{"id":907,"date":"2004-04-19T15:35:58","date_gmt":"2004-04-19T19:35:58","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?p=907"},"modified":"2025-02-27T12:08:27","modified_gmt":"2025-02-27T17:08:27","slug":"kin","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?p=907","title":{"rendered":"Kin (by the Tahoe Ladies)"},"content":{"rendered":"

Summary: <\/span>The return of an old face on the Ponderosa.
\nRated:<\/span> T\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Word Count:\u00a0 10436<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0Kin<\/strong><\/p>\n

Jamie heard the noise downstairs. He thought about just ignoring it but then a voice, loud and piercing, shouted hello. With a shrug, he put aside his book and went to see who had come visiting. At the top of the stairs, he paused.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

The man standing before the cold hearth that summer morning was dressed in black from head to toe. When he heard Jamie, he turned and Jamie could make out some of his features: dark hair and a thin mustache on a face lean and angular. Most noticeable, though, were his eyes; dark, they were, but full of life when they settled on him.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“Hi,” Jamie greeted and finished descending the stairs. When he approached the man, he stuck out his hand to complete the greeting. The answering grasp was strong and firm, given by long fingers and a cool hand.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“Hi, yourself,” the stranger replied and gave him a lopsided grin. “I’m looking for my brother, Joe-” he began but was cut off when Jamie yelped in surprise.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“I knew it. I knew it!” Jamie was shouting, pounding on the black shoulder. “You’re Adam! Well, I’m Jamie. Pa’s written to you about me, I know. I saved the letter you wrote me when he adopted me. I never thought I’d meet you. Wow, this is great! Pa and Joe are-”<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“Wait a minute,” the other began but Jamie, full of exuberance just kept talking, pumping his hand and slapping his shoulder. Unable to get a word in edgewise, he learned that Ben was checking on a bull in one of the lower pastures and Joe was at the horse corrals, breaking some new mustangs.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“Hoss?” he finally got out when Jamie paused to take a breath.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

A fleeting shadow ran across the boy’s face then, looking at the floor, “Guess that letter hadn’t caught you yet. Hoss…Hoss…Hoss died.”<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

If Jamie had been looking up, he would have seen the grimace of pain his words brought to the other man. Instead, looking at the pine boards, he barely could hold back his own tears for the wound made by Hoss’ passing was still raw even though the big man had been gone nearly a year. He heard the man’s word, that single, strangled “sorry”, so soft, so empty, yet so full.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“Let me get Griff – he’s a new hand here- and send him after Joe and Pa,” perked up Jamie and out the door he ran, leaving the other man standing with empty hands and an open mouth.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“Griff!” came Jamie’s shout, jerking Griff from his studious chore of mending a bridle.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“In here.”<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Breathlessly, Jamie ran into the harness room, barely able to stop before he turned over the worktable where Griff was stitching leather together. “You’d never guess who’s in the house! It’s Adam.” Griff blinked twice and tilted his head as though to ask for more information. “My brother Adam. You know, the oldest one. The one who went away all those years ago!”<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“He’s back?” Griff queried, biting off another length of thread.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“How else could he be in the house if he wasn’t back? Yes! Ride down to the lower pasture and bring Pa back. Stop by the corral and tell Joe. Oh, this is gonna be great!” Before Griff could raise any objection, Jamie was out the door and headed back towards the house at a run.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Eyebrows lifting and a quirky smile coming to his lips, Griff put down his needle and thread.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Down at the horse corral, Joe Cartwright had just gotten tossed into the feathery dust once more. Sluggishly, he rolled to his feet and used the railing to pull himself upright. He ran the back of his hand over his chin, dragging a trickle of sweat into a muddy streak. Leaning over, palms now planted on his knees, he fought for his balance momentarily. It had nothing to do with the fall from the horse. It had more to do with what his body was fighting for.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

How long has it been? <\/em>He asked himself then used the rail to hold himself up. How long? How long since Alice died? Since Hoss died? Since my life came apart at the seams?<\/em> He closed his eyes against the bright afternoon sun and let his head fall back against the rough wood. God, I need a drink.<\/em><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

That had become his constant silent litany since he’d returned to the Ponderosa after finding his wife’s murderer. It was a dual counting of the days, one figure for Hoss, another for Alice. Somewhere in a blurry haze of trying to numb himself to the pain with alcohol, he’d lost track of the hours but the days were easier. His father, well meaning, had tried to help him overcome the pain of both losses. Yet, the two, so close together in time, had nearly undone the father as well as the son. Joe had finally overcome the depression, he tried to convince himself, but the bitterness remained. And the only way to escape the bitterness was with whiskey. Plenty of whiskey.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Now, hanging onto the corral railing and watching the swirl of dust at the bronc’s hooves, Joe fought what had become a new demon for him: alcohol. His hands, if he had taken them away from their hold, would have trembled. On a hot day like today, with sweat running out of every pore, he could almost smell it, thick, rancid, yet cloying. He couldn’t moisten his lips without imagining the sting of whiskey meeting his tongue. While he’d always been on the slim side, now he was approaching what fancy books would call rail-thin. The muscles he’d worked hard to build in his arms and chest now looked out of place. Still, it didn’t matter to him.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Nothing mattered anymore.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

He saw Griff stoop between the rails and angle towards him, his long legs helping him to cross the corral quickly. Joe eyed him, wondering what had brought him out from his assigned work. He again rubbed his jaw, remembering with sudden clarity that it had been Griff who’d taken him with a roundhouse punch, staggering him against the bar, the night before. That was all that Joe could remember of the Wednesday night but he was sure that everyone in the bunkhouse knew about the boss and the parolee…For a fleeting moment, Joe thought once more about firing him, getting rid of him but knew that his father had a lot riding on the young man. All Joe had riding on him was the fact he’d managed to get his drunken boss home again.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Hell, if I fire every man who gets me home, there wouldn’t be any hands left to run the ranch. <\/em>\u00a0Joe snorted and found his legs strong enough to hold him up.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“Jamie sent me. Said to tell you that your brother Adam was up the house,” Griff explained, adding a few details.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

The change that washed across his boss was evident to Griff. For the half second that it took his words to sink in, Joe looked the way he usually did every afternoon: washed out, tired and angry enough that there wasn’t a man on the place willing to go against him. Then it was like the man lost ten years; he hollered and came alive, smiling and laughing like a crazed loon. Before Griff could take another breath, Joe was vaulting over the corral and running for the house.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Candy slapped Griff’s shoulder, snapping his attention. “What’s up?”<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“Jamie sent me to get him and Mister Cartwright. Said Adam was home.”<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“Adam?” The single name twisted in Candy’s mouth and his thoughts. He knew a lot about the oldest of the Cartwright sons although, like Griff and Jamie, he’d never met him But unlike Jamie, he didn’t put much store in the absent man. It was like he held a grudge against him for not coming home when his brother had died, when his father and brother needed him desperately. Sure, slowly Mister Cartwright had begun to come around but Joe? Involuntarily, Candy winced thinking of the pain his best friend still endured. “Wonder what’s finally brought him home?” he muttered then, recalling that Griff was still there, finished by telling him to get on down to pasture and tell the big boss.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Griff borrowed a horse and left in a cloud of dust that left Candy waving his hand before his face. “Guess I should get up the house and meet this guy.” He shook his head, noting that the men were doing nothing. “Get back to work! I don’t think I heard anyone call it a day, did they?”<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

There wasn’t any happier man than Joe Cartwright. With wings on his feet, he ran into the yard, just like in the old days, shouting his brother’s name at the top of his lungs. It was good thing that the door was open or he would surely have broken it down in his haste. Once in the shadowed great room, he pulled up sharply, his eyes adjusting from the bright sunlight.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Since Hop Sing wasn’t back from town, Jamie was carrying a bottle of brandy and a few glasses on a tray towards the table before the settee. Hearing his brother, he turned his smiling face towards the racket and saw Joe stop, smile, then suddenly become angry.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

The man in black had been facing the cold fireplace and had turned to greet Joe. He grinned despite the black look that met him. “Hello, brother,” he said. A half second later and pandemonium reigned.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“You stinking son-of-a-bitch!” Joe shouted as he skirted the settee and grabbed the other man’s shirt front. “How dare you?” Unable to contain himself, Joe’s fist lashed out and caught the other’s jaw, sending him reeling backwards into the blue chair, the shirt torn from Joe’s grasp. That wasn’t enough. Joe followed him, hauling him to his feet and proceeded to hit him again, the force knocking him at first onto the stairs then onto the floor.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“You have no right!” roared Joe, grasping the dark clad shoulders and pulling him upright again only to hit him with a vicious left. The man spun out of control, reaching for the desk to keep upright but Joe was onto him with body blows into the kidneys, the stomach, anywhere he could get to in his rage.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Confused, Jamie dropped the tray and shouted for Joe to stop but he may as well have been hollering down a well for all the effect it had. Jamie did the next thing that came to mind: he decided to stop Joe from the one-sided pummeling. He latched onto Joe’s arm and found himself flung aside as easily as if he were a rag doll. By now, they were on the porch and still Joe was cursing, fighting viciously.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Candy heard Jamie’s screamed plea for Joe to stop just as he rounded the corner of the barn. He wondered what could be happening but only for a brief moment. The next thing he saw was Joe physically pick up a man’s body a hurl it towards a waiting buggy. When the man didn’t make it all the way, Joe followed in long tense strides and dug hard fingers into the other’s arms. He began to drag him to buggy.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“This ain’t right,” Candy said to himself and decided that perhaps the best thing he could do was get a hold of Joe and calm him down. That proved to be easier said than done. In all the years Candy had known him, he had never seen his friend fight with the intensity he did that afternoon. It was as though he was possessed. No hand could hold him back and no punch was above giving. Normally a clean fighter, Joe showed that he’d learned a few moves that weren’t exactly pristine. Besides Joe’s fists, what also struck Candy was that the other man didn’t seem to be fighting back.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

A sharp blow to Candy’s jaw send him careening backwards and he saw the man dressed in black finally wind up in the dirt at the back of the buggy, a heap of torn, dusty and bloodied clothing.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

His chest heaving, Joe still found the breath to shout an order that Candy took as directed at him. “Get that bastard off the ranch! Now!”<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Candy clambered to his feet and took a swipe at the blood trickling down his chin from a split lip. Narrowing his eyes, he saw that the other man was in no condition to speak or defend himself so he guessed it fell to him. “No,” he breathed heavily. “I heard that you didn’t get along well with your brother but that’s no cause -”<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

His face twisted into an ugly mask of hate, Joe flung a finger at the now barely stirring figure and shouted his order once more to have the man removed. When Candy only shook his head, Joe launched himself once more at the helpless man. Raging still, he struggled with the inert form to get it into the buggy.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“JOSEPH!” came the mighty roar from Ben Cartwright as he pulled his horse up sharply there in the yard. Behind him, Jamie slithered to the ground, breathless.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“I told you, Pa,” he was saying and crying at the same time. “Joe just started beatin’ on him, like he wanted to kill him and Adam didn’t do nothin’.”<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

With a hand gnarled by age, Ben yanked Joe away from his adversary at the back of the buggy. Only when he recognized his father did Joe back down but even then not far.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“That bastard,” he spat, “calling himself brother. So help me God, for two cents-”<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“Silence!” Ben ordered, the single word barely above a whisper. Finally seeing Joe back down, he knelt to the black back and with gentle hands turned the man over. “Candy, help me get him into the house, please. Griff, looks like you’d best ride into town for the doctor. Clay’s gonna need -”<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“Clay?” both Candy and Jamie said at the same time.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Lifting his eyes from the prone man, Ben looked past Candy and Jamie to where Joe was leaning against the hitching rail. He waited until Joe met his steady glare with one just as steady. “Yes. This is Clay Stafford. My wife Marie’s son.” He ignored his son’s now closed eyes and turned face. “And Joseph’s half brother.”<\/p>\n

By the time darkness was falling, Paul Martin had been upstairs with Clay Stafford and Ben Cartwright for the better part of an hour. Hop Sing had spent enough time with them that supper was clearly going to be delayed, if not completely absent. He had taken the time to make a poultice for the spreading bruise on Jamie’s shoulder and check those on Candy’s face. Yet he had pointedly ignored Joe, allowing him to soak his own bloodied hands in stony silence.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“You gonna tell us about your brother or just make us guess?” prompted Candy, touching his sore jaw gingerly.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Angry, Joe tossed a log onto the fire and goaded it until sparks flew in a maddening rush up the chimney. “Don’t call him that!” he spat without even turning to his friend.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Candy rolled his eyes. “Okay, then what do we call him? Hey you<\/em> just doesn’t seem right since he has a name.”<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“And just remember that it isn’t Cartwright. Mine is.” Joe did then turn and drop heavily into his father’s red leather chair. “So when I tell you again that I want him off the Ranch, I expect him to be gone. You wanna argue about it and you can pick up your wages just like any other man I fire for not doing their job.”<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“Just one moment,” pealed Ben’s voice as he descended into the room with Paul Martin trailing close behind.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Every eye in the room darted from father to son and back again, feeling the growing tension between them. To a man, it made them uncomfortable. Candy had never felt more like an outsider than he did at that moment and if Doc Martin hadn’t been checking his jaw, he would have left the room. Instead he sat, allowing the doctor to poke and prod. He let his eyes meet that of the kindly physician, pleading for relief but the doctor merely shook his head slightly.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“Clay isn’t going anywhere. No thanks to you, Joseph,” Ben began, his hands rammed into his pockets. “Paul says he’s got to rest and heal. A couple of broken ribs, a concussion, not to mention a whole mess of bruises and such. Courtesy of you.”<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“He can do his mending in whatever hole he just crawled out of.” Joe gulped his brandy down, finishing it.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“No.” Ben’s word may have been soft but there was steel there too<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“I don’t want him here.” The words dripped venom and not a little hate.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“I don’t care what you want right now, young man. This is still my house and my ranch and my word is still\u2013”<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“Fine!” Joe launched himself to his feet. “I’ll sleep in the bunk house.”<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“No,” Candy cut into the silence. He’d actually just answered a question from Doc Martin but he would have said it anyway. “You move out to the bunkhouse and every man on the payroll will quit.”<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“Let ’em. We can run -” Joe began.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“And that includes me.” Candy brushed aside the doctor’s hands and stood. “You and I have had our disagreements, Joe. Even knocked heads a few times. But one thing I ain’t ever seen from you, I saw today. Fightin’ a man who wasn’t fighting back and fighting to do some serious damage to him. I think that earns me an explanation before I walk out that door. You don’t want to explain it, fine. Then I leave and tell every man in the bunkhouse what kind of man they are working for and they’ll leave too. You may be good at a lot of things, Joe Cartwright, but you can’t run this place without help.”<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“It’s family,” Joe explained, his words hot.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“But you just said that Clay wasn’t your brother. That doesn’t make sense, Joe,” Jamie piped up and it was if Joe hadn’t known he was in the room until that moment.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Silence stalked about the room, breathing unspoken questions and whispering of anger.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“A long time ago, he did something that I can’t find it in me to forgive,” Joe finally said, his voice low as if trying to not be heard.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Ben’s memory snapped back to a disturbed young man, beaten by enemies and shunned by a new-found brother that met him at the door to this very house. In the shadows of night, this son had fallen into his arms and cried. Ben had repeatedly reassured him that Clay had to make his own decisions, be his own man, the same way Joe had to. Was it that night, when Clay so abruptly left, that Joe still carried a grudge about?<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“About a year after he left, Adam came across him in San Francisco. He was passed out in a gutter. He was sick, dirty and, from what Adam said, totally incapable of taking care of himself. Adam picked him up and took him back to his hotel room. Got him a doctor, food, medicines, everything he needed. Said the doctor told him it was alcohol poisoning and that Clay needed to get -and stay off the liquor. Adam even bought him some clothes and thought he had him convinced to come back here. But Clay didn’t do that. Do you know what he did do? He waited until Adam was asleep and took his money, clothes, everything he thought he could use and hightailed it out. Even took Adam’s saddlebags.”<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“Adam never mentioned any of this to me,” negated Ben, his head shaking as he spoke. “I think you must be wrong, son.”<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“No, I’m not. And just so you don’t feel left out, he didn’t say anything to anyone for a long while after it happened either. The ten thousand dollars Clay took from Adam? It came from the sale of some timber – remember the deal with James Fair over the lumber for the ship he was building? Adam took it out of his own money so you wouldn’t know – so no one would know.”<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“Then how did you find out?” Candy asked.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“I overheard Adam and Hoss talking one evening. Hoss had been late coming back from that livestock sale up to Elko. Seems he ran into Clay up there.”<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“You gonna tell it or shall I?” came Clay’s voice from the top of the stairs. He stood hunched against the pain, both hands gripping the banister tightly. His shirt hung open, revealing wide white bandages around his chest. His face was mottled with bruises and his words were slurred. He made a move as though to come down and Candy was instantly on his feet, hurrying up the steps to help him. It earned both of them a harsh grunt from Joe and he refused to even watch as his father and friend helped Clay into the blue chair, chastising him for being out of bed.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“Seems my little brother learned a thing or two about fighting since I was here last,” Clay joked lamely, holding his side. “Seems he ain’t so little any more either. Must have been Hop Sing’s cooking.” When his attempt at levity failed, he was settled as comfortably as he could get into th e blue chair. “Sorry I didn’t get a chance to correct you earlier, Jamie, when you called me Adam but I couldn’t seem to get a word in edgewise, you were talking so fast.” Clay smiled faintly at the young man then looked into Ben Cartwright’s face briefly. It told him that he had stalled the inevitable long enough. “Like I said, you gonna tell it, brother, or shall I?”<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“Don’t call me your brother. Not now. Not ever!” Joe yelled.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

To this, Clay merely raised his brows and canted his head slightly. “Guess that means I tell it. Let me say right up front that I ain’t proud of what I did, Ben. Not to Adam and certainly not to Hoss. See I was playing poker up in a saloon up to Elko. I was down to my last dollar when I started the game but Lady Luck was with me that night.”<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“Hoss said he saw you dealing from the bottom of the deck. Cheating. Just like you were here,” ripped Joe, his chest heaving with every word.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“And just like that time here in Virginia City, the other man pulled a gun. But Hoss, God love him, wrapped one of those big hands of his around the man’s and took the gun away from him. Pretty as a picture, it was.” Clay smiled at the memory and accepted the glass of brandy Ben offered him.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“Finish it,” demanded Joe, his back to the room.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Clay’s next words were directed to Ben and were soft, barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know about Hoss until Jamie told me this afternoon.”<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Once again, Joe demanded that Clay finish the story he had started, this time coming around to face the man he seemed to hate.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“Lot of anger in him, isn’t there, Ben? Can’t be all against me, can it?”<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Only Candy and Jamie getting between the two half-brothers stopped Joe. Even after they felt Joe drop back, Candy kept a hand on his arm. With a quick assessment of the situation, Candy knew that the only person capable of physically restraining Joe that evening was him. Sure, Ben could do it with a word or two but the tense and jumpy muscles he felt in that arm made him wonder if Joe would even hear his father. He loosened his grip then tightened it again.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“With Hoss guarding my back, we made it out of the saloon without collecting any lead. Decided that we’d leave town shortly after that. Like Adam, he had me all but convinced to come back here. Said he needed help bringing those mares he’d just bought back. Also said that you’d welcome me back with open arms, Joe. Said you were a lovable cuss with a short memory for people who did you wrong. Guess he was wrong, wasn’t he?”<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Only then did any softening appear in the man who now ran the Ponderosa. Joe looked away, unable to meet anyone’s eye.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Clay didn’t wait to be ordered to finish his story. Instead he rushed on with it, clearly ashamed of what he’d done. Yes, he said, he’d held a gun on Hoss and taken the four mares. He’d stolen them and all the provisions in the camp, right down to Hoss’ own gun and rifle. But he’d kept his word to him and left his horse and guns several miles away.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“Hoss lied and said the horses weren’t worth owning,” Ben recalled.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“I sold them the next town I hit. Got two hundred dollars for them. The man who bought them got a bargain and he knew it. They were probably worth three times that much but he didn’t ask questions that I didn’t have a quick answer for.”<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Ben sat down in his chair heavily and let his gaze dart from one man to the other. Neither seemed able to meet his eye, finding more of interest somewhere else. The only sound was the snapping of the heated pine sap in the fireplace. When a shower of sparks danced up the chimney, Ben decided that he had to say and do something before his blood son burst the same way.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“Joseph, you said you overheard Adam and Hoss.” He’d been half ready to say ‘your brothers’ but changed in the last split second.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“Right after Hoss came back. He was worried about Clay. I overheard them talking. I heard both stories that night. I also heard them decide not to tell you and me. Afraid that would send me looking for Clay, I guess. I don’t know why they didn’t want to tell you. Maybe they didn’t want you to know what a common bastard he was.”<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“Enough of that, young man!” came Ben’s order. Slowly and visibly, he brought himself under control, which was more than Candy could say about Joe since he felt the corded sinew bunching, ready to tear away his hand. “Clay will be staying here.”<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“Fine. Candy, let me know when he’s healed up, will you?” Joe turned as if to leave, picking up his hat and grabbing for his jacket and gunbelt. “I’ll be in town until then.”<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“Might be a long while,” Paul Martin spoke up. He looked to Clay and, gaining some sort of permission, went on. “Clay has consumption.”<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Joe snorted derisively. “Another play for sympathy, Clay? You stay here a while and suddenly get all better? Hop Sing, better lock up the good silverware just to make sure it doesn’t disappear into his saddle bags when he leaves. Candy, don’t worry about going into town to pick up payroll with him. I’ll do that since I seem to be the only one in the room who can spot a -”<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Joe didn’t get the chance to finish his description before Clay leaned forward and began coughing, bright blood spotting the handkerchief he held to his mouth. Paul Martin was there, holding him upright.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“It’s no ruse,” he said. “I saw Clay in my office this morning before he headed out this way. He has consumption. I told him that I thought the air up here might help him out. Give him a little more time, maybe. Didn’t think I’d be treating him for you did, Joe. Thought maybe that you could use an older brother for a while.”<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Shaking his head no as he slammed his hat on, Joe opened the door with a jerk. “You thought wrong, Doc. I’ll be at the International.” Then he was gone.<\/p>\n

There are months at a time when no reason or rhyme can sustain me<\/em><\/p>\n

When nothin’ makes sense and everything turns upside down<\/em><\/p>\n

There are nights when I fight to keep dreamin’ from drivin’ me crazy<\/em><\/p>\n

And shut off my mind just to keep it from spinnin’ around<\/em><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0But it’s down in that quiet, in that stillness I find<\/em><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0The sweet water for which I’ve longed searched<\/em><\/p>\n

While standin’ knee deep in the river and dyin’ of thirst<\/em><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Twice he had touched the doorknob, once even turning it so he knew it wasn’t locked. He had raised his fist to knock on it then turned away from the vision he feared would be behind the door. Then Ben Cartwright steeled himself. Anything he would find behind the door was better than the whispers he’d heard on the street, the side-long glances from the good people of Virginia City and the words Roy Coffee had so carefully crafted that morning. Perhaps those had been the ones that stung him worst of all and brought him to his senses.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

So he didn’t bother with courtesy and knock. He opened the door to Room Seventeen of the esteemed International House. The shades were pulled against the bright afternoon sunlight, glooming the interior and blunting the colors, swirling them into muzzy, muted tones. That didn’t bother him. He crossed the room and raised both the shades and the windows, letting in light and fresh air. It was far more refreshing than the shadows and heavy smell of whiskey.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

It also didn’t bother his son, for Joe didn’t stir until his father grabbed him forcibly by the arm and flung him from the brocade settee onto the floor. Shaking his head feebly he raised himself onto one elbow and squinted at the sunshine haloing his father’s form. He mumbled something and tried to turn away but Ben would not have it. It took the older man both hands and more than a little strength to lift his son bodily by the arms and propel him to the unmade bed.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Joe fought the cold wet cloth tracking viciously across his face. As though his hearing was partially blocked, he heard his father giving orders and movement around the room he’d occupied for the better part of a week. Then there was water splashing and he raised his arms across his face in drunken confusion. When nothing came at him, he dropped them and saw his father clearly. Ben stood with his back to the disheveled room, looking out the window, hands balled fists on his hips, his shoulders heaving.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“Pa?” Joe slurred the word.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“Get up,” his father ordered without turning.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“What?”<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“I said get up. You either do it or I’ll do it for you.” The tone in Ben’s voice was one he had rarely used on his sons but now he knew he had to either take that tone, that stand, or risk losing….<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Joe, befuddled by the words as much as the sudden appearance of his father, could not raise his head. He could raise his defiance. “No. Go away.”<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

The urge rose in Ben as he faced his son – the urge to slap him if not for the words, for the way he’d said them. Unable to bring himself to that level, he did the next best thing. In two long strides he was across the room and had his son pulled roughly from the bed and was forcing his head into the bathtub full of water he’d ordered brought up. Three times he let Joe surface but as soon as he felt the muscles beneath his hands tighten, he forced him back into the hot water. The last time he pulled him up, Joe had no fight left and sagged to the floor at Ben’s feet.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Ben swallowed hard, fighting the tears of shame that washed over him. He looked around the room, out over the sun-drenched town – anywhere but the drunken waste that lay at his feet. He fought the sorrow that threatened him, telling him that he was partially responsible for what had happened. With that pushing him, he crouched and forced himself to touch his son. For not the first time, the touch reminded him that this was his own flesh and blood and, except for the far-away Adam, the last of it. To have it come to this sickened him and he once more forced strength into his words.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“Get up. Strip and get into the tub. The smell of whiskey and cheap women is making me sick. Get yourself cleaned up. Now!”<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

The fight, the anger, the rebellion had only been muted for a minute in Joe. Now, feeling life returning to him, he rolled away from his father. “Funny. This isn’t the way you greeted the long lost Clay, was it?”<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

The sting made Ben settle back on his heels and he looked away because Joe was right. He hadn’t, but that made no difference to what he felt he had to do. “Either get up and do it yourself or I will do it for you.”<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

When Joe didn’t move, Ben did. He tore at his son’s shirt, ripping from his back. In his own chest, he felt his heart being torn, ripped in the same motion and left hanging limply in his hands the same way. He turned a blind eye to the pale half-moon scar there on Joe’s back. He had to. If not the memory of nearly losing him to a bushwhacker long ago would have overcome him. There had been long days that stretched into months that it took Joe to recover…days he and his son had spent together, enjoying each other’s company, becoming more than father and son.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“Do I need to go further or do you think you can manage on your own?” the father snarled then rose and returned to his post at the window.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

An observer would have thought Ben was listening to the sounds behind him as his son got to his feet, dutifully stripped off his now soaked trousers and climbed into the steaming water. They would have been wrong.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

The father glanced over his shoulder but once, making sure his son couldn’t see him. Then, and only then, did he give in and lean both hands against the window casement, sorrows shaking his body as well as his heart. The images that swarmed against him were like a child’s kaleidoscope, broken in time and space. In one vision, he held this son as tiny newborn child, only minutes old. In the next, he held him in a burned-out skeleton of a house, both of them crying over the loss of Joe’s own wife and unborn child. The avalanche of memories hit Ben hard and he found himself silently crying even then. Joe, laughing at something Hoss had said; scowling at Adam then calling him the Yankee Granite head; the utter devastation written on his face as he told his father that his brother was dead. Through it all, Ben had coped and had prayed Joe could, too. Perhaps he hadn’t as well as Ben thought he had. But why now did he fall apart? What was there about Clay’s coming that had unraveled it all?<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“When was the last time you ate something solid?” Ben asked, the words sounding far stronger than he thought himself capable of. When he didn’t get a reply, he turned around. “Joseph?” The name somehow felt too harsh, too demanding so he softened it to “Joe?”<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“I don’t remember.”<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“I figured as much so I ordered something sent up from the kitchen for us. Better finish washing before they show up.”<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“I’m not hungry.”<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“Did I ask if you were? Get finished.”<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Joe challenged his father. “What if I don’t want something to eat? You gonna force it down my throat like I was some little kid?”<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“Act like a man and I won’t have to,” came Ben’s reply, heated and now back in control as he forced the bitter and the sweet memories aside.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“I am not a child!”<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

The sloshing of water told Ben that his son had gotten out of the tub and he fought himself for the next move in this odd game of chess. He could turn and face his son, belittling him by glaring at his nakedness. Or he could continue to stare out the window, giving him time to at least find a pair of trousers to pull on. One would confirm Joe’s statement as to being an adult. The other… Ben had no choice if he were maintain the control he was determined to have over the whole scene.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

He slowly and deliberately turned, letting his hardened glare bore into his son’s eyes. “Act like a man then.”<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

The meal they shared was a quiet one. The rich vegetable soup, followed by steaks an inch thick and baked potatoes melting butter into their crevices, it was all lost on them. The aroma of coffee, dark and strong, relentlessly chased away the whiskey-smell from the room. And the disjointed swirl from his mind and lethargy from Joe’s bones.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Finished eating, Joe pushed away from the table, his napkin falling unnoticed to the floor. “What now? You throw me over Cochise’s saddle and drag me back to the Ponderosa? Whether I want to go or not? And when we get there, what happens? You confine me to the ranch? Make me do chores? Chop wood? Maybe spank me for being a bad boy?” The sneer in his voice was hard to miss. Yet, even as he said the words, he regretted them and to cover the fact, poured a shot of whiskey into a dirty glass. He raised it to his lips to drink but found his father’s hand there, taking it away.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“No. I will not force you come home, Joseph. But I think I deserve some answers from you and not with this.” He gestured to the glass.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

The clear green eyes didn’t waiver and his hand didn’t shake as Joe took the glass of whiskey from his father and tossed it back in one smooth motion. “Maybe that’s the only way I can make sense out of it, Pa.”<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“By crawling into a bottle and not coming out until you can barely stand? That’s not making sense of anything, son. That’s escaping it.”<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“I remember a long time ago you saying something about getting out of the way of a boulder rolling downhill. That was the only way to do battle with a boulder intent on getting off the mountain, you said. Bullets wouldn’t stop it. The only law it understood was that of gravity. It didn’t have ears so you couldn’t argue it out of making the trip and trying to stare it down only got you flattened. You remember that little explanation? I do. Well, you were wrong, Pa. There is a way to stop that boulder. Dynamite it. Blow it up.”<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“Is that what this is?” Ben queried, tapping the nearly empty bottle. “This your dynamite?”<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“No.” Joe shook his head, feeling suddenly very old and very tired. “I’ve been doing what you taught us to do. I’ve been stepping aside and letting the boulder roar down the mountain. Been trying to get out of the way of life. That’s my boulder, Pa. Life. My only problem is that every time I think I’m out of its way, it changes direction on me. Comes at me faster than I can react. Hoss, then Alice…” He looked away, crippled by the same tears and heartache as before.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“Now Clay?” whispered Ben and found his hand gently massaging the muscular shoulder beside him. “His being sick, dying with-”<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Again Joe shook his head and cut in with a no. “Clay’s the dynamite, Pa. He’s gonna step in between me and that boulder. He’s gonna be the big brother taking care of me, the little brother? That’s all I have to do is place my faith in a man like him? To be my brother, my stick of dynamite against Life?” He snorted and picked up the bottle to pour another shot. “The wrapper on that stick of dynamite is a little weak and torn, don’t you think?”<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Ben’s hand closed over his son’s as Joe lifted the full tumbler. “No more so than yours.”<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“But I ain’t looking to blow up Life, now am I? After all, my life is already shot to hell. I’m just the gravel that boulder is running over, grinding it finer into dust.” He pulled his hand away from his father’s and took the drink anyway. “So what happens now? You gonna spank your little boy and haul his ass back home?”<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

His lips pursed and Ben took a long moment to think about what he’d heard. Even as he did so, Joe poured a third drink and belted it back. Defiantly he met his father’s eye, lifting his chin as he did so. It was a contest of wills, one of which both men fought for possession of a soul.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“Well?” Joe challenged again, sensing his father weakening.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“All I ask is that you leave Virginia City. If you are going to behave this way, you don’t need to do it where Jamie has to live with it. You have money enough to get away from here. Do it. Get out of the way of that boulder, if that’s what you think you have to do. Or let it push you deeper into the ground. Either way, don’t do it where the rest of your family is forced to watch. When it’s over and done with, just like Clay, you can come back home, son. It will still be here.”<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Fighting for calmness and strength, Ben moved across the room and picked up his hat. Carefully, deliberately, he settled it on his head then reached for the door. Only then did he pause. Still looking at the door, he spoke. “Just remember that wherever you go and whatever you do, I will still be your father and – ” He paused, clearing the tears from his throat. ” I love you.”<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

No words called him back as he left the room.<\/p>\n

So if you’re having times when you feel out of touch and half-crazy<\/em><\/p>\n

Lost in a crowd with lovers and friends by your side<\/em><\/p>\n

If the game’s getting old and you’re cold and exhausted and maybe<\/em><\/p>\n

You’d like to cop-out and crumble, or lay down and die<\/em><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0If you come to a time when you need to decide<\/em><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Friend, you might want to ask yourself first<\/em><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Am I standin’ knee deep in the river and dying of thirst?<\/em><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

The Bucket of Blood was a noisy boisterous place. It was Friday night and the end of the month to boot. It seemed that every cowboy and miner was crowded into it, drinking beer and whiskey so fast that Cosmo and his assistant were having trouble keeping up with the demand. The girls, some of them no longer young and pretty, were making a pretty penny in tips and other considerations. Not a one of them wished to leave the floor for a trip up the stairs with a man, since they could make better money on their feet than on their backs. However, shown a wad of bills and their laughter brightened and their gowns swished seductively.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

One of the rabble rousers that night was Candy, foreman of the prestigious Ponderosa Ranch. At his side was Griff King, smiling and chatting with any female who came his way. Candy had generously offered Griff a loan if his own funds proved inadequate to the night’s festivities. With the little blonde girl dressed in blue hanging onto his arm, Griff had accepted the offer and disappeared for a while up the stairs. That had left Candy to do his own drinking. His elbows resting on the bartop, he saw one of the ornate doors to the rooms in back was closed.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“High stakes poker game going on back there, Cosmo?” he asked when the bartender handed him another beer.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“A-yep. Been going on since last night. Friend of yours in there losing his shirt. You might do all of us a favor if you’d get him out of there before tempers get hot.”<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Candy took a draw on his beer before he asked, “That friend of mine got a couple thousand acres and about as many cows?”<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“Word has it that his daddy threw him out for beatin’ up on some unexpected company. That so?” Cosmo leaned forward, suddenly interested in a spot on his bar.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“Not exactly.” Candy couldn’t bring himself to shoulder the truth. After all, what Ben Cartwright had said was that Joe wasn’t coming back to the Ranch and that he would be taking care of things until he did. A person could read a lot between those lines and Candy was good at that. In the week since Ben had returned home and taken up the reins once more to the Ponderosa, Candy had made two trips into town. He kept what information he’d uncovered to himself…information that said Joe Cartwright was still holed up in his room at the International, still drinking hard and, when the management wasn’t looking, inviting in some ladies of dubious quality. There was also word that he’d bought a ticket for the first stage headed east, his apparent destination – if you could believe the depot clerk would tell the truth for a dollar bribe – New Orleans.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“You gonna do anything about it?” Cosmo rubbed at the non-existent spot.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“You mean the game? Why should I?”<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“He’s playin’ against some heavies from ‘Frisco way. They aren’t known for exactly playin’ fair neither.”<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“In short, you mean they’re taking him?”<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Cosmo nodded and added that it was real serious money to boot. “And that friend of yours, he’s drinkin’ pretty heavy too. Don’t get me wrong, Candy. I like him but lately, he get a snoot full and he gets really hard to handle. Ain’t afraid of either the sheriff or my scatter-gun. Get him out of there, Candy.”<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Candy flicked a brow up and sighed. The last thing he wanted to do that night was tackle a drunk Joe Cartwright. A sober one was hard enough sometimes. As Cosmo moved down the bar to answer another man’s urgent need for spirits, Candy picked up his beer and angled his way towards the back of the saloon. He had to turn down a lady whose hands made some rather intimate suggestions and mentally cursed having a conscience that gave bonus points for friendship.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“Game’s private,” a nasty voice told him when he opened the door. There, amidst the stale smell of beer and burning kerosene, he spotted Joe. The fact that Joe was seeming to function surprised Candy, for his eyes flicked up once and acknowledged his friend. What surprised him more was that Cosmo’s information was wrong. There was a hefty stack of chips at Joe’s elbows.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“Sorry,” apologized Candy and he began to back out of the door.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“Wait!” Joe called out and he stopped halfway through the door. “Tell him I’ll be gone, one way or another, by tomorrow morning.”<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Nodding as if he understood, Candy pulled the door closed behind him.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

And felt the floor fall away from his feet. What Joe had said struck him harder than any punch ever had and he found himself reeling with it. I’ll be gone, one way or another<\/em>…. Candy tried to brush aside the implication. By horse or by stage is what he’d meant, surely. Then why ‘tell him’? There could only be one ‘him’ Joe was referring to and that was his father. Leaving by…<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Candy found an empty chair and sank into it. The past months he’d done much the same everyone else had: assumed that Joe would eventually straighten up. After all, he had so much going for him – a strong family, the biggest ranch in the state of Nevada and people around town truly liked him. They all ignored the pain evident in his every drink. Candy swallowed the last of his own. All those things that Joe had going for him? He didn’t have them now, did he? And why? Because Clay had come back into his life? To him, it just didn’t make sense.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

He sat there, his back to that ornate doorway to the Hell his friend was trying to open, until almost two in the morning. At every loud noise, no matter where it came from, he started, sure it would end in a hail of gunfire. He refused any more alcohol and after a few aborted attempts, the girls let him alone. Griff joined him and had the sense not to ask questions. When Roy Coffee showed up just after two, Candy waved him over.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Without waiting for him to ask, demand or plead, the lawman told Candy the bare naked truth. “There is nothing I can do. Ain’t no law against a private poker game. No law about gettin’ drunk behind closed doors and neither one of you got proof of anyone behind that door breaking the law.”<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“Cosmo said – ” Candy began but Coffee held up a hand and stopped him for going further.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“Can’t prove a thing about what Cosmo said. Can you? You sit in on a hand? You see anything shady? Double dealing? Dealing from the bottom of the deck? Cards tucked away in case of an emergency, maybe? How about it, Candy?”<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

As much as it pained him, Candy had to admit that he had nothing to go on. “Just a gut feeling, Roy that things are gonna….” He struggled, unable to make himself believe that his best friend was ….no, he couldn’t even think that way.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Roy didn’t pick up on Candy’s discomforting half thoughts. “You boys go on home, ya hear? Tell Ben that I’m watchin’ things.”<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Griff and Candy got to their feet at the sheriff’s insistence and were readying themselves to do as he asked when the room behind them exploded in shouts and gunfire. Candy, his gun drawn, was first through the door. He was crouched, his gun extended and searching for a target. There was none.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

There were three bodies on the floor, the two gamblers and Joe Cartwright. All three had bullet holes in them but only Cartwright still breathed.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“Get Ben Cartwright!” Candy shouted and saw Griff disappear into the forming crowd. Beside him, Roy Coffee was shouting for the doctor, his hand pressing against a growing bloody place on Joe’s chest. A swish of blue satin brushed Candy’s shoulder and he looked up into the wide-eyed face of one of the saloon girls.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“I saw it all, sheriff,” she whispered. “Them two, they were winning the money back from Joe but they were cheating. I knew it and I tried to tell him but he didn’t care, I guess. Just told me to pour him another whiskey. Next thing I know, he’s talkin’ to ’em real soft and mean-like. Says to them that he knows they’re dealin’ off the bottom. Then he’s standin’ up and Mac, that one over there, is too and he’s pulling his gun. Never got a shot off before Joe nailed him. Shouted Clay as he shot him then the other man tried the same thing and Joe got hit. But on his way down, he got ‘im back. Got no idea about that Clay fella.”<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“Okay, okay,” Roy told her over and over, trying to calm her hysterics. Finally Cosmo pulled her away. “Sounds to me like self-defense, Candy,” the lawman said then again shouted for the doctor.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Watching as several men carried his friend out, lead by the doctor, Candy remained kneeling in the spilled poker chips, whiskey and broken bottles. “I’m sorry, Joe. I should have stopped you, old friend, and I didn’t. I ain’t gonna make the same mistake twice, though.”<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

…There’s a great river runs from the heart of the sun<\/em><\/p>\n

Through the soul of the universe<\/em><\/p>\n

From the limitless light that brings order and might <\/em><\/p>\n

To the substance of Heaven and Earth<\/em><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0And it’s down in that quiet, that stillness inside<\/em><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0There’s a well we don’t seek ’til we hurt<\/em><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0From standin’ knee deep in the river and dyin’ of thirst<\/em><\/p>\n

“Any change?”<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

The simple question broke the silence in the shadowed room and Candy looked up to find Clay Stafford leaning against the door way. He shook his head then resumed the study of his own hands. Clay, though, came on into the room and sat down across the bed from the foreman.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“Haven’t had much of a chance to get to know you,” Stafford began, keeping his voice low. “You probably know more about me than I do you.”<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“Maybe I don’t want to know about you,” mumbled Candy, absently tugging at the sheet that covered his friend Joe up to the massive bandage on his chest. Up until yesterday, that bandage had continually had spots of blood on it. Now it was only white, the same as Joe’s complexion. Only there were faint blotches of pink on his cheeks and blue shadows beneath his eyes. The sheet moved just a fraction as he labored to breathe past the pain the bullet had left behind.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“I see.” In truth, he didn’t but Clay didn’t feel up to a fight with anyone. Instead he simply began to talk, knowing that rather than leave his friend, Candy would remain and would hear him out.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“When I first came to the Ponderosa, I was on the run. I was running from myself, really. A life wasted in beer, women and high times. I thought I was tired of it and I’d made a trip back to New Orleans. In a moment of sentimentality, I went looking for my mother’s grave. There wasn’t one and that was when I found out about Ben Cartwright and the truth behind the lie I’d been told by my father’s parents. It wasn’t until I got here that I found out she was dead, truly dead, but that she’d had a son. Yes, I wormed my way into the family fold but not with any deceit. Just thought, rightfully so, I guess, that having brothers would protect me. They did, too. Adam and Hoss went out of their way even though I was no blood kin to them. Gave Joe and me time to get to know each other. Time for Joe to nearly get himself killed protecting me from some thugs who had a right to be mad at me.”<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“I heard about it from Mister Cartwright.” For the second time that night, Candy looked up at the lean man now hunched forward in the chair opposite him. “Also heard how you left. Ran off in the middle night. And how Joe followed you.”<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Clay sighed and pulled his lips taut. “Good little brother there thought he could convince me to stay. Or go with me. I tried telling him that it wasn’t any good either way. Neither one of us fit into the other’s world. Joe would have tried -maybe harder than I tried- but I couldn’t let him leave something more important behind him. Not for me.”<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“I don’t understand.”<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“You got any kin, Candy? Brothers, sisters, parents? That’s what I thought. No family, no ties except the ones you make on your own. That was me too, I thought, until I came here. I’d grown up thinking I had no family, no close kin who cared about me. Then I hit here and found out different. I saw something in action that scared me. Down to the marrow, it scared me. It didn’t come from those miners. Hell, it didn’t even come from old Ben even though I understand he can put the fear of God into anyone. No, it came from Adam. From Hoss. From Joe. They all shared no more blood tie than Joe and I did but they were brothers. They loved one another. And they were prepared to deal with me in the same way simply because of what Joe and I shared – a mother.”<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“I know what you mean. I never met Adam but I knew Hoss. I saw, too, how they took Jamie in. Made him into a brother same way I imagine they would have you if you hadn’t run out.”<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

A faint smile dashed across Clay’s face. “You too even if you are a little old to adopt.” He laughed briefly. “That scare you, Canaday?”<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Looking inward, Candy couldn’t deny it. “Some. Maybe that’s why I left for a while. Afraid of being made into something I wasn’t sure I could handle. But like you, I came back. Why? Can’t answer that. I just did. And it was like I never left.”<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“I wanted to come back, too. On one of those dark cold mornings when my belly was empty and the rain was pouring down my shirt collar, I wanted to come back.”<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Clay’s admission puzzled Candy.”But you did come back.”<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“Not then. Couldn’t.” The silence in the room after that one word was only heightened by the unsteady rhythm of Joe’s breathing. When it seemed that there wasn’t another sound in the world, Clay took strength from it to go on, never realizing that in the door way, Ben Cartwright, tired and haggard, was listening.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“Nobody ever asked me where I’ve been since I left here. Sure, Adam found me in San Francisco; Hoss in Elko but most of my time since meeting up with Hoss has been spent in San Quentin. Stole a bottle of whiskey to keep warm one night. Spent five years and a little more in prison. Learned a few things while I was there. Like what it feels like to cough up your own blood and know it ain’t gonna get better. I spent a lot of time thinking about this place, these people. Decided that when I got out, the first thing I would do would be to come here and get down on my knees and beg for forgiveness. I’d do anything to repay Adam and Hoss for what I’d stolen from them.”<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“It’s too late for that,” Ben’s voice rumbled across the room and both young men looked up at the sound of it.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“I know and for that, I am truly sorry, Ben, but I can’t do anything about that, can I?”<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

He came on into the room and leaned against the footboard, all of his attention on the son who lay there. “No, not for them but for him, for Joseph, for your brother, you can.”<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“If he’d let me, I would but even then I don’t why-”<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“I do,” Ben supplied for everything fell into place for him. “When you left him, it hurt him. Bad it hurt, Clay. I tried to tell myself that it was a lesson he had to learn. And he learned it the hard way. Afterwards, he was a little more cautious with people. I tried to think that it was a good thing. That Joe was growing up, becoming a man. No. You changed him, Clay. You hurt him more than any bullet ever could. Why? Because you gave him the idea that being blood related was just a matter of happenstance. A whim of Nature. And then, when he was just beginning to get over another cruel lesson, you come back.”<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“And you have the stones to call him brother.<\/em>” Candy accused with words barely heard. “That ain’t what a brother does, Stafford. And Joe couldn’t handle it all again.”<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“I had no control over any of it,” Clay wanted to shout. “Can’t you understand that I wanted to but San Quentin-”<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“What about before then?” hissed Candy, ready to spring across the bed and push the man to the floor.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“You tell me. Tell me, Candy. Or you, Ben, what do I need to do? What do I need to say? I’ll do it, say it if you’ll just tell me what it’ll take to show you that I mean what I say?”<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“Not to them,” came Joe’s strangling, gasping whisper. “To me.”<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Ben’s jubilation was short lived, Candy’s even shorter. With a weak gesture, Joe begged them to leave he and Clay alone. They hesitated and went as far as the door but Clay closed it, shutting them out.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“I’m glad to see you, to hear you,” Clay began but Joe silenced him with a steely glare. “Can I get you anything? Some water, maybe?”<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

A smile that he struggled to make lifted the corners of Joe’s mouth. “Pulque?”<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“Don’t think you could handle much of that tonight. But there again, you couldn’t handle much of it way back then either.” Clay smiled at the old memory of what it had felt like to get drunk with a brother years before…and how terrible that same brother had looked the next morning. “Any thing else, brother?”<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Joe was barely able to move his head, telling Clay that he didn’t want anything.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Clay leaned against the bed and fought for a smile. “How much did you hear of ….”<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Joe took a long while to gather his strength, to say the words, to be understood. He took a shallow ragged breath and said, “All of it.”<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

“Then you know- “he began but Joe closed his eyes, signaling he didn’t want the hear the apology and Clay stopped in mid-sentence. “But I feel like I need to…say…do…something.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Once again, Joe gathered his strength and whispered hoarsely, “Say that again.” Clay looked confused by the request, so Joe repeated himself. “Say it again. Call me…brother.”<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Yes, down in that quiet, in that stillness inside<\/em><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0Are sweet waters to heal this whole Earth<\/em><\/p>\n

That’s standin’ knee deep in the river and <\/em><\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0dyin’ of thirst<\/em><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Clay Stafford died of consumption before winter set in. As he weakened towards the end, Joe remained beside him, reading to him, playing cards and just being there. The last afternoon of his life, Clay Stafford and Joseph Cartwright shared as few men have the chance to. They shared the simple joy of being brothers.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

The End<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

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

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

Summary: The return of an old face on the Ponderosa.<\/p>\n

Rated: T\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Word Count:\u00a0 10436<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":13,"featured_media":375,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"template-full-width-post.php","format":"standard","meta":{"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_feature_clip_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false},"categories":[23,13],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-907","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-drama","category-whn","wpcat-23-id","wpcat-13-id"],"a3_pvc":{"activated":true,"total_views":2081,"today_views":0},"jetpack_featured_media_url":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/04\/coming-soon-5.jpg?fit=768%2C576&ssl=1","jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"jetpack-related-posts":[{"id":16398,"url":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?p=16398","url_meta":{"origin":907,"position":0},"title":"Not Too Old A Fool To Change (by Hart4Ben)","author":"Hart4Ben","date":"April 12, 2018","format":false,"excerpt":"Summary:\u00a0 A WHI for A Home For Jamie, screen play written by Jean Holloway. This piece primarily covers the gap between Jamie rescuing his grandfather and the final scene of the episode. Rating: K+\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Word Count: 3933\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0","rel":"","context":"In "Drama"","block_context":{"text":"Drama","link":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?cat=23"},"img":{"alt_text":"jamie","src":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/04\/ahfjw2.png?fit=376%2C324&ssl=1&resize=350%2C200","width":350,"height":200},"classes":[]},{"id":23200,"url":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?p=23200","url_meta":{"origin":907,"position":1},"title":"A Disquiet Spirit (by Hart4Ben)","author":"Hart4Ben","date":"July 28, 2019","format":false,"excerpt":"Summary: An enhanced scene from The Stillness Within by Suzanne Clauser which takes place prior to Jamie's adoption. Joe's reflections are from The Artist. lessons in Ben for Jamie as told by the sons. 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