Part 3:  And the Truth Shall Set Them Free

“You sure this is a good idea?”  Hoss looked as skeptical as Adam had ever seen him.  He tugged at his collar, finally succeeding in buttoning the top button of his dress shirt.

“No,” said Adam.  He scrutinized his reflection and smoothed his hair.  “But Joe said he wanted to try, and he knows the rules.  Any trouble, and we leave.  We don’t stay around to fight.”

Hoss rolled his eyes.  “I’ll bet he warn’t much for that.”

“No, but that was the deal Pa made with Roy Coffee,” said Adam.

“Since when is Roy Coffee worryin’ about a Saturday night dance, anyway?” asked

“Since Ed Barnes is still all over town about how he’ll kill Joe if Joe gets within ten feet of Sally,” said Adam, adjusting his tie.  “Roy figures the best way not to have trouble is to head it off at the pass.  Legally, he can’t keep Joe from doing anything or going anywhere, but you know Roy—that doesn’t stop him from making very, very strong recommendations.”

“Is Sally even gonna be at the dance?” asked Hoss.  He tried to tie his tie, but that had never been one of his talents.  After three unsuccessful attempts, Adam pushed his hands aside and tied the tie.

“Who knows?” Adam shrugged.  “But a lot of her friends will be, and I’m thinking that they’re not going to be any more accommodating than her family.  I just hope there’s somebody for Joe to dance with.”

Hoss’ eyes clouded at the thought of Little Joe getting hurt again, in any way.  He’d been hurt enough for ten lifetimes.  Ever since Long Horn Ridge, Hoss had fought the urge to protect the boy from every little thing.  It occurred to him that this must be how Pa felt sometimes.  But he just said, “Never thought I’d live to see the day that that’d be our worry.”

“Neither did I,” said Adam.

“Neither did you what?”  Joe poked his head around the door.  “If we don’t get going soon, all the pretty girls will have partners.  Hey, Hoss, c’mere.”  He grabbed Hoss’ tie, untied it and retied it expertly.  “I swear, if you ever learn to tie a tie, it’ll be a miracle.  Hey!” he added as Adam smacked him on the back of the head.  “What was that for?”

“Just to remind you to respect your elders,” said Adam.  He blew out the lamp, and the brothers headed down the hall, stopping at their father’s bedroom.

“We’re going now, Pa,” said Adam.  “Do you need anything before we go?”

Ben looked up from his book.  Of all the times to be sick, he groaned inwardly.  “I’ve got everything I need,” he said.  He looked from one son to another, his gaze falling last on Joseph.  “Now, you boys remember what Roy said.  No trouble.”

“Pa, I’m not going to make trouble,” said Joe.  He knew that he was the target of this admonition.  “But I won’t run away from it, either.”

Ben sighed.  To his older sons, he said, “Would you two give us a minute?”

“We’ll see you downstairs, Little Brother,” said Hoss.

After the footsteps had faded, Ben said, “Sit down, Joe.”  He patted the side of the bed, and his youngest son sat beside him.  “I don’t mean for you to run away, you know that,” he said.  “But Ed Barnes is still saying some pretty inflammatory things, and I don’t want you to get into with him.”

“Pa, nothing’s gonna happen,” said Joe.  “I’m sure Sally won’t even be there.”

“Maybe not, but her brothers probably will be,” said Ben.  “And they’re every bit as hot- headed as their father—and if anybody should know that, it’s you.”

“I can handle myself,” said Joe with a sudden quiet intensity.

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” said his father, equally intense.

“Pa, it’ll be fine,” said Joe.  He patted Ben’s arm and rose.  “Besides, I’ve been gone so long that probably nobody’ll even recognize me!”

Ben regarded his handsome son who had once had a sparkle in his eyes and a devilish smile that could have charmed any girl in town.  True, the boy was closer to his old self than he’d been before; the trip with Hoss had clearly done him good.  Ben had smiled inwardly when he saw his sons exchanging fast glances as he inquired about how things had gone.  He’d known even before they left that Hoss would find a way to give Joe the breathing room he craved, and while he’d still worried, he drew comfort from the fact that Hoss would only give his little brother so much slack rein.  He still felt that he’d been right—three weeks alone would have been more than Joe could handle—but with time to himself, and time with his big brother, Little Joe seemed to be on his way back to them.

But now, Ben’s heart ached at what he was certain lay ahead for his son that evening.  He couldn’t imagine any of the nice girls agreeing to dance with somebody who’d been accused of what Joe had.  It sounded to Ben like a recipe for disaster.  But Joe was an adult. He had every right to go to a dance if he wanted to.

And he had the right to get his heart broken, just like any other man.

Resigned, Ben said, “Have a good time, son—and stay out of trouble.”

“I’ll do my best,” promised Joe.  He winked at his father and darted out of the room, and Ben listened to his boots clatter down the stairs.

And wished with all his heart that he could keep his son home.

* * * * * * * * * *

“You want some punch?”  Without waiting for an answer, Hoss handed Adam a cup.

“It’s not as if there’s much else to do here,” said Adam.  “Wonder if we can convince Little Brother to head over to the saloon for a beer.”

“I think he’s still hopin’ there’ll be somebody for him to dance with,” said Hoss, draining his cup in one gulp.

Adam followed his large brother’s gaze.  Little Joe stood apart, watching the dancing.  He’d asked a couple of girls to dance, and his expression hadn’t changed when they declined.  Only someone who knew him as well as his brothers would have seen the hurt and the building anger in his eyes.

The response wasn’t unexpected, of course.  Joe was realistic enough to know that his first dance was going to be awkward, especially with Ed Barnes shooting off his mouth.  His father had tried to discourage him, but Joe was adamant.  He hadn’t been off the Ponderosa for much more than errands since he got home, and he wanted to go out and have fun.

Or at least, to see if it was still possible for him to have fun.

Joe was no fool.  If he went to the Bucket of Blood for a beer, there would be another fight, almost guaranteed.  Going into town to do errands was hardly entertainment.  Unlike Adam, he wasn’t all that interested in traveling acting troupes and the like.  So, that left the dance, and he nailed a smile on his face that was a pretty good approximation of his old grin and went all out to convince his father and brothers that it would be great fun.

Walking in the door was another story, though.  The way the room fell silent when the Cartwright brothers walked in would have made a lesser man turn and leave.  But Little Joe Cartwright had never been a quitter, not even before he lived in a world where quitting could get a man killed.  So, he swaggered into the room as if he owned the place, smiling as he made a point of catching as many eyes as possible.  A few of men gave him a cautious smile and slight nod, but most of the men and all of the women looked away.

Eventually, Joe wandered over to the punch bowl.  “Why aren’t you two dancing?”

“Don’t feel like it, I reckon,” said Hoss.

“Don’t stand around on my account,” said Joe irritably.  He wasn’t about to have his brothers feeling sorry for him on top of everything else.

“It’s not on your account,” said Adam mildly.  “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but the men in this room outnumber the women by about five to one, and I, for one, am not interested in dancing with Billy Clark.”

Joe harrumphed as he filled a punch cup.  Five to one, ten to one—there was a time when it wouldn’t have mattered.  He’d have had the prettiest girls in the room vying for his attention all night long.  But now—well, he might just as well have had smallpox for all the interest they had in him.

Just then, a low, musical voice purred, “You must be the famous Little Joe Cartwright.”

The Cartwright brothers turned to see a blond woman in a green satin dress.  Adam thought he recognized her from one of the saloons, but he couldn’t recall her name.

Joe’s expression was unreadable.  “Yes, ma’am.”

She looked him over quite openly, standing on her tiptoes to see the top of his head and walking behind him.  Finally, she said, “I don’t understand.  From everything I’d heard, you were supposed to have horns and a tail.”

Hoss’s eyes widened in shock at her audacity, but Joe showed no reaction.  Instead, he said, “I’m sorry to disappoint you, ma’am.  And before you ask—I left my pitchfork at home tonight.”

She burst out laughing.  “Oh, thank God, a man with a sense of humor,” she said.

“Every now and again,” said Joe, still guarded.  “Is that important?”

“Mr. Cartwright, in this town, it’s almost unheard-of,” she said.  She started to reach past him for the cups, and reflexively, he poured her some punch.

A small smile tipped the corners of Joe’s mouth.  “Where are you meeting all these serious men?”

“At work,” she said.  “I work at the Silver Dollar.”  She extended her hand.  “I’m Colleen.”

“Pleased to meet you, Colleen,” Joe said, taking her hand.  “These are my brothers, Adam and Hoss.”

“You two look familiar,” she said.  To Joe, she added, “I’ve only been there a few months.  You should come by.  We could use a few laughs.”

“Some would say I’m not exactly a barrel of fun,” Joe said.

Colleen shrugged.  “Maybe not, but the girls say you’re quite a dancer.”

The hint was so broad that he could have driven a buckboard on it, and Joe found himself smiling.  “They say that, do they?”

“Some of them,” Colleen said.  “Are they right?”

“Sounds to me like something you’d need to judge for yourself,” Joe said.  He offered her his arm.  “Would you like to dance?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”  She smiled as he led her onto the dance floor, both of them pretending not to notice the number of people who stopped dancing.

In a low voice, Hoss said to Adam, “Did you arrange this?”

Adam shook his head.  “I take it from the question that you didn’t, either?”

“Nope,” said Hoss.  “D’you think—no, Pa would never do somethin’ like that.”

Adam shrugged.  “Maybe she just stopped by because she was curious,” he said.  “I suppose word probably traveled fast that he was here.  To be honest, I don’t care what her reasons are.  The kid’s dancing, and that’s what he wanted.”  He leaned against the wall, watching his brother with an almost fatherly sense of pride and relief.

The music ended, and applause rose from the handful of people who weren’t too busy being appalled by Joe and Colleen.  “The girls were right,” she said.  “You’re an excellent dancer.”

“I’m out of practice,” said Joe.

“Then you fake it well, and that’s almost as important,” she said.  She held out her hand.  “It’s been lovely, Mr. Cartwright, but I need to get back to work.  Thank you for a delightful dance.”

“May I walk you back to the saloon?” offered Joe.

Before Colleen could answer, a man snarled, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, girlie.  You get alone with him, there’s no telling what could happen to you.”

Without thinking, Joe whirled, delivering a left hook that knocked the man to the floor.  As the man struggled to sit up, Hoss grabbed Joe’s arm.

“Easy, Joe,” he murmured.  “He ain’t worth the trouble.”

Joe shook off Hoss’s hand and walked over to where the man was almost sitting up.  With the toe of his boot, he shoved the man back down.  “You got off easy this time,” he said in a voice so low that only the man could hear.  “Don’t push your luck.”  He turned on his heel and strode back over to the punch bowl.  “May I walk you back to the saloon, Miss Colleen?” he asked.

“Certainly,” she said, placing her hand on Joe’s arm.  She turned to Hoss and Adam.  “You two are welcome to come as well,” she said.  “I think the group over at the saloon is probably a lot livelier than this crowd.”

“I reckon you’re right,” said Hoss.  He and Adam fetched their hats, and the four of them strode out of the hall, leaving the group behind them as silent as when they’d come in.

* * * * * * * * * *

“So, did you have a good time last night?” asked Ben the next morning.  He was feeling much better than the night before—so much so that he thought it would be nice if the entire family went to church.

The three brothers exchanged looks.  As the silence grew, Ben said, “Did something happen that I should know about?”

“No, nothing,” said Joe, carefully not looking at his brothers.  One punch wasn’t even worth mentioning.

“Well, did you enjoy yourselves at the dance?”  Ben peered at his sons.

“At the dance?  Not especially,” said Adam after another silence.  “So, we went over to the Silver Dollar.”

“You did what?”  Just exactly what he hadn’t wanted to happen—Joe and a bunch of drunken miners and cowboys.  On the other hand, his youngest son didn’t look any the worse for wear.

“It was fine, Pa, don’t worry,” said Little Joe.  “I won fifty dollars at poker.”

“Which, I think, officially doubles your lifetime record,” said Adam dryly.

“How did you end up over at the Silver Dollar?” asked Ben.

“A girl who works there stopped in at the dance,” said Joe, focusing intently on the piece of ham he was cutting.  “So, when she had to go back to work, we just went with her.”

Ben looked from one son to another to another.  He was certain that there were gaps in the story that hadn’t been filled in, and might not be for some time, but as long as there hadn’t been any trouble, he supposed he would have to be satisfied with that.

“Well, finish up, boys,” he said, rising.  “We need to leave for church in fifteen minutes.”

“We need to what?”  Joe’s head snapped up.

“I thought it would be nice if we all went to church together,” said Ben.  “Is there anything wrong with that?”  He looked more closely at his youngest son, whose expression was suddenly stony.  “Joseph?  Is something wrong?”

“No, sir.”  Joe’s voice was clipped, his jaw clenched, and in the next moment, Ben knew what had happened the night before.

Lowering his voice, Ben said, “Joseph, if you’d rather not—”

“I’ll go,” said Joe in a tone that barely showed the respect due a parent.  He drained his coffee cup as he stood, and without another word, he headed upstairs to change his

Quietly, Ben asked his remaining sons, “Other than the girl from the saloon, did he dance with anybody?”

Hoss shook his head.  “They avoided him like he had the plague,” he said.  “Woulda broken your heart to see it.  If it hadn’t been for that Colleen, I don’t think he woulda danced at all.”

Ben shook his head sadly as he stood.  “Excuse me, boys, I need to get dressed.”  He headed up the stairs, reflecting that the good people often didn’t look like the good people.

And he needed to remember to give Roy Coffee twenty dollars to cover the sum he’d advanced to the girl from the saloon.  Ben thought he might give Roy a bit extra and tell him to pass it on to the girl.  From the sounds of things, she’d earned it.

* * * * * * * * * *

The knock on the door was reluctant, almost tentative.  Hoss and Joe didn’t even bother looking up from the checkerboard, and Adam burrowed into his book.  With an exasperated look at his sons, Ben answered the door.

Roy Coffee stood before him, looking as sorrowful as Ben had ever seen.  “Evenin’, Ben,” he said in a voice that sounded like he’d rather be saying anything else.

“Evening, Roy,” said Ben.  “Come on in.  You want some coffee?”

Roy shook his head.  “This ain’t a social call,” he said.  The brothers rose, alert and guarded.  Roy looked from Adam to Hoss, and then turned his attention to Joe.  “Little Joe, I gotta talk to you,” he said heavily.

Joe didn’t move.  His eyes could have burned a hole in the sheriff, but otherwise, he betrayed no emotion.  “What do you want?”  His voice was entirely devoid of feeling.

“Where were you this afternoon?”

“Up by Buckhorn Meadow, chasing after that sorrel,” said Joe.  The question was all he needed.  He knew what Roy was here for.  Some girl had been attacked, and somebody was pointing the finger at him.

“Anybody with you?”  Roy’s voice, rough and matter-of-fact, invited an explanation.

“No.”  Joe knew better than to offer information.

“No chance you were in town?”

“None.”

“Roy, what’s this about?” Ben interrupted.

Roy took a deep breath.  “A girl was attacked behind the Bucket of Blood this afternoon,” he said.  “Description fits a number of men, so I gotta ask.”

“Well, Roy, Joe was off after that sorrel,” said Ben.

“And nobody seen him,” said Roy.  “I’m real sorry about that, Little Joe.  You’re the last one I talked to.  All the rest got alibis.”

“So does Little Joe,” interjected Hoss.  “He was up at Buckhorn Meadow.”

“With nobody to back up his story,” said Roy.  “I’m sorry, Little Joe, but I gotta take you in.”

“Take me in?  Why?”  Joe’s hands were clenched into fists.

“You fit the description and you ain’t got an alibi,” said Roy.  “Until we can sort this thing out, I can’t be letting you run around loose.”

“Roy, that’s ridiculous,” said Adam.  He and Hoss moved closer to their brother, flanking him.  “You don’t have any evidence that Joe did this.”

“The girl’s description fits him,” said Roy.  “And I have a witness who gave the same description of a man who was running away just when the girl screamed.”  He looked from one Cartwright to another.  “Boys, I left Little Joe until last ’cause I was hopin’ there’d be somebody else who couldn’t account for his whereabouts, but they all checked out.”  He turned to Joe.  “I’m sorry, Little Joe, but you’re gonna have to come with me.”

“No.”

The others turned as one, but Joe’s eyes were fixed on the sheriff.  “Joe, it’s all right, it’s just a big mix-up,” said Ben with slight desperation.  “You’ll be out in the morning, I’m sure.”

“Like last time?”  His voice was a shade off sarcastic.  “That’s why I’m on the list. Because if he doesn’t check with me and take me in, people are gonna think I’m getting special treatment, because we all know that ‘the only reason that kid got out of prison was his father’s money, because God knows he was guilty as sin’.  Isn’t that right, Roy? Isn’t that the real reason you’re here?  You’re figuring that if you lock me up, maybe nobody’ll come out here and lynch me, isn’t that it?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Joe,” said Ben.  “Of course, that’s not the reason.”  He looked to Roy for confirmation.

“Well, Ben, until we can confirm Joe’s story, I reckon he probably is safer in a cell,” said Roy.

“Then I guess I’ll just have to take my chances,” said Joe.  “Because I’m not going with you.”

“Joe, this ain’t a choice,” said Roy.  “I’m takin’ you in.”

“No, Roy, you’re not,” said Joe.  “I’ve been in a cell for the last time.  I’m not going back.  No matter what.”

“All right, now, let’s just calm down,” said Ben, even though his son was eerily calm.  “Joseph, Roy says he needs to take you in, and he’s the law.  There’s nothing to worry about.  It’s just Roy’s jail, and we’re all coming with you.”

“If you want to be with me, you’re going to have to stay here,” said Joe.  “I’m not going back to a cell.”

“Little Joe, this ain’t a negotiation,” said Roy heatedly.  He’d been hoping to slip the boy into town quietly so that nobody would know he was there, but it didn’t look like Little Joe was going to cooperate.  “Now, you get your jacket and hat, and let’s go.”

“I’m not going,” said Joe.

“Son, you don’t have a choice,” said Ben gently.

“Oh, yes, I do,” said Joe.  “What do you want me to do?  Just go along nicely, and wait for justice to work?  Like it did last time, maybe?  No.  I’m not going.  Roy, you do whatever you think you have to do, but I’m not going with you.”

“Now, you stop that!”  Roy was getting irked.  He wanted to cut the boy some slack, but he couldn’t let Joe tell him what he would or would not do.  “I’m the law, and I say you’re comin’ with me!”

Joe shook his head.  “Sorry, Roy,” he said, almost casually.  Then, in one swift move, Little Joe Cartwright stood before his family and the sheriff with a gun in his hand.  “I’d like to oblige, but I can’t.  I tried your kind of justice already.  Two years was enough time to lose.”

“Now, Joe, just take it easy,” said Ben.  “Let’s all sit down and talk and see if we can’t figure something out.”  He wanted to reach for the gun, but he knew better.

Joe shook his head again.  “I won’t go, not even for one night.  I’m willing to stay right here, and I won’t even leave the house if Roy doesn’t want me to, but I won’t go back in a cell.  And Roy, if you try to force me to go with you, one of us isn’t going to get there.”

“You threatenin’ me?” demanded Roy incredulously.

“Joseph!”  Ben’s deep, authoritative reprimand rang out.  It was the voice that had always made his sons snap to attention.  But this time, Joe didn’t move, and he didn’t back down.

“Roy, one of us needs to leave,” Joe said, as if his father hadn’t spoken.  “You gonna go, or am I?”

“Little Brother, whyn’t you sit down, and we can talk about this?”  Hoss had been watching and listening, and there was something about his brother that was downright scary.  He kept saying “one of us,” like he didn’t care which one it would be.  One of us had to leave.  One of us wouldn’t make it to town. . . .

And then, Hoss Cartwright got a hard, panicky feeling in the pit of his stomach, because he understood what Joe meant.

“Joe Cartwright, you’re comin’ with me if’n I have to hold a gun on you the whole danged way!” said Roy.

“Then you’d better draw now,” said Joe.  “Because I ain’t walking out that door with you.”

“Okay, Joe, calm down,” said Adam.  He glanced at Hoss, who nodded.  They’d heard the same thing.  “Just give me the gun.  We’ll make sure you’re safe.”

Joe shook his head.  “You’ll make sure I’m safe in a cell,” he said.  “I’m not going.”  To Roy, he said, “You want me to go with you, you’re gonna need your gun.”

Ben glanced at his older sons.  He wasn’t quite certain what they were hearing, but they knew something, and it had them worried.  His youngest son was as taut as a piano wire, his eyes constantly cutting from one man to another.  “Joseph,” he said softly.  “I want you to put down the gun.”

“I can’t, Pa,” Joe said.  “If I do, I’m going to end up in Roy’s jail, and I won’t do that.”  He turned his attention back to Roy.  “Go ahead, Roy,” he said.  “Do what you have to do.”

Understanding dawned on the sheriff’s weatherbeaten face.  “I ain’t gonna cut you down,” he said.  “Not in your own house.”

“Then let’s go outside,” said Joe.

“All right, Joe, that’s enough,” said Ben.  He kept his voice gentle and soothing, his eyes fixed on Joe’s as he prayed that his older sons would know what to do.  “You’re all right.  You don’t have to go anywhere.  Just put down the gun, and we’ll sit down and talk about what to do.  That’s all you have to do, son.  Just put down the—“

His last words were drowned out by the shouting as Hoss grabbed the boy from behind and Adam tried to wrest the gun from his grip.  Joe fought fiercely, screaming curses Ben had never heard him use—and then there was a shot.

“Joe!”

Adam pulled the gun from the limp fingers and handed it to the sheriff.  Ben’s stomach lurched as he saw his youngest son, slumped in Hoss’ arms, blood trickling down his face from the wound on his temple.  Hoss gathered the boy and carried him to the settee, and Ben rested his fingers on Joe’s neck.  Relieved, he took a deep breath and began to dab at the wound with his neckcloth.

“It’s just a crease,” he said.  Hop Sing brought in a basin of warm water and a cloth, and Ben sat on the table, sponging his son’s head.

A few minutes later, Joe’s eyes fluttered open.  “Pa?”

“I’m right here,” Ben breathed.  The hardened ex-convict of a few minutes earlier was gone, and his boy was back.  He held Joe’s hand against his chest.  “Are you all right, son?”

Joe nodded, wincing at the movement.  “What happened?”

“I’m not sure,” his father admitted.  “How do you feel?”

“Fine,” Joe murmured.  Truth was that his head was burning and throbbing, all at once.  He clenched his jaw to keep from getting sick.  He couldn’t remember what happened, but he felt the way he used to on those occasions when one of his cellmates started acting like he was going to try to have a “special time” with Joe, and then something happened to interrupt it—his heart pounded and it was hard to get enough air, and he was almost afraid to move for fear that they would remember him again.

Ben sponged away the blood and held a square of cloth against the wound to stop the bleeding.  Now, as Little Joe lay defenseless on the settee, the terror was plain in his eyes.  “It’s all right, son,” Ben said quietly.  “There’s nothing to worry about.”

“Ben—”  Roy started to speak, but realized that he had no idea what to say.

“He’s not going with you,” said Adam.  He handed his father a brandy, and Ben wrapped Joe’s hand around the glass, quietly urging his son to drink.

“I reckon you’re right, at least for tonight,” said Roy.  He’d seen what had happened, and it shook him.

“He ain’t goin’ at all,” said Hoss, almost daring the sheriff to say otherwise.

“Boys,” said Ben tiredly.  He set the brandy glass on the table.  “You two help your brother up to bed,” he said.  “I’ll be up in a minute.”  Carefully, protectively, Hoss and Adam helped Joe to his feet, supporting him as he made his unsteady way up the stairs.

When they were out of earshot, Ben turned to Roy.  The lawman looked at the father with infinite sadness, and slowly, both nodded.  They’d seen the same thing, just before the shot.

Little Joe Cartwright had been trying to get the muzzle of the gun up against his own head.

* * * * * * * * * *

Joe sat at the porch table, drinking his coffee and looking out into the yard as if the answer was going to come riding up.  Eight days had passed since Roy Coffee tried to take him back to town.  Eight days since he’d stood his ground, refusing to go.

Eight days since he’d tried to put a bullet in his own brain rather than go back to a cell.

It wasn’t something he’d ever planned, or even thought about.  Until he stood there with Roy, he never knew he was capable of such a thing.  But that didn’t matter now.  He’d done it, or tried to.  If Adam hadn’t been stronger than he was—Joe had to set down his cup, closing his eyes against the thought of what he’d nearly put them through.

And they all knew.  He’d heard them talking outside his room that night. . . .

“Pa, I’m sure it was a mistake!” Hoss insisted.  “Little Joe just wouldn’t do a thing like that on purpose!”

“It’s no use, son,” said Ben dully.  “We all saw him.”

“He probably just panicked,” said Adam.  “I mean, who could blame him?  After everything he went through before, why should he believe that justice would be done this time?  I don’t blame him for being scared.”

“Adam, there’s a difference between being scared and—”  Ben broke off, and Joe closed his eyes at the pain in his father’s voice that wouldn’t even allow him to say the words out loud.

“But, Pa, it’s only been a few months since he got home,” said Hoss.  “He’s still gettin’ used to everything.  You can’t be surprised that the notion of goin’ back to prison would hit him hard.”

There was a silence, and Joe could picture his father shaking his head sadly.  Just leave me be, he wanted to say.  Don’t worry about me.  I’ll be out of here soon enough.

He didn’t know where to go, but he’d figure something out.  The harder part would be figuring out how to go so that they didn’t worry.  They’d been through enough worry for ten lifetimes.

Joe took another sip of coffee.  Roy had come out this morning to let them know that he had the girl’s attacker in custody.  A drifter who’d only been around a short while.  The fellow had confessed—he was drunk and tried to kiss her, and she resisted, and he got mad, and things went from there.

Joe had felt curiously distant from the conversation.  The others were clearly relieved, and Roy told him that he had nothing to worry about, but Joe knew they were all wrong.  Just because they’d found the real attacker this time, it didn’t mean he could relax and put it behind him.  There would always be something to worry about.  Every time he let down his guard, something happened to remind him that it would never be over.  If the drifter hadn’t confessed, there would always have been questions.  If Sally Barnes could be so wrong about somebody she knew—well, any other girl could make that mistake, too.

If Sally Barnes could be so mistaken. . . .

Joe dropped his head onto his hands.  He felt completely naked, vulnerable, exposed.  It was as if the entire world was clustered around the edges of the Ponderosa, waiting to see who would be the next to point a finger at him.  He could almost hear them laughing as he tried to shout and plead and somehow, somehow, convince them that he truly wasn’t the one who had done such an awful thing.

If he lived to be a thousand, he would never understand how she could have made that mistake.  They’d known each other since they were four years old.  They’d played together, gone to school together, and even sparked briefly when they were fifteen.  He’d have known her anywhere.  He couldn’t believe she couldn’t tell her childhood friend from some stranger, even in the dark.

But if she could confuse him with a man who would do such a thing, anyone else could.  It was only a matter of time before some other girl made the same mistake—and maybe that girl’s brother might decide not to wait for a judge and jury. . . .

“Joseph?  Are you all right?”

Joe’s head jerked up at his father’s hand on his shoulder.  “I’m fine,” he said, recovering.  He forced himself to look up, praying that Pa’s eyes no longer held such sadness—and disappointment.

He knew they were all disappointed in him.  They had to be.  He didn’t blame them; he was ashamed of his own reaction.  Only a coward would do such a thing.

But Pa just looked concerned.  “Is your headache any better?”

“It’s fine,” he lied.  He’d had fierce, throbbing headaches ever since that night.  Doc said they were the result of everything that had happened, including the bullet that glanced off his head, and they’d likely go away in their own time.  He’d left a bottle of painkiller behind, but Joe hated to take it.  It made him feel foggy and slow.  Better to be alert, even if it meant having the pain.  Better, and safer.

“Well, I want to you to take it easy today anyway,” said Pa, looking unconvinced.  “I’ve got to head up to the timber camp and see how everything’s going on the McIntyre project.  Hop Sing’s already gone into Virginia City, but he’s left some sandwiches for you for lunch.  I should be back before suppertime.”  He peered at Joe.  “You sure you’re feeling all right?”

Joe nodded.  “I’m fine,” he said.

Pa still didn’t look certain, but he just said, “I’ll see you later, then.”  Joe watched him ride out, and he watched the empty road for a long time after the hoofbeats faded.

Hours later, the sound of a buggy pulled Joe from a restless nap.  He rubbed his eyes as he replaced the blanket on the back of the settee.  He knew Pa wouldn’t mind that he’d spent most of the day sleeping, but he didn’t want to admit how worn out he’d been.

The knock surprised him.  He ran his hand through his hair and straightened his collar.  Then, he opened the door and gaped.

“Hello, Little Joe,” said Sally Barnes.

“Sally, what are you doing here?  Who came with you?”  Joe looked past her, out into the yard.

“Nobody came with me,” she said.  “I need to talk to you.  May I come in?”

“No—nobody’s here,” said Joe.  “You should go.”  He clenched his fists to keep his hands from shaking.  Never in his worst nightmares had he imagined that she would do this, but here she was.  He didn’t know how she’d gotten so confused when she was attacked, but suddenly, he found himself praying that she wouldn’t get confused again.  Nobody would ever believe that they were here alone and yet he hadn’t touched her.

“It’s all right, Joe,” she said in that soft voice of hers that used to make excitement course through him.  “I just need to talk to you.”

“Sally, you’ve got to leave,” said Joe, still blocking the door.  “If your pa and brothers knew you were here, I’d be a dead man.”

“They don’t know,” she said simply.  “Nobody knows I’m here.  Now, may I come in?”

Everything in Joe screamed that he should just close the door in her face, but he’d been raised too well.  A gentleman didn’t do a thing like that to a lady who came calling.  And so, he stepped back and allowed her to enter.  He didn’t move from his place by the credenza, though, and so she stood just inside the door.

“All right, say what you’ve got to say and get out,” said Joe.  He couldn’t remember ever being so nervous around a girl, but this wasn’t just any girl.  This was the girl whose accusation cost him two years of his life.

Sally drew a deep breath.  “Little Joe—you know that I’ve always thought of you as a friend,” she began.  “And—well—when a person is in trouble, they count on their friends to help.”

“You think of me as a friend?”  It was as if the entire world had been turned upside down.  Sally Barnes, here at the Ponderosa, telling him that he was her friend.  For an insane moment, Joe desperately hoped that he was still asleep.

“We’ve known each other practically our whole lives,” she said.  “Whenever I needed anything—a ride, a dancing partner, somebody to get rid of a boy who was bothering me—you were always the first person I thought of.  And I like to think that I was helpful to you, too, with homework and such.”

“Sally, just say your piece and leave.”  Joe was starting to feel lightheaded.

“I guess you heard what happened to Jeanne Remnick,” said Sally.  At Joe’s blank look, she said, “The girl who got attacked by the drifter.”  Joe nodded, his eyes never leaving hers.  “Well, I heard that Roy Coffee was coming out to question you, and I tried to tell him you hadn’t done it, but I couldn’t give him any reason other than I just knew you hadn’t, and he didn’t think that was good enough.”

“He didn’t tell me about this,” said Joe slowly.

“Probably because there was nothing to tell,” said Sally.  “Some girl says you didn’t do it, but can’t say how she knows—it’s not even news.”

“I don’t mean to be rude, Sally, but why are you here?”  Joe stepped back, bracing himself against the credenza.

Sally bowed her head.  “There’s something I need to tell you,” she said.  When Joe said nothing, she continued, “When Sheriff Coffee said that he was going to talk to you, there were some people around, and they all said you were probably guilty.  When I asked around a little bit, it seemed that there were a lot of other people who seemed to feel the same way, and they all said this because of you going to jail for—well, because of me.”

“Prison,” said Joe.

“I beg your pardon?”

“I went to prison,” said Joe.  “Not jail.  Jail is a Sunday school picnic compared to prison.”

“Prison,” repeated Sally, blushing.  “Anyway, it’s been a long time since—well, I just feel so awful, and—I can only imagine what people are saying to you, and—”

“What is it, Sally?” demanded Joe.  “Why are you here?”

She looked down at her hands.  When she looked up, her eyes were filled with tears.  “This is so hard,” she whispered.

“What is?”  He wanted to grab her by the shoulders and shake her to make the words come out faster.

“Joe, I—I want to tell you something, but I don’t want you to—well, of course, you’re going to get upset, it’s silly to think you wouldn’t, but you need to understand, I wouldn’t have done it if I’d had any other choice, and I need to know that—that, well, you don’t judge me.”  Her words spilled over themselves.

“Sally, what are you talking about?”  A dark cloud of dread was beginning to grow.

She took a deep breath.  “After you—went away, my father sent me to stay with my aunt in St. Louis,” she began.

“And?”

“And—I had a baby.”  The words came out in a rush.

“When was this?”

“February 17,” she said.  Seven months, almost to the day, after his conviction.

“You mean—the man who attacked you—oh, God, Sally, I’m so sorry,” Joe breathed.  He closed his eyes, fighting sudden dizziness.  Having her attacker’s child . . . he couldn’t even imagine it.

“No, that’s not—well, what I mean is—”  Her eyes, the color of a summer sky, filled with tears.

“What is it, Sally?  It’s all right, you can tell me.”  Joe took her arm to lead her over to the settee, but she remained rooted in place.

“Stop being so nice to me,” she whispered.

“What are you talking about?  Here, let me get you something to drink.  I just can’t believe—oh, Sally, you poor girl, I’m so sorry.”  He left her standing where she chose to be and poured her a brandy.  “Come on, sit down and drink this.”

“Joe, would you just stop it!”  The tears spilled over.

“Stop what?  Sally, what are you talking about?”  He searched her face, but he just didn’t understand.

“Joe—I know who the father of my baby was,” she said.

“Stop,” he said, laying a finger gently on her lips.  “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Joe, would you listen to me?  My baby’s father was Albert Johnson.”

“Albert Johnson?”  It didn’t make any sense.  Albert Johnson was tall and skinny, with thick black hair and a thick black moustache—and a little blond wife.

“Albert Johnson,” she nodded.

“But—how could you confuse me with Albert Johnson?”  The dizziness was increasing, and Joe gripped the credenza.  She couldn’t be saying what he thought.  It wasn’t possible.  It just wasn’t.

“Joe—I didn’t confuse anybody,” she said.  She lifted her chin and looked him dead in the eye.  “I was never attacked, Joe.”

He closed his eyes, forcing himself to breathe.  When he opened them, she was still standing in front of him.  “What did you say?” he managed.

“There was no attack,” she repeated.  “Albert and I were in love, and—well, when I got in the family way, we didn’t know what to do, so we made up the story.”

“You made it up,” said Little Joe, and his voice sounded to his own ears as if it came from a long, long distance away.

“”We made it up,” she said firmly.  She watched him carefully; he was so pale that she was afraid he would pass out.

“But—you said—you told them—you told everybody that I—”  He couldn’t get the words out.

“That’s why I came here,” she said.  “I wanted to tell you how sorry I am about that.  I never meant to hurt you, truly I didn’t, but I was afraid, and Albert said that nobody could know it was his baby, so I had to have an explanation for how I came to be—that way.”

He couldn’t move.  He couldn’t feel anything.  He could barely breathe.  The girl’s eyes were still as blue as a summer sky.  She stood before him, looking scared—of what?

“Why me?” he asked finally.  “Of all the men in this town, why did you have to pick me?”  His breathing grew rougher as he fought to hold himself together.

“Because I never thought—I figured nobody who knew you would ever believe you could do something like that,” she said.  “I never believed they’d convict you.”

“But when they did—you still didn’t say anything.  And I went to prison. . . .”  He could feel his temper building.  Oh, God, don’t let me choke her, he thought, and in that moment, he actually felt as if he could.

“Joe, I’m so sorry about that,” she said.  “I don’t what to say, except—I was scared.  My father and my brothers—they’d have killed me, Joe.  I don’t mean like yelling or getting mad—they’d have killed me.  I couldn’t say anything.  I knew your father would get you out and—mine would have killed me.”

“So you decided to sacrifice me instead of telling the truth,” he said in bitter wonder.

“I didn’t have a choice,” she pleaded.  “If I’d told about Albert—he said he’d get all his friends to say that they’d been with me, too, so that nobody could know whose baby it was.  My life would have been ruined, Joe.”

“And instead, you ruined mine,” he said.  Barely keeping control now, he seized her arm.  “Do you have any idea what goes on in a prison?  Do you?” he shouted, shaking her.  “It’s the worst kind of hell you can imagine.  I lived like an animal.  There was no outhouse—we ate and slept and shat all in the same cell, all six of us in a cell that wasn’t as big as that dining room.  The food had maggots in it, but I ate it because it was that or starve.  Rats crawled over me at night, and sometimes they bit me, but there was no doctor for that.  We worked on chain gangs, no matter how hot or cold or rainy it was, because the prison could make money.  We slept on the floor, and even in winter, I had one thin blanket, and I had to fight every night to keep it, because there were people who would have killed me to get it.  In two years, there was exactly one person I could trust not to kill me if my back was turned.  The rest of them would stab you in the back, literally, if you did something like take food that they thought was theirs.  And the guards, the ones who are supposed to protect the prisoners?  Forget them.  They beat me, and whipped me, and chained me to the walls.”  He grabbed both her arms, forcing her to look him in the eye.  “And what you accused me of doing?  It happened to me, Sally.  For real, and more times than I can say.”  Tears poured down the girl’s cheeks.  “And all so you could save your precious reputation.  Well, I hope it was worth it to you,” he spat out.  He released her as if he couldn’t bear to touch her, and she dropped to her knees, weeping.

“I’m so sorry, Joe,” she sobbed.  “I had no idea—I’m so sorry.  Joe, I—I don’t know what to say—I’m so sorry—”

“Joseph?”

Ben stood in the doorway, stunned.  His son stood stockstill, looking down a young woman sobbing at his feet.  “Joe, what’s going on?” he demanded.

Little Joe looked up.  His eyes were raw with anguish.  He turned back to the weeping girl.  “Get out of my house,” he said, his words laced with venom.  “I don’t ever want to see you again, do you understand?  Get out, you despicable lying whore!”

“Joseph!”  Ben grabbed his son’s arm.  “What is going on?”

Joe ignored his father.  “Tell him what you did,” he commanded the girl.  “Look my father in the eye and tell him what you told me.  Do it!” he shouted.

“Joseph, calm down.”  Ben helped the girl to her feet.  “What is this all about?”  He paled as he recognized Sally Barnes.  “Sally, what’s the matter?  Joseph, what is going on?”

“Go ahead,” spat Joe.  For the first time, Ben saw hatred blazing in his son’s eyes.  He felt dizzy.  “I want to hear you tell my father the truth,” Joe snapped.  “You owe me that.  You owe him.  You put me and my family through hell.  Now, tell him the truth!”  The last words were a roar.

“Joseph!  I mean it, settle down!”  He turned to the girl.  “What is he talking about?”

The girl gulped.  “I lied, Mr. Cartwright,” she sobbed.  “It was all a lie.  Joe never touched me.  I was going to have a baby and I was scared and I didn’t know what to do, and I never thought anybody would believe Joe could do something like that. . . .”  She collapsed against Ben, sobbing.  Automatically, Ben held her, his heart pounding.  He met his son’s eyes, and his stomach lurched.  Never had he seen such rage and loathing in any man’s face.  He was about to speak when Joe grabbed his hat and gun and stalked out of the house.

“Joseph!  Wait!”  Ben extricated himself from the girl and went after his son.

Joe had already flung the saddle on Cochise’s back as Ben entered the barn.  “Joe—” Ben began, his hand on Joe’s shoulder.

Joe jerked away and reached for the horse’s bridle.  “Leave me alone, Pa,” he said, anguish squeezing his voice.  He tightened the cinch, and Ben held firmly to his arm to keep him from mounting.  “Let me go,” said Joe desperately.

“I can’t, son,” Ben said hoarsely.  “Not like this.”  He pulled his son close and held him tightly as Joe started to shake.  In the next instant, the young man was gasping for breath.  “Easy, Joe,” Ben murmured.  “Take deep breaths.  Easy, now.”  He held his son up as Joe fought for air, choking and gasping.  “Just try to breathe deep,” he said.  “You’re safe here.  Just breathe.”

“Pa—why—how could she—why, Pa?  Why?”  Joe’s voice broke as he fell to his knees in the straw, doubled over, his arms crossed against his midsection as if the violent torment was physical.  Gutteral, animal moans escaped him as he rocked back and forth, keening.  Ben knelt beside his son, wrapping his arms around him.  He wanted to reassure Joe that everything was all right, but he couldn’t.  The boy’s life had been destroyed for a lie, and nothing about that horrible, vicious betrayal was all right.

In the dim light of the horse stall, the dam finally collapsed.  Terror and rage, panic and despair, loneliness and heartbreak and anguish overwhelmed the young man.  Held close in the safety of his father’s embrace, Little Joe Cartwright surrendered at last to fiery, blinding grief, weeping uncontrollably for the cruel, senseless loss of all that he had once held so lightly—sunshine on his face, easy laughter, checkerboards, hot baths, hours spent fishing or talking or working with his brothers, the rich warmth of his father’s voice.  Hop Sing’s biscuits.  Riding Cochise too fast along the Virginia City road.  The first snowfall of the winter.  Evenings of beer and poker and saloon girls sitting on the arm of his chair.  Sleeping in his own bed every night.

Pretty girls to flirt with, to dance with.  Women who didn’t look at him with fear and revulsion.  Respect from people on the street.  Not constantly wondering when somebody would come after him.  Not being accused every time some girl claimed to have been attacked.

Innocence.  Faith in truth, in the law and in justice.  In people who called themselves his friends.  Faith that everything—anything—could be ever all right.

The barn was dark by the time Joe’s sobs faded.  Utterly drained, he leaned against his father’s chest, clinging to the one constant that remained in his world.  “Pa,” he managed.

“I’ve got you, son,” Ben murmured, brushing the damp curls back from Joe’s forehead.

Joe clutched his father’s hand.  “How could she do it?” he whispered, shards of pain breaking his voice.

Ben held his son close.  “I don’t know,” he admitted.  They sat without speaking for a long time.  Finally, Ben suggested, “Let’s go inside.”  When Joe didn’t respond, his father stroked his damp curls, murmuring, “It’s all right, son.  She’s gone.”  He’d heard the buggy leave.  He wondered if she’d heard Little Joe’s anguish, evidence of the devastation she had caused.

After a minute, Joe nodded.  Stiffly, Ben got to his feet, then reached down to help Joe up.  For a minute, he held his son tightly, wishing again for the power a little boy had once believed he had, the power to make everything better.

“I’ve gotta unsaddle Cochise,” said Joe, his voice barely audible.

Ben nodded.  He understood.  And so he stepped back to allow Joe to perform this simple, normal task.  Carefully, Joe slid the saddle from the pinto’s back and placed it on the divider.  He folded the saddle blanket and laid it on top of the saddle.  Then, he turned to his father and opened his mouth, but no words came.

Tears slid down Ben’s face as he took his son in his arms.  When Joe’s trembling finally stilled, Ben whispered, “Let’s go in.”  At Joe’s nod, he shepherded his son into the house, holding onto him so tightly that it was impossible to know which of them was holding up the other.

* * * * * * * * * *

The knock at the door was a welcome distraction.  Ben opened it, but his smile faded at the sight of Ed Barnes.

“Ben,” said Ed.

“Ed,” said Ben, giving nothing.

“Sally told me what she did,” Ed said.  “Last night.  She told me all of it.”

It’s about time, Ben thought.  It had been nearly three weeks since her visit to Little Joe.  Privately, Ben, Adam and Hoss had speculated about just what she had told her own family, or whether they even knew about her deception.

“I can’t begin to tell you how sorry I am,” Ed continued.  “I’m so ashamed, Ben.  I can’t believe my daughter could have done such a terrible thing.  I know there’s no way to make it up to you all, but I want you to know that I’ve taken her into town, and she’s told Sheriff Coffee the truth.  My boys and I will make sure that word gets around.”

Ben regarded the shopkeeper.  He’d always taught his sons that when a man asks forgiveness, they should forgive, but it seemed too easy this time.  His boy had suffered so greatly—they all had—and to erase it all with mere words seemed to cheapen what had transpired.  “Won’t you come in?” he asked finally.

Ed shook his head.  “Not this time,” he said.  His eyes held shared pain.  “I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t forgive us, Ben.  I know she was scared, but there’s no excuse for what she did, none at all.  When I thought my Sally had been—well, I don’t know if I could have ever have forgiven your boy—and to know that she’s responsible for this—I understand completely if it’s asking too much, but Ben, I’d be greatly beholden if you could consider forgiving her—and my boys, and me.”

“You’re asking a lot,” Ben said at last.

“I know,” said Ed.  “And I don’t expect an answer now.  But regardless of what you decide, I want you to know how sorry we all are.”  He looked around, braced as if waiting for someone to take a swing at him.  “Is Little Joe around?  I’d like to tell him to his face that I was wrong.”

“He’s not here,” said Ben.  “The boys are out looking for strays.”  And I wouldn’t let you near him even if he were in the next room, he thought, remembering back to the first days after Sally’s confession.

It was as if all the tears that Joe had held back for so long were breaking through at once.  All that evening, and well into the night, he’d clung to his father, helpless to stop the grief that poured out.  It had been bad enough when he’d thought there’d really been an attack and that his conviction was simply a mistake, but now. . . .  The senselessness of his suffering was magnified a hundredfold.  Someone he’d trusted and counted as a friend had considered his life to be so worthless that she’d deliberately tossed it on the fire like so much kindling in order to protect herself.  The betrayal was as much a violation as anything he’d experienced at the hands of strangers.

But this time, his father was here, and that made all the difference.

When Hoss and Adam returned two days later, Ben took them aside and recounted the events in a low voice.  He reminded them that Sally’s family hadn’t known anything of her deception, leaving them irate but with no ready outlet, no one to challenge or fight.  Just when Ben thought Hoss was going to put his fist through the wall in frustration, Joe came downstairs, eyes still reddened and puffy, but composed.

“I’ll tell you one thing, I’m gonna make sure ever’body knows the truth about that little hussy!” Hoss was saying.

“No, you won’t,” Joe said.  His brothers’ heads snapped around.

“But, Joe, think of what ever’body’s been sayin’!”  Hoss protested.

“There are still people who don’t believe you,” Adam said more gently.  “Letting them know the truth would finally clear your name.”

Joe shook his head.  “No,” he said.  “It’s like Pa’s been saying all along—the people who matter know the truth, and the rest just don’t matter.”  He fell silent, and his eyes grew dark, as if focused on someplace only he could see, a place of ruthlessness and hatred and stifled grief.  Then, he shook his head quickly, coming back to the present.  “She used me because she thought she had to in order to protect herself,” he said.  “I won’t do the same to her.  It’s not worth it.”

Ben laid a hand on his son’s shoulder.  “Are you sure, Joseph?”  When Joe nodded, running his hand over his eyes, Ben said, “All right, then.  It’s settled.”  He wrapped his arm around Joe’s shoulders.  He felt him start to shiver, and he jerked his head to signal to his older sons to leave them alone.  He guided Joe into a chair, pouring a brandy and gently pushing it into his son’s hand.

“I’m proud of you, son,” Ben said quietly, kneeling beside Joe’s chair and resting his hand on the slim shoulder as his son drank.

Joe set the empty glass on his father’s desk.  “Don’t be,” he said.  His voice was husky with exhaustion and grief.  “I’m not noble.  I just want it all to be over.”

“I know you do,” said Ben.  “But I’m still proud of you.”  He handed Joe his handkerchief, and Joe wiped away the tears that still seemed determined to leak out at odd moments despite his best efforts.  As Ben rubbed his son’s back, he reflected on the miracle that, in spite of everything, his son was surviving this ordeal, in every way that mattered.

Now, as he faced Sally Barnes’ father, Ben knew that, whatever he did or said, yea or nay, Ed would understand.  As the man had once said, they were both fathers.  But unlike Ed Barnes, Ben Cartwright had a different, higher standard to live up to—the standard set by the bravest man he’d ever known.

His youngest son.

“If you’d like to stay here for a bit, I might be able to find him,” Ben said at last.  It was the best he could do right now, and Ed nodded.

An hour later, Ben heard the familiar, beloved voices, faint on the hot breeze.  He came over the rise to see his sons gathered around a campfire, coffee cups in hand.  He reined in his horse and watched.  He was too far away to hear the words, but Hoss was clearly telling a story that was intended to get a laugh out of his brothers.  For the first time in days, Ben found himself smiling as Hoss’s exaggerated gestures and enthusiastic delivery drew chuckles and headshakes from Adam and Little Joe.  Even at this distance, Ben could see the grin on his middle son’s face at Joe’s response, and the big man threw himself into the story even harder.

Just then, Hoss looked up the hill and saw him.  He waved his big, cream-colored hat, and Ben waved back, urging his horse forward.  By the time he reached them, Adam had already poured him a cup of coffee.

“Finding a lot of strays, are you?” Ben asked with mock sternness as he accepted the cup.

“About a dozen, and they’re all back with the herd,” said Adam.  “So we decided to take a little break.”

“I’d be careful of that coffee, Pa,” said Hoss.  With a broad wink, he added, “Little Joe made it.”

“Hey, just because my coffee actually tastes like coffee, and not that brown dishwater you two like. . . .”  Joe began.

“I’m sure it’s fine,” said Ben.  He took a swallow and nearly choked, much to his older sons’ amusement. “Land sakes, boy, how much coffee did you put in that pot?” he demanded.

“See, I told you it was too strong!” announced Hoss delightedly.

Ben chuckled as his sons’ banter rang through the late summer air.  For a minute, he was tempted not to mention Ed Barnes.  He didn’t want to spoil this precious good time.  He wanted to stay here with his sons, to laugh and tell stories and drink dreadful coffee.  He could do that if he wanted to; Ed would simply assume he couldn’t find Joe, and eventually, he’d leave.

Ben watched his youngest son, smiling as Little Joe defended his coffee-making skills.  For a long time, he’d wondered if he’d ever again see the spark that used to dance in those eyes.  Now, he couldn’t have said for certain, but he thought that, just maybe, there was a hint of the boy he’d once known.

He tossed the rest of his coffee aside.  “Joe, there’s someone back at the house who’d like to see you,” he said.

The brothers sobered quickly.  Warily, Joe asked, “Who?”

“Ed Barnes,” said Ben.  Instinctively, Adam and Hoss moved closer to their brother.  “He wants to tell you how sorry he is for what happened.”  When Joe said nothing, Ben added, “It’s up to you, son.  If you don’t want to see him, he’ll understand.”

Joe was silent for a long minute, his gaze fixed on his coffee cup.  Then, he drew a deep breath and lifted his head.  “I’ll see him,” he said.

As his sons kicked dirt over the fire and emptied out the coffeepot, Ben wanted to ask Joe if he was sure.  Then, Joe looked up and caught his father’s eyes, and he smiled, a crooked little half-smile.  There might not be a sparkle in those green eyes, but over the anguish of unspeakable horrors that had smoldered there for so long, Ben saw signs of healing, of courage, of survival.  It was too soon to say for certain, but he thought that, just maybe, there might even be hints that someday, there could be peace.

In any event, he reflected, there was promise.

* * * * * * * * * *

Epilogue

Ben snorted with frustration as he reached into the back of his desk drawer.  That blasted key had to be there somewhere.  He pulled everything forward and dumped it unceremoniously on his desk.  Notes, pencils, old lists, drafts of letters.

And a bulky sealed envelope, addressed to no one.

Astounding that he’d forgotten it was there.  His fingers rested on it, and his mind went back to his conversation with Hiram Wood, almost a year earlier, when Hiram filed their motion, asking for the hearing in Yuma.

“What are our chances?” Ben asked.

Hiram shook his head.  “I won’t lie to you, Ben,” he said.  “This is a long shot.”

Ben Cartwright was an honorable man, just and upright.  But he was also a father.  He would never have asked the question for himself, but he would do it for his son.  “Is there anything we can do to—improve the odds?”

Hiram looked at him sharply.  Ben held his gaze without flinching.  For a long minute, the two men stood in silence.  Finally, Hiram said, “Let’s see how things go.”

When they returned to the Ponderosa after the hearing, Ben shoved the envelope into the back of the drawer.  He thought briefly of putting it into the safe, but there were too many times that he needed to open the safe with one of the boys standing beside him.  There was a part of him that still didn’t trust that the whole ordeal had ended, and that part refused to let him take it back to the bank.  So, the envelope remained, at the very back, where no one would ever know about it.

He hefted the envelope, feeling its weight.  Fifteen thousand dollars.  It had taken some careful maneuvering to scrape up that much cash without anyone noticing.  A little here, a little there, and hopefully nobody, not even his boys, would realize.

The front door opened, and Ben casually dropped papers on top of the envelope.  “We’re ready to go,” said Joe, his cheeks ruddy from the cold air.  Snow dusted his hat and the shoulders of his jacket.  “You sure you don’t want to come along?  Or are you already done with your Christmas shopping?”

Ben smiled.  “I’ve got some things to do here,” he said.  “You boys go ahead.  Just don’t be too late getting back.”

“Yes, sir.”  Joe started out of the room.

“Joseph!”

The young man turned back.  When his father said nothing, he strode back over to the desk, head cocked quizzically.  “You forget something, Pa?”

Ben’s hand rested on the papers covering the envelope.  Before him stood his youngest son, alive and beautiful and well on his way to being as healed as a man could hope to be.  “No,” he said.  “Have fun.”  He chuckled to himself as Joe shrugged and left the room.

Ben sat down at his desk and began to replace the contents of the drawer.  He was about to tuck the envelope back in its spot when Adam came in.  Without quite thinking, Ben said, “Adam, would you come here?”  As Adam reached Ben’s desk, Ben handed him the envelope.  “This needs to be deposited,” he said quietly.

Adam took the envelope.  Wordlessly, he nodded, his gaze intent, and Ben felt his mouth go dry.  Adam tucked the envelope in the inner pocket of his coat.  “We won’t be too late,” he said, buttoning his coat.

Watching him leave, Ben wondered when his eldest son had figured out what he’d been ready to do.  He reflected that Hoss probably hadn’t known; his middle son, so innocent and honorable, could never have kept quiet about such a thing.  Possibly, Joe had hoped, but he’d never said a word, probably assuming that Ben would be insulted by such a notion.  And he would have been, that much was true.

But he’d have done it anyway.

Ben Cartwright was a law-abiding citizen, a successful rancher, a devout man, a pillar of the community.  But in the end, none of that mattered.

Because above all else, he was a father.  And he would do anything to protect his sons.

After all, that was his job.

The End

************

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.

Tags:  Family, jail / jailed, Joe / Little Joe Cartwright, prison, SJS