trail. “How about the three of us light down over yonder and you can tell me what happened, Ben?”
Clamping a hand onto his son’s shoulder, Ben nodded, “Joseph, let’s get off our feet for a while.”
With his eyes directed down to the ground, attempting to avoid the sheriff’s not so subtle gaze, Little Joe walked across the road alongside his father.
Hoss and Adam had been successful in getting two mounts for Ben and Little Joe from the Wiley’s ranch and had them saddled in minutes. They hurried to catch up with the rest of their family and just an hour after leaving them on the side of the road they made it back.
“Good job, Boys,” Ben smiled at his two oldest sons and then turned his attention on the youngest. “Do you want to go home and rest up, Joseph? I’d like to go with Roy and your brothers and try to catch up with Aram.”
Little Joe walked over to the chestnut mare and swung up into the saddle. He placed the rifle into the empty scabbard and then called down to his father who was standing next to the sheriff. “No, I want to get him,” he announced with revenge in his eyes and all over his face.
Roy moved over to the boy, grabbing the back of his saddle. “Now, listen, Little Joe – that man will be prosecuted on three counts of kidnapping and a couple of counts of assault. That’ll put him in prison for better than twenty years. But you ain’t gonna turn him into vulture bait!”
Avoiding the sheriff’s harsh glare, he replied, “I didn’t say I was gonna kill him.”
Ben walked closer to where his youngest was sitting atop the mare and tried to quell the boy’s mounting anger. “Joseph – if you want to go with us – then fine. But Roy’s in charge now.”
“We gonna keep talking or go find that maniac?” Joe retorted angrily.
“Joseph,” Ben said and stared into the boy’s eyes, warning him with his gaze.
“Fine,” he responded, trying to sound sincere though he was anything but that. Little Joe wanted to kill the man who had captured him three times, stolen his hair and trussed his father up, threatening to shoot him.”
Ben gave his son one last warning glance and then mounted the bay that his son’s had gotten from the neighboring ranch.
“Let’s go!” Roy called taking the lead as the five men rode northward.
It was fortunate that Hoss Cartwright was an excellent tracker with years of experience under his belt. He had found Aram’s tracks next to the barn which had helped as they headed towards Lake Tahoe following those same prints that weren’t hard to discern. Just over two hours after bringing the mounts to Ben and Joe, the six men made it to the steep grade that went up the northernmost tip of the lake.
“Let’s decide what to do now,” Hoss said after staring at the fresh tracks. “He must’ve slowed down for some reason because these can’t be more than a couple of hours old. Maybe he camped here last night?”
Ben also dismounted so he could study the tracks for himself. “I think you’re right, Son,” he nodded and spun around. Looking into the tree line he squinted his eyes and tried to spot any sign of a campfire that might have been extinguished recently.
“Look!” Roy sang out when he spotted a horse hobbling down from the top of the trail.
Adam and Joe jumped from their saddles and rushed to catch the animal. A few minutes later, Little Joe had the reins in his hands and was leading it down to the other men.
“Let me have a look,” Roy stepped forward and examined the saddlebags. One side revealed just some clothes and some ammunition, but the other one held something a lot more revealing. “Well, it’s a sure thing this is his horse,” he said and held out a pair of barber’s shears.
Little Joe’s face paled after seeing what the sheriff was holding. They were the same scissors he had been forced to use the previous day; he was sure of it.
Ben noticed the appearance of dread spreading across the face of his youngest. He hurried over to the boy and dropped a hand onto his shoulder for moral support.
Adam and Hoss stared in the direction that the horse had come from.
“I wonder if Aram just left his horse and continued up the mountain on foot?” Adam asked as he turned and looked at Roy.
“Only one way to find out. Let’s have us a look,” he answered and climbed back up into the saddle.
Drawing closer to his youngest boy, Ben whispered, “Joseph – are you sure you want to go up there with us? No one would fault you if you wanted to just stay down here.”
“I’m fine, Pa,” Joe nodded and tried to look more confident than he felt at the time. “I’ll hold onto Aram’s horse – and stay behind the rest of you on the way up that grade.”
Giving the boy a quick reassuring pat to his back, Ben mounted his horse and waited until he saw Joe climbing back into the saddle before catching up with the others.
The steep incline that led to an overlook just above Emerald Bay was a challenge for both horses and riders. The climb became more treacherous with the path narrowing so much that they had to ascend in single file. But the six men ventured on undaunted. Little Joe had gotten separated from the others due to the chestnut mare who was skittish and the lame horse he was pulling behind. A sharp bend in the road blocked the sight of the five men ahead of him. Little Joe attempted to catch up when suddenly he was caught unawares and was thrown from his saddle by someone who had launched themselves down from the tree line above. Stunned and shaken, Little Joe fell onto the hard rocky ground not far from the edge of the mountain.
As his head cleared, Little Joe stared up in shock and confusion at the head of his own curls now hovering over him. Aram had one hand over the boy’s mouth and the other on Joe’s own Colt.
“Guess you’re gonna give me that horse I need, Little Joe. You try to scream and I’ll shoot the first man who comes around that bend after I kill you!”
Little Joe’s eyes grew wide and his stomach churned. He was sure that the man was serious and felt frozen in place.
“You gonna keep quiet?” Aram asked, still holding the boy’s mouth closed.
Nodding his head, Little Joe waited to see what the man was going to do next.
“Okay, now stand up and walk over to the edge there. I want you to have a good look at the view,” Aram grinned as he removed his hand from the boy’s mouth.
“Just take the horse – I don’t care,” Little Joe returned, deciding that it wasn’t worth getting shot over.
“I said move to the edge, Boy,” Aram warned as he leveled his gun at his victim.
Little Joe walked to the edge of the Tahoe Rim. There was a deep ravine that would mean a sure death to anyone who accidently got too close and fell.
“I do love these curls, Boy – and you done a fine job with your first haircut. But – I think it’s time that we parted ways — permanently! You’ve been nothing but trouble for me ever since you were five years old!” Aram announced and moved closer to Joe.
In retrospect Little Joe wouldn’t be able to say what had made him make the move that he had. It might have been pure instinct, or it might have been his inner rage caused by all that the evil man had done to him. But either way, he fell straight down on the ground and kicked Aram’s knees causing him to fall forward; sending out a misfire of the Colt. The evil man regrouped momentarily and was about to shoot the boy when Little Joe managed to send one final kick. Aram’s body teetered for a brief second and then went over the edge. His fingers shot out, frantically trying to grab onto the rocky ledge above. Aram hung on for dear life.
Kneeling, Little Joe reached his hands out to the man who had tormented him in one way or the other for twelve straight years. It was safe to do so, because Aram had dropped the Colt and it had fallen onto the trail far out of his reach.
“Give me your hand,” Little Joe yelled as he went down on his stomach trying to give his body more length so he could better reach the bad man.
Aram turned his head long enough to see the steep ravine below which was better than two hundred feet straight down. He heard the rapid sound of riders coming in fast and knew that he’d soon be facing the sheriff, a very angry father and Joe’s two brothers.
“I said give me your hand!” Little Joe shouted and tried to grab hold of the man’s jacket.
“No thanks, Joe – don’t need the help!” Aram answered with a wicked smile. He shoved the boy’s hand off his jacket and the next minute pushed away from the face of the mountain.
With one last valiant effort, Little Joe reached for Aram’s arm right before he fell. The boy came away with only the hairpiece in his hands. Pulling himself to standing, Little Joe stood there looking dazed.
“Joseph!” Ben shouted as he and the other four men caught up with the boy after hearing the gunfire and turning around. He jumped from his saddle and raced over to the edge of the mountain, sweeping his son up into his arms. “Are you okay, Boy – are you okay?” he asked breathlessly.
Holding the hairpiece in his hands and trying his best to hold back his tears, Little Joe turned and looked into his father’s eyes. He tried to get the words out. “The bad man — he fell down there, Pa,” Joe choked out as he stared down the mountain and into the chasm below.
Adam, Hoss, Fletcher and Roy dismounted quickly, joining Ben and Joe standing quietly on the edge of the mountainside. The five of them looked down into the sunless abyss where Aram had disappeared a few minutes earlier. All they heard was a dying rattle of rockslide. All they saw, hundreds of feet below in the gloomy twilight of the ravine floor, was broken branches that had snapped under the weight of the man who had plummeted down the side of the mountain.
“Ain’t no way to recover the body – not at that depth and with all those trees, Ben,” Roy sighed as he turned his attention to his old friend.
“Not survivable,” Hoss nodded to the other men.
“How did he fall?” Adam asked as he stared over at his youngest brother who stood there with such a perplexed look on his face.
“He—he jumped me,” Little Joe began, still peering over the edge, half expecting to see Aram scaling back up to the trail. “He pulled my gun on me. He said he was going to take my horse and then he was going to push me off this mountain. I was able to knock him down – we fought for a couple of minutes –and he went over.”
“You did what you had to, Joseph,” Ben reassured the boy.
“But – he didn’t fall right away,” Little Joe interjected. “He was holding on – and I tried to pull him up.”
The five men all stared at the boy wondering how he could have offered to help the person who had pursued him relentlessly and had caused him so much harm both physically and emotionally.
“He – he pushed my hand away – like he wanted to fall, Pa,” Joe admitted staring into his father’s eyes hoping to find an answer in them.
Ben wrapped an arm around the boy, pulling him close. “Joseph – the man was obviously insane. He’s dead – and this time there’s no doubt.”
Little Joe still held the hairpiece in his hands. He thought back on finding the first one there in the backyard of the ranch house. Joe never wanted to see the disgusting thing again. “Pa – do you have a match?”
Ben shot his son a questioning look. “A match?”
Little Joe simply nodded and waited.
Reaching inside his coat pocket, Ben dug around until he came up with a match and handed it to his son. He watched Little Joe as he knelt on the road. The boy struck the match on a rock and then set the hairpiece on fire. The acrid smell lingered in the air burning the other men’s nostrils due to the pungent odor of burnt hair. Joe didn’t care; he wanted it to be gone for good.
When there was little left of the hairpiece other than a small patch of singed silk and a single curl, Little Joe stood and tossed it over the edge of the mountain, sending it hurtling into the ravine where the bad man had gone. He stared into Pa’s eyes. The same gaze was volleyed back and forth between both father and son. The hazel eyes met brown and both were filled with a shared mutual pain and memories that would last for a lifetime; stark frightening images, the stuff that nightmares were made of.
“Let’s go home, Son,” Ben whispered. He removed his coat after witnessing the shivering shoulders of his youngest Ben knew that the boy was shaking due to the cold biting winds that swept up from the canyon’s depth along with the haunting kind of fear that his son just couldn’t shake loose. Ben examined the face before him. This was his child; the little boy who had been kidnapped at the age of five and held in a cage. His boy; the one with the head full of curls that were now devastatingly gone. His son; who had been captured twice at the age of seventeen and subjected to a particular kind of cruelty that was indescribable. Though Ben knew that the curls would return and in time so would the boy’s laughter; that was Joseph after all and a tribute to his resilient nature. But right now, all he wanted was to keep the child, the boy, his son close to him; just like he had done when he was a scared five-year-old. Ben wrapped his son in his coat and walked him over to his horse. It was time to go home.
Epilogue
The loud sound emanated from behind the closed bedroom door and filtered out into the hallway; a distinct cry in the night. The lamplight lit the way until the door was slowly eased open.
“Are you alright?” Came the voice behind the lamp whose wick had been turned low due to the lateness of the hour.
“Yes – I’m fine.”
“Sounded like a bad one.”
Ben pulled himself up in his bed as he stared over at the boy who stood before him now; wearing concern in his gaze and a knowing look on his face.
Little Joe sat down on the bed next to his father and reached for his arm. “Pa – are you okay?”
A bit embarrassed to have awakened his youngest, Ben nodded his head. “Yes – I’m fine, Son.”
“Go ahead,” Joe began, forcing his father’s gaze. “Tell me all about it.”
Drawing in a quick breath, Ben hesitated, unwilling to go into the horrifying dream he’d just had. His son was sitting there trying to help him even after all that he’d gone through. They had only been back home a few days after being imprisoned in the cave. Every time Ben looked at the head of his youngest, which was so devoid of its normal curls, it had made his stomach churn thinking about Aram Cullen and all the torment he’d put the poor kid through. The boy wanted reassurance that his Pa was alright, and he was going to try his best to avoid telling Joe how frightful the nightmare had been. The last thing he wanted to do was to put any more worries on his son. The mere fact that Joseph was sitting there next to him without any hair on his head made him feel awful, so Ben knew it had to be hurting his son as well, though he hadn’t said a word about it in days. Yet he could still read the lingering sorrow behind the boy’s eyes; he knew Joseph too well for his son to hide those kinds of things from his Pa. “Everything’s okay, Joseph. Why don’t you go back to bed?”
Little Joe frowned and shook his head. “No – you won’t let me get away with holding back from telling you about my nightmares. So, it’s time you tell me yours,” he insisted.
Ben wasn’t happy to hear his own words being used against him, but he decided that the boy was right. He’d have to confide in him just so Joe would respond in the same fashion if he had another nightmare.
“Okay,” Ben sighed. “I guess you’re right. I’m always asking you about your dreams, so I suppose it’s only fair that you ask me about mine.”
“It wasn’t just a dream, Pa – you had a nightmare,” Joe nodded insistently.
“It was about that cave —” Ben began but was cut off by his son.
“Which one, Pa? We’ve been inside two of them recently.”
Ben nodded his head and patted his son’s shoulder due to the shared memories. “It was the cave where I’d found you back when you were five, Joseph.”
“Okay, go on.”
“I was there to save you. You were inside that cage – where I’d found you twelve years ago. But in the dream, you were the age you are now,” Ben paused as the horrifying visions from the dream pulsated through his mind.
“What happened, Pa?”
“I was trying to get the lock off the cage so I could pull you out of there —and then – suddenly Aram came rushing towards me with those shears in his hand.”
“Not Aram, Pa — the bad man,” Little Joe muttered, trying his best to hide the fear that still haunted him; a fear he just couldn’t shake. As far as he was concerned there was never a man called Aram Cullen. Instead, there was only the bad man and that name was ingrained in his mind forever. “What happened next?”
With an uncomfortable shrug of his shoulders, Ben tried to remember how the nightmare had ended. “Well, what happened next wasn’t as frightening as the beginning of the nightmare was – at least not until the very end. I dreamt that I was here in my bedroom – and you were five years old again. You were lying on the bed next to me talking about your best curl – much like you had all those years ago. Then suddenly Aram came charging through the bedroom door holding those shears in his hand. That’s when I woke up.”
Little Joe sat there for a few minutes mulling the dream over in his mind. He was unable to come up with the same kind of soothing words that his father always seemed to have ready for such occasions. Joe simply placed his hand on his father’s arm trying to calm him with his gentle touch. “I’m sorry, Pa – sorry you had a nightmare.”
Ben offered his son a reassuring smile to set the boy at ease. “I guess you come by these things naturally. I’m sorry I woke you, Joseph.”
Looking intently into his father’s eyes, Joe shook his head and replied, “I wasn’t asleep, Pa.”
Turing his attention to the clock on his nightstand, Ben read the time and then turned back to his son. “Joseph? It’s three in the morning. Why were you up?”
Little Joe drew in a deep breath knowing that he wouldn’t be able to lie to Pa, not this time. “I had a nightmare too, Pa. I guess you were busy dealing with your own at the time and didn’t hear my scream.”
“Oh,” Ben returned with a nod of his head. “Alright, tell me what you dreamed about. Turnabout is fair play.”
“Talking about your nightmare is enough, don’t you think, Pa?”
Shaking his head, Ben stared intently into the boy’s eyes and replied, “Nothing doing. Now tell me.”
“Okay,” Joe groaned as he shook his head. He supposed that he might just as well tell his father because he knew that the man wasn’t going to ease up on him until he did. “Mine wasn’t too bad – at first. I was in that cage in the cave – the one when I was five — like in your own nightmare. Though in my dream I was the same age that I am now – but you looked a little younger – and your hair was darker -” he paused when he felt his father’s tight hold on his arm.
“I was much younger back then and I hadn’t gone gray yet!” Ben exclaimed with a smile, attempting to lighten the heavy atmosphere that hung in the bedroom caused by their mutual nightmares. “Okay – continue.”
“You went down on your knees and crawled over to where I was and then you pulled me up into your arms. Then I was five years old again – and you were carrying me out of there.”
A knowing smile filtered onto Ben’s lips as he recalled doing that very thing some twelve years prior. “That probably wasn’t a dream – whether you remember it or not — that’s exactly what I did back then, Joseph.”
“Yeah – I think I remember that now,” Joe nodded to his father. “So – that was the good part. But just as soon as the two of us crawled out of there — well – the bad man came charging in! He ran at us – with those shears in his hands. He tried to stab you, Pa – but I jumped in front of you to stop him. I guess that’s when I woke up screaming.”
Ben thought about what the boy had just related to him before commenting. He finally draped his arm across Little Joe’s shoulder, pulling him closer. “I’d say that’s pretty much what you did the other day, Joseph.”
Staring over at his father, perplexed by what he had said, Little Joe whispered, “Huh?”
“The other day. You sacrificed yourself and your hair to save me, Son.”
Joe shook his head and returned insistently, “No – Pa – it’s like I told you that day – it’s only hair. When you think about it – well – it’s not much of a sacrifice.”
“It was a lot more than that, Joseph, and you know it, even if you won’t admit it to me – or to yourself,” Ben whispered and pulled the boy into his arms, hugging him tightly to his chest. “I know how much it hurt you – to sit there and cut every curl off your head especially after enduring what Aram did to you inside the stamp mill last spring. You knew that evil man would’ve shot me if you hadn’t done what he told you to do. And whether you realized it or not, I felt your pain from across that cave with every single cut you made with those shears.”
Little Joe’s eyes misted up, a bit overwhelmed to hear his father’s praise. “I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you, Pa. I’d have done anything he’d asked me to do – just to get him to leave you alone. It was terrifying seeing you like that – all tied up – gagged – and thinking that he was going to kill you! I’ve dreamt about it almost every night since we got back home. And those nightmares are a whole lot scarier than the ones where he chases me or comes after me with those shears.”
“I’m getting the impression that you’ve not been completely honest with me about some of the dreams you’ve been having lately, Joseph,” Ben sighed. “Now – no more keeping those types of things from me anymore. Understood?”
“Sure, Pa,” Joe nodded and hoped that he wouldn’t have many more nightmares so he wouldn’t have to confess what they were about.
“Good,” Ben smiled and pulled his son back a bit so he could look into his eyes to make sure he was being truthful.
“Hey – Pa, have you ever wondered why neither Adam nor Hoss have nightmares?” Joe asked, hoping to change the subject from his frightening dreams to his brothers’ lack of them.
Ben thought about what the boy had said and finally answered drolly, “Maybe they eat more at supper than you do? Maybe they get full and that makes them sleep more soundly?”
Little Joe chuckled over what his father had said. “If that’s the real reason then I’m going to do a better job wrestling the food out of Hoss’ hands at dinner, Pa. I’m going to try your suggestion and make sure I’m good and full before I go to bed from now on.”
“Well, why don’t the two of us test my little theory right now? There’s a freshly baked pie cooling on the table in the kitchen. How about we go down there and steal a couple of pieces before we try to go back down?”
“It’s worth a try,” Little Joe agreed with a smile. “Even if it doesn’t stop my nightmares – at least I’ll get full. Besides I think it’s apple – my favorite.”
Satisfied with the boy’s response, Ben pulled on his robe and slid into his slippers and then the two of them made their way downstairs. Walking into the kitchen, both pairs of eyes fell on the door. Little Joe turned and stared apprehensively at his father. Pa nodded his head as if to give the boy his permission to make the move. Joe made his way across the kitchen floor. His hand reached up to check the slide bolt. It was securely locked into place.
Ben glanced over at the boy, a question in his gaze.
“It was locked, Pa,” Little Joe announced and then walked over to the table where the pie sat.
“Good,” Ben nodded as he reached for the two plates. “Now let’s eat and get full so we’ll sleep soundly.”
“Give me a big piece, Pa, just to make sure I don’t have any more nightmares tonight,” Joe grinned as he sat down at the table.
“Good idea, Joseph. We’ll both have a big piece,” Ben chuckled as he went right to work on carving the pie.
“I can’t thank you enough for taking me in,” the man said as he eased back on the bed, resting against the headboard.
“You poor man,” the woman replied. “It was the least I could do – after finding you there on the road in such bad shape!”
“I hate to put you to all this bother.”
The woman smiled as she handed the injured man a cup of coffee. “No bother at all. You know ever since my husband died; I’ve missed having a man to fuss over.”
“Just as soon as I get to feeling better I’m going to repay your kindness by doing some chores. I noticed when I got here that you have a corral that needs some work. And I’m sure what with winter coming on — you could use some help getting some firewood cut and stacked to keep this place warm. I’m pretty handy with those kinds of things.”
“Well, you just rest up for now,” the woman insisted, smoothing the quilt that she’d just placed on top of the injured man. “I don’t want you to trouble yourself by thinking of all that work just yet.”
“It’s no trouble, Ma’am. I like thinking ahead. It’s like I’ve always said – you’ve got to have a plan.”
The End
Written by Wrangler
For KMH on his 15th birthday. You’re forever in my heart.
10/27/26
(Dedicated to Rob, the story consultant, who is my inspiration. And to Rosalyn who didn’t think this story was “terrible” 🙂
*** Note from writer: At the request from some long-time readers, I’ve written a very long “rat” sequence in this story. I mean how many times, as a writer, do you get the chance to do that? I hope it satisfied the rat lovers! This is the last long story I’ll be writing this year. I plan on writing a shorter story or two to close out 2026, though there might be a gap here and there due to some needed surgery. (nothing major!) Several readers have asked me which “Wrangler” story is my favorite. I’d have to choose “The Sound of Surviving” because I think that it’s my most hopeful story, with both drama and humor, and the only story that I’m completely satisfied with. So, if there’s a pause in my writing, if you haven’t read that one, I hope that you’ll check it out. I feel very blessed to have written seventy-eight stories now and to have had such fun with the Cartwrights and my readers. Thanks to every one of you, it’s been such a joy to know that you’re out there and hopefully having fun with Little Joe’s bizarre adventures! ***
Thank you for another terrific Bonanza story. This one had it all… Terror, Joe angst, humor and such wonder JPM’s {plus the rats!)…and oooooh the ending!!
Hope all goes well with your surgery and that you will be back with new stories from that imaginative mind of yours!
Lol glad you liked that ending, it kinda slipped up on me too! And YES, you are listed in the honorable category of one of the “rat-pack”, Kid! Also, glad you liked the PJMs, you know I just write them and then build a story around them nowadays. Thank you for the well wishes. As a matter of fact, pre-surgery jitters hit and I wrote a story (only 10,000 wc) I hope to drop maybe around Thanksgivings. It’s a different kind of story than this but guaranteed to make you laugh and cry or your money back. Of course, my story consultant is ready to quit on me now because he needs a break from my madness! I always look forward to your feedback so thanks so much for NEVER disappointing me!
All I can say is, “Uh Oh!” What a ride! Thank you for this heart pounding story. It certainly was not an experience father and son wanted to share but I’m so glad they were together. Thanks, Wrangler, for sharing a story with such depth and love, especially between Pa and Joe.
Susan
P.S. I don’t require rats. Lol
Thanks so much Susan for reading both of these rather strange stories. Yes, Little Joe needed Pa for this one — because it’s always a good thing to go through something like that with someone who knows how you feel about your hair. It wasn’t too hard to envision it, since I’ve had my own share of bad hair days. Lol. As for rats, I had fun with that part (written by popular demand) and could just imagine poor Pa sitting there listening to the five-year-old and how excited he was at the prospect of having “many more friends!” Seriously, thank you for the kind words and the extra effort you always go through to provide feedback. It’s encouraged me in my search for plots that will showcase another PJM! (or several!)
Wrangler,
Congratulations on your 78th story. You are definitely a proud mother and grandmother! Cheers! Please have a lovely curtsy! You have earned it one story at a time! How many words have you gifted us? In your next story, please give us a word count! Ok. Take care!
All you have to do is add the word counts of all 78 stories — go ahead I’ll wait. Oh forgot to thank you for mentioning my wonderful funny talented and much smarter than his grandma grandson. It still amazes me that two years ago this month he found me on BB and launched my “return”. Its been wild and sometimes exhausting but always fun. And I’ve met some of the greatest friends here — including a “terribly” talented person known as Rosa-Lee — thanks for making me smile!
Wrangler,
This story is stunningly beautiful, exquisitely stimulating, and thrilling, with nail-biting touches of terror. The sum, the totality of your words, just made me cry! Every word that you recorded is radiantly beautiful—every single word—because your words reveal your love for these characters, respect for the producers of Bonanza, and those fans who loved and love what the show Bonanza was really about. Your stories are all so refreshingly authentic, honest, original, and delightfully resplendent! You have a monumental library of varied stories that you have completed! That is such an awesome feat, as your stories are not just appetizers, short narrations lacking the power to satiate the appetite. No, you have a lovely smorgasbord of sumptuous foods, a table laden with a variety of so many tasty and scrupulously prepared dishes, a veritable feast, a cornucopia of different yarns—trials with hurt/comfort, epic and heroic tales, complex and engaging mystery thrillers, and comedies/satires that bring laughter and light to our imaginations! Your stories have your unique blend of masterful storytelling that warms our hearts and makes us so appreciative of your awesome talents! Your stories are just like viewing more episodes from the Golden Age of Television from the actual series Bonanza; thus, you have given us so many lovely, lasting, and hopeful lessons! Girl, you put meat on them bones!
Your stories include in-depth ones like this, sagas, yes, novels in nature. Yes, your talent astounds me, leaving me breathless as you change your rope toss, the speed of your steed, and the angle of your throw to give us such a variety of tales. Oh, what a frenzied, fast, and furious ride I had with you, Wrangler, with this one. I could feel the pain, terror, and confusion, sense the despair and loss of autonomy and freedom, and taste the revulsion and isolation of being with TBM as Joe felt about those peppermints! You gave us an in-depth look at Joe’s first encounter with rats, as it was creepy and charmingly funny at the same time. You blended so many elements in this story to gift us an outstanding thriller/horror story!
There will never be another writer like you. Though some other writers have written stories with similar plots to some of your stories and have similar pictures that you have, your stories are uniquely stamped with the one and only original Wrangleressence. You write these characters at their inner core without changing the beauty and originality of the characters that we watched when we saw the entire show with all of its 431 episodes! Your original characters, both those you have added and those that are recurring, feel like they were a part of the show due to your illustrious writing, so much so that their inclusion makes your stories even more enjoyable and engaging! Timmons got his just desserts.
Ole Fletcher is a cantankerous old coot, but he adds so much depth, comedic flourish, and foot-in-mouth comments that I just love it when he makes his entrance into your stories. Your PJMs are transcendently resplendent as Joe always needs his father whether he realizes it or not; but, when he does realize it, we are gifted the warmest, sublimely endearing scenes! What a lovely tribute you gave to your grandson, who convinced you to put your gear and your spurs on again because you still needed to do some wrangling as well as some mangling; we are the richer for it. Here’s to your wonderful grandson! Cheers, my thoughtful young man! There was such a desert of stories that resembled the show Bonanza before you started writing again, but now that you are wrangling again, we are all still riding with the Cartwrights. I feel deeply moved to experience the genuine spirit of Bonanza in all of your labors of love. For gifting us this story, I know that you felt some anxiousness like morning sickness, nervousness like quickening, and trepidation like birth pangs; but when the story is done, you have a new little Wrangler. Wrangler, congratulations on your new production, your child, TBM Wrangler II! He sure is a lusty and feisty one! You have gone and done it now. You took my breath away! Get well soon! We will have you in our thoughts and prayers for a wonderful recovery! Rest well, my friend, and come back to us mangling and wrangling! Thanks for the shout out! It is always a pleasure giving you input! Thank you so much for the gifts that you bequeath us!
Now go read your feedback “Rosa-Lee” and ask yourself why YOU’RE not writing your own stories??? The Good Lord knows you have a bigger vocabulary than I do..in fact I am “terrible” sometimes. Lol. Seriously thank you for your enthusiasm with each new “launch”. Yes I feel so scared every single time I hit the “post” button that I think I need to go see Dr Wallace or Harold Peele! I’m glad you liked this sequel. Originally I thought it would be about 30,000 words but it had a mind of its own. And it sure was hard to hold back from a PJM as long as I did. But if the readers have a good time its all worth it to me — even the lost “beauty ” sleep. If the surgery goes well perhaps we might just visit old Aram (R.I.P.??) Cullen in 2027. Thanks again for riding with me as we put this one in the corral next to Buck and Cochise. Now go write a story!
My first comment and from the rat lover! I just knew that would “do it” for you — though I still am afraid to ask why you enjoy rodents so much. I’m so happy to hear you liked this very long sequel. Hopefully after surgery I’ll get back to “mangling” if Little Joe doesn’t let them mangle me for revenge over what I’ve put him through. Seriously thank you for the great comments ( yes I stole that line from Bogart — good catch!) I appreciate your kindness and your wonderful sense of humor! Thanks again!
Wrangler just wow! This story “tooked” me 3 hrs to read. I had planned on reading half but it was too good so thus I’m late doing my “chores” so I will give you another comment later. Such great stuff and speaking of “stuff” I caught the Bogart line from Maltese Falcon ” the stuff dreams are made of” but you changed it to nightmares! Cute! We get the always willing to get his face punched Pete Timmons who you gave some very funny lines to. Our old coot Fletcher who was at his cantankerous best here! You teased us with the lack of “curl” pushes from Pa. The scenes that were terrifying were realistic and scarier than even part 1! Major twists and turns and an ending which has to be one of your best ever! Of course touching PJMs with the “windbreak” mention very nicely done! Just on & on — including Hoss & Adam scenes. But you have to know where I’m going now right? The BEST RAT SCENES EVER WRITTEN by a fanfiction mangler! Oh wow it was worth a year of begging you for it too! Now I hope whatever surgery faces you that it will go smoothly so you can continue to share your humor and drama and love. Thanks this was awesome!( oh I’ve read The Sound of Surviving many times but will read again to thank you for the homage to rats!)
Hi RJC, Your comments always make me chuckle. I am getting ready to leave my comments.