Summary:  Missing Scenes and What Happened Next for the second season episode… The Gift
Episode written by Denne Bart Petitclerc & Thomas Thompson (5,095 words)

Rating:  T  (5,050 words)

Told from Adam’s point of view.

A Far Cry from Peace

It was an oppressively hot spell we had been enduring this summer; and we all suffered through it, but no more so than the youngest member of our family. What had seemed like a great idea when we first thought of it; had turned into a nightmare that left our whole family reeling. All four of us had set out on a trip to purchase some exceptional horseflesh for our ranch for which Pa had been negotiating for weeks; and to acquire one more that our father knew nothing about.

For months the three of us had debated what birthday gift to give a man who said he had everything. We knew deep down that the only thing that he really wanted was something that the three of us weren’t in a position to give him, yet – grandchildren.

But, marriage and children aside, what do you get the man who sacrificed so much to raise three sons on his own? His original dream was to find land to raise his family and call his own; land filled with cattle and horses.  Nature provided additional business opportunities in lumber and mineral ore; it was more than he had ever dreamed possible. Heartache had struck three times in his life, but each love had left him with a son to raise.  And as the dream matured, so did his sons.  There were good times and bad times, we experienced innumerable heartaches along the way.

He already had everything but the sun and the moon, but both shone over the jewel of the land – The Ponderosa.

*****

With a newly acquired herd of horses heralding our arrival back at Camp McDonald outside of Tyson Wells in the Arizona Territory, Hoss and I were surprised Joe wasn’t there waiting for us. We expected him to greet us with a smile on his face to indicate his success. This secret side trip of his was supposed to be quick, out and back without any worry. Hoss and I were in on the lie of Joe faking not feeling well so he could stay at the post in order to recuperate and wait for us in the room we had there. It was the only way we could think of for him not to travel with us, so he could, for the lack of a better word, sneak out. A shorter trip than our own, but so much easier… but that was before we realized that we had ridden into the beginning of an Indian uprising. Cochise had the whole Apache nation in arms. I’ve been known to say that trouble follows my little brother like a puppy on a short leash, but this time… we all rode straight into it and Joe was now two days late in returning.

That lieutenant had no idea how close he came to being knocked flat on his backside by one very angry father. When it comes to Joseph Francis Cartwright, our father is more protective than any momma grizzly bear. Oh, who am I kidding, when it comes to Joe, all three of us are too protective.

Maybe that’s why my youngest brother had bristled when we first discussed who would make the side trip for Pa’s present. Deep down I understood why he demanded to be the one to travel to procure the horse we had selected and for which we had already paid a hefty down payment. Looking back, I can remember when I was his age, wanting to get out from under our father’s watchful eye. My out was to head to college, but Joe… I knew he’d never leave the Ponderosa, especially never to further his education at college. He might leave for business trips and cattle drives, maybe even for a brief vacation, but by the time he got to wherever it was he was going, his mind would be back home and soon his body would follow. So that morning, I placed a hand on our middle brother’s arm and nodded to him; that briefest of gestures spoke volumes that Joe was right – he was capable and he deserved the chance. How much trouble could he get into?

How much trouble could he get into? If I’d only known…

*****

Let’s just say that Pa’s anger was really exacerbated after hearing the news reported by the wounded army scout, and the two of us felt it. “I raised a pack of stubborn mule headed, skunk brained…”  Pa proclaimed after having already released his fury at the fact he had told Joe to wait for us there, to wait until we got back.

Needless to say, Pa wasn’t happy to find Joe missing upon our return two days ago. And now this. Pa was angry, even more so when Hoss and I finally explained why. Pa didn’t know all we had gone through to obtain his birthday present, but now he knew how much more it had possibly cost us as Hoss admitted we were purchasing this horse, “Because we really didn’t know how to say, we loved ya.”

Any other time I know that Pa would have welcomed the attention that all three of his sons wanted to shower on him, but not now. Not with his youngest missing and in possible danger… possible? With Joe… it was a fact.

*****

Pa was tying his saddle bags behind his saddle when we approached and told him we were going with him. We lied when we told Pa that we didn’t remember him telling us to stay with the horses we had purchased, even if we admitted it, we wouldn’t have stayed. Pa tried to scare us into staying by saying that if all three of us were to ride out, none of us would probably come back. Well… in a way, Pa was right. But regardless of our own personal danger, we knew that we wouldn’t be brothers if we didn’t acknowledge that Little Joe was in trouble and it was up to us to help him.

As Hoss said, “He might even be dead… Whatever happened to Little Joe’s happened to all of us.”

The only thing I could think to say was, “And we’re still a family.”

So when Pa agreed, “We’re still a family. Let’s go”, neither of us hesitated; Cartwrights take care of our own. We’d never risk the life of another for something we wouldn’t do; besides this was our baby brother, all eighteen years of him.

With canteens loaded and plenty of provisions and ammunition in our saddlebags, we left the post behind to travel the better part of two days to Colonel Greene’s ranch. Each stride our mounts took, we silently prayed that we’d meet Joe leading our gift any minute along the way.

*****

As the hours passed, I watch our father’s posture slump ever so slightly in the saddle. It had nothing to do with his age or being hot and tired, it was worry. Ever since I witnessed Hoss’ ma killed with an Indian arrow I knew what worry could do to my father. He was left alone with two small sons. And for the past thirteen years, he’s been alone with three sons; granted I was gone for five of those years, but he still had three sons to worry about raising.

And ever since I returned from Harvard, not only did I know what worry could do to my father, but I also experienced the same worry regarding my two brothers, especially Joe. Each one of us would say, ‘let me show you’ and Joe would answer, ‘I can do it on my own’. Ever since he let go of the cushion on the settee and took his first tentative walking steps, ‘on my own’ had been his mantra. When he received his first pony and Marie wanted to lead him everywhere, ‘on my own’ resounded across the corral and into the yard.

And now, with ‘on my own’ echoing in my brain I regretted I had agreed to allow my littlest brother to head out ‘on his own’ to retrieve a birthday gift for our father. When I first relented, I relished Joe not being present if Pa realized one of us was missing because Hoss was never able to outright lie to Pa about anything. And Joe… Joe would have spilled the beans while laughing at his brother, had I been the one to make the trip. But now I would give anything for it to be me out there, my life in danger… my brothers safe. I know Pa would want to come after me, if the situation was reversed; however, he’d also want to keep Joe safe…

We all wanted to keep Joe safe, and so here we are praying he wouldn’t need rescuing, that all our worry is for naught.

*****

We were disappointed to arrive at the Bar G Ranch only to be told that Joe had left several days before, but he had been warned about the unrest among the braves of one of the local Indian tribes. Colonel Greene invited us into his home while his men tended to the care of our horses, they needed the rest. He led us through a very opulent ranch house to reach his office. After refusing refreshments from his wife, we looked at the map hanging on the wall and saw the alternate route he had recommended Joe take in an effort to avoid any trouble. We all could see that it was a much longer route, and hoped it would readily return Joe safely to Tyson Wells. The colonel also explained that one of his hands, Emiliano, was accompanying Joe. This man had helped raise the stallion from a weanling and was honored to ride with the son of the man who deserved such a magnificent horse. Greene assured us that Emliano took his job seriously and would watch over both the boy, and the gift, explaining that his man knew the land better than any other hand he employed.

Our horses had drunk their fill and ate the hay provided while we were inside the homestead. Our canteens had been refilled and the cinches to our saddles tightened before the three of us set out once more; our eyes ever watchful for dangers. This new route would take us at least an additional day before arriving back to the post. God, this was becoming unbearable, who was to say that this latest route wouldn’t deliver Joe straight into the hands of those Indians.

*****

We’d lost track of the days as we searched for Joe. Someone, somewhere must have taken pity on us; as we were riding through the foothills of a wide canyon we heard the sounds of a firefight — rifles and handguns. Our first and only thought was of getting to Joe. We didn’t even think that there was a chance that this was anyone other than Joe.

We were disappointed to see only one man lying on the ground, but greatly relieved to know he was much taller than Joe and not wearing the clothes that Joe would have worn. Carefully we turned him over, and even though he was mortally wounded, he asked us if we were from Fort Tyson and tried to warn us about a boy and a white horse. Upon accepting us as Joe’s family, he told us what he had forced Joe to do.

As we listened, we failed to remember why he was lying there and the danger this presented to us. His death in Pa’s arms was painful to watch. And while we were distracted, we had given the others plenty of time to establish positions from which to fire upon us. One rode practically on top of us before he fired, alerting us to his presence.  As the first shots ricocheted, we took cover and returned fire. All we could think about was going after Joe, we were so close.

While Hoss and I argued over tactics, we realized Pa was already moving and had left us to go after Joe, and the others who were undoubtedly following him.

*****

It had been a long time without returned fire when Hoss and I decided to risk following Pa, and Little Joe. We were horrified to find Buck standing next to a downed horse, and no sign of Pa.  Our hearts plummeted at hearing two more shots, turning our horses, we kicked them for all they were worth so we could to get to our family.

*****

Reining in our horses, we hurried over to Pa and Joe, Hoss called, “Joe!” as we both knelt next to them. The desire to touch the boy and to see for ourselves that he was still alive was too powerful to ignore.

“He’s all right, boys. He’ll be just fine,” Pa said. I could tell he felt a great sense of relief. Joe had somehow avoided the rampaging Apaches and survived the commancheros. Lying there, he was dirty, exhausted, and severely dehydrated – but he was alive!

“Let’s get him home,” Pa quietly spoke.

*****

Helping Joe to his feet and supporting him until he could stand on his own, I could feel the heat radiating off of my little brother’s body, but he could walk.

Together, we made it to the horses. Pa had stayed at the stream to refill the canteens. He knelt and looked upwards. “Thanks,” he whispered; only the one word, but a wealth of feeling and meaning were contained in that one syllable. He knew the Almighty would understand.

It was obvious that Joe couldn’t mount without help, so Hoss practically lifted him into the saddle on Sport’s back. We enjoyed a few brief moments of levity while Joe thanked us for coming after him; he pushed down on the top of Hoss’ big hat, squashing it.

It was at that moment I realized Joe didn’t have a hat to protect his head from the effects of the sun bearing down on him. So, I placed my hat on my brother’s head. Moments later, Hoss plopped his still squashed hat on top of my head; his expression dared me to protest.

Once Pa returned to where we waited, it was Hoss who insisted that our father ride Chubs for a while. We both knew that Pa had run a fair distance in order to reach Joe and had to be close to exhaustion; considering all the time in the saddle and the worry. We insisted that we could make it on foot, at least until returning to Buck and the white one’s location.

Arriving where the two horses waited, Hoss shook his head after examining the still down animal; it was obvious that he would have to be destroyed. He was too far beyond saving. Maybe if we were at home or within minutes from a town, he would have a chance. But in the animal’s current condition and location, there was no way we could get him to his feet. And even if we weren’t still under threat from Indian attacks, the animal had lost too much blood from the bullet wound that had taken him and Joe down.  I now began to worry more about my littlest brother, as I saw the sign of where his body had impacted the hot sand as as the horse had fallen to the ground.

Standing beside Sport, I nodded that I understood Hoss’s intent. He regretted the violence that necessitated the forthcoming bullet to the magnificent animal’s head; had he survived he would have been well worth every dollar spent on him. I rested my hand on Joe’s knee, hoping to convey some remorse for the heartless cruelty inflicted on him, and our intended gift.

In a growing delirium, Joe was ignorant of his surroundings and startled at the gunshot. But in his present condition, he didn’t have the strength to raise his head to look up while leaning forward in the saddle, lying against Sport’s neck. Our youngest was oblivious to his discomfort as the saddle horn bore into his abdomen.

With Buck sufficiently rested, our father climbed into the saddle, and watched as Hoss climbed back onto Chubs. Me, at first I was ready to lead my horse and younger brother, but Pa insisted that Joe needed help, so… I carefully mounted onto Sport and pulled my brother to sit up, encouraging him to rest back into my chest, offering a steadier support to prevent him from slipping out of the saddle. I realized that we didn’t have the luxury of time for me to walk, we had to find shelter and soon; our fight was only just beginning.

As I pulled Joe to lean against me, I could feel Joe was burning up more than he was when we first found him; but now he had also stopped sweating. Slowly we made our way to find shelter and where we would rest in the shade until night fell. As we moved out, Hoss and Pa kept their rifles at the ready. We worried about all the gunfire having alerted the Indians of our location.

*****

Before we set to riding during the night, Pa insisted the Joe be placed in front of him in the saddle on Buck. As Hoss and I lifted Joe up, we could feel the heat still emanating from his body, a raging fever from heat exhaustion, possibly sun stroke. He was delirious, babbling incoherently for most of what he said, except one word – Cochise. We knew that Joe would mourn the loss of his beloved pinto, but right now we were too worried about losing our little brother and getting him the medical help he needed in order to survive.

*****

As day broke, Joe was now sitting in front of Hoss and we could make out the silhouette of Yuma in the distance.

As we carried Joe into the clinic and the doctor took one look at him, I wished right then and there I was an outsider, someone who didn’t have a vital part to play in the current lives of the Cartwright family. I’d give anything to take a step back in order to watch it all unfold, so that I could close my eyes when it all became too much.

Joe was in worse shape than we imagined. We listened as we were informed his temperature was dangerously high, if we didn’t get it down he was risking going into seizures, and if that wasn’t bad enough, he was already risking brain damage.

The doctor immediately began issuing orders to strip Joe, Hoss pulled off his boots and socks while Pa removed his vest and began to unbutton his shirt. The doctor returned carrying a metal bathing tub and yelled at us that we didn’t have time and he immediately ripped open Joe’s shirt, popping off the buttons.

“Strip him,” the doctor ordered as he left the room.

I had managed to remove Joe’s belt and unfasten his trousers.

“Hold up his hips Adam, and I’ll pull ’em off,” Hoss stated.

Joe lay there wearing only his long john bottoms cut off at the knees, but that wasn’t good enough for the doctor, as he and a young woman began dumping buckets of water into the tub he’d brought in earlier.

“With a young woman present, my son will remain somewhat clothed.”

“Fine, just get him in the tub and use your hands to cup water over him. Soak some of those towels and place over his head.”

Pa and I continued to bathe Joe in the cool water while Hoss helped the doctor and the woman carry in more cold water and dump it in the tub. We kept this up for over an hour before the doctor told us to move Joe back to the examination table. We worked to dry Joe’s body, but never once did he shiver from being cold.

“Not yet,” the doctor berated us. “Place several of these wet towels over him. We can’t risk his fever rising just because he’s out of the water.”

*****

No one had left Joe’s room to inquire if the hotel had rooms available. Pa was sleeping in an overstuffed chair next to Joe’s bed, while Hoss was stretched out in his bedroll on the floor. I pulled a cot into the room and was stretched out on it when I heard the first grunting and gagging sounds shortly after the clock down the hall struck midnight. Joe’s body and neck were taunt, his arms and legs were flailing as his head banged backwards against the table.

I reached for a pillow to place under my brother’s head as Hoss reacted and lay over his legs. Pa restrained Joe’s hands and arms. This was the first time any of us had ever witnessed a seizure and we never wanted to see another one again.

Shortly after Joe stilled, his body became drenched with sweat. With the wet towels, we continued to bathe Joe, hoping to keep his body cool and prevent another seizure; no one returned to sleep.

Our second dawn in Yuma found us patiently waiting for the doctor to complete his examination. We took his smile at good news that Joe’s fever had broken. So now we were consigned to wait for him to wake up. Every hour we spooned sugar water occasionally laced with laudanum into his mouth and were thankful when he would reflexively swallow.

It was two days later before our little brother opened his eyes, said ‘Pa’, and fell back asleep.  Pa looked at us as if to confirm that we had heard what he thought he had heard.

*****

Joe’s recovering, albeit slowly. In a way, it was a blessing that out in the desert none of us knew the identity of the man who had told Pa he had just finished off a horse thief. Said he found him trying to steal some of his horses the night before. I would have liked to have seen the expression on the man’s face when Pa announced, “He’s my son.” A momma grizzly bear, indeed.

*****

It was only after the doctor at the clinic in Yuma had informed us that Joe was well past the critical stage and truly on the road to recovery that we all breathed a sigh of relief. The doctor began reducing the amount of medication administered during our fight to keep Joe’s temperature down. With the reduction of medicine, Joe was awake more often than not. And, whenever Joe was awake he led us through his entire trip and everything he had experienced; from the burned down homestead, running low on water, and risking riding into a Comanchero camp for water. Bit by bit, Joe’s story unfolded, and we found out more of the details surrounding Emiliano, and Sam Wolfe.

Joe finished drinking some water and looked into Pa’s eyes and saw the unasked question. I thought Pa was going to pass out when Joe confirmed it was Sam Wolfe who Pa had shot in an effort to save Joe’s life. The outlaw Sam Wolfe was well known throughout the Arizona territory, and we’d even heard his name in Sacramento. And we thought we had cause to worry about the Indians and Comancheros; they paled in comparison to the group led by Wolfe.

Had we not seen for ourselves, we would have been hard pressed not to think our little brother suffered brain damage with the wild tale he told. But we knew he was telling the truth and was lucid with every word he spoke.

****

During his recovery, it took several days for Joe to tell us everything, what with the doctor wanting him to rest as much as possible. Joe told us of that final day, of how they had been forced to kill Wolfe’s brother in order to make their escape. It was do or die. Grief crossed my brother’s face as I knew it would when he finally was well enough to remember the one left behind… Cochise.

Hoss and I looked to each other in understanding. Pa was upset with the two of us when we begged to be excused. If Pa hadn’t been so worried about Joe, he would have been hot on our heels demanding to know why we couldn’t be more supportive of our brother. But then again, Pa didn’t know everything.

We returned to the clinic a short time later, pushing a wheelchair into Joe’s room. Hoss laughed as Pa became all flustered while I bundled Joe in a blanket and transferred him from the bed into the chair. Joe, well, he wasn’t exactly Joe. He was grieving.

Hoss opened the door and I pushed our brother down the hallway and to the door outside. Joe started protesting that he wasn’t dressed for going outside and demanded to be returned to his room.

“Nope, you’re just going to have to trust us, little brother.”

Pa kept after us, demanding to know if we’d lost our minds.

“Maybe, but we found something better,” Hoss stated as he turned around at the corner of the building and held his hands and arms just so, in a flourish to say, ‘ta-da’.

Tossing the blanket aside, Joe was out of that wheelchair; bare legs barely carrying him to Cochise who stood with one of Colonel Greene’s men holding onto his bridle.

“How?” was all Joe could ask before his legs gave out. Tears streamed down his face as he attempted to wrap his arms around his best friend’s neck.

“Yes, how?” I heard Pa ask.

So I explained. It seems that Colonel Greene had sent several of his men out to follow us; worried about Emiliano and Joe, and that the three of us wouldn’t be enough to hold off the number of Apaches that were reported to be on the warpath. One of the men had also ridden with Emiliano and Wolfe, so they split up. He figured that Emiliano might visit Wolfe’s camp if they were running low on water and fearing Cochise, the chief. He arrived to find Wolfe’s camp empty save for Joe’s pinto and gear, and the dead body of the brother of Sam Wolfe. So he followed the trail Joe left when he rode out on the stallion.

Hoss finished by saying, “And after finding Emiliano’s body and reading all the tracks, he realized we’d probably come here.”

The stranger spoke for the first time, “I just didn’t expect both of these two to draw their guns on me. I’d recognized them when I arrived last night, but decided to wait to tell them of my find because they were heading into the clinic. Unfortunately, they saw me first. I told them that I was here to return the pinto, nothing more.”

Pa offered his thanks to the man and asked him to convey his appreciation to the colonel on their behalf.

*****

By the time the doctor informed us that Joe was finally well enough to go home, we were all chomping at the bit. Pa purchased a two-horse team and a wagon with a canvas top so that Joe had the option of either sitting on the bench seat or lying down in the back in the shade. Those were Joe’s only two options.

*****

On our way, we retrieved the horse herd we had left at Camp McDonald outside of Tyson Wells. When giving our own horses a rest from being ridden, Hoss and I rode Buck and Cochise. And when we weren’t riding them, they were running free with the herd of horses we had purchased. I think all four of the horses enjoyed their rotating respite from work.

*****

I’m thankful that we’re all finally home, safe and sound. As I sit here on the deck… In a way, I’m feeling sorry for the kid… Between Hop Sing and Pa, I don’t know that he’s had five minutes alone since we help him walk up the stairs and into his room earlier this morning.

I know Pa has spent the day sitting in Joe’s room, watching the boy sleep; fretting against the return of the fever that had been brought on by heat exhaustion and dehydration. Even though our family physician, Paul Martin, said it wasn’t necessary to maintain the cool compresses on our brother’s brow, Pa keeps changing the wet cloth. At least the boy is dressed in a nightshirt, and not lying there practically naked under the large wet towels as he had been for several days back at the clinic in Yuma. We all agree that it was a battle worth fighting, and I know the three of us helped turn the tide in Joe’s recovery.

When I checked Joe’s room earlier, Pa was idly chatting, carrying on a one-sided conversation just so that Joe would know someone was there while he slept. Maybe the magnitude of everything that happened hasn’t hit Pa yet. But I know it’s hit me. I just want to sit here and not move… count our blessings, so to speak.

The night is quiet… the blanket of stars above is soothing. I can’t help but smile at hearing Hoss come outside.

“Whatch’a doing out here?” he asked.

“Sitting on the deck, drinking coffee, and looking for Marie’s star,” stated so matter-of-factually. I sipped at the contents of the cup in my hand. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt so cocky, but I knew Hoss would understand; many times sarcasm was my way of masking my emotions.

“Marie’s star?”

“Wanting to thank her for keeping Joe safe until we could get there.”

“What about Emiliano?” Hoss asked as he carried a coffee cup and sat down in the chair next to me.

“Yeah, he had a part to play in this too. Right up until he couldn’t any longer.”

“Yeah, guess you’re right.”

Together the two of us spotted the star I had been searching for, in silent accord we lifted our coffee cups high and said, “Thank you, Marie.”

After finishing my coffee, it was comforting just to sit there, for the first time in a long time the world felt at peace.

~The End

(May, 2014)

Tags: Adam Cartwright, Ben Cartwright, Hoss Cartwright, Joe / Little Joe Cartwright