“Pa. I’ll be fine.”

It was the last thing Joe had said to him, his voice edged with irritation as he’d hurriedly fastened his gun belt and plucked his hat from the sideboard. He’d been eager to leave; even more so than usual thanks to the hovering attention of a concerned father.

Yet Ben couldn’t shake the nagging feeling in his gut he’d felt from the moment he had awakened that morning. A feeling that something was off, or wrong, or something was going to happen, and that it would surely involve his youngest.

The morning passed without incident, and soon logic reared its head and effectively stifled the nervousness to a mere hum, easily ignored as Ben busied himself with his daily tasks. There was nothing to worry about, after all. Joe was just going into town for the mail; something he’d done a hundred times before. Nothing to worry about.

Yet a father’s instinct is a stubborn thing, and Ben found himself surrendering to the feeling of unease as the day progressed. Adam later came upon him pacing the floor and glancing anxiously at the clock. He didn’t need to be told why his father was so agitated.

“How late is he?” Adam asked quietly.

“Late,” Ben replied. “He should have been back two, three hours ago.”

“Pa, he’ll be fine,” Adam admonished. “Joe’s not a little kid anymore. You’ve got to stop doing this to yourself.”

Ben forced a smile. “I know. Old habits die hard, don’t they?”

Adam sighed. “I think I’ll head out and see if Hoss needs any help in the barn,” he said, clearly in a hurry to rid himself of the company of an over-anxious parent.

Ben picked up the newspaper and tried to concentrate on the words in front of him. Adam was right, of course he was right. It was perfectly fine for a parent to worry, but not so fine to be consumed by it. Ben knew he could go on and on listing the numerous perils that could befall his son – both real and imagined – and he couldn’t help but chuckle at the absurd direction of his thoughts. He’d have to tell Joe later how silly he’d been.

His amusement, however, was abruptly extinguished at the sound of the slamming door, and Adam’s urgent voice on its heels.

“Pa! PA! Come quick!”

 

Ben raced through the door, his heart in his throat, mere steps behind Adam.

Adam and Hoss were both crouched on the porch, examining what appeared to be a brick with a note attached to it.

“Look here, Pa,” Adam said, gliding his hand along a deep, splintery gash in the wooden support pole. “Dented it up but good. I think we’re going to have to replace it. You’d think whoever threw this would have had a little more respect for architecture.”

“But…but…what does the note say, Adam?” Ben pleaded.

“Oh, that,” Adam replied, carefully removing the paper from around the brick and unfolding it. “Looks like–”

“What? What is it?”

“Oh, man! Not again!” Adam grumbled, crumpling the note in his fist and flinging it away in disgust. “Joe would have to go and get kidnapped when it’s his turn to clean out the barn!”

“And it needs cleaning real bad,” Hoss added, wrinkling his nose. “Chub and Sport got into my chocolate stash this morning. Them stalls stink to high heaven.”

“How many times have I told you to stop eating out there?” Ben demanded.

“Sorry, Pa,“ Hoss mumbled. “But sometimes a feller just needs to be alone with his candy bars.”

“That doesn’t make a lick of sense,” Adam snapped. “No wonder you ain’t got a girlfriend. You’ve been having a love affair with Hershey.”

“Boys, boys!” Ben snapped irritably. “Aren’t you two forgetting something? Your baby brother’s been kidnapped! Read what the note says, Adam.”

Adam sighed as he plucked the note from the ground. “Whatever. Let me see…it says ‘We gots yor boy Joe and you need to pay us five hunnert dolers to git him back. You wili receeve instrukshons. Sincerly yors., the kidnapars,’”Adam handed the note to his father. “The grammar’s as bad as ever, Pa. Maybe they need the money for a dictionary.”

Ben wrung his hands impatiently. “I knew it! I just knew something had happened to Little Joe!”

“How’d you know, Pa?” Hoss asked, confusion wrinkling his brow.

“It’s called ESPN, boys,” Ben said. “It stands for extra-sensory perception.”

“Pa, that’s ESP.,” Adam corrected.

“Whatever,” Ben replied. “It’s just – well, sometimes I just know. It’s like something tells me…up here,” he indicated, pointing to his head.

Hoss looked bewildered. “Your toupee tells you?”

Ben scowled. “Never mind. We’ll have to give them the money or they’ll kill your brother!”

“Come on, Pa,” said Adam. “It could be worse, right? At least he’s just been kidnapped and wasn’t off drinking whiskey and playing cards like you thought, right?”

Ben nodded in acknowledgement. Trust Adam to point out the silver lining in any situation.

“Pa?” Adam asked, hesitating. “Pa, now keep in mind, I’m only asking hypothetically here. . .if Joe dies can I have his room?”

“Adam!”

“Sorry. Just askin’.”

“Well, you know there ain’t nothing any of us can do on an empty stomach,” Hoss announced, rising to his feet. “So how’s about we head inside and have some of that roast chicken Hop Sing’s servin’ up ‘fore it gets cold?”

“Sounds good to me,” Adam agreed. He joined and elbowed him playfully in the ribs. “Dibs on Joe’s dessert.”

“Dadburnit.”

*******

“Why? Why are you doing this?” Joe demanded, pushing furiously against the ropes binding him. “Who are you?”

The one called Jack shrugged apologetically. “Sorry, kid. That’s just the way it has to be.”

Joe should have know it had been too good to be true. It had been a stupid, impulsive idea to begin with to head down to the saloon and get caught up in a poker game. He should have been on his way home like a good son. And to top it off, he’d critically underestimated the skills of the dumb-looking cowhands who’d amiably dealt him in. In less than two hours he’d ended up losing a full month’s pay and he knew there’d be absolute hell to pay if Pa found out.

Perhaps that vas why he’d allowed himself to be so easily swayed by the two men. Well, the tequila they’d kept pouring for him might have had something to do with it too. How many had he had? Four? Five? In any case, when his new friends suggested an easy way Joe could earn his money back, he’d eagerly agreed and hadn’t even batted an eye. Fifty dollars, they’d said Easy money. Why, it won’t take more’n an hour or so, they’d said. Just come with us and we’ll show you, they’d said.

But losing a few hands of poker was nothing compared to his insane decision to trust a pair of complete strangers. Joe hadn’t pressed them for details and realized far too late that he should have. They’d convinced Joe to accompany them to a secluded wooded area a few miles outside of town, and Joe had barely dismounted when he was abruptly seized from behind and slammed against a sturdy tree and tied. to it. In his partially inebriated state, he could barely summon the wits to protest, much less resist.

Joe knew that he should have been home hours ago, and he knew that his pa would worry. He just hoped that Pa wouldn’t have a cow when he found out how stupid he’d been to land in this sorry situation to begin with.

Joe watched as one of his captors – what was his name? Bob? Bill? – jumped on his horse and rode off. “Where’s he going?”

Jack shrugged in response. “Off to deliver the ransom note. He’ll be back.”

Joe struggled anew at this bit of information, angry all over again. “A ransom note? That’s what this is all about? You just want money?”

 

“No, the money’s just a bonus for us. You know, since we heard that your pa’s rich. We’d be stupid not to take advantage of the situation, right?”

Joe watched silently as Jack retrieved a book from his saddlebags and began leafing through it. This surprised Joe since neither of his captors seemed to be the book type. He was surprised they could even read.

“What’s that?“ he asked, growing slightly nervous when Jack refused to respond.

“Jack?”

Jack shook his head sorrowfully. “I’m real, real sorry ‘bout this, Cartwright. I mean, you seem like a good kid and all–”

“What are you talking about?”

Jack held up the book and Joe squinted in the fading light to make out the words printed on the cover, and his heart slammed into his throat.

 

Guide for Torturing Hot Young Cowboys

 

“What…what’s going on?“ Joe asked uneasily, struggling anew as Jack deliberately moved closer to him. “What are you going to do?”

“Sorry, kid. We didn’t have no choice in the matter.”

“What matter?”

Jack ignored him as he leaned down to retrieve a knife from his boot.

“Might as well get started.”

******

“I’m real sorry, Mr. Cartwright,” Clem insisted. “But Roy ain’t here. He’s attending the Aging Sheriffs Convention over in Reno. Hear it’s a big to-do this year, too. Gambling, showgirls, and an all-you-can-eat high-fiber buffet. Sure wish I was an aging sheriff.”

Ben scowled. So this is where his hard-earned tax dollars were going. He vowed to have a little chat with the town council about this preposterous waste of town funds.

But first things first.

“Then I guess you’ll have to do, Clem,” he muttered grimly. He’d never been impressed with Roy’s cocky deputy, but he was left with no choice. “We need to put together a posse immediately to find Little Joe. He’s been kidnapped!”

Clem shook his head. “Sorry, Mr. Cartwright. It ain’t in my job description. I’m just supposed to stay right here in the office and keep watch on the prisoners in the jail.”

“There aren’t any prisoners in the jail!”

“Well, I still gotta keep watch. just in case we get some in,” Clem explained. “That’s what I do, Mr. Cartwright. I ain’t been trained in the other law enforcement stuff yet. But I’m going to night school and I’ll be getting my certificate next month!“ he added proudly.

Ben gaped in disbelief. “Well then, I’ll put together a posse myself!”

“Sorry, Mr. Cartwright, but you gotta be a deputy to do that.”

“Then deputize me!”

Clem shrugged apologetically. “I ain’t licensed to do that neither. Maybe if you just wait till next Tuesday when Roy gets back?”

But Ben had already stalked out, and all Clem heard in response was the abrupt sound of the door slamming behind him.

“Damned ungrateful constituents,” Clem mumbled, leaning back in his chair to resume his jail watch.

*******

“Sorry, kid,” Jack apologized, tossing aside the blood-spattered axe handle. He stared at Joe pointedly. “Do you feel like you’re suffering yet?”

“Yeah,” Joe wheezed, trying hard to breathe around the stabbing pain in his ribs. “I…I guess you could say that. . .”

He hurt. . .oh man, oh man, he hurt. Jack wasn’t smart but he sure had a nifty imagination when it came to methods of inflicting pain. He’d laid out an impressive spread of torture instruments including knives, needles, branding irons, whips, matches, corks, and fish hooks, and when he’d gotten bored with those, Jack had contented himself with flinging rocks or plucking the arm hairs of his helpless victim. It seemed to have gone on for hours until Jack had decided to take himself a coffee break, and Joe found himself so grateful for the reprieve he almost cried.

Joe tried to think of what in the world could be possibly be worse than the white-hot pain lancing through every inch of his bruised, bloodied body. Things could always be worse, he tried to convince himself. It was something Pa always said, anyway. Joe couldn’t remember suffering this badly before, not even when he’d lost a bet with Hoss last summer and had to do the beaning on an entire string of skittish draft horses. It hadn’t even been this painful when Joe had to sit through Adam’s four-hour solo performance of Handel’s Messiah last Christmas. Although that had been pretty painful.

“Tell me again…why you’re…doing…this?” Joe managed to gasp.

“Well, Joe, you see, what happened was this lady showed up at my door last week, right?” Jack explained as he poured himself a steaming cup of coffee. “She was a real looker so I just invited her on in. Guess I shouldn’t have done that, huh?”

“Who was she?”

“Don’t remember her name offhand. Lisa something-or-other. Said she was working on a birthday present for a friend o’ hers, some British feller.”

“British feller?”

Jack shrugged. “Well, I just assumed he was British with a name like Devon Shire. Either that or he’s some kind of pansy.”

“But what does this have to do with me?”

“I’m getting’ to that, boy. She says that this Mr. Shire likes to see Little Joe Cartwright suffer more than anything in the world.”

“What kind of sick person likes that?”

“Dunno. Anyway, so this Lisa something-or-other tells us that we need to kidnap you and make sure that you suffer or else she’d–” his voice dropped to a whisper. “Or else she’d have to use her secret weapon on us.”

“A secret weapon?” Joe said. “What is it?”

“Shhh!’ Jack hissed, his eves darting about nervously. “Quiet down, boy! She can hear you. I hear she’s. . .I hear she’s. . .omni. .what did she call it again? Oh yeah. Omnimportant.”

 

Joe cocked an eyebrow. He hadn’t realized till now just how insane the man was, but he knew he had to play along being as he was still tied up, so he obligingly lowered his voice. “What’s the secret weapon?”

Jack leaned in close to whisper. “It ain’t no it, it’s a she. Some blonde chick from Texas who swings a lasso better’n anyone in the territory. She’ll rope a man and tie ‘im in four seconds flat.”

“What’s so bad about that?”

“Because there have been rumors about. . .about men dying.”

 

“Why, does she have some sort of magic lasso?”

“No. It’s. . .um. . .it’s what she does to ’em after she lassos ’em, Joe.”

Joe swallowed. “What…what does she do?”

“Dunno.” Jack shrugged. “Ain’t no one lived to tell about it.”

“So you…so you understand why we had to do this now, don’t ya, Joe? It really, truly ain’t nothing personal. I will say that you saved me n’ Bill here a whole lot of trouble when you showed up like you did. Cause after that, getting you out here was easy. What do they call it? Oh, yeah. Density. It was density, I tell ya—pure density that had you walking into the Bucket of Blood this afternoon.

Joe opened his mouth to correct him, but stopped himself. Density was the perfect word for it.

Jack poured himself a second cup and paused for a moment. “Where are my manners? You want some coffee, kid?”

Joe glanced down at the rope criss-crossing his body from shoulders to ankles. “Will you untie me to drink it?”

““No.”

“Then I’ll pass.”

Jack shrugged. ‘Suit yourself. By the way, I forgot to tell you. That Lisa something-or-other says that after you’re finished with all the sufferin’, you’re supposed to have yerself a JPM.”

“What’s that?” Joe asked, wondering anxiously if a JPM was some freaky new weapon that Jack hadn’t tried out on him yet.

“Dunno. We figgered you might know. Ah well. . .maybe a JPM ain’t all that important anyhow. We can always just–”

He was interrupted by a loud, shrieking cackle and the whooshing sound of a lasso being whipped about vigorously. The sound seemed to echo from every direction.

Joe turned white. “What the hell is that?”

“It’s her.” Jack replied in an undertone. That she-devil blonde chick from Texas and her magic lasso. She musta heard us talking about the JPM.”

“But I don’t know what a JPM is!”

 

“Then you better figger it out real, real quick-like, boy, cause apparently this Lisa something-or-other is pretty much insisting on it.”

The whooshing sound faded into silence, and Joe blew out a relieved breath. But his relief was short-lived.

Jack flung the empty cup to the ground and rose to his feet. Joe tensed as Jack selected a small whip from his weapons collection and approached him. As the leather bit harshly into the tender flesh of his exposed chest, Joe bit his lip in suppressed agony. Quite suddenly the memory of Adam’s glass-shattering falsetto belting out the Hallelujah Chorus didn’t seem all that bad anymore. As the whip continued to fall and fall and fall again, welting his skin and drawing thin strips of blood in its wake, Joe silently cursed to hell the sick, sick Mr. Shire, and right along with him that blonde Texas chick with the magic lasso.

Oh, and most especially, that Lisa something or-other.

******

“I just wish I knew where he was!“ Ben mumbled fretfully as he bit into his ham sandwich. “And that damned Clem is no help at all! I swear that stupid deputy must have naked pictures of Roy or something! How in the hell did that imbecile ever get hired?”

After his fruitless attempt that morning to get help in his search for Joe, Ben had dejectedly returned home to await further word from the kidnappers, only to come upon Adam and Hoss in a heated debate over who would rightfully inherit Joe’s room when he died, and Ben had been in a foul mood ever since.

“Pa, why don’t you try your ESPN thing?” Adam suggested. “I mean, it’s worked before, right?”

“Yeah, Pa!“ Hoss added. “See if your toupee will tell you where Joe is!”

Ben shook his head. “I don’t know. It doesn’t work like that, Adam. I mean, I never–”

“Pa, all you can do is try, right? I know you want to find Joe. What do you have to lose?”

“You’re right. I guess I can try.”

“Now just relax and clear your mind, Pa.” Adam instructed. “See if anything comes to you.”

Ben closed his eyes and tried hard to concentrate. Joe. Joe. He murmured his boy’s name softly, hoping some vision would appear in his head and give him some sort of clue. “Joe…Joe…Jo…Jo….”

 

His breath caught in his throat as a hazy image began to materialize in his mind’s eye. . .filmy bed curtains, candlelight, satin sheets, and pjb reclining in a seductive pose, wearing nothing but a come-hither smile and a see-through–

His eyes flew open.

“Did you see anything, Pa?” Adam asked anxiously.

“No,” Ben mumbled, quickly wiping his mouth with his napkin. “Nothing. Nothing at all.”

He quickly rose from the table and tried to ignore the odd way Adam and Hoss were staring at him and was certain then that they had noticed him drooling. But thankfully, before he could come up with an explanation, there was the crashing sound of glass breaking in the front room.

Adam raced ahead of him to retrieve the rock with the note attached and glared angrily at the broken window. “I swear, Pa. . .these kidnappers are going to cost us more in home repairs than ransoms!”

“What’s it say, Adam?” Ben snapped impatiently.

Adam sighed and began to read. “’Leav the five hunnert dolers at sunrise under the black rock at the bottom of Indian’s Leap. Then you will know wher to find yor boy.‘”

 

Ben nodded. “Indian’s Leap. That should be easy. We’ve left ransoms for Joe there before, haven’t we?”

“Five or six times, Pa,” Hoss agreed. “Joe musta told ’em it’d be a good spot. Awful polite of him to be so helpful to his kidnappers, ain’t it?”

“’A Cartwright is always courteous and civilized’, boys,” Ben reminded them. “It’s our family motto.”

Hoss rolled his eyes. “We know, Pa. You had it embroidered on our undershirts when we was kids. Downright embarrassin’ in gym class.”

“Well, nevertheless, I’m proud that my youngest son can still be considerate even when he’s being held captive,“ Ben continued. “It shows that the boy remembers what’s really important.”

Adam snorted as he began plucking up bits of broken glass. “Maybe he should work on remembering how not to get himself kidnapped. It’d sure save us a lot in home repairs.”

******

The moon was high in the sky, but Joe knew that sleep wouldn’t come to him that night. He could hear the cacophony of snoring from the other side of the camp, and for that he was grateful. At least the torture had let up for a little while.

He’d won a small concession from his captors when he announced loudly that he sure was glad he was nice and comfy standing up and not suffering on the hard ground, and they’d promptly slashed through the ropes securing him to the tree and pushed him to the dirt. He was still tied hand and foot, but Joe’d been unable to convince them that he really enjoyed the snuggly, cozy feeling of the tight ropes. They were stupid but not brain-dead.

He was slightly more comfortable on the ground, but the temperature had dropped with the setting son, and Joe found himself shivering violently in the night air. Jack had torn Joe’s shirt from his body hours earlier, explaining that Mr. Shire preferred it that way. Joe vowed to himself that if he ever chanced to meet the notorious Mr. Shire, the first thing he’d do is rip off his shirt and drag him out into the cold and then Joe would stand and watch Mr. Shire’s nipples get hard for once. Now that would be a sight to see.

In spite of his discomfort, Joe eventually began to feel his eyelids growing heavy, and he soon found himself yawning. He welcomed sleep, if only as a brief respite from the cold and pain. As his awareness grew cloudy, Joe imagined that his pa was with him, right there beside him, holding him close like he did when he was very young. What did Adam used to call those sweet little moments? Oh, yeah. Joe-Pa moments–tender, touchy interludes with his pa that Joe’d started to resist heavily as he grew older, especially as his brothers started to ridicule him. Why don’t you run to Papa and get yourself a JPM, little boy? they’d tease. They would–

His eyes flew open. JPM! That’s what a JPM was! But how did that Lisa something-or-other know about Joe-Pa moments? And why did that sick Mr. Shire like them so much?

At least a JPM wouldn’t be torture, Joe thought with some satisfaction. As sleep drew him under, Joe found himself wishing that he’d ignored his brothers’ teasing over the years. He’d give just about anything for a Joe-Pa moment now.

******

“You idiot! What do you mean you told them where we are?” Jack sputtered incredulously. “We were going to let them know where to find the kid after we made our getaway! Then we’d be long gone with the money!”

Bill had ridden into the clearing, triumphantly waving a thick handful of cash above his head. “We’re rich! We’re rich!“ he’d hooted. Jack had paused in his Joe-torture to celebrate along with him until he’d discovered his partner’s deviation from their carefully laid plans.

Bill rolled his eyes. “It ain’t no big deal! I just left them a map where to find the kid!” he argued. “I ain’t stupid, Jack! I just said in the note that we want them to wait and not rescue him untilafter ten o’clock so’s that we could get us a head start!”

“You actually wrote that in the note?”

“Word for word,” Bill replied. “Like I said, I ain’t stupid! It won’t be ten o’clock for more’n two hours yet. We got plenty of time!”

Joe witnessed this exchange with amusement. These two morons were screwed.

His conclusion was proven stunningly accurate mere moments later when his pa and Hoss came crashing through the trees with guns blazing.

The kidnappers shot up their hands so fast that Joe almost laughed. Nearly every medieval weapon of torture between them, but not one could hold a candle to a couple of enraged Cartwrights pointing cocked revolvers at their heads.

******

“There ya go, boy,” Ben said as he loosened the last knot. He yanked free the last of the ropes binding his son and gave Joe a hearty pat on the shoulder. “You’re okay. Now shake it off, son, so we can all go home. If we hurry we’ll make it back in time for dinner.”

Joe took a tentative step and swayed unsteadily, but was saved from falling by Hoss, who’d quickly reached out to grab his arm.

Ben frowned. “Must be all that blood loss making you dizzy, boy. But don’t you worry. Hop Sing’ll get out his first aid kit out and get ya patched up good as new,” he murmured. He took in Joe’s bruised, disheveled appearance in one tight glance. “I sure hope all those blood stains come out in the wash. Those special-made tight pants sure don’t come cheap, you know.”

“Pa,” Joe said hesitantly, moving slightly closer to his pa. “Can I. . can I have a. . .a JPM?”

“A what?”

 

Joe looked down and shuffled his feet in embarrassment. “You know. A JPM. A Joe-Pa moment.” Joe shot a glare at Hoss who was looking amused. “And you just shut up about it, Hoss!” he snapped.

Hoss donned an innocent look. “What? I ain’t said a word, little brother.”

“Son, we’re wasting time–” Ben said impatiently.

“Please, Pa? It’s important! Believe me, it’s important!”

Suddenly, there was an loud swishing noise echoing through the trees and Hoss’s head jerked up in surprise. “Ya hear that? It sounds just like someone whipping a rope around.”

“Hurry, Pa!” Joe pleaded. “Just sit down on the ground right there and I’ll lay myself across your lap so you can hold me close and comfort me.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,,” Ben said. “How did I raise my son to be such a wuss?”

 

“Please, Pa?”

Ben let out an impatient sigh. “Oh, alright. Let’s get it over with.” He gingerly lowered himself to the ground, grimacing. “Just don’t take too long, okay? This is hell on my back.”

Joe positioned himself across his father’s lap and tried to work up a few tears, hoping he looked convincing. “Pa! Pa!” Joe exclaimed loudly. “I’m so glad you found me! I was so scared!”

 

Ben scowled and gave Joe’s cheek a quick pat. “Uh. . .um. . .there, there, son,“ he mumbled awkwardly.

“Come on, Pa!” Joe whispered urgently, his eyes darting around wildly. He hoped that the blonde chick from Texas wouldn’t come barreling out of the woods and lasso his pa for doing such a bad job. “You’ve got to do better than that!”

 

Ben considered Joe for a long moment with an odd, bemused expression on his face, and then he gave a slight nod.

“Alright,” he murmured, and then he carefully and deliberately reached down and gathered the boy close, holding him securely and crooning softly in his ear. “Shhh. It’s alright, Little Joe. It’s alright. Your pa’s here now. . .your pa’s here.”

Joe sighed in contented relief and to his surprise, the tears fell in earnest as he found an unexpected comfort in the warm, familiar feel of his father’s arms around him. He’d definitely, definitelyhave to try this again sometime. To hell with what his brothers thought. “Pa,” he whispered, his voice shaky with emotion. “Pa!”

After several moments had passed, Ben relaxed his embrace and smiled gently at his son. “You know, Little Joe. . .this reminds me of that time when you were about six and you pretended to be an eagle and fly off the roof. You broke your arm, remember? You were laying there on the ground and you were so scared that you wouldn’t move or even open your eyes. That’s when I lifted you onto my lap and held you just like this. Remember that?”

“I sure do!” Hoss snickered. “Me ‘n Adam about laughed our heads off when he did that!”

Joe could hear his brother’s laughter but as he pressed his face even closer to his pa’s strong, chest and breathed in deeply the bay rum and leather scent of him and felt the faint, steady beat of his pa’s heart, Joe didn’t even care.

Hoss stood by and watched the touching scene for a moment longer, and then he busied himself tying up the two prisoners, all the while grumbling something about pansy-ass little brothers.

Ben lifted Joe to his feet and carefully guided him towards the horses. “Time to go, Hoss,” he said.

“But Pa, what’ll we do with these two yahoos?”

Ben paused and scowled at two evildoers who had kidnapped and tortured Little Joe, now tightly gagged and hog-tied with the same ropes used to bind his boy. Sweet justice, he decided grimly. “Leave them here,” he instructed. “I’ll leave a message in town for the sheriff so he can come pick them up on Tuesday. He’ll be back from the convention by then.”

“But Pa – what about Clem? Can’t he take care of ‘em?”

“Nope,” Ben replied. “Clem just watches prisoners. He don’t arrest ‘em.”

******

“Well, all’s well that ends well,” Ben said, assisting Joe to dismount after they’d arrived at the house. “I sure hope supper ain’t gone cold. I’m hungry as a bear!”

“Me too, Pa!” Joe chuckled. “Ain’t nothing like a little torture to fire up a man’s appetite, huh?”

“I just hope Adam ain’t started without us,“ Hoss added. “Wonder where older brother is, anyway? I thought he’d come out to see us, huh Pa?”

“Oh, I’ve no doubt he’s in his room practicing his scales,” Ben explained. “He’s performing The Barber of Seville tonight to celebrate your homecoming, Joe! Won’t that be nice? I think that he’ll–” Ben’s mouth dropped open in shock. “Hoss, look! Look!” he said, stopping in his tracks to point to a brick lying in the dirt alongside the hitching post.

Hoss bent down to retrieve it. “It’s another note, Pa!” He removed the note and handed it to Ben.

Ben’s heart slammed into his throat as he read the cryptic message aloud. “We hav yor son Adam. If you too see him agin, you need to give us some munny.”

 

“Sorry, Pa,” Hoss said sympathetically. “Guess another son went and got hisself kidnapped. And your toupee didn’t even tell you about it this time, huh?”

Ben rubbed his eyes in frustration. “I just can’t believe it! First Joe, and now Adam? Why? Why is this happening?”

 

“Dunno, Pa,” Joe shrugged as he quickly stepped across the porch to open the door for his pa. Then he let out a short laugh.

“I guess an Adamgal must be having a birthday.”

 

Thanks so much.. Corinna and Dodo., for putting up with me the past few weeks! Your assistance is much appreciated!

 

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.