{"id":11531,"date":"2015-08-18T10:20:31","date_gmt":"2015-08-18T14:20:31","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?p=11531"},"modified":"2025-02-18T19:10:49","modified_gmt":"2025-02-19T00:10:49","slug":"six-feet-deep","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?p=11531","title":{"rendered":"Six Feet Deep (by freyakendra)"},"content":{"rendered":"

Summary:\u00a0 <\/strong>For a brief moment in time, Amy’s death brought Little Joe and Luther Bishop together. But when the moment ended and Luther realized he had nothing left to lose, burying the hatchet with Ben Cartwright took on a new level of meaning.
\n<\/strong><\/p>\n

A What Happened Next Story for The Truckee Strip.<\/p>\n

Rating:\u00a0 <\/strong>K+\u00a0 (6,855 words)<\/p>\n

Six Feet Deep<\/strong><\/p>\n

Consciousness came slowly. The first thing Joe noticed was the pain in his head, coming as constant, sharp stabs that were focused on his temple, or … no \u2026 behind his left ear. He tried to draw in enough fresh air to help ease the throbbing, but the heavy scent of dirt, damp and moldy, threatened to gag him. Where was he? Why was he lying on the floor? There was wood beneath him, a surface so firm and stiff it pressed into his shoulder blades, his spine and the back of his skull with the unforgiving rigidity of granite.<\/p>\n

His skull\u2026. Joe raised his hand to probe the soreness. More wood stopped him, as his knuckles rapped against a suspiciously low ceiling. Disoriented, he blinked until he could keep his eyes open long enough to explore his surroundings, only to find he couldn\u2019t explore anything. He saw nothing but a black void. When blinking again and again failed to produce even a sliver of light, he couldn\u2019t help but imagine he\u2019d gone blind.<\/p>\n

Panic came with short, quick gasps of mildew. “Pa!” he shouted; but the word sounded odd, as though it had been trapped between the wood above him and the wood beneath \u2026 as though nothing hollow lie beyond that wood \u2026 as though\u2026.<\/p>\n

A nightmare\u2026. This had to be a nightmare, because if it wasn\u2019t\u2026.<\/p>\n

No<\/em>, he thought, it can’t be. Please, don’t let it be true<\/em>!<\/p>\n

Praying he was wrong, Joe tested the space around him. Roughhewn wooden boards prevented him from reaching either outward or upward. He could barely raise his knees, and his hands all too quickly hit against walls on either side.<\/p>\n

He was cocooned in a box cut from Ponderosa pine timber \u2026 a pine box \u2026 a coffin.<\/em><\/p>\n

\u2026A coffin that was nestled six feet deep where Luther Bishop had set it to show Joe what it would be like for Amy. Joe had been foolish enough to peer down into that hole, leaving Bishop to stand behind him.
\n\u201cNo!\u201d he shouted as panic became hysteria. \u201cHelp!\u201d He started kicking and punching at the wood above him. \u201cGet me out of here!\u201d His efforts brought a shower of dirt down on top of him. The soft, moist granules slipping through the poorly fit boards above forced him to close his eyes and mouth and turn his head away, pressing his cheek against the coarse wood until he could breathe again.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo,\u201d he whimpered then, keenly aware that no amount of shouting was going to release him from this hell. There was no denying the truth. Little Joe Cartwright had been buried alive.<\/p>\n

XxXxX<\/p>\n

Puzzled, Ben Cartwright kept his eyes locked on the fresh mound of earth as he nudged his horse closer. He\u2019d been so sure they would have found Little Joe at the small creek along the Truckee strip where young Amy Bishop had stolen the boy\u2019s heart. Luther Bishop might have been there, too, if Amy\u2019s father had been willing to consider Joe\u2019s request. Instead, Ben and his two oldest sons saw only a freshly dug grave.<\/p>\n

\u201cLooks like Mr. Bishop went ahead with it,\u201d Hoss said, reining in on Ben\u2019s left.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy?\u201d Adam asked at Ben\u2019s right. \u201cIt seems to me he would have wanted his daughter buried beside his wife.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah,\u201d Hoss agreed. \u201cBut if that gal loved this spot as much as Joe said\u2026.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI suppose.\u201d Adam didn\u2019t sound convinced.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat bothers me,\u201d Hoss went on, \u201cis why Joe ain\u2019t still here. Maybe he\u2019s helpin\u2019 to arrange the marker?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat bothers me\u2026,<\/em>\u201d Adam added. \u201cWhat was Mr. Bishop\u2019s hurry? Amy\u2019s funeral was set for tomorrow.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMaybe he just said that to keep us away?\u201d Hoss suggested.<\/p>\n

\u201cMaybe.\u201d Ben said the word more to acknowledge that he\u2019d heard his son than to agree with the possibility. Something was very odd about that fresh, quiet and completely unmarked grave. \u201cWhere are the flowers?\u201d he asked absently as he dismounted. \u201cJoe would have left flowers. So would Luther. Why didn\u2019t they?\u201d Kneeling down, he ran his hand along the soft dirt.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat are you thinking?\u201d Adam asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t know.\u201d He let a handful of dirt fall through his fingers. \u201cBut something isn\u2019t right, here.\u201d Standing abruptly, Ben wiped the dirt from his hand and remounted. \u201cCome on. Let\u2019s go find your brother.\u201d<\/p>\n

Just before he urged his horse into a trot, he thought he heard his young son calling out to him as though from a great distance. He stopped and turned, staring deep into the trees beyond. But he saw no sign of either Little Joe or the boy\u2019s black and white pony. \u201cOld fool,\u201d he muttered under his breath. Then he kicked his horse\u2019s flanks, inexplicably feeling a great need to hurry.<\/p>\n

Neither Ben nor his two sons noticed the pinto that sprinted from those very trees to trail after them.<\/p>\n

XxXxX<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat would Adam do?\u201d Joe whispered the question to himself, hoping thoughts of his brother might help calm him.<\/p>\n

If anyone could figure a way out of this mess, it would be Joe\u2019s oldest brother. There had to be a trick with angles or something. Maybe he could break off a piece of board and use it to push at or shift the soil. It was loose enough. Graves didn\u2019t get hard-packed right away. That took time.<\/p>\n

Graves<\/em>\u2026.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo. Don\u2019t think like that.\u201d Maybe Mr. Bishop hadn\u2019t even filled this grave completely. There might only be a few inches of soil overhead.<\/p>\n

\u2026Or there might be six feet worth. Joe had to figure the worst. And if he had six feet worth of soil on top of him, he had to figure a way to get through it. But first he had to figure his way out of the box. No matter how much he beat at, pulled at and scratched at the boards overhead, all he managed to accomplish was to tear up his fingers and hands and bring more dirt down on top of him.<\/p>\n

Soon he grew as terrified of being crushed by dirt rushing in as he was of suffocating six feet underground.<\/p>\n

\u201cHoss?\u201d Joe whispered next, missing his big brother\u2019s bear-like protection. Hoss could probably barrel his way out.<\/p>\n

But Joe didn\u2019t have anywhere near Adam\u2019s ability to figure things or Hoss\u2019s strength. Did he have any hope at all of digging his way out without suffocating?<\/p>\n

There\u2019s always room for hope, son<\/em>. That\u2019s what Pa would say.<\/p>\n

Maybe Adam was being silent in Joe\u2019s head and Hoss wasn\u2019t there to hold up the world for him; but Pa\u2019s words rang like a clarion inside him. He had to try. He had to do something. Feeling for the boards above him again, he noticed they were buckling inward. That was the weakest point. Maybe there\u2026. Maybe if he focused his pounding and pulling at that point, maybe\u2026.<\/p>\n

Another shower of dirt left him coughing. After it settled, he couldn\u2019t stop himself from shouting out uselessly once more, \u201cPa!\u201d<\/p>\n

XxXxX<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat do you want?\u201d Luther Bishop\u2019s greeting was curt, his words clipped.<\/p>\n

Ben tensed as an all-too-familiar sense of anger welled up within him, despite the sympathies he felt for his old rival\u2019s tragic loss. \u201cI thought my son might still be here.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou thought wrong.\u201d<\/p>\n

Inhaling enough strength to keep his anger at bay, Ben tried again. \u201cCould you tell me how long ago he left?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo?\u201d Ben repeated, surprised and confused by the short answer.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe came. He left. I wasn\u2019t looking at any clock.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cCome now, Bishop, I\u2019m only asking because\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s all you Cartwrights\u2019 do, ain\u2019t it? Ask for things that aren\u2019t and never should be yours! And then you take \u2018em no matter the answer!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m afraid I don\u2019t know what you\u2019re\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou took my land! Then that boy of yours took my daughter! And when that wasn\u2019t enough, he thought he could get away with telling me where to bury her! Where to bury<\/em> her! That boy doesn\u2019t have a decent bone in his body! Just like his pa, I reckon. The apple surely does not fall far from the tree! Now you just turn those horses of yours around and get off the Concho before I\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben went cold inside. For a moment he was numb; he lost sense of what Luther Bishop was saying. Then he cut off the man\u2019s tirade with a question that had suddenly gained a world of importance. \u201cAre you telling me you didn\u2019t already bury Amy out by the creek?\u201d<\/p>\n

Bishop raised his shotgun and cocked back the hammer. \u201cYou get off my land.\u201d He kept his voice low, sounding fully in control and deadly as could be. \u201cAnd don\u2019t you or any of your kin ever come back here.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhere\u2019s my boy?\u201d Ben shouted back.<\/p>\n

\u201cPa.\u201d Adam took hold of his arm. \u201cLet\u2019s go.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben ignored him. \u201cWhere is Joseph?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWe need to go, Pa,\u201d Hoss said next. \u201cCome on. Let\u2019s do as he says.\u201d<\/p>\n

Turning his anger on his sons, Ben shook off Adam\u2019s hand and swiveled toward Hoss. \u201cI will not<\/em> be\u2014\u201d Then his eyes landed on a horse his middle son was tending: Little Joe\u2019s pinto.<\/p>\n

\u201cLooks like he followed us, Pa.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cFollowed us?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMight be from all the way back to the creek,\u201d Hoss answered. \u201cForelegs and muzzle are still wet.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThe creek? Then Joe\u2026.\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam\u2019s hand returned, this time clutching Ben\u2019s shoulder. \u201cWe need to get back there, Pa.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben returned his attention to Luther Bishop. \u201cYou didn\u2019t\u2026. You couldn\u2019t\u2026.\u201d That\u2019s when he saw something else. There was a wagon pulling up to the barn, a wagon driven by Tom Woods, Virginia City\u2019s undertaker. Atop it was a fresh coffin. \u201cWho did you bury by the creek?\u201d Ben asked through the knot of terror forming in his throat.<\/p>\n

Raising his shotgun skyward, Bishop pulled the trigger. \u201cThe next one\u2019s in your chest if you don\u2019t ride out now!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou do that, mister,\u201d Hoss said, his voice sounding more dangerous than Bishop\u2019s, \u201cyou\u2019ll be dead before your next breath.\u201d<\/p>\n

Aware that both of his sons had their guns drawn and cocked, Ben kept his eyes forward. His own hands were fisting the reins.<\/p>\n

\u201cSo what?\u201d Bishop answered, unflinching. \u201cMy life ended when my Amy died.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat did you do?\u201d Ben demanded to know.<\/p>\n

Luther Bishop held his gaze. A moment later, he bobbed his head once, in a small nod of resignation. \u201cI knew what he was gonna ask for,\u201d he offered then, his tone as calm as it would had he been talking about the weather. \u201cKnew it yesterday. Hell, I knew it the night my Amy died. That night, after you all rode back to that fine Ponderosa of yours, it all came to me so clear. Clear as day. You won. After all these years, you won. I lost.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThere was no victory that night,\u201d Ben said. \u201cNot for anyone.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSure there was. I lost everything that night. If I lost, that means you won. But that didn\u2019t mean you shouldn\u2019t lose something, too. So I took care of it. I dug a grave right where your boy would want it. When he came by today, I went out there with him to show him.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben\u2019s eyes slipped away from Bishop\u2019s as he felt the world tilt beneath him. \u201cDear Lord, no,\u201d he said softly.<\/p>\n

\u201cMister\u2026.\u201d Hoss sounded even deadlier than before. \u201cIf you killed my little brother, I swear I\u2019ll—\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cKill him?\u201d Bishop said without concern. \u201cNo. I didn\u2019t kill him. All I did was bury him.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy you, miserable\u2026!\u201d<\/p>\n

A single gunshot was quickly followed by two more, jolting Ben back to awareness. Then he saw Luther Bishop lying dead in a growing pool of blood. Where Bishop\u2019s bullet had landed, Ben didn\u2019t know; nor did he care, once he realized both of his sons were unharmed.<\/p>\n

\u201cThere\u2019s a shovel over by the barn,\u201d Hoss said. \u201cI\u2019ll fetch it.\u201d He kicked his horse forward without waiting for a response.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe\u2019ll meet you there,\u201d Adam said, then. \u201cCome on, Pa.\u201d He took hold of Ben\u2019s reins to rouse the older man.<\/p>\n

An instant later, Ben Cartwright was kicking his horse\u2019s flanks and praying for nothing less than a miracle.<\/p>\n

XxXxX<\/p>\n

Joe realized he still had his gun.<\/p>\n

With hands shaking as much from fear as from pain, he slipped the gun free of its holster and opened the chamber. Bullets spilled with a muffled clatter onto the dirt strewn boards beneath him. Once the chamber was empty, Joe clicked it back into place, and then wrapped swollen, bloodied fingers around the barrel. It felt unbalanced in his grip; a hammer would work much better. But this would have to do. Gasping in another short breath of moldering air, Joe set to work again, this time hammering the barrel of his gun against the boards above him to spare his hands from further abuse.<\/p>\n

A cascade of dirt came down around him like a waterfall. Before long, the coffin was half full with it, Joe\u2019s nostrils were half clogged with it, and his throat was half choked with it.<\/p>\n

He needed a better plan. A faster plan.<\/p>\n

Maybe he could use the bullets after all. He could shoot off a section of board that was small enough to wield, yet big enough to use for digging. But danged if that didn\u2019t mean he would have to find the spilled bullets first \u2026 bullets that were now buried under all that fresh dirt he\u2019d let seep in.<\/p>\n

He wanted to crumble. He wanted to curl up into a ball and cry like an infant until his father\u2019s strong hands could reach down and pull him free. But curling up wasn\u2019t an option in that tight space. And his father would never even know to look for him underground. And crumbling wasn\u2019t going to happen until he was down there long enough to rot.<\/p>\n

And Little Joe Cartwright was a long way from being ready to rot six feet under.<\/p>\n

So he dug into all that dirt surrounding him. He would have let out a whoop and a holler when his fingers finally latched onto the third of three bullets\u2014if he\u2019d had enough strength and air. But the air was getting thinner with each breath. His thoughts were getting thinner, too. He was feeling lightheaded and sluggish.<\/p>\n

Three bullets would have to be enough.<\/p>\n

Fumbling in the dark, he slipped the bullets, one by one, into the chamber. He aimed upward at a slight angle away from his face. His finger was already easing back against the trigger when he started to wonder what he could do to avoid breathing in the avalanche of dirt that was sure to follow.<\/p>\n

His shirt<\/em>\u2026. He could use his shirt. Gently setting the gun beside him, he tore his shirt open, and then used his teeth to rip off the sleeves; it wasn\u2019t worth the struggle to try to slip his arms free. Finally, he pulled the cloth out from under him and wrapped it around his nose and mouth. With stiff and aching fingers, he tied it off as well as he could at the base of his skull\u2013just below the blood-crusted knot where Luther Bishop\u2019s shovel had struck him.<\/p>\n

Joe should never have let Amy\u2019s father get behind him. He\u2019d thought the man an ally then\u2014surely not a friend, but at least someone who shared in Joe\u2019s grief. He\u2019d thought the anger, the fighting \u2026 the feud<\/em> had come to an end, had died along with Amy.<\/p>\n

Amy<\/em>\u2026.<\/p>\n

Pain as fresh as it had been the moment Amy had last closed her eyes filled Joe\u2019s throat with a clump of despair every bit as troublesome as all the dirt he\u2019d swallowed.<\/p>\n

Don\u2019t<\/em>, he warned himself. Don\u2019t think about that now. All that mattered was getting out.<\/p>\n

But he was so tired. And he knew he would never reach the surface on his own. His strength was gone. His damaged hands were no longer working properly. And Amy \u2026 his sweet Amy with the springtime smile \u2026 Amy was dead.<\/p>\n

Joe could just lie back and close his eyes. He could let sleep take him and ease him gently into Amy\u2019s waiting arms\u2026.<\/p>\n

Joe jolted awake. Was that a growl, he\u2019d heard? The rumble of his father\u2019s voice, perhaps, scolding him for something he\u2019d done?<\/p>\n

No. The ground itself was rumbling, spilling another flurry of dirt over him. And Joe remembered he had to get out.<\/p>\n

His gun\u2026. Yes. He was going to use his gun.<\/p>\n

A last-minute thought had him packing down the soil around him, making room for more to fall and giving him more room to maneuver. Then he stuffed bits of cloth into both ears to help muffle what was bound to be a deafening explosion in such a confined space.<\/p>\n

He was ready. This was it. He had one chance left to get free. Stealing himself for the probability that he would suffocate before he was even halfway to the surface, Joe aimed his gun by feel alone. He held his breath\u2026.<\/p>\n

\u2026And pulled the trigger.<\/p>\n

As soon as he took his third shot, Joe dropped his gun, heaved the loosened board into the dirt above him, and started shimmying upwards through a sea of loose soil.<\/p>\n

XxXxX<\/p>\n

\u201cDid you hear that?\u201d Adam asked.<\/p>\n

Ben steadied his horse, looking uncertainly at his oldest boy. He could almost believe he\u2019d heard three distant, muffled gunshots.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe\u2019s still alive!\u201d Adam shouted, jumping to the ground and sprinting to the fresh grave.<\/p>\n

Ben was slower but no less eager when he saw that the mound of earth was undulating, rippling like waves in a gentle sea. And \u2026 was the mound smaller than before?<\/p>\n

In an instant, Ben was at his son\u2019s side, scooping out soil and praying, silently and desperately praying. He reached solid wood and stopped briefly, confused. Had the coffin been buried so shallowly? No. He could feel two edges \u2026 three \u2026 and those edges told him the piece of wood he\u2019d uncovered was far too small to be a coffin. It was a piece, only, a part broken from a larger board.<\/p>\n

The chunk of wood was ripped from his hands by Adam\u2019s frantic efforts. \u201cI\u2019ve got him!\u201d Adam shouted. \u201cKeep digging!\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben dug deeper. When his fingers brushed against a hand, his heart nearly stopped. He grasped hold of it and prayed for Joe\u2019s fingers to curl around his own. They didn\u2019t. \u201cPull, Adam! Pull!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWe need to clear out more of this dirt!\u201d<\/p>\n

Deeper still and he felt a wrist \u2026 an elbow\u2026. \u201cNow, Adam! Pull!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe won\u2019t budge, Pa! Keep digging!\u201d<\/p>\n

A tuft of hair\u2026.<\/p>\n

Ben and Adam both focused then on clearing dirt from around Joe\u2019s head. \u201cWe\u2019re here, Joseph! Come on, son. Don\u2019t give up, now!\u201d His hand shaking, Ben pushed down the cloth Joe had tied around his nose and mouth. \u201cBreathe, boy! Breathe!\u201d<\/p>\n

He sensed Adam beside him. Ben\u2019s oldest son was hesitating, silently willing his brother to do as his father said. \u201cDon\u2019t stop, Adam. Keep digging.\u201d He wanted to help, needed<\/em> to help, but he didn\u2019t dare let go of Joe\u2019s head, knowing the dirt could shift over top of him again far too easily. \u201cBreathe, boy,\u201d he repeated softly. \u201cPlease, Dear Lord, please breathe.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben swiped his fingers under Joe\u2019s nose, hoping to clear it of dirt. Was that a response? He thought maybe Joe\u2019s nostrils had flared, but he couldn\u2019t be sure. \u201cJoseph? Son?\u201d The boy\u2019s brow moved; Ben was certain of it. Little Joe was responding. The boy was breathing. He was breathing! \u201cThat\u2019s it, son! We\u2019re here! You\u2019re safe!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cPa?\u201d Adam asked softly, hopefully.<\/p>\n

Ben turned to him and met his anxious gaze with a grateful one of his own. After a terse nod, he said, \u201cHe\u2019s still with us.\u201d<\/p>\n

As though to provide an answer of his own, Joe started coughing.<\/p>\n

The tension melted in Adam\u2019s shoulders and the start of a grin eased the stress from the corners of his eyes, even while his little brother\u2019s coughs turned to heaves as the boy began retching out a belly full of black dirt. Then Ben\u2019s oldest boy returned to his efforts, digging deeper and deeper into the loose earth with renewed determination.<\/p>\n

Ben barely noticed when Hoss arrived with the shovel. His attention was focused entirely on Joe. A small trickle of blood along the side of Joe\u2019s neck drew Ben\u2019s eye to a piece of cloth plugging his son\u2019s right ear. Plucking it out, he noticed that the ear was bleeding. Curious and concerned, he found a piece of cloth in Joe\u2019s left ear, too, but was relieved to see no blood. \u201cWhat\u2019s happened to you, boy?\u201d he said quietly.<\/p>\n

As the dirt fell away around Joe\u2019s upper body, Ben drew his son closer to him, resting the boy\u2019s left ear\u2014his good ear\u2014against his chest. He could feel as well as hear Joe\u2019s breaths coming faster, and Joe\u2019s grip on his arms tightened. \u201cYou\u2019re free, son. You\u2019re safe.\u201d<\/p>\n

The softly spoken words did nothing to soothe his son\u2019s fears. Joe started breathing too fast, and the boy\u2019s fierce grip drew a soft snap from the seam of Ben\u2019s left sleeve.<\/p>\n

\u201cShhh.\u201d He gently rubbed Joe\u2019s arm. \u201cIt\u2019s all right, son. You\u2019re safe.\u201d<\/p>\n

Little Joe craned his neck and opened weary eyes to gaze up at his father. Ben saw fear in those eyes, so much fear he could almost feel himself trembling. Hoping to ease at least some of that fear, he offered up a small smile. \u201cYou\u2019ll be free in no time.\u201d<\/p>\n

The words did nothing to comfort his son. Joe\u2019s brow knitted and his breaths came quicker and harder.<\/p>\n

\u201cWait, Hoss,\u201d Adam\u2019s voice called out beside them. \u201cHis ankle\u2019s caught.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cLet me try,\u201d Hoss answered. \u201cHey, you smell that? Gun smoke.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cLook down there,\u201d Adam said. \u201cInside the \u2026 box<\/em>.\u201d When Adam hesitated on the word, Ben felt a chill run through him, and was grateful his oldest boy chose not to refer to the pine box as a coffin. \u201cIt\u2019s Joe\u2019s gun,\u201d Adam added. \u201cHe must\u2019ve fired it.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cReckon he was tryin\u2019 to get someone\u2019s attention?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cUnderground?\u201d Adam answered. \u201cNot likely. But he had a piece of board in his hands when we found him. Maybe he shot it loose when he couldn\u2019t break through with his hands.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben looked toward his older boys, sharing glances that made it clear they all knew Adam\u2019s assumption was likely true. Then he returned his attention to the thin bit of blood that had escaped his son\u2019s ear. \u201cJoe? Did you\u2026.\u201d Ben waited for Joe to look at him again, but the boy held his eyes tightly closed. \u201cDid you fire your gun while you were still trapped down there?\u201d<\/p>\n

Joe\u2019s hand fisted.<\/p>\n

\u201cJoseph? Look at me, son.\u201d<\/p>\n

Joe started pounding his fist lightly against Ben\u2019s chest, while slowly rolling his head back and forth. \u201cI can\u2019t<\/em> still be down there,\u201d the boy said in a voice grown rough and raspy. \u201cI can\u2019t<\/em>.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re not, son. You\u2019re safe. And before you know it, you\u2019ll be\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cGot it!\u201d Hoss hollered out none too soon.<\/p>\n

With the coffin\u2019s final grip on Little Joe broken, Ben scooped his son out of that devil\u2019s hole. \u201cYou\u2019ll be home<\/em>, son. We\u2019re taking you home.\u201d<\/p>\n

XxXxX<\/p>\n

Ben Cartwright sat in his chair by the fire, his eyes locked on the flames. Outwardly, he was still. The world around him had gone silent, except for the crackle of burning logs and the ominous ticking of the long clock by the door as a disturbing and seemingly endless night slowly moved toward a new dawn. The quiet, solemn atmosphere lent a stark contrast to what lie behind the man\u2019s troubled gaze. His mind was awhirl with a crossbreed of memories and conjured visions of what his young son had endured.<\/p>\n

\u201cCouldn\u2019t sleep?\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben looked up to see his oldest boy on the stairs. There was no need to answer. \u201cI keep imagining,\u201d he said instead, \u201cwhat it must\u2019ve been like for him.\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam\u2019s chest rose with a deep, weary breath as he crossed the room. \u201cYou\u2019re not alone.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe used good sense trying to get out.\u201d Ben\u2019s brows lowered as he remembered how Joe had almost saved himself. \u201cUsing his gun to break through took guts. If it hadn\u2019t worked, he would have suffocated that much faster. And he knew if it did work, he could end up deaf.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes,\u201d Adam agreed. \u201cHe knew. And he had enough sense to try to plug his ears. It almost worked, too.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt did<\/em> work. Paul is convinced his ear drum will heal.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDr. Martin said it should<\/em> heal. But even if it doesn\u2019t\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt will!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes. Of course, it will.\u201d Adam looked down as he settled onto the hearth.<\/p>\n

Ben was being obstinate; but he couldn\u2019t help it. He didn\u2019t have the strength of will at that moment to rise above his emotions. \u201cI doubt I would have been quite so \u2026 rational,\u201d he admitted after a moment.<\/p>\n

\u201cSure you would have. He is<\/em> your son.\u201d The half-grin Adam gave his father came without the usual glint in his eye, but Ben appreciated it all the same.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe\u2019s his own man now, Adam, and you know it.\u201d Easing further back in his chair, Ben struggled to move past the memory of his youngest boy drawing a gun on him, as Joe had done just a few days earlier. Little Joe had held a gun to his father, because his father had lacked the good, rational<\/em> sense to do what needed to be done: to return the body of an innocent boy directly into the hands of the boy\u2019s father, where he belonged.<\/p>\n

\u201cEverything he knows, he learned from you.\u201d At first, Adam\u2019s words initiated nothing more than a grunt from Ben.<\/p>\n

There was much that this particular father seemed to have forgotten. \u201cNot everything,\u201d Ben said then. \u201cYou\u2019ve taught him quite a bit, yourself.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cEverything I know, I learned from you.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh?\u201d Ben pushed his eyebrows upward in a brief attempt at levity. \u201cThen I wasted a lot of money on that college education of yours.\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam chuckled softly. \u201cYou know perfectly well what I mean.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDo I?\u201d Leaning forward, Ben rested his elbows on the armrests of his chair and steepled his fingers together in front of him. \u201cI\u2019m not so sure. Clearly, I let all those years of bitterness toward Luther Bishop cloud my thinking.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou had good reason.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cTo what end, Adam? To what end?\u201d His eyes drifted to the top of the stairs.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou can\u2019t blame yourself.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWe should have stopped all that fighting years ago.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou did,\u201d Adam assured him. \u201cIt was Luther who stirred things up again.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat happened to him? How could any man end up so filled with hatred as to do something so \u2026 so unthinkable? My God, Adam! To willingly, knowingly<\/em> bury someone alive<\/em>?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe regretted it, you know?\u201d<\/p>\n

Taken off guard by the statement, Ben studied his son. \u201cYou can\u2019t know that.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe came right out and told us what he did. He wanted us to find Joe.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo. That\u2019s not regret. True regret would have had him undo what he\u2019d done. He would have rescued Joe without waiting for us!\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam shrugged. \u201cMaybe. But \u2026 somewhere deep within him, he did regret it. Otherwise, he would never have confessed. And he would never have\u2026.\u201d Adam\u2019s eyes took on a look of guilt, as though he\u2019d said more than he should have.<\/p>\n

\u201cWould never have what?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re not going to like what I\u2019ve got to say.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOut with it, boy!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cLuther baited Hoss and I to shoot him. We both saw it. We both knew it. And we both did it, anyway.\u201d Guilt became hope for absolution, as Adam the man became startlingly reminiscent of Adam the boy looking at his father with a regret of his own reflected in his eyes.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat are you saying?\u201d<\/p>\n

The boy disappeared. \u201cThat bullet of his would never have struck any of us, not the way Luther was aiming.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo!\u201d Ben said gruffly. \u201cI won\u2019t hear it! Listen to yourself! Now it\u2019s you<\/em> who is looking to take on blame you don\u2019t deserve! Confound it, boy! Sheriff Coffee has witnesses that Luther Bishop fired the first shot! Tom Woods and two of Luther\u2019s ranch hands saw you and your brother shoot him defending me!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cPa \u2026 I know what the sheriff said. And I know what Hoss and I saw. And I just \u2026 I needed for you to know, too.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben drew in a deep breath that did nothing to refresh his spirit. \u201cYou did what you had to do, Adam. I won\u2019t see it any other way. And I won\u2019t have you feeling guilty. Thanks to you and Hoss, we got to Little Joe in time. If we\u2019d been even a moment later\u2026.\u201d Closing his eyes, Ben wished he could shut out the image of his young son in that grave \u2026 the feel of the boy\u2019s hand reaching up through the dirt \u2026 the smell of earthen vomit \u2026 the rasp of his son\u2019s voice as Joe pleaded to believe he\u2019d truly made it out, that his family had come for him, that it wasn\u2019t a dream \u2026 that he was finally free.<\/p>\n

Those desperate moments were likely to haunt Ben until it was time for him to rest blissfully unaware in his own grave.<\/p>\n

And he wasn\u2019t the only one being haunted. A ghostly howl broke through his musings and drew him to his feet. He climbed the stairs no more than a step behind his younger and more agile oldest son, prepared to remind Little Joe once again that the boy was home and safe.<\/p>\n

But it wasn\u2019t Joe who needed him.<\/p>\n

XxXxX<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m sorry, Pa,\u201d Hoss gasped through ragged breaths. \u201cI thought \u2026 thought it was me. Thought I\u2019d \u2026.\u201d He gulped down a solid breath of air. \u201cYou thought I was dead, and I \u2026 couldn\u2019t tell you no different. You put me in a box, and \u2026 closed the lid, and\u2026.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben nodded appreciatively to Hop Sing, who had been the first to reach Hoss and who now stepped quietly away. The pull of Hop Sing\u2019s eyes, moving from Hoss to Adam and into the hallway beyond, made it clear he was equally concerned about the wellbeing of Ben\u2019s sons, all three of them. Then, sitting down on the edge of the bed, Ben wrapped his arm around the son whose needs were strongest at that moment. \u201cIt was just a dream.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWeren\u2019t like any other dream I ever had.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNeither was mine,\u201d Adam admitted from the doorway. Ben noted his reluctance to step all the way inside and the way his eyes kept sliding toward Little Joe\u2019s room. He was standing guard, Ben realized. Knowingly or not, Adam was trying to watch over both of his brothers at that moment and was uncertain about where he was most needed. Just like Hop Sing.<\/p>\n

“You had a bad dream?\u201d Hoss asked.<\/p>\n

Yes, Adam, too, needed comfort. But, like Ben, Adam would seek that comfort within himself. Closing his arms like a blanket around him, Adam looked toward some invisible specter on the floor. \u201cThe worst kind.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI called out to you,\u201d Hoss went on when Adam said nothing further. \u201cYou and Pa. I shouted and shouted, but you couldn\u2019t hear me.\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam sighed. \u201cWith me, it was.\u2026 At first I thought it was water, and I was drowning.\u201d His brows furrowed. \u201cBut it got thicker and tighter around me, until\u2026.\u201d Taking a deep breath, Adam glanced to Hoss and Hop Sing before meeting his father\u2019s gaze. \u201cIn the end I found myself trying to swim through dirt. I couldn\u2019t shout. I couldn\u2019t breathe. And I couldn\u2019t move a muscle.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cLike Joe.\u201d Ben\u2019s voice was almost too soft to hear as his thoughts took him back to that horrific grave.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat are we gonna do?\u201d Hoss asked. \u201cIf we\u2019re havin\u2019 dreams like that, imagine what it\u2019s gotta be like for Joe.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ben nodded. \u201cYes. We can\u2019t help but imagine.\u201d Returning his attention to his sons, he drew his back up straight. \u201cAnd that is precisely why we are having these dreams.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou too, Pa?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cLittle Joe lived through a nightmare,\u201d Ben said without answering. \u201cBut that is what we all need to remember: he lived<\/em> through it. He\u2019s still with us. And it will be up to us to help him know that he\u2019s safe and he has nothing left to fear.\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam also stood taller then, letting go the blanket of his arms. \u201cWhich means we can\u2019t let him know we\u2019re having these dreams.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s more than that, Adam,\u201d Ben said. \u201cWe must find a way to avoid such dreams. It\u2019s doing none of us any good\u2014and it certainly will not help your brother\u2014if we keep trying to put ourselves in Joe\u2019s place, even subconsciously. We couldn\u2019t do it when it counted, and we can\u2019t do it now.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cEasier said than done.\u201d Adam looked as doubtful as he sounded.<\/p>\n

\u201cI know,\u201d Ben answered. \u201cBelieve me, I know. But we must try.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, I ain\u2019t tryin\u2019 any more tonight; I can tell you that.\u201d Freeing himself from the tangle of blankets on his bed, Hoss pushed himself to his feet. \u201cI\u2019ll go put on some coffee.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t think you\u2019ll have to,\u201d Adam said. \u201cHop Sing slipped past me and headed downstairs not two minutes ago. I\u2019d wager a bet he\u2019s putting the pot on the stove as we speak.\u201d<\/p>\n

Hoss met his brother\u2019s small smile with an appreciative grin. \u201cHow is it he always knows just what we need?\u201d<\/p>\n

Joining his sons in the doorway, Ben stepped between them and draped his arms across both of their shoulders. \u201cI think, perhaps, because he needs it, too.\u201d<\/p>\n

XxXxX<\/p>\n

Joe heard voices. There were no discernable words \u2013 or none that mattered, anyway. What did matter was the deep tones and calming cadence. These were the voices of his family \u2013 and of one person in particular: his father. Joe was reminded of being a small child nestled up against his father\u2019s chest, lulled to sleep by the muted rumble of his father\u2019s voice intermixed with the soft rhythm of Pa\u2019s heartbeat. But this time the sound was pulling Joe awake.<\/p>\n

He didn\u2019t want to come awake. He found comfort in the dream, so unlike the reality he knew surrounded him. Reality was a nightmare of too-close pine walls and the moldy smell of rich earth. In the dream, Joe rested upon a feather mattress with fresh sheets caressing his skin and the welcome aroma of coffee calling him to breakfast.<\/p>\n

\u201cLook at that,\u201d Hoss said, the words thick and heavy to Joe\u2019s ears. \u201cSun\u2019s comin\u2019 up.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo,\u201d Joe muttered aloud, and was surprised to find his own voice as muffled as his brother\u2019s.<\/p>\n

\u201cJoe?\u201d Adam said then.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo,\u201d Joe repeated, desperate to keep the dream close. He knew there would be no sun to greet him if he woke, and no brothers beside him.<\/p>\n

\u201cEasy, son,\u201d Pa\u2019s voice soothed from afar. \u201cIt\u2019s just a bad dream. You\u2019re safe here, boy. You\u2019re safe. Come awake now and see.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo,\u201d Joe gasped through sharp, panting breaths that filled him with the scents of coffee, leather and bay rum cologne. The bad dream was reality. This \u2026 this bed, this moment in the presence of his father and brothers \u2026 this dream meant safety. It was worth clinging to. It was worth fighting for.<\/p>\n

Fisting the soft sheets in his gloved hands, Joe\u2019s thoughts grew jumbled. He hadn\u2019t been wearing gloves when Luther Bishop had dropped him into the grave, and he wouldn\u2019t be wearing them in bed. Both the dream and what he knew of reality sifted away like dirt through his fingers. And Joe couldn\u2019t stop his eyes from fluttering open to meet those of his father.<\/p>\n

\u201cThere, now.\u201d Pa smiled. \u201cYou see? Just a bad dream.\u201d<\/p>\n

Joe\u2019s father was right there in front of him, backlit by the golden hue of a rising sun streaming through the window. But Pa\u2019s voice was dulled, as though by distance. By distance and walls, or \u2026 six feet of dirt?<\/p>\n

Confused, Joe looked beyond his father to see both of his brothers moving closer. Adam was stepping away from the desk where a steaming cup sat on the blotter, and Hoss from the parlor chair someone must have taken from the guest room down the hall. Both were smiling. And, like their father, both were bathed in glowing light.<\/p>\n

It wasn\u2019t real. It couldn\u2019t be. It was too perfect \u2026 too \u2026 impossible.<\/p>\n

Closing his eyes again, Joe held them tightly shut as his pa\u2019s hand gripped his shoulder. \u201cJoseph? Can you \u2026 hear<\/em> me, son?\u201d<\/p>\n

Hear him? Yes, of course, Joe could hear him. But the sound of the words left Joe feeling as though his ears were clogged with water or \u2026 or dirt. They were ringing, too, and his head felt \u2026 thick. Thick and heavy, like Hoss\u2019s voice had moments earlier.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe will, Pa,\u201d Adam said. \u201cGive him time.\u201d<\/p>\n

Joe dared another look, this time seeing tension in his father\u2019s jawline and concern in his oldest brother\u2019s eyes. Joe focused on those eyes. \u201cTime for what?\u201d he asked, still disturbed by the faraway timbre of his own voice.<\/p>\n

But Adam didn\u2019t appear disturbed or even concerned<\/em> anymore. Pa\u2019s tension disappeared, too.<\/p>\n

\u201cTime to wake up, I reckon.\u201d Hoss\u2019s answer drew Joe\u2019s gaze to the other side of the bed, where he saw his middle brother grinning like Christmas morning.<\/p>\n

Joe couldn\u2019t make sense of any of what his family was saying. He couldn\u2019t even make sense of the fact that he was in his own bed. Had it been a dream, as his father had suggested? How could it have been? The back of his head still hurt where Luther Bishop had struck him. And his hands\u2026. He looked to his hands to find his fingers wrapped in bandages. He could also feel the sting of every torn nail and bruised knuckle.<\/p>\n

\u201cHow?\u201d When Joe\u2019s question did not elicit an answer, he returned his attention to the men surrounding him. Hoss\u2019s grin was gone, Adam\u2019s brows were knitted, and pa\u2019s jaw was as tense as ever; and for a long moment, they were so focused on looking to each other Joe knew not a one of them wanted to tell him \u2013 as though telling him would make the worst parts of his bad dream real.<\/p>\n

But Joe already knew it had been real. \u201cI couldn\u2019t breathe,\u201d he remembered then. \u201cAnd my foot was caught.\u201d<\/p>\n

Joe\u2019s oldest brother was first to push past the silence. \u201cWe got to you just in time,\u201d Adam said.<\/p>\n

\u201cThank God,\u201d Pa added.<\/p>\n

They took turns then, speaking in what Joe heard as disjointed sentences and awakening memories that came in dreamlike snippets. Pa had cradled Joe in his arms, as though he were still a child, while his brothers had worked to free his trapped ankle. Joe had nestled against his father\u2019s broad chest, feeling comforted despite the too-fast heartbeat and praying it was truly there for him to hear, that he truly had been freed from the grave in which Amy\u2019s father had entombed him. He could feel himself riding horseback wrapped in his father\u2019s arms, and then stumbling up the stairs, supported by his brothers. These were the pieces of the dream he\u2019d been so afraid to wake from, the dream he now knew had been the reality he\u2019d prayed to find for however long he\u2019d been trapped in that pine box.<\/p>\n

Pa had said Joe\u2019d had a bad dream. But none of it had truly been a dream at all. Amy was dead. Her father had buried Joe alive. And even before all of that, Joe had held a gun on his own father. No dream, however bad, could be worse than the reality such horrific truths painted for him. And yet, at that moment, in his room with his father and brothers beside him, Joe knew the nightmare was over. Little Joe was still alive, because his family had come when he\u2019d needed them the most.<\/p>\n

When Hop Sing called his family down to breakfast, all three were reluctant to leave him. But Joe was not at all reluctant to drift back to sleep. He had faith that when he awoke again, he would be right there in his bed with his family less than a holler away \u2013 the kind of faith that ran far more than six feet deep.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u00a0~The End<\/em><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Tags:\u00a0 Adam Cartwright,\u00a0Ben Cartwright,\u00a0Hoss Cartwright,\u00a0Joe \/ Little Joe Cartwright,\u00a0SJS<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

<\/g><\/svg><\/i> \"Loading\"<\/p>\n

<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Summary:\u00a0 For a brief moment in time, Amy’s death brought Little Joe and Luther Bishop together. But when the moment ended and Luther realized he had nothing left to lose, burying the hatchet with Ben Cartwright took on a new level of meaning.<\/p>\n

A What Happened Next Story for The Truckee Strip.<\/p>\n

Rating:\u00a0 K+\u00a0 (6,855 words)<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":22,"featured_media":4492,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"template-full-width-post.php","format":"standard","meta":{"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false},"categories":[23,41,13],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-11531","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-drama","category-hurtcomfort","category-whn","wpcat-23-id","wpcat-41-id","wpcat-13-id"],"a3_pvc":{"activated":true,"total_views":2135,"today_views":1},"jetpack_featured_media_url":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/04\/truckee60.jpg?fit=768%2C576&ssl=1","jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"jetpack-related-posts":[{"id":851,"url":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?p=851","url_meta":{"origin":11531,"position":0},"title":"The World Is The Totality Of Facts (by claire)","author":"Claire","date":"April 19, 2004","format":false,"excerpt":"Summary: \u00a0Unpleasant news affects Adam profoundly\u00a0and Joe must battle to help his brother find new meaning in life Rated: K (8,250 words)","rel":"","context":"In "Adam \/ Joe"","block_context":{"text":"Adam \/ Joe","link":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?cat=1091"},"img":{"alt_text":"","src":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/09\/Indiana-Dividing-Line.jpg?fit=716%2C554&ssl=1&resize=350%2C200","width":350,"height":200,"srcset":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/09\/Indiana-Dividing-Line.jpg?fit=716%2C554&ssl=1&resize=350%2C200 1x, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/09\/Indiana-Dividing-Line.jpg?fit=716%2C554&ssl=1&resize=525%2C300 1.5x, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/09\/Indiana-Dividing-Line.jpg?fit=716%2C554&ssl=1&resize=700%2C400 2x"},"classes":[]},{"id":57613,"url":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?p=57613","url_meta":{"origin":11531,"position":1},"title":"The Zephyr (by Wrangler)","author":"Wrangler","date":"August 30, 2025","format":false,"excerpt":"Summary: When a man seeking revenge traps Pa in a mine, Little Joe races against time to find him. Adam, Hoss, and Hop Sing must then rescue them both. Rating T, WC 23,175","rel":"","context":"In "Ben \/ Joe"","block_context":{"text":"Ben \/ Joe","link":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?cat=1015"},"img":{"alt_text":"Ben Little Joe Hoss","src":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/07\/Screenshot_20250715_182136_YouTube.jpg?fit=761%2C720&ssl=1&resize=350%2C200","width":350,"height":200,"srcset":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/07\/Screenshot_20250715_182136_YouTube.jpg?fit=761%2C720&ssl=1&resize=350%2C200 1x, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/07\/Screenshot_20250715_182136_YouTube.jpg?fit=761%2C720&ssl=1&resize=525%2C300 1.5x, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/07\/Screenshot_20250715_182136_YouTube.jpg?fit=761%2C720&ssl=1&resize=700%2C400 2x"},"classes":[]},{"id":15151,"url":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?p=15151","url_meta":{"origin":11531,"position":2},"title":"Something About Amy (by JC)","author":"JC","date":"August 28, 2017","format":false,"excerpt":"Summary: \u00a0Tennyson said, \"It's better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all.\" \u00a0What would Joe Cartwright say? (WHI\/WHN for The Truckee Strip and part of the Ties That Bind AU series) Rating K+ \u00a0 (1782 words) Ties That Bind Series, links to stories within the\u2026","rel":"","context":"In "Alternate Universe"","block_context":{"text":"Alternate Universe","link":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?cat=7"},"img":{"alt_text":"","src":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/04\/truckee60.jpg?fit=768%2C576&ssl=1&resize=350%2C200","width":350,"height":200,"srcset":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/04\/truckee60.jpg?fit=768%2C576&ssl=1&resize=350%2C200 1x, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/04\/truckee60.jpg?fit=768%2C576&ssl=1&resize=525%2C300 1.5x, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/04\/truckee60.jpg?fit=768%2C576&ssl=1&resize=700%2C400 2x"},"classes":[]},{"id":12221,"url":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?p=12221","url_meta":{"origin":11531,"position":3},"title":"Truth Be Known (by DebbieB)","author":"DebbieB","date":"October 1, 2002","format":false,"excerpt":"Summary:\u00a0 All Joe Cartwright wanted was a date for the dance, instead he ends up with more trouble than he had ever thought possible. Rated PG \u00a0WC 15,000","rel":"","context":"In "Drama"","block_context":{"text":"Drama","link":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?cat=23"},"img":{"alt_text":"","src":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/wp-content\/uploads\/2017\/03\/TinBadge.jpg?fit=730%2C564&ssl=1&resize=350%2C200","width":350,"height":200,"srcset":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/wp-content\/uploads\/2017\/03\/TinBadge.jpg?fit=730%2C564&ssl=1&resize=350%2C200 1x, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/wp-content\/uploads\/2017\/03\/TinBadge.jpg?fit=730%2C564&ssl=1&resize=525%2C300 1.5x, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/wp-content\/uploads\/2017\/03\/TinBadge.jpg?fit=730%2C564&ssl=1&resize=700%2C400 2x"},"classes":[]},{"id":3371,"url":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?p=3371","url_meta":{"origin":11531,"position":4},"title":"Destiny Next Door (by karilyn)","author":"karilyn","date":"November 17, 2008","format":false,"excerpt":"Summary: Little Joe finds true love with a girl he has known all his life, but their wedded bliss begins unexpectedly! \u00a0Rated:\u00a0 MA (13,925 words) This is a Little Joe romance.\u00a0 It is rated MA due to sexual situations, so be forewarned!\u00a0 This story also features Amy Bishop from the\u2026","rel":"","context":"In "Alternate Universe"","block_context":{"text":"Alternate Universe","link":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?cat=7"},"img":{"alt_text":"","src":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/02\/07-2.jpg?fit=640%2C477&ssl=1&resize=350%2C200","width":350,"height":200,"srcset":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/02\/07-2.jpg?fit=640%2C477&ssl=1&resize=350%2C200 1x, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/02\/07-2.jpg?fit=640%2C477&ssl=1&resize=525%2C300 1.5x"},"classes":[]},{"id":45715,"url":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?p=45715","url_meta":{"origin":11531,"position":5},"title":"A Lesson in Vocabulary (by Judy)","author":"Judy","date":"April 17, 2000","format":false,"excerpt":"Summary:\u00a0 Out of the mouths of babes. Rated:\u00a0 PG Word Count:\u00a0 9942","rel":"","context":"In "Drama"","block_context":{"text":"Drama","link":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?cat=23"},"img":{"alt_text":"","src":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/wp-content\/uploads\/2023\/03\/Preserving-Their-Legacy.png?fit=732%2C477&ssl=1&resize=350%2C200","width":350,"height":200,"srcset":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/wp-content\/uploads\/2023\/03\/Preserving-Their-Legacy.png?fit=732%2C477&ssl=1&resize=350%2C200 1x, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/wp-content\/uploads\/2023\/03\/Preserving-Their-Legacy.png?fit=732%2C477&ssl=1&resize=525%2C300 1.5x, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/wp-content\/uploads\/2023\/03\/Preserving-Their-Legacy.png?fit=732%2C477&ssl=1&resize=700%2C400 2x"},"classes":[]}],"jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/11531","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/22"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=11531"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/11531\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/4492"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=11531"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=11531"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=11531"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}