A Son for a Son: \u00a0Brand Edition<\/strong><\/p>\n Chapter 1: The Stranger<\/strong><\/p>\n Joe Cartwright pulled a cloth from where he’d tucked it into his belt and used it to wipe sweat from his brow. The sun was growing hotter by the minute. He would have to hurry if he had any hope of finishing the repairs to the front porch before his self-imposed deadline of high noon. Grinning at the challenge, he returned to his work, putting everything he had into sawing the final cuts in the wood plank affixed to the sawhorses in front of him.<\/p>\n He’d planned to have enough chores finished by the time his pa and brothers got home to prove them all wrong. He wasn’t too young. He wasn’t irresponsible. He was as competent and capable as any of them\u2014maybe as all of them combined.<\/p>\n Joe’s grin turned into a chuckle. He knew better than to actually believe he could outwork Pa, Adam and Hoss all together. It didn’t matter. He was going to finish enough chores during his family’s absence to finally earn the full respect of each and every one of them. He had one more week during which this was his ranch, his alone. Not even Hop Sing was around to interrupt him.<\/p>\n With no one else around, he became fully engrossed in his work. Too much so, apparently. He failed to notice an approaching rider until the man’s horse kicked up a cloud of dust right in front of him.<\/p>\n Joe looked up in surprise, his heart jumping into a wild rhythm. He almost shouted out in anger, accusing the man of\u2026what<\/i>? What had he done, after all, except catch Joe off guard? Only after Joe managed to calm himself with a deep breath, swallowing his complaint, was he able to take a good look at the newcomer, and then he noticed there was something odd about the man, like he didn’t belong here\u2014maybe even like he knew<\/i> he didn’t belong here.<\/p>\n He was dressed like an easterner, wearing a gray suit that had probably once been as fine as any but was now layered with trail dust and riddled with holes and loose threads. His gray hair was darker and thicker than Pa’s silver. It was also long enough to show he had not been too concerned about looking for a barber anytime recently. At least he had been properly diligent about keeping it combed. Clearly such diligence didn’t extend to his razor, however; his cheeks and neck were dark with stubble.<\/p>\n Like his now tattered clothes, he seemed too fine for the west, as though he hadn’t been\u2014and perhaps still wasn’t\u2014prepared to face its harsh demands. Nonetheless, he held himself high in the saddle, apparently unconcerned with the incongruous nature of his appearance. He even offered a pleasant smile.<\/p>\n “You a Cartwright?”<\/p>\n Joe’s anger melted into curiosity. He nodded and stepped out from behind the wood. “I’m Joe Cartwright,” he answered as he wiped his hands on the cloth. “What can I do for you?”<\/p>\n “I’m an old friend of your father. From back east.”<\/p>\n “Then I’m sure he’ll be sorry he missed you. He’s out on a cattle drive with my brothers. But if you come back\u2014”<\/p>\n “No!” the stranger barked, locking his gaze unnervingly on Joe’s. It was even more unsettling to see he still wore that smile despite the sharp sound of his voice. The smile looked out of place, like a mask hiding something dark, maybe even cruel in the man’s eerily gray eyes.<\/p>\n “I’m here now,” the man went on in a more casual tone, suddenly sounding as though he had merely stopped by for a pleasant visit. “Here for a reason.”<\/p>\n “What reason?” Joe found himself breathing faster, his heart picking up its wild beat once more.<\/p>\n The stranger’s smile broadened. Maybe it was meant to put Joe at ease. Instead, it set the youngest Cartwright’s blood cold. That smile was not right. Not right at all. “We’ve a debt between us, your father and I. An old debt.” He spoke slowly, as though he was thinking hard about his choice of words. “I’m here to finally take care of it. Your father, you know, he won’t mind whether or not this debt ever gets paid. Probably even forgot all about it. But not me. No. I’ve been living with it for too long. Far too long.”<\/p>\n When the stranger was finished, Joe shook his head. “I’m sorry. I can’t help you. I never heard my pa mention an old debt.” His answer was polite, but firm. “Whatever it is, it will have to wait until he and my brothers return. Why don’t you come back in about a week, and then\u2014”<\/p>\n “A week!” The stranger cut Joe off with a gleeful shout. Then he nodded, his smile widening. “That’s good. Plenty of time.” He tugged the reins to turn his horse until he was facing away from the house.<\/p>\n Relieved to see his unexpected\u2014and unwelcome\u2014visitor was about to leave, Joe took a deeper breath than he’d been able to for the past several minutes, one that finally filled his lungs. As disturbing as it was for him to realize, there was something about this man that had Joe wishing he had not been left alone after all. He found himself hoping Adam would choose that moment to ride home to check up on him\u2014something Joe’s oldest brother had a tendency to do whether he admitted it or not. Of course, this time it wasn’t likely. Adam was with Hoss and Pa, along with Hop Sing and every ranch hand they had, leading the biggest cattle drive of the year. There was too much at stake for him\u2014for any of them\u2014to turn away from it. Like it or not, it was up to Joe to handle this stranger on his own.<\/p>\n “What’s your name, mister?” he found himself asking, despite his apprehension. “So I can tell my pa you called.”<\/p>\n A sudden jerk of the reins and a boot planted firmly into Joe’s chest was the only answer the stranger provided.<\/p>\n Joe flew backward, crashing onto the wooden plank and knocking the entire sawhorse contraption into a pile beneath him.<\/p>\n “I’m afraid you won’t be telling him a thing, son.”<\/p>\n Winded and fighting to refill his spent lungs, Joe’s vision darkened. He could no longer see the smile behind the man’s words, but he knew it was still there. He’s not right in the head<\/i>, Joe realized. That thought was enough to temper a sudden burst of rage with a healthy dose of fear.<\/p>\n Fear or not, Joe had no choice but to react. The instant the black spots started to fade from his sight, he prepared to push himself back to his feet, grabbing for the only weapon close at hand, an old, wooden plank with an even older nail still embedded within it.<\/p>\n The stranger seemed to anticipate the move. Just as Joe’s left hand touched the edge of the wood, the loud crack of a rifle shot underscored the searing pain of a bullet boring its way through Joe’s forearm. On reflex, Joe grasped for the wound with his good hand and was sickened to find the flow of blood more pronounced in the softer flesh on the underside of his arm. The bullet had gone clean through.<\/p>\n Anger overruled fear. Joe faced his attacker. “Who are you? What is it you want?”<\/p>\n But clearly Joe’s glare had no effect on the stranger. He said nothing, and made no move other than to shift the aim of his rifle, angling it dead center between Joe’s eyes.<\/p>\n Joe stared defiantly up at him, meeting the man’s cold gaze with one that may as well have been forged in fire. “Well go on, then,” he coaxed, panting more from the rage boiling hard within him than from the pain of his wound. “If you’re going to kill me just get it over with.” He took a slow, steady breath, expecting it to be his last.<\/p>\n And then he took another.<\/p>\n And still nothing happened. “What are you waiting for?”<\/p>\n “Not so fast,” the stranger answered. “Has to be slow.”<\/p>\n He moved the rifle lower and pulled the trigger again, putting a bullet into Joe’s right thigh.<\/p>\n The world spun beneath him, around him. Joe couldn’t breathe. He could hardly see through the encroaching blackness. Struggling to stay focused, to stay conscious<\/i>, Joe was dimly aware of the stranger dismounting. He could sense the man approaching, though the soft thud of his footsteps was barely noticeable over the thick feel of stuffing in Joe’s ears.<\/p>\n When the man was right beside him, Joe tried to blink his eyes clear of dark, empty patches. Failing that, he looked up toward a shadow of the smiling stranger. “Just tell me why,” Joe demanded in a harsh whisper.<\/p>\n His answer was lost in oblivion when the stranger slammed the butt of his rifle down onto Joe’s forehead.<\/p>\n XxXxX<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Chapter Two: The Debt<\/b><\/p>\n Pain was the first thing Joe recognized as he came awake. His right leg throbbed. His head was pounding and seemed on the verge of casting him adrift. But his arm seemed to have gotten the worst of it. He could almost believe everything from his elbow to his wrist had been ripped open.<\/p>\n As he cautiously tried to pull the world back into focus, he could feel the tickle of sweat, or blood, or a mixture of both gliding from his forehead. It coursed over the ridge of his brow, and then slowly began to drip onto his right eyelid. It wasn’t long before it found its way past his lashes, slipping\u2014burning\u2014into his eye. Instinct drove Joe to wipe the bothersome moisture away, but when he tried to lift his good arm he discovered it was locked tightly to his bad one, further kindling the already raging fire where the stranger’s bullet had dug its way through. His hands had been tied together behind him, secured by a thick coil of new, unyielding rope\u2014the fibers raw enough, fresh enough to scrape into the thin skin at his wrists with each and every movement.<\/p>\n Closing his eyes against the persistent salty sting, Joe pulled as much air as he could into lungs that seemed to have grown disturbingly weak. He had to try to think beyond the pain. He made a small, subtle test with his left leg, proving that his ankles had been trussed just as his wrists had been. Whatever it was the stranger planned to do, clearly he had no intention of allowing Joe to interfere.<\/p>\n I’ll find a way,<\/i> Joe told himself as he focused on the red suns and black stars inside his eyelids. He had to find a way. No one else was going to get him out of this. After all, he was on his own, at least for another week.<\/p>\n But could he survive for a full week? Left like this, he figured he’d be lucky to survive a full day.<\/p>\n Pa?<\/i> he called out silently somewhere deep within him. Please, Pa. Come home<\/i>.<\/p>\n He could almost imagine his pa’s strong voice driving the stranger away. But it wasn’t a voice that reached Joe’s ears then. It was whistling.<\/p>\n Joe tried opening his eyes once more, blinking through the fog of thick, salty moisture. The stranger was whistling casually as he drove a wooden stake into the ground, pounding it down with a heavy mallet. It looked\u2014and sounded\u2014as though he was working at some common household chore.<\/p>\n Why?<\/i> Joe tried to ask the question aloud, but his throat was dry. Coughing, he tried again. “Why?” he rasped.<\/p>\n The stranger paused for just a second before returning to his work.<\/p>\n “For Ed,” he replied an instant later, not bothering to look Joe’s way. “An eye for an eye. A life for a life.”<\/p>\n “Ed? What\u2026are you\u2026.” Joe inhaled sharply, desperate to fill his lungs. “What life?”<\/p>\n The stranger froze, his shoulders growing taut. A slow, deliberate turn brought his attention back toward Joe. Even through the fog, Joe could tell the man’s entire demeanor had changed, his posture gone rigid.<\/p>\n “Don’t you dare tell me you don’t remember him, Adam Cartwright! Don’t you dare!”<\/p>\n Adam?<\/i> Joe mouthed the name. “I’m not\u2026I’m not Adam,” he finally said aloud.<\/p>\n The stranger’s posture changed again as he relaxed. “Yes.” He might have nodded; Joe could not be sure. “Yes,” the man repeated, “well, a son for a son, anyway. You were here. He was not.”<\/p>\n “Ed\u2026your son?”<\/p>\n “A life for a life,” the man replied as he wiped dirt from his hands. “A son for a son.”<\/p>\n He moved forward and grabbed Joe’s right arm, pulling Joe across the ground as though the young Cartwright was nothing more than a sack of dry goods. But the ruined cloth of Joe’s trousers and the punctured skin in his thigh offered even less protection than a burlap sack, especially when the stranger seemed to make it a point to ensure the wound on Joe’s leg scraped foremost against the sandy soil.<\/p>\n The scouring effect stole Joe’s breath and ripped every conscious thought from his mind.<\/p>\n When the movement stopped, the pain did not. Joe felt a dim sensation of the rope binding his wrists falling loose, but he was too dazed to take advantage of the temporary freedom. Before he’d even managed to fill his lungs again, he felt his right arm being tugged outward and bound once more, this time to one of four posts that had been driven into the ground.<\/p>\n “What\u2026.” How could a man talk when he couldn’t even breathe? But Joe had to. He had to know. “What\u2026are you\u2026?”<\/p>\n The stranger grabbed Joe’s injured left arm. A hand clamped down directly onto the wound, the thumb pressing hard into the softer, more vulnerable flesh beneath Joe’s wrist while fingers dug into the bone on the other side.<\/p>\n Joe’s desperate words gave way to a tortured, ragged scream that sounded like nothing at all yet still managed to drain what little breath he’d managed to salvage.<\/p>\n And then blackness claimed him once more.<\/p>\n XxXxX<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Chapter Three: Beyond Reason<\/b><\/p>\n Ben Cartwright could feel something chewing away at the raw edges of his reason. It ate at him bit by bit until reason itself seemed to have become irrelevant, a scrap left behind for buzzards to pick apart. He was needed at home. He didn’t know why, or how he could even allow himself to accept anything as unfounded as a hunch<\/i> or a feeling<\/i> as factual. It didn’t matter. He’d spent the last two hours rationalizing against the driving need to get home, telling himself over and over again the cattle drive was nearly finished; they might well be home by the end of the week. But the need only grew stronger and more persistent. He couldn’t wait another day, let alone the better part of a week.<\/p>\n Looking up at the mid-day sun, he knew he would be hard-pressed to reach the house before nightfall. Even so, he had to try.<\/p>\n First he rounded up both Adam and Hoss, and then he announced, “I’m going home.”<\/p>\n Neither said a word. They simply looked at him as though\u2026well, as though he’d gone mad. And maybe he had. Still, he knew what he had to do.<\/p>\n “You two can handle things from here,” he added after a moment.<\/p>\n His sons looked to each other, perhaps wondering if they’d heard Ben correctly. When their eyes met his again, they seemed unsettled. Or maybe he was just seeing a reflection of his own unease.<\/p>\n Adam was the first to break the standoff. He tried to offer up a grin, and then casually asked, “You’re not still worried about Little Joe, are you? I mean, he may be young, and foolish, and hotheaded, and\u2014”<\/p>\n “He can handle things,” Ben shot back. “I just, I’ve got to.\u2026” Uncertain how to explain exactly what it was he had to do, Ben let his words trail away.<\/p>\n “Look, Pa,” Adam offered more seriously. “I know we tease him a lot, but he is perfectly capable\u2014”<\/p>\n “Of course he is,” Ben cut him off, his voice booming with unchecked\u2013and unnecessary\u2013anger. He cleared his throat before continuing more softly. “There are just some things\u2026things I need to take care of. I’ll explain after you finish here. Just remember to\u2014”<\/p>\n “You don’t think somethin’s wrong, do you, Pa?” Hoss asked.<\/p>\n Ben studied his sons. A moment later, he sighed heavily, shaking his head. “I honestly don’t know. I just keep thinking I need to get back.”<\/p>\n “Then why don’t we come with you?”<\/p>\n Adam’s suggestion caught Ben off guard. He stared hard at his eldest son, looking deep into eyes that should be questioning Ben’s good sense. “You know you’re needed here,” Ben answered, realizing he sounded as uncertain as he felt.<\/p>\n “So are you,” Adam challenged.<\/p>\n “Yes, well\u2026.” Dropping his gaze, Ben also dropped the rest of his words, feeling suddenly sheepish, as though he’d been caught. But caught doing what? Listening to his gut? Was that so wrong, after all? “Just\u2026get home when you can.”<\/p>\n “I’m coming with you,” Adam said then, his tone making it clear the decision was made and Ben was not going to change it.<\/p>\n Ben stared at him once more, indecision holding his tongue.<\/p>\n “You’re not gonna leave me outta this, whatever it is,” Hoss broke in. “I’m comin’ too.”<\/p>\n “Why?” Ben found himself asking as he shifted his gaze between Adam and Hoss.<\/p>\n Adam looked different at that moment, as though\u2026as though whatever had been gnawing at Ben was slowly beginning to gnaw at Adam as well. He looked\u2026worried. It was a look that made Ben’s worry that much more compelling.<\/p>\n “Because,” Adam answered, “you’re not the kind of man to walk away from his responsibilities on an unfounded suspicion. If you feel you need to walk away from this drive, especially now, so close to the end\u2026.” He shook his head, glancing toward the herd for just a moment before locking his gaze once more on Ben. “If something really is wrong, you’ll need us with you.”<\/p>\n Ben had no idea what to say. He felt old and foolish. He also felt\u2026gratified<\/i>?<\/p>\n “The men can handle this,” Adam went on. “We can catch up with them again in Copper Creek.”<\/p>\n Looking to Hoss, and then back to Adam, Ben slowly began to nod. “Alright,” he said softly.<\/p>\n Hoss’s gaze darkened. Adam’s gained intensity. If Ben’s rash decision had already begun to worry them, his acceptance of their help clearly compounded that worry. They all knew every man counted on a drive as hard as this one. Losing one man increased the workload for all the others. Losing three men\u2026and not just men, but leaders\u2026could wear the remaining men right down to the bone.<\/p>\n “Tell Mick,” Ben said, referring to the foreman. “And make sure he knows there will be a bonus for every man who finishes the drive pulling his extra weight.”<\/p>\n “I’ll tell him, Pa,” Hoss said, already turning.<\/p>\n Something’s wrong, alright<\/i>, Ben told himself as he watched Hoss ride away. Neither of his sons was even bothering to argue with him.<\/p>\n XxXxX<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Chapter Four: The Sermon<\/b><\/p>\n Joe’s latest flight back to consciousness was heralded by a steady, rhythmic creaking sound.<\/p>\n \u2026creak-creak\u2026creak-creak\u2026creak-creak<\/i>\u2026<\/p>\n It took him a long while to filter through the clouds in his brain before he realized it was the sound of a rocking chair pressing down on the loose floor boards of his front porch.<\/p>\n I need to\u2026need to fix those<\/i>. I was, wasn’t I? I was\u2026 fixing them. I was gonna\u2026fix them.<\/i> Joe’s thoughts were jumbled. He couldn’t make sense of anything. Why was he sleeping in the middle of the day? And why on the ground? And who…?<\/p>\n Joe tried to force himself awake. He needed to understand. He couldn’t move. He could hardly think. And the pain\u2026.<\/p>\n Joe’s eyes came open to a blinding, white sun. The sun\u2026. A son\u2026. A son for a son<\/i>.<\/p>\n As memories began to surface, Joe realized he was lying spread-eagled on the ground. His wrists and ankles had been tied tightly to posts driven into the hard, dry earth. The sun, a searing white flame directly overhead, was already baking his skin and stealing precious moisture from his lips, his eyes, his throat.<\/p>\n “Thou shalt not\u2026creak-creak\u2026<\/i>show pity\u2026creak-creak\u2026.<\/i>”<\/p>\n A preacher was giving a sermon somewhere close.<\/p>\n “Life for life\u2026creak-creak\u2026<\/i>eye for eye\u2026creak-creak<\/i>\u2026.”<\/p>\n Turning his head to his right, Joe tried to see the preacher. He needed to find him. Joe needed his help.<\/p>\n “\u2026Tooth for tooth\u2026creak-creak\u2026<\/i>”<\/p>\n The dry, salty grit in Joe’s eyes prevented him from seeing anything, or anyone\u2026except\u2026 himself. He could glimpse his injured leg, could see the red, moist sand beneath. The sand\u2026. It wasn’t supposed to be red, was it?<\/p>\n “\u2026Hand for hand\u2026creak-creak<\/i>\u2026.”<\/p>\n “Hey,” Joe tried to shout. The sound was small, ineffective. And the effort scraped knives across his throat.<\/p>\n “\u2026Foot for foot\u2026creak-creak<\/i>\u2026.”<\/p>\n “Hey,” Joe tried again. This time his voice was even smaller than before. He turned his head to the other side in a useless effort to shield his eyes from the sun’s merciless, blinding rays.<\/p>\n “And a sun for a sun.”<\/p>\n Creak-creak\u2026creak-creak\u2026creak-creak\u2026<\/i>.<\/p>\n A sun for a sun?<\/i> No. That wasn’t it, was it? Besides, there was only one sun, and Joe was desperate to get out from under it.<\/p>\n “Just as he has\u2026creak-creak<\/i>\u2026injured a man\u2026creak-creak<\/i>\u2026.”<\/p>\n It’s not a sermon, Joe realized then, his thoughts gaining more clarity. That wasn’t a preacher at all. It was the stranger, the rumpled easterner with the wild smile and cold eyes. He was rocking in Ben Cartwright’s chair, on Ben Cartwright’s porch, while Ben Cartwright’s youngest son was cooking under the noon sun, his blood turning the sand red beneath him.<\/p>\n “\u2026So shall it be\u2026creak-creak\u2026<\/i>inflicted\u2026 creak-creak\u2026<\/i>upon him\u2026creak-creak\u2026<\/i>.”<\/p>\n Why?<\/i> Joe struggled to understand. He needed<\/i> to understand.<\/p>\n “Just as he has injured a man\u2026.”<\/i><\/p>\n You think\u2026I injured someone?<\/p>\n “Just as he has injured a man, so shall it be inflicted upon him.”<\/i><\/p>\n No. I didn’t\u2026I wouldn’t do this to anyone.<\/p>\n “A life for a life\u2026creak-creak<\/i>\u2026a son for a son.”<\/p>\n A son for a son<\/i>. Was that why Joe was tied to posts in the ground in front of his own house? To compensate for another man’s dead son? A boy named Ed? Someone Adam was supposed to have known\u2026.<\/p>\n Adam? Joe called out silently somewhere in the depths of his soul. Why does he think you did this to Ed? Adam? Please tell him he’s wrong. He’s wrong, Adam. But he won’t\u2026I can’t\u2026I can’t tell him.<\/p>\n “Life for life\u2026creak-creak\u2026<\/i>son for son\u2026cr<\/i>eak-creak\u2026<\/i>.”<\/p>\n Adam? Tell Pa I’m sorry. I’m sorry I made him let me stay here. Please, Adam. Please. Come home. Come check up on me like you always do.<\/p>\n \u2026creak-creak\u2026creak-creak\u2026creak-creak\u2026<\/i>.<\/p>\n Please!<\/p>\n XxXxX<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Chapter Five: Desperation<\/b><\/p>\n The three Cartwright men rode hard through the afternoon, stopping only to prevent their horses from collapsing beneath them. Through the course of the ride, Ben’s desperation to reach home clearly afflicted Adam as well. His oldest son was now as eager as he to make it back. Hot words were exchanged at each and every stop.<\/p>\n Ben would feel like an old fool\u2013and Joseph would probably be indignant by the insult\u2013if they arrived home and all was as it should be. So be it. In fact, Ben prayed that would be the case. But his gut told him differently. It also told him he had no time to spare.<\/p>\n Time was getting away from them, nonetheless.<\/p>\n Stopping yet again, this time for fresh water from a small stream, Adam dismounted along with his pa and brother, though he clearly had no intention of resting his horse. He was only concerned with tightening the cinch. “You two stay here as long as you need,” he said. “I’ll ride on ahead.”<\/p>\n Ben looked at him, curious and afraid. Yes, he realized he was afraid<\/i>. Adam was acting as though he knew<\/i>, as though he had no doubt whatsoever that Little Joe needed him. It was absurd. He couldn’t know any such thing. None of them could.<\/p>\n “No.” Ben said it like a command, one that allowed no room for refusal.<\/p>\n Adam did refuse, nonetheless. “I can’t wait around doing nothing!” His eyes were dark; his words came out as an angry shout.<\/p>\n “Look at yourself,” Ben shouted back. “Look at both of us,” he said more softly. “Why are we behaving this way?”<\/p>\n “Because something’s wrong, and we both know it.” Adam looked away as he answered, seeming embarrassed by the admission.<\/p>\n “We know no such thing,” Ben tried to reason, despite his own irrational concerns. “Use some common sense, Adam. We don’t even know what we’re riding into, or if we’re riding into anything at all.”<\/p>\n “I don’t see no common sense around any of this,” Hoss said, apparently dumbfounded by the peculiar behavior Ben and Adam were both exhibiting. “Whatever is goin’ on with you two, I shore don’t like it. You’re all fired up to head into a fight, and you don’t even know why.”<\/p>\n “You’re right,” Adam answered with a sigh that appeared to have loosened some of the knots in his tense shoulders. “I don’t<\/i> know why. But I do<\/i> know something’s wrong.”<\/p>\n Smiling sadly, Ben took off his hat to run his hand through his hair. Suddenly weary beyond words, he felt his own shoulders droop. “I don’t know why, either,” he admitted. “But something is<\/i> wrong. Something is very wrong. I can’t explain it; I just know we’ve got to get back.”<\/p>\n “Somethin’s wrong all right,” Hoss said then, “and I don’t need no weird feeling to tell me that. All I need to do is look at the two ‘a you. I just can’t figure what’s got you both so riled up.”<\/p>\n “Yes, well,” Ben checked his own cinch. “I may be a foolish, old man, but I’d rather be that than\u2026.” Than what?<\/i> Ben wondered. Than a mourning father? What reason could he possibly have to even imagine such a thing? Common sense certainly had nothing to do with any of this.<\/p>\n What if it was something more along the lines of divine intervention?<\/p>\n Adam gave him a small, worried smile. “You’re no more foolish than me, Pa,” he offered.<\/p>\n Ben sighed, nodding. “Let’s just get back and then we can do whatever figuring or rationalizing we’ve got to do to make sense of all this foolishness.”<\/p>\n “What about the horses?” Hoss asked.<\/p>\n “They’ll survive,” Ben said. He only wished he could be equally certain about Little Joe.<\/p>\n XxXxX<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Chapter Six: Dust to Dust<\/b><\/p>\n “For dust thou art\u2026 creak-creak\u2026<\/i>,” the preacher said, “unto dust\u2026creak-creak<\/i>\u2026thou shalt return\u2026 creak-creak\u2026<\/i>”<\/p>\n No, Joe reminded himself. He’s not a preacher\u2026not\u2026not a preacher.<\/p>\n But the man was right, anyway. Wasn’t he? Joe was turning to dust. He was trapped under the sun…maybe\u2026maybe he was in<\/i> the sun, right in the heart of it. He couldn’t see anymore\u2026couldn’t\u2026wouldn’t open his eyes. But it was always there, right in front of him, that white, blinding sun.<\/p>\n “I commit his body\u2026creak-creak<\/i>\u2026to the ground\u2026creak-creak<\/i>\u2026earth to earth\u2026creak-creak<\/i> \u2026ashes to ashes\u2026creak-creak<\/i>\u2026dust to dust\u2026creak-creak\u2026<\/i>.”<\/p>\n Me, Joe realized. He’s talking about me. Joe was on the ground, trapped under a blinding sun, his blood seeping into the earth beneath him\u2026into the ground.<\/p>\n I commit his body to the ground\u2026.<\/i><\/p>\n His blood\u2026. There was something different about it now\u2026as though\u2026as though it wasn’t\u2026wasn’t flowing right anymore. As though it was\u2026maybe\u2026thickening<\/i> in his veins. Too thick to flow. Or\u2026or drying. Becoming dust.<\/p>\n “Dust to dust\u2026creak-creak<\/i>\u2026ashes to ashes\u2026creak-creak<\/i>\u2026dust to dust\u2026creak-creak\u2026<\/i>.”<\/p>\n Why?<\/p>\n For Ed<\/i>. It was all the stranger had told him. For Ed<\/i>. And he thought Joe was Adam.<\/p>\n No. He didn’t care that Joe wasn’t Adam.<\/p>\n You were here. He was not.<\/i><\/p>\n A life for a life. A son for a son.<\/i><\/p>\n \u2026creak-creak\u2026creak-creak\u2026creak-creak\u2026<\/i>.<\/p>\n The stranger would have done this to Adam. For another son\u2026the stranger’s son? For Ed.<\/p>\n Adam? Joe could see his brother standing right there in front of him\u2026could see him through the sun. Adam looked\u2026angry. It’s alright, Adam, Joe said without words. I’m glad it’s not you. I know you didn’t\u2026you wouldn’t have done this to Ed. He’s wrong, Adam. I know he’s wrong.<\/p>\n “The Lord\u2026creak-creak<\/i>\u2026is my shepherd\u2026creak-creak<\/i>\u2026I shall not want\u2026creak-creak\u2026<\/i>.”<\/p>\n It’s alright, Adam. I’m glad it’s not you.<\/p>\n “He maketh me\u2026creak-creak<\/i>\u2026to lie down\u2026creak-creak<\/i>\u2026in green pastures\u2026creak-creak\u2026<\/i>.He leadeth me\u2026creak-creak<\/i>\u2026beside\u2026creak-creak<\/i>\u2026the still waters\u2026creak-creak\u2026<\/i>.”<\/p>\n Something changed then. The words settled into Joe, somehow finding passage through his thick blood, his dry veins. He began to hear his pa’s voice over that of the stranger.<\/p>\n “He restoreth\u2026creak-creak<\/i>\u2026my soul.”<\/p>\n Pa? I’m sorry, Pa. It’s my own fault, not yours.<\/p>\n “Yea though I walk\u2026creak-creak<\/i>\u2026through the valley\u2026creak-creak<\/i>\u2026of the shadow\u2026creak-creak<\/i>\u2026of Death\u2026.”<\/p>\n The stranger’s voice sifted through a cloud of dust\u2026.<\/p>\n \u2026Sifted and changed\u2026.<\/p>\n \u2026Became Pa’s.<\/p>\n “I will fear no evil, for thou art with me.”<\/p>\n Pa was<\/i> with him then, Joe realized. And it was okay. It was all that mattered.<\/p>\n It’s alright, Pa. Joe settled back. He could almost feel the ground softening, giving way beneath him. It was taking him in, as though he was exactly where he belonged.<\/p>\n “My cup runneth over.”<\/p>\n \u2026creak-creak\u2026<\/i><\/p>\n It’s alright, Joe said again, somewhere deep inside him. Tell Adam I’m glad.<\/p>\n “And I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.”<\/p>\n \u2026creak-creak\u2026creak-creak\u2026creak-creak\u2026<\/i>.<\/p>\n XxXxX<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Chapter Seven: Home<\/b><\/p>\n The sun was low and the shadows long by the time Ben and his oldest sons rounded familiar corners to home. And the house was dark. Too dark. But there was something in the yard\u2014something on the ground that stood out in the dim glow that washed across it like blood-red fire flicking across a fallen log in the woods.<\/p>\n “Pa\u2026.” Adam’s voice was low, his tone filled with caution\u2026and fear.<\/p>\n Only then did Ben allow himself to accept what he knew\u2014what he did not want to know\u2014was true. That blood-red figure encased in shadows on the ground\u2026it was Little Joe.<\/p>\n “Dear God,” he uttered softly as he kicked his horse forward.<\/p>\n “Pa, hold up!” Hoss called out behind him.<\/p>\n He could sense Adam and Hoss following closely, and he knew Hoss was right in cautioning him against riding blindly forward. But he couldn’t do it. He could not hold back\u2026not even when a rifle shot flashed briefly from the house and then sent up a spray of sand near Buck’s feet, causing the horse to dance nervously sideways.<\/p>\n “Far enough,” a voice called out from the shadowed porch. “Isn’t over yet.”<\/p>\n “Who are you,” Ben shouted back while he dismounted, having no intention to stop moving forward. “What have you done?”<\/p>\n Another bullet hit the ground at Ben’s feet. He paused, but did not stop. The gunman would have to do more than that to keep Ben from reaching his son.<\/p>\n “You owe me, Benjamin Cartwright,” the voice on the porch shouted. “You owe me a son!”<\/p>\n “What are you talking about?” Ben shouted back. He was almost to Joe’s side. “And who are you? Show yourself!”<\/p>\n “You don’t know,” the stranger answered. The crack and creak of footsteps across old floorboards cued Ben in to the man’s movements. He seemed to be pacing. “You really don’t know.” The sound of surprise in his voice gave way to\u2026laughter.<\/p>\n Laughter. Little Joe was lying on the ground, and that man was laughing.<\/p>\n It didn’t matter, Ben decided. All that mattered was Little Joe. Trusting in Adam and Hoss to deal with the intruder, he took the final steps to his youngest son.<\/p>\n “Dear God,” he said then, this time in a whisper even he could barely hear.<\/p>\n Despite the growing darkness, Ben could see dried blood on Joe’s face. It was caked along both sides of his head, matting his hair. His lips were cracked, and whatever exposed skin wasn’t painted in blood seemed hellishly red, an effect that was surely exaggerated by the dying sun. Even so, one thing most certainly was not an illusion. Red, muddy pools dampened the ground under Joe’s right leg and left arm.<\/p>\n “Joseph?” Ben said, kneeling close and reaching his hand to smooth the crusted dampness in his son’s hair. “Can you hear me, son?”<\/p>\n Joe lay still\u2013deathly, frighteningly still. He was barely even breathing. At least, thank heavens, he was breathing.<\/p>\n XxXxX<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Chapter <\/b> Eight: A Life for a Life<\/b><\/p>\n Adam had to force himself to keep his eyes off Joe. When he’d first caught sight of his young brother lying there, when he’d first realized it was Little Joe, he’d felt\u2026drained. It was as though all the fear he’d taken with him and all the hope he’d tried to hold to during their frenzied ride home had gone to dust, leaving him empty. He would never understand why he and his pa had both felt such an urgent need to return, but seeing Joe made him begin to believe that need, from whatever divine being it had come, had reached them too late.<\/p>\n Emptiness, however, quickly gave way to rage the instant that shadowed man shot his rifle toward Pa.<\/p>\n One quick look at Hoss showed Adam the fire that must be in his own eyes as well. Logic might tell him it was merely a reflection of the sun sinking low beneath the mountains. But logic had had nothing to do with whatever had driven them to come home. Why should he let logic rule him now?<\/p>\n He let the fire pull him forward.<\/p>\n Keeping low to the ground, staying to any shadow they could find, Adam and Hoss approached the house. When it was clear the intruder’s attention was focused on Pa, they used that as their advantage. They couldn’t quite flank the man; Hoss worked his way toward the side of the porch while Adam took a more direct approach. The angle took Adam closer to Pa and Joe\u2014close enough to feel the fleeting desire to abandon his plan and turn toward them, to prove to himself Joe was alive. But he couldn’t. He mustn’t. The man who did that to Little Joe, the intruder who had made seemingly lazy, careless shots toward Pa, was right there on the porch. God help him when Adam and Hoss reached him.<\/p>\n The intruder made another turn in his steady, rhythmic pacing, and Adam waited. Two more steps and then\u2026there, he turned again, moving away once more from Hoss. Three more steps and then Adam was clear again as well. He hurried forward and crouched low. He had reached the porch. A glance to his right showed him Hoss was there as well.<\/p>\n At the far edge of the steps, the man stopped. “You owe me,” he repeated, shouting toward Pa. “You both owe me!”<\/p>\n Adam could see him raise his rifle. He couldn’t let the man fire again. What if he didn’t make a lazy shot this time? Pa’s back was to him, shielding Little Joe. It made for an easy target. Too easy.<\/p>\n “Drop it!” Adam demanded, cocking his gun and rising to his full height.<\/p>\n The man swiveled around, his face still hidden in shadows. “They\u2026. You\u2026owe me.” The man started to sound confused. He held his rifle at an odd angle, as though not quite sure where to aim it.<\/p>\n “I said drop it,” Adam repeated.<\/p>\n “Better do as he says,” Hoss added. He stepped up onto the porch and started a slow approach, keeping his own gun leveled at the intruder while Adam stayed put, ready to pull his trigger in an instant.<\/p>\n “It was Adam,” the man said. “All Adam’s fault.”<\/p>\n Startled by his words, Adam’s finger loosened on the trigger. “Who are you? How do you know me?”<\/p>\n “You?” the man asked. “Adam?”<\/p>\n “Who are you?” Adam said again. In the corner of his eye he saw Hoss moving closer to the stranger.<\/p>\n “You killed him,” the man said.<\/p>\n Joe? Those words nearly killed Adam. He felt the emptiness return as though it was a chasm swallowing him whole. The gun wavered in his hand as he turned toward Pa and Joe. Then, “No!” he shouted, coming back around, ready to shoot the man who’d killed Little Joe, to empty his entire gun, bullet for bullet\u2026life for life.<\/p>\n He saw the man move his rifle, shifting his grip. Adam’s finger touched his trigger, though the man did not aim the rifle at either him or Hoss. Instead, the stranger held his arms low before him, and brought the barrel up under his own chin.<\/p>\n “Mister?” Hoss sounded puzzled. “What are you\u2014”<\/p>\n When the rifle went off, Adam felt his entire body lurch. He dropped his hand, letting his gun fall to the ground beside him.<\/p>\n “Good lord,” Hoss said softly.<\/p>\n Adam let his gaze move from the dead man to Hoss, but he couldn’t see his brother’s eyes. And then, shaking, he set himself down on the edge of the porch.<\/p>\n “Adam?” He felt Hoss’s hand on his shoulder. “You didn’t shoot him. He did it himself.”<\/p>\n “He said I killed him.” Adam forced himself to look again toward Pa and Joe. He watched Pa lift Joe into his arms. Little Joe’s body was limp. Lifeless.<\/p>\n “Who?” Hoss asked.<\/p>\n “It’s going to be alright now, son,” Pa was saying. “It’s over.”<\/p>\n “Pa?” Hoss called out without waiting for Adam to reply. “How is he?”<\/p>\n “He needs Doc Martin,” Pa said. “Hurry. Please.”<\/p>\n “He’s alive?” Adam was confused.<\/p>\n “Yes.” The word shocked Adam every bit as much as the rifle shot that had ended the intruder’s life. “Barely,” Pa added.<\/p>\n Hoss patted Adam’s shoulder. “I’ll ride to town. You stay here with Pa and Joe.”<\/p>\n “He’s alive,” Adam repeated.<\/p>\n “And I’m gonna see to it he stays that way.” One more pat of Adam’s shoulder, and then Hoss was moving faster than his bulk should allow, jumping down off that porch and running toward the barn as though the devil himself was on his heels.<\/p>\n No, Adam decided, looking again toward the dead stranger. The devil killed himself right there on the porch. But why?<\/p>\n XxXxX<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Chapter <\/b> Nine: The Puzzle It seemed to take an eternity for Hoss to return with the sheriff and the doctor. While Adam kept busy getting water and bandages, and then seeing to the horses, Ben spent the time administering to his youngest boy’s wounds to the best of his ability. He feared Joe had lost too much blood. That fact alone was chilling, but there were also troubling signs of infection. When Ben considered the dehydration and raw, red patches of skin from the merciless sun, it seemed impossible to believe Joe was still alive.<\/p>\n “Stubborn,” Ben muttered as he cleaned the wound in Joe’s arm. “Mule-headed. You hear me, Joseph? That’s why you’re still alive, because you’re so stubborn. Well, you can’t stop now. You just keep being stubborn and willful and mule-headed. You just keep fighting, son. You just… you just keep…”<\/p>\n Ben closed his eyes around the tears he could no longer contain and sank to his knees at Joe’s bedside. “You just stay with me, son.”<\/p>\n “Pa?”<\/p>\n Startled and not entirely sure what he’d heard, Ben allowed himself to look hopefully toward the burned and bruised face of his youngest son. Joe’s swollen eyelids remained closed.<\/p>\n “Joe?” Ben smoothed Joe’s hair. “Joseph? Can you hear me?”<\/p>\n There. Ben saw a slight tremor around Joe’s eyebrows. Though the young man’s eyes refused to open, a moment later one small, hopeful word escaped Joe’s barely parted lips. “Pa?”<\/p>\n “I’m here, son. I’m right here.” Ben’s voice broke on the words. And then he dropped his forehead to the mattress, offering up a silent, grateful prayer.<\/p>\n XxXxX<\/p>\n Hours after the sheriff left and the doc finished doing what he could for Little Joe for the time being, Hoss stood alone downstairs. He cupped his thick hand around the edge of the mantel and stared into the cold fireplace. But Hoss wasn’t seeing blackened logs or ash. He was seeing his little brother, his skin all red, trapped under a sun that burned him no less effectively than this fireplace might if he got too close when it was lit. Fire, that’s what it had to have felt like for Joe out there all those hours, like he was right in the middle of a fire. Hoss could almost feel the heat of it there where he was in the middle of the house during the coolest part of the night. And fire hadn’t even been the worst of it. That stranger had shot Joe twice, and hit him hard in the forehead, too, from what Doc Martin said. Joe must have sure tried to put up a fight. Of course, that stranger had to have had the upper hand right from the start. Gray-haired as he’d been, coming up against someone as young and fit as Little Joe\u2026well, that rifle was the only thing that let him win. Or at least he had been winning, right up until he shot himself.<\/p>\n “I thought you were going to bed.”<\/p>\n Adam’s voice pulled Hoss’s gaze to the stairs. He watched his brother coming down for a moment, and then slowly shook his head. “I didn’t figure there was much point. Sun’ll be up before too much longer, and\u2026.” Lowering his eyes, Hoss returned his attention to the cold logs. He followed Adam’s approach by the soft sound of his footfalls until a hand landed on his shoulder.<\/p>\n “And you can’t stop seeing Joe lying out there like he was,” Adam finished for him.<\/p>\n Hoss nodded without turning. “Yeah. The stranger, too. I just can’t figure it. What would make a man shoot himself like that?”<\/p>\n “I’m more bothered with what he did to Joe<\/i>. Clearly the man was sick. That much is certain. No sane man could do\u2026any of it.”<\/p>\n But there was still another part of this whole thing that was bothering Hoss. He turned his head just enough to glimpse his brother’s face. “How did he know you, Adam?” he asked. “Who was he sayin’ you killed?”<\/p>\n Adam’s grip on his shoulder tightened for an instant before pulling away. “I don’t know,” he said as he moved toward the settee and out of Hoss’s peripheral vision.<\/p>\n Losing interest in the fireplace, Hoss finally gave Adam his full attention. “You don’t have any idea?”<\/p>\n “No. I’ve been asking myself that same question since\u2026well, all night. I just can’t puzzle it out.”<\/p>\n Hoss knew he could never chew on any puzzle as long or as hard as Adam might, but he had been chewing on this one some. “I was thinkin’ maybe Pa or me\u2026well, maybe he just heard one of us call your name. Maybe you never did know him.”<\/p>\n “Maybe.” But Adam didn’t seem too convinced.<\/p>\n “Sheriff’ll figure it out,” Hoss decided. “He’ll find somethin’. He knows how to look. You know, we never did give any thought to goin’ through his saddlebags or his clothes or anything like that.”<\/p>\n Adam chuckled, but it was a cold sound, cold as the fireplace. “We had something else on our minds.”<\/p>\n “I reckon we did at that.” Hoss looked once again toward the stairs. “How is he, Adam?”<\/p>\n “Same as he was an hour ago, and an hour before that.”<\/p>\n Hoss could not pull his eyes away. He kept staring as though he might be able to see right into Little Joe’s room if he tried hard enough. “He’ll be okay,” he said after a moment. “Might take some time, but he’ll be okay.” And maybe saying the words would be enough to make it true.<\/p>\n “Doc Martin doesn’t exactly share your optimism.”<\/p>\n “Yeah, well, Doc Martin don’t know everythin’.”<\/p>\n “He knows a fair bit more than we do about medicine.”<\/p>\n “And we know a fair bit more than he does about Little Joe.”<\/p>\n The hand returned to his shoulder. “I imagine we do, at that.” Adam’s touch became a gentle pat. “Come on. If we can’t sleep, we might as well sit up with Pa for a while longer.”<\/p>\n Hoss looked to his brother and then gave a small, quick nod in reply. “Yeah. I reckon so.” Yet, for all the heat he’d been bothered by since they got home, Hoss’s belly came to feel as cold as those logs the moment he started walking up the stairs. He knew the image of Joe in his mind, bad as it was, could never compare with seeing him now, for real, in his bed. Hoss prayed with all his might there would be something, some small change for the better by the time they opened Joe’s bedroom door.<\/p>\n When he saw there wasn’t any change at all, he could only sigh and accept the fact that even miracles need time.<\/p>\n XxXxX<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Chapter <\/b> Ten: Haunted<\/b><\/p>\n “Pa?”<\/p>\n Joe’s voice wasn’t much more than a whisper, but it was enough to pull Hoss’s thoughts back from the dark places they’d gone. Looking to his little brother, it was clear Joe was still asleep. It was also clear he wasn’t sleeping soundly. His brows were drawn down and his head was rolling back and forth across his pillow.<\/p>\n “Pa?” Joe rasped again. “Please.” The creases at the corners of his eyes deepened, like he was in all kinds of pain.<\/p>\n “Joe?” Hoss reached out his hand, wrapping it gently around Joe’s good arm. He noticed Adam followed the same instincts on the other side of the bed, reaching for Joe’s shoulder.<\/p>\n But the comfort both brothers tried to provide didn’t soothe Joe none. Instead, he started thrashing, moving his arms and legs like\u2026well, like he was trying to fight off whatever was bothering him in his dream. Hoss could only reckon it was the stranger, and he sure didn’t want to stop Little Joe from taking on that kind of fight. But he also didn’t want Joe to aggravate the wound in his leg.<\/p>\n “You’re okay, Little Joe,” Adam said.<\/p>\n “You don’t have to fight him no more,” Hoss added, moving both hands to Joe’s leg to try to hold it steady. The bullet was still in there, buried deep, maybe even pressing up against the bone; the doc couldn’t be sure. Doc Martin had said he wanted to give Joe a few hours to heal up some before he tried to dig the bullet out, enough time at least so the added blood loss wouldn’t make Joe any worse off than he already was.<\/p>\n “Please! Pa!”<\/p>\n Joe’s voice, soft as it was, about tore Hoss’s heart to pieces. He looked to the other side of the bed to see the turn of Adam’s brow had the same kind of hurt in it Hoss felt. But Pa hadn’t heard Joe. He was sound asleep in his chair. Hoss figured that was a good thing, wore out as he was.<\/p>\n “Pa! Pa, please!”<\/p>\n Hoss had to press down harder on Joe’s leg. “Dadburnit, Joe! Hold still.”<\/p>\n Clearly, Joe wasn’t hearing him. “Pa!” he called out again. “Home\u2026come home.”<\/p>\n “We’re home, Joe.” Adam kept his voice soft, but he spoke right up close to Joe’s ear, making sure Joe could hear him. “We’re all home. You’re safe. You hear me, Little Joe? You’re safe.”<\/p>\n “Adam?” Joe whispered.<\/p>\n Adam looked up at Hoss, showing a small, relieved smile. “Yes, Joe,” Adam answered, still holding that smile while he nodded tiredly toward Hoss. “It’s me. We’re all h\u2014”<\/p>\n “I’m not\u2026not Adam,” Joe went on.<\/p>\n Relief changed to confusion. Adam and Hoss both gave their attention back to Joe.<\/p>\n “I’m not Adam.”<\/p>\n “‘Course, you’re not,” Hoss said.<\/p>\n “A son\u2026.” Joe went on.<\/p>\n “Can you hear me, Little Joe?” Adam said. “You’re safe.”<\/p>\n “Son for\u2026a son.” Joe cried, tears spilling down to his pillow.<\/p>\n “Joe?” Adam tried again.<\/p>\n “Please\u2026come home.”<\/p>\n “We’re home, Joe. We’re all here.”<\/p>\n “Son for a son.”<\/p>\n “You’re dreaming, Little Joe,” Hoss added. “That’s all it is. It’s just a dream.”<\/p>\n “Son\u2026for a son.”<\/p>\n “Joe?” Adam eased back on Joe’s shoulders to lay his hand against Joe’s head. Hoss couldn’t help but be reminded of their pa as Adam started to gently stroke Joe’s hair. “Come on, Joe. Wake up.”<\/p>\n “Ed.”<\/p>\n Adam’s hand stilled. “Joe? Who’s Ed?”<\/p>\n “Not\u2026not Adam,” Joe rasped.<\/p>\n “Who’s Ed, Joe?” Adam repeated. “Was that the stranger? Was that his name? Ed?”<\/p>\n “For Ed,” Joe said. “A son for a son.”<\/p>\n “Little Joe?” Adam called out more loudly.<\/p>\n “Adam?” Joe answered. Hoss was sure he answered that time. Joe stopped thrashing. He even turned his head some toward his oldest brother, though his eyes remained closed.<\/p>\n “Yes, Joe,” Adam said. “It’s\u2014.”<\/p>\n “I’m glad, Adam,” Joe said. “Glad\u2026it’s not you.” And then Joe was asleep again. Just like that, he was sound asleep, as deep as before.<\/p>\n Hoss looked up, wanting to see if Adam was as confused as he was. But it wasn’t just Adam gazing back at him. It was Pa, too. Only Pa didn’t seem confused. He seemed\u2026upset, as though whatever Joe was talking about made a kind of sense to him\u2014a kind of sense he didn’t like at all.<\/p>\n XxXxX<\/p>\n A few days later, Sheriff Coffee paid the Cartwrights another visit. A frequent guest since their encounter with the stranger, Roy was clearly doing everything he could to figure out just why that man had so cruelly victimized Little Joe. Ben was grateful for his efforts.<\/p>\n “Well, Ben, I finally put a name to that stranger,” he explained as soon as Ben opened the door. “George Edward\u2014”<\/p>\n “Thornton,” Ben provided as he silently invited the sheriff into his home. “Yes, I know him. I\u2026knew<\/i> him. Back when Adam was just a\u2026a very small boy.”<\/p>\n The sheriff took a seat in the house’s main room. “If you knew this already, then what’d I come here for?”<\/p>\n Ben offered a sad smile. “Joe said some things in his sleep.” It was odd, how placid the word sounded as he said it. Sleep? What Joe had done these past days could hardly be called sleep. He had been tormented with fevered dreams, suffering in his bed maybe every bit as much as he had in the yard. Ben could only imagine Joe had been reliving those hours, over and over again, crying out for help even when he knew his family was miles away.<\/p>\n Recognizing the sheriff was waiting for him to continue, Ben pressed on. “He said\u2026enough<\/i>\u2026to help Adam and me put the pieces together. George’s son, Edward, was a friend to Adam when we lived out east.” Ben settled heavily down into a seat beside Roy, none too eager to revisit the troubling memory. “Those boys were inseparable, like brothers almost. But Edward, he was a bit of a rascal, always pulling tricks. One evening Edward came looking for Adam. He had something to show him or tell him or\u2026 something. I don’t really remember what it was. He told Adam to meet him back at the schoolhouse. But I\u2026I didn’t let him go. He disobeyed me so I kept him home as punishment.”<\/p>\n Ben took a deep breath before continuing. “While Edward was there, alone in the schoolhouse, there was an accident. A fire. The boy\u2026he\u2026never made it out.” Ben shook his head, and then said nothing for a long moment, feeling the weight of the boy’s death nearly as much as he had all those years ago. No man should lose his son so young, and so horribly.<\/p>\n “Not long after Edward died,” Ben went on, “his mother died too. They said she was broken-hearted. And George\u2026I suppose he just needed someone to blame. He blamed me, and Adam, too; he blamed both of us. You would think after all these years\u2026.” Lacking the words to continue, Ben left the sentence unfinished.<\/p>\n “At least we can spare Joe the trouble of a trial.” Roy Coffee rose and started to walk to the door, but then stopped himself. “I almost forgot,” he said, reaching into his pocket, “I found this in Thornton’s saddlebag.” He handed Ben a faded daguerreotype of two small boys. “I suppose that one there is Adam.” He grinned, giving his head a quick shake. “I knew he looked familiar. Now I guess I know why.”<\/p>\n The image gave Ben only an instant of happy recollection. When the instant passed, it filled him with sorrow. He handed it back to the sheriff.<\/p>\n “Don’t you think Adam might want that?” Roy asked.<\/p>\n Ben shook his head. “It will only make things worse, I’m afraid. Adam feels responsible for what happened to Joe. I think he’s even feeling some responsibility now for Edward. No. I’d rather he never saw this.”<\/p>\n Roy accepted the tiny portrait and placed it back into his pocket. “How is<\/i> Joe?”<\/p>\n “A little better every day,” Ben answered. “The worst is over. He’s going to be just fine.”<\/p>\n “Why that’s good to hear, Ben. Nasty business that. It takes a mighty sick mind to do a thing like that to anyone, let alone someone he never even met.”<\/p>\n “I’m afraid George Thornton died along with his wife and son years ago. All that’s remained on this Earth has been his festering sickness.”<\/p>\n “Well, that’s done with now, too,” Roy said.<\/p>\n Ben nodded. But as he glanced up the stairs to where he knew Adam was still watching over his brother, burdened with a sense of guilt that was never his to hold, Ben couldn’t help but wonder if that was true.<\/p>\n XxXxX<\/p>\n <\/p>\n![\"son4son1\"](\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/04\/son4son1.jpg?ssl=1\")
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