It was a relief, Joe realized, to wiggle into clean clothes. He’d never been particularly bothered by wearing dirty ones, but pants with only one leg in them were something else again. He had a little trouble getting his pants off, and a lot getting a larger pair of Hoss’s on over his splint, but he wasn’t about to ask for help. Finally his old clothes lay wadded up where they’d fallen beside his bed, and the fresh ones lay cool against his skin.Pa had ordered him upstairs to rest—and although he wasn’t the least bit tired, Joe was not about to argue with Pa today. He’d just hoisted himself up onto the bed and was about to stretch out when someone knocked on his door. “Come in,” he called, and it opened. Pa stood there, looking grave. Uh oh, Joe thought. He knew that look. Pa came in and turned the straight backed chair to face the bed. He sat, placing his hands on his knees.

“Well, Joseph?”

“Uh.” He couldn’t think of anything else.

“Well.” Apparently Pa couldn’t think of anything else, either. Joe allowed himself a moment of hope, dashed when Pa spoke again. “Do you remember what I promised you if you rode Nightshade?”

Joe gulped. “Uh.”

“Well?”

This could go on for a while, Joe thought. Might as well get it over with. “You said I’d eat off the sideboard, uh, for a while.” Pa raised his eyebrows, and reluctantly, Joe amended, “For a month.”

“And have you ever known me to break a promise?”

Joe sighed. “No sir.”

“Well.” A pause. “Let’s get to it, then.”

The good thing about Pa’s punishments was that once they were over, they were over. No further lectures, no recriminating reminders, no later allusions. Done was done…except that Joe had to sit on a pillow at supper that night. It was more than a little awkward, since he also had to sit sideways so he could prop his leg on another chair. And Hoss and Adam exchanged amused glances, which he chose to ignore.

But in one particular, Pa did break his promise. There was no sideboard dining, just the pillow.

So all things considered, Joe was pretty grateful.

***

After supper, Joe lay full-length on the couch and stretched luxuriously. “Can I have another cookie?” he asked. Hop Sing scrambled to bring him the whole plate, and Joe handed Hoss his empty milk glass. Obligingly, Hoss took it to the kitchen.

Adam, leaning with one hand on the mantle, snorted. “How about a fan, little brother? And maybe a slave girl to wave it for you?”

“Sure, Adam. That’d be nice,” Joe agreed, crossing his arms behind his head. He smiled angelically. Adam looked pained.

Ben eyed Joe over the top of his paper. “Don’t get too accustomed to this, young man,” he said, pointing his pipe stem. “Tomorrow you’ll be doing chores like everyone else.”

“But, Pa, how can I do anything with a busted leg?”

“No buts. You may not be running any footraces for a while, but that won’t keep you from cleaning tackle and polishing brass.”

“Can shell peas,” Hop Sing said eagerly. “Shuck corn.”

Adam smirked. “Do sums.”

“Play checkers,” Hoss offered, coming back in, and Joe shot him a grateful look. Then he thought of something.

“Pa? If I can clean tackle, can I clean your rifle?”

The answer was quick. “No.”

Joe sighed. Then he brightened. “Hey, Adam. Hoss said you’re going to hunt down that toonugwetsedu tomorrow. Good luck.”

Hoss scowled so fiercely his eyebrows almost touched. “That what?”

“Toonugwetsedu. You know, mountain lion.” Joe crossed his arms smugly.

Adam gazed at the ceiling. “Spare us,” he said under his breath. Ben chuckled.

“Well, at least you learned something during your time with the Paiutes,” he said, emptying his pipe and packing in more tobacco.

“Yeah, Pa. I learned a lot.” Joe turned serious. “Adam?”

“What?”

“I’m glad Nightshade’s okay.” He gazed anxiously at his brother. But Adam wasn’t even looking at him. He was staring into the fire, as if it contained all the answers to all the questions anyone could ever ask.

“I’m glad, too,” Adam said finally, his voice flat. “But I’ve decided to sell him.”

“No! You can’t do that!” Joe tried to get up, but Hoss put a hand on his arm.

“I’m not discussing this,” Adam said tightly. “He’s too dangerous an animal to keep.”

Joe was near tears. “Adam, please. I’ve learned my lesson. I won’t go near him, I won’t even pet him. Please don’t sell him, Adam, please.”

Ben stood up. “Hop Sing, Hoss, let’s leave these two alone.”

Joe’s voice was shrill. “Pa, tell him! He can’t do this, tell him!”

Ben shook his head. “This is between you and Adam.” He nodded at Hop Sing and Hoss. The cook, mumbling something about “foolishment,” stalked toward the kitchen as Hoss and Ben climbed the stairs. “Good night,” Ben called from the top, and two doors clicked with grim finality.

Adam gave Joe a long, appraising look. Then he came over to the coffee table and sat on it, knees close to the couch. He rested his chin on one palm and regarded his brother coolly. Joe squirmed and developed a sudden interest in his fingernails.

“Joe?” Adam’s voice caught. “Do you have any idea how scared I was?” When Joe didn’t answer, he added in a trembling near-whisper, “We could have lost you.”

Joe forced himself to look up, more frightened by Adam’s show of emotion than by anything that had happened the past two days. “I’m sorry, Adam,” he said fervently.

“Me, too. I should have gotten rid of Nightshade as soon as I knew you were determined to ride him.”

“No, you shouldn’t have. I’ve got ears.” He hesitated. He hadn’t told Adam his Indian names. Squirrel. Oh, boy, would Adam and Hoss have fun with this. But it would be his peace offering.

“The Paiutes gave me a couple of names,” he said tentatively. Adam arched an eyebrow, as if wondering where this was going. “The first one was Kaibab. It means…” He almost lost his nerve, but he plunged on. “It means squirrel.” Now both eyebrows shot up, and Joe spoke quickly. “But not just any squirrel. This is the really long-eared kind, the ones called tassel-eared. Kinna’a said it was a good name for me. He said I should learn from it.” He pled with his eyes, begging Adam to understand. “Ears, Adam. Ears for listening. I can listen, really I can.” Reaching out, he gripped his brother’s hand. “Really I will. Please don’t sell Nightshade.”

Adam closed his eyes, going somewhere Joe couldn’t follow. But when he opened them, they were gleaming with humor. “You realize Hoss would just love to know your Indian name,” he said dryly.

“Please don’t tell him.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t.”

“And you won’t sell Nightshade?”

“That depends. You won’t be such a pain in the backside?”

Joe grinned. It was going to be all right. “Don’t worry. I won’t.”

Adam let go of Joe’s hand to ruffle his hair. “I’ll just bet,” he said with that maddening, crooked smile.