{"id":47661,"date":"2002-01-10T06:20:43","date_gmt":"2002-01-10T11:20:43","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?p=47661"},"modified":"2025-02-27T12:05:08","modified_gmt":"2025-02-27T17:05:08","slug":"raging-storms-by-carlal","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?p=47661","title":{"rendered":"Raging Storms (by CarlaL)"},"content":{"rendered":"

Synopsis:\u00a0<\/b>Joe is targeted by a man seeking to avenge his brother’s death, an outlaw killed months earlier by Adam. Following a vicious attack, Joe is left struggling with both physical and emotional damage as Adam wrestles with the guilt.
\nRating:\u00a0 Teen
\nWords:\u00a0 28,750<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

\n

The Brandsters acknowledge that the authors are the owners of their stories.\u00a0 Should an author included in the project reach out to us and indicate they do not wish their work to be archived in the Bonanza Brand Fanfiction Library, we will remove their stories.\u00a0 We would also be happy to change the e:mail address for any authors who wish to continue to have their stories archived in the Library.<\/p>\n

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RAGING STORMS<\/span><\/b><\/p>\n


\n<\/b>The night was like a demon, ravaging the world that lay open and powerless at its feet. From the front porch of the Ponderosa, Ben Cartwright watched the sky swirl. Angry clouds blotted out the luster of diamond-sharp stars, and the soft glow of a silver moon had been snuffed like a candle for several nights. It had been days since the storms pitched the heavens into turmoil, and there was little sign of a break.<\/span><\/p>\n

A barely perceptible movement drew Ben’s thoughts from the thickly blanketed sky, and he turned. Hoss shot his father a gap toothed grin as he held out a cup of hot coffee.<\/span><\/p>\n

Ben took the proffered cup and sipped the aromatic brew.<\/span><\/p>\n

“You thinking about Adam and Joe?” Hoss asked, taking a drink from his cup.<\/span><\/p>\n

Ben shrugged, a small movement of one shoulder, and his smile was thoughtful.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Can’t help it. The house seems so quiet without them. Seems like they’ve been gone for two months instead of two weeks.”<\/span><\/p>\n

“I miss them too,” Hoss remarked, his own smile filled with both gentle humor and affection. “Especially Joe and his constant chatter.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Ben laughed softly, and nodded. “He’s kind of like this storm, isn’t he? A source of strength in constant motion.”<\/span><\/p>\n

“Pa, you ain’t worried about Adam and Joe are you?” Hoss inquired.<\/span><\/p>\n

Ben hesitated before answering. “No, I guess not. It’s just that they should have been home yesterday. “<\/span><\/p>\n

“Well, it’s been raining for neigh on a week now – that probably slowed ’em down some. Besides, they would have come right through Virginia City on their way home. Adam probably stopped to put the money they got for the horses in the bank. And, if I know Little Joe, he talked Adam into supper at the International House and a drink at the Delta Saloon.” Hoss grinned.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” Ben smiled. Still he had an unsettled feeling that something wasn’t quite right. Six months ago, Adam had walked into the middle of a holdup at the Virginia City bank. Sam Coulter and his band of young outlaws had the bank tellers and several customers held hostage. Coulter had turned his gun on Adam, who managed to draw on Coulter. Adam had escaped unharmed. Coulter wasn’t as lucky — Adam’s bullet found it’s mark and Coulter died instantly. Unfortunately, most of the other outlaws had managed to escape. Since that day, Ben had worried that the gang might seek to avenge their leaders’ death.<\/span><\/p>\n

Both men fell silent for a few minutes. Hoss searched his father’s face.<\/span><\/p>\n

“What are you thinking about now?” he asked when Ben remained quiet and introspective.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Joe’s mother. She loved storms. She would walk in the rains, enjoying them almost as much as she did the sunshine.”<\/span><\/p>\n

“He’s a lot like her ain’t he?” Hoss asked.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Yes,” Ben nodded, the smile softening his features into smooth planes that disguised the passage of years. “Marie was filled with a love of life, a love of laughter, a love of family — an all consuming love. Just like Joe.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Hoss watched closely as his father’s thoughts shifted and surfaced, now leaving traces of pain and loss in their wake. The sadness was like a tangible presence between them. When Ben started to turn away, Hoss placed the light restraint of his hand on his fathers’s arm.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Pa, don’t worry about Adam and Joe. They’ll take care of each other.”<\/span><\/p>\n

As they entered the house, Ben accepted, not quite willingly, the advice that had been offered from his middle son. While Hoss busied himself taking the now empty coffee cups into the kitchen, Ben ascended the stairs to his bedroom with a deep sense of foreboding.<\/span><\/p>\n

*******<\/span><\/p>\n

Thunder rumbled outside and Adam stepped back, looking out at the blackness of the sky. A fork of lightning shredded the blanket of clouds, bathing the world in blinding white for a second. When the darkness returned, Adam turned back to the light emanating from Virginia City’s Delta Saloon. The atmosphere inside the saloon was a sharp contrast to the storm outside. The robust laughter of men mixed with shrill giggles of women created a exhilarated environment. Most of these men had been in the saloon since the storms started and most were inebriated.<\/span><\/p>\n

As Adam’s dark eyes took in the room, he spotted his youngest brother at a poker table. Joe’s grin was infectious as he gathered a significant amount of money from the center of the table. As Belle, the prettiest of the several saloon girls, brushed a dark curl off his forehead, Joe caught Adam’s eye and winked.<\/span><\/p>\n

Shaking his head in amusement, Adam walked to the table, slapping his brother playfully on the back.<\/span><\/p>\n

“C’mon, little brother. Let’s see if we can make it home between storms.”<\/span><\/p>\n

“Aw, Adam, just one more hand. Just one more, then I promise I’ll go quietly. Please?” Joe’s hazel eyes sparkled like emeralds and gold and Adam was tempted to give in yet again.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Sorry, Kid, you already used up your “just one more hand”. We should have headed home an hour ago.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Joe frowned at Adam, but finally acquiesced. After stealing a quick kiss from Belle, he followed his brother to the door.<\/span><\/p>\n

Just as they were about to leave, Adam heard someone call his name.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Joe, why don’t you go ahead and get the horses. I’ll meet you at the stable in a few minutes.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Joe rolled his eyes, pulled his rain gear on and headed out into the darkness.<\/span><\/p>\n

********<\/span><\/p>\n

Jase Coulter stood on a stack of small wooden crates and addressed the group of young men surrounding him.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Joe Cartwright is gonna die! We’re going shoot him right in front of his big brother, the high and mighty, Adam Cartwright!!”<\/span><\/p>\n

A round of cheers circulated. They were primed for fighting.<\/span><\/p>\n

Twenty year old Jase smiled and straightened his spine, squaring his shoulders on his five foot nine inch frame. As leader of the Coulter outlaw gang, he was accountable for the gang’s future, for increasing their reputation as a force to be reckoned with.<\/span><\/p>\n

But it was more than that. Jase had personal reasons for doing battle with the Cartwrights. Adam was responsible for the death of Sam Coulter, Jase’s older brother. Jase was hell-bent to even the score for Sam.<\/span><\/p>\n

“We’re going to kill us a Cartwright. We’re gonna do it for Sam. Then nobody will have the guts to go against us. We’ll do what we want, when we want, and no one’s going to tell us different.” Jase sneered.<\/span><\/p>\n

“How are we gonna kill him, Jase?” Lane Mason asked. “Won’t he see us coming? Shouldn’t we wait for a better time?”<\/span><\/p>\n

Jase focused on Lane. As the youngest member of Coulter’s band of outlaws, he was allowed more leeway than the rest. Jase had taken him in after his drunken father had beaten him to a bloody pulp.<\/span><\/p>\n

“There is no better time. The whole damn saloon is filled with drunken cowboys. They couldn’t find the noses on their faces right now so there’s no way they could track us. All we have to do is wait for the Cartwrights to come for their horses. We kill the kid right in front of his big brother. Then, maybe just for fun, we’ll kill Adam while we’re at it.” His eyes shone at the thought, his lips curling into a sneer.<\/span><\/p>\n

“But the sheriff–“<\/span><\/p>\n

“Forget the Sheriff! He’s just an old man!” Blood raced through his veins, building a heat from inside that fed his rage.<\/span><\/p>\n

Freddie Montoya stepped forward. His face was pockmarked and the barest shadow of a moustache showed above his lip. “I’m with you, Jase. You know that. It’s about time we got rid of the Cartwrights. But, what about their Pa and that big one they call Hoss? I hear the old man would go to the ends of the earth to track down anybody that hurt one of his precious little boys. They ain’t just gonna let us leave without a fight.”<\/span><\/p>\n

“Don’t worry about it. Once we’ve killed the kid, we’ll hide out up in the Sierra’s. With all this rain, nobody will be able to find us–not even the great Ben Cartwright. We’ll be free and clear.” crowed Jase.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Ah, Jase? What are we going to do for food while we’re hidin’?” asked Randy Markham, a skinny redhead with pale blue eyes.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Don’t you worry about it, Randy-boy. Just leave it to me.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Jase scanned the group of boys until he found the face that inspired most of his anger these days. The clean-cut fifteen year old boy stood at the back of the group, gaze downcast, blond head bowed. He wore jeans with holes in the knees and a ragged coat over his dirty shirt. He didn’t belong. Not any more. Not since he’d announced that he wanted out.<\/span><\/p>\n

Jase stepped off the crate and walked through the crowd, stopping a fraction of an inch in front of Nicky Gray until not even the light >from the fire could come between their bodies. Standing eye to eye, he pulled a pistol from the back of his belt.<\/span><\/p>\n

“This is it, Nicky. No more second chances. This is a lifetime membership. You’re either with us or against us. And if you’re against us…..” He shoved the barrel of the pistol under Nicky’s chin. “Tell me now so I don’t have to waste bullets later.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Nicky didn’t answer, and Jase couldn’t tell if he was afraid or not.<\/span><\/p>\n

“I seen you talking to the Cartwrights the other day,” Jase said slowly. “You can’t have it both ways, Nicky. I shoot traitors.” He pushed the barrel harder against Nicky’s jaw. “After I’m finished with you, I’m going to find that little brother of yours and make it a double funeral. In this gang, there are no deserters. You go, and I take everything. That’s Coulter’s law.”<\/span><\/p>\n

From his awkward angle, Nicky managed to meet the dark, steady eyes. “I ain’t going anywhere, Jase.”<\/span><\/p>\n

He kept the pistol in place for a moment longer. When he pulled the weapon away, there was a mark from the barrel on the boy’s skin. In a single move, Jase flipped the gun around, grasping it by the barrel and presenting it to Nicky butt first. “Prove it.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Nicky looked at the pistol and very carefully wrapped his fingers around the wooden grip. When Jase released his hold, the full weight of the pistol rested in Nicky’s hand. He’d handled guns before, but this one seemed heavier than most, abnormally large. He swallowed past the lump in his throat, still able to feel the cold nuzzle pressed to his skin. There was no way out. Not now.<\/span><\/p>\n

Jase stepped back. “Let’s go kill us a Cartwright.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Cheers filled the air. War cries. They smelled blood and nothing would stop them now until they satisfied it, until they had finished what needed to be done.<\/span><\/p>\n

“What?” Nicky thought. “What are we fighting for?”<\/span><\/p>\n

He stood with the old revolver and watched his friends check their weapons. Their lips were curled into hard smiles. Their eyes gleamed with blood lust. Jase had worked them into a killing frenzy. They had the means and the motive.<\/span><\/p>\n

“This is crazy.” Nicky shook his head as he slipped the revolver into his belt.<\/span><\/p>\n

Jase Coulter lead his gang of young hoodlums through the pouring rain straight to the stable. They moved to the side of the building, hiding in the shadows, waiting for the Cartwrights to make an appearance. They didn’t have to wait long. Just minutes thereafter, Joe ran into the barn. Jase waited a minute to see if Adam was going to show, but impatience quickly got the better of him as he decided one Cartwright was better than none. He gave the signal and the Coulter gang stole silently into the barn.<\/span><\/p>\n

Joe swiped the rain out of his eyes and set about the task of saddling the horses. He had just finished saddling Cochise when he heard a sound and turned as the door opened behind him.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Hey, Adam. That sure didn’t take…….” Joe stopped as he realized it wasn’t his brother, but the Coulter gang. Trouble with a capital ‘T’. He tried to get past Jase Coulter, but was blocked.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Hey, boy where ya goin’?” Jase sneered as he pointed his pistol at Joe’s chest, pushing him back into the stable. The rest of the boys followed Jase, fanning out, guns in hand. Three stopped behind Joe.<\/span><\/p>\n

Several hands roughly pushed Joe forward. He stumbled and spun around, hands coming up defensively. His body tense and poised. A fist struck his jaw, sending him stumbling down to the ground. He regained his footing in time to deliver a quick punch, but not in time to prevent a boot from connecting with his ribs. His muscles tightened sharply, defensively forming a protective wall around bone and tissue. Breathing heavily, he stood looking into the barrel of a Colt 44.<\/span><\/p>\n

It took Joe a second to lift his gaze from the black barrel and focus on the face of the boy who held the deadly pistol. At that moment, it was difficult for Joe to know who was more frightened.<\/span><\/p>\n

Nicky Gray’s eyes were huge in his pale face, his lips marred with teeth marks, nostrils flaring as he drew deep, frantic breaths. Sweat ran off him like spring rain, soaking into the collar and underarms of his shirt. In his hand, the gun shook.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Do it, Nicky,” Jase commanded.<\/span><\/p>\n

With a sinking feeling, Joe realized he was entirely outnumbered. They’d positioned him perfectly with his back to gang members, facing Nicky and several other young outlaws. Their eyes glittered with malicious contempt. Their attention was focused on Joe – sneering looks of men who were about to get even.<\/span><\/p>\n

Joe’s arm pressed against his side, his hand reaching for his gun. The pit of his stomach dropped as he found his holster empty. He must have lost it in the fight.<\/span><\/p>\n

I don’t have a gun.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Shoot him,” Jase said to Nicky.<\/span><\/p>\n

Joe licked his lips.<\/span><\/p>\n

How am I gonna get out of this one?<\/span><\/p>\n

“Put the gun down, Nicky. You don’t want to do this. You don’t want to hurt anybody.” Joe said calmly.<\/span><\/p>\n

Jase pressed his lips closer to Nicky’s ear. “Pull the damned trigger. Remember your little brother……”<\/span><\/p>\n

“Don’t listen to him, Nicky. Don’t do his dirty work. You have a choice. Nothing’s happened. You can just walk away.” Joe continued.<\/span><\/p>\n

Nicky took a choking breath. “I can’t,” he said in a strained voice.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Yes, you can.” Joe spoke fast.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Shut up!” Jase screamed.<\/span><\/p>\n

Joe continued, “You don’t need to do this, Nicky.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Nicky’s knuckles stood out white against the pistol grip. The intensity of his emotions clutched at Joe – cold, painful, unrelenting. The boy’s arms shook, as if the weight of the pistol were too much to bear. The barrel dipped.<\/span><\/p>\n

“You can still have the life you want,” Joe said. “The one we talked about. All you have to do is walk away. You know my family and I will help you, Nicky. Please don’t do this.”<\/span><\/p>\n

“You’re not walking out of here,” Jase said through his teeth. The muscles in his jaw jumped beneath the rough texture of his skin. “No way are you walking out of here!”<\/span><\/p>\n

Joe concentrated on Nicky and the pistol that was aimed at his head.<\/span><\/p>\n

“It’s up to you Nicky, not him.” Joe voice was a bit shaky now.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Do it!” Jase ordered, his face twisting with rage. There was a flicker of doubt on Nicky’s face.<\/span><\/p>\n

“It’s over, Jase.” Joe said, and felt confident that maybe it was true.<\/span><\/p>\n

Cold, empty eyes stared at Joe. “It ain’t over.” Jase pulled a gun >from his belt and pointed it at Joe.<\/span><\/p>\n

Joe thought to say something – to bargain or threaten – but a dull popping sound and a sudden hot pressure in his shoulder halted all thought.<\/span><\/p>\n

What…..?<\/span><\/p>\n

He blinked, staggered forward, then righted himself.<\/span><\/p>\n

Jase grinned, but it wasn’t his gun that had fired.<\/span><\/p>\n

Nicky.<\/span><\/p>\n

Joe stood stunned, a warm gush of blood saturating his shirt. Blindly, he pressed his right hand to the wound and stared at Nicky, his mind whirling.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Nicky, nothing’s happened yet that you can’t walk away from. Just walk away.” Joe struggled to keep his voice even.<\/span><\/p>\n

Joe’s chest constricted. The first niggling of pain crept forward as his fingers warmed with sticky blood.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Just walk away, Nicky.” he whispered.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Now it’s over,” Jase said with a sneer. He turned to Nicky. “Finish him–remember your little brother, Nicky……”<\/span><\/p>\n

Joe kept his eyes steady on Nicky, to hold him with sheer force of will. “Don’t do it. Don’t -do-it. You don’t want to kill me, Nicky. Walk away….walk away while you still can.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Nicky’s face had gone white, his expression stripped naked by what he had just done. His gaze dropped to focus tightly on the blood seeping through Joe’s fingers, pumping steadily from the small hole with every heartbeat. His own blood beat in his ears.<\/span><\/p>\n

Hearing the shot, Adam raced out of the saloon, several of the bar patrons following close on his heels. The mud in the streets slowed Adam’s steps, causing him to slip and almost lose his footing twice. He was still fifty yards away from the stable when he spotted his brother through the open door. Joe was standing on rubbery legs, one hand pressed to his bloody shoulder. Adam couldn’t see Joe’s enemy, couldn’t hear Joe as he whispered, “Just walk away.” Adam slid in the mud and fell on his back.<\/span><\/p>\n

Then the gun fired again.<\/span><\/p>\n

Joe went down. Adam’s cry was wrenched from him.<\/span><\/p>\n

The second bullet struck Joe full in the chest, smacking through ribs, tearing muscles, severing vessels. His knees buckled and he fell backward, hitting the ground hard. He lay gasping for breath, fighting his way through a haze of pain and confusion.<\/span><\/p>\n

He shot me……<\/span><\/p>\n

The wounds were bad. He was having trouble breathing and knew one of the bullets must have punctured his lung and that the metallic taste rising at the back of his throat was his own blood.<\/span><\/p>\n

He looked up at Nicky, still standing in the same position, both hands wrapped around the butt of the pistol. The barrel wobbled and shook. He locked gazes with the frightened boy and knew….<\/span><\/p>\n

He’s going to kill me.<\/span><\/p>\n

Nicky stared at Joe with horror. There was so much blood. It just kept coming and coming.<\/span><\/p>\n

I didn’t think there’d be so much blood.<\/span><\/p>\n

He watched the white shirt stain red around the black hole, watched Joe’s chest rise and fall rapidly, saw the tightly pinched face that had gone ghostly pale. A horrible gasping sound filled Nicky’s ears – a rasping gurgle.<\/span><\/p>\n

He’d done it. He’d killed Joe Cartwright.<\/span><\/p>\n

The pistol dipped in his hand. He was shaking so badly that he could barely aim the weapon. His palms were slick with sweat and he thought to just throw the pistol down and run. But Joe locked gazes with him, and he saw the fear in the young man’s eyes and the pain that rose with each beat of his heart, each breath.<\/span><\/p>\n

I’m sorry.<\/span><\/p>\n

Slowly, Joe rolled onto his side, blood frothing at the corners of his mouth. As Nicky watched, Joe struggled to his knees, choking and gasping, one hand pressed futilely to his chest.<\/span><\/p>\n

NO! Please, don’t!<\/span><\/p>\n

Tears blurred Nicky’s vision. His fingers tightened around the pistol.<\/span><\/p>\n

Don’t -don’t-don’t get up, don’t make me….<\/span><\/p>\n

“Nicky, Nicky—“<\/span><\/p>\n

He pulled the trigger again, the weapon jumping in his hand as the bullet shot out of the barrel.<\/span><\/p>\n

For a moment he couldn’t see. He heard Joe moan, then saw him collapse back onto the ground. The first of Nicky’s tears spilled past his lashes and rolled down his cheeks. He wanted it to be over. He wanted to go home. But Joe kept moaning softly, moving his legs, trying to get up.<\/span><\/p>\n

Stop! Stop! Why don’t you just stop!<\/span><\/p>\n

A sob choked in his throat. He took a step forward and aimed the muzzle at Joe Cartwright’s head.<\/span><\/p>\n

Jase and the rest of his gang whopped and shouted their approval as they ran out the door, leaving Nicky to finish the job.<\/span><\/p>\n

Helplessly, Adam watched Joe collapse to the ground. Fury rose in him. His brother lay defenseless, gravely wounded and at the mercy of his executioner. The calculated cruelty, the deliberate, inhuman act to not only kill, but to subjugate, filled Adam with rage. Fire burned in him, molten lava pushing through his veins, primordial and savage.<\/span><\/p>\n

Joe!<\/span><\/p>\n

Consumed by the instinct to protect his brother, Adam raced toward the door, again losing his footing in the mud.<\/span><\/p>\n

Hold on, Joe.<\/span><\/p>\n

Hands reached for him, but he deflected them, brushing them aside without effort. Someone called his name. A woman. But he didn’t slow, didn’t pause to acknowledge the voice pitched high with fear. He focused on Joe, seeing with relief and terror that Joe continued to struggle. His brother was weakly moving his arms and legs, trying futilely to get away from his assassin, grounded by blood-loss and pain.<\/span><\/p>\n

Nicky now stood at Joe’s head, aiming the pistol to deliver a final shot of execution–<\/span><\/p>\n

The hammer was drawn back —<\/span><\/p>\n

Before he realized it, Adam drew his weapon and put a bullet into his brother’s attacker. Nicky Gray fell to the ground and did not move.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Joe,” Adam whispered hoarsely and dropped to his knees beside his brother. Blood pooled beneath him, laying thick puddles on the ground. For an instant Adam didn’t know what to do. He stared at Joe, the blood-soaked shirt, the dark holes at the shoulder and in the chest, the chalk-white face and pink froth gathering at the corners of his parted lips.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Adam….what?…what?”<\/span><\/p>\n

Joe coughed weakly, his hand groping blindly.<\/span><\/p>\n

“It’s all right, Joe. Just hang on.” Adam said numbly, reaching for Joe’s hand.<\/span><\/p>\n

Adam turned and screamed to no one in particular. “Somebody get the doctor now!”<\/span><\/p>\n

Adam pressed the palm of his hand against the blackened hole in the center of Joe’s chest. Warm blood gushed from the wounds, a sticky, cloying wetness around his fingers. Too much blood. Too much damage. Joe’s heart hammered beneath Adam’s palm, his body desperately trying to keep oxygen going to his brain.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Adam,” Joe said weakly. “What?…”<\/span><\/p>\n

“Take it easy, Buddy. You’re gonna be just fine.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Belle knelt beside Adam, pressing her scarf to the wound in Joe’s shoulder. Her hands were trembling and she started when Joe moaned, fighting the urge to snatch both hands away. Instead she carefully lay her fingers to the side of his head, brushing his temples and hair.<\/span><\/p>\n

“It’s……bad,” Joe choked, struggling to breathe. He looked up at her, his eyes glazed, unseeing.<\/span><\/p>\n

She didn’t speak right away. What was there to say? That he was going to be all right? She looked at his wounds, at the amount of blood he was losing, and knew that he wasn’t going to be all right. The third bullet had just grazed his back, but the first two had done so much damage.<\/span><\/p>\n

Her eyes filled.<\/span><\/p>\n

Why, Joe? Why?<\/span><\/p>\n

Adam looked at her, and she wondered if she had spoken aloud, or if Adam had somehow read her mind. His face revealed nothing, but she knew what he was feeling. This was his baby brother who now lay between them bleeding and gasping for breath–and it was Adam’s fault. Adam wished he’d never heard of Sam and Jase Coulter. He knew Jase had been responsible for the attack on Joe. He vaguely remembered Jase laughing as he ran out of the barn.<\/span><\/p>\n

Sheriff Coffee had appeared in the stable after the third shot. By the time he arrived, Coulter’s gang had disappeared into the dark stormy night. Dropping his gaze, he saw the boy on the floor beside Adam. His bloody body was twisted, head tilted at an unnatural angle, unseeing eyes frozen half-open, the color dulled in the shadows. Pale, still fingers were curled around the grip of a pistol. Coffee didn’t need to check for a pulse. He could see that the boy was dead. Sheriff Coffee wondered if Adam was even aware of what he had done.<\/span><\/p>\n

He stared down at Joe. Adam and Doctor Martin were trying to staunch the flow of blood, but the sheriff had seen enough gunshot wounds to know that it would take more than a cloth to stop the bleeding, that Joe had most likely suffered critical internal injuries. Blood was filling his chest cavity, robbing him of much-needed oxygen.<\/span><\/p>\n

Blood loss. Shock.<\/span><\/p>\n

God knows what else. One bullet could do a lot of damage. Two….<\/span><\/p>\n

Joe’s legs were sprawled on the floor, moving restlessly, weakly.<\/span><\/p>\n

Hang on Joe, Hang on.<\/span><\/p>\n

Dr. Paul Martin’s gaze fell to Joe face, to the blood -rimmed lips and starch-white complexion, the faint, rapid breaths. He tightened his grip on Joe.<\/span><\/p>\n

Adam’s eyes rose to meet Paul’s. He was as pale as Joe, his eyes filled with uncertainty and fear.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Keep the pressure up, Adam. You’re doing fine.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Adam hadn’t spoken. All his energy and concentration was keenly focused on stopping the bleeding. His hand lay flat against Joe’s chest. He had managed to somehow slow the flow of blood, but could do nothing about the torn lung, or the blood that already filled the chest cavity, or the bullet embedded in the shoulder. And there was nothing he could do about the pain coursing through his brother, dulled only by shock and blood loss.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Adam…..” Pain and shock glazed Joe’s eyes, blurred his vision. He focused on his brother, struggling to keep his eyes open. He tried to speak and coughed instead, his face twisting with pain, blood gurgling in the back of his throat. “I want – I want….”<\/span><\/p>\n

Adam bent close, stroking Joe’s face with his free hand, brushing away the sweat and tears. “Don’t talk Joe. Save your strength.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Joe’s skin was cool and clammy. He shivered.<\/span><\/p>\n

“…tell you something.” He choked again on the blood rising in his throat. “…love you.”<\/span><\/p>\n

“I know, Buddy, I know. Lie still.” Adam’s voice cracked with emotion.<\/span><\/p>\n

“I want – ‘m sorry…….”<\/span><\/p>\n

“It’s all right Joe, just take it easy.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Joe coughed again, blood flecks spattering his chin and cheeks. He emitted a low, guttural moan, his eyes rolling back in his head. Adam leaned forward, whispering softly, stroking his curls, wiping at the bright specks.<\/span><\/p>\n

Joe stopped his restless movements. He lay motionless on the ground, the air heavy with the scent of blood and the sounds of short, choking breaths.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Let’s get him to my office.” Paul ordered.<\/span><\/p>\n

Several men quickly moved over to lift Joe. Adam’s fingers found the side of Joe’s face. Awkwardly, he cradled his head. His other hand maintained pressure on the chest wound. “We’re going to move you Buddy. Hang on.”<\/span><\/p>\n

But his eyes were closing, his breath growing more faint. He moaned soft and low.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Joe!’ Adam shouted, trying to pull him back to consciousness. “Stay with me, Buddy. Do you hear me! Joe!”<\/span><\/p>\n

Adam closed his eyes and Joe hitched in a breath, pressing his cheek into Adam’s open palm, seeming to seek the familiar touch and warmth. Paul watched as Joe responded to Adam, his chest rising and falling in uneven rhythms, and though he remained frighteningly white, he seemed suddenly to have more strength. His eyes fluttered slightly.<\/span><\/p>\n

******<\/span><\/p>\n

The door slammed open as Ben and Hoss Cartwright rushed into the doctors office at full speed. There, they found Adam sitting in the waiting room, his face pale, elbows on his knees, head in his hands.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Where’s Joe?” Ben asked, frantically looking around. “Adam, where’s Joe?”<\/span><\/p>\n

“He’s in there with Paul.” Adam answered quietly, staring at the door directly across the room.<\/span><\/p>\n

“How is he? Tell me.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Adam couldn’t hold his father’s gaze, or bring himself to tell him that the doctor didn’t know if Joe would survive. So he focused on the floor and said simply, “Bad.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Adam looked up and Ben saw his blood stained shirt, the haunted expression on his young face.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Adam, are you hurt?” he asked anxiously, his eyes filled with worry.<\/span><\/p>\n

“No.” He couldn’t tell his father that the blood was Joe’s.<\/span><\/p>\n

Ben sank back, feeling the color drain from his face.<\/span><\/p>\n

Ben’s mind whirled. He grabbed Adam’s arms. “What happened, Adam? What happened to Joe? How was he hurt?”<\/span><\/p>\n

Adam hesitated a moment before answering.<\/span><\/p>\n

“I let Joe talk me into playing just one more hand of poker. Pa, if I had made him leave when I wanted to, he wouldn’t be hurt. It’s my fault. I should have made him go home.” Adam’s dark eyes glistened with emotion.<\/span><\/p>\n

Ben pulled Adam into his arms. “Adam, I know you would never do anything to endanger your brother.” Ben said softly. “Tell me what happened, son.”<\/span><\/p>\n

“We were getting ready to leave when J.R. stopped me. He wanted to talk about a mining deal we’re working on. I sent Joe on ahead to the saddle the horses.” Adam took a deep breath before continuing. “I heard the first shot just as I was leaving the saloon. By the time I got to the stables, I saw someone had a gun on Joe. Apparently, Joe tried to talk the kid out of shooting, but Jase Coulter forced him to shoot. We heard Jase and his boys leaving as we got near the barn. Nicky Gray had already shot Joe in the shoulder. Then he shot him again….square in the chest. .”<\/span><\/p>\n

Ben stared blankly, his face colorless.<\/span><\/p>\n

“I tried to get to him, but” Adam’s voice softened to a whisper, “it was too late. I tried, Pa.”<\/span><\/p>\n

It took Ben a moment to look away, to move. Adam stood stiffly and watched and waited, forcing down an apology that would only sound like an excuse.<\/span><\/p>\n

Adam imagined what was going through his father’s mind — images of Joe standing helplessly as bullets tore into him, his startled cries of pain as he crumpled to the ground, left alone, bleeding and at the mercy of his enemies.<\/span><\/p>\n

Pain and fear…..<\/span><\/p>\n

Adam released a hard breath, making a conscious effort to relax. Tension was strung from the heels of his feet to the top of his head, coiling around his spine and legs. No matter how nervous or anxious he became, the outer stoic shell would remain.<\/span><\/p>\n

“You didn’t get to him,” Hoss said, his voice distant and tired.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Nobody could get to him, Hoss. Not even me.”<\/span><\/p>\n

“All those people in Virginia City and no one could help him! How is that possible?” He spun around to meet Adam’s stare.<\/span><\/p>\n

Adam didn’t answer.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Who did you say shot Joseph?” Ben asked.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Nicky Gray. He is–was–a member of the Coulter gang.”<\/span><\/p>\n

“Where is he?” Ben demanded.<\/span><\/p>\n

Stop stalling. Tell him everything.<\/span><\/p>\n

“I-I killed him. If I hadn’t…..Joe would be dead.” He drew in a shaky breath and continued. “Joe tried to crawl away. He was bleeding badly. The kid tried to put a third bullet in him–it grazed his back. Then he had the gun aimed at Joe’s head…..Suddenly, I snapped. I-I didn’t mean to kill him….only meant to disarm him. Coulter is behind the attack – he just used Nicky.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Ben rested his elbows on his knees, shoulders slumping. His expression became desolate. Adam could see the full impact of what had happened finally hit his father.<\/span><\/p>\n

“It doesn’t make sense. Joe offered to help Nicky. And Jase Coulter — why would he want to hurt Joe?” Ben asked.<\/span><\/p>\n

Adam’s felt the color drain from his face. How could his father forget that Adam had killed Jase’s brother, Sam? He couldn’t bring himself to say the words — to confess that it was he, and he alone who was responsible for Joe’s injuries.<\/span><\/p>\n

********<\/span><\/p>\n

Hours passed in silence as Ben, Adam and Hoss waited for word from Dr. Martin. Finally, when Ben thought he could wait not longer, the door opened and Paul entered. His hair was plastered with sweat and dark stains rimmed the collar and underarms of his blood splattered shirt.<\/span><\/p>\n

How is he?” Ben asked immediately, coming to a full stand.<\/span><\/p>\n

He survived the surgery, but he’s critical.” Paul focused on Ben.<\/span><\/p>\n

Adam stood before the doctor, his hands pressed together to keep them >from trembling. A sudden chill overtook him.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Please…..”<\/span><\/p>\n

“Joe’s in very critical condition, Adam. We had to resect a small potion of his left lung where the bullet entered. It came in at an angle, probably deflected by the ribs, and nicked his heart. The ventricles and atriums are undamaged and we’ve successfully removed the bullet, but his heart muscle is weak. It’s posing grave complications.”<\/span><\/p>\n

“What does that mean?” Hoss asked, moving restlessly on the other side of Adam. “What kind of complications?”<\/span><\/p>\n

“His heart beat is irregular. That’s his greatest danger right now. I removed the bullet from his shoulder and he should have no permanent damage from it. A third bullet grazed his back – not a serious wound, but painful. He also has several broken ribs.”<\/span><\/p>\n

“Then you think he’s going to recover?” Hoss said. “And these injuries won’t be permanent?”<\/span><\/p>\n

I didn’t say Joe would recover. He’s in very critical condition. I can’t make a prognosis at this time. If he gets stronger, I’ll be better able to judge any long term effects.”<\/span><\/p>\n

“IF he gets stronger?” Adam asked. “You mean WHEN.”<\/span><\/p>\n

“I mean if. Joe suffered a traumatic injury. He is by no means out of danger. The amount of damage and blood loss was severe. I’m having trouble stabilizing him. We just have to take this one step at a time.”<\/span><\/p>\n

One step at a time. Wait and see. Phrases physicians uttered countless times throughout their careers. Adam wondered if Paul Martin realized the emotional impact those words had on the families and loved ones, of if he had become just a noncommittal crutch for him to lean on.<\/span><\/p>\n

“I want to see him, Paul.” Ben said.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Of course, Ben.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Ben drew an even breath and opened the door to Joe’s room. He felt the blood drain from his face as he took in the sight before him. He shivered suddenly and wrapped his arms tightly around his chest.<\/span><\/p>\n

A mass of bloody bandages swaddled Joe’s chest. A thick pressure bandage covered his left shoulder, stained pink. For a moment, Ben watched the rise and fall of his son’s chest, the well-defined ribs and muscles moving beneath the pale skin. His gaze dipped to the narrow waist and the gentle slope of the flat belly. Unable to stop himself, Ben stepped closer and carefully lifted the blanket. Another bandage padded Joe’s back. Blood seeped through the bandages, soaking into the bed linen. He stared, alarmed at the amount of blood. Mary Turner, Dr. Martin’s nurse, sensed his concern.<\/span><\/p>\n

“It’s all right, Ben. The bleeding has stopped. I haven’t had time to change the bandages yet.” Mary said gently.<\/span><\/p>\n

So much damage. So much pain.<\/span><\/p>\n

He lowered the blankets again and gently laid a hand on Joe’s right arm. The flesh was cool and frighteningly unresponsive. His other hand caressed the soft hair, his palm resting against the top of Joe’s head. The eyes never flickered, the lashes as still as in a photograph.<\/span><\/p>\n

I’m here, Joseph. Your Pa’s here.<\/span><\/p>\n

He stayed with his son throughout the day, becoming more alarmed as time passed and Joe did not regain consciousness. Ben closed his eyes and forced himself to relax. But he couldn’t stop the tears.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Pa?”<\/span><\/p>\n

Ben opened his eyes and raised his gaze. Adam stood just inside the doorway, paralyzed by the scene in front of him. His peripheral vision took in the entire room. But like viewing a cluttered picture that seemed to overwhelm his senses, his eyes could only focus on one image – his youngest brother. Then he met his father’s eyes as Ben slowly looked up. His father’s dark brown eyes were hollow and moist with tears. He looked weary and suffering, like a man who’d been shown no mercy, a man who had walked into the fire.<\/span><\/p>\n

He’s been crying, Adam thought, and didn’t know what to say. He slowly entered the room as his father leaned heavily against the bed, his shoulders slumping under an unseen weight. Pale and haggard, Ben looked ready to collapse. Almost fearfully, Adam’s gaze slid from his father to the young man lying in the bed. Elevated slightly to ease his breathing, Joe’s head rested against a white linen pillow, his complexion a waxy color, dusted slightly with an unhealthy gray.<\/span><\/p>\n

Adam stepped to the side of the bed and, for an instant, tried to believe it wasn’t real. He’s seen Joe injured before — gunshot wounds, broken bones, lacerations, ugly contusions. He’s seen his little brother racked with fever and so sick that he couldn’t get out of bed. And he’d seen worse things happen to other men – scalped by the Paiutes, terrible injuries suffered by miners in cave-ins. He’d seen the limits of human endurance, the types of injuries a body could recover from. He’d seen miracles that had stretched the boundaries of hope, and he knew the strength of courage. But it was different when the victim was one of your own, when it was senseless and cruel, where there wasn’t an Indian war or cave-in to attach the blame…..just a troubled fifteen year old kid with a gun.<\/span><\/p>\n

Tenderly, Adam brushed back Joe’s curls and leaned in close. “I don’t want to lose you, kid. You fight, Joe. Do you hear me? You fight!”<\/span><\/p>\n

*******<\/span><\/p>\n

Dark, blurry images floated above him, menacing and real.<\/span><\/p>\n

What?<\/span><\/p>\n

He blinked several times, trying to clear his vision. His mind was fuzzy, his head stuffed with cotton. Something was wrong…. He didn’t feel right, couldn’t move. A strange roaring filled his ears, muffling the voices that buzzed around him.<\/span><\/p>\n

What?<\/span><\/p>\n

A cool hand swept the side of his face, soothing and gentle. He closed his eyes, letting the heavy weight of exhaustion pull him down. He was so tired, he wanted to curl into a warm safe place and sleep, but a dreadful thought nagged at him. It was difficult to breathe. His chest felt as if an anvil rested on it, pressing his ribs and lungs–squeezing his heart.<\/span><\/p>\n

He took a deep, stuttering breath. Pain exploded inside his chest, ripping across his left side. He cried out, his breath catching suddenly. Muscles tightened, nerves screamed. Strong fingers closed over his and he clung to the strength, anchoring himself until the red film over his eyes lifted. It seemed an eternity before the roaring in his ears faded — he realized it had been the sound of his blood pumping.<\/span><\/p>\n

“You need to lie still, Son.’<\/span><\/p>\n

He knew that voice.<\/span><\/p>\n

Pa.<\/span><\/p>\n

He moaned as a shiver swept through him. Slowly he opened his eyes and focused on the hazy features of his father. The warm dark eyes stared down at him, shimmering with moisture, in a face that seemed unnaturally drawn and pale.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Where…..what….happened?” His voice was weak, his throat dry and sore, and he couldn’t seem to get enough air in his lungs to speak properly.<\/span><\/p>\n

‘You’re going to be fine, Joe. Just take it easy.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Another voice to his left — deep –resonant.<\/span><\/p>\n

Adam.<\/span><\/p>\n

Ben continued to stroke his son’s hair, his touch, as always, easing and gentle. Gradually, Joe’s vision cleared completely. The fuzzy edges disappeared to be replaced by sharper images that seemed unfamiliar to him. With great caution, he rolled his head to the left scanning the room. It seemed to take a long time to refocus on his father’s face.<\/span><\/p>\n

“You’ve been hurt,” his father said. “You are in Dr. Martin’s office.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Yes, he was hurt. But why? How?<\/span><\/p>\n

Adam noticed the confused look on Joe’s face.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Maybe we shouldn’t rush him, Pa.’<\/span><\/p>\n

“Is he awake?” A new voice asked.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Yes, but he hasn’t spoken.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Another man entered his vision – Dr. Paul Martin.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Hello there, young man.” Paul said clearly. “Can you tell me your name?<\/span><\/p>\n

“Joe.” The word was no more than a croak.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Good. Joe, you’ve been injured. Try not to move around too much. Can you understand me?”<\/span><\/p>\n

“Yes”, he said faintly and swallowed past the rough dryness in his throat. He sucked in a shallow breath. A piercing stab cut through his ribs, slicing into the center of his chest.<\/span><\/p>\n

“I know it’s difficult for you to talk right now. Just take it slowly. Can you tell me what happened, Joe? Do you remember how you were hurt?”<\/span><\/p>\n

Warm fingers closed tightly around his hand.<\/span><\/p>\n

A fist struck his jaw, sending him stumbling down to the ground. He regained his footing in time to deliver a quick punch, but not in time to prevent a boot from connecting with his ribs. His muscles tightened sharply.<\/span><\/p>\n

Joe looked from his father to Dr. Martin.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Fight.”<\/span><\/p>\n

“Yes, you were in a fight. But, you’re safe now. Are you in any pain?”<\/span><\/p>\n

His head ached from straining his eyes and the roar was back in his ears. He didn’t remember closing his eyes, but everything had faded to a dark gray and he seemed to be spiraling away from his father.<\/span><\/p>\n

********<\/span><\/p>\n

“Joe……?”<\/span><\/p>\n

“I’m fine.” Joe mumbled as he opened his eyes.<\/span><\/p>\n

“I’m glad to hear that. You gave your family quite a scare.” Paul Martin said.<\/span><\/p>\n

Joe lay still in the bed, breathing easily. A distant throbbing in his shoulder and chest warned him against movement. Whatever comfort he had felt in the darkness was quickly leaving him.<\/span><\/p>\n

Ben walked over to the right side of the bed and gently touched his face.<\/span><\/p>\n

Joe frowned, trying to take shallow , even breaths.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Where’s Adam?” He wanted to ask him something, but he wasn’t sure what.<\/span><\/p>\n

“I sent him to bed. He stayed with you all last night.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Last night?<\/span><\/p>\n

Joe noticed the bright sunlight out side the windows. “How long have I been here?” His throat was still sore and talking seemed to waken the pain. The throbbing grew in tempo.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Five days.”<\/span><\/p>\n

He moved restlessly, growing increasingly uncomfortable. A deep ache in his chest spread towards his back and abdomen, threatening a stronger sensation. He looked down at himself. Blankets covered him to his collarbone, leaving on his right arm exposed. He couldn’t feel or move his left arm and an instant of panic swept through him. Weakly, he dragged his hand across the blanket, his fingers skimming his injured shoulder.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Your arm is in a protective sling. We need to keep your shoulder as immobile as possible.” Paul explained. “The bullet did some muscle damage.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Bullet?<\/span><\/p>\n

Joe took a moment to think.<\/span><\/p>\n

“I was shot?”<\/span><\/p>\n

“Yes,” Paul through a darting glance at Ben. “You don’t remember?”<\/span><\/p>\n

He remembered the fight, dodging fists….and….<\/span><\/p>\n

“A gun fired.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Nicky, NO!<\/span><\/p>\n

“He hit my shoulder.”<\/span><\/p>\n

“You were shot three times, Joe. The second bullet went into your chest. The third grazed your back.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Joe looked at his father, his mind scrambling to recall the incident and at the same time rejecting it. He had a clear image of Nicky Gray pointing a gun at him.<\/span><\/p>\n

Huge eyes. Face gone white.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Dr. Martin doesn’t think there will be any permanent damage, Joe.” Ben said. His hand rested gently on Joe’s uninjured shoulder. “As you begin to regain your strength, you’ll feel better.”<\/span><\/p>\n

“Your father is right, Joe. There’s no indication of lasting damage and we’re hopeful you’ll continue to improve the way you have for the past 24 hours.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Joe caught his breath, suppressing a moan. A thin, sharp ribbon of pain zig zagged through his chest. In the short time he’d been conscious, he’s managed to settle into a pattern, knowing where his limits lay. Though his lungs felt small and inefficient, the pain was strong and unrelenting and not limited to his chest. He felt aches in other areas of his body, a general sensation of being sick — nausea — lethargy. His hand began to quiver.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Doc?” Joe asked quietly.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Yes, Joe.”<\/span><\/p>\n

“When can I go home?”<\/span><\/p>\n

Paul was taken aback. “It’s too soon to be discussing that, Joe. You’ve had major surgery and I want to watch you a few more days. Then we’ll see how you do.”<\/span><\/p>\n

As Paul left to check on another patient, Ben turned his full attention to Joe.<\/span><\/p>\n

‘You have to take it easy, Joe. You’ve been very sick.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Joe’s eyelids drooped as exhaustion fell on him. The ache in his chest radiated outward, causing him to hitch in a breath. He clutched his hand to his chest, wanting to ease the pain, but it seemed easier to simply close his eyes and give himself to the weariness. In the darkness there was no pain– and no memory.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Sleep now, Son.”<\/span><\/p>\n

The softness of his fathers voice and the gentleness of his touch lulled Joe into sleep. He knew that in the darkness, his father stood vigil–protecting him.<\/span><\/p>\n

*********<\/span><\/p>\n

“So you don’t think he remembers all of the attack?” Adam asked Dr. Martin.<\/span><\/p>\n

They were seated in the doctor’s waiting room, sipping coffee. It was noon and Adam had come into Virginia City to check on Joe. He and Hoss had taken over the responsibilities of running the ranch, but still made time to see Joe each day. Joe had been sleeping peacefully, as he had when Hoss had visited earlier. Ben was sitting with him now.<\/span><\/p>\n

“He just seems to remember bits and pieces.” Paul answered.<\/span><\/p>\n

“What do you mean, bits and pieces?”<\/span><\/p>\n

Paul seemed uncomfortable, settling his shoulders and lowering his gaze slightly. “Joe remembers being shot in the shoulder. Nothing more.”<\/span><\/p>\n

It was Adam’s turn to be uncomfortable. He wasn’t certain why, but he felt a strange kind of guilt speaking to Paul about Joe’s injury, as if he were reinforcing the belief that Adam was responsible. He shifted his weight. “Maybe it’s just as well he doesn’t remember.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Paul looked at him. “Won’t Roy need Joe’s testimony to convict Jase Coulter and his gang?”<\/span><\/p>\n

The question caught Adam off guard, and for a moment he thought he had heard it incorrectly. In the mayhem of the past few days with Joe regaining consciousness and making the first steps towards recovery, he’d forgotten to tell Paul and even his own father that the Coulter gang had disappeared completely.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Coulter and his boys have vanished – Roy thinks they may have left the territory. He called off the search when we couldn’t pick up any tracks because of the rain. Hoss and I looked for a few more days, but we finally had to give up when the storms got too bad.” Adam said quietly.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Then it’s over?” Dr. Martin questioned.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Over?” Adam was stunned. “It’s not over. Not by a damn long shot. You can count on that.”<\/span><\/p>\n

“What are you going to do, Adam?”<\/span><\/p>\n

“I’m going to find them – all of them. They won’t ever hurt anybody again.” Adam said, his dark eyes hooded with anger.<\/span><\/p>\n

“You’re going to go outside the law?” asked Paul in astonishment.<\/span><\/p>\n

“If I have to.”<\/span><\/p>\n

“Adam, you can’t…….”<\/span><\/p>\n

Adam fought down the anger that threatened to overcome him. “Joe may never fully recover. Have you thought about that? He may suffer the effects from this for the rest of his life, and there’s not a damn thing I can do about that. But I can give him a taste of justice. I’m not going to walk into his room and tell him I’ve given up. I’m not going to tell him that those boys got away free and clear!”<\/span><\/p>\n

Sorrow met Adam’s anger.<\/span><\/p>\n

“They’re not all free, Adam.” Paul said quietly.<\/span><\/p>\n

No they weren’t all free. Nicky Gray was dead. It was an eye for an eye, but it wasn’t enough….and it wasn’t the whole story.<\/span><\/p>\n

“I know that,” Adam said quietly, forcing himself to calm. “But it wasn’t just Nicky. Can’t you see that? There were others involved in Joe’s attack. Maybe they didn’t hold the gun, but they were just as guilty of attempted murder as Nicky. I want justice for that.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Silence.<\/span><\/p>\n

“You want revenge.” Paul said calmly.<\/span><\/p>\n

“I want to make it safe for Joe again.” His tone denied the truth of Paul’s words. Somehow it was better if it was justice he was after and not revenge.<\/span><\/p>\n

Paul cocked his head slightly. “Adam, didn’t Joe promise to help Nicky — to help him get away from a life of killing? Do you think Joe would want you to hunt Coulter down and kill him?”<\/span><\/p>\n

Anger rose in Adam. “I’m not going to let them walk away. Not after what they did to Joe.”<\/span><\/p>\n

And what they forced me to do to Nicky.<\/span><\/p>\n

He turned to leave.<\/span><\/p>\n

Adam’s steps faltered before he stopped completely. Anger still burned in his mind. Half turning to Paul, he said, “Tell Pa I’ll be back later.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Paul said nothing as Adam disappeared through the door.<\/span><\/p>\n

*********<\/span><\/p>\n

“NO!”<\/span><\/p>\n

Joe jerked awake, the echo of his cry ringing in the room. The sound of it seemed foreign to his ears, and yet he knew it had been his voice. He fell back onto the bed, gasping for air.<\/span><\/p>\n

“No,” he moaned, pressing into the pillow, one hand laid to his burning chest in a futile effort to ease the agony that threatened to consume him. But, it was not the pain he fought against. It was the fear.<\/span><\/p>\n

Drenched with sweat and still shaking with panic, Joe squeezed his eyes shut and concentrated on getting air back into his lungs. A part of his mind retreated, while his body cried out for attention. He could not remember the nightmare but the sheer terror of it left behind clung to him like a physical presence.<\/span><\/p>\n

Hoss appeared in the door way with a lamp. He crossed the floor to Joe’s bed and sat next to him.<\/span><\/p>\n

“It’s all right, Joe. Just relax.” Hoss said quietly.<\/span><\/p>\n

It hurt to breathe – he desperately needed air.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Want…..”<\/span><\/p>\n

What was wrong with him?<\/span><\/p>\n

DANGER!<\/span><\/p>\n

His whole body shook with fear.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Try to calm down, Buddy. You had a bad dream. It’s all over now.”<\/span><\/p>\n

A cool cloth soothed his flushed face. Where was his father? Why wasn’t he here?<\/span><\/p>\n

“Take small breaths, Joe. That’s it, nice and easy.” Hoss instructed calmly.<\/span><\/p>\n

Hoss’s voice was hypnotic and Joe did as he was told.<\/span><\/p>\n

“It’s all right, Joe. I’m here. Go back to sleep.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Slowly, the fear ebbed, the shaking lessened. A tranquility spread throughout his body, feeling him with heaviness. He opened his eyes and stared at Hoss.<\/span><\/p>\n

Hoss smiled. “That’s it, Short Shanks. Slow, even breaths. You’re doing fine.”<\/span><\/p>\n

His vision blurred. His eyes drooped.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Close your eyes, Joe. I’m here Buddy, I’ll stay with you.”<\/span><\/p>\n

A last shiver swept through Joe before his body surrendered.<\/span><\/p>\n

********<\/span><\/p>\n

“You look better,” Adam said, pacing slowly at the foot of Joe’s bed. He’s walked the length of the room a dozen times since entering, avoiding physical contact with Joe, but making up for it with an abundance of conversation.<\/span><\/p>\n

Joe lay against a stack of pillows, his right hand resting lightly on his side as if to ease the constant gnawing of his mending ribs and lung, the annoying sluggishness of his heart. Dr. Martin had warned him that the healing process would take time, and that he could expect fatigue and shortness of breath for several weeks.<\/span><\/p>\n

“It’s important that you take it easy. I know it’s difficult for you, but try to be patient.” Paul had said.<\/span><\/p>\n

He was trying. Over the past two days, he’d come to accept the sharp-edged pain that accompanied each breath, the tightness of his chest that prevented easy movement, and the deeper though less profound ache in his shoulder. He’d come to accept that lying motionless didn’t make the pain any less intense or keep it at bay. And, he’d come to accept the nightmares that plagued him, growing more vivid and violent each time — startling images of Nicky standing over him with the barrel of the gun centered on his head. Every night he’d awaken, shaking and crying out with terror.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Are you tired?”<\/span><\/p>\n

Joe looked at his father and shook his head, determined not to succumb to his body’s weakness, or to fall prey to some persistent, illusive fear. He’d been hurt before and knew that he could recover from these injuries. In a few weeks he’d be back breaking horses and running the ranch with his father and brothers. This would be behind him, nightmares and all.<\/span><\/p>\n

Time. I just need a little time.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Are you sure?” Ben looked closely at him.<\/span><\/p>\n

“What?”<\/span><\/p>\n

“You’re not too tired?”<\/span><\/p>\n

“No, I’m fine.” After a moment, he asked. “Where’s Hoss?” Focusing on a familiar topic took his mind away from the spasms that had begun in his back.<\/span><\/p>\n

As Adam launched into the latest activities of the family and ranch, he made another pass of the bed. Joe stole a glance at his father. Ben had neither moved or spoken since Adam started his detailed story. He remained at Joe’s side, his face unreadable, his eyes shielded.<\/span><\/p>\n

The two men were hiding something.<\/span><\/p>\n

“You’re making me dizzy, Adam,” Joe said finally, finding it difficult to both keep up with Adam’s moving form and concentrate on the conversation.<\/span><\/p>\n

Adam smiled self-consciously and made an effort to stand still. “Sorry.”<\/span><\/p>\n

“Where did you say Hoss was?” The spasm in his chest sent mild shock waves through his body, clenching and tightening the muscles. He dropped a hand to his ribs to try and steady the convulsing muscles.<\/span><\/p>\n

“He had some business to take care of. He’ll be here soon.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Joe nodded.<\/span><\/p>\n

“You look better,” Adam said, observing him from the foot of the bed. His spine was straight, his hands clasped in front. He looked as if he were addressing a Church full of people.<\/span><\/p>\n

Joe frowned. “That’s the third ‘you look better’…and the fourth time you’ve looked out the window–” A sharp stab caught at his ribs and he pressed his arm to the uninjured side of his chest to stay the pain. “Are you going to tell me…what’s wrong, Adam?”<\/span><\/p>\n

Silence.<\/span><\/p>\n

Joe paused for breath, feeling lightheaded. “There’s something wrong. I can feel it. I can see it. Tell me.”<\/span><\/p>\n

For a moment Joe thought Adam would deny him, carry the charade through, but something flickered in the dark eyes–panic, fear, regret. Then Adam’s shoulders fell and seemed to relax, as if a burden had been lifted from him.<\/span><\/p>\n

“There is something.” Ben moved closer to the bedside, his expression serious. “We — I didn’t want to tell you until you were stronger.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Stronger?<\/span><\/p>\n

He didn’t like the tone or the grim expression on his father’s face. He looked to his brother, feeling the rise of apprehension and trying to mask it. “What is it?”<\/span><\/p>\n

His heart fluttered and he closed his eyes, waiting for the sensation to pass. It lasted only a few seconds, just long enough to steal his breath.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Maybe we should do this another time, when you’re not so tired.” Ben said with concern. He stepped closer, watching Joe anxiously. “We don’t want to upset you.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Joe slowly recovered, regaining his speech. He opened his eyes. “I’m all right.”<\/span><\/p>\n

“It can wait, Joe,” Ben said.<\/span><\/p>\n

“He asked, Pa,” Adam said firmly, drawing his father’s attention. “and we agreed to tell him if he asked.”<\/span><\/p>\n

The two men stared at one another for a long moment. Joe lay between them, bewildered.<\/span><\/p>\n

“I’m not sure I want…to know,” Joe said honestly. “What’s this all about?”<\/span><\/p>\n

“Nicky Gray.” Ben through down the name like a gauntlet, then retracted quickly. “Actually, it goes back further than him. I haven’t asked you how much you remember, and I’m not sure how much sense this is going to make to you, but some things have happened that you need to know about.”<\/span><\/p>\n

A heaviness pressed against Joe’s chest, an effect of fatigue. He took a cautious breath. “I know Nicky shot me.”<\/span><\/p>\n

“Yes, Nicky shot you, but it’s more involved than that.” Ben voice was soft. “Jase Coulter set it up. He supplied the weapon, the motive.”<\/span><\/p>\n

“I know that.” Joe remembered trying to talk Nicky into putting the gun down, the frightened look in the boy’s eyes and the way the gun shook in his hand. There had been a moment when Joe thought he’d gotten to Nicky, when it looked as if the boy might walk away, a moment when they both had stood a chance.<\/span><\/p>\n

“This is going to sound stupid…….but he’s not really a bad kid. Pa, would you talk to Sheriff Coffee? Ask him not to….. be too hard on Nicky. Like you said…..Coulter put him up to it. Adam promised to talk to some of the merchants in Virginia City….help Nicky get a job…..get away from Coulter.<\/span><\/p>\n

Adam became very still, and when he spoke, his voice was as gentle as Joe had ever heard it. “Joe, Nicky is dead.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Dead?<\/span><\/p>\n

His mind staggered. “How…..What? I don’t under….he—“<\/span><\/p>\n

“Joe, listen to me,” Ben said calmly.<\/span><\/p>\n

“No,” Adam said. “It’s my responsibility. I’ll tell him.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Joe looked at his brother, heart pounding. A chill ran through him and he shivered slightly, the ache in his chest spreading like fire. “What responsibility? What–What are you talking about?”<\/span><\/p>\n

“I wanted to tell you earlier……” Adam looked at him. The dark eyes were shielded. “Joe, I killed Nicky.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Cold, numbing disbelief. His brother had killed Nicky? It wasn’t possible. Adam had promised to help Nicky. Joe shook his head. The world spun and fell. “No…..no….”<\/span><\/p>\n

“I’m sorry Joe…..”<\/span><\/p>\n

“Stop! Why are you saying that? It’s not true!” It couldn’t be true. Nicky was just a boy, a child. His brother would not kill a child.<\/span><\/p>\n

“I’m sorry Joe….so sorry, but it’s true.”<\/span><\/p>\n

“No! You wouldn’t do that…you wouldn’t kill him. I-I promised……you promised….. help him….just a scared……kid” His heart pounded with a ferocity that threatened to tear the sutured vessels. The bruised muscles stretched. He leaned back, pressing a hand to ease the pain.<\/span><\/p>\n

“You have to stay calm, Joe.” Ben said reaching for him.<\/span><\/p>\n

Joe pushed his father’s hand away. He didn’t want to be coddled and comforted. Struggling to stay focused on his brother, he pleaded. “Adam….tell me.”<\/span><\/p>\n

“Joe, I’m sorry, there was no other way.” Adam said sadly.<\/span><\/p>\n

No, he wouldn’t believe that his brother had killed Nicky Gray. It couldn’t have happened that way. Nicky was just a scared kid who had never wanted to hurt anybody. That first shot had been out of fear. Coulter had threatened him, his family—<\/span><\/p>\n

Joe shook his head again. A sudden flush of heat enveloped him, covering him with a sheen of sweat.<\/span><\/p>\n

“It’s true, Joe. Adam was protecting you,” Ben said gently. “Nicky had already shot you three times. You were defenseless, dying. Adam did what he had to do. What any of us would have done. Nicky was going to kill you.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Had it gone that far? Would Nicky really have killed him? He remembered…..<\/span><\/p>\n

Lying on the ground, struggling to breathe, coughing up blood at each exhalation. Nicky stood in front of him, eyes wide, lips trembling. The pistol shook in his hands….the barrel dipped……<\/span><\/p>\n

“No….he was going to walk away, ” Joe said slowly. His head spun.<\/span><\/p>\n

“He was a hair’s breath away from putting a bullet in your brain,” Ben said.<\/span><\/p>\n

He rolled on his side, his hand pressed firmly against his chest and sticky with warm blood.<\/span><\/p>\n

“You weren’t there, Pa….you didn’t see…you don’t know.”<\/span><\/p>\n

“But I do,” Adam said quietly.<\/span><\/p>\n

“No.” It was a helpless sound of denial and disbelief.<\/span><\/p>\n

He didn’t want it to be true.<\/span><\/p>\n

Adam gently swept his hair from his damp forehead. Joe searched his brother’s face.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Why?” Joe asked.<\/span><\/p>\n

“The boy was determined to kill you.” Sadness lingered in Adam’s eyes.<\/span><\/p>\n

“He was scared. He would’ve run.”<\/span><\/p>\n

“There was no other way to save you, Joe.”<\/span><\/p>\n

“Joe, your brother did what was necessary. Nobody wanted Nicky to die.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Nicky had been a sweet kid who’d fallen in with bad company after the sudden death of his father in a mine cave-in. Lonely and feeling abandoned, Nicky had sought the companionship and belonging the Coulter Gang offered. It wasn’t until later that the boy had realized the trap that had imprisoned him. Being an outlaw was for life – on threat of death.<\/span><\/p>\n

Joe closed his eyes, his mind filling with images of Nicky. The boy had come to him for help, his motives sincere. “He wanted out…talked about plans for the future…a life.”<\/span><\/p>\n

“He was going to kill you, Joe.” Ben said again.<\/span><\/p>\n

“He was just a lonely kid…..could have gotten out. I could have helped him.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Ben stroked his hair, neither forcing Joe to respond to his ministrations, or retreating himself.<\/span><\/p>\n

Joe opened his eyes, but did not look at Adam. If he hadn’t insisted on staying in Virginia City for one more poker game, Nicky would never have had the chance to confront him. It was a fact that because he wanted to play one more game that Nicky had gotten killed.<\/span><\/p>\n

“What’s done is done,” Ben said finally. “Nicky wasn’t innocent, Joe. I know you wanted to help the boy, but if Adam hadn’t stopped him, you’d be dead. That’s the truth. You need to accept it, Son.”<\/span><\/p>\n

His father didn’t understand and Joe didn’t want to explain. Too much was going on in his head. He needed time to think, to sort things out.<\/span><\/p>\n

Leaning into the pillows, he breathed heavily, feeling the pressure in his chest, the exhaustion and pain pull him down. For once, he did not fight it.<\/span><\/p>\n

“I’m tired….” he said, and closed his eyes.<\/span><\/p>\n

Adam and Ben rose. “We’ll let you rest.”<\/span><\/p>\n

He didn’t watch them as they left.<\/span><\/p>\n

********<\/span><\/p>\n

“You’re up late.” Hoss stood in front of his father’s desk where Adam sat with his forearms resting on the desk, his gaze focused on the framed family photograph in the corner. “It’s almost midnight.”<\/span><\/p>\n

“Catching up on some paperwork,” Adam said quietly.<\/span><\/p>\n

He looks tired.<\/span><\/p>\n

Joe’s injuries had been hard on them all, but Adam had spent his days jockeying between his ranch responsibilities, mining problems and whatever else came up still finding time to visit Joe.<\/span><\/p>\n

Trying to do it all.<\/span><\/p>\n

Hoss took a deep breath. This talk was long overdue. He walked closer and sat in the chair in front of the desk. “What’s wrong, Adam?”<\/span><\/p>\n

Adam looked at him, his expression a mixture of surprise and bewilderment.<\/span><\/p>\n

“You’re not here to catch up on paperwork,” Hoss explained. “So, what’s wrong?”<\/span><\/p>\n

“What makes you think I’m not here to do paperwork?” Adam asked.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Because you’ve been sitting here for an hour and a half and there isn’t a single piece of paper on the desk.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Adam looked down at the clean, wooden surface, and smiled without humor. “I always thought you had great detective skills, Hoss…..no matter what Joe says.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Hoss observed him closely. “Is everything all right with Joe?”<\/span><\/p>\n

He nodded.<\/span><\/p>\n

“When’s the Doc gonna let him come home?”<\/span><\/p>\n

“Few more days, maybe. He need to get some of his strength back. He still tires easily.”<\/span><\/p>\n

“It’ll take time.” Hoss had seen Joe earlier for a brief visit. His little brother had looked pale and drawn and spoke in short sentences, always out of breath and in pain. It was good to see him awake, but there had been an expression in his eyes that worried Hoss. “He’ll get better, Adam, you’ll see.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Hoss waited in silence, knowing that Adam wanted to say something. Adam always withdrew into himself when he needed time and space from his family. But Hoss sensed he was ready to talk about what was bothering him and waited patiently.<\/span><\/p>\n

“We told him about Nicky today.” Adam said finally.<\/span><\/p>\n

So that was it.<\/span><\/p>\n

“How did he take it?”<\/span><\/p>\n

“How do you think?” Adam leaned back in his chair. “I don’t know how to help him. I can’t erase what’s happened and take away his pain, and I can’t make it right.” He paused before adding, “And I can’t make it safe for him again.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Hoss frowned. “Do you think Coulter is gonna come after him?”<\/span><\/p>\n

“I hope not, but I’d feel better if we could put the whole Coulter gang behind bars.”<\/span><\/p>\n

“Did you tell Joe they got away?”<\/span><\/p>\n

“No, Pa and I didn’t want to upset him anymore than we already had.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Adam leaned back and rubbed his eyes.<\/span><\/p>\n

Hoss didn’t know what to say to make his brother feel better. Adam stared at the framed photograph, a family portrait taken six months ago, before the Coulter brothers had come into their lives–before Adam had been forced to shoot Sam Coulter in a bank robbery gone bad–and before Adam had promised Joe that he would help Nicky Gray get a job. Joe had felt sorry for the boy who had lost his father and wanted to do something for him. He had been pleased when Adam agreed to talk to some of the merchants in town on Nicky’s behalf. Now, a short six months later, he had killed the boy he had promised to help, Joe was severely injured and Adam was filled with guilt. He sighed deeply and covered his face with his hands.<\/span><\/p>\n

“I wish we’d never heard of the Coulter brothers.” Adam said sadly.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Adam, it’s not your fault. Sam Coulter would have killed the teller and everybody else in that bank if you hadn’t shot him. And Nicky, well, he was going to kill Joe. You had no choice Adam. You just did what had to be done.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Adam sighed deeply, “I promised Joe I’d help Nicky. I didn’t have to kill him. I could have just shot the gun out of his hand. But, I saw him standing there with a gun to Joe’s head and I just fired. Didn’t even think about aiming……..” his voice tapered off.<\/span><\/p>\n

Hoss took a deep breath and slowly released it. “It’s late, Adam. You’ve been working yourself into the ground. Why don’t you go on upstairs and get some rest. We’ve got a lot to do tomorrow.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Adam pushed himself out of the chair, feeling suddenly very tired and followed Hoss up the stairs.<\/span><\/p>\n

*********<\/span><\/p>\n

“Joe, help me!”<\/span><\/p>\n

He pushed through the fight, punching and blocking against the attacks. Bodies slammed against him, hands clutching and tearing at his clothes, knuckles bruising his flesh. Obscenities rang in his ears, mixed with the sharp sound of a fist fight. He touched the smooth handle of his pistol. The heavy weight pressed hard into his hip. He couldn’t draw his weapon in a crowd.<\/span><\/p>\n

Danger. Too many people.<\/span><\/p>\n

A strong punch to his belly sent him crashing to his knees, gasping for breath.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Joe!” Nicky’s terror-struck voice cut through the haze in Joe’s mind.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Nicky!”<\/span><\/p>\n

He had to get to the boy, had to save him. He had promised. He staggered to his feet and, with a violent shove, came through the crowd. Nicky stood in a clearing, facing Jase and a fully loaded revolver.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Stay away!” Jase said, turning his head to Joe. The gun remained centered on Nicky – a perfect shot to the head.<\/span><\/p>\n

Joe frowned. He couldn’t understand Jase’s words. “Stay away, Cartwright!” Jase repeated the garbled words, his tone impatient and angry. He gestured with the barrel, stabbing the air between Nicky and himself. Joe stepped forward. The pressure on his hip was a reminder that he was armed……and safe.<\/span><\/p>\n

“What’s he saying?” Joe asked Nicky.<\/span><\/p>\n

Nicky shook his head and stepped away, his eyes wide. The gun followed his movement. “Joe, help me. He’s going to kill me!”<\/span><\/p>\n

“It’s all right. It’s all right. We can talk.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Jase sneered. The black glimmering eyes held no compassion, no reason. Jase wasn’t going to listen.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Joe…..please……” Nicky’s voice shook with fear. “Do something!”<\/span><\/p>\n

“Hold it, Coulter!” Joe went to draw his gun, but nothing happened. No pearl handle in his palm. No heavy weight in his hand. No movement.<\/span><\/p>\n

Panic rose in him. The gun dug into his hip. His ribs were on fire, burning a trail from his ribs to his chest.<\/span><\/p>\n

What was wrong?<\/span><\/p>\n

He looked down in horror.<\/span><\/p>\n

He had no arms.<\/span><\/p>\n

Jase laughed, a hissing sound like a snake. Joe looked up, bewildered, terrified. Jase and Nicky both pointed their guns at him, and the barrels seemed immense. A band squeezed around Joe’s chest…..tightening.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Nicky….?”<\/span><\/p>\n

“You said you’d help me, Joe.” Nicky scowled. “Why didn’t you help me?<\/span><\/p>\n

The hammers drew back…..<\/span><\/p>\n

“NO!”<\/span><\/p>\n

Bang!!<\/span><\/p>\n

**********<\/span><\/p>\n

“NO!” A solid force blocked his escape. He gasped, wheezing in a half-choking breath before the pain in his chest stopped him cold. “Wait….wait.”<\/span><\/p>\n

He couldn’t move his arms….trapped….helpless.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Joe, don’t. It’s all right.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Gentle arms embraced him, warm and secure. The scent of bay rum wafted from the man.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Pa,” he whispered, trembling uncontrollably. “My arms.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Ben leaned back slightly and Joe freed his right arm from between them.<\/span><\/p>\n

“It’s all right, son. Your arm is still in a sling.” Ben explained gently.<\/span><\/p>\n

…..He’d been hurt….shot…..Doc Martin’s office.<\/span><\/p>\n

He leaned into his father’s strength, resting his head against the man’s shoulder, trying to catch his breath and stop the spinning.<\/span><\/p>\n

Dream. It was just a dream.<\/span><\/p>\n

White hot pain lanced through his ribs, digging deep into the bone, tearing at the muscles. He grimaced and pulled away from Ben. Breathless and dizzy, he eased back against the pillows, his free hand clutching his ribs.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Are you all right?” Ben asked, his voice betraying his concern.<\/span><\/p>\n

Weakly, Joe shook his head. Pin-dots of light danced in his vision as a flush rose suddenly to his face, covering him with a layer of sweat. He recognized the symptoms of overexertion. The slightest amount of physical activity made him breathless and faint. His heart pounded rapidly, slamming against his breastbone, like an incessant drum beating louder and louder….<\/span><\/p>\n

“Here.” Ben held a glass of water.<\/span><\/p>\n

With a trembling hand, he took it, sparing the breath to sip the liquid. Though the water was room temperature, it quenched his thirst, keeping his tongue from sticking to the roof of his mouth.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Take it easy.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Still gasping for air, Joe handed the glass back. Ben barely caught it before his fingers lost their grip. “Thanks.”<\/span><\/p>\n

He closed his eyes for a moment, gathering his strength and waiting for his heart to stop its fierce pounding. He needed time to compose himself before he confronted his father. The nightmare had been vivid and the images haunting. Though he couldn’t remember the specific event, he knew that what he’d dreamed had, in some way, been real. He flexed his fingers, feeling blood surge into the tips. His left arm was heavy and cumbersome, but he hadn’t lost his arms. He wasn’t defenseless.<\/span><\/p>\n

Ben brushed Joe’s damp curls back from his forehead.<\/span><\/p>\n

He opened his eyes.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Feel better?” Ben sat at the edge of the bed, watching him closely.<\/span><\/p>\n

He nodded, still weak and dizzy and out of breath. He lowered his gaze, unable to meet his father’s concerned face. Somehow he felt like a failure.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Some.” He tried to keep his tone casual. “I don’t remember….most of them.”<\/span><\/p>\n

“But you remember this one.” Ben stated.<\/span><\/p>\n

Joe moved uncomfortably, wondering if he could lie. He didn’t want to talk about the nightmares and his increasing sense of helplessness. The dreams were a map to his subconscious, and he couldn’t deny the significance of what had happened in that empty stable, of the fear that overwhelmed him. Finally, he gave a barely perceptible nod, his gaze tightly focused on the blanket.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Joe, maybe it would help if you talked about it.”<\/span><\/p>\n

“No.”<\/span><\/p>\n

“I might be able to help.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Joe pressed into the pillows, feeling exhaustion in every bone and muscle. A chill swept through him and he shivered in the damp nightshirt that clung to him.<\/span><\/p>\n

“I know you want to help, Pa, but…..don’t tell Adam about this….I don’t want him to know.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Ben thought for a moment, then nodded slowly. “All right, Joe, if you’re sure.”<\/span><\/p>\n

“I am.”<\/span><\/p>\n

“What’s wrong?” Ben asked, frowning slightly.<\/span><\/p>\n

Joe moved restlessly, unable to find a comfortable position. His right hand alternated between his aching ribs and his throbbing shoulder. “My arm fell asleep.”<\/span><\/p>\n

“Here.” Ben untied the restrictive sling that immobilized his left shoulder and arm. Very carefully, he began to massage Joe’s forearm, stimulating the circulation.<\/span><\/p>\n

Joe grimaced at first as the pins and needles sensation intensified. But then the pain faded and the heaviness lifted. Ben’s touch was surprisingly gentle and adept. Joe watched as his father’s fingers continued their tiny circular motions up his arm.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Is that better?”<\/span><\/p>\n

“Yeah. You seem like you’ve….done this before.”<\/span><\/p>\n

“I’ve learned different skills throughout my life – especially with you and your brothers. Sometimes out of necessity. Sometimes out of pleasure.”<\/span><\/p>\n

“Shoulda been a doctor.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Ben laughed. “That’s one occupation I never considered.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Ben carefully positioned Joe’s arm into the sling and secured it in place.<\/span><\/p>\n

Joe’s eyes began to close. The throbbing in his ribs had faded enough to allow him to sleep. But the darkness was not a place of refuge. He struggled to focus on his father.<\/span><\/p>\n

In a smooth motion, Ben slid from the edge of the bed and into the chair.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Why don’t you try and get some rest. I’ll stay here with you.”<\/span><\/p>\n

********<\/span><\/p>\n

Sobs filled the air in the old cemetery. Tommy Gray stood in front of his brother’s grave, staring at the words carved in the wooden cross. Fresh grass had just begun to spring up from the ground to cover the newness of the grave. It seemed important to the grounds keeper that Nicky’s grave appear as everyone else’s. Tommy didn’t understand. They had walked a long way back to the site through rows and rows of headstones and statues to the very edge of potters field.<\/span><\/p>\n

It wasn’t an expensive plot. The view was ugly, but it was all they could afford. Tommy had wanted a granite headstone with a winged angel hovering, a guardian to protect his brother. But his mother had bought a simple white cross with Nicky’s name carved on it. It had been to expensive to get a nice headstone, but Tommy swore one day Nicky would have one.<\/span><\/p>\n

Tommy’s mother knelt on the ground, her spine curved, her shoulders slumped. He watched as her entire body shook with sobs. Every day they came to the grave, and every day it was the same. They would walk out of the cemetery and return to their small shack at the edge of Virginia City, emotionally drained. And every day Tommy would curse the Coulter gang for letting his brother get killed by Adam Cartwright, and then letting Cartwright just walk away. He cursed the law for protecting Adam Cartwright and he cursed Joe Cartwright for being there in the first place.<\/span><\/p>\n

A high-pitched wail echoed in the air. Tommy wanted to shake his mother to silence her. Tears and cries would do nothing to bring Nicky back. Hadn’t she learned anything from their father’s death, from the way things were? Didn’t she want to do anything to avenge her son’s death?<\/span><\/p>\n

He looked past the cross and deafened his ears to his mother’s sobs.<\/span><\/p>\n

Inside, a cold hate began to grow.<\/span><\/p>\n

********<\/span><\/p>\n

Something woke Joe.<\/span><\/p>\n

He opened his eyes. Light from the corridor spilled into his room, a thin, golden path cutting into the shadows. A figure moved at the foot of his bed.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Pa?”<\/span><\/p>\n

He blinked, struggling to wake, straining to see through the darkness. Cottony webs clung to his mind, distorting his thoughts. He turned on the light above his head. The shadows vanished…<\/span><\/p>\n

Nicky stood calmly watching him, his expression unreadable. He seemed at peace, impassive.<\/span><\/p>\n

Joe sat up. “Nicky? How…?”<\/span><\/p>\n

Nicky raised his arm, pointing a gun at Joe. The barrel glimmered. “Sorry, Joe.”<\/span><\/p>\n

“Nicky, no! Wait!”<\/span><\/p>\n

The explosion rang in his ears. He jerked back, slamming into the headboard–<\/span><\/p>\n

“Joe.” A soft feminine voice. “Joe, it’s all right.”<\/span><\/p>\n

He struggled against the gentle hold, ignoring the hot searing in his shoulder and chest. Frantically, he searched the room, trying to see beyond the nurse’s figure. Only his lamp was lit and the additional light from the corridor poured through the open doorway.<\/span><\/p>\n

“I didn’t mean to scare you. I thought you saw me.” Mary Turner said gently. “I was just going to check your bandages.”<\/span><\/p>\n

His hand passed over the think bandages on his chest. No bullet holes. No gun. No Nicky.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Nicky’s dead,” he said softly and fell back onto the pillows, trembling. “Dream.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Her slim fingers skimmed his forehead. “You’re all sweaty. That must have been some dream.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Dreams were the apparitions of the mind. Was it Adam who had told him that a soul divided cannot rest?<\/span><\/p>\n

Nicky had been real.<\/span><\/p>\n

Mary moved over to the basin and returned with a damp cloth. “Are you in any pain?”<\/span><\/p>\n

He shook his head. A dull throbbing settled into his body, punishment for his abrupt motion. He closed his eyes as the cloth was laid on his forehead.<\/span><\/p>\n

I’m sorry, Nicky.<\/span><\/p>\n

The nurse checked for a fever, then his pulse. Her hand was warm and tender on his wrist. In that instant, he longed for his father’s touch, for the strong, gentle hands that offered him calm. But more than that he wanted to lean into his father’s embrace, to feel the warmth from Ben’s body, as he had felt it as a child, and to know that nothing could harm him.<\/span><\/p>\n

The nurse settled the blankets around him before leaving. In the pale light of the room, Joe lay quietly, waiting for the shadows to move.<\/span><\/p>\n

********<\/span><\/p>\n

They were in Dr. Martin’s office -Ben, Hoss and Adam–waiting to take Joe home. He’d been released after much discussion among all concerned parties. Paul wanted to keep him in Virginia City for continued monitoring, concerned about the persistent fatigue. But Joe had been insistent on going home despite his family’s concern. In the end, they had compromised. Paul had agreed to let him go home, and Joe had agreed to follow Paul’s instructions to the letter.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Try to avoid stress and exertion. You’ll tire easily for a while, so take it slowly.” Paul instructed.<\/span><\/p>\n

Joe lay on top of the blankets and glanced warily at his father, who was perched on a chair by the side of the bed memorizing Paul’s directions. Joe rested his head against the pillows and released a breath, pushing the thoughts of medicines and bed rest aside.<\/span><\/p>\n

Hoss walked over to the bed.<\/span><\/p>\n

“You all right, Joe?” He asked.<\/span><\/p>\n

Joe nodded. Tired, frustrated, impatient….he didn’t have a reference for all right. Every task had become a battle. He had to have someone help him get dressed. His boots had been the most difficult–he was not as adept with his right hand. After several clumsy attempts, Adam simply stepped in and wordlessly slipped them on his feet, just as he had done when Joe was a small child.<\/span><\/p>\n

The doctor had promised him he’d get better.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Joe, are you sure you’re up to this, Son?” Ben asked.<\/span><\/p>\n

Joe masked his annoyance.<\/span><\/p>\n

“I’m going home, Pa,” he said in an exasperated tone. “In a few weeks I’ll be back working the ranch. Business as usual. You don’t have to worry so much.”<\/span><\/p>\n

But his father did worry, as did his brothers. And while he understood why, for he knew how close they had come to losing each other, he also resented it. Anger rose with the overprotective cloak his family wrapped around him….sometimes comforting….sometimes suffocating…always loving. That protective cloak had been donned on the day he was born.<\/span><\/p>\n

It was another half hour before Paul and Ben decided they had covered everything that needed to be discussed. Hoss and Adam helped Joe to the waiting wagon. Hoss had put a mattress and several feather pillows in the back of the wagon for Joe’s comfort. After settling him in, his brothers told Joe they would see him at home as they had several errands to attend to before leaving Virginia City.<\/span><\/p>\n

Joe thankfully settled into the back of the wagon and relaxed against the pillows, fighting off a wave of dizziness and sudden fatigue.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Hi, Joe. You headed home?”<\/span><\/p>\n

Joe started, his eyes flying open, his heart pounding. It was only Matt Jackson. Taking a deep breath, Joe nodded.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Joe, I’m real sorry you got shot. And, I think it’s a damn shame those boys got away with it. Damn shame.” Matt said, shaking his head.<\/span><\/p>\n

“What?” Joe was fully alert, heart pounding. I didn’t hear that right. I didn’t hear it.<\/span><\/p>\n

Ben had arrived at the wagon just in time to hear Matt’s words.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Joe….” Ben began.<\/span><\/p>\n

Joe leaned forward in the wagon, wincing at the strain on his ribs and chest. “Did you say they got away with it? Jase Coulter ……his gang…..? What do you mean?”<\/span><\/p>\n

“Well….” Matt looked nervous, fidgeting in place. He knew that he had stepped into something and didn’t seem to quite know how to get out of it. “I was only repeating what I heard. I didn’t mean nothing by it.”<\/span><\/p>\n

“Joseph, please.” Ben gently touched Joe’s arm. “You must not upset yourself. We can discuss this later.”<\/span><\/p>\n

“We?” Joe brushed off his father’s touch and glared at him, knowing instantly that his father had been the source of this secrecy. The protective cloak falling again to bind him. “What is he talking about?”<\/span><\/p>\n

Ben didn’t answer.<\/span><\/p>\n

“You know what Matt is talking about, Pa.” He shifted to a more comfortable position. Suddenly the air had become stifling. His head pounded. “Don’t lie to me, Pa.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Ben was astonished. “Joseph, I have never lied to you.”<\/span><\/p>\n

“Did Jase and the Coulter gang go free?”<\/span><\/p>\n

Ben held his gaze for a long moment, then answered in a quiet voice. “He didn’t go to jail, but he didn’t go free either.”<\/span><\/p>\n

“What—-” Joe mind stumbled over the words. “What do you mean? Pa, please tell me!”<\/span><\/p>\n

Ben held up his hand to calm Joe and silence his outburst. “Calm down, Joe. I’ll tell you everything I know. Jase and his gang disappeared. You remember all the rain we had? There were no tracks to follow. Roy and his posse tried to pick up a trail, but there wasn’t one. Your brothers kept searching after the posse gave up, but no luck. Jase Coulter is not free, he’s on the run. Roy sent wanted posters all over the territory. Someone will catch him.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Joe heart thudded loudly, pressure building. He tried to catch his breath, a surge of heat rising to his cheeks. He placed his hand on his injured shoulder, trying to stay the pressure. Ben looked instantly concerned. His father did not attempt to touch him, though he knew he must have looked ill, pale and perspiring.<\/span><\/p>\n

Ben was silent for a moment watching Joe closely. Matt had quickly disappeared following Joe’s outburst, mumbling a half hearted apology. Suddenly, Joe turned away from his father, lay back on the pillows and closed his eyes. They rode to the Ponderosa in complete silence.<\/span><\/p>\n

By the time Joe reached the front door of the Ponderosa, he was drenched in sweat and breathing heavily. The sluggish beat of his heart made a dull pump and swish sound in his ears. He’d been warned about over-exertion and stress.<\/span><\/p>\n

I need to sit down.<\/span><\/p>\n

He fumbled with the door knob, his fingers clumsy and shaking with exhaustion. He barely noticed the tangy fragrance of Hop Sing’s dinner that greeted him when he finally opened the door. Dizzy, he walked inside, his steps ungainly. He allowed his father to help him only because he was too tired to stand without the support. Between the long ride to the Ponderosa and the argument with his father, he was ready to drop.<\/span><\/p>\n

Ben walked closely beside him. He led Joe to the couch where he sank onto the cushions, exhausted. Automatically, his hand went to his ribs. Trickles of perspiration ran over his face and neck. He was breathing too rapidly, and his heart was working too hard.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Relax, Joe. Slow breaths. Take it easy.” His father’s voice gentle, but firm.<\/span><\/p>\n

A glass of water appeared in front of him.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Slowly,” Ben warned. “Or you will make yourself sick.”<\/span><\/p>\n

He downed half of it in a few swallows, his mouth and lips dry. Nausea rose in his throat. Ben’s fingers brushed his hair, but he moved away from the touch, still breathing heavily. His exhaustion and anger hadn’t abated. A steady ache spread from deep inside his chest and he knew that if he didn’t get control of his breathing he would pass out.<\/span><\/p>\n

Ben stood next to the couch, his hands folded. He was not willing to leave Joe, who sat pale and shaking, struggling to breathe.<\/span><\/p>\n

“What else haven’t I been told?” Joe asked between gasps. “Maybe I should go see Sheriff Coffee and get caught up.”<\/span><\/p>\n

“We didn’t mean to hurt you, Joseph. We thought it would be best.”<\/span><\/p>\n

“When exactly…..were you planning on telling me? After Jase Coulter dropped by for a visit?”<\/span><\/p>\n

“Joseph, I want you to listen to me. He can’t hurt you.” Ben said firmly.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Don’t protect me!” A sharp pain in his side caught his breath. He leaned back into the cushions, cursing his weakness, refusing to surrender. “I’ll take care of myself. I’m old enough to take care of myself. Besides, Jase Coulter and I have something….to settle.”<\/span><\/p>\n

“Joe…..” Ben began.<\/span><\/p>\n

“I’m tired. I’m going to bed.” He struggled to rise from the couch. His ribs pulled tightly. A sudden wave of dizziness sent him reeling.<\/span><\/p>\n

Ben’s strong fingers gripped him, steadying and supporting. “Come on, Son, I’ll help you.”<\/span><\/p>\n

“No.” Joe pulled his arm away. “I can make it myself.”<\/span><\/p>\n

***********<\/span><\/p>\n

Joe leaned back in the hot water that filled the tub. Steam rose like a heavy veil. He’d removed his bandages and the water flowed over the purple and red scars, washing away the last residues of blood that clung to the wounds.<\/span><\/p>\n

Slowly he reached for the washcloth and soap. The scent of medicines clung to him and he wanted to erase the memory, to scrub away the smell of his wounds. He rubbed the soap gently over his chest, skimming the three-inch incision just below his pectoral muscle. He’d examined his wounds briefly in the mirror–red and inflamed looking, puckered where the flesh hadn’t been stitched quite right, with the exception of the small hole at his shoulder and at the side of his chest, under his arm.<\/span><\/p>\n

The scars would fade, along with the exhaustion and pain. In a few weeks he’d be back working on the ranch, breaking horses, branding cattle. He thought of Jase Coulter and the pencil thin smile of satisfaction on his face as Nicky had pulled the trigger. Joe believed, in that moment, that Jase didn’t care if he were arrested or jailed or killed. Jase Coulter wanted him dead. But more than that, the outlaw leader wanted Joe to know who had the power.<\/span><\/p>\n

In the end it all came down to that – power.<\/span><\/p>\n

He gently moved the soapy cloth across his mending ribs. He repositioned himself to keep the water from covering the sensitive skin, fighting off a wave of sudden dizziness. The wounds were a raw reminder of Coulter’s treachery. He’d thought about how Coulter had gotten off, about what had happened, but there were holes in his memory, places he wasn’t ready to go searching. He wondered what had happened after he’d been shot. And he wondered what the hell Jase Coulter was doing right now.<\/span><\/p>\n

Joe slowly pulled himself out of the tub. As he stepped on the floor, his vision blurred and he staggered to the wall, weak in the knees and short of breath. A pressure began to build in his chest.<\/span><\/p>\n

Slow breaths. It’s all right. Slow, even breaths.<\/span><\/p>\n

He raised his head……<\/span><\/p>\n

Spinning.<\/span><\/p>\n

Darkness.<\/span><\/p>\n

A loud crack–<\/span><\/p>\n

He hit the ground hard and lay gasping for breath, fighting his way through a haze of pain and confusion.<\/span><\/p>\n

He shot me. Pa……<\/span><\/p>\n

Blood rose in the back of his throat. He choked, his chest erupting in an explosion of agony. Coulter laughed, hissing like a snake. Nicky stood over him, both hand wrapped around the butt of the pistol. The barrel was huge, a black hole pointed directly at his head.<\/span><\/p>\n

“No.” He raised his hand, palm open to shield himself from attack. “Don’t. Don’t!<\/span><\/p>\n

“Joe.”<\/span><\/p>\n

His eyes flew open. His father loomed above him in a halo of misty light. His shirt was soaked.<\/span><\/p>\n

“You’re wet,” Joe said faintly.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Shhhhh. Don’t talk, Joe.” Ben gently brushed a hand across Joe’s cheek. “I’ll help you.”<\/span><\/p>\n

“What?”<\/span><\/p>\n

He wasn’t in the livery stable. He wasn’t covered in blood. He was lying in his father’s arms on the floor by the tub. The steam hung heavily in the room, shrouding the ceiling and walls. “What happened?”<\/span><\/p>\n

“You passed out.” Ben’s hand remained pressed to his forehead.<\/span><\/p>\n

Passed out?<\/span><\/p>\n

“Lie still. I’ll get you a towel.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Joe looked down at himself, crumpled in an ungainly position. His ribs throbbed painfully and the back of his head and shoulder hurt. The pain was from the fall, not a gunshot. Too much heat, that’s all.<\/span><\/p>\n

No blood. No bullet wounds. A fall. Hell, he fallen a hundred times before. No big deal. Using his right arm, he leveraged himself up, gasping at the sharp stab in his ribs.<\/span><\/p>\n

He began to cough. A heavy weight was pressing on his chest, growing stronger with each breath. His heart fluttered rapidly, softly, and he closed his eyes, trying to dull the sensation. His head thumped lightly against the wooden door and he rested, waiting for the trembling in his arm to stop, for the pain to stop.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Joe.” Ben spoke softly and gently, kneeling on the floor beside him.<\/span><\/p>\n

A thick towel dropped across Joe’s shoulder. It was heavy and suffocating.<\/span><\/p>\n

Strong fingers circled Joe’s biceps. For an instant Ben’s grip remained firm, locked as an unbreakable bond-father to son, as it had always been. His grip loosened and his fingers brushed down the length of Joe’s arm. Without hesitation, Ben leaned down and helped Joe to stand.<\/span><\/p>\n

Joe’s fingers twisted into Ben’s shirt. He grunted as the pressure on his ribs sent a sharp stab into him. Bending slightly at the waist to ease the ache, he pulled away from Ben’s support, fighting dizziness that threatened to send him to his knees. His only anchor was the grip on his father’s shirt.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Lean on me, Joe.” Ben said.<\/span><\/p>\n

Shots of light exploded in his head, showing tiny sparks in his vision. He drew a shaky breath. The pressure in his chest increased, as did the burning pain that trailed from his ribs into his back, wrenching the muscles.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Joe.” Ben’s voice was soft against his ear.<\/span><\/p>\n

Through the pounding in his ears, Joe could hear the pleading in his father’s tone. There was a choice, to stand alone and fall, or to accept the hand that had supported him as he took his first steps, and walk.<\/span><\/p>\n

Struggling to breath, Joe raised his head, looking at his father through a fog of misery. He swayed, his knees weak. Dripping wet, Joe leaned heavily into his father. Together they walked to the bedroom. The moment Joe’s knees felt the soft cushion of the mattress, he sank down, his shoulders slumping with exhaustion, laboring for air, body throbbing.<\/span><\/p>\n

The next instant Joe was beneath the warm blankets. His head sank into the pillows. Ben pulled the blankets down, baring Joe’s chest. He dipped some salve out of a tin and gently rubbed it on Joe’s chest.<\/span><\/p>\n

“What is that?” Joe asked, turning his head away. “Smells awful.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Ben smiled as he gently rubbed the balm across the swollen incision. His touch was a whisper, fingers skimming the tender flesh. “Dr. Martin said it will help to heal the wound and keep it from itching.”<\/span><\/p>\n

“Ummmm.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Joe’s eyelids grew heavy, a languid sensation moving through his veins. Ben continued his ministrations, paying particular attention to the wounds on Joe’s chest. The ointment was soothing and, despite the offending odor, Joe began to relax, the salve warming his skin. Slowly his muscles loosened. His body grew languid. A pleasant numbness seeped into his bones. He floated in darkness, without sound, without dreams. Peace wrapped him in a blanket off downy stillness, then drew him away.<\/span><\/p>\n

********<\/span><\/p>\n

Tommy Gray slowly opened the door to his brother’s room. It hadn’t been touched since Nicky had walked out of it the last time. The bed was unmade, sheets rumpled and scented with their mother’s perfume. She had lain crying night after night in her son’s bed, and Tommy had shut his ears to the sounds of her sobs. He could barely bring himself to enter his brother’s room; he was immediately assaulted with memories so vivid and painful that they made him ache with longing. But today Tommy felt lonesome, and the need to be near his brother buried all other concerns.<\/span><\/p>\n

His throat tightened painfully as he stood in the doorway, observing all that was left of his brother’s life. Tears filled Tommy’s eyes. He hated the weakness, the emptiness he couldn’t fill, the tears he couldn’t control. Nicky had warned him to be strong, to stay alive….<\/span><\/p>\n

“Gotta be tough if you’re going to survive, Tommy,” Nicky said, slipping his arms into the jacket sleeves. The room smelled of leather and dirty clothes. “We’re not gonna die in some dirty ole mine, like Pa did. I got plans.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Tommy watched his older brother, his eyes glimmering. Nicky had filled out this past year, grown wide in the shoulders and chest. He’d lost the baby fat in his face, his jaw and cheeks had thinned out. There was even a little peach fuzz on his chin and upper lip, a dark shadow of masculine pride to match the thin scar on his lip.<\/span><\/p>\n

“What are you gonna do?” Tommy asked. Nicky’s plans were always the best.<\/span><\/p>\n

Nicky turned and met his gaze. For an instant it was as if Tommy were looking at a stranger, then Nicky grinned. “You’ll see.”<\/span><\/p>\n

“Tell me now.” Nicky never treated him like a baby, but sometimes his brother kept things to himself. Secrets.<\/span><\/p>\n

Nicky shook his head and finished buttoning his shirt. “Can’t. You have to wait. Trust me.”<\/span><\/p>\n

“I trust you Nicky.” Nicky was all he had left. “You don’t have to tell me.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Nicky laid a hand on top of Tommy’s hand. “You’re a good brother, Tommy. Remember, don’t tell Ma about tonight.”<\/span><\/p>\n

“Tommy?”<\/span><\/p>\n

He jumped, though his mother’s soft voice was only a whisper in his ear. A shiver tore through him.<\/span><\/p>\n

“What are you doing, honey?”<\/span><\/p>\n

His lips tightened and he swallowed the tears that had gathered in his throat. He wouldn’t cry. He’d resolved not to cry. He hadn’t even cried when they’d buried Nicky.<\/span><\/p>\n

“I’ll be tough, Nicky. You’ll see. I’ll survive.<\/span><\/p>\n

“I suppose I should clean out his room,” his mother said in a sullen tone.<\/span><\/p>\n

A red haze dropped in front of Tommy’s eyes. “No. Leave it!”<\/span><\/p>\n

“We can’t keep it like this forever,” she said quietly. “Nicky’s gone.”<\/span><\/p>\n

He spun around and glared at her. “It’s not yours! These are Nicky’s things. You can’t take them!”<\/span><\/p>\n

“It’s only hurting us.” Her eyes filled, bright liquid drops shimmering on the ends of her lashes. “I can’t keep on like this. First your Pa, now Nicky—-“<\/span><\/p>\n

“You didn’t care about him!”<\/span><\/p>\n

She pulled back, as if slapped. “That’s not true!”<\/span><\/p>\n

“Yes, it is. You don’t care that somebody killed him!”<\/span><\/p>\n

“Tommy, please….” She reached for him.<\/span><\/p>\n

He quickly backed away from her, too angry to see the sorrow in her eyes, the hurt on her face. She’d been young and beautiful a few weeks ago, but now she seemed haggard and old, with dark circles under her eyes and lines mapping her face. Even her shiny black hair had faded and no longer hung loosely at her shoulders, but was pulled back with a black ribbon every day.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Tommy….”<\/span><\/p>\n

He turned his back to her and closed his eyes, his body rigid, fingers curled into tight fists. They weren’t going to just empty the room and be done with Nicky. He wasn’t going to let them do that.<\/span><\/p>\n

He opened his eyes and walked to the window and looked out into the yard where he and Nicky had once played. Tommy’s chin quivered. An image flashed in his mind of Nicky lying on the ground with his head twisted around, eyes open and glazed. Every day there was somebody talking about Joe Cartwright and how he was recovering — how lucky he was to be alive. Nobody mentioned Nicky Gray or the violent death that had befallen him. Nobody cared that Nicky was a victim, too.<\/span><\/p>\n

Tommy put his hands on the window. He wasn’t going to let them get away with murder. Somebody was going to pay.<\/span><\/p>\n

************<\/span><\/p>\n

The days passed, one after another, offering little change for Joe. Each morning his father and brothers would come to his room before starting the day’s work. Hop Sing would bring him a breakfast he never ate. Some days were better than others, quieter. Joe’s anger would surface violently without apparent reason, then would disappear. Other times he was despondent, depressed. Anything would set him off, then nothing would.<\/span><\/p>\n

He was an enigma, lashing out at his family, his friends. His anger drove them away. His father tried to persuade him to come out of his room. Joe always refused, falling deeper into depression. He never asked about anything or anybody. Something ate at him, deep inside. It changed who he was.<\/span><\/p>\n

Dr. Martin had been out of town for several days and Belle watched the stage each day waiting for his return. Finally, she saw him step off the noon stage and hurried to meet him. Like the others who had been there that night, Belle had worried and prayed when Joe had been so ill, she’d felt rage that the gang had gone free. It was her genuine affection for Joe that prompted Belle’s concern now.<\/span><\/p>\n

Something was wrong. Paul Martin knew as soon as he saw her face.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Belle, what’s wrong?” He asked, looking into the worried face of the young woman.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Doc, I know it ain’t none of my business…..” lowering her eyes, she stopped speaking.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Belle, what is it? Are you ill?” Paul asked gently.<\/span><\/p>\n

“No, sir. Not me. It’s, well……It’s Joe Cartwright.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Paul frowned. “Joe?” He didn’t understand. Joe had been healing nicely when he left town a few days ago. Sure, he was a long way from being well, but he was healing.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Well, Joe won’t leave the Ponderosa – won’t even leave his room. I talked to Adam yesterday and he said Joe wasn’t doing very well. I’m just worried about him.” Belle smiled a sad smile.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Belle, Joe is recovering from some serious injuries. It’s going to take a while before he’s his old self again. But I’m glad you told me. I’ll go check on him right away.” He smiled at the young girl. “Don’t worry, Joe’ll be just fine.”<\/span><\/p>\n

“Thanks, Doc.” Belle gave him a quick hug and scurried back to the saloon.<\/span><\/p>\n

True to his word, Paul Martin headed for the Ponderosa where he was met at the door by Ben. Paul was shocked by his old friends condition, he looked as if he’d aged ten years over the past few weeks. His face was drawn and haggard, his dark eyes filled with worry.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Paul, come in. I’m glad you’re here.” The relief in Ben’s voice was evident as he ushered Paul in.<\/span><\/p>\n

“I just got back from San Francisco and thought I’d check on my favorite patient. How’s Joe doing, Ben?” Paul asked.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Not good, Paul. Not good at all. He won’t eat, he doesn’t sleep, we can’t get him to come out of his room. I don’t know how to help him, Paul.” Ben’s said in a tired voice.<\/span><\/p>\n

“I’ll go up and see him.” Ben started to follow, but Paul stopped him. “Let me see him alone for a few minutes first.” Ben reluctantly agreed and watched as Paul ascended the stairs.<\/span><\/p>\n

Paul knocked on Joe’s door , then opened it without waiting for an answer.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Joe……..” Paul took a step forward. His eyes intensely searched the pale, drawn face, and what he saw made him shudder. Until this moment, he could believe that Belle had been wrong, had been overly concerned about Joe’s injuries, and that Ben had been his usual worried self. But as he stared at the young man he’d known almost his whole life, Paul knew that something was terribly wrong.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Doc, what are you doing here?” Joe’s asked flatly as he moved away >from the window he’d been standing by and sat in the rocking chair.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Just visiting,” Paul said carefully, his eyes never leaving Joe. He moved closer, putting his hand on Joe’s shoulder briefly. In that brief contact, he felt Joe stiffen, every bone and muscle resisting the help.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Pa send you up here?”<\/span><\/p>\n

“He’s worried about you. Says you’re not eating.”<\/span><\/p>\n

“He always says that.”<\/span><\/p>\n

It was true. Joe had always been slight of build and Hop Sing had even made it his life goal to put some weight on Joe, but as he grew out of adolescence and into adulthood, the trim form remained. The food he consumed had been instantly spent.<\/span><\/p>\n

Paul walked over and sat on Joe’s bed. Joe sat slumped in the rocking chair, his head resting in his hands, a blanket twisted beneath his bare feet. He was too pale and had lost weight since Paul had seen him just a few days ago. His robe buried his lean frame and hung off his shoulders.<\/span><\/p>\n

“You’re not wearing your sling,” Paul said casually. “How’s your shoulder feel?”<\/span><\/p>\n

“All right.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Paul watched him for a moment, then went to open the curtains.<\/span><\/p>\n

“What are you doing?” Joe said frowning. “I don’t want the curtains open.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Silence.<\/span><\/p>\n

“I don’t want the curtains open!” Joe coughed lightly. His face tightened and he pressed a hand to his chest.<\/span><\/p>\n

Paul ignored him as he opened the curtains and then began to straighten the covers on the unmade bed. With the light coming in, the room appeared more welcoming, but remained unusually claustrophobic. The energy, always so present whenever Joe was around, was missing, rendering the room somehow static and lifeless. Paul sat back down on the bed, facing Joe.<\/span><\/p>\n

“What’s going on, Joe?”<\/span><\/p>\n

Joe looked away, the veil of his lashes fanned the shadows below his eyes.<\/span><\/p>\n

“What do you mean?”<\/span><\/p>\n

“You’re not eating. You’re not sleeping. You look awful.” Paul said as he looked at Joe staring at the lines around Joe’s eyes and mouth. Over the last few weeks Joe had grown more drawn and gaunt, but he still appeared incredibly young, undeniably handsome. Only his eyes had changed, darkened now with exhaustion and pain. The fire had vanished, replaced with a powerful, deeper emotion.<\/span><\/p>\n

He’s so sad.<\/span><\/p>\n

But it was more than that. The reclusion, the quietness, the mood swings–Joe was trying to tell them something.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Joe, can you tell me what’s bothering you?”<\/span><\/p>\n

Joe said nothing. He stared blankly at Paul.<\/span><\/p>\n

“I won’t tell anybody if that’s what you’re worried about. I might be able to help, Joe.”<\/span><\/p>\n

“Help with what?” There was a hint of challenge in Joe’s voice. “Nothings wrong, Doc. Can’t I be alone without there being something wrong?”<\/span><\/p>\n

“You can be alone,” he said, countering Joe’s anger. The last thing he wanted to do was upset Joe, but he couldn’t allow Joe to indulge in denial of the truth. “You were sick for a long time. You went to the stable that night to saddle your horse, and you were shot–several times. A person doesn’t walk into a situation like that and come out unchanged.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Joe seemed to withdraw, shrugging lightly. “You remember it more than I do.”<\/span><\/p>\n

“I’m not the one who needs to remember. I’m not the one who has nightmares. Sometimes the unknown is feared the most. If there are gaps—“<\/span><\/p>\n

“That’s enough!” He must have recognized the petulance in his voice because he recanted quietly. “I remember trying to get Nicky to drop the gun. Coulter was pushing him. The next thing I know, I’ve got a bullet in my shoulder. Nicky looked worse than I did. The gun was shaking so hard in his hand. Coulter pushing Nicky. Then the gun went off again.”<\/span><\/p>\n

There was a long silence, during which Joe appeared to be caught in the memory, staring blindly at Paul. His facial expression changed subtly with emotion, a slight shift of the muscles beneath the skin, adding sorrow to his exhaustion, despair to his pain. His eyes slowly focused and he shook his head. “That’s all I remember.”<\/span><\/p>\n

That’s enough, Joe….enough to give you nightmares and to change the rest of your life, Paul thought.<\/span><\/p>\n

Paul couldn’t take his eyes from Joe. The physical difference was astounding and expected — three bullets, close-range, loss of blood, lung, heart and bone damage. It was what Paul saw in Joe’s eyes that frightened him, the haunted expression that lingered deep below the surface. He’d seen that look before, in men who had seen the horrors of war. It could be suppressed and hidden, but the fear would never disappear on its own. Not completely. It had to be faced and conquered.<\/span><\/p>\n

Unable to stand it any longer, Ben chose to enter Joe’s room at that moment carrying a breakfast tray of toast, eggs and coffee.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Here you go, Joe. Your favorites.” He said a bit too enthusiastically.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Coffee’s fine.”<\/span><\/p>\n

“Joe, you’re putting me in an awkward position.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Joe leaned back in the chair, wincing as his back pressed into the cushion.<\/span><\/p>\n

“How’s that?”<\/span><\/p>\n

“Hop Sing wanted to bring this up to you, but I told him it wasn’t necessary, that you’d eat. I don’t want to go downstairs and explain to him that I couldn’t handle such a simple task.” He paused. “Hop Sing went to a lot of trouble to fix your favorites, Joe.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Ben felt the barest niggling of shame at using guilt in such an obvious play, but if it got Joe to eat…..<\/span><\/p>\n

The corner of Joe’s mouth twitched. The lines in his face relaxed slightly as he reached for the toast.<\/span><\/p>\n

Joe munched without enthusiasm on a piece of toast, while Paul and Ben watched. The silence in the room was suffocating.<\/span><\/p>\n

Ben looked at Joe and wondered what had happened to that young man who had always sought his council and his companionship? What had happened to the vital energy and non-stop chatter that always filled the room? What had they lost of Joe on that stormy night?<\/span><\/p>\n

Ben slowly rested his hand on Joe’s leg, drawing his attention. The touch seemed to shatter whatever barriers Joe had erected. For an instant there was nothing shielding them from each other, and Ben saw the naked fear in Joe’s eyes, the sorrow and suffering he’d hidden from his family, the nightmares he’d denied. Then, as if startled by his own emotions, or perhaps simply needing to maintain his privacy, Joe retreated.<\/span><\/p>\n

Ben felt the withdrawal like a cold stab at his heart. Again he was being shut out and denied. He suppressed his grief and removed his hand. He looked at Paul, the sadness in his eyes as deep as Paul had ever seen.<\/span><\/p>\n

Ben turned back at Joe. “If you need anything, you let me know. All right? I’ll be back up to see you later.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Joe nodded, not meeting his father’s eyes.<\/span><\/p>\n

Ben didn’t move for a moment. He wanted desperately to stay, to offer what little he could to ease his son’s pain. But he knew that if he pushed Joe to respond the young man would only retreat further, easing his misery any way he could, preferring strangers who could offer him anonymity and, finally, systematically cutting the ties that bound him to his friends and family.<\/span><\/p>\n

Ben stood, feeling every ounce of his body’s weight. As he walked past Joe, he didn’t stop his fingers from touching gently at the ruffled hair.<\/span><\/p>\n

********<\/span><\/p>\n

The ache was deep in his ribs, his chest throbbing with pain. Joe lowered himself into the soft cushions of the couch, feeling every seam and ripple in the fabric. The woven cloth was rough like burlap and scratched his skin through the thin shirt. Temples throbbing from lack of sleep, he pushed the discomforts aside and closed his eyes.<\/span><\/p>\n

He concentrated on relaxing, slowing his breathing first, then loosening the hold his muscles had on his bones, becoming like the softest clay. His body had not changed – his ribs throbbed, lungs stung at each breath, muscles ached. He was aware of the pain, but his mind disregarded it, slipping deeper into the darkness.<\/span><\/p>\n

He embraced the peace. It surrounded him…..<\/span><\/p>\n

And then it shattered.<\/span><\/p>\n

Something touched his shoulder – heavy, threatening. Before he had a chance to identify the shape or texture, he reacted.<\/span><\/p>\n

NO!<\/span><\/p>\n

Overwhelming fear clutched at him. His stomach dropped and he jerked away, heart racing painfully. Fire burned through his shoulder and chest and he bit back a cry, catching his breath. Muscles tightened, locking against bruised bones and swollen flesh. For an instant, his body rebelled. Nausea rose with the tide of pain and fear.<\/span><\/p>\n

“I’m sorry, Buddy,” came a gentle voice. A hand was suspended in the air above Joe’s shoulder. “Did I hurt you?”<\/span><\/p>\n

Hoss.<\/span><\/p>\n

He closed his eyes tightly, clamping his jaws shut, trying to get control of the pain, to guard against the fear that pulsed in the pit of his stomach. Trembling, he took a few shallow breaths, willing his body to cooperate, to force down the terror that had taken control.<\/span><\/p>\n

What was wrong with him? There wasn’t any reason to be afraid. He was safe in his own home.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Joe, are you all right, buddy?” Hoss asked anxiously.<\/span><\/p>\n

He swallowed hard. “Yeah.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Hoss touched his shoulder with the same tenderness one might touch a frightened child, or a wounded animal. “You’re trembling.”<\/span><\/p>\n

“I-I-I’m cold.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Hoss squeezed his shoulder and at that moment Joe knew he’d seen through his lie.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Seems like you were miles away.”<\/span><\/p>\n

The pain had dulled, as he knew it would. It never lasted long, the pain and fear, but it came on like a strong wind then disappeared, leaving him to cope with the memory that never quite faded. He turned to stare into the fireplace.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Feels like rain.”<\/span><\/p>\n

“Yeah, it’ll probably storm again tonight.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Joe nodded, only half-interested.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Joe? What’s wrong? Tell me.”<\/span><\/p>\n

“Nothing’s wrong. I’m just tired.” That much was true. He hadn’t been sleeping at night. Between the fatigue and constant pain, his body’s reserves were being eaten away, worn down. He’d caught his reflection in the mirror this morning and had shuddered at what he’d seen, pale complexion and dark circles under sunken eyes.<\/span><\/p>\n

“You haven’t been eating.” Hoss said quietly. “If you’re gonna get better Joe, you have to eat. Pa’s worried to death about you. Me and Adam are, too.”<\/span><\/p>\n

His throat tightened at the sound of the grief he had caused his family.<\/span><\/p>\n

“I’m getting better, Hoss.”<\/span><\/p>\n

“On the outside.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Dying on the inside.<\/span><\/p>\n

“You’re not sleeping either,” Hoss said simply.<\/span><\/p>\n

He said nothing, but waited in the silence, which had become an admission, a penance. He could speak without saying a word and Hoss would listen and understand.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Joe, I know you’re afraid…….”<\/span><\/p>\n

Joe rolled his head along the back of the couch and closed his eyes. He had tried so hard to keep his growing fear from Hoss, from Adam, from his father.<\/span><\/p>\n

“It’ll pass,” he said.<\/span><\/p>\n

“It never passes.” Hoss said it with certainty. “It can’t pass. Everything you see, Joe, you take inside yourself. The memories will fade, but they will never disappear. There’s no shame in being afraid.”<\/span><\/p>\n

“I’m not afraid!” He denied it too quickly. Hoss embraced him and in that instant, when he felt safe and protected in his big brother’s arms, he lowered his guard.<\/span><\/p>\n

“So much has happened. My mind is pulled in a dozen directions. I see it all happening again and again. I see Nicky standing there – he was so scared……. I failed him, Hoss.” his voice becoming a whisper.<\/span><\/p>\n

Hoss became very still. “Why do you think you failed Nicky, Joe?”<\/span><\/p>\n

Joe retreated safely behind the wall he’d built, withdrawing emotionally from the harm of his own memories, leaving behind sadness and uncertainty.<\/span><\/p>\n

When he didn’t answer, Hoss put his hands on Joe’s shoulders.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Joe, you’re angry. What happened to you was terrible and unfair, and you got a right to be angry — with Nicky and with Jace Coulter.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Silence.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Joe, you have friends and family who love you. Let us help. Don’t shut us out. It’s all right to be afraid – you’ve sure earned the right. Me and Adam and Pa just want to help you. Adam is carrying around a wagon load of guilt and…..”<\/span><\/p>\n

Joe looked at Hoss in surprise. “Adam didn’t do anything to feel guilty about.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Hoss smiled. “Tell him, Joe. Maybe you can help each other get through this. Adam needs to know that you don’t blame him.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Joe sighed and slowly nodded his head. He would talk to Adam.<\/span><\/p>\n

********<\/span><\/p>\n

He’d made a big mistake.<\/span><\/p>\n

Joe stood on the front porch of the ranch house waiting for Hoss to bring the buckboard around. His eyes scanned the area, taking in the bunkhouse, the barn, corral and other familiar places. He had lived here all his life, knew every inch of the ranch. He was going to Virginia City with Adam. A place he’d been thousands of times during his life. So, why was he shaking.<\/span><\/p>\n

He leaned against the porch. Sweat rolled down his back in tiny rivulets. He put a hand to his damp forehead, wiping at the layer of perspiration. Joe drew a slow, careful breath. The thin layer of his shirt clung to his skin, absorbing sweat that had sprung from every pore. For an instant he wanted to to go back to the sanctuary of his bedroom. An overwhelming need for security had seized him, tying his stomach in knots.<\/span><\/p>\n

I can’t go back. I won’t go back.<\/span><\/p>\n

Stubborn pride is all that kept him in place. He’d fall flat on his face before he’d surrender to fear. He had asked Adam to let him go along on this trip hoping they could clear the air. It was time, he decided, to really talk to his brother about what happened on that dark and stormy night.<\/span><\/p>\n

Maybe it’ll stop the nightmares.<\/span><\/p>\n

Joe wrapped his arm around the porch support, as if that might somehow give him the strength he needed to stay on his feet. It was a false security, he realized, as exhaustion began to claim him. His heart thumped loudly and rapidly. His pulse hammered in his ears, faster and faster.<\/span><\/p>\n

A hand gently clasped Joe’s elbow. His senses were too dull to feel a jolt of fear at the unexpected touch–it was instantly buried beneath the rising tide of pain. Joe raised his eyes, struggling to focus on the intruder’s face.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Hoss.” His voice sounded hoarse and distant–his ears were filled with the sound of his hammering pulse and the wheezing breaths drawn >from his tight chest. He straightened, pulling away from his brother’s support. The rapid fluttering of his heart made him dizzy and nauseated.<\/span><\/p>\n

Hoss looked at his younger brother with worried blue eyes. It was obvious to him that Joe was not ready to be out of bed, much less be taking a long trip to town.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Joe, are you sure you wanna do this? You look awful pale.” He asked gently.<\/span><\/p>\n

“I–I’m fine.” he stuttered as he moved to the buckboard. Hoss shook his head but followed.<\/span><\/p>\n

It took a couple of minutes as well as Hoss’s help before Joe was finally seated aboard the wagon.<\/span><\/p>\n

In just a moment, Adam came out of the house followed closely by their father.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Ready to go Buddy?” he asked as he climbed up next to Joe.<\/span><\/p>\n

Joe gave him a shaky smile. “Sure, Adam.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Ben watched Joe, his face etched with worry.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Joe, are you sure you’re up to this, son?” He said, worry in his voice.<\/span><\/p>\n

“I’m fine, Pa. ” Joe answered even as his heart thumped loudly and rapidly.<\/span>
\nHis pulse hammered in his ears, faster and faster….. He grabbed the seat on the wagon, his knuckles white. He closed his eyes, tried to stop the overwhelming fear that coursed through his body, the pain that emanated from his ribs and chest.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Joe?” Adam’s hand gently squeezed Joe’s shoulder.<\/span><\/p>\n

“I’m all right, Adam.” He whispered.<\/span><\/p>\n

NO! I’m not going to pass out. Not here, not now.<\/span><\/p>\n

Ben stared at his son, exercising great restraint to keep from pulling Joe from his seat and holding him in his arms. A fierce need to protect his child rose in him.<\/span><\/p>\n

Though Adam was no longer in physical contact with Joe, he still felt the young man’s pain pulsing through every nerve in his body, as raw and as vivid as the first moment his fingers had clasped the firm flesh. It had frightened him to see Joe clinging to the seat for support, his face pale, his body trembling.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Joe, maybe you shouldn’t do this today. Why don’t you……” Ben began.<\/span><\/p>\n

“No, Pa! It’s….all right. I’m fine.” Joe insisted, trying to calm his fears.<\/span><\/p>\n

“All right, Son. Hoss and I will finish up here and meet you and Adam in town later. We’ll have supper at the International House. How’s that sound, Joe?”<\/span><\/p>\n

Joe nodded, but did not meet his father’s eyes.<\/span><\/p>\n

Adam looked to his father for guidance. Reluctantly, Ben nodded and Adam chucked the horses forward. As they slowly left the yard, Ben and Hoss watched with a mixture of fear and hope. Fear that Joe might not be able to overcome the horrors of that stormy night and hope that this small step was the first on the road to recovery.<\/span><\/p>\n

********<\/span><\/p>\n

From his perch on the hillside above the Ponderosa, Jase watched as Adam and Joe rode away. His lips were curled into a sneer, his dark eyes flashing with anticipation.<\/span><\/p>\n

“We shouldn’t be here, Jase. It’s too dangerous. What if somebody sees us?” Freddie asked nervously.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Relax, will ya.” Jase said quietly. “We’ll be out of here in no time. ‘Sides everybody thinks we left town.”<\/span><\/p>\n

“C’mon Jase, let’s get out of here. “<\/span><\/p>\n

“You sound like and old woman.” He shifted his gaze to touch briefly on Freddie. “You want to leave?”<\/span><\/p>\n

“No, no. I ain’t going anywhere.” He said quickly. Freddie knew that ‘leave’ meant he would never see the sun shine again.<\/span><\/p>\n

“That’s more like it. ” Jase said as he moved towards the horses.<\/span><\/p>\n

“What are we gonna do now, Jase?” Randy asked.<\/span><\/p>\n

Jase was quiet for a moment, feeling the anticipation of his gang. They moved restlessly, eyes focused sharply on their leader. They had been hiding too long. Finally he said, “This is the best chance we’re ever gonna get. We gotta make it count.” They had the perfect opportunity to carry out their plan. It was time.<\/span><\/p>\n

********<\/span><\/p>\n

Adam and Joe rode towards town in silence for several minutes. Adam stole a glance at his younger brother. Joe sat quietly, a light mauve bruising under his eyes set off the pallor of his skin. In the sunlight he appeared white, his complexion dulled by inactivity and illness. He was thinner, not only in the face, but through the shoulders as well.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Are you all right, Joe?”<\/span><\/p>\n

“Yeah, I’m fine.” His breathing was still slightly labored, as if his heart hadn’t quite caught up with his body. Then suddenly he turned and looked at Adam with an intense, almost challenging expression. “I need to talk to you, Adam.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Finally, Adam thought. He’d been hoping for this moment, yet dreading it at the same time. He pulled the horses up and stopped the wagon.<\/span><\/p>\n

Turning to Joe, he said, “I never intended to hurt you, Joe. It was something I had to do.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Joe was quiet for a long time, staring straight ahead. A slight frown creased his brow.<\/span><\/p>\n

“You stayed with me after I was shot, didn’t you?”<\/span><\/p>\n

“Yes. You’re my brother, Joe. I…..I love you.” Why was that so hard for him to say? “I had to help you.”<\/span><\/p>\n

“I almost died.” Joe said flatly.<\/span><\/p>\n

Adam took a deep breath, remembering the many times when Joe had nearly slipped from them, the days when his brother’s presence had faded to a faint shadow. “Yes, Joe, you did. And if you had died, a part of me would have died along with you. I couldn’t just stand there and let Nicky hurt you anymore, Joe. “<\/span><\/p>\n

Joe grew very still and withdrawn. His eyes were downcast. Finally, he looked up, his eyes misted and he struggled to control his expressions. His chin quivered slightly. “I didn’t mean to push you away.” He took a deep breath before continuing, “Adam, there are things I don’t remember.” He looked at his older brother, his eyes bright and passionate. “I need to know, Adam. Please, will you tell me?”<\/span><\/p>\n

Adam settled down in his seat and told his brother of the events which had transpired on the stormy night in that empty barn, the scene he had witnessed and his fear for Joe’s life as Nicky continued to assault him. He told him of the posses search and of his and Hoss’s continued quest after the posse gave up. He left nothing unsaid and carefully watched the emotions play across Joe’s face–confusion, disbelief–all quickly suppressed and denied, filed away with so many other moments of his life. But one emotion still lingered, denying Joe’s peace.<\/span><\/p>\n

For a long time neither spoke. Then when Joe could speak, his voice was thick and choked with emotion. “I’m sorry Adam.”<\/span><\/p>\n

“For what? You didn’t do anything Joe. There’s no reason for you to apologize.”<\/span><\/p>\n

But Joe nodded, not looking at his brother. “I should have done something.”<\/span><\/p>\n

“What could you have done?”<\/span><\/p>\n

“I don’t know. Something.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Adam watched Joe battling his emotions, trying desperately to find an answer. He was not sure what Joe thought he could have done to prevent his own injuries, Nicky’s death. Joe wanted answers, but there were none.<\/span><\/p>\n

“When you were about five years old,” Adam began slowly. “I promised your mother that I would always take care of you, keep you safe. When I saw you on the floor of that barn……” Adam stopped. Like a wound opening, Adam felt the pain, fresh and vivid. “When I saw you, I knew I’d failed her, failed you……” Emotion glistened in his dark eyes. “Marie trusted me to keep you safe. You trusted me to help Nicky. You nearly get killed and ……” he stopped again.<\/span><\/p>\n

“You didn’t fail, Adam. Not my mother, not me. If you hadn’t done what you did, Nicky would have……killed me. You didn’t fail.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Adam gently squeezed his shoulder as Joe realized the meaning of the words he’d just spoken.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Neither did you, Buddy.”<\/span><\/p>\n

With a flicker of a smile, Joe said, “Are we going to Virginia City or not?”<\/span><\/p>\n

It wasn’t much, but it was a beginning. Breathing a sigh of relief Adam answered, “You bet we are!”<\/span><\/p>\n

********<\/span><\/p>\n

Jase scanned the area. He had split the gang up, half on one side of the road behind an outcropping of rocks, the rest on the other side, hidden in the bushes. Jase’s heart pounded with anticipation. He was going to kill the Cartwrights and do it in broad daylight. But they couldn’t be subtle. They had to be quick. The high and mighty Cartwright’s weren’t going to walk away from this one.<\/span><\/p>\n

Just as Jase was about to lose his patience, he saw a wagon in the distance.<\/span><\/p>\n

Finally.<\/span><\/p>\n

He was beginning to think they had gone back to the Ponderosa.<\/span><\/p>\n

The gang waited until the wagon was between the two groups of young outlaws then sprang into action.<\/span><\/p>\n

Joe saw the first blow to Adam’s head.<\/span><\/p>\n

“No!”<\/span><\/p>\n

Hot rage filled Joe as he saw that first blow, a vicious strike from behind. His fingers tightened on his gun, but he was hampered by his disability–his arm was still stiff and sore. Fire burned in his shoulder as he tried to pull his gun, refusing to be slowed by his injuries, refusing the pain that seared through him. His heart hammered. His lungs ached and each strained breath was like slivers of glass being pressed into his chest.<\/span><\/p>\n

A gush of blood poured down Adam’s face as the butt of a gun struck him.<\/span><\/p>\n

Adam!!<\/span><\/p>\n

Joe kicked his leg out, trying to kick Freddie Montoya off the wagon. The rush of his blood sang in his ears along with the contractions of his heart, pounding louder and louder.<\/span><\/p>\n

The gang was ruthless. Adam warded off most of the blows. But he was one man and they were many. Their anger gave them the advantage, and what they lacked in experience, they made up for in numbers.<\/span><\/p>\n

Cowards!!<\/span><\/p>\n

Joe’s ribs radiated fire, burning deep into his chest and around to his back. Suddenly he was knocked from the seat of the wagon. He hit the ground hard reaching his left arm out to break his fall. An explosion erupted in his shoulder. Muscles stretched and tore as the healing shoulder absorbed the impact. His head stuck a rock. Bits of grit cut into his forehead and palms, but the discomfort was buried beneath the agony of his chest and ribs. Asthmatic breaths pushed through lungs that wouldn’t quite fill with air.<\/span><\/p>\n

A sharp, popping sound filled the air, distant and unmistakable. A gunshot. Feet pounded across the dirt road. Joe lay on the ground, wheezing and coughing. His left arm was numb and it took him a few seconds to raise his head. His world spun around him. Drops of sweat ran into his eyes. He blinked past the sting and struggled to get leverage, to see the figure that now lay on the ground beside him.<\/span><\/p>\n

Blood seeped from a cut on Adam’s forehead, spilling a bright trail across his face. Someone reached him and immediately dropped to his knees.<\/span><\/p>\n

Joe was dizzy, his vision blurring. Forced to lower his head, he didn’t see his father rush to his side. He spoke softly to him, but he could not answer. His world had been fogged a deep gray and muffled with the sounds of his own breathing.<\/span><\/p>\n

Adam. Help Adam.<\/span><\/p>\n

Weakly, he brushed away his father’s hands, but they were persistent. The tones of his voice told of his worry and panic.<\/span><\/p>\n

“No.” Joe croaked the word, unable to get enough air into his lungs to speak properly.<\/span><\/p>\n

Leave me. Help Adam.<\/span><\/p>\n

Somehow he managed to sit up. Smoky dots exploded in his vision. Feeling had begun to come back in his left arm and he was able to use it to keep his balance. He gasped for breath, feeling as if he’d been beaten without mercy, as his brother had been.<\/span><\/p>\n

“What?” he mumbled. He tried to focus, tried to slow his breathing. His heart hammered painfully, increasing the pressure in his chest.<\/span><\/p>\n

Fingers lightly swept his face. He pulled back, warding off the touch. “Don’t…”<\/span><\/p>\n

“Joe.” Ben crouched in front of him. Worry lined the leathered face. “Don’t move, Son.”<\/span><\/p>\n

“A-A-Adam?” His head spun.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Hoss is taking care of him. You have to lay still, Joe.” Ben stroked his thumb across Joe’s damp brow. “Just take it easy. You’re gonna be just fine.”<\/span><\/p>\n

No…….Adam……<\/span><\/p>\n

Darkness fell, dragging Joe into numbness.<\/span><\/p>\n

********<\/span><\/p>\n

“Are you sure it was Coulter, Adam? ” Sheriff Coffee asked as Doctor Martin finished stitching and bandaging the cut over Adam’s eye. The bleeding had stopped and Roy could see several swollen bruises beginning to appear on Adam’s face.<\/span><\/p>\n

“It was him — there’s no doubt about it. It was Jase Coulter. There were ten or twelve other boys with him. They were hiding, waiting for us.”<\/span><\/p>\n

“Waiting for you? How could they know you and Joe would be going to Virginia City today?” Hoss asked.<\/span><\/p>\n

Adam felt as if he’d been kicked in the stomach.<\/span><\/p>\n

“They had to have been watching us when we left the house.” he said, looking up in surprise at Hoss. The movement caused a wave of pain to crash through his head.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Take it easy Adam. You don’t have a concussion, but you will have a headache for a while. You’ve also got some bruised ribs that I need to wrap. Roy, you about done here?” Paul asked.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Yeah, sure, Doc. Adam, I’ve got the boys out looking around the area where Coulter ambushed you and Joe. I’ll let you know if we find anything.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Adam nodded, then closed his eyes as the small movement caused another wave of pain.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Doc, ya think I could talk to Joe now?” Roy asked.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Not just yet, Roy. He didn’t suffer any major injuries, but he’s exhausted. I’m hoping he’s asleep.”<\/span><\/p>\n

“I’m afraid not, Paul.” came Ben’s voice from the doorway.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Why, Pa? What’s wrong? Is Joe all right?” Adam asked anxiously.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Calm down, Son. He’s all right. He’s just worried about you. I told him you weren’t seriously injured but he insists on seeing for himself. He refuses to rest until he talks to you.”<\/span><\/p>\n

“Paul, let me go see him. I promise I’ll come right back and you can wrap the ribs then. All right?” Adam said as he stood, gingerly touching his sore side.<\/span><\/p>\n

“You might as well. I probably couldn’t stop you anyway.” Paul sighed.<\/span><\/p>\n

Joe’s eyes were closed, his lashes remarkably dark against astonishingly pale skin. Adam approached the bed quietly in case Joe was asleep.<\/span><\/p>\n

As soon as he realized someone was in the room with him, Joe immediately tensed, eyes wide, nerves hypersensitive. His hand dove under the pillow. Then he recognized Adam and relaxed, releasing the grip on the pistol he had stowed safely away.<\/span><\/p>\n

When he saw Adam’s bruised and swollen face, the bandage wrapped around his head, Joe tried to sit up. Adam put his hands on Joe’s shoulders, gently pushing him back to the mattress.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Adam, are you all right?” Joe’s voice was barely a whisper as he tried to control his labored breathing.<\/span><\/p>\n

Adam slowly sat down on the bed beside Joe. He took his brothers shaking hands in his.<\/span><\/p>\n

“I’m fine, Buddy. Just some scrapes and bruises. How about you?”<\/span><\/p>\n

“I’m all right.” Joe said in a soft, tired voice. “Just need to rest a little while.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Adam winced at the sound of his brother’s voice, at the pained expression on the pale, drawn face. He recognized the hollow, defeated look, the sorrow etched with anger and regret. He’d seen it on Joe’s face before — when he felt he’d failed his family or friends. He’d also seen the look in Joe’s eyes – naked fear.<\/span><\/p>\n

Ignoring his own aching muscles and the pounding in his head, Adam stayed with Joe, stroking his hair, murmuring softly until the medicine and exhaustion pulled Joe into a deep sleep.<\/span><\/p>\n

Adam knew that whatever progress Joe had made towards facing his fear was gone. Adam prayed his brother would have the strength. He cursed the man who caused his family so much pain.<\/span><\/p>\n

********<\/span><\/p>\n

“What do you need a gun for, Tommy?” Jase asked.<\/span><\/p>\n

Thirteen year old Tommy Gray straightened himself to his full height. Even so, he had to tilt his head back to meet Jase’s black eyes. “I want to kill Adam Cartwright.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Jase smiled and chuckled softly. He looked around at his gang. “Tommy wants to kill Cartwright.”<\/span><\/p>\n

They laughed.<\/span><\/p>\n

Tommy’s eyes gleamed. His mouth tightened. “I’m gonna do it with or without your help.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Jase’s smile faded and he stepped forward. “Where you gonna get a gun?”<\/span><\/p>\n

“I—I don’t know. But I will. Adam Cartwright killed my brother. Nobody else will do do anything about it, so I am. I’m gonna kill him.” Tommy said.<\/span><\/p>\n

Jase leaned back and observed the boy, noting how similar he was to his brother. Tommy had Nicky’s eyes, but did he also have his soft heart? Was this just talk, or did Tommy really want to kill Adam Cartwright?<\/span><\/p>\n

“You know, shooting somebody is pretty messy, kid.”<\/span><\/p>\n

“I know.” Tommy’s expression never changed. “I saw Nicky.”<\/span><\/p>\n

The gang fell silent. There wasn’t a boy in the group that hadn’t lost someone to violence.<\/span><\/p>\n

Jase stepped forward and dropped his arm around Tommy’s shoulders, walking him down by a small stream. The rest followed at a discrete distance.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Listen, Tommy.” Jase began in an easy tone, “I can get you a gun, if you’re sure this is what you want to do.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Jase met Tommy’s bright eyes, shining with determination and passion. Tommy Gray wanted revenge, and he had no idea the full scope of what he was getting into. He didn’t care. Jase had seen that look before on a dozen other kids just like Tommy, boys who had nowhere to go, nothing to live for. That kid of quiet desperation made outlaws out of children.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Tommy, if I got you a gun, how would you do it? How would you kill Cartwright?”<\/span><\/p>\n

Tommy scowled. “I’ll put the barrel to his head and pull the trigger.”<\/span><\/p>\n

“How you gonna get close enough to do that?” Jase asked putting his hand on Tommy’s shoulder.<\/span><\/p>\n

Tommy knocked Jase’s hand away and glared at him. “I’ll get close enough. He killed my brother! He killed Nicky!”<\/span><\/p>\n

Tears of rage and frustration streamed down Tommy’s face.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Take it easy, Tommy,” Jase said. “Just wanted to make sure you knew what you were getting into.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Wiping the back of his free hand across his face, Tommy took a shuddering breath and nodded.<\/span><\/p>\n

Jace looked at Freddie. “Get him the best gun we got.”<\/span><\/p>\n

*********<\/span><\/p>\n

Adam stood in Joe’s bedroom watching his brother sleep. Joe was face down across the bed, sprawled on top of the covers. His head was twisted sharply to the right, his cheek pressed against the mattress. Lips parted slightly, only soft, shallow breaths expelled into the still air.<\/span><\/p>\n

Adam looked around the room in dismay. Since the attack a week ago, Joe had once again retreated into his bedroom. The curtains were closed, the window locked. Dirty clothes were strewn around the room. Adam sighed and put the breakfast tray he’d brought Joe on the nightstand.<\/span><\/p>\n

Joe moaned softly, brows crinkling into a scowl. His hand clutched the thick blanket, but he did not awaken. The tips of his tousled hair were stained with sweat and plastered to his forehead and temples. Adam stepped forward and gently brushed back the damp curls, feeling heat radiate from his his brother’s fevered flesh. Frowning, he trailed his hands down the length of Joe’s back, resting his palm. Heat penetrated Joe’s shirt, branding Adam’s palm. Beneath the fire, Joe’s heart beat irregularly, heavily.<\/span><\/p>\n

Adam picked up the dirty clothes, putting them in a bundle on the chair for Hop Sing to pick up later. Stopping to check on Joe, who still lay deeply asleep, he moved to the window. He opened the curtains to let in the morning light, then opened the window allowing a soft breeze to waft through the room. As he stood breathing in the fresh air, he heard Joe awakening.<\/span><\/p>\n

Adam stood by the window watching Joe struggle to consciousness. His face was deathly pale and haggard. His breathing picked up and his brows flattened across his eyes. He groaned deeply and lay still. Slowly, his eyes fluttered open.<\/span><\/p>\n

It took him a moment to orient himself and Adam could see his brain working through the fog in his mind. Joe rose on his hands and rolled into a sitting position, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. His face twisted. Slumping, he took a moment to close his eyes and press a trembling hand to his chest, suppressing a cough. Then he looked up and saw his brother.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Good morning, sleepyhead.” Adam said, smiling.<\/span><\/p>\n

Joe coughed again, cringing when it hurt.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Morning.” Joe said as he slowly pulled himself to his feet. He’d only taken a couple of steps when he was seized by a coughing fit. He leaned against the rocking chair, trying to get the coughing under control and to catch his breath. After a moment, he ran his fingers through his thick curls.<\/span><\/p>\n

“You hungry?” Adam asked observing Joe closely.<\/span><\/p>\n

It pained Adam to watch Joe struggle with the simplest task, to hear his labored, painful breathing and know that any help he offered, Joe would reject.<\/span><\/p>\n

“No.” Joe said in a tired voice and turned to sit in the rocker.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Joe, you can’t keep on this way, Buddy. I can’t stand by and just watch while you destroy yourself. You have to eat, Joe.”<\/span><\/p>\n

“I’m not hungry,” he said.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Joe…..”<\/span><\/p>\n

Joe’s brows were drawn over his eyes into a straight line, deepening the hazel color.<\/span><\/p>\n

“No.” The rumbled sounds of his breathing filled the room. Adam waited as Joe caught his breath. His brother was having difficulty breathing, but was trying desperately to hide it from him. The congestive cough forced additional pressure on his broken ribs. A warm glow tinted his cheeks.<\/span><\/p>\n

“You’re going to eat Joseph.” Adam said firmly, retrieving the tray >from the table.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Adam…..”<\/span><\/p>\n

Adam held up his hand. “Don’t argue with me. You can’t go on like this. You’ve got Pa worried to death. You are going to eat.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Joe’s eyes flashed. “I’m not hungry, Adam. Now, leave me alone.” As he spoke, his breath rattled in his chest.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Joe, hiding out in your room and starving yourself isn’t doing anybody any good. Let me help you.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Joe’s gaze hardened, his breath coming harder. “What’s wrong with you? Don’t you hear anything I say? I don’t want your help! I needed your help when Nicky was shooting me. Where were you then?”<\/span><\/p>\n

The words hung in the air between them. Adam felt as if he’d been punched in the stomach.<\/span><\/p>\n

“How long will you punish me for that, Joe?” Adam asked softly. He saw the fear in Joe’s eyes, mixed with the anger.<\/span><\/p>\n

Joe’s eyes shone brightly as he fixed his gaze on Adam. Adam touched his arm. Joe stood, distressed and confused. He ran his fingers through his hair.<\/span><\/p>\n

“I’m sorry, Adam. I–I–didn’t mean that.” His voice broke as a cough racked him. “I shouldn’t have said what I did. You couldn’t have……stopped him.” He put a hand on his chest, his features pinched. “Just happened.”<\/span><\/p>\n

“Joe……”<\/span><\/p>\n

Joe shook his head and took a few uncertain steps backward. A fine sheen of sweat covered his face. He breathed heavily.<\/span><\/p>\n

Adam stepped toward him, alarmed. “Joe!”<\/span><\/p>\n

Gasping harshly, Joe reached for Adam, desperate for a hold. As his fingers sank into Adam’s arm, he began to collapse.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Adam…..can’t brea—” his eyes were wide with fear, the vessels on his neck extended.<\/span><\/p>\n

“I’ve got you, Joe.” Adam supported his brother’s weight, lowering him to the bed. Joe’s complexion had the pasty white color of shock and Adam was alarmed to discovered he was barely breathing.<\/span><\/p>\n

He laid his palm flat against Joe’s chest, sensing the irregular beat of his heart, the slow, sluggish pumping. His body cried for oxygen, muscles and cells strangled and dying.<\/span><\/p>\n

Joe took a shuddering breath and melted into the floor.<\/span><\/p>\n

********<\/span><\/p>\n

Someone was talking about him in heavy tones filled with concern. Through his fatigue, Joe recognized the heavy lethargic effect of drugs. A disembodied voice echoed in the distance, the words distorted by the cotton packed in his head. Other sounds seemed amplified, like the sigh — long and deep — expelled into the still air.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Will he be all right, Paul?” That was his father’s voice — calm, reassuring, near.<\/span><\/p>\n

“He’s stabilized for now, but recovery will depend on Joe. He needs bed rest, and he needs to start taking proper care of himself. He’s lost too much weight. I don’t know how he’s made it this long without collapsing.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Joe struggled to open his eyes, forcing himself up through the layers of fuzziness that had encased his brain. He squinted past the pain.<\/span><\/p>\n

Adam glanced at him and smiled. He raised his gaze. “Pa, Doc, he’s awake.”<\/span><\/p>\n

“Joe?” Paul Martin stood on the opposite side of the bed beyond his view. “Joe, can you hear me?”<\/span><\/p>\n

He was tired and concentrating took energy. His chest felt heavy and his muscles were sluggish, as if a lead blanket had been placed over him, trapping him to the bed. To move, to breathe was an effort.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Joe?”<\/span><\/p>\n

Slowly he rolled his head along the pillow, watching the room spin in swirling colors. “I-I hear.”<\/span><\/p>\n

“You’re in your bedroom, Joe. Adam sent for me when you collapsed. Do you remember?”<\/span><\/p>\n

He remembered his anger and the hurtful words he’d spoken. He remembered feeling helpless and trapped, pressure squeezing at his heart. And he remembered strong, gentle arms enveloping him, taking him away from the pain, holding him.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Adam?” He shivered slightly.<\/span><\/p>\n

A sound. A motion.<\/span><\/p>\n

“I’m right here, Buddy.” Adam’s face came into view, a bit fuzzy around the edges, but Joe would have recognized him in total darkness. He stood by Paul’s side. The thin cut above his eye stood out red and angry, testimony to his recent beating, his own vulnerability.<\/span><\/p>\n

Adam gently clasped Joe’s hand.<\/span><\/p>\n

“I-I’m sorry, Adam. Didn’t…. mean what…. I said.”<\/span><\/p>\n

In that moment Joe made a decision. He had to stand on his own, not just for his family, but for himself as well. He couldn’t live in fear anymore. He had to find Jase Coulter and face him man to man. There was no other way.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Joe, are you listening to me?” Paul asked.<\/span><\/p>\n

“What?”<\/span><\/p>\n

“You’re going to have to take it easy. You’re body is exhausted and, Joe, you’re going to have to start eating.”<\/span><\/p>\n

His chest ached. It hurt to breathe. He shivered. His head spun and he continued to take shallow, rapids breaths, trying to satisfy his hunger for air without causing more pain.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Can’t take it easy. Have to find Coulter.” He moved restlessly, weakly on the bed.<\/span><\/p>\n

Ben stepped forward and placed a calming hand on his shoulder. “Joe, please.”<\/span><\/p>\n

“You have to stay calm, Joe, ” Paul said. “Let us help you.”<\/span><\/p>\n

A sharp pain cut through his chest, catching his breath. They didn’t understand. He couldn’t let anyone else find Coulter. He knew that now. If he was ever to conquer his fear, he had to do it – alone.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Pa, please.”<\/span><\/p>\n

“Joe, you have to let Paul help you.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Was it fear he heard in his father’s voice?<\/span><\/p>\n

“I have to find Coulter. I have to…..”<\/span><\/p>\n

“Joe, you can’t just yet. You would be putting you life in danger to even leave this bed right now.” Ben’s voice was soft as he brushed sweat soaked curls from Joe’s forehead. “I’ll stay with you, Son. Just rest.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Joe’s eyes fluttered shut and he lost himself to the sensation, feeling the warm hand stroking his hair, soothing caresses that spoke of tenderness and love. Still, deep inside there was the reality — Coulter, Nicky, the gun.<\/span><\/p>\n

********<\/span><\/p>\n

Tommy Gray laid his hand over the hard bulge in his jacket. The heavy pistol pressed against his ribs. He waited outside the Delta Saloon in the dark alley. Silent and melded with the shadows, he tried to stop his body from trembling, his mind from acknowledging the fear. He mentally review the plan. Jase’s instructions had been specific.<\/span><\/p>\n

‘Don’t call out his name. Just walk up to him, put the gun to his head and pull the trigger.’<\/span><\/p>\n

“Pull the trigger,” Tommy said softly. His words whispered into the air, drowned out by the chatter of voices on the sidewalk. He pressed closer to the wall. He’s seen Adam Cartwright go into the Delta and knew tonight would be the night he avenged his brother’s death. Still, all these people made him nervous.<\/span><\/p>\n

A loud clatter echoed down the narrow alley. Tommy jumped and grabbed for the gun, but his jacket had been buttoned and his finger encountered a barrier of supple fabric.<\/span><\/p>\n

He quickly fumbled with the buttons, eyes searching frantically, heart pumping madly. A high pitch, angry screech froze him.<\/span><\/p>\n

A cat. A damn cat.<\/span><\/p>\n

He closed his eyes, fingers frozen on the cold button, legs trembling.<\/span><\/p>\n

If it had been Adam Cartwright, he would have been dead. Jase had warned him. Adam would kill him the way he’d killed Nicky.<\/span><\/p>\n

You got one shot, kid. Make it count.<\/span><\/p>\n

Tommy jerked the buttons off his jacket and opened it. Tears misted his eyes and brought a surge of anger.<\/span><\/p>\n

No, he wouldn’t cry, not until Adam Cartwright was dead, not until Nicky had been avenged.<\/span><\/p>\n

“It’s gonna be all right, Nicky. I’m gonna take care of everything.”<\/span><\/p>\n

He took the pistol out, gripping the butt firmly, and laid it against his leg. He wouldn’t miss. He wouldn’t hesitate. He’d walk right up to Adam Cartwright and he’d kill him.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Pull the trigger.” It was that easy.<\/span><\/p>\n

Darkness closed in on Virginia City and Tommy fastened his gaze to the entrance of the Delta Saloon and waited.<\/span><\/p>\n

********<\/span><\/p>\n

Joe was alone.<\/span><\/p>\n

He’d awakened from a nightmare some time ago. His cries had brought his father and it had taken nearly half an hour to convince him he was all right. He’d managed to calm himself enough to fool his father into thinking he’d gone back to sleep.<\/span><\/p>\n

He slowly sat up in bed. The drugs had worn off some and he felt the ache in his chest and shoulder, the throbbing in his ribs. He took a moment to think. He carefully swung his legs over the edge of the bed and listened. The clock downstairs chimed four times. The house was otherwise quiet. A few well-timed moves and he would be out of the house before they knew it.<\/span><\/p>\n

He stood, pushing off the bed, and a wave of dizziness sent him staggering backward. The back of his legs pressed the mattress, keeping him from falling. He took steady breaths, waiting for the dizziness to pass. He could feel the steady thump against his ribcage.<\/span><\/p>\n

The dizziness lessened to an annoying lightheadedness. On trembling legs, he crossed the room and retrieved his clothes. It took come coordination and more time than he’d thought, but he managed to dress. The ordeal left him trembling with fatigue and dripping with perspiration. He rested on the bed, trying to catch his breath, to find the strength for what he had to do.<\/span><\/p>\n

Joe relaxed and steadied himself against the wall. Slowly, the dizziness and weakness passed. His palms were moist with sweat and he dried them against his jeans. With one hand on his ribs, Joe stepped from the bedroom.<\/span><\/p>\n

He had a rendezvous with Jase Coulter.<\/span><\/p>\n

********<\/span><\/p>\n

The sound of voices woke Tommy Gray, a low buzz of conversation that drifted through his sleep.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Nicky?” he mumbled.<\/span><\/p>\n

Cool, moist air brushed against his face. His brother had left the window open again. Ma would be angry. Tommy’s eyes snapped open, his senses alert. He shivered and looked around the alley.<\/span><\/p>\n

The Delta Saloon. Adam Cartwright.<\/span><\/p>\n

He remembered. Nicky was dead. Adam Cartwright had killed him. He closed his eyes for a moment and let the reality sink in. The gun was still in his hand, snuggled next to his chest — unused.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Damn it!”<\/span><\/p>\n

He’d missed Cartwright. He’d fallen asleep and missed his opportunity to avenge his brother’s death.<\/span><\/p>\n

I failed.<\/span><\/p>\n

Anger and sorrow rose in him. He uncurled his body and the revolver fell heavily to the ground, his arm limp and unresponsive. Pins and needles shot up and down his arm. He rubbed the circulation back, grabbed the revolver and stood. His muscles were stiff and sore. Shaking off the discomfort, he stepped into the alley.<\/span><\/p>\n

The sun rose over Virginia City, streaming light down the narrow passage. Merchants gathered in front of their shops, setting up for the day. Tommy watched as Mr. Cass rolled a barrel of apples onto the sidewalk in front of the General Store. Nothing ever seemed to change in Virginia City. He sighed. What should he do now? If he went back to Jase, the outlaws would think him a coward, Cartwright would go free — again. And Nicky’s death would go unavenged. He couldn’t allow that to happen. He wouldn’t fail Nicky. Tommy knew that if he had been the one who was killed, Nicky would do every thing in his power to avenge his death. Even if that meant getting killed himself.<\/span><\/p>\n

He would kill Adam Cartwright — and he would do it today. He tucked the revolver inside his jacket and made his way slowly down the street.<\/span><\/p>\n

********<\/span><\/p>\n

Ben Cartwright woke with a start. Something was wrong. He threw back the covers and grabbing his robe, hurried towards Joe’s bedroom. Opening the door, his heart skipped a beat as he found an empty room. Fear growing, he rushed downstairs only to find it deserted as well. A moment later, Ben burst into Adam’s room.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Adam! Adam, wake up!” he boomed loudly.<\/span><\/p>\n

Adam sat straight up. “P-Pa, what is it? What’s wrong?”<\/span><\/p>\n

“It’s Joe. He’s gone.”<\/span><\/p>\n

“Gone? What do you mean gone? He’s been to terrified to leave his room for weeks! Are you sure he’s not downstairs?” Adam was stunned at the news.<\/span><\/p>\n

“I’m sure. He’s gone and we have to go after him.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Hoss appeared in the doorway rubbing his hand through his hair.<\/span><\/p>\n

“What’s all the commotion?” He yawned.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Joe’s gone. Get dressed and get the men together. We have to find him.”<\/span><\/p>\n

“Yessir, I’ll get ’em ready.” Hoss said, suddenly wide awake.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Pa? You don’t think Joe’s gone after Coulter do you.” Adam asked as he climbed out of bed.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Yes, Adam, I’m afraid that’s exactly what he’s done. I’m going to get dressed. Meet you downstairs in five minutes.” Ben’s dark eyes were hooded with worry, his face drawn and haggard.<\/span><\/p>\n

A few minutes later, the Cartwrights and twenty of the Ponderosa ranch hands were ready to go.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Hank, you ride into Virginia City and let Roy Coffee know what’s going on.”<\/span><\/p>\n

“Yessir, Boss.” Hank said as he mounted his horse and kicked him into action.<\/span><\/p>\n

Ben looked around at the men who would help him find his son.<\/span><\/p>\n

He offered up a silent prayer.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Let’s ride.” he ordered, spurring his horse forward.<\/span><\/p>\n

********<\/span><\/p>\n

Joe’s heart throbbed painfully in his chest as he rode slowly, not sure of which direction he should take. A powerful instinct to turn around and go home hit him, an overwhelming sensation that assaulted him like a physical presence. Over the past weeks he’d jumped at things that weren’t there, seen images and heard voices that had been reflections of memories, yet had seemed so real. No, he had to go on. There was no turning back. This had to end.<\/span><\/p>\n

His heart beat rapidly and a thin layer of sweat broke out across his forehead.<\/span><\/p>\n

No. No. This isn’t like before, the nightmares and the terror.<\/span><\/p>\n

He drew a shuddering breath, trying to calm his nerves.<\/span><\/p>\n

It’s not fear I’m feeling. It’s not fear.<\/span><\/p>\n

Suddenly, he spotted a rider up ahead. Joe braced himself. It wasn’t Coulter, but the young man looked familiar. Joe recognized the boy as he drew closer — Tommy Gray. What was he doing way out here?<\/span><\/p>\n

It suddenly dawned on Joe that Tommy might be going to meet Coulter. Quickly hiding behind a stand of trees, Joe let Tommy get further ahead of him. This could be his best chance of finding the outlaws hideout and Joe wasn’t about to turn back now, not even if it meant facing Coulter alone.<\/span><\/p>\n

Joe followed Tommy into the mountains for almost two hours, careful to stay far enough behind to insure Tommy wouldn’t spot him. Just when he felt he could not possibly stay in the saddle any longer, Tommy pulled up his horse and dismounted. Nervously looking all around, he finally disappeared into the side of the mountain.<\/span><\/p>\n

“A cave! That’s where they’re hiding.” Joe’s heart was pounding so loud he could hear it. His body was covered in sweat, his hands shaking violently. He dismounted Cochise slowly, tied her securely to a bush and sat down behind an outcropping of rocks – safely out of sight of anyone who may be watching from the cave above. Joe was so tired he could hardly keep his eyes open.<\/span><\/p>\n

I’ll rest just a minute, he thought as his lashes dipped and he succumbed to the exhaustion.<\/span><\/p>\n

********<\/span><\/p>\n

Hoss squatted on the ground, carefully checking the tracks in front of him.<\/span><\/p>\n

“What do you think, Hoss? Are we getting close?” Ben asked anxiously. The longer Joe was away from him, the more worried he became.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Yeah, Pa. These are sure enough Cochise’s tracks. Looks like Joe’s moving pretty slow. Can’t be more than an hour or so ahead of us. But…..there’s another set of tracks here, too.”<\/span><\/p>\n

“Another set?”<\/span><\/p>\n

“Yessir, but I don’t think they’re traveling together. Looks like Joe moves off the road ever now and again. I think he’s following somebody.”<\/span><\/p>\n

“We better hurry. If he’s tracking Coulter, he’s headed for trouble.” Adam said.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Wait, Adam. Let’s take it slowly. If it is Coulter, we don’t want to alert him. He might kill Joe this time.” Ben warned.<\/span><\/p>\n

The moved cautiously ahead, searching all around for any signs of Joe. Each minute seemed endless to Ben as he prayed they would catch up with Joe in time. Finally, almost an hour later, Adam suddenly stopped. Pointing to an outcropping of rocks, he turned to his father.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Pa, Cochise is tied to a bush over by those rocks!” he called.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Do you see your brother?” Ben asked quickly.<\/span><\/p>\n

“No, but he can’t be far.” Adam rode ahead. As he reached the rocks, he spotted his youngest brother lying on the ground, unmoving. Dismounting before his horse even stopped, he rushed to Joe. Putting his fingers to Joe’s throat he breathed a sigh of relief as he felt a strong pulse.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Adam, is he……” Hoss asked quietly, his heart pounding with fear.<\/span><\/p>\n

“He’s alive. Get some water, quick.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Ben rushed to his son. He sat on the ground and lifted Joe’s head into his lap. Joe moaned softly.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Joseph, Joseph! Can you hear me, Son?<\/span><\/p>\n

Hoss rushed over with the canteen, offering it to Adam.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Here, Adam. He sure is awful pale.” Hoss said anxiously as he looked down at Joe’s pasty white face.<\/span><\/p>\n

Adam poured water on his neckerchief and gently bathed his brother’s face. After several minutes, Joe eyes began to flutter. Dark, blurry images floated above him. He jerked awake, heart hammering, pulse racing. He breathed heavily as he tried to clear his vision.<\/span><\/p>\n

“It’s all right, Son. Take it easy.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Pa.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Here you go, Buddy. Take a drink. Easy, now.” Adam said as he held the canteen up to Joe’s lips.<\/span><\/p>\n

Joe drank greedily for a minute before laying back, exhausted. Suddenly, he remembered where he was and why.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Pa, Coulter……” he began but was suddenly seized by a coughing fit.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Slow down, Joe.” Adam warned.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Adam….Coulter…….he’s up….there.” Joe pointed towards the cave, breathing heavily. “I….have……to get….him.”<\/span><\/p>\n

“No, Joe. You’re exhausted. We’ve got half the ranch hands with us and I expect Roy and his posse will be here soon. Don’t you worry about Jase Coulter. He won’t get away this time.” Adam promised.<\/span><\/p>\n

“No.” Joe struggled to sit up, hazel eyes unnaturally bright. “Don’t you understand. I have to be there when Coulter’s captured.” Exhaustion weighed on him, making it almost impossible to keep his eyes open, to manage a coherent thought. He shook his head. He couldn’t surrender this time. This was too important.<\/span><\/p>\n

Adam sat very still. He looked to his father for guidance, then back at his brother.<\/span><\/p>\n

“We’re going to have to let him go, aren’t we?”<\/span><\/p>\n

“Yes, I’m afraid we are.” Ben said softly.<\/span><\/p>\n

There was a time akin to mourning for parents after letting go of their children. The instruction, the tutoring, the nights spent worrying. In the end it all came down to trust and faith. For parents — and for big brothers.<\/span><\/p>\n

********<\/span><\/p>\n

Tommy Gray stumbled to his knees, barely feeling the shock jar his legs. He made a quick grab for the revolver that was tucked in his jacket pocket. The weapon was cumbersome, a metal albatross, reminding him of his duty, his failure. Unable to come up with a plan to kill Adam Cartwright, he had given in and returned to the Coulter hideout.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Tommy, that you?”<\/span><\/p>\n

His head snapped up. “What? What do you want?”<\/span><\/p>\n

It was Freddie Montoya.<\/span><\/p>\n

“What the hell’s wrong with you kid?”<\/span><\/p>\n

“There’s somebody out there.” Tommy said pointing to the mouth of the cave. “Where’s Jase?”<\/span><\/p>\n

Tommy and Freddie hurried to the back of the cave where Jase and the other boys were busy loading their weapons. Each one had an old gun and a hand full of bullets. The all jumped up as Tommy ran in.<\/span><\/p>\n

“What’s wrong?” Jase demanded.<\/span><\/p>\n

“S-s-s-omebody’s out there. I think it’s the Cartwrights and a posse.” Tommy stuttered.<\/span><\/p>\n

Jase’s eyes went dark and cold. Turning to the group of young men behind him he said, “All right, boys, this is it. We fight to the finish.”<\/span><\/p>\n

The band of young outlaws moved to the mouth of the cave. Keeping out of sight, Jase scanned the area surrounding them. He recognized most of the men as Ponderosa ranch hands. His gaze stopped on Adam Cartwright and his lips curled up in a sneer.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Hey, Tommy. There’s your target.” he said.<\/span><\/p>\n

Tommy’s eyes followed Jase’s gaze. Adam Cartwright. A eerie silence fell upon the group of young men. This was it. They would live or they would die, but they would not surrender.<\/span><\/p>\n

Suddenly a voice broke the silence.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Coulter? Jase Coulter, we know you’re up there. We’ve got you surrounded, there’s no way you can escape. Give yourself up and nobody gets hurt.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Ben Cartwright.<\/span><\/p>\n

“No! You’ll have to come get us, old man!” Jase retorted.<\/span><\/p>\n

It was Tommy Gray who fired the first shot. The Cartwright’s and their men hadn’t gotten halfway into a good position before the sound of gunshots halted them. Some dove for cover, using the rocks as shields. Others were pinned down, exposed and vulnerable with no means to retreat or advance. Even with their bodies pressed closely to the ground they risked injury or death from ricochets.<\/span><\/p>\n

Adam swore viciously, cursing Jase and his trigger happy gang. He’d wanted to do this as peacefully as possible. A volley of gunfire erupted around him, bullets striking the rocks.<\/span><\/p>\n

Adam hit the ground.<\/span><\/p>\n

After a few minutes, the bullets stopped.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Jase, I’m running out of ammunition!” Freddie yelled.<\/span><\/p>\n

Cries of “me, too” sounded from the other boys.<\/span><\/p>\n

“What do we do now, Jase? We just got a few rounds left.”<\/span><\/p>\n

They were losing the fight.<\/span><\/p>\n

“We can’t get out,” Randy said breathlessly to Freddie. He was pale, but he hadn’t lost the fire or drive that made him an outlaw. “They’ve got us surrounded and outnumbered, the bastards!”<\/span><\/p>\n

“There’s only one way, boys. We go out quick and find cover in the rocks — some of us will make it — some won’t. Either way, we go out fighting.” Jase’s eyes shined with anticipation. It was time to put an end to the conflict.<\/span><\/p>\n

As the young men charged the mouth of the cave, Tommy Gray covered his face with his jacket and slid to the ground, crouching low behind a large rock in the cave. The hard butt of the revolver dug into his ribs.<\/span><\/p>\n

Coulter’s gang came out shooting. The Cartwrights and their men met them with guns drawn. Several outlaws were forced to the ground by the ranch hands. Others tried to slip away in the rocks during the commotion, but were quickly apprehended. Without ammunition, they were defenseless. Even so, they went down hard, cursing and spitting, their empty weapons worthless.<\/span><\/p>\n

In all the confusion, Joe suddenly found himself face to face with Jase Coulter. Hard, cold eyes stared unflinchingly at him. In an instant, he raised his gun and took aim. Joe was a second slower. Coulter squeezed the trigger.<\/span><\/p>\n

Nothing happened.<\/span><\/p>\n

He squeezed the trigger again and heard the fatal, hollow click of an empty chamber.<\/span><\/p>\n

Joe held his gun steady, his finger poised over the trigger. The barrel appeared huge.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Take it easy.” Dropping the gun, Coulter stared at Joe. “It’s over.”<\/span><\/p>\n

“It’s not over.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Coulter felt the pit of his stomach drop. He stared at Joe, but it was like staring into an empty soul. “You don’t have to do this. You can walk away.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Where had Joe heard those words before?<\/span><\/p>\n

Joe took aim and pulled back the hammer.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Joseph! No, wait!” Ben called out. But it was too late.<\/span><\/p>\n

Joe squeezed the trigger. Coulter jumped, but the bullet hit a rock next to his foot.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Now, it’s over.” Joe said calmly, and he meant forever and for good. He looked into the dark eyes of Jase Coulter and saw terror. That was his revenge.<\/span><\/p>\n

Ben breathed a sigh of relief as one of the men grabbed Coulter’s arm and dragged him off to join his gang. He put his arm around Joe’s shoulder.<\/span><\/p>\n

“You all right, Joe?” he asked.<\/span><\/p>\n

Joe nodded as he begin to head back down the hill. He moved slowly, but held his spine straight, his head high. The adrenaline rush had passed and he no longer felt the frantic hammering of his heart, or the quivering of his muscles that he’d experienced these past weeks. He held the Colt steady and knew he would use it if he had cause.<\/span><\/p>\n

Adam met him at the bottom of the hill. As relieved as Adam was that Joe hadn’t sustained any more injuries, he was just as angry that he tried to bring Coulter in alone.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Joe, what were you thinkin…..” Adam began —<\/span><\/p>\n

“Adam Cartwright!”<\/span><\/p>\n

A gunshot followed immediately. The bullet came between the brothers, sharp-pitched as it sliced through the air. A wild shot that missed its mark. Adam reacted instantly, pushing Joe out of the way with one hand and taking aim with the other.<\/span><\/p>\n

Then he froze, shock rippling through him as he identified the offender. The physical similarities were unmistakable, the situation too painfully familiar. He didn’t have time to think beyond his initial reaction — Roy Coffee and his posse were already moving in, rifles poised and ready.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Hold your fire!” Adam waved them back, keeping his own gun trained on Tommy Gray.<\/span><\/p>\n

The boy looked wild. Tears and dirt streaked his young face, eyes wide and darting back and froth from Adam to the posse. he stood on unsteady legs, gripping a gun that looked huge and cumbersome in his boyish hands. He struggled to keep the gun aimed on his intended target.<\/span><\/p>\n

“The fight’s over,” Adam said quietly, a plaintive smile curving the corners of his mouth. “Why don’t you put the gun down?”<\/span><\/p>\n

“Stay back!”<\/span><\/p>\n

Adam raised his hands slightly. “Nobody’s doing anything. Everybody’s staying put.”<\/span><\/p>\n

The boy’s lips compressed tightly. His brows flattened over his eyes.<\/span><\/p>\n

“What are you going to do, Tommy?”<\/span><\/p>\n

“You killed my brother and I’m going to kill you!!” The gun shook in his hands. He seemed to be having difficulty focusing, his attention diverted by the posse who had effectively surrounded him.<\/span><\/p>\n

“You want revenge.”<\/span><\/p>\n

“Yeah! Nicky’s dead and somebody’s got to pay!”<\/span><\/p>\n

Adam thought for a minute. He knew exactly how Tommy felt — it was not all that long ago that Adam felt the same way. When he wanted revenge for Joe.<\/span><\/p>\n

“All right, Tommy. That’s fair. But you’re gonna need more bullets than you have in your gun.” Very carefully, Adam crouched on his heels and pushed his gun across the dirt towards Tommy. “Take mine. It’s fully loaded.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Tommy frowned, looking at the gun suspiciously. “What are you doing? Is this some kind of trick?”<\/span><\/p>\n

“No trick.” Adam said as he stood. “If you’re going to do it, you have to go all the way. A lot of people killed your brother, Tommy. Sam Coulter who started this whole mess when he tried to rob the Virginia City bank. The Coulter gang, who wouldn’t let him out of a situation that was swallowing him whole. The man who made the gun Nicky used. The man who made the bullets. Jase Coulter, who egged him on to kill and be killed. And don’t forget my brother — he couldn’t talk Nicky out of trying to kill him that day. And me — I had to kill your brother to save my brother’s life. You have to go back to the beginning, Tommy, because we’re all responsible.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Tommy shook his head. Anger flashed in his eyes. “No! No, that’s not right. It was just you. You killed my brother!”<\/span><\/p>\n

“To prevent Nicky from committing murder — like what you’re about to do.” Adam let his words penetrate the boy’s rage. “You don’t want to kill anyone, Tommy. It won’t fill the hole your brother’s death left in you, and it won’t ease your pain.”<\/span><\/p>\n

“No!” His chin quivered. The gun dipped. “You don’t know! It’s because of you he’s dead!”<\/span><\/p>\n

The posse hadn’t moved, but Adam knew if Tommy fired they would not hesitate to kill the boy. In his peripheral vision, he identified Hoss and his father. They were watching, their weapons also drawn.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Maybe that’s true,” Adam said to the boy. “Maybe I should have tried harder. Maybe I shouldn’t have stopped in Virginia City at all. But I can’t change what happened, Tommy. And nothing, absolutely nothing, will bring your brother back.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Tears spilled down the boy’s cheeks. His arms shook from the strain. “I want people to know—-” A sob choked him. The barrel of the gun pulled lower.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Listen to me, Tommy.”<\/span><\/p>\n

“No! My brother was somebody! He was somebody, just like your brother!”<\/span><\/p>\n

“Yes, he was, and you loved him.” Adam looked directly into the boy’s eyes. “You’ve been a good brother, Tommy. You loved and honored Nicky. Do you really want to kill for him?”<\/span><\/p>\n

The tears couldn’t dry on Tommy’s face. Fresh drops spilled over the thick lashes, freed by weeks of anger. He turned his watery gaze to Joe. “I loved my brother,” he said in a small voice. “Your brother killed him.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Joe bowed his head slightly, his own eyes bright. “I’m sorry for what happened to Nicky. I tried to talk him out of it, Tommy. Adam did what he had to do — to keep Nicky from murdering me.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Tommy’s chest convulsed with suppressed sobs. He was no more than a boy, but he seemed older suddenly, his narrow shoulder weighted with sorrow and despair.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Enough people have died, Tommy,” Adam said. “It’s time to get on with living.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Tommy didn’t move. Very slowly, he lowered the gun and held it loosely in his hand. Then, numb and exhausted, he turned and walked away.<\/span><\/p>\n

No one moved. They watched him, a small boy who’d had the strength few men could manage, who’d faced rage and violence and conquered his own hatred. As he moved away, the gun slipped slowly from Tommy’s hand and fell to the ground. He never altered his step, but left the gun behind, a symbol of choice, his victory. They let him walk away.<\/span><\/p>\n

Joe felt his father next to him, a steady, warm strength that embraced him. He wanted to lean into that strength. He wanted to rest his head on his father’s shoulder and let his father take some of his weight.<\/span><\/p>\n

He wanted to go home.<\/span><\/p>\n

Ben touched him lightly. It was tentative, supportive and embracing, a father’s touch. Joe looked at him, feeling every weighted moment of victory and defeat they had shared today.<\/span><\/p>\n

“All right, men, let’s get these boys to town. Clem, Charlie, move ’em out of here.” Roy Coffee commanded. His voice set the rest of the men into motion. Only the Cartwrights remained, rooted in place. Joe stooped and picked up the gun Adam had pushed to Tommy. He emptied the chamber, the bullets dropping into his palm like coins. He directed his attention to Adam.<\/span><\/p>\n

Adam met Joe’s gaze and held it.<\/span><\/p>\n

Joe observed his older brother closely. For a moment, it seemed as though he would say something, then emotion overwhelmed him and he looked away. Gently, he put his arm around Adam’s shoulder. “Let’s go home, big brother.”<\/span><\/p>\n

********<\/span><\/p>\n

Joe stood in front of his bedroom mirror, half-dressed and staring at his reflection as if to convince himself that the image didn’t belong to him. He hadn’t realized how thin he’d become, how sickly he still looked despite Hop Sing’s carefully prepared meals and Dr. Martin’s medicines.<\/span><\/p>\n

“You must be patient, Joe,” Dr. Martin had told him. “You suffered a great loss. Your body will need time to heal.”<\/span><\/p>\n

It would take him weeks, maybe months, to get his strength back. Though he’d made progress, he still tired easily. Dr. Martin was pleased with his healing though, and assured him that he’d fully recover.<\/span><\/p>\n

“I’ve never seen a patient make such rapid improvement,” Doc Martin had said during his last visit. “It’s hard to believe you’re the same young man who didn’t want to leave his room just a couple of weeks ago.”<\/span><\/p>\n

At first it was was hard for Joe to believe he had ever become that man as well. Looking back now, with clarity and perspective, he could see how he’d come to be that person, how the terror had escalated into a paralyzing force beyond his control. He’d been running so hard to stay one step ahead of it, that he’d never taken a moment to pause, to see where he was going.”<\/span><\/p>\n

His father had seen it, and so had his brothers.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Joe.” Ben spoke softly from the bedroom doorway. “You’re going to be late.”<\/span><\/p>\n

“I’m hurrying.” He ran his hand through his hair and struggled into a shirt, stealing a glance at his father who was watching him. He’d been doing that quite a bit lately. Joe didn’t mind. Once again he was reminded of how fortunate he was to have his father and brothers.<\/span><\/p>\n

Joe was pleased when Adam gave Tommy and his mother the money needed to move to Ohio where Mrs. Gray’s family lived. It was a place where they could start over. It was an opportunity for Adam to offer Tommy the help he never had the chance to give Nicky. The Gray’s were leaving on the noon stage, Joe and Adam had promised to see them off.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Joe, come on Buddy. That stage won’t wait on us, you know.” Adam said as he stepped into the bedroom.<\/span><\/p>\n

“I’m ready, older brother.” Joe smiled as he finished buttoning his shirt. He patted Adam on the back as the two headed out the door. “See ya later, Pa.” Joe called over his shoulder.<\/span><\/p>\n

Ben smiled and shook his head gently, looking out the window at the bright sunlight.<\/span><\/p>\n

The raging storms were over. His son had come home.<\/span><\/p>\n

The End<\/span><\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

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

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

Synopsis:\u00a0Joe is targeted by a man seeking to avenge his brother’s death, an outlaw killed months earlier by Adam. Following a vicious attack, Joe is left struggling with both physical and emotional damage as Adam wrestles with the guilt.
\nRating:\u00a0 Teen
\nWords:\u00a0 28,750<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":12436,"featured_media":41001,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"template-full-width-post.php","format":"standard","meta":{"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_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":""},"categories":[23,1008,41],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-47661","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-drama","category-family","category-hurtcomfort","wpcat-23-id","wpcat-1008-id","wpcat-41-id"],"a3_pvc":{"activated":true,"total_views":1069,"today_views":1},"jetpack_featured_media_url":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/wp-content\/uploads\/2023\/03\/Preserving-Their-Legacy.png?fit=732%2C477&ssl=1","jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"jetpack-related-posts":[{"id":49277,"url":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?p=49277","url_meta":{"origin":47661,"position":0},"title":"The Cartwright Family (by LindaBl)","author":"Preserving Their Legacy Author","date":"May 22, 2002","format":false,"excerpt":"Synopsis:\u00a0A cute new song about the Cartwrights Rating:\u00a0 G\u00a0 Words:\u00a0 270","rel":"","context":"In "Family"","block_context":{"text":"Family","link":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?cat=1008"},"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":[]},{"id":49892,"url":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?p=49892","url_meta":{"origin":47661,"position":1},"title":"The Savage (WHN) (by Katie)","author":"Preserving Their Legacy Author","date":"August 6, 2003","format":false,"excerpt":"Summary:\u00a0 An alternate ending to the episode, The Savage Rating:\u00a0 Teen\u00a0 (775\u00a0 Words)","rel":"","context":"In "Adam Cartwright"","block_context":{"text":"Adam Cartwright","link":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?cat=1005"},"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":[]},{"id":49897,"url":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?p=49897","url_meta":{"origin":47661,"position":2},"title":"Hoss’ Meditation (by Katie)","author":"Preserving Their Legacy Author","date":"July 25, 2003","format":false,"excerpt":"Summary:\u00a0 I think we underestimated Hoss Cartwright Rating: G\u00a0 (690 words)","rel":"","context":"In "Hoss Cartwright"","block_context":{"text":"Hoss Cartwright","link":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?cat=1006"},"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":[]},{"id":47845,"url":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?p=47845","url_meta":{"origin":47661,"position":3},"title":"Snow, Falling Softly (by Adah)","author":"Preserving Their Legacy Author","date":"December 17, 2003","format":false,"excerpt":"Synopsis:\u00a0Hoss communes with Nature while thinking about the unique characteristics of each member of his family and their ties to the land. 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