Summary:  On the eve of Joe’s 17th birthday, otherworldly forces are again afoot. Written for the 2026 Michael Landon Halloween Literary Challenge.

It is suggested—but not mandatory—that one first read “Things that Go Bump in the Night.”

Rating: G
Word Count: 4000

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Goblins

This is Halloween when the witches are abroad and the goblins are wandering about in all sorts of disguises doing harm to the children of men.

 

October 1859

 

Absorbed in his newspaper, Ben Cartwright moved like a tortoise through the great room towards the dining room, his slow progress impeded further when he stopped to refold the paper before inching his feet forward.

Already at the dining table, his 22-year-old middle son Hoss jerked his head to the left inviting his older brother to swivel and observe their father’s pace.

A glacier moves faster, Adam thought. He turned back to Hoss and shrugged noncommittally before resuming his breakfast. He had just finished sopping up the last of his gravy with a biscuit when Ben sat down and noticed the empty chair.

“Where’s Joe?”

“He was up and out early, Pa,” Hoss responded. “It’s apple-picking time at the Schroeders.”

Ben bristled. “Doesn’t he have enough of his own chores to do without helping half the farmers in the valley?”

“He done ’em, Pa.  His and Adam’s, too.”

A low rattle emanated from Ben’s throat. He pulled his napkin from under the folded paper and laid it in his lap as Hop Sing set a replenished platter in front of him. “I don’t see why he always rushes to help everyone else—”

“—because you raised us to be charitable and help our neighbors?” Hoss offered brightly reaching for the meat fork.  Adam’s throat-clearing cough brought him to his senses, and he waited until his father filled his plate before helping himself to thirds.

“Yes, well,” Ben grumbled, stabbing another piece of ham, “charity begins at home.” The looks exchanged by his two oldest sons did not escape notice. “If either of you has something to say, then speak.”

Adam opened his mouth and drew a breath but thought better of mentioning the wrong side of the bed. Taking another tack as he exhaled, he said lightly, “Something interesting in the paper?”

“What do you mean by that?” Ben barked.

“You seemed totally absorbed. What was so fascinating?”

Ben growled again. “Nothing,” he said, and resumed eating, this time unaware of the silent communication between his sons.

“Reckon I’ll head to town to pick up the mail,” Hoss said as he pushed back from the table. “Anything you need, Pa?”

“I’d rather you didn’t go.”

“But—“

“—No buts.”

“Pa—”

“I said no!  There’s plenty to do around here without everyone gallivanting off to town every five minutes. Whatever happened to children minding their elders?”

“Yessir.” Hoss stood.  “I best get right to it then.”

“Or the gobble-uns ‘ill git you, ef you don’t watch out,” Adam mumbled into his coffee cup when his brother passed behind his chair.

“What was that?” his father bellowed as the front door slammed shut.

“Just reminding Hoss to feed the turkeys.”

Ben shoved his plate into the middle of the table and glowered at Adam.

“What about you?  I suppose you have an urgent errand in town as well?”

“Not likely,” Adam replied, gesturing toward his foot which was propped on the chair to his left. “Doc said a boot is not in my future for at least week, remember?”

Ben grunted, ashamed he had forgotten about Adam’s foot, the result of an unfortunate and, to his way of thinking, entirely preventable injury. Maybe that explained his youngest son’s sudden largesse in doing his brother’s chores unbidden and helping their neighbors with harvesting—penance for his sins.

Reading his father’s mind, Adam preempted, “It wasn’t his fault, you know. I was standing where I shouldn’t have been.”

“And he was where he shouldn’t have been . . . in town when I specifically forbade it!”

“Come on, Pa.  You can’t blame a kid his age, with his love of horses, for wanting to see a Vaquero rodeo, especially when you as much as promised he could go.”

“I did no such thing!”

“Remember last year?” Adam asked. Seeing his father’s perplexed look, he added, “when we returned from the cattle drive and found Joe barricaded in his room? You quashed attendance at the rodeo then because of his hysteria and said, ‘next year.’  You may have forgotten, but I guarantee Joe hadn’t.”

Ben put his elbows on the table and massaged his temples with his fingertips. He’d never forget the incredible tale his youngest son told of being attacked by wolves—in the house of all places!  A long sigh escaped his lips. “What I’d like to forget is that unbelievable explanation.”

“Say what you will . . . the kid doesn’t lie. Never has.”

“But his story was so far-fetched. And there are other explanations . . . pain from the fall off the roof, fever, the power of suggestion, and YOU!”  Ben bristled anew, pointing his finger at Adam. “You’re 28 years old for goodness’s sake! Why you persist in bringing books about the supernatural into this house with an impressionable youngster around, I’ll never understand.”

“I thought he’d get a kick out of it for his birthday.”

“Yes, well, especially on his birthday this year I would like him to have pleasant dreams . . . not terror-filled nightmares like last year!”

The two men stared at each other, neither willing to break eye contact. When the high color in his father’s cheeks began to fade, Adam said calmly, “May I see the paper?”

Ben hesitated, then slid the Territorial Enterprise across the polished table. Several minutes passed while Adam perused the articles.

“Looking for anything in particular?”

“Whatever it was that upset you.”

“I am NOT up—”

“—Ah!  Here it is . . . an editorial on vigilante justice.” Adam read out loud, “Men think in herds, and they go mad in herds, while they only recover their senses slowly, and one by one.” He tossed the paper back to his father. “You really think Joe would get caught up in a lynch mob?”

“He’s impressionable.”

“He also has a will of his own which he is not shy in exercising as we all are aware.”

Ben stood to stare out the dining room window. He shook his head slowly. “The lynchings going on in Virginia City are the least of it. Only four months old and the town rivals Sodom and Gomorrah! Any event can be taken to extremes and turn into something catastrophic.” He turned back to face Adam and stabbed at the newspaper with his right forefinger. “Mob mentality, that’s what it is!  And since the sheriff was murdered, there’s no one to control it. Just like I saw at Sutter’s Mill—men go insane when it comes to gold and silver. And it carries over into other things. Everyday mundane things like a bolt of cloth or the price of salt. Why, the other day I saw otherwise sensible men—men I’ve known for years—lose all reason and drag a merchant screaming into the street because he ran out of flour! They would have tarred and feathered him if there had been any chickens around.”

“I hardly think—”

“—I don’t want Joseph exposed to that den of iniquity!  He is to remain on this ranch until a new sheriff is hired, and this hysteria dies down. Do you hear me?”

“Yes, but—”

“—and the best way to keep him out of Virginia City is to keep you and Hoss away as well. He only wants to go to town because you do.”

Adam thought there were far more salacious activities to lure Joe into town than the prospect of tagging along after his brothers, but no good could come of bringing those possibilities to his father’s attention.

“Sure, Pa. Whatever you say.”

 

---

 

“No kidding, Mrs. Schroeder?” Joe asked with his mouth full. He had finished loading two freight wagons with bushels of apples from the harvest and was on his second slice of freshly baked apple pie. “You leave sawdust on the floor? On purpose?”

“Ja, Joseph. Not everywhere, mind you. Just a little in the corner to please the kobold. That and a little dirt in the milk.”

Joe quickly pulled the glass away from his lips to inspect the surface for specks.  Sure enough, there were a few floating on top. With a shrug, he drained the glass and swiped the back of his hand across his mouth before letting out a belch.

“‘Scuse me, ma’am. That was really good, but I’d better be getting those wagons back home before my Pa gets worried.”

“You had permission, Ja, to help us out today?  I vould not vant your Vater to be upset.”

“Oh yes, ma’am!  And I got all my morning work done before I come over including Adam’s on account of his foot still being sore from when my horse stepped on it.”

“Gott im Himmel!  What happened?”

“Oh, it was nothing.  I was practicing this trick I saw at the rodeo and Adam got in the way. Accidental, of course.”

“Ja,” Mrs. Schroeder nodded, suppressing a smile. She’d raised six boys and well knew how accidents happened.

“Ma’am? Do you mind my asking…what’s a kobold?”

“A hausgeist.”

“Huh?”

“In mein country, a kobold is a house spirit that helps with chores in exchange for small gifts.”

“Like sawdust and dirt?”

“Ja. Und if you don’t feed them, they become destructive…and vengeful.”

Gosh!  “I’d better tell Hop Sing!”

---

 

Cochise walked into the yard and stood patiently awaiting his master’s dismount. After several minutes, Joe swung his leg over the cantle and slid to the ground but remained close.  When the paint turned his head to check on his human, Joe reached up and stroked his mane absentmindedly.

A wizened ranch hand appeared from the tack room. “Ya look done in, boy. Can I put up your horse for ya?”

Joe nodded.  “I’d appreciate it.”

“You hurtin’ any?”

“Wha–?  Oh, no. Just got somethin’ on my mind. Thanks, Charlie.”

---

 

A noticeable drop in temperature accompanied the opening of the front door, otherwise no one heard the latch click shut. Joe hung up his hat and jacket and proceeded silently up to his room unnoticed by his eldest brother who was reading at the desk in the alcove. When he got to the second floor he leaned over the banister and yelled, “Hey, Adam, can I look somethin’ up in your dictionary?”

“Which one?”

Joe squeaked, “You have more than one?”

Adam stifled a retort and replied, “Webster’s is on the top shelf. If what you’re looking for isn’t in there, Worcester’s and Samuel Johnson’s are both on the second shelf and Hyde Clarke’s is on the bottom.”

“You have FOUR dictionaries?”

Adam rocked back in the desk chair and looked up at the second-floor landing but there was no one there so he resumed reading . . . or rather stared at the words on the page. What is he up to now?  Shaking his head he refocused and concentrated on the text before him, but it wasn’t long before the absence of noise overwhelmed every other sense he had. Years of experience had taught him that silence and Little Joe were not compatible.

Adam slammed his book shut and hobbled up the steps one tread at a time.

---

 

Adam stood in doorway of his bedroom and leaned against the frame with his arms folded across his chest. All four dictionaries were on the floor, some open, some closed.  Little Joe’s rested his back against the bookshelf, his legs stretched out in front of him. In his lap was The Pickwick Papers by Charles Dickens which Adam recognized by the color of its binding. Nevertheless, he asked, “What are you reading?”

Joe jumped, startled by his brother’s presence. “Whaa—Oh. “The Story of the Goblins Who Stole a Sexton.”  Puzzled, his thick eyebrows drew together. “Why would a goblin need to know latitude and longitude?”

“You’re thinking of a ‘sextant.’ Dickens is writing about a sexton.”

“What’s that?”

“A gravedigger.”

“Oh.”

“Why the interest in goblins?”

“Just something Mrs. Schroeder was telling me about kobolds.”

“Come again?”

“Germany’s version of goblins. When I mentioned to Hop Sing that she left sawdust in the corners of the kitchen to ward off mischief, he said the Chinese don’t have kobolds, but they do place mirrors above doors in bedrooms to ward off demons—which I guess are kind of like goblins.” Joe stood up and started shelving the books.

“Tell me something straight, kid.”

“What?”

“Have you been thinking about the wolves that bothered you last year? I mean it was right about this time.”

Joe shoved the last book into the shelf forcibly, turned around and brushed past his brother saying, “Sheesh, Adam. Why’d you have to remind me?”

---

 

The weeks leading up to Little Joe’s seventeenth birthday passed slowly for the youngest Cartwright. Denied access to Virginia City except for school and church, his only respite from ‘confinement’ on the Ponderosa was the party at the Devlin’s ranch for Mitch’s cousins who were visiting from St. Louis . . . male cousins only it turned out, much to his disappointment. Even the prospect of a spiked punch bowl didn’t lift his spirits. That is, until Seth Pruitt jabbed a finger in his ribs as he headed toward a picnic table with a plate of food and whispered, “behind the barn in fifteen.”

On the pretense of visiting the privy, Joe escaped the watchful eyes of his family and sauntered around the side of the barn. To his delight, Mitch, Jared Wilson, and Sara Dagliesh were there too.

“We have an idea to get you off the ranch,” Mitch said.

The friends gathered in a huddle and listened as Seth laid out the ruse.

To everyone’s great surprise, Joe was skeptical after hearing the plan.

“I don’t know,” Joe said. “My Pa will kill me if I go anywhere near Virginia City without him or my brothers.”

“You won’t,” Seth said. “I’ll tell him we’re going to camp in the desert for the tarantula migration.”

“Yeah,” said Mitch. “We’ve done that before with Hoss, remember? No one will think twice about it.”

Joe let out a long, slow whistle. “What about you, Sara?”

“My father is so busy working his mine, he won’t notice I’m gone. But I’ll leave him a note, telling him who I’m with so he won’t worry.”

“Can you get a couple of girlfriends to join us?” asked Jared.

“Cameo would come for sure; she likes tarantulas. I don’t know about Jennifer or Connie. Maybe.”

“Sara . . .” Mitch said, “you understand we’re not really going to the migration, right?”

Sara looked around the huddle. “Then where are we going?” she asked.

“There’s this abandoned house south of the divide near Gold Hill. Still has running water and furniture but it’s off the road and well hidden. It’s a perfect hangout.”

“It’ll be fun!” said Jared. “We can dance!”

“What’ll we do for music?” asked Sara.

“I can bring my squeeze box, and Mitch has got a harmonica. You think you can get Adam’s guitar, Joe?”

“When hell freezes over!” Joe exclaimed loudly and was immediately shushed. “What about my Pa?” he said softer.

“You let me worry about your pa,” Seth said, “Parents love me.”

Joe, Jared, Mitch, and Sara all groaned.

 

---

 

Smooth talking Seth Pruitt, the oldest among Joe’s friends, cornered Ben outside the Virginia City Bank the following day and implored him to allow Joe to go camping the following weekend with him and Mitch and some others.

“I know Joe will be working full time on the Ponderosa next year, and we figured this would be the last opportunity to witness the annual tarantula migration together. Personally, what Joe sees in those critters is beyond me,” Seth hunched his shoulders and produced a violent mock shiver.

Ben smiled. “You and me both, Seth. But why now?”

“The folks coming across the emigrant trail are still complaining about how hot it is. But I figure with snow in the upper passes already, a cold front can’t be far behind, right?”

“Your point?” Ben asked.

“The migration peaks by the end of October. We’d sure like to have one last adventure together. I mean, I know we’ll always be friends, but it won’t be like it is now what with marriage and children in the future, if you know what I mean. Sir.”

“This weekend, you say?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I suppose that will be fine. As long as he’s home for church on Sunday.”

“Yes, sir!”

“I’m sure he’ll be surprised.”

 

---

On Saturday morning, Seth, Mitch and Jared arrived at the Ponderosa just after breakfast. Hop Sing handed Joe a feed sack filled with canning jars and lids.

“What are these for?”

“You put tarantulas in these. No fuzzy bodies in laundry like last time!”

“Yes, sir!” Joe laughed as Hop Sing sprinted back into the house muttering in Chinese.

“All set?” asked Ben as he exited the kitchen door.

“Yeah, pa. Hop Sing must have thought Hoss was coming with us because he packed enough grub to feed an army!”

“Well, growing boys eat as much as one, I’ve found, as the mercantile bill each month will attest.”

“Sure do appreciate it, Mr. Cartwright,” said Seth. “We’d better get going so we don’t keep Mitch and Jared waiting.”

“Just make sure you are back in time for church on Sunday.”

“We’ll be here, pa, don’t worry. And thanks again for letting me go. Bye!”

“Bye, son.”

 

---

“Where are the girls?” Joe asked when they reached the abandoned house in Gold Canyon.

“Mitch is bringing them later. Thought we should clean it up a bit first.”

“Good idea.”

“I brought soap and rags,” said Jared. “I’ll just pump some water and get started on the floors.”

The structure wasn’t in too bad a shape. The furniture needed wiping as predicted but once they opened the windows, the breeze shook the curtains loose of any dust and aired out the house as well.

“Whose place was this?” asked Joe as they worked.

“Some prospector named Eldritch. Up and disappeared a year ago. Rumor has it his bride-to-be married some other bloke who had already struck it rich. Bird in the hand, I guess,” said Jared.

“I heard Eldritch gave up and went back to Scotland,” said Seth. “Pity. This is nice property. Off the road and plenty of trees for shade.”

“You thinkin’ of buying,” Joe asked.

“I wish. My ol’ man pays me slave wages.”

---

Mitch and the girls arrived just before noon, unfortunately accompanied by Jennifer’s Aunt Liddy as a chaperone. Seth was upset, but Joe—ever the gentleman—charmed the aunt with his gallantry, making sure she danced as much as Jennifer, Cameo, and Sara did.

The picnic basket Sara brought was filled with delectables that complemented what Hop Sing provided. No one starved and the strongest beverage was sweet tea, which upset Seth even more as he had hidden a bottle of brandy in the cupboard hoping to share it with Sara.

At four o’clock, Aunt Liddy announced it was time the women took their leave and thanked the young men for a delightful afternoon, much to Seth’s chagrin. Nevertheless, he offered his arm to Sara while Jared and Joe, escorted the other women to the surry one lady on each arm.

As soon as the surrey disappeared around a curve up the hill towards Virginia City, Seth trudged off.

“Jared, you go ahead and go home,” Joe said. “I’ll straighten the house before we close it up.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Seth just needs to cool down a bit. I’ll be fine.”

“Okay. See you at church tomorrow.”

“Will do.  Bye.”

 

---

 

“Joseph!” yelled Ben Cartwright from the bottom of the stairs. “Front and center right now!”

Hoss appeared at the top of the staircase. “He ain’t here, Pa, and his bed’s not been slept in.”

The front door opened, and Adam reported that Cochise was not in his stall.

“That tears it!” Ben grabbed his coat and hat, stomped out the front door and was halfway to Virginia City before his elder sons caught up.

“Where have you been?” Ben asked when Adam reined Beauty in beside him.

“I went to the Pruitt’s. No one there. I sent Hoss to the Devlin’s. He should be along shortly.”

“Well?” Ben asked when Hoss pulled up beside them. “Mitch is home tending to his ma and sister who are sick with the flu. He has no idea where Joe is now . . . but he knows where he was yesterday and it wasn’t watching the tarantula migration.”

 

---

Joe woke up shivering. He was wet and cold and hurt. At first, he couldn’t tell where the pain was coming from as it seemed his whole body was both on fire and frigid at the same time.

“Quite a guddle you got yourself in laddie,” said a voice.

“Wh-ho-who are you? And wh-where am I?”

“Eldritch’s mine.”

“Mine? How did I get here?”

“Reckon ye fell down the shaft.”

“Fell? From where?”

“Up.”

Joe looked up but all he saw was rock and realized he was upside down. No wonder my head hurts. Inch by inch he turned and twisted himself in the small space until he could see what looked like the moon. What am I doing here?  And where is here?

“Don’t ye ken?”

“Joe.”

“What?”

“My name is Joe, not Ken.”

A high-pitched, raspy laugh in response echoed in the shaft sending dirt and small rocks on top of Joe.

“Ow! How do I get out of here, Eldritch?”

“Climb.”

“Up or down?”

“Depends on where you want to go.”

“I want to go home.”

---

Ben’s face turned red. “What do you mean they didn’t go to the desert to watch the migration?”

“It was all Seth’s idea,” Hoss said, and proceeded to tell Ben the secret plan for Joe’s birthday . . .  including the abandoned house, the girls and dancing.

“Of all the—”

“—Pa, it was above board. The girls were chaperoned by Jennifer’s Aunt Liddy; they had a nice lunch; they danced a little and talked; and Mitch took them home before dark.”

“What about Joe?” asked Adam.

“Well—”

“—Well, what?” Ben said through clenched teeth.

“Seth was pretty pissed. Evidently, he wanted to spend time with Sara. Joe said he’d stay with him until he calmed down and that he’d put the house in order and close it up.”

“Do you know where this house is?”

“Yeah,” Hoss said. “It over the divide down the road to Gold Hill off to the right. It’s settled way back from the road in a grove of aspen and pine, but Mitch said you can’t miss it because it’s painted blue.”

“Maybe Joe decided to go straight to church rather than come all the way to the ranch,” Adam offered. “We should check there first.”

Ben nodded. “Let’s ride!”

---

Joe was not at the church nor was he at the house, which they found quite easily. But neither was Cochise. The three Cartwrights decided to spread out and search on foot through the thick ground cover and rocks.  It was over an hour before Adam spied waste rock at the mount of a shaft. Down twenty-five feet they found Joe, bloody, bruised but alive. Fifty feet below that, they found Ewen Eldritch . . . dead for nearly a year.

---

 

Because he didn’t think his father would believe him, Joe told Adam privately that the mine Kobold helped him survive his ordeal. Adam wasn’t sure he believed it either until he pulled Samuel Taylor Coleridge’s The Rime of the Ancient Mariner (1798) from his shelf and read:  “I look’d upon the rotting Sea, And drew my eyes away; I look’d upon the eldritch deck, And there the dead men lay.”

 

The End

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Author’s Notes:

The childhood friends of Joe Cartwright (Jared, Sara, Connie, Jennifer, Cameo, and Seth) were mentioned in Seasons 2, 5, 6, and 8.

Adam’s reference to the “gobble-uns ‘ill git you, ef you don’t watch out” is anachronistic as James Whitcomb Riley wrote “Little Orphant Annie” in 1885.